#this wasn’t supposed to be a Drabble no comment

[prettybabybaby]

could you please do a drabble abt toxic! xavier wanting the reader to basically cut off all her friends

¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

content: toxic relationship, toxic!xavier, fem!reader, oral (f!receiving)

word count: 1k

disclaimer: disclaimer: all characters in my works are at least 18. there is dark and triggering content in this, as stated above. consider what you are comfortable with reading before you continue. your media consumption is your responsibility, not mine.

¡ wednesday masterlist !

You stared at the ceiling, feet propped up on your boyfriends headboard, dark nail polish drying on your toes. You blew out a breath, feeling your annoyance grow with each passing second.

They were supposed to be there hours ago. Xavier had told you so. He had been so kind making plans for you, inviting all of your friends to go out with you after such a long time. You felt bad for neglecting them, but Xavier somehow managed to take up every second of your life. Not that you minded, of course. You loved him.

Sometimes though, the odd comment about missing your friends would slip from your lips along with a saddened pout. You never missed the way his eyes would flash, appearing dark for a spilt second before returning to their regular, lovely green. His smile would be dimmed as he reached to touch you in any way, “what about me?” he’d say, “don’t you miss me?”

You knew he wasn’t a huge fan of your friends, which is why it caught you by surprise when he pulled away from your lips the previous night, running a gentle hand down your cheek as he told you of your plans. You were ecstatic, hugging him tightly for doing something so nice. You didn’t think twice when he slipped your phone away from you as he mounted you, hiding it in a place you couldn’t pay attention to, too busy adjusting to the feel of him pumping in and out of you.

You weren’t able to find you phone this morning, even as you opened every drawer and rummaged through all of his belongings. You hated when he did that. You’d go days without your phone, weeks, sometimes, but that was only when you were being punished. You had done nothing wrong this time, you were sure if it. You didn’t want to be punished ever again after last time.

The doorknob shook, capturing your attention. You sat up hurriedly, bored out of your mind and truthfully, sad and disappointed. You sat at the edge of his bed, flattening your skirt as your pout grew.

Xavier’s messy head of hair met your eyes as he slipped inside, moving gracefully. His long, brown locks draped in front of his face as he looked down before he lifted his head, shaking out his hair. He smiled at you as he moved a stray strand from near his mouth, turning to lock the door.

When he faced you again, his smile dropped. “What’s wrong?” His eyebrows furrowed in worry, “did something happen?” He rushed to your side, cupping your face with his cold hands. He pecked your lips quickly, the look in his eyes told you that he couldn’t resist.

“They didn’t show up,” you said sadly. Your lips wobbled and your eyes stung. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he appeared confused. “My friends left me waiting all day,” you said, flipping at the thin fabric of your skirt.

Realization seemed to hit him. He must’ve forgotten about making the plans, you told yourself. “Aw,” he mirrored your pout, “baby I’m sorry. They promised they’d be here.” Xavier sighed, “I guess we can’t trust anyone, can we?”

You didn’t reply, unsure of how to answer. You licked your lips, “Maybe I can text them? Maybe they forgot? Or maybe they got lost on the way here?”

His jaw twitched and he hummed, “why would you do that? They obviously don’t want to see you.”

You looked away from him, “I could always just make sure.”

He was silent. “Okay,” he took his hands off your face, “text them.”

You rolled the fabric of your skirt between your fingers, “my phone?”

“Your phone?”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “you have it, don’t you?”

He looks was looking at you in a way that made you nervous, causing you to revert your eyes again. “Why would I have your phone?”

“You- um, you took it away.”

“Why would I do that?” He stared at you, an incredulous look on his face. “You’re just going to assume that I took your phone because, what, you misplaced it?”

You pursed your lips, glancing around the room. “I didn’t,” you said quietly.

“They wouldn’t reply anyway,” he said, throwing his hands up weakly. “They don’t like you.”

You felt a sting in your eyes again, pricking at the corners. “Why would you say that?” A tear fell without your permission, sliding down the curves of your face. More and more fell after that, rolling down in pairs and meeting each other in the palm of your hand as you raised it to cover your eyes.

“Babe,” Xavier sighed, pulling you to him. One of his hands grabbed the one concealing your face, holding it tight as he pulled it into his lap. The other used the pads of his fingers to swipe at the salty tears as they were pushed out of your eyes with every blink.

“You don’t need them. You have me.”

“I know but-“

“But what?” He snapped, “am I not enough for you? Because you’re everything to me.”

“Of course you are!” You hurried, sniffling as your eyes widened. “I just-“ you sighed. “Never mind.”

“What do you need them for anyway,” his gaze flickered around your face. He leaned in to give you a slow kiss, gripping your chin between his fingers. He began to lay kisses along your jaw, trailing them down your neck. His hands kneaded your thighs, pushing up your skirt with every swipe of his hands. “They can’t make you feel like I can,” he whispered.

You looked at the ceiling at he pushed you flat on your back, pushing your skirt higher as he sank lower until he was kneeling between your legs. Your panties were removed as he hooked his fingers under the waistband, tugging them to your knees and watching as they fell to your ankles. He spread your thighs, biting at the flesh as he worked his way to your cunt that grew wetter with each kiss.

“You know that, right?”

You glanced down at him, meeting his gaze immediately. He bit your hip meanly, “right?”

[the-boy-meets-evil]

along for the ride | lee seokmin (dk)

pairing: lee seokmin (dk) x f.reader genre: idol!au (kind of?), smut rating: explicit, minors DNI warning: swearing, drinking, hoshi is a shithead (yes, that's a warning), honestly this is mostly just smut with a little bit of background smut warnings: thigh riding, fingering (f receiving), oral (m receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (don't do this), vaginal sex, they were drinking but it's not drunk sex, dk calls reader baby word count: 4140 (don't @ me) summary: you say yes to a vacation with the new group you're working with. what else are you going to say yes to? a/n: i really don't know what to tell you. this was supposed to be a drabble for a request that @playmetheclassics sent and here we are. thank you so much to @here4btsfics for being a wonderful beta reader and to @classicscreations for the banner (even though i wouldn't let her beta). i hope you like this, indigo! and please be gentle, it's my first seventeen fic

a/n 2: a second part is in the works so stay tuned 💕

You knew a lot of things before you agreed to come on this trip. You knew that you needed a break, knew it was an all-expenses paid trip with little (if any) work, and knew it was a chance to get to know the people you were going to be working with better. 

So you quickly agreed. Who would say ‘no’ to running away to the sun during the coldest parts of winter? Certainly not you. There were definitely moments when you looked back and questioned your decision-making skills. This wasn’t going to be one of them.

Until it was.

Because there were things you didn’t know, too. You didn’t know how everything changed without eyes everywhere. Didn’t know how much more relaxed everyone got when they were truly alone. Didn’t know that you didn’t actually know much at all about these people that you worked with.

You certainly didn’t know much about Lee Seokmin. 

Previous interactions with him had been brief, usually. There wasn’t much reason for you to be hanging around him. Despite that, you knew him to be someone that was kind, caring, and generally always had a smile on his face. In the grand scheme of what you knew, he seemed relatively tame, innocuous even. Certainly not an obvious walking problem like Kim Mingyu, who you had been careful around so far.

And it was all fine, until you saw Seokmin sitting on the side of the pool in a bathing suit and realized just how thick his thighs were. Then you weren’t really sure what to do or where you could go that was safe. So you sought out the one person that you genuinely considered a friend and nothing more. There was one person among this group that you genuinely connected with. He had been an instant friend. You figured you would be safe with him.

“Are you hiding from Mingyu again? Because honestly, you’re gonna have to get over that,” Soonyoung said, more mocking than disapproving.

“No, I am not hiding from Mingyu. I haven’t hidden from him,” you hissed back.

“Mhmm,” Soonyoung hummed. 

“Can’t I just want to hang out with you?” you asked and rolled your eyes at him.

“‘Course you can,” Soonyoung said easily. 

Soonyoung seemed a little distracted and you figured it was okay to sneak a look back over to where Seokmin sat. He was laughing and trying to drag Minghao into something, an impressive accomplishment if he managed it.

“Ahhh, right year, wrong person,” Soonyoung chuckled. Apparently, he wasn’t distracted and you played right into his hand. When you looked over at him, his eyes were on Seokmin.

“It’s nothing,” you said, brushed any thoughts off immediately. “I just guess I didn’t know you guys that well before this.”

“It’s only the first day,” Soonyoung commented and that gave you pause.

You shook it off quickly. “Exactly, it’s the first day. I’m just getting used to everyone.”

“You’re used to me,” he said and you were worried for a second he meant it as a bad thing. If the smirk on his face was anything to go by, he was just causing problems on purpose. Again.

“You don’t count,” you said.

“Wow, rude, I’m a person too,” Soonyoung whined.

“I know you are,” you said patiently.

“And I’m hot too,” he added. Your eyebrows shot up at that.

“No, I’m not falling for that. Because if I agree that you’re hot, which you know you are, you’re going to ask me who else is hot since you said you were hot too,” you said and watched his smile fade.

“You’re no fun.” he pouted.

Crisis averted, at least for the time being.

Thankfully, the rest of the day was pretty easy and you were able to enjoy time with Soonyoung as well as some of the others. Although he made little comments, it wasn’t obvious what he was talking about. And that really was par for the course with him anyway. When you walked around thinking you were a tiger (that wasn’t all for the cameras, apparently), people took what you said with a grain of salt.

Dinner was a chaotic affair at best. With so many people, you had to spread out over several tables. It was easier that way for you too because it gave you a chance to have more personal conversations. You were fine in big groups, usually, but with so many people there often wasn’t room to get a word in. Especially when they knew each other so well and you were still brand new.

You sat down at the only two-person table, figuring Soonyoung or maybe Chan would sit with you. They had been the easiest to be around so far given they were the two you’d spent the most time with prior to the vacation. Easy. It would all be so easy.

“Are you saving this for someone?” 

The voice caught you off guard, mid-bite, and you wanted to curse at yourself for not paying more attention. Seokmin was standing before you, all smiles as he held his plate. Soonyoung was right over his shoulder and for a moment, you thought you might be saved. Seokmin followed your gaze and saw his friend.

“Oh, were you coming to sit here?” Seokmin asked, friendly as always.

“No, no, it’s all yours. I was going to sit with Jun and Jihoon,” Soonyoung said with a clap on the younger man’s back.

Yes, Soonyoung was one of the people that you knew best. So really, you should’ve seen that coming. You’d never met anyone else that got so much pleasure out of causing problems on purpose. Not that sitting with Seokmin was a problem. It obviously wasn’t and you hoped your face remained neutral while you internally spiraled. 

Dinner was easier than it should’ve been. Sitting at a table like this, it was much easier to just focus on what Seokmin was saying rather than any thoughts you had earlier. Not surprisingly, he had a lot to say and just as much that he wanted to ask you. He listened intently as you shared things that you thought were boring, insisted they weren’t, and smiled the whole time.

Maybe Soonyoung actually was good for something, not that you would ever tell him that. His head was already big enough. But you were also much more comfortable now and maybe he deserved a small thanks.

The warm feelings toward Soonyoung lasted until the next morning when he asked you to meet him in the gym to work out. You should have known something was off. Even though you had wanted to keep up with your gym schedule on vacation, Soonyoung had whined about it before leaving. Then, there was a sudden request and you were still thankful from the night before, and you didn’t think much about it.

Another mistake.

You walked into the small gym to find Seokmin and Chan working out with Soonyoung nowhere to be found. And okay, yeah, all those thoughts were definitely still there. Chan, being the sweetest human, asked if you were looking for someone and then laughed. Apparently, your friend was still sleeping. 

Soonyoung - 2, you - 0. 

That was how the next several days went. It was like a game to Soonyoung, just to get you to admit something that you didn’t want to because he knew it already. And because you were stubborn. He was doing this for his own enjoyment and you weren’t going to keep indulging him. So he’d wave the white flag, sometimes multiple times, lull you into a false sense of security, and then force you into a situation with Seokmin that was making it harder and harder to act normal.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you finally said and threw your hands up for good measure.

“What?” Soonyoung’s face was pure delight.

“Yes, you complete and total pain in the ass, I think someone here is hot. I mean, you’re all hot, but yes, there’s someone I’m struggling around,” you said softly.

“Mhm, and who is that someone?” Soonyoung pressed.

“Do I really have to say it?” you asked. You knew your cheeks flushed under Soonyoung’s gaze.

“No, of course not,” Soonyoung said and you exhaled. “We can just keep playing these games.”

“I knew you were doing all this on purpose, you fucking demon,” you hissed at him.

“Give me a name and it’ll stop,” Soonyoung responded, not even acknowledging that you were right. 

“Fine,” you shot back. “It’s Seokmin. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Soonyoung said.

Apparently not playing games just meant that he wasn’t going to keep trying to fabricate situations for you to end up alone with Seokmin. It did not extend to actual games, which he had on the schedule for that night. He was dying to play drinking games, or so he said, and he dragged anyone he could convince along with him. Some of them looked strong-armed and you wondered why he had left the rest alone. “I didn’t force anyone,” Soonyoung protested. “Did too,” you fired back.

“Please, you wanted to play,” Soonyoung said.

“What about Jihoon? Why’s he safe?” 

“Because that man could end me with a single look, I don’t fuck with that.”

Fair, honestly. Everyone’s secrets came out when they were drinking and you tried to observe more than anything. You didn’t want to reveal too much, that was the key. And the key to doing that was making sure you stayed clear of being truly drunk. Soonyoung, on the other hand, as the designated host, ended up pretty drunk. It was cute and you spent most of the game laughing so hard you were near tears. Until a couple of the guys announced it was time to call it and head off to bed, for Soonyoung most of all.

People filtered out until it was just you and Seokmin left in the living area. Unlike every other time, though, it was comfortable. Easy, even. A sort of silence settled around you and you soaked it in, not eager to break it.

“Are you having fun?” Seokmin asked after a few minutes.

“Yeah, it’s been really great to get to know you all better,” you answered.

“I’ve been, well I’ve been noticing we wind up together a lot,” Seokmin said and you looked over at him.

Was this going to be venturing out of easy again? That was the last thing you wanted. “Oh, yeah. I guess we have.”

“Sometimes I feel like Soonyoung has been setting me up,” Seokmin confessed.

It was the perfect opening to admit that you knew that’s exactly what your darling Soonyoung had done. The drinks made it seem like a good idea. “Why would you think that?”

You chickened out anyway. But as you felt dumb, Seokmin rubbed his hand along the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. Did he know? Was he about to let you down easily?

“Ah, well it’s kind of embarrassing? But I told him I wanted to get to know you better and was having trouble,” Seokmin admitted.

“What?” It was all you could blurt out.

“Yeah, I know, it was dumb…” Seokmin stumbled.

“No, no, it’s not. I will literally kill him though,” you said and Seokmin looked defeated.

“That’s, uh, a little drastic,” Seokmin said.

“No, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you rambled. “It’s just…I thought he was doing it because he knew I thought you were hot and the whole time…we could’ve avoided all this.”

“You think I’m hot?” The question fell out of Seokmin’s mouth like he couldn’t believe it.

“Um, have you looked in a mirror lately?” 

“I…can I kiss you?” Despite your confession, his question was still unsure. You had both been drinking, sure, but you weren’t drunk.

All you had to do was nod and he closed the space between you on the couch, took your face in his hands, and kissed you hard. Like he really had been waiting to do it. Like maybe Soonyoung had done both of you a favor in pushing you together over the past several days. Even though it would’ve been a lot easier without the games.

But it was a weird angle, sitting next to each other, so you repositioned into his lap, enjoying sitting on top of the thighs you’d been dreaming about. Seokmin slid his hands up your thighs and around to your ass, holding you in place against him. Your skin burned under this touch. His lips were steady against yours, confident. 

You couldn’t remember kissing someone and feeling this much. How had you completely missed this side of Seokmin when you were considering who to be careful around?

You couldn’t take it anymore, needed to feel him against you even a little. When you broke off the kiss, he looked confused. All you’d done was kiss him but his hair was messy from your hands running through it and his lips were swollen. You pulled your shorts down so you could get back into his lap only in your underwear and t-shirt. 

And it was a lot. 

Everywhere your bodies met felt like it was on fire. He looked confident, nothing like the carefree and smiling person you had seen up until this point. Seokmin watched the way goosebumps erupted on your skin as he ran his hands along your bare thighs. Carefully, he repositioned you so that you were straddling one thigh, which was probably more comfortable and maybe meant that this wouldn’t be too rushed. Neither of you seemed to want to rush despite being out in a common area. 

You really couldn’t take it and you started to slowly roll your hips against his thigh. The muscles tensed underneath you and it only made you move a little faster. His hands felt like they were everywhere. They moved from your thighs around to squeeze your ass and up your sides under your shirt. It made you shiver with how he switched between gentle and firm. He sure knew how to drive you crazy.

Your hips continued to roll against his thigh and the friction of the fabric was doing more for you than it should have been. You let out a moan that Seokmin immediately caught with his lips. One of his hands returned to your ass to keep your hips moving against his thigh. The other found the back of your neck to hold you against his lips. Not that you’d want to be anywhere else. 

When you couldn’t take it anymore, you moved a hand down between you and started to rub your clit through your underwear. Seokmin’s hand moved from your ass immediately and pulled your hand away, gentle but firm. Like he was in control. You wanted to break the kiss to question why he pulled your hand away, but his hand on the back of your neck stayed firm. A second later, you felt his own long fingers moving your underwear to the side and taking over for your finger.

“Fuck,” you groaned against his lips. He still wouldn’t let you break the kiss.

This wasn’t something you had ever really done before. You hadn’t ever gotten off on someone’s thigh like this, but here you were. His finger rubbed circles over your clit and you rocked your hips against his thigh faster, chasing a high that you hadn’t expected. 

Seokmin finally broke your kiss and moved his mouth along your jaw and over to your ear. He nipped at your skin and smiled at the string of moans and encouragement that slipped from your lips. His fingers never broke their rhythm as he kissed whichever part of your skin that his lips could reach. 

“Please, I don’t think I can…I’m gonna,” you muttered, so close to a release.

“Come for me,” Seokmin whispered into your ear. 

It was all you needed to let go and his finger guided you through your release. Your breaths fell heavy as you came down, still straddled over his thigh. Without another word, he lifted his fingers to his mouth to suck them clean. And then he pulled you in again, kissing you deeply. 

Fuck, this man was hot.

You looked down at the space between you and saw the wet spot on his shorts. You had been so caught up in the moment that you hadn’t even registered that he was still dressed. 

“Seokmin, I’m so sorry,” you started and he shook his head, eyes still filled with desire.

“Do I seem like I’m complaining?” He was all confidence now, and it made you shiver.

“Well, no,” you said and he smiled. Not his usual smile. Something much less like sunshine.

You adjusted in his lap and brushed against his cock, already hard in his pants, which earned a groan from him. You were still so sensitive but you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your hips again. Seokmin threw his head back and bit on his knuckle to muffle some of the moaning.

“Come on, we’re going to my bedroom,” he said.

There was no room for disagreement or debate and fuck, why was that so hot? He helped you get your balance so you could climb off of him and grabbed your shorts when he stood up. Part of you wondered if this was a good call. Then again, you’d already made a mess of his shorts, so there wasn’t much use in turning back now.

With so many people, you didn’t realize how he had gotten his own room and were very appreciative when he led you back to what seemed to be the most secluded part of the main building. It was a little late to even think about that, though, since you had just gotten off on his thigh in the common area.

Once the door was shut, and locked for good measure, Seokmin pulled you against his body and captured your lips in yet another kiss. How did they just keep building and getting more intense? That didn’t seem like it should be possible and yet it was. His fingers trailed along your skin at the hem of your shirt before he pulled it up and over your head. 

While the kiss was broken, your hand snaked down to palm him over his shorts and found he was already hard. Was that just from getting you off on his thigh? And you wanted to tease him, wanted to continue running your hand along him without giving him enough.

But you couldn’t. All you wanted was for him to feel as good as you had. You dropped to your knees and pulled both his shorts and briefs with you. You thumbed over the tip of his cock, spread the precum already there along the tip. When you looked up at him, you found he was watching you and so you licked a careful strip up the underside of his length. His eyes fluttered closed for a second. 

You experimented and took more of him into your mouth slowly. He groaned when your mouth moved back to his head and you swirled your tongue around the tip. His hand twitched like it wanted to hold you in place but he wasn’t sure if that was okay. It wasn’t like there had been time to talk about any of it. So instead, you grabbed his hand and put it on the back of your head. His eyes found yours and even from your knees you could see his pupils were blown. Like he couldn’t believe what was happening. Not that you could either. 

His hips bucked into your mouth and you hollowed out your cheeks as you sucked. You put your hands on his thighs as you bobbed, felt the muscles there tense under your touch. And you couldn’t help but run your nails down them. The shiver you earned in response was all the motivation you needed to keep going.

Until he stopped you suddenly and you looked up at him. He pulled you to your feet and kissed you hard. With his hand on your lower back, he molded your body against him as if any space would kill him. Something about him being so in control fucked with your mind. Made you a needy, whiny mess. You were sure he could’ve asked for anything and you would’ve agreed.

“I really need to fuck you,” he murmured against your lips.

“Fuck,” you whined in response.

He pulled away and you knew you looked disappointed. Your lips chased his for a second. “Condom?”

“I wasn’t exactly planning on this happening,” you responded with a light chuckle.

“Shit,” he said. His breaths were shallow.

“I’m clean and I have an IUD if you want…” you started and his eyes snapped to yours.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yes,” you breathed out and his lips were on yours again.

Strong arms traveled down your body and gripped under your ass. You gasped into Seokmin’s mouth when he lifted you and moved the two of you to the bed. Another thing you hadn’t realized about this man. Everything he did caught you off guard. And you should’ve been prepared by that point, but how could you be?

The two of you settled on the bed and your knees pressed into the mattress on either side of him. His hand trailed down your body and he let his fingers skim your folds. You were wet for him again and stifled a moan when two of his fingers entered you. Just a couple pumps and he pulled his fingers out again to grip his cock. You sat up so that he could line himself up against your entrance.

Seokmin let you adjust and you took him in slowly. As soon as you had all of him inside of you, he sighed. Told you how good you felt clenching around him. Told you how much he liked stretching you out. Told you a lot of things as you started to slowly roll your hips. The pace was slow and you knew it needed to be faster. But there was something really nice about having a moment of control. Something nice about watching him. Something nice getting him to beg.

“Please,” he whined.

And so you gave in. You rolled your hips faster, dug your nails into his shoulders, enjoyed his finger tips digging into the skin at your hips. Every sensation added to the next and only made you want more. More of him, more of this feeling, more everything.

As if he couldn’t help himself, his hips bucked up into you. When you let out a string of expletives, he took it as permission to do it again. His hips bucked up into you in rhythm and it was almost more than you could take. You were sensitive from your first orgasm but he felt so good. The pace quickened again as he thrusted his hips up into you. He was so deep and it was so much. You reached your hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. But he knocked your hand away and kissed you hard. A second later, his hand was on your clit.

It was all too much. His thrusts started to falter and you knew he was close. You adjusted so that you could make up for him faltering, rolled your hips as hard and fast as you could manage. Chased the high for both of you.

Seokmin swore and released into you. His thumb on your clit had you cumming right after him and you both rode it out together. You moved slower on him as he thrust into a final few times. You stilled on top of him and his lips found yours again, hands moved to tangle in your hair. 

This time the kiss was soft, almost like a first real kiss. It was so, so gentle and so filled with care. So at odds with everything that had just happened between the two of you. It was like being wrapped up in a blanket on a cold day, warm and familiar. You had a thought that you could kiss him like that again. That you actually wanted to.

But you needed to pull away. You needed to get off of his lap and you both needed to get cleaned up. Those were some dangerous thoughts and you didn’t really need to be having them. 

If only his face wasn’t all care and affection when you pulled away. If only he didn’t offer to go get some washcloths to help you clean up. If only he didn’t offer you his clothes to sleep in. If only he didn’t ask you to cuddle in bed with him that night. If only he didn’t look so cute when you agreed.

If only, right?

i hope you all enjoyed that! please let me know your thoughts ❤️

[hintsofhoney]

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Welcome to my Dean Winchester masterlist! Here you can find everything I’ve written for our favorite green-eyed hunter. Please heed the warnings, tags and the author’s notes; they are there for you. I am not responsible for your media consumption. Mature and explicit content (smut, violence, adult themes, etc) will be tagged as 18+. Everything else falls under 16+. If you like what you read, please don’t hesitate to leave some feedback or give it a reblog; it is what fuels my writing fire! Happy reading!

Drabbles

A/N: Works that are under 1,000 words!

Bad Moon Rising

The world's ending, and Dean has something to confess. [f!reader, angst, 16+]

Begging for It

Dean wants you to beg for it. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

Better Than Pie

Dean just really loves eating you out. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

Dean’s Other Other Cell

You miss Dean's voice, so you give him a call. [f!reader, angst, 16+]

Go Your Own Way

Dean can't let Y/N in, no matter how badly he wants to. [f!reader, angst, 16+]

You Don’t Look at Me Like That

You may be a little bit too excited to be at your favorite diner again for the first time in years, introducing Dean to the best burgers in the world. [gn!reader, fluff, 18+]

One Shots

A/N: Works that are 1,000 words or over!

A Lesson In Anger Management

During an argument, you lose your temper and try to hit Dean. You end up with a real sore behind. [f!reader, almost smut, 18+]

Are You Trying To Turn Me On?

A quick and rough fuck in the library with your boyfriend Dean after you (unintentionally) turn him on... and Sam's supposed to be back any minute. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

Asking for Favors

The new football coach at your school asks you to pass one of his kids so he can play. You're not one to just go around doing favors for free, and it's been ages since you've last had a good fuck. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

The Best Worst Day Ever

You're having a really bad day, in part thanks to Dean, but he's also the one who turns it around. [f!reader, fluff, implied smut, 18+]

Caught Looking

Baseball is Y/N's favorite sport of all time. It ends up meaning so much more to her than she could ever imagine after she meets Dean Winchester, her favorite player, at one of his games one night. [f!reader, fluff, implied smut, 18+]

Don’t Be a Tease

A little teasing never hurt nobody... even if it is at dinner with Dean’s parents. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

Don’t Forget It

While working a case with Dean, he gets jealous of the way you interact with a suspect and decides to remind you who you belong to. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

Don’t Test Your Luck

Dean Winchester is a millionaire mogul CEO... and he's also your boyfriend... who does not put up with your attitude. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

Freshman Year

Fucking your RA (and your roommate's older brother) wasn’t exactly what you had planned for your first semester of college. [m!reader, smut, 18+]

Game Night

You decide to send Dean a few dirty texts while at game night with all your closest friends... it doesn't go as planned. [f!reader, almost smut, 18+]

I Could Show You

You decide to step out of your comfort zone and finally visit a sex shop in search of some new toys. The guy at the counter, Dean, offers to show you how some of them work instead of just telling you. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

I’m Gonna Be

You’re cleaning Dean’s room and find something you’re not supposed to. [f!reader, fluff, 16+]

Incubus

The case you and the Winchesters are on turns out to be a monster under your bed. [f!reader, crack, adult themes, 18+]

Jealous 

Y/N and Dean go on their first official date night. [f!reader, fluff, 16+]

Ladies With Experience

When Dean makes an off-handed comment about "preferring ladies with experience", you try (and fail) to not let it get under your skin. You're a virgin, but you've done just about everything else, and when you talk to Dean about it, he offers to be your first. He's your best friend, and you've been in love with him forever... who are you to deny him? [f!reader, smut, 18+]

Leather and Heels

It’s Dean’s birthday, and you decide to gift him one of his bedroom fantasies. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

Life of the Party

Dean's trying (and failing) to enjoy his night out with friends, until he's made an offer that he can't refuse. [f!reader, crack, implied smut, 18+]

Mine

When Dean is forced to mark Y/N in order to not blow their cover on a case, it leads him to reveal a secret that he's been keeping since they met. [omega!f!reader, smut, 18+]

No Ifs, Ands, or Cuts

Dean constantly makes fun of Sam's long locks, but you have long hair, too. You ask Dean to cut it, figuring he might like the short-haired look better on you. You were wrong. [m!reader, fluff, implied smut, 18+]

Not So Timid After All

You’ve had a crush on Dean Winchester for years but are far too shy to make a move. When you’re working a case with Dean at a costume party, he decides to make a move instead. Turns out, you’re not so shy in the bedroom. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

Radio and the Rain

When a bad storm forces you and Dean apart on a hunt, he realizes just how much you mean to him. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

Take It Off

You and Dean have had a flirtatious relationship for years. After he gets you incredibly sexually frustrated one night, you decide to get him back with a strip tease the next day. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

There’s Always Room for Dessert

You and Dean go on an impromptu shopping date at the mall. [f!reader, crack, implied smut, 18+]

Views From the Doorway

Dean’s a really, really good dad to the tiny human y’all made. [f!reader, flangst, 16+]

You Miss Me Or Something?

Dean’s away on a hunt and you’re horny... thank God for technology. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

You Shook Me All Night Long

Y/N sees Dean working on the Impala on the side of the road and pulls over to see if he needs any help. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

Mini-Series

A/N: Mini-series will have 2-3 parts. There are no masterlists for these.

Always a Flirt

Part One: Always a Flirt: You buy a bra that reminds you of Dean while he's away on a hunt. He ends up really liking it. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

Part Two: That’s It, I’m Getting My Belt: Dean's not gonna let your bratty behavior slide this time. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

Attitude Adjustment

Part One: Giving Dean an attitude gets you nowhere but over his knee in the backseat of the Impala... and Sam’s passed out in the front. [f!reader, almost smut, 18+]

Part Two: After a long and silent drive you finally arrive back at the bunker, nervous yet excited about what Dean has in store for you. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

Homework Help

Part One: Homework Help: You're having trouble focusing on your homework and Dean has an idea about how to help you concentrate. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

Part Two: Concentrate: After you get an awful grade back on the paper that Dean had "helped" you with, he has some other ways in mind to help you with your lack-of-concentration problem. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

Just for Tonight

Part One: Demon!Dean is tied to the chair in the archives room a few hours before it's time for Sam to start curing him. You decide to have a little fun... just for tonight. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

Part Two: You come back to the archives room to finish Dean off... except, it doesn’t go as planned. [f!reader, smut, 18+]

Series

A/N: Series will have 4+ parts! The links below will take you to the series masterlists.

Holidate

Y/N and Dean have both had bad luck with relationships (and the recent holidays). When they meet one another at the mall, Dean gets an idea that could potentially fix their problems. [f!reader, tags differ by chapter, complete]

[bradshawsbaby]

to the nines

pairing: rhett abbott x childhood friend!reader

author’s note: this was originally supposed to be a drabble, but it got away from me slightly and turned into something a little longer (surprise, surprise).

based on this prompt from @therebeccaw. i also tried to incorporate a request from @mermaidxatxheart about the moment when rhett decided he wanted his relationship with his childhood friend to be more.

special thanks to @luminousnotmatter for being the best outer range viewing buddy™️ (even when i jumped a couple episodes ahead of her 🤭) and @whisperofsong for not being mad at me for falling in love with her man 😉

warnings: some brief language, mentions of alcohol, and fluff sprinkled in for good measure.

You and Rhett were friends.

You always had been friends.

You always would be friends.

Just friends.

“He’s just a friend,” you’d insisted hotly in the seventh grade when some of your classmates had been teasing you about your ��big ol’ crush on Rhett Abbott.”

“She’s just a friend,” Rhett told the boys who had been ribbing him and making lewd comments when they found out he was taking you to the junior prom.

“We’re just friends,” you’d chorus together whenever you happened to travel with Rhett to cheer him on at an out-of-town rodeo and elderly women in the crowd commented on what a cute couple the two of you made.

So, like the good friend that he was, Rhett had been gracious enough to agree to attend your former college roommate’s wedding as your plus one. You knew all the other friends and acquaintances who’d be attending would have boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, and wives on their arms, and the thought of showing up alone had been too wounding to your pride to even contemplate. You and Rhett always had a good time together, and you knew he’d make sure the night was memorable.

What you hadn’t known was that he was going to take your breath away and make it damn near impossible to concentrate on anything beyond the sight of him in that suit.

You’d known Rhett Abbott for almost your entire life, and never had you known him to get as dressed up as he was tonight. The closest he’d ever come was when Cecilia managed to wrangle his butt to church on Sunday and force him into a respectable button down. Hell, even when he’d taken you to the junior prom, the most he’d managed was a “clean pair o’ jeans and my nicest flannel,” as he’d put it.

But tonight.

Tonight, Rhett Abbott looked like one of those Hollywood actors the ladies at the hair salon in town loved to swoon over as they flipped through their magazines while waiting for their dye jobs to set.

Dressed to the nines, he looked like a million bucks and you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him.

You’d nearly tripped and fell down the damn stairs when he’d come to your house to pick you up earlier, the sight of him in that crisp black suit and tie, with his hair slicked back and his eyes somehow looking bluer than you’d ever seen them, enough to rob you of all coherent thought.

Rhett had just chuckled in that easygoing way of his. “It’s a monkey suit, I know,” he grimaced, holding out an arm to you as he walked you to where his truck was parked outside your family’s home. “But when you told me the wedding was gonna be in Laramie, I figured a clean pair o’ jeans and my nicest flannel wasn’t going to cut it,” he added with a wink, helping you up into the cab of the truck.

“You clean up real nice, Abbott,” you managed to get out past lips that suddenly felt as dry as sandpaper.

Real nice? He’d never looked better and you’d never wanted him more.

For all that you’d spent years trying to convince everybody—especially yourself—that you and Rhett were just friends, you knew in your heart of hearts that it wasn’t true. You wanted more. You’d always wanted more.

You wanted him to be your real plus one, not just the childhood pal who’d agreed to tag along so you wouldn’t have to go stag.

As silly as you knew it was, you couldn’t help the rush of pride you felt when your former housemates and classmates from your college days rushed to bombard you at the reception with questions about your “sexy date.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“Where did you meet him?”

“Does he have a twin brother?”

“Is he as good in bed as he looks?”

You laughed and shrugged and hoped your embarrassment wasn’t too apparent as you told them, “Oh, no, we’re just friends.”

Lucy, who had been one of your housemates during your junior and senior years, arched a skeptical brow as she sipped on her Dirty Shirley. “Please. You have not been able to stop eye fucking that guy all night. Just friends my ass.”

“Lucy!” you gasped, feeling your cheeks and neck grow warm in mortification. You glanced around sheepishly, praying that Rhett wasn’t within earshot. He’d gone off to the bar to get the two of you a couple of whiskey sours.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Lucy smirked, swirling her straw around in her glass. Then she suddenly leaned in closer. “But don’t be embarrassed, sweet pea,” she whispered conspiratorially. “That boy hasn’t been able to keep those gorgeous baby blues off you either.”

Before you could fully register Lucy’s comment, let alone unpack its meaning, your friend was stepping back and grinning, her gaze landing just beyond your shoulder. “Oh, heya, Rhett.”

Stiffening slightly, you turned and met his blue gaze, warm and steady and quite determinedly fixed on you. You instantly felt your mouth dry up again. Damn this man and that damned suit.

“This little sweet pea and I were just talking ’bout how much we wanna dance,” Lucy went on, slinging an arm around your shoulders and nudging you pointedly. “So I better go find my husband before he finds himself another partner,” she added with the exuberant laugh she had always been known for, flouncing off and leaving you torn between wanting to strangle her and wanting to laugh at her tenacity.

Left alone with Rhett, you looked up to find his gaze still fixed on your face, his lips upturned in a smile that almost looked shy. But when had Rhett Abbott ever been shy around you?

Setting down the whiskey sours he’d obtained, still untouched, on the table, he held out a hand to you. “What do you say then, sweet pea?” he drawled, teasing the nickname Lucy always used for you. “Wanna dance with me?”

Trying to pretend your stomach wasn’t currently doing about fifty consecutive somersaults, you just nodded and slipped your hand into his. It was rough and calloused and absolutely perfect.

Just as Etta James’ At Last started thrumming through the speakers, Rhett pulled you onto the dance floor and tugged you into his arms, one arm wrapping around your waist as he maintained his grip on your hand with the other.

“Just like junior prom,” he grinned, his thumb gently brushing against the back of your hand as you swayed to the music.

Funny, you didn’t remember feeling like every nerve ending in your body was on fire when you were at junior prom.

“Mhm, though I have to say you clean up much nicer tonight,” you laughed, resting your free hand on his shoulder as you gazed up at him.

“I’ll have you know that was the nicest flannel I owned at the time,” Rhett scoffed, feigning hurt.

You just giggled in response, which made Rhett’s facade crack as his face split into an amused grin.

“You looked beautiful that night,” he murmured suddenly, his grip on your waist tightening by a fraction. “But I think you look even more beautiful tonight,” he added, his expression suddenly serious.

It was strange how your mouth managed to feel like the Sahara, while your legs felt like water.

“Thank you, Rhett,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your brain was so addled that you weren’t even able to come up with a teasing response.

“County fair’s coming up soon,” he said, abruptly changing the subject, though his piercing blue eyes remained trained on your face.

“Mhm,” you mumbled, nodding slowly. “I think my mama’s gonna get a booth.”

“I was thinkin’ you and me could go together,” Rhett said, his voice suddenly sounding even lower and deeper than usual.

“Of course,” you nodded, not phased in the slightest. You and Rhett had been going to county fairs together since you were kids.

What did phase you was the way Rhett leaned in close and brushed a loose lock of hair away from your cheek, his lips skimming your skin as he whispered in your ear, “I don’t want to go as your friend.”

Your breath caught in your throat instantly and you were immediately grateful that he was holding onto you so tightly. “A date, Abbott?” you questioned, peering up at him as your pulse pounded in your veins.

“A date,” Rhett nodded, not a single trace of hesitation or ounce of a waver in his voice.

“You sure?” you asked, a slight tremor in your voice. There would be no going back if you did this.

“Never surer,” Rhett replied, his fingertips gently pressing into the small of your back as he pulled you closer.

“Alright then, Abbott,” you smiled, barely able to contain your excitement. “It’s a date.”

[joheunsaram]

Discord Discourse (knj)

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summary- Kim Namjoon likes to spend time in a discord server... dedicated to him. With new friends and a budding crush, will he ever be able to truly be himself without revealing who he is?

word count- 2.8k

pairing- idol!Namjoon x fanfic writer!Reader

rating- PG15

genre- internet relationships, s2(maybe)lovers, angst, fluff, slightly smutty

warnings- pretty angsty, a little sexting but not actual sexting, superficial conversations portrayed as deep (lol im sorry I didn’t want to make this too long), infatuation, open ending, talks of a daddy kink

a.n.- this was not supposed to Joon’s bday drabble but it somehow ended up so lol. this is for all my fic writers out there. please don’t hate me for what the reader did... there may or may not be another part in the works oops lol

Thanks to the beautiful @raplinesmoon​ for helping me brainstorm, beta and fix the ending!!

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

- Kim Namjoon had a bad habit.

It wasn’t like watching too much porn, although it was somewhat like that. It wasn’t googling himself to read comments on his videos, although it was somewhat like that. It wasn’t talking to his fans incognito, although it was exactly like that.

Sitting in his room, in his boxers, he had all the lights off. His eyes were fixated on his screen, two fingers hovering over the touchpad of his laptop as he scrolled periodically. He pushed his glasses back, his face luminated by the blue light of his screen and swallowed, ignoring the way his stomach knotted and his face heated.

Kim Namjoon had a bad habit. And it all started when he joined a random discord server named after his studio. Of course he never revealed himself. To the unsuspecting largely female members, he was John, an autocorrect happenstance that granted him his anonymity. Not that anyone would believe he was him anyway. Not in these circles.

He thought it would be cute to interact with his fans when his new solo song came out, a way to practice his English. He wanted to know their reactions and their criticisms without the love. Little did he know that all he would get was affection and that affection would not only feed his dwindling ego but give him a dopamine rush that had become so addictive it had his heart racing every time a notification popped on his phone.

monolover: omgggggg did you see joon in the new mv???? I’m fucking dying! moonchild: yes I want to lick his whole body! GODDAMN HES PERFECT!!! joonsbicycle: honestly if he’s not getting every inch of his body worshipped rn whats even the point of life? moonlover: I volunteer as tribute! God the things I would let that man do to me!!!

He chuckled at the thread, lower lip caught between his teeth and looked around his dark room. The silence in the air was deafening. He liked his home. He was proud of his collection, making it look like an art museum, beautiful and untouchable. The wooden accents and the plush furniture was comforting but they felt cold.

There was no one there to worship his body. There was no one even there to kiss him. Which is why this was a bad habit. He shouldn’t be getting happy sucked into this small world of eight women who had somehow unlocked more kinks in him than should be possible. And he really shouldn’t be holding his breath when your name showed that you were typing.

It was unhealthy to be almost in love with someone who he didn’t even know. Yet when your message popped up, his heart skipped a beat and his boxers got tighter.

yn: if namjoons sitting alone rn it’s a crime!!! I would be on my knees in front of him marking those thighs fuckkk. yn: speaking of! new super smutty fic is out reblog for good skin lol I really hope he never finds my blog he would be traumatized.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Namjoon whispered as he stared into the dark abyss in front of him, imagining you crawling towards him, your lips travelling up his legs, your teeth leaving indentations between the muscles.

When he first joined the server, he had been immediately drawn to you. Perhaps it was because he had joined right after he posted about his plans for opening a gallery and the first thing he saw was your in depth analysis on an artist you admired but he had never heard of. It made him eager to post about art too and gave him the push to step away from his nerves and talk. He expected to be told that he was boring and that nobody cared. He was used to that. But the server was inviting, asking questions and letting him soliloquize about paint strokes and abstractions. They welcomed him with open arms without knowing who he was, especially you.

You asked him probing questions that made him think, re-evaluate his stances, and then you turned out to be something out of his wet dreams. The more time he spent on the server, he realized it wasn’t just a place to discuss his and his team’s music and accomplishments. It was a place where they also discussed how attractive he was. In full uncensored detail.

After only a month, he had read every single work of fiction you had created, all of them featuring him. The other members of the server were writers too, but somehow he only found your works alluring. The first thing he read was a whopping ninety thousand word story about heartbreak and love and perseverance. It had him tearing up with his character, a broken man who worked a dead end job.

He had praised it and the moment you told him it was supposed to be an anti capitalist piece, he read it all over again. This time he caught the nuances and critiques of a system he hated and was a part of — just like the Namjoon in the story. You had never met him, yet his fictional self made all the decisions he would make, felt the things he would feel, and after a really long time, he felt like he was seen. His fictional self wasn’t an idol, he wasn’t famous or beloved. He was just himself and it made his longing for a normal life seem… well, normal.

With time, he used your stories to teleport himself into worlds he wouldn’t experience, into situations he would never be in, and he felt alive. Seeing himself from your eyes made him feel incredible, invincible, even if you were practically a stranger.

So without any further ado, he clicked the link you sent and lost himself in a new world. A world where he was apparently a sex god that could make you cum six times in a row. He was hard by the time he finished the short story, and then he read it again, wanting to memorize the moves you so desired. He knew he would never meet you in real life. He had been lucky but he would never get that lucky. Yet he did it, stroking himself as he imagined how you would sound. Your female characters always whimpered when teased and moaned his name breathily. Would he ever get to hear you whimper?

As if reading his mind, you sent him a message.

yn: don’t get too turned on reading the new story. I want you to figure out the hidden meaning 🤪 john: what hidden message is in jisoo calling Namjoon daddy? yn: john we all know you love when I call Namjoon daddy in my fics lol but look deeper 👀 john: it’s only cause it seems like your characters love saying daddy. Anything you wanna confess babe? yn: ughhhhh I hate that you all know my kinks because of this!!! tell me when you see it

Namjoon read the piece again, ignoring how turned on he was to find nuances, and then he read the description of the room, a description he had skimmed over to get to the good parts. How did he miss that?

john: theyre fucking in prison?! john: WHY IS NAMJOON IN PRISON?! john: I thought you said he would be a good guy! He’s always a good guy in your fics!!! yn: don’t get all emo on me. He could be falsely imprisoned lol yn: but nah I put him in prison as an allegory. Like how life can feel like you’re caged in but you forget about that feeling if you have someone you love by your side. yn: ugh I hate explaining stuff makes me feel like a belong on r/verydeep HAHAHHA john: that’s actually fucking profound. Who knew porn could be art? 😝 yn: sex with me is always art thank you very much john: yeah I bet it is, baby. I wouldn’t mind you calling me daddy anytime.

Namjoon blinked as soon as he registered what he had sent, his heart pounding in panic. He had always had these thoughts about you. He never thought he would tell you any of them. What was fucking wrong with him?! Did he really think a few flirting comments from you gave him free reign to sext! God he was like the terrible men on Tinder, just a testosterone filled Neanderthal focused on sex. Fuck!

yn: as hot as I find out intellectual discourse I really wouldn’t sext with a stranger. you could be like twelve for all I know

Namjoon perked up at the message. You technically didn’t say you didn’t want to, just that you wouldn’t. Perhaps he stood a semblance of a chance when it came to you. Perhaps all the texting and subtle flirting made you like him too.

john: as a matter of fact I turned 28 today. so I’m definitely not twelve yn: ha you’ve been reading too many of my fics your bday really the same as Joons?

Oh… he hadn’t thought through about this piece of information. Of course you knew when your favourite celebrity’s birthday was! But hey a lot of people have birthdays at the same time.

john: virgins unite baby john: VIRGOS! I MEANT VIRGOS! yn: lmfao not helping your case john: how do I prove I’m of age yn: honestly idk yn: guess no sexting for us. rip. john: well… what if we do a voice chat? john: not that I just want to sext you! john: it’ll just be nice to hear your voice and get to know you better yn: ha I’m not going to sext you daddy 🤣 yn: but sure I like talking to you (yn calling)

Namjoon’s eyes widened at the screen, his throat dry. He hasn’t expected this easy acquiescence. He thought you would just blow him off, but after months of daily chats he should’ve anticipated that you’d be comfortable enough to chat with him. Taking a deep breath, he clicked the little green phone to pick up.

“Hello.”

“Hey! Wow, your voice is really deep. Somehow even though your name is John I expected a girl,” you giggled and it was a rush of endorphins tapped right into his veins. Your voice was nothing like he imagined. Where he thought of you to have a high pitched, slightly princess-ey tone, your real voice was lower, an alto with a rasp that made him weak. He wanted to listen to it everyday.

“So does this prove I’m not a twelve year old?” he teased, hiding his nerves with a confident bravado you preferred in the fictional Namjoon.

“Nah. But I really want to talk about this book I’m reading because it’s so funny and dumb in the best way and I could care less how old you were,” you replied. He chuckled as you launched into a rant about this romance series you were reading about a group of men who read romance to solve their romantic problems. Namjoon lost himself a little in the similarities between himself and the plot. Wasn’t he also reading romance to mold himself into a perfect man, albeit he was trying to woo the author herself, but still. However as you continued, he thought about how exceptionally stupid it was for him to even attempt to seek out something other than friendship with you.

It wasn’t as if he could just ask you out and take you on a date. He couldn’t hold your hand or kiss you under the lamplight of a rain soaked street. He only knew your first name and if your accent was any indication, you most likely didn’t live anywhere near him. Should he really try to start something if he knew for a fact that he couldn’t give you the romance that he knew you wished for?

Decision made, his nerves eased and he listened to your rants, discussing the novel he had never read. He couldn’t let his heart get involved. If you love someone, set them free, isn’t that what they said? Well he would set you free to meet the guy of your dreams. You didn’t actually like him, you had mentioned to him time and time again that the Namjoon in your stories wasn’t based of off the real one, and other than light teasing,  you had made no indication that you thought his alter ego ‘John’ was up to your standards either. No matter which persona he was, he didn’t fit you, so for the sake of the only freeing friendship he had, he decided it was better not to complicate things.

At least until you said your next words.

“Want to hear about my next story? I think I’m going to write my first idol fic. Something about the loneliness of fame, of how isolating it seems,” you pondered out loud, and Namjoon hated how much he already related to the story.

“Tell me about it. Fame fucking sucks,” he commented, momentarily forgetting his disguise.

“Are you famous, John?” you asked, a teasing grin visible over the line, making Namjoon contemplate whether to come clean. At 3am, his impulsivity was at an all time high so without any forethought of consequences, he hit the camera icon.

The screen split into two, the left side showing his dark room before he clicked on his bedside lamp. The bright light blinded him momentarily, his hand automatically rubbing his eye before he sheepishly looked at the camera. He heard nothing from you but could see your icon showing you were still on the call.

“Hi… umm I guess I’m kinda famous,” he said, laughing uncomfortably. The longer the silence went on, the more his nerves clawed at him, making him flush so deeply, he wished he could turn back time.

“What… the… fuck?”

He heard you whisper before the call disconnected. Staring at the chat, he tried to overcome the sudden wave of dejection at your rejection. It was a logical response. You had said multiple times you wished he never read your works, of course you were taken aback to learn about him, about who he really was. He should give you some time to catch up.

But patience was never Namjoon’s strong suit, so he messaged almost immediately.

john: please say something

You didn’t reply for an hour even when your icon had a tiny green circle next to it, indicating that you were still there.

yn: I am really really sorry about all the fics and the rude comments. I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable and I apologize if these conversations were creepy or disturbing. Just know that you are a great source of inspiration for me and I hope you keep making amazing music for me and other fans. Thank you so much for your hard work. I will delete my blog if you like and I won’t bother you again, john. yn: I mean Namjoon. yn: really sorry again. yn: also happy birthday!

Namjoon stared at his screen cursing at himself for ruining almost a year long friendship for a moment of loneliness. You had said you made him uncomfortable but he was sure that if anyone was uncomfortable it was you. Bracing himself, he decided to answer the only way he knew how. Honestly.

john: Please don’t apologize. You have never made me uncomfortable Y/N. Please believe me.  I really do enjoy your stories and talking to you. I would consider us friends if you’d have me.

As soon as he pressed enter he got a response. Only it wasn’t one he was expecting.

Your message could not be delivered. This is usually because you don't share a server with the recipient or the recipient is only accepting direct messages from friends. You can see the full list of reasons here: https://support.discord.com/hc/en-us/articles/360060145013

His hands shook as he wrote another message only to get the same message in return. After a year of friendship it seemed that he should’ve just hid his true self after all. Shutting his laptop, fell onto his back on the bed, lying to himself that he was okay and that it didn’t hurt.

Opening your blog on his phone, he was relieved to see it still up. Heart pounding in a last ditch effort, he raced to send you a message. Copy pasting his earlier words from discord, he hoped that this time they reached you.

He was ecstatic when the script under his text changed from delivered to seen, his heart soaring in the effervescence of hope. You never replied back, at least not till his eyes were scratchy from staring at the screen and his lids were heavy from sleep.

Kim Namjoon had a bad habit. But if he could salvage his friendship with you, he had no intentions of breaking it.

-

next

taglist -  @awhnamjoon​ @alpacaseoks @raplinesmoon @codeinebelle @aislinnstanaka@miscelunaaa @moonchild1 @shydestinyyouth @itsjaneeet @piecesofapril11@yoontaethings @jeonyreads @pb-n-juju @everythingaboutfangirling @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997

Thank you for reading this fic! If you liked it, please tell me your thoughts. I appreciate your feedback!

Please reblog and check out more stories on my masterlist <3

[resowrites]

Fuzzy Pumpkin - drabble.

Summary: Henry’s taken aback by his gf’s latest purchase.

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Girlfriend!OC

Warnings: fluff, banter/British humour, dialogue heavy, language, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 429

A/N: Welp I can’t do Flufftober after all, I wasn’t happy with my entries either so they’ve been removed. Please enjoy this post though, not sure when I’ll be back ~ R x

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! No copyright infringement intended, gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Fuzzy Pumpkin - drabble.

The sound of Henry's raucous laughter almost made her jump. She quickly entered the living room to find him hugging himself on the sofa with his head thrown back. She let out a breath and took a seat next to him, placing two cups down on the coffee table. "What's so funny?" He still couldn't form words but pointed eagerly to the coffee table. "What, you idiot?" He took a few deep breaths and rubbed his eyes.

"This! What the fuck is this?!" He grabbed the pumpkin ornament that had been resting there.

"A pumpkin, darling."

"Oh really? Didn't know they did fuzzy ones." Henry's laughter got the better of him once again.

"It's not fuzzy, it's 'flocked,'" she said matter of factly.

"'Fucked,' did you say?" She bit her lip, determined not to smile.

"Flocked! Flocked!" She snatched it from his hand and bopped him on the arm with it.

"As in, you 'flocked' to buy it?" She pursed her lips but decided to reach down the side of the sofa anyway, Henry's mischievous look be damned. "You looking for the receipt?" She ignored him and produced from a bag another, smaller pumpkin. He broke down completely. She bit the insides of her mouth to keep from laughing as she took her time positioning the two pumpkins in front of her. He eventually managed to collect himself but had to use his shirt to wipe his face this time. "Well, I suppose one fuzzy pumpkin would look odd." Her eyes fell to the larger one and what else she could do besides bop him with it. "Hey, easy now… you only just bought them." She finally snickered but folded her arms. "What else did you buy?" She sniffed sharply and ignored his devilish grin.

"Just a candle."

"Oh, what scent?" The look she gave him was so fierce he snorted hard. She then sighed and fetched the bag.

"Oh darling, you know I'm only joking."

"Too late, you've ruined it." Henry giggled.

"Aww no! You know I think there's a pumpkin patch near here, what if I take you to get some real ones?"

"No thank you, I want these ones." He sighed and flung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest for a cuddle.

"Well, I suppose you know best. Still, I'll see if I can pick up a nice one in Sainbury's… there's got to be one there that doesn't look like you from behind." She smirked.

"Yeah, cos it’ll look like you from the front." Henry choked on his tea.

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[wildbornsiren]

Again | Jake “Hangman” Seresin x F!Reader

Again Synopsis: Just a drabble about Jake getting his face wet.  One shot 823 words AFAB/Female reader.  Warnings: Explicit. MINORS DNI. oral (f. receiving) female ejaculation, dirty talk.

Notes: Based of an anon request for Jake’s reaction to a squirting reader. I’m so sorry if this doesn’t scratch the itch you were looking for, but I tried.  Likes/comments/reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you for reading, it really means the most.    tagging in:   @writercole @evansrogerskitten @princessmisery666 because ya’lls fic sent me earlier today. 

“When do we need to be back downstairs?” Jake’s rummaging around in the mini fridge. “Javy challenged Bradshaw to a dance-off and someone needs to be there to record it.” “Am I supposed to keep you from recording, or getting in on it?” You lay back on the bed, enjoying the icy blast of the air conditioning. It was muggy and hot in the ceremony hall, and the hotel room wasn’t much better. “There’s not enough to drink in here to get me involved in that.” You can hear him open a bottle, liquid pouring into a plastic cup. “Are you staying in your whites for the reception?” He grins at you, raising the cup in your direction. “Didn’t you say something about ripping them off of me with your teeth in the elevator?” “I said a lot of things.” You roll onto your side, getting a better look at him.

Golden skin glows against the crisp white, and he carries himself differently while wearing them. Shoulders back, chest out, masculinity dripping from every pore. Fresh shaven, not a single hair out of place, the subtle hardness of his jaw, and gleam in his eye, paired with the pride of the highly decorated uniform he wore—it got you wet. You weren’t sure if you wanted to send a thank-you card to the inventor of dress whites or slap them. Another part of you was so glad they were paraded out occasionally, and this time it was for a happy celebration. “See something you like darlin?” He sets the cup down on the counter, approaching the bed. That easy grin, complete with dimples and eye crinkles beams down at you when he bumps against the mattress, and you turn over onto your back. “I do like you.” “That keeps me going. Every single day baby.” He braces over you, capturing your mouth in a slow easy kiss. One kiss turns into two, three, and you stop counting, losing your train of thought when his hands slide under your dress lifting it to your hips. “This also keeps me going,” his hands slide up between your thighs cupping the warmth between your legs. Fingers slide against the lace of your panties, teasing through the damp that had gathered. He groans against the softness of your thigh, that slow lingering touch continuing. “You get so wet for me so easily. Fucking love that.” His weight leaves your body long enough to undo the buttons of his uniform shirt, carefully hanging it on the back of the computer chair. “Jake, they’re going to notice if we’re late.” “It’s fine,” he murmurs, his warm hands returning to your body, easing your panties down. “I want to take care of my girl. Then we’ll go down and party with everyone else.” His mouth teases along your folds. “Come on baby. Let me do this for you.” He licks, dragging his tongue slowly against you. Your hands find purchase in his hair, and he nudges your legs further apart with his shoulders. Jake is on you like a man starved, licking and kissing at your pussy. His fingers rub soft circles on your hips, drawing you closer. You can feel his jaw working as his tongue slides into you. Your back arches, hands tightening ins his hair. His nose grinds against your clit as he devours you. His tongue is replaced by two fingers, expertly curling deep inside as they thrust into you. He groans softly, licking slick from your thighs. “Fuck being social, I want to watch you like this. You look so good on my fingers baby.” You laugh breathlessly, pleasure washing over you. He’s taking you higher and higher, warmth coursing through you, body on edge, trembling. Jake eases a third finger in, using the thickness to stretch you further. His name falls from your lips, and you’re coming hard as he hits that spot inside of you over and over. Tightening around his fingers, he continues to fuck them into you, coaxing moans and whimpers from you. His fingers curl again, pressing deeper, your hips rising off the bed, rocking against him. A second orgasm rages through you even as you’re whimpering and trembling from the force of the first. Everything spirals higher, tighter and you’re crying out wordlessly for him as you come again. You can feel your body clench, releasing completely and you squirt. You cover your face with your hands, panting, embarrassed at your response. “Oh baby…” he murmurs, fingers sliding from your spent pussy. You drip from his chin, the collar of his undershirt soaked. He licks his lips, bringing his fingers to his mouth sucking them clean. “I’m going to need you to do that again.” You peek up at him from between your fingers, catching sight of that wicked grin and hungry eyes. “Again?” He nods. “I need you soak my dick.” He’s reaching for his belt buckle, and you know there’s no way you’re rejoining the party any time soon. 

[house-strong]

༄࿔ trepverter

summary ; drabble requested by @nyctophilic0vitnir for my 1k follower celebration.

“Another celebration request with Trepverter for DAEMON please!”

“trepverter: a witty response or comeback you think of only after it's too late to use.”

pairing ; daemon targaryen x reader

notes ; you know that moment when you’re bantering with someone and you’re both smiling at each other and there’s a moment of romance that’s sprinkled in and you’re distracted so you can’t say some smart ass remark in response so the other person is smug about winning? yeah this is that enjoy my pining and my pain and poor depiction,, DIALOGUE HEAVY

“nuha kep kirin isa.”

“nuha kepa kirine issa,” daemon corrects, the valyrian language rolling off his tongue with expert pronunciation. you huff, settling on the chair across from him with defeat.

“i can’t speak it the way you do,” you complain, setting the book on to the table beside you. your hands move to rub at your temples, the beginning of a headache starting to set in. “my tongue forbids it.”

“there’s always lessons in failures,” daemon muses, flipping absentmindedly through the pages of his book that he was supposed to be reading – though he seemed more adamant to skim the pages.

you inhale deeply, settling back into the chair when the throbbing in your temple slowly subsides, “i’m sure you’re very wise by now then, daemon.”

the man beside you shoots you a look, his eyes narrowing and a sly smile creeping on his lips.

“you think you’re clever, don’t you?” he retorts, looking back down at the book as if he wasn’t interested in conversation.

your hands tent together, thumbs rubbing against one another as if they were the legs of a cricket, “i do, actually.”

“not as half as you think you are,” he hums.

“more than you still, i reckon.”

there’s a teasing grin that widens your small smile. teeth gently bite your bottom lip, trying you best to conceal your delight from the banter. daemon gives you a look and raises his brow, shutting his book. he leans forward, head tilting.

“do you really want to start something you can’t finish?” he asks, voice low and taunting. the smile was evident in his tone.

“like you couldn’t finish rhea royce?” you jeer, hand moving over your mouth to stifle the giggle that was surely about to come out. it was childish really, but daemon was the perfect bantering partner – there were no limits and certainly no ill-will.

his mouth hangs in surprise, both his brows raising to knit together in the middle of his forehead. he gives a short chuckle, one that sends a sweet tingle down your spine.

“maybe i should have your tongue then,” he hums.

“you’d miss me too much daemon – i’ve been told i’m wonderful company.” your fingers dance along the edge of the table.

daemon moves forward, “i wouldn’t be so presumptuous.”

with his retort, you laugh. the two of you lock eyes; both faces gentle and enlightened by the jests you were sharing. there’s a glint in daemon’s eye; something akin to mischief. the stare you share is unwavering, met with kindness and something that almost resembles adoration. the stillness dances between you, almost as if you’re both the only people in the world.

this is the side to him that he doesn’t show often, but when he does, you love the thrill it gives you. he enjoys that you’re able to keep up and even throw him off his tracks.

except this time, you’re the one thrown off your game by a single look and phrase.

you open your mouth but no sly comment comes out, only a stammer that’s incoherent to the ears.

with no witty comeback, daemon grins triumphantly and gets up, moving past you to rub his hand on your shoulder. the action sends butterflies spiraling in your stomach.

“i did warn you wouldn’t be able to finish.”

frustration gnaws at you and you chew on the inside of your cheek. you were on top of him, figuratively, and he somehow found a way to dismantle yourself. it was irritating how wittily sneaky he was.

you think long and hard, trying to find a response that will match his and cause him to come marching right back in.

in a sputtering last attempt, you yell, “neither could you!” you mentally curse yourself for the rather lame comment.

instead of marching back in like you had hoped, his chuckle echos in the hall outside the room as he leaves you.

[chilumi-shipper]

I just saw your smut fic where albedo created the reader just for pleasure and I just thought of a concept as well 😳 I hope your requests are open, but if it isn’t, please just read it and give me some comments; or you could just ignore this :3

cw// albedo is quite heartless in this

Like, imagine the reader was discarded because albedo made another one, a newer and a much improved version of reader. And the reader was not supposed to feel emotions, but ended up feeling heartbroken in the end.

Albedo threw you to the cold pile of snow and buried you under; your body naked and unconscious. Unbeknownst to albedo, the primordial albedo (imposter bedo) found you a few days after and felt a sense of sympathy for you— given that he himself was also a discarded creation.

And so he brought you to a cave, fed and gave you some warm clothes for the harsh environment of dragon spine. However, he grew confused once you shed tears when you saw him— just when you woke up. Did he hurt you in some way? Or was it something that his identical “twin” did to you?

As the weeks that you spent with him go by, you came to realise who he really was. He wasn’t your creator, but you couldn’t help but love him as who he was. You don’t love him because he looks like albedo, you love him because he is himself.

Basically two people starved of affection falling in love with each other.

you’re willing to do requests, please make this a fic and add more to it :D (feel free to make it a smut fic)

Greatest Creation (2)

The mentioned fic: "Greatest Creation"

That's kinda sad though 😭 Reader and Fakebedo deserve love too!

Albedo x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, Angst/Comfort, Crying, Blowjob.

(Just a little drabble to add on 😉)

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree...

Much like how Rhinedottir abandoned Subject 2 of her artificial life project, Albedo has buried you deep within the thick snow of Dragonspine and deemed you "broken".

"Am I... broken?"

Last time you checked, you were completely fine, you did everything you were told the best way you can, you love your Master Albedo...

"Here." A carbon copy of your master handed you clothes, despite being a humonculus, your body is susceptible to the cold.

That fake Albedo was walking aimlessly around, thinking of another way to achieve his goal, when he felt a pulse from the ground. He dug you out of your grave, you screamed at him and tried to throw punches...

Unfortunately, you're not built to attack nor protect.

You immediately knew it wasn't your Albedo, he didn't have the mark on his neck that you and your master have.

Despite your cold and naked state, you demanded him to escort you back to your Master, unaware of who buried you in the first place.

Subject 2 felt sympathy grow within him, when you peaked by the corner of Albedo's camp, eyes stained with tears as your Master holds on very dearly to a girl very similar to how you look...

But that's not you...

You saw it all, the blueprints, the materials, the special alchemy table. All of which were used to create you.

You touched your neck, looking at the unmarked neck of the other girl.

The fake Albedo had pulled you away from the scene, leading you to where he's staying.

You're both discarded creations now, thrown away like trash.

It didn't help that this new Albedo you were staying with had the same face as your Master. You screamed and cried, letting all your emotions out for the first time of your short-lived life.

"Why... even though you don't try to be perfect anymore, this Albedo you're with now doesn't intend on leaving you?"

And now you're here.

"What are you doing?" "Albedo" raised an eyebrow when you dropped to your knees in front of him, your hands landing on his pants.

"This is how Master thought me to thank him when he does something for me." You answered, unbuckling his pants to reveal his length.

His cock popped out of his pants, landing right in front of your face.

You giggled, planting a kiss on his tip. "I hope you like it, my new Master."

"Albedo" seems to enjoy you and your little gestures a lot. Looks like what you learned from your previous Master isn't gonna go to waste.

[petersbaby]

This wasn’t meant to be a full story, it was supposed to be more of a lil drabble but I got carried away

Cuck!steve and Billy x Reader

Warnings: smut, kinda mean sex, creampie, cuckolding, mention of pregnancy at the end which is a little dark

-

Thinking about cuck!steve letting Billy fuck you in front of him.

He just sits back in his chair on the other side of the room

Billy doesn’t mind the eyes on him, he actually enjoys it because Steve is in a vulnerable and submissive position to him and he has the power, just like he always tried to make clear. Fucking his girlfriend right in front of him was the biggest assertion of dominance possible.

Billy fucks you harder and better than Steve ever has or ever could, you imagine. Steve was plain, cookie cutter, vanilla. He was too gentle and didn’t know enough about the female body and what you like.

Billy had pushed you down onto the bed, taking no time for sweetness and romance, going straight to basically tearing your clothes off your body.

You liked the intensity, the urgency. It was like he was trying to win some kind of race with how quickly he got you down to where exactly he wanted you to be: fully naked and laying beneath him.

He started to kiss you hungrily, sloppily. Tongue, spit, and teeth. You were letting it happen, after trying to match his energy but failing.

Upon seeing you like this, and the way you look up expectantly into Billy’s eyes like an angel, he has to free his achingly hard cock.

He does this carefully, slowly, trying not to make any noise.

He starts touching himself to you, and only picks up the pace when he sees Billy start to undress as well, pulling his shirt off to reveal his hard abs and biceps.

Billy goes down your body, with the goal of getting a taste of your pussy. When he does, he really does it.

You gasp, then immediately fall into pieces as he fiercely laps at your hole. Your sweet sounds fill the air of the bedroom, and you reach down to put your hand in Billy’s hair but he suddenly slaps it away and pulls off of you.

“Don’t touch my fuckin’ hair, kay?” He says with attitude.

“Sorry Billy, I won’t.” You respond meekly. He’d had enough of foreplay, and stood back to unbuckle and unzip his belt and jeans but notices Steve isn’t just watching any more. He had been jerking off to the sight of his bully and tormenter have his way with his own girlfriend.

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking sick.” Billy scoffed, laughing at him condescendingly, but continued to undress.

“Turn over, babe.” He taps your hip and you do. He reaches beneath your body and pulls you up so that your ass is in the air. You feel him spit down your spread asshole as it slides down to your slit and he enters.

You couldn’t help the noises you made, you wanted to scream.

“Ever had her moanin’ like this, Harrington?”

Steve just slowly shook his head as he realizes he hasn’t.

“We’ll ask her, does he fuck you like this or not? You like my cock better than his, don’t ya?”

You just continue to moan, trying not to be too loud. A loud and hard slap hits your ass.

“Asked you a question, slut. How d’ya like my dick?”

“Good-it’s so good Billy, so fucking good” you breathe out, hoping he was able to hear you as your face was starting to press into the mattress below you.

“There she is. I know it’s good, sweetheart.” He comments arrogantly. It was such an ugly personality trait, arrogance, but it was really attractive in bed.

Steve picks up the pace, feeling a tinge of shame for what he’s doing. He wanted to cum and get it over with, he was starting to get jealous of the way you responded to Billy.

He fucking you from behind with force, hands gripping tight on both your ass cheeks as you cry out his name over and over.

He reaches around your throat, pulling you up so your back is flush with his chest and giving Steve a view of your fucked out, dumb face and tits bouncing as you got pounded.

You made eye contact with the boy in front of you, still moaning and your eyes starting to water. He spontaneously erupted, spilling cum all over his hand and his jeans which were never pulled down, just pushed out of the way enough to free his erection. “Fuck”, he comments, presumably at the mess he’d made.

He didn’t get up, though, continuing to watch as Billy released his hold on your throat, letting you fall face first back into the bed. Your hair was a mess and it was hard to breathe, but it was more than worth it.

He continued to fuck you at a hard, steady pace until his thrusts got sloppy, then soon after, he came deep inside you. That wasn’t something you’d all talked about, you were expecting him to pull out and cum all over your back.

But once you felt the heated substance inside of you, slowly flowing out, you were glad he did it.

“If she gets pregnant, it’s mine, and you’ll still take care of the baby. I know you will, even if it’s not yours.” He says to Steve as he’s securing his jeans and belt buckle again.

You felt the words sting, but it was worse because it was true.

Steve would do anything for you, including claiming a baby he knew he didn’t make. He was the one who wanted Billy to fuck you, after all. It would only make sense.

-

How are we feeling? Yes Billy is an asshole so he did use you and did not make you cum 💀

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Forbidden Lessons VII

Forbidden Lessons | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Another Saturday drabble.

Warnings: age gap, abuse of power, unwanted touching, coercion. Y'all know I do it dark and spicy. You have warnings, use them.

Thots, comments, screaming, and feedback are welcome and highly encouraged. Thank you!

He stands at the window. You’re tired and a bit hungry for your own neglect. The snow nearly whites out the evening sky beyond his silhouette. He sighs as he leans on the ledge then pushes himself away. He faces you as he slips off his blazer.

“We won’t be able to drive through this. Many of the other professors spoke of waiting out the storm, suppose we might do the same,” he drapes the jacket over the chair and passes it, “I should have to reschedule my lecture for the morning. And you…”

“I will email Professor Barnes,” you hook your fingers around each other nervously.

“Tell him it is the weather, yes?”

“Of course,” you assure him. He doesn’t need to say outright what he means; don’t mention my name.

You nod and take out your phone. It’s almost dead. You always let it go until the battery blinks red. You have no one who calls, no one who messages. He nears as you open your email.

“Allow me,” he takes the cell as you start a new message. You let him and watch his finger tap over the screen fleetly. His tone is formal as he explains your absence in first person. He hits send without consult and hands the phone back, “it will suffice. I believe this weather calls for tea… or at least some manner of keeping warm.”

You look at your phone and black out the screen. You place it down on the chest of drawers with the mirror mounted above it. You see your reflection and his arm as he cradles your chin.

“Wasn’t that fun today? It was quite a thrill, wasn’t it?” he smirks and your eyes flit back to his. You shy away as you always do. How they burn as if they would sear right through you.

“Um, I guess, yes,” you don’t know what to say. You can’t tell him how you rinsed your mouth when he left, gagging, spitting up stomach bile until you were weak. It’s only because it was your first time. Because you’re learning. “It was.”

He hums and tickles along your neck, “we have a lot of time to wile away, we could… try it again?”

You wince. You don’t want to disappoint him. After all, he’ll need to pay for another night in the room. He’s not asked you for any recompense. It wouldn’t do to be rude.

“Or we can try something else,” he offers, “why don’t you get comfortable. Put on your night clothes and I’ll put on the kettle?”

You nod and give a tight smile. He leans in to kiss you, his tongue slipping between your lips as he purrs. He parts reluctantly and you wait for him to go before turning away. You grab your nightgown, the none so attractive flannel with the long sleeves, and hide in the bathroom to change.

As you come out, his shirt is folded over his jacket, he wears his undershirt still, his shoes kicked off, as he stirs through the canister of tea. You shove your clothes away and scurry onto the bed. You bed your legs under the length of your night dress and stare at the far wall.

His shadow moves along the edge of your vision. You fold your hands over your knees and think. You couldn’t imagine this. Not a month ago, not a week ago. He’s your professor… but all you’ve done, you can’t take back now. 

All you’ve done and have you tried to resist? You can’t even eke out a no. You must want it. You must like it with how your body reacts, how it feels to have him touch you or the way you shiver when he calls you ‘pet’.

He puts a cup of steaming tea on the square table beside you. You thank him as he goes back around to place his own on the other side of the bed. He groans as he undoes his belt, peeling off his trousers and tossing them with the rest of his clothes. He lowers himself onto the mattress in only his briefs and the thin ribbed undershirt.

He takes a careful sip and you do the same, blowing over it to keep from burning yourself. He returns his mug to the wood with a clink and exhales, rubbing his neck as he stretches it, reaching back to knead his shoulders.

“How I envy you,” he utters through gritted teeth, “when aches and pains did not needle at me without reason. What more did I do but stand and talk?”

He chuckles and you mirror him again. You take a deeper gulp. He drops his hands and leans back against the pillow, crushed between him and the low headboard. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back with a sigh.

“How is the tea?” he asks as the china scalds your palms.

“Good,” you answer, putting it half-empty on the table, “are you okay?”

He opens an eye and peeks over at you. He gives a crooked grin, “you are so sweet, you know that? To worry about me.”

You purse your lips, cheeks alight with his compliment, “I… don’t like to see others in pain.”

“Ah, others… or me?” he wonders.

“Both. You,” you correct yourself, “Professor, I… is there any way I can help?”

He considers you. His brow arches and he looks away, almost meek. 

“Well, I’d hate to ask too much, darling,” he lilts.

“Um,” you sink your teeth into your lip as you think, “your neck hurts? I could… try to… um, massage it?”

“You would do that?” he seems genuinely surprised.

“Sure, I… you’d do that same, right?”

“Oh, yes, certainly I would,” he affirms, “if it isn’t trouble, thank you. And be gentle with these old bones.”

He moves first, sitting up and pulling his shirt off. He flips onto his stomach as he crosses his arms beneath his head, resting it on the pillow. You hesitate. You’ve never done this before. You are unacquainted with affection, physical or otherwise. Among everything else, it feels overly intimate.

You get up on your knees and near him, sitting on your heels as you examine his long back, lined with muscles, his shoulders broad and equally toned, pale skin speckled with freckles. You hover your hands over him, slowly letting them down to spread along his shoulders. 

You curl your fingers and trace your thumb up his neck. He purrs, almost a snarl. Your breath catches in your chest.

“Am I hurting you?” you stop.

“Not even close,” he groans, “please, keep going.”

“Oh,” you poke your tongue between your cheek and knead his muscles, firm and knotted. 

His voice drones as you cautiously work his flesh, slipping down between his shoulder blades and trailing around them. The tension slowly seeps from him but only worsens in you. His warmth flows through you, a heat that has you quivering, sweating, adding to the sins already written in your ledger.

“Promise, pet,” he turns his face towards you, “you will be repaid in kind…”

[gabzlovesu]

JEAN + SPARRING

a birthday drabble for jean. shoutout to @jeanslove because we were thirsting over this last month and she requested it <3

warnings: choking/chokehold, a bit of bickering (hehe yall know i like that), situationship, borderline fingering, innocent abuse of power, and cocky jean because ik that part of him is still in there somewhere! but damn he grew into a fine ass leader!

You dreaded sparring days, but you really hated today’s sparring session.

Okay, that’s kinda a lie, but you didn’t exactly love it either. It was supposed to be quick and easy, then everyone could have the rest of the day to themselves. That didn’t happen — at least not for you — and it was all Jean’s fault.

“Oh, so I get to train with the Commanding Officer himself? What an honor.” It might’ve been a little too early in the day for the sarcasm but what was he gonna do about it? And it was necessary to put up this fake act to keep your relationship a secret.

Well, it wasn’t really a relationship, but you were definitely something. There were way too many instances that you found yourself sneaking off to his room when everyone else was asleep, or ducking off someplace for a quick fuck.

“Yeah it is an honor, so you should get on your knees and show me some respect. Or will I have to make you?” He tosses his jacket to the side and stretches his arms a bit.

You fail to hold in a laugh at his bold statement. Although you loved bickering with him, he was enjoying this a little too much for your liking. “You think you’re the shit now because you have a fancy title and a little office? Huh, Jean?” You square up with him despite the obvious height difference — peering up with a look that can kill but he sends it right back at you.

He uses a hushed tone now, not wanting anyone nearby to hear. “I remember you having a very different attitude when I fucked you in that office. Should I refresh your memory?”

Jean did just that, putting you in the exact same headlock from when he had you bent over his desk. The only difference was that you were kneeling on the floor of the training room. The bastard was getting his way as usual.

“You don’t have to be so rough,” you croak out, his unrelenting arm holding you against his chest.

His mouth is right next to your ear and he mutters yet another slick comment. “We both know you like it rough baby.”

“Shut up… you asshole.”

He’s obviously getting a kick out of this right now, and his free arm creeping lower on your body proves it. Hazel eyes scan the room to see if anyone was paying attention to you, but everyone was too busy fighting their own partners. So he lets his hand slip between your legs, feeling how your body reacted to him.

“You’re really getting turned on by this? Do you want me to fuck you right here, in front of everyone?” Showing no restraint, he lets his hand do as it pleases and even grinds his hips against your ass. As you keep trying to wiggle out of his grasp he tightens the headlock even more, letting his smirk grow wide when you claw at his arm and tap the floor to forfeit.

As soon as he lets go you fall to your hands and knees, gasping for air. “Someone could’ve seen that you idiot.”

“Who cares?”

“I do. I don’t need anyone thinking I get special treatment for fucking with you.”

“Oh sweetheart, you’re not getting special treatment at all.” Jean gives a malicious smile, and you mentally groan as you prepare for whatever bullshit he was about throw your way. He turns to Levi, who had been walking around and watching the other groups. “I think this one needs some extra laps.” The dark-haired man only nods in approval and moves on to the next pair.

Deciding to be a little nice, Jean helps you off of the floor. The fact that he could switch his attitude on a dime was concerning because you never knew what to expect from him. “And stop by my office when you’re done.” He gives your body one glance over before strutting off.

Yeah… scratch that. He wasn’t being nice today, he was a total prick. “Screw you, Kirstein.”

“You’ll get the chance to do that when you come to my office,” he waves you off and keeps walking.

TAGLIST FORM:

tagging: @hungrynessforfics @dejwrites @rinhoes @iloveitblackbhna @protectpancakes @fight-me-bitch @nneedynymph @indiecursor @po3ticb3auty @nanaminshousewife @apollostears @cosmicglowe @thenerdyrebel @luffysthickwaifu @svlims @4ngrysgf @daichisbunnybaby @urwifey2 @picayunne @kurtaclangobrr @kookieflvr @woahhajime @novaresque @syomi @chrolloderulo @vivisspamm @dabilovesme @erentoes @kutosznn @queenmjp @sweeneyblue1 @tyga-lily @jeanslove @getoswhore @thicksimpx @cosmicyeager @sakurashell @38riku @tonaken @delphi-thefairy @muzanskimono @wiserebelpartypie @hellavile @g0revixen @yeagertv-deactivated20220405 @sleepy3 @simpliheavenli @festive @simpliheavenli

[gxilds]

Hey. You asked for chishiya request and I have come to give you just that well kinda. Doubt chishiya would have any relationship experience so what happens when he likes someone. He realises he is out of his depth and his ego goes down the drain. Awkward and embarrassed. Like very confused as to why he feels this way. Like can you imagine chishiya being all cute trying to tell you he likes you. Or trying to get the courage to kiss you. Maybe this will give you some inspiration to write a story. 💜

Chishiya and liking someone | AIB

A/n: this is written with a gn!reader but anyone can read it! I also tried 3rd person and it’s safe to say I suck at it when it comes to cc/reader so I went back and changed it 😭. I also completely skipped over the confession part let’s honest but I got a wee bit excited and practically skipped to the end. anywho anon you are a god send and now I have the motivation to go and write everything else so take this little drabble blurb thing (do not ask me the difference) while I finish my 12 hour LOTR marathon of all the directors cuts.

pairing: chishiya x gn!reader

warnings: Niragi should be a warning of his own. The back half is a situation that takes place in the manga so take this warning. Guns/people getting shot.

Chishiya wasn’t sure when he realized he liked you. Maybe it was when Kuina would poke at him and he finally stopped finding ways to refuse it. Maybe it was the time that he felt a form of anger at seeing you come out injured in a game. Maybe, just maybe, it was when you stood right in front of him and he could finally look into your eyes.

“You seem to favor (y/n).” It was a simple yet snide comment that rang from Niragi and it really shouldn’t have been something that bugged Chishiya but he couldn’t help but give Niragi the side eye, something that would make Niragi laugh. Niragi always caught on to more than what he would let people believe.

“You seem to favor (y/n).” It was a simple yet snide comment that rang from Niragi and it really shouldn’t have been something that bugged Chishiya but he couldn’t help but give Niragi the side eye, something that would make Niragi laugh. Niragi always caught on to more than what he would let people believe.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” Chishiya spoke up after a few brief moments that were only filled with the sounds of bustling and usual yelling in the hallways of the beach.

Niragi let out a chuckle and finally looked down at Chishiya who looked back at him, “I think you are in denial.”

Chishiya didn’t know how to respond externally but on the inside he was ripping Niragi to shreds in his mind as he walked away. How could someone see into his mind? How did they know how he felt about someone? What right did they have to tell him how he felt? it was all so stupid.

He liked you…but was it the same for him?

Chishiya would let time fly normally. Who was he to confront anyone about his feelings?

of course this was until you started to notice something. Chishiya would never be outright about his feelings but when you stumbled in a game it was always a shock to see Chishiya be the one to pick you up, to tell you to get up and keep going. It was a small yet obvious difference to how Chishiya treated everyone else. in his eyes everyone else would manage but you needed to live. whether you picked up on this or not is something he didn’t want to know.

It's not until after the beach he confronts his feelings and how soon after that is a bit dodgy. He does see you after that but as soon as games are over it seems that you’re missing before he can catch another glance at you. This is also partially on him, as soon as the games are over it seems like he’s already gone. No one can blame each other though, you have to do what you have to do to survive in the borderlands; especially considering anything that wasn’t a game was still a game.

It was an unestablished relationship when it finally did happen though. There were no labels attached, just trust in each other which is frankly all Chishiya needed. Granted, Chishiya has some ego issues. His father left him with the sense that no one can truly love him so he’s overly conscious about the affection that's spread in the relationship. Each touch to him is counted and acknowledged and while Chishiya doesn’t show his outward appreciation he really does find every fleeting touch to be worth it.

For a man like him a kiss could only be shared in a moment of increasing danger. You hadn’t appreciated Niragi’s ambush on what would be a peaceful reunion for you, Chishiya and Arisu but Chishiya took the new wound with a bitter sense of humor.

“Chishiya??!!” His name rang from both you and Arisu and before you knew it your legs carried over to a chuckling Chishiya.

“you purposely missed my vitals…” He looked over to Niragi and you couldn’t help but want to rub the smug look off of Chishiya’s face.

After more bustling between the party of people and sounds of gunshots there was a sudden silence followed by a gunshot that was quickly replaced by sounds of concern for your lover.

your feet carried you faster than you could recall and it was after the conversation you caught the back half of that you kissed chishiya.

He was willing to accept the kiss but was awkward about it, which wasn’t any different to Arisu and Usagi who had to watch. The two stood, met eyes and seemed almost clueless on how to react to your display of affection. Chishiya could sympathize, he didn’t know how to react personally.

“If you die I’m going to kill you.”

All Chishiya could do was laugh.

[princessmisery666]

Just A Kiss - Part 3 Under The Radar Mini Series

Summary: A kiss always means something, especially with an ex.

Warnings: potential spoilers for Top Gun: Maverick - I’ve used some lines from the movie, language, angst, fluff, cheesy innuendos, Hangman is a cocky son of a bitch with a soft side, Rooster is kind of an ass, the beach scene. 

W/C: 5.6k (it was supposed to be a drabble!)

Rating: M (mature)

Characters: Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Lieutenant Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Lieutenant Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Captain Phil “Maverick” Mitchell, fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity), Mentioned/Small Parts: Hondo, Admiral Simpson, Penny Benjamin. 

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader, past Hangman x Fem!Reader

Bingo: @anyfandomfluffbingo Square Filled: “I was made for politics. I have great hair, and I love lying.”

Notes: @sfreeborn gave me the bolded prompt. 

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch

Graphics: title card made by me, divider: @writercole / gif: @indifferentvincent

Master Lists: Under The Radar // Main

Just A Kiss

The San Diego heat is stifling, but it's nothing compared to the inferno Rooster ignites inside of you. His mustache tickles where he leaves a trail of kisses on your neck, heading south. One hand holds your hip, fingers digging in deep, his other gropes and kneads your annoyingly covered breast, and you desperately want his hands to travel south too. But pressed against a tree fifty or so feet from The Hard Deck is hardly the place for it.

The team doesn’t know that you’re together. You’d gone along with Bradley’s wishes not to let the team know because the little bubble the two of you are in is fun and exciting, except in moments like this when you really want to be alone with Rooster. Their ribbing and comments will only rain on your parade.

You growl, part frustration and part whining. “Urgh, remind me again why we’re here?” you sigh, your hands moving across his back as he continues his assault on your neck.

“We both said,” he mutters as he kisses your collarbone, “we were coming for a drink.” His teeth scrape away his kiss, and he changes direction, working his way to your mouth. “It’ll look suspicious if neither of us shows up.”

You’re already late. You told the team you were showering before meeting them. But unable to stop yourselves, you ended up fucking in the shower and again on the bed in your dorm. 

The earlier release wasn’t enough for either of you, though. He kisses your mouth softly and slowly, knowing exactly what he’s doing, how worked up you are. He’s a damn tease, and you love him all the more for it.

Sooner than necessary, he pulls back, smiling devilishly as he tries to subtly adjust himself in his pants. “It’s gonna look suspicious if you walk in there packing all that heat, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” you chuckle and grope his growing erection through his jeans.

He laughs, stepping back, and your eyes fall to get a view of exactly what he’s packing. “I promise I’ll take you into town tomorrow night, just me and you, and I’ll show you all of this heat.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“You can hold anything you want, baby,” he says, spreading his arms wide as if inviting you to do just that. He waits a moment for your laughter to teeter off, and then his expression morphs to one of softness and honesty. “I’m serious. I wanna take you on a real date. Let’s meet at that Italian place you like at seven?” 

He bites his bottom lip, looking slightly worried as if you might say no. He still doesn’t quite understand you’re already a goner for him. You’d find a way to give him the moon if he asked. Still, it’s nice to keep him on his toes. 

You’ve spent too long mentally swooning at his bashful grin, so he edges closer, dipping his head to ghost his lips over yours as he talks. “We’ve got the weekend off. We can both say we’re going home, but let's check into a hotel. Forty-eight hours of uninterrupted heat,” he says, grabbing your hand and using it to cup his still hard cock. 

“Count me in,” you say before closing the small gap between your mouths.

The Hard Deck is packed to the rafters when you make your way inside ten minutes after Bradley. You’re pretty sure your fellow officers have some idea that the two of you are more than friends, but Bradley wants to keep it quiet, and you respect his wishes. He has enough to deal with having Maverick as his Captain. 

Of course, the crew is at the pool table - the competition doesn’t end just because they're on solid ground. Despite the crowded bar, Jake calls, “there she is!” and is loud enough that a few people turn to stare at you as you approach the bar. You need a drink to cool down after the hot and heavy make-out session with Bradley outside.

You feel a presence slide up next to you, warmth radiating off of it, and there’s a split second of hope that it's Rooster, using the crowded bar as an excuse to push in close to you. Until you smell that familiar sickly sweet cologne, and you know before he speaks, it’s Hangman.

“Penny, her drinks are on me,” he says when the bar owner approaches. 

Hangman may be an asshole ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, but he’s an asshole that feels guilt, and you’ll ride his guilt train as long as there are free drinks involved. He owes you for the next lifetime, anyway.

“Ooh,” Penny coos, a knowing smile highlighting her pretty features. “Is there something going on here again?” she asks, pointing between the two of you.

You scoff with a roll of your eyes, not quite offended at the inclination but close enough. “God no, I dodged that missile.” 

“Please,” Jake tuts, the Prince Charming smile in full effect. “You know you miss me.”

“Like a hole in the head,” you grimace, taking your bottle of beer from Penny and leaving him to pay. 

--------

As the team makes a slow retreat from The Hard Deck back to base, you fall behind, leaving twenty or so feet between you and the main group. Hoping Bradley will take the hint and fall in step beside you. You want to make sure you’re still meeting at dawn.

There’s an unused storage container on base, it’s out of view of the main areas, and you’re pretty sure none of your colleagues are aware of it, so you and Rooster have taken to meeting there just before dawn. You can’t wake up next to him, but it’s the closest thing, starting the day in his arms.

You catch the corner of his eye as he’s talking to Bob and Phoenix, and his mouth curls at the corner slightly, but before he can give the pair an excuse to fall back, you see Jake stop in his tracks, obviously waiting for you to catch up. You sigh but know you have no choice but to stay the course and walk beside him.

“You alright back here?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you sigh with a lie, “new shoes, think they’re giving me a blister.” 

Before you know what’s happening, Jake has scooped you up bridal style, and you yelp in surprise, making the group turn to look at what all the fuss is about.

“Put me down,” you demand, but Jake just laughs and adjusts your position to better carry you.

A few of the guys laugh and continue on, but Bradley stares for perhaps a millisecond too long, and then Phoenix is ushering him away with a roll of her eyes and her hand around his bicep.

You squirm, trying to get Hangman to put you down, but he doesn’t take the hint. “Quit moving. I’m saving your feet,” he says.

“Seriously, Seresin put me down.” Your tone is stern and demanding as you wriggle as much as possible, and he reluctantly sets you back on your feet. “What the hell is going on with you lately? The free drinks, letting me win at pool earlier, now trying to be my knight in shining armor and carrying me. I get that you feel guilty, but what gives, dude?” 

“I do feel guilty.” Even if he hadn't said it, it's written all over his face. You feel bad for being so vexed, but he’s spent most of the night monopolizing the space beside you, not leaving any room for Bradley or anyone else for that matter, and it's beginning to bug you. He laughs, almost uncomfortably, “but you make that all sound like it's a bad thing.” His head drops to stare at his feet as he starts to walk again. 

“It’s not,” you say, falling in line beside him. “I appreciate the drinks and entertainment of watching you lose,” you smile, and his beams back at you as bright as the sun. You slowly walk in silence for a few steps, and you watch Rooster and Fanboy shoving at each other, trying to gain the upper hand to get the other in a headlock. 

“They shipped you off so fast after the incident I never got a chance to say thank you for taking the fall for me,” Jake says sheepishly. “You didn’t have to, but thank you.” 

You know that gratitude doesn’t come easy for Hangman, and he doesn’t like owing people favors. You lying for him means he will owe you for a very long time. Not to mention, the lie told means you're grounded for a year and tasked with being Maverick’s personal assistant instead of training alongside your fellow aviators.  

“You’re welcome.” 

“Why did you?” he asks, “we didn’t exactly end things on the nicest of terms.”

That's an understatement. Your relationship, if it could ever have been classified as that, ended with you breaking Hangman’s nose.  

“That’s code for you were an asshole.” you laugh.

He was an asshole, but it was your fault that you’d expected more when you started your arrangement with him back at the academy. You both needed a release from the stress and intensity of training. He certainly wasn’t an asshole in the privacy of his bedroom. He was, surprisingly, a generous lover. But knowing that he had a girlfriend the whole time makes you see that’s all it had ever been, sex. At least that's what you tell yourself. The nights you fell asleep together, you’d always woke up alone or had left before he woke up. 

Granted, you never talked about what it would be between you, but it didn’t stop the hurt you felt when he very publicly screwed you over. 

He grabs your wrist, forcing you to stop and face him. “I’m serious, Y/N. You didn’t owe me anything, and you didn’t have to tell them it was you that screwed the mission up when it was on me. I mean, I was an asshole to you too.” He smirks, and you remember that being part of how you fell into bed with him back at the academy. His charm and Hollywood looks only added to the attraction. “But that makes me wonder even more why you did it?”

You explain, “you were on strike number two. You’d be out on your ass right now if I hadn’t.”

“And why do you care if I get fired or not?” 

You sigh, he’s probably fishing for compliments, but you give in anyway. “Because you’re one of the best at what we do. The US Navy needs you.”

“That’s it?” he asks and seems almost hopeful there's more to it. 

Your brow creases with confusion, “What else would it…”

Before you can finish the question, his lips are pressed to yours. The shock makes you stumble back a half-step, but Jake wraps an arm around your waist to steady you, and the other cups your face to draw you to him.

It’s maybe a second before your brain subdues the shock enough for you to react, and you push him off just as you hear Coyote yell, “yeah, get your girl, Jake!” 

Jake stumbles back, this time under the force of your shove, and he looks completely perplexed by your reaction.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you ask, wiping your mouth.

“What?” he asks with just as much confusion. “I thought you wanted to start where we left off!” 

“What would have ever given you that idea?!”

“You’ve been flirting with me all night! You took the fall when I fucked up. Why else would you do that besides you wanting to be with me?” he details with a cocky smirk that you just want to slap off his face.

“Flirting? When did I flirt with you? I’ve been trying to get away from you all night! And I already explained why I took the fall!” You are almost shouting at him now, causing a scene, but you don’t care.

“Oh, come on, baby,” he coos, stepping towards you again, “you know you can’t resist this.”

“I’m seeing someone,” you explain, shooting a glance toward the group who are all staring at the altercation, except Bradley, who’s marching off at speed toward base. Fuck! You turn your anger back to Hangman. “Even if I weren’t, we’re never going back there.”

To his credit, he looks genuinely sorry. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, now you do.” You turn and stomp off after Bradley, hoping to catch him before he disappears into his dorm. You hear a door slam before you get there, deciding to try and talk to him anyway.

“Rooster?” you quietly call as you knock on his door. “Please, Bradley, we need to talk.”

His silence speaks volumes, and when you hear voices closing in, you hurry to your room, softly shutting the door before you sink to the ground behind it, tears falling from your eyes.

You feel like a complete fool. Bradley didn’t meet you at the container and ignored every call and text. He’d avoided being alone with you during the training exercises. Yet you still went to the Italian place at seven. After an hour and a half of waiting and further radio silence, you gave up. The cab drops you off at The Hard Deck, and you spy his Bronco in the parking lot. You debate waiting by his truck to confront him, but then you hear the tinkling of the piano inside, and you know he won’t be leaving anytime soon.

As you expected, when you enter, Rooster is at the piano, Phoenix, Bob, Payback, and Fanboy circle behind him, and the whole bar joins in to sing Great Balls of Fire. He doesn’t play the piano or sing without having a couple of drinks in him, so he’s been here a while. A clear indication he had no intention of ever meeting you. You thought, well hoped, he’d have met you to at the very least talk. But it seems he prefers to ignore you.

The song is finished, and the jukebox is back on by the time you manage to get served at the crowded bar. When you approach the group, now all back at the pool table, you feel each of the guys’ eyes on you, taking a moment to admire the sundress, heavier make-up, and styled hair. You receive nods of approval, a few wolf whistles, and proclamations of how hot you are in one form or another. But the only one you care about is Rooster. His eyes drag the length of your body twice before his gaze fixes on yours and lingers. You think you see a hint of regret, but before you’ve had enough time to study it, Jake speaks up. 

“Damn, you look good. A date?” he asks. 

“I thought I was supposed to have one,” you shrug, sighing as you get your emotions in check. “I guess I was wrong.”

Bradley shies from your disappointed look and smiles toward Bob. “Rack ‘em up, Bob.”

“Well, whoever he is, he’s a fool for missing out on all this,” Jake says, motioning up and down your body. 

“Damn, Hangman, that might be the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say to, well, anyone.” Rooster comments. “You two must really be in love.”

Jake replies with something just as juvenile, but you're already making your way out the back of the bar to pay attention to it. Perhaps it's too late, but now you realize it was a mistake coming here.

The sun is dipping below the horizon at what looks like the edge of the earth, the waves are calm, and a few people are sitting in the sand, but they are far enough away you can only hear a hearty laugh every now and then. You don’t bother sitting down, not intending to stay longer than it takes you to finish your drink.

You take a long pull on the brown bottle, and then Bradley steps into your peripheral vision. The tide draws an inch closer before either of you speaks. 

“You look beautiful,” Bradley says. It’s nice of him to say it, but it would have been better had he said it over dinner. 

“That means much less than you think it does,” you mutter.

He doesn’t respond. Probably best; it will only end in an argument. He turns to leave, and that’s your limit.

“So you aren’t even going to ask about the kiss?” you call after him, spinning to face him.

“It looked pretty obvious to me,” he shrugs.

“It was just a kiss. it didn’t mean anything.”

He scoffs, “A kiss always means something, especially with an ex.”

“He’s not an ex. Not in the sense you’re implying. You know exactly what it was. You were there when it ended.”

“He fucked up a mission, almost got you killed, you found he had a girlfriend the whole time ‘you weren’t in a relationship’,” he says with full-on air quotes, “and you still lied for him. A lie that got you suspended from the air for a year and assigned to be Maverick’s personal assistant. Seems like you wanna restart that arrangement to me, and clearly, Hangman thinks so too. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have kissed you.” 

“I stopped the kiss, and I pushed him away.” 

“You kissed him back.” 

“No, I didn’t. I froze with shock.” 

“We’re fighter pilots, Y/N. We don’t freeze, we react, and you reacted!”

“I WAS NOT EXPECTING TO HAVE TO DEAL WITH THAT!” you yell. “It’s not like on a mission where I have to make a split-second decision to save a life.” You both stare at one another, chests rising and falling rapidly for a long, tense moment. It’s clear Bradley’s not going to say anymore; he breaks eye contact to watch the dwindling sun over the ocean. You don’t want him to walk away, so you continue. “Look, me and Hangman were never any more than a fling, not like us. We’re more than that.”

Silence. He doesn’t even look at you again. 

“Well, at least for me, it is, or was?” you say quietly. He whips his head to look at you, but his expression gives nothing away. “Was I wrong again? Fucking Navy Pilots,” you scoff, “your heads are so far up in the clouds you can’t see a good thing on the ground. Are you going to say anything? Deny it? Confess your love? Anything?” 

Rooster stays silent, looking out over the ocean, his jaw ticking as your eyes fill with tears when you hear the door of the bar open.

“Hey, guys!”

You both turn to see Fanboy at the backdoor of the bar, and he waves you both over, “we’re heading out.” 

Bradley is the first to walk off, and you sigh before following. 

You walk across the hanger to the designated teaching area. Everyone is there, chatting amongst themselves. They’re expecting Maverick, so a few turn in your direction, but when they see it's you, they turn back to their conversations. Then when you step up to the podium, the room falls silent, and everyone focuses their attention on you. 

“There’ll be no flying today,” you announce, following Maverick’s orders. You wait for the grumbles of ascent and mumbled questions to quiet again before you continue. “You need to change into some beach attire and meet Maverick on the beach at the back of The Hard Deck.”

“The beach?” Hangman asks.

“She didn’t stutter,” Rooster pipes up, throwing Hangman a dirty look.

“You’ve got thirty minutes.” 

That spurs the group into action, although you can tell they all want to ask more questions. They begin heading out, but you call Rooster, “Lieutenant Bradshaw, can I talk to you for a second?” 

He turns to face you, and loud enough that the group almost out of the door can still hear him, he asks, “Is it something else from Maverick?”

Your heart drops to your feet. Why is he being like this? You shake your head slowly and swallow the rush of emotion that wants to distort your vision. “No, it’s not a request from the Captain.”

He nods once, lips pressed in a straight line, before turning on his heels and walking away. He breezes past Hangman, closer than necessary, close enough that if Jake hadn’t stepped back, Rooster would have bumped his shoulder.

Your head drops to your chest, unable to watch as Bradley disappears. It takes a minute to control your emotions enough to continue, and when you raise your head, Jake is watching you. His usual smooth expression is creased with what looks like concern. 

“Bradshaw?” he asks with an incredulous smile.

“Don’t!” you warn, and Jake’s arms immediately go up in surrender. You start following the others out, and Jake matches your pace to walk with you. You shake your head. “Please, Seresin, I don’t want to hear whatever immature scathing remark you want to make.”

“I’m just curious to know what happened?”

You sigh, completely done with this whole conversation, but you know he won’t let it go. “I’m paying the consequences of your actions once again.”

“I never meant to cause you any trouble.”

“Yet you always seem to.”

“Y/N, honestly, if I’d have known you were seeing Rooster, I wouldn’t have.”

It’s not insincere, but it’s Jake. He perhaps wouldn’t have kissed you had he known you were seeing Bradley, but he certainly would have made snide remarks to make it clear he’d had you first. You glance sideways at him, and his expression shows genuine remorse. “You should really go into politics; I almost believe you.”

“I was made for politics,” he says, pushing his shoulders back and walking a little taller. “I have great hair, and I love lying.”

“And there it is.” You turn and stride away, your shoulders square and your jaw tense, trying to hold the tears back from falling. It won’t do any good to let them see you cry, not now.

-----------

You’re not involved in the football game. You sit on a bench and catch up on some paperwork, glancing over when they get overly excited or celebrate a score. You're glad for the invitation; it's a sight to behold. It started as a show of testosterone until Phoenix showed them all how it was done. But still, the boys make it a gun show at every available opportunity, sweat-soaked, tight, chiseled muscles glistening in the sun, and they take turns to run into the water to wash off the sand or cool down before resuming play.

Bradley catches your eye more than once, he doesn’t immediately look away, which is promising, but the undistinguishable expression makes anxiety fizz in your gut. You all had a weekend off, the weekend you were promised forty-eight uninterrupted hours of Bradley. But you didn't hear a peep from him, though you refrained from contacting him too.

Maverick makes his way over to you and sits on the opposite side of the table, “you sure you don’t want to get involved?” he asks, motioning toward the game. 

“I’m sure, sir,” you chuckle at Fanboy and Payback doing a victory dance, and then your attention diverts to Rooster and Phoenix, who are a little too handsy for the dog fight football game they’re supposed to be playing. You look away, back down at your paperwork before you can screw this up any further. 

You feel Maverick’s eyes on you, but you don’t look up. “Is that a thing?” he asks, “Rooster and Phoenix?”

You shoot a glance over again to see them coming out of an embrace, both smiling widely. It could be a friendly, teammate celebratory hug, that's all it probably is, but Maverick’s question and your jealousy are enough to make your jaw tick. 

You clear your throat and go back to writing the not-so-interesting report. “I don’t know, sir, it could be.” 

“So you and Bradshaw aren’t a thing anymore?”

You raise your eyes to Maverick so quickly you make yourself a little dizzy. You can feel the guilt on your face, so there’s no point in denying it. Relationships between similar ranking officers are allowed, so you haven’t broken any rules. The shock is born of the fact he knows in the first place. 

“Honestly,” you sigh and give a small unsure smile. “I don’t know.”

“You’re good together,” Maverick says, “at least that's what your squadron Captain reports.” He smiles at your confusion, giving a small chuckle before continuing, “both of your monthly assessments, your Captain mentioned the relationship in a few of them. Mostly the ones since you were assigned to me, they report after spending his downtime with you, Bradley’s more focused and happy.”

“Maybe that was true, but now I’m not sure.” You avoid eye contact, hanging your head to hide the emotions dancing across your face, the regret, the bitterness, the ever-present ache of rejection.

You’re spared further questioning when Admiral Simpson’s shadow blocks the sun, and he stands with his hands on hips staring at your colleagues playing football. “What is this?” he asks Maverick. 

“Football, sir.”

“They just had two days off, and now they’re playing games on the beach?” the admiral questions harshly, not for the first time seemingly regretting the decision to put Maverick in charge of the squadron. 

“You asked me to build a team, sir,” Maverick counters, “there’s your team.”

The admiral stands and watches for a moment, and when Hangman’s team scores, he asks, “who’s winning?” 

“I think they stopped keeping score a while ago, sir,” you explain just as Hondo catches the ball and everyone chases him before taking him down. 

Bradley and Phoenix are the first two on their feet, once again, her arms are around his neck, and he wraps one of his own around her waist. You swallow the lump building in your chest and look down at the report again, not missing the concerned look that Maverick has on his face as he watches you.

The jealousy is rolling through you in waves while you watch Rooster and Phoenix flirt. They lean into one another, hands always touching the other in some way, lingering looks, eye contact that makes it abundantly clear they wish they were alone. You know Bradley is flirting; you’d been on the receiving end once upon a time. But now it seems that fairy tale is ancient history. Phoenix reciprocates. They’ve always been close. While you were in Hangman’s bed, Rooster and Phoenix were becoming friends, and now it appears to be flourishing into something more. 

You want to get drunk. Blackout, forget your own name, drunk. But you can’t. Being hungover and partly responsible for eighty million dollars worth of government property is not a good idea, and you’re already suffering the consequences of bad decisions. 

It’s easier to remove yourself from the situation, so you finish your drink and make sure Penny knows your drinks are on Hangman’s tab. She smiles knowingly and gives you a wink before watching you leave. 

Jake’s been chatting to a redheaded woman by the main door for most of the night, and he catches your arm as you pass by. “You okay?” he asks, but he’s looking over the top of your head. You know he’s looking at the cause of your early departure. 

“Yeah,” you smile through the lie, thankful for the acknowledgment. Your night had been kind of lonely with just Penny to keep you company. “I put my drinks on your tab.” 

“Good,” he says and leans down to place a kiss on your cheek. Without even looking over at Bradley, you know from the sly smirk Jake throws in his direction that he saw it. This isn’t what you want, an immature back and forth, making the other jealous. You want to talk it out but know this isn’t the place, so you leave with a heavy sigh.

Halfway back to base, you hear hurried footsteps behind you. You turn and see Rooster jogging in your direction, his hair bouncing in an annoyingly cute way.

“I don’t want to fight,” you state as he gets closer, your shoulders deflating as you let down your armor.

“I’m not here to fight,” he says, “didn’t want you walking back on your own.”

“I’m a big girl Bradshaw. I can take care of myself.” 

He ignores your snark and asks, “it’s early; where’re you going?” 

“To bed.” You don’t have it in you to fight, but your mouth has other ideas. “Didn’t feel much like watching you with your hands full at the bar.”

“Full hands, roaming lips,” he shrugs, and the anger flashes behind his eyes, “same thing.” 

“Is that what this is about? You’re jealous that Jake had me first? That he kissed me in front of you? Believe me, if I could go back and undo Jake and me, I would.”

 “I don’t believe that, and I’m not sure you do either.”

“You think I want him back?”

“Something like that doesn’t die so easily,” he says quietly, “I was there, remember?”

“Yeah, you were there for the messy end too. You think I want that again?” Frustratingly, all he does is shrug. The hurt tightens your chest, and your mouth runs away with itself. “Although it was easier to be with Jake, at least I wasn’t some dirty little secret.”

“Don’t!” Rooster warns, pointing a finger at you. “You know why I wanted to keep us quiet. This mission is hard enough working under Maverick without Hangman giving me shit about you.”

You roll your eyes, “since when can’t you take Hangman’s shit?”

“Y’know he has some interesting stories about you, which he likes to share regularly and in picture-perfect detail.”

“And you believe him? Are you fucking kidding me? You’re going to do that? Bring up stories that Hangman told you? The man lies through his teeth all the time!”

“Well, what else am I supposed to think? It’s not like you talk about him.”

“Cause he’s not worth talking about.” 

“Bullshit!” he yells, face turning red, and you hate that it's come to this. “I was there at the messy end, remember,” he quotes, “I was the shoulder you cried on for weeks. I was the one who had to talk you out of setting your career back with a sabbatical.”

“Why bring all this up now, Bradley? It never seemed to bother you so much before. Why don’t you just tell me what’s really going on?”

“I can't do this. Not with you. Not against him. I'm not going to sit here and wonder if it’s mutual every time he's near you.”

The ocean lulls the tension in a silent moment that stretches.

Rooster sighs regretfully. “Tell me, look me in the eye and tell me it's not. Tell me I’m not competing with him up there and down here. Just don't lie to me!”

“I’ve never lied to you,” you say, slightly hurt at the implication. 

“So don’t start now. I can see myself falling for you. I see it, us, together, happy, I can picture it.” He pauses as if living the moment in his mind, yet his tone promises that there's a huge but coming. “But I can't put myself through the what-ifs and the questions of what happens if I leave and he's still here? Or you get stationed together. I can't go out there thinking he's making a play for you and that you'd let him.”

“So you’re saying you don’t trust me?”

“I’m saying I don’t know. And I’m keeping too many secrets. It’s screwing with my head.”

“For the record, Maverick and everyone else who matters know about us. They figured it out on their own. And, while we’re on the subject, so did Jake.”

You can see the internal turmoil as it crawls across his face, part confusion perhaps as to how they figured it out, a slight accusatory frown as if he thinks you spilled the beans to everyone.

He settles on anger, shaking his head. “So Jake knew, and he still kissed you?” he asks, disbelief making him chew the inside of his cheek. “Why am I not surprised? Knowing about us probably made him want to do it more. A challenge to see if he could get you to cheat.” 

He spins on his heels heading back toward the bar, but you run to block his path, palm flat on his chest to stop him. “Don’t be an idiot. Punching Jake won’t do you any favors, and in his defense, he didn't know until after he kissed me.”

“There you go again, defending him.”

You roll your eyes, taking a step to the side, effectively unblocking his path. “So go ahead, punch him, or whatever it is that you want to do. But that doesn’t change the fact that you still haven’t said it.” 

“Said what?”

“If it's over, just say it's over. Don’t leave me in limbo. That’s not fair.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just clenches his jaw and turns his back to you, hands on his hips. 

“For the record, I fell for you harder than I ever did with Hangman. You had every part of me, still have most of it despite your best efforts,” you say, choking back the tears that threaten to spill. “But if you won’t do it, I will. I’m not going to sit here and convince you that I would never do anything to hurt you. I can’t make you trust me and certainly can’t make you love me. So I’m done trying.”

Part 4 - Got Your Six

---

Look a handy reblog button. ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

[magicshopaholic]

Need to Know (Jimin x OC)

Summary: Red dress, red lips, stolen glances. That's all it takes for Jimin's resolve to break, and for you to propose an arrangement.

Pairing: Jimin x OC

Genre: Exes; smut, angst, mutual pining territory

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4.3 K

Warnings: language, alcohol, dirty thoughts, mind games, fingering, handjob, sex against a wall, drunken phone calls and misunderstandings

A/N: A short drabble about our favourite exes who can't stay away from each other. Set around three months after Familiar Faces. Mostly pwp - minor plot for the series, but can be read standalone.

Tagging: @parkizabelle @cherrysoulth @bbl32 @confessionsofamarshlily @dreaming-with-happiness @ggukkieland @kflixnet @k-radio

If you want to be added to the taglist, drop me a comment/ask :)

Listen to: "need to know" by doja cat

jimin masterlist | main masterlist

“You really know how to drive me crazy, you know that?”

He doesn’t sound like he’s praising her for it. He sounds frustrated, like she’s a puzzle he’s been trying to solve for years, the solution constantly out of his reach.

But his hand, flat on the wall next to her head, the tips of his fingers pressing into the wallpaper as though he’s just holding himself back, his clenched jaw as his gaze stays fixated on her mouth, only flickering up to meet her own eyes… they tell a different story.

Sooah tries again. “Jimin…”

He swallows and bites his lip. The sight of it is enough to make her fall silent, enough to make her aware of how close his body is to hers. The music is low and thumping, the walls practically vibrating with the bass. She can’t help but remember the last time they were at a party like this, meeting once again for the first time in two years. The attraction then had been immediate, almost like they were picking up where they’d left off… until a complication had surfaced.

The moment Jimin had caught wind of the fact that she was there with a date that night, he’d stormed off. His response had been to sulk, lash out and try to one-up her, until she’d revealed in a huff that her date wasn’t really a date, not the way he thought it was. A couple of weeks later, he’d wanted to “hang out”, and they’d fucked in his apartment after ten minutes of small talk - all because her date wasn’t really a date.

Well, tonight, her date is definitely a date. And Jimin knows it.

“Why aren’t you with him right now?” he asks, almost as if he knows what she’s thinking.

Sooah swallows. She’s at eye level with his jaw; with the way he’s standing before her, almost towering over her and backing her into the wall, she’s close enough to touch her lips to his neck. The black button-down he’s wearing is unbuttoned to the third button, a deliberate show of smooth, taut skin. His cologne smells of satin and sex.

“I’m with you,” she breathes, forcing herself to look him in the eye.

Jimin’s hair falls into his eyes as he exhales raggedly, his teeth gritted with what he can only identify through the haze of alcohol as irritation, unpreparedness, jealousy and restraint. Irritation, because he wasn’t supposed to be at this party at all, but a few choice words of emotional manipulation by a some friend had brought him here, a quick stop before a fancier work event.

Unpreparedness, because he didn’t know Sooah would be here but he supposes he should have, for it isn’t a party without Kim Sooah. It hasn’t been, ever, not since high school. Jealousy, surely because, once again, she is here with a date. A genuine date this time, reminding Jimin that it’s been over a month since he last saw her, and that’s on no one but him.

Restraint… The hand on the wall clenches into a fist. How is he supposed to hold onto it, the restraint, when it’s her, when it’s Kim Sooah, looking like that, and gazing up at him like this? Her red lips part, and Jimin takes a step closer automatically, their fronts now brushing.

She wants it, too, surely. That look can’t mean anything else, can it? The fact that she’s here, with him, in a secluded corner of the farmhouse while the rest of the party carries on elsewhere, her floral scent mixed with the faint smoke making his head blur… it has to mean something.

Sooah reaches out to touch the bottom of his jacket, and Jimin feels himself stir in his jeans. She’s here… he can reach out, wrap his free arm around her waist and kiss her, kiss her so deeply that she’d sink right into him, her body molding into his like it always has…

I’m with you. 

The most annoying reminder of the night rears its ugly head, the reason he’s been so taken off guard, the reason they’ve been snarking at each other all night before converging here, alone.

“You shouldn’t be.” With all the self-control that got him through debut, Park Jimin pushes off against the wall and puts some much needed distance between them. “Go back to your boyfriend, Sooah.”

His heart can’t take much more; ignoring the look in her eyes, the one he’s too afraid to decipher, he turns around and leaves the party, just as the rest of the crowd rings in the new year.

That was three weeks ago.

Her disappointment in his lack of action, at his hesitancy to just admit what he wanted had stayed the rest of the night, seeping into every conversation she had and leading her to even avoid Donghyun for the rest of the night. She wasn’t being fair to him, she knew that… somewhere, in the back of her mind.

But at the time, she’d been more preoccupied with how Jimin had just left, how after an entire hour of heavy eye contact and jealousy that any sentient being could pick up on from miles away, he’d once again shown her that, sure, he wanted her - he just didn’t want her that bad.

It had lasted till around three am; she remembers, because she’d been sobering up far too quickly for her liking and was on the phone with her friend’s boyfriend, informing him that Eunji was being safely driven home along with three others by Hyeri, the consummate teetotaller and designated driver of their extended group. The phone had blinked brightly at five minutes past three, when her own phone had buzzed in the pocket of her jeans.

Seeing Jimin’s name flash on the screen gave her only a moment’s pause, half-hoping that they could fight it out on the phone if they needed to. She’d answered, guns ready and blazing, only to hear Jimin, drunk out of his mind, talking incoherently on the other end.

She’d had every intention of telling him to sleep it off and hanging up, but something about how ironically sincere he was suddenly being, and how badly she wanted him to just talk instead of playing their usual games had made her hesitate, and she’d leaned tiredly against a pillar as he continued.

He hadn’t made too much sense overall, but one thing he’d said had sent a pang through her heart. Stop bringing dates, he’d demanded, half-whining and half-shouting. She’d winced at the volume but the fact that he’d stopped beating around the bush and finally said something substantial about how he felt… the disappointment in her had turned almost into guilt by now, and she’d found herself wishing that it didn’t take two parties and what seemed like a gallon of liquor for him to be honest with her.

Naturally, neither of them have mentioned that call since. It’s been three weeks and unfortunately, this time, the ball is in Sooah’s court. She knows for a fact that he won’t reach out to her; even if he doesn’t remember the call, she’d been the one with a date and Jimin’s wounded pride is not something that should be taken lightly. If he does remember the call… well, then he’s definitely not reaching out to her first, no matter what.

Sooah doesn’t mind, not really. Even through the drunkenness, there had been a glimpse of the old Park Jimin - or the young Park Jimin, seventeen years old, rosy cheeked and shyly confessing after months of subtle coaxing that he did, indeed, have a crush on her. Now, despite everything, she takes the plunge and invites him to an event.

“What kind of event?” he asks suspiciously.

Sooah rolls her eyes, knowing he’s just stalling. He’s trying to sound nonchalant, too, but she plays along. “Just a work thing,” she says serenely, wrapping her scarf tighter around her neck in the cold wind. She takes a sip of the Americano in her hand, hoping for some hot, liquid courage. “It’s a party our client is hosting for an Australian label. The client is bringing along plenty of guests - lots from the music industry,” she adds, hoping that will sway him. “You’ll have lots of people to talk to.”

“Your client is okay with you inviting whoever you want?”

She takes a deep breath, knowing this is the important part. “I’m part of the event management. I’m allowed to bring a guest. Especially if that guest is you,” she adds, a little teasingly.

“Why me?”

He’s making her work for it. It’s exasperating and arousing in equal measure. “Why not?” She pauses. “Maybe I’ve missed you. We didn’t really get to… talk, during the New Year’s Eve party.”

“No, we didn’t.” Finally, after a few moments, he exhales. “I need to check with my manager. I’ll let you know.”

“Alright. See you around, Chim.”

Sooah’s not wholly startled at his response, and neither is she surprised when he responds later that night with Okay. When she responds with an emoji, he simply replies asking her to text him the address. It’s curt and short, but it’s also Jimin. Be it three weeks or three years, Sooah knows how to handle him.

On the day of the event, Sooah doesn’t text him except once in the morning when she tells him to wear something dark. Jimin arrives at the hotel, taking in the classy decor in the ballroom and making note of all the guests in their finery, unable to see anything that really sticks out to him. 

He pretends not to notice her, at first, choosing instead to accept a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. It’s no matter that he’s seen her, checked her out and already admired her as she bustles around, her heels clacking along the floor as she speaks to technicians, waiters and other people from her event management company. She’s wearing red again; the thin blouse curves teasingly over her breasts, professional yet so sexy, and the black pencil skirt hugs her hips and backside so perfectly that he feels like he could scream.

When they finally lock eyes across the room, he anticipates it a fraction of a second before it happens. She smiles, and he’s blinded. His heart is still stuttering as she makes her way over to him, a Blackberry in one hand, her hair soft in waves down her shoulders. His eyes flicker around the room, wondering if everyone else is noticing her, too, walking across the ballroom, resplendent in red.

Her eyes are on him only, though. “Glad you could make it,” she says, sounding genuine. 

“Of course. How could I not?” He makes a show of looking her up and down. “You look good.”

“So do you.”

Jimin knows - or he knew - but it makes his chest swell, irrespective. “You don’t have a drink?”

“I’m working,” she points out. “Technically.” She gives him a small smile, as though sharing a secret. He bites his lip and innocently offers her his own champagne glass, watching in mild amusement as she accepts it and downs it, not breaking eye contact for even a moment.

“This isn’t your usual kind of party,” he comments, looking around with his hands in his pockets. “Too…”

“Classy?” She laughs, nodding. “You’re right. There’s no keg and hooking up in a powder room just feels… cheap.”

“As opposed to the bathroom at Hard Rock Cafe?”

Sooah chuckles again, and he notices her gaze flicker to his mouth. “For a first time tryst, some five years ago,” she says softly, leaning up slightly, “it was pretty epic.”

Jimin can hardly disagree, but he says nothing, hoping the suppressed smile will speak for itself. She leaves after that, citing some issue with the guest list. He watches her walk away and immediately looks for another drink, knowing he should start socialising soon or this night is sure to become all about Kim Sooah again.

He tries, in earnest; he’s been getting better at working a room, and as Sooah had predicted, his presence does cause somewhat of a stir at the event. If anything, he’s in his element tonight: dressed head to toe in designer wear, having a good hair day, meeting other young artists and producers, all of whom seem to know him.

An hour in, he’s feeling far more confident than he has any right to. Aside from one aspiring producer who only referred to herself as Chanel, he’s almost completely sure that every other female artist his age he’s met so far has flirted with him, even if it is just for fun. Part of his attention is on Sooah, naturally, for he is her date, but she’s working, looking pretty and capable and everything he just knew Kim Sooah was always was.

Still, the fact that they’re here, together, isn’t lost on either of them. Every time he catches her looking at him, gaze fixated on his lower half, he’s thankful all over again that he decided to wear leather pants tonight. They brush past each other, find a few minutes between work and guests where they share a drink and exchange a few flirty words, find each other’s eyes from across the room until Jimin is certain, finally, that Sooah extending this invite wasn’t just out of the goodness of her heart.

His theory is proven right when, less than thirty minutes later, they’re in one of the spare hotel rooms booked by the company for storage, undressing each other with a chaotic desperation. They don’t even really make it inside the room; the hallway right next to the closed door is enough, the only light emanating from underneath the bathroom door.

“They’ll wonder where I am,” murmurs Sooah breathlessly, as she pulls the jacket off his shoulders with force, simultaneously trying to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“They’ll survive without you,” he mutters, pushing her back against the wall and swallowing her gasp with a kiss. He tugs her tight skirt up her thighs, running his fingers along her smooth skin and grabbing the flesh until they break apart for breath. “I won’t.”

Sooah nods, her eyes fluttering shut as he kisses her neck, lips moving open-mouthed against her skin while his hands feel for her underwear, slipping his hand under the hem on her arse and groaning when he squeezes it. Her fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt, feeling his toned torso with such familiarity, such authority, that Jimin feels his erection strain painfully against his trousers.

He kisses her again, hard and deep, pulling her hips to his and pressing his fingers at her wetness through her underwear. She moans helplessly against his mouth, grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer when he gives up and moves the underwear aside, feeling her soaked pussy. His other hand comes up to her chest, squeezing her breast through the thin, red blouse he’s been admiring all night.

Sooah reaches behind her with one hand and struggles with something; Jimin immediately searches for her hand, his fingers finding a zipper that he tugs on harshly, feeling the blouse loosen around her shoulders and bringing her full, fleshy breasts into view. 

“Oh, fuck, Jimin, right there,” she murmurs against his mouth, pulling the sleeves of her blouse down her arms as he rubs her clit, the other hand squeezing her breast between them, her nipple hard against his fingers. “You know what, just - just take it off,” she says, barely pulling away before she begins undoing the buttons of his pants. “I want you now.”

Jimin obliges, tugging her underwear down her legs as she squeezes his arse over his pants once before pulling the zipper down and palming his full erection through his briefs. He kisses her again, running his fingers over her uncovered pussy and feeling a desperate sort of urge to enter her right then. His lips move to her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, her hair getting messier and his shirt getting crumpled with each second.

“Chim,” she whispers, “the condom’s in your pocket.” Her hands feel for his back pocket, the slight indent of the square packet against his toned backside. 

“Yeah,” he grunts, taking the hint and bringing it out, just as she snatches it from his hand. Kneeling before him, she lowers his pants and underwear, revealing his hard, pink cock, already wet at the tip. 

“Fuck, Jimin,” she murmurs, wrapping her fingers around him and momentarily stroking him, looking up at him as she licks her lips. Jimin’s gasps, falling forward and bringing his hand up against the wall. Her touch feels like silk and as she gently peels the condom over his cock, he feels himself just wanting to be inside her.

The moment she stands up, he wraps his arm around her waist and hitches her up, his heart leaping at her gasp. Her hands automatically clutch his shoulders, his shirt half-unbuttoned and falling open on one side. With her skirt bunched up around her hips, he feels for her pussy, wet and ready just for him and aligns himself at her entrance.

“Sure you can keep me up, Chim?” Kim Sooah asks softly, running a hand almost tenderly through his hair when he looks up at her.

Fuck, yes. “As long as you want,” he answers, kissing her once more before entering her, groaning as he feels her warm, wet walls squeeze him.

“Oh, you feel so good, baby…” Sooah’s voice, soft and breathy, spurs him on. He pushes into her, hoping he isn’t hurting before he increases his speed, hearing her moans sync with his thrusts as he fucks her into the wall. Every thrust is one step closer to making her cum, her eyes closed and her mouth open as she holds him close, her breasts threatening to spill out of her bra, and Jimin reaching his limit.

They finish at almost the same time, their whines and whimpers echoing in the fancy hotel room they never even made it more than a few steps into. Gasping for air, their hearts racing, they kiss messily before Sooah hops down and winces when he pulls out. 

Jimin leaves first; his crumpled shirt is mostly covered by his jacket, and his hair doesn’t take more than his fingers running through them a couple of times to look like perfection again, falling dark blond onto his forehead. Sooah smiles awkwardly as he kisses her on the cheek before leaving, her legs still somewhat shaky as she straightens her clothes. Her skirt definitely looks crushed, but being black, she hopes no one will notice much. Her top is okay, but her hair looks like a bird’s nest, disheveled to the point where anyone who sees her will be sure to suspect what she’s been up to.

Sooah re-enters the ballroom a few minutes later, nervously fingering the end of her high ponytail, her eventual solution to the messy hair. The event is fortunately in full swing now, which means she has to get back to work and can’t spare too much thought to what just transpired. She looks around briefly for Jimin, though; after a few minutes, she spots him with a group of three other people, all of them looking just as shiny and fancy as him, chatting and laughing over glasses of champagne.

Her heart skips a beat at his sparkling smile, gorgeous and open. He’s always been great with people, so it doesn’t surprise her when she sees him similarly all night, talking to various people, casually graceful. It’s good; it’s part of why she invited him, but it doesn’t explain the small, hollow feeling in her chest that flickers uncomfortably when  she discusses cab availability with the hotel manager and Jimin mingles with rich, beautiful, famous guests at the party.

“Are you okay?”

Sooah nods belatedly, falling into step beside him as they walk into her building. The moment they’re inside, away from the cold, she breathes a silent sigh of relief and sees Jimin do the same, his shoulders relaxing. The walk in relative silence up the stairs to her apartment, stopping in front of her door.

Jimin leans sideways against the wall, smiling down at her. His hands are in his pocket, and she can spot the slight influence of alcohol swimming in his eyes. “It was a really nice event,” he says. “Very classy.”

“Thanks,” she says genuinely, a small smile playing at her lips that fades quickly. She looks down at her feet, wondering all of a sudden why she feels so tired, why her chest feels so heavy.

“You should plan the next farmhouse party, too,” he suggests, his tone teasing. “I could do with some champagne over the cheap vodka.”

Despite everything, Sooah returns his playful smile. “I’ve never seen you reject the cheap vodka before.”

“I can make do with the vodka. I just prefer the champagne.”

The harmless statement, said so casually and with such ease, makes her heart lurch. She hates everything about the event, even though Jimin just complimented it, even though her own boss texted her on her way back home, congratulating her on its success. Everything about it, its class, its finery, its shiny, golden aura - all of it makes her want to throw up.

She looks up at him, about to respond, when she sees it again. Without thinking, she reaches forward to move the collar of shirt away from his neck, the red spot now a purple hickey, raw and unmistakable. Jimin turns to look at it before facing her again, smirking silently.

It’s not like her to not make a joke about it, possibly a flirty one, one he’d return with just the right amount of teasing and sincerity. But all she can think about is the first time she spotted the hickey an hour ago, when she was standing by the bar and he’d been talking to a female guest by the french doors. 

It had been just a red spot then, barely visible from the distance but she could recognise her own handiwork, even from here. His tinkling laugh could be heard all the way at the bar while his companion, her back to Sooah, stood long-legged and elegant, a glass of champagne in her hand. Her gold minidress had suddenly made Sooah feel thoroughly inadequate in her red blouse and black skirt. Like cheap vodka.

“Are you okay?”

It’s the second time he’s asked, and this time he looks a bit concerned. Sooah nods. “Just tired.”

“You should get some sleep.”

She nods again, slower this time. The sight of the hickey sends a defiant kind of pride in her, one she knows she shouldn’t be feeling. She’d felt it earlier tonight, too, when she’d watched him blend into the crowd like it was nothing. He belonged tonight, a celebrity among celebrities.

We aren’t in the same circles anymore.

The words send an old, long-buried pang through her, and she speaks without thinking.

“Do you want to do this?”

It’s only after she says it that she realises Jimin was about to say something. He raises his eyebrows.

“Do what?”

Sooah takes a deep breath, knowing somewhere in the jumble of her mind that this is the way to go, the path of least consequences. “Do you want to… do what we’ve been doing the last couple of months? But without the awkwardness?” she adds, forcing herself to roll her eyes.

Jimin pauses. “Tiptoeing around each other?” he asks lightly.

“Hooking up. Having sex.” She’s being blunt, she knows, but this isn’t the time to be coy. She needs to cement this before she changes her mind.

“Oh.” He looks slightly taken off guard, but recovers quickly. “So… like, we call each other when we want to… have sex?” He doesn’t look too convinced.

“Yeah. Or we text.” She shrugs. “We do what we’ve been doing, basically. This is just so we’re clear, about - about everything.”

Jimin nods slowly, the understanding visible on his face. “What are we clear about?”

“That it’s just sex,” she says, swallowing. “That we call - or text - when we feel like it, and if we’re free… we get together.”

“Just for sex,” he clarifies. “No drinks, even.”

“With discretion,” she allows. “No dinner.”

“No lunch.”

“No cute flirting.”

“Only sexy flirting.”

Sooah bites her lip, wondering how on earth he can still make her heart skip a beat. “That’s right. No staying over.”

“No cuddling.” Jimin nods, clapping his hands. “It’s set.”

There’s something different in his expression; Sooah can’t put her finger on it. She can’t tell if it’s relief or something else. It probably is relief; he’s got a steady source of action whenever he’s not on tour, and she’s at least one step towards not getting her heart broken again. It’s a win-win.

“Thanks for walking me home,” she says softly. “You didn’t have to.”

Jimin’s eyes flicker. “My dad taught me to always walk a lady to her door.”

This time, Sooah does smile, for it’s her favourite memory of their first date. Resisting the urge to step closer to him or to take his hand - to do something - she places her hand on the doorknob, her keys ready in her other hand. “Goodnight, Park Jimin.”

“Goodnight, Kim Sooah.” He makes a motion and hesitates before leaning over and pressing a light kiss to her cheek, almost defiantly. “Sleep well.”

Sooah nods silently, turning around to watch him walk away. Despite herself, her gaze falls momentarily to his hips, snug in the leather pants, before she shakes her head, wondering if she’s done the right thing.

~

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[prurientpuddlejumper]

Rehabilitation

Travis Hackett x Laura Kearney

Summary: Laura feels guilty that, out of all the scars Travis has, the biggest, ugliest one is from her bite. 

Post canon. Fluff. This was supposed to be a drabble but it got out of hand. (Definitely more than a little inspired by this fanart + ty @norrington-hell​​ for the title!)

960 words

Before lifting the next wooden beam, Travis mopped his forehead with a flannel sleeve, then rolled the fabric up over lean but well-muscled forearms. Laura couldn’t help but glance over—under the guise of surveying construction, of course.

Her ogling turned into—not a gasp, but the playful comment she was preparing died on her lips.

Travis’s tanned arm is spiderwebbed with pale scars, but the biggest, ugliest one is right in the middle, in the meatiest part just below the elbow. While the others are pale and flat, this one healed red, and raised in places, while dipping hollow in others, as if something had tried to tear a chunk out of him with jagged teeth.

Because something had.

Laura.

“Don’t,” Travis said gravely.

She realized she was staring, and not being subtle about it, either.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Sorry,” she said, quickly finding somewhere else to put her eyes.

They landed on the organized piles of lumber, wire mesh, and tools that would become the newest aviary for the North Kill Wildlife Rescue and Sanctuary. Max had wanted to call it the Rescue Association for Wildlife Rehabilitation for the funny acronym, but Laura said calling it RAWR made it sound like an AOL Instant Messenger anime chatroom. Then Max said she was insane for going back to Hackett’s Quarry and he wasn’t going to help her get killed. She said she didn’t want him there anyway. And that was that.

Going back wasn’t as strange as it sounded.

Travis and Laura were a team. Maybe he had stolen a summer of her life and left her with scars the werewolf infection couldn’t heal as easily as a missing eye. Maybe she had killed his niece, mother, brother, and gotten his only surviving family thrown in prison. But for that one night, they had been an unstoppable team.

They stood together under the full moon and ended a curse.

So when Travis invited her to use his family’s land to open the wildlife rescue she had always dreamed about, it felt right for them to partner up again. After the bloodbath of that summer, and with no one left to run it, the camp closed its doors. But Hackett’s Quarry still had so much space—acres and acres of pristine forested landscape, with unused buildings in various states of repair.

When she saw him again for the first time in four years, SUV tires crunching on gravel as she parked in front of the run-down lodge, he waved, and his smile lit up so brightly Laura hardly recognized him.

Travis must have been so alone with all that space to himself. It’s too much for one person. And the taxes didn’t pay for themselves… unless it became a 501(c)(3) nonprofit.

The wildlife rescue was a mutually beneficial arrangement.

“Really,” Travis said. “It’s fine. Six years hunting werewolves, I’ve got plenty of scars. You know how it is working with dangerous critters.”

“Still…” She placed her palm over his scar without even thinking, and sighed.

Goosebumps ran up his arms at her touch, and didn’t stop until they were zipping up and down his spine.

He said it was fine, but that wasn’t what he meant.

The truth was, of all the scars he carried, the deep, red, mangled one on his forearm was his favorite.

If his arms had shocked Laura to silence, he trembled to think what her reaction to the rest of him might be. There were twelve full moons per year, times six years, times three cursed family members. Do the math.

He didn’t have to mess up often. Just once too slow with the needle, too gentle with the restraints. Add to that his appendix scar, the time he’d hit himself in the leg with an ax when he and Chris were kids running around the camp collecting firewood… Normal life stuff. It all added up. Live as long as he had, you end up with scars. Live with werewolves for six of them, and…

His family had always lashed out at him with their claws. At the time, he’d felt lucky—he never got infected, so he could always remain the one to take care of them. Protect them during the full moon. That was his job as the big brother.

But the scar Laura gave him was different than all the others.

He thought it was luck, until he felt Laura’s fangs sink into his flesh. Then a small voice in the back of his head, one he’d almost forgotten, sighed: “Finally.”

Finally, a wolf wasn’t trying to rend him with claws meant to eviscerate and kill. She wasn’t trying to kill him.

Finally, someone wanted him to join their pack.

No matter how far away she traveled, he could look at his arm and think of her. Part of her was always with him, her bite indelibly etched into his body as deeply as the mark she left on his soul.

He covered his teammate’s hand with his own and squeezed. Her eyes widened, as if suddenly becoming aware that she had been touching him now that he was mirroring her intimacy. An adorable tint colored her cheeks. She didn’t pull away.

“Quit yer dawdling and grab the nail gun. Haven’t got all day.” He gave her a light shove.

She snorted with surprise then marched off toward the power tools bench, twisting as she went to throw him a mocking salute. “Aye aye, officer dickwhippet!” She grinned.

The nickname made his lips want to curl into a scowl, but he’d learned that sometimes when Laura insulted people in that way, it wasn’t actually to insult them, but to indicate they were close friends. 

He let her.