#the way I hollered at that… short men are my weakness

[gunslinginnhogtyin]

That part in the new D.eadpool movie where comically accurate Wolverine hops onto the ground from the barstool like a true shawty, I imagine that’s how Butch looks getting down from a bar table.

[inafieldofdaisies]

“ if you die on me, then what's the issue? you either live, or you die.” + Oliver & Oakley

"Oliver?", Oakley called out, scanning over each dead body she came across in the woods and breathing a quiet sigh of relief when none turned out to be of the man that had sent an SOS. How many men did you just lose, John? It's definitely going to hurt. "McKenzie!", she hollered again, keeping her gaze and pistol trained in front of her while listening for the smallest sound that could alert her to his whereabouts or potential ambush. "Moore.", her own name made goosebumps spread across her skin with the way Oliver had yelled it out, how weak he sounded. She pushed all of those thoughts down, focusing on the direction it had come from, picking up her pace with urgency looming over her head. A fallen tree blocked the path ahead- it was what he had used to hide and in a few strides she was leaping over it, landing next to his slumped form. "Oliver.", Oakley kneeled down, eyes drawn to his legs, to the blood darkening his jeans, "What did you do?" "Should have seen the other guy.", he tried to force out a laugh that came out as a pained whimper instead, "You actually came." "No shit, McKenzie, you called my frequency. What else was I supposed to do?" Her hands landed on his leg, examining the wound, before she pulled out the first aid she had brought along in a hurry. She could feel him staring as she began patching him up, "Question is why did you end up with a whole capture party after you…" "I,", he paused as if trying to remember what she had even asked him, "just helping Cal." "And he's where?" "We got,", he released a shaky breath, showing all the signs Peggies did in her chair, signaling they were close to passing out on her, becoming useless, "separated." She knew well enough that Calahan could take care of himself, all she strived to do was keep Oliver talking. For once it was a priority when he usually found it hard to shut up, always managing to get on her nerves. "And?" The far-away look he wore was something she dreaded, telling her she needed to work faster to stop the bleeding before it was too late. "Stay with me.", she slapped his cheek lightly, crimson smearing across his paling skin. "Oaks." "Yeah?" She moved her attention away from her hands, completely on autopilot. "You gonna take care of Cosmo for me?" Oakley bit the inside of her cheek at the question, refusing to let any emotion seep out. "No." Because you're not dying on my watch.

She didn't say it out loud, instead focusing on his leg and when she was certain she had done as much as she could to patch him up with the limited resources she had in the middle of the forest, she grasped his forearms, pale eyes meeting his. "I need you to stand up so we can get to the truck, Oliver." "Yes, m'am." The task of getting him to his feet was left mostly to her, and she threw his arm over her shoulders, wrapping one of hers across his waist to keep him upright. "I still can't believe you're here.", she couldn't blame him for the disbelief in his voice, not with how obvious she had made it that he wasn't wanted around. "Too many people would have been pissed if I didn't.", she mumbled matter-of-factly, "If you die on me once I've helped, then what's the issue? You either live, or you die… I just had to do something." "Come on, love. We both know that's not why you're here." His tone, paired with the wretched pet name, hinted her words hadn't been convincing enough. "Just doin' whatever I can.", she continued as they navigated the sprawled out corpse of one of the Peggies he had faced, "You took all of them out?".

Seconds ticked by before he answered, his breathing coming in short as he fought against the pain coursing through his system, "And one almost took me out. You sound surprised." "Do I?" Deep down, she wasn't, she had seen what he was capable of, despite his cocky demeanor and how he always believed he'd come on top no matter the opponent. It was his spirit, and that almost foolish viewpoint full of hope that drew Oakley in, the same way he was sticking to her side because he saw something in her… what that something was, she had no idea, especially with how challenging she made it to anyone that tried to get close. She could count on one hand the number of people that had bothered to stay like he had. The trip back to her truck, even with his weight transferred onto her frame, felt shorter than when she had set out on her search minutes prior. She swung the passenger side door open and helped Oliver into the seat, a cold hand grabbing her wrist before she could retreat. "Thank you.", he whispered, "I-" "Don't mention it." Understanding shone in his gaze as she ripped her arm free from his grasp before climbing behind the wheel and peeling away in the direction of Fall's End, knowing her patchwork was only a band-aid buying him time.

[mr-snailman]

look so right the thing is sometimes i see things like this one particular post about children and how we don't always see them as real human beings experiencing extenuating circumstances all the fucking time and how that affects how we treat them and how maybe this world would be better if we were all kinder to ourselves and each other and i find myself thinking yeah right like being all soft and lovey-dovey is going to fix anything and then i stop like a fucking bus just ran over my grave and think what the FUCK where did that come from because a) that's not really what they're saying and b) there's actually nothing wrong with being kind. quite the opposite actually and c) i don't actually think it did me any good to get yelled at or hit by my parents. from an outside perspective, i don't think it does my sister any good to get hollered at or spanked either. i think actually trying to discipline your children when you're angry with them probably doesn't ever go well. not that it isn't necessary but that's the kind of thing you really do need a clear head for or things can get out of hand. but that's not the point this wasn't supposed to be a diatribe on parenting hold on lemme start over:

when i was young i always rooted for the predator. i hated those cute little bunny rabbits, the lambs, the fawns i was supposed to sympathize with because they were weak. and i didn't want to be weak.

today i cry maybe four or five times a year. almost every time is accompanied by a deep sense of shame. my go-to explanation when pressed is "real men don't cry" which i know for a fact to be bullshit. and i rage and i bruise my knuckles on the nearest available surface and carry the resulting discoloration around like a badge of honor awarded for dealing with my emotions in one of the most unhealthy ways available to me short of straight out drinking the wine in the fridge.

now maybe it's because of the gender thing and maybe it's not or actually who am i kidding it's absolutely about the gender thing just. probably not entirely about the gender thing but the weirdest part of all of this is that i think i finally get the point of that "jesus loves me" song. the lion and the lamb. look people want the hero to be a lion, invulnerable, defender of the weak, destroyer of tyrants, the warrior with righteous sword-swinging fury and he showed up and he wasn't that. he was a baby. a fucking baby. the most helpless thing in the world. and now obviously he didn't stay a baby but he didn't grow up and become a fighter either. he was a healer and a teacher and oh he had his moments of righteous fury but when the time came and his enemies surrounded him and his followers drew their swords to protect them he told them to stand down. and stuck a guy's ear back on. and went to the slaughter. they wanted a lion so fucking bad and instead they got a lamb and when they tried to be lions he said yeah, no, listen you've got to follow my example.

you've got to let yourselves be vulnerable. you've got to be loving and you've got to be kind and you've got to be weak and trust me and my/our father to be strong for you.

and like i don't love admitting it but he had a point. trying to be strong and hard and unemotional has left me with nothing to show for it but a purplish spot on my right hand that hurts like fuck if i bang it on anything. it's not easy to let your guard down. to be vulnerable, to be weak, and to accept that that's alright.

and i'm not saying i'm spectacularly good at it or anything. but there are only so many hard surfaces you can bust your knuckles on before you've got to give something else a try. if only for the novelty.

and i don't want to be that person. the one who rages and frightens everyone else. the one who lashes out and hurts others because they're too damn afraid of getting hurt themselves. i've seen people go down that road and i've seen what it does to the people who love them and dammit i've had it with that life.

so this next year i'm gonna swallow my pride and suck in a breath and try to be softer. to be kinder. to stop expecting ridiculous displays of stoicism and hypermasculinity from people just because i expect them of myself. and maybe to lay off expecting them of myself, too.

fuckin. cheers, i guess.

[hotwings0203]

now we need a part 4 with izuku and bakugo on what happens next to the poor reader 😩✋🏼

Aight imma do a two for one here so MASSIVE BET

Tw:noncon, gangbang

When your hand reaches the doorknob, you know something is off only half a millisecond before another large hand settles itself on your wrist and another one caressing your side.

You freeze immediately at the voices that croon and snarl to you.

“Open the door quietly and we don’t have to make this any more difficult than it’s already gonna be.”

“God, you smell so good. You still haven’t changed your shampoo even after all these weeks huh? I like it.”

Your hand starts to shake and your body starts to sweat as you wildly try to find a way out of this situation. The voices sound eerily familiar, with one being higher and the other more aggressive and raspy, but you don’t dare turn around to locate the faces.

One of them seems to be catching onto your hesitation, because your wrist is crushed underneath a hard grasp and you cry out softly as they growl.

“Open. This. Fucking. Door. Right now.”

It takes a good 15 more seconds to jimmy the lock open, and once you do all three of you go tumbling in.

You whip back around to see both men standing over you, merely watching you with crossed arms and equally perverse leers.

“D-deku? Bakugo? What’s going on?”

Deku practically bounces on the balls of his feet, itching with inappropriate anticipation for what’s to come.

“We wanted to play with you! Are you ready? You can’t fucking ignore me anymore!” His voice is cheery as always but it breaks when he curses, the strains in his vocal cords sticking out while he forces himself from holding back.

Bakugo steps forward.

“Didnt I tell you I was gonna come again for you, you teasing cunt? Didn’t I say to watch your back? Now look at you, sprawled on the floor like rapetoys should be.”

Both men start slowly uncrossing their arms and advance towards you.

“No-no please, why? I didn’t do anything to you! Deku, please!” You blubber as you scuttle backwards, their strides equally as long.

You continue evading them as they play around with you.

“Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those words. ‘Deku, please.’ Although, I’d very much rather you moan it for me.” He has the audacity to blush, and then Bakugo interjects.

“You deserve this y’know, so don’t start crying now. We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet.” He spreads his hands and his uncharacteristic grin stretches from ear to ear, his vermillion eyes flashing in the dim light of your dorm.

“Anyone whose stupid enough to not realize how this creep has been sniffin’ your panties for months-hell, maybe even years now should get raped. You’re so fucking stupid, you didn’t realize I was protecting you from him.”

“But now look at you. Alone, afraid, vulnerable…oh, and going to the bedroom. You really are an easy slut, huh?”

Deku’s eyes light up when he realizes you truly are unknowingly backing up into the bedroom, but you realize it too late.

It’s only after Bakugo’s words come out that you try to look for a detour for the lock-induced bathroom, but Deku has a different idea.

Out of pure excitement he laughs and sprints towards you, hands outreached to touch your pretty skin, mouth open with drool softly filling the tile below him and eyes bloodshot with lust.

He looks like a creature from hell, and in the pure terror of watching him come at you like that your plan to detour was thwarted and you mindlessly trip back over your feet onto the bed, scrambling as far away as you can from them to the headboard.

You look to your left and quickly seize your bedside lamp, raising it above your head.

“Domt come any closer you closer perv. God, I shouldve known you were fucked in the head. I kept trying to make excuses for you, I thought you were my friend-“ you break down in sobs as the green haired man continues looking at you like you’re a piece of meat, absentmindedly wiping his hand across his mouth.

“And you,” you point to Bakugo who bares his teeth and smirks madly, “I already knew you were the embodiment of hell, but I thought you had a limit of how low you could stoop. You didn’t protect me from shit, you forced your way inside of me day in and day out.”

“Well now that your useless little monologue is over, Deku, tie her legs to the posts. I swear Y/N, you’re making this way too easy for me. It’s almost boring, I already know what I’m gonna get.” He raises his eyebrows at you while he lets his minion do all the work for him, goosebumps racing up his arm at the sight of you screaming and fighting tooth and nail against your fate.

But at the end of the day, after all your curses and sobs and monologues, you’re no match for either of them, especially Deku, who cooes at you to scream louder while he caresses your face and uses nylon string to secure your wrists to the wooden posts. Your legs are also bound after Bakugo seizes them from kicking, and a gag is placed over your mouth by his hands.

He roughly taps the tape covering your trembling lips and smiles condescendingly down at you.

“You’re doing so well for us, rapemeat. Keep up the good work and try to spread those legs as much as you can.” He chuckles when you scream your lungs out, thrashing as he yanks your knees apart.

“Aw, Kacchan, can’t we take the gag off? I wanted to hear her in my ears,” he pouts and looks glumly at your writhing figure.

“No, how fucked in the head are you? Someones gonna come down if she’s hollering for the whole building to hear. And cut her clothes off, I’m getting impatient.”

It seems like Deku too was at his last fiber of self control as his hands shake equally as much as yours, except for an entirely different reason altogether, the opposite reason of yours in fact.

He fishes in his back pockets for something, and produces a glinting steel knife with a black handle.

You still immediately as his descends his hands to the top of your v-neck shirt, right above your collarbones. His eyes fog up as your satiny smooth skin comes in contact with the blade, the coldness of the steel sending shivers down your spine and making you sob harder.

“Kacchan…did you ever get a taste of her blood? How does she taste?” He lifts his head to look into your tear-streaked eyes, but he addresses his childhood friend.

Bakugo snorts. “Calm down Toga, don’t get too crazy yet. We’ll have some more fun later, right now my dick is about to explode. ‘Need a hole,” he mumbles at the end and finally clambers onto the bed right atop your legs.

You stay absolutely silent as pressure from the knife rips the thin strands of your clothes apart, and Deku takes careful care to ensure you at least have thin red lines running down your stomach if not for actual blood.

“Oh fuckkkk,just look at her. You look good enough to eat…” he looks at you and licks his lips, salivating when you whine and twist at your restraints.

“Yeah yeah, you do whatever the fuck you want. Just choose what you’re gonna stick it in and hurry up.”

The blond looks bored almost as the more eager one whips to the side to face him.

“You mean it Kacchan? I can pick?”

They speak as if you’re not alive, no feelings or humanity involved. All you can do is watch and yell into your makeshift gag as the blond waves him off.

“Go for it. It’s your first time satisfying that sick head of yours, ‘must get boring doing it from behind a screen all the time.”

His slowly turns to face you, a kind leer etched across his features, eyebrows slanted and hand coming up to pull your ripped clothes apart.

You struggle and spit muffled profanities out as he slowly drags the bridge of your bra down, eyes wide open as your nipples pop out and eventually both of your tits bounce out.

He hisses and takes his nails up your stomach to fondle your breast. You can tell Deku’s too excited, too inexperienced from the way he handles them like stress balls. You grunt as his mouth latches onto a pert nipple, suckling and looking up at you as if he were some kind of demonic baby.

Bakugo watches all this with a dark glint in his eyes, absentmindedly palming himself as he watches the show unfold in front of him.

It’s entertaining seeing all of the creep’s hormones spiral out of control from years of pent-up lust. He’s never seen the dork so fired up and hungry, he’s never seen him so brutal with a civilian before, the type of people he used to say he’d protect at all costs.

After he’s done playing with your sore tits, he wasted no time in yanking your sweats off. You don’t even trash around anymore, the only thing you’re capable of in this state of terror and shock is weak moans and little sobs, maybe a writhe or two here and there.

Your panties are also torn off and you howl when the elastic cuts into your skin within the process. Bakugo takes this last stripping as an indication for him to move now. He lifts himself up on his knees and moves around your head while Deku situates himself between your violently twitching legs.

“I’m gonna take the gag out now. If you scream or pull any funny business I’ll plug your pussy and your throat with this knife, got it?” He snatches the weapon from the bed and waves it dangerously close to your face.

You nod frantically and try to turn your head to the side, but he yanks you back into place and decides to have his own fun.

While Izuku hurriedly takes his own shorts off the hothead slowly takes the tape off your mouth, staring down at you with unblinking eyes. The knife which you’re so afraid of is traced around your own squeezed shut eyes, down your cheeks and around your lips.

But the horrified trance on which he keeps you in is broken when Izuku suddenly shoved his entire length inside your dry cavern.

Luckily Bakugo has enough foresight to slam a hand over your howling mouth before the entire building can be woken up, and he glares at the sheepish-looking man down the bed from him.

“Are you a fucking virgin? At least rub her clit or something so she doesn’t go hollering at every thrust you damn nerd!”

The man between your legs winces and rubs the back of his neck, chuckling nervously.

“Oops, sorry, got a little carried away there.”

He doesn’t pull out, he merely thrusts slower, trying to fit his fat dick inside your unwilling cunt.

A string of curses leaves your lips and you grimace as the pain becomes near blinding.

Bakugo looks down at you again, the knife forgotten.

“No teeth either.” Your breaths come out in little frantic pants when his bare cock springs out of his own pants.

He taps the leaking purple tip on your lips and you open hesitantly. There’s no point in resisting anymore, they’ve got you quite literally cornered.

“Wider, slut,” he snarls, and you do-but only because Deku’s paps get more aggressive, causing your mouth to fall open in a long whine.

The blond takes this opportunity to slam his length down your throat, groaning around when he sees your throat swell with his bulge.

You immediately start gagging and trying to pull at your restraints for air, his heavy balls rest right on top of your nose and you feel like you’re going to pass out.

You can barely hear him over Deku’s animalistic grunts and whines. He’s going way too fast, as if he’s possessed by your pussy. It numbs you, taking away some of the pain in a flip side.

But on the other end of your body, you’re desperate for air while a fuzzy ballsack paps against your nose and eyes.

Each sadistic stroke he puts inside of you widens your sore esophagus, bringing bile up sometimes and large amounts of saliva too.

He’s not as loud as Deku, but he’s equally as greedy with your holes.

Your body literally hovers up almost in midair as Bakugo thrusts in and lifts his hips up, taking your upper half along with it and Deku does the same unconsciously, trying to fuck up into your womb.

It’s an exact replica of a perverted spit roast, with both of them catching each other’s rhythm and slamming inside your holes at the same time.

Your clit is suddenly rubbed inexpertly to the point of overstimulation, and the incoming sob forced out of your throat warps into a pained scream.

The vibrations of your scream makes Bakugo cum suddenly with a hoarse groan. He doubled over your body and gnaws at your bouncing tits, licking and teething at them the same way his counterpart did.

The sight of copious amounts of cum being leaked out of your filled mouth propels the green-haired man to whimper and shove himself back in one more time, hitting your cervix and causing both his and your eyes to roll back.

He cums too, but both men keep their semi-hard cocks inside of your aching body.

You don’t know what’s worse, having both of them by your side or both of them inside.

[jinpanman]

All I Want Is You(ngi)

pairing: yoongi x reader

wc: 2.5k

genre: pg15, fluff, established relationship

warnings: alcohol consumption

summary: Yoongi takes his baby out to sing karaoke the night before Christmas with the two Seoks. It’s a riot with drunken caroling (read: hollering) but he's so in love that he doesn't care.

a/n: My part of the SNOWLLAB with a super lovely bunch. Pls do yoself a favor and read everyone’s stories when they drop cause I promis it’ll be amazing. <3 A big thank you to Willow for pulling this crew together. A big thank you to Willow for the prompt inspo. A big thank you to Willow for creating the banner. A big thank you to Willow for beta reading my lil story and fixing up all the lil pieces and praising me….. So basically this is one big love letter to Willow. Thanks for being the best and most amazing little holibean 💙💚

sequel: Will You(ngi) Marry Me? 

Here he is now, currently regretting his inability to ever say no to your whims as he watches you skip with a couple of slips and twisted ankles along the way to the front of the small darkened room and snatch the mic off its stand. You’re bent over the karaoke machine, clumsily swiping the screen to find the song you want. After several more swipes, you squeal excitedly... and then he hears it. The reason for your excitement. The all too familiar jingling of church and sleigh bells elicits an embarrassed groan from him. You turn to face your small audience and after taking an unreasonably deep breath, you close your eyes and sing.

“I… don’t want a lot for Christmas. There is just one thing I need…”

“Sing it girl!” Hoseok cheers, thrusting a newly opened glass bottle into the air.

“Aaall I want for Christmas…”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT Y/N?!” Hoseok shrieks over the music.

“...iiiiiiss YOOOOUU...NGIII!!!” You hunch over to belt out the last note and your hair falls over your face but he doesn’t need to see you to know your features are scrunched up in order to sing past your lung capacity.

Yoongi very much wants to curl in the corner to hide from your unabashed love, but alas you, Hoseok, and Seokjin would never let him live it down, so instead he sits there trying (and failing) to fight the shy smile that overtakes his features. Even as the music grows louder, Yoongi can hear Seokjin laughing and slapping Hoseok’s thighs on the other side of the booth. 

Oh god. It was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea to have agreed to go out to karaoke with Seokjin and Hoseok, but you had begged and begged him and he was but a weak man when it came to you.

“I should have remembered it’s never a normal holiday with this crew.” He moans into his hands.

A hand roughly pats him on his shoulder. He peeks through his fingers to the portrait of a grinning Jin, now beside him. The man extends an unopened bottle of alcohol out to him.

“You sure you don’t want a drink, man? I know you drove but I don't mind chauffeuring you both home and taking a cab from there.”

“Nah, I’m good. We can’t both be stupid drunk when we get home. We might burn the house down then you’d have to waste even more money to come collect our bodies.”

Jin snorts at his remark. “Touché.”

The two of them lay back against the bench cushion and watch with horrified amusement as a wobbly Hoseok makes his way to you. The rambunctious (and very buzzed) duo up on the little stage drop to their knees and Yoongi balks at the way the two of you obscenely shake your butts to the very cheery tune of Mariah Carey’s biggest holiday hit. Sober Hoseok was always a delight. Even Yoongi didn’t mind busting out a few moves every now and then with him. Drunk Hoseok, though, he was a different animal altogether. Insatiable, he was, and he was the perfect hype man for drunk you.

Yoongi makes eye contact with you and now that you’ve got his attention, you reach out your free hand towards him and beckon him over with the curl of your finger. His heart goes a-hammering away without his permission. Yoongi, a fool in love, lets himself be pushed out of his seat and like a man lost at sea, he’s pulled closer and closer to the siren who sings the song meant to be his undoing. 

Except that the siren is you and your slurred singing is not at all alluring or seductive. He smiles at your pitiful attempt at fluttering your lashes at him. Despite your inability to entice him with your song and your sensual form, he still jumps overboard. He jumps and dives headfirst into the ocean that is your freely given love. All for him. Even a horrendous, throaty snort does nothing to unwind the unintentional spell you've cast on him. He faintly hears the two men squealing like children behind him, but all he can hear, all he can see is you.

“Make my wish come true! All I want for Christmas is you! Yoongi, baby!”

He can’t help but giggle at the way you serenade him, with your terribly exaggerated airy voice, but he loves it all the same. He loves you and all the surprises and jolly that comes with loving you.

Both you and Hoseok giggle at each other as Yoongi and Seokjin try to guide the two of you out of the building. Hoseok clings to his partner but his free hand is held tight in your grip, much to Yoongi’s chagrin. You’re both so wobbly and walking together is no help to either him or Jin. 

It’s definitely gotten chillier and Yoongi is grateful that you didn’t forget your winter coat tonight. You’re bundled and cosy beside him, with the hood wrapped snug over your head. Your eyes are still glassy and your breathing hasn’t quite recovered from your exuberant singing competition against Seokjin, but that’s okay. You know Yoongi will take care of you. That’s the only reason why you were able to let go so freely tonight anyway, and he takes pride in knowing that you trust him so entirely. He hoists you up into a more comfortable standing position and nods to Jin.

“Merry Christmas, hyung.”

“Merry Chrysler, Yoongichi. Drive home safely!”

Yoongi grimaces and mutters under his breath but Jin merely smiles bigger. With a final wave, he pulls a swaying and incoherent Hoseok close to his side and they walk to their awaiting cab. He would have waited until they got into the car, but you’ve started blowing raspberries on his neck. While he normally wouldn’t mind having your saliva on him, he can feel remnants of soggy pretzel bits flying out of your mouth onto his exposed skin and that is more than enough to kill what could have been a flirtatious mood. He pushes your head away, eliciting a squeaky whine.

“Ah, stop. That’s gross. C’mon, let’s go home.”

It wasn’t too much trouble getting you in and out of the car, but now that you have arrived home, you refuse to step inside your house. You cling onto him like a lifeline, as if you’ll fall to the ground and drown in the air that surrounds you.

“I don’t wanna go home yet, Yoongiii. I feel soooo gross!” You whine, heavily emphasizing on how gross you felt.

“That’s why we’re gonna go inside and shower, baby. So you’re not gross.”

“Oh my goood!” You sob into his shoulder. “You think I’m gross!”

Yoongi sighs and looks into the night sky, pressing his lips tightly together into a forced smile. You continue to wail out in the open and he all but clamps your mouth shut with a press of his finger against your lips.

“Do you wanna go for a walk instead?” You immediately shut up and nod eagerly. “Okay, let’s go walk, honey.”

He knows you’ll complain about the cold in a few minutes, but he’ll deal with that future Y/N when she arrives. They’ve walked a short distance around the complex when he suddenly feels a drop of cold wetness against his cheek. He looks up and notices the flakes of white falling from the sky. He squeezes your hand and points your interlaced hands up.

“Baby, it’s snowing.”

“Oh, shit it’s snowing! Okay.” You perk up at having heard that and untangle yourself from him. “Shit. Let me, let me uh, wait. Here.”

Before he could even begin to guess what you were about to do, you plop yourself right onto the cold grass. You shriek at the burst of cold against your legs but like the diva you think you are, you don’t get up and instead pose for him. Your hands are positioned entirely too close around your face that your eyes are barely visible and your skirt is hiked so far up your hunched legs that he can see your panties. You’re wearing those adorable brown bear ones he knows you think are the most comfortable pair of undies you’ve ever owned. Cute.

“Okay. I’m ready. Always gotta be ready for the camera.”

The noise that comes out of his mouth is entirely uncontrollable and he all but melts at the sight of you. The fairy lights your landlords put up around the apartments shine brightly in the night and illuminate the flakes of snow that fall from the sky. It’s a beautiful sight, but you shine the brightest. The light hovering above you highlights your subtle cheekbones and the combination of the falling snow and lights creates a sort of glowing halo around you.

You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful person he has ever laid eyes on.

The most beautiful and also the most extra because of course your first instinct would be to pose for him. That was how you met, after all. He had been out practicing street photography a few years ago when he bumped into you. You had the decency to be politely curious why he was taking pictures of strangers and after he shared his project, you agreed (even though he never asked) to let him take pictures of you. You started posing immediately and even walked around the block to pose with whatever you found interesting, whether it was the wall of a building or a newspaper stand. He probably loved you then. He definitely loves you now.

It’s too bad he doesn’t have his camera with him. His phone will have to do, so he pulls it out, angles himself and the phone at just the right spot, and takes several shots. Your eyes have shut close again, the trickle of soft snow cascading down onto your face and hair. Oh, the way his smile only widens as you bat your eyes in an attempt to blink the snowflakes away. He waves his phone and you suddenly remember what you were here for and you smile for the camera. Smile for him. 

“Sit down and take a picture with me!” You pout and pat the space next to you.

Who is he to say no? Several very blurry photos later (because what’s the point of getting drunk if you weren’t going to take blurry pics?), you were finally done with the cold. You cup his face and kiss his pink-tipped nose.

“You’re cold, Yoongi. Let’s go home.”

“Mmm… Let’s go.”

He takes your hand in his and tucks both your hands inside his coat pocket, knowing full well that you have a coat of your own with its own pockets. It’s true, his face is somewhat numb from the cold of the night, but he is quickly heating up wholly by the warmth of your shared love that the two of you have nurtured and tended to together.

“I hope you had fun tonight, baby.”

“I always have fun when I’m with you, Yoongi-poo.”

“So… what do you want most for Christmas?” He wonders if you’ll accidentally spill what you really want for Christmas but not even drunk you would sell yourself out to him.

“Didn’t I literally just sing ‘all I want for christmas is Yoooongiii’? Did I not make it clear enough?”

His lips spread into a bright upward curl and he giggles at the way you stare at him as if he was stupid for even asking such a question. As if it was obvious what you wanted. Of course, he knew you would say that. He honestly just wanted to hear you say it again. And... oh no. Now you’re singing again. Hollering, more like. Ah, well. It’s only for one night. He pulls you closer beside him and sings along with you, albeit in a much quieter tone.

Your apartment is back in eyeview and he pulls his phone out to check the time. It’s only a minute left until Christmas. He continues to watch the time pass by the seconds until there are only fifteen seconds left before midnight.

Then he starts counting out loud, in a teasing lilt that he knows is sure to pique your curiosity.

“What exactly are you counting down to?” You ask, puzzled.

You’ve sobered down quite a bit now, and you were ready to go sleep. He ignores you though and continues to count. By 5 seconds, you’ve stopped walking, although you’re still mumbling about how rude it was of him to ignore you. He reaches up to tuck your hair back behind your ears to get a better look at your face. Your stupidly beautiful face.

“I’m granting your Christmas wish in three… two… one... Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

He cups your face. It’s cold, and he makes a mental note to make sure to warm you up with a bath once you’re home. You gasp a second later and wrap your arms around him, staring up at him with a wide grin plastered on your face.

“Ohmygoddidyoubuymeapuppy??!!!”

He snorts and it’s out of sheer self restraint that he doesn’t go on an hour long tirade on the terrible idea of buying animals as holiday gifts and how he refuses to ever partake in it. He instead channels that energy into squishing your cheeks together so you don’t say anything else that could potentially ruin the mood he’s trying to set.

“Baby?”

“Whuh?”

“You make me really happy, you know that?” His voice softens up and he gently rubs your cheeks with his thumbs.

Your wide, wide eyes are still staring at him, unblinking, but he’s been under the scrutiny of your ridiculously lubricated eyes for long enough that he’s unbothered.

“And even though you’re still kinda loopy and you definitely spilled beer on me tonight, I still want you to know…”

He pauses for dramatics and chuckles when your hands fly up to grasp his hands that still cup your face.

“Yes?” You plead with him to carry on.

“I love you. I love you so much my heart is fit to burst.”

The soft inhale of breath is not lost on him and he grins at you. The sweet smile and blush that quickly overtakes your features is easily the best gift you could ever give him this Christmas.

“Oh my god. I think my heart just nutted.”

He snorts and sighs in defeat. Right. Only you could say something like that and still make his heart leap.

“I love you too. Can we go home now, though? My butt’s cold.”

“But I haven’t even gotten to the best part,” he teases.

Before you could ask what the best part was, he draws your face to his and presses his lips against yours. The warm exhale as you part your lips for him comes as a welcome surprise. You giggle into the kiss and pull him closer against you.

“You just kissed me,” you whispered as if he had committed a scandalous act.

“Baby, I always kiss you.”

“You’re right.” You grab hold of his hand and walk briskly towards your home, tugging a smiling Yoongi behind you. “Let’s go home so you can kiss me some more!”

a/n 2.0: HELLO THERE FRIENDO. how are you. happy holidays or i guess, happy day if you’re reading this in like, the summer time or something :”) thank you for reading this. did you like it? penny for your thoughts? (i will give u a pretty one forreal) isn’t yoongi the sweetest most amazing boyfriend eveerrrrr plz gush over him with me PLS

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Mile Six

Summary: The Kings, and Queens, of Con take on the Central Texas Tough Mudder Competition and have a good time doing it. 

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 2.3K+

Warnings: Language, suggestive themes

Author’s Note: So, this little thing was inspired by this post (x). I saw it and instantly went weak in the knees and thus this was born. I hope you enjoy my little musings. As always, I love to hear what you thought xo Alex.

Check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!

Trees lined the wide expanse of the field, the grass below shimmering against the Texas sun that had settled high in the afternoon sky. A slight breeze blew across the space, rustling the edges of the leaves and sending a chill down the breadth of her wet body. 

“Your turn, Y/n,” the quirky voice of her team member had slipped past her consciousness as she watched the sun be eclipsed by a wisp of a cloud. “Y/n!” 

“Hmm, what?” The woman snapped her head back to the obstacle in front of her. 

“Go, Jensen’s gonna boost you,” Rob urged her forward with a hand on her shoulder. She shook off her daze, the exhaustion fogging not only her muscles but her brain as well. The team had officially hit the halfway point of the obstacle course and she knew that she was going to be sore for days. 

“Come on, baby,” Jensen smirked at her from where he was squatted against the tall wooden wall. He cupped his hands in front of himself and indicated for her to step one foot into his palms. Y/n halted in front of him as she placed her right foot in his hold and rested her hands against his broad shoulders. She glanced up at Jared and Rich sitting on the ledge, ready to help her in whatever way she needed. “You’ve got this.”

The mud-caked woman smirked back at the actor, who was still grinning from ear to ear. She rolled her eyes for effect but leaned in and pressed a quick peck to her husband’s lips before using her leverage on his shoulders to jump. Jensen responded easily, lifting her in one swift movement as if she weighed nothing and guiding her to step on his shoulder with her left foot. As soon as the ledge was in reach she wrapped her gloved hand around it and allowed Jared to take her other to assist. Every muscle in her body protested the action, but she pushed through until both legs were swung over the wall. She wasted no time in climbing down the other side just far enough that it was safe for her to jump the rest of the way. 

Cheers erupted from her team waiting on the other side, much like they had after every other obstacle they had overcome. Y/n ran straight into her best friend, Genevieve’s, arms and embraced her tight. Both of them knew they were kicking ass at this, having argued with their respective husbands about being able to keep up with the guys. They trained for months beforehand, building up their strength and nothing made them more gleeful than proving they deserved their spots on the team. 

The two relented their embrace as the three remaining team members clambered from the barrier.  They all exchanged high fives before setting off down the trail. It didn’t take long before they arrived at yet another pool of murky water directly in their path. The group wasted no time in heading straight into the muddy hurdle. Despite the rays of the early spring sun beating down unhindered, the water was bone-chilling slowly. A shiver ran up her spine as soon as it met her heated skin and she couldn’t be sure if it was refreshing or just shocking. Y/n could also feel her feet sinking into the thick mud at the bottom of the pit, making each step difficult and slowing their process through the course. 

Once on the other side, getting back out of the pit proved difficult, the sheer weight and stickiness of the surrounding sludge seeming to want to drag her back down with every advance. She finally made it out, running to the nearby grass to rub away what she could from her sneakers as her teammates joined her one by one. When everyone was back together, they once again continued on. 

They jogged a few hundred feet before the majority slowed down as the day began to wear on them. Rich pulled the recording camera from Osric’s head as he squeezed through the group. The spritely man stuck it in everyone’s faces, asking a myriad of questions.

“That footage is going to be hell to cut together in the end,” Gen turned to Y/n with a giggle. 

“I know that true,” she agreed before sending her only female counterpart a wink. “Watch this.” Y/n jogged ahead to be closer to the group and hollered. “Hey Speight, toss me the camera. I know what the fans are gonna want to see.” The guys all turned to look at her, confusion evident in their expressions. Rich frowned but obliged the woman’s request, who caught the small camera with ease. Her steps slowed to give the guys space, allowing her to fall back into stride with Genevieve. The woman rubbed the dried mud from the display as she steadied the recorder and pointed it at her target. Gen watched over her shoulder as her friend focused on the men’s backsides, one at a time. 

“This is the view Gen and I have had all day,” she narrated, emphasizing ‘all’ for her intended audience. As she came up behind her Texan husband, he peered over his shoulder at her, taking in where she had the lens directed. He rolled his eyes at her as she rounded the group and jogged to where Jared was leading a couple of yards ahead. 

“Now what are you doing?” Jensen furrowed his brow as she kept the camera pointed on them, now walking backward as the group continued to advance. 

“I’m getting ahead of you so I can get you all in the frame,” she explained, her eyes still trained on the display to ensure she was getting at least semi-quality footage. 

“You can see all of us, it’s a wide-angle lens,” Jensen retorted gruffly, earning a grimace from his wife. Her jaw dropped in offense to his comment, turning the lens on Jared. 

“Alright, I see Ackles got an attitude around mile six,” she huffed to the towering man who just shook his head with a grin. Y/n spun back around, now seeing the group gaining on her and Jared. 

“Turn it off, I’ll show you an attitude,” Jensen indicated the camera delicately balanced in her grip. His wife nearly choked on her breath, his unexpected words settling a heat deep in her belly.

“Oh, will you now?” The woman was quick to steady her composure and cocked a challenging eyebrow at the bowlegged man who now took up a majority of the display she was observing. The look set him off and he reached her in two swift strides, snatching the camera out of her hand and ducking to pull her over his shoulder before she could react to his movement. Y/n let out a shriek that faded into laughter as her husband gripped her legs against his body with both hands. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him quickly toss the camera to one of the guys, jetting off away from the path and the crowd. 

“Aw, come on, Ackles,” Jared’s voice faded as Jensen carried the woman to the nearby tree line. “Be quick!” 

Shade enclosed the two completely before he set her back on her feet. Jensen pushed her back a step until her body hit rough bark. He placed one hand on either side of her head, caging her against the oak. She took a deep breath now that her stomach was no longer restricted by his shoulder and looked up at her husband through her lashes her stomach fluttering as she took in his hooded gaze. 

“I feel like you want to say something.” A hint of a smile twitched at the corners of her lips which was instantly reciprocated by the actor. He raised a gloved hand, trailing his exposed fingertips light as a feather across her jaw and down her neck. His eyes were trained where his digit tucked into the collar of her destroyed tee and pulled it away from her skin. 

“You’re cold,” he noted, the smug upturn of one corner of his lips telling her he had noticed her condition a long while ago. Y/n followed his gaze, noting the faint outline of her nipples seeping through the sports bra. She cursed silently, having hoped the material would have done a better job at hiding her modesty throughout the day. 

“Maybe-”

“Maybe?” His eyes flickered up to hers, amusement hidden throughout the familiar verdant iris’ that she loved so much. Dragging out the moment, the woman chewed on her bottom lip and took the opportunity to enjoy the visage of her husband. His hair was a wild mess, pushed away from his face with a sweatband that matched the color of his shorts and tennis shoes. He was caked in mud from head to toe, much like she was. A lot of it had dried and caked to the skin of his face and his beard while his body was dripping with the foggy liquid and his sweat. Even through all of it, he was somehow still as beautiful as ever. Still Jensen Ackles. 

“Maybe I’ve just been enjoying the view,” she teased him, her hands gripping the stretched-out material of his shirt to pull his body flush against her own. He was warm and refreshingly cool at the same time. Y/n breathed in his musky scent, mixed with the fading aroma of his signature cologne. It was her favorite thing in the world, something reserved just for her and the times he spent ravaging her body. 

“I can’t take you anywhere can I?” The hot breath of his chuckle fanned over her face. He let go of his hold on her tee, the material shrinking slowly back against her wet skin. 

“Not when you are looking like a whole damn meal,” she purred before pushing up on her toes to press her lips to his. He froze at first, his brain taking a second to catch up to her before he responded in kind. His hands fell from the tree to cradle her head in place as he deepened the kiss. Y/n let her body relax against the wood as her husband sucked her tongue into his mouth, pulling a moan from inside her chest. He picked up the pace, devouring her in the shadows of the competition that was continuing around them. As her hands dropped to the elastic of his shorts, he begrudgingly pulled away and gripped her wrists to halt her movements. 

“Fuck, we can’t,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. His eyes were screwed shut as he breathed deeply. She exaggerated the pout on her face even though he wasn’t looking at her. 

“That’s unfortunate, considering your little problem there.” Y/n jutted her hips forward, coming in contact with the situation now in her husband’s pants. 

“Oh, I hate you so much right now,” Jensen pushed away from his wife, putting a respectable distance between the two of them. 

“Hey, you are not the only one suffering right now. Lucky for me, my panties were already soaked.” Before he could utter a word, she ducked away and back into the heat of the Texas sun. He watched her jog away, but not before she glanced back over her shoulder, a wide grin on her face. 

It didn’t take her long to catch up to the group, her and Jensen having not been gone as long as she thought. Her eyes scanned the crowd of people for Jared, knowing his tall frame would stick out to her first. And she was right, the mess of hair on top of his head towering over everyone else, guiding her to where they were huddled waiting for the group ahead to finish the next course. 

“Where’s Ackles?” Jared chirped as she moved through the people to come and stand with the Kings of Con. 

“He should be right behind me,” she snorted out the words in an attempt to hide the laughter bubbling up inside her. Jared narrowed his eyes at her as if he didn’t believe what she was telling him. Not that it mattered much, as her husband’s voice drifted towards them. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” he promised, only slightly out of breath from sprinting to meet up with them. “What’s next?” 

“‘Hold Your Wood’,” Jason answered as he turned to where a massive log was being placed in front of the lot of them. Y/n nearly fell over as the barely contained laughter spilled from her lips. She brought a hand to her face as the laughter turned silent and tears ran down her cheeks, the action muffling the squeals of delight that came with each breath. 

“Yes, it’s all very funny, babe,” Jensen frowned at his wife, the downturn of his lips only fueling the hysterics inside her. 

“What the hell is wrong with her?” Rich had the same look of concern on his face as the rest of the group. Even passersby were beginning to stare at Y/n where she stood shaking with laughter. 

“Wood,” was the only word she could force past her lips as she held up her hands, gesturing to indicate length. 

“Jensen had a boner,” Jared clarified for the group, ready to keep moving. 

“Dude!” Jensen smacked his friend upside the back of his head, sending his wife into further giggles. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Y/n finally was able to force a semi-coherent sentence. “Jay, you are just too easy.” 

“That’s what she said,” Rob and Rich shouted in tandem. 

Jensen rounded on Osric, who still had one of the action cameras attached to his head, and pointed at the lens. “You can cut that out.”

“No,” Y/n protested, grabbing her husband’s arms as he reached for the Go Pro. “Keep it in.” 

Forevers: @22sarah08​ @440mxs-wife​ @akshi8278​ @anathewierdo​ @asgoodasdancingqueen @atc74​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @briagallen​ @callmekda​ @dawnie1988​ @deandreamernp​ @deangirl93​ @deanwanddamons​ @ellewritesfix05​ @emoryhemsworth​ @foxyjwls007​ @hobby27​ @janicho88​ @jbsgirl4ever11​ @jensengirl83​ @lunarmoon8​ @lyarr24​ @mishacollins4evah​ @miss-nerd95​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @msmarvelouswinchester​ @polina-93​​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @squirrelnotsam​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​ @suckmyapplejacks​ @supraveng​ @tatted-trina6​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @traceyaudette​ @tranquility-or-chaos​​ @waywardbeanie​ @winchest09​ 

A line through your URL means Tumblr won’t let me tag you... sorry :/

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Fire on Fire by Sam Smith for the plot?

In Love With the Flames

I had a few ideas for that one, but I decided on this. It is not edited, as I don't have the patience to edit something this long. But who knows, maybe someday it will get done. Anyway, I hope you like it and I will be adding this song to my workout playlist.

I also apologize for the lenght. I cannot to the "Continue Reading" or something like that on a phone. So I also apologize for clogging up your dashboard if you aren't interested.

Warnings: character deaths, enjoyment of people in pain/dying, alcohol use, bar setting, two characters in-love (nothing inappropriate, just hugs, kissing, and "flirty" behavior), fantasy politics (with government of my own making), public shaming, assault and magical attacking/whump

~

Supervillain let out another blast of burning fire, allowing it to make contact with the glass building without any remorse in their veins. Actually, it made them happy, listening to all the screams and hollers of the civilians down below.

"That is an unfortunate mess," a voice spoke behind Supervillain. Supervillain whirled around, hands up and ready, only to be met with the fascinating face of Villain. Villain, the most gorgeous being with deep emerald eyes that illuminated even the darkest souls, also had their hands raised. Their own fire lapped on their fingers, waiting to meet its mark.

But the fact that Villain was a threat did not register in Supervillain's thoughts. No, they could not take their own hazel eyes away from the pure beauty that was encased in the said threat's face. The way their soft brown hair bounced as they sauntered over to the supervillain and the way their pink lips added to the tanned tone of their skin. It was a sight, but also a distraction from Villain's intent.

"What do you want Villain?" Supervillain asked, hoping their voice was quivering from the fact that Villain was so close.

"That was a movie theater," Villain replied, their lips turning up as their nose crunched. Supervillain felt theit heart flutter and their breath catch in their throat. No one ever mentioned that Villain was also so adorable.

Supervillain shook their head and linked their fingers behind their back, gazing at Villain for a split second before saying, "If you want to see a movie so bad... My house nine o'clock. Tonight."

"I worked there. Now I'm out of a job."

Ohhh, crap. Supervillain inwardly swore at themselves and took of a fighting stance. There was no way that Villain came here just to plan their future date.

Villain attacked first, sending a fireball directly at Supervillain's head. Supervillain dodged, heart racing. Villain was aiming to kill.

Supervillain shot out their own fire, barely missing Villain's mane. Gosh... that hair. Supervillain froze, it was eye catching. It was-

A fierce fireball smacked Supervillain in the chest.

The supervillain went down, hitting the cold ground with a thud as their skin and clothes melted away. Black spots danced along Supervillain's vision as they felt themselves sinking further into the ground.

"Oh my gosh!" Came a short squeal and the next thing that Supervillain saw was Villain's face. Smug, but mildly concerned. Supervillain, anticipating an attack, arched their back weakly, straining to push away, but Villain placed a hand on their least damaged shoulder and shoved them back down.

"Where does it hurt?" Villain asked, their voice taut with care.

"No where, but cold," Supervillain slurred, dipping their head to the side. Their eyelids dropped and any thoughts of their situation disappeared into thin air.

"Stay with me, okay?" Villain brushed some snowflakes off of Supervillain's face. They didn't realize that it has begun to snow. Before Villain scooped up the supervillain, they murmured, "I will take care of you. Deal?"

And that was the last thing Supervillain heard before they succumbed to sleep.

Six months later...

"The heroes have infiltrated the Villain Agency. I believe- Uhh Supervillain, this is kinda important..."

"What was that?" Supervillain pushed Villain slightly away and looked at their henchman. "Cleary nothing important."

"Boss. The heroes are taking over. We need to do something, not-," Henchman looked between the two giggling lovebirds. "Not flirting with your significant other in a bar."

Villain looked up, then Supervillain. Both with a childish look on their face that Henchman only hoped was due to the alcohol.

"If," Supervillain brought their glass to their lips and took a long sip. "If this was so important, dear Henchman. Then why did we meet in a downtown bar?"

"Because you told me to meet here."

"Oh."

"Yeah, now let's talk about this before the situation gets worse. Sending troops out will possibly-"

"We'll handle it Henchman. Okay?" Supervillain stood up and lifted Villain to their feet. "Dance?" They asked Villain and led them to the center of the bar where a crappy band was stringing its guitar and beating on their drums.

Henchman sighed and collected their papers and left the couple to do who knows what.

"I love you, Supervillain," Villain murmured the next day as they approached the Hero's Base. They were holding hands, the fire lapping greedily at their fingertips as it intertwined with each other. Two killers, one fire... it all equaled terror. Pure villainous terror.

"I love you too," Supervillain reached over and landed a kiss in Villain's brown hair.

Both then looked at the Hero's Base. The whole building seemed to be made of glass- a warm sense of deja vu- but everyone knew that the walls were made of the strongest iron injected with power reflectors. It was practically a bunker, made to withstand bombardments.

"Ready?" Villain looked up with their daunting emerald eyes and half-smirk. Supervillain's confident demeanor faltered. They couldn't lose Villain, yet they also couldn't defeat the heroes without them.

"Promise me you'll live and then I am ready."

Villain smiled even wider, "Of course. I'm more worried about you." And with that light-hearted warning, Villain broke the hold on Supervillain's hand, stepped back, and began to blow up the Base.

Supervillain did the same thing, adjusting the aim of the fire to hit Villain's stream. It added strength and power to the blow, causing the outer glass to shatter.

Supervillain and Villain won that fight and won the national headlines.

Villain ran down the stairs the next morning to see Supervillain making breakfast and coffee. They triumphantly held a newspaper.

"The nation's greatest supervillain and their counterpart, Villain, blows up the Hero's Base," Villain read eagerly. "Reports say that the duo attacked in the morning a week after the heroes took over the Villain Agency. These killer's locations are unknown, so please watch yourselves as they could be lurking."

"Give me that," Supervillain snatched the paper, their tongue running over their lips like a snake. After reading it, they started to pace. "We could use this."

"Use this?" Villain scoffed, but their green eyes betrayed their excitement. They always loved their partner's ideas. "How?"

"How does campaigning sound?" Supervillain asked with a flashy smile.

"Campaigning?" Doubt tugged at Villain's voice.

"If you read further, you little naive idiot," the term was used teasingly, so Villain made a playful face. "Our lovely nemesis, Hero, survived the onslaught and is currently running for mayor."

"Mhm. I read that, but didn't deem it important. After all, Hero is basically in charge of the city without the title."

"But we aren't. We have ten thousand men and women underneath our feet, Villain, but Hero has fifty thousand with backup. But we could change those odds, my dear," Supervillain stepped towards Villain. "With a little campaigning, delving into the art of blackmail, and a well-planned assualt to the face of city... Honey, would you like to be mayor?"

"That," Villain wrapped their arms around Supervillain and brought them into a hug. "would be amazing."

"Just amazing?"

"Perfect, my mistake."

"Greetings citizens of the city," Supervillain's voice boomed through the auditorium. Thousands of civilians gathered below Supervillain's feet listening to the villain speak. But none of them knew that the charismatic speaker was Supervillain.

"This city," Supervillain glanced at their glowering foe, Hero, who was sitting with their hands neatly folded in front of them. "is on the brink of downfall. Crime rampages though the streets like rats. Murders, robberies... All under Hero's administration. The city is not safe when both petty and large crimes are not dealed with. For example, only a few weeks ago, the Base was completely demolished and yet the culprits have not been taken into custody. Do you realize the danger of that situation-" Supervillain coughed to hide a chuckle. "The pure impudence of it. We allow v-villains-" another cough. "to, uh, hmf sorry, must have a small cold brewing. Uh, let's see where was I? Ah yes, we allow villains to control us. Manipulate us. They take advantage of Hero's weakness and mold it into a weapon of choice and disaster. We are not safe. I repeat we are not safe."

Supervillain's gaze drifted to the figure, who was quite literally shimmering with rage, next to them. Actually, quite literally, the hero's hands were encassed in a golden wispy glow.

"That it why I introduce to you-" Supervillain tapped some buttons into the electric table they were sitting at. "The City Improvement Plan!" Cheers rang throughout the crowd, centering on a cluster of well-known punk Villains. Supervillain froze. They knew. Those villains must've recognized Supervillain's voice and- Supervillain snuck a peek at Hero. The hero's face was not only glistened in sweaty rage, but also had a smug look of realization on it.

"Okay, so, uh..." Supervillain couldn't concentrate. Not with the tall body of Hero standing up and speaking into a walkie-talkie. They readjusted their mask self-consciously. Was it weird to be wearing a mask? Supervillain looked back at Hero who wss now conversing with a couple guards. They were wearing a mask as well...

Gosh, they were staring for too long. The crowd was watching them, waiting for their next statement.

"The City Improvement Plan will remove unqualified people from office-" Supervillain started breathing deeply as two tasers caught their gaze. "And replace them with well-trained officer trained specially by my own partner, Civilian." Villain's fake name rolled off Supervillain tongue like sour milk.

"Civilian has been trained for high combat situations and has even fought many villains on a day to day basis."

Hero started stalking up to them, the tasers following them. Supervillain gulped, their fingers brushes against the botton on their collar. The only way to reach Villain.

They pressed, feeling the familiar vibration against their collarbone. Within seconds, the villain landed right next to Supervillain. The crowd gasped.

"Hello!" Villain leaned over, crossing their legs behind them as they spoke into the microphone. "My name is Villain. I happen to be Supervillain's boyfriend/girlfriend. Today, we have a fabulous show for you." Villain swung around, wrapping their arms around Supervillain's neck and whispered into their ear, "After today, we will also be called sinners." Supervillain furrowed their brow and hugged Villain back, confused.

Villain pushed away, and swung their arm. A wall of fire lit up on the stadge. No one could get in or out.

Hero rushed forward, their water power in hand, and tried to douse Villain with a good wave, but they dodged and hooked Hero with their leg. Within five seconds, Hero was on the ground with a wire threatening to break off all airflow.

While Villain was occupied with taking Hero down, Supervillain faced the two guards. Each had a taser ready to stike at them at any given chance. So, seeing the immediate danger, Supervillain blasted the tasers out of there hands. The guards instantly ran at them with the intention to strangle.

Supervillain was knocked to the ground pretty easily with the weight of the two burly- yet, insanely muscular- guys pressing against their shoulders.

Villain glanced over to see their partner struggling. Quickly, they punched Hero in the face. Once... twice... a third blow did it, leaving Hero completely motionless on the ground.

Villain then took the liberty to yank one of the guys off of Supervillain and threw him through the raging fire. The screams did not end.

Supervillain pushed the other guy away, flipping onto their feet and gave him a good burn across his chest- similar to one that Villain gave them a half year before. With a contented grunt, Supervillain landed him next to his writhing buddy.

Both Villains turned to Hero, narrowing their gaze. The hero had just began to stir. Not wasting anymore time, Supervillain rushed over and finished Hero off with a swift cut in their throat.

They flew away right before the fire wall burned out- not even waiting to hear the horrified gasps.

The couple worked like that. Rampaging through cities and killing, burning, and maiming.

"They don't follow any rules."

"Out of control."

"Ruthless, merciless..."

Rumors spread like wildfire, hitting all the nation's broadcasts and newspapers. There was a nationwide curfew as well- no one knew when the villains would pop up and strike.

They were slowly taking control of the world, just like Supervillain promised, through fear and domination. Schools started to host army troops to protect the children. Men and women alike started to get drafted and began to train- focusing any powers they held on fight and enchancing strength in those not blessed with magic. The world was in chaos, orbiting around the sun that was Villain and Supervillain's fireball.

Yet, even as the world slowly sunk to its knees, the villainous couple was having the time of their lives.

Planning for their future.

Supervillain and Villain were taking a romantic walk in a rose garden one evening. The sunset was a pallette of pastel colors- pink, green, orange, you name it. They circled around a tranquil pond with growing waterlilies and ducks happily quaking to their young.

Suddenly, Supervillain spun Villain around. Once again, hazel eyes met emerald, but this time it was of love, not hate.

Supervillain bent down onto one knee and revealed an diamond ring. Any pedestrians wouldn't even guess that the proposing couple was the world's greatest murderers. No one.

"Will you marry me, Villain?"

"Yes," Villain squealed and dragged Supervillain to their feet.

"You are supposed to let me put the ring on your finger..." Supervillain's voice trailed off as Villain kissed their new fiancé.

"I don't care," Villain teased and rested their head against Supervillain's shoulder.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

[whatsmyline-pb]

Saw this for the first time today and just about died. Then this happened:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32013415

(Edit: a big thanks to @stevieshelby for a much better quality picture.)

Alfie Solomons does not run. Ever. Men who run, in his opinion, are silly and weak; either running from or to something and either way showing far too much desperation in doing so. Alfie is a firm believer in acting with as little urgency as possible.

He knows, of course, that most people running are doing so for the sake of exercise. But it’s a bloody foolish way to achieve fitness, if you ask him. Likely does more harm than good, slamming your joints together against hard pavement. Swimming is a much more sensible form of exercise.

Point is, Alfie doesn’t run.

—

Leave it to Tommy Shelby to ruin Alfie’s first true holiday in years. It’s summer and it’s Margate and Alfie is altogether content to let work fade into oblivion and get some much-needed rest. But of course, he can’t get one fucking moments peace before the little prick is calling him, demanding that they meet, that it’s urgent, cannot be discussed over the phone, and what’s Alfie’s rental address, he’ll be there first thing in the morning.

And mornings, right, mornings are sacred to Alfie, especially when on holiday. He likes to take his fucking time, stretch languidly while the last remnants of sleep slip away, stay in bed however long he pleases and not leave a moment sooner. And then, when he deems himself ready to rise, make his way to the terrace with coffee and biscuits and a book and cigar. Greet the day with leisurely intent.

And fuck if he’s gonna let Tommy interfere with that pleasure. So the next day he goes about his morning just as he normally would, and when Tommy pulls up in his sleek Royce he’s just opened his book and taken his first sip of coffee.

“Just come on up, for fucks sake,” he hollers down when Tommy knocks on the front door. Moments later Tommy is standing in front of him, looking incredulous. Or really, looking entirely impassive, if you don’t know him. But Alfie does, so, yes, it’s definitely incredulity swimming behind those flat eyes.

Thing is, another part of Alfie’s morning routine is not getting dressed. Dressing really defeats the point of lounging around, doesn’t it? It’s boxers and a loose robe for him, and there’s nothing like the feeling of the warm morning sun on your bare chest, is there?

“You forget I was coming, Alfie?”

“Naw mate, how could I? Been anxious for my groceries, haven’t I?” He’d texted Tommy as soon as they’d hung up last night, Be a dear and stop by Kosher Kingdom before you leave, followed by a rather extensive grocery list. Just to be a prick, really; hadn’t expected any follow-through. But Tommy’s holding a grocery bag.

“Those ‘em?” He asks and grabs it from him. Tommy pays this no heed.

“You didn't think a business meeting warranted, I don’t know, putting some trousers on? Maybe a shirt?”

“Business meeting? Naw. I’m on fucking holiday, ain’t I?” He says it into the bag, busy shuffling through the contents. Only half his requests are in there. “Where are my bourekas?” He asks, looking up.

Tommy glares at him and pulls out a cigarette. His eyes flit unwittingly over Alfie’s bare torso as he lights it. Alfie suppresses a smug grin.

Could be that not wanting to disrupt his normal routine isn't the only reason Alfie declined to dress for Tommy’s visit. Could be, yeah, that they’ve been in business together for seven months and those seven months have felt like a fucking eternity, all of them spent with Alfie not so secretly lusting after Tommy and Tommy, cunt that he is, determinedly ignoring his advances (even though Alfie is damn sure his desires are reciprocated). So yeah, he stayed half-naked to make a point about holidays and respect and all that, but also to taunt Tommy.

Rather transparent. Could be he’s getting a bit desperate.

“So what’s this big emergency, then? You finally set the factory on fire smoking those godforsaken fags? Tear a hole in that favorite suit of yours, hmm? Someone finally snap and off Arthur? Out with it, treacle.”

Tommy sighs as he slides into the seat opposite Alfie. “How’s it you’re even more fucking irritating on holiday, Alfie?”

Alfie just smiles.

“Alright,” Tommy says, pulling some papers from his briefcase and onto the table. He launches into a story, and Alfie immediately forgets to listen. Thing is, there’s a lot going on in Margate in the summer, even this early in the day. Folks are up and about and Alfie can’t help it if he’s an avid people-watcher. Not really in the headspace for business, is he?

Alfie’s somehow getting away with not paying attention to Tommy when the group of runners pound by. They look equally smug and miserable and he can’t help but mutter, “Ridiculous fucking hobby.”

This stops Tommy mid-sentence. “You hear a word I just fucking said, Alfie?”

Alfie nods. “Yeah, mate, sure. Something about a shipment and a fuck up.”

Tommy’s jaw clenches, his eyes narrow. He looks from Alfie to the runners and to Alfie again. It’s a long, heavy silence. Long enough that Alfie grabs the grocery bag again and begins pawing through it. He can practically feel the annoyance radiating off Tommy.

“You remember when you set me up with that cousin of yours?” Tommy asks, an eternity later.

Alfie can’t help it, he breaks into a toothy grin. He remembers it. Often and fondly. It’s not every day Tommy is in need of a last-minute date for an important business dinner and turns to Alfie for help. And really, Tommy should have known better. Of course, Alfie was going to hire an escort to accompany him, paying her extra to pretend to be his cousin. Of course, he was going to relish the opportunity to fuck with the great Tommy Shelby, delight in the knowledge of him prancing proudly around London with a high-end prostitute on his arm.

Hadn’t expected him to ever find out, at least not until a few years later when he’d randomly decide to let his duplicity slip. Hadn’t anticipated that there’d be an adversary present at the dinner who knew just who his ‘cousin’ was, did little to hide it and, in fact, outed Tommy on spot. Alfie can’t quite regret this, though. Would never have gotten to see his cheeks flushed so darkly, red with rage and embarrassment, the next day, would he have? It made the fist to the face and ensuing month of stony silence entirely worth it.

“Course I remember, treacle. One of my finer moments. Really though, you were rather ungrateful, weren’t you? Just trying to give a mate a pleasurable night and all I get in return is a black eye and broken nose.”

Tommy is looking at him with that look of his, the one that means there’s a scheme brewing and you’d best brace yourself.

“Tell you what, Alfie,” Tommy says, leaning forward and stamping out his cigarette. “You make it to the pier and back in under a minute, and I’ll return the favor.”

“What, you’re gonna hire me an escort?” Alfie asks, amused.

“No.” His eyes bore into Alfie, the blues in them much darker than usual. His meaning, suddenly obvious, clicks.

There’s not many things that can stun Alfie into silence. He blinks stupidly at Tommy for a few beats, then leans back, dragging his hand over his beard.

“Let me get this straight. I go for a quick jog and we fuck?”

“Think it’ll have to be more of a sprint, Alfie.”

Tommy knows Alfie’s feelings about running. Knows them because Alfie had told him, can never keep his fucking mouth shut and stop the landslide of damning information that falls out.

A run for a fuck. It’s tempting, for sure. But Alfie has his pride. There’s lots of things he’d do for a fuck, but running definitely ain’t one of them, no matter how desperately he wants it.

“Naw mate. Don’t feel like getting dressed, quite yet.” Tommy quirks an eyebrow.

“Didn’t say anything about getting dressed, did I?”

Alfie laughs at this. Of course, it’s his unkempt appearance that Tommy thinks adds an extra punch of humiliation to this bargain. But Alfie could give a fuck, and Tommy should really know better. He’d meet the Queen in his boxers and robe, head held high, wouldn’t he? But running? No.

“Tommy, sweetie, it’s not going to happen. Now, isn’t there some world-ending urgent reason you are here?”

Tommy shrugs and starts over.

Alfie listens. Or tries to. Tommy himself proves to be the distraction this time. First, he takes off his suit jacket, and fucking well he should, he’s got too many layers for this heat, so that’s just fine.

Then he starts to roll his shirt sleeves upwards. Not in the messy, rushed way that Alfie shoves his own up, but slowly, methodically, one careful fold over another. It takes a tedious amount of time for his forearms to emerge and Alfie tracks the progress hungrily. He’s always had a weakness for those arms, which Tommy, of course, well knows. Another stupid thing he’d let slip. But no matter, they’re just arms, after all.

The lazy recline against his seatback is definitely unexpected. So unlike Tommy, to don a posture of such ease. Yet it suits him, stretches his body out more fully, allows Alfie a more substantial view. And there’s the leg too, that has slid out as result, and is now pressing firmly against Alfie’s own, calf to calf. It’s not moving or anything, so, really, it’s no big deal.

Tommy keeps talking and Alfie keeps listening. Problem is, Tommy’s doing this thing, and it’s definitely the most distracting of all the things. He keeps slipping his eyes from Alfie’s face, raking them over his body, slow and deliberate, licking his lips as he does. And that, well that is just fucking sinful and cruel and underhanded and right up Alfie’s alley.

A run for a fuck. It’s ludicrous, yet…

The leg next to his gives a forceful nudge.

“Asked you a question, Alfie.” There’s a drop of sweat running down Tommy’s throat, spilling onto his clavicle. When had Tommy undone the top two buttons of his shirt?

Maybe, maybe, just one, short run won’t kill him. He clears his throat.

“A minute, you say?” Tommy blinks, then nods, trying and failing to keep his lips from twitching upwards. The hair on his forehead has begun to curl slightly in the humidity. Alfie wants to run his hand through it, brush it away, feel how soft it must be.

“Fuck it. Where are my goddamn trainers, then?”

—

Alfie runs like the wind, or so he’d like to think. It’s not far in that he first considers, with slight panic, that this distance might not be doable in under a minute, not for an avid non-runner, such as himself. But there’s no fucking way he’s not getting his reward for this ridiculous exercise in humiliation.

He picks up his pace, stiffens his hands, pumps his arms with vigor. He runs like the devil’s chasing him and there’s a naked Tommy Shelby jumping and cheering his name at the finish line. He can only imagine what he looks like, face set with anguished determination, robe billowing behind him.

Tommy’s holding in laughter, eyes brimming with tears, when he heaves to a stop beside him, gasping violently, his hands on his knees. He’d silence him with a righteous punch to the dick if he could only catch his breath.

“Well?” He asks, a moment later. Tommy holds out his phone to him.

“Minute three seconds,” he says.

“Fuck off,” Alfie breaths, but the timer indeed reads as Tommy says. Three fucking seconds. “This goddamn robe, too much resistance.”

Tommy laughs. “Nah, I must have hit the start a bit too soon,” he says, and closes the distance between them, wrapping an arm around Alfie’s waist and kissing him vigorously.

—

And so that’s how Alfie finally managed to get Tommy Shelby into his bed. Still fucking hates running. Hates it with unyielding passion and will never partake again. But, he figures, just that once, it had been worth it.

[hutchhitched]

What You Deserve, What You Need, What You Want

Written by: @hutchhitched​

Prompt 109: Dialogue prompt: “I deserve better than this!” [submitted by @xerxia31]

Ratings/Warnings: E

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic. This is the seventh of the nine. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays. Better get myself in gear to finish the last two before the next round starts!

  “I deserve better than this!”

 Katniss nods and pats her sister on the back. “You do, and you should say it.”

 “I just did. You clearly weren’t listening.”

 Prim grins at her sister, and they continue scrubbing the walls of the house Prim and her husband just purchased. Katniss really can’t believe her little sister is married, especially at the young age of 22, but Prim has always been the one who’s gotten what she wants while Katniss…

 Well, if anyone deserves better than this, Katniss thinks it might be her.

 “When’s your husband getting here? I thought he wasn’t going to make us do all the work. That’s clearly not the case as evidenced by my arm that’s about to fall off.”

 Letting her limb drop, Katniss sits down heavily on the hardwood floor. It’s stripped and rough, ready for a good sanding and polish to make it glow like new. Right now, though, it’s rather anemic looking with blonde wood that seems old and faded. Or maybe that’s just how Katniss feels about herself. Old and faded, always in the shadow of her baby sister who everyone’s continuously adored and coddled.

 It’s not that Prim’s ever taken advantage of it either. She’s as sweet and kind and generous as they come. It’s just the phenomenon that things have a tendency of working out for the younger Everdeen sibling that Katniss would envy if she didn’t love her sister so much. Still, she’s tired—drained from working hard and scraping by, exhausted from the mental toll of keeping everything together for so long when she shouldn’t have had to, and weary from hoping and wishing and being disappointed repeatedly. It sucks, and it’s not fair, but that’s reality for Katniss and Prim Everdeen.

 Except Prim isn’t an Everdeen anymore. She’s married now with her husband’s name, and Katniss is the lonely older sister who hasn’t dated anyone for the past six years. If she sees one more person look at her with pity, she might have to scream.

 “Ah, there’s my gorgeous husband now,” Prim says, her face beaming at the sight of her man. “Hey, honey. Missed you.”

 “Missed you, too,” comes the reply, and Katniss cringes as she climbs to her feet. It’s not her ex-boyfriend, but it’s close enough. Rory Hawthorne is the spitting image of his handsome older brother who happens to be the last man Katniss let get her naked. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since she’s gone to bed with someone. She’s hurtling headlong into her sexual prime, and nothing. Not a potential to be found.

 “Well, if it isn’t Catnip Everdeen! As I live and breathe.”

 Katniss turns slowly to see Gale Hawthorne standing in the door, framed by sunlight and looking like a moody Greek god. Her body betrays her, and she can feel her reaction course through her veins. She forces herself to play nice and nods in his direction.

 “Oh, come on,” he teases. “I can’t get a hug and a kiss from an old flame and my current sister-in-law? We’re family now. Where’s the love?”

 Katniss stands woodenly as Gale embraces her and kisses her on the cheek. It’s awkward as hell, but Gale’s never been able to read the room well when he’s already made up his mind. She tenses as a ruckus sounds outside, and it’s not long before a handful of men pour into the house. They’re all tall and varying stages of broad, and every one of them is dressed as some version of a cool-kid-construction-worker.

 “What are you? Part of a new boy band? Performing covers for the Village People?”

 Rory steps between them. “Hey! Truce. This is my house, and you’re upsetting my wife. Knock it off.”

 All the men hoot and holler, catcalling Gale and, by extension, her except for one who slinks along the outside of the room. He seems embarrassed by the toxic masculinity, and he brushes his hair off his forehead in a riot of ashy blonde curls. Katniss likes him immediately.

 “And I deserve that,” Katniss says in a stage whisper to her sister as she nods her head. “Who’s he, and why haven’t I been introduced?”

 Prim calls to the room. “Calm yourselves, boys. Meet my sister, Katniss. Katniss, these are the guys. You know Gale, and these three are Thom and Darius and Rye. The one over there is Rye’s brother Peeta. He’s the well-behaved one. Maybe you can help him today. You don’t deserve any of these other guys. They’ll only make you question your life choices and swear off men for good.”

 Katniss waves at them all, showing her annoyance at their behavior in her tight smile. Giving each of them a wide berth, she crosses the room and approaches Peeta. “Nice to meet you,” she says, and he flashes her a smile that, in tandem with his cerulean blue eyes, makes her knees weak. Oh yes, she definitely deserves better, and he just might be it.

 “Nice to meet you, too, Katniss,” he answers in a voice that makes her want to strip down and let him have his way with her. His voice isn’t just sexy; it’s absolutely scandalous.

 She swallows her arousal and asks as casually as she can, “You need any help? I hear you’re the only one here who won’t sexualize me.”

 He chuckles, and she contemplates selling her soul to the devil for a shot with him. She’s never been attracted to someone this intensely in such a short amount of time. It’s actually quite unnerving for someone like her who’s fairly shy and quiet and aloof.

 “Well, I can’t promise I won’t fall for you by the end of the day, but I’ll do my best.” When he winks at her, she vows to make it happen. She has no idea how, but she’s got a few hours to figure it out.

 They spend the afternoon together sanding and painting. If she brushes against him multiple times, he doesn’t seem to mind. When he brackets her in his arms as she holds a section of drywall, she leans back against him. His chest is hard behind her, and she breathes in his scent. He’s a glorious combination of clean sweat and cinnamon from what must be his aftershave. He laughs at her jokes and entertains her with stories of his own. She’s never been great at making friends, but it’s so easy with him. At one point, she catches Prim’s eye as the afternoon slides into evening, and her sister winks at her.

 As the sun sets, things wind down. One by one, Rory and Prim’s friends say goodbye and make their respective exits. Gale seems to want to linger, but Rory and Prim remind him they’re spending the night at his place and insist they need showers before they treat him to dinner. He’s not very happy about it, but her ex-boyfriend leaves after giving her a suspicious look that makes her want to stick out her tongue at him. Katniss promises to lock the door behind her when she leaves, and then she and Peeta are alone with the house quiet around them. There’s a sudden strain between them that makes her squirm. After the ease of the day, the isolation is a little awkward, so she figures she might as well ease the tension with a lame joke.

 “Well, now that we’re alone…” Peeta chuckles and gives her a lopsided grin. She worries her knees will give out as the power of it hits her, so she leans heavily against the newly spackled section of the wall.

 “I had a really nice time working with you. When Rory asked me to help today, I didn’t think—” He breaks off and ducks his head as his face and neck redden.

 Laughing at his bashfulness, she asks, “You didn’t think what? You’re awfully cute with pink cheeks, by the way, so you might as well go ahead and tell me.”

 “I didn’t think I’d be matched up with someone so pretty.” She ducks her head, not used to flattery. “I just had a really, really good day. I was due for one or two of those. Really needed it.”

 “Well, I’m glad I could give you what you needed.”

 The air’s charged with electricity, and she raises her eyes to look at him. His are hooded, pupils dilated, as he stares at her. She has the sudden realization that she’s alone with someone she barely knows, and he’s looking at her like she’s a snack for him to devour.

 “I wonder,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “I wonder if you could.”

 “If I could what?”

 This isn’t supposed to happen to her. She’s never been this lucky in anything and definitely not this fortunate in relationships. Yet, somehow, he’s here with her and seems to want what she’s just realizing might be possible. He walks toward her slowly, licking his lips as he does, and stops so close that she can feel his body heat.

 “If you could give me what I really need.”

 Her throat’s dry, and she gives a tiny squeak when she tries to speak. He lifts his hand to brush away the stray tendrils of hair that escaped from her braid as they worked. His fingertips sweep lightly across her cheek, and his thumb strokes along her bottom lip. She wants to suck on it.

 “I thought you promised not to fall for me.”

 “Oh, no,” he argued. “In fact, I think I promised exactly the opposite—that I couldn’t promise not to. Now, the question remains. Can you?”

 “Give you what you really need?”

 “And will you?”

 “I’d like to try,” she whispers. “I really would.”

 “I think you’re the type that really tries.” His voice is husky and deep, and she shivers when his breath ghosts across her neck. “In fact, I think you’re the kind of woman who believes in trying multiple times until she’s sure everyone is perfectly satisfied. Am I right?”

 Katniss squeaks again, unable to answer right away. He strokes her arm slowly, brushing up and down and grazing the side of her breast. She’s positive he knows exactly what he’s doing to her.

 “Satisfaction’s the goal,” she finally croaks.

 He crushes into her then, his body full and tight against hers as he pushes her into the wall and kisses her like a man possessed. His mouth is hot and wet and perfect. His tongue sweeps along hers, massages and plundering so deeply she can only gasp and respond in kind. He’s everywhere—his scent, his arms and hands and chest, his soft moans catching in the back of his throat, heat leaching from his skin. It’s too much and not nearly enough. It’s overwhelming, but she wants every speck of it.

 There’s an old couch in the back room, and Peeta lifts her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, and carries her to it. He lays her out on it without breaking the kiss and settles in between her legs. Bucking upward, she whimpers at the friction. He’s solid and heavy, and she basks in the weight. Anxiety bleeds from her, and she sighs into the kiss.

 “Katniss,” he whispers, her word a sermon of longing and awe.

 “I don’t ever do this,” she answers, her eyes closed and breath uneven. When he makes a move to pull back, she threads her fingers through his hair. “No, don’t stop.”

 Peeta grunts in response and sucks the spot at the hinge of her jaw. His hands are all over her. Long fingers, massive palms, and blunt fingernails that knead, warming her skin and pushing her closer to the edge. He rucks up her shirt, and she shivers as he slides down her body and laves at the skin there. When his hand runs up the bare skin of her inner thigh, she moans lustily and considers begging him for more.

 “Take this off,” he requests, his tone polite and gentle, but there’s an underlying authority that makes her want to obey. He helps her to upright and watches as she tugs her tank top over her head. When’s she free, he caresses her torso before reaching behind her to unlatch her bra. Squirming under his scrutiny, she’s vulnerable, but he takes care as he fiddles with her waistband and then shoves her shorts down her legs. She’s left with nothing but a scrap of peach silk between her legs. “You have no idea the effect you have, do you? No clue how crazy you drove me all day today in your little bitty clothes. Are you a tease, Katniss, or are you that unaware how beautiful you are?”

 “I’m not—”

 “You are, and tonight you get what you deserve. What you need. What you want so much you don’t even know how to say it, but I know because I want it, too.”

 His hand is between her legs, his fingers brushing aside the fabric, his thumb pressing on her clit, his palm cupping her heat. She can’t think, and that’s exactly what she wants. She deserves to feel good; she needs someone to help with that, and she wants it to be him.

 “Please.” The word echoes in the air between them, shimmering with longing.

 His face is between her legs, buried in her pussy, licking and sucking at her swollen lips. She twists under him, desperate to get away at the same time she wants to grind into his mouth and let him make her break. She cries out, overwhelmed at how quickly she’s wet. Her shins are on his shoulders, her legs bent so he can lick deeper into her, and she can’t do anything but enjoy it. She’s helpless to resist him, not that she’d want to try.

 She doesn’t. He’s too good at it. His mouth is fire, devouring her like it’s his only job—to be put on earth and eat her out. Not only doesn’t she last, it’s shockingly fast. When he curls his tongue into her and then sucks her clit so hard she sees stars, she arches and allows warm honey to ooze through her. Thrashing under him, she doesn’t try to stay quiet or still. There’s no way when he’s so good at this anyway. When she melts into the cushions, he sits up and grins at her with a wet chin and a dangerous glint in his eyes.

 “These panties are completely ruined,” he murmurs and tears them in two. When she groans, he pulls them free and trails them over her heated skin. “You feel that? Sopping wet. That’s all you, sweetheart. All of that wetness is you telling me how good I make you feel. I bet we can both keep going, though. Don’t you think?”

 She doesn’t trust herself to speak, so she merely nods and then watches in appreciation as he unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it over his shoulders. Miles of smooth, honeyed pink skin is bared for her, and she licks her lips eagerly. He stands and unbuckles his belt, putting on a show for her. Cheeky and a tiny bit cocky, he shifts his hips until he springs free. He’s hard and long and thick and ready, and she wants it.

 “Flip over,” he says. “Get up on your hands and knees.”

 She does, quivering in anticipation and hisses when he spreads her cheeks and rubs his cock against her. It’s torture not being able to see him, but she can hear the tear of a foil packet before he’s pressing against her, his blunt head probing her entrance. Impatient, she rears back, but he holds her hips firmly, easing into her and stretching her around him.

 “Such a tight little pussy,” he grunts. “Perfect, and so fucking wet. Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Tell me everything. Let me give it to you. Take what you deserve.”

 She wails his name. She needs him inside, and he has to move. He has to. She’s going to die if he doesn’t. She’s never been good at dirty talk, but he pushes a button that lets it pour forth. Her requests are filthy, lewd, and debased, but he fulfills every single request.

 She can’t remember the last time someone fucked her quite like this, but that’s what this is. He’s in charge, and she’s merely along for the ride. He thrusts upward and lifts her knees off the couch with every stroke. Scrambling for purchase, she clings to the back of the couch. It’s rough and dirty and quick, and she screams when he reaches around and rubs her clit furiously. Her arms give, and he holds her aloft as he slams into her repeatedly.

 She crests another wave when he finally comes, pouring into the condom while her walls grip and flutter around him. They fall into a tangled heap with him slumped over her. Sweaty and panting for breath, she can’t move. He’s still inside her, hot and spent but not quite soft. She never wants him to move again.

 “You never do this, huh?” he finally groans. “You sure seem to know what you’re doing.”

 Katniss giggles, the action so unfamiliar that it startles her for a minute. But then she’s laughing, filled with mirth and relief and something that seems a little bit like hope. He joins her, his baritone melding with her treble tone to form a glorious harmony. Finally, she regains control and shifts her head so she can kiss his forehead gently.

 “You’re right, and you should say it.”

 “Can I get your number? I’d kinda like to see if you know how to date. I bet you’d be really good at that, too.”

 Katniss grins and sighs with happiness. “I can give you my number, but you don’t need it to ask me on a date. Just do it. I’ll say yes.”

 Peeta grins lazily and strokes her back. He trails his lips across her cheek to her mouth and kisses her softly. “Will you go out with me?”

 “Yes,” she answers firmly. “Is tonight too soon?”

 “Tonight can’t get here soon enough.”

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Long Nights - part 7

Neil x Reader

Chapter 7: Wicked game

(see chapter 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1)

summary: it’s time to come back to life, and sometimes it involves Neil dragging you to a social event

warnings: 18+, language, alcohol mention (beer is considered alcohol, right?)

author’s note: 3k words. It’s not exactly what I had in mind for that chapter, but they have a mind of their own, as always. 

Almost there.

The song for this part is Stone Sour - Wicked Game (acoustic, live)

Enjoy and let me know what you think, please? All feedback is greatly appreciated.

——————

Tag list: @cxnnienikas​ @neutron-stars-collision​ @ergunbilge​ @invertedneil​ @wanderedaway​ @i-wanna-b-yours​ @wonderwoman292​ @buckysgoldenheart​ @townmoondaltwistle @theriverbeneaththeriver​ (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list)

-----

It didn’t matter how many times you saw him do that, the effect the sight had on you was pretty much always the same. Filling your mind with thoughts that were quite counterproductive, one could say.

The veiny patterns covering hands and forearms. The long fingers running through the buttons. The tilted chin, extending the neck, drawing attention to that impossible jawline. The slight pout. The brows drawn together in concentration--

You smacked your tongue and shook your head

“Y’know what, those shirts of yours are so rude, but the way you wear them, the rolled-up sleeves?”

Neil looked at you through the reflection in the mirror, puzzled. “What about them?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely disrespectful,” you sighed heavily and leaned against the door frame.

Playful lights danced in the blue eyes. “Oh yeah?” he teased, giving himself a final glance-over before turning to you. “And what you’re gonna do about it?”

“Nothing,” - you shrugged, crossing your arms - “because you insist on dragging me to a social event.”

The faint resentment ringing in your last words didn’t get lost on Neil.

“So boring of me,” he said as he closed the gap between you, trying to keep a straight face. He put his hands on your waist and smirked. “But maybe after that we can come back here and continue the conversation.”

As you fixed his collar, a shade of smile hid in the corner of your mouth.

“Really wanna listen to me listing all the things that drive me mad about you, huh?” you asked smugly, gliding your fingertips along the delicate stripes of the greyish beige shirt.

Neil’s thumbs brushed over your hip bones as he hummed, “I have a feeling it might lead to a rather pleasant conclusion.”

When you let out an amused scoff, his lips captured the snarky comment that was bound to follow. He pulled you closer and lifted you up, and the next second you were sitting on the edge of a vanity cabinet, breathless from the kiss, tugging at the striped shirt.

A buzz right next to you.

You jumped, startled, and glared at the phone. “Is it too late to tell Matthias the Uber driver that we’re not going anywhere?” you asked without too much hope as you nuzzled your face to Neil’s neck, breathing in his scent, unwilling to let this moment end too quickly.

Neil chuckled and stroked your arms. “Come on, it’s gonna be fun.”

You still didn’t know where he was taking you - he’d assured you that it would be casual, and that was basically all you cared about. He knew you enough, and you trusted his judgement, after all.

“It better be,” you pouted, pulling back, but as soon as you met the bright blue eyes your heart sang in your chest. After spending all that time in the darkness, not sure if you’d ever see his face again, you caught yourself taking an extra second every now and then, just looking at him. How the light played on his features, now soft in the elaborately illuminated hotel bathroom. How his lips curled whenever he found your gaze. How utterly stunning he was.

Smiling gently, you ran your fingers through Neil’s disheveled mane, taming the blonde mess if ever so slightly.

“Let’s not keep Matthias waiting, then,” you sighed and slid off the cabinet.

-------

The afternoon was quite warm for late autumn. As you were arriving at your destination, you watched the sun shining through the scarce leaves left on the trees, adding vibrance to their colours. Too mesmerized to pay attention to the route, you recognized the place only when the car stopped. The training site. You turned to Neil in confusion, but he just wiggled his brows and proceeded to thank the driver and got out of the car. You followed him out and right through the gate of the now-empty paintball outdoor facility which served as a front for the agency’s base, hidden a bit further inside the forest.

“Picking up something on the way?” you asked, matching his pace as you strolled towards the training grounds.

Neil shook his head and smiled mysteriously. “Not really.”

“Alrighty then, keep your secrets,” you snorted, rolling your eyes. “Aren’t we a tad overdressed for a little playground fun, though?”

“A rematch?” he pondered and smirked. “Didn’t plan on that, but it’s tempting.”

Indeed. “I’m kinda out of shape, but keep those baggy trousers on and I’m game - wanna beat you fair and square again.”

Neil let out an exasperated huff. “Baggy?! They might be a bit loose but --”

You giggled at his offended expression as he got busy looking down at the target of your remark, ready to defend his fashion choice. Your laughter was enough to stop Neil in his tracks, and when he met your playful gaze, he reached out and drew you into his arms for a tight hug. After a brief moment of perplexity, you eased into his embrace, moved by the force of sudden affection.

When he pulled back, you touched his cheek. “What was that for?” you asked, searching the blue eyes, but finding nothing but joy there.

“Being cheeky.” He scrunched his nose while tapping the tip of yours. “And brilliant,” he added, and for a second you were sure there was something else he wanted to say; instead, he laid a gentle kiss on your lips. “And maybe stalling a minute longer before I’d have to share you with all these people.”

You gaped at him, about to ask what people, but Neil already grabbed your hand and led you around the corner of the building - and you heard them even before you spotted them.

“Oi, there they are!”

“Finally!”

“We’ve just considered sending a rescue party in case you got lost in the woods!”

The unexpected eruption of cheers and greetings made your fight-or-flight reflexes kick in, but as you instinctively took a step back, Neil squeezed your fingers reassuringly.  

A split-second exchange of looks.

All right?

When he saw your tiny nod, he let go of your hand, focusing on the team gathered at the makeshift chillout zone. “Not everyone has your poor sense of directions, Seb,” retorted Neil, flashing his teeth in a grin.

The young man’s protests got drowned in laughter as you approached the group together.

"Luckily not the case with our rogue here,” said Ives, elbowing his way in between other people. He shot you both a disapproving look, toned down by a smile dangling in the corner of his mouth. "Really, roofs? Didn't know you had it in you, mate."

"Me neither,” admitted Neil, going in for a clasp of hands and a brief hug. “When I saw that gap, I was sure that was it. Someone convinced me otherwise."

“The secret is to avoid looking down,” you shrugged, meeting the commander's amused gaze.

"Thanks for bringing our favourite nerd back in one piece." As Ives extended his hand, there was something serious about his expression, mixed with a sense of relief, and you realised he must have been in the response team Neil had called for help.

“My pleasure.” Beaming, you shook his hand. “Thanks for providing backup.” And scraping me off the pavement.

Neil’s gasp was almost theatrical. He smirked and nudged Ives lightly. “Aw, I’m your favourite?”

“Careful, that privilege may be revoked any minute,” grunted Ives in a weak attempt at keeping up appearances, but he couldn’t fool anyone. Now that you had a chance to observe them in the after-hours situation, the bond between the two men was clear as day, and your heart warmed up at the thought.

Waving back at Mahir, you scanned the group for other familiar faces. Wheeler, a couple of people you recognized from the HQ halls, and a bit isolated from the others - the big man himself, manning the barbecue station.

Overwhelmed by the attention you got from the team, you excused yourself and walked up to The Protagonist. You couldn’t help but smile at the confident vibe he radiated with as if he spent every weekend doing nothing but this.

“So dad of you, boss.”

He flopped a sizzling piece of meat to the other side, glancing at you humorlessly.

“How are you feeling?” he asked with polite concern.

“Grand, healed up nicely, thank you.” You circled your shoulder and grinned. “Not in a marathon condition, mind you, but that’s not exactly new.”

“That’s good, Neil was worried about you.”

Not sure if it was the lack of eye contact or something else in his presence, but you decided to stop ignoring the gut feeling.

“You don’t like me,” you said, tilting your head. A mere statement of the fact; you weren’t hurt, only curious. “It’s okay, you don’t have to, just been wondering why.”

TP sighed heavily. And when he finally met your gaze, the dark eyes were sad, only deepening your confusion.

“I’m sorry.” Then something cracked and a shiver ran down your spine, because suddenly, in front of you there was a man who’d seen a lot, suffered too much, and cared even more. The weight of it all slumped his shoulders, and for a short while, he seemed almost helpless. Taking a quick look at the hollering group, he sighed again. “It’s not your fault, it’s--“ he hesitated, searching for the right words. As he found them, there was no sign of the vulnerability from a moment earlier. “It’s a stressful business.” He sent you a crooked smile. “And I’m still mad about that watch.”

The lie was obvious. But the things you saw in his eyes made your chest clench painfully, and…did you really want to know?

Besides, that might have been a truce offering, and you weren’t bent on holding a grudge. Not with him, anyway.

“Hey, wasn’t it technically your idea?” you grinned, shrugging off the weird sense of dread.

A smile finally reached the dark irises. “I guess it was,” he admitted and patted you on the arm. “There’s some beer in the mini-fridge, could you --”

“On it.”

When the clank of bottles sealed your peace treaty, you caught Neil’s happy stare. You pointed at the beer in your hand in a question and he nodded, so you grabbed one more and joined him and the others.

That unfortunate mission must have been some sort of rite of passage in these guys’ eyes because out of the blue, you were no longer an outsider. The Cavalry accepted you with open arms as one of their own, and you couldn’t wrap your head around it. It was a nice feeling, though. Like you belonged. You saw some curious glances, but they came from a good place, and even the suspicious voice in your mind gave in under the cordial, jovial energy of the group.

Soon enough, you were joking with a young medic, having a balancing stand-off with Wheeler, or listening to crazy stories from some old operations, until everyone had enough booze in their systems that allowed them to direct some of the questions to you, as well.

“So is Neil a decent locksmith now?”

You puffed out your cheeks in a musing grimace, but when you spotted Neil’s raised brow, you started laughing. “I’d say even more than decent. Honestly? I don’t think there’s much more that I can teach him, he needs to polish his skills in real life now.” Mocking a teary sniff, you added, “They grow up so fast!”

Nobody would know that you did so while actively ignoring a faint sting in your heart.

You refrained from meeting the attentive blue eyes, though. Just in case.

“Oh cool, then what about a little contest?” Seb clapped his hands cheerfully. “You versus Neil, we could time you, and to make it fairer we could put a blindfold on you --” as he stopped for a breath, he realized - with some help from Wheeler’s elbow to his side - the slight faux pas.

But you barely acknowledge a curse and a mumbled apology cutting through the awkward silence, too busy exchanging amused looks and stifled giggles with your student.

“Neil, would you like to explain?” you asked, schooling your features.

He bowed his head as if he was accepting a great honor. “Gladly.” Neil took a deep breath and his eyes lit up. “See, my dear friend, had you known anything about lockpicking, you’d learnt that sometimes it’s easier to do that with, for example, your eyes closed. You need to listen to what the lock has to say because it’s all about feedback--”

You watched as Neil gave a full lecture, citing your own words from what seemed to be a lifetime ago. He did it with passion and understanding of the craft you’d never dreamed to see in someone else, and yet was so familiar when it came to him. Absentmindedly, you placed a hand over your chest, as if it was enough to stop it from bursting.

You couldn’t be more proud.

Neil finished his rant and looked at you, only to be met with all the appreciation and validation in your gaze, and he beamed even wider.

“All right, damn, we can cover Neil’s eyes then,” sighed Seb, a total resignation in his voice sparking a roar of laughter from the group.

----

As much as you enjoyed the energy of the team, your social batteries were getting drained, and you needed a moment for yourself before you could carry on.

Walking right outside of the periphery of light from the garlands, you let your gaze slide across the training equipment, now barely visible in the moonless night. The leaves crumbled under your feet as you smiled at the memories. Maybe one day you would actually complete the full run? You pulled on the sleeves of your sweater, hiding your hands from the cold evening air.

“Mind if I join you?”

You glanced over your shoulder at Neil, keeping his distance, ready to give you space. With him, it was always in the details he’d picked along the way, effortlessly weaving them into everyday life. “Not at all.”

Neil perked up and joined you in the shadows, inhaling deeply.

“Funny how the scent of the forest changes with the seasons,” he mused and you grinned, turning his way.

“That’s what I call a pick-up line,” you snickered and drew a long breath. “But you’re right, it’s too easy to forget that once you become a permanent city creature.”

He chuckled and lightly rubbed his hands up and down your arms.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked softly, fixing your oversized scarf.

“Yeah.” You brushed your cheek against his fingers, longing for his touch, now that you were somewhat hidden from the prying gazes. “You?”

Neil moved closer and wound one arm around your waist, then cupped your face gently, pressed his forehead to yours, and murmured, “Now I am.”

You hummed happily and slid your hands under his open jacket, resting them at his chest, and closed your eyes. Only then realizing how tense you were, you relaxed in his embrace, savoring his closeness. A steady heartbeat under your palms. The warmth carrying undertones of Neil’s cologne. A featherlike graze of his thumb over your cheek. His nose nudging yours.

But soon enough, you had to break a stolen moment. Trying to stifle a yawn, you hid your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

“Oh, my poor baby,” he cooed, biting back a giggle. “That tired?”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled against him on the verge of another yawn.

“Sure you are.” He kissed your temple. “The party’s almost over anyway, judging by decreasing amount of idiotic ideas per hour. Gonna call us a cab soon, all right?”

As you nodded, Neil tightened a hug and reluctantly let you go.

“Be right back, I’ll check if there’s any coffee left,” you said, gesturing towards the tables with beverages.

As your luck would have it, there was just enough for one sip.

A sudden sneer was enough to wake you up, though.

“Hell froze over.”

Mahir walked up to the mini-fridge to grab a beer and you met his mocking stare with furrowed brows.

“Vincent must be chattering his teeth now,” you joked, unsure where the conversation was heading. “Why?”

Mahir scoffed at the remark about your old associate, but he was still studying you closely, confusing you further. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Dude, you’re killing me today,” you sighed, wiping a hand through your face. “Thanks, but what for?”

“You and Neil?”

And when you shot him a puzzled look, he waved his bottle at the place where you stood together a moment before.

Breaking out in a cold sweat, you deadpanned, “Oh.”

Bloody hell.

“I thought you weren’t doing the whole love thing anymore.”

The pulse pounded in your ears, although not loud enough to tune out the sirens blazing in your head.

No.

It came out harder than you felt it. “I’m not.”

No, no, no, no, no.  

Mahir grimaced doubtfully. “Uh-huh.” He looked over your shoulder at the team gathered together in the distance and raised a brow. “Does he know that?”

You couldn’t force yourself to follow his gaze. The panic drained your face of all colour, and that was enough of an answer for your friend.

“I see.” Mahir shook his head, losing the enquiring manner. His features softened as he patted your arm. “Neil’s a good guy.”

Please, no.

“They always are,” you choked out bitterly.

Not again.

“You know what I mean,” insisted Mahir, searching for your eyes.

That the history was not gonna repeat itself?

...or that he didn’t deserve any of it?

“Yeah. Maybe.” You faked a smile. “Excuse me.”

Pushing past him, you went inside the building. You needed to be alone.

Oh, the irony.

Weeks of deliberately avoiding the topic. Tricking yourself into thinking that you can keep it casual. That it didn’t matter that much. That it was nothing but a self-indulgent fling.

You couldn’t breathe.

Lesson learnt, huh?

Barging into one of the restrooms, you got to a sink. Clenching your hands on the cold ceramic, you fought nausea tearing through your body.

Pathetic.

The gasp for air turned into a sob.

...and then everything went quiet.

You raised your eyes to the mirror.

Your reflection was staring back at you with determination.

It was time.

(next chapter ->)

[writingsbychlo]

after hours | mitch rapp

word count; 10,853

summary; at a bachelorette party, you get a little more than just a striptease.

notes; a little while ago, @samstaylor​ was daydreaming in the groupchat about mitch as a stripper, and of course, I couldn’t miss the chance to write it.

warnings; smut, striptease, that's about it.

The man standing at your hotel room door was without a doubt one of the most attractive men you had ever seen in your life.

Messy hair atop his head, long enough to run his fingers through, just long enough to have that kind of sexy bedhead look that never failed to make you weak, dark tresses you wanted to tangle your fingers into. His eyes were fixed on you, skin pale despite the sun-centred place you both lived in, and skin marred with perfect imperfections, moles and freckles decorating his skin. With whiskey coloured eyes that seemed to practically sparkle as he watched you, and plump pink lips that looked kiss-bitten and swollen already, the man was practically dripping sex, and you were certain your eyes were wide, jaw hanging open as you looked at him, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

A dark smirk was sat on his lips as he stared down at you, darkened eyes dragging slowly along your body, and settling on the silk sash that was sitting over your torso. “Maid of honour, huh? That’s a shame, I was kinda’ hoping it was you that I’d get to strip for tonight.”

“I’d still let you.”

“Oh, you would, huh?” He licked over his lips, dragging his lower lip between his teeth, his smirk only widening. “There’s always after hours for what we want, isn’t there? So, are you going to let me in? I’d really like to start taking my clothes off for you.”

“You’re one hell of a flirt..” Your words trailed off, and he let out a breathy laugh, straightening up from where he was leaning on the doorframe and offering his hand out to you.

“Mitch.”

“(Y/N).”

Your hand slipped into his, and he brought your fingers up to his lips, one eye dropping in a lazy wink as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, lifting your hand up to sit on his shoulder as he stepped in a little closer to you, humming under his breath as though considering the situation. “Pretty name, pretty girl. It’s a good night, tonight.”

“You keep flirting with me and I might have to drag you away for a private show, Mitch. I don’t think my best friend would be very impressed if she didn’t get her dance.” Your own hand came up to rest on his chest, the space between the two of you practically non-existent, and he looked between your hand on his body and your eyes, his gaze only seeming to somehow darken further. “I promised her a hot stripper, and so far, I’m delivering. I’d hate to crash the bachelorette party by dragging away the main event.”

“I’d be happy to let you drag me away, but I guess you’re right.” His breath was washing over your face as he spoke, your sights flicking between his own and his lips, before you were swallowing thickly and pulling away. It was like a magnet, the pull you had to this man was like something you’d never experience before, and yet you’d known him for mere minutes. With what little shred of self-control you had left, you scrunched up the hand in his shirt, offering him a final smirk as you dragged him into the hotel room, smoothing your hand down his chest to remove the wrinkles, and taking a step back from him as the pair of you rounded the corner and the noises o the party going on within came back into your hearing range.

The second the other girls’ eyes were laid onto him, the loud chatter and laughter had turned into hollers and whistles, Mitch’s ego only seeming to be fuelled by it, his chest puffing up and smirk becoming a wide toothy grin as he stepped into the room, glancing around for the speaker that the phone playing music was hooked up to, patting at his pocket absentmindedly for his own phone.

“Now which of you gorgeous ladies is the one getting married tomorrow?”

He had a way with women, you could tell from the way they were all already practically swooning, including your best friend, despite the ring on her finger and the vows she had memorised for less than 24 hours from now, her eyes were dragging along him shamelessly, head to toe, drinking in every delicious detail of him in the same way you had. “That would be me.”

“I shoulda’ guessed, you are just beautiful. I’m not surprised someone put a ring on you, I would have too.” He took her hand in his, smoothing his thumb over her fingers and rubbing over the pretty gem on the band sat on her finger, and she let out a giggle, a noise you’d never heard her make before but her cheeks were flushed and eyes wide as she looked up at him, and he placed her hand back down in her lap with a smirk for only her to enjoy. “I like to do these a little differently. I don’t have a set routine or song list. It changes with each client. I like to meet every girls needs.”

“Oh, fuck.”

A round of laughter went up across the room as the curse spilled from her mouth before she could stop it, and you plucked your phone up from the speaker, the soft music you’d been playing beforehand was cut short, and Mitch seemed to be the only one who noticed, his eyes flicking to yours momentarily, a small nod of thanks from him, before he was redirecting his attention back to the bride to be. “That okay with you?”

“So okay.”

“Great.” He fished into his pocket for his phone, handing it over to you to hook up to speaker, before stripping the lightweight black jacket he wore down his arms, ducking his head at the ay the girls all applauded and encouraged him, even as he simply removed the garment to hang over the back of the chair. “Do you have any song preference, or do you just want me to pick?”

“Y-Your choice.” Her eyes were no longer on his, instead, where you were sure all the girls’ gazes were, much like your own, taking in the way the light t-shirt was all but stretched across his chest, perky nipples pressing to thin fabric, sleeves stretching around his biceps and looking like he might rip straight through the seams as his arms flexed with simple movements, and you managed to drag your gaze away from his body to finishing fixing up his phone on the speaker cord.

“I have some good songs to dance to, I think you’ll like them.” He was standing back to his full height, rubbing his hands together and glancing around all of the ladies with a coy look, knowing exactly the effect he was having on them all. “Now, what about touching? Do you like to touch?”

He picked up her hand, placing her palm flat on his stomach, her fingers dragging over the taut and solid muscle you just knew lay beneath his shirt, her breath audibly hitching as she did, before she was nodding, face now bright red as she looked up at him. “I like to touch.”

“You want me to show you where you can touch?” She nodded, licking over her lips and closing her mouth quickly, offering up her other hand to him as he held his own ou for it, long and nimble fingers wrapping around her wrist. The breath of the other women in the room all seemed to be collectively held, a dreamy sigh let out as he pulled your best friend to her feet, her legs shaky underneath her as he placed both of her hands on his shoulders, pausing for only a second as her fingers squeezed lightly.

He was soon dragging on along his arm, all the way to his wrist, and the other along his chest, down to the middle of his stomach, around about where you expected his navel to be through his shirt, before he was pulling her in close, an embarrassingly needy sound leaving her as his chest pressed up to hers, and he pushed her arms around behind him. Her hands roamed over his back, nails scratching lightly as she all but trembled under his gaze, his eyes fixed on her and only her, the loose baby hairs that had come free from her up-do with the chaos of the night were moving softly with each breath he let out to wash over her skin.

“Nowhere else, okay? You gotta’ promise me before we start, babe.”

The pet name sounded on from his tongue, like he was used to saying it, but it didn’t quite suit him, though you assumed that would be about right, just flirty rough to get paid but not the way he would treat an actual girlfriend, and that was more than enough for you. The lady of the hour nodded, sinking back into her seat as he beamed, before clapping his hands and finally looking back up over the others gathered in the room, all of whom seemed to preen under his gaze.

“Let’s get some music going, shall we? Let me choose some songs, you ladies can get yourselves some fresh drinks, and then we can have some real fun.” He didn’t wait for a response, the clinks of champagne bottles and glasses being more than enough to clue him in that they’d taken his suggestion, and he was making his way back over to you, stare holding with your own, the cock-sure way that he carried himself made you feel like you were being hunted, a predator closing in on its prey, and you were more than happy to play that game with him.

He pressed you in against the counter, his body never actually touching you but you could feel the heat rolling off of him as he stood close, taking his phone from your hand and scrolling through his apps, bringing up his music as he seemed to consider his options, smirk only widening each time you let out a breath of gasped a little when he shifted fractionally closer.

“Why don’t you check over these songs for me, kitten? Tell me if you think they match your mood for the night.”

Kitten.

Now that was a pet name that sounded like pure honey and sugar and everything sweet as it rolled off of his tongue with ease, sinful thoughts flashing through your mind as you gazed up at him, before nodding happily and taking the device back, turning the screen to face you as you scrolled through the small collection of tunes that he’d chosen.

“I think that your choice in music is fuckin’ awesome.” Your words were mumbled under your breath, barely meant to be spoken out loud, but he let out a happy little sound at your praise, and you placed the phone down on the counter, twisting to face him and giving him the sweetest look you could, clearly seeming to have its effect because his cocky look faltered for a second, causing him to swallow thickly and clear his throat, his eyes dipping away from your own before he could bring them back up.

“I’m glad you approve.”

Even his voice was deep, practically dripping arousal, the man was like sex on legs, and you were just dying to know what was under his clothes, to watch him strip down and move. He wasn’t overly muscled, but his veiny arms, dark hair and cheeky smirk were more than enough to tip any girl over the edge, even in addition to the taut and lean body with clear upkeep and maintenance.

He was just fit enough without it being excessive, and he seemed or know exactly how attractive he was, because he was never once shy or awkward of himself, never cowering or backing away with his insecurities. He was proud on his skin, happy with his body, and you just loved the self-confidence he wore like a crown.

“If it were me, I’d want something a little slower. More sensual, the sort of thing you can dance to as well as strip to, but the girls will love these songs, I promise you that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Deep and raspy, his words were all but purred out, and you didn’t get a chance to reply before a set of manicured nails and a glass of bubbling champagne were being waved in front of your face, snapping your attention away from the man so that you could look down to the drink and take it from her and offering your thanks. She was giving you a pointed stare, clearly wanting to move on with the night, and you could understand that, so you slipped away from Mitch with one final gaze, full of heat and intensity, before you were taking your seat and grinning when one of the bridesmaids adjusted the lights a little lower for you all.

Once the music started up, you could physically feel the atmosphere in the room changing. What had once been heavy anticipation had become crackling electricity, his body beginning to sway a little as he got himself ready for his dance, letting the rhythm flow over him.

In only the blink of an eye, his nervous beginnings had transformed into fluid movements that were well-rehearsed. There wasn’t a single jagger or jerk, his body rolling and twisting without fault, and you took a deep and steadying breath, already feeling your heart beginning to race, a desperate bid to calm yourself.

That was blown out of the window, however, when he reached a hand up behind his head, his arms stretching and biceps seeming like they were all but birthing out of the dark t-shirt that was tight around his upper arms. Peeling it up, he moved deliberately slowly, rocking his hips back and forth as he inches the thin material higher and higher, bit by bit revealing peeks of toned muscle and taut pale flesh that was marred with beauty marks in the form of constellations of moles.

Tossing it out towards the girls, a squeal of excitement rose up in a wave across the room around you, and the material hung over the back of a chair, long forgotten as the real entertainment began.

It was rolls of hips, his body moving in fluid ways that you couldn't tear your eyes off of, and you weren’t sure where to look at any given moment. His muscles flexed and rolled under his skin, the wicked smirk on his lips never left, eyes dark and fixed on your own as your mouth hung open. You knew how you must look, you felt like you were on the verge of drooling just from looking at him, watching the sensual way he could roll his body and twist his hips, every movement he made matching the tempo of the music, hard-hitting notes making him jerk his hips forwards in time with the music, thrusting up into the air in a way that had your mind blanking with thoughts of him fucking into you in the same, his body shifting and twisting with each little action he took.

Your fingers were gripping onto the champagne glass with such force that you worried you may break it, rapt attention and hooded eyes as you watched his eye drop into a seductive wink while he was looking at you, licking over his lower lip slowly and being sure to put a little extra effort into the way his hips thrust up in the air as he watched you drink him in with rapt attention. The heat in the room seemed overwhelming, one of your hands coming up to tug at the front of your blouse, popping open a further button and pulling the light material away from your body, his lips being caught between his teeth as his eyes dropped down to scan slowly across your chest, fixing on the exposed bit of cleavage now peeking out from your top, before he was swallowing thickly and letting that same filthy smirk come back to haunt you as he looked back up to you once again.

The grey sweats he was wearing were hanging low around his hips, black boxer briefs complimenting pale skin perfectly, matching the dark hairs that trailed down low, and in some kind of retaliation, he held your eyes with a dead stare, smirking when he felt your friends hand’s land on his body, shuddering slightly as her nails raked down over solid planes of muscles, but he was licking the pad of his thumb, grinning cheekily around his own finger and dragging it down his own body, knowing that your eyeline was following the wet digit.

Hooking it into the waistband of his underwear and sweats, he pulled them down a little, just enough to flash you the dark patch of hair sitting gourd the base of his cock, cheers going up in the room around you both, but it all seemed entirely irrelevant, because it was all muffled, background noise as everything came secondary to you and him. He was all but fucking you with his eyes, every move was simply a teasing preview of what you could be having later that night should you choose to do so, and you were absolute fucking choosing to do so.

Letting the elastic snap back into place against his skin, he let out a small and quiet moan, just enough to tease the other women around you, all, before he was finally pulling his gaze away from you to face back to the others. Taking the bride-to-be’s hands in his own, he took them down his hips, all the way from his chest, her fingers dragging over his nipples and through the hair that was scattered over his chest, down to his sides, where he wrapped her fingers around the waistband of his grey sweats, giving her a cheeky nod and standing tall, dragging one hand through his hair as the song changed, silence taking over the room for only a second as you all practically held your breaths in anticipation.

In perfect timing with the first note of the next song, she leaned down, dragging his sweats all the way to his ankles, cheers going up in the room, and he cupped her face with a single hand, dragging the same thumb that had been between his lips only a minute ago along her jaw, letting her tip her head into his hand needily, and he chuckled under his breath, rolling his hips from side to side once again.

“Good girl.”

You weren’t the only that all but keened at the way he purred out the words, little sighs and whimpers taking off around the room, and you brought your glass up to your lips, downing the rest of the drink, and instead of refilling it, you simply clutched the bottle. The most genuine smile you’d seen all night raced his lips as he watched you do so, and for a second he seemed to falter, struggling to hold in a laugh as you raised the rim to your lips, taking a deep swig and holding his gaze. A single drip escaped your lips, making its way along your chin, you caught it with a single finger, making an excessive show of sucking the digit between your lips, the colour that had been staining them smeared around your finger a little as you sucked it down. He took in a sharp intake of breath, and somehow, his commitment to his dance only seemed to grow, like a competition between you both, who could flirt with the other more while everyone else was still in the room, who could drive the other a little more insane, and you were taking the challenge.

Uncrossing your legs, you parted them for just a second, fully aware of how short your skirt was, his eyes dropping down to the place you were only covered by a thin scrap of lace, his jaw dropping and a sweet moan leaving him for only a second, and he played it off like it was intentional, winking at the girls who made sounds of approval in return, and you were crossing them back closed before he had a chance to turn back to you, his eyes seeming to darken and narrow at the offering of a challenge.

With determination, he lifted your friend out of her seat, pulling her in close to him as he kicked his sweatpants away from himself, her head rolling back as he dipped his own down, never actually touching his mouth to her neck, but he twisted them around, sideways so the others could still see the way he was moving, and you could see his eyes watching you, everything you needed to know was being converted in the way he was looking at you, the way you knew he’d already decided exactly how he was going to take you, exactly how you’d sound screaming out his name and just how he was going to make it happen. He was already picturing you in nothing but the lace panties you wore, the same way you were picturing him in just his boxers, only the two of you in the room.

It was a treat for her, but a show for you.

He wanted you to see how he would hold you, how he would take care of you before taking you apart. He was giving you a visual demonstration of how everything would go down between you both, while simultaneously giving you nothing. His skin was coated in a light layer of shining sweat, his face seeming to glow under the low lights, and the flick of his lips up when he finally looked away from you was enough to confirm to you that he knew exactly how much you were longing for his attention to be back on you anytime he looked away, and how much he loved it when he finally redirected his gaze to your own, already to find you watching him needily.

Leaning forwards in your seat, he groaned out audibly as your breasts fell forward in your bra, plump and soft under his sights, and you purposefully pressed the cold neck of the bottle between them against your skin, a hungry look flashing over his face. Every place your friend touched, every place he touched her, every movement of their bodies as he directed her until she was too flustered and aroused to even stand up anymore was something you knew you would get more of, better of, later.

The music came to an end, no more songs playing as the loop had come to an end, and the time you had paid for seemed far too short, the girls all letting out dismal sounds of disappointment, and he let out a breathless laugh, brushing the sweaty hair away from his forehead and taking a little bow at the hoots they all let out at the simple action. Your best friend was red-cheeked and panting, fanning herself with legs crossed suspiciously tightly, but then again, every single one of the women around you looked utterly destroyed from the show, and they’d all simply been there to watch on.

It was a sight to behold, watching them all g about fixing themselves drinks and trying their best to drag their eyes away from his lean body and sweaty skin, fanning themselves and adjusting the lights, opening windows and walking round in a bid to ease themselves the aches and desires they’d never get fulfilled.

But, you would.

His sweatpants were tugged back up his legs, shirt still hanging over the back of one of the chairs, and you scooped it up with a single finger, holding the material between your fingers and making your way over to him, his back turned to you as he undid his phone from the extension cord and tucked it into his back pocket.

“I believe this is yours.”

He spun around to face you, a megawatt grin shown to you once again as he took it from your hand, his movements particularly slow and sexy as he pulled it back on over his head, his fingers and arms brushing against your own as he lowered the material down and over his arms. “I think you affected me more than I affected them.”

His voice as slightly scratchy, and you offered the bottle you were still holding out to him, gaze transfixed on the way his lips wrapped around the rim as he took a gulp of champagne, licking over wet and pink lips once he was finished, before pressing it back into your hands with a wink. “Oh, I don’t know ‘bout that. You drove them pretty crazy.”

“And what about you?”

“I loved it.” You confirmed, his eyes lighting up a little bit at the confession, before he was dragging his fingertips along your arm carefully, being sure that he was out of the lingering sights of the others in the room as their chatter took up once again.

“Good, I’d love to do a private dance for you, sometime.” You knew what he meant, not having to struggle to read between the lines, what with the way he was looking at you and the whispered tone of his voice, the spark between you both being undeniable.

“Bachelorette party ends in an hour. I’ll be in room 703 in one hour and thirty.”

“I’ll be there.”

“I can’t wait.”

He beamed, glancing around before slipping a hand down to pinch at your ass, chuckling under his breath at the squeal you let out when you jumped in shock, before wet lips were pressing a kiss to the spot just below your ear. “Neither can I, kitten.”

As promised, an hour and a half later, three quick knocks on your hotel door signalled his arrival, and you swung the wood open, a low whistle leaving his lips as he looked over you. He looked much the same as before, his jacket swung over his shoulder as he leaned against the doorframe, a bottle of vodka in his other hand, but he was nibbling on a plush pink lip as he took every bit of you in, committing the sight to memory.

You had changed, slipping on the best silky night set you owned, a lacey camisole and a pair of shirts, perfect for the heat and perfect for tempting hot strippers you’d only met a few hours ago into fucking you like you deserved to be fucked.

“You’re wearing the sash.” Two of his fingers hooked under the light piece of cloth sitting around your torso, ‘maid of honour’ printed into the fabric and he used it to pull you a little closer to him, standing up to his full height and leaning over you.

“You seemed rather fond of it before.”

“I was wondering what you’d look like in just the sash.” He beamed, and you hooked your own fingers into his belt loops, pulling him into the room and kicking the door shut behind him.

“Why don’t you come and find out, then?”

He let out a little growl in response, a sound that shot right through you and straight to your core, igniting that heat back up within you once again. His jacket dropped to the ground and the bottle of vodka he’d been holding was discarded to sit on the unit, both of his hands taking your face in a gentle hold. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night.”

“So do it.”

That was all the confirmation he needed his lips descending onto yours in a passionate kiss. It was hot, and perfectly executed, the way his mouth was meshing with your own was enough to make your knees go weak and body tremble a little under his touch. Those same hands that had been on your face were now moving down your body, large palms burning through the silk covering your body as he smoothed over your ribs, you breathing hitching as he dragged them down, before he was squeezing at your hips.  

Your own hands came up to grab at the fabric of his shirt, pulling him into you until there was no space left, the heat in the room almost suffocating, as though he wasn’t kissing away the breath from your lungs with every kiss he delivered or you. Your feet were moving underneath you before you could get your brain to catch up, the edge of your bedsheets brushing the backs of your legs when you finally snapped away, pulling aqua to peer up at the man before you. His lips were swollen, eyes dark and blown with lust as he gave short pants for breath, his own gaze taking you in with much the same desperation you were taking with him.

“Been thinkin’ about you all night. All the things we could do, the ways I could have you.”

“Tell me about that.”

He grinned, pressing a long but chaste kiss to your lips, before presenting his phone to you, scrolling through it as you distracted yourself by moving your lips along his neck, licking at the skin that has the slightly salty taste of sweat lingering there, and he let out a little moan for just you to hear when your teeth grazed his skin.

Soft notes building sweet melodies filled the room as he put down the phone on the counter beside the vodka. Fingers under your chin tipped your head up so that he could catch your mouth in a simple kiss once again, and you whimpered into his mouth at the delicacy of it all.

“I put a few songs together, something like you said. Slower and sexier.”

“You built me a playlist. That’s like giving a girl a mixtape, but it isn’t ‘82.” He let out a chuckle against your lips, hands dipping underneath the edge of your shirt to brush over bare skin, sending shivers along your spine until you were once again finding yourself melting into his touch. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” You nodded humming happily when you felt him smile into the kiss, before he was taking your hands in his, wrapping them around his neck and his own around your waist, swaying the two of you gently as he danced the tips of his fingers along your spine beneath the light material clad on your body. “I wanted you in so many ways. Thought about taking you hard and fast, because I bet you’d sound so good screaming out for me as I fuck you, but then I decided, I’d rather make the most of our time. Take you apart slowly and carefully, make you mine.”

“I’m already yours.”

He let out a sigh against your mouth, the swaying between you both stopping for only a second as he let out a primal sound in the back of his throat, peeling your shirt up and over your head, dropping it to the floor and smirking as he placed the banned back over your body. He smoothed it down on your body, thumbs brushing over your already pebbled nipples, and he seemed to light up at the noise you made in response, arching up into his hands. “Why do you have such an effect on me, hm? I meet tons of chicks every day, but there’s just something about you..”

Your arms wrapped back around his neck, pulling his mouth back to your own before he had even finished talking, and he moaned happily into your mouth, parting his lips before you even had to ask, his tongue dipping out to tangle with your own once again as your bodies moulded around one another, limbs tangling together as you danced slowly to the sensual music that was vibrating around the room.

“What do you want out of tonight, hm? Tell me what you need.”

“Ideally? I’d really like you to fuck me, I know it’s your job to get girls hot and bothered but you have an effect on me that no guy has ever had before.” He was happy, his chest puffing out a little in pride from your compliments, and you grinned up at him, tugging at the edges of his t-shirt and inching it up his chest. “But, I get it if you don’t want to. I’d be more than happy to just lay about and talk. And make out a bit. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” He echoed, rolling his eyes fondly and lifting his arms up so that you could peel the tight material off of his body, the fabric being more like painted on as it moved across his body, muscles flexing under your gaze and your mouth growing dry, and you were a little shocked to find heat crawling up his cheeks as it fell away, and his eyes wide a she looked at you. “You’d really be happy to just lay with me and talk?”

“Yeah. Is that what you want to do?”

You took a step back from him, just a small one, but he growled out, closing in on you quickly and stepping further into your space than he had been before, your bodies colliding and tumbling back onto the bed behind you, bodies pressed together slickly and propping himself up above you. “Maybe after, but I definitely want to fuck you first.”

“Thank fuck, because I’ve been dying to know what you’ve got hidden away.” You cupped him through his sweats, hardening cock twitching in your hand as he rolled his hips down into your palm, grunting under his breath and letting his eyes flutter shut as your fingers squeezed around his length.

He pulled away, mumbling his regrets under his breath but muffing his own sounds of dismay as his lips pressed wet marks along your throat, tongue flicking out to soothe at each place he bit and sucked at, careful not to leave marks that would show up in your wedding photos tomorrow. Closing his mouth over one of your nipples, he lapped at the perky bud eagerly, your back arching up, one hand coming down to weave into his hair as you pressed up into him.

“Oh, fuck. I knew your mouth was gonna’ be my downfall tonight.”

“Yeah? Just wait until I fuck you. With my fingers or my cock.” The words left tremors along your skin, only spurring on your pleasure, and a sob of his name slipped from you while he switched to the other side, leaving your breasts wet and coated in goosebumps as a light breeze of cool air washed over your slick skin.

“Cocky much?”

“No, I just know that I have a great dick, and I know my hands drive chicks wild.” He winked at you as he made his way back up into your eyesight, settling himself between your thighs and grinding down into you, dragging his stiff erection across your covered core, the layers of clothes between you becoming your most hated enemy as you wished nothing was blocking you, wishing for skin on skin, his cock sliding into you. “Wanna’ taste you. That’s okay?”

“It’s so much more than okay.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Use that pretty mouth to purr for me, kitten.” You let out a broken sound at the words he mumbled into your skin, kissing down your torso and running his fingers over the silk banner still clad on your body, hanging at an odd angle as you laid down but he seemed to be appreciating it nonetheless. “Finally gon’ get to see what you look like in just this sash. Been picturing it all night.”

You lifted your hips up for him as he hooked his fingers under the edge of the silk and lace trim, pulling your shorts away on your smooth and freshly shaven legs, cursing under his breath as he found your lack of underwear. You dropped your thighs open, dragging your fingers through your sodden folds and parting them before his eyes, watching as his jaw dropped open and he all but drooled at the sight, taking a deep breath as he palmed himself through his sweats.

“Oh, fuck.” His own hands found your thighs, massaging the muscle softly as he moved his way up, supple and plush skin tensing under his fingers as he lay down, hot breath fanning over your core and making you shudder with the anticipation. “I want to take my time with you, but I don’t want you to cum tonight unless it's on my cock, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Such a good girl.” His praise made you quiver, your eyes closing and a loud moan slipping from you as he dragged his tongue along your centre, swirling the muscle around your hole and dipping into you for only a second before he was lapping at the built-up slick and moving up to nibble at your clit, and you felt boneless underneath him. You were melting into the covers, both hands in his hair and your thighs clamped around his head, mumbling your own praise for his wicked ministrations already.

It was in the way his tongue moved, teeth grazing you flesh and lips sucking in tandem, and your mind was spinning. Head pressed back into the bedding and lips parted to let out your noises of contentment, you were somehow never more relaxed and utterly rigid at the same time. Your body was stiff as you rolled your hips up into his mouth rhythmically, your clit bumping against the tip of his nose each time he - or you - shifted, needy sighs being the sweet plea that left you every time, and he only worked harder after each one to make it happen again.

He was drinking up the reactions you made, flicking his tongue against you before finally slipping it within you, your walls clenching around him and you cried out his name as he groaned against you, juices leaking from you as he did and he happily took in the tease of you as your flowed for him. “Fuck, you taste so good.”

You barely caught his words, before he was delving back into you once again, and your hips left the bed, your heels digging in further as you whined and squirmed underneath him. Thick biceps pressed to your thighs as he wrapped his arms around your legs to hold your body to him, his stubbled jaw scratching at the insides of your thighs in a delicious way that would leave behind red and raw skin in the morning, the kind of burn that would remind you the entire of the following day of the sinful activities you were partaking in tonight. “Holy fuck, Mitch.”

“That’s right, call out my name, sweetheart. Tell everyone who’s making you feel this good.”

“Mitch!”

It came out as a squeal this time, two of his fingers prodding at your weeping entrance and slipping in with little hesitation, sinking until they couldn't move any further, and you let out deep and needy sound at the feeling of being filled already, even if it wasn’t enough to make you scream out yet. He wiggled the digits within you, pressing deeper and more full than your own fingers would, and your body jerked roughly when the tips brushed over your sweet spot while exploring your inner walls.

He seemed to know exactly what had drawn your reaction, and he placed a cheeky bite to your hip bone as he pressed his grin into your skin, revelling in the way you were trembling under him, clenching around his fingers as you neared your peak, each sound and shake only feeding his ego.

“You close for me, baby?”

“S’ close.”

Your words were slurring together, and he pumped his finger slowly, scissoring them and stretching you out as he dragged his fingers over your walls, scratching lightly with blunt nails and exploring every inch of your core that he could reach, finding every spot that made you tick and tremble for him. “Ready for my cock, hm? Ready to explode for me?”

“Please, I need it. I need you so bad. Please, Mitch!”

“Okay, kitten. I’ll give you what you need.”

His fingers were pulled from you, drawing a cry from your lips as the climax you had been so close to came winding down, and you propped yourself up your elbows to watch him. He was sucking on his fingers, offering you a lazy wink as he caught your gaze fixed on him, and his body began to move to the music still playing in the background. It was even slower, more torturous, than it had been at the party, because now he was really taking his time.

His thumbs hooked under the waistband of his sweats, and he dropped them down toned and muscled thighs, kicking off everything around his feet and ankles until nothing but a pair of tight boxers covered his body. His cock was straining against the fabric, the front damp from the precum he was leaking and you felt yourself go weak all over just at the sight of his cock pressing into the material, your thighs clamping shut and rubbing together as you nibbled on your lower lip.

Reaching one foot out, you poked at his hip, using your toes to push the material down a little bit as you whined, and he took your ankle in his hand, pulling you further down the bed until he could lean over you, placing a sweet kiss to your lips that soon became just as filthy as the rest of the night had been. His lips mouth was dominant and rough against yours, scratchy stubble dragging over the soft skin of your cheeks each time he pushed you back down, backing your body into the bed, the taste of yourself washing over your taste buds as his tongue traced your own, making sure you were getting just as much of your own taste as he’d had.

“I got you, baby.” You hummed into his mouth, feeling him pull away, dragging his hands over your body slowly until not a single part of him was touching you, and you pried your eyes back open, forcing yourself to look up at him, a knowing grin on his face as he slowly pushed down his boxers.

A thick, flushed cock sprung up from the second he released himself, skin slick with smeared precum and the tip and angry red, bouncing in the cool air as he freed himself of the final restraints. You feel your breath leave you in a huff, eyes half-lidded as you collapsed back into the mattress, singing one hand over your eyes and dipping the other between clenched thighs, pushing a single digit into yourself in a bid to relieve some of the built-up tension.

“No, no, no. I didn’t say you could touch yourself, did I?” He tutted, pulling a condom from his pocket and tearing it open, letting the foil flutter away to the floor as he rolled the rubbed onto his length. Plucking your hand from where you had been pleasing yourself, his knees found the bed either side of your body, pulling your finger up to his mouth and sucking it between plush pink lips. His hair was flopping slightly into his face as he peered down at you, but your eyes were falling shut anyway as his tongue cleaned off your skin of your juices, praises about the way you tasted leaving him but you didn’t bother to listen to him, because you were too busy focusing on the heat consuming you, and the man who had lit the fire.

“Can’t help it, you’re teasing and I’m needy.”

He grinned at your words, long and thin fingers swiping his hair out of his face, only for it to fall back down into place, and he supported himself on one hand as he used the other to line himself up at your entrance, the swollen head of his cock nudging at your clit and dragging through your soaked heat. “Fuck, you’re so warm and wet already.”

“Would be better if you fucked me.”

He snapped his hips into yours, a loud cry of his name falling from you as he sunk to full depth in only a second, stretching you out and filling you entirely, your eyes rolling back in your head and lips parted. You felt like the breath had been punched out of you as he’d sunk in, your back arching up and legs clamping around his waist in a quick movement, holding him close and tight to your body.

His own grunts and groans of blissful pleasure rang out in a mix with your own, harmonising together perfectly and bouncing off of the walls. His face dipped down to press into your neck, tongue swiping at your skin as the two of you took a second to adjust. Your walls were fluttering around him, squeezing at his length and dragging him in, his eyelashes tickling your skin as his own eyes closed, and scruffy hairs lining his chin leaving scrapes of red along your shoulder.

“Holy shit, I feel like I’m in Heaven, but you are pure fucking sin wrapped up in a pretty package.” His words were a little shaky when he spoke, and you hooked your own arms under his, nails digging into his back and he pressed up into your touch, before finally forcing himself to move, circling his hips a little as he found his balance, before his hips were slipping away from yours slowly, torturous for you both. “Fuck, you’re incredible.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” Your words were whispered out, trailing off as his cock dragged to your entrance, almost slipping from you, before he was slamming himself back into you with ease, your bodies sliding together with a beautiful friction, your tits pressed up to his chest, hips pressed together and nails raking down his back. You were clinging to him, his name like a mantra of your lips as he set a steady pace.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, quick and steady, the harmony accompanied by the sounds each of you let out, spurring one another on as he drove himself into you on repeat. He was long and thick, tapping against your sweet spot without effort, angling himself once he found it so that he could pound against it on repeat. You were already close, the orgasm you’d been denied before was now coming back to claim you with a vengeance as trembles wracked your body, the pleasure you were feeling was making you quiver underneath him.

“You feel so good.”

He pushed himself up enough to be able to smirk at you, his face a little flushed and skin lines with a thin layer of sweat, before his eyes were sweeping over your face, and he was dipping down to press his lips to your own. Despite the rapid rhythm he held while fucking into you, his lips moved slowly and passionately over your own. It was like a love song, sweet and steady and tempting as you drowned in his touch, one of your hands shifting from his back to cup your jaw.

His tongue trailed over your lower lip, asking permission to play with your own, to which you eagerly granted, and he sighed happily into your mouth as the muscles dragged tentatively over one another. It was delicate, teasing together as the way your body quivered and clung to his was opposed by the frantically needy way his mouth was meeting your own. He was breathing life into your body while simultaneously stealing your breath away, and the combination of feelings raging through you all became too much.

You felt your climax crashing around you before you even realised it, rolling your hips up to meet his own as you tried to drag out your peak, feeling his thrusts grow sloppy as you clenched and tightened around him. He was kneeling up, hands holding your thighs wide open as he watched with rapt attention at the way his cock was sliding in and out of you, coated in your juices as your body moved erratically at the overstimulation, and he cursed under his breath at the sight.

Pulling out of you for only a second, he flipped you over onto your stomach, large hands roaming over your body, one gripping you hip tightly as the other pushed down between your shoulder blades, flattening you into the bed and slipping up higher to lace into your hair. Easing himself back into you, your tightened walls made everything feel heightened, your eyes rolling back and screams of desperation muffled by the covers beneath you, his fingers become a fist where they were tangled within the strands and you pushed your hips back into his, fucking yourself fon his cock as you tried to take the high you needed, despite only just coming down from your first.

He allowed you to do so, mumbling praises under his breath as he watched you slam yourself back onto his length, only to pull yourself almost off, whining each time his tip dragged at the rim of your entrance, before you were seating yourself on his dick once again.

When the pace had become too slow, he pulled both hands back, gripping your hips with such force there would be purple patches in their place in the morning, before he was setting a brutal pace. Clearly, the urge to take you slowly and romantically had flown out of the window because he was letting out the urgent groans of a man that was close to unravelling as he pounded into you, and your own noises - something between sobs and screams -  were finally released when you tipped your head to the side and rested your cheek against the cushioned bedding.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. So good for me, you’re incredible!” He punctuated each word with a particularly deep and harsh thrust, your eyes lining with tears as the electricity in your body lit you up like lights on a tree, every nerve crackling and sparking with energy as your fingers clenched in the sheets and you pushed yourself back into him.

“Fuck, Mitch! Just like that! Oh, God..”

You felt this one coming, felt the waves take you over as you squeezed your eyes shut, everything going silent as your mind went fuzzy and body went numb, your pleasure surging through you for pure ecstasy as you came undone once again. He leaned over you, panting and pressing his mouth along your spine in movements that resembled kisses, his hand slipping around to push down on your neglected button, your body going stiff as it all became too much, and that seemed to throw him over the edge too.

Your body clamped around him like a vice grip, warm and wet and flooding with arousal just for him broke his walls, and his voice was raspy and deep, sounding so pornographic you felt yourself blushing despite everything that had already happened as he moaned your name, stilling within you and filling the rubber on his cock with his cum.

When the shaking between you both had dulled down enough for him to regain some strength, he pulled himself out of you, ridding himself of the condom and wrapping it in a few tissues as he padded his way across the room to the bathroom, and you fell down into the mattress, absolutely exhausted and thoroughly spent yet entirely satisfied, your body singing out in bliss.

Only a second later, you felt nimble fingers wrap around your ankle, pulling your legs apart before a warm cloth was swiping over your heat, and this time, you did feel your face flush with heat, a low and embarrassed laugh slipping from you. “What are you doing?”

“Taking care of you.” He spoke it like it was obvious, pressing a kiss to your temple before discarding the cloth across the room, and you watched him carefully, letting him pull you up into a sitting position, stripping the banner over your head and meeting your gaze, an eyebrow raising carefully. “What?”

“Nothing, I’m just.. not used to this, I guess.”

“One night stands with strippers in Vegas?” He joked, and you rolled your eyes fondly, watching as he tugged his boxers back up his legs, followed by his sweatpants, before he was scooping up the various other items scattered around the room.

“No, this whole sweet and caring thing. You’re different. I like it.” It was his turn to blush at your words, and instead of acknowledging them, he moved on, holding up his t-shirt as well as your silk camisole from before.

“Are these actually your pyjamas, or did you just wear them to look sexy?”

“Both? They’re not the most comfortable pyjamas, but they’re good for the heat.” He nodded at your thoughts, before passing you the shorts and dropping the top on the edge of the bed, offering you his t-shirt instead.

“You can wear mine, if you’d like? If you’re still up for that ‘chat’ we spoke about, that is.”

“I would love that, actually.” You accepted the material, tugging your shorts up your legs and pulling on his shirt, enjoying the way the soft cotton brushed over your skin, and he swiped up the bottle of vodka he’d brought as well as the room service menus, wiggling his eyebrows as you patted the spot next to you, the pair of you snuggling up into the fluffy pillows beside one another.

“Good, because I have a whole bunch of questions, there’s a lot I want to know about you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You laughed at his words, and he cracked the top of the bottle open, offering you the fresh bottle for the first sip, making sure you could see him open it, like a true gentleman, despite the first opinion that ‘stripper in Vegas’ gave off, and he was surprising you with every act.

“Yeah.”

“Well, we do have all night.”

The morning had come far too quickly for your liking, the sunlight just a little too bright and the blaring of your phone across the room was just a little too loud, and you stumbled over the carpet to find the device, shutting it off, considering getting back into bed for just a  moment, before the realisation of the day came crashing back to you.

“Oh, my God! It’s the wedding day!”

A deep groan came from the pile of blankets, pillows and cushions on the bed in response. Making you way back over, you ran a single finger along his cheekbone, watching as his eyes cracked open to look at you, squinting and blinking against the light, but with a huff, he shifted himself a little more to be able to offer you a sweet smile.

“My best friend is getting married today!”

“She is indeed.” His morning voice was like something out of a wet dream, and you groaned under your breath, the same deep and raspy tone that had come progressively through the late hours as you’d slipped towards the point of being exhausted, before crashing only a few hours prior.

The night all came flooding back to you, bits and pieces, remembering just how long the two of you had talked for, sitting up among the pillows and sharing the food and drinks, nibbling on the snacks and telling jokes. Then, as the hour ticked by, you’d ended up cradled into his chest, previously light stories and fun facts from your lives had become deep confessions and longing wishes about the future and the past, your cheek pressed or his skin as he weaved a hand through your hair, your legs tangled together as you curled up under the blankets.

The sky had been lighting up with pale hues of colour, the sun threatening to rise before you’d finally stopped spilling the deepest secrets of your hearts to one another and instead remained wrapped up in every bit of each other as you drifted off for a few hours to snooze before the big day began. Now, you were practically bouncing on the tips of your toes, renewed with a fresh energy and excitement for the day.

“I have to be at breakfast in ten minutes!”

You were ducking into the bathroom only a second later, brushing your hair and tying it up in a messy bun atop your head, washing your face and preparing yourself for the hair and makeup you’d be having done once you’d eaten, scrubbing your teeth quickly and listening to the rustling of material on the other room.

When you emerged, you found he’d made the bed, the sheets straightened and pillows arranged tidily, his shoes already on his feet and phone tucked into his pocket. The plates from last night had been piled back up onto the trolley and pushed out into the corridor, the room neat and clean once again.

“You seem excited.”

“I am! I’m a maid of honour, and my friend is getting married! I couldn't be happier. Also, there’s going to be pastries at breakfast.” He beamed at your words, and you peeled his shirt up and over your head, neither of you caring for your nudity as you handed it back to him, letting him shrug it on and pull it down over his body, a mumble about it being warm and cosy barely reaching your ears. “You want to see my dress?”

“Of course, kitten.”

You flashed him a grin, winking at him in a playful response, before you were removing the silky shorts from your body too. Tossing them onto the bed for later, you rifled through your luggage for a fresh set of underwear, clipping your bra on and tugging the lace up your legs, before taking the plastic-covered dress from the wardrobe, the only garment you’d bothered to hang up.

Unzipping the wrap carefully, you freed your dress, shaking it out to free it of any wrinkles and holding it up before him, a low whistle sounding in appreciation as he reached out two fingers, brushing his knuckles against the cleek and velvety material. Undoing the zipper, you stepped into it with caution, easing your arms into the sleeves and leaving the back hanging open, choosing instead to push your feet into your heels, standing up to your full height before him, showing off the entire outfit.

“What do you think?” You did a little twirl, and he stepped towards you while your back was turned, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder before fasting the dress up for you, spinning you in his arms so that you were face to face.

“You’re beautiful.”

Instead of responding, you leaned into him, your lips meeting his in a chaste kiss. It was just a press of your lips to his, a happy hum on his lips as your mouth worked together in a slow dance, before a knocking at your door and the sounds of the other bridesmaids on the other side prompted you both to pull away, and you cleared your throat, telling them all to go onwards, and that you’d catch up with them in a moment.

“That’s your call.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I should go.” You gaped at him, eyes wide as he took a step back from you, and you instead reached out and took his wrist, pulling his movements to a halt as he looked at you curiously.

“Can I get your number, or something?”

“You already have my number.” He gave you a look as though you were supposed to know what that meant, your eyebrows furrowing and lips closing into a thin line as the tension between you both grew, and he let out a sigh, running a hand over his face. “Just call the same number and ask for me for your next event. I’ll be there.”

“Wait, what?” The cloud of confusion cleared very quickly, and you offered him a gentle smile, stepping into his space and raising a hand up to his cheek, his body a little stiff as he watched you. “I don’t want the club number, I want your number. I want to see you again.”

“But, why?”

His voice cracked a little when he spoke, and you swore your heart did the same, your thumb rubbing over his cheekbone carefully, and he tipped his head just barely in order to lean into your palm a little more, his eyes scanning yours with curiosity. “I was thinking maybe we could go to dinner, or something a little less cheesy. Like, go-karting, or a picnic.”

“Like a date?”

“Is that okay?” It was your turn to be nervous, and he let out a breathless laugh, ducking his head for only a second, before he was wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you into him, burying his face in your hair.

“Yeah, that’s so fucking okay with me.” He pressed a few kisses to your hairline, sighing happily against your skin as he all but sagged into you, clinging to you as you held him tightly. “Girls don’t really want to date me, because of the whole stripper thing. I’ve been alone for a long time, and I really like you.”

“I don’t care what you do for a job, honey. As long as I’m the only one you’re kissing and curling up with at night, you can do whatever you want.”

He pulled away, holding your face in his hands and fixing you with a gaze so intense and deep that you felt your knees go a little weak beneath you. “I promise. I’m really good in relationships, I just haven’t had the chance in so long. I’ll never hurt you, I swear it.”

You could only nod, lips flicking at the corners, and your voice hoarse as you finally managed to mumble out a response; “Kiss me, already.”

He did as told, smiling into the exchange as your mouth pressed together, a dance of their own being choreographed by your hearts, his hands holding your cheeks tightly as your own gripped at any space you could get, his chest, his hips, his back. You were dragging him closer, pulling him into you and holding on tightly.

It wasn’t like the kisses from the night before - hot and frantic and rushed, or like the ones from earlier - longing and anxious and lazy. Instead, it was slow and reassuring and passionate, easing his fears and your own as the two of you simply held onto one another, before your commitments for the day came rushing back, forcing you to snap away and drag a whine from the man before you.

“No, that was good. Let’s keep doing that.”

“Hm, maybe later, baby. I have a wedding to get to. The maid of honour can’t be late!” He sighed lowly, stealing another peck before he was backing off, hands raised as he licked at his lips to gain every bit of your taste, his eyes sweeping over you with admiration. “You know, I still have a plus one to the wedding.”

“Not this late you don’t.” He teased, running his hands over your sides affectionately as you swung your bag up onto your shoulder.

“One quick call to the reception and I’m sure we can squeeze in an extra seat and meal. If you’re interested.. that is?”

“You don’t think it would be weird if you took the stripper from her bachelorette to the party? You don’t think you’ll be judged?” His voice was light, and the slight drip of fear and worry dripping back into his tone, and you’d only just managed to ease that anxiety, before you were lacing your fingers with his and pulling him toward the door of your room.

“To hell with what they think. We’re all that matters.”

“You really are perfect for me.” His words were spoken like a dreamy sigh, and you rolled your eyes with no heat behind the action, closing the door behind you both and leaving the pair of you standing in the hotel halls. You leaned up, brushing your lips to his cheek, and leaving him with a slightly red face and a cheesy grin that he was trying to hide. “Give me your phone.”

You handed him over the device, and he punched in his number, finishing it off with a ridiculous selfie before he was handing it back to you, dragging the tips of his finger over your own when you touched, being sure to drag out even the simple bit of contact.

“Text me the details, kitten, I’ll be there.”

“Can’t wait.”

[our-future-is-up-to-us-2]

It Won’t Be Long Now

A/N - I'm shipping Ninessa here because I can and you can't stop me >:D

Lyrics are in italics, both in and out of speech.

'Rosie' is Vanessa's nickname for Nina, derived from her last name, 'Rosario'.

'Nessa' is quite evidently Nina's nickname for Vanessa!

Based on Melissa Barrera's 'It Won't Be Long Now'!

The elevated train by my window doesn’t faze me anymore…

Vanessa Morales had a secret suenito. It was one she carried everywhere with her, quite literally in notebooks, in her hands, the back of her mind, pockets filled with ribbons and fabric. Even though those notebooks may be jammed, pockets stuffed with everything as if to give it all away, she’d never give the proper answer when asked. 

‘What’s all that for?!’ 

‘A project.’ A sweet smile would lace her face and she’d let the other person process for a minute, before continuing about her day. There was no doubt that a girl like her was attractive, which is perhaps what made it all the more believable. Currently, in her apartment, she filled up a bright pink backpack with one of her many fashion notebooks, a pen or two, and her application. She was out there now, in the big, wide world, looking for a job. She’d been training hard, creating, sewing as many fabrics as she could get her hands on, spending numerous days inside, all for this. This nugget of hope that she could project herself and her passion into the world. Fulfil that suenito. 

She swiftly changed into a pastel top, a geometric print jacket, heels still and denim shorts, ripped a little at the bottom. Just like that, she was ready to go. 

Through the busy barrio streets, her eyes remained ahead, focused on one thing only. Her destination. She knew she exuded attractiveness in her swagger, demonstrating confidence, and as established prior, good looks. This in turn, only drew several men to her, all desperate for such a jewel. ‘Vanessa!’ They cried, ‘You’re precious! Stay here, give me a chance! Please, precious Vanessa, please!’ 

The boys around the way holler at me when I'm walkin' down the street

Thеir machismo pride doesn't break my stridе—

It's a compliment, so they say

The boys around the way holler at me every day, but I don't mind, oh no

If I'm in the mood, it will not be with some dude

Many made cries from the sidewalk, unable to speak, whistling and snapping their fingers to catch her attention, all of which was a regular occurrence. She honestly… Hated it, but she tolerated it. She didn’t reveal any weakness, show any disgust. Vanessa was completely composed, always, or at least to the public. She could dig into herself while no one was around, laugh more, shed a few more tears, whatever was necessary. She continued to look ahead despite everything trying to capture her in the present, swindle her away from her goals. 

Who is whistlin' 'cause he has nothing to say

Or who's honking at me from his Chevrolet!

And one day… I'm hoppin' in a limousine and I'm driving away!

It won't be long now!

Vanessa turned a sharp right, pulling into a quieter city street and slinking into a crystal white building. A minimalist, bright space, with luxurious windows, plenty of wardrobe space, cupboards, artwork, a desk larger than anything she had currently. Her mind was already envisioning the studio. She had everything laid out for her. Every possible question the realtor could ask financially? She had a comeback! She felt her body shake with excitement, eyes darting from side to side as the realtor stepped into view. 

“Hi, I’m Amanda!” She held her hand out for Vanessa to shake.

  “Right, Amanda, hi!” A bright smile laced her face as she reciprocated. “Vanessa. I actually emailed you about this a few days ago, but I can give you a rundown right now. I’ll just grab my sheet of paper…” She trailed off, opening her backpack to pull out the application, her neat handwriting filling out all the appropriate boxes. Amanda took the page, examining it with keen eyes, and Vanessa leaned back on the spot, adrenaline running through her veins. I can just picture it all… 

“I can’t accept this. Someone has to co-sign.” Amanda furrowed her eyebrows in disappointment, as if this was something to be known by all. Not everyone was so business savvy, and Vanessa least likely of all people. She was a creative spotlight, not an economics master like Kevin Rosario, owner of the dispatch and more importantly, father of Nina Rosario, her girlfriend. She’d likely talk to her later about all this… The thing with Nina was that she was so kind and supportive, and they both shared their own goals, bettering one another, talking about them constantly and knowing each other so well! A connection arose since Vanessa joined the salon, and Daniela tasked her with styling Nina’s hair. It had been much more than that with school connections as well, but threading her hands through her hair, talking to her for a solid hour each appointment?! It became clearer and clearer to her and the salon girls that ‘little Nessa’ was falling deeply in love. 

She’d zoned out a fraction upon thinking about her girlfriend, but she blinked, catching the words in her ears. Shock invaded her body, disbelief lighting up her face, and incredulousness leaving her mouth wide open. “What?! I have everything! All my money lined up, bank checks-” She rattled off, hands fidgeting, “First, last, and security- I had to call about that to get it in order! Amanda, you can’t be serious-” She was speaking so rapidly to protect her case- This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening.

“I’ll say it again. You have to have this co-signed. We can’t give you the space without it. Maybe a parent could sign for you, Vanessa?” Her voice didn’t have an ounce of kindness. It was silky and smooth, but made to run her down simultaneously. It immediately taunted her, You can’t have the job! You don’t have the space! You can’t have any of it! “Assuming they can pay up! Income plus 40 times the rent?” She held the application out for Vanessa to take back, a slight smile lacing Amanda’s face. It was one Vanessa grew to hate instantly. All her life had built up to this space, this studio, the expansion of her work and lifelong dream and passions and- 

“Thank you, Amanda. I’ll consider it.” She snatched the sheet and stuffed it into her bag, swivelling around on her heels and walking back out into the streets. Light up that smile, don’t act annoyed, don’t get angry, you’re fine. Act natural, act natural, act natur- 

“Nessa!!” A voice squeaked from the end of the street, Vanessa having to do a double-take, speeding over to the voice. A woman came closer into view as she frantically raced in her heels. None other than Nina Rosario. She paused right in front of her, catching her breath and simultaneously admiring her. Her soft brown curls and chocolate eyes… Vanessa would never get sick of looking at her features. “Were you coming from the realtors?! Sure seems like it! How did you go?!” Her face lit up, “Surely you got it, it’s you!”

Where Nina’s face beamed, Vanessa’s actually continued to smile. She kept that on her face, looking around. Who was here? Could she be seen by others? “Wanna head back to mine?” Her voice was far softer than she expected it to be. A sign of withering, cracking under this newfound anger. “It might be easier to talk about it there as opposed to the middle of the barrio-” She chuckled softly, her face contorting into one of urgency. Please, precious Nina, please…   

“Of course, Nessa! I love your apartment. It’s so cozy…” She hummed, offering her hand for her to take. Vanessa took one look and latched onto it, holding it tight. She wanted to walk down the street with the same amount of confidence as she did before, but it was all gone. It was like she was a child, clinging to her parent, a calm level, headed Nina, and she was the bewildered child, lost in the world. 

She took her shot. She saw the red light, ran it, and got hit by the car. Vanessa felt like a failure. All her efforts simply amounted to nothing. 

Silence invaded the air as they walked back, and she kept her head high, staring straight ahead, not daring to face Nina. She couldn’t reveal herself now, not yet, maybe not even ever... 

-----------

Little did she know she’d be crying on her bed, head dropped in shame, Nina’s arms wrapped around her in a supportive hug. No words were exchanged for those past 5 minutes. The minute she entered her apartment, she burst open like a broken pipe, her cries of anguish and upset unknown to the Stanford student. She’d never seen Vanessa crying, and for good reason. It was vulnerability, weakness, everything opposite to her. All the more reason for her heart to get broken. 

Blinking her eyes open, she clutched her bag and pulled on the zip, a piece of weathered paper in her hand. She held it out to her girlfriend, barely looking at her own writing. Filling out the application was the highlight of that week, but now looking back, it was a mistake. Of course, she had no idea of the future looking this bleak. “The realtor took one look at this and went, ‘Nope!’” She further leaned into Nina, watching as her eyes widened when making eye contact with the page. “Well, nope on her! My whole life-”

  Nina put the page to one side, kissing Vanessa’s forehead gently. She knew just how determined she was to make this goal. It was everything to her and more. Every time inspiration came to her, the light in her eyes shone a thousand times brighter, she’d be happily sketching, rambling on about all her processes and thoughts whilst creating, she’d maybe go as far as to sew up a few! That was left for her apartment though. Sewing in public was ‘finicky’, as the aspiring designer spoke on many occasions. It was adorable to her, honestly. All of it made her special, and she had to let her know… Her life continued on past this! This was not a dead end. 

“Shh, Nessa, it’s ok…” She pulled her closer towards her, just wrapping her up in this embrace. It was safety for Vanessa. Sure, the apartment was safe itself, very secure and cozy in all its ways, but this? It brought something out of her, something she cherished. This warmth and comfort is what she cherished from Nina. She just felt it all come in these light waves, slowly travelling through her body. 

“But, Rosie,” She whispered, finding one of Nina’s curls and playing with it, “What will I do now?” 

Nina sighed, searching for the answer in her head. The truth was, there was no real answer, rather small reassurances she could give. “Well… You’re still working at the salon! Why don’t you tell me all about that? I don’t have anywhere near enough money to be constantly booking appointments…” She joked, letting a chuckle slip from her mouth. 

“Alright…” She sighed, glancing up at Nina and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. It gave Vanessa that momentary happiness along with the extra motivation to keep going. 

“The neighbourhood salon is the place I am working for the moment. As I cut their hair, ladies talk and share… Every day, who's doin' who and why…” 

“Sounds like a fun conversation,” Nina remarked with a bright smile, “Daniela and Cuca are surely in the loop! Carla… Carla, not so much.”

Vanessa sat up a little more, turning to face her girlfriend. She knew so much… It was like her head was a boundless pool of knowledge. She rested her hands on Nina’s shoulders, adoring the touch and her face, now that her confidence was growing, albeit soft confidence, and that she could take in the view. “Right… Carla’s innocent, and I love that for her.” She sighed. “Shall I keep going…?” Her hesitance kicked back in, but Nina gave her a gentle nod. She understood. She always did.

“The neighbourhood salon doesn't pay me what I wanna be making but I don't mind… As I sweep the kerb, I can hear those turbo engines blazing a trail through the sky! I look up and think about the years gone by…” It prompted the designer to examine the ceiling for a moment in pure awe of the passage of time. It felt like yesterday when she’d found her Rosie, confessed her love for her, made so many advancements in her life, so many fashion lines made- Even before Nina, so much had happened, caught up in the whirlwind of dating, she had found Usnavi as more than a friend, periodically. He was certainly head over heels for her… But it didn’t work out. She’d always been fascinated by the girls in magazines, marvelling at their beauty and jaw-dropping appearances. Didn’t take long at all till she found a stunning one to call her own. 

She paused to watch Nina again, blinking softly. “Your dreams don’t end here.” She spoke, tickling her nose by giving it a kiss. “You have so much time to work it all out. Where else would you like to head, Nessa?” 

One immediate thought popped in her head, but it wasn’t very specific. Her brain was slowing down, her emotions really putting her in a spin. The world… It rang gently inside her, The world… 

“But one day! I'm walkin' to JFK and I'm gonna fly! It won't be long now…”

A dainty yawn escaped Vanessa’s mouth and she once again leaned back into Nina’s arms. She could rest easy here, really. She could fall asleep for hours and not have to worry about a single thing… Her eyelids fluttered, dropping to a close, and she hummed softly in her sleep, body curling up to fit neatly in her girlfriend’s arms. Nina threaded one hand through her hair, sighing. 

“Any day…” She finished up for her, opening her mouth to say something, but it didn’t leave her immediately. She felt Vanessa’s chest rise and fall, so calm and content in every moment… It lit her up in a billion ways she’d never be able to express. “I love you, little Nessa. Sweet dreams.” 

[tales-unique]

MEMORIES OF THE WEST

Two days. Two long, hot days you’ve been tied to this damn tree. Your mother would be turning in her grave over how easily you’ve gotten yourself caught by the O’Driscolls, even when you knew that they were notorious for prowling the roads leading in and out of towns. Craning your head you look up through squinted eyes to look at the sky through scattered branches, calm and clear, painted a beautiful gradient of orange, red and pink as the sun begins to set. Almost three days now and you’ve had nothing to eat or drink, something that’s starting to take its toll on your body and mind. Your head pounds incessantly and your stomach growls weakly, making you twist in discomfort. The bite of the ropes around your wrists soon stops the movement though and you wince at the sharp, stinging pain left in their wake. At this point all you truly beg for is death, and maybe this time you’ll get what you ask for.

You glare at the returning party as they whoop and holler about their catch, turning their horses in circles in excitement while you stare wantonly at the deer they have. They catch you, of course, and one is quick to dismount and get right up in your face about it. “Got a problem, girl?” He’s a mean man that reeks of sweat and bad tobacco, the scent so sour you recoil as far away from him as your punished body, and the tight bindings, will allow you. “I’m starving!” You hiss, but it’s pitiful and he laughs. “Too bad. Ain't enough to go around.” “Liar! That’s a whole damn deer you got there! Please, I’m starving! I jus’ need a little!” Your hunger makes you desperate and he knows that. The grin he gives you is dirty and makes your skin crawl, twisting your body to try and get out of his reach. It’s futile, and soon dirt-smeared hands are roughly grabbing at your waist to pull you back in front of him. “Y’hear that boys?” He calls out to the others, laughing as they whistle while hitching the horses, “little thing is starving! Tell me girl, whatcha willing to do to get a meal, huh?” You turn your head away as he leans in close, fighting the urge to wretch. The feel of his hands sliding down to your backside, the heat of his breath tickling your ear and cheek, makes you want to vomit. “C’mon now,” he coos at you, “dont’cha want to eat? All I ask for is a kiss!” Despite his forceful coaxing and your limited range of movement you continue, by some miracle, to evade his crusted, cracked lips. Then, all hell breaks loose. All at once there’s the thundering of horses hooves on the dry dirt, bullets screaming through the humid air, warm splatter on your face. A hole right through your would-be rapists head, his wide eyes mirroring yours before he falls down at your feet, lifeless. You stand, rooted to the spot just as the tree firmly pressed against your back is as the others scramble to form some sort of meager defiance, but they’re no match. It doesn’t take long. Like fish in a barrel. The O’Driscolls barely had time to reach for their pistols before they, too, were gunned down. The horses, spooked, whine and stomp from where they’ve been hitched and you’re glad that they’re not hurt. One of the riders seems so too as he gets down from his own mount to inspect them. His figure is hazy from the dust but you can tell he’s tall and strong and attractive. You’re sure that he’s talking, too, but you can’t hear him. The ringing in your ears is too loud. Gunshots. Blood pumping. Adrenaline. You hazard another look down at your feet, the man's lifeless body draining out before you. His blood stains your shoes. You spit on his back. Good riddance. “Hey! Are you okay?” The voice, suddenly clear, startles you and you quickly flick wide eyes to another man approaching you. The second rider? He’s well dressed and attractive too, but you’re not about to swoon at his feet. “Get back!” You shriek, fear spiking. He stops, startled, while quickly holding his hands up in surrender. “Easy there, amiga, I won’t hurt you,” he states slowly. You don’t believe a word of it. Instead you try, in vain, to pull your hands free from the ropes so you can flee. He sees this and hurries over to you, cursing under his breath at the wounds you’re inflicting on yourself in your haste. You don’t care. You try to fight him; kick him, elbow him, even snapping your teeth at him in a bite that doesn’t quite reach. You don’t trust him. You can’t trust him. Pressure releases from around your wrists and you stumble sideways, suddenly free, the ropes cut by an intricately decorated and expensive-looking knife that somehow manages to miss your flesh. Now you’ve fallen onto the ground face to face with the dead man with a bullet hole through his head, the force of your struggling having caused your fall down. Ignoring the stinging, open burns to your wrists you quickly scramble to your feet. Hair stringy with stale sweat and fresh blood, clothes smeared and ruined, delirious with heat and adrenaline, you still try to run. Hands firmly planting themselves on your arms stop you before you’ve even started and you yell out, wanting to pull away but your body doesn’t respond properly. Short, jerky movements but nothing that actually helps. White hot panic floods your empty stomach as you realize you’re too weak and that the adrenaline isn’t enough anymore. You suck in a deep breath, eyes beginning to sting despite your best intentions. You will yourself not to cry in front of the quiet man before you, but again you fail. You whimper, trying desperately in vain to wriggle free. You babble pitifully, incoherently, with a quivering lip and glossy eyes; childish. But his dark eyes are kind, even after what he’s done, and he slowly lets you go, only to catch you when you stumble forward. “You’ve been out here too long,” he mutters, voice low and comforting, “heat, starvation, you’re weak. Come on.” He gently guides you to his horse, much to his partners annoyance. “Charles, what are you doing? We can’t take her with us!” He argues. “Can’t leave her, either,” Charles counters as he heaves you onto the saddle where you clutch at the saddle horn for dear life. The two men then lead the hitched horses, consolation prizes for the few minutes of trouble, as well as take the deer that had been caught. “Or do you want her death on your conscience, Javier?” Charles grunts as he tightens knots and secures ropes, eyeing his partner expectantly when he’s met with silence. The well dressed man, Javier, grumbles something you can’t hear and mounts his own horse, Charles following suit, coming to sit in the saddle behind you. “Didn’t think so,” he chuckles, low and smooth, and you lower your head to stare at the saddle horn gripped tight in your hands. You don’t say a word. Would it even matter if you did? It’s not like you’re in a state to challenge them, so you allow yourself to fall into unconsciousness lulled by the sway of the horse and the sounds of night insects rousing from their sleep. When you finally come to you take a look at your surroundings. Trees. Tents. Campfires. It’s larger and you feel your heartbeat quicken. You want to run but you can’t, you’re still on Charles' horse with the large man pressed in behind you, arms either side as he handles the reins. There are more people here, men and women alike, and you shrink back against Charles instinctively. “Where are we?” You ask hoarsely, throat scratchy and dry. “Home, for now at least,” Charles answers, pulling his horse over to a hitching post while Javier does the same. He barely disturbs you as he dismounts, helping ease you off the saddle and onto shaky legs. “Dutch won’t like this!” Javier grouses as he too dismounts his horse, allowing it to wander to a patch of grass to graze. Charles doesn’t answer, instead leading you towards three women sitting around a campfire. They’re having a hearty conversation when you’re put upon them, feeling awkward under their shocked gazes. They talk over each other quickly but the general consensus is who the hell are you and why are you here. “Ladies,” he lifts his hand to quiet them, the other gently squeezing your shoulder, “I hope you don’t mind taking care of our friend here? She’s had a rough couple of days.” You swallow, looking down at yourself. Bloodstained. Stinking. Traumatized. Rough doesn’t come close, you think. “Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Charles! Bring her here!” One of the women growls, ushering you to sit by the fire despite her anger. Probing hands go to touch your head, the side where your hair hangs limp with blood, but you pull away quickly. “Ain’t my blood,” you murmur and the women all share looks before the first, already stinking of whiskey, giggles with a snort. “I’d hate t’ see the other guy!” It’s an attempt to lighten the mood and you force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes and they notice. “I’ll go get you something to get clean with, a wipe down will do ‘till we can get you a real bath,” another offers in a soft voice, kind and smiling warmly. You watch her put the book in her hands aside as she gets up, eyes trailing after her. “That’s Mary-Beth,” the blonde introduces, “I’m Karen and that there’s Tilly,” she motions with a half empty bottle to the young woman opposite you. “Just what happened to you, anyways?” Tilly asks, leaning in from where she sits on a log, “Yeah, you look half-dead!” Karen adds, scowling when Tilly sends a glare her way. “I...” You cough, gladly accepting a bottle from Karen and tipping it back without so much as a thank you. Manners be damned, you were so thirsty! The alcohol burns down your throat and your eyes sting with tears but by God it was a welcome flood. Karen cheers while Tilly shakes her head, rolling her eyes. As you gasp for air Mary-Beth returns with a bucket of water and a rag, setting them down by your side. She’s also taken the liberty of bringing you some food. It’s nothing fancy, a small bowl of leftover stew and a crust of bread, but you gratefully accept and begin your ravenous feast. It’s definitely a sight for them to behold, but you are starving so they can excuse your table manners. In between shoveling spoonfuls of stew you listen to the argument you’ve caused, Charles and Javier’s voices are known to you while the others are new. They aren’t happy that you were brought to their camp, but Charles argues that you were in need and he wasn’t going to leave you traumatized and starving on the roadside. You smile to yourself, thankful that at least he cares. “Dutch is always so mad these days,” Tilly whispers as she moves to sit next to you. You spare her a glance before turning to look over your shoulder. Dutch, you assume, is the leader of this band of societal misfits. He points accusingly at Charles, then over to where you sit, and back again, while others interject to add their piece. “C’mon, I’ll help with your hair,” Tilly distracts you, turning your head away from the fray with warm hands. She fishes a rag from the bucket, ringing it out while giving you a small smile. Mary-Beth is assessing your wrists, no doubt thinking up a way to ease their soreness. “It’ll be cold, so don’t squeal now!” Tilly laughs and you bite your tongue when the water drips down the side of your face when she starts dabbing at your scalp. Mary-Beth giggles behind her hand at your scrunched up face and Karen starts to sing, merry with alcohol and new company, and by the time the bickering has ceased you’re looking as clean as you can be with just a rag and a bucket of water. Done with your hair and leaving you to wipe your face and neck, Tilly starts rummaging through her chest, sizing up old dresses so that you can change into fresh clothes. Mary-Beth takes the chance to wrap up your wrists with bandages after wiping them gently with a damp, soft handkerchief, apologizing when you wince or hiss. “There! This one should fit, and the colour looks good too,” she smiles, folding the dress up, as well as some other bits and pieces for you, including a pair of shoes not stained with blood. You hastily wipe your hands dry on your ruined dress and take the offered items. They feel freshly washed and soft despite the course material, nothing like the grubby dress you wear now. “You’re too kind,” you smile nervously, half expecting this to be a fever dream and you’ll wake up any minute tied to that damn tree with crows picking at you. It’s not a dream. Tilly tells you to bed with them for the night once you come back from changing, making room on their bedrolls so you can at least sleep comfortably. You’re surprised that Dutch and the others haven’t come over yet to force you out, but she assures you that it can wait until the morning since everyone needs sleep. In truth, you’re thankful for it — that way they’ll all have clear heads when they decide what to do with you. As you settle down you spot Charles walking to his own bedroll and offer a smile when he looks your way. He smiles back and bids you goodnight with a small tip of his head, and for once since your kidnap you actually feel comfortable enough to sleep among a band of strangers.

[lovelymaybankk]

midsummer - jj maybank

request - so can you do one where y/n is a kook /pogue like Kiara and they are at midsummers. JJ has a thing for y/n but she doesn’t know. Rafe and topper bring her alone in the Locker room to mess w her and have a reason to provoke jj. JJ comes in and tries to save you my fighting them, it is 5 against 1, so you help him fight and it rips y/n’s dress. Rafe talks shit and calls y/n a slut and finally y/n calms jj down after he wins the fight

a/n - I literally love this req actually sm wtf. its gonna be in lowercase again haha oopsies. and i changed 5v1 to 3v1 bc im cool

tw - swears, fighting, not necessarily a slow burn but it takes forever lol

w/c - 2.819

y/n sat at the edge of her queen sized bed, fingers running oh so carefully across the dress. the dress was a long, baby blue color which looked amazing with her eyes. the dress fell off her shoulders, a slit in the right leg. it fit her perfectly, complimenting her figure in the most amazing way. because of the tightness, she couldn’t wear a bra or else she may have died from how tight is was around her chest.

her legs dangled over the edge, barefoot trying her hardest to not touch the cold hardwood. the last place she wanted to go tonight was the midsummers party. but, growing up a kook life she had to go. thats the one thing about her life she hated. a kook.

a stupid name for being rich. she hated the title so much, that she had decided the past few months of her life to change. it happened the moment she met kiara.

“holy shit!” kiara ran across the beach, kicking sand up behind her. the two girls ran straight into eachother, falling backwards. y/n rubbed her forehead, looking up at the girl that she had crashed into. they looked at eachother the same way, realizing they somehow knew eachother. “you go to kook academy?” kiara finally spoke up, breaking the silence. and for a moment, she forgot what she was running from. y/n nodded, standing and helping the other girl.

y/n dusted the sand off her ass, looking back up at the girl. “kie! stop socializing with the kooks,” a boy hollered, running beside kiara and slapping her back before running again to two other boys. was it that obvious y/n was a kook?

“sorry about that,” kiara smiled to the obviously concerned girl. “thats my friend. hes a dick,” she whispered to y/n, which finally got a reaction from her.

“so, why’re you on the cut?” kiara asked, trying to start a conversation. 

y/n shrugged, arms crossing over her chest. “can’t stand my family anymore.” she laughed, rocking from the balls of her feet to her toes. she felt awkward, having necessarily nobody to talk to. she hadn’t lied when she said she couldn’t stand being with her family anymore. all they did was criticise her, saying she had to be more like her sister who had a bunch of friends. while y/n stood mainly by herself with maybe one friend.

kiara nodded, glancing back at the boys who were waiting for her. “hey, do you know how to surfboard?” she asked suddenly, catching y/n off guard.

“yeah, a little.” y/n shrugged, still rocking a little.

“wanna come with my friends and i?”

thats where y/n met the rest of the group.

ever since that day, y/n had joined the friend group. she didn’t fit in immediately. the boys weren’t a fan of her being there when kiara introduced her, but eventually they came around. one more than others. jj thought she was gorgeous, a funny girl who broke out of her shell. but, she was a kook. and jj hates kooks. so he would always pick arguments with her, but y/n never took them to heart.

they got along well. jj always shared his beers with her, knowing she can’t handle as much alchohol as him. he was the most protective of her than anybody, never letting her out of his sight. it wasn’t hard for the pogues to see that he had a crush. everybody but the two knew about it.

when y/n finally fit in, it was like she was always there. her and kiara both agreed on how much they hated the kook life, though there were some upsides, being on the run was a lot more fun.

controlling your own life. it was amazing. refreshing. just being free.

the memory made y/n smile to herself, standing from her bed finally to finish whatever she had left of getting ready. she was going for kiara. the girl finished her makeup, sliding on the sandals she was wearing and going down the spiral stairs. she finished putting her earrings and entering the car with her family. they rode in silence, entering together and eventually everybody left to do their own thing.

“kie!” y/n called from across the porch, running to the girl and embracing her. “i already know i’m not gonna make it her for long,” she sighed dramatically, getting a slap from kie.

“don’t worry, your boyfriend will be here soon enough.” kie teased, arm draping around the girls shoulder like jj’s had done so many times. y/n’s face flushed, hard to tell under the makeup she wore. “oh y/n, be safe. i don’t want you getting hurt,” kie continued to mess with the girl, making her voice deep as to make fun of jj.

“oh shut up kie. you act like i don’t see the way pope and you eye fuck eachother.” y/n retorted, shaking the girl off of her. this got a reaction from kie, the two fighting eachother while making fun of pope and jj.

“damn,” jj spoke to himself, quite loudly, walking towards the two girls. he wore a butlers outfit, hair somewhat slicked back but still messy and untamed. jj looked sexy, as y/n would think.

“see something you like?” kie gestured to y/n, making jj bite his lip jokingly.

“hell yeah,” his arm wrapped around y/n’s shoulder like kies had done earlier, making kie’s eyebrows raise. “how are you two enjoying the party?” he acted like a sever, pulling away from y/n as a group of kooks passed by.

“oh its amazing,” y/n joked, eyes batting aggressively to help convince the boy it was a joke. from behind jj, y/n spotted rafe, topper and their goons. her face pulled into a snarl, “bogeys two o’ clock.” 

jj turned, eyes rolling. “they look dumb,” he muttered, connecting eye contact with rafe before turning around. y/n hummed in agreement, kie doing the same.

“hey, i see pope,” kie pointed to the boy who was turned from the group. “i’ll be back.” she let out a brief smile, picking the edge of her dress up to move quickly towards the boy. this left jj and y/n alone, in a peaceful silence. 

jj smoothed down the button up he was wearing, looking up at the girl in front of him. he felt the note in his pocket, remembering why he was at the midsummer party in the first place. “i’ll be back, madam, i have to go give a note to princess kook.” he spoke in a posh accent, taking y/n’s hand into his own and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

y/n nodded, bowing respectfully at the boy and walking away in time with him. she went to the back, looking for her family. knowing she wouldn’t be able to find them, she weaved her way in and out of the many people and successfully entered the building. 

footsteps were behind her, but she ignored them. suddenly, a boy walks infront of her. hes much taller, dark skinned and y/n recognized him as kelce. her breath hitched, but she continued to walk, trying to go around the boy.

a hand grabbed y/n’s arm, tugging her backwards making her trip on her heels. “um, excuse me-” she tried staying polite but stopped when she saw rafe was the one holding her. seeing the boy made her writhe and try and free herself. “let me go!” she seethed, falling onto her ass.

rafe tsked, looking down the hall before shoving her into the mens bathroom. it was conveniently empty, which helped to bring a sick smile onto his face. topper followed in, while kelce took a moment before also entering.

outside, jj was looking around for you everywhere. he had given the note to sarah cameron, pushing past many people as he tried his hardest to spot you over the crowd. “kie!” jj called, spotting somebody he finally knew. “have you seen y/n?” he was worried. you never just disappeared without somebody. or at least without telling somebody. 

kie shook her head, not knowing. “last i saw she was inside.” she nodded her head towards the building, making jj sigh. jj glanced around, noticing he didn’t see the three dickheads either. this made his heart speed up. he tensed a little, ignoring whatever kie was saying and leaving to enter the huge building. 

and back inside, y/n was struggling to get out of rafes grip, being dragged around the dirty bathroom floors still on her ass. he gave her arm a rough squeeze, which will most definitely be leaving a bruise before dropping it. y/n hissed, recoiling back into herself in the far corner. topper and rafe stood above her, topper more uncomfortable rather than the boy beside him.

y/n looked at them, concern laced on her face.  “what do you want-” she hissed, her leg getting grabbed as rafe crouched to her height. he pulled her close to his body, her knee flush with the boys crotch. where the fuck is jj? the girl wondered to herself, pulling herself away from the boy.

jj ran down the long halls, opening every door to try and find the girl who he was looking for. finally he stopped to catch his breath, waiting outside of the womens restrooms. they wouldn’t be in there, he thought, but he might as well check. jj gathered whatever self esteem he had left, pushing open the door.

rafe’s hand slid up from y/ns calf to her lower thigh, making the girls stomach drop. topper crouched beside the boy, grabbing y/n’s wrists as she went to slap him away. she struggled against him, her mouth opening to scream but she felt like her mouth was dry. she felt empty, weak, trying hard to fight but she knew there was no way. kelce watched from behind rafe, giving y/n a look of apology, almost, before looking away. 

y/n regained her energy when she heard soft footsteps outside of the bathroom, letting out a shrill scream of help. it was cut short by a very rough- and non-consensual- kiss. she pulled away quickly, eyes filling with tears as she did so. her head slammed against the wall, sending a shock of pain through her head down her neck. when had she gotten so close to the wall? what are they gonna do to her? now her heart was racing, letting out a silent sob. 

jj heard the scream. he stopped, waiting to see if he could hear another. he rushed out of the womens bathroom, bursting the mens bathroom door open. he stopped, his ears turning red from anger quickly. seeing y/n in the corner, surrounded by three guys who he knew she despised made his blood boil. 

his anger got the best of him quickly. jj jumped into action immediately, throwing a punch across kelce’s face, catching him off guard. kelce hissed in pain,  clutching his cheek before quickly retaliating.

the fighting made rafe and topper release y/n quickly, the girl cowering in the corner in fear. there was blood flying around, staining jj’s shirt as he was obviously cornered. y/n cursed, standing as she watched rafe go to kick jj in the balls. she jumped onto his back, grabbing the back of his collar to choke the boy. he coughed, flipping the girl off with ease. he turned, kicking her shin roughly with a snarl.

jj’s arms were pinned behind him, topper punching his stomach and watching the boy double over in pain. kelce released his grip slightly, giving jj the opportunity to  reel his leg foreward, pushing it backwards into kelce’s crotch with whatever energy he had left. 

y/n stood quickly, her arm swinging, punching rafe across the face and hitting his jaw. the sudden burst of adrenaline gave the punch extra force, knocking the boy back and making him stumble. he snarled, lunging at y/n and knocking her to the ground, he held her down, tearing the gorgeous blue fabric she wore. 

anger surged through jj at the sight, topper going to hit him again. he dodged quickly, punching the boy in the gut and pushing him backwards into the wall. he threw atleast ten punches at the boys face and stomach, slumping down quickly with blood rushing from his nose and lip.

rafe ignored what was happening behind him, one of his hands caressing y/n’s face in a sick way. “you’d be much prettier if you weren’t such a fucking slut.” he hissed, slapping her across the face with anger. his face softened for a moment as he saw what he just did, but quickly returning to his normal resting bitch face.

y/n thought jj might’ve killed him. jj pulled rafe backwards, both of them stumbling before regaining their form. jj grabbed rafes collar, grabbing his jaw roughly. a surge of pain ran through rafe’s body, stopping him from fighting back. 

“you never. and i mean fucking never. call my girl a slut.” jj hissed, lifting his leg to kick the boy back. rafe fell, to tired to fight back. jj’s eyes looked at you, covering your chest where the tear was. he sunk beside you, anger still coursing through his veins.

“i’m so sorry i wasn’t there,” y/n could tell jj was beating himself up for no reason, it wasn’t his job to look after you constantly anyway. jj shook his head, feeling so terrible. “what’d they do to you?” he asked softly, seeing as the girl looked a little stirred up but not awful. 

“he tried touching me. but im okay,” y/n cooed, arms wrapping around the boy. she didn’t care about the tear anymore. her hands wrapped around the back of jj’s head, holding him close.

“i’m gonna kill him. i swear,” jj spoke as though the boy wasn’t close by, though he may have left at this point (they weren’t paying attention to the three boys they fought off). y/n shook her head, staying silent. 

“is there an issue, gentlemen?” a guard opened the door, catching the five in there off guard. y/n looked at him with wide eyes, covering her chest again. 

“no there... actually yes.” jj started, clearing his throat and wrapping his arm around the girl beside him.  “we were in here for um, destruction of property.” he came up with something, smiling at the guard and squeezing y/n’s side as to tell her to go along with it.

“yup. and these men were about to escort us out.” y/n continued, smiling cheekily as she glanced at the boys around her.

“which is what you should do,” jj stood, helping the girl up.

“escort us. out.” y/n wasn’t the best at lying, but the guard seemed to believe them. he led them out, rafe catching their attention again

rafe let out a sly cough, muttering the word ‘slut’ under his breath. jj turned, ready to throw another punch but y/n caught his arm and stopped him.

“he isn’t worth it,” y/n said softly, leading jj back outside.

after jj taking a shot from a random man, and y/n escaping the wrath of her parents, the pogues escaped the party and ran to meet john b. y/n and jj stayed back, not saying much. there was plenty of awkward silence between them, both wanting to say something about what just happened but they couldn’t. y/n wore the blazer jj had on earlier, covering her chest from everybody.

“so.” y/n stopped walking, jj following soon and looking at her.

“so?” he seemed confused, stepping closer.

“your girl?” y/n brought up what he said earlier, a smile on her face. jj’s face dropped, hoping she forgot he said that.

“i have no clue what your talking about.” jj shrugged it off, continuing to walk. he sauntered away, trying not to show his embarrassment.  

“wow, okay.” y/n laughed, running to catch up with him. “guess you won’t wanna be my boy then?” she teased, arm wrapping around his arm and latching them together.

“well, who said that?” jj’s face flushed, grinning cheekily at the girl. the smiled at each other, before bursting out into laughter. they were far behind the group, turning towards each other.

it seemed like there was a gravitational pull between them. y/n’s hands cupped his cheeks, pulling him into a short but sweet kiss. jj’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling away from each other but shortly returning to each other again. they felt in that moment, like they were perfect for each other. and they were.

[mercurygray]

Another prompt from the Touches list this time.

8. squeezing hand for comfort and encouragement for Harry and Joan

Trying to clean out my inbox and going back to some old prompts - this was a good one!

Here at OCS Harry Welsh was learning a lot about appearances.

He'd shyed away from any semblance of responsibility for as long as it had been possible to do so, knowing in his heart of hearts that he didn't want the responsibility, and Responsibility didn't want him either. He wasn't an officer, or anything like it.

But if OCS was teaching him anything, it was that all of that was a lie - or, if not a lie, a carefully constructed fiction. All these men with their jokes and their letter jackets, members of elite clubs with their own elaborate language of privilege that Harry could not, in his wildest dreams, have aspired to. And being an officer had a language all its own, similar in vintage. Don't fraternize with the men, it makes you look weak and eager for approval. Don't ask for opinions - your word is law. If you don't know, don't say that and don't ask for help outside your circle. Appearances are everything. Officers should give off an appearance of strength, always. You're an island, you're supposed to be an island, theoretically approachable but dangerous to know.

And all these other men bought it - the keeping up appearances, playing at being tougher than they were. Wrestling in the corridors, one upping each other in contests - picking on those they considered weak.

Friday night and everyone was dressed for Columbus and a rare night out, the day room filled with men hooting and hollering about what they were going to get up to that evening. Ray Milgram looked up and whistled across the room at Joan, carefully buttoned into her class As and stockings. "Well, hubba hubba, Princess, who's your date?"

"The Juniors Club in Charlotte," Joan said evenly, checking her earrings and the curl of her hair in the mirror, not rising an inch to his provocation.

Milgram snorted, unimpressed. "You've got to learn to live a little, Warren. Men aren't going to follow someone who doesn't know how to have a good time. They want a real fighting man - someone who gives them a good show, can take a hit."

He snapped his tie through the air, aiming for her ass, the tie just stopping short of its intended target. Joan didn't flinch or move, stonily serene in the mirror, and Milgram, seeing her unphased, made some small expression of disgust. "C'mon, fellas, let's go find some real women."

Harry waited until they were out of earshot to speak. "Asshole."

"Idiot," Joan added, stepping away from the mirror. "Soldiers don't want a good show. They want to know that what they're seeing is what they're going to get." She smoothed her skirt, checking her lapel insignia. "I had an officer with an explosive temper - never knew what the man was going to do, who he was going to lash out at. He did it to look tough, remind himself he had power. His soldiers hated him. And if he was gutshot in a ditch, I'm not sure a single man or woman would have gone to help him because knowing him, they'd save him and still get a punishment for leaving a position." She sniffed. "That's what Ray Milgram is. Your average private didn't go to school but they're not dumb - they see that posturing. They want someone they can trust."

Trust. Yes, that was what Harry had wanted from his own officers, none of these prep school lies. He wanted strong, but...sometimes being strong was running up a mountain, or living outside for three days, and sometimes it was putting on your earrings and going to give a speech, or knowing what to say when your buddy was having a bad day. It was a shame Milgram's types couldn't see that.

She was on her way out now, cap and hair beautiful, pocketbook just so in her hand. "Joan." Harry made her pause at the door, sliding a hand out of his pocket to shake. "You'll do great." And the women's club is going to know for sure that what they're seeing there is the real deal, too.

[neon-junkie]

Ratlady! Could you do #6 with flaco and a short reader? Pretty please? :3c

oh fuck yeah I can!! This is an excuse to write some sub!Flaco content as well >:)  Female reader, smut under the cut. This is a long fic, 2.5k words for a prompt ahaha. Read on AO3 here if you prefer!

Translations:  hombres apestosos - stinky men amiga - friend chica - girl pequeña amiga - little friend cazadora - huntress amor - love pequeña amante - little lover pequeña puta - little whore mierda - shit tan buena - so good eres tan buena - you're so good

---------

Being a Del Lobo is hard work, especially when the Pinkertons are close on your tail. Your gang had ran as North as they could, up into the snowy region of the Grizzlies, hiding out in an abandoned shack and some rather thin tents. The leader of your sub-gang, Flaco, had always taken a liking to you. It was refreshing to see a woman work a gun so well, and you knew the effects your skills had on Flaco. The number of times you'd seen him watching you in amazement during shootouts always boosted your ego, along with the many compliments he'd shower you in.  

Whenever the boss wasn't around, the other gang members would tease you for it. "You gonna get with him yet, chica? Don't leave that poor man waiting too long," they'd laugh. Most of them had placed bets on your budding romance, trying to estimate how long you were going to keep him waiting, but everything went out the window when you found yourselves on the run again. But now you're here, knee-deep in snow, and the teasing had returned. Flaco obviously claimed the cabin for himself. He told the others to set up camp, then directly turned to you and said "you, chica. You're staying with me in the cabin. I'm not having you camp out here along these hombres apestosos. I need to make sure you're warm. Don't want my gunwoman freezing out here." The gang members jumped on you the second Flaco entered the cabin. "It's going to happen now, amiga!" they grinned. You smirked back but tried to ignore them, helping set up camp whilst they continued to tease you. Surprisingly, Flaco doesn't sleep much. You'd only really seen him asleep a handful of times, usually passed out cold after a heavy gunfight, or from too much drinking. You slept as normal, usually falling asleep and waking up to see Flaco in the same position, whitling wood on a chair diagonal to you. He seemed to sleep whenever you weren't around, and you eventually figured out it was because he didn't want to cross any boundaries with you. You came back from a hunt to find Flaco asleep, and your exhaustion clouded your thinking. You had climbed into bed beside him, falling asleep within moments. Flaco had woken up to find you next to him and couldn't hold back, rolling onto his slide to spoon you, his overly-large body cocooning you, keeping you warm and cozy. After that incident, Flaco finally started sleeping at normal times, knowing you were fine with sharing a bed and enjoying the odd cuddle. He warmed up to your touches quickly, and it honestly felt like the two of you were somewhat dating. The night you told the other Del Lobos about your cuddle arrangements was a loud one. The pack of them cheered so loud that Flaco stormed out from his cabin, asking what all the fuss was about. "Nothing, boss. Our pequeña amiga was just telling us about the bear she hunted earlier," one of them quickly replied, covering up the story as well as possible. Flaco fell for it, grinning as he said "She's a real good cazadora. I wonder if she's this good at everything, you know?" He then walked back into the cabin, leaving you and the gang to it. You stayed awake for a few more hours, eventually saying goodnight as you all decided to finally get some sleep. The cabin was as always, dimly lit when you entered, but there was a foreign feeling to the atmosphere. "Hey," Flaco called out to you, sat in his usual spot. "Come over here," he cooed, making a beckoning motion with his trigger finger. You quickly shut the door and stamped the snow off your boots before approaching Flaco. He felt different. "You don't think I'm stupid, do you?" Flaco asks. Despite the defensive question, the tone to his voice remains deep and lustful. "Of course not," you lightly laugh. "What about deaf?" he asks again. "Mhmm. Maybe a little," you shrug. He is a gunslinger, after all, he'll probably start to lose his hearing sooner or later. "You think I don't know what you and my men talk about?" Flaco asks. Uh oh. "What do you mean?" you innocently respond. Flaco chuckles before saying "The teasing, the bets, the hollering and the cheering. I know they tease you because of my liking to you, but I've never heard you complain. You never brush them off, tell them to shut up, or deny my feelings." Flaco pauses for a moment, eyes gazing into yours. "Do you feel the same way?" Your knees went far too weak, and you were quick to straddle his lap, knocking his sombrero off as you finally leaned down to kiss him. Flaco didn't keep you waiting, he couldn't hold back anymore, picking you up and carrying you over to the bed, finally spending the night with you. And yes, you kept the rest of the gang up all night. For once, they didn't tease you, they were far too tired to. So, here you are, a few weeks later, still shacked up alongside Flaco. Only this time, you're established lovers. Flaco can't seem to keep his hands off you, the second you enter the cabin, he's all over you. Do you mind? Not at all. Why would you? You'd been having an iffy day today, the isolation starting to get to you. You missed being able to roam about freely, to not be constantly shivering, to be riding your horse through open fields. You moped about the cabin, complaining about everything, though Flaco didn't seem to mind. Seeing you all worked up only seemed to make him laugh, especially with the comments you made. "I'm boooored," you said as you laid down on the bed, sprawling your arms and legs out like a starfish. "That's the twelfth time you've said that," Flaco tells you, his head down as he focuses on whitling the same piece of wood that he'd been carving for weeks. "You're keeping count?" you ask. "Hard not to when you keep saying it," Flaco chuckles. "Are you not bored?" "Very much so." "Mhmm," you hum. "I miss having things to do. Like fishing in open lakes and hunting pronghorn deer. Maybe go the saloon and start a fight with the first man that makes a comment about me, a woman, wearing pants." Flaco chuckles again, "you know how to make me laugh, amor. And you know how much I love a woman in pants." "I just want something to do, Flaco. You know what? I want to go horseback riding," you decide. It's a simple task, but you really missed riding through all that open space. "How about you ride me instead?" Flaco smirks, his eyes flicking up to see you lifting your head off the bed, giving him the same smirk. And here you are, knees on either side of Flacos' hips, barley reaching the bed. Your hands look tiny on his chest, holding yourself in place so your hips can rise and fall as you ride your lover. Despite your much smaller figure, you always take him well, and it drives him crazy. To see you, his pequeña amante, taking his thick cock like a champ only makes him more proud than he already is. Flaco was right, all those weeks ago, when he asked "I wonder if she's this good at everything, you know?" Flaco's hands rest on your hips. He always feels so dominant whenever he touches you, just from his size alone. You're a sucker for it, especially when Flaco's real dominant side comes out. It's hard not to be obedient and turn into mush, especially with all the praise he feeds you. But this time, you seem to be in charge, for now. "You enjoy this, amor? Pinning big Flaco down so you can ride him?" Flaco asks, making direct eye contact with you. "What are you hinting here?" you ask him. "I'm just asking," he shrugs. "Nice to see my pequeña amante in control." "You want me in control?" you smirk. "Why not? Change it up a little. You can feel big bossing me around, hm?" Flaco smirks back. "Hmm, alright," you agree. Despite your lack of experience, you've got a few ideas that you want to try out. "Stay," you order Flaco. Flaco's eyes widen as he stays lying on the bed, watching you de-mount him and scurry across to the desk where your clothes lie. You pick up your bandana, returning to the bed. You sit back down on his lap, leaning over him. "Hands above your head," you order him, rolling the bandana up. Flaco knows where this is going. "You think that's going to hold me?" Flaco grins as he moves his arms above his head, lining them up with the bed frame. "Maybe not, but I know you won't try and break free. Don't want to upset your pequeña amante, do you?" you smirk, tying Flaco's wrists to the frame. "Of course not, chica. Flaco will do everything you order him to do," Flaco replies, watching you shuffle back down his body. "Good boy," you praise. You lift your hips up so you can slide back down onto him, your hands returning to his broad, hairy chest, holding yourself steady as you return to riding him. Your rhythm may not be perfect, but it's enough to get you off, and the sight of you alone is more than enough to get Flaco off too. Flaco can't help but begin bucking his hips up to meet your thrusts, not as hard as usual, but enough to push moans from your lips every time his cock goes deep inside of you. The sight of him is godly; a man almost twice your size, in the nude underneath you, tied to the bedframe and watching you hungrily as you ride him, taking his cock like the good pequeña puta you are. You move one hand off his chest so you can bein rubbing your clit, a job that Flaco would normally do for you, but you're more than happy to get yourself off in front of him. The sight makes him moan, thrusting harder into you, eager to make you climax. It doesn't take long for you to hit your peak, panting and moaning heavily as your walls tighten around Flaco's cock. He lets out a grunt, still bucking into you but not as slowly, and for once, Flaco doesn't cum at the same time as you. Once you've ridden your high (and Flaco), you de-mount him, shuffling off the bed. You take your time cleaning yourself up, but Flaco beings to protest when he sees you putting your clothes back on. "We're not finished here," Flaco tells you, his cock twitching for attention. "I never said we were," you reply as you face him, buttoning up your shirt. "Then why are you putting your clothes back on, chica?" "Because you don't deserve to see me naked anymore, Flaco," you purr. Flaco gives you a look. "Oooh, my pequeña amante is testing out her dominant side, huh?" "Yes, she is," you reply, shuffling back onto the bed without your boots on. You shuffle over Flaco's body, settling beside his hips. One of your hands wraps around the base of his cock, slowly and firmly pumping his shaft. Your eyes move up to his, full of lust, and the sight of you sends a shiver down Flacos' spine. "Have you been good for me, Hernández?" you ask. "I'm always good for you, you know that," Flaco replies, his eyes flicking between you and the way you're working his shaft. "Good enough for me to let you cum?" you ponder. "Mhmm, you know I am," Flaco tells you. You continue to slowly work him, your thumb brushing over the tip every so often. Flaco bucks his hips slightly every so often, eager for more friction. "Why don't you mount me again? It's cold without you on top," Flaco asks. "You've not earnt it." "Earnt it? C'mon, chica. You know you want me back inside of you," Flaco purrs. "No, Hernández. You cum from this, or you don't cum at all," you threaten. Your hand picking up speed is enough to shut Flaco up, lying his head back against the headboard as he watches you jerk him. He's not had you jerk him that often, usually preferring you to just use your mouth or let him slide it in. His cock twitches regularly, Flaco letting out a hum and a few gruff pants. His hips buck upward again, begging for as much friction as he can get. Flaco gets impatient easily, always taking whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. So, to have him tied up and under your control is thrilling torture for him. "Stop moving your hips, Hernández. You're so impatient, aren't you?" you tut, eyes moving off his cock to look at him. His cheeks are blushed red for once, a sight that you don't see very often. Flaco looks like he's going to lose it sooner or later. "It's a natural reaction. I can't help that I need more," Flaco sulks. "Flaco, sweetheart," you tut again, removing your hand from his cock. "If you can't control those natural urges then I guess you don't deserve a reward." "Chica! Come on!" Flaco cries out. He rolls his head back, sighing and moping. "I'll be good, alright?" he tells you as he looks back up at you. "Promise?" you ask. "Promise!" You take his cock back in your hand, going faster than you were before. "Mierda!" Flaco shouts, his cock twitching against your palm. "Tan buena," he sighs, mouth remaining parted as he watches you work your magic. "I might have to let you do this more often," Flaco compliments, sighing some of his words. "You like me being in control?" you ask him with a smirk. "I love it," he moans. You slow your pace down for a brief moment so you can lean over his cock, spitting on the tip to lube him up more. You resume your pace, enjoying the way Flacos' body trembles, trying his hardest not to buck up into your hand. "Mierda! Amor, you're going to make me cum," Flaco moans, watching you through half-lidded eyes. He's fallen apart from your touches, a sight you rarely see, but god, it's gorgeous. Flaco begins mumbling under his breath in Spanish, something he only does when he's lost control because the sex is too good. He's over stimulated; Flaco's been on edge for quite a while now, and he's eager to release. For once, the cabin isn't freezing. If anything, it's boiling, and that's only because Flaco was radiating so much heat. He's sweating ever so slightly, his thighs twitching every so often as his orgasm nears. Flaco moans your name as he finally cums, his cock throbbing in your hand, his seed spurting over his stomach and trailing along the back of your fist and fingers. "Tan buena. Eres tan buena," Flaco pants heavily, complimenting your handy work. Once he's ridden his high, you climb back over him, quickly finding a rag so you can wipe the cum off your hand. You place it on Flaco's stomach so you can untie him. He's quick to wipe himself down, giving his wrists a little rub after being tied up for so long. Flaco's still hot, so he only puts his pants and shirt on, lying back on the bed and putting his arms out. His fingers beckon you over, and how can you deny him? You shuffle onto the bed, curling up in his arms, pulling the blanket over the both of you. "How was it?" you ask him, leaning up against his chest so you can look down at him. "Too good," Flaco tells you, pulling you down to kiss him. "My pequeña amante has many tricks up her sleeve, doesn't she?" "Maybe," you shrug, not trying to come across as cocky. "I look forward to seeing more," Flaco replies. His hand gently pushes your head down against his chest, moving down to wrap around your waist and shoulders. You're lying on top of him, using him as your own personal bed seeing as he's big enough to do so. It doesn't take long for both of you to fall asleep, cradled tenderly in your lovers arms.