#last autumn moodboard for the year | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

futureman · 7 months

Text

body language

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel shows up at your place in the middle of the night with a camcorder and an idea

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, soft-dom!joel, soft!joel, sex tape, established relationship, smut, unprotected piv, size kink, praise kink, overstimulation, fingering, rough sex, mild camera anxiety, moodboard for aesthetics only

word count: 7.4k

“Joel? It’s two o’clock in the morning, you alright?”

He never calls this late. He’s never even up this late. Joel’s a creature of habit—asleep by midnight and up, bright and early, at seven. Yet, it’s still his name lighting up your phone and illuminating the pitch black of your bedroom, waking you out of a near-dead sleep.

It takes him a moment to reply and, for a second, you think maybe he’s been out drinking with his contractor buddies. But that’s not like him, especially on a weeknight.

When his voice finally filters through the speaker, he sounds…off. His deep drawl is lower than usual, thick with something syrupy and heady that you’d probably be able to place if you weren’t teetering on the cusp of consciousness.

“Be better if I was there with ya.”

Oh.

Now, you’re awake. The barely concealed intention in his tone and words is unmistakable, and now you know exactly why he’s calling you at two in the morning on a weeknight. Because he hasn’t seen you in weeks, and he’s horny.

Heat licks at the base of your spine, and you get it. It's been a while since he’s been in your bed, and you're horny, too. You lean over to retrieve your phone from the nightstand, and your pilling flannel sheets slip down to your bare thighs, exposing your feverish skin to the brisk autumn air drifting in through a cracked window. It feels like the sweetest relief—you usually run hot when you sleep, but it’s nothing like this.

Switching the call off speaker, you unconsciously lean into the small screen as if it were him. A photo of Joel, soaked and covered in sand at the beach last year, flashes up at you and your lips brush against it as you murmur into the mic.

"If you wanted it bad enough, then you would be," you tease, your voice sultry and still heavy with sleep. You settle onto your back, kicking the sheets further down the bed so you can splay your fingers low on your stomach. They dip just slightly under the waistband of your underwear, closer to where you hope you'll need them soon. "So? Tell me how bad you want it."

You've never done the phone sex thing with Joel before, but if that's what he's looking for, then you're more than happy to play along. Every hushed sigh and bit-back groan, you want to hear it all. To let the gentle vibration of it in your ear reverberate through your body, feeding your arousal until it’s humming between your legs.

It’s been way too long. This might hold you over for now, but after tonight, you're going to need the real thing. Your boyfriend, close enough to touch, instead of a crackling, disembodied voice.

But, before you can even begin, your call is abruptly halted by a hard knock at the door. You shoot up, ripping your hand out of your underwear to rest over your racing heart.

No one’s ever at your door at this hour, and the fact that someone is either spells trouble or a mistake. Part of you is relieved that you’re on the phone with Joel in case there’s actual danger out there, but another nagging part really wants to ignore the interruption. You’ve got better things to do.

But you investigate, anyway. Better safe than sorry, right? Then, you can enjoy whatever Joel’s got planned for you to the fullest.

"Jesus, what...hold on, I think there’s someone outside," you whisper harshly into the phone as you slide out of bed, creeping as quietly as you can to the front door. "I'll be right back, I’m gonna go—“

To your surprise, Joel continues on anyway, undeterred by the commotion and the obvious alarm in your voice. But he sounds strange again, almost like he’s echoing.

“Want it real bad."

You grip your phone tighter as you struggle to hear what he's saying, but you’re too distracted by the chaos unfolding around you to focus. He’s acting so out of character. Seriously, what the hell is going on? You have no idea why this night’s been so out of wack, but it's starting to get a little too weird for your liking.

“Uh, say that again?"

The call drops and you're left staring at your home screen, feeling confused as hell. That is, until you hear those same words in that familiar, deep drawl coming from the other side of the door.

There's no way.

You unlock it without bothering to look through the peephole, opening it to find a very disheveled Joel leaning against the doorframe. His face is already so close to yours like he’s been waiting for you to come to him, eagerly. Impatiently.

The scent of his favorite spearmint gum fans over your face, and you subconsciously drag your tongue along your bottom lip in anticipation. His eyes follow the action, captivated by every minute movement you make, and you can tell how much just being in your presence is affecting him. The intensity in his gaze would make you feel nervous if it wasn’t for the obvious want simmering below the surface.

God, why does all of this feel so potent? You’re panting...when did that even start? It’s suddenly hotter than the stifling warmth under your sheets, despite being half-naked in your open doorway, but it feels good. Right. Because he’s breathing as heavily as you are.

There’s no traces of beer or whiskey on his breath. So, he's completely sober, then. Whatever you were hearing in his voice, that wild look in his eyes, completely overtaken by his blown pupils—he’s not drunk on any of that. Only on thoughts of you. Your breath hitches when he speaks again, in person this time.

"Don't think I need to repeat myself, do I?"

Your eyes drop to the intimidating tent in his sweatpants before darting up to meet his.

"No, I believe you," you breathe out.

And, god, do you.

Adrenaline floods your veins as he lurches forward to kiss you, and, finally, you get to taste that dizzying combination of mint and Joel. The coolness of it on your tongue does little to quell the heat spreading from your lips down to where you need him most.

His hands immediately find purchase where yours were just moments before, sliding up your sides under your oversized sleep shirt—his shirt. He cups the soft skin of your breasts, and you moan wantonly into his mouth, suddenly desperate to be bare in front of him.

But he ignores the bunched-up fabric shielding you from his view. He actually seems pleased by the sight of it on your body and the scent of himself still lingering on your skin. You haven't washed it since he left it here, and you can tell it’s stoking something primal in him. Something he's left unchecked since the last time he was with you that threatens to consume him. Shit, you can hear it in his voice.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about ya,” he mumbles against your lips, heavy lines marring his brow as if the thought of not being able to have you for so long physically pained him. “Been up all damn night…haven’t been able to think about anything else all goddamn night.”

He thumbs over a nipple while he tweaks the other, hard enough to startle a gasp out of you, and, oh, he likes that. The blunt outline of his hardening cock is insistent against your hip, but he holds himself back from grinding into you. Even as his body reacts without his permission, he’s still choosing to prioritize your pleasure first.

“You got no idea, the things m’gonna do to you tonight. Gonna treat you right, pretty girl, give ya everything you deserve.”

Your heart stutters, and you practically preen at his praise. This fucking man. You swallow his words greedily, pressing your lips into his hard enough to bruise, and the kiss descends into desperation and an unexpected need to hear more. You want more of those sweet, filthy words, to see what they really mean when he finally delivers on them. And all you have to do is ask.

“Then, give it to me.”

He parts from you with a lewd smack, a string of saliva hanging between you. You use the brief respite to take him in, your eyes roving over his tousled curls and the flush that’s quickly traveling down his neck and spreading across his chest.

He’s so fucking beautiful, and…and why aren’t your hands on him right now? He’s been standing there for minutes, or hours, you can’t even tell anymore. Yet, when you reach out to touch him, he catches your hand in midair. His grip is gentle yet firm, the side of his mouth quirking down as he raises an eyebrow, and you feel like you’re being scolded.

"Oh, honey. I know you can ask nicer than that,” he mutters, lifting it to his lips and softly kissing your palm.

There's a sense of authority in the way he says it, contradictory to the saccharine nature of his words. You're starting to realize you're not in control—that, tonight, what he says goes—but it feels safe. You know he'll take good care of you.

He gives your breast an encouraging squeeze as his other hand snakes further down to palm your ass, pulling your hips into his so you can feel all of him. This is what you'll get if you're a good girl, he's telling you.

You bite back a whine, gazing up at him through your lashes, wetting your lips before you try again. His way.

"Please."

Your voice quivers around the singular syllable that guarantees you’ll get what you need.

“There's my sweet girl. Just need’ta be reminded sometimes, don’t ya?”

He nods his head slowly, commandingly, while he asks the question, and you mimic him. You can feel yourself slipping, drowning in him and this feeling of security. You can’t help it, and you don’t want to.

He leans in to press his lips against yours again, devouring you in a way that feels less hungry and more exploratory, like he’s mapping you out. Filing away everything that makes your breath hitch and your eyelids flutter. He’s not immune to you, though. That much is obvious.

There's a growing wet patch on the front of his sweatpants, and you belatedly realize he didn’t bother putting on boxers before he left his house. He rubs damply against your stomach, just below your belly button, but he’s still not nearly close enough to where you need him. You don’t even know why his pants are still on. They really shouldn’t be.

Then, that same cool breeze and the delicate sound of crunchy, autumn leaves blowing along the sidewalk reminds you why. The front door is still wide open, leaving you standing in your underwear, and Joel with his hand up your shirt, in full view of anyone passing by. Not that they would at this time of night, but the thought is still a little thrilling. But not enough for Joel to leave it open any longer.

He pushes you further into your apartment, kicking the door shut behind him, and leads you backward to your bedroom. God, you can’t wait to see him—his tanned, sun-weathered skin and sparse smattering of freckles.

There’s too many layers between you and if your body isn’t pressed against his soon, you might actually lose your mind. You’ve never been this desperate for him before, but there’s something about the way he’s acting tonight.

This unfamiliar headspace you’re in…fuck, it feels good. You’re trusting him to make up for those weeks apart and, even more so, to dictate your pleasure in ways that are totally new to your relationship. You’ll do what he tells you, you’ll moan for him, you’ll cum for him. He knows what’s best for you.

Your clothes come off first. Your shirt is pulled up and over your head, and then he bends to tug down your underwear, letting it drop soundlessly to the floor. Next go his shoes, then his socks, leaving a trail of fabric from the living room, all the way to your bed.

It’s so sensual—surprisingly so—even though it’s something you do all the time. But tonight, he’s handling you with such rapt attention. His eyes never leave yours as each article of clothing falls to the plush, blue-patterned carpet beneath your feet.

You’re so naked. Compared to him, still clad in his jacket, t-shirt, and pants, you feel…exposed. Vulnerable. Maybe that’s the point. You approach him carefully, waiting for his permission to touch him, and he smiles softly.

“C’mere, baby. Could use a little help here,” he reassures you, reaching out to take your hand. But instead of letting you undress him, he guides it over the thick bulge in his sweatpants.

His fingers close around yours and, together, you squeeze him. Your eyes shoot up to gauge his reaction, but other than a nearly inaudible sigh and pinched brows, he’s not showing any other signs of being affected at all.

Craving more, you grind the palm of your hand into him, relishing the warmth of his cock as it pulses the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat in your grasp. He hisses out a breath, his hand tensing over yours, and a flash of pride lances through you.

Yes. Gotcha.

But your satisfaction is short-lived. To your disappointment, he tugs your hand away, but he doesn't separate from you completely. Instead, he slides it up past the softness of his stomach to rest on his chest. It rumbles softly under your touch as he speaks, except, they’re not necessarily the words you want to hear.

“No more of that. S’about you right now,” he drops his forehead to yours, fixing you with a stern look. “Later, alright? When I’m fuckin’ ya, you can touch me as much as you want.”

Shit. You clench down hard, suddenly hyperaware of the wetness between your legs and the feeling of devastating emptiness. You want it now, but you still have no idea what his plans are.

If you’re a brat about it, he’ll probably make you wait even longer, and, anyway, that’s not what you want to be tonight. You want to be good for him.

His broad hands spread across your waist as he tilts his head to kiss your cheek, then the underside of your jaw. Without warning, he sucks hard, likely leaving a mark you’ll have to cover up tomorrow before work. You hope he leaves more.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble remorsefully, shivering in his arms as his thumbs begin to rub soothing circles into your skin. “I can wait—I…I’ll be better.”

“S’okay, baby, I know ya will,“ he replies, dragging his lips down to your shoulder. “Just keep goin’. You’re doin’ so good.”

Finally, you push his jacket off his shoulders and it joins the rest of your clothes, hitting the floor with a solid thunk. The noise startles you enough to clear some of that comfortable haze, and you slowly pull back, eyeing him curiously.

That’s…way louder than it should’ve been. It’s his fall coat so it barely weighs a thing, even with his phone and wallet in his pockets.

But he doesn’t seem surprised at all. His face is unreadable except for the hint of a smirk, and he doesn’t look like he’s about to talk anytime soon.

You bend down to pick it up, your eyes still on his, and you were right. It’s heavier than it should be by a long shot, and you’re honestly a little taken aback that you didn’t notice it earlier. But, in all fairness, you weren’t noticing much of anything earlier, save for Joel’s hands and lips on your body.

Reaching into his pocket, your fingers brush against something clunky and metallic. It’s not his phone. There’s too many moving pieces, and it’s at least three times its size.

When the mystery item is finally revealed, your jaw drops. Joel can be a pretty spontaneous guy when he wants to be, but this? You never saw this coming.

In your hand sits a goddamn camcorder. An honest-to-god video camera that was just sitting in his pocket with no discernible reason for being there.

While you wait for him to explain, the gadget begins to feel heavier by the second, just the idea of it burning a hole right through your palm. But you know you don’t need him to. You’re not a child, and, in the back of your mind, you already know exactly why it’s there. This is the reason he came here.

That pretty, hazy brain fog halts briefly, just long enough for you to get some answers. You want to hear him say it.

“You said you’d give me everything I deserve, right? I think I deserve an explanation,” you say, forgoing the pleasantries he asked of you earlier.

You’re fighting not to sound weak, to emulate his authoritative tone, but your heart is pounding and you already sound out of breath. Fucking hell, this man. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life, and he knew this would happen.

Judging by the way his eyes darken and rove over your naked curves, he’s painfully aware of it. You watch dumbfounded as his patience runs out, and he discards his shirt and sweatpants. Now that his secret’s out, he doesn’t want to wait anymore, either.

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, and your hands clench into fists at your sides to keep yourself from reaching out and touching him, but it feels impossible. It’s right there—his cock, leaking and flushed red at the tip from neglect.

It jerks under your heated gaze, and he exhales sharply through his nose, wrapping his hand tightly around the base. He's clearly struggling as much as you are. Then, he moves closer, all but crowding you into the edge of the bed, and you can feel it pulsing against your bare skin.

“Here’s the deal, pretty girl—you’re gonna cum s’many times as I want you to, and this here’s gonna record it all,” he drawls, holding out his hand for the camera. You acquiesce without any more questions. “Waited too damn long to see you like this and that ain’t happenin’ again.”

His other hand cups your cheek to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, and your lips part around an almost imperceptible gasp. To anyone else but him, at least.

“You gonna let me?”

You nod quickly, praying your eyes convey all of the want you’re feeling and none of the nerves.

“Yeah,” you answer, breathlessly. “I’ll let you.”

But he sees right through you. The apprehension in your voice is too apparent, and he clocks it on the spot. His eyes instantly soften. He tugs you into his arms and holds you close, nosing into the hair just above your ear. Relieved, you sag into his familiar embrace.

“If this ain’t okay with you, we stop right here. Alright? We don’t do anythin’ you're not a hundred percent sure you want,” and he sounds attentive and so earnest.

His bare skin feels so warm against yours, and you allow it to remind you of everything he promised you. Of all of the things he’s about to do to you, for you, and the tape that’ll capture it all. For yours and Joel’s eyes only, whenever you need it. And you know you will eventually.

Rubbing your cheek into his chest, you close your eyes and take a minute to let the calming beat of his heart make you feel less nervous. This is an entirely different kind of reminder, one that reassures you that you trust this man with everything you’ve got. You’re sure of your answer.

“I want this, Joel,” you murmur, slowly opening your eyes to meet his, commanding his full attention. “I promise you, I want this so fucking badly.”

That flips the switch. He swaps your positions in the blink of an eye, looping his arm around your middle to drag you up the bed until his back is against the headboard with you between his legs.

“Don't need'ta be shy. You’re beautiful, baby, that’s all it’s gonna see,” he breathes out, his voice thick with affection and want.

He bends you both forward, his chest solid against your back, to set the camcorder onto the sheets, and tosses a few pillows behind it to prop it up. Something intimidating clicks just as Joel tilts the preview screen toward you.

It’s on. Brightly lit and reflecting back a depraved mirror image of you and Joel, naked and panting and needy.

Okay. Okay, here we go. Another click, and then a red light blips next to the lens.

It’s recording.

The light flashes steadily, and you can feel your body tensing with every strobe. Come on, loosen up. It’s just a piece of metal. A very…scary piece of metal that’s watching your every move. Your thighs tremble from a confusing mix of arousal and nerves, and you start to feel embarrassed.

You can see yourself on the little screen, feeling small yet secure in Joel’s arms, but you’re too focused on the camera’s attention on you to relax. As if he can tell you’re about to shrink into yourself, Joel distracts you. You haven’t told him to stop or asked him to turn it off, and he knows you would if this became too much.

"See what I mean?" He smoothes his hands down your thighs, carefully parting your legs. He gives you every chance to close them, but you don’t. "Fuckin' perfect, just like I told ya."

You try harder to see what he sees, what you're praying the camera sees. He's so free with his compliments and praise, you want to believe you deserve them.

"Prettiest pussy I've ever seen," he mutters tightly under his breath, his fingers massaging the tense muscles in your thighs. "From now on, m'gonna get to see this whenever I want. See myself fuckin' you whenever I can't."

Once you catch sight of your glistening heat reflected back at you, you help him spread your legs even further, watching as your cunt visibly clenches in response.

Oh. Oh...look at you.

You get it now, why he wants this on film. You’re captivated by yourself, by the way Joel bites back a groan and his body seizes up as he fights not to rut into you. You’d love to be able to see that again.

But then his fingers finally press deliciously into your clit and any lingering anxiety completely fades away. You barely even register his lips brushing against your ear, checking in before he continues with everything he’s about to put you through.

“Doin’ alright?” he murmurs between damp kisses against your neck. That tranquil haze begins to settle in again as he mouths wetly at your skin, the coarse drag of his beard a familiar comfort.

“Mhm,” you hum before your head lolls back onto his shoulder, and you slip completely. “S'good...feels good.”

“That's my girl,” he breathes tenderly, rewarding you with more pressure, pressing down harder on your clit.

The slick friction is heady and so effective that all you can do is give in as your hips swivel into his touch of their own accord. He's taking such good care of you, attuned to every gasp, the quickening rise and fall of your breasts.

You tilt your head to observe his expression. It's your only indication of what he’s feeling since he’s still refusing to allow himself to react to you physically.

He's breathtaking, looking like a man starved with his parted lips and pitch-black eyes, locked on where his fingers are slipping through the mess he’s making of your pussy. He must feel you watching him because he suddenly smirks, snaking a hand up your body to cup your breast.

Your eyes squeeze shut and you mewl, pretty and perfect for the camera, your hips bucking clear off his lap when he begins to languidly massage the soft curve. You're getting so close already and your entire body quakes with it, your thighs trembling violently against his as he swirls tighter, faster circles into your swollen clit.

“Joel…ngh—Joel, I’m...fuck, m’gonna cum,” you whimper into his neck, grabbing his thighs to anchor yourself. "C-can I? Please."

“I know, baby, I can feel it. C’mon, give it to me,” he rasps, your demand from earlier falling raggedly from his lips. "Show the camera how hard ya cum for me."

Then, he pinches your nipple hard between his thumb and calloused middle finger, and you’re gone. Your orgasm crashes over you in a blissful wave, your stomach tensing intermittently with every gushing pulse of your cunt, and he doesn’t let up. Not until you’ve ridden his hand through your aftershocks, and slump into his chest, completely spent.

“That’s one, pretty girl.”

That’s…one? He’s counting them? You’re struggling to understand, to even focus on what he’s saying, but he doesn’t leave you wondering for long.

"You're gonna give me four, alright?” His fingers shift from your chest to your chin, tilting your head up to face him. The look in his eyes tells you to listen because he means this. “Want ya to cum on my fingers three times before you cum on my cock. Can ya do that for me?"

Christ. Your eyes dart from the attentive device, still recording every move and reaction you make, back to his. Can you? You’re not even sure if that’s possible, and your bottom lip trembles as you start to overthink it.

You’ve never orgasmed that many times in a row, not with him or by yourself, and yet, he sounds so sure that you can. That he can make you. His thumb gently strokes your chin, and you believe him. You will.

"Yes, Joel," you find yourself nodding obediently, and you're thrilled at how pleased he looks.

He leans down to kiss away your worries, swallowing your surprised squeal as his fingers waste no time starting up those insistent swirls on your clit again. Your hips jerk away from his hand, but he only smiles against your lips, his strong arms holding you in place.

It’s way too much, nearly overwhelming you, and you whimper into his mouth at the oversensitivity. Your floor muscles clench painfully as you continue to try and recover from your last one, but you don’t stop him. You give into him so easily, letting his adoration and sheer desire fuel you.

“That's it. You can take it, I know ya can,” he encourages, pulling away from your lips to gaze down at you in awe. "Look at my girl...so damn responsive tonight. Listenin' so well."

You can’t help the satisfaction blooming in your chest, gasping in relief as the sensitivity begins to subside into intense pleasure. His eyes drop between your legs as your hips start to chase his touch, and yours quickly follow.

“Shit,” he mutters, his voice tighter than it has been all night. “You get so fuckin’ wet when ya cum. Makin' the prettiest mess.”

His middle and ring fingers abruptly slip from rubbing merciless circles into your clit down to your entrance, plunging inside you, and god, it's exactly what you need. His fingertips drag against your sensitive walls, stroking something repeatedly that steals your breath away, and your pussy flutters around him.

He mimics the soft sound but it trails off, dropping to something deeper that rumbles in his chest, and his slow, purposeful thrusts turn aggressive. His fingers hook inside you, and your eyes roll back, lips parting around desperate, choked-out words he'll watch back and probably cum to.

"...t-there, there. Please...don't stop—," you keen, your voice catching every time your hips buck to meet his hand. "—n-need more. Please, Joel, I...c-can you...?"

That gorgeous smirk returns, his face alight with pride. He's so proud of you.

“Beautiful and polite, Christ. Whatever you want,” his fingers don’t let up, and he looks mesmerized by how slick and easy he slides in and out. “Keep askin’ nice like that and I’ll give ya anything.”

Adding a third finger, he starts to fuck into you in earnest, ramming against something deep inside you as his palm slaps repeatedly against your clit. You see stars. Your vision begins to blur, and you’re positive you’re moaning louder than you should be this late at night, but you can’t focus on anything else but the wet squelching of your pussy around him.

You should probably feel at least a little ashamed, but your warming cheeks have nothing to do with the noise and everything to do with the wrecked, stuttered moans in your ear, and Joel’s cock rutting into your ass in time with his fingers.

He's finally losing his composure. That careful self-restraint he's tried so hard to maintain, slowly but surely being dismantled. He clearly doesn’t care anymore, and he wants you to know it.

"Feel that? S'what ya do to me,” he grits through his teeth, his head dropping to your shoulder to watch as he smears precum messily across your skin. You unintentionally squeeze his fingers at his words, and he groans raggedly. "Fuckin'...tight—Christ, ya just keep gettin' tighter. Think m’gonna fit?"

You shake your head furiously, already feeling too full around his fingers, but your body betrays you, grinding down onto his cock before you can stop yourself. He exhales sharply at your reaction, bucking into you a little harder than he means to, and for a moment, you think maybe he likes the idea that he's too big for you. That your pussy's just too tight to take him right now.

That little red light still gleaming next to the ever-observant mechanical eye in front of you would probably love to witness that. A filthy, intimate image of you caught between intense pleasure and pain, forever preserved.

"No?” he murmurs, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “S'okay, baby, we'll make it fit. Don't'chu worry."

It hits you like a freight train, your second orgasm catching both of you by surprise and knocking the wind completely out of you. He wrenches his fingers out of your heat so he can wrap his arms tightly around you, keeping you from knocking over the camera as you writhe in his lap. It's overwhelming, somehow even more intense than the first, but the sensitivity sets in quicker.

Your nails dig sharply into his arms, and he hisses in a breath behind you. You're scared you might be hurting him, but you're having trouble controlling your limbs as immense amounts of dopamine flood your system, so you scrabble against the damp sheets instead.

Fuck, you can’t. It's too much. He’s still moving beneath you, the slide of his cock against your skin made easier by the slick dripping between your legs, and you’re not even sure he realizes he’s doing it. You want to do this for him so badly, but you're not sure how much more you can take.

One more. You can take one more. Then, he's yours.

Sensing your discomfort, he holds you through it, lets you ride it out until you’re whimpering softly in his arms. But all he offers is a brief, sweet moment of respite before his fingers return to your cunt. He mindfully avoids your clit as he slowly sinks two fingers back inside you, and, now, even you can feel how tight you are. Each one of his knuckles catches on your entrance and rubs you purposefully, if not a little painfully.

"How's that feel, baby? Talk to me.”

It aches. It’s so much. It’s not enough. The warring sensations between your legs intensify the deeper he plunges into you, but, this time, the sensitivity doesn’t ebb. Instead, it amplifies everything. You can feel him keenly, sweat and oppressive heat pooling everywhere your bodies connect, and you melt into it. Into him.

"S'good...keep—," you accidentally clench around him, and your breath hitches at the dull throb that wracks your lower half, "—k-keep going. Want more.”

“Fuck. Such a good girl...so fuckin' good,” he breathes heavily behind you, grunting his pleasure into your shoulder every time your hips try to escape insistent strokes. It's not just the steady grind of his cock between your ass cheeks that’s getting him off. You can see the playful sparkle in his eyes on the screen, regardless of how small his image is. He's enjoying the chase.

You think he could even cum like this, playing this dangerous game with you. It's then that you realize you like it, too. You both know how close you are to earning your reward, so agonizingly near, you can taste it. And he can feel you around his fingers, tensing and relaxing, beginning to adapt to the unbearable soreness as your orgasm quickly approaches.

"Almost there, baby. S'a lot, I know, but you're takin' it so well,” he groans encouragingly. You can hear the subtle anticipation in his voice. He’s a wreck behind you, all but fucking into your skin as he adds a third finger and increases his speed. You let out a pained moan together at the resistance. "Hurts, huh? Lemme make it better, pretty girl. Tell me what ya need."

“M-my clit, please…please,” you beg him. Politely, nicely, kindly, whatever he wants. It’s still swollen and rubbed raw despite how wet you’ve been all night, but, fuck, you need it. Just a gentle touch would be enough to send you over the edge. That’s all it’ll take.

And that’s exactly what he gives you. Three barely-there swirls with his thumb, and you’re screaming, cumming around him so hard, you’re almost worried you’ll break his fingers. Your spasming floor muscles are unforgiving, convulsing violently as you cream into the palm of his hand, but this time he doesn’t wait for it to subside.

The internal pressure suddenly disappears and everything tilts on its axis. You’re being shifted, lifted higher by two strong arms encircling your waist, and something big—god, it feels huge—nudges at your abused hole. Joel’s speaking, but whatever he’s saying is too difficult to make out over the blood roaring in your ears. It sounds urgent. Impatient. He sounds needy.

He lowers you just a hair, and the stretch around his tip feels impossible. You were right. He's not going to fit, and the thought makes you want to cry. He has to. You need him to.

"...baby...baby," his voice finally cuts through the fog. He's shaking, trembling like a leaf all around you, but refusing to move until you can hear him. You realize he's been asking you a question, and he needs your answer now. "Need'ta be inside you. Christ, I—m'not gonna be gentle. I...can't, I can't anymore. Gonna fuck you hard, s'that okay? Can ya take me?"

He gives you a little more, a preview of what's to come before you make your decision, and it fucking hurts. It's also the most incredible thing you've ever felt.

More. You said you wanted more, and you meant it. You nod frantically, whining your assent, but it's not enough. He needs you to say it.

"Need'ya to use your words, baby. Yes?"

"Yes," you choke out around a sob, wriggling in his arms to get him to move faster. He exhales sharply through his nose, the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat pulsing in his chest and cock.

"Yes."

It's the last warning you get before he drives into you in a single, earth-shattering thrust, burying himself to the hilt. It feels like he's splitting you in half, tearing you right down the middle, and replacing every part of you with Joel, Joel, Joel.

And he doesn't stop there, or give either of you time to adjust. He pistons into you, a wet thock-thock-thock of drenched skin against skin, and you accept it gratefully. You're delirious with the feeling of him stretching you past your limit. So full, you're so fucking full of him. It's the only thing grounding you to the present, your unyielding walls fighting to mold around him.

After hours of giving, he finally takes. He's all but snarling into your ear like a starved apex predator feasting on his prey, biting and sucking and bruising every inch of skin he can reach. Yet, he's still so full of praise for his girl.

"Look at us, baby. Y'see that?" he growls, just loud enough for the mic to pick up the wrecked reverence in his voice. He takes your hand and guides it down until both sets of fingers are wrapped around where he's breaching your swollen cunt. You cry out at the thickness of him, the unimaginable sight of you stretched around him, gripping him. "Takin' me so well. Knew you could. Goddamn perfect woman, s'like you were made for it."

You're starting to believe it. That you were shaped in his image, created just for him. You want to return his affection, even a fraction of the praise he's given you this entire night, but you're past the capacity for speech.

The tension in your chest is making it hard to breathe, and every attempted reply is forced from your body as an incoherent string of stuttered moans and broken sobs. Nearly every other thrust punches your cervix, and you can already feel that telltale heat flooding between your legs.

You can't tell him all of the things you want to. So, you show him, instead. Your entire body goes lax in his arms except your hips and hands, and you rock forward on every upstroke, caressing his inner thighs with your thumbs.

His lips press against the underside of your jaw as he whines desperately into your skin, subtle groans rising in frequency and volume the longer you continue your ministrations. You can feel his stomach tensing behind you, and his grip tightens like he's either trying to stave off his release or anchor himself for when he inevitably erupts. He's so fucking close to the edge, now, you can tell.

He can, too. But he needs you to get there first.

Your hips are already starting to buck into his, and he takes that as the go-ahead to give you more. A sign that your body can handle everything he has left. His arms unravel from around you, and he slows his pace to a deep, heady grind that sets your body ablaze.

He snakes one hand up your stomach to cup a breast while the other drops to rub sloppy circles into your overstimulated bundle of nerves, and you cry out at the sudden onslaught of sensations. Your eyes dart to the camcorder as it builds and builds, in your chest, at the base of your spine, and against that spot deep inside you that has you fluttering around him. You promised one more, and you're ready to put on a show it'll never forget.

But that's the opposite of what Joel wants. He delivers a sharp slap to your clit to get your attention.

"Look at me, baby. Don't look at the camera," he grits out. You whine, turning your head to face him, your expression pleading with him to keep doing that. He acquiesces with a smirk, slapping it again, purposefully and repeatedly to punctuate his demands.

"Ya look at me when you cum, alright?"

Slap.

"Nowhere."

Slap.

"Else."

His hand collides with your cunt a little harder, and even he moans at the contact.

Slap.

"Ya don't close your eyes, ya don't look away. Wanna see those pretty eyes when I fill you up."

He releases your breast to grip your chin between his thumb and index finger, holding you in place.

"C'mon, pretty girl. Cum for me."

Then, his assault really begins. He jerks into motion, his hips slamming into yours frantically, matching the sweet, torturous pace of his fingers' rough touch.

Everything goes fuzzy. You feel its steady approach, a surprisingly gentle wave that trickles from where the head of his cock meets your depths, past every sensitive pressure point to where you're gushing onto his coarse curls. But, as it peaks, you barely feel anything at all. A beat of numbness that makes you believe maybe that was all you had left in you.

A moment later, there's euphoria. You're cumming so hard, your vision blacks out, and all you can sense is your bottom half locking down and Joel sobbing into your shoulder while he empties into you, just like he promised.

He fucks you through it, quiet whimpers and murmured praise flowing uncontrollably from his lips. He tells you how tight you are, how your pussy's choking his cock and milking him dry. How good you've been and how perfect you are. He says all of it just for you, but the camera hears it, too.

For a while, he thrusts into you lazily, savoring his sensitivity and sighing through your final aftershocks. Maybe it's punishment for everything he put you through. Or maybe he just likes the syrupy pain of it. Either way, his girth nestled inside you is comforting now that you're both loose-limbed and pleasantly sticky with each other's release.

He lets out a disappointed grunt when he eventually softens and slips out, right around the time your vision returns and the brain fog starts to clear. The flashing red light at the foot of the bed catches your attention again, and you're struck with a sudden idea. One last thing you want him to have on tape.

Sliding haphazardly off his lap, you position yourself on your hands and knees, the camera situated with the perfect view of your core. You peek behind you, shooting a sly smile at the lens before you part your folds, allowing a thick glob of cum to leak out of your swollen cunt and drip down to your clit. Before it can fall to the sheets below, you gather up the mess with your fingers and shove it right back inside you, where it belongs.

Joel groans heavily in response, and his body finally gives out, collapsing against the headboard. You can't help but laugh, exhausted and sated, close to collapsing, yourself. Crawling back on top of him, you wrap your limbs around his neck and waist, and crash your lips messily into his.

As he returns your kiss with sleepy enthusiasm, he tugs you down flush against his chest. His hands slide down your sides to teasingly squeeze your ass, and you pull away with a gasp, intent on teasing him right back, but the bright grin on his face gives you pause.

Now that your head is clear and you're starting to recover, you remember everything that led to this. That, after too many agonizing weeks, you finally got to have him again, in the flesh and in ways you never have before or thought you ever could. And you'll get to relive it over and over, as many times as you need on those lonely nights when he's not there to take care of you.

"I'm glad you came over," you smile softly, unwinding an arm from around his shoulders to brush back his messy curls. "I really missed you."

His grin widens, and he melts into your touch. God, he's...baffling. A total enigma. You wonder how you'll ever reconcile this man with the one on film, but, then, his eyes soften and it becomes clear. Both men love you. Both are Joel.

"Missed you, too, baby. Y'got no idea how much," he says earnestly and with so much tenderness.

"I think I got the picture," you snort affectionately, leaning down to brush your lips against his.

You kiss him again, and your tangling bodies knock over the camera just as the dead battery indicator flashes twice on the screen, then cuts to black.

thanks for reading!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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clockwork-ashes · 13 days

Text

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part X

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who deserves all the credit for the post that inspired me to start writing this :) Another huge thank you to everyone reading! ALSO please look at this post, I gasped it's so lovely. All of @teddyhoneybear's moodboards are stunning <3

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 /

Part XI >>

Elain had not slept well.

Once again she had taken to sleeping curled up on the armchair by the fireplace in the suite she shared with Lucien. Elain could still feel the ghost of his defeat as she practically forced him to take the bed for the second night in a row, this time for entirely different reasons.

When they had returned from the library, without Cora to break their awkward silence, Lucien had quietly asked Elain whether she wanted to sleep more comfortably. He correctly guessed that she had had a restless night, considering the events of the last couple of days.

Elain found Lucien’s genuine concern charming. Had she not felt his muted emotions so strongly, she would have accused him of feigning such kindness.

Elain was not shy when it came to politely slighting men she did not care for, a skill she had learned in the ballrooms of her childhood and had carefully honed as an adult. When it came to Lucien, Elain could admit that he had suffered her forced indifference for years without so much as the slightest bend on her part.

Elain’s mind had been entirely made up with regards to the man the fates had seen fit to curse her with. She did not want a mate, and so she would go about her life as if Lucien Vanserra did not exist.

Elain’s decision was always infinitely more difficult when Lucien was near, his scent lingered in the air of every room he stepped into, sweet apples and summer mornings. Elain would have taken the bed had she not been gripped with horror at the awful realisation that the sheets, the pillows, would smell as he did.

Elain knew it would have driven her mad, and so she lifted her chin and set her jaw before she practically ordered that Lucien take the bed. Much to Elain’s surprise, he did not argue, but she could feel a steady sadness leaking down their shared bond.

Elain had slept fitfully, but at least no dreams had plagued her, and for that she was thankful.

As Elain beheld her reflection in the towering mirror, she was also thankful that despite her restless night, she looked as lovely and refreshed as ever.

Elain still tended to avoid mirrors. The faerie she now saw resembled the woman she had been before, disconcerting in their similarities and yet unsettling in their differences. Elain would not have recognized herself in passing. She saw the way her lips tugged down at the corners, misery marred her expression, beautiful despite it.

“Autumn’s colours suit you, Elain Archeron of Night.” If Eris saw the tightness around her mouth, he did not mention it. Elain watched the way his amber eyes flashed in amusement through the mirror’s reflection.

Even Elain could admit that Eris was right, the deep emerald colour of her gown matched well with her dark eyes. The golden details along the sleeves shone as bright as some of the sun bleached curls Cora had so carefully pinned back for her, the column of her neck exposed. The corset Cora had laced for Elain was comfortable, her breaths easy, heavy skirts fell to the floor, hiding slippers made from the same fabric.

“You could be a queen,” Cora said sincerely, nodding in agreement with Eris’s statement. “All you’re missing is a crown.”

Elain hoped that the High Lord of Autumn would think the same. She was nervous, her own anxiety mixing with Lucien’s as the time passed slowly and they both began to get ready separately for the welcome Beron had planned for the son he had exiled.

Elain prayed that attending balls in the Hewn City had prepared her for the long evening ahead, and hoped that she could muster Feyre’s confidence and the smallest bit of Nesta’s poise. She found herself missing her sisters desperately. She missed Cassian, Rhysand, Azriel and his quiet but friendly presence. She missed Nyx most of all, discouraged without her family’s steady and constant support and love.

Elain tore her gaze from the mirror, no longer able to bear the sight. “Thank you for all the help,” she said rather weakly, hoping her smile looked genuine as she faced her lady’s maid.

Cora would also be joining the celebrations, and Elain was infinitely grateful for the other woman’s willingness to remain by her side. She wondered what Cora had said to Eris to convince him so easily that she should be present, but Elain quickly pushed the thought aside, promising to herself that she would bring it up when they were alone.

“Do yourself, and those forced to be in your presence, a favour, Elain,” Eris continued, stepping so close she could see every sparkling diamond along the arch of his ear. “Never wear Night Court colours again, they drain you of all life.”

Elain looked up at Eris briefly, fighting the childlike urge to cross her arms at him. She focused on straightening her skirts, her movements elegant. “I think that’s just your presence,” Elain mumbled, the words low enough she could deny them if they had offended the arrogant prince.

Cora and Elain shared a surprised glance at the amused breath Eris released, not quite a laugh, but certainly charmed. She could have sworn that one corner of his mouth tilted up in the smallest of smiles, a glimmer of joy in his usually empty eyes. Had Elain blinked, she would have missed it.

Elain noticed the way Cora’s dark eyes remained on the Autumn heir longer than usual, as her gaze slowly took him in. He was handsome, Elain supposed, in the strange way that the High Fae so often were.

“No crown for you just yet, Elain,” expression once again serious, Eris lifted his hands just slightly, pale palms up. For an awkward moment, Elain wondered if she was supposed to do the same. Elain jumped, startled, when Eris summoned a small wooden box from thin air into his ready hands.

The rubies on the ring’s of each of Eris’s fingers flashed in the light of the setting sun as he handed Elain the box carefully. She had not known what to expect, but she could not help the surprised parting of her lips as she opened the lid.

Elain traced the stunning comb, the gold shining, the metal looked as though it had just been polished. Shaped like the branch of a tree, little pearls were evenly placed between the small leaves. “This is…” Elain truly had no words, the accessory was so lovely, she went to lift the comb from the box, but Eris clicked his tongue in warning.

“Careful of the teeth, you’ll find they happen to be much sharper than expected.”

Elain paused, eyes flicking to Eris before she lifted the comb from its case. “A weapon?” she asked, disbelief in her tone.

Eris shrugged, the wine red fabric of his jacket straining with the motion. “I don’t suppose they taught you how to handle a dagger in the Night Court?” Elain shook her head at him, and he did not seem surprised by her admission. With a wave of his hand, the case disappeared and Elain was left with just the comb in her hand. “Then this is better, should someone bother you, aim for the eyes.”

Elain’s own eyes widened at the thought. “Do you – I mean, is it likely that I would need this at all?” She was uncomfortable with the suggestion that she might need to fight someone. If Eris had hoped to settle her nerves, he was achieving the opposite.

Eris raised an auburn brow, scowling as he responded. “You’re not in the City of Starlight anymore, Elain. I’ll tell you now and you would do well to remember this piece of advice for the remainder of your stay in Autumn. Be armed always.”

Elain felt her panic as it choked her. She merely nodded, knowing that if she spoke her voice would have been small with fear.

“Don’t worry,” Cora interjected, rushing to reassure Elain. “Lucien will be with you at all times, I doubt any harm would come to us with him by our side.”

“I doubt you, too, would need Lucien’s protection, considering you’ve been armed to the teeth since you stepped foot onto these lands,” Eris clipped.

Cora cast a withering glare at Eris, tension in her shoulders at his sharp tone. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Elain still held the comb in her hand, her gaze flicking between the two, wondering if Eris would send the other woman home if he was always so annoyed with her presence.

“I don’t even fault you for it,” Eris offered, his voice quiet and measured, but his eyes assessed Cora’s stance closely. “I just wonder how a lady’s maid from the Hewn City got her lovely hands on blades of Illyrian steel.”

Elain watched as Cora opened her mouth, ready to respond, but at the quick knock on the door, everyone seemed to pause.

“Elain?” Lucien’s deep voice was muffled by the thick oak separating them. Elain was relieved that her mate had arrived. “Are you ready?” He asked.

Cora and Eris were still locked in a silent battle, glaring at each other. If Elain had known Eris better, she might have even said that he looked pleased with himself. “Come in,” Elain called.

Again Lucien chose to winnow into the room, his presence overwhelming. When Elain was not near her mate, it was easier to ignore the bond. The only problem, Elain had noticed, was that once they shared the same space, warring feelings crashed over her like a wave.

You are mine.

The thought was so jarring, and yet Elain could admit that it was not as troubling as it had been at the beginning, during the war with Hybern and the months that followed. Elain was captivated by him, the bond demanding that she pay attention every time he walked into a room despite her best efforts.

Elain wondered if she would have felt the same without the bond connecting her to Lucien.

Elain thought her mate was beautiful. His dark red hair fell loosely around his face, golden eye clicking into place as the russet one fell on her. She watched as Lucien took a sharp breath, as he stopped moving entirely. Elain took a step back, knocking into Eris.

The action was enough for Lucien to shake his head, for her to refocus. Elain took in Lucien’s attire to distract herself. She started with Lucien’s tall riding boots, brown pants hugged his thighs. Elain felt herself blush as she quickly looked at his jacket, an emerald green the same colour as her gown.

Lucien bent just slightly at the waist in greeting. “You look beautiful.”

Elain could not look away from him, at the way his lips curled up into a knowing smile.

You are mine.

Eris cleared his throat and Elain waved her hand awkwardly in Lucien’s general direction. “So do you,” Elain said. As soon as the words left her mouth, Elain found herself wishing she could throw herself into a lake and simply sink to the bottom for all of eternity.

Elain looked to Cora, mortified, but the other woman flashed Elain an encouraging grin. Elain felt the tips of her pointed ears heat.

Lucien politely pretended not to notice, stepping further into the room. He might have said something had Eris not. “I should leave,” he announced, his amber gaze going from Lucien to Cora. “You should join me.” The tone of his voice suggested he would not be accepting no for an answer.

“Is the heir of the Autumn Court going to escort me to the ballroom?” Cora asked innocently.

Eris shrugged, the gesture lazy, “I usually escort nobles.” He tilted his head in a manner that reminded Elain of a wolf observing prey, offering Cora his arm like any good gentleman ought to do. “Consider yourself lucky that my exceedingly high standards have miraculously lowered for the evening.”

To Elain’s surprise, Cora took hold of Eris, her eyes never leaving his. “Watch yourself, prince, lest someone think you’re doing me a kindness.”

Elain looked at them both and she knew Lucien was doing the same. Without warning, Eris winnowed him and Cora from the room, sparks scattering in the empty space where they had been.

Elain was left alone with Lucien, all thoughts of Eris and Cora pushed from her mind as she took him in once more. He was so unbelievably handsome, Elain felt her heart skip several beats.

“I guess…” Lucien started, looking at Elain only for a moment before he turned his attention to a point past her head. “I think we should follow them.”

Elain nodded, taking a few careful steps towards her mate, wondering if Lucien would winnow them as well, or if they would walk the maze-like halls of the Forest House together. She looked up at him, glad that at least she would have him to help her navigate the event.

Despite it all, Elain trusted Lucien with her life. As she lifted a hand to reach for him, Elain finally remembered the stunning comb, still held tightly between her fingers.

“Help me with my hair first?” Elain did not know what possessed her to speak, but she regretted the words instantly.

Elain saw apprehension cloud Lucien’s features, but he hummed in response. “Of course.”

“It’s sharp,” Elain warned as she placed the accessory in Lucien’s open hand. As their fingers brushed, she held her breath.

Gently, as though she were made of glass, Lucien tilted her head. Careful of the comb’s teeth, Lucien delicately set it near some of the pin’s already holding Elain’s curls in place.

The whole world seemed to stop, and only that moment seemed to matter.

“Lovely,” Lucien murmured, his hands dropping to his side.

A spell broken, Elain felt like she could breathe again. The sound of Lucien’s voice ringing, soft like wind chimes, clashed with the one thought Elain could not shake from her mind.

You are mine.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron x lucien vanserra #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #eris vanserra #autumn court #already at 10 parts? i thought it would be done at 10-12 but now that is not the case lol #can you tell i want them to kiss?#thank you to everyone who has taken the time to comment and reblog and like <3 #all you have is your fire #ashes writes sometimes

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hwan-g · 1 year

Text

DAWN TO FLIGHT 🚂 chan & changbin.

part one/four of the skz go to hogwarts! series.

MOODBOARD | PLAYLIST

pair. quidditch captain! chan x fem! reader (+ changbin, minho) | genre. romance, slight angst, smut | warnings. profanity, food, possessiveness, unprotected sex, dirty talk, manipulation, brief mentions of dark magic | word count. 8.6k

synopsis. history will include him in its thickest books. but you? if you stay with him, you’ll be nothing but a mention, an afterthought. ‘she was there, but he was bigger than life,’ and it’ll be true, but it will all be for him, and it wasn’t jealousy or envy—

“Alright everyone, gather up!”

A crisp autumn morning, trees naked of leaves, mountains in the process of preparing for winter, and the Great Lake, its vast deepness, all the creatures concealed beneath the freezing waters—it was Quidditch time. The first practice of the season.

And Chan’s last year as the captain of the Gryffindor team.

Laughs echoed in the oval pitch, five-hundred feet long and one-hundred and eighty feet wide, with the tall spectator towers, four colors to them but switching down to two every match, to signify the playing squads. Red jerseys and flowing capes, helmets, gloves, and brooms of every kind looked back at the leader, ready for some flying action after a long summer break away from Hogwarts. The castle in question appeared grand as ever from afar, its stone walls and top peaks standing proudly, indicating centuries of magic and wizards alike.

“Quit your yapping!” Changbin barked, coming to stand next to his best friend. The murmurs of the crowd seized immediately. “Go ahead, captain,” he smiled brightly at Chan.

Chan smirked, nodding at him. “Thanks for that,” he turned to address his teammates. “Welcome to another year of Quidditch. As you can see, one of our Chasers, as well as our only Keeper have graduated, leaving us no choice but to hold trials for new members. I took it upon myself, Bin here lending me a hand on picking out their replacements.”

He gestured at the unfamiliar figures standing awkwardly at one side, not quite blending in with the rest, brooms clenched tight. The two oldest broke in toothy grins, trying their hardest to reassure. After all, the age difference wasn’t that significant.

“This is Jake, a Third Year student, and Eunwoo, our fellow senior. They’re both excellent fliers that will hopefully help lead us to victory against the Slytherins.” Snickers all around, whispers of not-so-kind words spreading among the team. Chan chuckled, sharing their sentiment. “Yes, no one counted on the loss of last year, but we’ve held that Cup, we know its weight, and we know exactly what to do and how to play to earn it again,” he finished his pep speech with a clap of his hands. “So, then, if everyone’s ready, a round of applause for our new friends, and let’s begin!”

“Let’s fucking go!” Changbin shouted, lifting his broom in the air, before mounting it and flying away to his spot as a Beater, alongside Jungkook.

Practice lasted nearly two periods, the captain dimming it important for everyone to get accustomed to the way the new boys moved around, and of course, to teach them all about their positions. Jake had been recommended by Hagrid, mentioning how he met him back on his First Year, and how much of a natural he was on his broom, passing the class with flying colors, and afterwards helping him with miscellaneous tasks that included heights much taller than the gatekeeper could reach. Eunwoo had played once before as a Seeker when he was much more compact sized and curious about the sport. Then, he’d resigned as classes got more difficult, assignments multiplied, and time was of essence.

Seventh Year seemed like a good year to return to it. It was everyone’s last opportunity to enjoy flying before heading off to jobs at the Ministry, or studying in Trade School, or returning to Muggle life. Their last chance of being carefree, doing something they love unapologetically, without regrets.

For Chan it was one step before going professional, chasing after his dream of being part of his home country’s regional team, the Wollogong Warriors. Australia was an ocean away from England, he’d left it for Hogwarts at an early age, but his heart would never forget his roots, his birthplace. When he’d moved into his dorm, the Warriors poster with the moving team members lining up for the picture, had been the first thing he’d taped on the headboard of his bed. A reminder to never lose focus of his one true love, of what he'd been shown of magic, of flying, at the mere age of six. Being a half-blood, the balance between the two worlds, it was as easy as breathing to him. Because he’d been raised in a loving home, because no one refused him his real nature, what he was, what he’d grow up to be.

Unlike some, Chan had a purpose. A premeditated life. Regional, then international. And no one would get in his way, no one dared. No one could. Being captain of the Gryffindor team was just the start.

“Time!” he yells, flying close to Jake who paused his movements to stare at his captain. “Good play, mate, but you see what you just did there is called stooging. Not more than one Chaser can enter the scoring area,” he explained, patting the boys’ back encouragingly.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Changbin offers, flying past them with his bat.

A slight drizzle made everyone look up at the gathering clouds, a nasty storm winding up to fall upon the grounds. They agreed on doing a few more rounds before Chan called it a day. They all had classes to attend pretty soon, anyway. Not to mention his growling stomach.

“This would be a good time to end it. Great job everyone! Don’t forget, we only have two more practices before our match with Hufflepuff, so please take care of yourselves, and I’ll see you around.”

“Fuck yeah!” Jungkook exclaimed, earning a few whistles and claps.

As everyone landed on their feet, running to escape the rain that grew stronger with each minute, Chan took shelter under the gateway of the field, catching his breath before heading to the Great Hall for some lunch. Changbin stayed behind as well, talking to you about Seeker techniques.

You’d been their Seeker since your Third Year, getting better with each match, winning them the Cup twice. An important member of the team, no one could disagree, but also—his childhood friend, his first friend coming to Hogwarts, and eventually…his fuck buddy.

“Well, why are you just standing there, Bang Chan? Let’s go, I’m starving,” you speak out to him, lifting the hood of your cape, conjuring an invisible umbrella with your wand. “Get under, losers.”

Changbin huffs, his brown hair getting in his eyes, heavy with humidity. “I’ll have you know—”

You sigh, your lips turning inwards into a thin line. “I don’t care, Seo. I’ll leave you to drown. Who forgets their wand? What kind of wizard—” and the bickering continues, the two of you going at it tirelessly, as you make your way to the castle, the yet unchanged green scenery stretching before you.

Chan, ever the smart guy, keeps his wand with him at all times, exactly for situations like these, and fixes himself an umbrella as well, walking alongside you, enjoying the pattering of rain, the way your fingers search for his own, the faintest of touch between you, as you make Changbin go red with embarrassment, your teasing overwhelmingly immodest at times. He doesn’t miss the wink you throw him out of the corner of his eye.

He smiles to himself.

Passing through the Entrance Hall, you cast a drying spell on the three of you, taking off your gear as you head to the Great Hall. It’s uncommonly quiet as you take your seats, the long tables mostly empty, albeit for a few students snacking on fruit and nuts, finishing homework, or reading to themselves. The big windows bleed a cloudy blue over everything, the rain finally taking its full form, hitting against stone, against grass, against still water. You’re smack in the middle, the Gryffindor bench facing straight ahead to the headmaster’s seat at the teacher’s tabletop. McGonagall had gone completely soft on them, what with it being the last year before her retirement and losing the Quidditch Cup, rather unfairly if you might add. Slytherin colors were pretty, but everyone held a certain pride for their Houses; it had nothing to do with prejudice.

Not anymore.

Chan waves to the Ravenclaw table, Jisung hunched over thick books, a big teapot at his side. He seems entirely lost within the words, scribbling away with his quill, but his head snaps upwards, his eyes dazed, as he waves back mechanically.

“Don’t go crazy over there, yeah?” the captain calls out, and Jisung grins, soft hair covering his forehead.

“Assignment due this evening, Bang. Need the credits.”

“He’s a lost case,” Changbin muses, his signature smile in place as food appears in front of them. “Merlin’s beard, is that orange cake?”

You giggle, and dig right in. “You’re the lost case here, Binnie.”

Silence falls upon you as plates clink, utensils move, the pea soup and bread disappearing in record time, pumpkin juice clenching your thirst, cake satisfying your sweet tooth. Changbin’s tooth, especially. That man has an unmatched weakness for dessert of all kinds, it’s unbelievable, yet his physique is even better than Chan’s, something you thought impossible. You’d witnessed his naked upper body and all its glory last year at a game of ‘truth or dare’ in the Gryffindor common room, drunk on firewhiskey. It had been a chaotic night, and most of it a blur, really, but this one thing you remember.

Well into the game, he’d taken a dare. ‘Do fifty push ups shirtless.’ It’d been one of the girls that often followed him around after classes, and she’d said it bravely, like she’d rehearsed it a few times. He complied, of course, jumping at the opportunity to show off his toned arms and chiseled abs. Quidditch helped immensely, but this was work done mostly by himself, in his room. You knew because Chan joined him frequently, the two of them working out into the late hours of the night, when everyone else was asleep.

You also did things after hours, after everyone else had gone to bed. But you’d rather not talk about that, the mere thought painting your cheeks a flushed shade of pink.

“We need to talk strategies,” Chan spoke, his serious face on, as he leaned closer to you. “The new guys are good, but they need to get better. We can’t afford to lose matches.”

“Give them some time, mate, yeah? Jake hasn’t played a game in his life,” Changbin reasoned, enjoying a bite of baked orange.

“That’s true,” you agreed. “Not to mention Jisung’s reading, have you forgotten?”

“For fuck’s sake, not this again.”

Chan’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t believe in Divination, Seo? Is that why you failed so miserably?” His and your eyes meet, the teasing ensuing like it’d never stopped to begin with.

Your friend rested his head on top of his hand, feigning annoyance. “You two idiots are so incredibly gullible, it’s laughable. Seeing the future? What’s next? Flying unicorns?”

You laugh, holding your stomach, the enchanted ceiling thundering. “Says the one that attempted to give them wings as a gift for his sister's birthday.”

“I almost succeeded,” Changbin makes a face, giving up. “Who knew pegasus' really are mythical.” He fake-sulks for a bit, serving himself another slice of cake, gulping it in four bites. “In any case, how’s Slytherin not winning, giving us the Cup by default? There are other teams besides theirs.”

Chan looks at you and you look back, blinking. The silence is deafening. Changbin realizes, choking on juice. You smile, patting his head. Rude.

“Wow. That’s shit spirit for our fellow Houses, isn’t it? Shame on the both of you.”

“All I’m saying is,” the captain raises a leg up on the bench, popping a grape in his mouth. “As long as they don’t get it, I’m fucking content.”

“We’ll discuss strategies at the next practice, okay? I have Charms to attend. Please go to class, N.E.W.T’s are a thing, you know,” you get up, blowing a kiss in their general direction, and wave again at Jisung. He smiles in return. “Both of you go shower, you stink.”

“Love you too, baby girl,” Chan retorts, a lazy smirk on his face.

Your elective courses were giving you a hard time already. You’d never been a top student, nor were you looking to become one now, but your grades had, at the very least, been average, passing you through your exams easily, staying between Acceptable and Exceeding Expectations since your Fifth Year. All this, on top of Quidditch, and wanting to internship at St. Mungo’s—it was too much, you would suffer in ways you’ve never experienced before, you could already tell by the strain on your neck, that ache running down your spine, the thud your bed made every night you’d fall on it.

September hadn’t even ended yet. You sigh as you tighten the hold on your books against your chest, walking to your fourth and last class for the day—Potions. You’d bumped into Changbin earlier, him on his way to Transfiguration, you running a quick errand for your teacher before the subject began. The truth of the matter was, your friends were on a different wavelength than you, and because of that, you’d see them less and less over the course of this year. Chan had taken it upon himself to overlook First Years’ flying lessons, giving his all to that sport he loves so much, with only a couple selective classes to fill in the blanks, and Changbin wanted to become an Auror, so his time was spread across a few things, Defense against the Dark Arts being one, spending his weekends at the Ministry of Magic, and Quidditch bringing you all together.

Meanwhile your dream was to become a Healer, someone that’s supposed to know all, or at least a bit of everything, so in that way, you think you set yourself up for insanity from the get-go. Working hard for extra credits, spending awful hours in the library alongside Jisung, the two of you skimming through countless books, empty teacups, and ink-stained sleeves. If you didn’t have magic, you’d think it impossible for a person to graduate from this school. It was a nightmare already.

But you did it all, anyway. At least there were no wars to be fought, like times passed, at least no dark wizards threatened to burn the world down, kill innocent lives, rule in blood. Just the hum of fall, the sound of lightning over the mountains, early starts in your days, and late notes, draped over answers, and essays, and ancient scriptures written in calligraphy, words unrecognizable—

Sitting down at your usual place in the very front, you waited for your professor, making small talk with your classmate; a pale, Hufflepuff girl you shared a ton of other classes with. She suggested studying together later that night, and you agreed, excited for a different library partner. You liked Jisung, but he was too quiet when focused, too much of a bookworm. Not a bad thing, of course, but not a particularly good match to your more animated character.

“Good evening, class,” the professor entered, smiling kindly.

After the resignation of Slughorn, Potions had never been the same. And still, that old man had half a mind teaching, the other half rubbing shoulders with the rich students, inviting them to his exclusive club every single year. You wondered what it was like back in the day when Severus Snape taught. You figure it was glorious.

“We’ll go over a Sixth-Year potion today, something I’m sure you’re familiar with. The Draught of Living Death.”

His robes swung with him as he turned his back to the rest of you and started scribbling instructions on the board, guiding you through what you’ll need, encouraging you to light the fire under your cauldrons. You take a peek at the back of the class—Kim Seungmin, Head Boy of Ravenclaw, Lee Minho, pureblood of Slytherin, his desk tidy, his fire lit, his eyes shining in the dark ambience of the room. He notices your stare, stares back. You gasp, turning away in a hurry, embarrassed. You’ve never talked to him, yet you grew up together inside the walls of this very castle, shared similar tribulations, and had mutual acquaintances. It was funny, really. You were a muggle-born, and did not belong in this world, learning the same things as him, excelling in them, waving your wand around.

In a different time, you’d be ridiculed for it, he’d hunt you for who you were, what you represented. But as it is now, in modern days, long lines of aristocracy, money dating back to the sixteenth century, mansions with engravings of his very name on his doorstep still very much present—he did not care for such insignificant things, not anymore. None of them did. The wizarding community had shifted, it had finally changed to tread with the footsteps of the times and age. You’d been glad for it, although couldn’t quite shake the feeling of your fellow muggle-borns, how they didn’t have the same privilege you do now, to live free, without shame, amongst people who’ve known this incredible thing since they were born, when you’d only learned of its existence a mere few years ago, through a letter that would change your entire trajectory.

What a strange feeling. Carrying the weight of history.

“Who can tell me the seven ingredients of this potion?”

You raised your hand immediately, eager to voice the answer, and gain your House some points. So were other students, apparently.

“(Y/L/N), go ahead,” he signaled to you, the lines on his forehead carved deep, that friendly smile never leaving his aged face.

“Valerian root, Moondew, Flower head…”

After class ended it was already dark, the grounds illuminated by the flames of torches. Making your way with the Hufflepuff girl to the Great Hall for dinner, (her name was Chaeyoung she’d introduced herself); she’d seen you around with the boys, but was too shy to approach you, was very glad when you did. Loud voices, and relieved students filled the corridors, ready for some food and a good night’s sleep, and you couldn’t agree more—if only you didn’t have to spend most of your night at the dreaded library, with its frightening silence, and tall bookshelves that stretched as far as the eye can see.

“Hello, Gryffindor girl.”

Your yawn was cut short, books clutched tight against your chest—next to you, falling in step, was Royalty Incarnate Lee Minho, the very guy you failed to look straight in the eye only moments prior. You both blinked at each other, as your feet instinctively stopped moving.

Chaeyoung eyed you strangely, as did most students that passed by you. Minho seemed to pay them no mind, as if they didn’t even exist. Such was the nature of Slytherins, encasing themselves in glass, stepping over everything that did not serve their purpose, going through life aloof, unapproachable. What was this boy doing with you, then? What was his business?

“Can I help you?” you prodded him to continue, curious.

Dark purple hair falling into round, glittery eyes—for many centuries now, you’d learned, this was the Lee family’s signature give-away; silky, prune colored hair. Just as was Hwang's slitted, serpent-like shape of the eyes. There’s been so many of them, the line running so far back, that these things have developed a pattern, a tradition. Like freckles or moles for the Muggles, but grander, more distinct.

He gives you a quick smile, kind but impatient. He really is very handsome, you think, but— otherworldly, not to be messed with, not to be touched. Dark magic in human form. The only student to have a Phoenix feather wand core in all their school years. Powerful. You’ve only known him by rumor, never by fact.

“Certainly,” he replies curtly. “You are to be a Healer, yes?”

You furrow your brows, no idea as to where this was heading. “Indeed.”

Minho grins at you, then, all perfect straight teeth, boyish charm. “Excellent. A very promising intern, I hear.” To your evident confusion he provided an explanation, “My family is directly involved with the hospital. I require your assistance,” he stopped mid sentence, and glanced at Chaeyoung who was listening in.

“Excuse us,” he spoke politely, grabbing you by the arm. You looked at him bewildered, but followed along just for the sake of understanding why, out of everyone and especially a Gryffindor, would be his first thought of selfless aid?

“I am in the process of starting a very intricate potion, Ms. (Y/L/N), and having heard of your Potions grades, as well as the exemplary impression you’ve left on the Head of St. Mungo’s, I just had to recruit you,” he finishes, and gives you one long convincing look, before moving away, his touch dropping from your aching arm.

His words don’t quite register in your ears. Sure, you were a fairly good student and tried your absolute best with your internship, but what sort of potion couldn’t be followed with simple book instructions and a friend’s support?

Minho’s eyes flashed. It dawned on you. Unless…

“This isn’t school related, is it?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Bringing your books closer to you, your mouth turns into a thin line, disapprovement on the ready. You did not know this boy, had nothing to do with him, and certainly owed him even less. What he was asking of you was—ridiculous. Insane. Intriguing.

“And what is your purpose with this potion, Lee?” you asked after a short pause.

The Slytherin straightened his back, smoothed his expensive robes with one hand, and glanced at you over his nose. You did not break eye contact, determined to get the truth out of him. Serpents had a way of manipulating themselves out of situations—you’ve seen all of their tricks.

“Step the fuck back, Minho.”

A body crashed onto yours, enveloping half of you into big, muscled arms, a familiar cologne invading your nostrils. Bang Chan to the rescue, as always, Changbin close behind, both clad in warm, red sweaters with your House emblem. Looking up at your best friend’s angular face, you couldn’t help but notice the barely contained possessiveness he’s been letting himself show more and more lately. Both boys had always been protective of you, but considering the last relationship status change you’ve had with the captain, it made the dynamic strange, the waters untested. You, unsure of how to feel when he acted like this.

The purple haired boy smirked faintly, hands raised in front of him. “No trouble here, Bang, just small conversation between classmates. We’re allowed, are we not?”

Chan’s hand squeezed your shoulder, a silent question. You nodded your head, something he saw out of the corner of his eye, his hold relaxing slightly. Nothing changed in his stance, though. Defensive, ready to kill for his own—a true Gryffindor, through and through.

“What would you have to say to my girl?” It felt like time stopped, as soon as he uttered the word. “Say it, then. Go on.”

People were beginning to gather; Changbin cleared his throat in warning. You looked around, sighing as you did. It always had to be a showdown, a fight for dominance with Chan. Feeling your blood boil, and your nerves strain in the back of your head, you jerked away from him, Minho smugly watching you do so, hands coming to clasp together behind his back.

“Let’s go, Chaeyoung,” you said to your new friend, desperate to leave all three boys stewing in their own testosterone.

“Seems like you jumped the gun there, Christopher, yeah?”

“(Y/N),” his voice yelled after you. “(Y/N) wait, goddamnit!”

“Let her go, Chan.”

“Like hell I am,” was the last thing you heard, before the same arms pulled you towards the opposite direction of the one you were heading, the Hufflepuff girl gasping audibly at your capture.

“Listen to Changbin, Bang Chan,” you warned him, fighting against his scorching touch.

“When do I ever listen, baby girl?”

His breathing erratic, eyes determined, mouth set, the Gryffindor took you to the West wing of the castle, away from everyone else at this hour of the evening, and shoved the both of you inside a forgotten closet, wand out to mutter, “Capacious Extremis.”

The space enlarged twofold at once, and you were able to wiggle out of his vicious grasp with a forceful tug. He let you, that dark gaze studying you intensely.

“What the fuck was that?” you demand, beyond furious with his caveman behavior.

He huffs, passing a hand through his disheveled hair. “Never fucking mind that—what were you doing with Lee Minho out in the open like that?”

You scrunch your face. “‘Out in the open’? What does that even mean?”

“You know what it means.”

He stared you down with hard eyes, trying to figure you out. That’s what Chan did the most; tried to figure everyone out, what made them tick, what was the thing closest to their souls. So he’d be prepared, so he wouldn’t lose. You sigh, suddenly exhausted. It was a wise choice you’d made long ago, picking your fights with him.

This one just wasn’t worth it.

“We were just talking, Chan,” you move your feet to close the gap between your bodies. “I promise.”

Another thing about your captain—he will never waste a good opportunity.

Your lips smash together as his arms wrap around your waist and back protectively, possessively. He groans into the kiss, his tongue taking yours for a short dance, a fight of sorts, pleasure shooting through you like an arrow, like all the other times before, where he’d cornered you, asked for your surrender. Snatched you, anyway. He had this instinct of knowing what you wanted, what you most craved.

Right now it was him, what he offered. His hands on you, fingers tracing their way back into places he’s explored before, has owned countless times after hours, in beds, couches, cold astronomy stairs, closet walls…

“Obedient, are we now?” He mumbles smugly against your mouth, trapping you between his firm chest and stoned wall.

You grab the sides of his face and bring him back in, savoring the minty taste of his full lips. His hands immediately disappear under your robes, lower themselves to your skirt, pulling it up, sinking into the wet fabric of your cotton underwear. You gasp, and let out a broken moan, pressing into his calloused palm, loving the friction it provides for your aching pussy.

“Shut up and fuck me, Bang Chan,” you whisper in his ear, as you cup him over his trousers. He hisses, cursing your name. You smile. “Think you can do that?”

Chan chuckles darkly, rubbing circles over the small bundle of nerves at the top of your cunt. You roll your hips on his digits, holding onto him for dear life, nails digging on his broad shoulders, stomach churning, his cock stirring for attention in your other hand. Your lip trapped in between your teeth, you unzip his pants, dipping in his briefs in search for that delicious length that has filled you so many nights. And days. Some afternoons, after practice, not so far away from the rest of the team, something you both had giggled about, the exhilarating feeling of getting caught messing with your minds—

You’ve fucked a lot, you realize, cheeks burning. But it always made sense, it always felt good. You’d told yourself when it stops being those things, you’d walk away, but as he pulls your panties down, and you guide him to your entrance, sloppy, wet kisses running down your neck, to your collar, over your breast, you think it might not be so easy, after all.

Chan sinks inside you slowly, growling as he does. He squeezes your ass, your thigh circled tightly around his hip, but it’s not enough. Not for you, not for him. He needs more, he needs control.

“Jump on me, baby,” his voice is soft but the command is curt.

You lose contact for a split second as you slightly jump in his arms, the hardness of the wall digging into your back. The pain barely registers in your brain, as he slams into your cunt with fervor this time, the stretch incredible, his length hitting the deepest spots inside of you, so deep you feel him in your tummy. Your head drops on his shoulder, and you’re unable to control your moans, your very self, as skin hits skin, the sound filthy, sweat dripping from your forehead and staining his sweater, his hot breath on your cheek, whispering incredible things, words that will have you seeing stars—

You’re so fucking wet for me, baby girl, clenching around my dick so good, go on, take whatever you need, you know I got you, I’ll give it to you, love, let me see your face, let me see that pretty fucking mouth. Fuck, baby you’re so wet…

Your thighs hurt where he holds you, but your release is so close you couldn’t care less about bruises and soreness. You use his shoulders to sink down as he pistols up, the both of you entirely focused on getting off, sex in its most primitive form. You miss the eyes full of awe, of adoration, or more like, you ignore them. You won’t comment on the way he presses his mouth on the apple of your cheek, either, your name nothing but a ghost of a whisper on his tongue, a way of pushing himself forward, of bringing you to your climax.

“Come on, baby girl, give it to me. Give me a good one, milk my cock, that’s it, fuck, that’s my girl, such a good little slut, aren’t you?” He grunts on your skin, moving his lips to your ear, picking up the pace, tearing you from the inside out. “For me. Just for me.”

“Yes, yes…” you moan, and clench around him one last time, your body convulsing, vision blurry.

He chases after you, thrusts fast and precise, spilling around your tight walls, his load hot and sticky, and he wants nothing more than to—your legs touch the floor at once, as his hands grab your face aggressively, bringing you in for an open mouthed kiss, sweaty and breathy, mouths dry and searching, always searching for each other. You’d be lying if you said this didn’t mean more sometimes, somehow.

Sometimes it’s everything, it’s all that holds you down, that could hold, gravity meaningless pitted against Bang Chan and his warmth, the way he envelops you in his arms, the safest place in the world. As you play side by side, as you fight for the same cause. It’s easy and it’s familiar, and it’s home. As natural as breathing.

“Tell me you’ll keep your head straight,” he says seriously, looking down at you worriedly. “Minho is…” his dark eyes cloud over, “Don’t go making deals with the devil on me just yet, you hear me?”

You sigh into him and he shakes you gently, getting your eyes on his face again. “Please, (Y/N)?”

You nod, rubbing your wet thighs together, remembering you have a library date with a girl you left behind unexpectedly. What must she be thinking?

Oh, but who cares? This was so worth it.

“Okay. If it means that much to you, I won’t.”

“You promise?” He doesn’t let you go.

“Yes, Chan,” you say pointedly. “Jesus.”

He cleans you up with a quick spell, his hands raising your panties up your hips, touch lingering. You wiggle out of his grasp, giggling. He smirks, still crouching down as you open the closet door and walk away from him.

“Leave him out of this!” He calls out behind you.

“He’s your God, too,” you sing teasingly, making a run for the Great Hall.

The fourth Saturday of September, just before Hallowe’en, Gryffindor competes against Hufflepuff.

It’s a tough match, only for the incessant stormy weather that’s been building up, turning the field into a muddy mess, clouds hanging low for days, visibility incredibly poor. Practice had been good, but not great and flying conditions were, to say the least, not ideal, but the team has had to go through worse, and so they’d persevere as they always did, with a strategy set in place, everyone knowing exactly what they were supposed to do, instructed down to a T.

Bang Chan yelled for Jake to watch out as Yang Jeongin, a Fifth-Year Beater knocked one of the Bludgers his way, bat swinging, competitive smile on his pale face.

Jake momentarily lost control of his broom, cursing as he came down fast, holding on to the wooden stick for dear life.

Chan motioned for Changbin to go help him, as he pushed through the two Chasers standing in his way, Quaffle under his arm, heading straight for the opponent’s hoop. Thunder cracked as the ball went past the Keeper and into the big ring behind her, earning Gryffindor another point.

“Fuck yeah!”

The towers burst into applause and cheering, a small Second-Year boy announcing the success of his Houses’ team, praising the captain. Chan threw his fist in the air, basking in the attention and excitement of the crowd, Changbin and Jungkook flying close to clap his hand and back, as they flew past and back to their positions.

“Another great goal from captain Bang Chan! We’re counting eighty points, so far, to Hufflepuff’s sixty.”

The game had been in progress for two hours now, but the adrenaline rushing through Chan’s veins, his ego inflating, expanding over his team, his boys (and girl)—it meant everything. Tiredness was just a concept in front of all this; glory and winning, for an athlete, was greater than anything else. Nothing could come close, could compare. Perhaps, with the single exception of you bouncing on his cock, head thrown back, nails digging into his skin, absolutely beautiful in your vulnerability.

But the rain grew nastier, colder as the end was still nowhere in sight. You’d been searching through the heavy clouds for the Golden Snitch nonstop since the game had started, with not much luck. You’d encountered the opposing team's Seeker once or twice, but for the most part you were flying solo, half blind, while your team fought the good fight underneath you, compensating for your apparent bad seeking skills. You were frustrated, growing angrier by the minute with yourself for losing the small golden ball so fast. If only you could get one good glimpse of it…

“Losing your touch, (Y/L/N)?” Kim Sunoo teased, shouting over the rain as his broom whooshed behind you.

“Not a fucking chance,” you yelled back.

“C’mon, let’s fly above!”

One reason you enjoyed playing with Hufflepuff—this. The healthy competitiveness, the good spirit of the game, and a promised fun time, nothing less nothing more. It was such a stark contrast to Slytherin’s sinister, sneaky way of navigating through the game. And the injuries were considerably fewer, as well, the stakes never higher than necessary.

Above the storm, it was quiet. Peaceful. The both of you halted your brooms, stilling for a second, scanning the serene skies for the Snitch. Sunoo frowned, disappointed and embarrassed to go back down with empty hands, and you were too, determined to find the freaking thing and end this forsaken match—

There. On the horizon, much closer than it looked.

“Bye, Sun!” You laugh, as you rush towards your desired target, hand outstretched, so near you could feel it, taste it.

Victory.

“Hey!” You heard before you dipped in the clouds, the rain and clapping of thunder entering your ears once again. It did not matter.

You had a clear view of the ball, and you’d get it. No matter what.

“A missed shot from Sim Jaeyun, a shame for the Gryffindor team!”

Not for long, you thought as you willed your broom to fly faster, wiggling your fingers as if that would be any help to achieving your task, the Snitch teasing you with its whimsical moves. You were relentless, though, years of experience preparing you for its mood and difficulty to attain.

You really just had to go for it.

So, you did, Sunoo flying dangerously close, his own hand reaching. In your attempt to trap it in your palm, your broom tumbled and knocked you over. A scream tore from your throat, lightning flashing, as you almost lost control and fell off your trusted stick—if the Hufflepuff hadn’t helped you upright, his grip tight on your shoulder. Your heart beat fast, as your eyes went wide, head snapping his way.

“Thank you!”

The Fifth-Year smiled at you, his cheeks rosy and cute. “No problem. Go before I come for it.”

You nodded quickly, and parted a cloud appearing on the field waving your fist around. The crowd watched you fly to your teammates, the intensity of the rain calming down as if on cue, Chan the first to notice your arrival.

“It seems (Y/L/N) (Y/N) has caught the Golden Snitch!” Roars sounded off like sirens. “Gryffindor wins!”

The colors on the high towers then show yellow and red, proud and bright, even amidst the grayness, and you grin wide and content, as you come face to face with your best friend and captain. Your boyfriend, he would correct you.

He’s glowing, wet and exhausted, pearly whites showing. “That’s my fucking girl!” He barks, as the entire team erupts in celebratory song.

‘Come around and see

Gryffindor will win

With Bang Chan in our team

And (Y/N) as our Queen

Gryffindor shall win!’

The common room was rowdy, to say the least.

Seventh-Years had snuck alcohol in from The Three Broomsticks Inn apothecary, and were currently helping themselves and others to a few cups of it. The fire was lit, the walls rich in color, the music blasting and the portraits laughing and discussing their own years at Hogwarts, their historical wins against the other Houses and their parties that lasted until the early hours of the next day, charms keeping the voices and ruckus from echoing throughout the rest of the castle.

Bang Chan and Changbin were busy being obnoxiously loud and quite drunk in the middle of the room, many students gathering around them like true fans, asking the two make-believe celebrities of Gryffindor all sorts of questions they had absolutely no problem answering. Your boyfriend was sprawled over the leather couch, freshly showered, brown hair falling over his eyes in loose curls, as his most trusted friend occupied the armchair, a mug of firewhiskey filled to the brim, making his eyes glossy and his mood light.

You shook your head at them, chuckling softly as two younger girls approached you, congratulating you on today’s win. You thanked them politely, popping a few nuts in your mouth. You could never be them; the center of attention, the center of the universe, it felt like sometimes, but you were just as deserving of praise and honor as them. Being a Seeker was hard enough, but being held at the same standards as Bang Chan?

Impossible. You wondered how he did it, then reminded yourself that he was born for this. Fame, prestige. He loved it, lived for it, and had dedicated his entire life for it. It was second nature to him, but to you?

Oh, but it’d end soon enough. And then a whole other chapter would unravel itself for you to tread carefully through it. The rest of your life, your career, what you’ve been working so hard towards. Quidditch was a hobby, and a damn good one, but it wasn’t the end goal.

Chan finds your gaze and holds it, smiling suggestively your way, and winking. You smile back, lifting your cup to him. He beams, and your heart swells.

You loved him but this, whatever you two had, would end too. And none would be the wiser. You couldn’t call it a waste of time; after all, for what it was, it made sense. Plus the sex was incredible. But you couldn’t ignore the cold, hard truth—he’d leave for Australia, and you’d go into intensive training at the hospital, books and medicine being more than enough to fill your time.

He’d ask you to go with him, and you’d get defensive and ruin your friendship. He’d get mad and you’d go months without communication, until finally you’d hear news of his dating another girl, someone that could keep up with him, and break your own heart ten times worse than before. It would play out exactly like this, because that’s the natural way of a relationship between an athlete and a bookworm. There’s no meeting halfway for them, there’s no meeting at all.

You notice a couple making out on the stairs going up to the dorms, a full table of Six-Years playing cards, and your team preparing for butterbeer pong, a tradition of yours at this point, introduced years ago by a muggleborn that established it as the game-to-play after a successful match. It was harmless enough.

Except for the fact that your captain was an incredibly competitive and stubborn man that took everything way too seriously.

“Round!” Changbin roars, as all the boys cuss and down shots of firewhiskey at once. “Fuck, that’s what I’m talking about.”

“One hell of a headache is waiting for you tomorrow, Bin,” you comment as you near the long table the game is about to take place on.

Chan is helping set the cups in order with his wand, Jungkook filling them with the appropriate amount of the beer concoction, the red of their wool sweaters in such contrast to their pale complexion.

“I’m a wizard, honey, I’ll make it go away before you can say Merlin’s full name.”

Everyone in close proximity clutched their chests, laughing at the burn. You raised your eyebrows daringly. Challenge accepted.

“Sure, though not a very good one, are you, honey?” You retorted mockingly.

“Well, shit, you got me there.”

The room burst in ‘ooh’s’ as someone lifted your arm, declaring you the winner of this little showdown. Chan chuckled, the side of his mouth lifting, admiring your proud face. He was next to you before you could even blink, taking you in his strong arms and crushing you against him, lips on your ear, breath warm, comforting.

“You’re trouble, you know that?”

You smirk, pulling away slightly. “The best kind.”

His hand snaking its way around the nape of your neck, he brings you in for a kiss. You could taste so many things on him, but you think his heart was the most rewarding of them all. Your foreheads touch, as everyone in the room fades away, light years away, the two of you holding gravity, and the fucking axis of the very earth in place.

Nothing mattered when you were with Bang Chan, and you were beginning to think that wasn’t such a good thing, after all.

“The only kind,” he swears. “The only one I want.”

The game starts with Eunwoo missing a clear shot, and paying the price for it. After him, Jungkook follows (three wins in a row before ultimately losing), a giddy Changbin nearly ending the game at once with his excellent performance, but not before knocking everything over as Jungkook tackled him for “cheating.”

“No one leaves until I have a fucking turn!” Chan barks, and the team scrambles to pick up the mess, setting the table for their leader.

The entire common room gathers with bated breath to watch their captain win against beer and plastic balls, and you can’t help but marvel at the way all seems to still for this man. He carried such power, such influence, and he was the nicest thing around. Always fair, loyal, a sweetheart to his friends, a general out on the field. You’d follow him to battle if it came down to it, as would literally every single person in this room.

It was very sudden, your need for oxygen. The air was stifling, everything moving in slow motion as Chan succeeded in putting the sixth ball in the glass cups. A new song is in the process of writing itself for your favorite boy, you sense it in your bones, in the way the people in the portraits haven’t said a word since he started playing.

History will include him in its thickest books. But you? If you stay with him, you’ll be nothing but a mention, an afterthought. ‘She was there, but he was bigger than life,’ and it’ll be true, but it will all be for him, and it wasn’t jealousy, nor envy—

It was confidence in knowing you deserved better. The best.

“Where are you going?” He asks, when you move away from his peripheral vision.

Heads snap towards the question, curious.

“I’ll be right back,” you announce, drowning. “Please don’t follow me,” you continue in a smaller voice, hoping he hears you.

And it must’ve been something in your stance, or your face, or your eyes, who fucking knows, because this time—

He doesn’t chase after you. He listens.

Your feet take you to the Great Entrance.

For what time it was, you expected no one else to be around, making it easier for you to break down and cry after a long, stressful day. You weren’t particularly keen on letting anyone in on the small fact that you were losing your entire mind over how hectic your life had become, and you certainly weren’t about to be reckless about being out of your dormitory after hours.

It was fairly simple to move around the castle at night, though, if one was careful enough. There was only one teacher patrolling the corridors and they were currently located on the other side of the staircase, giving you the go to make a run for it.

You’d also placed a silencing charm on you, for good measure, because you weren’t about to be the person that gave and took away points from their House all in one day.

You never counted on coming face to face with Lee Minho like this. He took notice of your nervous state, and it was then you noticed the pin on his robes. Head boy, you shut your eyes tightly, cursing yourself inwardly. Of course.

“I take it your midnight stroll didn’t go exactly as expected?” He comments sarcastically, but his tone is flat, and his perfectly shaped left eyebrow is raised.

He’s taller than you, not by much, and you guess the authority he holds also gives the illusion of height, multiple books hovering in mid air behind him. You guess he was making his way from the library to his last patrol of the night before resigning to the Slytherin dorms in the dungeons.

It really was just your luck bumping into him, wasn’t it? Especially after that one awkward evening a couple of weeks ago, his proposition still unanswered days and days after. Minho blinked twice at you, seeming to be waiting for your answer to his remark.

You snap out of it, biting your lip, and you see him follow the movement indifferently, your cheeks turning red under his intense stare. He doesn’t seem to pay your embarrassment any mind, though, as he deems you unworthy of his time and goes to pass right past you.

“You still haven’t told me,” you call out. He stops. Turns. You hesitate slightly, “The reason why you’re making an illegal potion.”

He muses your words for a second, turning them over in his mind. “Not so much illegal, as…frowned upon.”

Huh? “Well, what is it?” You press, taking a brave step forward towards him.

His beauty is unparalleled, only perhaps, and you do not say this lightly, second to that of Hwang Hyunjin’s, making it so incredibly hard for you to look at him straight on. His eyes are so big and glittery, looking as if they’ve swallowed entire stars in them, and his jawline is so sharp and sexy it feels like you’re cheating on Chan just by glancing his way. He looked immaculate, even at this late time, and you’d blame it on the pure blood thing, but Changbin was upstairs making a fucking fool of himself, ten different stains on his clothes, drunk beyond all reason at this point, you’d bet good money on it.

Not Minho. Never Minho.

“It’s dark magic, (Y/N),” he nears you slowly, taking his sweet time with a prey like you. “Necromancy.”

You looked at him, and looked again, just in case he was making some sort of sick, twisted Slytherin joke that you didn’t understand and were just another victim of. Dark humor is eclectic, yes, but harmless in the long run. Unfortunately, he wasn’t batting an eye to your reaction. If anything, he appeared to be…disappointed?

It was hard to tell through a million layers of frost.

“Dark magic is illegal, Minho,” you say and you feel like the dumbest person alive at that moment.

He stares at you like you are. “Many would disagree,” he retorts calmly. “All magic is the same to a wizard.”

You tilted your head, begging for him to be joking, and certainly not enjoying the glamoured jab at your blood. It was petty and so below who you perceived him to be, that you had to second guess the way he worded it in order to keep your sanity.

And your points.

“You want to raise the dead?” You whisper incredulously.

He smiles briefly at that, but his mask quickly falls back into place. “I’m offering you a chance to make one of the most difficult, intricate potions known in magic history. The craft is something that interests you, correct?”

You stutter, feeling like you’re being manipulated into something completely out of your comfort zone. Despite this knowledge, you can’t bring yourself to refuse.

“Yes, but I would very much like to stay out of Azkaban if I can help it.”

He considers you seriously, then. You almost think he’s gonna turn around and dismiss you, considering you unable to complete his task, but then he takes one step closer and gazes at you through thick eyelashes.

“I’m enchanting skeletons for Hallowe’en.”

You squint up at him. “You’re lying. You don’t need a potion for that.”

His lip twitches, and you think you see a ghost of another of those rare smiles. It’s gone too soon for you to tell. A purple strand of hair falls in his eye, and your fingers itch to touch it.

“Will you help me?” He chooses to ignore your statement.

“Now I’m helping you?” You challenge him, before you can stop yourself. “Where did all those other fancy words go?”

Minho drinks you in, every single one of your features being studied, before he pulls back, a breathy chuckle escaping his pretty mouth.

“I can see what he sees in you.”

“Don’t make this about him.”

There goes that infuriating eyebrow again. “Oh?”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll help you,” you repeat the, apparently, Slytherin taboo word. “If you tell me what I’m getting myself into.”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat as you see him lean towards you, his cheek touching the side of your face, a woody scent enveloping your senses. You’re unable to move, it seems, he has you under a complete spell—and it’s not the one you cast with a wand. I underestimated him, you think, panicking.

“A revolution, sweetheart,” his enchanting voice whispers in your ear. The castle stares back as your eyes glaze over with numbness. “Your name in history books. It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

And it shouldn’t have taken you as long to figure out as it did, Chan’s words of caution ringing true in your head, because nothing could be clearer, really—

Lee Minho is a Ligilimens.

tags. dedicated to @streetlight-s 🖤 | @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @koorminii, @hellishmoons, @lix-ables, @americanokisses, @j-0ne25, @danyxthirstae01, @she-wintersoldat, @fa3body, @letterstolilah, @exclusivej3ss, @seungschacco, @heeseung-lover686, @heetr, @arieslost, @skz317cb97.

NO REPOSTING/STEALING. hwan-g™️

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flordeamatista · 1 year

Note

qué voy a hacer con mi amor

comfort with ari🥺

Hold Me

pairing: boyfriend!Ari Levinson x reader

concept: Hold me like you can’t let go.

word count: 900

warnings: Soft Ari, poetic fluff, poetic kisses, You just want to snuggle with him during the cold days

a/n: @treatbuckywkisses I'm always in awe with all of your moodboards and thank you for making this one of my husband. I absolutely adore you.

This is for my entry for @jadedvibes Falling in Love Writing Challenge. Adore you!

Beta by the lovely @writing-for-marvel

Masterlist

Hold me like you can’t let go.

There are flutters of color in the air, ranging from the brightest crimson to the deepest earth tone. Savoring this moment in slow motion, he watches the petals fall from the branches. He can savor this for as long as he wants as though nature had done it for him.

The end of summer is shrouds in golden hues and golden dreams.

Autumn is the year's crowning achievement, its fruit, and the lilting melody of love. She is a hug for chillier days and a love letter for winter, warming hearts as the seasons turn.

Now, you rule as queen.

You've got the season's most gorgeous ensemble on, with a plaid skirt, white sweater, white tights, and knee high boots.

A single leaf falls from the tree as a tribute to his queen. A way to every corner of the globe for the deserving. Ari thought you were the most gorgeous woman on the planet.

Since you always present yourself with such poise, it is easy to tell that you are a good person at heart. To put it plainly, you are flawless. You are always one to appreciate the little things in life, and now you can do so while basking in the fall weather and hearing the world around you speak to you through its changing colors and sounds.

The wind carries your laughter and grin as you close your eyes in the crisp outdoor air. The breezes of autumn bring to light a secret that should be common knowledge.

However, Ari is in on the secret.

You.

His pulse quickens as he realizes the truth: when you find art, you revere its lines.

After hearing your hum and watching you begin to sway in the midst of the park with the leaves, Ari's face lights up with joy. He sprints over and snatches you up in his strong arms. Ari can't help but feel an overwhelming urge to hug you and never let go.

You giggle as you call his name.

He presses his lips against yours and successfully silences you, even for a moment. "You're so beautiful. Why can't I hold what's mine?"

Everything feels right to him as a crisp breeze blows in and leaves flutter down all about you.

He is counting on you to protect his heart, to love and cherish him as much as he loves and cherishes you in return. Everything in the world, all he wants to do is walk with you and hold your hand.

Kiss me like you don’t need air.

Ari and you are snuggling up by the fire, blankets drapes over your bodies, and you're munching on cookies you made together. Your body melting into Ari's soulmate stones, linked by time. Scents of their sweetness and coziness permeate the space.

The first time Ari kissed you, his heart did not burst. In place of fire, there was a sense of calm.

To be in love, two people should feel safe, secure, and connected to universal peace, able to let go of their fears.

You have soft, inviting lips, and he can't wait to taste them and brand his lips against them.

You take a nibble and mutter, "Want a bite," as you relish the cookie's sweet flavor. "What?" you blink in confusion. "What's the matter?” Ari insists, grin firmly on his face, "Nothing. You've got cookie crumbs on your face."

Raising your hand, you delicately brushes your mouth. You laugh hysterically and say, "I probably look like a disaster." He brushes the crumbs from your face with the palm of his hand. "Don't worry," he shakes his head.

“Let me clean my mess." A soft whisper escapes his lips. His lips are muffled by your last words as he presses his over yours.

He kisses you, and your hands cradle his jaw as he caresses your mouth and his hands slip down to your butt. He breathes in the scent of your kiss, and he feels your fingers cradling his jaw.

The man is teasing you, and you know it. His soft beard hair tickles your bare lips, causing you to giggle with anticipation.

A kiss might seem ordinary enough on the surface. A season is born when two hearts fall in love with each other.

Ari bites you on the bottom lip. You let out a startling sound that sends chills down his spine. Ari wants to give you the same feeling of warmth that he experiences when he touches you. You are everything he breathes and everything he feels.

His kisses and touches will be the warmth you experience in every grin, every laugh, and every embrace, no matter how chilly it gets or how much dew there is on the ground or how many dead leaves you step on.

Like fire, his love is boundless, and you make it new and without limits. It does not matter how many years pass, your charm remains a magnet for him every season of the year.

Love me as you’d die without me.

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holdmytesseract · 2 years

Text

moodboard by the wonderful @mochie85 !

Baby Fever AU 《Masterlist》

The Baby Fever AU is set some time after the attack on New York. Infinity War, End Game and Thanos never happened. Loki's punishment had been to join the Avengers - where he met you. One thing came to the other and a few years later, you two are married - and now parents of a sweet girl, called Ella and a little boy called Narfi. This AU features the adventures you are expieriencing as a family - and a lot of dad!Loki moments, 'cause we all love Loki being a dad...

General Warnings: fluff, fluff and even more fluff! Pregnancy things, birth, etc.

Last Updated: April 17th, 2024

《 Baby Fever - the Beginning 》

(How Loki's baby fever started...)

🍼 Part One

🍼 Part Two

🍼 Part Three

《 Before Ella... 》

(The oneshots here are from the time before Ella is born. Y/N's and Loki's story...)

🍼 The Beginning

🍼 You & Me Forever

🍼 Paper Rings

🍼 On one of Tony's team bonding parties...

🍼 About Time

🍼 When a God Loves a Woman

🍼 Hunter & Prey

《 The Dad Loki Diary - Chapter One 》

(What's the 'Dad Loki Diary'? The 'Dad Loki Diary' consists of drabbles and one shots of, well… Loki being Ella's dad and doing dad things. Things that come to my mind - or things that you want to read. If you have a wish what the little family should experience together, look if the requests for this AU are open and let me know! :D)

Headcanons

🍼 Disney Edition

Oneshots

🍼 Of Fathers and Sons

🍼 Daddy Takeover

🍼 Protecting Her

🍼 Father Feelings

🍼 A Precious Moment

🍼 How to Magic

🍼 A Painful Experience

🍼 First Steps

🍼 Insecurities

🍼 First Word

🍼 Not Your Little Girl Anymore

🍼 All I Need Is You

🍼 Asgardian Sightseeing Tours

🍼 Winter Wonders

🍼 A little Girl`s Wish

🍼 Merry Christmas!

🍼 A Fresh Page

🍼 Of the Birds and the Bees

🍼 Female Nature

🍼 Tempting Touch (18+)

🍼 Autumn Blues

🍼 Little Mood Changer

🍼 Capturing the Moment

🍼 Cravings & Food Rubs

Drabbles

🍼 Ella

🍼 Lullaby

🍼 He's Back - Part Two (Part One is written by @lokisgoodgirl )

🍼 Close to You

🍼 Sugar Sweet

🍼 About Scrunchies and Hair Clips

Blurbs

🍼 Ella, sitting on Loki's chest, raven locks in her tiny hands...

🍼 Loki and Y/N, sitting opposite their dining table, looking each other deadly in the eyes...

🍼 Five-year-old Ella is sitting with Loki at the small table in her room, colouring in her princesses colouring book..

🍼 Loki, laying in the bathtub with a glass of wine in hands, living his best life...

🍼 Loki, standing in the kitchen in order to prepare a little something for you to eat...

🍼 Loki, changing the nappy of a happily gurgling Ella...

🍼 The Promo Tour

《 The Dad Loki Diary - Chapter Two 》

(Well... Welcome to Chapter Two of the 'Dad Loki Diary'. :D Our favourite God is now a dad of two. <3 A new chapter in life has started for him, so I thought it's time to start a new chapter here as well! :D)

Oneshots

🧸 Narfi

🧸 Princess Meets Prince

🧸 Tummy Talkin'

🧸 The Price of Love

🧸 Royal Visitors

🧸 Bad Dream

🧸 Football Fever

🧸 The Equation of Love

🧸 Gym Sessions & Babies

🧸 Biggest Fear

🧸 Boys Do Cry

🧸 Infinite Love

🧸 A Stroke Of Fate

Blurbs

🧸 Y/N, tiptoeing towards the bedroom after a long and tiring day of meetings...

🧸 In the royal gardens of Asgard...

🧸 At Thor's and Jane's house; quite a few miles away from the Avengers compound...

🧸 ... and a Happy New Year!

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson x female reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston characters

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lune-de-miel-au-paradis · 8 months

Text

Who you belong to

Summary: You plan a date night with Wolffe going to a concert for a band you both love. You decided to have some fun and choose a sexy, tempting outfit for your Commander. Turns out the lead singer had his eyes on you and Wolffe needs to remind you who you belong to.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW,18+ (minors pls don't read), biker!Wolffe, sorta possessive Wolffe, jealousy, fingering, kinda public sex, grinding, language, growling, biting, kinda dom!Wolffe, blowjob, Wolffe being Wolffe, soft Wolffe, feelings, mention of a real life band and band member, a few easter eggs as characters, mention of readers looks, a bit long (I hope I haven't left out anything.)

A/N: This is a gift for my lovely dear also super talented writer (check out her fics!) friend Gabi! 💖@cloneloverrrrr

I know you love Wolffe and this band so this is especially for you to enjoy! I wrote this in vacay so pls forgive me if I mistyped something. Also this is my first fics post for a very long time so pls be kind. And this is my first ever smuty, spicy fics so Im super excited but also anxious about it. I really hope you'll like it. (I like criticism, but only if you guys are kind and not rude.) And forgive me if something is not correct with the grammar because english is not my first language. There is gonna be a part 2. (smutty!) coming in this week.

Moodboard made by me in Canva and pictures from Pinterest.

Pls enjoy!

Satisfied, you looked at yourself in front of the three-part standing mirror. Today promised to be a particularly good day. You finished your job early, so you had time for a pleasant bubble bath and some pampering rituals, which only boosted your confidence even more. Somehow your feminine energies were at a high level today. Several of your customers asked what serum you use, telling you that your skin is almost glowing, and even your hair is shining brighter. Maybe it's the position of the stars, maybe it's the full moon, or even more so, the fact that you happen to be on a date with the hottest Commander of the GAR, Wolffe. Your Wolffe.

Hound introduced you to each other when little tooka kittens moved into the air vent of Fox's office. You were the only applicant who was willing to take in the black and orange colored kittens. Fox and Wolffe were having a few words over a cup of caf when you and Hound arrived at the office. As soon as Wolffe saw you, he knew it was over for him. He fell into you hard, deep and inexorably. He immediately introduced himself, and although you were a bit surprised at first by the approach of the grumpy intimidating clone, you noticed over a little time, the softening of his dark and serious gaze as he looked at you with his silver and whiskey colored eyes.

You were the only woman who found a crack in his hard, cold armor and moved straight into his heart.

It's been half a year already that you are officially a couple. As far as the strict rules allow. (You had Master Plo's blessing, and that was all that mattered to you. Rules are meant to be broken, anyway.)

Wolffe has to go on another mission tomorrow, but tonight is all yours. So you certainly had some great plans.

A couple of scented candles in your apartment that made the air smell of pumpkin and cinnamon in honor of the coming autumn. Several outfits have been prepared for your black gothic styled bed and on the soft velvety blankets. The black kitten was sleeping curled up on the cushion of your reading chair. While you swept the orange one off the bed yourself. The little mischievous one really wanted to play with the shoulder strap of the small bag you chose to go with one of the dresses.

Your nails matched your lipstick, which was exactly the same dark rich burgundy as the spicy sweet wine you were sipping while getting ready, and it matched the love bite marks that Wolffe gave you on your last evenings together. Little gifts, or you can say reminders of who you belong to, and how much he craves you. You loved them, even though they started to fade away a little.

"So it's a good excuse to get some more" you thought cheekily.

You looked at the outfits, you weren't sure which one to wear, but you were sure of two things you definitely gonna wear. Your new long black vinyl jacket with matching boots and your new black lacy underwear set . The make-up was done, your hair smelled of your favorite shampoo and fell softly in raven black locks on your back, you had already put on your underwear and boots, both of which were surprisingly comfortable. You also talked to two girlfriends on comm.

All three of you lived far from each other, in different rims but you still made time for a little chat several times a week.

You met on a platform where several blogs ran stuff about clones (how little rights they have, how can their situation be helped, what is like dating in such straight circumstances.) and you've been good friends ever since.

One of them used their connections and gifted you two tickets to the concert of your favorite band. You and Wolffe were both fans of Bad Omens, so you couldn't wait for tonight to start. You just asked their advice on what to wear.

"Whatever you choose, knowing the Commander, you won’t be wearing it for long." teased one of them.

Starting with this, an idea occurred to you!

Risky and bold, but it can turn out well...

You knew that Wolffe would arrive soon, so you said goodbye to your girlfriends and sipped the remaining wine from your glass, making up your mind confidently. You threw your clothes on the floor and only put on your coat. It was perfect: the size, the material, plus it covered enough to not get into an awkward position, as it was long enough. You sprayed a little perfume on yourself, which made you know that Wolffe would only go crazy for you.

Wolffe had a bike, but not just any speeder bike. It was a big, solid, black, shiny, sport bike. He worked hard for it and put aside all the credit so it could be his. It was his treasure that was guarded with fear until he got to know you. After all, you took the first place in his heart. Anyhow he took great care of her and often maintained her, giving her the name Selene, which is basically the moon goddess in mythology. Until he knew you, she was the only one he cared about, and yes, he even howled sometimes when he drove with her on the capital roads.

He stored it in the small garage belonging to your apartment, which you allowed him to do and for which he showed his gratitude so many times in the form of kisses.

Right now, leaning on the motorcycle, you watch as the person of your desires and love approaches you.

Instead of his usual GAR gear, he wore black pants, boots, and a leather jacket. Smelling like a divine god, woody musk mixed with leather, amber and a hint of bergamot. An elixir that made you crave him more and more every time.

"Hey handsome. Care for a ride?" you teased him.

"With a woman like you? Always mesh'la. I will even go to hell with you, it will be heaven for me as long as you are mine and I can kiss you on those lush lips of yours."

You shuddered when you saw his eyes darken, and his seductive tone only made you more aroused. You loved everything about his voice, its depth, the accent, the way he whispered those sinfully sexy words into your ear every night when you were together in his own language.

He wrapped his two strong arms around your waist and kissed you passionately. You haven't seen him in a week, so the kiss quickly turned into tongue and teeth kinda kiss. With this kind of kiss, the world ceases to exist, it's just you and the butterflies in your stomach are about to burst out of excitement and there is only him. His honey-like taste in your tongue, his scent in the air your lungs breathe in, his grip in your body that makes you crazy and his love for you that makes you so utterly obsessed with him.

You just stayed like that for a while, not paying attention to the outside world, lovingly kissing freely like young lovers. When you separated, both of you were gasping for air and your foreheads touched.

"Miss me that much Commander?" you asked

“So. Very. Kriffing. Much.”

After every word, he planted a kiss on your lips, emphasizing his truth.

You both put on your helmets and biker gloves headed towards one of the downtown nightclubs on the lower level.

Wolffe drove fast, took the corners confidently, but with certainty. You loved riding a motorcycle with him, the excitement, the feeling of freedom, the fact that your body was almost completely smoothed over his. Wolffe promised that he would teach you to ride a motorcycle after the war, but you knew that together with him you liked riding much more. On the way, the pack members appeared on both sides, Sinker and Comet saluted and waved, and Boost boosted past you at full speed balancing on a rear wheel, all of them howling. You laughed as Wolffe shifted into higher gear more enthusiastically. You thanked the Maker for the hair foam that, when you apply it to your hair and drive at such a high speed, the air creates wonderful tangle-free volume in your hair.

With the tickets, they let you in out of line and you were already inside. Smoke machines and flashing red lights made the concert halls vibe. Upbeat music played that became one with your heartbeat. You chase out several acquaintances in the crowd, to whom you waved enthusiastically. You saw members of the Corrie guard, some troopers from the 501th and the 212th battalions.

“You look amazing my dear. Absolutely stunning!”

When you heard the familiar chuckle, you turned to Gregor with a big smile as he winked at you from the center of a lady's wreath. He greeted you with two kisses on the cheek, which caused most of the ladies gathered around him to frown glumly with their colorful lips. But you didn't care, you and Gregor were good friends before you got together with Wolffe.

"I see you are not bored. You have quite an amount of pretty ladies as company."

"Well, somehow I have to make up for the time I was gone. And they can't resist the famous 'Gregor charm'."

When he did his iconic hair straightening motion one girl almost passed out, you just rolled your eyes laughing. Gregor took a good look at you and knew right away.

"Naughty girl! You're gonna kill this poor bastard with your sexiness. Has he noticed it yet?"

"Not yet."

"Good. Play your cards smart dear. And don't sit on cold benches!"

He planted another kiss on your cheek and returned to his ladies. Such a ladies man.

There was a kind of unspoken agreement between you two, when Wolffe was around Gregor would try to flirt with you. This made Wolffe a little jealous and left delicious bruises on your soft skin to your delight while fucking you to heaven. And Gregor's current lady was also jealous and gave the Captain what he wanted much sooner. A win-win situation.

Wolffe put his arms around you. You enjoyed the concert together. You sang the lyrics with the band, you danced as much as the crowd allowed. The music and the atmosphere permeated you completely. You were upbeat and happy, a gorgeous smile was on your face and sparkle in your eyes.

Wolffe looked at you and couldn't get enough of you. He adored you. He was kind of obsessed. Your beautiful appearance, which seems to have been made for him. Your raven and shiny silky hair, your pretty face, your soft and divine body. Your kind heart, which holds so much love. The care that you put in your friendships. The nurture care you showed for the adopted kittens. As you shower his newly acquired war scars with kisses. Your passion for your work.

He didn't believe in his wildest dreams that he would ever be able to feel this way about someone.

As he observed you lovingly, he noticed a small blush appear on your cheeks. Then he noticed how the band's lead singer looked at you. Noah kriffing Sebastian was ogling you like you were a delicious dessert to him. Wolffe knew he was your celebrity crush since you were young. Wolffe was no longer paying attention to the music, but to the way the singer almost sang to you, and that he even winked at you. This clearly had an effect on him, because the Commander decided it was time to act. There were two options. He rips out the musician's heart with his bare hands in front of you, or reminds you who you belong to.

Unfortunately, he wouldn't win much with the first move, as he would be arrested and convicted, which would be a lot of paperwork for Fox, leaving option number 2. He took your upper arm and gently but firmly led you out of the crowd and into one of the deserted corridors.

He pinned you to the wall, the cold metal cooling your back. He covers your mouth with his, hot and heavy.

"Wolffe! What's gotten into you?" you asked.

He didn't answer, he just studied your face in silence, the neon lights in the reflection of his cybernetic eyes only made him even more dangerously handsome. The shadows on his face highlighted his strong nose, high cheekbones and attractive lips.

"I decided it's time for a little reminder for you mesh'la. I see you're enjoying the concert too much."

"Yes it's amazing! Aren't you enjoying it?"

"Not really when that bastard singer have eyes on something he shouldn't. I see how he basically eyefucked you. Do you want it mesh'la? Want to fuck him? Don't even get me started on Gregor."

"No. I'm only yours, you know that."

You cupped his face and looked into his eyes, soon you realized regardless, you still get a little reminder how to behave. You smiled at him.

"Good. Now be a good girl, and open up." he commanded.

You obeyed, opened your mouth and looked up at him seductively through your eyelashes.

"Make them wet."

You sucked them in and you gently started to caress his fingers with your tongue and enjoyed the effect you caused him. His eyes are fixed on you, lustful and dark, he swallows, then takes them away from your lips and straight towards your hot, longing center.

That's when he discovers that you're not wearing pants or a skirt. You see the surprise slide across his face and then turn into a satisfied smile. He relaxes his free hand on the belt of the jacket as he unbuttons it, then discovers that you are only wearing your underwear under the jacket, and the thigh high boots. He almost growled with desire.

"Such a dirty girl. You're gonna be the end of me."

He basically groweld in your ears. While he pulled your panties to the side out of his kriffing way and started gently stroking your folds and found that sensitive spongy spot as he slid two fingers into you. You were already wet all evening from the excitement of your choice of clothing and the feelings of his closeness.

His fingers moved rhythmically inside you as he massaged your clit in circular motions with his thumb. You moaned loudly with lust.

"Funny Gregor said that too." you let out a chuckle.

Wolffe suddenly stopped with his motions, eliciting a moan of complaint from you at the lack of his fingers. He grabbed your chin with his fingers wet from your juices, squeezing it a little.

His veins on his neck straining from how hard he's clenching his jaws, the wild nearly homicidal look in those amber colored and silver dark eyes, you began to understand how he came about his name. It aroused you to no end.

"I'm only going to ask this once, and you better have a good answer for me, mesh'la. Who does this pussy belong to? Who do you belong to?"

Maker, you were a whimpering mess, you wanted him so bad to take you right here right now while the concert still plays in the background and with the excitement that anyone could caught you in this position.

"You. Only you Commander." you said

"Will you think about other men when I'm pleasing you?" he asked in a gentle tone but from his eyes you saw how serious he was.

" Never. I'm only yours."

"Wouldn't you like anyone else to touch you like this? Hmm?"

He asked slowly oh so slowly circling your clit with his free hand, the other kept you still by the jaw.

"Are you wishing it was someone elses fingers inside of you? Noah Sebastian maybe? Or Captain Gregor? Do you think they make a better job at knowing you? Loving you like I do?"

His voice was low warm toned, it sent shivers down your spine.

He slipped to fingers in your tight aching cunt. You whined in pleasure wanting more, but he was torturing you with his sweet slow motions. Maker you wanted more.

"No there is only you. Only you my Commander. Oh, Wolffe, give me more! I need to come so bad. I don't want anyone else but you. No rockstar."

"What about the Captain you want him?"

"No, I don't wish for Gregor. Only you my love."

"Good. Don't ever say his name while I'm inside you. Understand that pretty girl?"

You loved it when he spoke to you in his commanding tone.

"Yes."

"Yes, What?" He leaned in closer to you, your lips almost touched.

"Yes, Commander." you said and he let out a satisfied grumble which made your pussy twitch in answer.

Oh, how he loved hearing that rank roll off your lips. Just the thought of it made him rock hard. Just as much as you loved to hear his growls and moans.

You palmed his turgid length through his pants and earned some more pleasant noises from Wolffe.

His fingers begin to swirl on your sensitive bud, you open your legs wider to allow him better access, and let out a small gasp when he gently nibbles your ear. He can feel how wet you get by his movements. His fingers curl in you the way he knows it makes your knees weak you can't help it but to grind into his palm. He starts to explore your neck and jaw gently kissing biting and sucking delicious lovebites on your pale skin. You can feel you're close to your climax as he moved his hand in you and rubbed on your clit, when he felt your inner muscles clench around him he let out a satisfied growl in your ear, when you decided to lean closer to him and lick a long stripe over his pulse.

"Fuck...Wolffe...I'm close.." you moaned.

"Then cum for me mesh'la, give it to me sweet thing..."

Your climax hit you hard and you felt so wonderfully helpless as the room spun and you saw stars, you heard the music from the still running concert show.

He still had his hand in you still hit that oh so sweet spongy spot to help you ride out your orgasm. Wolffe loved to make you cum. Feeling you fall apart in his arms seeing how beautiful you were and how vulnerable in those moments it turned him on like nothing else.

"Shhh you such a good girl." he shooted you and kissed your forehead. "But you have to earn another one. Is it okay for you sweet thing?"

"Yes. Please. Please I need to taste you Commander."

You knelt down, running your fingers gracefully along his thick muscled legs up towards the zipper. When your hand was on his hardness, you looked up seductively.

"May I Commander suck on your cock sir? "

"Yes you fucking may. I like it when you know how to behave. Good girls get a reward."

Some concern appeared on your face when you saw his huge cock bounce out from his pants. He was perfect and you became more aroused when you see the effect you made on him. You rubbed your red plum lips gently to the tip to smear his salty pre cum then you slid it fully into your mouth ever so slowly and Wolffe let out a sexy hoarse voiced moan. You welcomed him with wet hotness and a tight throat as you moved up and down on his shaft. You tried to take him further, still only getting half way.

Your mouth felt a little dry, since you had been singing and shouting at the concert so far. Wolffe caressed your face lovingly, then turned up your face by the jaw:

"I got you. Open up, pretty girl, let me help you."

You obeyed, you opened your mouth with your eyes closed and felt him kiss you passionately and spit in your mouth.

You couldn't take it, you reached down with your hand and played with yourself until you were now completely wet and hot and could let him into your mouth and suck on him rhythmically up and down. His head fell back in pleasure.

"Just like that...so kriffing good...so good with that pretty mouth of yours."

You gently wrung guttural moans from him. Holding his gaze was hard but something in his gaze just kept you there. You couldn't look away from him.

He had that lustful loving look on you full of feral and hunger for you. Only you can get this reaction out of him. Only you hold this power over him, that makes him rock hard and wild for you.

You enjoyed and valued this power, this connection you two had. Force bond? Fuck that! You two were so perfect, so meant to be. Fucking soulmates.

You might have closed your eyes for these sweet thoughts because you heard his command.

"Don't you dare look away from me mesh'la."

He was satisfied with your quick response because he gently grabbed your hair and with one hand he guided you on his cock.

"That's it, keep your eyes on me. I want you to watch me as I fuck that pretty mouth. "

He couldn't have looked away if he tried to. The way his cock disappeared in and out from your mouth, as your talented tongue worked on him it almost made him lose his mind. If he was gonna die this is the way he wants to leave this life, with you, inside you. Loving you.

"Ah sweetheart I'm close... Will you be good and swallow? You can say the safe word if you want to stop."

You worked on him with more passion and gripped his hips as an answer.

You knew exactly what made him feel heavens, what movements he needed to tip over the edge and cum.

Your pace quickened and your tongue too, his grip tightened in your hair and his moans were louder.

You didn't care about the world around you, what mattered is the two of you, to bring pleasure to each other. And luckily he chose a well hidden corridor. So you weren't disturbed.

He came hard, his head fell back, eyes closed growling like a real wolf. His salty warm cum came down your throat as you swallowed all of it. He looked down on you with lovesick eyes.

You looked so lovely, your mascara a bit smeared from your tears, your mouth is red glistening with his cum, your hair is messy and your eyes full of emotions.

He helped you up, kept you close to him, kissed you with love and passion.

"I'm so crazy for you mesh'la."

He whispered to your locks when he gave you a forehead kiss. You hugged him tight, intoxicated with his warmness and his cologne.

"Should I help you with something?"

"I just go for a quick touch up in the bathroom." you said.

You went into another corridor with still wobbly legs and acknowledged that there was no line in frotnt of the bathrooms so the show must be still going on.

You only saw a pretty lilac twilek girl press Gregor to the wall kissing him furiously. When he saw you he held his fist out and you fist bumped it while going in the ladies room.

You cleaned yourself up, put on another coat of lipstick, wiped away the smeared mascara and noticed all the lovely bruises your Commander gave you. Your neck was full of maroon colored lovebites, they were very noticable and very sexy on your skin. Wolffe guaranteed everyone saw he marked his territory.

When you went back he was waiting for you, and when you entered the crowd again he whispered to your ear as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Don't worry mesh'la the night isn't over yet. I have some plans for you after the concert. When I'm done with you my love, you won't even remember your own name."

...

Part 2. is coming soon!

#commander wolffe x reader #fem!reader #reader insert #commander wolffe #commander wolffe smut #star wars #wolffe x reader #biker!wolffe #cc 3636 #nika's first post

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 7 months

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HEY EVERYONE! 🎃

Moodboard made by the incredibly talented @xxindiglow last spooky season🧡🖤

I'm excited to say this year I was able to do a small autumn themed series with Curtis and Honey from Life Is Short So Make It Sweet.

I wasn't able to last year for a few reasons, but I missed doing something special for this time of year. I really hope you all will enjoy these snippets of life for these two. I am aiming to officially start posting next week.

Share if you wanna! Let me know if you're excited because I am. Thanks everyone. 🥰

#life is short so make it sweet #curtis and honey #upcoming series #of shorts #im trying to hype myself up ngl #last autumn spooky series had bombed #and i took it hard #and i was sonmad at myself for feeling that way #look at me rambling in the tags

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midnightswithdearkatytspb · 1 year

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MidnightsWithDearKatyTSPB’s Recommendation List: April PT. 2

Welcome to part 2 of April’s recommendation list, down below you will find the link to part 1. Please send me a moodboard request for your work. I love making them. If you are interested in having your writing challenges featured here, your stories, or even your blog, please feel free to tag me in your works, message me, or use the hashtag MidnightWithDearKatyTSPB. I hope you are having a lovely start to spring or fall, depending on where you live.

<< April Pt. 1 🌷

May Pt. 1 💐 >>

Masterlist 📜

In My Hometown (Moodboard) >> Joel Miller x Reader - "I won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay."

More Than Just An Heiress (One-Shot) >> Dougie Poynter x OFC!Greer Smith - Summary: Greer Smith, the best friend of Dougie Poynter, is turning another year older. She needs reminding that she is more than what she is labeled.

BLURBS/DRABBLES:

Easter Egg Hunt by @look-at-the-soul >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: The Shelby family has an Easter egg hunt for the children, and you have a special one for Tommy. (my summary) | It's so fluffy and sweet. I love it!

March Madness Drabble Challenge 2023 - Peaky Edition: Day 25 by @acewritesfics >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Gif Request - Sneak Preview: “Then you know what to do, Tom,” she reminds him of what they last spoke about. | This needs to be shared again because, sometimes, Thomas Shelby needs to be told.

Takes One to Know One by @zablife >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: You are Lady Sarah of Connemara. At least that’s what you want everyone to believe. | You know the gif where the girl flings the newspaper and dances? That's me. Love it.

Tommy Shelby + Secret - Mood Board by @acewritesfics >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Tommy Shelby has a secret he's been keeping close to his chest. (my summary) | Tommy Shelby is never late to anything, and I absolutely adore this moodboard and drabble.

ONE-SHOTS:

Home by @shelbyssins >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Request - Sneak Preview: Her eyes widened as he started to speak to her again, she couldn’t focus on his voice over the sound of her blood rushing in her ears, “If you tell me to leave you alone, I will,” is all she heard him say. | Prepare to have your heart broken and put back together within less than 8 thousand words.

Loud Sounds by @runnning-outof-time >> Tommy Shelby x Reader ft. Daughter!Thea - Summary: Gif Request - Sneak Preview: “Mumma’s not going to be happy that you got your shoes and pants wet,” she pointed out in a warning tone, making Tommy realized that the lower half of his legs were now submerged in the pond. | K writes what I feel would have happened in an episode had Tommy had a PTSD episode while being a wonderful father to his daughter Thea.

Pen Pals by @little-diable & @zablife >> Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader - Summary: Tommy and the reader have been pen pals as teenagers, though ripped apart by the war. Now, as she is trapped in an abusive marriage, she finds Tommy's old letters again, and she can't help but wonder if he had made it home from war, and if so, could he be the helping hand she's desperate for? | I thoroughly enjoyed reading. I just about melted right where I sat.

Ruined by @areyenotfondofmelobster >> Arthur Shelby x Reader - Summary: Arthur wants to love you, your scars, and all you are. (my summary) | The is beautifully written, and as someone who has scars and is self-conscious, I would love to have Arthur love me like this.

This Storm Will Also Pass by @runnning-outof-time >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Tommy manages to calm down (Y/N) after he finds her hiding and riddled with anxiety during a late autumn thunderstorm. | K knows how to write a piece that could have occurred on the show. I'm not sure which is my favorite part, the ending or when he comes home to her.

SERIES:

A Different Sort of Man | Chapter 7 | Epilogue | by @evita-shelby >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Eva Shelby - Summary: Or where Eva plays around with magic and Tommy wakes up in a universe where Grace is his wife while that universe's Tommy discovers just how different his life would have been if he pursued the pretty witch in 71 Watery Lane | What a perfect way to end the series with both Tommy and Thomas getting a happy ending, which they deserve. Very much enjoyed this series, and I think you will enjoy this read.

Family Ties | Chapter 17 by @peakyscillian >> Modern!Tommy Shelby x f!reader - Summary: The Shelby’s will do anything for family. | Such a beautiful way to end the series.

ONE-SHOTS:

soft morning sex with Frank? by @amhrosina >> Frank Castle x Reader - Reader sleeps in and wakes to Frank, and what follows is a pleasant morning together of soft morning sex. (my summary) | Love a sappy love-drunk Frank.

TED LASSO:

Begin Again Ch. 3 | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 by @teds-mustache-wrangler >> Ted Lasso x OFC!Penny Fletcher - Summary: When Penny starts working at AFC Richmond as their new head photographer, she catches the eye of a certain mustached, happy-go-lucky, head coach of the team. But can their spark endure through the season’s pressures and the demons of their past? | I feel so lucky to get to read this story before everyone else does. Because I get to be so excited for you guys. Wren does such an amazing job forming relationships with her characters. You just can't help but to want more.

PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS:

DRABBLES:

Booby Trap by @zablife >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: Gif Request - Sneak Preview: "This is more than I bargained for," he said with a shake of his head. | I requested this from Lee, and she had me all smiles by the middle of it. It's a must-read Joel drabble that you don't want to miss.

ONE-SHOTS:

Breaking The Girl by @cinematicgf >> dom!Joel Miller x sub f!reader - Summary: as a casual photographer, you find the opportunity to go with your neglectful boyfriend to his hometown for the summer thrilling. Taking photos of his neighbors and friends whilst not blowing money on a huge vacation sounds perfect. A small job with his mum, neighborhood summer get-togethers, and weekend beach trips accompanied by your trusty camera, why not?! But when a certain charming Southern man, known as your boyfriend’s old boss, enters the mix, you can't take your lens off the fine older man, and he can't seem to take it off you either. | This piece was so scorching and enjoyable.

Editorial by @just-some-random-blogger >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: "Can I read your diary?" "No." "Please." "I said no." "Pretty please?" "Ellie." "P l e a s e?" "No." | You got your angst and fluff. It's too adorable for words.

Just Keep Breathing by @swiftispunk >> Javier Peña x f!reader - Summary: Javi finds it harder and harder to keep up with the more physical aspects of his job. Reader offers him some love and words of comfort. | It's so soft and fluffy. 🥹🥹

Let Me by @swiftispunk >> Javier Peña x f!reader - Summary: Reader is inexperienced, Javi helps you out. You know, like a gentleman. | Someone, please cool me down, stat.

Rare by @swiftispunk >> Joel Miller x f!reader - Summary: A rare find on a supply run leads to some new and unlikely experiences. | You guys are in for a treat with this one. It's all porn. I consider this Dom!Joel, and it's perfect. *chefs kiss*

Soaked by @joelscruff >> Javier Peña x f!reader - Summary: It's hard being an intern for a man who won't even look at you, but maybe there's something else to it that you don't see. | If people don't get soaked reading this, I don't even know.

Ultraviolence by @devilmademewriteit >> raider!joel miller x fem!afab!reader | Summary: Thank god—a handsome stranger saves you from the grips of a pack of cruel, cruel men. Unfortunately, said stranger, Joel Miller, is cut from the exact same cloth as the rest of them. | Sometimes you need some dark!Joel with filth in it, and this was it.

What I Need by @swiftispunk >> Joel Miller x fem!reader - Summary: Reader has a bad day. Joel gives you what you need. you know, uh, fuck it, Joel Miller knife play. | It's hot 🥵 and it's dirty. I love it! 🥰

SERIES:

Apothecary | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | by @atinylittlepain >> Joel Miller x witchy!reader - Summary: Joel becomes curious about the woman running the medicine shop in Jackson and the strange rumors swirling around her. | I'm so excited to see where this goes. Witchy + Joel? Yes, please!

Fallacy: Reject Me, I Get It by @cherry-clafoutis >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: You're young, sick, and vulnerable after getting rid of your family with your own hands. Trying to survive in a broken world. When Joel Miller finds you, you swear he is your guardian angel. Falling in love with him was wrong but inevitable. | This series has everything you need in a reader insert for The Last of Us. Adventure, Action, Angst, Love, and Family. It’s just perfect. It was my binge of the day, and I’m glad that I did.

*In My Hometown | pt. i | pt. ii | @swiftispunk >> neighbour!dbf!Joel Miller x fem!afab!reader (+ platonic!Tommy and platonic!Sarah) - Summary: Tomorrow, you leave town for good. tonight, you cross the line with your neighbour, Joel. | This ripped my heart out, but like in a good way? It's the writing okay and the playlist that goes with it. Just oomph. It's a must-read.

Need To Know That I Want You by @joelscruff >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: Joel calls you his good girl for the first time. (Takes place after this) | This series continues to get hotter and hotter.

Night Walks by @toxicanonymity >> dark!creepy!Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: Joel, an older neighbor you've been walking with late at night, asks you into his basement to sell him weed but has other intentions. | Sometimes you just want some dark and creepy Joel, and @toxicanonymity does not let their readers down.

*September by @wheresarizona >> Joel Miller x f!reader - Summary: Joel Miller was the love of your life, your plans to spend the rest of your days with him derailed by the world ending. You got separated on the day of the Outbreak and never saw him again, not knowing if he survived until you find out the smuggler Marlene hired to bring an immune girl to your research hospital is none other than the man you thought you'd lost forever. | You will go through every possible emotion while reading this series. It's still in progress, and I love it so much.

TRIPLE FRONTIER:

BLURBS/DRABBLES:

A Better Person by @musings-of-a-rose >> Santiago Garcia x f!reader - Summary/Request: "You made me a better person." | The hopeless romantic in me was squealing. You're going to love it.

ONE-SHOTS:

Champagne Fulled Confessions by @violentdelightsandviolentends >> Will "Ironhead" Miller x Female Reader - Summary/Request: I have something to tell you and coming home drunk scenario. | I can never get enough of Will, but add Porn and I'm in heaven.

Save Tonight by @psychedelic-ink >> Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Frankie Morales - Summary: Frankie has a proposal for you that you're eager to accept. | This is very hot. 😅🔥🥵

MOODBOARDS:

Arthur's Angel, Everybody Eleses White Devil by @call-sign-shark

Arthur Shelby Modern AU by @call-sign-shark

John Shelby and Dangerous by @cillmequick

Tommy Shelby and Angel by @cillmequick

Tommy Shelby and Serene by @cillmequick

@swiftispunk - Hannah is a great writer getting you sucked into her various Javier Peña and Joel Miller works that she has written. Her current Joel Miller story, In My Hometown, comes with a playlist that helps you feel every bit of emotion she tries to relay through her writing, from the heartbreak to the angst. I highly suggest giving her masterlist a read-through and turning on her notifications.

@wheresarizona - Arizona writes for various Pedro Pascal characters, and through her works, she takes you to far-off destinations you never thought imaginable. I feel various emotions that keep me returning for more of her writing. When in need of a break from this reality, Arizona provides you one through her masterlist with various stories and one-shots. I suggest reading September, a Joel Miller series that is still ongoing, and Learned Something New, a Jack Daniels blurb that got me into Agent Whiskey. Whether in need of something long or short, Arizona has you covered.

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sinkingnotsoslowly · 1 year

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yuan fen

Pairing: (f) Reader x Seungmin

Non idol au, slight soulmate au

Warnings: fire, death, one or two curses, little angst

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK. REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED

moodboard I || moodboard II

masterlist

Autumn's sighs- little soft thoughts about our favourite boys

(n.) a relationship by fate or destiny; the binding force between two people

It was a very faint memory. So faint that one might think of it as a dream. But Seungmin knew it was a memory indeed. A grand palace, a huge pond in seclusion of the tall trees, and a girl- no a lady. A lady so beautiful Seungmin was tempted to believe she was a dream.

Seungmin had one word to describe his life, lifeless. Every day he woke up tired, had whatever was in the fridge and went to work. By the time he came home, he looked like a zombie. He was just trying to survive. The only thing he looked forward to was sleeping. He knew he would see her once he fell asleep. Eyes looking at him with pure love and a smile so dazzling it blinded him. But he could never recall the face of this lady after he woke up no matter how hard he thought about it. Seungmin could only wish to meet her in this life.

It was very odd how he just knew it was a memory of a previous life. Well, he was very confused when the dreams started three months ago, but something about it just felt right. For once he felt like he was in the right place, right where he belonged. He never thought of believing things about fate, soulmates and whatnot. But if his soulmate did exist, he knew it was the lady of his dreams.

It was mostly different dreams. Sometimes the lady was not there at all. But it was always the same setting. It was some time in ancient Korea. He often found himself by the pond, writing something that he couldn’t make out. Sometimes he was in a luxurious room, accompanied by a few maids, giggling as they watched him blush at something they said. Even though the visions were not clear, he felt every single emotion. A sense of admiration towards someone possibly his father whom Seungmin had seen in his dreams once or twice. The joy of friendship when he laughed along with the maids and pages. And immeasurable love when looking at that lady who smiled so sweetly at him. Seungmin wondered how anyone could hold such sweetness in their eyes. He would forever be grateful to ever have been on the receiving end. He always woke up feeling nostalgic and mournful as if he had lost everything he held dear.

❀ . * . *

“How has my Minnie been today?” a very loud voice of the Han Jisung came in ruining Seungmin’s attempt at focusing on his novel. He sighed, “If my father were to hear you talk in that manner, you’d sure be thrown out of here”. It was very daring of Han Jisung the page to talk to Seungmin so informally. His father had brought in Han when he was about fifteen. A good company for home-schooled Seungmin was what he said. And some company he was. After the initial shyness, Han got very comfortable with Seungmin. He learned all he had to do from the older pages. And when he had nothing but time on his hands, he accompanied Seungmin. And he would swear that not a minute went by when Han was not talking his ears off. But Han was the only one he knew of his age and so he found a friend in him. At least that was what Seungmin would say. But it was Han’s qualities that impressed him. Hard-working, kind, very friendly and a very good listener which was surprising to Seungmin since he only saw him talk. These qualities of his were revealed as the years went by and before he knew Han had built a comfortable place for himself in Seungmin’s heart. You would never catch him saying this but everyone in the palace knew how fond Seungmin was of him.

Ignoring Seungmin’s chastising, Han sprawled across from him with a mischievous look on his face, “So, you have been certainly busy milord”. Seungmin did not have to look up from his book to know that he was being mocked, “You know the last thing I am is busy these days my dear Hannie”.

“I beg to differ for I know that a certain lady friend has been keeping you busy”, he grinned as if he had finally managed to outwit Seungmin. Of course, it was about the ‘lady friend’, Seungmin was waiting for him to bring her up. He knew Han has been spying on him for a few days now. The ‘lady friend’ in question was the esteemed daughter of a noble from the inner circle of the King. Seungmin’s father being part of the council had introduced them to each other with eventual marriage in mind. It was obvious that the attraction was mutual so they kept meeting each other by this beautiful pond she knew of. Seungmin was sure that both of their fathers had gotten wind of this. It was only a matter of time before he had to ask for her hand in marriage.

❀ . * . *

“Guess who got tickets to Garage Junk’s concert?” a sing-song whisper brought back Seungmin from his daydreams. Jeongin, his colleague was leaning all the way over to his desk with a childlike smile on his face. How he managed to be so cheerful in the zombie corporation would forever be a mystery. “Oh I don’t know Yang let me guess, you?” Seungmin humoured. “Oh my god how’d you know are you a mind-reader?” a look from Seungmin shut him up. “You’re no fun. Anyways, so I’ve got two passes from this bet that I won and the passes allow two people each so I wanted to invite you-” “No”

Jeongin pouted, “What, why? I promise you’ll have fun”

“It’s not my thing Jeongin ask someone else”

“Why are you being so mean to the hubae, I’ll snitch on you about that coffee spill to Lee Know hyung if you don’t come with me”

“What coffee spill?” and there’s the devil himself, Lee Know, the team leader who has been making Seungmin’s life a living hell since he transferred here four months ago. He seemed to have a personal vendetta against him for some reason because all Seungmin has been doing for the past few weeks was staying overtime. And it was all Lee Know’s fault. But no one would believe it because apparently “Lee know is an angel in disguise he could never do that”, angel his ass. All those fuck ups and Seungmin had to be the one to clean up all the mess. Lee Know lost his oh-so-important work diary, “Seungmin can you please help me find it?”, his assistant fucked up some calls with clients, “Seungmin help”, Yang Jeongin the newbie needs to be shown around, “Seungmin show him the ropes around here”.

“Maybe he just trusts you more than anyone else”, Jeongin suggested one day after Seungmin’s weekly rambling sessions about Lee Know being an ass. Seungmin was quick to shut down that idea. He did ask Jeongin why he was so fond of him though, “He just reminds me of my hyung back home. And he is so inclusive, he even told me I can call him hyung, youngest privileges I guess”.

“It’s nothing sir, I was just telling Jeongin about how I really want to go to this concert with him”

“Ah, the one you were talking about Jeongin? And I think I’ve been telling you this since I came here Seungmin be casual with me, please. It already feels like a funeral in here the least we could do is be comfortable with each other”, Lee Know said while giving Seungmin’s back a pat.

It seemed like Seungmin had to go to this concert, now that he had lied about it. Maybe for once, he would have a good time.

❀ . * . *

“What are you writing about?” Seungmin looked up from the littering pages to find the owner of the honey voice. “About two lovers finding each other in every universe”, he said looking at her with awe as if he were seeing her for the first time.

“Why do you always look at me like that?”, she let out a shy giggle.

“Because you are art, and art needs to be awed at”.

It was always like this between them. Seungmin, the charmer who never lets an opportunity go to waste. Not that the lady needed to be charmed anymore but he couldn’t help it. She always looked so sweet when he made her blush.

It was after a lot of asking for permission and making arrangements was she allowed to visit him at his palace. They weren’t to be left alone before the marriage, of course, so Han Jisung was diligently sitting in a corner with a Cheshire grin. It was laughable how the elders were pretending to not know that the two lovers were sneaking out to be alone with each other. If the marriage was not arranged by them, then by now chaos would have ensued because of ‘illicit meetings’. Even though this meeting arrangement was almost a formal declaration of engagement, Seungmin did not bother to arrange his space. He was at a very crucial point in his novel, the lovers were on the brink of coming together in this universe which would conclude the end of the novel, and cleaning all the loose pages now meant losing track of everything, so he let it be. He was sure she would not mind a little bit of clutter. After all, she knew how much passion he was putting into this story.

❀ . * . *

The concert hall was five stops away from Seungmin’s place which made him debate about going even when he was putting his shoes on. At this point, the only thing that made him go was that he did not want to deal with an uncooperative Jeongin on Monday. Not to his surprise, Lee Know was waiting by the entrance with Jeongin and some other guy. Obviously, Jeongin had given the other pass to the team leader. He might as well get himself adopted by Lee Know. But Seungmin understood that Jeongin was very pure-hearted. He had a way of bringing people closer. He was young with a different and fresh outlook on society and never let anyone change his optimistic way of perceiving things. Even if it was annoying to Seungmin, he hoped that Jeongin would remain like this forever.

“Hyung you’re finally here, we have been waiting for you for so long”, Jeongin whined as he saw Seungmin approaching.

“What are you talking about I’m not late you guys are just early. Concert starts at 6 and it’s just 5:20 now”, Seungmin said as he checked his phone to look at the time.

“Okay okay, Seungmin meet Felix, my brother. Felix this is Seungmin from work”, Lee Know introduced the other guy who has been silently snickering at their exchange. Seungmin gave him a nod to which Felix smiled so brightly that Seungmin was blinded.

The concert hall was jam-packed and Seungmin felt suffocated. Was it really going to be worth it? And they were seated so far away that they could barely see the stage. He thought that the crowd was loud enough but he was clearly wrong. Nothing could have prepared him for the outburst of energy in the hall when the band members came on stage. They must be some good musicians for this hype, Seungmin thought. He looked to his side to see Jeongin looking at the stage with fascination. He wasn’t sure what Jeongin was staring at because they couldn’t even make out the faces of the performers properly from this far. Some cheap passes they were.

Not even halfway through the concert, Seungmin understood why there was so much hype. Garage Junk was phenomenal. Their music resonated with his soul. All of them were amazing performers. But by the end of the concert, everyone there knew that it was the guitarist’s day. He took it away with his solo and his energy. And Seungmin could say that after a very long time, he had fun. He was still having an adrenaline rush when Jeongin said that there would be a high-five event after. Seungmin surprised himself by accepting to stay. The ones staying for the event were made to walk in a line and pass by the band members who were standing behind a barricade with outstretched hands and big smiles. They too were still running on adrenaline, excited to interact with the fans. Seungmin thought it was silly, he was not even a fan yet. He only listened to their music for the first time today. But he had no way out anymore so he went along with Jeongin and Felix. Lee Know had left first thing saying he had no interest in this. He would be waiting for his brother outside the hall.

The event itself was not very time taking for an individual. They just ran along and high-fived all the members and they were done. So it did not take long before it was Seungmin’s turn. Well if anything he would at least be able to see the faces of the members clearly. He guessed it went in this order- vocalist, guitarist, bassist, pianist and then he stopped. Seungmin couldn’t move as he stared at the pianist. His hand was still touching hers. Her face mirrored Seungmin’s in surprise. And the world seemed to stop as they stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. And then she said something, so softly that Seungmin wasn’t sure if he heard her right. “I found you”.

❀ . * . *

No one had predicted an attack at such a time when the state was finally at peace. But when did anyone ever expect misfortune. It was not people from outside the borders, but conspirators from within the state. They targeted the houses of the council members. It might be with inside help that they could enter past the guards. They did not have to get far inside to set everything on fire. And they did not stop with the houses of the council members, they set fire to the houses of the people who supported the king which was majority. Within minutes almost the whole capital was burning down.

Seungmin’s father was unfortunately a member of the council. Times like these were when he wished he was not involved in anything, times when his family was put in danger. Seungmin and his lover were deep in the inner chambers. Han had gone to fetch two glasses of water for them and he was yet to come back when the fire started. Seungmin was thankful that at least he was out of there, possibly out of danger. He was stupid enough to come to look for them but the guards would stop him he knew.

It was a terrible sight, as far as one could see everything was on fire. Seungmin was trying to navigate them out through the fire and fumes. But no matter which direction they went every way was blocked. Left. Right. Through the kitchen. Across the garden. All along grasping her hand tightly. Seungmin was frantically looking for a way, he would save her, he had to. He couldn’t think clearly, his lungs were burning from smoke. He looked back when he felt her stop. “What is it? Why did you stop?”, he looked at her concerningly. She had a resigned look on her face, “It’s pointless, my love”.

“What? What are you talking-” “You know I’m right Seungmin. We’ve been going around in circles. There’s no way out left”.

Seungmin knew, the thought had come to the back of his head when they had tried going around the baths for the second time. But he was so desperate that he couldn’t accept it. The only thing going through his mind was getting her to safety.

“Give up my love”, she stepped closer and cradled his face in her hands.

“N-no it cannot be. There has to be a way-”, she kissed him. Soft lips enveloped his in an embrace while the fire drew closer. Seungmin’s delirious brain calmed down at her touch. At least they were together, he thought. “At least we die together”, she gave a teary smile. He did not want to know if the tears were from emotions or from the smoke. Seungmin brought her in his arms in a tight hold for the last time in this life, “I will find you, my love, I will always come for you”. The heat was increasing into searing pain. But she was smiling nonetheless, “I will wait for you”.

❀ . * . *

“I found you”

The world started moving again. Securities came barging to rush Seungmin along. But he wasn’t looking anywhere, he was entranced by her. He did not notice any of the pushing or the firm instructions to move along. He only snapped out of it when she jumped over the barricade to stop him from being dragged away. “No, no stop please I know him, let him go”, Seungmin heard the panic in her voice. He caught a glance of Felix and Jeongin at the side, confusion latched on their faces.

It was all so hazy. Even though Seungmin saw everything that was happening around him, he could not seem to comprehend anything. It was almost like an out-of-body experience. He was just watching everything happen to his physical form. He could only register that he was being dragged away somewhere by the pianist, her hand strongly grasping his as if he would fade away if she didn’t. Away from all the shocked and confused stares she brought him to the changing room, still holding his hand tightly. They stood there looking at each other longingly. No words were exchanged for a minute, just relishing in each other’s presence.

“I’ve been waiting for you, I knew you would come for me”, she spoke up first.

Seungmin stepped closer raising a hand to stroke her face, hesitatingly. He was not sure if she was real, “You are the lady from my dreams” he let out a laugh in disbelief.

He had been looking for her discreetly, everywhere he went. From the moment he stepped out of his house, on the train, scanning everyone’s face on the sidewalk, the convenience store he went to, everywhere, always, he had been keeping a lookout for her. But for some reason, he was not looking for her at this concert, so ironic. Seungmin felt his phone vibrate, Jeongin was probably bombing it with messages. He had half a heart to let him know that he was fine. But his eyes were fixed on her, unable to do anything else.

“I remembered nothing but those words, that you will find me, I-” a sob escaped her, “I’m so happy that you found me. I don’t even remember your name. I’m sorry I- do you remember anything?”

“Yeah, little things. I’m Seungmin, but you used to call me my love”.

“Seungmin”, she tried out saying it, it felt familiar. “My love”, she said looking directly into his eyes with adoration. A rush of emotions hit them both at that, bringing out fresh tears. But both of them were smiling now. It had been exhausting, living without each other. Now they were finally home.

“You found me, my love”, she wrapped her arms around him.

Seungmin brought her head to his chest, smiling in her hair,

“I found you”.

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