#but now I feel like I’m just that stupid girl who gets involved with a guy who says all the nice words and then gets fucked over in the end

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

#yep you used me and got what you wanted for a while and then when things got too serious I became disposable #and even now with all the strides we’ve made and everything we’ve buried you still want to keep me a secret #do you have any idea how badly that fucking hurts? #you don’t want to use me anymore and you only want to be friends but you don’t want to fully acknowledge me as a friend #you won’t put me fully in the friend category and let us progress as two people who are truly just friends and for what? #fucking roped me into this bullshit from the very beginning and now I’m stuck with this mess I’m in #the pain I’m feeling is just… I don’t even know how to describe this right now #and the worst part is that even this won’t fully push me away or make me stop talking to you #I’ll still feel my heart race when you message me and get so excited to talk to you every day #because I’m just that fucking dumb apparently #I should be giving my all to my girlfriend and I’m trying so hard to do that but you’re still implanted in my mind like a fucking parasite #I can’t purge you or get rid of our memories or stop thinking of you #I can’t accept that the past is dead and this person who used to want me and make me feel so special is just the same as every other guy #I thought you were different and I thought our friendship meant something #but now I feel like I’m just that stupid girl who gets involved with a guy who says all the nice words and then gets fucked over in the end #yeah it’s my own fault cause I made my own bad decisions and played my part #I can accept my part in this and recognize what I’ve done that’s made this all worse #but fuck dude there were things you didn’t tell me until after I was already in too deep and that’s not really fair either #and now it’s like… do I just continue this friendship as if nothing ever happened? do I just move on as if we’re all just fine and dandy? #how do I reconcile all of this bullshit? how do I keep you as a friend without being angry or needy or idiotic all over again? #turned out to be much more like my mother than I ever wanted to be fuck me #personal

[caraphernellie]

can u write ellie with dacryphillia

absolutely. i might be a little obsessed with dacryphilia m sorry (not) and i swear ellie would LOVE to see it. she would go crazy. also my first time posting smut with a strap somehow i haven't posted any yet. now bare with me ok. this was also kind of inspired by a video i saw on twitter that was like... sorta ellie coded. (anything involving a grey hoodie makes me think of her now) (oops)

cw: softdom! ellie at the start, mean dom! ellie, sub! brat! reader, kind of shy! reader, strap on sex (r!receiving), riding, missionary, rough sex, dacryphilia obvs, degrading, strap referred to as cock and dick, nicknames such as good girl, baby, babe, slut, straight up porn without plot xx

info: ok so... you know me. biggest softdom ellie truther. at least for jackson ellie. now i raise you: softdom ellie who has a gf in a bratty mood and she's starting to get annoyed by letting you have your way too often... so she basically jackhammers u until u get the point! she's in charge here <3

・wc: 1.2k

“kay, faster now.”

ellie’s order falls on deaf ears for the millionth time and she’s starting to reach a limit. she has been for some time now. she’s too soft, and who could blame her? her brain turns to mush the minute she’s got you this way.

dazzling green eyes focusing in on the way your body moves, the rippling of skin and contortions of your belly. her hands find home on the spaces between your ribs and your hips, thumbs rubbing circles as you bounce on her strap.

“hey,” ellie tries her best with you, putting on a stern tone now, and her hand weakly slaps one of your tits. she bites back a smirk of pride at your jolt. “do you hear me?”

you definitely do. but hearing isn’t the same as listening or even caring. not when the rhythmic circles your hips are moving in are scratching that itch so good. it’s satisfying the pit of warm need in your stomach that’s been waiting all day. the pit you begged and begged ellie to help you out with.

it’s how you ended up here, ellie still half dressed in her grey pullover and you on her lap with nothing but an unzipped hoodie on.

“aww, i thought you said you were desperate, baby,” ellie continues, “what’s this?”

a shiver runs down your spine, ellie’s hand moving over the expanse of skin on your stomach and squeezing your tit. she’s on two trains of thought, distracted by the way the soft ball of flesh fits in her hand, and trying to keep you in line. because what ellie can feel is her power slipping out of her grip no matter how hard she squeezes your body under her palms. 

“so you’re not even gonna talk to me?”

a fire ignites in ellie when you move slower, rolling your hips down onto her cock, the depth eliciting a drawn out and long moan from you.

“god, can you not be fuckin’ stupid for two seconds?” ellie asks, never genuine when she gets like this albeit it’s a rare occurrence for sure. she starts to buck her hips upward, fucking into you while forcing you to change your pace – her hands grip meaty thighs and begin bouncing you up and down. she revels in the way you mewl a little louder, the sight of your tits bouncing.

“like this. don’t let me tell you twice, baby. i mean it.” voice strained from the effort of her movements, ellie grunts and finally releases you. “you said you were desperate, so we’re making this quick, and i don’t wanna hear any complaints.”

i’m too nice to you sometimes, ellie thinks to herself. but she believes it pays off. she lives for the control, but she’s a more gentle lover. normally it’s enough to get you to listen just like it has right now, with you continuing at the pace she set. she watches with a satisfied smirk, her thumb reaching down languidly to flick at your clit.

“there she is, good girl.”

sometimes (most of the time), ellie gives in. she lets you do as you please. she never gets to hear you beg because she’s so weak for you, so eager to make her girl feel good, that she will give you exactly what you need when you ask. she will give up on trying to reign you in and do what she wants you to, only because the sight you are is already so convincing that ellie doesn’t mind. anything to see it, the furrow in your brows, your eyes rolling back. anything to see a happy, fucked out expression on your face.

so it’s no surprise ellie’s seeing a rise in bratty behaviour, she enables it. she shouldn’t complain, but she will anyway. it’s her fault and damn, she needs to do something about it before it gets worse. she’s had a busy week and doesn’t need this. because ellie hates her authority to be challenged by one of the only people she even has authority over. 

the fade of ellie’s smirk comes with the fade of speed. she hears the sweetest giggle escape your lips and she knows you’re treating this like some kind of joke now and she can’t have that. 

“we’re not doing this again, babe.” ellie’s voice is a low rasp by this point, the slightest bit of amusement present. what you expect might be another spank to the thigh before she inevitably gives in to you, but that’s not what comes your way.

this time it’s ellie chuckling. you yelp loudly as she flips you onto your back. she’s on top now, wasting no time, and she slides into you again.

everything happens too fast for you to fully process it, but she’s pounding into you now. the sounds of skin slapping, the squelching of ellie’s thrusts into your poor cunt, and your nonstop moans – it’s filthy. ellie can’t stop it now, grunts of effort made as she hooks your legs around her waist. if she didn’t know any better, she’d make some point about being able to see her cock poking and bulging out of your tummy, her thrusts deep and carnal.

hands balling the sleeves of your jacket into paws, you hide behind them, finding this to be one of the most intimate and closest experiences you’ve had. ellie’s caging your head between her arms, lip drawn between her teeth, eyes piercing down at you. she takes grip of your wrists and pins them down, laughing at you. “yeah, look at me, baby. look… who’s making you feel this good? who owns you?”

your eyes grow half-lidded and ellie’s face becomes a blur, tears clouding your vision whilst all you can do is halfheartedly moan her name in response. 

“poor baby,” ellie mocks, her voice a hoarse coo, as soft as she can manage. it’s a harsh comparison to the reckless power of her hips. as long as you will sing your pleasure to her, she won’t stop. “i thought you wanted it so bad, you wanted my dick so bad, so what’s your deal?”

“mm… n- noth–” you try, you try to speak, but things are getting fuzzy. there’s nothing to occupy your busy mind besides her. ellie, ellie, ellie.

you’re brought out of the fuzziness for a moment when ellie cups your face to wipe a tear off your cheek.

“you just needed me to do all the work for you, huh? so you can lay there cryin’ ‘cuz it just feels that good to get fucked like this?”

all you do is nod, pitiful moans and whimpers flooding ellie’s senses, egging her on just as much as the sight of her strap covered in your essence does.

“i try so hard to be nice to you, baby, feels like you just–” ellie takes one particularly hard thrust into your sopping cunt, “--take advantage of that like a slut…”

“m’sorry,” you squeak, hands wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her closer, closer, closer, nails digging into her back and eliciting a hiss. she’s getting sloppier now, tired and finding that the base of the strap is pressing too well into her clit, making her near delirious, like it’s her real dick she’s fucking you with.

“who’s in charge?” ellie demands to know, glaring down at you but with no malice, there’s nothing but lust and amazement as hot tears streak your cheeks. “who are you gonna obey next time?”

“you.”

“who?”

“ellie, ellie, ellie ellie ellie.”

“that’s right,” ellie scoffs with a nod. “good girl.”

shes so pretty and i need her really bad and um um um um

#ellie williams x reader #tlou2 x reader #ellie williams x fem reader #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ fanfic #fem reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams #sub reader #sub!reader #bottom!reader #top!ellie #dom!ellie #softdom!ellie #tlou2 smut #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x yn #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x yn #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ mail #petal’s requests <3 #anon <3

[alotofpockets]

Not as it seems | Katie McCabe

Pairing: Katie McCabe x Arsenal!Reader

Reader pronouns used: she/her

Summary: Your girlfriend finds messages on your phone that make her think that you are cheating on her. What will happen when she won't let you tell her your side of the story?

Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending), accusation of cheating, and some swear words.

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 2.4k

Katie was sitting in the living room of your shared apartment, decked out in her training kit, while you were still getting changed in the bedroom. Your girlfriend of a year, was always ready before you, you had no clue why because you literally had to change into the same kit. Still, you felt no rush as you still had some time before you would have to leave to pick up Kyra. When the younger Australian joined the team, you and Katie had offered to pick her up before training, since she lived on the route to the training centre.  

You had left your phone on the living room couch, where you had previously sat cuddled up to your girlfriend. Katie didn’t mean to look when it buzzed with a new message but she caught your screen light up from the corner of her eye. The messages that showed up had her reach for the phone instantly.

EM: I can’t believe that she still has no clue

EM: See you next weekend! ❤️

Who was this Em and why was she going to see you next weekend? She had never heard you talk about an Em, and you hadn’t mentioned having any plans next weekend either. What bothered her most was that she had the early feeling that she was the one being referred to as the one ‘having no clue’. So, against her better judgement she unlocked your phone with the passcode you had shared with her early on in your relationship. She opened your conversation with the person in question, and without scrolling further she dropped your phone.

Y/n: Made the reservation for the hotel under your name

EM: Does Katie have any suspicions?

Y/n: None at all :)

EM: I can’t believe that she still has no clue

EM: See you next weekend! ❤️

Her mind was racing, there was only one logical explanation for the conversation she had just read, right? She started pacing the room, why was this happening to her? Why was it happening again? Was she just not good enough? Besides being extremely hurt, she was also very angry with you. So, when you came walking into the living room all cheerful, she snapped. 

“How could you do this to me, y/n?” You were taken back by her raised voice accompanied by the use of your full first name. “I’m sorry but what exactly did I do?” You ask timidly, not wanting to upset the Irish woman more. She reaches for your phone that she dropped just moments before, and holds up the conversation to your face. You frown, “You went through my messages?” Sure you gave her your passcode, as did she, but that was something you had done because there was a high level of trust between the two of you, and not to go through the other’s messages. “That is what you want to focus on right now? You’re fucking cheating on me, and you want to talk about me reading your messages?” 

“Katie, it’s not what you think-” She interrupts you before you can finish your sentence. “I don’t want to hear your stupid excuses.” You try to say something again, but to no avail. “Get in the car, we have to pick up Kyra.” You had never seen Katie this way, her face was stoic, and she didn’t say a word on the drive over to Kyra’s. When Kyra got into the back of the car she could feel the tension, so she opted on scrolling on her phone instead of getting involved in whatever was going on. 

The three of you walk into the locker room together, and walk to your cubbies. Instead of sitting down at her cubby next to yours, Katie grabs her stuff, and moves to a free cubby down the other side of the room. The girls look between the two of you worriedly, they had never seen the two of you fight like this before. You don’t notice their stares, as your eyes are trained to the floor while you boot up. 

“Do you know what’s going on?” Steph whispers to Kyra. “I have no clue, there was a lot of tension in the car but neither one of them said a word.” Some of the other girls listened in, wanting to know what happened too, but sadly Kyra didn’t know either. The team wanted to be there for the both of you, but they felt helpless not knowing what was going on. 

Katie, who had enough of all the whispering, got up and walked towards the door, but not before turning around and saying, “Since you all so badly want to know what’s going on, I just found out that she is cheating on me.” Without another word she leaves the room, slamming the door in the process.

Now you know that all of their eyes are on you, and there is no way to avoid them now. “Y/n, is it true?” Leah asked, not sure what to ask, but she felt like you should be able to tell your side of the story too. It pained you to think that both your girlfriend and your teammates thought you would do something like that. “I did not cheat on her.” You get up annoyed, and head out to the pitch yourself, the rest of the team following your lead, probably more confused now than when they didn’t know what was going on. 

You started warming up with your back towards Katie, and she did the same on the other end of the field. During the training drills you were running up and down the field, and every time you saw the angry looks that Katie sent your way, your heart broke a little more, until eventually you couldn’t take it anymore. You run off the field with tears streaming down your face, only stopping once you have made your way behind one of the supply sheds where you just slump to the ground.

It wasn't long until you heard footsteps coming closer, you looked up to see Beth standing in front of you. “Oh, honey.” She says when she notices the state you're in. Without a second thought, she sits down beside you, and wraps her arms around you. Gently rocking you back and forth in her arms, letting you cry it all out. 

Only once you start wiping the tears of your face, Beth speaks up again. “Why don't you tell me what's going on, sweetheart?” Her voice was soft, and it almost made you sob again. “She saw some messages on my phone and immediately accused me of cheating on her. I would never do that to her, or anyone for that matter.” Beth listened carefully to your words, “Did you tell her that?” She tries. “I started to but she didn't let me finish. I don't want to lose her but she's so angry with me, and she won't even listen to me. I was only trying to surprise her by flying in her sister Ella for the match next week. Why won't she listen to me, Beth?” Your voice was weak as your emotions were high.

Beth had a feeling why Katie's mind had so quickly gone to this conclusion, but felt like it wasn't her place to tell you, if it was something that Katie hadn't yet shared with you. “I'll go talk to her. Why don't you go to the locker room, and stay there for a bit, okay? I'll let Jonas know that you need some time.” She gets up, and offers her hand to help you up as well. With another hug, Beth is on her way to talk to Katie.

Meanwhile on the pitch some of the girls had taken Katie aside as well. Katie usually wasn't one to cry in front of others, but now that she felt like her world was ending, she couldn't hold her tears in. “I thought I could trust her.” She tells them between sobs. “I really thought things would be different with her, why would she do this to me?” Viv puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Have you talked to her? In the locker room she said that she didn't cheat on you.” Leah asks. Katie shakes her head, “No, but I saw the messages. She booked a hotel for some girl and she talked about me not having a clue.” Before any of her teammates can answer, Beth is by their side. “Hey, sorry to interrupt but I really think you should talk to your girl.” 

Katie shakes her head, “I can't Beth, I-.” Now Katie was the one not allowed to finish her sentence, as Beth interrupts her. “Okay, then listen to me. She didn't cheat on you, she was surprising you by flying Ella in for the match next week.” Katie looks at her friend in disbelief. “I understand why your mind went to this conclusion, but she's not Mandy. She's heartbroken even by the thought that you'd think she'd do that to you. Please go talk to her.” It finally started to settle for Katie, who now felt extremely guilty for accusing you. So, she took Beth’s advice, and headed to the locker room.

You hear a soft knock on the locker room door before it opens slightly and Katie appears on the other side. “Can I come in?” The softness in her voice was the complete opposite of the raised voice you had gotten this morning, so you nod. You sat on the floor in the far corner of the room, back leaned against the wall. Katie makes her way over to you and sits down in front of you. “Beth told me about your plans.” She starts softly. “I know I really messed up in accusing you, and not letting you explain yourself. I am really sorry for that. I never meant to break your trust, as it is very important to me. I will do anything to fix what I’ve broken, if you’ll allow me.” She looks up again, nervously searching for eye contact. “Why would you think that I would ever cheat on you?” Your voice breaks mid sentence. “I never thought you would, and I of course really didn’t want it to be true. The reason I thought that that was what was happening is because of something that happened in my past. I should have told you about this before, and I am not saying this to excuse my actions, because I know that I was wrong. I’ve been cheated on in the past, so when I saw the messages pop-up on your screen, my mind went straight back to that. Again, it doesn’t excuse my behaviour. I should have talked to you, and I am really sorry I didn’t do that. I promise to be better.” 

You finally made eye contact with the brunette sitting in front of you. Despite your feelings on the current situation, your blood was boiling finding out that someone had hurt your girlfriend so badly in the past. “Who?” You asked with a hint of anger in your tone, towards whoever had done it. Katie was surprised that you wanted to hear more about that, instead of the situation at hand, but she answered nonetheless. “Mandy, the girl I dated back in college.” Katie didn’t expect you to reach out your hand, but she took it before you could change your mind and retract it. “What a bitch.” Your comment took Katie by surprise, and made her chuckle. Katie’s laugh was contagious, and you’re soon laughing with her. The laughter soon turns into crying from both ends, as you had pulled her in for a hug. It was a tight hug, one that meant more than words could express.

She sits down by your side once you pull back from the hug. “What can I do to fix this?” You think for a moment. “I need you to talk to me when something happens.” She nods, “I will do that next time something happens, I promise.” You lean your head against her shoulder, exhausted from all of today’s emotions. “And I need you to explain to the team what actually happened, because you made me out for someone I am not.” Katie nods again, “I am sorry, I promise I will fix it. Just so you know, none of them actually thought you did, they were all telling me to talk to you. And I will also promise that the next time they tell me that, I will.” She adds quickly, wanting to show you that she was listening to you. “Okay, and when you’ve done that, I would really like you to take me home, my head hurts and I am exhausted.” 

Katie helps you up, before she excuses herself to quickly run back to the team who was still training on the pitch. She went to tell them what happened, like she had promised. She talked to Jonas about the both of you needing the rest of training off as well, and finally she made sure that Kyra would have a ride home. 

Back home you lay down on the couch immediately, while Katie makes her way to the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water and some painkillers for your headache. “I’m really sorry that I ruined your surprise in such a horrific way.” She sits down next to you, leaving some space just in case you need it, but you quickly scoot into her side. “At least I no longer have to keep secrets from you, I hate keeping secrets from you.” Katie presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Oh, and you’re telling Ella that you fingered out the surprise, preferably without the whole explanation of the story.” You say before wrapping your arms around her waist and laying your head down on your chest, getting ready to take a well deserved nap. “Okay, I’ll call her tonight. Does telling her I saw the two of you messaging about it sound alright to you?” You hum letting her know it does, before closing your eyes. 

Katie holds you while you sleep, feeling grateful that you were giving her the opportunity to make it up to you. She loved you more than anything in the world, which was also the reason that she was so scared of losing you. She promised herself to improve her communication skills, so nothing like this would ever happen again, before she closed her own eyes and fell asleep with you.

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#katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe imagine #woso #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc #katie mccabe angst #ireland wnt #irewnt #ireland women

[thetriumphantpanda]

two is better than one | joel & tommy miller

Summary | Frustrated that whatever you're trying to do still isn't working, you decide to give it one more try with Joel before cooling off for a while. Tommy is back to keep an eye on the both of you this time, but what happens when he starts to feel a little left out, watching his brother bring his girl over the edge more times than he cares to count?

Warnings | I swear I always start this the same way so here we go: Tommy getting cucked but also getting involved this time 👀, Joel being a fucking menace, dirty talk, oral sex (F&M receiving), face sitting, breeding kink, unprotected PiV sex, talk of infertility, no use of Y/N

Word Count | 3.8k

Authors Note | Whew. When I tell you this little threesome has been rotting my brain, I'm not lying. This is the only thing I can focus on, hence them being updated so fast! I just wanted to say a huge thank you to you all for the continued love you're giving this series - it honestly blows my mind every time that it's something you guys enjoy, that my writing reaches so many people and that they lap that shit up. I'm so grateful to everyone who has taken the time to comment, send me asks, reblogs and those who have slid into my DMs with all the love. I see you, I hear you, and I love you all - thank you. I hope you enjoy this next part just as much as the rest - it's a doozy. You know the drill, if you did like it, please consider reblogging, commenting or sending the love to my ask box, it's what keeps me going. And if you'd like to leave me a tip (of course no pressure!), then here's my Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Another month and another fucking negative pregnancy test. You knew it was irrational, but you were starting to think that maybe you were also part of the problem now. You’d been doing everything right, following all the advice in the books you’d bought almost a year ago when Tommy and you had first started trying for a baby. You’d been exercising, eating as healthily as possible, tried to keep yourself a stress-free as possible. You’d been keeping a close eye on your cycle and still, nothing to show for it. 

When you clambered down the stairs, test in hand and flung it in Tommy’s direction, he already knew. He could see the heavy set of your shoulders, the quiet sniffling of you trying to hide the fact you were crying. Tommy had settled you on the couch, covered you in a blanket and made you some tea. Then he’d made your favourite meal for dinner, even driven to the store and picked up Diet Coke, emptied a can into a glass filled with ice and lime juice like you loved, but none of it really helped to soothe how upset you were. 

The TV was on low, and he had your head in his lap, slowly stroking the strands of your hair as you tried to calm yourself down. Remind yourself that even the most fertile of couples needed to try for months sometimes before they had their first baby. It was stupid to think you’d be any different. 

“You’re thinkin’ way too loud, sugar.” Tommy muses, letting his hand run up and down your arm instead. 

“Sorry,” You mumble, “Just thought it would be easier.” 

“I know,” He coos, “We can take a break for a while, if you want.” 

You turn so you’re led on your back, looking right up at him, “I just want a baby.” You feel a tear slip down your cheek to pool near your ear. 

Tommy uses his thumb to brush away the tears that have started to fall, bobbing his leg up and down gently to try and soothe you, “It’s still fresh,” He speaks softly, “Let’s give it a couple of days and see what you want to do, okay?” 

You nod in agreement, feeling the beginnings of a headache pooling behind your eyes. You push yourself up into a sitting position and turn around to press a soft kiss to his lips, “I’m gonna go to bed,” You announce, “Headache.” 

He lets you go, it’s still early and you know there’s the game highlights he wanted to watch. In bed, you can do nothing but toss and turn for a few hours. Every time you’d try to close your eyes, all you could see was vision of you and Joel, in all the different positions he’d put you in so far, and all for what? When the bedside clock hit 10:30, you head out to use the bathroom. As you near the door at the top of the stairs you can hear Tommy talking to someone, through the phone because his is the only voice you can hear. 

“I know, brother, she’s just really beat up about it,” You hear him say, “I don’t know how to make it better.” 

You lean against the closed bathroom door, wondering if perhaps you should leave Tommy to talk to Joel. There’s a pause where you can hear Tommy humming along to whatever Joel is saying on the other end of the phone. 

“I dunno man,” Tommy sighs, “You managed to knock Sarah’s mom up on a one-night stand, guess I thought it would be easier for you.” 

There’s another pause, then he’s speaking again. 

“No Joel, all of her tests came back perfect,” Another sigh, “I was always the problem.”

You’re about to push down the handle to go to the bathroom when Tommy speaks again, “I don’t know, maybe we should just cool it for a while, we’re all gonna work ourselves up otherwise.” 

You decide you don’t really want to hear the rest of the conversation. You sit on the toilet and let your face drop to your hands in frustration. Why couldn’t you just be normal? Why couldn’t you have been a nice, normal couple, having a baby in the most natural way possible? Why did this have to come along and fucking complicate everything? And why did Joel have to be so fucking good to you every time? 

You wash your hands under the tap, water as scalding as it could go, just in order to feel something that wasn’t frustration before you head to bed. There’s no longer the sound of voices as you pad back across the hall and get back into bed, shutting off the lights and curling onto one side, knees as close to your chest as you can manage to get them. It’s not long before you can hear Tommy shuffling around upstairs. He pushes open the bedroom door quietly, obviously thinking you’re already asleep. You can hear him undressing before he's slipping onto his side of the bed, pulling your body close to his under the covers as he spoons you. 

You let your own arm cover his over your waist as you lean back into the comfort of his chest, letting his breath fan across the skin of your shoulder as he presses a kiss to your skin. 

“I wanna try again,” You speak softly into the dark, feeling Tommy’s arm’s squeeze you tighter, “Once more and then we cool it for a while.” 

“You sure?” He asks into your ear, lips pressing to the sensitive skin behind your ear. 

“I’m sure.” You respond, turning around in his arms to capture his lips in yours. 

When the time comes to try again, it’s you who greets Joel at the door when he knocks. Tommy already upstairs and situated in the chair he had taken the first time you’d done this as a three. Joel leans down, lips just millimeters from your own, but instead of kissing your mouth, he places a soft kiss to your cheek instead. 

“Hello, darlin’.” 

You step up onto your tiptoes to press your own kiss to his face, just shy of the corner of his mouth – the kisses from last time still a secret between the two of you. 

“Evening handsome,” You smile, pulling away from him to close the door as he steps inside, “You ready?” 

“To give you what you want?” He smirks, “Always, pretty girl.” 

You feel that telltale heat flush across your cheeks as Joel pulls you into his side, hand dipping down to squeeze your ass over the fabric of the robe you’d thrown on moments ago. God, why did he have to be so fucking intoxicating around you?

You take hold of his hand in yours, leading him up the stairs behind you. Tommy was reading a book as you entered the room, folding the corner of the page before setting it down on the nightstand closest to the chair. You can’t help but snigger as you watch him and Joel give each other the typical male greeting of a curt nod of the head. 

You drag Joel by the arm to the foot of the bed, pushing his shoulders down so he sits on the edge. Then you take a step back and tug on the belt of your robe, letting it fall open and off your body to leave you completely naked in front of him. You watch his face as he trails those beautiful brown eyes over your body, letting out a low whistle of approval. 

“Beautiful as ever, darlin’,” He compliments, reaching out a hand for you to take, “But you’re worked up, ain’t ya? And not in the good way.” 

Your eyes flit to Tommy in the corner of the room, who has that smug ‘I told you so’ look on his face. You’d been itching for Tommy to arrange this since that ovulation test said you were in the zone, but Joel had been working away for the past two days, and now you were worried that if you didn’t hurry the fuck up, you’d miss your chance. 

Joel reaches out and puts his hands on the back of your thighs, pulling you into him, he’s looking up at you, pressing hot kisses to the skin of your tummy, “Gotta relax babygirl,” He moans, “I’m tryin’ my damned hardest, but you just gotta let nature take its course.” 

“Just frustrating.” You mumble. 

“I know baby, I know,” He’s got his hands palming your tits now, “Long as I need to, I’ll keep fillin’ you up, y’hear me?” 

Your breath catches in your throat and all you can do is nod as he moves himself back on the bed. 

Joel leans back on the bed, his head just shy of the pillows, “Sit on my face, pretty girl.” 

You’re almost embarrassed at how quickly you scramble yourself onto the bed, moving up to straddle his hips – even Tommy is chuckling from his chair. 

“Can’t get enough of Joel’s mouth on your pussy, can you, sugar?” He speaks in a low voice. 

Joel has his hands on your ass, guiding your naked body to hover over his face before his hands are slipping up to your hips to pull your cunt to his mouth. He wastes no time in getting straight to business, wide tongue licking stripes from your entrance, where he laps up your slick like a cat would cream, to those deliciously tight flicks of the tip of his tongue to your clit. You can hear him groaning into your pussy, your hand coming down to anchor itself into his hair to hold him still as you start grinding against his face. 

You can hear the obscene slurps that he’s making underneath you, it’s half the reason you think it takes you no time at all to reach the edge, because he fucking enjoys this just as much as you do, he loves tasting you, loves making you feel good and you can feel that, can feel it on his mouth. 

As you throw your head back as Joel’s tongue swipes perfectly across your clit, you catch Tommy in the corner of the room. He’s palming himself through his jeans as he watches you, your body writhing as his brother’s mouth brings you closer and closer to the edge. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? You think, if you asked if he wanted you to help him out. 

“You feeling left out baby?” You coo, reaching your hand out for Tommy to take, “Joel gets my pussy tonight,” You punctuate with a grind of your pussy down onto his mouth, “But I can help you, if you want.” 

He’s standing at the edge of the bed in minutes, his hand pressing into the back of your neck, not unlike how he tries to work the knots from there when you watch TV together. It’s soft and it’s loving and a complete juxtaposition to the vice grip that Joel’s fingers currently have on your hips. 

Your lips are impossibly close to Tommy’s, you could easily lean forward and kiss him, instead, you have a demand, “Take off your pants.” 

Tommy’s hands start to undo the belt holding his jeans up, so you turn your attention back to Joel between your thighs. He is expertly holding you right on the edge, you’re mewling and whining as he tongue works you to the edge, and then pulls away, moving down to gather more of your slick on his tongue. 

You drop your head and catch his eyes looking up at you, “You gonna tease me all night, Miller?” You ask, voice cracking as he makes a point to suckle on your clit, making you cry out, “Fuck, make me come, please Joel.” 

All of a sudden, Tommy’s hand is on your face, pulling your mouth to his own in a searing kiss as he guides your hand to his cock. You’re moaning, a combination of the fact that any second, Joel’s mouth is going to have you screaming and the fact that it’s Tommy kissing you, his cock you’re currently pumping through your fist. It’s delicious and it’s filthy and it should feel all shades of wrong, but it fucking doesn’t. 

You feel it in your legs first, the way they begin to shake and pulse and your thighs clamp around Joel’s face. Then you feel it in your abdomen, like a knot unfurling all at once as pleasure bursts over every inch of your skin. Your mouth detaching from Tommy’s, so you can cry out his brother’s name as you feel yourself almost collapse onto him. 

“Such a good girl,” Tommy breathes into your ear, your hand still firmly held around his cock, “So good when you come for us like that.” 

You feel Joel’s hands tapping at the cheeks of your ass, telling you to lift yourself off his face which you do, dragging yourself down enough so that you’re sat across his chest, not caring that your leaking pussy is dragging slick all over him. His face is covered, covered in you. He’s grinning up at you like the devil, tongue circling his mouth to clean your taste from wherever he can reach. 

“I gotta be inside you, pretty girl.” You can hear his gruff voice speak. 

Tommy immediately moves back from you so you can settle yourself down on the bed. You start on your back, but Joel moves you to lie on your side. He’s still fully clothed behind you, but when he presses himself up against you, you can feel his thick cock straining in his jeans. 

“Take your clothes off.” Is all you can manage to whine as Tommy settles on his knees on the space in front of you, taking the back of your head in the palm of his hand to bring your mouth to his cock. 

Joel shuffles away from you and you feel the mattress lighten as he gets off the bed to shed his clothes. You almost wish you could watch, there’s something about the way Joel reveals his body to you that drives you wild. The way he drags his shirt off to reveal his broad frame, chest peppered with hair, or the way his cock bounces when he finally pulls off his underwear. But right now, you’re focused on making your man feel good. 

You’re making sure that you’re doing it exactly as Tommy likes, almost telling him through the ministrations of your mouth how grateful you are for him, for this being his idea, for loving you enough and trusting you enough to let someone else give you what he cannot. You’re giving all the attention of your tongue to the head of Tommy’s weeping cock, tasting the salt and musk of his pre-cum, using one had to pump the base of his cock. 

You can feel Joel settle back behind you, pressing his entire body against your own, hard cock slipping through the slick folds of your cunt as he settles himself in the right position, then, he’s taking hold of your leg, hand in the crux of your knee to pull it up, baring his prize. He slowly inches his cock inside your tight heat and suddenly it’s all a little overwhelming. 

You’re giving the love of your life the kind of head you’ve only ever seen in porn, Tommy taking most of the control to thrust in and out of your mouth. You’re pretty sure the tears falling from your eyes are a mixture of his length hitting the back of your throat and the overwhelming emotion, love, and admiration you feel for both the men who are crowding your body, owning it, taking what they both want, one of them hopefully leaving you with what you want. 

You pull your face away from Tommy’s cock for a moment, still giving his length the attention it needs, but you let yourself lean into Joel behind you, his cock still moving languidly inside you. He’s got one of his arms snaked under your neck, your head leant against his arm like a pillow, his other hand holding your leg up so that every time his cock brushes inside you, it’s hitting that damn spot that makes you want to cry. 

“Look at you, lucky girl,” Joel growls into your ear as his lifts your leg up higher, pushing it almost to lie flat aagainst your side, “One cock in that pretty little pussy, another in your mouth,” You let a moan, muffled by the fact that Tommy is currently doing a slap-up job of fucking your throat, “He’s a lucky man,” Joel speaks again, “Bet that mouth feels divine.” 

“You ask nicely, she might oblige you, brother.” 

You feel him puff air through his nose in a chuckle, “I’m quite happy right where I am,” He speaks, pumping his cock so deep inside you that you actually think you can see stars, “You’re a lucky son-of-a-bitch gettin’ this for the rest of your life.” 

“She’s special, I’ll give you that.” 

It’s like you have to prove him right now. You can feel the walls of your pussy clenching around Joel as he picks up his pace. You can feel his balls slapping into your skin with every thrust, the power behind them causing your mouth to take Tommy cock deeper into your mouth every time. 

“Sugar, I ain’t gonna last much longer.” You hear him speak from above you. 

You pull off him, again letting your hand work him as you look up at his through your lashes, “You want me to swallow for you, baby?” You asked, wondering what you must look like when he looks down at you, fucked out from his brother, begging for him to come down your throat. 

“There’s an offer I cannot refuse,” Tommy grins, letting your mouth take him back inside the warmth, “Such a good girl.” 

He only lasts a few more seconds, cum hitting your tongue and seeping down your throat. You swallow down every drop, grinning up at Tommy. He leans down and plants a kiss to your lips, and now your focus is on Joel, thick and solid, pumping his cock in and out of you. 

“You focus on Joel now, sugar,” He croons, “I’m gonna sit back and watch you have fun.” 

As soon as Tommy has moved away from you, Joel is pulling his cock from your pussy, turning you onto your back before he’s crowding his frame over you, settling between your thighs. You’re pliant and you move easily when he hooks your legs over his shoulders, folding you back as he slips his cock back inside you. 

You’re gripping his arms as he fucks into you in earnest now, tip of his cock bruising your cervix with every thrust, you know he’ll have half-moon shaped marks on his arms come the morning, they’ll match the bruises he always leaves on your hips, the shape of his fingertips indented into your skin. 

“God fuckin’ damnit,” Joel groan, head falling to the column of your throat to graze teeth and lips over your delicate skin, “Gonna come so deep in this fuckin’ pussy it won’t have a choice but to take, you hear me, pretty girl?” 

“Fuck!” You exclaim, as he shifts just enough to change the angle that his cock is spearing into you, “Joel please.” 

“Please what?” He teases, “What do you want, babygirl?” 

“Inside,” You breath out, “Want you inside.” 

“Yeah, want me to make you a mama?” You can feel tears pooling in your eyes, “No need to cry, pretty girl,” He leans down, folding you in half even more, almost uncomfortable, to kiss away the tears, “Gonna give you what you need.” 

He thankfully moves back a little, stopping your bones from screaming at you for being folded so inhumanely, then his thumb is on your clit, “Only gonna make you a mama if you come with me,” Joel smirks, “Deal?” 

“Oh god – fuck – whatever you want,” You cry, “Please, give me what I want.” 

His thumb is relentless on your already sensitive clit, those tight circles have you clenching around him and when you look into his eyes you know he’s just as close as you are, “That’s it baby, you keep those big, beautiful eyes on me,” Joel’s hips are snapping into your with a force you didn’t know you could feel, it’s entirely too much and entirely too little all at the same time, “Can feel that tight little pussy suckin’ me in,” You cry out as his thumb falters and drags across your clit in a way that has that not threatening to unfurl yet again, “It’s alright baby, if you come, I’ll follow, yeah?” 

That’s exactly what happens. His thumb traces wet circles over your clit and you do exactly as he says. You keep your eyes wide open, staring directly into his own, as your mouth falls open with a screech as your vision clouds. Whatever happens, Joel is right behind you, his cock pounds into at most, twice more, before he’s growling your name through his teeth, cum painting every inch of your pussy. He drops your legs from his shoulders, and falls forward, letting his head rest in the crook of your neck as you both fight to catch your breath.

You wrap your arms around him but it’s all too soon before he’s pulling himself out of you, a kiss to your cheek as he does so. You’re spent and you’re aching and if you’re honest, a little overwhelmed. Joel dresses quickly, and you wish you could ask him to stay, wish he didn’t feel the need to run away, but you know it’s for the best. Tommy tells you he’ll see him out and come to bed, so you roll over and pull yourself under the sheets, trying to warm yourself from the cool air that’s spattering across the sweat of your skin. 

Tommy is back within minutes having seen Joel off. He shed his clothes and moves right up behind you, gathering you into his arms. He takes some time to press kisses into your neck and across your shoulders and for some reason, it sets your belly on fire. How have you been fucked so thoroughly by another man, this man’s own brother, and now you’re aching for this man behind you. 

“I love you so much, Tommy,” You whisper into the dark, clutching at his arms wrapped around you, “So fucking much.” 

“I love you too baby,” He whispers into your ear, stilling your hips as they grind back into him, “Enough of that, I’ll give you what you want tomorrow.” 

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller Smut #Joel Miller Fic #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fanfiction #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #Tommy Miller #Tommy Miller smut #Tommy Miller fic #Tommy Miller fanfic #Tommy Miller fanfiction #Tommy Miller x you #Tommy Miller x reader #Tommy Miller x female reader #Tommy Miller x f!reader #The Last Of Us #The Last Of Us hbo #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou smut #tlou fic #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #trial & error #Joel Miller Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal

[myouicieloz]

Late night halloween interruptions

Yoo Jimin x Producer!reader

Synopsis: being one of Aespa’s main producers and songwriters meant having to work restlessly to deliver the best track of the year— even if it meant sacrificing a Halloween night out. however, focusing on work turns out to be rather difficult when a certain blonde idol keeps distracting you from your goals.

Warnings: smut, nsfw

Word count: 2.9k

Notes: you better wish I have a great fckn test thursday and friday. plus I didn’t proofread it and I WILL NOT. I still stuck at writing smut and I’m angry. also happy early halloween <3 blonderina lives forever in my mind and now in yours, too. ps: this was originally dom!reader but I changed my mind so it’s just a mess.

You were busy with the computer in front of you when you heard the click of the door, despite your heavy headphones. The soft, almost unnoticeable sound made you turn your chair to face the stranger who disturbed your work and dared to annoy you long after your work hours, late at night at the firm.

It wasn’t a total stranger, though. Staring back at you was Yoo Jimin, looking as angelic as always with her plump, rosy lips and porcelain skin. She had a sneaky smile on her face, tracing your desk with her featherlight fingers as she looked for any signs of dust.

“What do you want, Karina?” Your words came out harsh, unlike you intended to, but you still didn’t apologize. You could feel the tiredness wearing down your bones, the disturbance reminding you of the reason you were up so late in one of the company’s many music studios in the first place: so you wouldn’t be bothered at all.

Yet, she found you. You didn’t expect any less, with Karina hunting you down ever since she first laid her eyes on you, the day you were announced as one of the songwriters and record producers for the group’s latest comeback. Being only four years older, your lack of age made it easy to bond with all the girls: it gave them confidence to join in the making of their songs, too, getting deeply involved in the whole process of their comeback. The four band members trusted you and loved having you around, confiding their feelings and running to you whenever they felt bad or insecure. They all looked up to you— you knew it as much, and because of that, you were always pushing yourself to be the best, hardworking version of yourself you could.

Which was why you were always making sure to listen to their wishes and give them feedbacks on their ideas, so they’d grow as idols and song producers. You might not be as old in age as most of the producers in the industry, but you’ve already had your handful of successful collabs with well-known artists who did nothing but essentially praise you: you were skilled, and knew what you were doing, so it was only natural you exchanged some of your experiences with the girls.

Nonetheless, said closeness allowed the blonde girl to often stare at you like you were the only possible prey for a wolf who’s never eaten in its entire existence. Provocative dances, gifting your coffee orders each morning, stupid questions that kept you busy with her for hours, when you should be working… She certainly made your life difficult, toying with you while you tried as hard as you could not to indulge the idol. It was forbidden for employees to hook up with the company’s celebrities, after all, and you couldn’t risk losing your job.

“Good night to you, too, Y/n.” She greeted you, eyes darting around the place attentively. To make sure you were alone, most certainly. Jimin’s eyes lit up when her assumptions turned out right, happy to see you weren’t hiding some low-class hookup in the room. No, she’d have none of that. “I was just looking for you. You’re missing from the party.”

SM’s traditional Halloween party, currently happening many levels down the recording and mixing room, was one of the many fancy ballrooms hosted by the company at any given chance with intents to show off its supremacy and, of course, hegemony in the musical field. Your friends and coworkers tried getting you to attend multiple times, but you had shrugged them off. You liked hanging out with them, naturally, but not enough to put on a stupid costume and make small talk with preposterous, shallow people for hours straight. So you denied all the invites, knowing your presence wouldn’t be missed at all: they knew how to party by themselves, beyond everything.

As Karina reminded you of the current event, you took some time to take a proper look at her. Wearing a corset that enunciated her curves and the traditional red cape, along with heavy, black makeup contrasting perfectly with her long, blonde hair, Karina was impeccably dressed as Red Riding Hood. She’d even brought the damn basket with her, currently left hanging in the corner of the room.

She’d grown accustomed to the idol life, you noticed as the blonde stared at you with delight and confidence, certainly not innocent nor shy anymore as when she met you, nearly two years ago.

The old Karina would never wear such a thing. It made her stand out too much, and she loathed it, to have all of the attention and the stares focused solely on her. You still remember that same girl at last year’s Halloween party: dressed as a witch, wearing one of Minjeong’s old costumes, observing the older subaenims and idols with curious, scared doe eyes. Innocent, even.

And the young woman who looked at you like she was ready to devour you whole was anything but.

Karina didn’t mind your lack of manners, though. Leaning on your mixing table as if she owned it, she tried again, “Aren’t you coming to the party? Really? Come on, it’s Halloween! Don’t be so boring and live life for once, for God’s sake.”

You scoffed, coughing hard enough that you had to take a sip of your water to cool yourself, “The party’s for idols and shareholders.”

“And employees too, silly head.” She answered just as quickly, with a broad smile, dismissing all the dryness in your tone. This time, the look in her eyes reminded you of the Karina she truly was: tender, cautious, almost delicate. “I have a spare outfit, in case you want to keep the theme. You’d be the wolf, then.”

You turned your computer off, narrowing your eyes at her. Her intentions weren’t subtle: it was just as clear as clear water for anyone to see, but you couldn’t help it. You just had to have her begging.

For months, you’ve imagined what those pretty lips would look like all messed up with your juices, bruised from your bites and kisses. The thought of it being forbidden only fuels you with the need to ruin her even more. It makes you itch with how much you want to carve your name onto her skin, leaving her as nothing but a whimpering mess until no one— not even herself, could please her anymore. Only you would be capable of bringing her over the edge, from then. Your most feverish wish was to ruin her for anyone else.

You wouldn’t do it, though. It was forbidden, as said before, and you could lose your job for that. So, naturally, you wouldn’t.

She was fucking testing you, though.

“What do you want, Karina?” You repeated yourself, tone incisive, and yet she didn’t let go.

She was having fun with her girls before searching for you. It was her first year attending the party as an official idol, just as she’d always dreamed of. Nothing would piss her off, and she would get what she wanted.

And currently, what she wanted was to have the pretty producer everyone was whispering about around the hallways all to herself.

“It’s Jimin to you, Y/n.” She mumbled, brushing her legs over your arms. Her touch was gentle and patient, making you close your hands into fists to avoid pulling her by the ankles and taking her right in the mixing table. “And I just wanted to check if you wanted to have fun.”

“And it is unnie for you, dearest.” You reminded her, making the girl roll her eyes. She always made sure to forget to use honorifics when alone with you. “I am your producer, darling.” You added, pushing your chair a bit further and managing to keep some distance between the two of you. “So drop whatever plans you have and find someone else to toy with. I’m not falling for it, baby.”

No matter how desperately you wanted to bend her over the table and fuck her senseless.

Your words made her irritated, with Karina’s angelic face furrowing into an angry pout, as it often did when people didn’t immediately indulge her wishes.

A Spoiled princess, indeed.

“Come on, drop that superior shit.” She rolled her eyes, laying on her elbows without a care about the number of electronics placed over the mixing table. The angle favored her costume, and her perfect breasts, just as intended. You gulped, trying hard not to stare, knowing you’d be doomed if you did.

It was nearly impossible, though. To not drop to your knees and immediately indulge to all her wishes. Karina had always had this sweet, dangerous nature: with light kisses and faked innocency, she toyed with people as she wanted, making them give her it all, which they’d always gladly do. How could they not? When she was so polite and attentive, making sure to pay attention to whatever shit they were saying as if it were the most interesting matter in the world.

You know her better than that, though. Better than to participate in her game, no matter how fucking hot she looked.

You’ve always been told it was hard to know what went through your mind, since your face was always blank and serious, almost disinterested. Taking advantage of that, you smiled back at the defiant girl in front of you, placing your arms in each of her sides, but careful not to touch her.

The anticipation drove her crazy, you knew that much as you felt her shiver under you.

Karina hated how, at the moment, she was the one who felt like the prey. Although it thrilled her to feel like she was not fully in control of the situation, it also irritated her for a bit. However, she knew she’d get what she wanted in the end, of course, so she didn’t mind playing with her food for a bit.

“What do you want, darling?” You repeated yourself, using the same indulgent tone you do when talking to her and the girls about their new songs.

Patient, sweet, and attentive, just like you were during work hours and outside of them.

“I wanted to know if you were going to have some fun, finally. But I see the years have made you as boring as the others. Come on, unnie! Don’t I look pretty?” She managed to recompose herself, returning your smile with a venomous one.

“I won’t pamper you. If that’s what you want, go to your little followers. They’d be more than happy to tell you lies.” Your face was so close to hers, yet your words stated the opposite of how you felt.

Truthfully, your cunt ached, and your heart was beating so fast you were afraid Karina might hear.

That little prey-game aroused you just as much as it did to her. It was a euphoric feeling, one that blew out your pupils and made the blood run through your veins, giving you that good kind of rush. Only Karina could make you feel such emotions without even touching you.

She was fucking gorgeous, and you wanted every single inch of her for yourself.

“So I’m not beautiful tonight?” She batted her lashes, arms resting on her sides like a crystal princess. “I’ve tried my best to look pretty. I’ve always wanted to be Red for Halloween, after all.”

“Do you like to be a prey, Jimin?” You opened a teasing smile, no longer sustaining your uninterested persona. Your fingers teased her collarbone, making the girl drop her head back to appreciate the touch.

You were doomed. Likewise, you knew that the moment she entered the room.

“To be desired.” She corrected, hands comfortably on your arms like she’s been doing this forever. “Chased, even. It’s fun.” She faced you, suddenly serious. “Will we have fun, Y/n-nie?” Those innocent fucking doe eyes of hers, staring expectantly at you.

You sigh, pulling her onto your lap as you inhaled her sickening perfume. Dangerous and sweet, lingering on her skin. You’d soon make it disappear, leaving her whole body drenched in sweat.

Just as she planned for you to.

Grabbing her beautiful corset, you took your time untying the lace before finally looking at her delicate frame.

God, you were going to ruin her little body entirely, until she was writhing and yelling for you to stop. “One time, and one time only. Got it?” She nodded, seaming pleased enough with your answer.

She’d carve her way onto your brain nice and slow, no worries. So, for now, a one-night stand would suffice.

“Just this once.” She hid her face in the crook of your neck, giggling with delight to have her wishes granted.

You finally gave in to your carnal wishes and kissed her, hard and urgently. You’d let her win, just once.

Because it’s Halloween, and she is indeed the most beautiful fucking woman you’ve ever seen.

-

“H-harder, Y/n. Fuck!” Karina moaned loudly, nails scratching your back to the point where thick red lines adorned your whole back. “Deeper, now.”

Like a queen, she demanded, making you roll your eyes. Her face was all fucked out, her hair unraveled and sweaty from the pounding, and she was absolutely sure her hips, ass and thighs would be all bruised from the way you were gripping them, carving the strap onto her as you made Karina your own personal fucktoy.

“You’re sure too demanding for someone someone who was begging to be filled minutes ago.” You taunted, carving yourself into the girl even deeper. Her hands were interlocked on your neck and her legs did the same to your waist, trying to steady herself at the intensity. “You know how much of a whore you are, right? Going up all those floors by yourself with that fucking strap in your basket just so I could have free use of all your holes.”

“Shut up.” She squeezed her eyes, gasping for air as your hands blocked her pulse point, down her neck. “God, you’re so full of yourself.”

You laughed at her brattiness: she’d never give up, truly. Removing your hands from her skin, you opened her thighs so the strap could reach deeper onto her sweet spot— which it clearly did, as Karina announced so herself. Her wetness was nearly drenching the whole table, making the sound of your thrusts even louder as you placed your fingers on her clit, not yet moving but applying just the right amount of pressure.

“Keep acting up and you won’t get to cum.” You told her, your free hand going up to pinch one of her voluptuous breasts. They were so bouncy and pretty, you just wanted to suck and mark them until there was not a visible inch of her milky skin that wasn’t covered in bruises.

Karina opened her dark eyes, being surprisingly gentle as her teeth scratched your lips. She sucked on your lower lip and, before you had any time to acknowledge, she bit it hard. You drew back, surprised, making her laugh.

“Oh, Y/n-nie,” She licked the blood from your lips, smiling at your reaction. With an unfazed gaze, the girl guided your wrist on her clit, urging you to play with it faster and even harder. She gave your cheek a little kiss, too, adding, “You’re damn cute when you think you’re the one in control.”

You hummed, deciding to focus on Karina’s pleasure instead of indulging the silly provocations she so adored to lead on. With that, you did as told, paying extra attention to her little hole as you returned to your pace, circling and toying with the blonde’s swollen sex until her body began to tremble and she collapsed under you, reaching her orgasm unannounced. You fucked her through it, allowing the dancer to gather her breath and enjoy the final hum of sensations.

Even completely flustered, Karina still looked gorgeous: her body all marked and bruised, a piece of art— your art, and her cunt wet and swollen, still all opened and ready for you.

“You look too pretty like this.” You breathed, verbalizing your thoughts before thinking straight, to which she let out a smile, extending her hand so you’d help her hop off the table.

“I know.” The girl playfully winked at you as her arms found your waist, embracing you in an spontaneous hug.

Of course, you should’ve guessed nothing Karina does is ever not carefully planned. In a second, you find yourself sitting on your chair and she was all over you, now taking her turn into marking her territory. Her mouth sucked and nibbled your clavicle until a line of hickeys are proudly shown, along with her scratches. You don’t mind, though. In fact, you love to have her using you as she wishes, her possessiveness heating up your core at each dirty thing she told you.

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself, too, you know.” Although her tone is light, the murmur that follows is dense and drenched in possessiveness, “We’ll have to fix that, soon. No one can stare at my pretty toy like they currently do.”

“You wish, Karina.”

“I do, my love.” She licked her lips, groping your body like a woman starved. “Now lay down for me, will you? I’m quite hungry, and I need a taste of you.”

You scoffed at her words and the excessive sweetness in her tone, but as always, did as told.

Just for tonight, you reminded yourself. You’d relent to her wishes just for tonight. And only because it was Halloween, and you were working hard. You deserved a treat.

#aespa x you #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #aespa smut #aespa scenarios #aespa karina #yoo jimin #karina x reader #karina smut #yu jimin #karina aespa #karina aespa smut #yoo jimin smut #yu jimin smut #yoo jimin x reader #yu jimin x reader #sol writes #sol’s works

[chaoticbardlady99]

I Don't Wanna Be Your Friend (Astarion x GN! Reader)

  This man has a chokehold on me and I have been plagued by this idea for about a week.

Title inspired by the song "i wanna be your girlfriend" by girl in red

CW: Mentions of violence and gore (not descriptive), bit of angst, comfort

(Not my photo. I believe it belongs to Daily Gaming)

Synopsis- You and Astarion are in the middle of a war to prove who can set the best traps. However, a lack of rules seems to have gotten you into a predicament neither one of you had anticipated.

Sometimes you take it a smidge too far. 

 You would love to tell people you are some cunning, daring rogue, but the reality is that you are consistently flying by the seat of your pants. Occasionally it works really well- this was not one of those times.

    You never felt the need to prove anything to anyone.

Well, until you met Astarion. Within the first three days of traveling with him, your confidence and patience began to wear thin. He would make snide comments when watching you attempt to unlock a chest or when you scare off your prey by tripping over a bush. Then he would smirk at you- with that stupid, beautiful smirk.

He enjoys adding salt to the wound by taking on the task you failed at; usually lock picking, sneak attacks, and Gods only knows what else he could make fun of you for. You are very aware that you are not some fancy rogue and it never bothered you until now. You had accepted long ago that you are just a street urchin moving up in the world after teaching yourself the trade.

  The final straw had been when you had placed traps to catch dinner. Your traps had been successful (naturally- traps were your thing) and you brought back three bunnies for Gale’s stew.

Oh, but of course Astarion had something to say. He always has something to say.

  “Oh look at that- how cute. I’m sure sheerluck was on your side,” he quips, “You’ll get better eventually.”

 Thus began the war of all wars.

It started with small traps- nuisances really. Tripwire, a laughing or sleep rune well hidden, and traps that release horrible smells. Then it quickly took a turn for the worst; what were once harmless pranks turned into trip wires that release a swarm of bees, simple pits began to get deeper, and blasting traps that would send either one of you flying into a nearby object. It was never truly life threatening, just questionable.

  Well, except for the bees. The bees were not the greatest thought in hindsight; considering both you and Astarion had to help each other with the bee stings- Shadowheart refusing to be involved. You both laughed and he even complimented you on your cleverness. You swore you could have exploded in that moment.

   You have a massive, childish crush on the man and maybe the competition was your subconscious way of getting closer to him. However, your other companions were getting sick of it pretty quickly. 

  They had all hoped after the Tiefling party that the two of you would put your silly competition to rest so that you could all travel together in peace and they would just have to deal with PDA.

What a silly thing for them to think. PDA hasn't happened, but the pranks did become less risky and less frequent.  You were okay with this change.

   You feel like you and Astarion have become close friends. Even though your tryst didn’t lead to a romantic relationship as you had hoped, you were happy to have Astarion in your life in any capacity. If that was just as a friend- then so be it. 

  Which brings us back to the beginning- when you realize that your ‘trap war’ had paper thin rules and the lack of rules just might be the thing that actually kills you on this journey.

  All you wanted to do was clean yourself off. It had been one last relaxing day before you set off to the Creche, but you had thought you might treat yourself. Baths were rare and far between these days and you want to enjoy it while you have it. However, you were not planning for a simple snare trap to foil your entire evening. 

  You get hoisted up into the air, slammed against the tree, and drop all of your belongings- including the knife you brought ‘just incase’. You glared at the knife and put your hand to your blood fountain of a nose.

 “Traitor,” you whisper with a pout as you look for a way to escape the trap.

  Suddenly, you freeze as instincts kick in. You hear the Gnolls before you see them. Your bloody nose from the impact of the tree had led them to you. They attempt to claw at you- trying to rip you down from the tree. You feel their claws tear into your back, the side of your arms, and one of them even manages to take a swipe at your abdomen as you scramble to escape. The cuts weren't life threatening, but they hurt. A LOT.

  You manage to use the rope to pull yourself up onto one of the tree limbs; allowing you to hide some of your body from the Gnolls, but you now have an arrow protruding out of your right thigh so obviously that isn’t working well either.

  You bite back tears, frozen in fear. You really did not want to die this way and you certainly didn’t want it to be because of Astarion’s trap. You have a feeling he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you died because of him. 

  You can imagine the blame and anger the rest of your companions would direct at him if the worst happened. You imagine the bloodshed- knowing full well that everyone (minus Karlach) would not forgive him for accidentally killing you. Lae’zel would be the first one to put a stake in his chest- her fondness for you is no secret. 

   Your heart thumps painfully at that thought and your resolve hardens. You will not die because you will not let that happen to Astarion. 

 You look around, your arms and legs shaking still with the residual shock and fear. You look for any sharp branches, a forgotten knife lodged somewhere, or even something you could cast a cantrip on to distract them. You have no such luck. 

 You resign yourself to your fate- the tears making a reappearance. 

 Unless one of your companions finds you first- you are going to either have to wait for the Gnolls to get bored and leave or they are going to kill you.

You pray to every God you can think of that you will survive the night.

_________________________________________________

 Astarion is trying to not look so desperate as he reads the first page for the hundredth time. 

  You had walked off a little over two hours ago- Lae’zel is on watch while the rest of your companions sleep soundly in their bed rolls. 

 The longer your bedroll remains empty, the more the pit grows in his stomach.

He didn’t know how to navigate your relationship after the tiefling party.

His feelings for you are confusing. The sex had felt different, he enjoys your company immensely, and he likes how warm he feels around you.

Instead of talking to you like a normal person or taking a moment to reflect, he decided to find some common ground- something you could laugh and talk about later. Normalcy.

He set up a snare trap close to the river you were all using to clean off and then a laughter rune trap somewhere on the path to the Creche. Hypothetically, they are very safe traps.

Unless he rigged them wrong? What if you ran into one of them and….

  No, I am sure they are just fine.

 He doesn’t even believe his own lie.

After about another five minutes, the anxiety rolling in his stomach becomes unbearable so he grabs his daggers and sets off in the direction you had gone two hours earlier.

  He walks quickly through the forest, checking his surroundings and looking for evidence that you were close by. As the minutes pass, he feels the hope of finding you safe shrink.

The wind hits his nose and he becomes stock-still.

He smells your blood- an alarming amount of it-in the air as he gets closer to the river. He fears the worst as he goes to look at the trap- hoping you will forgive him- that you are alive. Safe.

 He peers through the bushes and his eyes grow wide as the scene before him unfolds. 

  You are stuck up in the tree- his trap is still around your ankle. You are holding onto the branch like your life depends on it. It probably does since there are five Gnolls circling the tree like vultures.

  He can hear your soft broken sobs as arrows fly over you or hit the tree. He notices the arrow in your leg and watches as a second one lodges itself into your calf. You wince and close your eyes tightly- unknown to you that Astarion’s vision is clouded in red and his whole body fills with destructive, hot rage. He also feels fear, but he pushes it away, not ready to explore the why. 

  He lunges forward, slashing at the Gnolls with so much force that they are practically in half by the time they hit the forest floor. He is a man possessed as he carves his way through all five gnolls and then he climbs up the tree to you. 

His chest aches as he looks at you. He will never be able to forgive himself for causing you so much suffering.

  “Darling,” he says softly.

    You whimper in response and when you look at him- he feels all the air leave his lunges. If he needed air, he would have passed out right then. Your eyes were glassy with traces of fear, sadness, and loneliness- all emotions he is all too familiar with. Then you see it’s him and the biggest smile crosses your lips and you look at him with so much affection he almost feels ill. This was not the plan and he almost made you a midnight snack for a group of Gnolls.

  “You found me,” you say in a raspy, raw voice, “I thought I was going to be stuck here all night until Karlach or Gale found me. Or I was going to die.”

 You chuckle, but Astarion can’t get himself to share your same enthusiasm about his rescue mission as he cuts the rope. 

  He helps you down the tree and safely back on the ground. Astarion winces as you pull the arrows out of your leg. You find a healing potion amongst your things and chug it.

He collects your stuff for you. You give him another one of those brilliant smiles and Astarion tries to smile just as brightly back. You furrow your brows, but he turns away before you can keep analyzing him. 

  “We should head back,” Astarion mumbles.

______________________________________________

  The silence hangs in the air as Astarion walks with you back to camp. After about 15 minutes, you are back at camp and the tension in the air is suffocating.

 “Astarion.”

  Astarion freezes, turns on his heels, and looks everywhere but your eyes. He couldn’t bare to see you smile at him again- look at him like that again- not after he almost killed you.

  You maneuver yourself so you are looking in his eyes.

 “It’s not your fault,” he begins to protest when you shush him, “we didn’t set any rules and the trap itself was harmless. We didn't account for Gnolls when we started this whole thing.”

  “I almost got you killed.”

 “But you didn’t. It easily could have been you in that situation and me saving you.”

  “Will you please stop being so Gods damn forgiving,” he huffs with exasperation as he feels tears prick his eyes, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I put your life in danger. I almost-”

 Lost you. He chokes on the words. The fear from earlier begins to come back to the front of his mind. Watching you cling to that tree, crying, and in pain had made him realize that you just might be more important to him than he cares to admit. However, that’s a conversation for another time- once he sorts out what that feeling in his chest is whenever he looks at you.

  You look at him sharply, your eyes raw with sadness, “Stop that right now. I am okay. I lived. It was a mistake and I know your intentions were not bad. You don’t have anything to worry about Star.” 

He doesn’t say anything and you hang your head.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I- I should go-“ Astarion pauses as you interrupt him.

“Please don’t leave,” you whisper, “I rather enjoy your company.”

  You look at him with tears welling in your eyes. He stares at you in stunned silence, searching your face for any sign of deception, but he doesn't find it. His body moves before his brain can process what he is doing. 

 Astarion gently cradles your face in his hands and kisses you slowly, softly. He smiles despite himself when a gasp leaves your lips. You're alive and safe. When the warmth in his chest begins to spread throughout the rest of his body, he pulls away and steps back. Your face is flushed, a beautiful blush spreading across your cheeks. You look at him with wide, unblinking eyes before you shyly smile. Astarion could have melted in that moment. He finds himself smiling too.

 “Well I’m assuming that means you are going to stay?” 

  “I suppose I’ll stay,” he says while tapping his chin, “you do need someone to make sure you aren’t getting into trouble like that again.”

 You feign hurt and scoff, “Are you suggesting that this was my fault?”

 “Maybe if you were better with traps that wouldn’t have happened,” Astarion teases.

  You narrow your eyes at Astarion and you try to hold back a smile. You roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him.

You start towards camp before you pause and turn around. Astarion gives you a confused look.

You run over to him and place a kiss on his cheek. He tenses for a moment before relaxing again. You look at him sweetly, a soft smile on your lips.

 “Good night Astarion.”

  As you saunter towards your respective tents, Astarion takes one last glance at your tent- at you- before he lays down with his book. Except he still can’t get past the first page- he is too anxious for the sun to come up so that he can see your smile again.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion x you #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 #astarion x gn!tav #bg3 companions

[rileyslibrary]

How about this: After some especially rough missions, Ghost is on edge, his mental health hanging by a thread. Of course he doesn't admit it and powers through training and everything, but everyone knows he needs help, something to balance him out again.

Even the doctors are on their wits ends with him at this point, so they try a new approach and assign him to some animal assisted therapy. OF COURSE he hates the idea - waste of time and he is fine anyway...

So reader and their animal are invited to base to try and help him. (Or reader is the team mate, and the therapist an additional character - how ever, you know best.) I'll leave to you which animal it will be. ;-)

Ghost & Peppa (the dog)

Anon, hold my purse while I fill this with warnings:

Brief mentions of war

Mentions of physical & emotional trauma

This story is purely fictional and should not be considered an accurate representation of the practices and/or effects of Animal-Assisted Therapy

I did NOT cry while writing this. I’m fine.

——————————————————————

He’s fine. Of course, he is.

Nothing wrong with collecting mutilated bodies after a bomb explosion—It’s part of the job.

What about him getting shot? Ah well, it got him on his shoulder—that doesn’t count. It wasn’t life-threatening, according to him. He was fine.

He had to talk to someone. You all tried to pass the idea to him. Everyone except Gaz, who didn’t want to get involved since he, too, was going through some shit.

Soap told him straight away. “Mate, you need to talk to somebody”.

“I got nothing to say”, was his response.

Price was more subtle. Such a tactful guy, your captain. He tried to bring the subject up by sharing his own therapy experiences.

“Opening up and feeling vulnerable was difficult,” he said, “but I pushed through.”

But all he received was a shrug and a stern “glad it worked out for you. I’m fine.”

And you? You tried to cheer him up, calm him down, make him talk.

Nothing.

For the past two months, he has been training daily, hitting that punchbag and bench pressing like a maniac. He was pushing his physical limits, attempting to lift barbells equal to his weight, and you were looking at a person struggling to lift the weight of his conscience.

But he was fine.

Until Gaz came one day and pitched an idea to the captain: “Animal-assisted therapy” they called it. The doctors assigned it to him, and it helped. So, why not give it a try with Ghost?

The lieutenant hated the idea. Hated it. Why? Because “it was pointless and stupid” to him.

Plus, he was fine.

But Price placed his thumbs under his shoulder straps and told him it was an order. And nobody messed with the captain when he put his thumbs under his shoulder straps.

The therapist arrived the following week with Peppa, the dog.

“Peppa, like the pig?”

That was Ghost’s first question. And upon the therapist’s first nod, the follow-up question came.

“Why the fuck would you name the dog Peppa?”

The therapist explained that Peppa’s first patient was a little girl who struggled with anxiety. She named her Peppa after the cartoon character, and the name stuck.

Days turned into weeks, and although he initially protested against the therapy sessions, he was now willingly participating in them. Almost looking forward to them.

“Can’t come to training today; got a meeting with Peppa.” He would say.

Such compliance? From Ghost? How?

You all reached a conclusion because you needed an explanation that could make sense—Ghost wasn’t engaging with the therapist as much; he was opening up to the dog.

Peppa became his silent confidante.

He was playing with her and scolding her for eating too fast. Sometimes, he would ask her “why she was so sad” or “so devious” and why she was always drooling. In response, Peppa would just whine, wiggle her tail, or tilt her head, and Ghost would interpret her reactions as he pleased.

Although you could all see the improvement in his demeanour, you still worried about his well-being.

But whenever you asked him how he was, his response remained the same.

He was fine.

You tried to shift the focus and ask how the therapy was going instead. Yet, Ghost would still cling to his standard response.

Fine.

And then, the therapist advised to do something else instead.

“Ask him how Peppa is doing.”

And that simple question, about the dog’s well-being, unveiled the hidden side of his emotions. He would open up, and recount how Peppa was feeling a bit down one day, seemed too scared another day, or ate very little. He projected his own feelings and experiences onto the dog. He used her as a vessel to express his inner turmoil, revealing his struggles in a way that felt more comfortable and less vulnerable to him.

After all, it was the dog’s struggles, not his own.

He was fine.

“Do you think Peppa gets a payslip every month?” you joked one day as you looked at Peppa lying next to Ghost. “For having a job and all?”

“Peppa was a stray, you know; she always fought to survive.” he replied, kissing her head, “poor thing.”

“Poor thing,” you repeated, this time looking at him.

He knew he wasn’t fine. You all knew.

But Peppa didn’t pressure him to do or say anything.

She wouldn’t urge him to “talk to somebody” or “try meditation.”

She would insinuate, in her own way, that she was there for him.

Looking at him with her tongue out and a wide smile across her face.

Whining and demanding more pets.

Giving him the ball so they can play fetch.

Reminding him that caring for himself was just as important as those gentle scratches behind her ear.

“We’re in this together, human—you will be fine.”

——————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #ghost cod mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost call of duty

[boxofbonesfic]

omg i would love a dark!Peter or a Ransom prompt 👀 it can just be an idea, or a specific scene or scenario, whatever strikes your fancy 💖

Ok! Ransom x plus size reader: college au, fwb. Ransom doesn't want to be seen with her cause she's fat and she's cool with it cause she's literally just here for the d while she gets her degree right? Ransom's an ass but that dick is bomb and no feelings are involved so perfect. But then Ransom gets addicted to the p and wants her all to himself, still on the dl tho. His changing feelings don't come out till she meets someone and breaks it off with Ransom. Reader doesn't think anything of it but Ransom COMPLETELY loses his mind and starts stalking her, blowing up her phone, etc. Not caring if everyone knows now. Reader is CONFUSED and MIFFED!

Title: Breaking

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 5,374

Summary: Ransom wasn’t eager to stake any sort of claim on you—until someone else does it first.

Warnings: College AU, Stalking, Kidnapping, Darkfic, Plus Size Reader, Manipulation, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, MINORS DNI!

A/N: thank you so much for this lovely prompt! i really hope you enjoy this little ficlet. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics

Ransom had found it kind of funny at first, when you’d stopped responding to his rather crassly worded “U up?” texts. It wasn’t until the third text in half as many weeks had gone completely unanswered that he’d tried calling instead—and found you had blocked him completely. 

What?

That wasn’t like you. Not like Ransom had taken time to really know you, but ghosting just didn’t seem like it belonged in your playbook.

“The number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time. Please contact your service provider if you believe you have reached this message in error.”

It had taken a little finesse, Ransom laying the charm rather thickly on your friend in his business management class, the one whose name he could never remember. 

“She has a boyfriend,” she’d said, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger with a nervous giggle. “But I’m, um, single.��

Which brings him to now.

You weren’t the sort of girl he usually took out on dates, and, looking back on it, you’d picked it up rather quickly. Your requests to meet at parties or the bars his frat brothers regularly visited were answered with vague no’s. Or, more often than not, ignored outright until you stopped sending them. It wasn’t your fault—he had a reputation to think about. Though tonight, ironically, his reputation is the furthest thing from his mind. 

What is on his mind, is you. 

Ransom’s lip curls as he watches Isaac drape an arm across your shoulders, squeeing affectionately. He doesn’t know him well—they haven’t spoken much beyond the idle chit-chat around the keg. It turns his stomach, the thought that he’d finally realized just how much you meant to him, only to have this—this boy-scout steal you from right under his nose. Out from his fucking bed. 

Ransom isn’t used to coming in second place. It’s never happened before, losing something he actually wants. Isaac seems happy to be next to you, not embarrassed or hiding behind baseball caps and wide sunglasses. Not like Ransom. He’s angry—at you, a little, but mostly at himself. It’s not hard to recall how you felt underneath him, all soft skin, soft curves, and fuck. He hates himself for not savoring that last time more, for not knowing it was going to be the last time. 

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Ransom Drysdale didn’t get dumped—he was the one who did the dumping. And, he, thinks with no small amount of derision as he watches you from across the bar, I didn’t get dumped. We were never together. You can’t break up if you’re not together. The thought rings hollow even in his own head as he nurses his fifth beer of the night. It feels stupid-no, superficial, now; the way he’d only drop by your dorm-room after midnight, showing up without calling or texting and knowing full well that you would let him in. 

But not anymore. 

You’re too far away for him to hear it, but when you laugh, you tilt your head back, attempting to cover your wide grin with one hand. Pretty, he thins to himself, taking another long swallow from the bottle. Fuck how had he not noticed how pretty you are when you laugh, before? Had he just never seen it? Now that it occurs to him, Ransom’s hard pressed to find a memory that isn’t just sweaty skin, and hungry words growled into the curls at the nape of your neck.  

Fuck.  

Those were his favorite nights, the ones he spent digging his fingers into the softness of your hips while he sank in to the hilt—Ransom shudders. Even through the condoms you insisted he wear, the memory of your slick, tight heat is enough to send a hot, jealous pulse through his veins. 

“We’re not together,” you’d said, crossing your arms stoutly as you stared up at him. “Condom or nothing.”

Probably doesn’t make Isaac wear a fucking condom. He takes another bitter swallow. He doesn’t know what’s worse, the thought of you fucking that Leave it To Beaver reject, or you fucking him raw. Both make him see red. 

“Right, Ransom?” Someone claps him on the shoulder, and Ransom nods wordlessly. He isn’t paying attention, not to them, not with you here. You lean over to say something to your friend, the same mousy one who’d volunteered herself in your place. Ransom scoffs into his beer. 

“Three fucking weeks.” He mumbles, draining the bottle before placing it down almost too hard on the bar-top. “How’s it get serious in three fucking weeks?” He waves at the bartender, signaling for another. 

“Ran, we’re heading out.” Theo jerks his head towards the door. “There’s a party at Jude’s place. Hella girls.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Drunk ones.” 

Ransom shrugs bad-naturedly, grimacing. “I’m going to stay here,” he says evasively, casting another sour look at you as his lip curls. “I don’t feel like pulling your head out of the toilet tonight.” 

“Whatever, man.” Theo rolls his eyes, squaring his shoulders. He follows Ransom’s eye across the bar, and smirks. “Just because you’re not getting your dick wet with your porky little sidepiece anymore doesn’t mean the rest of us have to stay here and mope with you all weekend.” 

Maybe it’s the alcohol warming his gut, but Ransom’s up before he’s really got a chance to think about it, his hands on Theo’s shoulders as he shoves him backwards, hard. The other man stumbles backward, and Ransom squares his shoulders. 

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”

“What, now you care, all of a sudden?” Theo scoffs. “Dude you wouldn’t even let her come in through the front door—” 

Ransom doesn’t know when exactly he grabbed a handful of Theo’s thin hair, holding his head still while he drives a frenzied fist into his former friend’s face as everyone watches. He comes to as he rears his fist back again, the sound of his name distant in his ears, like it was spoken through glass. 

“Ransom!” Your confused face in the crowd is all he can see—which is why Theo’s sucker punch catches him off guard. It makes his ears ring as stars explode in his right eye. The world tilts as Ransom stumbles, and the television static in his ears is replaced by yelling. The warm wet trickle from his nose is blood, staining the tips of his fingers red as he holds his face. Theo’s not doing much better, blood pouring from his nose, and an ugly, swollen bruise coming to bear on the right side of his face. 

“Fuck you,” Theo mumbles, drawing the back of his sleeve across his bloody lip. “Fucking asshole.” He storms out, a few of their frat brothers trailing behind him as he goes. 

“Are you fucking serious?” The bartender throws down the towel in his hands, before smacking them against the bar-top. “I’ve fucking told you guys about bringing that bullshit in here—”

“I was just leaving,” Ransom snaps, shoving his hands into his pockets. He hates that he can feel your eyes on him too; watchful, judging. Theo’s gone by the time Ransom makes his way outside. It’s almost winter break, and the icy night air feels good against the hot, painful throbbing in his cheek. 

“Ransom.” He turns, scowling at you over his shoulder. “What the fuck was that?” He shrugs miserably. 

“Nothing.” 

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

“What do you fucking care?” The venom on his tongue flows easily, likely aided by the liquid courage currently sloshing around in his gut. “You blocked me. You have a boyfriend.” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting from this confrontation, but your distinct lack of a reaction feels like more of a slap in the face than anything else. You blink at him, one eyebrow quirked as if in question. 

“Yeah, I did.” Why does it hurt? Ransom’s rejected hundreds of girls—some as he was fucking pulling out of them, so why does this feel like a fucking knife in his back? “I figured you wouldn’t care much, Ransom, considering.” He hates this, hates how he’s the angry one and you’re calm—the roles should be reversed. They would be, if not for that niggling, irritating feeling that you should be his, just his. He doesn’t want to admit that you’re right, that you’ve got him pegged dead to fucking rights.

“How would you know?”

“You don’t sneak girls you like in through the basement entrance.” You retort smoothly. You’ve had a lifetime of this, of learning to live in your body, of learning to weather other people’s reactions to it—it’s Ransom that’s unfamiliar with rejection, unsure of how to handle the fact that the “r-train” isn’t enough to keep you coming back for more despite his treatment. 

“But I do. I do like you.” He says, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t do this. It doesn’t have to be a thing. We can just, we can go back to how it was before.” This time, you do react, your face screwing up as you regard him first with disbelief and then anger. 

“Why would I give up being in a relationship with someone who actually likes me, who is willing to be seen with me in public places and with his friends— you know what? I don’t need this.” You mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose. “This is what I fucking get for trying to make sure you’re okay. Silly me. I thought we were mature, here.” You gesture between the two of you before another dry laugh bubbles out from between your lips. 

“Have a good night, Ransom.”

No, no, don’t leave! The desperate thought makes his throat tight. You can’t leave me. He stumbles exaggeratedly as you watch, falling against the bus stop with a groan. The plan lays itself out before him neatly like lines on a map. 

“God fucking dammit—Ransom!” You huff irritatedly. He leans against the pole, counting the seconds until you come over to check on him. You do, and he moans pitifully. “Can you walk?” 

“No,” he hiccoughs, swaying cartoonishly as you try to help him stand. “Ju-hic-just go. I’ll be fine.” You blow an exasperated breath out as you straighten him up. She doesn’t talk to her parents. He licks his lips as you pull out your phone, holding it up to your ear as you wait for someone to answer on the other end. She told me that when we were smoking, that one time. 

“I obviously can’t. How did you get here?” You say, holding your hand over the mouthpiece as you scowl up at him. 

“Theo d-drove.” The house is only a ten minute drive from here. Fifteen, tops.

“Yeah, I’m just going to head back to campus. No, I’m gonna take an uber. Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow, Isaac.” The little smile that curls at the corners of your lips makes him sick. “Yeah, you too.” Ransom leans on you heavily, and you don’t seem to notice when he presses his face into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo with relish. Fucking Isaac.

“I’ll get the uber,” he says, slurring the words deliberately as he fumbles with his own phone. “M’sorry, Princess.” He taps the screen clumsily, selecting Home instead of Dorm, before hastily stowing it back in his pocket.

“Don’t call me that.” You snap sharply. You try—and fail—to stand Ransom on his own two feet. Instead he hangs over you, draped over your shoulders with his chin resting on the top of your head.

“Why?” The question comes out petulantly. “You used to like it.” 

“Stop.” 

The familiar feel of your body pressed against his is sweet in a way Ransom hadn’t anticipated. The attic’s secure. Quiet. 

When the car pulls up, Ransom allows you to wrangle him into the back seat, where he sprawls across your lap when you sit down beside him. You don’t say anything to the driver beyond a mumbled hello, which suits him just fine. Ransom plays up the drunk act, asking the driver a nonsensical question that makes you whisper at him to be quite. 

“Sorry. Just trying to get him home.” You reply, pushing uselessly at his head as he settles into your lap. Soft. He can’t help but run a reverent hand across your jean clad thigh. Love how soft she is.

You’re so distracted trying to keep him from getting comfortable that you don’t notice the cab is heading away from the dorm until the driver turns down the private road. 

“Wait—wait, I think you made a wrong turn somewhere,” you say, leaning forward to talk to the driver. He shakes his head enthusiastically, and points at his phone’s GPS. 

“No, I followed the directions,” he protests, and Ransom hides his snicker in a groan. “This is the address.” 

You lean back with a dissatisfied sigh, and look down at Ransom. 

“Let me see your phone.” He unlocks it and hands it over, his face a mask of innocence. You notice the mistake immediately, leaning forward again. “Could you turn around and take us back to Harvard campus, please—”

“This trip was already way out of my route,” the driver grouses, frowning at the two of you in the mirror. “And I don’t think he’ll make another trip. Looks like he’s about to puke any second.” 

“He’s fine.” 

Ransom retches, and watches as the cabby’s face twists angrily. 

“He’s not! I’m sorry, I’m done for the night. Maybe someone else will be able to pick you up.”

The finality in his voice makes Ransom giddy, and he clutches his stomach, gagging. He’s never thrown up—he’s not a fucking freshman lightweight, he’s a fucking Sigma for chrissakes—but he’s willing to let the two of you believe he might. You bite your lip, teeth sinking into its pillow softness as you try to undo what Ransom’s done. 

“M’sorry. Didn’ mean to put in the wrong hic place.”

You nod stiffly. “I know. I guess… Well, this place has plenty of couches, right?” There’s little humor in your joke, but Ransom makes sure to laugh a little anyway, nodding. 

“My grandfather won’t mind if you sleep in one of the guest rooms. Promise, Princess.” 

“Ransom, don’t—”

“We’re here.” The driver cuts in as the car pulls to a stop in front of the house. “Sounds like you guys have it all figured out.” 

—

As expected, the only people home are his grandfather, along with a few odd members of the staff. They’re easy enough to convince, Fran and Marta ferrying him upstairs to his room while he mumbles incoherently. You help too, tugging the blanket up over him after pulling off his shoes with a grunt. It feels nice, having you care for him like this, your soft hands on his face. 

It feels right. 

“I’ll get the guest room set up for you upstairs,” Fran says on her way out. “I’ve got a t-shirt around here somewhere.” Ransom doesn’t catch your answer, but that doesn’t matter much, not when he knows where you’ll be. It’s strange, how he’s impatient now, here at the home stretch, but he is. The smell of you, the taste, the feel, it’s all he can think about now that he’s so close.

It won’t be easy keeping you, he knows that, but nothing good comes without a challenge, right? And with the right motivation, Ransom knows he can make you fall in line. The house quiets around him, and distantly, he hears the sound of first Fran’s car, and then Marta’s. He forces himself to wait a few minutes more, and when he emerges out into the still air of the hallway, he smiles. 

The door to the guest room is ever so slightly ajar, and Ransom slides inside. You sit up sharply, and for a moment only sound between you is the quiet settling of the house. 

“What are you doing?”

“I came to check on you.” He can’t see your face in the dark, but he can see the shape of you, silhouetted in the pale beam of light streaming in from the tiny window above the bed. 

“I’m fine.” The words are stiff. “You should go to bed.” 

He doesn’t. Instead, Ransom turns and closes the door securely behind him, slipping the key into his pocket. The sound is deafening in the quiet, and he knows you hear it too. 

“Have you texted Isaac, yet?” He asks, cocking his head. The room is small, shaped oddly by the sloping roof, and Ransom himself takes up the bulk of it standing in front of the door. You seem to shrink a little in response, and your hesitation answers the question truthfully, before you’ve even spoken. 

“Y-yes. You should go to—” The way your hand strays under the pillow to feel for your phone tells him the opposite. Ransom licks his lips. 

“Have you fucked him yet, Princess?”

Your gasp is audible. 

“Don’t—don’t call me that. Ransom go to bed. You’re drunk.”

“Have you fucked him?” He repeats it, dropping to his knees on the bed.

“Get out!” You make for the door too late, and Ransom grabs you, wrapping an arm securely around your waist as he breathes a relieved sigh into your bare shoulder. Your frustrated struggle turns panicked at the sound of metal clacking against metal. “No, Ransom no—” The handcuffs he produces from his pocket aren’t the padded ones he’s used with you before—these are the real deal, and he clamps them tightly around your left wrist, looping it around the bed-frame before capturing your right. You’re writhing and fighting, but it’s easy to ignore the pain as he locks his arms tight, waiting for you to tire yourself out. 

You’re wearing just a t-shirt, and Ransom palms the heavy weight of your tits through the soft cotton with a soft groan.

“So you haven’t fucked him.” 

You open your mouth to scream, and Ransom laughs. 

“Nearest person is two floors down, Princess,” he breathes, a low,  satisfied hum rumbling in his chest as he draws his fingers through your messy hair, before tangling his fingers in it to tug your head back. His teeth scrape at your throat. “You can scream if you want to,” he mumbles against your pulse. “You know I like it when you’re loud.” 

“Ransom, stop. You’re—”

“Drunk?” He answers smartly, before shaking his head. He cups your face with one sure hand, stroking your lip with the pad of his thumb. “I know you feel bad, Princess. You let me fuck that juicy cunt so quick, you thought you needed to make him work for it.” This close he can see your face, can see the guilt you quickly try to bury because he’s right. The answer is there, written in the way you turn your head away from him, trying to hide your face in shadow. Ransom doesn’t let you, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers as he forces you to stay still, to look him in the eye. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit hoarsely, and Ransom laughs. “You’re fucking drunk and-and—get off me!” You shrill, bucking against him uselessly. If he’s drunk, that’s what he’s drunk on; the heady sensation of knowing the truth with absolute certainty. 

“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” He sneers, pressing you down into the mattress. The smell of your skin is intoxicating, like orange blossoms and fucking sunshine. “Fuck, Princess, I missed this.” It’s almost reverent, the way he slides his hands down over your hips, slowly working a knee between your stubborn thighs. Your borrowed t-shirt rolls up as Ransom spreads your legs, grinning at the sight of white lace between them.

He draws a finger over the curve of your cunt before cupping it. 

“Why’d you block me, Sweetheart?” He asks, tracing the shape of your puffy lips through the cotton. 

“You didn’t want me!” You hiss through clenched teeth. Ransom clucks his tongue at you, shaking his head, before delivering a stinging slap to your cunt. You feel it through the cotton, of course, whining and writhing underneath him as you cry out. “You’re fucking crazy—” The palm of his hand cracks sharply against you again, and it cuts your complaint short as the words disappear in a pained gasp. 

“Be honest with me, Princess.” He says, grinning as you try to wriggle away from him.

“You wouldn’t even be seen with me!” Your voice cracks. “It’s not fair, Ransom!”

“You want me to stake a claim, Sweetheart? I can do that,” Ransom breathes, pushing the shirt up over your breasts, groaning at the sight of your puffy nipples. He draws his thumb across one, watching, enraptured, as the flesh pebbles underneath his touch. He trails sloppy, heated kisses up the side of your throat, nipping at the skin until you whimper. He mouths at your skin, sucking at the purpling bruise until he pulls away, satisfied. 

“We can think of a more permanent solution later.” He leans back with a satisfied sigh. It feels good to mark you, to watch the bruises spread like ink on your pretty skin. 

“Please, Ransom, just go!” You sob, the chain rattling against the bed-frame as you try unsuccessfully to loose yourself from your restraints. “We-we’ll just pretend it never happened!” You nod at him, like you’re trying to encourage him to do the same, your wide eyes fever bright. “It’ll be just like before—”

“Why would I want that?” He asks, reaching down to tug your panties tight, pulling the fabric tautly through the lips of your pussy like dental floss. “I don’t think you’re really grasping the situation, Princess, so let me spell it out for you.” Ransom spreads your legs wider as you stare up at him with fearful eyes. 

“I don’t want things how they were before.” He snarls. “Things are different now, Sweetheart. You made them different.” Ransom slips his fingers underneath the elastic of your panties, and begins tugging them own your thighs, ignoring your whimpered pleas to wait and stop. You kick at him, a frenzied wail working its way out of your throat. True to his word, he ignores it, sliding down your body until he’s faced with the slick patch between your thighs. 

“Ransom—” His name is a hoarse wail as he attaches his lips to your cunt, his tongue seeking out your traitorously swelling clit. He grins against you, dragging his tongue noisily through your folds, moaning. This is perfection, he muses dimly, lapping at you as you whine. You can’t deny how good it feels, not when he can see the evidence glistening on your quaking thighs, taste it on his tongue. You’re gasping, those precious little choking noises filling his ears as you try to swallow down the sound of your pleasure.  

“Can’t fucking get over how good you taste, Princess,” he mumbles, reveling in your yelp as he sucks harshly on your swollen bud, spreading you wide with his fingers. You shake, your body jackknifing as you murmur nonsensically. He’s always loved that flavor—like fresh peaches, why do you taste like fucking peaches—

“F-Fuck you!” He doesn’t let you cum, though, pulling away to flick softly at your clit with his thumb. He draws the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away the evidence of your body’s betrayal with a sly smile. A hoarse little whimper escapes you, and Ransom clucks his tongue, before reaching down to palm himself through his sweats. His cock his hard, so hard it almost hurts, thick drops of precum gathering at the reddened tip. He reaches for his phone with the other hand, the shutter noise clicking as he snaps a few pictures of your tear-stained face. 

“N-no, no—!” You voice your displeasure with a whine as Ransom pans the camera down your body, like he’s trying to map it out for posterity’s sake. “No pictures, please, please!” Your wild, watery eyes are frantic as you plead with him. “Please don’t, Ran, please don’t send those—” A hot pulse shoots through his body at your desperation, and his cock throbs. 

“A minute ago you were just telling me to go fuck myself.” He quirks an eyebrow at you over the top of the phone. “So which is it?”

“Please don’t send those.” You swallow thickly, the sound audible. “Please.”

He has no intention of sending them anywhere—except maybe to Isaac with your face cropped out, of course. But he smiles lasciviously anyway, blue eyes narrowing. Ransom runs his tongue across his lips, still tasting you on them.

“Let’s make a little deal, then.” He tugs his sweats down, and the fat, veiny length of his cock springs out. Ransom hisses softly as he spreads a sticky drop of precum across his tip with his thumb. “You’re going to end it with Isaac.” You open your mouth to complain, but Ransom forges ahead, ignoring you. “We’ll be exclusive, you and me, Princess.” He forces your thighs open a little wider. “Just like you want.” Ransom’s practically giddy with the thrill of it as your full lips begin to tremble and fresh tears track down your cheeks.

“I—I don’t want you!” You gasp, your attempts to buck him off only succeeding in wedging him further between your frantically kicking legs. Ransom clucks his tongue at you. 

“I don’t know about that, Princess,” he says, slapping a hand against your swollen cunt, cupping it roughly. You squeal as he draws a finger through your slick, still throbbing folds. 

“Not sure if you’ve ever been wetter.” Ransom presses your thighs to your chest. He asks, licking his lips. “It’s all up to you, of course.” Ransom lies so easily it doesn’t even really occur to him that he’s doing it. 

“You tell me to go, I’ll go. But I can’t say what’ll happen to that footage.” He shrugs. He’s got no intention of leaving this room, not really, but he doesn’t mind pretending. “But if you were my girl, I might be able to swing deleting it. After all, what would I need it for? Got the real thing all to myself.” He dips the tip of a thick finger into your entrance. “Get it, Princess? No more scholarship. No more shitty dorm-room. I’ll take care of you.”

You’re so easy to read like this, your guard down and your desperation front and center. He can see you weighing the options, trying to parse out the best win for yourself in this devil’s bargain. He can see you testing the weight of your future against the events of this evening, and coming up far short. Ransom’s not stupid—and neither are you. You know what happens to girls like you when these things make their way into campus chatrooms and local reddit pages. 

“You’ll really delete them?” You ask meekly, your mouth trembling. “You won’t… you won’t show these to anyone?” Ransom grins wider, drawing an X across his heart with the tip of his index finger. 

“Cross my heart.” Ransom steadies one hand against your hip, his fingers sinking into the soft curve of it as he aligns himself with your entrance. His eyes roll as the head of his cock meets your cunt with a lewd, wet squelch. He’s getting impatient—after all, it’s been more than two weeks since the last time he’s been inside you, and his cock twitches hard against you at the thought. 

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry Princess, you’ll need to speak up.” Ransom leans down over you, his hard eyes locked on yours. “Again.” 

“I said fine!” Your quiet voice is strained. “Fine. I’ll—I’ll break up with Isaac—”  Ransom kisses you, swallowing the rest of your words eagerly. He gorges himself on your mouth, sucking your tongue fiercely before pulling away to worry at your lower lip with his teeth until it’s swollen and red. 

“Oh Princess.” He breathes. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.”  He watches with dark glee when your eyes go wide as he begins to press into you, the head of his cock forcing you open. “No condom this time, but that’s alright, isn’t it?”

“Ransom!”

“M’right here,” he breathes, his hips jerking as your slick, puffy cunt sucks at his tip. “Fuck.” Ransom watches your eyes roll as you sink your teeth into your lower lip.  “I know you missed it too, Sweetheart,” Ransom grits the words out through his teeth as he sinks in, his toes curling as your wet heat envelops him inch by precious inch. “You can admit it.” 

The warm euphoria that spreads down his spine as he bottoms out draws another curse from his lips. You feel like fucking slick velvet inside, your walls clamping down on the girth of his cock like a wet fist. It’s hypnotic, pulling out only to thrust home again, his ears barely registering the groan of the bed-frame beneath you. The space between his temples is buzzing—your compliance, the feel of you around him, the knowledge that he’d won—Ransom’s delirious with it. 

What’s even better is he can see it, plain on your face how much you’re enjoying it—how much you hate yourself for it. It makes every mumbled curse, every moan he wrenches from your unwilling throat all the sweeter. Ransom clucks his tongue at you as he leans down to capture your lips again. They’re pillow soft and swollen from his teeth. 

“It’s my fault.” Ransom drives his cock into you, groaning. “I was stupid, Princess, I know. But I know what I need, now,” he says, hooking an arm beneath your thigh, lifting it so he can sink in even deeper. “Just you.” The shameful little wail that escapes your throat as you clamp down around him is almost enough to make him cum with you, cursing and crying as you do. He hangs on by the last fraying thread of his self control. 

“Shit, shit, shit—”

“See?” He laughs, rolling his hips into yours with heavy strokes. “You need me, too.” 

God, he loves seeing you like this, loves being the one to break you apart—loves knowing he’ll be the only one. It’s that thought that does it, aided by the miserable way you mewl his name as you cum again. His hands are tight on your hips, sinking into the heavy curve of them as he growls your name roughly in your ear. For a moment he’s lost in it; his forehead resting against yours as you milk him. 

He stays inside you for a few luxurious minutes, basking in the feel of your cunt before pulling out. Ransom slaps his still hard cock against your oversensitive clit and you whine, your hips jerking. He can’t help but admire the mess he’s made, dragging his tip through your slick, sticky folds. 

You watch him with red-rimmed eyes, your brows furrowing as he rises from the bed, pulling his sweats back up over his hips. He doesn’t reach for the keys, but instead slides his hand underneath your pillow to remove your phone. 

“Ransom let me out, now.” Your voice is high, panicked. “You promised—”

“To delete the pictures.” He finishes, nodding. As you sputter, he removes his own phone from his pocket, and faces the screen towards you as he selects the pictures and videos from the photo album, and there’s a swooshing sound from the phone’s speakers as they disappear. “And I’ve deleted them.” Frantically, you rattle the handcuff chains against the bed-frame, trying desperately to dislodge them as Ransom sighs. 

“You’re just going to hurt yourself.” You keep trying anyway, ignoring him your terrified sobs grow louder. 

“Let me go! You fucking promised, Ransom, don’t leave me here—”

He cocks his head at you. 

“Why would I leave you?” He asks, slipping both your phones into his pocket as he stands, stretching. “Winter break’s just starting,” Ransom says with a smile. “And I can’t think of a better way to spend it.” 

the end

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

#chris evans smut #chris evans fic #chris evans x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale smut #ransom x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom x y/n #dark!fic #dark AU #college AU

[papercorgiworld]

Lily’s potion

A Regulus Black imagine

When you're stressed at a party Lily gives you a potion to make you relax. However, the potion has the bizarre side effect of making you a little unhinged for one specific Slytherin.

Warning: suggestive

This is the Regulus version of Pansy’s Potion and this is brought to you thanks to this anon asking for more Regulus. Happy readings and have a lovely day!

Lily stared at you as you anxiously scanned the room. “Can you relax for once?” She quips, raising her eyebrows and you smile, but shake your head. No, you could not relax. There was always something to stress about. “I brew something that might help.” You take the small glass Lily offers you and study it for a moment. “What is it?” Lily smirks. “Something to take the edge off.” 

It did a little more than that.

You bite your lip as you feel your whole body heat up. You were in need of someone to hold you. You had been single for too long and it all came rushing to you as soon as you drank Lily’s potion. Your eyes scan the room as you look for something delicious, something to sink your teeth into or better someone that would sink into your pussy. Your mind was running wild with things you would do once you’d found your prey.

It’s then that an annoyed Regulus comes into view. He raises his eyebrows at something a girl says and then turns away from her, leaving her a little embarrassed. A smirk tugs on your lips as you walk over to Regulus, who’s surprised when you’re suddenly standing in front of him with shiny eyes. Your arm snakes around his neck and you bite your lip. “Regulus at a party. Quelle surprise?” You tease and Regulus frowns at your playful voice and your arm around him, though the French does get to him. The two of you rarely talk and if you did there usually was an insult involved. Your hand traces along the buttons of his shirt and he can feel himself heat up under your touch. “How about we go dance?” You whisper and he raises his eyebrows. “How drunk are you?” He says and you roll your eyes at his lame response to your question. “I’m not drunk and if you don’t want to dance then I’ll find someone else.” You say and tilt your head, waiting for a response, eyes drowning deep in his. He stares at you, mind going blank and as much as you wanted him above everyone else you were not waiting for him. “Your loss, I had things in mind.” Your seductive voice has Regulus gulp. He doesn’t say anything and your hand moves away from his neck but not without slowly moving down over his chest to almost touch his belt.

Confused, his gaze follows you as you again scan the crowd, walking confidently while teasing eyes search for a new man. You find your new victim in Sirius and you went to sit down next to him. Contrary to his brother, Sirius is more than welcoming, slinging his arm around your shoulder as he casually continues his conversation. You move a little closer and your hand moves over Sirius’ leg and Regulus panics at the sight. He immediately walks over to you, but your desperation for attention has you sling a leg over Sirius before Regulus gets to you. While initially he was worried about you, now he could feel jealousy at the sight of you practically on top of his brother. Regulus grabs your wrist and pulls you off of Sirius, who was utterly confused by your actions. “Don’t look so stupid, Sirius. She’s had one too many. I’m taking her to her common room.” Sirius watches as Regulus drags you away and you immediately focus your attention back on the younger Black. 

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist me.” You play and Regulus swallows at your sweet voice and lips near his ear. “This is definitely more than just alcohol.” He mutters and raises his eyebrows as your eyes move to his lips. “Not happening like this.” He says before quickly turning you around, face away from him, and guides you to the exit.

***

Since there were too many people gathered at your common room Regulus was forced to take you up on your offer and move to your room. Once there Regulus can no longer deny how attracted he is to you, despite never really getting along with you. Your hand snakes to the back of his neck, while you elegantly press your perfect body against him. Regulus shoots his eyes to the ceiling, almost praying for mercy. Your lips search for him and he knows it, he tries to resist but he’s not quick enough. Your soft lips tenderly move over his and it takes every bit of self control to push you back. “You’re not yourself. Go sit down.” He breathes, relieved that there’s some distance between you two. 

You pout and sit down on your bed, looking up at him through your lashes. “Stay there.” The slytherin commands, before quickly moving to your desk. His eyes scan the books on your desk and the nearby shelves in search of something that could help him find an antidote for whatever was messing with your mind. However, you never listened to Regulus and today was not the day you were going to start listening. As soon as you notice him deeply engaged with the pages of one of your books you get up and quietly move to stand behind him. Regulus feels your hand gently move over his chest as you rest your head on his back. “Don’t you want to snuggle with me?” You sound so sweet to him and his eyes roll to the back of his head as your hand lowers. Regulus’ jaw clenches when his mind starts to wonder about far less innocent things than snuggling. 

A heavy breath leaves his chest and he tries to ignore you, focussing on the page in front of him, but you won’t give up easily. Your mind is running wild for this man and thanks to Lily’s potion nothing is holding you back. With one hand roaming his chest and playing with the buttons of his shirt, your other hand is free to slip to his thigh. Regulus gulps at your touch. This scenario came straight out of his fantasy, having your arms wrapped around him, your hands all over him. “What do you think you’re doing?” Regulus tries to sound stern, but there’s an obvious crack of nervousness in his voice. You bite your lip, pleased to hear him crumble, feeding your desire for him. “I want to play with you.” Now you own his mind and heart. In a second he turns around, his eyes piercing yours as the room fills with sexual tension. You cup his cheek. “Please master Regulus.” You urge, your voice taunting and seductive. You push yourself up to meet his lips and his hand moves to the back of your head. 

“I want this, I’ve wanted this for a while, but… not like this.” His lips brush over yours and you can almost taste him, but as he moves away you feel yourself get wobbly and slip into a sudden slumber. He catches your enchanting figure and lays you to rest on your bed. “Sorry about that love, but I can’t- I need you to be in your right mind.” He immediately turns back to study your books in search of a quick cure, before the enchantment he placed on you ebbs away.

***

Your eyes flutter open and you’re met with Regulus’ soft eyes watching you as he sat next to on the bed.. “Drink this.” Your eyes turn seductive and devilish, making Regulus sigh. “Please, drink this.” He urges and you take the drink, doing whatever the pretty boy wanted hoping that you would get your way with him after.

The cure Regulus had brewed has an immediate effect, making you sober up. You look around and put some space between you and Regulus. Your cheeks heat up and your heart starts pounding as you realise how unhinged you had been around Regulus, the guy you could barely stand, but apparently were also very attracted to. This is an absolute nightmare. Regulus is quick to notice the panic in your eyes and a smirk forms on his lips. Now that you’re back to being innocent he can go back to being a smug ass. Exactly how he liked it, he was in control again. He opened his month to no doubt say something witty, but just then Lily, Marlene, Sirius, Remus, Peter and James barge in.

“(y/n), you alright?” James yells with a voice filled with panic. “What are you doing here?” Sirius demands as his suspicious eyes land on his brother, who is quick to stand up and puff his chest. “I have been working on a cure for whatever you morons gave her. If it wasn’t for me…” He trails off as he feels himself blush at the idea of what could have happened. The slytherin coughs as he notices all eyes are on him. “Well, she is fine now.” He quickly says and moves past his brother and Remus to get to the door, before turning around once more. His eyes land on your sheepish figure and he feels his heart melt. He so badly wanted a little bit more time with just you alone to see if any of the suggestions you had made had any feelings to it, but he’s quick to regain his composure. His judgy eyes scan the room. “And whoever gave her something should refrain from potion making.. or maybe witchcraft in general.” Lily’s guilty expression makes Regulus focus on her, shaking his head in annoyance with her before stealing one last glance from you and shutting the door behind him.

“What happened?” Remus asks as he sits down on the bed. Your worried eyes move to Marlene and Lily. Your silence has James smile to himself, before coming to your rescue. “Lilss, damnit, what kind of potion did you give her, she doesn’t even remember what happened!” Your eyes quickly move to James. Leave it the mastermind of mischief to get you out of trouble with a little lie. You immediately rub your head as if you’re trying your best to remember anything, but fail to do so. You were happy that your friends were not asking questions, but your mind was still going crazy about what you were pretending not to remember, but remember very clearly. 

Why did I go after Regulus?

Do I have a thing for Regulus?

Can’t be? Right? … 

Oh Godric, I have a thing for Sirius’ brother!!!!

AAAAAAAAH!!

#regulus black x reader #regulus black #regulus black imagine #Slytherin #marauders era #the marauders era #papercorgiworldwritings

[sansaorgana]

Hey! I absolutely love your work and was wondering if you would be open to doing a John egan x reader but reader is really close with gales girl Marge and kinda takes care of her while the war is happening and neither of the guys know till they come back and release that Mabye reader moved across the street from Marge and how much she’s been helping Marge, I think it would be interesting to see a domestic and fluff relationship between the two girls and + the men being involved

hello, honey! 💘 thank you so much for your request 😘 it was a very interesting scenario, I love the idea of women helping each other in difficult times 💪🏻💪🏾 not gonna lie, though, I was so jealous of Marge while writing it 🤣 I'm a hopeless case when it comes to Buck, I swear 🙄

Nothing was easy when the boys were away. Handling everything on your own and worrying about your husband at the same time was driving you crazy. You could only imagine how the women left alone with their children had to feel like. You weren’t sure if you’d handle that.

Some women handled the new reality better, some had a more difficult time to adjust. Marge was one of them and as Bucky’s wife you felt responsible for her just like you knew that your husband felt responsible for her boyfriend. They were closest friends and you were aware that if it was Bucky who had stayed in The US, he would take care of Marge because she was important for Gale. But it wasn’t him here, it was you.

You had only met her a few times before John went to Europe but she was sweet and she had wanted you to remain friends like your men were. You would call each other every week and talk on the telephone, trying to cheer yourselves up. But when both of your men had found themselves in the POW camp, you noticed that Marge was getting worse.

You packed your bags and decided to move in with her for some time. She was living alone and spending her whole days worrying. You couldn’t let that happen.

“They are together there, darling,” you squeezed her hands in yours when you were sitting together on her couch. “Think about that, it’s quite lucky that they’re together even there,” you didn’t know how else to cheer her up.

“But God only knows how long they will be there…” She sniffled her tears back. “What if we never see them again? How do they treat them?”

“We can try to write them letters, how about that? I know that the Red Cross helps with delivering them. Maybe they will get ours,” you proposed and she nodded, hesitantly.

“You know, Gale asked me to marry him in his last letter before he went down,” she confessed and you gasped before hugging her tight.

“Oh, congratulations! Then you absolutely have to write to him! You can’t leave him waiting!” You encouraged her and she broke a smile.

“Of course I’m going to say yes.”

“Of course,” you winked at her. “You know, some part of me is less worried now when I know John’s in the camp. At least he doesn’t fly anymore,” you told her. “I only hope he behaves well there because you know what he’s like. If he acts up too much, they can hurt him.”

“I’m sure that my Gale is watching over him and doesn’t let him act stupid,” Marge squeezed your hand and you nodded. She was right. The boys were looking out for each other. Just like you and Marge.

A few weeks later you already decided to stay in the same town where Marge lived. There was a house down the road for sale and you decided to move in there. You knew that John wouldn’t get mad about it and he’d like to live closer to his friend, too. You were sure he’d follow Buck wherever he’d go so you just didn’t listen to your family telling you it was an impulsive decision. It was not. Marge needed you and you needed her.

In the meantime, Buck had his birthday in late December. Marge was very sad about it so you came up with an idea of baking him a cake and decorating it with candles. You invited a few close friends and took pictures of his birthday party to show him when he’s back. She wrote to him about it in a letter that she hoped the Red Cross would manage to deliver. You did the same thing in September 1944 when it was your husband’s birthday and then again in another December for Buck again. This time it was more sad, though, when you both realised that it was his second birthday in the POW camp already. You were slowly starting to lose hope to ever see your husband again, too. But you tried not to show it and be strong. For Marge.

In the letter you wrote to your husband, you mentioned that you moved closer to Marge and that you were looking after her. But you didn’t tell him everything because there were things that men would not understand. And there were things men should not know. You didn’t want them to worry even more but there were nights where both of you would just hug each other and cry. You tried to remain strong for her, to be the responsible one. But it was so difficult. You would let a few silent tears flow, trying to cheer her up although the words you were saying were not believable even to you.

“Germany is losing this war, Marge, we’re gonna see our boys again, soon,” you rubbed her back on those nights as you were sitting by the fireplace.

“What if they get rid of their prisoners? They’re not good people, they don’t respect the laws,” she sobbed.

And what could you answer? You felt the same, you were worried about the exact same thing on all the sleepless nights, clutching on the sheets and praying to all the gods above you to keep your men safe.

“It just won’t happen,” you told her as if you were a god yourself and you knew. But you didn’t, you couldn’t know. She chose to trust you because she desperately needed to be assured.

Sometimes you wished it had been you being held by her. Sometimes you felt weak, too. But you chose to look after her and you would not back out.

In the summer of 1945 they finally came back and you threw a small party at Marge’s house to greet the boys home. Everything had been arranged by just the two of you – flowers, decorations and food. You had lots of fun preparing it together, excitedly awaiting to see your men again.

Of course you feared they would be different now. They had spent so much time in that camp, there was no way they’d come back the same. But you promised each other to always be there for the other one; to help and support when needed. You were like family now.

At the first sight they seemed the same – except for the eyes, they were sadder now. But your John was still playful as he spun you around and rubbed his nose with yours. He made a few teasing comments and inappropriate jokes that would make Gale roll his eyes and sigh. Gale seemed to be the same as well – kind and charming as always, with only a few new scars on his cheeks that Marge kissed all over.

But you knew it was just an act. You knew because the way you behaved oh-so-normal around them was an act, too. You were smiling and joking around with your husband like in the old days, but in fact you just wanted to curl up in his arms and cry out all the ugly tears you had been holding inside for the past two years. 

When all the guests left, you helped Marge in the kitchen to wash the dishes before you and John would go home, too. You were talking with each other softly about some silly things when Gale and John entered the kitchen and leaned on the wall as they watched you.

“What is it, boys?” You asked them with a soft smile.

“Just admiring our wives, can’t we?” John winked at you and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“I’m not a wife yet,” Marge teased.

“Soon you will be!” You reminded her excitedly and she giggled.

“I’ll go to the garden to see if there aren’t any dishes there,” she told you and you nodded. Marge went outside and you went back to drying the plates with a cloth.

“Thank you,” you heard Gale’s voice behind you as you flinched.

“Gee, you scared me. For what, Buck?” You asked.

“You were taking care of her,” he looked into your eyes deeply and for the first time this evening you could see all the hurt and pain on his face that he had been trying to hide.

“It’s nothing, don’t even mention that,” you told him as your voice broke. “You were looking after my Bucky.”

“And he was looking after me. Every day,” Gale nodded and walked away from you as Marge entered the kitchen again with a few plates and glasses.

You glanced at your husband who went oddly silent. He only watched you with sad eyes and you realised there were things about that war they would not tell you nor Marge in a long time. Perhaps never.

You finished the dishes and said goodbye to Marge and Gale. They were not married yet so he was supposed to rent a place nearby for a few weeks until the wedding but on that night he wanted to stay with her and you couldn’t blame him. You waved at them for the one last time and took John’s hand to go back to your house.

You opened the door and turned the light on with a relaxed sigh.

“I hope you like it, John. I had to manage everything on my own,” you told him.

He had been in the house early in the morning after his arrival but soon after you had left for the party at Marge’s house.

“Yeah, I can see that. Some things need to be fixed,” he pointed out and you shook your head at him as he grinned widely and pulled you closer for a hug. “I will repair them, don’t you worry, sugar.”

“Good. But overall you like it, yes?” You bit on your lower lip.

“Of course I do. It’s beautiful. But I’d live with you in a tent by the river, you know that? Everything would be beautiful with you in it,” he leaned in to place a soft kiss upon your lips and you threw your hands around his neck. “You’ve been a brave girl. I know what you did for Marge,” he whispered.

“I’ve already told Buck that it’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not nothing,” John insisted. “I know how much it had to cost you. Taking care of her when you needed to be taken care of, too. I know,” he caressed your cheek gently. “I’ve been taking care of him. Yeah, he was the one to keep me out of trouble but I’ve made sacrifices for him that only I know about,” he confessed.

For a moment, you felt jealous of Buck Cleven.

“I guess we are just good friends,” you tried to make a lighthearted comment about it. “They’re very lucky to have us.”

“Mhm, incredibly lucky,” John chuckled and leaned in once again to rub your nose with his. “I missed you terribly. Every day and every night. I’m not as good with words as Buck is, I’ve never been the romantic type but I hope you know that I mean it. I love you,” he whispered and you cupped his face with a smile.

“Bucky, baby, I didn’t fall for you because you were a romantic or good with words anyway. I fell for you because you were my goof. My class clown,” you assured him. “And I missed you, I missed you, I missed you… Terribly. Awfully. Dreadfully,” you kept saying these words and laughing through the tears of joy as he laughed, too.

“Okay, enough, I get the picture,” he pecked your lips. “Your goof is back now,” he assured you and you caressed his hair with your fingertips.

“I’m glad,” you nodded. “But if my goof needs to be sad sometimes or wants me to hug him and tell him it’s going to be alright, I don’t want him to keep it a secret, alright? I’m here for you, baby, for better and for worse,” you promised.

Bucky pulled you even closer for a very tight hug as he hid his face in the crook of your neck, his moustache tickling your soft skin. You put your arms around him and squeezed him in a loving way.

“I’m grateful, sweetheart,” he whispered into your ear as he placed a small kiss on your cheek, “but now it’s time for you to be taken care of.”

MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #lovely anons #*bucky #lilysfiction #callum turner x reader #john egan x reader

[zombholic]

MY KIND OF LOVE PT. 2 — abby anderson

summary — illegal boxing was never on your bucket list until your friend brought you to one.

description — poc fem!reader, illegal boxer!abby, reader has tattoos and a couple of piercings, mentions of drug usage, bidding, sexual themes, not for minors.

— 🥊　　 ◦ ✺ 　 🚩　 ⟢ —

After being humiliated in front of a crowd of strangers you decided to never listen to Jesse again. You were currently at work serving alcoholic beverages to customers when you heard a voice call out from afar, squinting your eyes you saw as your one and only friend appeared from the dim lights, his face was slowly recovering from the damage he took from a week ago.

“Jes, why are you here?” Your eyes shifted back to mixing up drinks and pouring shots.

“Listen, I’m sorry for forcing you to come to the match, I didn’t think she would touch you.” His hand rubbed the back of his neck, guilty was written all over his face, he was truly sorry.

“Sit down i’ll pour you a shot dumbass.” You grinned at him your eyes still not meeting his but you could feel the stupid kiddish smile he was pulling from his lips.

It was pretty slow today since it was a Sunday, you were leaning over the counter of the bar conversing with him when suddenly the shattering of glasses had you snapping your neck to the direction of the sound.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Why was Abby here— why is she fighting—

“It was an accident I didn’t purposely spill my fucking drink on you!” The smaller woman was quick to dodge Abby’s large fists trying to connect to her.

The quick instincts from the smaller purple haired girl was starting to piss off Abby, her every move was predictable every time she was going in for a swing. The smaller one throwing a fast punch to the muscular girl’s abdomen causing her to hurl over.

“Fucking bitch.” You could see the way her anger flushed her scarred face, she was beyond just the color red.

“I need to stop this—“ Jesse grabbed your arm.

“Do not get involved she will actually kill you Y/n.” He gave you a stern expression.

“Jes—“ Before you could finish your sentence you saw as Abby grabbed the girls head, slamming it against the brick wall relentlessly.

A couple of men the size of Abby ripped her away from the girl, blood covered the wall, the table, her hands. The poor girl was unconscious barely even able to tell if she was still breathing. Slipping away from Jesse you had quickly ran over to the bloodied girl sitting on your knees as you dialed for the ambulance.

“Did you fucking kill her?” Your brows pinched together as you looked up at Abby, whose expression alone made you fear for your life.

“I hope I fucking did.” She was fuming, her ears ringing, breathing uneven.

“God you’re actually mentally fucked up!” You shouted as you stood up and faced her.

Very brave stupid of you.

Abby could only force out a breathy laugh, she towered over you build and height wise. God you only met her one time and knew the type of person she was.

“You are fucking insufferable Abby.” Your finger jabbed at her chest.

She was quick to grab your wrist, her grip was tight so tight you knew you were going to bruise. She pinned you against the brick wall that she used to almost murder a girl, her other hand grabbing your jaw, squeezing your lips together.

“Watch your fucking mouth, don’t wanna end up like her do you?” She threatened, her face nearly inches away from you, you could feel her breath on your cheek.

“Abby, enough is enough.” A woman who obviously knew her pulled her away.

You rubbed your now swore wrist, your brow’s farrowing as your eyes never leaving her blue ones. Jesse quickly ran over to you, cupping your face in his hands making you look over to him.

“Let’s go home.” You nodded your head agreeing with him.

Laying on his couch in his amazing apartment you had placed a bag of frozen vegetables on your wrist, you were watching him play the new Modern Warfare game that you got him for his birthday a few weeks back.

“Is she known for almost murdering people?” Your question made him chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah she kinda does that a lot. Why do you think she’s always winning at all these matches.” He was focused on the game but still managed to answer your questions.

“Oh Jes, there’s a halloween party tomorrow, you’re coming with me.” You were now scrolling on your phone as your feet now laid on his lap.

“Couldn’t even give me a choice.” He grabbed your foot as he started tickling it.

“I will actually fucking kick your balls so hard your damn ancestors will feel it!” You screamed kicking your legs around.

— 🥊　　 ◦ ✺ 　 🚩　 ⟢ —

authors note — part 2 ON THE SAME DAAYYY?? WHO AM IIIII??

tag list — @whore4abby @atomicami @aouiaa @doepretty

#lesbian #lgbtq #wlw #abby anderson #the last of us ii #the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fic #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou abby #abby x you #abby x reader #abby the last of us #abby anderson headcanons #abby anderson x female reader #boxer!abby

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

don't hold hands, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You're fucking your ex-boyfriend's ex-best friend. You also now own a condo with him and owning this condo has made you house-poor. Yeah, it's not the usual love story and it's not going to be one. Not until you paint the walls black, that is.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mostly conversations and feels tbh; minor smut (fem reader, marking / scratching, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU; guitarist!music producer!Yoongi x novelist!reader - fwb / roommates-to-lovers

just a story about two people who shouldn't fall in love falling in love, I have plenty of nasty smut so this is a different beat for ya lmao

--

“Is it fun being tortured?”

“Not really, no.”

It wasn’t fair to be this critical but, as long as you didn’t let these words travel outside this room, it was fine, right? At least, you kept telling yourself that. Delusion at its finest.

“It’s so stupid that people enjoy sticking their nose in drama that doesn’t involve them only because their lives are too boring to have any,” you sighed, tossing your phone across your desk, letting it skid into a pile of post-its covered in scrawled notes. “All because I deleted some photos.”

Notifications were now blocked.

“Some people mistake privilege with right.”

You glared at your phone even though the contents were the offender and not the device. Rolled your eyes, knowing you would be coming back to a shitstorm, but you couldn’t take it anymore. There had to be a limit. And the voice beside you had been telling you to put the damn thing down and stop deleting comments one by one, but the stubborn ram in you thought you could just headbutt through the bullshit.

And that imagery was gonna end there, thank you very much.

Your forehead found the palm of your hand and you sighed again, suddenly feeling the weight.

“I’m never doing that again.”

“You don’t have to.”

Minutes passed.

Silence never felt so serene.

Then it was cut through by steady, slow acoustic guitar, the notes drifting out from behind you. It almost made you feel more guilty. Almost. How fucked was that? You, sitting here right now, staring at nearly bare walls and a table covered in notes and your trusty laptop, almost feeling guilty for the guy that had backed out of the joint loan for this condo in the city that you didn’t even fuckin’ want, but you had been too far into the process to not lose a whole lotta money and too angry to let yourself lose.

How ironic, feeling guilty for the guy who cheated on you.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” was the guitar player’s response. “And you shouldn’t be either. For anything.”

You knew you shouldn’t apologize. It just felt like the thing to do, because you hadn’t been wholly right either and, even if you weren’t more in the wrong, you were still wrong, and wasn’t that fucked, putting levels of blame on a situation that, at the end of the day, was all said and done and left everybody bitter and full of scars.

The shitty part was everyone was on your case now and blaming you.

This was what you got for dating the lead singer of a punk band that skyrocketed to popularity on social media. Looked all elegant dark romance on TikTok and Instagram, just screaming and hate-fucking behind closed doors. Constant content to cover up the toxicity. And maybe it was your fault too, letting it get to your head that maybe you really were the beautiful, mysterious muse that the followers painted you out to be. You glossed over red flags – late nights, drugs and drinking, sleeping in rooms of girls that called themselves fans – all part of the industry. Nothing happened. Honest. But the greatest mistake was letting him tag you on Instagram. How cool was it that you were an author?

This bastard.

Not only had you given him some of your best quotes for his lyrics, but now you couldn’t publish those words as your own because this bastard would fuckin’ sue you for plagiarizing.

The guitar continued behind you, on the mattress on the floor.

So, not only were you getting crucified on social media at the moment because he had called you a backhanded bitch in his Instagram stories but also because you had deleted all photos of him on your profile and said fucking nothing. Silence to be polite and all that. He cheated on you, he was leaving you for some whore you had plenty of suspicions about, and, worst of all, he waited until you and him were finalizing the down payment for this expensive-ass-fuck high-rise condo – that money was out of your own pocket, not his, how convenient – and backed out of the loan for the mortgage. His reasoning?

You cheated on him first.

Hello?

With his former guitarist.

Hello?

Your ex-boyfriend had fired his former guitarist ages ago because you and him had gotten too friendly.

Alright, man.

You liked the guy, sure. Talked to him when he was in the studio and found you had a lot in common. Plus, he was crazy talented. Made most of the melodies, self-produced a lot of the songs for the band so they could save money, even contributed to lyric writing so they didn’t have to spend on that either. He even had a good voice, although sadly the band rarely used it. Your art of words paired with his knowledge of music made some viral hits. But then tensions rose between him and your ex when they started butting heads for no reason (there was a reason and it was ugly jealousy). Then arguments rose between you and your ex, but instead of breaking up, you buried yourself into writing your next novel to let the situation cool off.

Sigh, okay, call a spade a spade.

You were avoiding the confrontation.

He fired his guitarist and got a new one.

Then things were good.

Until they weren’t.

Of course, they weren’t. You didn’t solve shit, and he was fucking every girl that threw themselves at him behind your back. Good thing you had strict rules about condoms, otherwise you would probably have some lasting consequences right now. So, when the ground cracked and split apart from under you, what did you do?

Yup, this was the part that made you no better.

You found that former guitarist and fucked him.

Word travelled around. Word also travelled around that somehow you got someone to be part of that insane loan you got talked into. And, oh, shit, did things get messy once a certain someone knew who it was.

But here you were.

Feeling guilty.

You probably couldn’t publish for at least six months to a year because, harrowingly, your demographic was young adult – you had even relied on social media for self-marketing, fuck – and the half of a novel you had now had to be scrapped considering that so many of the quotes were now distressed in dark venues by the lips of an egomaniacal dick that you allowed into your pussy far too many times. Once was already too many.

Fuck.

You didn’t even want to live in the city.

It’ll be so much easier for me to get bigger opportunities. Don’t be a selfish bitch and only think about yourself.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to throw your laptop into the wall and break it into smithereens, but you didn’t because this piece of technology was currently your only chance of making money. Fuck. Me. Always talking about himself like he was only important member of the band, even though it was the other guys who wrote most of the music and lyrics. No one sided with you, obviously. This was their job and technically not their romance. They were sympathetic but not empathetic to the point of jeopardizing their jobs. Obviously, you hadn’t signed any contracts for royalties or credit. This was supposed to be your soulmate.

Soulmates weren’t so generous to give you pennies.

You’re being greedy and self-important. Oh, so you’re only in the relationship for the money? I’ll give you money once we make it big. Once we get it all, I’ll buy you everything you want. But you gotta help me out now. We’re starving artists, ya know?

You should have asked your parents for monetary help, but you didn’t. Your pride didn’t want to hear the told-you-so speeches for dating a guy they didn’t choose for you. You also didn’t want the arranged marriage appointments back in your life either.

So.

Trapped in white walls, post-its of false starts, and impending doom.

Dramatic, but you were a writer.

“Come here and sit down with me.”

Some part of you didn’t want to face him. It was really dumb. He was your new roommate now. You were fucking him when you were too sad to avoid it, and it was pretty obvious he knew. You were living off his money. Sure, he only paid for half the rent but then food mysteriously appeared in the fridge, bathroom necessities were stocked when they were running low, cleaning supplies neatly sorted into the closet, and all that other shit. None of that wholesale stuff either, but the nicer things normal households could afford.

It wasn’t an exaggeration that you cried into the soap during your shower last night.

All because you finally acknowledged it wasn’t one of those shitty bars that made skin feel like plastic but actually fragrant lathering liquid that you could put on the dense, not-falling-apart-in-one-use loofah that you hadn’t bought. You would have been satisfied with cutting coupons and living on the dregs of the bare minimum, but someone cared enough to not let you do that, and you currently couldn’t do anything to contribute and probably couldn’t for a while.

And that made you feel undeserving.

Maybe you were only fucking him because that was all you could offer.

Pathetic.

The guitarist called your name softly.

Like a beaten dog, you got up and sat down beside Min Yoongi.

He continued to play a melody you didn’t know on his black acoustic guitar. He hadn’t moved in all his instruments and equipment yet. You had told him he could have the whole living room for his studio. He had asked if you were sure and you responded that you were sure that you weren’t going to have anybody over ever so, unless he wanted a living room space, you didn’t want one.

“Shit always happens, you know,” the deep voice reminded you.

“This happening was of my own doing and now I’ve ruined my own life,” you muttered, bitter over a boy and hating that you were bitter over a boy.

A small chuckle. “You have to admit you had help.”

Stupid boy.

“Can’t be helped. Humans are animals of regret.”

It stung to regret.

The guitar playing stopped and now you were met with silence.

Don’t cry.

But it was so tiring to be angry. So easy to be sad. So easy to think, my fault, for being swept up in what he was but not who he was, for believing that you knew what was best when clearly it wasn’t, for being spiteful on purpose. For avoiding looking at Yoongi in the face because you were too ashamed to acknowledge what was going on here.

For being too afraid to ask what he thought of it.

“I regretted not stealing you from him sooner. Thought you were too fuckable for that loser from the first day we met.”

A strange feeling.

Skin prickling, glancing the that pale hand of graceful, callused fingers simply resting on the neck of that guitar, not looking at Yoongi’s face even though you knew it quite well in profile.

“That’s one way to make me feel better,” you replied.

“I’m not trying to make you feel better. Just being honest,” he replied, tapping his fingertips on the wood. “You are ten times too talented and a hundred times too pretty for a guy like that.”

You twitched. “Are you shitting on my standards?”

“Back then? Yeah, I am.” A calm hum, setting aside his guitar and placing his elbows on his sweatpants-covered knees, charcoal gray and worn. “Pretty clear you went full desperado for a guy that didn’t deserve it. Also, he ain’t hot shit like he thinks he is.”

Ow and what the fuck. “Fuck off.”

You felt movement and tracked his hand raising, spinning a finger around his temple. A brief glance and the details sank in. Long, windswept black waves, light cream skin, pointed gaze directed forward and not at you, pensive slight frown of pink lips. You looked away again, past his loose white t-shirt and to your hands.

You used to be proud of them.

They used to be able to type prose like no other.

Now they were twisted in an oversized, olive-green sweatshirt that you picked up from the sale bin of the convenience store for dirt cheap and they didn’t write jack shit.

You also hated olive-green.

Nothing personal. It just wasn’t your color.

“You’re a psycho bitch to put up with him,” Yoongi commented.

He wasn’t wrong. “I’m a psycho bitch all the time.”

“Yeah, and I don’t date crazy.”

You thought you would feel insulted, but you were past the point of caring. Also, there was something about the way his calm voice said it. Like he knew what he was doing. Huh. That was a silly thing to think. Of course, Yoongi knew what he was doing. He did it. He let you in his studio when you tracked it down and camped out until he showed up. He had listened to your psychobabble and didn’t back away when you pinned him to the wall.

This wasn’t dating.

“At least, I thought I didn’t,” Yoongi added, not touching you.

He fucked you too. He wasn’t a starfish in bed, that was for sure.

“I wanted to get back at him too, you know,” that deep, hazy voice murmured beside you. “That bastard turned my friends against me, stole my mixes, and cut out all my connections. Made me start from the ground up, alone.”

Yeah, you did know that. You helped badmouth Yoongi. In the name of love.

Shit.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry.”

Ouch.

“And you shouldn’t be, ‘cause what’s done is done and being sorry isn’t going to change anything.”

You untwisted your hands from each other, realizing your knuckles were white from anxiousness, and relaxed them on your bare knees. Best you could, anyway.

“Yeah,” was the best response you had. This fucking boy ruined your life and stole your eloquence too, apparently. Motherfucker. “You’re right.”

Neither you or Yoongi said anything.

Minutes passed.

Another night in the condo and both of you were sitting on a mattress with a single blanket, deflated pillows, and a box of condoms on the floor.

You touched his forearm the same time his hand moved to grip your thigh.

And then it was the don’t-look-him-in-the-eyes challenge, and he was doing the exact same thing, eyes averted, black hair over them, lips grazing your jaw. Breath against your ear. Hot. His neck under your lips, flexed, fair skin with remnants of bruises, and your teeth sank in, making new ones, listening to his hiss and feeling his hands slide under your sweatshirt. Weighted palms and blunt nails. Digging in.

“Harder.”

He scratched you up as you climbed into his lap, tasting flesh.

Those firm hands gripped your hips and forced them down. Grinding. Softness to growing hardness, unhooking your bra, hands all over like you had lost your mind, your thighs squeezing his sides, yanking his shirt collar down and licking up his collarbone, dripping spit, shivering as you saw it glisten over his marred skin.

Clothes coming off, thrown aside. Guitar sliding to the hardwood floor as bodies tumbled. Your hands on his chest, your hard nipples pressed into the sheets as Yoongi slipped his hand into your hair and shoved your head down. Mouth open, tongue curling around. Moan striking the air, echoing in the nothingness.

Hard, hot, now wet.

Up, down, hitting the back of your throat, unable to choke in the adrenaline of lust, in need, in desire for pain, rubbing your tongue all over as Yoongi face-fucked you hard and fast, thick cock swelling in your mouth, your lips grazing the swollen head and making him shudder, saliva slipping down your chin that was smacking into his balls.

Was it shameful that you were good at it?

Sex solved nothing but you sure had a lot of it as if it did.

A sharp gasp and salty cum filled your throat, drinking, swallowing with effort and the burning sensation of your locked jaw, maintaining the soft tightness. Tongue tracing the contours, keeping him hard, hearing the rip of a foil packet above your head.

You hadn’t even realized that Yoongi had let go of your hair, letting you lick him all over at your own pace.

“What position?” Yoongi panted, husky and breathless in the mostly empty bedroom.

Mattress, chair, desk, laptop. Oh, and guitar.

Bodies on the floor.

You didn’t say anything.

You just turned around and slid down, elbows on the bed, knees spread, ass up.

“Alright then.”

You bit your lower lip.

You almost turned your head, almost looked back, just to check, right, just to check he was okay with it, and then strong hands gripped your hips, lifting them, sliding in, condom on and stretching you out right away, his knees pushing your knees apart and forcing you to arch your back for the angle.

No chance to look back.

You gasped, gripping the sheets, blinded by pleasure and the fading resonance of pain.

Hard.

Deep.

You pushing back, deep not deep enough, hitting your preferred depth and letting your eyelids flutter, veins burning with the repeated ecstasy. One of your hands lifted and reached back, squeezing his hand on your hip, and the grip became tighter, fingertips digging in, smacking his hips into your ass, and your body threatened to throw him back, carnal power meeting his every thrust, clenching around his hard length, and you could hear Yoongi growl your name, low and deep and voracious.

Somehow, his name fell from your lips too.

Rough and sinful, no better than an animal.

His nails dug into your back and dragged down, burning lines into your skin.

Your head tipped back and you moaned, a clear, shameless sound that would become familiar to this ceiling. Pooling wildfire, tightening muscles, wasted nectar sticky between joined thighs, surge after shivering surge of orgasmic apex stinging your veins as you barely registered Yoongi’s shudder and blissful groan, feeling the pulse inside you made than hearing the sound.

The rush of blood roaring in your ears was far too loud for you to hear anything.

Your face felt hot, so hot.

Gripping the sheets, twisting them, pulling them off the edge of the bed.

This moment.

Very few things were as intense and exigent as an orgasm. Fleeting, but a violently memorable. Pure nothingness of soaring high. You chased it. Again. And again. And again, your fingers tangled in Yoongi’s dark hair, pulling it over his face but he didn’t look at you anyway, eyes closed and teeth trapping his lower lip, breath trapped in his chest, driving his hips into yours again and again.

You both kept going until the limits were reached.

The darkness willingly swallowed you up.

-

Min Yoongi always considered himself a rational person, which was precisely why he found himself entangled in the break-up between his former best friend and the only woman he ever considered committing a felony for.

Yeah.

He also didn’t believe in love at first sight.

She was still way too hot for that idiot though.

His eyes could communicate well enough with his dick. The short skirt and exposed thighs didn’t really help either. Still, Yoongi had let it be. Respect was keeping his distance despite racing heartbeat and keeping calm despite shaking hands. He got used to it once the late-night talks about music and wordplay became a regular thing. Sometimes they talked about general life and were surprised on how well they aligned. Still, she never spoke poorly about her then-boyfriend even though there was plenty to talk about.

Scorched earth was their sacred ground.

It was painful to witness.

Yoongi regretted valuing the friendship, mostly because it didn’t mean jack shit at the end of the day. He regretted believing in the elegant, age-old saying.

Bros before hoes.

Tch.

But mostly, Yoongi regretted pretending like nothing was wrong.

He would see the pain in her expression and not say anything. Watch her pack it all away and greet him with warmth that he didn’t deserve because he had a racing heart and shaking hands every time they met. He would watch his former best friend disappear into hotel rooms without explanation and Yoongi knew damn well it wasn’t right, but he kept his mouth shut because he was a coward, something he figured out later.

He could have washed his hands clean of that shitshow, but instead his hands had held her shaking shoulders and watched her struggle not to cry on that cold night.

Yoongi considered himself a rational person, but never a good one.

Too many ways to judge, and her lips had already connected with his as soon as his shoulder blades hit the wall. He didn’t stop it. Maybe it was bitterness. Vengeance. Hate.

No, it wasn’t any of that, actually.

He didn’t know exactly what but, in that moment, Yoongi knew that he would murder that asshole if he saw his former best friend’s face right then, ready to commit a felony all because those beautiful eyes couldn’t look at him, closing instead to blink back the tears that bastard didn’t deserve.

That meant something, all right.

He knew it could take a long time. He knew it would almost certainly be hopeless. He knew he would probably end up with a broken heart and broke as hell. He knew it was a bad idea and he knew it was going to tear him up, this spiral, but when he found himself looking up to the ceilings of these mostly empty rooms, this condo he now half-owed with the woman that was formerly his best friend’s girlfriend, and Yoongi found he didn’t know and he didn’t care what the future held.

She had trouble sleeping.

Less trouble after exhausting themselves.

He had trouble sleeping too, but that was because he was staring at the ceiling and wondering just how rational he really was. One hand behind his head, under the pillow. The other resting on the blanket, on the curve of her hip, feeling the steady hum of her breathing.

She never cried in front of him.

He knew she did cry, because he heard her in the bathroom sometimes. But never in front of him. Showed anger, yes, but never acted helpless even though it was perfectly reasonable to feel that way after everything that happened. Living on the least for his sake, even to the point of skipping meals and spending all her time trying to write, trying to get back to her livelihood, trying to get past all the false starts. Personally, Yoongi felt that she should give up for now and heal herself, but he also knew how it felt to feel stubborn and useless.

Hah.

It was weird, being so close and yet so far away.

He felt it most in the nighttime, even though that was when he was closest to her.

He was never going to be the same. He knew that. He already wasn’t, surprising himself with his own recklessness, and for what? He didn’t even know what she was capable of reciprocating after receiving all those scars. Didn’t even know if he was the right one, if he was better or worse, if…

If he was believing in something that wasn’t there.

Yoongi closed his eyes and went to sleep.

-

Livid.

It was weird. Feeling it. In the past, you buried it, numb, and promptly lived in delusion. But now you could feel it. What was more, you let yourself feel it. There wasn’t anything to stop you except for the occasional mental peanut gallery of you’re a bad person if you feel jealousy, but anger could overtake anything if you let it.

You stared at the scene before you, several meters away.

Seething.

It felt good.

Mostly because it was honest.

It surprised you. You hadn’t expected to feel anything. Sad, maybe. You had already been cheated on, so naturally you assumed the cycle would begin anew, just with less promises and in the gray area of uncertainty. But, no, instead of being distraught and delusional, you felt maddeningly, viciously, nearly on-the-edge of making a fist and dislocating Min Yoongi’s jaw from his skull because he was speaking to a female-presenting human at the entrance of the building that housed his and others’ music studios.

Did you lack context? Yes.

Would that get you arrested? Yeah, probably.

Would that probably not get your laid anymore and label you as an unhinged psychopath? Without a doubt.

But would it feel good?

Don’t know.

You had never punched someone before, although maybe you should have practiced on your ex-boyfriend. He was probably a more deserving candidate. In any case, you remained frozen in perplexation at your willingness for violence because you were pretty sure your… relations… with Yoongi were nothing more than a lonely bitch and a spiteful silver tongue executing revenge, so the amount of fucks you should give about Yoongi speaking to any human being – other than the obvious health and safety precautions – should be zero.

None.

Basket of fucks empty.

And yet.

Clearly wasn’t since you were mentally calculating the angle and force for jaw dislocation while having zero experience in doing so. In any sort of non-virtual manner, that is.

Hm.

Your hands were firmly in the pockets of your black cargo pants. The hip ones, although you had plenty of choice. You kept them there for the safety of passerby or, maybe deep down, yourself. This caused your jacket to fall open, the outlines of the sew-on patches and thick, bunched-up black denim crowding the space between your forearm and waist, your black cropped tank exposed to the chill evening air. You used to wear a plethora of band t-shirts, but, well, those were probably in a landfill or rotting in a secondhand shop.

You figured you would be cold. Unsurprisingly, the anger kept you warm.

Huh.

You thought about turning around and just straight up leaving, petty and picturesque of course, and then Yoongi seemed to sense your projected violence, looking up from the conversation. Dark waves over his cheeks, striking body line, backing away, hiding his eyes for a moment, not that you could see them that well from this distance. You twitched.

The girl reached out.

Yoongi simply bowed, out of reach, and pushed the glass door open.

Honestly, her role in this moment was so miniscule that you completely ignored whatever she did or possibly could have said to Yoongi’s retreating back. Sharpened gaze, and then he crossed the street with the crowd, walking past oblivious bystanders who may or may not become the harrowed audience of the next thirty seconds.

He stopped before you. Bomber jacket, white shirt, black track pants. Monochrome elegance.

You looked up at him, saying nothing.

Over one shoulder was his usual guitar bag that held said instrument and his yellow notepad sticking out of the pocket. He used it to jot down whatever came to him. You almost said something. Almost. Then you remembered that if this, this between you and Min Yoongi, if this was supposed to be nothing, then weren’t you supposed to do nothing but voice your casual annoyance for making you wait rather than, well.

Admit insecurity?

You looked away quickly.

No, it did not matter how reasonable it was, you didn’t like knowing that somehow you had been weakened by an ex-boyfriend, barely a man, no, a mere locust at best, so it was better to not say anything and accept that this was–

“Sorry, I got caught up with the staff about ending my lease.”

Compromised.

You didn’t look at him. “What?”

“Gonna end my lease this month and move my studio stuff to the condo. I can’t afford both.”

He had told you this already. It had been your idea. You already knew you were overreacting to a situation that you created in your head rather than reality. And, yet, the best your mind would allow was uh huh, a plausible explanation, sarcasm included.

“Ah. Right,” was your sharp, mildly frigid reply.

“I can’t read your mind.”

Do you intend to be exhausting?

Your mental peanut gallery was super annoying.

You breathed in. Cool, crisp air. The sound of cars and people bustling in and out of stores. You breathed in again. Did you really intend to be exhausting, irrational, and, worst of all, dishonest? Really, after all that had happened? After getting here, standing here, arriving to pick up Yoongi at his request to do the grocery shopping together?

You turned back to look right into black-brown, piercing orbs.

“I just realized that I have the ability to be jealous,” you exhaled, draining your lungs. “It’s unpleasant and not nearly as delightfully pivotal as the media makes it out to be.”

Something fluttered in those orbs.

Or maybe it was the wind catching his bangs, drifting black strands over his eyes shadowed by dark circles.

Yoongi half-smiled.

“Makes for good songwriting material though.”

There was an air of helplessness to his words. A tone you couldn’t define, except for the understanding, which left you both baffled and with a sense of guilt. There were emotions in that barely-there smirk on those familiar lips. Relief. Maybe a slight bit of shame. A shadow of guilt too. You realized people were glancing at you and him as they walked past, wondering why you both were at a standstill on the sidewalk. Yoongi seemed to not notice them or care.

You pulled your hands out of your pockets.

“Come on. We should go before it gets dark.”

Before you noticed it, your hand was rising.

You pulled it back, but not fast enough.

Yoongi’s free hand reached out and grasped around yours, strong fingers enclosing. Sliding up, calluses on your palm. Your hand lowered, slowly, your eyes moving in the opposite direction. Lips parting. His hand was colder than yours.

You stared at Yoongi.

He looked back, expression unreadable.

“I don’t hold hands,” you said, suddenly breathless.

You tightened your grip.

“Neither do I,” Yoongi replied, taking a step, on the cusp of walking past you, his hand around yours. “I simply just don’t like the idea of yours getting cold when I can do something about it.”

Previously, when you held hands, it was always with a purpose of showing public affection. The look-how-real-this-is-because-there-are-clear-witnesses show. Front row tickets nobody asked for. But this.

This.

You blinked hard and the sting was inside.

The sting of wasted time.

Your name in that raspy, soft voice. Familiar. You looked up, not saying anything and hoping the eye contact was enough. All Yoongi did was smile lightly and tug your hand.

“Let’s get take-out and shop tomorrow. We have plenty of time to eat healthier.”

-

“You can cry in front of me.”

Min Yoongi heard her breath hitch and still.

Seconds that felt like hours ticked by. It was the dead of night. Or maybe one could call it the time when honesty came to life, if the conditions were right. He knew this time well usually with a drink in his hand, but this time he was laying on his side with bruises of bites and carnal memories lingering on his fingertips.

“I wasn’t crying.”

Her voice was thick and strained from trying to keep it even. Her moment of jealousy had happened days ago. He had recognized it right away. Call it personal experience. He also recognized that she didn’t like to feel that way. It was obvious from her torn yet furious expression. It confirmed a lot of things for him. Still, she seemed pleased to help him move and set up his things in the bedroom. They found the living room to be a bit too echoey due to the large space so they switched the two, pulling the mattress to the living room and setting up his equipment in the center of what was formerly the bedroom.

He told her to paint the condo.

She had mentioned in passing that someday she would like to paint her entire living space black. Not this place, because he owned it too, and you probably think I’m crazy for wanting a dark space, huh, Yoongi? He asked her, why wait? No one lives forever. We’re just passing through.

She had given him a weird look.

We own this condo. Paint it.

There were cans of black paint waiting.

Yoongi had intended to go visit his family over the weekend. His parents and his brother who had recently been promoted to head chef at the classy restaurant he worked at. Someone in the family needed to have prestige. Well, that was his own personal feeling. Surprisingly at this point his parents had even up on telling him to get a higher-paying job. They told him to simply be happy.

And get married.

Yeah, about that.

He was still trying to get used to the music producer thing, for fuck’s sake.

“Are you afraid I won’t understand?” Yoongi let himself say, not turning around yet.

Sometimes, people didn’t want you to see them weak. He could understand that.

Call it personal experience.

A shuddering sigh. Deep breaths. Words bogged down, drained.

“I can only be so pathetic before I lose my mind recalling the past,” she mumbled. He felt her weight deepen on her side of the bed, as if she was trying to melt into the mattress. “I made things hard for myself. For you. It’s pointless to cry about it anyway. In the end, it only makes me look ungrateful.”

Yoongi thought about it.

“It’s true that you probably shouldn’t have involved me.”

He shifted, laying on his back now.

“But I’m not a good person either. I agreed, after all,” he murmured, his skin tingling with bruises and carnal memories. “Hm, to be honest, he was always a dick though, from high school till now. Always will be, I fear.”

“You’re easygoing enough not to be affected by his asshole behavior.”

“Not my job to change people. I leave that to parents and clueless fools.”

A pensive silence. Surprisingly not an irritated one. She seemed to accept it.

“Why did you become his friend?” she asked, staring at the ceiling with him.

“We just happened to like the same thing. Music.”

“I’m lucky you decided to become his friend.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “I’m lucky that somehow he managed to bamboozle a hot and clever girl, two things he’s obviously not.”

She almost laughed. Almost.

“Who the fuck uses the word bamboozle?”

“You had to admit you were bamboozled, because you sure as hell weren’t dick-drunk.”

“Oh? You think you’re that good, huh?”

“No, I just know he’s that much worse.”

The faintest of chuckles.

“You… You get better every time,” she admitted. “I think I just caught you off guard the first time.”

“Firstly, I don’t like wasting time and, secondly, I had given up for a while before…” I met you. “Romance seemed like an expensive, worthless distraction when I could be using that time and money trying to push the band forward,” he pivoted, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. “Then that went to shit.”

“Sorry.”

Automatic.

He chuckled darkly. “I’m confident I got the better deal.”

A trembling pause.

“Why do you think that?”

He reached over and placed his palm on the top of her head, lacing his fingers in her hair. Messing it up.

“Tell me the truth. Was he good at sex?”

A burst of laughter. “Really? Alright. No, he wasn’t. He sucked. Thought he was a piston of a muscle car instead of a human being. Oh, and once he fell asleep on top of me.”

He cocked an eyebrow. Turned his head and forced hers to turn as well.

She was smiling.

Yoongi found his chest tight and breath shallow.

“And you didn’t leave him then… why?” he pressed.

She winced, albeit playfully. “I yelled at him. A lot. I don’t know, maybe he was tired.”

“Not an excuse.”

“I know, I know…” Sigh. “I… I didn’t want to believe I made the wrong choice.” Her eyes shifted, but her body was still turned to face his. “I… It made my entire family angry, dating him. Especially my parents. They would never forgive me and hold it over my head forever. I had to make it work. I thought, if only I worked hard enough…” Another heavy breath, squeezing her eyes tightly. “I know it was pride, but I wanted to prove to them and myself that I could do anything. Bad choices? Maybe. But they were mine. I don’t want my life decided by what is best for me. If I suffer for it, those are my consequences.”

Her eyes opened, but barely.

Yoongi kept his hand on her head, running his fingers through her hair.

“I… I feel like shit because now you’re stuck in my mistakes,” she breathed.

He liked to touch her hair. It felt comforting.

“You know what your problem is?”

She glared under lashes and dared him.

Undeterred, he continued. “You blame yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened.”

A disapproving frown. “Hah?”

He tapped her forehead. “You think it’ll bother me if you cry, but what truly bothers me is that you cry alone.” Pushed back the strands, and now he was closer, sharing breath. “You think I’m stuck in your mistakes. Mistakes don’t inherently have only negative consequences. They almost always exist in a gray area.”

“I... I know that,” she grumbled, face against his chest.

“I did say you were clever.”

A drifting, drowsy silence.

“I’m not clever,” she whispered to his skin, pulling her body closer. “I just like you.”

Yoongi felt himself losing to sleep.

“I’ve always liked you, since the moment I saw you,” he muttered into her hair, breathing in the familiar scent, so quietly that he wasn’t sure if he said it at all.

-

“Ah? Yes? Sorry about that. Oh, yes, uh, I’m painting. Everything. Yes, I’ll be sure the keep the windows open. Thank you.”

You closed the front door of the condo. Well. You had expected nervousness, but somehow the conversation between you and the downstairs neighbor had been very calm. Apparently, he worked from home and wasn’t expecting the loud crash of the ladder from your unit.

In your defense, you hadn’t expected it either.

Thankfully, you hadn’t been on the ladder, only trying to figure out how to set it up. It was one of those compact ones that saved space but required some innovative thinking to get the taller height you needed. One crash and a YouTube video later, the ladder was now secure, and then came the knock on the front door.

The thoughts flew by – I don’t belong here, I can’t do this alone, they’re going to scold me and I haven’t even done the upper half yet – but the guy just seemed curious and confused. Didn’t even comment on your awkward outfit of navy boys’ basketball shorts and ill-fitted gray sports bra. Both on super sale. You were still wearing your bra because of the incorrect size, so the gray blob was bordering on ugly-ass tank top.

Look.

Some people had clothing they didn’t care about to paint in and some people had to dive in sale bins because they left behind most of their wardrobe and, with the clothes, their bad memories.

That was the intent.

Things rarely go as intended.

For instance, you thought you were going to feel imposter syndrome for a neighbor knowing that you were painting your own goddamn walls. You turned away from the door after you locked it, frowning. That’s right. Like it or not, bad decisions and minus an ex-boyfriend later, these were your walls. You looked up, out the large, floor-to-ceiling living room windows, and saw the sunlight sparkle over the sprawling city, walls painted half-black and half white surrounding you, and you could say that you never wanted to be here, but.

It was a sick view.

We own this condo. Paint it.

Your muscles were sore from the repeated swiping motion of the paint roller, but there was still this inexplicable energy coursing through you.

“What if it doesn’t look good?” you had asked Yoongi.

He had shrugged. “Then we paint it again.”

“It’ll be dark.”

“Wow, really? I thought black was supposed to be bright and cheerful,” was the sarcastic quip. “Just believe you have good taste and paint the damn walls.”

This condo was an investment that made you poor.

That was the truth you needed to face.

You have good taste.

You scrunched your face slightly as you remembered Yoongi’s facial expression. Was he… praising you or himself? You squinted. This guy. Picked up the paint roller again and saturated it with ink black, making crispy crinkly sounds as you shuffled over the plastic. Good taste. Well, that was relative, wasn’t it? Everything was at the end of the day. You climbed onto the ladder and began the repetitive, monotone motion once more but at a higher elevation. You should have put your music back on. Your phone was on the plastic-covered mattress and you were not about to go back down until you finished this section or ran out of paint. This was going to be a long process, but you had several days and too much time as Yoongi had already left to visit his family.

Now you were alone with a lot of paint and mind-numbing fumes.

Shit, you should have opened the window.

You would have to paint a second coat anyway. Who cared if the first coat was shitty?

Sigh.

Climbing down and doing your due diligence before returning to your post.

You had forgotten once again to put your music back on. Hah. Well, that was fine; you had yourself. You didn’t mind being alone. Heh, sometimes it was better to be alone. You continued rolling away, hardworking in the consistent rhythm. Thinking about it now, this might have been the first time in a long time that you were okay with being alone. Before, you had felt guilty whenever you weren’t thinking about your relationship. Huh. Odd. Was it some kind of mental self-reassurance when you knew something was off? It was hard to tell, but possible.

Everything was off about that relationship. You just had too much pride to admit it.

You sighed, climbing back down to reload.

Wait a second. Was this why there was that wider step towards the top of the ladder? You poured some more paint in the tray and carried it up with you. Oh shit. Wow. Innovation. You coughed and went back to a different patch of wall. No one saw that. See, perks of being alone.

Well, you didn’t hate Yoongi being here.

You stopped painting.

You didn’t just think that.

You went back to painting. Shut up, nagging feeling. You furiously painted on, ignoring your soreness, telling that little voice in your head to shut up, because there were plenty of reasons not to think stuff like that. Firstly, you weren’t ready to think stuff like that. And what if it was only hopeful transference rather than genuine feeling? Asshole or not, your ex-boyfriend’s betrayal of trust was not something so easily overcome. It wasn’t fair to Yoongi either, pretending to like him if you weren’t sure.

You liked Yoongi before you broke up, too.

Wasn’t that fucked up?

You sighed and came back down, careful to scoot the ladder without spilling and causing a mess. Back up and at it. Of course, it was fucked up. And you knew it was, which might have been why you let it get that bad. Might? Was why you let it get that bad. Two hypocrites were meant for each other. You huffed, puffing your cheeks. It wasn’t enough to hold the ticking grenade; you had needed confirmation it was a, in fact, a bomb.

Maybe even hoping it would end you.

It didn’t.

For some reason, you thought Yoongi could see that in you.

Damn, he’s really living in your system, hm?

You frowned.

Your phone rang.

You almost jumped, startled at the sudden sound of an old song you used to enjoy. Back when you were a teenager, and the memories came back as you climbed down. A kid who just really liked rock’n’roll, and parents who did not, but that kid didn’t care, annoyingly setting it as her ringtone on her shitty flip phone. Couldn’t you be her again? Before you had time to ponder, you checked your hands for paint and picked up your phone, answering it.

“Hello?”

“Did you eat?”

You blinked, sitting down on the crinkly plastic upon hearing that deep, raspy voice. “Uh, no. I was gonna stop by the convenience store when the first coat was done.”

“No, you weren’t. You were gonna skip a meal,” Min Yoongi tutted. “Because you don’t want to be a nuisance and use the money I had left you.”

Damn. He knew you, all right.

“If I forget, I forget,” you grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, pick up the food order from the front desk when it comes. They told me about thirty minutes.”

“You don’t have to order food for me. I’m not a kid,” you hissed.

“It’s the pho spot you like and if I don’t put food in front of you, you won’t eat. You intend to do all that hard work without some fuel?” A pause. You made a disapproving noise. “And I know you’re not a kid. By the way, what’s your waist measurement?”

You remained a grump. “Why?”

“I’m here, so I’m going to buy you some clothes.”

“Don’t buy me clothes. Don’t spend money–”

“You need things,” Yoongi cut you off. “Unless you want to come with me? You don’t trust me?”

“That’s not it and you know it,” you snapped back. “It’s not worth–”

“Of course, it isn’t. It’s vain and silly and superficial. And I’m still going to buy you things, so tell me your waist measurement.”

“Yoongi, this is your hard-earned money,” you puffed out, exasperated.

“Yeah, and I make money to provide you with a good life because I think you are the most important person to me. So, do you want me to guess with my hands or are you going to meet me halfway?”

Dead silence.

He called your name, softly.

You told him in centimeters.

“Got it. Don’t forget to check the front desk in thirty minutes.”

-

“I love you.”

His hair was stuck to his face due to sweat. “What?”

“I said I love you,” she said, staring right at him, their chests shuddering from exertion.

Yoongi couldn’t believe it, but also he wasn’t surprised. The room still smelled faintly like paint. The windows still had no curtains or blinds. They were still fucking on the mattress in the center of the living room and he was holding the used condom when she said I love you.

The walls and ceiling were all black, covering them in darkness as the city below glimmered with light.

“I love you,” was his reply.

It startled him, the suddenness of his response. He knew he did. Of course, he did, and he turned away quickly, making his way to the kitchen and throwing away the condom, skin tingling, cheeks aflame, and he was startled by the feeling that remained. He hadn’t expected those words to come out of her mouth even though he was sure of his own feelings. Yoongi had resigned himself to not hear it from her lips. He also didn’t need to hear it to know that it was true.

He saw her head to the bathroom.

Time was funny sometimes.

Suddenly they were both staring at each other on the mattress, the usual ritual completed, and the moment suspended.

“You didn’t have to say it,” he finally said. “For my sake.”

“I didn’t.” Her hair curled over her shoulder, caressing her curves. “I said it for my sake.”

Blankets and pillows and questions.

“I wondered about the validity of it,” she admitted to him. “Been wrong before and all that. Might still be wrong. So, I said it just to see if I regretted it.”

“Ah.”

They stared into each other’s eyes.

“Do you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

He half-smiled. How very simple yet complicated. He understood. “All the paint fumes really got to your head, huh?”

She looked up at him and he realized with a start that she, too, was half-smiling.

He reached out, smoothing her hair.

“You have a pretty face, Yoongi,” she teased, eyes sparkling.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I thought it would be too cliché, you and me,” she continued and the tone was different now, softer and more serious. “I thought you would get tired.”

She meant, of me.

He had thought this was cliché too. Cliché didn’t mean worthless though. His hand fell, and rested over hers without a second thought. Warm and against the sheets. “If I felt that way, I would have stopped speaking to you long ago. You could take care of yourself too.” Not safely, but could. “Except for money.”

She smirked.

“So you’re saying I need a suga daddy.”

Yoongi twitched.

“Part of me wanted to sell the condo as soon as possible,” she went on, casually glossing over the comment. “But the realtor said it would be a bad idea. I wouldn’t have any buyers without a minimum of six months or a year. Too many superstitions. Part of me thought I should…”

She looked up to the ceiling.

It was a high-rise, after all.

“All the reasons to move here were his. More convenient, better opportunities, owning rather than renting for the investment… I believed in it, more than myself.”

He didn’t say anything. Couldn’t because all those things had benefitted him already. He didn’t only agree to move in help her out. He was still a working music producer. But she didn’t seem to be saying it to condone him.

“I didn’t really think this place was mine until I painted the walls.”

Yoongi thought he should at least confess this part. “That’s why I told you to paint them.”

A small laugh. “You don’t like it, huh?”

“Don’t you remember the walls of the old studio were dark gray? That was my doing. I always resented the last place I rented because they didn’t let me paint the walls.”

“Ah… He painted over the gray.”

“I bet he did.”

They had fallen to the bed now, side by side.

“I didn’t think this would work out,” she breathed.

“I thought it might,” he hummed.

“Why?”

“You’re hot and clever and I wanted you from the first day I saw you.”

A warm chuckle. “Just like that?”

“Well, you had to give me a chance. Couldn’t make the first move due to the circumstances.”

“It was a convoluted and confusing one.”

“Eh, life’s unfair.”

-

“Your husband already paid.”

Your what?

“What?”

The cashier waved you away. You shuffled back, dazed, seeing Min Yoongi emerge from the bathroom in the corner of the restaurant, tucking a bit of his long black hair behind his ears and finding you in front of him.

“The cashier just called you my husband,” you declared.

He shrugged.

“Surprise.”

You blinked at him.

Patrons chatted and laughed as if this was a normal day. The music was horrendous covers of cheesy 2000’s pop. It was very strange, but the pho was good and well-priced, which was why Yoongi and you came here often after his meetings with music companies. Popular talent was in high demand.

He ticked his head to your outfit. “I know you like this dress I bought you, but you’ve left your coat at the table.”

“Oh, shit.”

“You’ve been scatterbrained ever since you started writing again.”

“Shut up.”

--

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts smut #yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

[writella]

hi, sweetie! Hope you’re doing well. I just had the cutest thought that I wanted to share. And maybe if you want to add on to it as a drabble or something please feel free:) if not, then please just enjoy todays shower thoughts lol.

I’m thinking about a friends with benefits! reader and Daryl who find themselves travelling by canoe for whatever reason. And how they might get into some petty argument or even play fight that ends with them flipping the boat and the two of them just stand in the water, soaking wet and staring blankly at eachother with disappointment. Bangs sticking to your both your foreheads as the canoe slowly floats down the river along with all your dignity.

Take care! xoxo

Rocking the Boat

Synopsis: Daryl has been back home for weeks; the first attack against the Sanctuary is complete; Alexandria, the Kingdom, and the Hilltop are on their way to freedom; but nothing is the same as it was, especially not with you and Daryl. Maybe a house boat side quest will break the ice, or really, make some waves.

Details: This is set during the beginning of season 8, it includes violence, smut, a fwb relationship but feelings are involved, mutual pining, a little bit of switch Daryl and reader, and some sweetness because I think it’s just my thing at this point. ♡

A/N + Response: Hello, lovely miss T ♡ what a fun idea!! I love the imagery you set with the canoe tipping over, especially the bangs so cute— it was one of my favorite parts to write here! This is probably a bit unrealistic and much longer than I intended, so I think I might consider this a full one-shot as well as a concept, and… it’s also a bit sad? Just a little until we get to the good stuff, I promise ;) Anyway I hope you like it; let me know what you think!!

Daryl sat on Rick’s porch, his back against the poles, reloading his guns as you sped up the steps, “I think we should go back to the boats. Now.” Your voice was hurried, you had run all the way from your house, but he didn't even look up at you.

“Why would we do somethin’ stupid like that?” His voice was low, and annoyed. You didn’t expect to be greeted kindly, but at least he sounded like anything other than emotionless to you since the first time you saw him again; since the time he escaped the Sanctuary.

“There’s no one there. I saw it before I got back home. There were people with guns sitting outside the first time we saw it, but now there aren't.”

“A couple of guns ain’t gonna help us.”

“There had to have been a reason they were guarding it before.” Your words were urgent and your eyes pleaded for him to look up. “Any amount of guns could make the difference, Daryl. You know that.” You stare at him, waiting for nothing as he doesn’t respond. “Did you and Rick even find anything before you got back?” You cross your arms, “Cause it doesn’t look like it. And I think I just did.”

You had gotten separated from the group after the first attack against the Sanctuary: you ran without thinking, just trying to get away from the army of walkers stampeding the place. Straying off the usual path to Alexandria, you accidentally reencountered a place you and Daryl only saw once before. It was a time before Negan, before the Saviors. But now, remembering their jackets, and their weapons, and how their bikes looked parked at the shore, you realized those were three Savior cabin boats— fairly sized, a bit rusty, they had a shack like feel, but it was big enough to stand and sleep in. Maybe something of use could be in there, and at least it was something to do while you waited for the final attack.

Similar to Rosita and Michonne, you also got hurt by the scavengers— day zero of the war, when Sasha died— but the girls left you here, they didn’t even tell you they were going, you didn’t even see them leave. But you needed to get out too; you needed to help. “I’m going with or without you.” Your anger started bubbling at his indifference, “And I saw you talking to Tara, I know you’re planning something, so if you want to go off with her and complete your idiot side plan-”

“You’re the one with the dumbass plan.”

“- then that’s fine!” You glare at him, his eyes still so evasive, it infuriates you. “My objective is to find more weapons, before the final attack.” You lied, you both knew your objective was to rest before the final attack, “So I’m gonna go do that.”

You begin to walk briskly. You knew he was going to try to stop you. You knew he was going to come with you when he realized, yet again, he couldn’t stop you, or… you hoped he couldn’t… Sometimes you forget how much stronger he is than you. You had a smart mouth and you knew how to get a reaction out of him, or at least you did in the past, but he could pinned you down with one hand, making you completely immobile— it’s happened before. The thought makes you walk faster, heading for the nearest car. You were trying to make a point although you weren’t sure what it was. You were just tired of sitting around, tired of his treatment— mistreatment, actually. You knew he had reason to act curtly, what he went through was unspeakable, but you were still there for him, waiting, but he never came to you. Not even late at night. Not even to simply sleep.

Just as you’re about to reach the car you feel his hand wrap around your arm, you almost let it yank you. Your breath is a heavy mix of fear and excitement as he does so. Maybe you finally got something out of him. Maybe you still have it. Maybe you still have him. “We don’t got time for this,” he hissed. Then his jaw clenched, it almost looked like he was chewing on something, “but you’re forgetting the boat.”

“It’s a canoe.” You were pushing it with the retort, he was coming.

He grunts as he lets go of your arm, it slapping down to your side. You wait for him by the car as he retrieves the canoe and paddles from one of the house garages. You guys had found it a long while ago, never knowing when it would be of use. That time was now.

The ride toward the waterfront was irritable and depressing to say the least. You wanted to be around Daryl, you wanted to stop him from going off plan with Tara, but most importantly, you just wanted to talk to him; finally and for once. You all were on the biggest missions of your life, in the biggest war of your life… who knows where your fates would lie after this, but he has yet to say anything to you that didn’t involve fighting the Saviors, and even with that, he didn’t say much. He wanted to win. He was ready to do it fast. Whatever it took. That was all.

He kept shifting in his seat, short, low grunts coming out of the side of his mouth— he didn’t want to do this right now, but he knew you were just as stubborn as him, especially when it came to him. As dumb as he felt this was, it wasn’t time for another person he cares about to get hurt.

“Stop fuming,” you muttered.

He snapped back, barking your name, “We’re in a war! We could be doin’ better things right now and got me here for what?”

“Maybe so you don’t kill people we need alive right now?” You were talking about Dwight, you did more than just see Daryl talking to Tara.

His following grunt truly said typical. “You always got your nose where it don’t belong.”

You ignore him, “We should follow Rick’s plan.”

He shakes his head, ignoring you this time. He’s tired of talking about this. He’s going to go on the boat, see if there’s weapons, get Tara, and use whatever you two find to complete his own plan at the Sanctuary. This needs to be done.

“At least it’s a little over 5 miles off the out-post the Kingdom took out,” you reason, “that must be why no one is there anymore.”

Still no response. Typical, it’s your turn to think it. You let go of talking to him for now. The rest of the drive was silent as well as when you get to your destination, starting to put the canoe on water.

You look at the three small, now unguarded, boats. Only one bike was by the land and there was blood splattered on the middle house, the biggest one. Maybe the Kingdom took out the guy that was there, but there were no boats or canoes around, no way for someone to get close enough inside.

You two get in, starting to row. “There better be somethin’ good in there,” Daryl huffed. You hoped so too. Uncertainty started filling in with the reality of your awful plan. There really could be nothing in there and you really could have spent your day doing something that mattered to the cause. If these boats held anything important, why wasn’t a Savior there already? But even worse, the realization that you were acting out of desperation just because Daryl had been acting so cold… felt even more terrible.

You knew Daryl was scarred, far more than before and you were trying to be patient. You were going to let him come to you. You knew he needed time, and he was at the Kingdom for a little bit anyway, hiding out from Negan. You couldn’t even talk to him if you wanted to because of that. But now you had been planning that first attack for weeks, you were sleeping in the same place together again, but not in the same room, not touching. And again, you understood why, but then again… you didn’t. It was so hard to gain his trust, for him to open up to you, you thought that was something you gained for keeps; but now he wasn’t even allowing you to have a friendship anymore, let alone this in-between relationship you used to have. It made you upset how much power you realized you let him have over you. You missed him so much, and now you weren’t even sure if he missed you back, or if he had reason to. Maybe it was just a fling after all.

War feels long, but it’s only a short time in truth. Nonetheless, a short time that can define who you are thereafter. This could be him, and maybe it always was. And this could be how you two will always be. Forever.

You decide to break the silence again as you row, your thoughts becoming insufferable: “That’s actually not the right technique,” you stutter, “if- if you’re curious.” You start to row based on what you taught yourself, the canoe going just a bit faster now, “I read it in a book from Deana’s old library.”

“So you read somethin’ in a book and now you think you know everything?” His eyes were annoyed. “Hmph.”

Your voice raises, “Well just because you’re so experienced in the wilderness or whatever doesn’t mean you know everything either.”

“I’m doin’ it fine.” He wasn’t. “You don’t even know how to swim.” You didn’t. “So maybe just be glad you ain’t dying today.”

You repeat yourself, “Still- doesn’t- mean- you know how to do everything… You expect me to think Merle took you canoeing? Of all things?” You cock your head, “Pretty sure he was out finding the next score.” You knew it was a low blow to bring up the dead brother, but you were upset. No talking and now insults? You could be cold too, even colder, even if you didn’t like it.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up!”

Then you screamed. A walker with gills, swimming in the water approached your boat behind Daryl. Your voice made him turn around to see it. You take your paddle to try to stab it in the head, but the walker’s hands are along the canoe rim, coming closer to you, it makes you accidently hit Daryl with your swing. “Oh- Sorry!”

“Fuck!” He yelled.

“I’m sorry!” A realization comes, “Is this the guy?”

“If it was he’s been dead for a while.” Daryl shouts, taking out his gun and you take out your knife. He’s trying to shoot the walker in the head, it’s closer to your side now. But you’re thrashing and water is flying while you try to jab them in the head with your knife. The walker has one of your arms and you’re trying to pry it away with the hand that has the knife. Neither of you have a clear shot at getting the thing, all three of you rocking the canoe far too much.

“Stay still!” He yells at you.

“Im trying!” You shout with the same force, the same annoyance, “He’s not making it easy, Daryl!”

Daryl has a chance to shoot the walker in the stomach, and he takes it, but it does nothing. The walker’s hands on you do not quit. The two of you just keep yelling at each other, riling the walker up. You can hear the biting sounds they’re making near your arm.

He shoots again, but you and the walker are still moving too much and Daryl’s loosing balance. The walker is tipping the canoe with their hands, water splashing inside. The next bullet goes into the wood, making a hole.

Their starving mouth continues to try to bite at you. You pull using all your strength to get their mouth away, trying to use your other hand to slice into their head. You two have never seen a walker like this: they can swim and they’re so strong.

Water now fills the boat from the hole as Daryl moves forward on the canoe, pushing your head, his hand quite literally covering your whole face to shove you out of the way, getting a clear shot at the walker and firing at their head. He clicks twice: Boom. Boom. Guts and water fly everywhere.

The splashing of the water and the firing of his gun overwhelms all your senses. The weight of Daryl is on your side now, neither of you have balance; both your weights pull the canoe over the edge as it flips over entirely with you under it.

You scream, but your voice is muffled. You thrash around, trying to use what little experience you have. You come above water for a few seconds, wailing, and Daryl grabs you.

“Hey- Hey- Hey!” his words snap, rough like barks until he gets you to look at him, gripping your face so it’s forward. “It’s okay,” he’s breathing almost as heavy as you are. His voice becomes even now, “It’s okay.” You realize he has you in his arms— it really was okay.

Feeling he might make a comment about you almost drowning, you force yourself to speak through water filled lungs, “Don’t. Say it.”

So he didn’t. He just holds you tight, you even feel his thumbs squeezing into you at the waist now, and through half lidded eyes, you see his arms tense, working hard to make sure you never fall, but it’s at a half arm's length, his elbows bent. You blink rapidly, your wet eyelashes still flapping shut until you’re able to open them better. You can see Daryl more clearly now.

You try to swipe some of the hair out of your face. The baby hairs at the crown of your forehead stayed slick in place while some parts of your hair started to lightly form your wave or curl pattern, but in all, you were absolutely drenched.

Your hands now hold onto his forearms just as tight as his below. It was one of those rare moments where you remember just how blue his eyes are. Their narrow shape and the way his hair lays always hides them away. But the sun was behind you, casting its light directly on him and his hair was now slick to his head as well: only some of it resting on his forehead.

If someone were to describe Daryl’s looks, they would probably say something typical like dark and rugged. They don’t see what you see. God, you forgot how uniquely handsome he was.

His hair changed colors in the light, it wasn’t as dark brown anymore, flecks of it were a more golden brown in the sun. And you loved the mole that was just above his lip and facial hair. Almost no one else in the group had something like that. And now, there was the way his button down stuck onto his skin. The color was dark enough that it wasn’t see-through, but you saw every indent, every line of his bicep and tricep as you looked at his arms, trying to avoid his face, trying to avoid his chest or anywhere lower.

On the other hand, Daryl was trying even harder to avoid looking at your soaked body, failing even worse. His eyes couldn’t help but linger on how your chest huffed as you tried to catch your breath. Your collarbones are now exposed as your shirt slides down just a bit further, the light color almost see through because of the water, and your bra didn’t help much either. It was one of those without the padding, it was the only one that fit— your supplies, food and wearable, clean clothing, were running dangerously low at home. The thin material of both top garments showed how your nipples perked up now. And the way he had to grasp tightly on the smalls of your waist, feeling your stomach inhale and exhale as you calmed yourself down didn’t help either. It was like he felt your hold body moving… similar to a way he used to feel it.

It all makes him realize now how he hasn’t gotten the courage to look at you directly in the longest. God, he forgot how pretty you are. How lovely it was to hold you. Even if it was to escape death.

Your eyes are so big as you hold on tightly to his arms, you’re still shaken up. Trying to paddle your feet like you’ve seen on tv and in videos in the past. It’s adorable.

He didn’t dare look any longer, but part of him wondered if you were looking at him the same way. And you were. Specifically, the way you could see every line and ripple of his abdomen with his button up now glued to his body. As you let your eyes trail just a bit more form his arms, you noticed how magnified his chest looked, how his nipples were just as pert as yours.

It all made you feel something warm down below and it made something inside him twitch, but this wasn’t the time. He had been feeling so many things since he returned that he didn’t even know which ones to act upon first, so he reverted back to saying nothing, or at least nothing that had to do with how he really felt, how he really felt about you that is.

In the end, “You better hope I can make one of those shits run or we’re fucked,” was all he decided to say.

He moves your hands onto the back sides of his waist and he starts to swim. Your legs are off to the sides and he tells you to kick as he is and hold on tight as he swims you both to the middle boathouse, the one with the blood.

You hold onto the ledge as you finally arrive, allowing Daryl to go in first, checking for walkers at each boat. He does the side ones first. No one is there. Finally, he goes to the middle house: out of all of them, it’s the biggest wreck. The place is filled with pictures, Polaroids, scattered all over the place. It’s of the Saviors. And there’s all kinds of guns scattered on the floor, but he can’t help but to stare at the faces. He knew some of those faces.

You call his name, but he doesn’t respond. “What was in the other two?” You yell for him again, but nothing. You decide to go in the middle one as well, your eyes are amazed by the mess of guns on the floor. There were even ones still hooked up to the wall. There were knives and daggers too. Even glass cases with various bullets, you wondered what they did. Was this the emergency weapons stash? Had you reached it before a Savior could? “Why aren’t you picking this stuff up?” You look up at him impatiently, shaking your head and huffing, you’ll do it yourself you guess.

Daryl continues to look around, picking up a frame. The only framed picture in the boat. It was cracked on the ground: A Polaroid of Negan.

He takes the picture out of the broken glass to look at it closer. As if this wasn’t already the attitude of much of the Saviors, whoever lived and protected this place must have worshiped him. Negan stood proudly in it, his bat on the side of his shoulders, a big rifle strapped around his back on the other. His hair and beard was all black, and that notorious, all encompassing grin plastered his face from ear to ear. Daryl turned the picture over: the words, ‘Negan — The First Savior. My Savior,’ was written on the back.

It fired him up. It made him think of the dark, of that cell, of the food that probably wasn’t even food, when he was kicked and jumped by those Saviors in the parking lot, and that damn song— the saccharine melody would live on in his brain like a siren. There would never be silence inside him again. In fact, there never was. It was only louder now. So loud and so angry he feels it in his throat, traveling to his tongue, beneath his eyes, as he can no longer keep it in anymore; but he tries, and tries, and tries, quietly holding everything in while you keep collecting weapons, putting them in bags you find. The picture crumples in his closing hand, his fist turning red as he grips tightly, ruining the shining paper.

He slides down against the boat wall, sitting on the ground biting his tongue, stopping the feelings until you're done; until you two can leave and he can do what he needs to do. It’ll be without you, without Rick, without anyone. This needs to be done. He’ll do it.

“Daryl,” you call out, not facing him, collecting the bags. “I think I counted 32, but it could be 40… I think there’s smaller ones by the wheel and I didn’t even get the swords yet. If there's about the same number on the other two, there could be maybe over 100 new weapons,” you gasp with disbelief. “Were the other two like this?“

You we’re relieved, you knew it was a dumb plan, but you came out of it with a win; it was worth it. “Daryl, come on-” you turn to him now, “oh.”

You almost couldn’t see his eyes with how much more narrow he made them, they were practically closed and his face was down. You wondered if this was the moment you would first see him cry: his lip quivered, his face was as red as his fists, and he wouldn’t look in your direction, his head was basically to the wall as you started to walk to him.

Your movements are slow as you kneel down to the corner in which he sat. You place fingers along his jaw until your whole hand wraps around the area. Your strokes are gentle, feeling the bristles of his beard on your palm. He had been so angry since he returned, hell bent on war and death, but you remembered… he must have also been so sad, so depressed too. Poor boy, you thought. Poor boy, you forgot; in some ways, he still was just a boy.

You turn his cheek to face you, but his eyes don’t dare meet yours as a few tears start rolling out. Your own emerge too. It’s heartbreaking to see him like this.

You put your forehead to his, your nose rubbing against his own, “I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

You come even closer. Your lips lightly touch his, you’re tentative at first, not knowing if it was right, but then you feel his brush against yours just as light. You decide to move in, your lips parting his own as you kiss him.

Your tongue goes into his mouth, your hand raising his chin, you’re so delicate. He holds your shoulder, you lean into his bent body and your other hand slides against his chest. You’re both still wet and cold, but his heart beats warmly.

His head leans up against the wall as you push yourself further onto his lips. You hold his shoulders and he allows you to slide him down.

You look up at him, your hands on his shirt. This is not how you expected today to go. “Is this okay?” You ask softly. His nod is just as soft, you almost don’t see it, but his hands are lightly on top of your own as you unbutton his shirt, he lets you. It’s okay.

He’s unbuckling his belt now, pushing his pants down and your top goes over your head. He starts to unbutton your own jeans. It’s quiet except for your breaths, and the clinking of belts, and the undoing of zippers.

You pull him out a little more from the corner so you can straddle him. You start grinding your hips down into him and he pushes into your clit with his finger, circling it. The bit of warmness you felt below before is now almost pooling out instantly from just the littlest touches. Your back arches, you haven’t felt him in so, so long. You gasp and it accidentally turns into a moan. You’re so needy for it, but you remember: you want to help him.

Your hands move down to his stomach, your lips kiss his neck as your hands travels up to his chest and then back down, you start kissing him everywhere there as you do so, breathing him in, it makes him fidgety, little gruff sounds irruption from his throat, he’s trying to keep it in. Then you got even lower: you kiss down his cock until you’re at the tip. You lick at the pre-cum there. You put just a little bit of him inside your mouth, sucking, stroking the rest of it. His exhale comes out as a shaky gasp, he whimpers slightly.

Finally, you move back up and line yourself up with him, sinking down slowly as you look him in the eyes. You can’t help it, you start to ride him immediately thereafter. The stretch feels so good and so big and full as if you’ve never felt him before. Your moan is light and airy, you missed him. And he groans, “-ugh, fuck” and moans, “uh- mm- argh,” right after you do so. He missed you. You know that now, it makes you smile.

You lean up against him slightly. His mouth parted and you speak into it, your breast brushing against him as you rolled onto him, your stomached touching a bit. “I’ve got you,” you pant into his mouth, he’s panting too, “always.”

He holds onto your hips as you go faster, you’re holding onto his shoulders. “Does it feel good?” You kiss him right after you ask, his tongue going to the top of your mouth, sliding in wet and deliciously, it’s everything you’ve waited for. He hums into you as a response. You feel his dick twitch as your pussy grips on him tighter.

You feel like you both could be close until he starts kissing you more fiercely. His tongue only slipping in slightly as he pecks your lips, he bites down slightly, then kissing you deeply again. Then he turns you over. You’re under him now. His hands go right by your ears, flat on the ground and he thrusts into you. Hard. It almost hurts, you can’t lie. He’s grunting, short and quick, but his rasp, and his hair flying as he quickens the pace, and the fact that pain is slowly turning into pleasure… you’re fine with it. If this is what he needs, you’re fine with it.

His next grunt is almost a yell, it’s like a battle cry. He’s angry and you know it. You hold onto his flex arms tenderly, caressing him, silently telling him you’re there, but you allow him to continue.

His movements are faster now. More irate. His body comes closer to yours, but his movements do not stop their force. His thrusts feels like poundings, you feel like the floor is moving, maybe the boat is rocking, the bags jump with it.

He looks at your screwed shut eyes as one of his hands comes to touch your chest. Trailing your breast, then to the bottom of your stomach, staying there, pressing down, feeling himself inside of you has he shoves himself up and in, he’s deep, so deep. “Mmm,” You’re whining now, “-uuh.” It makes his eyes lighten, he’s humming, low and gruff and continuous, stuttering into you, eyes open waiting to see you come so then he can. It’s right there for him, but he wants to see you, he needs it.

Your moan mixes into a whine, “Daryl please,” you beg, “Daryl please- it’s- it’s too much, it hurts,” it makes him go even faster, and he can’t help himself as he comes in you first, sighing as he does so, but it’s exactly what you need to come undone yourself.

You grab the back of his neck, holding it close to you as you squeeze your arms around him and he does the same to your waist.

You both try to calm your breaths, “Never leave me again,” you say into his ear, breathing roughly. “Please.”

“Never.” He looks at you right in the eye when repeats it, “Never.” He wipes the tears from your face as you both nod, affirming a new promise to each other. “We’ll win. Together.”

After laying for a few moments, just looking at each other, he goes to the bathroom to find a washcloth, warming it with water, helping you clean up. He takes your hand so you can start doing it yourself and he kisses your forehead before he starts to get dressed. “I’ll be back.”

Soon enough, you hear the engine in the front start to rev up. He got it to work.

“You can drive a boat?”

“Gonna learn.” He turns to you, pulling you in front resting your hands on the wheel while he stands behind, his arms over your own. “We both are.”

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x afab!reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon #the walking dead smut #the walking dead fanfiction #twd smut #twd fanfiction #wonders with writella #wonderings with daryl #💌 ask answered 💌

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Have you… you know… died?

part 3 of MM ao3

Jason wakes up slowly. God, his whole body feels sore and achy. He shifts, then freezes. 

He was in an alley. He’d just been shot by some idioceta. He’d been bleeding out and unable to contact the cave. He struggled to remember what had happened. 

Tim had been there, hadn't he? But he didn’t think he was at the cave. And he wasn’t in enough pain to account for a near fatal bullet wound. In fact, apart from feeling achy he felt fine. But he knew he had been shot. How long had it been? 

He froze. He remembered glowing green. No. He was fine. He wasn’t with the League.

He could hear the sounds of traffic and what sounded like a whispered argument and he was still in uniform. 

At least he still had his helmet on. Which actually didn’t help much since the display was busted and he could barely make out a water stained ceiling above him.

He tried to focus on the sound of voices, but they were muffled, probably in a different room.

He sits up slowly, turning his head to take in as much of the room as he can through the fritzing display. It looks like he’s in a living room. He’s laying on a couch with a small coffee table between it and an old T.V. that's sitting on a crate. Off to the side is a kitchen. The voices are probably coming from a bedroom, he still can’t make out what they’re saying apart from a few words that don’t tell him anything. 

He stands, moving quietly towards the window. Whatever the situation is, it will be better if he can get out of here before they notice he’s awake.

The voices fall silent and Jason quickly unlocks the window. There are footsteps behind him and he hurries to pull the window open.

“Red Hood.” 

Jaso pauses and turns back, tensing and preparing to defend himself. 

He stills. In front of him looms a gorgeous redhead, she’s tall, probably about his height, and she has brilliant teal eyes. Behind her stands… a boy who looks remarkably like Tim. The eyes are a slightly different shade of blue and his hair is longer and unruly. 

“If you’ll wait just a moment, Hood, my brother,” she glares at they boy who looks sheepish, “can explain what’s happening.”

Jason considered. It would be nice to know what happened. Why he isn’t dead. And what that green stuff was. And neither of them look like they could take him down.

He turns full towards them and crosses his arms, “Explain.”

The girl relaxes and smiles at him. “Thank you. I’m Jazz, and this is Danny.”

“Hi.”

Jason waits. Jazz nudges her brother who steps forward and rubs the back of his neck not looking at Jason.

“I found you outside and unconscious. I brought you here, so you wouldn’t get murdered by some random goon or something.”

Jason stares. “You,” he points. “carried me?” There’s no way this scrawny kid carried him.

“Umm…” 

Jazz nudges Danny again and he shoots her a glare.

“What did you do?” Jason asks.

“What?” Danny frowns.

Jason motions to the tear in his suit, the bloodstain. “What did you do? I clearly remember getting shot.”

“Well, you see…” Danny trails off.

Jazz sighs. “Danny was able to heal you.”

“You a meta?” Jason asks. He feels relieved. If the kid’s a meta that means there was no Lazarus pit involved.

“Not exactly.” Danny says slowly, not looking at Jason. Jason waits. After a moment Danny continues. “Have you at some point, died or been really close to death or glowing green goo?”

Jason tenses up. He grits his teeth and he can feel his eyes start to glow. He steps forward menacingly, reaching for a gun that he only now realizes is on the coffee table and not in his holster. He shoves the fear down and growls, “What do you know about the Pits?”

*idioceta (ee-dýoh-keh-tah)- a word I made up combining the spanish words idiota and biblioteca. Means a library full of stupidity or a library worth of stupidity.

#jason todd #jason is liminal #jazz fenton #liminal jazz #danny fenton #bad parents jack and maddie fenton #fentons in gotham #dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc fanfic #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc au #dp x dc #dc x dp #jason todd is so done #lazarus pit #ectoplasm

[maximumsass]

Green Eyes of Envy Pt. 5

Synopsis: Things with the reader and Melissa have been going extremely well! So well that a certain redhead is possibly talking about a future with the reader! Which shocks the reader because it’s Melissa Schemmenti we’re talking about. Melissa is feeling so safe and happy with the reader that she invites her to the infamous Schemmenti Family Dinner on Sundays hosted by the one and only Nonna! It’s a big deal PEOPLE!! Will the reader say yes and meet the Schemmenti clan?? Will the Schemmenti’s approve of the reader! Guess you’ll have to keep reading to find out!

Author’s Note: Hello my amazing fanfic village! I know this is late! Please do not hate me! Haha! Writing this has brought me joy during a really rough few weeks for me. Writing about Melissa feeling safe enough to think about a future with the reader and just how they take care of each other and how purely genuine it is just makes this gay fanfic author’s heart so damn happy! And i hope it makes all y’all’s hearts happy too! This is my longest one I think but as a reader I like the longer ones so hopefully you feel the same! Please let me know what you think!! And any requests you have! As always sending all da hugs and love!!!

Warning: SMUTT and an Obnoxious amount of FLUFF

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Word Count: 6.28k

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It’s a Sunday night and the first quarter is almost over, report cards are due Wednesday morning. But you’ve made it your mission this weekend to get them all done so you can let go of the heavy stress that doing report cards carries.

Much to Jessica Rabbit’s chagrin you insisted that you spend the night apart. You honestly can’t remember the last night you spent away from each other. You had practically become the infamous U-Haul lesbian trope minus the U-Haul. Which wasn’t your norm in relationships, you had always liked spending a very calculated amount of time with someone and then you needed to be alone and charge your social battery until you were up to spending time together again.

But like everything that involved Melissa, it was just different in the best possible way. You could just be your 100% authentic self, tired, crabby, anxious, frustrated, sad, loving, happy…she just knew what to do and when she didn’t know she’d ask what you needed in those moments. Which in your past had been a very one sided thing that you would do for your significant other but they couldn’t do it for you. So having it be reciprocated was mind blowing to say the least.

Your phone starts ringing and a picture of the redhead kissing you on the cheek pops up.

“You know this totally defeats the purpose of us spending the night apart right?” You answer the phone in a teasing tone.

“You know you miss me just as much as I miss you. And you love that I called you!” She quips back.

“That is highly possible.” You say as you smile into the phone.

“Are you almost done?” She playfully whines.

“Are you a second grader or a second grade teacher?” You tease with a chuckle.

“You did this to me, you know! I was perfectly fine by myself, you know that I don’t like people. And then your gorgeousness had to walk into my life and gave me no choice but to fall in love with you! And now I’m the kind of woman who can’t even go a whole day without you being in my arms!” She exclaims.

“You’re making me get a big stupid smile on my face. You know that I feel exactly the same way about you my angel. I have two report cards to go, when I finish them I’ll text you and if you’re still up for seeing me I’ll pack a bag and Uber to your place.” You say hoping that’ll cheer her up a little bit.

“Correction, I’ll be picking your cute ass up. You promise you’ll text me?” She asks.

“If it’s not an ungodly hour, yes I promise.” You say softly.

“Noooo even if it’s an ungodly hour. (Y/N) I need you.” She says quietly, her voice filled with vulnerability.

“Fine silly girl. I promise to text you when I’m done.” You say softly.

“Good! I guess I’ll let you get back to grading. I love you so much amore mio.” She says softly.

“I love you more baby girl. Byeeeee.” You say.

“Byeee pretty girl.” She says and ends the call.

When you finish your last report card, you look at the clock and it’s already 11. You know the redhead is either in bed or fallen asleep on the couch. She’s not going to be happy but you’re going to Uber there so you don’t wake her up and have her drive here. You throw your stuff in the overnight bag that practically lives on either your floor or Mel’s floor. You make sure you submitted the report cards in the portal. And then call your Uber and before you know it, you’re standing on the redhead’s doorstep.

You take out your phone debating whether you should call or text her. You open your phone and pull up her number and decide calling is probably more effective and press call.

“Hey baby. Are you ready for me?” She answers trying to sound more awake but the grogginess in her voice gives her away. You definitely made the right decision to Uber here.

“I am but you need to check your front door first please and thank you.” You gently instruct her.

“You did not!” She exclaims.

You giggle into the phone.

She opens the front door and lets out a little squeal. And pulls you into the house and into her arms and you immediately relax from the stressful day you just had.

“You were supposed to let me pick you up!” She says into your neck.

“Were you not just sleeping?” You ask her teasingly.

“Possibly.” She reluctantly admits.

She breaks the hug so she can give you a long passionate kiss.

“Thank you for coming and taking care of my (Y/N) withdrawal.” She says softly, leaning her forehead against yours and gazing into your eyes.

“If I’m being honest with myself I had some Mel withdrawal myself. But this is definitely helping.” You say making sure she knows you feel the same way about her.

“Are you okay with just cuddling in bed?” She asks while trying to stifle a yawn.

“I will always be okay with cuddling in bed with my gorgeous girl.” You say as you caress her cheek. “Come on sleeping beauty, let’s get you in bed with your head on my chest and off to dream land.” You say with a smile as you lead her to the bedroom.

You get her to the bedroom and then go and make sure that everything in the house is turned off.

You’re weird when it comes to what you wear to bed, you literally just strip down to your underwear and call it good. Melissa gave you crap about it at first but stopped real quick when she realized it basically gives her a fast pass to all the goods!

You’re brushing your teeth and then you feel her wrap herself around you.

“You’re supposed to be in bed silly girl.” You say between brushing.

“I need you.” She says into your neck.

This is Melissa at her most vulnerable, she’s literally the definition of I don’t need anyone or anything towards everyone and everything else in life. The fact that she feels safe enough to say that she needs you is an honor and privilege that you don’t take for granted.

“I’m right here baby, available for all the cuddles you need.” You say gently as you finish wiping your mouth and then turn around to face her and kiss her softly.

You guide her back to bed and you both get in and just like you said she lays her head on your chest and you just melt into each other.

She traces patterns on your skin because she knows how that makes you fall asleep faster.

“Someday, hopefully in the not too distant future we won’t have to go anywhere to be with each other because we’ll have a home together.” She says quietly.

This is the first time she’s brought up moving in together. Of course you’ve thought about it because you already know Melissa is it for you, you can’t imagine your life without her. Loving her and being loved by her is your happily ever after.

“I don’t know… can you handle my ever expanding mug and magnet collection?” You tease her.

“I would get as many fridges and enough cabinets as it takes for your collections if it meant that I could wake up to you every morning and fall asleep with you every night.” She says as she smiles up at you.

“Have you really considered moving in together? Or is this sleepy Mel talking?” You ask as you play with her hair.

She takes your chin in her hand and has you look her in the eyes to show how genuine she is about this.

“(Y/N) you know I don’t say stuff that I don’t mean. I’ve really considered this. I’ve thought about how I’d ask you to live together. I’ve looked online for where we could live if you didn’t want to move here. I’ve also considered other things.” She says and then she mimics sliding something on your ring finger.

And for once you’re literally speechless by what she just hinted at!

She chuckles at how surprised you look. And then proceeds to give you a long and desire filled kiss.

When the kiss ends you look at her and see her mind going and then fear and embarrassment wash over her face.

“Have you not thought about those things with us?” She asks quietly. “Because if not… I didn’t mean to…” She tries to say.

“Melissa, look at me.” You gently instruct her. Once her emerald eyes are locked on yours, you continue. “I would love nothing more than to have a home together and to make you my wife. I was just shocked that you said it first, I thought I’d have to prove myself a little more or warm you up to those ideas.” You say as you stroke her hair.

You feel her let go of a breath she’s been holding. “You mean it?” She asks softly.

“I definitely mean it. So much so that I might have a Pinterest board called Mel’s Engagement Ring.” You say with a big smile.

The redhead is beaming at you and you can’t help but pull her in for another kiss.

“Do you think that we’re crazy for talking about all of this already?” She asks looking up at you.

“No I don’t think we’re crazy. I think we’ve known each other for two years and some change. And we’ve been close friends for most of that time. So compared to people who have just known each other the amount of time we’ve been dating, it makes sense that we’re already all in. And I think it’s one thing to know and want a forever future with someone but we just want to chill and get some more time under our belts as a couple first. And it’s another thing to be like we want all of that by next Friday. And correct me if I’m wrong but I would assume we’re both leaning towards the first one.” You say looking for her chime in.

“I mean I wouldn’t mind if it was next Friday.” She teases you with a smirk.

You chuckle and roll your eyes playfully.

“I’m just glad we’re on the same page and that it’s all out on the table.” She says softly.

“Me too angel. Now let’s get some sleep, my sleeping beauty.” You say as you kiss her forehead and pull her closer to you.

Your alarm goes off. “Noooooo.” You moan, you open your eyes, light is streaming through the window and red hair is splayed all across your chest, Jessica Rabbit has magically ignored your alarm and is quietly and adorably snoring with her arms wrapped around you like your her most prized possession and no one can take you away from her.

You try and wriggle your way out of her grasp but like an anaconda the more you try to get away the more the redhead holds you tighter.

“Baby.” You then proceed to kiss her until you see those emerald eyes open.

“I need to get up princess. And you’re doing the death grip hold again.” You tease as you kiss her forehead.

“You love it. Can we stay in bed for five more minutes?” She asks while intentionally giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Fine but only five minutes and then you have to be a good girl and let me get up.” You say in a faux strict tone.

“Deal! I love you so much.” She says into your chest.

You pull her in for a long passionate kiss, your tongues fighting for more access to the other. You feel her hand slink down to your nether regions. You hiss because my god do you want her right now, but you have to get ready.

She breaks the kiss and looks at you hungrily and in her husky seductive voice just says. “Please?”

And you did not know that just one word could make you wet until that very moment.

You close your eyes and nod.

“No, I need you to look me in the eyes and use your words.” She seductively instructs.

Damn look at her making consent hot! You look at her with such desire and say “Yes.”

And just like that she’s rubbing slowly along your folds. Shit, her fingers feel so good, you’re trying not to squirm and to keep some control. It’s like somehow she reads your mind because she looks at you and smirks and then immediately goes for your clit interchanging rubbing it slow and then fast and your whole body is shaking. She chuckles because she knows she has total control of you now.

“Mel, come here.” You say as you look at her longingly. She comes so her face is right above yours and you pull her in for another kiss. The heat between you two is so thick and every touch is another spark that turns it up hotter and hotter.

“I need you inside of me.” You whisper in her ear. She let’s out a little moan. This is probably both of your “favorite dirty talk” lines with each other. Because not only does it feel amazing when she’s inside you but you’re saying that I’m in this vulnerable position and need you to take care of me and it’s showing the rawest realest parts of yourselves to each other.

She slides her fingers into you and pumps fast and hard and you feel yourself start to float into an orgasamic haze. You cry out “Fuck Mel! Yes!” She puts her thumb back on your clit and starts rubbing it and in a matter of seconds you feel your cum just flow out of you and then her beautiful mouth cleaning you up.

She comes up and lays next to you. “Taste what I made you do.” She says softly and then pulls you in for a kiss, your hands tangle in her hair pulling her closer.

“Now that was your reward for working on your report cards and finishing them like the boss bitch you are.” She says with a big smile.

“I don't deserve you. I don’t know how I got so lucky.” You say as you stroke her hair.

“(Y/N) you deserve everything you want and so much more. I’m just lucky that I get to show you the love you deserve.” She says as she kisses your shoulder.

You both get up and start getting ready. You are putting on your blouse when you hear her enter the closet.

“So in lieu of everything that we talked about last night, I wanted to run something by you.” She says softly and you can detect a hint of nervousness.

“Okay what’s on your mind pretty girl?” You say as you take her hands and look into her eyes.

“I want you to come to family dinner and meet everyone.” She says while looking down nervously.

You literally don’t know what to say, it’s like your brain short circuited. You need to say something because obviously she was nervous to bring it up.

“Huh.” You say because it’s literally the first thing you can articulate.

You’re literally trying to make yourself understand that she wants you to meet her family. Fear and self loathing come crashing down on you.

“(Y/N). (Y/N). Where’d you just go?” She asks placing both hands on your cheeks. .

“It’s just past shit coming up again. I’m good.” You say as you lightly kiss her.

“Look at me. You’re safe. I’m right here with you and whatever it is we’ll face it together. But I need you to talk to me. Please (Y/N).” She says softly as she strokes your cheeks.

“I hate meeting people for the first time because the majority of the people just see my disabilities and not me. I don’t know if you remember but my first few months at Abbott I would just say hi and smile at the other teachers and staff, laugh when I thought something someone said was funny and talk to someone if they were directly talking to me. It just makes me think why the fuck would Melissa want me. You could literally have anyone and definitely many people who don’t deal with the shit that I deal with. And ironically Gary fucking said it, charity case is exactly how I feel when it comes to this shit. Like I feel like your family will take one look at me and be like what the hell, she could do way better.” You say in a shaky voice and you feel your eyes fill with tears.

The redhead wraps her arms around you and just holds you as you let the tears fall.

“It makes me so mad that you feel this way about yourself because of the bullshit you’ve gone through. First of all you feeling scared about meeting my family is totally valid. I know that I can’t begin to really understand what you experience when you meet people for the first time. But what I can say and this is not me trying to kiss your ass, the way I see you go through life with such grace, strength, courage and perseverance when you have obstacles pop on a regular basis just leaves me in awe of you. Yes you have shit that a lot of other people will probably never experience. But it’s made you the woman who makes me feel so safe, loved and taken care of. And that’s something that I didn’t think I’d find. Yes technically this will be the first time meeting my family. But I’ve literally talked their ear off about you and how amazing you are to me and how amazing you make me feel. They already love you and are so excited to meet you. And if anyone has anything bad to say they’ll have to go through me. I love you so much amore mio and every day I wake up I’m so grateful that I get to call you mine.” She says looking into your eyes with such love and adoration.

“I love you more angel. You always know how to calm me down. Thank you for being your amazing self.” You say as you pull her in for a kiss.

When we break away she gets a playful smile on her face. “Besides, how am I going to propose to you if you haven’t met my family.” She says with the biggest smirk and playfully nudges you.

“Melissa Schemmenti saying the P word, I must be dreaming!” You say nudging her back.

“Well as the gorgeous woman standing before me said last night I want to make you my wife. Mrs. (Y/N) Schemmenti just has a certain ring to it.” She says and then she kisses you softly.

“Seeing you all giddy about this is very adorable, you know.” You say with a smile.

“It’s all your fault, you turned me into this sappy romantic lovestruck chick.” She says as she goes into the bathroom to finish her makeup.

“Well what can I say, it suits you.” You say with a smirk as you lean against the bathroom doorway gazing at her with adoration. “So you have convinced me, I will go with you to family dinner. Do you want me to come this Sunday? Or should we wait a little bit?” You ask as you look at the ground nervously.

“Really?! You’ll come?!! Oh you are so coming with me on Sunday! Everyone’s going to be so excited to meet you! And I promise I’ll be right next to you the whole time and make sure you’re as comfortable as possible. I know this brought up a lot of hard shit for you. Thank you for really facing it and it makes me fall even more in love with you if that’s even possible.” She comes to hug you.

“Anything for my queen. Thanks for helping me through it baby.” You say melting in her arms. She tries to go for a kiss.

“You literally just applied your lipstick and are going to get it all over me. And then I will have to tell everyone this is what being loved by Ms. Schemmenti looks like.” You tease her and duck her kiss.

The redhead does the biggest pout you’ve ever seen and you can’t help but chuckle. “I love you angel.” You say as you kiss her forehead and then you head to get y’all’s coffees started.

Your hands feel like you literally just washed them they’re so wet with sweat. Great just another thing to add to the not good enough for Melissa Schemmenti list you think to yourself as you wipe them on your dress for the billionth time.

It’s Sunday night, you’re in the car with Melissa driving to Nonna’s house. You’re debating doing a fling yourself out of the car drop and roll type of situation to get you out of dinner but you know you can’t do that to the redhead. She’s been glowing all week. She's so happy about you meeting the Schemmenti family.

Barb asked you at lunch midweek what had gotten into Melissa. You explained that you were meeting her family over the weekend.

“(Y/N), I’ve seen her with Joe and the aftermath of men after him. I’ve never seen Melissa Schemmenti this happy and in love. So whatever you’re doing, keep it up! But know that I know and see all and will put you in your place so fast if you hurt her that you would’ve thought Jesus himself came down and smited you.” The brunette said giving you a no nonsense look.

“Yes ma’am.” You said with a nod.

Back in the car you feel her warm hand squeeze your leg. “Honey, you've been holding your breath since we got in the car. Breathe for me please.” She says as she gives you a concerned look.

You realize that she’s right and you didn’t even realize that you were holding your breath. You let a big breath out. And take a deep breath in and out.

“Better. One more deep breath please.” She gently instructs. You take one more deep breath in and out and realize it actually makes you feel better.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look tonight?” She says softly as she looks at you with a big smile.

“Only four other times.” You tease as you look at her while chuckling.

“That means I’m doing my job as your woman.” She smirks.

“You most certainly are.” You say as you kiss her hand.

“Okay we are on her block. Her house is the brick one with the green shutters.” She says to you.

The house comes into view and you swear to god your heart stops. You hear Mel shut her door and it jolts you back to reality. She comes to your side and helps you out of the truck.

She puts her hands on your biceps and gazed at you with such love. “They already love you. All you have to do is be yourself. And I’m right beside you the whole night.” She pulls you into a big hug. “Kiss please.” She says with a smile. You gently kiss her. And then you walk arm in arm up the steps and the redhead does a playful knock and then let’s herself in.

You follow the redhead into the entryway and can immediately hear the Schemmenti’s shouting over each other and possibly at each other. The aroma of an amazing Italian meal being made wafts through the house.

You brought Nonna a bouquet of an assortment of yellow, orange, and purple flowers. You decide to be a few steps behind Melissa, let her introduce you to everyone.

“Look at what the cat dragged in!” Announces a big bald burly guy who you think is Vinny.

“You’re one to talk Vin!” Melissa says as she playfully punches his arm.

“Now Vince, ya can’t talk like that, we have a lady in our midst.” A guy Vinny’s size with jet black hair comes up beside him and slaps him playfully aside the head.

It then dawns on you the man is talking about you.

“Mel you got yourself a looker! Where are my manners? I’m Dominic but everyone calls me Dom. It’s very nice to finally meet the woman that my cousin won’t shut up about.” He says as he holds out his hand.

You take it and give it a firm shake. “It’s very nice to meet you.” As you look up and give him a small smile.

You then hear a woman shout. “Let me through! I need to see this woman!” A little old lady barely five feet tall with the hint of red in her perm walks through the sea of Schemmentis, emerald eyes just like Jessica Rabbit’s give you a full body scan.

“Well you must be (Y/N). My granddaughter has told me so much about you!” She says as she gets to you.

“Good things I hope.” You say with a small smile.

“All good things which is high praise coming from her! But you already know what a special woman you must be to have Melissa feel the way she does about you.” She says looking you right in the eye.

“That’s very kind of you to say. Loving Melissa and being loved by her is something that I am so grateful for every day. And I know that sounds rehearsed and maybe ingenious but like Melissa I don’t say things that I don’t mean.” You say looking back at the Schemmenti matriarch.

“Hmmm I already can see why Melissa is fond of you. Strong women attract other strong women.” She says giving you a genuine smile.

“I brought you flowers. My mom taught me to never be an empty handed guest.” You say holding out the flowers.

“Your mom sounds like a very smart woman. These are beautiful dear! You are the first one that she’s brought here to give me flowers! And she married one of them, can you believe it?!” She said and winked at me. “Dom go find your wife and have her put these in a vase for me.” She hands the flowers off to Dom.

Her and Melissa give each other a big embrace. And then she says something to the redhead and they both look at you beaming.

“Come (Y/N)! A little birdie told me that you’re nervous about tonight. Well you just sit by me and I’ll talk enough for the both of us! Besides I need to know what your intentions are with my granddaughter as well as make sure you enjoy my lasagna!” She takes you by the arm and with Melissa on the other arm leads you to the dining room.

“Oh my god there she is!” You hear a voice say and then you see a doppelgänger of Jessica Rabbit herself only with jet black hair.

“You’re even more gorgeous in person! I’m Annette by the way, Mel’s cousin but we’re practically sisters. We've been inseparable our whole lives.” She says as she looks you over.

“It’s very nice to meet you.” You say with a smile and you hold out your hand.

“Awww look how polite she is, Mel you could learn a thing or two from her.” She teases Melissa and winks at her. “One thing you should know about us is that Schemmentis are huggers. Better to get used to it now. Come here I promise I don’t bite..hard.” She says and she opens her arms.

You don’t hesitate to hug her, you know how special she is to Melissa and you want to start off on the right foot with her. You hug her and it’s one of those warm comfy hugs where you can just feel her joy radiating to you. She’s got very good vibes, you can see why Melissa loves her so much.

“Has anyone told you that you give really good hugs?” She asks when the hug ends.

You chuckle a little. “Melissa says that to me all the time.” You say smiling at her.

Nonna takes you by the arm again and leads you to a seat. You pull out her chair to have her sit down first. And then you pull out Melissa’s chair for her. Annette is giving you this astonished look.

“Is she even real?” Annette asks Melissa jokingly.

“She’s pretty great, right?” Mel says and looks up at you with such love that you kind of get choked up a little bit.

“She deserves to be treated like the queen she is.” You say to Annette with a small smile. And then you lean down and kiss the redhead on the cheek. And then you sit down in your spot.

“Speaking of how you’re treating her, I hear you’re taking care of her in more ways than one.” She gives you the infamous Schemmenti smirk.

“Annette!!” Melissa exclaims.

“Oh come on, we’re all grown women who have been around the block more than once! And Nonna needs some excitement in her life!” Annette says.

“For your information Annette, I do take care of your cousin in more ways than one. And let’s just say she’s very enthusiastic about how I take care of her and always keeps coming back for more.” You say with a big smirk as you emphasize the word coming.

All three women gape at you in disbelief of what just came out of your mouth.

“What? Annette started this conversation and I responded appropriately. I’m not gonna deny my skills!” You say chuckling.

Nonna bursts out laughing and you finally start feeling comfortable and like you can just be yourself.

“Dinner is served!” Dom announces and then he sets the lasagna on the table and then a slew of Schemmentis come out of the kitchen setting different side dishes on the table and taking their seats.

Chatter is happening all around the table and you just sit there quietly observing. You notice the similar physical features that they share that you’ve memorized about Melissa. Melissa is chatting with Annette and just looks so relaxed and happy that it just warms your heart.

“So (Y/N). Melissa said that you’re fairly new to Philly. Where are you originally from?” Nonna asks.

“I’m originally from Michigan. Abbott was my first job offer after I graduated with my masters. And I had always wanted to live out of state somewhere so it was the perfect opportunity.” You explain.

“Do you get to see your family a lot?” She asks.

“Only a few times a year. Mostly for holidays. Seeing y’all have dinner like this is really nice. Even if I saw them more we aren’t like this with each other. I mean don’t get me wrong I know they love me, but they love the version of me that they approve of, not the rest of me. So when I’m with them I feel suffocated if that makes sense.” You say getting a sad look on your face.

“Oh sweetheart I’m sorry. A parent’s job is to love their children unconditionally and when that doesn’t happen it’s really difficult to come to terms with. I mean look at all these knuckleheads, they’re loud, they’re stubborn, they’re confrontational, but at the end of the day every single one of them knows that wherever they are in life, they can come here and the rest of us will love them just as they are. And I want you to know that you can come here just as you are and we will love you too.” She says and then pats your hand.

This woman is being so incredibly kind to you and she just met you, you almost can’t comprehend it. You smile and nod.

“So I don’t know how long I have left here on this earth so I have to know do you intend to marry Melissa?” She asks.

This woman has balls you think to yourself, getting straight to the point. You feel Mel put a hand on your leg. You look and she’s looking right at you, she definitely heard Nonna’s question.

You give Mel an I got this nod. “We were actually just talking about this last night. We both expressed that we do want to get married. This one actually insinuated it first which was surprising to me because I thought I was going to have to convince her to marry me. But yes there will be proposals and then a (Y/L/N) Schemmenti wedding in the future. And if Melissa gets her way, which she probably will because who can say no to that gorgeous face, it’ll be sooner rather than later.” You say with a genuine smile.

“The way you’ve been with her tonight and from what she’s told me and the way you look at each other, I can tell you really love her and go out of your way to take care of her. And knowing that she has that gives me peace. Now everyone cough up the money!” She looks around the table as people start begrudgingly tossing money towards Nonna.

And you realize that the Schemmenti’s were betting on your relationship. Of course they were, you think to yourself and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself.

“I can’t believe all of youse, betting on my relationship! We better be getting a cut of the winnings or there’s gonna be a problem!” Melissa says glaring at all of them, the hard ass Philly side of her coming out in full force.

Once everyone is finished eating, you look over to Nonna. “Can I take your plate for you?” You ask.

“Yes that’d be very helpful dear. Thank you for offering.” She said and squeezes your arm in appreciation.

“Baby hand over your plate please. I’m gonna start helping clear the table.” You say into Melissa’s ear and then give her a quick kiss on the cheek. She hands you her plate and looks at you with such admiration.

You overhear Annette say to Melissa. “Is she always like this? Cause if so can she come and teach my man her ways, I will literally pay her to.”

“She is always like this. I sometimes have to remind myself that this is my real life and I’m not dreaming. But it’s a reciprocated thing, we just take care of each other, like there’s this unspoken agreement that we make each other’s lives as easy as possible that way we can focus on spending time together. And when balls do get dropped, there is so much more room for empathy and understanding. Seriously, it’s been a game changer. It’s absolutely why I know I want to marry her because doing life with her is a breath of fresh air. I just love her so much Annette and I feel so loved by her.” Melissa says to Annette.

“Oh honey.” Annette embraces Melissa. “If anyone deserves this, it’s you. I know there was a moment there where you had given up hope about finding a real love. And I’m just so glad that the gorgeous girl in there has proven that theory all wrong.” Annette says.

You help clean up dinner. And then you say goodbye and hug what feels like a hundred Schemmentis.

“Well you have definitely proven that you can hold your own with the Schemmenti clan. Not an easy feat. I think that makes you an official Schemmenti until this one actually makes you one legally.” Says Dominic with a wink.

“Thanks man, I’ll wear that title with pride.” You say smiling up at him.

Nonna is your last goodbye. “Thank you so much for having me over for dinner. The food and the company were wonderful and it was really nice talking with you.” You say and then give her a hug.

“It was so wonderful meeting you dear. I’m looking forward to next Sunday. Take care of our girl. Okay?” She says.

“Yes ma’am I promise she’s in good hands.” You say as you put your arm around Mel.

“(Y/N) you call me Nonna from now on.” She says with a smile.

You smile and nod. “Good night Nonna. Have a good night everyone! Nice meeting y’all!” You say to the entryway filled with Schemmentis. And you and Jessica Rabbit leave Nonna’s hand in hand for the first time but definitely not the last.

When you get home Melissa knows that your batteries are low from all that socializing. She takes you straight to bed.

“Thank you for being so amazing with my family tonight. You make me feel so happy and loved. And I just need you to know that I will do everything in my power every day to make you feel as loved as you make me feel.” She says looking at you as she strokes your cheek as you lay facing each other. You pull her in for a passion filled kiss.

“I love you so much angel.” You whisper.

She smiles and nods. “I love you more amore mio. Now you just let me hold you and have sweet dreams.” She whispers softly and then kisses your forehead.

#abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #fanfic #lesbian #queer #pansexual #biseuxal #wlw

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Big Family

Sam Winchester & daughter!reader, Dean Winchester & niece!reader, Castiel & teen!reader (obviously platonic), Claire Novak & Winchester!reader (platonic)

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You and Claire meet for the first time, but it doesn’t go so well at first.

“Claire, this is Y/N.”

Claire barely spared the girl a glance as she dropped her gear next to the table in the bunker and headed off to find a shower.

It had seemed like the whole ride back from the hunt, Sam Winchester could speak of nothing but seeing his daughter again, and Claire was sick of the girl before they’d even met.

It didn’t help that Cas and Dean kept adding bits about how great you were, and how much you and Claire would get along. She hadn’t felt so ignored in a long time.

She knew, deep down, how childish she was being, but she couldn’t help it. Ever since her parents had died, those three idiots had been the closest thing she had to parents, besides Jody. Hearing that they had someone, someone better than her, someone actually related…

It hurt.

…

Claire had half expected Sam to come after here to give her some stupid talk about how she was feeling, but even after she finished getting cleaned up, he was nowhere to be found. She went to the library of the bunker to find you and Sam; he was listening with wrapt attention while you caught him up on your past few days.

“You go to school?” Claire asked when you were finished speaking, and you and Sam turned to look at her.

“Yeah, I’m not that involved with hunting,” you explained with a shrug. “I usually just help with research sometimes, but I’d rather focus on school.”

Claire didn’t respond. This was the girl that they thought she’d get along with? She didn’t even hunt!

“So what happens when your dad needs backup? You’re too busy in math class to care?”

“Hey, um—“ Sam interjected. “Claire, how about I show you around the bunker. Hey Y/N, can you go find Dean? I think he might’ve gotten hurt by one of the vamps, but he’s being too macho to admit it.”

“Sure,” you said quietly to your father, ignoring Claire as you passed her and headed to Dean’s room.

“What was that?” Sam asked, and Claire was annoyed by his gentle tone.

“What was what?”

“Don’t,” Sam said. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You don’t even know Y/N, why are being so cold to her?”

“Oh, sorry,” Claire scoffed. “I didn’t mean to upset your princess.”

“Stop it.” It wasn’t Sam that had spoken this time, but Cas, who just entered the room. “Claire, what is going on?”

“Nothing,” Claire huffed. “I just don’t like her, ok? Get over it.”

“You don’t even know her,” Sam argued.

“I know enough.”

“No, no you don’t. And I think if you try to talk to her, actually try, you two could get along.”

“Yeah right.”

“Claire—“

“You can’t make her like anybody.” All three of them turned at the sound of your voice in the doorway. “She can think what she wants, guys. Just leave her be.” You turned all of your attention to your dad. “Uncle Dean’s fine, by the way, but you look like you seriously need to crash.”

“Yeah, ok,” Sam sighed. “I’m gonna go get some sleep.”

“I should get some food, we’re almost out,” Cas added after Sam left. “Are you two—“

“I promise we won’t kill each other.” You rolled your eyes. “Go.”

Once you were alone with Claire, she turned to look at you.

“So what, now we bond?”

You scoffed. “Do I look like Sam? Like me, don’t like me, I don’t give a crap. I didn’t do a thing to you, but if you wanna hate me, knock yourself out.”

Claire suddenly felt a newfound respect for you; you didn’t take crap from her, which was a start.

“Can I ask you a question?” Claire began.

“You just did.”

Claire rolled her eyes and continued, “Why’d you lie to Sam? You said you checked on Dean, but you went to his room and he was in the kitchen.

You shrugged. “‘Go check on Uncle Dean’ is dad’s most obvious code for ‘I want to have a conversation about you’, so I figured I’d stick around.”

When Claire didn’t respond, you continued.

“Ok, so now it’s my turn for a question. Why do you hate me? I mean we haven’t even met before, and I’ve heard only great things about you.”

This got Claire’s attention.

“You have?”

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “The guys talk about you all the time, half the time it felt like you were a long-lost sister.”

“Gosh, is my face red?” Claire muttered, without as much sarcasm in her tone as she would’ve liked.

“What?” You asked.

“Look,” Claire sighed. “Most of the time, the guys can do nothing but talk about you. I mean Sam brags on you like your Mother Theresa or something, and I guess…I guess I was jealous.”

Claire half expected you to laugh, or to get angry, but you just smiled.

“You? Jealous of me?” You laughed, but not the cruel laugh that Claire had expected. “That’s crazy! I mean, you’re the one that goes on all those hunts with them, and they love you!”

“But I’m not their kid,” Claire argued. “I…look, after my parents died, Jody and those three guys were my only family. So when I found out they had their own…”

“You think just because I’m Sam’s daughter, I can somehow…what, take your place?” You shook your head. “Uncle Dean likes to say that family doesn’t end in blood. You’re their family—our family. I can’t take your place, and you can’t take mine. Those three idiots can love both of us, trust me.”

“Yeah,” Claire cracked a smile. “I guess they can.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy

#dean winchester #dean and sam #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural dean #the winchesters #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam and dean x child!reader #spn sam winchester #supernatural sam #sam and dean #sam winchester x daughter #dean winchester x niece