#i have two baskets of laundry sitting next to my dresser

[luvrhischier]

losing game // trevor zegras

part 2

pairing: trevor zegras × reader

word count: 3.1k (might have gone a little overboard)

a/n: based on the song arcade by duncan laurence. lyrics are in bold italics (jumped around a lot and changed some lyrics to fit the story). no use of y/n.

a/n two: this is my offering to hockey tumblr pls let me in (f1 offering coming soon maybe idk).

warnings: mentions of sex but no actual smut (bc i suck at writing it), alcohol, angst with no happy ending

You watched as he collected his clothes and put them back on. Turning to you when he reached your bedroom door.

“Bye, babe. See you later.” He winked and left.

Silence ringing inside my head.

You sat up, one hand clutching a blanket to cover your bare body, the other running through your now messy hair trying to tame it. It didn't help. After ten minutes of complete silence and staring off into space you finally dropped the blanket and stood up. You walked over and stared at yourself through your full length mirror, examining your body and all of its features in the lightly lit room. You began to wonder why he didn't feel the same. Of course he wasn't obligated to, but still it made you feel like there was something wrong with you.

A broken heart is all that's left. I lost a couple of pieces.

You both had agreed to this. Friends with benefits in private, best friends in public. Nothing more, nothing less. However, now you felt a small piece of your heart get chipped away every time you hooked up.

Jamie had warned you both that this wasn't a good idea and that it would probably end in disaster, after he accidentally walked in on the two of you, but neither you listened. Both swearing that the two of you would never be anything more than friends, who occasionally hooked up. Now you wished you had listened.

The way Trevor now made you feel was unlike anything you had ever felt. Before he grew to understand your body, even better than you did, and what made it fall apart in those moments of tangled limbs, lips moving in sync, heavy breathing, and extreme pleasure, the two of you were just each other’s best friend. Through the good, the bad, and the ugly. You never wanted anything more until a few months in and you hated yourself for it. You couldn’t help it though Trevor's fun and loving nature carried over into those moments of close intimacy. It made your stomach to erupt with butterflies.

You finally silenced your thoughts and rummaged through your dresser for new clothes. You then picked up the clothes you formerly wore, the pieces scattered across your bedroom floor, tossing them into your laundry basket. You sighed deeply and returned to lay in your bed. You quickly stood up again as small tears began to build in your eyes. You didn't want to lay in the bed you just sex on. In fact, you didn't even want to be in your room. His scent was everywhere. His cologne was all over your bed and the smell began to spread around you like wildfire. You knew it wasn't going away anytime soon, it never did.

You collected yourself and headed to your bedroom door when you saw a crumpled up shirt hiding in a corner of your room. You picked it up and instantly realized it was Trevor's. It was the shirt he was wearing underneath his hoodie and he must have forgotten about it. You tried to stop yourself from taking off your old tattered tee and putting his shirt on instead but you failed. You stood there in shameful silence before finally heading to your living room.

You noticed a glass slightly filled with water sat next to the sink, Trevor must have stopped to get himself a drink before he left. You just wanted to take a nap so you left it there as you went to lay on your couch.

You opened Netflix, just playing a random show you knew you weren't really going to watch, you just wanted to end the silence that flowed through your apartment and sleep.

────

You opened your eyes slowly, trying not to be blinded the bright light coming from the t.v. You didn't want to sit up, you just wanted to lay there until you sank into the cushions. You finally checked the time, 8:56 pm, you had slept there for over six hours. You felt your heart stop when your phone began to ring and the screen showed Trevor's name and a picture of the two of you from years ago. You didn't want to pick up but your fingers didn't listen to your heart or your brain.

“Hey babe.” God you hated that nickname so much, it made your heart both shatter and melt.

“Hey Trev,” you groggily mumbled as you stood up heading back to your room. You looked over at your bed and flashbacks from earlier played in your head. Trevor laying on top of you, his lips on your neck, and his hands roaming your body. You shook your head trying to wipe away the memory.

“So, Jamie and I spontaneously decided to throw an end of season party since everyone's here and I wanted to call to see if you'd come,” he sounded happy, excited, and a little hopeful.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun,” you tried to sound as happy as him but you failed and you knew Trevor noticed, he always did. You used to love that he knew you so well, but now it just hurt because he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, notice your true feelings for him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing I'm totally fine. I just woke up from a nap and I um...” You paused, trying to think of an excuse. “I just need to take a shower and get ready. Bye, see you soon,” you heard him start to say something else but it was too late, you had ended the call. As soon as you hung up Trevor called again. You let out a frustrated groan before hitting decline. You quickly put your phone on do not disturb before he could try to call again and tossed it on your bed, you then went to your closet. You just stood there and looked at your clothes, too lazy to actually look for an outfit. You sighed and decided to take a shower before picking out an outfit.

You stepped in the shower and just stood there for awhile, letting the water run down your body hoping that it would wash away any remaining trace of him.

The hot water felt nice against your cold body but it only reminded you of the warmth you felt when you were with Trevor and you hated it.

Once you were finished you returned to your closet to finally pick an outfit. You didn't feel like getting too dressed up so you opted for something simple, a pair of leggings and a random top. Your breath hitched when you saw what top you had randomly grabbed. It was one of Trevor's team USA jerseys. You didn't even know you had this, he had been looking for it for ages.

Once again you tried to stop yourself from putting it on but you once again failed. You stood there in another shameful silence. You looked at your phone to check the time, 10:05 pm. You sighed before grabbing a random pair of shoes and your keys.

The drive to Trevor and Jamie's house was a quiet one, no music, just the sound of your car tires on the road, passing cars, and your quiet breathing. When you got closer to his house you could see a long line of cars parked along the street and what seemed like never ending groups of people walking through the door. A tiny voice inside your head begged you to turn around immediately and drive back home but it was too late. You had driven all the way here.

You were hit with the smell of booze as soon as you got out of the car. A small part of you wanted to throw up but the rest of you wanted to drink until you blacked out and forgot about him.

The music was loud and people were everywhere making it hard to walk through the crowd full of drunk kids with sweaty bodies. However, the kitchen was less crowded. Vodka was the first thing you saw so that's what you filled your cup with.

You heard a loud and dramatic gasp followed by a familiar laugh and turned to see Jack rushing towards you with open arms.

“I missed you so much!” He beamed and hugged you tightly. You could tell he was a bit drunk by how his words were starting to slur together.

“I missed you more, Jack,” you laughed. “Jack, sweetie you’re suffocating me,” you jokingly muttered out.

“Oops, my bad,” he laughed as he pulled away. He noticed the cup in your hand and grabbed it before taking a quick sip. Before you could jokingly get on to him Luke walked in. You knew he must have been his turn to be on ‘watch drunk Jack duty' by the look on his face.

“There you are! I swear I'm going to a harness and leash so you can’t wander off and I don't have to run around while having a heart attack trying to find you,” he said, slightly out of breath from running around the house and through the sea of people, trying to find Jack. Jack just smiled and shrugged his shoulders causing Luke to roll his eyes. He looked over at you and smiled. “What's up, I missed you!” He exclaimed towards you before pulling you into a quick hug.

“I missed you too,” you smiled back. Before he could reply you both turned to where Jack was once standing only to find that he had wondered off again. Luke rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

“I have to go find him again before he does something stupid,” he said begrudgingly. “I'll come back once I find him. I wanna hear about how annoying Zegras has been this season,” he joked while he ran off to find Jack once more.

The mention of his name made your heart feel like it was being ripped out of your chest and squeezed right in front of you. Wanting to distract yourself you looked around and skimmed over the crowd. You didn't want to admit that you were looking for him, but you were. You were about to take a drink of the vodka in your hands when you finally found him. You cursed every single higher being for the sight in front of you. There he was in the corner talking, dancing, and obviously flirting with some blonde girl. Their hands were all over the other’s body and they were close, too close, it made your body go numb. You felt completely defeated.

We were always a losing game.

Now your heart felt like it completely stopped working. You watched as she leaned in to whisper something in his ear with a giggle. The smirk that broke out on his face could've been seen from a mile away. Your cup slipped out of your hand and you felt it splash everywhere. You looked down and let out a shaky sigh. Quickly you grabbed the roll of paper towels and fell to your knees to clean up the mess, but it became harder and harder as your eyes started to blur with tears. You heard mumbling through the ringing in your ears but you didn't look up. You just sat there on the floor furiously cleaning up the spilled alcohol.

You finally looked up when the person shouted your name and placed a hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your trance. There stood Nico and Quinn. When they saw the tears running down your face both of their eyes filled with worry.

“What's wrong?” Nico questioned as he crouched down next to you.

“I spilled my fucking drink and I have to clean it up.”You continued scrubbing the floor.

“You've cleaned it all up,” he said softly. “You can stop now.” He gently grabbed your hand to stop you.

You looked at the floor and saw that he was right. The alcohol was gone but now it was being replaced with your tears spattering on the floor. You fully sat down on the floor and Nico followed.

“Okay, everyone out of the kitchen now!” Quinn shouted to the few people still standing around you, whispering to each other as they obviously gossiped about your breakdown. You watched as everyone listened and quickly walked away.

Quinn joined the two of you on the ground.

“Why are you crying?” Quinn asked as he scooted over to sit right next to you. You didn't want to say it was because of Trevor. You knew that no matter how much the two of them playfully argued and fought Trevor was like a third younger brother and, though he'd jokingly never admit it, he loved him. He didn't deserve to be burdened with your problems. But deep down he knew and you knew that he knew because of the look on his face.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you let out, in your opinion, a pathetically loud sob as you buried your head into his chest. Quinn didn't even care about the tears and makeup that were most definitely staining his shirt, he just cared about being there for you.

“He's over there with some girl.” you stuttered as you began to hyperventilate. “And I know I shouldn't be acting like this because we're supposed to be just friends but it hurts so fucking bad. God, this is so embarrassing. I'm so fucking stupid. I hate myself!” You lifted your head

“I need you to take some deep breaths. You need to breathe.” Nico softly said. “Breathe.” He took a deep breath of his own so you could follow along.

“Alright, who told me everyone to leave the kitchen?” Jamie interrupted as he entered the kitchen. You looked over and saw that Jack and Luke had walked in too. ‘Fuck!’ You cursed in your head. It was hard enough crying in front of Quinn and Nico, now all of your closest friends were standing there watching you sob on the floor. You watched as they all quickly sobered up.

One by one they all sat on the floor with you. All of them extremely worried. You wanted to somewhat keep your composure so you didn’t freak them out, but you couldn’t hold it in anymore you just let it all out. You knew your makeup was probably a mess and your jersey, his jersey, was covered in tears and running mascara.

“He's over there, with some girl, and they're all over each other and I'm over here crying. God I'm such an idiot!” You hiccuped. You wiped your eyes with the sleeves of his jersey. All of them instantly knew who you were talking about. “You were right Jamie. I should have listened to you. It’s okay you can say ‘I told you so’…" 

“I would never do that,” he said gently.

You watched as Quinn stood up, Jack and Luke quickly followed.

“Be right back.” Quinn mumbled, trying to hide the anger in his voice. You saw the three of them clench their jaws and ball their fists. Before you could protest they were gone. Now it was just you, Jamie, and Nico. They both scooted in closer and engulfed you in a hug.

“I guess giving us up didn't take a lot to him, huh?” You forced a chuckle trying to lighten the mood and joke but neither of them laughed or even looked slightly amused. You sighed. “Deep down I saw the end before it even began, but I still carried on.” You lowered your head.

You heard someone softly say your name and you instantly knew who it was. Trevor. He had that the slight roughness in his voice, the roughness he got after a one too many drinks and you hated that it was still sending shivers down your spine.

“Please look at me.”

You don't know how or where you got the courage, maybe it was because your friends were there to support you and protect you, but not only did you look up, you stood up and marched straight up to him. 

“Babe-”

“Don't call me that! I think you have made it clear that I am not really your ‘babe' so stop torturing me by saying that!” You angrily interrupted. You knew that now everyone was staring at the two of you and the scene you were making.

“What's wrong? Talk to me. Why are you crying?” His eyes were soft and you wanted to let this whole thing go and forgive him but you knew you couldn't, your heart couldn't take this anymore. He took a step towards you as his hand came up and tried to caress you face but you pushed his hand away.

“You! You're what's wrong with me! You’re why I’m crying!” You spat. “I stupidly fell in love with you and loving you is a losing game and I got addicted to it. But now l'm done with your games, I have to be because now I need to go and put myself back together. So game over. I'm getting off of this emotional rollercoaster. I am completely drained because I've spent all of the love I had on you!” Tears streamed down your face like a waterfall and you didn't care you needed to say this before you lost the courage and let him back in. “I know I was nothing more than a quick fuck to you but to me you were everything and more. So this,” you gestured between the two of you. “Whatever this is between us is over and so is our friendship. Because if I stay I'II let you back in and I will shatter into a million pieces and I will never be able to put myself back together again.” You walked past him and quickly headed towards the door.

You didn't want to stop but you remembered what you were wearing. You looked down and saw his now tear stained jersey. You turned around and Trevor was right behind you causing you to run face first into his chest, you quickly pushed him away and saw his eyes filled with hurt, panic, and tears.

“Can we please go up to my room and talk about this?” He pleaded. “I can't lose you...”

You softened for a second before regaining your composure. You didn't answer him, you just pulled his jersey over your head and threw it at him, not caring that you were now shirtless in front of all of these random people.

"Goodbye, Trevor.”

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras angst #trevor zegras blurb #nhl #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #quinn hughes #jack hughes #jamie drysdale #nico hischier #luke hughes #quinn hughes x reader #jack hughes x reader #jamie drysdale x reader #nico hischier x reader #luke hughes x reader #trevor zegras smut

[bradshawssugarbaby]

All Dressed Up - Capt. Syverson x Reader

A/N: based on a thought I had while watching Sand Castle earlier and a discussion with @nouis-bum from a couple of days ago. I couldn't help myself, sorry. Also, we decided for the purpose of my writing, his name's Luke.

pairing: Capt. Syverson x fem!reader

warnings/content: oral (m & f receiving), no use of y/n, no real mention of reader's features other than long hair.

word count: 1.8k

“Honey, have you seen my blue shirt?” Luke Syverson called out to his wife, his icy-blue eyes squinting as he tried to think of where his dress shirt could be. He was sure he’d checked every laundry basket, every drawer in the dresser, and both sides of the closet. He bounded down the stairs, heavy footsteps echoing through the house as he headed for the laundry room. His brows knit together as he thought about any stone he may have left unturned in his search. He didn’t dress up often - in fact, the missing dress shirt in question was his only dress shirt. He had always gotten by with an old t-shirt and a pair of jeans when he went out, which wasn’t a regular occurrence until you’d entered his life a few years ago. 

Slowly, you’d begun to introduce new things into his closet, replacing his tattered old Houston Texans jersey was the first step - he’d kept the old one, of course, for nostalgic purposes, but it hardly fit, and the deep navy blue fabric had gained a few holes here and there over the years. The new one had been a birthday gift from you that first year you were together, and he treasured it. The dress shirt was introduced the second Christmas the two of you were together. You had a work Christmas party and he was home from his latest tour for a 6 month break until the next one came around. He’d never met any of your co-workers before, and wanting to make a good impression and keep you happy, he’d reluctantly agreed to go shopping with you to pick out something better suited to wear than a tattered cotton graphic tee he’d had for at least a decade, and a well-worn, faded pair of jeans. 

As he squatted down in front of the dryer, opening the door to look at the contents inside to see if his shirt was somewhere in amongst the clean laundry waiting to be folded, he heard footsteps come up behind him, followed by a wolf whistle. He smirked to himself, closing the dryer door after yet another unsuccessful search. He stood upright, his full 6-foot-something frame straightening up as he turned to face you. His bulking muscular figure was still toned from the years of military service he’d just retired from, although now, he stood a little more solidly, having grown accustomed to more than just black coffee and shitty food while he was away. His arms folded across his chest, muscles bulging as he stood before her. His wife stood in front of him, batting her eyelashes as she donned his blue button up shirt, sitting oversized on her, drooping off her shoulders as grinned at him. His eyes scanned over her, taking in the sight before him. His lips curled up into a smirk, framed by his thick, curly, dark beard, the chestnut coloured hairs recently trimmed to look less wild than they usually did. He noticed that the shirt stopped just above her knee, and it didn’t take more than a split second to realize that the shirt was the only article of clothing she was wearing at the time. 

“Now, darlin’, why exactly have ya got my shirt on?” His voice carried a teasing tone to it as he spoke, the smirk on his face remaining unchanged as his piercing blue eyes continued to gawk at her. 

“Thought it made for a kinda cute shirt dress, don’t you?” She teased, twirling a long strand of hair around her index finger, “Besides, kinda fun watchin’ you run around half naked lookin’ for it.”

“Sugar, don’t get me wrong, it looks great on ya, but I can’t exactly go out for dinner lookin’ like this,” Luke gestured to his naked torso, his hand stopping just above the waist of his dark-washed jeans.

“Fine, but, before I take it off,” She began, her lips curving into a devilish grin as she dragged her fingers lazily over his skin, gently raking through the brown curls that adorned his chest, “I want to make you feel good first.”

“Darlin’, you’re killin’ me here,” He shook his head, laughing as he looked down at her. 

Luke watched as she gently pressed her lips to his collarbone before slowly slinking down to her knees before him. He took his belt in his hand, undoing the metal buckle and sliding the long leather material through the belt loops around his waist. He dropped it to the ground, the sound of the buckle clattering against the hardwood flooring echoing through the room. 

He undid the button on his jeans with urgency, dragging them down just enough to allow his wife the space she’d need to pleasure him. She yanked the elastic waistband of his boxers down with a smirk, his hardened cock springing back as she freed it from its cotton restraints. She pressed her lips to it, leaving a tauntingly delicate kiss to the sensitive, red tip, her hand firmly gripping the base. She licked a long, wet stripe up the underside of his length, beginning at the base and ending in a swirling motion around the tip, giving him a doe-eyed gaze as she looked up at him, watching for his reaction. He tilted his head back, letting out a deep, low growling moan before turning his head back to look down at her, grunting her name as she guided his member past her lips, creating suction on the tip with her mouth. 

She began bobbing her head along his length, her cheeks hollowing as she pushed his erection further into her mouth, saliva beginning to drip down it as she took more of his length past her lips. She pulled her mouth back off his cock with a loud popping noise, smirking up at him as he grunted upon the loss of contact. 

“Fucking Christ, babygirl, you’re killin’ me here,” Luke rasped, shaking his head as he looked down at her.

Luke grabbed a handful of her hair, gripping it as he guided her mouth back onto him, pushing her further down his erection and guiding her back off it at a rhythmic pace, building in speed as she went. Luke was struggling to keep himself composed as she continued working his orgasm out of him with her mouth. Her eyes began to water as his tip brushed the back of her throat and the moment his sensitive cap made contact, he felt his knees buckle, swallowing hard as he tried to hold off his orgasm as long as he could. Her gaze never left his face as he tossed his head back, her name falling from his lips like a prayer as thick, warm ropes of cum shot down her throat. His eyes shut for a brief moment, completely lost in his own pleasure. He looked down at her, watching as she slowly backed herself off of him, dragging her tongue lazily against his underside as she did so. 

“Darlin’, I think it’s only fair I return the favour for ya now,” He gave her a mischievous smirk as he offered his hand out to her, helping her stand to her feet. 

Luke gripped her hips and hoisted her up onto the metal top of the dryer, grinning at her as he took his turn kneeling on the floor. He pulled her forwards by her hips. He tapped the inside of her thigh with his hand, indicating to her that she needed to spread her legs to allow him to fit between them. His blue eyes watched her as he dragged two thick fingers along her wet folds, his voice in a low hum as he spoke, amused at how aroused she was. Luke used his fingers to part her lips gently, letting out a deep exhale as he stared at her, taking in the sight before him.

“Look at you, darlin’, pussy all wet for me, just waitin’ for me to take care a’ya, hmm?” he cooed as he watched her part her lips, allowing a soft moan to escape from her mouth.

“Luke, please, baby,” she mewled, whimpering as he circled the pad of his fingertip against her swollen clit. 

The sound of her whimpering, soft moans were music to Luke’s ears, and he wasted no time in pressing his lips to her sensitive bud, lapping his tongue against it, tasting her sweet arousal as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her thigh. He dipped two of his fingers into her now dripping core, lazily fucking them into her as he sucked on her nub, waiting for her to beg him to give her more. 

“Luke, fucking hell, stop fucking teasing me, please?” She whined, her voice raising in pitch as she let out another whimper.

Luke pumped his fingers into her faster, pressing into her soft spot as he continued to lick and suck at her clit, his bright blue eyes never leaving once leaving her face as he watched, feeling himself become more aroused by seeing her face contort and hearing her vocalize her pleasure. He felt her leg tremble under his free hand, and he continued to fuck her with his fingers, pulling his mouth off of her clit just enough for her to hear him speak.

“Soak my fingers for me, sugar,” He husked, watching as he continued to thrust them into her wet folds, an animalistic grunt escaping his lips as he felt her clenching around him.

She tossed her head back as her arousal coated him, a loud, passionate scream of his name echoing through the air as she climaxed. Luke pulled his fingers out, licking them clean before ducking back between her thighs, delving his tongue inbetween her folds to clean up the mess he’d made of her. Once finished, he pulled back his head, sitting back on his feet for a moment as he grinned up at her, his bearded chin glistening with her arousal as he looked at her. 

“Now, sweetness, you’re gonna have to take my shirt off of ya now, or else we’re never gonna make it to dinner. They might notice us being missing.” He smirked, shaking his head as he stood up.

Luke reached his hands out to grab her by the hips, nodding as he helped her down off of the dryer. He cocked an eyebrow up at her, watching as she slowly undid the buttons of the shirt before shrugging the blue material back off her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor as she exposed her bare skin to him. Unable to control his impulsive urges, Luke grabbed her by the waist, gripping her body tightly as he pulled her in against his frame. 

“Well…maybe we can be a few minutes late?” 

#capt. syverson x reader #captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson fic #captain syverson smut #captain syverson fanfiction #henry cavill characters

[zepskies]

Devour Me - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader 

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)

AN: This is a two-part sequel to “Midnight Espresso!” I would read that one first before you dive into this one. (It’s fun, I promise!)

Word Count: 3,800 Tags/Warnings: Supernatural shenanigans, tiny bit of body insecurity, hurt/comfort, fluffy fluff, and a cliffhanger...

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 1: "A Takeover"

When Dean asked you to move in with him, he really didn’t think it would come to this.

Clearing a nightstand for you, half of the dresser, a section of his closet. Those things are reasonable. 

But this is a total takeover, he thinks, as he surveys the sheer amount of crap you’ve brought into his room.

Mind you, despite this still being a bunker, the décor is nice. You brought in sturdy, but stylish wicker baskets for his pile of cassettes (and your CDs) next to the TV, filing bins for the haphazard shuffle of papers on his desk, installed dark wood shelves on the wall for his various weapons and your collection of books. 

But he’d had his music organized—not alphabetically or chronologically, but by his own personal rankings of awesomeness. Now they’re all shuffled together by band name. 

Plus, he likes having his shotgun on the floor by the bed, within reach, not three feet above his head. And where the fuck is his collection of…magazines?

The point is, every time he looks for something, you’ve put it in a different place. Not to mention the damn bathroom (don’t get him started on all your shea butter lotions, makeup brushes, frilly-smelling soaps, and the army of hair products now taking up space in his cabinets and drawers). 

Dean is sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to figure out where the hell his cassette of Zeppelin IV is, when you breeze into the room he now shares with you. You’re dewy with sweat in a Guns & Roses shirt and some yoga pants you reserve for cleaning. 

And that’s another thing. You’re more anal than Sam about having the bunker smelling like Pine Sol. However, as you’ve expressed before (after nagging him to pick up his dirty, and occasionally bloody clothes from the floor), while you like a clean house, you are not in fact the maid.

“Hey, baby. Can you fold these for me?” you request. “I need a shower.”

He raises a brow as you dump a new basket of fresh laundry onto the bed. It looks like you washed your clothes mixed in with his, which he actually doesn’t mind. He fishes out one of your red, lacey thongs with a hint of a smile. He bought you these last week, and they already have a tear. (His fault.)

“By the way, next time you move one of my things, mind leaving me a post-it note or something?” he dryly remarks. “It’s like a scavenger hunt in my own damn room.” 

You pop your head out of the bathroom, though he can tell by your bare shoulders that you’ve already gotten undressed. Your mouth is quirked at the corner. 

“It’s called organization,” you tease. “Apparently a foreign concept to you.”

You disappear back into the bathroom, giving Dean the privacy he needs to grumble almost inaudibly to himself. But then he hears your voice behind the door.  

“Oh, by the way. Your vintage collection of smut is in the bottom of your nightstand,” you call out. “That 1996 edition of Busty Asian Beauties is particularly classy.”

Dean hears the wryness in your tone, and his face actually heats up in embarrassment. He frowns at the bathroom door, his jaw tensing, but he takes a breath. Deciding to let it go with a roll of his shoulders, he puts on the TV to catch up on Dr. Sexy M.D. He also neglects the task you gave him, just for a little while.

When you’re still in the bathroom an hour later, Dean starts to get curious about what the hell you’re doing in there. The shower isn’t even running anymore.

That’s when he hears the hairdryer go on. 

He knows he’ll never be able to concentrate on his show with all that noise. So with a sigh, he clicks off the TV and eyes the pile of laundry. You probably cleaned the whole freaking bunker this morning. Despite his annoyance, he figures folding your clothes along with his own is the least he can do. 

Dean scoops up the pile back into the basket and takes it elsewhere. 

He finds his brother at the kitchen table and joins him with his basket. Sam’s gaze raises from his laptop to meet his brother’s grumpy face. He watches in mild curiosity as Dean plops down across from him and dutifully begins folding one of your shirts. 

“You okay?” Sam hazards the question. 

“Fucking peachy,” Dean replies. “Looking for a new case?”

“Yeah. Nothing yet.” Though Sam raises a brow when Dean all but tosses one of your girly sundresses on the table after it’s folded. (It’s yellow, and it happens to be his favorite on you.)

“Everything all right?” Sam asks. 

Dean glances up, finds his brother’s knowing eyes, and doesn’t have it in him to lie. He lets go of a breath, as well as one of his undershirts to rub at his forehead. 

“She’s nosey, Sam. She’s all up in my business.”

“Your girlfriend?” Sam clarifies, with raised brows. “Of six months.”

“Yeah, that one,” Dean quips, with all due sarcasm. “Ever since she moved in, she’s been going through everything, moving my crap every which way, making it so I can’t find a damn thing.”

Sam’s mouth edges at a smile. 

“I’m tellin’ you, Sam, she’s damn near taken over,” Dean insists. 

“You done?” Sam teases. Dean just leans in, like he’s about to level his brother with a secret. 

“Matter of fact, she locks herself in the bathroom for like, forever. I just heard the hairdryer go on, meaning another hour at least. What the fuck is she doing in there, getting ready for prom?”

Sam finally has to chuckle. “Clearly it’s been a long time since you’ve lived with a woman, Dean.” 

Dean scoffs. “Right.”

“And she’s actually been a big help in cleaning up around here,” Sam says, with a growing smirk. “Which is, quite literally, a refreshing change.”

Dean snorts at that. 

“Of course, you’re happy,” he says. “A new damn dish rack turns you on.”

Sam shoots him a wan look. “The question is, are you happy?”

That manages to take Dean by surprise. He hesitates to answer…

But he’s saved when he hears someone approaching. He knows it’s you because he can smell the mix of your floral soap and coconutty shampoo; it’s a scent that often lingers on your pillow and has unconsciously infiltrated Dean’s nose. 

His reply to Sam dies on his tongue when he sees you.

“Hey,” you greet both men, all bright and smiley with your hair in wild curls down your back. 

A lot of the time you keep your hair straight or loose and wavy, so it’s rare for Dean to see your natural look. It’s a good one for you, he thinks. Along with those jean shorts hugging your curvy hips, and the V-neck top you’re wearing, which offers a nice peek of cleavage. 

Your hand falls on his shoulder, with your thumb stroking his neck. You then brush that hand across his back as you pass by on your way to the kitchen. If possible, you’ve become even more touchy since you two got together.

Dean holds fast to your hand, stopping you in your path. 

“So that’s what you were working on in there,” he remarks. “Thought I was gonna need to break out the fire extinguisher.” 

You grin in amusement and do a little twirl under his hand, shaking out your curls a little.

“You like?” you ask. Dean tugs you back over. He reaches out and fingers at the soft ends of your hair. 

“Beautiful,” he says.

“Looks real nice,” Sam adds.

“Why, thank you.” Your smile is contagious, and Dean can’t help reciprocating. You drop a hand on his shoulder again.

“I know you’re our resident Gordon Ramsay, but I kinda feel like cooking today,” you say. “Is Cas coming home anytime soon?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, he called this morning. Probably dropping back in tonight.”

You nod. “Good! I’ll make plenty then…oh, wait, he doesn’t eat.”

“What did you have in mind?” Sam asks. 

“Well, I know you guys haven’t had much Cuban food, so I thought you might like to try some ropa vieja,” you reply. Sam’s brows knit together. 

“Old clothes?” he translates. His two years of high school Spanish can give him that much.

“Yeah! But it’s basically shredded beef with onions, garlic, tomato sauce, and a bunch of other good stuff,” you explain. Then your eyes brighten. “Oh! And I can make my grandma’s famous black beans, white rice, some bread with crushed garlic and olive oil…”

By the time you finish listing the things you plan on making, Dean is already salivating. 

Later that evening, when Dean actually gets to sample said food, he’s eaten enough for three men in the span of forty-five minutes.

“Jesus, man. Going for a record on indigestion?” Sam cautions him, despite his amusement. 

Dean pointedly ignores his brother to look over at you. After he swallows another forkful of beef stew, he says, “Not for nothin’, this is probably the second-best meal of my entire life.”

“Oh, yeah?” You giggle. “What’s number one?”

“Diner called Slammies in Alabama. Best fucking pie on Earth,” he easily recalls. “Double applewood bacon cheeseburger, chili cheese fries, brick oven pizza. Bar none.” 

Sam inclines his head, remembering the food coma he and Dean had that night. They’d hit the rock-hard pillows at the motel and slept like they’d been on an all-night bender. 

“But this is like, right there,” Dean says to you, leveling his hand up by his head. 

“Well, let’s see if this moves the needle,” you reply as you get up from your seat. You answer the question in his eyes. “Forgot something, hold on.”

But before you can leave the table, Dean reaches over and takes your hand. 

“Thanks, sweetheart. For all of this. I mean it,” he says. 

A soft, genuine smile grows across your face. You lean down and press a tender kiss below his hairline, stroking his cheek before you go. 

Dean quirks a smile. It’s taken him time to get used to how open you are with your affections, but he likes it. All of it. Every time you reach for him, touch him, brush against him, intentionally or not. He always has.

Though he has to resist embarrassment when he notices the way his brother is watching him. Sam raises a brow, smiling that irritating smile of his. 

“Oh, yeah. You’re not happy at all,” he intones.

“Never said I wasn’t,” Dean says defensively. But he perks up when you return. Maybe you’re bringing more garlic bread. 

Instead, you’re holding a tin pan.

“What’cha got there?” he asks.

“Dessert,” you announce. It’s a Cuban flan: creamy, rich custard with a consistency smoother than cheesecake, and thicker than pudding.  

You haven’t even sat back down yet when Dean carves himself a generous slice. He moans when a large forkful melts in his mouth. You start to blush as you watch him with crossed arms and a hand over your smile. You don’t know whether to be amused or flattered.

Sam watches his brother stuff his face with a subtle shake of his head.    

“You’re enabling him,” he tells you. You shrug, but then you rest your hands on both Sam and Dean’s shoulders. 

“Now I have someone to cook for,” you say. You have tears in your eyes, but you quickly blink and try to turn away. Frowning, Dean takes your hand. 

“Hey, where you going?” he says, and aims to pull you into his lap. You hesitate, knowing you’re not going to be able to squeeze between him and the table.  

“It’s okay, these hips don’t fit,” you chuckle wryly, with a sniffle. But Dean just backs his chair up from the table a bit to make room. 

“What’re you talking about? You fit right here,” he says firmly, and he tugs you down. This is the one thing Dean has tried his damndest to break you out of—that self-deprecating streak of yours. 

You finally accept being guided into his lap, where you indeed fit snugly across his thighs. His arm comes around the front to hold you close by your hip, while his other hand rests comfortingly on your back.

Looking up into his eyes, you draw enough courage to be honest. 

“I was mostly raised by my grandma,” you begin to explain. Your father wasn’t ready to be one, and so wasn’t in the picture. Your mother died when you were in high school. So when your grandmother also passed away a few years ago… 

Well, you’ve been alone for a while.

You sniff and wipe at your face, but your eyes close as Dean’s lips press above your brow. When you next open your eyes and cautiously look between the brothers, Sam’s sympathy warms you. 

“If it isn’t obvious, you have a home here,” he says. “We can never replace what you’ve lost, but…we’re your family too.”

You know that Dean feels the same way by the way he brushes the tears from your cheek, thumbing at your bottom lip.

"You're right where you need to be," he says, with a hand squeezing your hip. His sincerity is in his even tone, in the firmness in his eyes.

You’re able to smile a bit.

“Ah…I’m interrupting, aren’t I?”

The three of you turn to the kitchen doorway, where Castiel stands awkwardly. He clearly senses emotional tension, but it breaks the moment you turn to him with a tearful laugh. 

“Hey, Cas. Have you ever eaten ‘old clothes?’” you ask. 

His puzzled expression is absolutely priceless.  

When Sam finds a possible hunt in Hope, Indiana, Castiel agrees to go with you all. It’s a small, corn-fed town in the middle of nowhere, and five people have gone missing over the course of a year. 

The latest is a nine-year-old kid named Andy Campbell. That alone upsets you; if you have one weakness, it’s for kids.

“Local farmers have been reporting dead cattle too, drained of blood,” Sam says from the passenger seat in the Impala. “I’m thinking vampires trying to keep a low profile.”

“Sounds about right, if a bit sloppy,” Dean remarks. They are in the Midwest though. If this is a coven, or even a rogue vamp who’s been here a while, maybe they got lazy. “So what, police station first? Get any details they might’ve missed.”

“I want to talk to the kid’s mom,” you say. It earns Dean’s gaze at you in the rearview mirror. “We can get the last time she saw him, where he went missing, anything she might’ve held back from the police.”

He nods and shares a glance with Sam. “I’ll go with her. You and Cas scope out the station.”

The angel has gotten better at pretending to be a Fed, but not by much. Sam agrees, even though Dean sees in his face that he’d rather be taking his brother. Dean tempers a smile and keeps driving to the closest motel in this dusty town. 

You don a sensible pantsuit to match Dean’s Fed suit, along with your badges: Agents Buckingham and Nicks. 

When Andy’s mom, Rachel Campbell, opens the door of her modest home to you and Dean, he lets you take the lead. You’re good at this part, connecting with the victims and getting them to talk. He sometimes worries about you though—that your soft, sympathetic heart will get the best of you. 

“How long has Andy been missing?” you ask, accepting a cup of tea from the woman. 

Rachel is around your age, maybe a few years older. She looks run down, a shell of a human as she looks at the carpet rather than at you or Dean. You can’t know exactly how she feels, but you have a vivid imagination. 

And from the various pictures of her and Andy on the wall, just the two of them, you deduce that she’s a single mother. Just like your mom had been.

“Almost four months,” she admits. “The police station doesn’t even return my calls anymore.”

That upsets you, but you keep a lid on your emotions to focus on the woman in front of you. 

“Andy’s father, he’s not around?” Dean asks. Rachel shakes her head, confirming your suspicions.

“No, we split up shortly after he was born,” she replies, her tone tired and resigned. “I was at work. I uh, I work at a doctor’s office. Andy was supposed to come home on the bus, like any other day…but he never did.”

She sucks in a shaky breath as the beginnings of tears make her eyes red and glassy. 

“His school couldn’t tell me why he wasn’t on the bus. But one of his friends said he was late getting out of class, so he must’ve tried to walk home. Even though he knew he could call me when that happens…anyway, somebody must’ve grabbed him.”

Rachel looks away as a tear streams down her cheek, followed by another. You feel your throat tighten with a sympathetic burn behind your eyes, but you keep it at bay long enough to set down your tea. You reach out and lay a hand on the woman’s hand. She meets your steady gaze. 

“I promise, we’ll find your son,” you tell her.

“What?” you ask Dean as the two of you leave the small house, walking back to the Impala in the driveway. You just know there’s something up with him by the stoic look on his face. It isn’t so stoic to you. 

He waits until the two of you are in the car before he levels you with a raised brow. 

“Look, I know you want to find this kid. I do too,” he says. “But watch out about making promises you can’t keep.”

You frown back at him. “What’s better, letting that poor woman have no hope at all?”

In his mind, Dean thinks it’s worse to give her false hope. But he sees how stubborn you’re getting, so he doesn’t push it. The fact that you care about people like Rachel is part of what drew him to you in the first place, but there’s a line, he thinks. A point where you can care too much. 

When you two eventually meet up with Sam and Castiel, they’ve been able to confirm from the body of a recent Jane Doe, with a row of lethal bite marks on her wrist, that this is definitely a vamp case. 

After narrowing down where each of the victims were taken, the four of you sketch out a perimeter of where the monsters could likely be hiding. It’s Dean who finds the old barn on the verge of a corn field, about three miles away from the school where Andy was taken. 

You all wait until high noon the next day to scope it out. Looking into the front windows is useless; all evidence points to an empty home.

The back of the barn is another story. Cracking the barn door open reveals a large storage area, where a nest of vampires are sleeping in their beds. Some are coupled off, but you note a few on single beds.

Then, your eyes narrow on the humans sleeping piled together in the corner—three women, a young man, and Andy Campbell on a twin-sized bed of his own.  

Dean carefully closes the barn door, and the four of you regroup back to the Impala.

“It’s a bigger nest than we thought,” Sam says, though he keeps his voice quiet. Dean is already opening the trunk for his favorite machete. 

“First, let’s get those humans out,” he says. You agree with a nod when he hands you a weapon.  

Dean shoots you a wink. “This one’s Brenda.”

“What happened to Lucille?” you ask, taking the knife from him.

“That’s the bat wrapped in barbed wire. Matter of fact, I should break her out.”

Dean reaches into the trunk and pulls out the blood-stained bat. He rubs the handle fondly. 

“Ahh, Dad loved this thing.”

You sidle up next to him and glance over wryly. “You want some alone time with your big stick, there?”

Dean flashes you a smirk, giving you a long once over in your form-fitting shirt and jeans. “Well, you’re certainly welcome to join me, sweetheart.” 

You snort in response, bumping into his side with your hip. Dean teasingly bounces one of your curls in your face. You smile and swat his hand away.

Sam subtly rolls his eyes, despite a small smile as he shares a look with Cas.

“All right. Can we go, please?” Sam says in amusement. Castiel awkwardly straps on a machete to his belt. He doesn’t believe he’ll need it, but Sam and Dean are always prepared. He wants to be as well. 

You’re ready to go, but Dean holds you back by your shoulder. You look up at him curiously.

“Hey, follow our lead on this one, okay?” he asks. 

You sense that he’s hedging at something more specific with that request. 

“What do you mean?”  

“The kid. I know you wanna beeline for him the second we get in there, but hold off,” Dean says. His gaze is serious. “He could be turned.”

He got a good look inside, the same as you. The kid was lying on a bed while the other humans were chained up on the floor. Still, you shoot him an incredulous look. 

“Why would they turn a kid?” you ask. “They have the others.”

“Yeah, and they were chained up. Why not him?” Dean asks, imploring you to think logically. He shares a look with Sam, who silently agrees. You look between the brothers with pursed lips. 

“Maybe they don’t give a fuck, because they’re cocky assholes,” you retort. And you walk past them to head back towards the barn. 

The brothers and the angel share one last look, with Dean letting out a subtle breath before he follows you.

You creep back into the barn, as quiet as possible through the room of snoring vampires. The brothers and Castiel go to the sleepy women in the corner. They look dirty and malnourished, wearing threadbare clothing. Sam feels the pulse of the man prone on the floor, but he’s already dead. 

When one of the girls wakes with a whimper, Dean holds his finger to his lips, warning them all wordlessly to be quiet. He looks over and doesn’t find you next to him. He nearly curses out loud when he sees you heading for Andy’s bed across the room. 

Meanwhile, you touch the little boy’s shoulder and shake him a little. He wakes with a small sound of reluctance, but you shush him gently. 

“Andy?” You grasp his shoulders. He nods, though his blonde brows are furrowed with confusion. 

“Who…who are you?” he asks. He rubs at his sleepy brown eyes. 

“I’m here to help,” you reply in a whisper. “I’m going to get you back to your mom, okay?”

After a moment, he nods and lets you pick him up into your arms. You hazard looking over across the room, and you find Dean’s annoyed gaze. Despite the uncomfortable churning in your belly, you ignore him for now and head for the back door.

You’re only able to take a few steps when you feel a hand wrap tightly in your hair and pull it away from your neck, just for rows of several razor-sharp teeth to sink into your neck.

AN: 😬 ...Sorry. If you don't know me by now, I love a cliffhanger. But how'd you like Dean getting used to sharing his space? (And having someone to occasionally put him on his toes.)

Part 2 will feature a good old fashioned "you should've listened to me" fight, some angst, some making up, some salsa dancing, and a healthy dose of smutty smut.

Next Time:

“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”

Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms. 

“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely. 

You truly become incensed at that. 

Keep Reading: PART 2

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[fraddit]

This is a new post in my series of three four about Eddie’s house on 9-1-1.

part one, part two, part three | Buck’s loft

Since 5b blessed us with lots of looks at Eddie’s room (finally!!), I wanted to do an update to my model of Eddie's house.  Rather than alter my original post, I’m just making a new one to tack on.  So, let’s get started.

Here’s the floor plan view.  They changed the door into the room from both the S2 House and from what we saw a glimpse of in S3.  So the door now swings inward.  They also removed a window and moved the closet from right by the door into the room to over on the other side of Chris’s closet, which makes the room bigger (And also leaves a weird empty space hiding in the walls, but it's fine. I'm fine.).

And Eddie has used his new bigger room to fit his new treadmill.

More views and details under the cut!

The furniture is all pretty similar to what we saw in S2 but not exactly the same.  He’s got a contemporary, metal bed frame that’s either a queen or a full.  There’s a very low headboard.  The bedspread is blue and white plaid.  The two matching end tables are wood with similar metal frames to the bed.  There’s two matching lamps with sort of beige ceramic bases and kind of dark muted mauve lampshades.  On the table next to Eddie’s side of the bed, closest to the door, is an analogue alarm clock and a tray to hold what I’m guessing are his pocket items like keys and wallet.

Under the bed is a large woven rug in a muted green color. And above the bed is a ceiling fan.

Across from the bed, between the door into the room and the closet door is a mid century style wood dresser.  Sitting on top of this dresser is another ceramic lamp, this time in a blue color with white or beige shade.  Next to that is the only visible photo in the room.  It’s of Eddie and Chris hugging Shannon on Christmas in S2.  In front of that is Eddie’s Silver Star.  And next to that is a low profile decorative wooden box.

There’s a piece of art hanging on the wall above this dresser, but the only glimpse of it I could get was enough to know that there’s a white matte and the lower right corner is some shade of brownish.  So, I’ve taken the liberty of choosing a desert art print to match the other desert art in his room.  I’m pretty confident that it is actually some sort of nature art, because all of the art in Eddie’s house is nature art.  The living room is tree/forest stuff with one water fall.  The dining room and hallway are ocean and water.  Chris has his own stuff, but there’s also the Redwood poster and he has a lot of animals.  And Eddie’s room seems to be desert themed, which is why I stuck with desert for this mystery art.

Along the far wall is the treadmill.  It faces the closet door.  We never got to see this wall pre destruction, so I don’t know if the destroyed frame we see in the aftermath was on this wall or was the piece from over the dresser I just discussed.  So, this wall could be blank or not.  There’s no telling.

Behind the treadmill, in the corner, is another taller and narrower wood dresser. It’s got a nice bonsai tree sitting on it that looks to be a jade tree.

In shots of Eddie’s destroyed room when Buck breaks down the door, there’s a floor lamp next to this dresser that is not visible in any of the shots from 5x11, so I didn’t add it here.  My take is that that lamp was added specifically in that scene for lighting and effect.  There’s also a wicker basket that I assume is for laundry next to Eddie when he’s crying with the bat, but I’m not sure where in the room it normally lives.

Next to the dresser is the only window in the room, which is centered on the wall.  There are some light brown/beige blackout curtains and also mini blinds for window treatment. There's vegetation visible outside the window.

On the other side of the window is a small piece of art.  It’s a pretty desert scene in blues and pinks with saguaro cacti at either sunrise or sunset.

And there you have it.  Eddie’s room!

If you got this far, thanks for reading all of this.  I hope this is helpful or at least interesting. 💕

#eddie diaz #911 fox #911 #911 on fox #evan buckley #911 parade of homes #made by fraddit #911 by fraddit #shut up fraddit

[whosnearr]

"cigarettes after sex" m. afton

summary: literally just what the title says

cw: transmasc reader (post top surgery, on t), suggestive themes (very brief), smoking

word count: 816

notes: thought i was done with this shit but here i am again. i might start posting regularly again i guess we shall see. i love writing about michael he literally rots my stupid brain.

michael flopped down next to you, both of you breathing heavily and trying to catch your breath. you turned to him, a sly smile tugging at your lips. you rolled onto your side and propped your head up with your hand, your elbow pressing into the bed and holding up your weight. you moved your other hand, gently running it up and down his naked body. you traced up and down his muscles and memorized how his curves felt beneath the tips of your fingers. 

he lazily turned his head to you and mirrored your crooked smile. “hey, baby,” he said in a whisper as he rolled onto his side and gently grabbed your hip to pull you closer. he moved his hand up a bit higher, his fingertips tracing the scars on your chest. “you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled quietly, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your head. 

“you’re making me blush,” you said sarcastically and chuckled softly. you put your hands on his chest, tracing shapes into his pec. “we should clean up,” you said softly before sitting up carefully. you stretched before standing up and collecting your clothes that littered the ground. you threw your dirty clothes into the laundry basket before walking into the bathroom and grabbing a rag to clean yourself up. you dampened the cloth beneath the stream of the sink and wiped yourself clean. michael stepped up behind you and pressed kisses to your neck and shoulders.

“you need to clean me up too,” he teased. you could feel his length pressed against your backside and you rolled your eyes. you turned to him, throwing the now dirty rag at his chest and sticking your tongue out at him. you walked out of the bathroom and michael chuckled softly as you left him to clean up by himself. 

you grabbed one of michael’s shirts from his closet as well as a pair of his boxers from his dresser. his wardrobe had become yours. you both wore each other’s clothes all the time. you plopped back down on his bed, rolling onto your side and grabbing the box of cigarettes as well as his lighter from his nightstand. usually, he had them hidden in the drawer but his parents and siblings were gone so it was just the two of you. michael usually had to sneak you in so it was nice for the two of you to have this time alone together. you couldn’t wait for him to just move out. 

you put a cigarette between your lips and quickly lit it before putting the box and the lighter back in their place. you took a long drag and your face contorted in disgust with the putrid flavor. you didn’t understand how michael could smoke these so regularly. at the least, you would think he would buy the flavored ones. he stomached the flavor a lot better than you did. you walked across his room and opened the window, blowing the smoke outside.

you hummed quietly to yourself and pulled over michael’s desk chair so you could sit next to the window and smoke. your gaze shifted as michael stepped out of the bathroom wearing just a pair of sweats that hung low on his hips. you smiled at him, opening your arms and waiting for him to come over. he stepped over to you and picked you up before sitting back down with you in his lap and facing him. 

“i thought you didn’t like cigs,” he said, looking down at the cigarette as you took a hit. the end of it glowed a fierce red as you inhaled before dying back down. you pulled the cig away and blew the smoke out of the side of your mouth towards the window. 

“i don’t,” you said and held the cig between your index and middle finger. you turned it towards him and put it between his lips. “i mostly lit it for you. you always smoke after we have sex,” you said and ran your hands through his hair. 

“you just wanted to try it then?” he spoke around the cig you placed between his lips and you nodded in response. he hummed in understanding and took a long drag. “second-hand kiss,” he said proudly and smiled like an idiot.

“like i’ve never kissed you directly before,” you said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his lips. you lazily rested your arms over his shoulders and pressed yourself closer to him. you got the taste of cigarettes in your mouth but ignored it, pushing your tongue into his mouth and getting a taste of him. you pulled away after a short moment and pressed your forehead against his.

“i love you,” he said in a whisper, reaching over and putting out the butt of the cigarette in the ashtray on his windowsill. 

“i love you too.”

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf lore #michael afton #michael afton fluff #fluff #mostly sfw #mike afton #y/n #michael afton x reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf fanfiction #fnaf fanfic #trans #transmasc reader #trans reader #ftm reader #reader insert #x reader #fnaf fluff #suggestive #i love michael afton so bad #i haven't written in so long bye #take this shitpost #im going to explode #going insane

[rossithepixie]

Okay under the cut is gonna be me doing some reflecting on how i’m 4 days away from my 1 year anniversary of finally escaping my abusive ex and how i’m having some feelings right now

As i said above it’s gonna be year since i got away from my ex. Which would have been impossible without outside help because i’m on disability and have limited income because of it. It had only been harder because my ex had an iron grip on my already limited finances while i lived with her since if i even tried to take back the smallest amount of financial control she’d make an already bad situation 100x worse.

It hadn’t started that way of course, stuff like that never does. But the while situation was compounded by the fact that we’d started long distance and i’d moved across the country for her. We’d rushed in all honesty because i wanted to get away from my drunk father and finally be free to come out of closet in safety. I unfortunately couldn’t have known it was going to be an out of the frying pan and into the fire situation.

I didn’t know that everything was going to be so bad and that in my search for independence and love that everything was going to go straight to hell. And don’t be mistaken, i did love her and that was part of why it took so long to admit i was being abused financially, emotionally and mentally. And this doesn’t begin to tell anyone just how bad it was. Because by end of it i felt like shell of who i used to be.

And i struggle greatly with feeling like my mid to late 20’s were wasted. Time spent being isolated by her from other people through multiple ways. Those 4 years i saw very few things and made almost no connections to anyone else. I was in a new state where I didn’t know anyone else with no money to use to go out to help me meet anyone else. I was rarely able to get new clothes because of her financial control and if i wanted clean clothes i often had to handwash mine because we didn’t have a washer or dryer and she very much prioritized buying herself clothes as well as hers getting first dibs on being washed. I had clothes that ended up unsalvageable from sitting at the bottom of a laundry basket so long. (Her clothes took up two fullsize dressers and majority of the closet)

I certainly didn’t feel comfortable meeting new people like that with clothes that were old and only as clean as i could get them by hand. And i hated going out if i did go because i’d be like that standing next to her in full new outfits and her hair and nails done. It felt humiliating. I will never forget when someone looked at us together and gave me a dirty look and expressed how she couldn’t believe someone as pretty as her was with someone like me. She didn’t defend me either. The woman who’d insulted me then began to hit on her.

And this is just a tiny tiny fraction of the things that happened while i was out there.

Getting away was hell. I’d tried at one point when my therapist finally got me to a point where i could admit i was being abused because admitting that meant accepting how bad things had gotten. I also had to wait until i could do in person therapy again because she would eaves drop on me and if she wasn’t home our other roommate who was her best friend would eavesdrop for her and tell her what i’d said in therapy and private calls.

Even once i could admit and knew i needed out it would take a full year before i could escape since when i’d reached out to my bio dad who had both the money to help and the space for me he refused to help unless i got rid of my cat who’s my ESA. My cat was my one thread of sanity through it all. And though i had a breakdown, i stayed.

It wasn’t until i told an old friend what was going on and they got a good job was i able to leave. Even once plans were set I couldn’t relax until i was actually out. Even the 2 hour bus ride to the airport I couldn’t relax, walking through a 100 degree city with a cat carrier and as many possessions as i could pack into two bags i couldn’t relax. Not because i thought my ex would come after me but because so much had been ground out of me over the course of 4 years that i didn’t dare hope i could actually be free. It actually took several weeks of being in my new apartment with my friend for it to start sinking in that i would be okay. I cried over clean laundry, i cried over being able to buy things i needed without the worry that would id be told no, i cried over being able to eat without getting yelled at. I had to relearn how to give my body rest when it needed it and that no one was gonna yell at me if I didn’t immediately take care of something. And this is all among so many other things.

With how terrible her “love” was i still struggle with the idea of being lovable for someone. I wonder if i’ll ever be truly wanted and loved in the way i’d like to be. Because it’s hard to feel like you’re worth loving after being treated so badly for so long.

I don’t know where i’m going with this. I thought i’d be having happier emotions so close to my 1 year anniversary of getting away but instead i just feel hurt and sad.

#cw domestic abuse #cw abuse #the pixie speaks

[momentsandmusings]

Moving home, and my friends' almost-successful attempt at making me stay

A box and three suitcases half-full of my belongings sit around, scattered in my apartment. The rest are still in the drawers of my dresser, on my desk, and in the laundry basket. The packed clothes are barely folded, and the books in the box are stacked like a bad game of Tetris. My cat, Shrimp, hates going into his carrier, despite the amount of treats I leave, the shiny toys that wait around, and how many droplets of catnip spray linger in there. My beloved subletter of three months made me pay for the first week of December, so I kept the heating up to the max in my room, even if I was out of the apartment for extended periods of time. I fly back home tomorrow.

Every time I fly back to Quebec from my hometown, Vancouver, it only ever really takes between less than a day or two to adjust back to the brittled concrete, the charming garbage day air, and the Bixis in my blind spots. September of this year was different. After a long West Coast summer of six weeks, I felt a leftwards tug that I tried to ignore. It lingered weeks after I landed and settled into my new apartment. I tried to journal, walk, exercise, and meditate the yearning away, but in turn these activities lead me to a plane ticket home—so here we are.

The other night, my friends threw a pyjama-karaoke-themed farewell party for me. I took care of the invites, and they took care of the rest. I knew I wanted to see all my friends before I left, and I could have easily planned something for myself. But between work, packing, and attempting to force Shrimp to get used to being lugged around in a container with wheels, I needed help–and as a Leo with crippling pride, it was nice to not have to admit it in the moment when they offered to plan it for me, and I am so grateful to them.

Around my friend Alex’s apartment, there were photos of me dispersed around her walls. In no particular order: there was one from when I went apple picking with my boyfriend, Will; Will and I posing next to the Barbie movie poster after seeing it in theatres when it came out this July; another of me behind the counter from when I was working as a barista at the hip Italian joint in Griffintown; me and my roommate’s cat, Pesto, who is shaped like an upside-down light bulb; a few of me in my friend Adela’s backyard—one of me, Maxine, and Alex celebrating her M&M-themed birthday as brown M&Ms, one during her Lunar New Year hot pot, and one of me reading; one of me drinking coffee in her kitchen; me, Derelyn and Alex at this year’s pie-themed Thanksgiving; Jiestine and me eating the menu’s special (fried pork, egg, veggies, and rice) at our favourite Chinese restaurant; me on Valentine’s day (my favourite holiday) offering flowers and Cheetos to Alex, Jiestine and Adela; me sitting next to the garbage can with my arms shaped like a “V” for victory, with a smile of relief after successfully moving all my things in a storage unit.

Between these walls, we gathered around the table of candy salad bowls, Cheetos, shrimp crackers, bread, cheese, and seltzers to talk about the highs and lows of our respective seasons. I introduced new friends to old ones. We shared our Spotify Wrapped playlists, and we danced and sang the night away. Towards the end of the night it felt more and more like a campaign to get me to stay, especially when Adela sang “Take Me Home, Country Roads” while my friends surprised me with a cake decorated with gingerbread cookies and a figurine of a little boy with a mushroom bowl-cut. It almost worked.

I have my doubts about moving back, and my friends are the biggest reasons why I stuck around on this island. I can only do what feels right to me, but only time will unravel and reveal as to whether or not this homecoming is what’s best. As a victim of the late adolescent/early adulthood Vancouver to Montreal pipeline and meme to “fill the void”, I am grateful that I fell into the trap. At my goodbye party, the friendships, the music, the food, the soul put into the planning of my send-off, and the memories on the walls of Alex’s apartment stitched the gap so perfectly. I’ll hold this city so tightly to my chest, and I’ll keep it in the inside pocket of my down coat, because of who I found here.

À bientôt, mes ami.e.s. <3

#moving home #friendship #growing up #life #connection

[that-tall-queer-bassist]

Me: I have things to do.

Brain: yes.

Me: Can i do them?

Brain: No, stare at the wall and picture yourself doing it instead.

Me: ...

#fuckin hell #my brain hates me #adhd #executive dysfunction #fuuuuck #i have two baskets of laundry sitting next to my dresser #and math hw #a lot #and i need to clean the bathroom #and clean my room #and plant those plants #but i'm here instead #:) help #please #i hate myself

[writingfics-passingtime]

Peace

~3700 words of Bucky x reader tickle fluff

Based on this prompt from the lovely 💙 anon who asked for a fic where Bucky is a little insecure about his scars, leading the reader to discover how sensitive he is.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x gender neutral reader (romantic)

CWs: Anxiety, nightmares, talks of scarring and injuries, PG-13 inferred sex/intimacy (?)

“James.”

“You never call me that.”

“I’ve never had to. Please,” you stood up from the bed and begged with your steady gaze. “Just sit down. Please.”

“No, it’s-” he winced impatiently, closing his eyes and waving his hand towards the bed where you beckoned him. “This isn’t- I can’t do this right now-”

“Hey, it’s okay I-”

“No- no, don’t talk to me like that,” he opened his eyes and grimaced at you. “Don’t do that thing where you’re afraid I’m gonna snap.”

“I’m not afraid you’re gonna snap,” you argued back, putting a bit of strength in your voice. He always responded better when you didn’t talk to him delicately. You approached with confidence in your step to where he was standing close to the door of his bedroom, where you two had been sleeping rather soundly until five minutes ago.

Five minutes ago, he’d awoken in a cold sweat and sat straight up with a loud intake of breath. You woke up to see him gripping the sheets and trying to measure his breathing. When your anchoring hand met the back of his damp neck he calmed a bit, but then got progressively riled up over the next several minutes to the point where he was impossible to reason with. He’d clambered out of bed and over to his dresser to throw on clothes to work out, mumbling something about adrenaline.

It didn’t seem like the right time to remind him that adrenaline and anxiety were two different things, and he was clearly struggling with the latter.

But his three a.m. boxing sessions were a coping mechanism long before you came along, and Bucky could be stubborn about how he did things in the old days, even if those old days were mere months before you’d joined the team and you two had fallen hard and fast for each other.

“This helps me,” he set his jaw, and it rippled with tension, casting shadows across his face in the warm light of the lamp you’d turned on. You shook your head and stood your ground.

“I‘ve held my tongue every time you’ve done this, Buck. But I can’t sit back and watch you exhaust yourself and call it peace. This whole routine doesn’t calm you down. It just wears you out.”

He sighed and looked you dead in the eyes for several long seconds. It would take someone like you to be with someone like him. You were steadfast, not easily shaken or deterred. When you said something was enough, it was, and in the end, Bucky trusted you. “I’m already sweaty.” He argued weakly, clearly resigned.

“Then have a shower,” you jutted your chin towards his bathroom before turning to walk back to cupboard. “I’ll change the sheets.”

Bucky stood still for several long moments as you pulled a fresh set of bedding from the cupboard near his bed. You didn’t spur him along with an impatient look, hoping he’d do what you suggested in good time.

Choosing the softest sheets in his selection, you got to work stripping the bed as Bucky wordlessly walked into the bathroom and closed the door. Once he had, you paused and let out a tense breath; half of you was convinced he was going to ignore you and hit the gym anyway.

Letting the facade of your unbothered stubbornness fall, your head hung as you pulled the damp sheets from the place where Bucky had endured another bout of nightmares. Therapy seemed to be helping, but he was honest with you - about his hopelessness that he’d ever feel like a normal person again.

The laundry basket was soon full of the used linen and comforter cover, and the bed was new and fresh just in time to greet Bucky as he stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. His silhouette stood strong in the doorway as he watched you settling back into his bed, finding your place on the side that was pressed against the wall. You knew he liked that he was in between you and the door, to safeguard you from any kind of bad thing that might enter.

After slipping into some boxers and throwing his towel over a chair, he turned off the lamp and slid into bed next to you. You didn’t make a move to touch him or attempt to comfort him in any way, knowing you’d already asserted your will onto him more than he would have liked at three am. The serum was effective, and he could probably hear the way you were almost holding your breath.

“Mm-was a good idea,” he mumbled, laying down, he pulled the covers over himself. He turned on his side to face you, metal arm folded under his pillow. Your back was towards him so you couldn’t see him, but the kindness of his words made you smile a bit. Even if he didn’t fully believe it, he was trying to let you help. So you nodded a bit. “C’mere,” he breathed out, sliding his arm around your waist and dragging you backwards to close the small gap between your back and his chest. He placed a kiss on the spot below your ear that always made you shiver, then nuzzled against your skin. Small droplets from his still-wet hair hit your ear and shoulder but it felt more authentic than annoying. You smiled a little more and let yourself relax into him.

Your breathing soon became slow and measured, but you weren’t asleep. Not yet. You fought hard to stay awake until the moment Bucky’s breath hit a steady rhythm, his hold around you had loosened, and he was asleep.

He didn’t wake up again before the sunrise began streaming into his room. It’d always surprised you that he liked to sleep with the curtains open, but you liked the natural light too so you never questioned it.

Somewhere in the night you had both shifted around and he was now flat on his back, breathing heavily, the comforter draped half-way up his bare torso. You snuggled back into his side, which accidentally woke him up, but he just let his metal arm drape around you and rest at your back. His fingers drew affectionate lazy patterns, which he knew you liked, but you grabbed his hand.

“You don’t have to do that right now.”

“’S-ok,” he breathed out, not opening his eyes again. “You like it.”

“Let me return the favour. Turn over.”

He shook his head as much as he could in his drowsy state. “It’s not a pretty sight.”

“You know I don’t care about-”

“Shhh,” he half-grinned sleepily and held a finger to your lips, as much as he could find them. You scoffed a little and pushed his hand away before sliding your palm up his bare chest and pressing your fingertips into the tight muscle where his neck became his shoulder. He half-winced, half-sighed in bliss as you worked the tension on that one spot, slowly wearing him down to the point where you could ask:

“You’re holding too much tension. Let me help?”

“Mm,” was his reply, then he relaxed as you pressed into the muscle once again, another sleepy half-grin pulling into his lips before it fell. “You don’ needa do that,” he breathed, finally opening his eyes. You stopped pressing into the muscle and gave him a level look.

“Because of your scarring? Buck, it’s me. You don’t have to hide that stuff. Need I remind you there’s not a part of you I haven’t seen?”

That half-grin returned. “I love how I never have to guess what you’re thinking,” he reached a hand up to lace behind your neck and pull you in for a drowsy kiss. You kissed him back eagerly for a few seconds, but pulled away when you felt him begin to turn his body and deepen his intentions. He sighed, knowing you were looking for an answer. Propped up on his metal elbow, he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “We have people for this,” he reminded you of the various physiotherapists you all had access to. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m not worried. I just… wanted to be the one to help,” you mumbled, but decided not to push it any further. Bucky hesitated for a few seconds, a flash of guilt and nerves crossing his stormy eyes, and he then let out a loud, theatrical, sigh.

“I guess I can let you give me a back massage,” he moved his hand from behind you and made to turn himself over. “I can endure it.”

“You’re a Saint,” you joked with a laugh, getting to your knees next to him. “How on earth do you put up with me?”

“It’s hard but I find little things to get me thr- whahat are you doing?” He chuckled as you swung a leg over him.

“It’s called leverage,” you smiled, only now realising how tired your voice sounded too. Hopefully you’d have the strength in your morning muscles to work his tension to the point where it actually helped.

Your tender touch found both of his shoulders, working over the skin before digging the heels of your palms into the muscle at the top of his back, simultaneously pressing your fingers in at the place where his shoulders met his neck. Bucky tensed, and then softened with a croaky noise that sounded somewhat like a groan. You smiled coyly, very satisfied he’d already experienced some sweet relief.

“So what was that about not wanting-”

“Mmm-yeah, yeah,” his grunt of defeat bubbled through his lips, as did another deep sigh of comfort.

You were familiar enough with human musculature, having had to assess your own injuries and the injuries of colleagues in the field, to know generally which muscle groups lay where. To press and dig and work with the grain of the muscle, how to palpitate against the knotted masses which found themselves in a surprising number of areas in Bucky’s back and shoulders. You’d half a mind to comment on your intrigue, considering shouldn’t this heal itself? Doesn’t the serum take care of this? But Bucky’s slack-jawed bliss against the pillow pulled a smile into your cheeks, and you couldn’t bear to force him into conversation right now.

Bucky had an impressive collection of scars, if you were kind of person to be impressed by that kind of thing. The serum worked wonders on recovery time, and even made some smaller wounds look near-invisible. Smaller wounds in the grande scheme of things, that is. Bucky’d lost count of how many bullets he’d taken, and those never remained etched into his skin for more than a few months. The bigger stuff - the gashes and tears - those were still around. Though, nothing compared to the arm.

You tried to not show your hesitation as your fingers edged closer to the mass of mangled skin surrounding the place where his left arm used to live. It wasn’t that it bothered you, but that you knew it bothered him. It was the thing, the oppressive reminder of all he’d endured.

Early on in your love, Bucky unfastened the arm from his body when you’d share a bed. He’d done it so naturally the first time, you kind of assumed he always took it off to sleep. It’d seemed like no big deal. It wasn’t until one morning when Steve had accidentally burst in on you two, barely awake, that his brow furrowed in confusion. He looked at the arm, and then at Bucky, and then understood. And then you understood. It was a strange, wordless, sadness that filled the room. Once Steve left, Bucky had to admit he wasn’t willing to wake up from a nightmare to find his metal grip around your throat. He’d never forgive himself. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to trust himself with you again, so he wasn’t willing to risk it.

A few months pass, Bucky was putting in the work to begin trusting himself more, and one night he fell asleep with it on. Pure accident. Sloppy, really, for a super soldier. He had a nightmare that night but, like always, it never reared its ugly head in your direction. He didn’t take the arm off to sleep again. How could he, with that dazzling sparkle in your eyes and smile when you woke up in the morning to see he’d left it on.

Building trust in his control was important for him, but you still saw the way his face would fall, ever so slightly, when he’d see the mauled scarring circling his shoulder. He didn’t like when you touched it intentionally because it felt like you were trying to prove something. Which, yeah, okay, fair. This morning, though, you had reason to touch him there.

So your mirror-imaged hands found the places just below the outsides of his shoulder blades and worked deep into the tissue. Bucky stiffened for a second, opened one eye and shifted, then slowly closed his eyes as you continued on your path.

Even though you could feel the tension releasing in the wake of your touch, Bucky again shifted in hesitation. You paused and checked in. “I can stop if you want,” you offered, not hiding the hint of disappointment tugging at your heart.

“You don’t have to.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not you.”

“…This doesn’t define you.”

He paused, probably on the verge of disagreeing with you, but he settled on, “You don’t like yours either.”

“I have a neutral relationship with my scars. You don’t have to love them, just don’t hide them. Not from me,” you asked hopefully, ducking down to place a kiss against a small scar on his other shoulder, and then another one. Bucky chuckled.

“What’re you gonna kiss every one ’til I agree?”

“If that’s what I need to do,” you groaned dramatically and pushed yourself to the side, placing a tender kiss against the scar tissue where his shoulder met the metal anchor plate. Bucky grinned and sniffed out more chuckles as you kissed the skin with theatrical noises.

“You’re in a weird mood this morning,” he commented, then flinched when your lips grazed the skin further down towards his ribs. You knew bodies and reactions well enough to know what that meant. So you cracked a smirky grin he couldn’t see and repeated the action before placing a gentle kiss against the skin. Bucky let out a few breathy laughs before turning his head the other way, blocking you from seeing his ticklish smile. You only grinned harder, and brought your hand down to trace your fingertips over the battered skin.

You swiped over it with your thumb and leaned back down, placing gentle kisses to the unscarred, but responsive, skin on the side of Bucky’s neck. Your grinning lips trailed over the space below his jaw as you glided your fingertips all around the scarring of the vibranium and, much to your delight, Bucky actually giggled. Giggled.

“Okay, now that’s pretty cute,” you laughed into the crook of his neck, which only made him twitch a bit more, laugh a bit more. “You’re not even fighting me,” you commented before placing another kiss below his ear and fluttering your fingers at his upper ribs. The metal met your knuckles as his mechanical bicep pressed to his side, then quickly lifted off again in case it was hurting your fingers.

“I-hi’m a nice guhuy,” he chuckled, squirming a bit more under your tickling touch. Your fingertips ghosted down his side and settled just above the waistband of his boxer shorts, where you softly scratched your fingernails at the bare skin above the sides of his hips. He twitched a bit harder at that before laughing through his nose.

You grinned wider. “You like this.”

“I like you,” he corrected, a breathy laugh bursting through his lips when you dared to squeeze once at his side. “Aha-and I like when you touch me,” he hummed, then chuckled as you paused your hand but kissed another scar on his upper back.

He relaxed again, so you smirked against his skin and fluttered your fingers up his sides. More breathy laughter came through his lips as his eyes shut, nose scrunching adorably as you tickled the sensitive skin on the backs of his ribs, giggling against his neck before nipping playfully at his ear. He squirmed ticklishly, but didn’t fight you.

“Lehet me try here,” you giggled more, trying to wedge your fingers under his tightly clamped arm.

“Hell no,” he laughed, opening his eyes giving you a menacing side-glance.

“Why not?!”

“Because I said so! C’mere,” he playfully growled and then turned, causing you to yelp as you were deposited on the bed next to him. He shifted around and propped himself up beside you with a warning glare. You bit your lip and let a grin spread into your cheeks as you launched forward against him, grabbed at his sides, squeezing and kneading against his hips. Bucky burst into sniffling laughter as he let you tackle him onto his back and swing your leg over his hips once again.

His hands batted at yours, but not with enough strength to actually push you away, and certainly not with enough strength to hurt you.

“Bucky Barnes,” your scoff playfully admonished. “How dare you not tell me you’re so adorably ticklish?”

“Adorable is not the word I’d- hehey!” He laughed again, gritting his teeth as the spurts of ticklish coughs and grunts (poorly disguised giggles) broke through his defences when you clawed your fingers into the sides of his stomach. He pushed at your hands again as you giggled mischievously and shot them behind yourself to take a chance at fluttering your fingers at the insides of his knees.

“OH-HOKAY!” Bucky shot straight up and flinched hard at your touch, frantic laughter spilling out from deep in his stomach as he once again grunted and tried to give you a menacing glare, leaning further forward to grip your forearms and lift them from any place you could attack. He gave a slack-jawed smirk and stuck his tongue against the inside of his cheek, practically chest-to-chest with you as you sat stuck, prone, your legs straddling his lap and your arms held apart behind your back.

You gave him a look of false innocence, then bit your lip and broke into genuine laughter. “Buck… come on, that’s too cute,” you giggled again.

“Huh,” he narrowed his eyes a bit, and you could tell by his gaze that he was assessing the situation from his peripherals. You smiled wider and narrowed your eyes in cheeky challenge.

“Did the serum make you more ticklish?”

“You’re just askin’ for it now.”

“Can I make you coffee?”

His eyebrows shot up, “Oh, you think coffee’s gonna save you?”

Feigning confidence, you gave him an unimpressed look. “You can get me back if you want, but it’s not gonna fool me into thinking you didn’t like my hands all over you.” Then, you braved a wink.

“I always like your hands all over me,” he smirked, mouth slightly agape as his gaze fell to your lips. You let them fall into a warm smile.

“It’s not weird if you like it,” you assured in a kind, unruffled tone. “I love hearing you laugh.”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky gave you a soft warning stare back and released your arms. “Don’t go pushin’ it.”

“I’d never,” you promised, leaning forward to press a candy-sweet kiss to his lips. “Now, can I make you coffee?”

“Mmm,” Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close, pressing a stubble-framed kiss to the lower part of your neck as his hands trailed your back. With a breath of contentment, you laced your arms around his shoulders and let him continue on his journey, kissing up your neck, nipping at your ear, a mild digging of his fingers as they clutched at your back and pulled you closer. Then the grip of his fingers moved outwards. “Payback first.”

You didn’t have much of a chance to try talking him out of it, to try bartering or begging, before he dug his wiggling fingers deep against the backs of your ribs. Laughter filled the room once again as you two playfully tussled around in bed, Bucky growling against your skin as he nipped at your neck and delighted in the way he could make you sound so carefree. Every time you tried to turn the tables again, he’d find a new way to make you laugh. The back of your ribs was ultra-effective for pulling high-pitched squeaky laughter from you, but that could’ve been because his pointer fingers and middle fingers had wedged themselves under your arms when you’d managed to shuffle them down.

It got to the point where he’d successfully pinned you on your back, arms still encasing you, each hand had two devious fingers under your arm, two scratching at your ribs, his grinning lips nipping and kissing and teasing at the sensitive skin on your ear, and your laughter had long turned squealing and breathless. He finally halted his fingers and pressed a few lingering kisses to your neck as the residual giggles spilled out and you caught your breath. Once you had, you shoved at his shoulders. “Lehet me make you coffee.”

He removed his arms and planted his hands beside your head, hovering over your rosy-cheeked grin. “You like this,” he smirked, catching your eye with a satisfied gleam in his own.

The blush pricked your cheeks, so rolled your eyes and laced a hand around the back of his neck. “I like you.” With that, coffee postponed, you pulled him back in for a fiery kiss.

His body met yours, pressing you once again into the bed. Your hands found those scars as they roamed and wandered, but he didn’t shift uncomfortably as he used to. He kissed you with strength, with hunger, with making up for lost time.

There was something more in his kiss this morning. Maybe it was the rough-housing, or your unwillingness to let him be insecure around you. Perhaps it was the fresh sheets or the sunrise or the impending hot bitter brew that you’d soon make in the kitchen.

It also could’ve been the strength in your voice and the sobering glittering of your eyes in the lamplight, when you’d said Enough, and asked him to stay. It was probably the way he had stayed. Because for the first time, in a long time, he instinctively knew he could fall asleep again. With you.

Boxing at three am was exhaustion. But you - holding you close in the early hours of the morning - that was peace.

#Bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky tickle #Ticklish!Bucky #ticklish!bucky #marvel fluff #tickle fic #tickle fluff #ticklish!reader #lee!bucky

[missluckycharms]

16 with harrys ass

16. “You’re up your own ass!” - “well why don’t you get up it instead?!”

Pairing: Footballer!Harry and Footballer!Y/N.

Warnings: suggestive content, language, mentions of anxiety, panic attack and anxiety medication.

A/N: I love these two sm, my sarcastic lil babies 😭🥺

Send me a number!

“I swear to God! You always do this! Pick up your fucking panties off the floor!”

She rolls her eyes at the sound of his voice, her hands busy typing up an assignment that’s due next week, her laptop perched on her lap on Harry’s bed as he stress cleans his room, an exam he’s taking today taking up his whole mind as she tries to block him out — he’s just stressed, don’t bite back she tells herself.

“What do I do with these?! Wear them?!” He shouts throwing them into the laundry basket, her anger building up as if he’s not the one who scatters them around the room when they’re getting down and dirty, him telling her it’s fine, he’ll pick them up after.

“You threw them there twenty minutes ago, dick head” she fires back, her eyes narrowing as she looks at the words she’s typing up on her screen, the knowledge she’s learned through this year spilling out as Harry spills out his anxiety in the form of sarcastic comments and blame being placed.

“So what, I’m your maid now?! m’Made for picking up your cum soaked panties?!” He shouts as he runs his hands through his hair, his sigh loud as he paces through his dorm room, the place spotless but his anxious ticks making him fix his posters and adjust his rug about fifty times in two minutes.

“Just sit down Harry, you’ll work yourself up to the point where I’ll have to physically restrain you, again” she says looking over the top of her laptop at him, his t shirt on her body as she lays pantless on his bed, her ankles crossed and a pillow on her lap elevating her laptop to avoid the dreaded laptop burned thighs.

She had to retrain him about two weeks ago, his anxiety making him spiral into a full fledge panic attack, a very concerning one at that, due to an assignment he was meant to have wrote up being due that same day, he misread the due date and thought he had over a week left. She held him down on the bed, his arms pinned over his head as she watched him loose his mind, shouting and near tears, her hands wrestling an inhaler into his mouth due to his difficulty to breathe. This didn’t stop until he curled up and basically exhausted himself to sleep. She then typed up his assignment and submitted it, went out and got him some take away, him apologising all night as they relaxed, lit some candles and ate food to ease his mind.

“I’m not crazy! You don’t need to restrain me!” He shouts back, his voice loud and small laughs between words, his hands now on his hips as he looks at her like she has ten heads, her eyes on her laptop screen as she tries to ignore him.

“Tell that to the man who was near tears under me three weeks ago, you need to get your medication refilled” she says calmly which earns her a laugh, a very loud sarcastic laugh from the man.

“You’re shitting me right? I don’t need those meds! I’m not crazy!” He says as she rolls her eyes for what feels like the hundredth time today, Harry still pacing around the room, his nails picking at his lip skin anxiously.

“It’s okay to need something to make you feel better in times like this, no one has to know — I’ll pick them up for you!” She shouts, her hands now shutting her laptop as she has his full attention now, kneeling up on the bed, his loose fitting jersey on her body as he looks at her.

“Why would you do that? You’re not my girlfriend” he scoffs, walking over to his dresser to adjust his miniature car collection he adores, his guilty little secret that he tries to hide from people, always dimming the lights when he has someone in the dorm room. She feels her stomach drop at his words, her eyes filling with tears as she fights them back, looking at him as he faces away from her.

“You need them Harry! I’m sick of doing this every week with you! I hate seeing you like this, I hate seeing you fiddle around your weirdly clean room that I bet serial killers couldn’t even clean as good!” She says as he turns around, looking at her before he speaks up.

“I just like things tidy! Fuck sakes, you sound like my mother!” He shouts as she scoffs, crossing her arms as she gets off the bed, walking towards him with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, I guess you’re a mother fucker then!” She shouts back, his eyebrows raising in fake surprise which causes her to walk away from him, picking up the clothes she was wearing when she came over.

“Where the fuck are you going?” He asks as she ignores him, pulling off his jersey and tossing it onto the floor, his fists clenching at the misplaced jersey on the floor, but he doesn’t reach for it, he watches as she angrily changes back into her usual attire.

“Back to my dorm to write, you need to just fucking masturbate or something, it’s a great stress reliever” she dead pans, turning around with her breasts out as she pulls up her leggings, the flesh bouncing as he tries to not watch them.

“What do you know? You haven’t had to do it in nearly three months, I always make sure you finish” he says now leaning on his dresser, arms crossed over his shirtless torso and his grey joggers hanging low on his hips.

“Is that why I always run to the bathroom and spend ten minutes “peeing” ?!” She says using air quotes, her hands now fiddling with the hem of her jumper, pulling the soft fabric over her head and onto her body.

“Oh! So we’re playing that card?! Okay, now is it a good time to say that when you pull my hair I hate it?!” He says as she lets out a loud laugh, shaking her head as she leans down to pick her shoes up from under his bed.

“Come on Harry, we both know that’s a lie!” She says tying up the laces, small scoffs under her breath as Harry just looks on at what she’s doing.

“And when you scratch my back?! Fucking hate that too! My jersey rubs off it! Feels like someone is dragging Velcro across my back!” He says as she shakes her head walking around, taking her bag from the floor and unzipping it.

“Oh yeah? Well, since we’re being honest here, I hate it when you bite my ear! What are you? A fucking dog ?!” She asks loudly, looking at him with a confused look as she slides her laptop into the bag.

“I’ll do it more! Maybe I’ll even bite it off!”

“Maybe I’ll fucking stab your back next time! Or I’ll tug all those stupid curls from your head and make a nice cardigan from them!”

“You’re all bark no bite!”

“Oh that’s rich coming from the literal dog!” She says looking at him with narrow eyes, her sighs loud as she tries to zip up her bag, the fabric getting caught on the zipper as she sighs frustrated at it.

“So all those moans are fake? Wow!” He says laughing, shaking his head as she nearly punches her bag on the bed, trying to get the zipper to work as Harry looks at her with amusement.

“Yeah, yeah they are fake! You’re too self absorbed to even see that everyone you bring in here fake moans!” She says finally getting the zip unstuck, her hair now dangling in her face from her frustration.

“I’m self absorbed, please Y/N! Tell me how?!” He asks as she throws the bag onto the bed, looking at him with her hands on her hips.

“You don’t give a shit about anyone only yourself, and those stupid fucking barbie cars!” Her voice is loud, his matching her volume already knowing the dorm next door is cursing them out of it.

“They are collectibles!”

“So are barbies!”

She grabs her bag, making a bee line to the door, her steps rushed as she storms towards the door with anger. His eyes following her as he rolls her eyes at her dramatics.

“You’re so dramatic!”

“And you’re up your own ass!”

“Well, why don’t you get up it instead?!”

She turns to him when he shouts this, his neck vein bulging due to how loud he was shouting, his eyes wide when he realises what he just said, her mouth slightly agape as she tries to play back his words, contemplating if it was real.

“I mean, … I’ll get up your ass”

“No … no you didn’t”

They look at one another, the silence deafening as they stand in the awkwardness, Harry never expressing that he liked this kind of stuff before, he’s so masculine, it’s a surprise to Y/N that he would let someone have that much control over him to fuck him in the ass. Has he done this before? She thinks he must have, or he’s done it to himself.

“Harry, do you need me to look after you?” She asks softly, looking at Harry who’s near tears, his eyes glazed over and his head hanging low as he nods, his whole demeanour changing as he crumbles before her. Her whole body relaxing, looking at how he basically surrenders to her, begging for her to ease his mind for a few minutes.

“Have a shower, I’ll be back in half an hour. Wait for me, I want you naked and on your bed, got it?”

| Part 2 |

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fandom #fan fic author #fan fic requests #send me a number #send recs please #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader

[absurdthirst]

Dirty Laundry {Frankie Morales x F!Reader}

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Postpartum depression, childbirth

For @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday 5-19-21

Frankie opened the door to the house, sighing when he hears silence. At least the baby was asleep. He creeps in and shuts the door quietly and sets his keys down on the table.

He ignores the dirty glasses that are sitting on the coffee table, the baby items that are strewn around. All of those can be dealt with later.

He sighs as he slips out of his shoes, padding down the hall in his socked feet, reaching the end of the darkened walk way and reaching for the door knob.

You hadn’t been doing very well. Postpartum had hit you hard with the new baby, and he didn’t know if he was going to come home to tears or shouting from one day to the next. It wasn’t your fault, it was your hormones, he knew that.

Except that you kept blaming yourself. Comparing yourself to mothers that seemingly had everything in order and didn’t miss a beat after giving birth. Wanting, no needing everything to be perfect and being frustrated with yourself when it wasn’t. From the baby not latching on properly to not having the energy to cook dinner, Frankie had held you while you cried about being a failure at everything.

He had mentioned making a doctor’s appointment. Wanting you to talk to them and have them help you. Point you in the right direction or just assure you that it was normal. That you weren’t going crazy.

Pushing the door open, he hears a sniffle, his heart clenching and he knows that something else has gone wrong in your mind. He had called to check on you several times and most times the baby crying had pulled you away before he could find out if you were okay.

You are laying on your side, away from him. “Baby?” He asks softly, shuffling his hat off his head to toss into the nightstand. The baby monitor was on and he was grateful to see that he was sleeping quietly in the crib.

“Frankie?” You turn and give him a miserable look. “I- I didn’t think you’d be home yet.” You push yourself up to your elbow, eyes filling with tears.

“What’s wrong, hermosa?” Normally the term of endearment makes you smile, but this time it makes your chin wobble and tears spill down your cheeks. “Shhh shhhh, no crying baby.” Crawling up into the bed, he leans forward and wipes away your tears, sitting on his knees to look you over. “What’s wrong? Baby, talk to me.” He pleads, his soft eyes begging you to open up like you had begged him less than a year ago.

“The house is a mess, dinner didn’t thaw in time and I didn’t even do the fucking laundry like I promised!” You cry out, anger lacing your words.

Frankie looks over to where your head had turned, the basket full and the dresser drawers askew. He tsks, shaking his head and pushing you down to the bed gently. Laying behind you and curling around your body and holding you in his arms.

“Fuck the laundry.” He grumbles, tightening his hold on you. “It’s just dirty laundry, baby. It can wait.”

You give a watery chuckle and shake your head. “No it can’t, I’ve been wearing your t-shirts and the baby puked over all of them. You have nothing to wear.”

Frankie chuckles and just burrows in closer to you. “It’s just dirty laundry.” He repeats softly. “What we are going to do is take a nap, me and you, while the little man is snoozing. When he wakes up, I’m going to change and feed him while you order a pizza and then you can watch me take care of the two of you tonight.”

You are quietly for a long moment, making him wonder if you started crying again. Until he hears a soft “really?”

“Really baby.” He kisses the back of your neck and rubs your stomach where the baby had been just a few weeks ago. “Don’t worry about a thing, it’s just dirty laundry. My girl doesn’t cry over that. Not while I’m here.”

You sigh, your own arm coming up to hug his and he can feel your body relax. The tension draining out of you and he smiles. You would be okay, he would make sure of it. He wasn’t going to let you or his son down.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #tw post partum #tw childbirth #tw depression #writer wednesday

[imadehimspaghetti]

Fade Into You Pt.3

Part 1, Part 2

A/N: This is an old, unfinished fic between negan x oc & simon x oc

As I entered his room, a small burst of cool air blasted into my face. My eyes immediately went to his bed. A king size with gray satin sheets, with tall black bedposts and a black headboard. For split second, all I could imagine doing was crawling under the covers and falling asleep. On the left side of the bed was a door, presumably to his own bathroom. In front of his bed was a tv on a black dresser. Along the wall to the right of the tv were gray counters and a 2 door fridge. Next to the fridge was an open bookcase filled with various knick knacks. In front of the bookcase was a black leather loveseat, facing the love seat were two armchairs.  A glass coffee table was placed in between the loveseat and armchairs.

Sitting in the armchair on the right was Negan. His red scarf was laid neatly on the coffee table, while Lucille rested on the chair next to him.

He peered over his shoulder to look at me. "Hey, towel fetcher." His signature smirk made an appearance, while just like I did to Simon, I mentally rolled my eyes. He gestured to the love seat for me to sit.

I walked over to the couch and sat down with the dirty towels on my lap.

"I'm a little confused."

"Whys that?"

"Well someone that looks like you," he paused to look me up down. "I would've noticed. So why didn't I?" He showed no emotion as he stared me down, waiting for an answer.

"Maybe you need glasses."

He scoffed at my comment. "You need to watch yourself doll." His eyes looked at mine, mentally warning me. His eyes had a dangerous look to them so I decided it was in my best interest to not be a smart ass. I let my head hang down and I stared at the dirty towels. "Sorry, sir." I felt a hand lightly grasp my chin and forced me to look up. Negan's surprisingly soft hands slightly tightened their grip on my chin. "When you speak to me," he sneaked a glance down at my lips before returning his gaze to my eyes. "You look at me." I nodded in response. He suddenly let go of my chin and laid back in his chair. "Good."

"Alright," he started, "go make yourself useful and go to my bathroom and get the towels." I was taken aback by his sudden rudeness but I shook it off and walked over to the other door in the room that I hoped was his bathroom. As I passed his bed, I took a quick look at it. My thoughts went to his wives and I imagined how many girls he has had in his bed.

I opened the door to his bathroom and quickly found the laundry baskets. He had two sitting next to each other. One was full of towels and the other was full of clothes. My focus lingered at his clothes before collecting the towels.

Again, as I walked passed his bed, I stole a glance at it. I reverted my eyes back in front of me, where I stopped just in front of the coffee table.

"Am I done in here?"

"You tell me." Negan tilted his head to meet my eyes.

I furrowed my eyebrows, confused at his reply.

"What do you mean?"

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "The amount of times you've looked at my bed gives me a feeling you don't want to leave."

My eyes widened and I could feel my face heat up. I quickly looked away in hopes he didn't see me blush.

I swear, even without looking at him, I could feel the stupid smirk on his face.

"You're dismissed." With that, I took my cue to leave the room. Simon had left, so it was just me alone in the hallway. I rested my back on Negan's door. I took a deep breath and walked my way back down to the janitor's room.

The rest of the day was easy going. I washed Negan and Simon's towels and on my way up the bring them back, I ran into Simon on the third floor. I was lucky enough to have him take the towels and take them up himself. Taking the towels back was my last task of the day so after Simon took them away, I headed to the kitchen to get a snack before going to Chris's room. When I got inside, he was sleeping on the couch with a book in his hand. I decided since he already was on the couch, I would take the bed again tonight. I crawled under the covers and closed my eyes with Negan's words still etched into my mind.

The amount of times you've looked at my bed gives me a feeling you don't want to leave.

#the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fic #negan x reader #negan fanfiction #twd #jeffrey dean morgan #negan #simon twd #steven ogg #negan x oc

[all-things-fic]

Spoilin’ for a Fight

A/N: Happy Sunday loves! Hope you’ve all had a lovely and restful weekend. No, your eyes aren’t deceiving you... I have indeed (finally) posted another piece of writing. Here’s 6.7k of Harry riling up his partner all because of a bloody vest.

Thank you as always for all the love and patience everyone has given me. Especially @waitingfortwilight, @haute-romance-quotidienne and @harryfeatgaga. Hopefully this lives up to any hype the sneak peek created! I’m going to disappear again .x 

***

You rolled your lips into your mouth as you watched him walk his way around your master bedroom. His movements were confidently familiar as he tucked his vest into the waistband of his white boxer-briefs and kept his eyes down to the dress shirt and trousers he had laid out across your bedspread, sitting next to choice accessories. 

He was running late. Both you and he knew it. Yet the leisurely motions he undertook would never have told you that if you didn’t already know. The way he had taken longer in the shower, carelessly stepped out of the towel (and stepped over it too, meaning the item was now damp and in a bunched up pile closer to Harry’s side of the bed waiting for someone to put it in the laundry basket) and meandered his way through getting ready. 

Boxers first, then black ankle socks. Then the bloody vest. 

You exhaled through your nose, trying not to release a breath that would catch his attention and let him know that you were becoming slightly vexed by how lackadaisical he was choosing to be.

The vest had to go.

Not even in a sexual way either. 

And it wasn’t the fact that it just wasn’t doing it for you - on the contrary it was quite the opposite, the tight item clearly letting you ogle and appreciate the fine specimen you were proud to call your partner - but it was just how much of grandad-move it was.

You understood how having some sort of undershirt kept his actual shirt looking pristine acting as a defensive layer between his body and his clothing.

But, the vest had to go. 

It just had to.

Blindly reaching down to your dresser for your tube of mascara, you unscrewed the gold lid and coated the wand with product. 

Mouth slightly fallen, you washed your lashes with the High Density Black mascara and quickly made the switch to the other eye making sure to get your bottom lashes too. 

Looking at Harry through the mirror, you wondered what he could be debating as he stood silently in the middle of the room. A soft frown traced his brow, his eyes looking down at the bed. His hands were digging into his waist, as his lips jutted slightly in thought. 

Your conclusion was that he was debating his outfit choice for the evening. 

Lid gently screwed back on, you placed your mascara into your cosmetic vanity, before then reaching out for your brow gel. A quick brush through each side and you were done with that step.

You happened to quite like his outfit choice. It was a little less formal than usual for one of your dinners. Classic houndstooth patterned trousers and smart black shirt. The kind of material that made a scratching noise which was music to your ears as you clawed at your man, wanting him closer. Whether that was in the booth of a restaurant, on the car ride home while you were sat at a red traffic light, or when he had you pinned against the locked door for your house. 

Eyes dropping, you watched as your hands - with freshly lacquered nails - gently drew the opening of your silky-satin dressing gown together as it started to gape. 

From your fidgeting, Harry’s attention was stolen by the movement he had seen in his peripherals and when you next looked up at him in the mirror you were met by his already awaiting gaze.

His face looked worn, as his still slightly damp hair fell across his forehead. Lines lingered in his skin from the way his head was tilted and his arms were bent as his hands faffed around with what appeared to be a trinket box. He must’ve reached for it at some point while you were otherwise occupied. 

Gold cross dipping underneath the neckline of the vest, the width of his chest seemed to be getting wider the longer you kept your eyes on his reflection. In moments like this you always became hyper aware of the amount of tattoos that were scattered across his body - arms, shoulders and chest. If you were able to let your eyes drop lower, you were sure the ones of his legs would be just as vivid.

But while everything else about him just seemed content in the moment, his eyes were different. They were strong as they held yours. Waiting for something. 

And you knew you couldn’t keep his gaze as you let your words leave your throat, albeit with less conviction than you originally thought them.

If you were after a bicker before dinner then he was absolutely going to bite and give you what you wanted. You just knew it. 

“You’re not going out in that, are you?”

“‘S there a problem ‘f I am?”

A charged pause.

Harry’s remark was shot out instantly, on yours as fast as a predator was on their prey. 

Inhaling deeply through your nose, you looked back at him through the mirror. A slant to his lips as he waited once more.

Gentle raise of his eyebrows. Faint but definitely there. Goading. Knowing you would be so aware of every moment, every twitch with your eye for detail. His eyes shone in a way that he was daring you.

Oh, he was spoiling for a fight. Most definitely. 

See, this wasn’t new territory for you and Harry. He knew that it sometimes got on your last nerve in how he opted for a vest to cover his top half as an undershirt but especially when he only wore that as the item of choice and simply slung a suit jacket over the top to complete the outfit. 

Like that one time when he attended The Store X The Vinyl Factory's Transformer exhibition and swung by your then rented London townhouse after said event in the small hours only for you to chastise him on the doorstep for how he hadn’t even put on a proper shirt for the evening. 

That night he had teased you - “‘least let me in the door before you start dressing me down, darling. Especially considering ‘m halfway there with not putting on a clean shirt an’ everythin’” - in that slow draw that maddeningly managed to warm you through even when you were irritated with it’s orator. 

Blinking, you knew you needed to respond but you weren’t sure which route you wanted to take with your tact. 

“Not a problem, ‘s just not my favourite.”

“Didn’t realise we’d become tha’ sorta couple,” he paused, his sentence obviously not finished. When your eyes met his again, he continued, “The kind that tells the other what they can and can’t wear, can and can’t do.”

Sighing, you fiddled with your diamond earrings and spoke, “Forget I said anything.” 

“No, no,” he spoke clearly, ringless hands rising in defeat. “You don’t like the vest, ‘s fine. Allowed an opinion.”

“Nice to know.”

A suppressed laugh spluttered from Harry’s lips as he pressed them together. 

Looking at him again, you watched him wrinkle his nose up at you through the mirror. By now your gaze was flat and you were far from impressed with his taunting.

“Come on,” he encouraged, eyes alight.  “‘S have a row.” 

“I’d rather not.”

“‘S healthy to tell me to piss off every once in a while, y’know tha’?”

“So, piss off.”

“Ouch,” he dragged the word, playing offended. “Could say it wi’a bit less conviction next time.”

“That’s if we make it to a next time,” you muttered, seeing his smirk. “‘M not doing this.”

He watched the way you snatched at your other earring, your hands quick to try and place it gently to your lobe but in your haste you fell foul of losing the item. 

“Shit,” you hissed when the dainty jewellery slipped from your grip and to the wooden floor below with a dull clink. 

“Hang on-“

“It’s fine,” you rebutted any chance of his offering to help, swiping for the earring and managing to make good the second time around. 

There was tension in the air now as Harry remained quiet while you continued busying yourself, ignoring the bubble of annoyance and unexplained upset simmering within you.

Gently scooping at your necklace next, you fiddled with the clasp of the fine chain and tilted your neck down as you raised your hands and arms to place the necklace onto yourself. 

From behind you, Harry nervously chewed at his bottom lip. He knew the outcome wasn’t going to go well as he looked on at your slightly shaking hands struggling to successfully bring the two sides together. 

Rather than point out the possibility of ruining the nails that you had endlessly chewed his ear about all afternoon and constantly stuck under his nose to show off; he waited with baited breath, more than willing to step in if required.

It was when he heard the small and soft growl omit from your mouth with sheer frustration that he decided to change tact.

Gone was the trinket box, tossed aimlessly back onto the bed with a soft bounce. His hands gently placed to rest against taut shoulders, Harry leaned down to press his lips to the top of your head. Nose tickled by your hair he muttered into the silky strands, “Let me, darling.”

You froze as you sat in your seat, eyes still slightly lowered from the way you had dropped your head. Frantically blinking as you mulled over how you were going to play your next move. 

Harry hummed, noticing that you had gone quiet on him, knowing you wouldn’t want to engage with him just yet considering how soon he had previously provoked. He just had to wait it out a little more. 

A slump came to your shoulders at his words, partially irked at how he had been the one to coil your spring - pushing and pressing and prodding - and now he thought he could be the one to so easily offer you release. 

“Let me just-,” he spoke more so to himself, cutting himself off, as he scooped your hair into his hands and mumbled soft apologies considering he knew you had spent some time on styling. 

When he was happy that your neck was open enough and there wasn’t going to be anything to hinder him with your tresses over one shoulder, he reached for the item. 

Harry’s right hand met yours first, his thumb and forefinger easily pinching at the delicate chain that he knew so well having been the person to pick and purchase the item. 

Surprised at how easily you gave up the treasure, Harry darted his eyes to your left side and reached for the other side of the fine chain. 

“Have you got it?” You were reluctant to let the one side of the necklace go, in fear of losing the pendant that was currently bouncing against your chest from the way you held the jewellery item. 

Again, a throaty hum vibrated through Harry’s chest. 

“Which idiot chose the finicky clasp?”

“You did,” you outright answered him.

He chuckled in concentration, eyes zoned in on the way his thumbnail pressed at the clasp to hold it down, and his left hand fed itself to the right. “‘S right, I did. Fucking big idiot over ‘ere.”

You then felt the chain gently tickle the back of your neck as Harry let the item go. “But he’s only gone an’ bloody done it.”

Lightly sighing, you pressed your hand to your chest and felt the necklace sitting cooly against your hotter than usual skin. A soft smile at Harry’s choice of words to let you know he had successfully put on the necklace. 

Slightly inside your own head as you raised it to sit up straight, you quickly busied yourself with returning items that you had been using to get ready, to their rightful spots.

Behind you, you heard Harry chuckle as he gently dropped himself down to sit on the edge of your side of the bed. He was clearly amused at how you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

“Ignoring me now? Not even gonna gi’me a thank you?”

If you hadn’t been so stubborn, and focused on the task at hand you would have heard his question and thanked him. However, given your own bloody-mindedness, you never stood a chance. 

Learning forward, Harry’s hand reached down to one of the four legs that made up your dressing table pouffe - the one closest to him - and swiftly pulled. 

Of course, you squealed. The quick change in motion was enough to cause anyone to omit a noise fit only to dogs hearing due to its pitch. 

“‘Ve got yer,” he spoke around a chuckle, enlightened by your reaction as the chair scraped against the flooring and made it so you were virtually sat in his lap. “If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed...”

Sharply, you turned to look at him and pushed at his shoulder. “Hope you’re not implying-“

“Wha’,” his expression was boyishly cheeky as he cut you off with his question, his hand keeping hold of yours that had pushed his shoulder. “What am I implying?”

Nostrils flared as you looked at him, feeling your arm slowly wrap around his neck as he tried to pull you closer once more on the chair. Legs man spread, he managed to slot you in between his thighs and enjoyed the way your soft knees squashed into his inner thigh from how close you now were. 

“I’m implying what the proverb is implying,” he smarmily responded, forever having an answer for everything.

“Is that so?”

“It is,” he turned, noting the way your arm was still draped around his neck.

“Shame that,” you commented. “Cause if you were alluding to the other thing then you would’ve really gotten the fight you were looking for.”

Harry’s eyes cut to you from the corner of his vision, his lips now pressed gently against your forearm. “Would I? If that’s the case, I take it back.”

Again your nostrils flared, as you mumbled a veiled threat of, “Swear to god, Harry.”

“So, so easy to wind up-“

Harry’s voice was abruptly cut off when your fingers came into contact with the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled as hard as you could. His only response was to gently graze his teeth to the skin of your arm and the silk of the gown in the tiniest of nips as he ascended to your neck.  

“D’yeh know how much I love fighting with you?” He mumbled against your skin, “How much I love doing anything and everything with you?”

“Have a feeling you’re going to tell me,” you swallowed around your dry response, feeling his lips quirk against the shoulder of your silk gown as he gently brushed your hair away once more.

With it falling down your back, you became all too aware of the gape to your coverup, revealing your clavicle and the top of your breast, as Harry’s lips rubbed against where your neck and shoulder met. 

Growl-like hum heard from your suitor, you gently pushed your finger through his drying hair. Forcing it in haphazard directions before bringing it back and smoothing it down. 

When he showered you with affection like he was currently doing, it was hard to stay mad at him. Which is why you found the direction of conversation so intriguing. What was he trying to achieve here? Whatever it was, he really was going the wrong way about it. 

“Know why I love fighting?” He felt you shake your head lightly as he brought you back to him with the question. The rustle of your hair against his was heard prominently in your ears as he now lightly rested his forehead to your temple. “Yea’, you do,” he disagreed with your non-verbal response, tone gritty as he tried to rouse once more. 

“‘S cause I love shagging when we’re angry,” he heavily pressed his nose into your cheek, knowing you were watching him through the hooded eyelids regardless of how you wouldn’t fully let your gaze meet his long enough to be suckered in. “How you really dig your nails into my back an’ shoulders when I properly get going - not to mention my arse cheeks - and how it feels when I step under the shower the next morning and wince like a little wuss.”

You laughed breathily, stopping your feelings of joy by biting down on your bottom lip. Laughter however played on your lips, lingering in a soft smile that danced along and up the corners of your mouth.

“Fight me, darling.” 

Amused didn’t even cover it as you pulled your head back in a slightly uncomfortable way to look at him. The smoulder of his dilated eyes that were clearly set on what he wanted, they jarred so evidently against his messy hair that looked fit for a toddler who had woken from a heavy nap.

He seemed awfully whiny for a man who was confident with what he wanted. Supposed to be the instigator of an exchange of diverging or opposite views, creating most likely a heated happening. Then again, maybe he was onto something.

Soft frown set in the middle of his brows, his eyes dropped so brazenly down to your lips. A quick swipe of your tongue had them glistening enticingly for him as saliva lingered and caused his groan to get caught in his throat. 

Hand against the back of your head, he tilted your face down to his once more and let his mouth sit at the corner of your lips. Your breathing and his had started to become staccato, as anticipation bubbled within you both from your shared close proximity. 

“‘M waiting,” you challenged knowing he would rise up to the provocation, as his hand turned you face a tiny amount more so when he stuck his nose against yours, so they would slot perfectly together.

Harry’s vision blurred as he felt your warm breath bounce against his face, licking his own lips now and rolling them into his mouth to take away any dryness. 

Hand drawing you to him and mouth about to take your bottom lip, he felt the soft draw back of your head causing his lips to tweak as his breathy laugh mixed within his short and sharp exhalations. 

“‘S tha’ how it’s gonna be?“

You fought the way your hooded eyes wanted to close at the gruff tone that laced his question, wanting to marvel in the glow that had started to coat the skin of his face. 

“Said you wanted a fight.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth were his lips abruptly upon yours. His hand spread across your entire cheek as your free hand reached for his wrist and tightly gripped. Noses squashed from the force; desperate to have each other. 

Harry's lips were fierce and bruising, his body feeling heavier against yours as he rested his other hand against your chair and gave you more of his weight. 

For him your smell was everywhere, as your other arm wrapped around his neck and clawed at the fabric of that bloody vest. The sweet of your hair care juxtaposed against the woody florals of your perfume that sensually drew and tied him to you.

Knees knocking together, you felt the way his hand stumbled as it peeled away from the chair and clawed at the silky fabric of your gown. Fingers quickly became frantic as his concentration moved to his hands that lifted fabric and slipped underneath craving the feel of your warm, soft skin.

With his mouth slightly slower and fallen as he was pulled elsewhere, you tried to take the lead as his hands wandered and he explored.

His hands were softer than usual, time away from music and instruments meaning the callouses had faded. Short nails were dull as they clawed, fingertips dancing against your plush thighs as they flattened to the seat and then upwards along your hip, scooping around your back and confidently spreading out just shy of the top of your bum.

God, he loved knowing you were completely naked underneath. How with a quick and sharp tug of his hand, he would have you bare to him.

Small press against your lower back had Harry silently asking you to raise and fall into his lap. You ignored him at first, far too wrapped up in the way he gave you his tongue around his quivering lips that were trying not to smile at the way the two of you were shamelessly necking on and he was managing to get his own way. 

Pressing your toes into the patterned antique Persian rug which sat underneath your bed, your body created a break between your thighs and their seat. Harry took advantage of the space without any need for a nudge, his hands curling against the clammier, warm skin as he urged you once more to come to him.

Your knees hit the side of your mattress first, lifting and mounting Harry’s lap and he moaned as he enjoyed your full weight against him. Fingers digging into the skin of your thighs, you felt him squeeze as he started to lower himself down to the bed.

Body laying atop an outfit priced easily in the early thousands, Harry hummed clearly letting you know how pleased he was with himself. This was only solidified by the crack of his hand, as it slapped against you bare bum cheek now on show. 

“Can’t believe you’ve got your arse in the air like this,” he rasped, head lifted so he could leave lingering kisses to the hinge of your jaw. 

Mouth slightly dropped, you could feel the way his right hand danced against the curve of your cheek and the way it dipped as it met the back of your thigh. 

His eyes were on your face, chin soft as he tilted his head down to his chest. You admired him, somehow able to find a stillness woven within a intoxicated, sensual love between the lewdish comments and suggestive wandering hands. 

Lips melding to the skin of your cheek, he asked,  “Who’re you showing it off to?”

“You, ‘f you want it like that.”

The coolness of the room hit your bare skin even more as Harry roughly pushed up the fabric of your gown up as he palmed your cheeks once more, skin massaged and squeezed between his digits.

Raw groan, he found his voice, “Turn over for me.” 

Harry slid himself closer to the side of bed, hands making light work of his socks and his briefs before he turned to throw you a glance over his shoulder.

You had removed your gown, item somewhere now on the floor revealing yourself to him proudly. 

As you lay gently on your stomach, the expanse of your bare back on show for him. He greedily let his eyes wander, the curvature of your shoulders and the indentation of your spine line. 

The way your right leg was slightly bent creating a crease to your hip and your left leg a little straighter. You certainly gave him plenty to devour with his sight. 

He didn’t give it much thought when he joined you back on the bed, his hands pressing into the mattress closer to your head.

Bare fingers caught your attention as you watched his hands scrunch around his expensive dress shirt, the familiar scratching sound music to your ears as it caught against his nails and not yours for once while he threw it to the floor at the bottom end of the bed.

“Doesn’t look like we’re going to make it to tha’ dinner,” he spoke, his words not really warranting an answer. Beside your hips, you could feel his knees as he leaned for the trousers on the other side of you and pushed them out of the way too.

He continued with, “Already late. ‘S no point.”

From the way he spoke you wondered if this was what he had been aiming for all along. To scrap dinner and have his way with you. It wouldn’t have been the first time and definitely not the last. 

Eyes already heavy from the deep lull of Harry’s voice, they closed when you felt his lips hit your back, making light work of inhaling you in. His mouth was wet as he reacquainted his lips with your skin, suckling the lower he got.

Nose gently sweeping down, you found yourself dropping your forehead to your forearm giggling from the light tickle, only to sharply cry out as his teeth sunk into the top of your cheek and your head lifted once more. 

Your hand reached behind you pressing against his forehead, “Don’t you dare leave a love bite on my bum.”

His lips twitched at your squealed but breathy chastise, tongue laving against the startings of a mark. “Always begrudging me of eating, darling.”

A devilish grin laced his features as you dared to look over your shoulder at him and take in his gaze that owlishly looked at you from behind your curved hip. All you could see were his eyes as your hand gently pushed his head while he pulled your hips upwards with him, lips skimming the backs of your thighs. 

“Mm,” he started. “Not everything though, ‘s tha’ right?”

The man simply didn’t want to part from his meal.

“You always did like dessert better.” 

There was nothing more Harry loved than when you let him put his face between your legs. But when you let him do it from behind, he couldn’t even explain the difference yet there was one.

Maybe it was the way he could grab and smack your arse, fingers digging into your hips as he got to pull you onto his face when things started to get hot and heavy. That animalistic grab to your hip bone, loins pulled onto his face as he went to town.

Even better when you would push back against him. So caught up in the way he felt that you couldn’t wait any longer. He could talk to you easier this way too, really coax you not only with the feel of his tongue but the words that dripped off it too. 

And then there was the possible anticipation of assplay. Tongue always ready and willing to stimulate if it were desired and communicated. 

The way his hands massaged you, softly pulling apart your rounded cheeks and opening you to the cool air of your bedroom almost stunned. Your body quickly gathered itself with a warm moan when you felt his warm salvia drip messily down onto your ass and your middle. 

Then he was leaning forward - lapping at your skin - lapping you up. Tongue greedy at your cheeks and folds, building his own desires before he actually ate. 

This was his starter. 

The most feminine gasp exited your open mouth when you felt his mouth land where you needed him the most, somewhat too cautiously for your liking at first but you knew he sometimes liked to play this game. You found yourself wiggling back, Harry’s hands wrapping around and squeezing into your thick thighs welcomingly when he knew you’d caught on. 

He hummed, pleased that you had fallen from his meek offerings and gave you more of his mouth. 

“There’s my girl.”

“H,” you panted, pressing your forehead onto your forearm. 

“Fuck,” he muttered against you, enjoying how you were letting him have a taste. Your sweetness quenching his starved fancy. 

You were wet, but he wanted you wetter. Just wet enough so that you were tacky when he tapped himself against you teasingly. 

With his eyes closed, Harry opened his mouth wider as he pulled your hips back to his lips. His nails dig into your skin as your hands clenched into the sheets beneath.

He worked slowly against you, tongue licking at your wetness and saliva mixing with your early arousal. Nose buried inside of you as he devoured you in a way that had you thinking he had been wanting you this way for weeks. A little bit rougher, grabbing you to him and not in the way that quickies usually brought. In a way that sex selfishly commanded sometimes. 

“God, baby-“ how was it always so- gratifying? 

With his eyes closed now as he tried to focus, Harry felt your body shuffle and his own limbs followed after you without restraint. Your bum became slightly raised as you pressed your arms deeper into the mattress due to the way you began to play with yourself.

Your fingers swiped upwards in gentle pulls against your clit, Harry’s mouth barely letting up. He must’ve figured out what you were doing though from your slight change in position as he hummed against your heat, light mutterings that you couldn’t make out. 

“‘S tha’ feel good?” he asked, voice hot as he pulled back to bring his focus onto the glide of your fingers against your wet and neglected clit. “Couldn’t wait, wanted to play.”

You knew you were slick, you could feel it but rather than feel embarrassed you found yourself without a care as you pushed yourself back again. His chuckle made you feel on fire, “Not done with me? Still need some more?”

His lips and tongue dove straight back in rather than wait for a verbal answer, feeling the way your legs widened further when he licked in a particular way. The smell and taste of you was everywhere, gleaming against him with a tackiness that was the perfect piece of free memorabilia. 

Breathing heavier, you both listened to every small gasp and light moan that was drawn from you. The sound of his lips pulling at you making a heat spread across your chest and down to your core.

Harry knew your reactions like the back of his hand, and was waiting for that one sound that was so sweet and enough to get him to cheekily pull away. 

The thought alone had his lips curving into a smile against you, as he felt you starting to clench against his tongue from your joint efforts of pleasure. 

“Harry,” you whispered, rushed. The slow burning feeling starting to form in the pit of your stomach as your fingers began to move with that little bit more fervour. “Want you.”

His mouth was away from you and against the skin of your bum cheek not long after, lips messily wiping as he moved them up your back leaving a trail of arousal in his wake as you felt yourself fall flat to the mattress as he mounted you. 

Hands pinched into the skin of your back, Harry pressed his pelvis against you. 

Feeling him nestled between the cheeks of your bum, caused your eyes to close. He was so full and hard for you, you couldn’t contain the throaty moan that accompanied his grind into the dip of your bum.

“‘M gonna fuck you,” he panted, hands sweeping your hair to one shoulder so his lips can find your skin again. “Want that, hm?”

Your fingers wove into the hair at the nape of his neck, as he craned his head to look at you. His left hand pressed into the bed, holding his entire weight as his right hand reached down for his leaking cock. 

“‘S this what you want- how you want it?” He goaded in question again, gently tapping himself against the skin of your bum before he slid himself down and watched as you slightly raised your own hips for him and started to reach behind you to encourage him to press his weight on top of you.

Harry lined himself up, pushing forward and shifting his eyes from his sinking cock and up your back to see your head dipping forward to fall between your shoulders. He knew he’d never grow tired of the welcomed blissful moan of ‘yes’ that always left your lips when he finally gave it to you.

Humming deeply, Harry bit around his smile as he started with shallow, teasing thrusts. A series of strokes that you found frustratingly sexy but knew as ones he wouldn’t be able to keep up due to his own insatiable desires. 

He swore, in the least teenage boy way possible, you were always tighter to him like this. Especially if you crossed your legs at your ankles behind him while he pushed into you. 

It was usually the position you adopted when you’d let him take you this way, however in the dusk evening he could feel that you had lifted your legs up so your calves were resting against his bum and holding him to you; cutting his shallow thrusting short to press and hold him deeper inside. 

As his pelvis flattened against your bum, he gritted his teeth and released a deep noise from the very back of his throat. The sound had you giggling, slightly wiggling your hips from beneath him, the moment quickly halted by one of his hands cupping at your skin.

“Darling, steady,” he warned.

“Come on,” you wiggled again. “Fuck me then.”

Pulling back, Harry nudged forward just as smooth, the intent behind his thrust obvious. Eyes dropped down he enjoyed the bounce of your cheeks from the force of his pelvis.

A content hum left your smiling lips as you jolted from each push of his hips; his grunts of exertion delightfully pleasurable as his hands pressed into the mattress next to your waist. 

Thrust measured - slow, hard and deep - knowing what they wanted and needed. How to get it too. Undulating and determined.

Harry’s eyes closed as he felt you squeeze him, your legs dropping away from the cheeks of his clenching arse and down to the bed with a soft bounce. You moved again and he followed, legs opening wider against the mattress beneath you both. 

The way your face was now half buried into the sheets, muffling your moans that were usually hot against his ear and coaxing him to places he was still dumbfounded he was able reach let alone find. 

Teeth gritted once more, he could feel the tightness in his limbs and lower back. The work of his hips was unyielding but you were opening up to him, only making him want to continue the steady rhythm. To push and pull. To chase.

And it was enough. It was nice. Simmering. And if you opened your legs just that little bit wider you could rub yourself against the sheets but you wanted to give as good as you could get. Being engulfed wasn’t going to give you that. 

“Give it to me,” you requested, “Harder, baby.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Really need it, don’t yer?”

He pulled you upwards, hands at the curve of your waist so his fingers indented and left lighter marks against your skin from the pressure.

Now on your knees he could really have his way with you. 

Soon the sound of your skin slapping together only started to add to the growing fire in the pit of his stomach and yours. The sound of it so obscene but so welcomed to both your ears. 

Harry’s eyes raked over your naked body, the pert cheeks of your arse bouncing enticingly against his hips, to the tops of your fingers that were fisting tightly into your bedsheets. Knuckles so prominent due to the unrelenting grip.

He had noticed that your body was on its way to folding in on itself, arms stretching above your head and hands finding purchase on your plush bed pillows closer to the top of the bed that had been reached and pulled for by your own lack of knowing what to do with your hands.

“D’ya love me?”

His question was so gritty. Throat dry from his heavy breathing. You found yourself collapsing again. 

Your body, in its lethargy, started to curl up into itself with hands pressed down and your legs bent as your arse begins to bob more against him rather than thrust itself back.

“Said d’ya love me.”

He was sharp with his thrust.

“So much-“

It was wet and it was gasped. Low moan as he cracked his hand against your cheek.

“‘S tha’ the sex talkin’,” he heaved goadingly, and you knew he was smiling. It wasn’t the sex talking, but it could be. Both so taken by the waves of pleasure that could easily sway even the most sound of minds.

You whined into your arm from his smarmy laugh, a writhe to your hips as Harry licked at his thumb and pressed it enticing against your arse. Gentle rubs had you gasping his name and pressing back, as his thumb slid down to collect your arousal that was sat coating your outer walls and his cock each time he retreated.

As you became more excited, his thumb pressed against you with a bit more pressure, gently popping inside and sitting there. 

“Harry,” you whined, the loudest you could around biting your lips, a soft frown forming against your brow at the pleasurable intrusion. 

“You fuckin’ love it,” he growled, watching as you pushed back against his next thrust. “You dirty mare.” 

Heavy frown against your brow, you dropped your head onto your forearm once more and felt yourself start to clench around him. “Yea’,” he muttered to himself, “You’re coming.” 

Nodding your head against your forearm, you felt his free hand rest onto yours that was pushed above your head. He pressed down, fingers slotting through yours as he grunted in time with his harder thrusts into you.

With shaking thighs and aching knees, you feel your mouth fall as his teeth grazed over your ear and his heavy pants warmed your already perspiring cheeks. 

“Don’t fight me,” he pleaded. “‘S nice to give in.”

His head was heavy against your temple, your hair messily in your face. You felt your expression fall as you teetered, starting to lean slightly more to one side. He was nodding, you didn’t know who to but you knew what about and you found yourself craving his narration of whispered ‘yeses’ but instead you were both overcome and the best he can do was huskily groan to encourage you.

Suddenly it tipped and your limbs started to shake as you pressed back against him both in want of more but more so to ground yourself so you didn’t collapse. He stuttered from your vigour but held you there, feeling you helplessly writhe and mercilessly squeeze around him. His cock grinding and dipping into you, drawing out each tremor, desperately seeking its own sexual gratification.

Your other hand was wrapped around his face, fingers digging into the back of his neck and whispering begs for him to come inside of you. Pleas of how you want him to give it to you. Fill you up.

And you were lewd because sometimes that was how he liked it.

Such a pretty face and pretty mouth - yours - speaking to him in such a way. Admonishment was forgotten. Who needed or cared for it when his balls were pulling up tight with each slap against you. 

And then he collapsed against you. His thighs roughly spread you as he clenched and groaned deeply - guttural - giving you everything he had. 

Blood rushed around his ears as he shuddered and shook, the force of his orgasm causing his hips to continue with little pushes just to be sure he was done. Lost to himself, the silence and his sensitivity. 

He roused to your dirty snicker, one of disbelief. Right hand wrapping behind to feel for his arse cheek and digging your nails there, wanting to keep him deep inside, or just behind you for long enough to feel him pressed flaccid and wet against your cheeks. 

The filthy reminder caused you to flush, as Harry shuffled behind you, lips seeking out your clammy skin. 

“Make you mad more often, ‘f tha’s my private penance.”

His words were muffled, spoken into your shoulder as his hands soothed and massaged over your joints in preparation for the aching reminders tomorrow. 

And the vest was still on. 

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry fluff #harry x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry fic #my writing

[lubdubsworld]

Insatiable ( Jungkook x Oc ) Chapter 4

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC!   Age difference!!! 

Chapter 1   Chapter 2  Chapter 3

Chapter 4

“Dearest, I am  appalled. “ My father said apologetically. “ Jungkook told me what happened at the dinner and I’m beginning to rethink this whole idea. These pups need to be on a leash , if they cannot control themselves to this extent.” 

I was curled up on the couch next to my dad, his fingers gently stroking my hair while he stared at the screen in front of us. It carried all the accounts of the mansion for the week and the numbers made my head swim . So I ignored it, eating the freshly baked macarons that  cook had sent up from the kitchen. 

My father occasionally consulted from a bunch of files spread out on the table in front of him and I shuddered again when I thought about Mingyu. 

“He was an awful choice father. I should have just told you to set things up with Yugyeom.” I grimaced. 

My father nodded at once.

“Of course dearest, I’ll talk to him myself and see if he’s free this weekend. Will that work for you?”

“thank you father.” I said brightly, curling up next to him.

For a few minutes, we both stayed quiet, him humming as he leafed through the files, me munching on a few ripe tangerine pieces. 

“What do you think of Jungkook?” My father said suddenly, making me cough. 

I swallowed, throat dry.

My father felt me stiffen against him and he chuckled. 

“Don’t panic, love. I am way too old not to recognize heartache when I see it. Especially in my own daughter. Your display at the breakfast table yesterday was quite unlike you and I realized, it’s not just a silly infatuation anymore, is it  ? ” He rubbed the back of his fingers on my cheek, soothing and gentle. 

I didn’t reply. 

“I think he’s a good...man.” I finished.

“Ahhh...” My father chuckled. “  Man.  Here I am , trying to foist you off on boys who’ve barely popped their fangs for the first time .... when it is obvious that what you need is someone reliable and in control. Therein lies the appeal, does it not, dearest? ” 

I flushed red, scrambling to sit up , and clutching the fabric of my skirt in a death grip. 

“It’s... it’s stupid. I’ll get over it.” I choked out. 

My father hummed. 

“Have you told him how you feel?” He asked gently and I stared at him.

“You’re not mad.?” I whispered.

My father chuckled.

“Why would I be mad?  I’ve known him for five whole centuries. He’s a fine, upstanding man. Jungkook is fair and strong. He is more than capable of taking care of you and the best part, you would be able to live here forever. I would be lucky to have him as my son in law.” He said firmly. 

I felt my body go lax in disbelief. 

“Somi .. Somi said...That you wouldn’t approve. Because he isn’t from a strong clan. ”

“Somi worries too much about what the others in our clan may say.  Especially your uncle. He’s coming back soon remember? “ My father grimaced. 

I felt a shiver run through me. 

“Uncle Jaebum? He’s coming back?” I whispered, terrified. 

My father hummed, kissing the side of my head.

“Yes he is, love. But don’t worry. I’ll handle him. Your uncle still believes that lineage plays some role in how a vampire turns out but couldn’t be more wrong. i mean , young Mr. Mingyu has single handedly proven  that theory wrong , hasn’t he?” My father shook his head, laughing, “  So tell me, has Jungkook agreed to court you?” 

I groaned. 

“He has categorically stated that he doesn’t want to court me.” I said softly.

My father laughed at that.

“That must’ve been a novel experience for you.” 

I pouted. 

“Father!” I whined. 

“Alright, alright ...dearest. I won’t tease. Did he say why? ” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. 

“Because I’m too young? Possibly.... He said something about carrying too much baggage and not wanting to ruin my life.” 

My father made a noise of impatience.

“The boy is an overthinker. He’s always been that way. He doesn’t look that way but he cares deeply about hurting others. It’s possible he’s only trying to protect you. Albeit in a very misguided way. “

“ Perhaps. But, whatever the reason, he’s not willing to court me. So, no. i don’t think he wants to be your son in law. I wish I could change his mind. ” I muttered, snuggling closer into him. 

“Ah, you know I can’t change his mind for you, don’t you flower? That’s your job...”

I sighed. 

“I know...” 

“If Jungkook does choose to court you. You will have my blessing. I will give you a wedding that will make the world watch in awe. “ He said firmly. 

i laughed. 

“Really? You made Somi marry Jimin in the barn on the estate.” I grinned. 

“Well, Don’t tell your brothers and sisters but you are my favorite after all. “ He whispered conspiratorially and I grinned. 

It was funny because I knew he wasn’t even lying. 

After my mother had left the clan, my father had taken on the role with enthusiasm. Unlike the head of clans all over the world, my father was approachable , friendly and deeply involved in his children’s lives. And he had always adored me. 

“And even if Jungkook doesn’t realize how amazing you are, remember that there are plenty of good men out there. I want you to be happy, dearest. I will not settle for anything less than your complete happiness. “ My father said fiercely and I hugged him closer. 

I loved this man too damn much. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ You’re so good at what you do, Sera .” Lee Minhyuk gave me a seductive smile as he watched me wrestle his one year old daughter into her booties with one hand while i kept the other wrapped around her to stop her from toppling backwards on the small seat. 

 How about you stop flirting and help me dress your daughter , you asshole, I thought angrily, grunting from the effort of crouching for long periods of time. 

When the fluffy blue fur boots were finally on, I gave little Cherin’s squishy thighs a soft squeeze, pressing a kiss to her perfect cheeks. 

“Good bye cherry berry...” I sang softly, waving gently as she hugged her father’s legs before being scooped up into his arms. 

“So, are you free this friday? We could get something to eat?” Minhyuk gave me a wink. 

His wife was out of town. 

I offered a polite smile in return. 

“I’m going to have to pass on that. I don’t date parents, Minhyuk ssi.” I bowed my head lightly. 

Minhyuk looked annoyed but his gaze flitted to the 6′3″ man behind me, and he didn’t push the subject, merely bowing before leaving. 

Behind me Jungkook cleared his throat. 

I turned and he gave me a slow, lazy smirk. 

“You don’t date parents? Does that mean we’re not on for tonight anymore?” His eyes danced with mirth, mischief glinting in the black orbs. 

I flushed red. 

“Stop it, “ i hissed peering over his shoulder to make sure none of the other workers in the daycare had heard him. 

Jungkook smiled a little at the panic in my face. 

“But then , it isn’t really a date is it? You only want my body.” He sighed deeply in faux disappointment. 

I gave him an impish smile.

“It is the best thing you have on offer....” I shrugged. 

He laughed.

“Fair enough. Did you tell your dad about Mingyu? ” He asked as the workers began to leave one by one. Joowon had left with some of the other kids earlier, Jimin and Somi having promised to take the kids in the clan out for icecream. 

I picked up the stray blocks, dropping them into the huge laundry basket repurposed as a toy bag. i got on my hands and knees to peer under the huge wooden dresser in the corner, looking for stray blocks or toys and picking a few. 

 My back screamed in protest and i wondered if I was going to spend the rest of eternity with an achy back. I was just too young to be feeling this old. 

Was Park Jimin onto something with the whole yoga and stretching and exercise and healthy eating ? Should I stop binge eating french fries and possibly start eating salads? 

I sighed, straightening up and twisting my torso a bit only to find Jungkook with his gaze leveled very obviously  on my ass. 

So much so he didn’t even notice I was looking at him. 

I cleared my throat and his gaze left my butt, meeting mine with an absolutely unrepentant look on his face. 

“What?” He shrugged. “ I’m just seeing what I’m going to be working with tonight .” 

I felt my face flame, hating the way an absolutely ridiculous smile was threatening to make its way onto my face. I turned away quickly, crawling on all fours to the next dresser and peering under it too. 

once all the toys were put away and I’d double checked the to do list on the board , We finally closed the day care down for the night. It was just  little past six and I stood by the door, watching while he carefully checked all the side gates and the backyard. 

Slipping the key into my backpack , I began the walk back to the mansion and he fell into step next to me. 

“You didn’t answer my question....” He said softly and I blinked.

“Oh?” I couldn’t remember. 

“ Did you tell your father what happened with Mingyu?”

“Did you?” I retorted. and he shrugged. 

“I had to give a complete play by play report. Your father was incredibly upset.” 

I chuckled. 

“He’s very protective of me..” I shrugged.

Jungkook went tellingly quiet.

I felt foreboding rise inside me. Jungkook inhaled sharply, obviously staring to say something but i cut him off quickly. 

“He likes you!!” I blurted out quickly. “ I mean..he approves of you... Told me he wouldn’t mind you being his son in law.” 

My lack of filter was going to get me  killed  one of these days. 

Jungkook however seemed more amused than annoyed. 

“Well, considering the kind of candidates in the race, I can see why he would prefer me. “ He laughed. 

I frowned. There was something smug in his tone that irked me. He shouldn’t get to be smug about something like that when he didn’t even want to be with me in the first place. 

“They’re not all clowns. Yugyeom is a great guy.” I said sharply.

Jungkook’s eyebrow shot up.

“Is it so?”

I nodded, honest. 

“He’s older... almost two centuries old now and he’s a good friend.” 

“Two centuries? How on earth did he become your friend?” 

“He was one of my tutors during college. So I kind of had a crush on him.... It was all exciting .... You know, teacher and student .....forbidden love and all that “ I smiled. 

Jungkook gave me a cheeky smile. 

“Ahh...ever sucked his dick off under the desk? Or dreamed of it at least? ” He asked casually and I choked.

“ What? “ 

“Why do you look so shocked? isn’t that the most common of fantasies?“

I glared at him .

“No... I did not. That’s indecent.” 

He stopped walking. 

I walked a few steps ahead and paused, turning to stare at him. 

“What?” I demanded. 

“Sera , what the actual fuck do you think we’re going to be doing tonight?” He asked thoughtfully. 

I spluttered . 

“I... Its different. I was too young back then. Of course I know what you’re going to do tonight.” I said impatiently, turning around to keep going. 

But his hand shot out, gripping my arm and pulling me to him. I crashed into his chest, gripping the fabric to steady myself. 

“For someone who was so eager to have me show her the ‘ ropes’ , you’re quite intent on running from me, anytime i bring it up.” He whispered. 

i stared resolutely at his chest, refusing to meet his eyes. It wasn’t that I was shy per se. But just looking at his face made me lose my braincells. 

“I’m not running away. I just....” Don’t want to read too much into your flirting. Your teasing. Your interest in me. I have to keep my heart safe and I can’t do that with you offering me all of your attention....

“Don’t be nervous, alright? I’ll take good care of you.” He smiled softly. 

 God, I hated this man. 

I could feel heat pool in my belly, spreading all over my body and the urge to throw myself into his arms was so overwhelming.

“I know you will. “ I said softly, finally looking up at him, pressing my palm to his face. “ You’re a good man. A kind man. I knew the minute I saw you that you’d take good care of me. ” 

The words seemed to affect him and he bit his lips, grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand away from his face.  

“We should go.” He said shortly, pushing away from me and walking away briskly. 

“Who’s the one running now, Jeon Jungkook?!!!” I yelled after him and he flipped me off without turning around. 

Laughing, I ran to catch up with him again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At 10.55 , I stood outside Jungkook’s room, nervous but eager.

 It wasn’t even the prospect of sex, I thought giddily. Just the idea of spending time with him, of listening to him talk, of having him at touching distance .....it was so intoxicating. 

I knocked lightly. 

Jungkook opened the door , a smile on his face and it was jarring, how young he looked like this. 

He was clearly fresh out of the shower. Hair wet and and still dripping a little, he was dressed in a grey hoodie, the sleeves rolled up to show his veiny forearms and grey sweatpants, hands tucked into his pockets as he shook his hair out of his eyes. 

It was a futile action and all it really did was send water droplets flying all around. 

I blinked against the unexpected spray, water clinging to my lashes and my cheeks. 

“Hey!! “ I protested. “ Are you a puppy? Use a towel like the rest of the world.” I mumbled. 

He laughed. 

“Come in, princess.” He grabbed my wrist, tugging gently and I stepped into his room, looking around eagerly. 

He closed the door behind us and I heard him pull the dead bolt into place before turning the key as well.

No interruptions then.....

Good. 

“Your room is actually bigger than mine.” I frowned, noting the big four poster bed, complete with a white curtained canopy. I let my gaze fall to the clean white sheets and my mind flashed back to the beautiful Helena, sprawled on the bed in nothing but her underwear. 

I swallowed the bitter jealousy that threatened. 

Hands wrapped around my waist from behind and he hugged me close, the warmth of his chest heavy and amazing on my body. I jumped a little when i felt the gentle press of his lips on the curve of my neck. 

“You sure about this? We don’t have to do anything at all tonight. We can kiss a little, watch a movie and sleep. But you’re a big girl so I’m gonna let you call the shots.” He lightly grabbed a huge chunk of my hair, lifting it out of the way before kissing the back of my neck. 

“Uh...” I stared straight ahead, already half aroused. “I want....to feel good.” 

He laughed against my skin, his hold around me tightening. 

“That can be arranged.” He said hotly, teeth nipping  at my skin before he gently turned me around in his arms. 

I looked up at him, drinking in his gorgeous face and he hummed, eyes narrowed as though in deep thought. 

“Bed?” He prompted and it was ridiculous, how one word could turn me on that bad. I nodded, making to move but he surprised me, crouching and grabbing the back of my thighs, pulling me up so easily, that I shrieked. I wrapped my thighs around his waist, more by instinct than intent and he laughed at the look on my face. 

“This always gets the ladies going.” He winked and I flushed. 

“Show off...” I muttered, lightly punching his shoulders and he shrugged.

“I don’t hit the gym five times a week to  not  show off darling.” he drawled, walking over to the bed and tossing me on the mattress. I bounced off the surface, squawking in surprise and I scrambled to sit up but he was already grabbing the hem of his hoodie and tossing it off. 

I’d never seen him shirtless but before I could fully appreciate the view, he was climbing on the bed. He grabbed my ankles, tugging me away from the head board and I landed on my back with an oof. 

“Ow. You’re being entirely too careless with me. “ I protested. 

He crawled forward on his knees, closer and closer till he was throwing one leg over my body, straddling my waist. 

“Thought you wanted to be put in your place.” He reminded me and I grinned up at him. 

“I think I’m right where I want to be. Under you.” I said honestly and he nodded.

“It’s where you belong.” He whispered, taking me entirely by surprise .

 My heart began pounding a familiar ache, a familiar pang. I knew it was an illusion. He didn’t for a second believe I belonged here but it was hard not to believe him, when he was hovering over me , looking like a fallen angel. 

God, don’t get emotionally invested. He doesn’t actually mean it, you fool. 

“Kiss me.” I held my arms up and he lowered himself carefully, keeping his weight off me as he kissed me, soft and gentle. I let my fingers tangle in the damp ebony locks, tugging gently as he angled himself better, tongue begging entrance. 

The heady mint taste of him, sent me into over drive and I wrapped both my legs around his waist, pulling him down. 

I took a second to just take him in.

The scent of his skin against mine, clean and woody, slightly sweaty, but mostly just musky. The smell of a man . The weight of him on my body, the hardness of his arousal evident even through the sweatpants. He pulled back to stare at me, his fingers brushing my cheeks. 

“You have perfect lips for kissing. Lush and plump. Like tiny pillows I can sink my teeth into.” He whispered, catching my lower lip between his teeth and tugging. 

“You have beautiful nipples. I want to lick them some day. .” I breathed, running my thumb on the curve of his cheek bones. 

Jungkook stared at me in complete shock for a second and then  laughed . 

“Thats.... a new one. Jesus. “ he shook his head, almost in disbelief. 

“Sorry.” I flushed and he waved off my apology. 

“You wanted to feel good right? Shall I start?” His eyes twinkled. 

I nodded, way too eagerly and he laughed harder. 

“Okay, let’s get you out of these clothes, princess. “  He grabbed my arm, pulling me up to a sitting position before gently tugging the t shirt off my chest. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath and his breath caught s he stared at my breasts.

He stared at them for a second, swallowing before, glancing at me .

“Beautiful.” He said, voice deep and husky. 

“Thank you .” I said primly. 

He laughed again and shook his head.

“I can’t remember ever laughing so much before sex. This is so weird.” 

“Weird bad?” i asked, nervous.

He shook his head.

“Weird good.” He leaned in, kissing my cheek just as he hooked his thumbs into my shorts, pulling them down easily and leaving me completely naked. “ Weird adorable.” 

I crossed my legs, drawing my knees up at once, feeling devastatingly shy. 

His eyes softened. 

“You want me to turn off the lights? “ He asked gently. 

“Yes please.” I said desperately and he nodded, quickly climbing off the bed and fumbling with the light switches. He left a single light on , near the closet. It left the rest of the room dimly lit. 

“Am I the first one to see you like this?” He asked, rubbing his hands together before climbing onto the bed again. 

“Um... after the age of ten, yes.” I laughed nervously. 

He hummed. 

“You’re gorgeous. Toss me that pillow.” He pointed to the one next to my head and i handed it to him.

“Lie down for me darling.” He smiled. 

I hesitated, closing my eyes tight just because it was overwhelming, seeing him in front of me , shirtless and being naked in front of him. 

I laid back slowly, knees still pulled up and feet on the bed, thighs pressed together. 

My heart was pounding , less from nerves and more from sheer anticipation. I’d waited long enough for this to truly feel nervous or want to back out. 

And the fact that it was with Jungkook... I’d pretty much hit the jackpot in first time experiences. 

Hands on my knees made my eyes fly open and I found myself staring up into his face.

“You okay?” He asked gently. 

i nodded.

“Let me between your legs?” He asked sweetly. 

I felt the blood rush to my face, my legs shaking as I spread my knees and thighs, enough to give him space between them. His fingers closed around my ankle lightly, gentle as he ran his hands up and down my legs. 

“Relax alright. You wanted to feel good and I’m going to make you feel good. The only thing you need to do is... well.. feel.” He smiled, impish bunny teeth bright even in the darkened room. 

I nodded, closing my eyes. 

“Don’t wanna watch?” He teased and I shook my head. My pulse kicked up at the very thought of it. 

Jungkook wasn’t anything like I’d imagined, I thought miserably. He had been attractive as the stoic, serious man who wanted to do the right thing but like this : naught and flirty and charming , he was absolutely devastating and i wasn’t sure i could come out of this unscathed. 

I couldn’t fight the feeling that I was making a huge mistake . that this whole thing was going to end with my heart ripped to shreds....

His lips against my forehead pulled me out of my thoughts and I swallowed. 

“I’m going to touch you.” He said softly and I shuddered when his hands closed over my breasts, gentle but firm, kneading the flesh very slowly, thumbs rubbing back and forth on the nipples till they tightened. 

I bit my lips to stop myself from crying out, the sensation overwhelming and foreign because it was someone else’s fingers and not my own. 

“Hey... “ one soft finger pressed against my lips, parting them gently and i sobbed out loud. “ None of that.... You should be as loud as you want to...how else will I know if I’m getting the job done?” 

“You’re getting it done..” I choked out, shaking all over and his kissed my lips again, quick and hard. 

“So beautiful.” He murmured, lips pressing kisses down my chest and across my breasts.

“Since you wanted to lick my nipple, let me uh...return the favor? In advance ?” He laughed against my skin and I inhaled sharply when he nipped at the fleshy mound. 

His lips closed around my nipples, the suction gentle but his tongue wet and insistent .

I went completely still, my hands flying to his hair and gripping so hard he grunted . My hips lifted off the bed at the sensation, every nerve ending on fire as he kept suckling and licking and god, his teeth...he was using his teeth to bite down on the nub... making me thrash my hips , my body completely overwhelmed . 

He kept his lips over the peak, licking the tip over and over till it was tender and wet and hard . He used his hands to knead the other side, thumb rubbing insistently on the neglected nub and I felt my toes curling into th mattress, my arms drooping to loop around his neck as he began to move his hips as well, grinding down on to my thigh. 

I was going to black out from having my nipple played with, I thought vacantly.

“Probably won’t feel this good for me but I’m glad you like it.” He laughed again and I loved the sound of it. Loved that he seemed to be enjoying this too. And I wanted him to enjoy it. Wanted to make him feel good too.

So I let my hand drop, down to his waist and then to the front of his pants.

He froze over me. 

“Sera-”

“I want to.” I said desperately, knowing what he was going to say.  . “ Please , let me touch you too-”

“Hey hey...shush..”He kissed me again quick and heady. “ Remember what I said? You call the shots.... “ He pressed another kiss to the corner of my lips. “ Want me to take off my sweats?” 

I nodded, “ Yeah.” 

He wiggled out of his pants quickly and i cursed myself for wanting the lights turned off. 

I hesitated, rubbing my palm on his pecs and tracing the muscles down to his tightly packed abs and then hesitating. 

“You can touch.” He said hotly and I swallowed, letting my fingers flutter down between his gloriously thick thighs. His skin was smooth and hard , like silk over steel and I let my fingers go lower, past the light dusting of hair to the thick, rigid length of him , my fingers closing over the hardness of his cock. 

Jungkook jerked forward, head burying into the pillow near my head and he swore.

“Fuck...” He sounded strangled and I laughed , gripping him harder but not a lot because I wasn’t sure how much was too much. .

“I have no idea what I’m doing...” I admitted weakly , loosening my grip a little to stroke up and down over the length of his cock. 

“Fuck.. just the fact that you’re doing it is going to make me cum.” He choked out and I laughed, ridiculously flattered.  

He grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand away.

“Lick it.” He said softly. 

I went still, my brain grinding to a halt.. Lick....??

 My eyes went wide.  

And so did his.

“Your palm.” He choked out. “ Lick your palm not my..... Your palm. It’s too dry.” 

Oh..  oh.

Lick my palm. Not his cock. Right. Got it. 

“Okay...”I drew my hand up and hesitated , unsure . Jungkook watched me like a hawk, eyes trained on my mouth and I bit my lips, cupping my palm and spitting into it, twice for good measure. feeling absolutely filthy.

“Fucking hell.” He breathed as I took my hand down to his cock again, wrapping my hand around it and it did feel better, easier to jerk him off with the lubrication. I moved my hands up and down , with  no rhythm and Jungkook gritted his teeth. 

“Okay... I’m gonna.. “He shivered a little when I tentatively pressed my thumb to the head, surprised to find him wet , on the top. I gathered the moisture around his slit, spreading it all over the head of his cock, using my fingers to rub circles over the crown , fingers tracing the thick vein on the underside. 

 inside me. This is going to be inside me. 

 I felt my thighs shake, my insides clenching, wetness dribbling out of me as I squirmed. 

“Please... Jungkook , I...”

“I got you...” He whispered, grabbing my hand and pulling it away from his cock. 

“hey-” I pouted but he shook his head. 

“If you don’t keep your hands off,  this'll all be over before it even begins,.” He said dryly. 

I closed my eyes again, my nerves picking up. 

“Listen...” He said suddenly and I blinked, staring at him. “ I’m going to get you wet...” Oh, god, “ With my tongue.” 

My entire body went taut. 

“I..”

“It’ll make it easier... trust me. And It’ll feel good. Wasn’t that the goal today? “ He tossed me a wink, squeezing my thighs a bit. He moved back and grabbed the pillow.

“Lift your hips up for me.” He said gently and I raised my butt, jerking when he folded the pillow in half and pushed it under my hips. And the he was crawling backwards, till his face hovered over my belly button.

“Throw your legs over my shoulders....” He said briskly, gripping my thighs , one in each and spreading my legs apart. I did as he asked, the back of my knee resting on the hard muscles of his broad shoulders and i raised my head a bit to peer down at him. 

The sight of jungkook’s gorgeous fucking face between my thighs got seared into my head and I fell back, already overwhelmed. 

He pressed a soft kiss to my thigh, a little nip my skin and then sucked the skin at the juncture of my hip and thigh. He was breathing in suddenly, a loud, shuddering inhale.  His breathing wavered and i felt the sharp pin prick of teeth. 

“Shit..”He pulled back and I jumped a little, watching him struggle. He glanced at me and I saw the flash of white between his lips. He’d dropped fang...and was clearly struggling to get them to retract. 

“You can do it..” I said feverishly. “ Jungkook , you can.... Drink.” 

He shook his head and glanced up at me and the look in his eyes made me startle .... because it looked like he was going to get up, move away , possibly call off this whole thing and no...no that was absolutely not going to happen. 

I was not letting him back out of this. 

He tried to move, but I grabbed his hair, yanking his mouth back to my thigh. 

“Fucking do it...” I snapped angrily and his eyes widened at my tone, “  do it and then fuck me , Jungkook or I swear to God I’ll  -” 

Sharp, sharp pain lanced through my spine as he bit down, fangs piercing my skin with ease and I felt the rush of liquid as it left my body, filling his mouth as he gulped. 

His venom worked its magic, the pain dulling to a throb, a pleasant heady intoxication....meant to make the bleeding out painless, meant to make death pleasant for the prey but for me it was just pleasure.

 Pleasure because he could have his fill and I would still be able to give him more. 

Pleasure because with me, he could indulge himself, as much as he wanted without worrying about the consequences. 

Jungkook groaned against my thighs, his shoulders shaking as he drank and I stroked his hair, petting the dark strands as I fought the slight lightheadedness, knowing that it would pass soon. 

Jungkook sucked deeper and I parted my legs moaning when my head began to spin, and then I felt his fingers touch my center, parting my folds , spreading the wetness all over his fingers before his thumb pressed down on my clit, rubbing insistently. I felt myself dripping all over the sheets, so wet and swollen and throbbing... 

“Oh, god yes... That feels so good, Jungkook .. I...” I gasped  as he slipped one long finger in, deep and without any resistance. The warm wetness in my thigh began spreading and I heard him groan as he sucked harder, drinking me down like i was the finest wine. 

“Another... give me more...please...” 

He moaned, still drinking, still shaking as he pressed another finger in next to the previous one, deeper still, searching and stroking, tracing every ridge inside me, curling just right, and rubbing down on that spot inside me...the one I could never quite reach by myself. 

Jungkook inhaled sharply, his fang sinking in just a little deeper as he latched on tighter and my legs shook as I cried out. 

He hummed, using one hand to rub soothing circles on my thigh, while he rubbed his thumb across my clit , hard and the gentle and then hard again until it throbbed and ached , over and over again and I was sure the little nub was bruised, that I wouldn’t be able to touch it for a while without wincing. 

I was gushing , my arousal so strong that the sheets were soaked, wet and so damp and the sensation of his fingers, thick and deep inside me while his fangs bit down harder, while he fed from me, was just too much...too much. 

I exploded around his fingers , my orgasm so strong that my hips lifted right off the bed, and he fucked me through it, fingers pounding in and out of my wet swollen walls as he pulled away, fangs retracting and I struggled to get on my elbows , to get a look at him.

He looked completely wrecked, fangs still half out, lips red and dripping blood , eyes flashing scarlet and blazing with lust so potent , I felt my insides churn.,,. i stared at him as I clenched over his fingers and he closed his eyes, shoulders shaking as he tried to get his bearings but I grabbed his shoulders, scrabbling to pull him up and closer. 

“Inside!” I choked out as he tried to get up, looking punch drunk and out of it.” Get inside me.”

“Sera... you’re...” He was slurring his words and I cried out in sheer frustration, scrabbling to my knees and pushing him down till he was flat on the bed. 

 “ Please i need it... need your cock inside me Jungkook, fuck...”  I begged, my thighs aching and walls clenching from how desperately I wanted to be filled. I stuck my hand between my legs , gathering as much of my wetness as I could before gripping his cock, coating him in my arousal.

 There was something so filthy about his hard, thick cock covered in my juices that made my mouth water. I wanted to swallow him down, to feel his cock hit the back of my throat but I wanted him inside me too. 

Maybe next time. 

“Please....Please can I sit on your cock?!! “ i choked out, fully gone. Jungkook groaned at my words. 

“Yes.. fuck... Do it.. Come on baby, take what you want from me.” he whispered.  and I scrambled up to straddle his thighs. Gripping the base of his cock, I pressed the tip against my entrance, closing my eyes to brace myself, digging my knees into the mattress for leverage before sinking straight down . 

“Oh, fuck....” I shuddered, my entire body thrumming as he pressed in, the hard length of him cleaving me so easily there was absolutely no pain to even register. It was just new. Different. 

And so so exhilarating. 

I sank all the way down till my ass hit the hardness of his thighs. 

And then I couldn’t move anymore. My body shook with tremors and My hands began trembling. 

“Jungkook...please... I..”

He responded by reaching out and gripping me thighs.

“Look at me baby...!” He said sharply and I stared down at his sweat slicked face. His eyes flashed red for a second and then he tugged me down, till i was lying flat on his chest. His arms came around my waist, anchoring me in place. 

“Gonna give it to you good. Just stay still yeah?” He breathed against my ear as i buried my face in the crook of his neck. And then he was rolling us both over, till I was flat on my back, his hand closing over my thigh, spreading my legs apart as he pistoned straight in. 

We were both too far gone for any semblance of a rhythm and I stopped trying to move, merely wrapping my arms around his neck, clinging on as he fucked into me, so hard that I could feel him in my gut. I felt my hips ache from the sheer force of his thrusts, my thighs cramping from how wide he had me spread and my clit throbbing from the way his cock dragged across it with every thrust. 

Pleasure swelled, again, this time stringer and I stopped fighting to make it happen, sinking back and letting it crash over me , like a wave breaking over the cliffs. 

Jungkook groaned as I exploded around him, my walls clenching around his cock and milking him and he shuddered in my arms, his cock twitching inside me as he came, filling me up . 

I gripped his shoulders, clinging to him as he trembled through the aftershocks. I felt my walls clenching, over and over again and Jungkook gave me a strangled moan.

“Too much...baby.. please stop... “ He begged and I froze, realizing that he was too sensitive and wanted to pull out. 

“sorry...sorry... “ I willed my walls to stop clenching and he made a noise of sheer exhaustion as he pulled out of me. 

I watched as he rolled off me, collapsing on his back, breathing hard. 

I stared up at the ceiling, feeling the wet mess of his cum, drip out of me and onto the sheets. I had the sudden made urge to stick my finger down there , scoop it up and taste it but I tamped it down. 

“Well.” I began.... 

He turned to look at me. 

I turned to him, still trying to catch my breath. 

“I’m not a virgin anymore.” I grinned wide. 

He groaned and ran a finger over his face. 

“Congratulations, Princess.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note :  Please i need holy water. 

feedback is love. If you don’t tell me you loved this fic i will not write smut anymore. 

taglist :  

@ladyartemesia        @veronawrites   @alpaca1612     @bonyg    @unseejuice21  @sppvjj     @ggukkieland     @tae-by-tae      @blr1004      @yoongichild    @stussyjeon  @jellybearo​   

#jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fics #jungkook vampire #bts vampire au #jungkook vampire au #bts fic #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst

[mybillyhardgrove]

He loves you, he loves you lots b.h.

A/n: if you haven’t read Mango Kisses, check it out :) this piece may be my favorite thing ive written so far and im excited for you to read it!

Disclaimer: i don’t own any Stranger Things material

Word count: 2467

Warnings: some cheeky remarks from billy and a couple curses

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader (female)

Summary: after being with Billy for a few months, it has become clear how he shows his love for you

Physical Touch

The touches had been deliberate at the start, meant to convey the interest you two had in each other. Flirty touches of his shoulder or arm as he talked to you in the school hallways or at random parties on the weekends. Gentle touches of your lower back as he walked past you, his chest rubbing a bit on your shoulder blades, though there was room enough for him not to need to be so close.

As your relationship developed, the touches became more frequent and less subtle. His arm draped around your shoulder or his hand in your back pocket, your legs crossed on his lap or your fingers intertwined with his. No matter what, it seemed that you were connected in some way almost all the time.

Finally, when you accepted Billy’s invitation to a date and you were officially his girl, the touching didn’t stop. Not that you minded. You found it so endearing that Billy seemed to reach for you, sitting with his knee touching yours, his hand on your back, his shoulder rubbing against yours, his hand on your thigh while he drove. It also seemed he didn’t realize he was doing it most of the time. It was an unconscious pull he had to you whenever you were near. One of your favorites was when you and Billy laid together and he played with the ends of your hair, rubbing his fingers together and smoothing the bumps away. It tended to relax you so much that you had to fight to keep your eyes open, lulled by his steady heartbeat and the warmth of his body wrapped up in yours. “That feels nice, Billy.” You felt his chest vibrate as he laughed, pulling you closer and lightly scratching your scalp as you let sleep fall over you.

It meant even more to you that Billy was so comfortable being physically affectionate with you after you learned about his childhood and the physical and verbal abuse of his father. This point was driven home when you were sitting at a diner one evening, Billy’s sneakered feet rubbing yours as you sipped your milkshake. You grabbed his hand resting on the table, softly rubbing your thumb over his knuckles and giving him a soft smile. He squeezed your hand in response, wiping his mouth and making sure he had your attention.

“I’m glad you’re my girl.” Your smile immediately widened, teeth popping out.

“I am, too, Billy.” After a beat, “What made you say that?” He grabbed your other hand across the table.

“I’m just happy to have you. It feels nice that I can reach out and I know you’ll be there. Your hugs, the way you touch me, I’ve never felt that before. Usually it’s rough and my dad or a girl wants something from me. I like that you touch me and let me touch you so much because you’re happy.” You could see he was losing his nerve, pulling his hands away and preparing to put on the devil-may-care attitude that was common when with friends.

“I love you, Billy. And I love that you feel comfortable enough to share that with me. I hope I can always make you feel that way.” He looked up, smiling a little, the tension leaving his shoulders. You didn’t want to make him feel awkward by focusing on the confession too long, so you continued. “Now eat those fries before I steal some.” He chuckled and grabbed your hand again, reaching across with a fry for you.

Once he had dropped it in your mouth, he cleared his throat. “I love you, too.” You smiled widely again, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

Words of Affirmation

You were rushing to get ready, imagining the look on Billy’s face as he sat on the couch all ready to head to the party. Your hands were shaking a bit as you dusted the rose blush on your cheekbones and nose. As Billy’s girl, you could expect as always to be the center of attention for most of the night as girls looked at you in jealousy and boys looked at you while they talked with Billy. It wasn’t that you wished you weren’t with Billy, it just got tiring to have all eyes on you both.

“Are you almost ready to head ou-” as you turned towards the sound of Billy’s voice, you watched him lower the sunglasses from his eyes, dragging his baby blues down your body and back up. You could feel your cheeks get hot as he let out a low whistle. “God damn, baby, you look like that and we may never make it to that party.” He came closer and wrapped his arm around your side, his hand fanning across your lower back and with a small pull, your body was flush to his. He leaned down to press his lips to your jaw, murmuring compliments as he spread the kisses down your neck and behind your ear. “You’re so beautiful.” Kiss. “I can’t believe you’re mine.” Kiss. “So smart and kind.” Kiss. “I am the luckiest man in Hawkins.” Kiss. “I love you so much.” After this last profession, Billy pressed a soft and meaningful kiss to your lips, lingering there as his hands came to rest on your hips, giving them a squeeze.

You tilted your head to the side into the kiss, slipping your fingers in his hair and scratching a bit at his scalp before pulling away and grabbing your purse. “I’m ready to go. Let’s get this over with.” You grabbed his hand and led him out of your room.

He followed with a lovesick look on his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

Gifts

“Bill, shift your legs a little, mine are falling asleep.” You and your boyfriend were currently watching Red Dawn, your head resting on one side of the couch as Billy’s was resting on the other, legs intertwined and a thin blanket over the both of you. Sadly for you, it wasn’t quite enough to keep goosebumps from rising on your skin. Although the day had been fairly warm and you felt good in a sundress as Billy showered you in compliments all day, you were now verging on cold. Alone in the Hargrove’s house for the evening, the cool air coming in the open window was making you shiver.

Finally too distracted by the chill, you rose from the couch and shut the window, returning to curl up against Billy. You lifted the blanket, wiggled between his legs, and rested your back against his chest with the blanket up to your chin. He shifted a little and wrapped his arms around you, putting your hands in his. “Jeez, babe, your hands are freezing.” He pulled them up to his mouth, blowing warm air into your curled fingers, rubbing his palms together in an effort to bring them back to normal. You moved your feet a bit and accidentally pressed your cold toes to his bare leg. “Your feet are like ice cubes! Why didn’t you tell me you were so cold? Scoot forward, I’ll be right back.” You did as you were told and he swung his leg over your head, retreating to his room for a minute before coming back, a mess of fabric in his hands. “Here, put these on.”

You took the lump to the bathroom and laid it out, finally determining what he had given you. A cozy pair of his sweatpants, a long-sleeved henley shirt, and a pair of thick socks. Humming, you slipped your clothes off and changed into his, surrounded by the smell of cologne and a hint of smoke. You grabbed your things, dumped them next to your purse in the living room, and crawled back under the blanket with Billy.

“Feeling better?” He rubbed his hands down your arms.

“Much. Thank you.” You turned your head, pressing a kiss to his lips before settling to watch the rest of the movie.

A while later when the movie was finished and it was time for Billy to drive you home, you explained you would return his clothes the following day. “Keep them. They look better on you anyway. My gift to you, so you don’t freeze your ass off anymore.” You giggled and grabbed your things, admiring how loving Billy was to you.

Acts of Service

It was a bit of a tradition that had developed where Billy would climb up the trellis to the roof outside your bedroom window, tapping lightly so you would let him in. You loved when he did this and never asked why. He loved that about you - you didn’t need a reason or an explanation, you were there with a smile and a kiss, ready to snuggle and whisper until the morning.

This particular night was a bit different than usual. When he began the climb to your room, he could see the window was already open, likely because it was a cool night and the breeze felt nice on your skin. Smiling as he thought about seeing you, he peeked in the window and saw something that warmed his heart. The light next to your bed was on and illuminated the pile of books and clothes around your room as you slept in the middle of your bed, a notebook still open on your lap.

Billy let out a breathy chuckle as he quietly climbed in, careful not to wake you. He shrugged off his jacket and slipped off his shoes, placing them by the window. Who knew a girl who so lovingly helped Billy clean his room when Neil rode his ass about it would be able to make such a mess herself. He knew from your recent conversations that school was kicking your ass at the moment and it seemed cleaning was taking a backseat for the time being. He looked at the soft rise and fall of your chest, your tangled hair, and the pout of your mouth for a minute before getting to work. He gathered empty water bottles and crumpled up pieces of paper, throwing them in the small garbage can under your nightstand. He collected the school books that lay in a halo around you, gently lifting your hand to grab the notebook and pen you had been writing with before nodding off. Placing those on the top of your dresser in a neat pile, he went into the hall to grab a laundry basket.

After Billy had picked up the discarded clothes on your bed and floor, as well as those in your hamper, he tiptoed to the basement to throw the load in for you. Carefully avoiding the creaky spots on the staircase, he returned to your room, pleased with himself that it once again resembled the way you liked it. He pulled the socks from your feet, knowing you hated sleeping in them. As he did so, it dawned on him that they were his socks. In fact, you were also wearing the pair of sweatpants and the henley shirt he had given you the night you were cold while you watched a movie together. That memory brought a smile to his lips. Finally, he grabbed the rolled edges of your sheets and comforter from the foot of the bed, lifting them over your legs and up to your chest. This caused you to shift, taking a deep breath before rolling over, giving him enough room to slide in next to you. He did just that, humming a bit as he wrapped you in his arms, drifting quickly to sleep to the sound of your soft breaths and the warmth of your bed.

Quality Time

“Really, Billy, I don’t mind. I’ll just stay home and see you later.” You were currently on the phone with your boyfriend, trying to convince him to go to the party alone that you were going to go to together. It had been your plan all week to go to this party together and you even had an outfit laid out for the occasion. Unfortunately, you had woken up with a sore throat and a completely stuffed nose. After a few hours of blowing your nose, taking Vitamin C, and praying this would go away, you were resigned to call Billy and tell him he’d have to go without you.

“I am not going unless you’re there and I can tell from your voice that you’re really sick. Lay down and get cozy, I’ll be over in a little.” You sighed, disappointed that you were altering the plans for the evening.

“I’ll be fine. I feel bad that-” Before finishing that you felt bad for throwing a wrench in the evening, you were interrupted.

“I am not going to that stupid party, baby. I couldn’t care less. Trust me. Now get under the covers. I’m coming over. Is the door unlocked?” You answered in the affirmative and with one more order to get under covers, he hung up. You shuffled your feet across the carpet, burrowing under the large throw blanket, tissue box close by.

For a while, there was silence (apart from the sneezing and the pounding in your head from an annoying little headache that had formed since your call with Billy). You were somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, praying that this would end and missing the time you could breathe out of your nose. As you lay staring at the ceiling, you heard a familiar rumble in the distance get closer until it finally stopped in front of your house.

A few steps up to the front door and the creak as it opened and shut brought your boyfriend into view. “Shit, baby,” and with that, he kneeled next to the couch, running his fingers through your hair, wincing a bit as they ran over your forehead. He put his cheek there to confirm before saying, “I think you have a bit of a fever, too. You got it rough. But don’t worry, I brought all the things to make you feel better and I won’t leave your side until you’re good again.” He reached behind him, dragging a plastic bag full of medicine, chocolate, more tissues, and even a couple movies. You knew you were in for a troubling evening as you fought against the fever, headache, and sore throat. But with Billy by your side, it would all be okay.

By the next morning, after a night of movies, talking, snuggling, and even Billy spoon-feeding you soup, you felt almost your old self again. You were so grateful for your wonderful and caring boyfriend who showed his love all different ways. You made sure to tell him a million times, though he already knew.

masterlist

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[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 13/?

Word Count: 3.2k

Author’s Note: Part 13? The unlucky part??? I’m evil

Y/N - Your name, A/N - Any name ( your best friend’s name).

I don’t know when this will be posted because time is dumb! But I do think I’ll have something prepared for Jason’s birthday<3

Hope you’re all well!

Warnings: Swearing, Eludes to sex, Mentions of injuries, Mentions of underage drug use (Do Not Condone), Mentions of sexual assault, Eludes to trauma, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

The next morning, Jason and Y/N would wake up in the same bed. Y/N would get up and stumble her way into his ensuite, trying not to wake him as he was still injured. It had been 4 days since his injury, and he was hoping that the next day he’d get his stitches removed. She would grab the clothes she wore the day before and walk into the ensuite.

She would fumble with her makeup a bit, realizing it had run slightly from the night before. Before just realizing it would be a lot easier if she took it all off. She wasn’t wearing heavy makeup, but it was just enough to hide what she thought were imperfections.

She wasn’t wearing anything, so she just threw on all of her other clothes and threw her hair up.

When she exited the ensuite, he was still sleeping in the bed, but his clothes were strewn across the room. She paused her thoughts to clean up his clothes and put them in his laundry basket.

She touched her nose to test if it was still warm and painful, which brought all the pain to the forefront, and it was still warm to the touch, she knew it was inflamed from the head-butting incident and looking in the mirror.

She didn’t think it would hurt this much, and she winced at the pain.

Jason would start groaning in his sleep, she assumed it was because they didn’t close the blackout curtains before they had their fun the night before. So she went to go close them when he went and grabbed her thigh, she laughed quietly.

“Good morning, Jason,” she said as she closed the curtains before  leaning down to see his face, and what was obvious bedhead.

“Hi,” he whispered before pulling her back into his bed.

She laughed, “Sorry, baby. I had to get up and get dressed.”

“Lame,” he whispered and curled into her.

“Jay, you’re naked,” she said.

“Thank you Sherlock Holmes.”

“Oh shut it, you should get dressed,” she suggested.

“Yeah, I should,” he said as he left the bed, crawling over her and going to his dresser, thank God he didn’t have any IVs and blood bags anymore, so he could walk without having to drag those around anymore.

She didn’t stare at him, because he nose started pounding and she whimpered.

“You alright, Y/N?” Jason asked her.

“Yeah sorry, my nose is killing me.”

“Well that’s what happens when you head-butt someone.”

She laughed, “I’m sorry okay, I panicked.”

“That part’s obvious.”

“You could pretend to care that I’m hurt, Jay,” she joked.

He laughed as he put on his boxers and his pants, “I could, but I also think you were being reckless, I worry,” he searched for a shirt, “I worry that us being together is putting you in danger,” he said as he found a shirt.

“Well, I like the danger, if there is any.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a danger,” he put on his shirt and fumbled with his hair, “It’s obviously because you’re attached to Bruce, you heard that man ‘I wonder what Bruce will give me for you’ he knew we had money. You need your car back.”

“I can’t afford the fees,” she sighed.

“Bruce can pay them, you know.”

“God no, I would feel so bad, I’ll just take the subway or something.”

He sighed and went back to her, cupping her face, “Please let my dad pay the fees, it’s dangerous out there,” he leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, “I can’t stand that you got hurt linked to your shenanigans with me,” he kissed her.

“I guess it’s me being protective,” he said, “But I think it’s a reasonable thing to be concerned about, Y/N.”

“I’ll figure it out, I swear.”

“You figuring this out involved you head-butting your attacker, I get it was quick thinking, but my god woman, that was dangerous,” he said.

“You literally got stabbed protecting your best friend,” she argued.

“Okay, good point, but I’m prettier than you so I win,” he joked.

“What kind of fucking logic is that you bastard!” she joked.

“The kind of star-crossed lovers or something, I don’t know, I don’t write, you do.”

“I’ll sell our story to Warner Brothers, we’ll make millions off of us.”

“Two lovers, harassed by the press in the media, spend most of their time hiding and protecting themselves from the disgusting eyes of the media and the man who attacked one of them,” he said in a news broadcaster voice, “Amazing, isn’t it?” he joked.

“The kind of story Artemis said Dick would eat up.”

“Oh, he would. Man’s a sucker for a romantic story.”

“Well, maybe he can sell his and Barbara’s romantic story to the Warner Brothers, he’d probably make millions too, if it’s worth anything.”

“Well, they’ve known each other for years, and when they finally started dating, myself, Steph, Cass, Tim and Damien all celebrated to an extent, we all saw it coming from all those years of them knowing each other,” he paused, “They actually fought a lot when they were younger before they dated, it would be normal to hear Dick and Barbs going at it about how they hated each other.”

“That’s such a meet-cute stone-cold-woman meets goofy guy story that I hate it.”

He laughed, “They’re so gooey, it’s so cute that I want to vomit.”

“That’s valid. We should be cuter so that they want to vomit.”

“I like your thinking, Y/N.”

“You always do, I have good ideas, Jason.”

“Only sometimes.”

She laughed. It was true, someone with always good ideas wouldn’t have head-butted her attacker, but it’s not like she carried knives or guns around to defend herself. She was considering getting a conceal-carry permit, just because she truly was shaken up by the event.

But a little trauma makes for good stories, and her story with Jason was just starting.

--------------------------------------

Dick decided he’d drive her to her class that day, she didn’t think it mattered that much, her attack, but she realized that a lot of them didn’t want to see her hurt, even if they barely knew her.

She figured it was a kindness that they all possessed. She heard stories of the Waynes paying off waitress’/waiters’ student debts. She heard stories of the Waynes being polite to their ‘lower’ counterparts of the world. She knew they wer kind people, so she wasn’t shocked when Dick insisted he drive her to her class.

“So, Y/N, what are your intentions with my brother?” Dick joked.

“Oh no, not this, I haven’t prepared my answerers for this exam,” she retorted.

“No, its a pop quiz, you have no chance to prepare.”

“Fuck. Can I drop out of this class?”

“How would you even accomplish that?”

“Tuck and roll out of the car, probably,” she joked.

“You ever done that before?”

“Nope, you?”

“Did it on a dare, Jase dared me.”

“And he calls me reckless,” she laughed.

“Well, we were still in high school at the time, we’re supposed to be reckless,” Dick said.

“You ever met a college kid? We’re supposed to be reckless too.”

“He’ll get over it in time, Y/N. I promise. He just needs time to accept that you’re going to be as reckless and opinionated as he is, no one really refuses each other like you two do, and I’m sure you don’t mean it to be like that.”

“I think you’re reading too far into it, Dick, we make compromises.”

“Then why is your car still an issue? Bruce can cover the cost no questions asked.”

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

“Maybe it’s something to think about.”

“Are you always this brotherly? I need to know what I’m getting into here.”

He laughed, “You really do keep out of the press, don’t you?”

She took that as a yes, he is that brotherly and would continue to be. She didn’t mind, she never had a brother growing up so this would take some time to get used to, but she did not mind at all. She just figured she’d have to keep her partying ways even further down in the depths of her secrets.

They didn’t need to know what she did and what was done to her, she even ignored those problems herself. If they came out, then so be it, but if she could keep them hidden, she would.

“What were you like back in high school?” Dick asked, trying to fill the silence.

“Probably not the type of person that your dad would want Jason to be with,” she admitted.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Honestly? I don’t want to talk about it. You’d probably have to get me hammered to talk to you about it.”

“Well, maybe one day you’ll go to a gala. And after you’re wasted, I’ll ask you about it.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“I’m sure you will, Dick. I’m sure you will.”

“Well, we’re here,” he said, “You have my number right?” 

“I do, I do.”

“Good, call me if you need me to come get you and take you home, or to the Manor. Either or, no questions asked,” he laughed, “I expect the same when you have your car back, to be fair.”

“Consider it a deal, thanks Dick.”

“Anytime, really.”

She closed the door and waved him off, but when he pulled out of the lot, the press was at Y/N’s ass. She ran though, she ran far to get out of there.

Class was the usual. She wrote her normal psychology notes, sitting in her class, concentrating as she scribbled down the notes that she struggled to read.

When she was done and getting read to call Dick to come get her, her old friends from Metropolis showed up at her school.

“Hey! Y/N!” Christopher yelled when he saw her leave her class.

“Oh my god?” she said before running to hug him, “What the fuck are you doing here, dude?” she questioned, before looking at the rest of the car and seeing Justine, Kaitlin and Thomas, “What the fuck are all  of you doing here?”

“C’mon party girl, we’re taking you to your pale, you get dressed, and we’re going out,” Justine urged Y/N to join them, “Just like old times, man.”

“Yeah! We haven’t partied in weeks since you got your scholarship! We know you’re busy and trying to discipline yourself, but we can go party every once in a while, girl!” Kaitlin added.

“You know we miss you too,” Thomas finished.

“Alright, I need no more convincing, let’s get going,” she said as she hopped into the car and they went going to her house. She thought on the drive there, What if I fall back into old habits, and I’m doing so well, what if I fall off?

She couldn’t have more thoughts because before she knew it, she was in her house sending Jason a quick text,

Hey baby, I can’t come over tonight. Old friends came by.

Oh. I hope you have fun, I’ll probably be with my brothers. how did you even get home?

They drove me. I promise I’ll be over tomorrow and you’ll have me all day and night long, though.

That. That is exciting.

It should be.

She got dressed.

And she sent Jason a photo of what she was wearing (like the picture above) just to get him going. Before running out of her place and hopping back into the car.

“You always dress to impress, don’t you?” Thomas asked.

“I dress like I know what I’m doing,” Y/N joked.

“Never change, Y/N, never change,” Justine joked back.

------------------------ 

She walked into the club she frequented back when she was in high school, but the Gotham one. She had a fake ID, and she used it well and was in the club before the rest of her group knew it.

Justine would grab her hand and take her to the bar, Fuck, she thought, Here we go. And they ordered drinks. 

The rest of the night was a blur of people, drinks and her friends.

She knew she overdid it from the minute she woke up, in her bed, feeling around for her phone in her messed up and torn up sheets. Het body was covered in bruises, she noticed between harsh blinks from the pouding headache she was nursing. She remembered why she didn’t party as hard anymore. She didn’t even know how she got home that night. She found her phone and turned it on, 8:00am it read. She checked her messages, adn there was Jason, at 7:00am he said;

Are you awake yet? 

To which, she replied: I am, why?

How drunk were you last night?

I think blackout. I don’t remember much. 

I can tell.

Tell me I didn’t do anything stupid.

You did something stupid.

What did I do?

You called me at 3am and told me you loved me, followed by saying you threw up at one of your friends. I don’t even know how you got home.

Well that’s not that bad.

You told me about your past.

Oh.

When were you going to tell me you’re a recovering alcoholic?

I don’t know.

Come here. Come over. We need to discuss this.

Alright, alright. I’ll be there soon.

Dick will come get you in an hour, actually. Don’t leave the house without him.

I won’t.

She got up and looked at the mirror at herself. She was covered in bruises, her makeup was smudged, her eyes looked sunken in and her hair was a mess. She sighed, knowing she fucked up, and wiped off her makeup and got in the shower. She quickly showered and put on a turtleneck and a pair of jeans.

It was to hide the bruises from Jason. She assumed someone had physically assaulted her, possibly sexually. She only had that thought once before she pushed it very far down and swallowed it. She went to go make coffee, but her head was racing at the ideas of last night and what she said.

She was fucked up and she did fuck up. She knew she shouldn’t have drank. but she did. And she knew Jason was either really pissed or really sympathetic. She was scared at how much she might have discussed when Dick honked his horn and she left the house.

In the car, Dick tried to break the silence, “You should have told someone, anyone. We’re all really good at listening, Y/N.”

She wiped away a few tears that were pooling.

“You didn’t need to hide from us, Y/N.”

“I do.”

“No, Y/N, you don’t. Jason’s probably more mad that you didn’t tell him over you actually being a recovering alcoholic. You called him last night and let it all spill out. Everyone knows, you don't need to hide anymore.”

“Of course I did,” she said, swallowing more tears and her voice breaking.

She wanted her past as an alcoholic to die when she moved out of the city, because she didn’t want everyone to know how broken she was, fighting with addiction. A lot of her anxieties and treatments of people make sense with her past addictions, but that doesn’t mean she liked them.

She hated that girl, the wild party child who almost drank herself to death, her body was just recovering fully from her escapades when she went out clubbing. She knew this was going to be an issue, but she didn’t know how to fix it.

He looked over at her and caught eye at one of her bruises that was peaking over her turtleneck. He tried to not stare, but she noticed.

“Don’t ask about it, Dick. I don’t know what happened.”

“I think you two will get through this.”

“I hope we do, but realistically,” she paused.

“Don’t think like that.”

They pulled into the driveway and the minute Dick unlocked her door, she was out of there, speed walking to the door and then to Jason’s room.

She opened the door to find him reading a book, she would have smiled at this, had she not been certain that they were about to fight.

“Jason?”

“Oh. You’re here.”

“Yeah, I just-” 

He cut her off and got up from his bed, looking ever-so disappointed in her as he walked to the door of his room. She expected the fight to take place in the hall, so she tried to step back when he grabbed her forearm with one of his hands and yanked her into his room. She assumed maybe, just maybe his room was soundproof so his family wouldn't have to hear the yelling. He closed the door once she was in and stared at her.

She gulped, expecting him to let loose on the argument now about her drinking and her confessing she was a recovering alcoholic, but instead, he pulled her into a hug, which she yelped at.

“Jason?” she said, shocked.

“Shh,” he broke from the hug and cupped her face, “It’s okay, really.”

“But I hid it from you...”

“You know, we’ve only known each other two weeks or something, right? I get you hiding it, I just wish it didn’t come out like that,” he laughed and kissed her quickly, “Besides-” he noticed the bruise on her neck, “What’s that?” he asked, grabbing her hand and clutching it.

“There’s...”

“There’s more?” he asked.

“What, I mean, uh... uh... no?” she stuttered.

“Take your shirt off.”

“Jason...”

“Or tell me the truth.”

“Baby-”

“So there’s more, who hurt you? Did you fall?” he asked, getting a little bit heated, really squeezing her hand.

“I don’t know.”

He cupped her face, “That’s okay,” he leant his forehead against hers, “It’s okay, I promise, I do. I just really don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I don’t try to,” she said.

“Seems like trouble likes to follow you,” he said.

“Well, you found your way to me so I’d have to agree,” she joked.

“Ha ha. How’s your nose?” he said as he broke contact with her to go sit on his bed, she followed.

“It still hurts, but I can’t tell if that’s from last night or from my shenanigans with the attacker.”

“It could honestly be a combination of both, depending on what happened to you, have you asked your friends for the full story yet?”

“No. I’ve been scared to.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“I’m going to. Right now.”

“I support your decision on that,” he said as he turned on the TV in his room, but then Y/N paused.

“Y/N?”

“Reports are in of a group of friends, who all got arrested last night, for bodily harm of a man who attempted to rape their friend, Police say., the suspects in the attack are Christopher Green, Justine Wong, Kaitlin Benoit and Thomas Harthrew. More to be coming soon.”

“Thank god that girl had those friends.”

She turned to Jason, “So,” she paused, “I’m glad you think that, because, those are my friends.”

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