#ADCU fanfiction

[strangunddurm]

Devout

Pairing: Flip Zimmerman x fem!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, fingering, masturbation, swearing, dirty talk, possessive, toxic behaviour

A/N: Started thinking about writing again and found this one hiding in my notes. Hope you enjoy! I've been thinking about wanting to start writing a lot again. My love for Flip is still there (I am forever devout) but I also have this desire to branch out so if anyone is still interested in my writing and have a character they want to read about, please let me know, I am literally interested in anyone and everyone at the moment.

It was common knowledge that Flip Zimmerman was utterly and completely infatuated with you. You were it for him. The one he would marry, build a house for, have kids with. You would be his end, but you were not his beginning.

It was also common knowledge that Flip Zimmerman was on an apparent path to sleep with everyone he could that wasn’t you. Fuck, finger, and fondle like he wasn’t an officer of the law and he wasn’t in a very public bar at that very moment. You could see his hand run along her leg, caressing it with the pads of his fingers before it disappeared beneath the fabric of her skirt.

She threw her head back, laughing like nobody was watching, but, of course, you were. Your eyes were always lingering on his figure, just as his were yours. He watched you as he traced the lace of her panties, as he dipped them under the fabric; he watched you as he guided her lips to his; he watched you as he shattered your heart, always knowing that the comfort of your arms would always be there to sooth him in the end.

You often found yourself wondering: why? Why weren’t you enough for him at this point? Flip had this ability where he could string you along enough so that you, yourself, would feel guilty thinking of another man. Your possible unwillingness weren’t the reason for Flip’s hesitancy to commit, it was his. The unwilling fool in love with the same person he had always loved. Or perhaps you were the fool? Two fools in love that could never let the other one go. Never let the other bask in the happiness that was freedom.

Your friends often wondered why you subjected yourself to the torture of witnessing his lips upon another’s. You didn’t know how to explain to them that you only existed because of him. However demeaning and desperate it sounded, it was true. Whilst others existed for bettering the world or something other, you were made just to be his.

You thought for a while that you could live without him. That you could break free from his hold and flee from the place where everything reminded you of him but it was impossible. It didn’t make sense, how a man could possess you so entirely with just a whisper of attention. You thought it to be your own fault; a bleeding consequence of hope that wrecked your heart beyond anyone else’s repair. All you could do was wait for him. For you would forever be missing him otherwise, regretting not taking the possibility of even the tiniest something. Of a laugh, of a smile, of a glance.

So, you found yourself there, putting on a front of indifference as you tried not to watch every stupid move Flip made in the arms of another. She was smug. It was so obvious from the way her eyes would flicker over to you every now and then as his lips caressed her shoulder or her neck.

She knew of Flip’s fondness for you, having seen the way he had given you a sliver of attention by the bar, letting his hand ghost over your hip in a touch that was anything but accidental before she had successfully lured him away from you and into her arms.

You were zoned out, barely hearing your friends’ voices as you stared hard at them. Your lip was near bloody from your nervous chewing as you, almost ritualistically, dragged your teeth over it again and again.

“How long are you going to keep doing this to yourself?” The words were spoken in your ear, your best friends arm coming to wrap around you, pulling you into her embrace.

“I…” She didn’t allow you to continue on the miserable spiel that she had heard so many times before.

“I don’t want to hear it. Not again. You need to realise that you’re worth more than whatever the hell this whole thing is,” She pleaded, pressing a kiss against your temple. “You have to stop doing this to yourself.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you sounded so fragile at that moment. Your voice wavered at the end, fading out as everything you felt became almost too much.

“Yes, you can. You just need to realise that you don’t owe him anything. Sitting here completely miserable isn’t going to make him change or do anything different.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve been here with you! Every night we go out to have fun, he comes along and ruins it.”

“No, he doesn’t.” You turned to look at her as you forced the words out harshly. But the look in her eyes made the feigned anger falter.

“I love you. You deserve more. Try to enjoy your life before you realise it’s too late,” She said, squeezing your shoulder.

Did you really deserve more? You had been caught up in the web of Flip for so long that you truly did believe that staying completely devoted to him was the only way forward. You knew he would eventually tire and stop indulging himself in others. It was an unconventional relationship, unfavourable to you in every sense.

But who was to say that you weren’t allowed to enjoy others? Just the way he were? An innocent tryst with another that would scratch that itch not even your fingers could ease late at night.

You let your eyes trail over the inhabitants of the local watering hole. There were the usuals there, sitting at the bar, nursing their beers. A group of frat boys were in the corner, cheering over shots. It wasn’t until a pair of dark brown eyes met your own that your interested was piqued.

You probably wouldn’t have dared made a move if he hadn’t come sauntering over. He didn’t walk like Flip. Flip’s walk was self-assured, dominating in a subtle way that permeated the air around him. This guy walked in a cocky way, shoulders swaying with every step as he though himself holier than thou. It was off-putting, but you thought you owed it to yourself to at least try.

“Saw you watching me over there.” His attempt at flirting was just as cocky as his walk.

“Oh…” The laugh you let out was awkward as you fumble for a reply. “Do you come here often?”

“First time actually, I’m here visiting my brother.” He motioned toward some guy in the back that you couldn’t see.

“That’s nice,” You said awkwardly.

He introduced himself as he took perch on the barstool next to you, shaking your hand weakly.

“So, what do you do for fun around here?” He asked, motioning for the bartender to refill both of your glasses at the same time.

“Ehm… Come here, I guess.” You waved your hand in the air, uncommittedly. Anxiety was flooding your nerves, practically inhibiting your ability to speak. You let your eyes trail over the room again quickly. Flip was still hands-deep in that woman’s skirt, your friends had slipped off somewhere else, getting lost in others.

The man, Chris, held a one-sided conversation without seeming to notice your less than keen interest. The thought of letting go and trying to flirt with somebody else was always easier in theory rather than practice.

It wasn’t his fault, if you were somebody else you might’ve enjoyed it. But all you could think about was the way his eyes were too dark, his hair too light, and his voice to high to remind you of Flip.

“Listen,” He placed his hand on your thigh. High up, bold, wanting. “I really like you, what do you say about getting out of here?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond before a chest pressed against your back.

“She’s not going anywhere with you.”

You felt faint hearing Flip’s voice rumble through his chest as he pulled himself closer to you. His hand wrapped around Chris’s wrist, forcing it away from your leg.

“Hey, man, we were having a conversation here.” Chris was foolish. It wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t from here, after all. He didn’t know the perfectly concealed rage that could simmer under Flip’s skin when he felt like he was being disrespected. He didn’t know that you were an object of possession that had already been claimed.

“I’m going to offer you a piece of advice.”

“Flip, don’t-” Interjecting was pointless. Flip did whatever Flip wanted.

“You should take your drink, go back to whatever lowly corner you came from, and stay there. Get it through your thick skull that you’re not wanted here.” Flip roughly pushed the glas of beer Chris had been nursing on the bar, it’s content sloshing over the sides as it almost toppled over.

The silence that followed hung in the air, permeating it, polluting it. It didn’t take long for Chris to visibly crumble under Flip’s stare but it was almost as if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. He didn’t want to give in to the menacing man that had appeared out of nowhere. Reasonable, perhaps, but entirely futile. Flip would always get what he wanted in the end, no matter what.

Chris left without a word, sparing you a pitiful glance before he was gone and all that was Flip took over your senses as he rounded you, coming to a stop so you were chest to chest.

You refused to look at him, staring straight ahead, focusing on the way his chest would calmly breath in and out as he waited.

“Look at me,” His voice was low, steady. You wanted to, of course, but you were stubborn. Just when you were putting yourself first, there he was again. A forever keg in your wheels, keeping you in the same place, wallowing in your loneliness as you waited for him.

His fingers were soft against your chin as he urged it upwards, making you look at him.

He was smiling. Not a full on grin, but that sweet, cheeky little smile that held so much mirth that you wanted to hit him. It’s like he’d been waiting for this, waiting for you to act out and finally do something for yourself. As if it was all but a game to him. A game that cost you your heart and in which he won your devotion without barely having to make a move.

“Wipe that smile of your face,” you hissed out. “What could you possible have to smile about?”

“You.”

“Oh, yeah, because it is so funny ruining my fucking life.”

“Ruining it?”

“Yeah, ruining it.”

“You should’ve just said something if you felt that way.” You almost laughed at that. It wasn’t like you hadn’t said something. It felt like all you did was talk, and all he did was not care.

“Cut me a fucking break, Flip. Don’t act like you don’t know what you’ve been doing to me. This- this game you’ve been playing, toying with my heart. One minute it feels like you might actually want me but then the next you go and fucksomebody else and I’m just suppose to pretend that it’s all fine?”

“It’s not?” He said, playfully.

“Fuck you.”

“Stop swearing, and keep your voice down.”

“What? So that your whore won’t hear us?”

“She means nothing,” He said

“So why do you keep doing this? Why keep stringing me along?” You were defeated. Your relationship with Flip was strange. Peculiar. Unexplainable in certain aspects as you yourself did not entirely know exactly what you two were.

You looked up at him, tears brimming in your eyes as all the hurt you had felt over the past however-long caught up to you. He was looking down at you, as if in wonder. Was it possible that Flip Zimmerman was naive to the way he had treated you? To the way he had made you suffer? Had you been imagining it all in your head?

He didn’t look sorry, he didn’t sound sorry, but when the apology tumbled out of his mouth, you accepted it. Perhaps it was you who were naive but you wanted a moment of happiness with him. Even if it was a moment entirely clouded by delusion.

You nodded your head, a small movement of acceptance that made Flip light up.

Flip would always shine brighter than any star you had ever seen. He took your breath away and filled you with a rush of serotonin every time you gazed into his eyes for even a brief second. His eyes were like molten gold, blinding you as they tinkled. Devotion to him and only him was inevitable.

“Will you come home with me?” The answer was obvious. The question had been what you had waited for. Taking his hand and slipping out through the door before any of your friends still caught in reason could stop you.

His hand dipped between your legs, fingers mapping out a path to your most sacred place the second he pushed you through the door of his home.

"Look at you, already so wet for me." Flip chuckled darkly. He knew you couldn't resist him. Your need for him was as deep as his need was for you. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for?”

His lips met yours in a searing kiss that took your breath away. His tongue caressed yours as teeth clashed. This is what you had yearned for, his lips against yours in a way that promised no other.

His fingers toyed with your panties, teasing you. He knew how desperate you were for anything he would give you.

He took his time, teasing your more and more before he finally was gracious enough to slide a finger inside of you. Just a single finger to test you. You walls clamped down around him tightly, gripping him, coaxing him to give you more. He pumped it in and out of you slowly, so slowly that you thought you might lose your mind if he didn't give you something more, and you voiced so much.

"Please, Flip." What you needed was clear. But that didn’t mean Flip would be so easy to give in.

"You’ll get more, sweetheart. Don’t you worry.” He said sweetly before withdrawing from you completely.

"Flip-"

"You're so impatient." He chided you, tutting teasingly with a lazy smile on his lips. “Go to the bedroom.” He commanded whilst motioning his head in its direction. You were quick to obey, of course, feet moving swiftly as you stumbled your way on shaky legs through the halls and onto his bed.

You flipped onto it in excitement, eager for his touch once again.

“Is this what you wanted? To be one of my whores?” He asked as he undressed slowly, unbuttoning his flannel and letting his jeans fall to the floor before he took a stand by the foot of the bed. He trailed his hands up your legs equally as slow before grabbing a hold of your panties and pulling them off you. You couldn’t get any words out to respond, whining with need.

The evidence of your excitement was clear to him, almost dripping and shining in the low light. A sane man wouldn’t be able to hold back having a women presented so willingly to him with her legs spread wide and the skirt of her dress bunched up around her hip, chest heaving with excitement. And of course, Flip was a sane man, in some sense at least, for he was quick to crawl in between your legs and mouth attached to your clit.

Digging his fingers into your thighs, he hauled one of them onto his shoulder and connected his mouth to your sweet cunt.

The sounds of your breathless moans were intoxicating as he suckled your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the stiff nubb.

Your knees fought against his shoulders as your hand came to cover your mouth, willing any sounds to stay inside of you as you bit down softly as you were overwhelmed by the pleasure rushing through you.

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart.” Flip praised in a panted breath before diving back in.

You fought to keep your eyes open as your hips moved up and down in a desperate attempt to grind your aching clit against his mouth and nose in search for that perfect sensation that would drive you over the edge.

Your hand slid into Flip’s hair, gliding through it before grasping a firm hold of it as a wave after wave of moans finally made their way out of you.

Flip had already made you come once when he slid his fingers into you, continuing his ministrations on your clit with his mouth. His movement were much rougher than what they had been before, thrusting them into you expertely, hitting that sweet spot of yours over and over again.

Your back arched into the air and mouth fell open at the overstimulation. It was exquisite.

“Oh, oh, Flip. I’m gonna cum.” You whined desperately. “Oh, God.”

You clung to his arm in an attempt to hold on to any sort of sanity but it was all for nought. Your legs spasmed as you came with a cry.

Flip tried to hold you down as he never let up despite your half hearted please, flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit again and again and again. He worked you through your orgasm, never relenting as your silent whimpers spured him on. You had such a tight hold on his hair that it made him groan, sending a wave of vibrations through you that caused you to gasp. He only stopped once your whimpers had grown in volume to a steady whine of pleas.

“You’re such a good girl.” Flip praised as he came up, hovering over you. “You gonna let me fuck you, sweetheart?”

“Yes! Please, Flip.”

He tugged at his hard and weeping cock a few times as he admired you. You were breath taking like this, legs parted, eyes hazy from your orgasm, cunt dripping, ready for him.

"You’re gonna look so gorgeous, covered with my cum." Flip's voice was husky as he leaned down and pulled you closer to him by your face before planting a sloppy, wet kiss on your lips as he came to rest between your hips, a single arm keeping him up.

He dragged his thick and cum weeping cock through your folds a few times, thoroughly coating it in your slickness. The anticipation was killing you. His fingers and tongue weren't enough, you wanted more, needed it.

You grabbed a hold of his shoulders, pulling him closer even to you in desperation.

"Please, Flip." You whispered, ready for him.

The sigh the both of you let out when he finally slipped all the way into your cunt was one of relief. You had missed this, had missed him.

Flip didn't give you time to adjust to him before he started pounding into you at a pace that was brutal in nature, just the way he knew you liked it.

“You’re such a dirty fucking whore.” He spat at you and you clenched around him in response. "Look at you, so desperate for my dick you could almost cry." He let his thumb run across your cheek in a moment of softness. Being his whore and whatever he wanted was everything you had ever wanted since the moment you had laid eyes on him.

He was so deep inside of you that you barely knew what to do with yourself. Flip's loud groans were bouncing around the walls of his room, blended in with your own gasps from every thrust into you.

Your walls were clenched so tightly around him, drawing him deeper and deeper inside.

"Fuck" You groaned. "Feels so- fucking good." You shakily breath out.

"This is what you wanted right? My cock so deep within you you’ll feel me for days" He cooed, slowing down just slightly, but each thrust was still as sharp, still as precise, and hard, and calculated.

A wailing yes! left your lips. You were sure you would be able to feel Flip's hands on your hips as you would nurse your hangover tomorrow, and most likely the day after that as well. You would feel him in every step you took. Forever.

"Harder." You pleaded.

He pulled out so just his tip was left in you, waiting there for just a second before slamming back into you again, buried to the hilt. The groan Flip let out sent tingles down your spine and caused you to clench even tighter around him, triggering another moan from him.

"I love it when you do that." He praised, followed by another rut into you.

He continued pumping into yours sweet cunt, drawing moans from you that were filthy. The sound of skin slapping and noises of pleasure mixed together as they bounced on the walls and around the room.

His thrusts had picked up in pace one again, ruthless and reckless as he fucked deeper and deeper into you. You were trembling against him, breath hitching, getting caught in your chest as you almost forgot how to breathe. You could feel your release mounting quickly once again, shockwaves gripping your body and rolling through you with every buck into you.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come,"

"No, you're not." Flip withdrew from you completely, flipping down on the bed beside you. You were drunk on the feeling of him, needy and desperate, ready to take everything he would give to you.

His legs were spread, cock standing on full attention, bobbing against his stomach, it's tip coloured an angry red, ready to be inside of you again.

"Come on then." He pulled you out of the short-lived trance you had been in over the sight of him. You though again of how there was something so ethereal about him, something other than just his looks, something that would always draw you back in and keep you on his hook.

You were quick in your movements, throwing a leg around his hips and hoisting yourself upright, causing him to chuckle over your desperation.

"Eager, are we?" He welcomed you with open arms, hands coming up to rest on your hips once again, as he gazed up at you with a smile on his face.

He helped you pull your wrinkled dress over your head, placing open mouthed kisses on every inch of your skin he could reach. His lips attached themselves to your perked nipple, sucking it into his mouth and releasing it with a pop.

"You're so fucking gorgeous." He sounded as if he was in awe simply over the sight of you.

You sank down swiftly, engulfing him with your tight walls, stopping only when you were at the base, stuffed full of him.

"Oh, fuck, Flip!" The change in angle had you convinced that he was deeper in you than ever before, the tip of him nestling against your cervix.

"You feel so good like this." Flip moaned. He tapped two fingers against the side of your thigh, signalling you to move and you were more than happy to oblige. Your feet were securely rooted on the floor and you placed your hands on the walls to give yourself the leverage and support you needed to begin riding him.

He let you control every movement; let you set the pace as you slid up and down on his throbbing cock. Flip's hands were exploring every inch of you that they could reach, massaging your breasts, caressing your thighs, sliding across your back, and then, finally, they found their way to the apex of your thighs and started firmly circling your clit.

Flip let out a loud grunt every time you slammed yourself down onto him. It was a sound you wanted to hear every day, every waking moment and in every vivid dream.

The steady pace that you had managed to keep was slowly becoming nothing as you felt yourself loosing control over your limbs the closer you climbed to that high you were chasing. The muscles in your stomach were tightening rapidly over the coiling tension and your walls gripped him even tighter.

"Say my name."

"What?" You weren't lucid enough to possibly begin to understand what he meant at that moment.

"Say. My. Name." He repeated, making sure to punctuate every single word with a small thrust upward to meet you as you came down on him.

His name spilled out of your mouth just a few seconds later in the form of a moan.

"Who’s making you feel this good?" You weren't as quick to heed his words this time, the building pressure between your legs taking up all of your attention.

His hands were back on your hips, forcing you up, slipping out of you, and then guiding you dominantly into the position he wanted with your face pressed into the sheets and your ass high up in the ar. He was swift to enter you again, you had barely even had time to complain over the loss of him before he was drilling into you.

"Flip!" You shouted his name as you finally came, tumbling over the edge as stars were painted behind your eyelids. Your legs were shaking, spasming, through the waves, words of gibberish leaving your mouth as he made you babble like a brook. He hadn't even faltered in his movements, continuing to pump into you as he chased his own climax. He was panting loudly in between groans and the sound of skin slapping against each other.

"Who owns this pussy?"

"You." Another sharp thrust into you.

"Who owns this pussy?"

"You, Flip. Oh, god, you, Flip!" Small droplets of tears were leaking from the corner of your eyes as Flip was steadily driving you to cum again as he fucked into you.

You hadn't felt this way before, you didn't even know you could feel this way; the overwhelming stimulation that was rushing through your blood, lighting your nerves on fire, making you want to stay right here, right now, forever.

"That's fucking right." Flip came with a deep jerk into you, pulling out to come all over your back before entering you again to give you a few last thrilling pumps.

You laid there on his bed in a heap, totally out of it as he calmly came to rest beside you. He coaxed you onto your back so that he could plant a sweet kiss on your lips. Uttering words that made your erratic heart pump even faster.

“All mine.”

[mrs-gucci]

Drive-In

{ flip zimmerman x female reader }

anon

Can I please request going to a horror movie drive in with Flip where he hopes the movie will be louder than the noises you both make lol :)

warnings. SMUT (18+ ONLY), high risk sex (car sex around other people), reverse cowgirl, barebacking, creampie.

word count: 525

★ written for sextember 2023 ★

** CLICKING “KEEP READING” MEANS YOU UNDERSTAND & ACKNOWLEDGE ALL OF THE WARNINGS LISTED ABOVE AND ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, YOUR CONTENT CONSUMPTION IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. MINORS DNI. **

collage by me :)

Creepy music plays loudly through the drive-in speakers as the spectators in surrounding cars stare up at the large movie screen, eating their popcorn and drinking their sodas hesitantly, waiting for the impending jump scare.

You and Flip, however, had lost interest in the movie about ten minutes ago. Well, you didn't lose interest, per se. More like you two became much more interested in one another than in the movie.

Lets just say that the gasps and cries from the scared on-screen protagonists aren't the only ones happening at the theater this evening.

Flip grunts as you sink down onto his stiff length repeatedly, hips thrusting up instinctively against you. The truck's windows are starting to really steam up, the air between you two incredibly thick while you ride him.

You're holding tightly onto the grab handle with one hand while the other rests on his hand, the one currently gripping your hip tightly. Your eyes are on the movie and maybe somewhere in your mind you're paying attention to the horrors occurring, but really, it's just pictures on a screen. Your mind is in a whole different place right now.

"S-Shit," you breathe, biting your lip to try and keep the noise down. "Oh god, baby..."

As much as Flip loves this, well, pretty much public sex, he does try to be extra careful since he's law enforcement. He's really hoping the movie's louder than the noises you two are making and the gentle squeaking of his truck's shocks.

He groans softly, cigarette pinched between his teeth, ashes starting to fall off the tip. "Goddamnit, princess...a little faster for me...mhm, that's it..."

You speed up as he requested, resulting in a spike in both your pleasures. Matching noises of pure lust and passion escape from both of your lips.

"Fuck...mm!"

Flip starts thrusting up into you, chasing his rapidly approaching orgasm. The cars around you seem none the wiser and luckily for you two, the windows are not completely steamed over, so all that can really be seen are your silhouettes.

As he fucks you, you take the opportunity to reach down and rub your clit, moaning softly as the pleasure pulses through you. You're close, very close, and getting closer by the second--

"O-Oh fuck," Flip groans as he cums, pushing his cum up into you with rapid thrusts. "Mmm, good girl...shit..."

Feeling him cum is what sends you over the edge, and you continue rubbing yourself through it as the familiar waves of pleasure roll over your body.

Eventually you both come to a stop and Flip pulls out, tucking himself away while you pull your underwear back into place. As soon as you turn around in his lap, Flip has put out his cigarette and pulls you in for a kiss, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close.

A thought come to you and you smile against his lips, chuckling softly. He pulls away, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"What is it?"

Your laughter grows a bit. "I told you this was a good movie."

He laughs, shaking his head and giving your ass a nice firm smack.

"You're cute."

****

sextember taglist: @rynwritesstuff @safarigirlsp @babbushka

if you'd like to be tagged in future sextember works, please let me know via comment on this post or the original sextember post!

[cas-backwards-tie]

ADCU Masterlist

A/N: Just making a separate masterlist for this because I have a fair number of these and also there's a bunch of different characters!

Kylo Ren

Call Me Kylo | Officer!Reader ↠ You're tasked with getting the Commander's signature to finish your assignment. Unfortunately, you can't find the Commander anywhere.

Correspondence ↠ The Supreme Leader has a lot on his plate, leading him to neglect certain things... like himself, for example.

Nothing But A Monster | Vampire! AU ↠ Forced to accept help from a mysterious stranger, you find yourself in a predicament of sorts.

It’s The Small Things ↠ Kylo finds your optimism odd in place of the First Order.

The Meaning Of Care | Officer!Reader ↠ Kylo Ren takes care of you when you're sick? That's something you never would've seen coming.

Clyde Logan

Pinball & Motels ↠ Roadtrips, A present for Clyde, and the one-bed trope? What more could you ask for?

A Day Off ↠ Clyde finally takes a well-deserved day off.

Flip Zimmerman

Frenzied Rendezvous* ↠ Flip finally has his way with you after enduring your teasing all night long.

Pale

Early Mornings ↠ Pale wakes up to find you making breakfast. It's like you plan on staying or something. Wait... do you plan on staying?

Solo Triplets

A Quiet Night ↠ The boys want to take you out on a proper date.

Ben Solo

Fairytale Mess* ↠ Sleeping with Ben Solo doesn't seem like such a bad idea when you're both under the influence.

Paul Sevier

Extraordinary ↠ Paul attempts to go out and have a social nigh. After everything that's happened... things haven't changed him that much, have they?

Daniel Jones

Late Night Confessions ↠ Dan wakes you up with a drunken phone call.

Multi-Character

headcanons

Breakup Headcanons

[jynzandtonic]

YOURE BACK!! omg for the first time in months i have stuff to catch up on 🥹 do you have any active adam driver accounts to follow?? everyone i follow is either inactive or left and i need more content!! <3

I'M BACK!! I've missed writing and simping and connecting with other Adam peeps on here.

ALRIGHT LET'S DO A ROLL CALL! If you're still on here and posting Adam content drop your blog in the comments and we can get a list going!

[juniperwoodwell]

Hello! I am so glad I found your page. I hope you are still taking requests.

I was thinking of one with Adam Sackler and a very level-headed significant other. Adam was always hot-headed and tended to erupt during times of argument or emotional distress. I always wondered what it would be like to have him paired with an emotionally mature girlfriend that only wants the best for him and tries to get him to open up to her and deal with his problems in a healthy manner.

I believe that the scenario can open up an opportunity for angst if during a moment when she's trying to talk him down, he throws something and she accidentally gets hurt.

The prompts that came to mind were 13. "Don't push me away." and 46. "Are we gonna talk or are you just gonna sit there and sulk?"

Thank you!

The Edge of Us

Adam Sackler x F!Reader.

Warnings: Verbal Aggression, Angst, Throwing things (Only one thing), Cursing.

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Hey! Thank you so much for your request, it's such a great idea and I just had to write it!

It's not much but I made sure to add in those prompts! I hope you like it.

The argument was over something entirely stupid. Or at least, that’s how it felt to me. Adam, on the other hand? Well, he was Adam.

He sat on the couch, legs spread wide, arms crossed tightly over his chest like a defiant child. His jaw was set, brows furrowed, the storm brewing behind his eyes as obvious as the tension suffocating the room. I mirrored his posture as I stood in front of him, the coffee table acting as a barrier between us.

"You do know I have a life outside of this apartment, right?" I said, my hands finding my hips as I met his glare head-on.

He scoffed, the sound bitter, his lips twisting in that condescending way that never failed to make my blood boil. "Of course I do, but you’ve been out every night with your friends. You act like you hate me when you get home, then you completely ignore me in the morning before work."

I let out a sharp sigh, rolling my eyes. "That's such an exaggeration, Adam. I’ve gone out twice this week. Twice. And once was with my sister. We even invited you—remember? You said no. I don’t hate you. I have no idea where you’re even getting that from. But every time I come home, you’re on this couch, either glued to a game or watching something mindless. After a while? Yeah, I stopped trying to get your attention."

His posture snapped forward, the muscles in his arms flexing under his crossed grip as he stared me down. "That’s not true. Yesterday? I hugged you the second I walked through the door, and you didn’t even acknowledge me."

My voice dropped, steady but laced with growing frustration. "Yeah? You wanna know why?"

He shrugged, and the silence felt heavier than the words hanging between us.

"Because," I bit out, "two days ago, I asked you to pick up milk and bread—literally two things, Adam. Two. And when I got home, I couldn’t make dinner because you forgot. So I had to go out and do it myself, after working all day. And you? You just sat there like it was nothing."

His face twisted, mouth opening in that silent oh as his gaze dropped to the floor. He looked caught for half a second—before the stubbornness returned.

"Yeah, well, I told you I was gonna be busy that day," he muttered, voice tight, defensive.

"The store is next door, Adam. Not across town. You’re just too caught up in whatever you’re doing to care about this relationship. You do realize I can’t do everything for you, right? I’m not your mom."

That hit the nerve. I saw the shift, the way his body went rigid, the tension snapping like a wire stretched too thin.

Adam shot to his feet, the coffee table between us feeling too small all of a sudden. His brown eyes, usually warm, were sharp—cutting.

"Don’t give me that look," I warned, heart pounding faster than I wanted to admit.

His voice dropped, low and dangerous, his words practically vibrating with suppressed anger.

"You certainly act like my fucking mother, Y/n."

And just like that, the dam broke.

He grabbed something from the coffee table—something fragile. His hand closed around it too tightly, and before I could react, it shattered, the shards scattering as it just barely missed my head.

The sound echoed, sharp and final.

I stared at him, my body tense but my eyes steady, unsurprised.

“Oh, so we’re throwing things now? That's how we get our point across? Real mature, Adam.”

My voice was calm, but I took a step back as he rounded the coffee table, the tension in his movements coiling tighter, heavier.

We stood chest to chest, his face inches from mine. He was taller, broader, glaring down at me with those wild, furious eyes, his breathing ragged like he was barely holding it together. But me? I didn’t flinch. I didn’t cower.

He was a storm trying to swallow the room whole, and I refused to get swept up in it.

“Screw you, Y/n.” The words came out in a low snarl, venom lacing every syllable. His face twisted with something ugly—hurt masked as anger, the kind he didn’t know how to express.

Then, like the child he was acting like, he tore his glare away, shoulder checking me just enough to prove his point before storming down the hall.

The bedroom door slammed hard enough to rattle the walls.

I exhaled, a long, slow breath as the silence pressed back in. My hand dragged over my face, fingertips pressing into my temples in irritation.

So much noise. So much anger.

And yet, nothing had actually been said.

I took a deep breath, rolling my shoulders back as I steadied myself. This had to be solved—now—or we’d just keep spiraling further apart.

The tension still clung to the air, thick and stifling, but I refused to let it settle.

With careful, measured steps, I approached the bedroom door. My knuckles rapped lightly against the wood, the sound hollow in the silence.

"Don't shut me out," I said softly, voice calm but firm as I reached for the handle.

It turned under my grip.

The door eased open with a quiet creak, revealing him hunched over on the edge of the bed. His elbows rested on his knees, his head bowed, hands tangled in his hair.

The anger that had fueled him minutes before seemed to have burned itself out, leaving only this—defeated. Raw.

"Get out," he grumbled, voice muffled and rough, like he was barely holding the cracks together.

I didn't move.

"Are we gonna talk," I asked, keeping my voice steady, "or are you just gonna sit there and sulk?"

His head snapped up.

There it was again—that flash of fire in his eyes, a spark reigniting. "Sulk? Really?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, but it was brittle, the edge dulled by whatever he was holding back.

"Yeah. Sulk." I crossed my arms, standing my ground even as his glare sharpened. "This—" I gestured to him, slouched and brooding, "—is sulking. You're mad? Fine. Be mad. But throwing things? Storming off? That's not solving anything, Adam."

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking beneath his skin as his hands curled into fists.

"You don’t get it—"

"Then explain it to me!" I interrupted, voice rising just enough to cut through his. "Stop shutting me out and tell me what you're so pissed off about!"

Silence.

For a heartbeat, I thought he was going to lash out again. His breathing was harsh, his chest rising and falling as if he was physically holding back the words.

And then, his face crumpled.

His shoulders sagged, head dropping back into his hands, and when he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, cracked.

"You make it so damn easy to feel…invisible."

That stopped me cold.

The anger I'd been clinging to slipped through my fingers, replaced by something heavier.

"Adam…" I softened, taking a hesitant step closer.

But he shook his head, as if rejecting the comfort before I could even offer it.

"I see you going out, smiling, laughing. And I’m just—here. Stuck in my head. And I hate it. I hate feeling like I don’t matter to you anymore."

I felt my chest tighten, his words striking deeper than I expected.

"You do matter to me. But you can't just…explode every time you feel like you're being ignored. You have to talk to me, Adam. Not break things. Not shut me out."

His head lifted, eyes meeting mine. The anger was gone now, leaving only hurt and frustration in its place.

"I'm trying," he whispered.

"So am I," I whispered back.

[inklore]

🗡. KINKTOBER'23

who’s ready to get skanky spooky?!!! i swear i wait in anticipation every year for the sluttiest month to plague the tumblr tags. as we all know your girl has zero self control so here i am again bringing you some filthy feral content during this wonderful month.

minors please dni with the fics below, it is strictly eighteen+ content. i highly rec following @lorelibrary to stay updated.

WEEK ONE.

PARASITIC ( MARC SPECTOR ) ….. the one where marc goes searching in a cave and comes home with something attached to me. a leech who wants to do more than drain him.

⚠︎: succubus, haunting, mind control, somnophilia.

WEEK TWO.

PUNISHER ( JOEL MILLER ) ….. the one where your father owes a debt and joel is not opposed in taking what is owed to him. what is promised to him. and you’re the perfect little consolation prize.

⚠︎: purge au, claiming, praise kink, agegap, deceit.

WEEK THREE.

MY WOMAN ( CARMY BERZATTO + LUCA ) ….. the one where you can’t remember who came first carmy or luca, the lines having blurred the longer you split your time between the two.

⚠︎: threesome, double penetration, deep throating.

WEEK FOUR.

CRAWLING INTO YOU ( FLIP ZIMMERMAN + CLYDE LOGAN + OFFICER PETERSON ) ….. the one where hot pavement and rattle snakes are the least of your worries when driving through the desert turns into a game of survival you’ve already lost.

⚠︎: texas chainsaw au, hunter x prey, breeding, dubcon.

— BONUS DAYS.

tell me where it hurts — love quinn (choking, murder)

concentrate — jake ‘hangman’ seresin (phonesex)

figured you out — joe velasco (forbidden, hair pulling)

asteroid blues — poe dameron (sexpollen)

midnight snack — bruce wayne variants (spitting, cheating)

guilty of love — villanelle (restraints, forced voyeurism)

[brewsterispunkk]

diamonds and stones, part one

pairing: clyde logan x f!reader (no use of y/n)

WC: 9k(!!)

summary: reader returns home & encounters some ghosts from her past.

warnings: 18+! language, mentions of war, amputation.

a/n: it's here!! i hope y'all enjoy this long ass chapter (this is so long its embarrassing LOL). there's some time skipping/flashbacks here so i hope it's not too hard to follow! as always, any feedback is appreciated :)

series masterlist

ONE

The phone had barely rung two times before you answered, thumb punching the accept call button as soon as you glanced at the caller ID. Pulling the phone up to your ear, you looked ahead at the cornfields and the open road in front of you. Your mom’s crackly voice filled your ears.

“Darlin’,” she sighed on the other end. So, she’d gotten your message.You thought to yourself.

Mentally, you kicked yourself for giving her any notice in the first place. You knew she’d try to talk you out of it, like she had successfully done the previous two times you’d tried moving back home.

“You got out, honey.” she’d say. “You got to do what I never did. You went to college, you got your degree, you moved to the city. Don’t throw that away. There ain’t nothin’ for you here.”

You hated that she referred to your hometown like that, the place that raised you: a place to get out of. Sometimes you missed it like you missed a limb.

And after your Gramma’s first stroke it had worked, no matter how guilty you felt for being states away while she recovered. 

It had been a minor stroke, the summer before your junior year of college. Not fatal, or with too many lasting health complications, but it had been enough to scare you. It had been enough to scare you into almost dropping out of college and moving home, but your mother and grandmother had insisted that you go back after she’d begun the road to recovery. 

Of course, that wasn’t the only reason you decided to go back, a small voice in the back of your head whispered.

 Two dark brown eyes danced in your mind's eye; freckles scattered sparsely across tan cheeks, a rumble of a laugh, the crackle of a tape on an old car radio. You dispelled it before you allowed your mind to wander further.

That’s in the past, you  insisted,  chastising that quiet voice trying to bring up old ghosts. 

You wouldn’t let your mind go there again. He left, you reminded yourself, instead resolving to focus on the road in front of you, and the nagging voice of your mother in your ear. 

She sighed your name.

“I told you not to come, honey. This is the whole reason we waited so long to tell you–”

“I’m already on the road, mom.” You interrupted her. “I moved out earlier this week, and I’m already on my way home. No use in trying to change my mind on this when it’s already done.” 

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you were met with radio silence; Your mother was speechless. There’s a beat of silence before she speaks again. Secretly, inside you’re smug. You’ve managed to outsmart her.

“You’re on the road right now?” She asked in that familiar disapproving short tone.

“As we speak,” you shifted, holding the wheel with one hand and slouching in your seat. Your mother sighed again.

“Stop that,” she said, displeasure evident in her voice.

“Stop what, mama? Driving?”

“Stop sounding so smug,” She scolded in that tone that all mothers have perfected, before addressing you by your full name. “This is gonna upset your Gramma. The last thing she wanted was you putin’ your whole life on hold for this.”

“‘For this?’” You asked in disbelief. “Mama, I can’t believe you waited more than a whole month to tell me the cancer was back in the first place! As if it was none of my business!” 

You could practically hear her eye-roll through the phone. 

“Now don’t be ridiculous.” She simpered. “We didn’t wanna upset you is all. And we certainly didn’t want you doin’ something so rash, like this.” 

You rolled your eyes. This woman was impossible. 

“Mom, I’d been considering leaving for a long time. My lease was up, Carla got married. This was just the final nail in the coffin. It was a long time comin’.”

“But you seemed so happy, baby.” she cooed. 

“I don’t care! I deserve to know if my grandma is dying or not, and you have no right to keep it from me!”

You were met with silence. It was your turn to sigh.

“I’m sorry,” she conceded softly. “I shouldn’t have kept it from you. I was just scared of something like this happening. You can’t expect me to believe that this whole thing didn’t cause you to up and move home out of the blue.”

“I know, mama, but it’s the truth.” You paused, before continuing, “I put in my notice weeks ago. I’ve missed home. A lot. The city is…so loud. And there are no mountains near Chicago. The land is so flat, and–”

“I know baby, I know.” You could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the line.

 She was no doubt calling from the landline in the kitchen at the old house. Thinking of it, your heart yearned. You missed it so much.

“It’s just that this was your dream, baby. And I just know your Gramma’s gonna blame herself for you giving that up.”

“Mom, I’m not giving anything up,” you emphasized the last part, trying to get it through her head. “I still have my dreams, Chicago just wasn’t it. It took me a while to realize that, but I have. And I have no idea where I wanna go or what I wanna do next, but I do know that I miss home. I was planning on coming back even before I found out.”

“Alright,” she began, but you wouldn’t let her continue. You needed to get this out. 

“And, that combined with the fact that Gramma’s cancer is back means there’s nothin’ you can do to stop me.”

“Alright,” she sighed on the other line. “I suppose there’s nothin’ I can do about it now. How did you find out in the first place? You never mentioned in that hysterical voicemail you left–”

“I had reason to be hysterical, don’t you think? Findin’ out from Jimmy Logan and all.”

“Jimmy Logan?” she asked in surprise. “Now what were you doin’ talkin’ to him? Did he finally buck up and get a cell phone?”

“Yes, he did,” you chuckled, “Mellie finally convinced him. Anyway, after she helped him get his contacts in order, the first thing he did was give me a ring, saying how sorry he was to hear about Gramma bein’ sick again.”

“But how? I didn’t even tell Jimmy Logan. The only people we told were the ladies in prayer group.”

You laughed.

“Oh, you know how word gets around. Jimmy heard it from Earl at the hardware store, who heard it from Irene, who heard it from her momma, who, if I’m not mistaken, is in your prayer group.”

“Well,” your mother huffed. “I suppose that is how it goes. I’ll tell you one thing, your Gramma will be happy to see you, no matter the circumstance.”

“I know,” you sighed,  glad that the air was at least a little cleared between you. You were still hurt that she’d kept something as important as your Gramma’s illness from you, but you understood where she was coming from. She just wanted what was best for you, wanted you to have everything she didn’t.

“Speaking of them Logans,” your mom said. “Have you told her you’re coming home?”

You laughed into the phone.

“Yes, Mellie knows I’m coming home.” You were surprised that she’d even assumed you hadn’t told the youngest Logan about your returning. She’d kill you if you didn’t.

“Good. I know she’s missed you. Last week while she was doin’ my hair, she told me a girl’s weekend every few months and a phone call just wasn’t cutting it.”

Mellie’s face flashed in your mind, and the feeling of dread at returning home started to dissipate. She had that effect on you; Ever since you met nearly 20 years earlier. You smiled, as your mind drifted back to then.

1995

You’d never imagined coming to a new school would ever be this hard. You’d expected it to be like how you’d seen it happen in TV shows or books or those kids movies you liked so much; Where after a rocky start with school bullies, the new kid fell in with the perfect group of friends and everything was fine. That was what you’d anticipated: The melodrama, the excitement. What you hadn’t expected was the monotony and loneliness.

Entering the third grade in october–two and a half months into the term–was never easy. At least that’s what your grandma had told you, and her being your grandma, you were inclined to believe her. 

“It’s not gonna be easy,” she’d told you. “And kids can be real mean, darlin’. Especially when you’re new and they don’t know you. But, you just show them how kind, and special, and smart, and funny you are, and you won't have no problem fittin’ in.”

And you’d expected it to be that easy. Boy were you wrong.

On your first day at Daniel Boone Elementary, you’d expected to be met with a little wariness (what with being the new kid and all), but had hoped, in the end, to make at least one new friend to tell your mom and grandma about when you got off the bus and went home. Instead, you got the usual strange introduction to the class by your new teacher, and that was that. No kids even came up to talk to you. You ate your PB&J sandwich alone at lunch, and spent recess alone on the swings. 

The following months went by in a similar manner: no new friends in sight. All the girls in your class were either too preoccupied with your hand-me-down clothes to play with you, or too shy to. And the boys wanted nothing to do with the weird new girl with too-knobby knees and too-big teeth because even if you liked the exact same things as them, you were still a girl, which meant you had cooties. 

So, at home you’d drift away and pass your time the only time you knew how: through stories. Whether it be babysitters’ club books or PBS kids documentaries on your grandma’s old box TV, your head was always in the clouds. You’d be cryptic when your grandma or mom would ask about school, and they’d begun to notice. Before the snow came and the world froze over for winter, you’d also begun to explore the property behind your grandma’s house, getting lost in nature as you used to. 

By spring, your grandma was at a standstill. 

The snow was thawing, and after a winter indoors, she was at her wits end. She could recognize a depressive episode when she saw one, and the fact that she was seeing it in you, her eight-year-old granddaughter, made her heart break all the more.

She had been just about ready to call an intervention with the school’s principal and psychologist when it happened. You met the person who would change your life.

You’d met Mellie Logan once before, roughly a month after your arrival in Boone County, when you were still new enough to be considered the least bit interesting at Daniel Boone Elementary. She was a year older than you and about a head shorter, with the same shade of rich brown hair as the older boy you’d recognized her sit with on the bus; Her brother, Jimmy Logan who was a middle schooler, but not the least bit embarrassed to sit by his little sister on the ride home, tugging playfully on her braids. She was in Ms. Granfell’s class down the hall, with whom your class shared a recess and lunch time, along with some of the 6th graders. 

It had been on the bus that you’d had your brief first encounter with Mellie Logan. She and about five other kids got off a few stops before yours, down Elm street, and rather than the fact that she had one older brother, that was about all you knew about the girl, and that was all the thought you’d given to her. 

The encounter was a small one: your backpack had been in the aisle as the kids filed in from the school at the end of a school-day in early November and she’d muttered a quiet “pardon me,” as she passed you to her usual seat at the back of the bus where her brother was already seated, and that was that. You barely knew her.

Now, though, as you sat in the school principal’s office, bright fluorescent lights shining over the deep mahogany desk, you felt that all of that was going to change. Mellie sat beside you, eyebrows knit together obstinately as she stared directly ahead of her at the clock on the opposite wall, frowning.

It read: 1:23. You sighed.

That meant that you were missing library time with the rest of your class while being holed up in here, waiting while the principal made calls to each of your parents that they had to come pick you up and discuss the incident.

Your stomach sunk in annoyance as you crossed your arms and slumped down further into the armchair next to Mellie. 

 Great, now they have even more of a reason to think I’m weird, you thought. That was the last thing you needed. You were already having a hard time fitting in in the first place, with girls like Heather Campbell making faces at you and snickering when it was your turn to answer a question or read aloud to the class. You didn’t need to be known as the weird new girl who’d also gotten into a fight with a sixth grader. 

You groaned in realization that that was exactly what you’d be known as from now on. You ran a hand over your face. And just wait until your mom found out, until your Gramma found out. Your life was over.

At that, Mellie looked over at you, her formerly sour expression turned questioning at your sudden outburst.

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked, moving to sit on her hands. Her legs were swinging back and forth off of the edge of the seat of the chair. She looked more bored than anything else, which was wild to you, considering the insane amount of trouble you both were about to be in the moment your parents walked through that door.

You looked at her like she was insane, her freckled face a picture of nonchalance, and sighed. Your heart was at the pit of your stomach as you watched the small round clock tick by, each second drawing closer to what was bound to be the end of your eight years on this planet.

You hadn’t intended to get involved. You really hadn’t. But when you’d seen the trampled, embarrassed look in his deep brown eyes, you didn’t know what else you could do.

 It was, surprisingly, not in your nature to be confrontational at this point in your life. Though you’d later grow to be quite the headstrong person, the years spent walking around on eggshells with Keith had taken a toll on your personality. You liked to avoid conflict with even your family, nevertheless with the mean fourth graders you’d always hear snickering at people during lunchtime. But when you’d heard them picking on the lanky boy with messy dark hair something within you had snapped.

It was breakfast for lunch day, aka: the best day of the week, and when the bell rang  signaling the beginning of lunchtime you moved as fast as your legs could carry you to the cafeteria.

You stepped into the line behind a tall, lanky boy who had to be at least a few years older than you. You recognized him from your bus; He lived on the same street as Mellie and her brother, and like you, always sat by himself on the bus. You thought that he was probably the only kid who was as quiet as you. In fact, you weren’t sure you’d ever even heard the stoic boy utter a word in the month and a half you’d spent riding home with him. His face always seemed to stay the same too, you’d noticed. 

Not that you’d been watching him, you corrected yourself.

Right now, though, the boy smiled at you as you came up behind him. A tight-lipped, shy one at that, but his dark eyes shone with genuine kindness that you were almost too flustered to know what to do. Such kindness, even small ones like this, had been few and far between in your time in Boone County. It’d been lonely, and this little boy’s smile made it feel a little less so. A part of you wondered if this town had been similarly lonely for him too. You smiled back.

The sound of giggling broke you from your blatant staring at the boy in front of you. Two girls had entered the line behind you. You didn’t know their names, but you recognized them from the time you had spent people-watching during your month or so of eating alone. The taller one was blonde, with long straight hair and thick braces covering her teeth as she smiled right past you and to the boy standing in front of you. Her counterpart was shorter and a bit stouter, with short pin-curls that practically stuck to her hair. Your stomach dropped as you took in the looks on both of their faces. Their smiles were anything but kind as they looked right through and onto the boy who was oblivious to what was coming.

You weren’t though. Just last week, you’d seen the pair of girls push a little girl in your class off of the monkey bars for “taking their spot,” when you knew for a fact that that girl had been there for all of recess already. Before that, you’d seen them ridicule another girl for her new haircut that had come out much shorter than expected until she cried. These were two girls you knew not to cross, and here they were, sights set on the boy in front of you whose name you didn't even know. And you were caught in the middle of it. 

“Uhm, excuse me?” The blonde girl asked, reaching across you and tapping the boy on the shoulder. Her face was twisted in barely held-in laughter, while beside her, her friend’s face held an identical.

The boy turned, eyes wide and curious. Kind. Unaware of exactly how nasty these two could be. 

“Y-yeah?” He asked, voice cracking when he stuttered. The blonde looked over to her friend and then back at him.

“Your name’s Clyde, right?” She asked, head tilting.

“Uhm, yeah, tha’s right.” He smiled, bashful. Ears twinged red.

Clyde. That was the boy’s name. It fit him, you thought. 

Her friend popped in. “Say, ain’t you a Logan?” She asked, face spread in what seemed like a kind smile. 

Something you didn’t buy. You thought as you grabbed an orange from the selection of fruit.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, moving down the line. He picked up a strawberry milk carton before moving further down where the french toast sticks were. You continued to eavesdrop, feeling the most awkward you had in a while as the conversation continued with you, quite literally, in the middle of it.

“Well, Clyde Logan,” the blonde continued, reaching for an identical carton of strawberry milk. Her face was smug. “There’s something Quinn and I have been meaning to ask you for a while now.”

“What’s that?” he asked, curious. He looked at her, eyes open and welcoming and you dreaded the next words that were going to come out of her mouth. It wasn’t gonna be good.

“We were just wondering,” she snorted halfway through, hand coming to her mouth. “Sorry, we were just wondering if you’d done something to upset your momma?”

He chuckled awkwardly, obviously confused, and flicked some dark hair behind his ear. “Pardon me?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“Oh, nothin’. It’s just you had to have done something to have earned a haircut like that.”

Beside her, her friend had given up on controlling her laughter. Wheezing, her friend–Quinn–interjected.

“Or maybe your hairdresser hates you? What did you do to make someone let you walk out of the house like that?” She giggled.

“Don’t be silly, Quinn. The Logans can’t afford a hairdresser. It had to have been his momma. I mean, really Clyde, you had to have done somethin’ bad.” The blonde chimed in again.

“Although, maybe it’s not the haircut, Heather.” Quinn piped in casually, serving herself french toast. “That’s not fair to his momma. It’s those ears. They stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Mhm,” the blonde, heather, nodded. “I think you’re right. And his nose. It's so big. That’s what makes you so unfortunate looking. Not the hair at all.”

Clyde looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Surprise coloring his features, the smallest frown upon his lips.

“Or , you know what,” Heather considered, piling bacon onto her lunch tray. “It’s probably that curse your sister wouldn’t shut up about last year. What’d she call it?”

“The Logan Family Curse.” Quinn chimed in. Heather laughed. 

“That must be it!” She giggled in that snotty, preteen way. “Who knew that the Logan family curse was being cursed with bein’ uglier than a mud fence!”

“Or having ears the size of Dumbo’s.” 

Looking over at Clyde, you saw his eyes glassy with unshed tears as he looked down at his lunch tray. Crestfallen. It sent white hot anger surging through your chest, and before you could register it, you were turning to face the two girls beside you in line.

“Just because he has straight teeth and you don’t doesn’t mean you have to be mean.” You glared at her. Her smug face morphed into one of anger as her eyes hardened into a glare.

“Excuse me?” she asked. Beside her, Quinn’s eyebrows rose to her hairline.

“You heard me, brace-face.” You stood your ground, glaring right back at her. She gasped at the insult, not ready for a taste of her own medicine. An identical look of horror crossed her companion’s face. From behind you, you heard a familiar high voice call out.

“Clyde? Where are you–” Mellie looked confused, her eyes following the lanky, dark-haired figure racing out of the cafeteria, leaving his lunch tray deserted in line next to you. Her gaze hardened as she looked over at you and the two girls in line. She stomped over, arms crossed.

“What did you say to him?” She demanded, looking between you three. When no one spoke up, she asked again, louder.

“What did you say to my brother?” She seethed. Heather looked at Quinn, an amused smirk on her face. 

“Oh, you mean Dumbo?” She asked.

“Nothing–we just gave him some beauty advice,” Quinn descended into the same annoying laughter as her friend. 

What happened next was a blur to you. There was a hand in someone’s hair, another pushing someone's shoulder, and the sound of a hand smacking against someone’s face. You were pushed backwards–by who, you didn’t know–and your half-full lunch tray came down on top of you, covering you in scrambled eggs and syrup. Heather screeched like a banshee, and Quinn started crying. A lunch monitor ran over to break it up, and before you knew it, Heather was being sent to the nurse and you and Mellie to the principal’s office. 

Which brings you to now.

You sat, smelling of eggs and syrup, and waiting for your life to end. After a few minutes of silence, you looked to the scrappy, brooding girl next to you. 

“Did you have to hit her?” You asked, breaking the silence. Scoffing, she turned to look at you. 

“Uhm, yeah I had to hit her.” She spat out incredulously. “She was makin’ fun of my big brother. You don’t let people mess around with your kin.” 

“But–” you began before she interrupted you, seemingly not hearing you at all. That was something you’d grow to find out was a habit of hers whenever she talked about something she was passionate about. 

“And I’d do it again, too,” she said, stubbornly. “I don’t care what Mrs. Findlay says. If you ask me, Heather Campbell had it comin’ and needed to be knocked down a few pegs. I’m only sad I got caught.”

Her matter-of-fact made you giggle a little bit. After all, you couldn’t disagree with her; You’d seen Heather and Quinn unleash their wrath before. Many times in the short time you’d been in town. They needed to be put in their place. And you were glad you’d had at least a small part in doing it, even if it did put a target on your back and was bound to make your life hell indefinitely. 

“I am sorry you got involved, though,” Mellie said. “It ain’t fair you got roped into all a’ my trouble-makin’.” 

You chuckled a bit.

“Nah,” you sighed. “Before you walked up, I did say some pretty nasty things to them. I guess I deserved it.”

Mellie, looking surprised at that, snorted.

 “You?” she asked, eyes wide in apparent disbelief. “You said somethin’ to Heather Campbell?”

“What's that supposed to mean?” you asked, brows furrowed. “And yes, I’ll have you know, I did say something to her.”

“Nothin’.”  Mellie said, “it’s just that in all the time you’ve been here, I ain't heard you speak but about two times.”

“I couldn’t let her talk to him like that when he didn’t do nothin’ to deserve it.” You said. “Besides, I was tired of hearin’ her run her mouth all the time and no one sayin’ anything.”

“Well alrighty then.” She said.

 A beat of silence passed, the only sound being the ticking of the clock. Then, “what did you say to her?”

You snorted. 

“I called her brace-face.” You admitted sheepishly. Beside you, Mellie howled in laughter and after a moment, you joined her.

“You know,” she said pensively, smiling at you, all trace of a sour mood gone, “I think we’re gonna be good friends.”

You smiled back at her, the first real one in a while. 

“Me too.” And you meant it. 

Present Day

Your mother’s voice snapped you back to reality. 

“And what about him?” she asked carefully, words thick with meaning. “Does he know you’re comin’ back?”

You sighed. “Mama, why would he know I’m coming back? Why would he care that I’m coming back?”

“Darlin’, I didn’t mean it like that–”

“He didn’t bother telling me when he came back. I had to find out from Mellie, a month after the fact.” You continued, that familiar white-hot feeling in your chest resurfacing. “Besides, I’m sure Mellie mentioned it to him. She’d have to if he’s gonna continue this disappearing act of his.”

“That’s not fair, baby, and you know it.” She scolded, ever the mother. It didn’t matter that you were twenty-five, she’d always put you in your place when it came down to it. “He’s been through a lot.”

“I’m sure he has,” you agreed half-heartedly. 

“And–”

“--Not that I’d know about it! He hasn’t spoken so much as a word to me in years. Not for lack of trying on my part either, you know that mom.”

“I know, baby, I know,” she said. This was a conversation you’d had before. And no matter how many times you did, she’d always brought up the same points. 

And now, Clyde Logan had been home for more than two years, but felt like a ghost. Your family hadn’t heard a thing from him. According to your cousin Zach, Jimmy had wanted to throw a coming-home party for him, but had canceled it last minute. You didn’t know what he was doing now.

You knew better than to ask Mellie about it. She was your best friend, yes, but you wouldn’t put her in that position. You wouldn’t make her choose sides or play middle-man between you and her brother. And she knew better than to bring it up with you, too. She saw her brother’s idiocy, and, more importantly, she saw how hurt you were after all that had happened. 

So, Clyde generally wasn’t brought up between the two of you. Not in great detail, anyway. No matter how much you knew she had to reign herself in over it. Your best friend was a fixer at heart, and that instinct didn’t go away when it came to her best friend and her brother. 

“Let’s just drop it, mom.” You said. “I am not coming home for Clyde Logan, of all people. I’m just happy to be coming home at all.” 

“Well, that makes two of us.” she laughed lightly on the other end. “How far out are you?” she asked.

“I’m about halfway through Indiana right now.”

“Whew,” she whistled. “What a drive.”

You laughed at her sarcasm. “Oh yeah, nothin’ but cornfields for miles. That  is somethin’ I won’t be missing, that’s for sure.”

“Good.” she said, “You’d better get a move-on if you wanna be home before dinner, then. I’ll call your cousins and see who can make it.”

Your heart leapt at the thought of it, seeing the family again. You’d missed living in the same county as them all; Not having to drive hours to hug your grandma, to hear your aunt Nikki’s laugh, or to engage in yet another political conversation with your uncle Mike. 

“That sounds perfect.”

“Alright then. Your Gramma’s gonna be surprised, that’s for sure. And i’m warnin’ you now: She will not be as easily swayed as I am at your comin’ back.”

“Yeah, I know.” You shook your head. “I’ll start preparing my speech now.”

“You better!” She laughed, “I’m gonna let you go, babe. Call your aunts. Love you.”

“Love you too, momma.” You sighed, as the call ended. 

The late May sun shone through the clouds, as you steered off of the freeway to continue south. Toward home. 

- - 

It was well past seven in the evening before everyone left your grandmother’s house—and, I guess, your house too, for now—for dinner. 

It had worked: you’d made it home, finally, and even though your grandmother wasn’t happy with you for returning, she understood why. It’d been too long since you’d been home for more than a week or two. Even longer, if you didn’t count the summers you’d come home during college. 

After Clyde had left for his third tour, things weren’t the same. You always hosted holidays after that, or visited your extended family in Charleston. You’d missed your hometown, yes. But the pain you felt at how you and Clyde left things hurt you more. Only now, after six months of therapy and the terrifying possibility that your grandmother was dying, did you feel even remotely comfortable enough to come back. 

Now, after a long, loud meal with your extended family, you wondered why you’d left at all. The anxiety you’d felt driving into the county limits earlier that evening had dissipated. Home has a funny way of doing that: letting you ease right back in like you’d never left. 

Your cousins were getting bigger—now nearly teenagers—and your aunts inquired about your personal life over dinner. Now, after the coffee had gone cold and your last relative had gone home, you helped your grandmother with the dishes—much to her chagrin. 

Your grandmother was a kind woman, a gentle woman, but she was also a proud woman, and more stubborn than even you.

“Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean I’m inept, you know,” she slapped your hand away from where it had tried to venture into the soapy water of the sink. 

You sighed. So she’s still mad. 

“I know, Gramma,” you offered. “Just trying to help.”

She grumbled back, still focusing on scrubbing the plate in front of her. 

You gave up, moving instead to dry and put away the dishes she’d washed. As you began, she didn’t so much as spare you a glance, just hummed under her breath. 

The kitchen looked untouched from it had been growing up—the linoleum counters, tiled walls, and deep wood of the cabinets perpetually stuck in the 1970s. Some of the glassware your grandmother owned was from the seventies, or even before then, going back to when your mom and uncles were kids. You could tell from old family pictures that the house had changed little since they bought it in 1969. Even after so many years, your Gramma had refused to invest in a dishwasher, insisting on washing dishes by hand instead. 

You took a ceramic plate from the drying rack, toweling it off before opening the cabinet to put it away. The cabinet door had the same creak it always did. 

“You know,” you tossed over your shoulder at your grandmother. “I was planning on coming back for a while before I heard about the cancer.” 

“That’s what you keep sayin’,” she mumbled. “I can see right through ya, though, darlin’. You think I haven’t noticed you haven’t been home in years?” 

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the pang of guilt her words sent through you. 

“I’m sorry about that, Gramma, I am—“

“Oh, hush,” she waved a suds-covered hand at you, still not turning around. “Long as I get to see you, I don’t care where it is. What I’m trying to say is: you certainly would not have come home had it not been for my diagnosis.” 

You deflated a little; in a sense, she was right. You’d been considering returning before, that was true, but part of you deep down knew you wouldn’t have been successful if you hadn’t heard about her sickness. 

“What I can’t live with is you giving up your dreams for an old woman like me.”

You scoffed at that, coming up behind her and wrapping your arms around her shoulders. 

“Please,” you mumbled into the hug. “You couldn’t have kept me away. I would’ve found out at some point.” 

She sighed, hugging you back and leaning into you. 

“‘Suppose you’re right,” she acquiesced. “Doesn’t mean I’ve gotta be happy about it though.” 

“That’s fair,” you chuckled, letting go and taking another plate from the drying rack. “But you can’t get mad at me. It should be me angry at you for keeping it from me for as long as you did.”

She turned to you then, wiping her wet hands off with a towel. There was a strange look in her eyes as she took you in, eyeing you head to toe. She snapped out of it after a moment and offered you a smile. 

“Hm,” she hummed, bringing a weathered hand to cup your cheek. “I couldn’t stay angry at you even if I tried.”

You smiled cheekily at her. 

“I know.”

“Hm,” she chuckled, pinching your cheek lightly and patting it. “Now let me finish these up. Mellie’ll be here soon and you haven’t even taken your suitcase up yet.”

You nodded and put the last plate away. 

“I’ll turn the radio on for you,” you smiled. “It’s too quiet around here.”

“Alright sugar,” she tossed over her shoulder. “You won’t be sayin’ that come Monday. I’ve got your cousins after school most weekdays. And I thought you were a handful.” 

You chuckled. 

One thing about your family was true: none of you were boring—especially the little ones. They kept your grandmother on her toes. 

“I’m looking forward to that,” you chuckled. That was another thing you regretted about moving so far away: not being there to watch your little cousins grow up.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said. “You might be reconsidering moving back after a few days.”

“Unlikely,” you snorted. “I’m hard to scare off. Well, now anyway.”

Your grandmother sent you a sympathetic smile then, and you knew she’d forgiven you. You twitched a little under her gaze. She almost looked like she pitied you. You understood if she did; she was the one to bear the brunt of your heartache when everything between you and Clyde had blown up. Still, it wasn’t a time you liked to dwell on. 

“So, you think you’re finally over that Logan boy?” She asked, crossing her arms and facing you.

You sighed; it was just like your grandmother to not mince words or beat around the bush.

“Jesus, Gramma,” you raked a hand over your face. 

“What?” she asked defensively. “Would you rather me tip-toe around you like everyone else? Your mama won’t ask, and you’ve banned Mellie from mentioning that boy.”

“So you thought you’d…” your words trailed off, not understanding exactly why she was bringing this up now. 

“I thought I’d mention the elephant in the room. Call it curiosity, sugar,” she smirked at you. “I just figured that since he was the one that kept you away for so long—”

“Gramma, you know he’s not the only reason l left—”

“I know, I know,” she held up a hand to stop you. “But I remember how you were when you left. In the months before. Barely leaving the house, not talking to anyone. Whatever he did, it did a number on you. I don’t want you getting like that again—”

You softened. She was worried about you, of course she was. Your grandmother was nothing if not a mama bear. 

“Trust me, Gramma. You do not have to worry Clyde Logan of all people. I’ve been over it for a while, I think. I’ll be okay.”

“Hm,” she scrutinized you through narrowed eyes, before nodding. “Alright. I won’t bring it up again.”

“Thanks, Gramma.”

“You ever gonna tell me all that happened with him?” 

“Maybe one day,” you smiled at her sadly. 

She nodded at you in understanding. 

“Alright, babydoll. You go get ready.”

As you walked up the familiar steps to your childhood bedroom, listening to Patsy Cline drift through the old kitchen radio, you smiled to yourself at the familiarity of it all.

- - 

“Trust me,” Camila grabbed your shoulder from the back of Mellie’s ‘85 silverado—her pride and joy and newest fixer upper. “This place is great, and it helps that we don’t have to drive all the way to Madison like we did back in the day.”

You snorted at how your friends were trying to sell you on this new dive bar. Where you’d wanted to go out in Madison like the old days, they’d insisted you stay local tonight.

You shifted in the denim cut-offs that Mellie had insisted you wear. You hadn’t worn them out since your senior year of college. Hell, you hadn’t been out since your senior year of college.

She’d showed up at your door at exactly eight o’clock on the dot, intent on getting you dolled up for a night out. Camila and Gwen, two of your best friends from high school, had shown up soon after. It was like old times—playing your old CDs, the smell of cheap perfume and hair-straighteners flooding your childhood bedroom. You couldn’t even bring yourself to be nervous about going out. Now, two hours later with a new outfit and your hair and makeup done to perfection, you were off to check out the newest haunt in town. 

It’d been big news when the place had opened about nine months ago. It wasn’t every day that a new business opened in Logan, so obviously it was the talk of the town. Even you’d heard about it all the way in Chicago. Duck Tape was its name and it had been renovated into a bar from an old bait and tackle shop. And apparently, since its opening, it’d become a staple of your small community. You’d been promised that you’d run into at least five people from high school here, maybe more. It was also in the middle of nowhere. 

“We’re basically driving the same distance, Cami.” You laughed. From beside you in the driver’s seat, Mellie smirked. 

“Don’t rain on her parade.” She teased. “Cami’s just trying to explain away the real reason why she came here: she’s got it bad for the bouncer.”

Camila gasped and smacked Mellie’s shoulder. 

“That isn’t it at all, Mellie Logan and you know it!”

“Mmhm,” Gwen nodded from the other side of her, very obviously not buying any of it. “It has nothing to do with the six-feet, tall, dark, and handsome bouncer. I believe you, Cami.”

You laughed at her sarcasm. 

“I don’t know why you don’t put yourself out of your misery and just get his number,” Mellie asks from the front seat, looking at Cami through the rearview mirror. 

“And risk rejection? Not a chance.”

You snorted at that, understanding completely. You’d had a few non-serious relationships here and there, but nothing that had stuck during your time in Chicago. And even then, they were alway the ones who had to make the first move. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” you interrupted. “Since when do any of these places need bouncers?”

When you were in high school, it was a given that no one underage would even try to get into a bar in Logan. It would have been pointless: everybody knew everybody here, so even if you had the good sense to get a fake ID, you’d be at the sheriff’s station before you had time to order your first drink.

“Since these kids are gettin’ more and more ballsy,” Gwen answered you. “‘Bout a year ago coach Garrison’s kid got busted for drinking underage at Tulman’s. Ever since, they’ve been IDing at the door.”

Tulman’s was the other bar in town, nestled in the heart of downtown. 

“I bet coach was pissed.”

“You have no idea,” Cami nodded, picking at her manicured nail. “Gave hell to the guy who owns the place. That’s just another reason why I like Duck Tape better.”

Gwen groaned from beside her. Mellie just laughed. 

Mellie sighed beside you, reaching for the gear-shift. “Just ask him out. You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”

“Oh please,” Cami laughed, speaking up over the sound of Garth Brooks’ voice coming from the speakers. “Stick to hairdressing, Mel. You’d make a shit motivational speaker.” 

A chorus of laughs sounded as Mellie took a sharp turn off of the highway and onto the mountain road where the bar was. 

This was so familiar: you and your girlfriends, all dressed up and piling into one car to go out as if you were somewhere glamorous like New York City and not in Boone County, West Virginia. The chatter of the girls around you was comforting, and you relished in it. 

This, you thought. This is home.

- - 

You dropped your glass when he walked in, brushing past the bouncer with a large hand on his shoulder. Your stomach dropped.

The glass shattered at your feet, sending cranberry juice and vodka splattering over your boots and calves. A few people surrounding you jumped as well, moving away from the shattered glass on the floor. Beside you, Camila started. 

“Jesus,” she cried, grabbing your bare shoulder and looking at you. She was trying to get your attention, you knew, but you couldn’t bring your eyes away from the imposing figure of Clyde Logan, who just walked into the bar. “You okay? What—shit.”

She saw him too. 

“Mellie,” you heard her whisper, trying to get the attention of your friend who was too-busy flirting with a man in a stetson beside you. Gwen was in the bathroom. “Mellie.” 

He was tall—just as tall as he’d always been, but even more imposing. His shoulders stretched broadly across the dark blue button-up he had on. He wore worn blue jeans and work boots and still had that stiff, ramrod-straight posture that he’d come back from basic training with. You blinked. 

He was here. He was here. 

Even after years, he had an effect on you. You felt stuck to the floor, frozen in place as he made his way to the bar, his left side facing away from you. His dark hair was longer than you’d ever seen it, curling around his ears and down his neck thickly. You couldn’t tell much from the dim-lighting, but you could detect a bit of a stubble along his jaw and above his lip. 

Lord have mercy, he was beautiful. 

He was gorgeous–even more so than you remembered him. It made your chest ache.

“What?” Mellie turned to Cami, a flirty laugh in her voice.

“Look.”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke. 

“Fuck.” Mellie spat. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. He said he wasn’t working tonight.”

You breathed in a ragged breath, everything feeling all of a sudden too much. The neon lights, the chatter of people from all sides of you invaded your senses. The early summer heat was cloying at your skin in the crowded bar. You felt boxed in on all sides. 

“I’m just going to,” you mumbled, finally tearing your eyes away from Clyde, who was talking to the man behind the bar. You didn’t finish the sentence, instead electing to train your gaze on your boots and try to make your way to the bar door. 

Behind you, you heard Mellie call your name. You ignored her, breathing deeply as you tried to navigate your way to the door. 

Air, you told yourself. I need some air. Then I’ll be fine. 

You tried to push yourself past a particularly large group, squeezing between two peoples’ backs. One of them moved backwards, their foot moving to step in front of yours.

Your boot caught on the foot, and you tumbled forward, losing your balance. 

You tripped, scrambling, reaching out with your arms to break your fall as you tumbled.

Only, instead of continuing to fall to the ground, you stumbled into something. Or rather, someone. 

Your hands landed on a broad chest, and you felt an arm snake its way around your middle, attempting to steady you. You let out a breath, finding your footing. 

You brought your gaze up, an apology on your lips.

“Shit,” you mumbled, pulling your hands back from the stranger’s chest frantically. “I’m sorry—”

Brown eyes stared back at you, brows drawn together and full of confusion. Freckles scattered familiarly across his cheekbones and his lips parted as he looked at you. 

Clyde. 

You took a large step back, away from him, nearly stumbling again. He looked nearly as shocked as you felt, wide eyes taking you in from head to toe. After all, it had been over two years since you’d seen each other. 

You did the same—eyes moving down his thick neck, his broad shoulders, down his chest. He was still so much taller than you.

This was all too much. 

You could feel the panic setting back in your bones, and you blinked rapidly, moving to shove past him to the door, your legs carrying you before your mind could catch up.

When you did, he snapped out of it, moving to the side to block you and shoulder-checking you in the process. When he did, something firm and stiff—foreign—jabbed into your stomach, causing you to jerk away, even more past him.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you turned to see—

What you saw made the breath leave your chest. 

There, strapped to what remained of Clyde’s arm was a prosthetic. 

- - 

Tears fell thick and hot down your cheeks as you rested your face between your knees on the side of the dingy bar. The rough wood of the paneling on the outside of the bar dug into your back through the thin shirt Mellie had convinced you to wear, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your mind was elsewhere.

Gone. Clyde’s left arm was gone–or at least part of it was. 

Hurt flooded your chest at the thought of it; your once-best friend returning home from war, part of him missing, alone, and you weren’t there. He’d had to do it alone.

Another wave of tears came. 

How could you not have known?

Everyone knew everything about everyone in Logan. It was the way of things and it always had been. It was how you’d found out about your Gramma’s illness, it was how word had spread like wildfire when Mellie’s boyfriend in tenth grade cheated on her, and it was how the whole town knew Bobbie Jo was pregnant with Sadie before Jimmy did. But this. 

It struck you all at once; everyone knew. Of course everyone knew. Camila, Gwen, Mellie. Your mother. They all had known and still didn’t tell you. 

You felt like someone had torn your heart from your chest. 

The sound of gravel crunching under boots tore your gaze up. You knew who it was before he called your name. You’d know the sound of his step anywhere. 

Clyde Logan walked toward you, arms clasped behind his back, dark eyes wary. He always looked like this when he was nervous. Even now, you couldn’t believe he was standing before you after so long. Even now, you couldn’t contain the slow simmer of anger that flared in your gut at the sight of him.

He stood there a minute, eyes on yours, before he cleared his throat. 

“How…uh, how long you been back?” He offered softly, eyes never once leaving yours. 

The slow simmer in your gut reached a boil. You stood to your feet, lip curling at him. You didn’t care enough to wipe your face of tears.

“Really?” You asked harshly, voice slightly raised. Clyde flinched at your tone. “That’s what you have to say to me Clyde Logan—after three years?”

Clyde bit his lip and looked down. He sighed. 

“Junebug—-”

“Do not,” you hissed at him, glaring up at his pained expression. “You do not get to call me that anymore.”

He just stared at you, a pained expression on his face. 

It didn't surprise you—Clyde had never had a way with words. Even as kids, even as best friends, it had been hard for him to express himself. He was quiet. Now was no exception. 

“Did you get my letters?” You hated that your voice warbled. 

Clyde’s eyes fell to his boots and you knew the answer from the guilty expression that crossed his face. 

You scoffed, even more anger bubbling inside you at the confirmation. 

After the fight—the one that sent you packing, right before his third deployment, you’d written him. Countless times, apologizing, explaining yourself, begging him for a response, anything. And you’d never heard anything back. 

“I wrote you for months, Clyde.” You said, voice softer now. “When you were over there, I had to get updates from Mellie. Or from my mom, because you wouldn’t write me back. You wouldn’t answer my calls. I didn’t know if you were hurt, or if you—”

You stopped yourself, sniffing. 

You stared at his prosthetic arm, finally able to get a better look at it.

 It began just under his elbow, strapped on there to give the illusion of a full-limb. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from it. 

“Ugly, ain’t it?” He asked, noting how your stare held there. Your eyes snapped to his. 

You scoffed, ignoring him and looking away. 

“I didn’t say that,” you muttered, drying your face with your palm.

“I told Mellie not to tell you,” he blurted. “After. Made her swear not to. Don’t be mad at her.”

You sighed. 

You weren’t angry at her; you couldn’t be. Shortly after you’d realized he wanted nothing to do with you, you’d made any talk of Clyde strictly off-limits in your friendship. Even if she’d wanted to tell you, it was off limits. That was not the case, however, with your own family.

You’d be having words with your mother and grandmother when you returned home. 

“My relationship with Mellie is none of your business,” you glared up at him. “It hasn’t been for a long time.”

Clyde scoffed now, the soft, reserved look gone from his eyes and replaced by annoyance. 

“What?” you asked. “You got something to say? Say it.”

“Fine,” he barked. “Three years and you haven’t changed a bit.”

Oh, so he was pulling that card, you thought, thinking back to your last argument. You laughed humorlessly. 

“Oh, I haven’t changed?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. “At least I had the balls to come back! At least I’m not a coward like you—”

“Coward?” He asked, voice low. 

“You heard me.” You spat, voice warbling again with anger. You hated that you got like this; whenever you were angry, you’d cry. “At least I have the stones to face my mistakes. I don’t run away from them, Clyde.” 

With that you walked away, leaving him standing there in the gravel of the Duck Tape parking lot. 

He made no move to follow you, thank god. 

You decided to call it a night, knowing any chance of letting loose was long gone. Though you weren’t angry with her, you didn’t think you could face Mellie or the girls again tonight. You pulled your cell phone from your bag and sent a quick text to the group chat, telling them you’d decided to head home. You sent a separate one to Mellie, telling her you weren’t mad at her but you needed some time. 

You walked back to the front of the bar, leaning on the wood of the front railing, and stared at the phone screen. Your mother and grandmother would be asleep by now, and even if they weren’t, you weren’t sure you wanted to see them anyway. You could always call your cousins—but doing that would open up the door to countless questions and speculations at why you were leaving Duck Tape looking an emotional wreck. 

Then, it hit you.

You found the contact easily and hit call; there was one person who you knew you could call whenever, wherever to come get you, no questions asked. You just hoped he was up.

[rynwritesstuff]

Along the lines of the telling them about your kinks prompt, what about telling Flip that you want him to be extra dominant and aggressive? Please and thank you 🖤

Can do, anon! Thank you for requesting!! <3

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Contains: NSFW content, Oral (reader receiving) (because apparently I have been on an oral sex kick lmao), dominant Flip, gendered nicknames (pretty girl, best girl)

Word Count: 700

Summary: You ask Flip to be more dominant with you. He obliges.

It’s been weighing on you, this thing that you’d like to tell Flip. He’s a kind man, a gentleman, and you know deep down that even if he doesn’t want to do what it is you’re going to ask of him, he’ll still be sweet about it. He’ll still love you, because his love is unconditional. You hope it is, at least . . .

He gets home around ten, which is considered early for him, and you approach him. Flip smiles when he sees you, then leans down to slip his boots off as you walk up to him. 

“Hey, baby,” he says. “How’s my best girl?” 

There it is. That gentlemanly-ness that has always both aroused you and frustrated you at times. 

“I’m good, honey,” you say, putting your hands on his chest. He can tell immediately that there’s something you want to say, and he puts his hands on your hips, pulling your body flush against his. 

“What’s on your mind, pretty girl?” Flip asks, his hands wandering down to your ass so he can give it a squeeze. You reach forward, cupping his crotch gently. 

“I have a request,” you say, smirking softly to hide your nerves. Or, rather, your eagerness and excitement to hear what he says. 

Flip hums, kissing you a few times. 

“Tell me.”

You rub his crotch, pressing a bit more firmly. 

“I want you to be more . . . I don’t know . . . Aggressive with me,” you say, staring up at him as you touch him. He seems surprised, or interested at least, and you offer him a small smile. “If you’d be comfortable with that–”

Flip tugs you forward, then pins you against the wall by the front door with a bit more force than he would normally use. Your breath catches in your throat. 

“Like that?” he asks, voice low. You nod. “Use your words.”

“Yes, Flip,” you breathe, nodding again. “Like that.”

He looks you over for a moment before pressing his hand between your thighs. 

“I wanna taste you,” he says firmly. “Pants and underwear off. Get on the couch.” 

You hurry to listen, pussy throbbing with arousal. As you do this, Flip unbuckles his belt, tosses it to the floor, unzips his jeans, and pulls his cock out. He strokes himself as he steps towards you, a new-found wave of neediness hitting him when he sees the way you’re looking at him. 

“Good girl,” Flip tells you as you spread your legs for him. He settles between them, observing the way your entrance clenches and unclenches out of desperation for a moment before he leans in to lick up your wetness. 

You groan, hands instinctively moving down to tug and grip at his hair. He grunts into your pussy, then says: “Mm. So wet for me. You needed me bad, hm?” 

You nod even though he can’t see you, then mumble out a soft, “Y-Yes!” 

“Dirty girl needed me all fucking night, hm? Were you thinking about this?” he asks. You groan in response. He smacks your thigh. “Answer me.” 

“Yes, Flip, mmm . . . W-Was thinking about you a-all fucking evening . . .”

Flip reaches down to touch himself as he eats your pussy, and he sighs shakily before resuming his actions.

“F-Fuck, gonna cum–” 

“Ask for permission,” Flip says, cutting you off, and you have to tighten your core in order to not climax right then and there. He sucks at your clit harder. “Go on. Ask me. Beg me.”

He’s so into this, so into you, and–

“Please! Please, c-can I cum?” you ask, hips stuttering as you hold off your orgasm. 

“Mm, mhm,” Flip hums, looking up at you. “Cum for me, pretty girl.”

You let go, not needing to be told twice as your orgasm crashes over you. 

“S-Shit! Fuck, Flip!” you groan, pushing your hips up against his mouth. He takes you through you orgasm, then looks up at you as he leans up and kisses you firmly. 

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he breathes. “And you’re gonna take it like a good girl. Understand?” 

You nod quickly. 

“Yes. Y-Yes, Flip. Please . . .”

Taglist: @safarigirlsp @cinnamon-girl01 (Let me know if you'd like to be added!)

[cxrnality]

Hi! I’m Carnal, welcome to my blog! :)

I wanna start out by saying I’m new to tumblr, so if you see anything that needs fixing / have any suggestions, please pm me! <3

I wanna lay out some rules for my page first!

1. Absolutely no minors should view my content or interact with my content!

2. Please be aware that my content can be triggering in some circumstances. I will do my best to give proper trigger warnings, if you see that my content does not have proper T/W’s, please send me a pm and let me know! It is never my intention to leave anything out.

3. I will not write anything noncon. CNC is only acceptable when it is written that it is pre-consensual. (ex: i will write a somno fic IF there is dialogue beforehand stating consent between both characters.)

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN, however, I’d like to keep this blog mostly open for NSFW visuals (twitter 🌽 links) for now. I am starting school soon and don’t want to overwhelm myself, but I know how little accounts post NSFW visuals!

I will write for:

ADCU (adam driver character universe, any character within that)

Aemond Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen

Alicent Hightower

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Cregan Stark

Aegon the Conqueror

Aegon II Targaryen

Maegor Targaryen

(Pretty much anyone from the ASOIAF universe!)

To send me a request, PM or make an anonymous ask! Thank you lovelies! <3

[driverstveit]

Adam Driver Masterlist

Bedtime - Maurizio Gucci x Reader

First TIme - Flip Zimmerman x Reader (Contains Smut)

His Helmet - Kylo Ren x Reader

Your Anniversary - Paterson x Reader

Maurizio x Reader Headcanons (Blindness)

[vedavan]

Tagging a few lovelies in this delicious prompt via Twitter... prompt written by the amazing @sofondabooks which was inspired by yet another gorgeous edit by the brilliant @kyloremus . (And if it inspires anyone to write something please let us know 🤞🤞🥵)

@safarigirlsp @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather @mrs-gucci

[strangunddurm]

Mine

Masterlist

Pairing: Flip Zimmerman x fem!reader

Summary: Flip Zimmerman was a man that liked to eat his cake and have it, too.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, fingering, masturbation, swearing, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving). 

A/N: It's been ages since I wrote something so I'm so proud of myself for finally finishing something.

It was common knowledge that Flip Zimmerman was utterly and completely infatuated with you. You were it for him. The one he would marry, build a house for, have kids with. You would be his end, but you were not his beginning.

It was also common knowledge that Flip Zimmerman was on an apparent path to sleep with everyone he could that wasn’t you. Fuck, finger, and fondle like he wasn’t an officer of the law and he wasn’t in a very public bar at that very moment. You could see his hand run along her leg, caressing it with the pads of his fingers before it disappeared beneath the fabric of her skirt.

She threw her head back, laughing like nobody was watching, but, of course, you were. Your eyes were always lingering on his figure, just as his were yours. He watched you as he traced the lace of her panties, as he dipped them under the fabric; he watched you as he guided her lips to his; he watched you as he shattered your heart, always knowing that the comfort of your arms would always be there to sooth him in the end.

You often found yourself wondering: why? Why weren’t you enough for him at this point? Flip had this ability where he could string you along enough so that you, yourself, would feel guilty thinking of another man. Your possible unwillingness weren’t the reason for Flip’s hesitancy to commit, it was his. The unwilling fool in love with the same person he had always loved. Or perhaps you were the fool? Two fools in love that could never let the other one go.

Your friends often wondered why you subjected yourself to the torture of witnessing his lips upon another’s. You didn’t know how to explain to them that you only existed because of him. However demeaning and desperate it sounded, it was true. Whilst others existed for bettering the world or something other, you were made just to be his.

You thought for a while that you could live without him. That you could break free from his hold and flee from the place where everything reminded you of him but it was impossible. It didn’t make sense, how a man could possess you so entirely with just a whisper of attention. You thought it to be your own fault; a bleeding consequence of hope that wrecked your heart beyond anyone else’s repair. All you could do was wait for him. For you would forever be missing him otherwise, regretting not taking the possibility of even the tiniest something.

So, you found yourself there, putting on a front of indifference as you tried not to watch every stupid move Flip made in the arms of another. She was smug. It was so obvious from the way her eyes would flicker over to you every now and then as his lips caressed her shoulder or her neck.

She knew of Flip’s fondness for you, having seen the way he had given you a sliver of attention by the bar, letting his hand ghost over your hip before she had successfully lured him away from you and into her arms.

You were zoned out, barely hearing your friends’ voices as you stared hard at them. Your lip was near bloody from your nervous chewing as you, almost ritualistically, dragged your teeth over it again and again.

“How long are you going to keep doing this to yourself?” The words were spoken in your ear, your best friends arm coming to wrap around you, pulling you into her embrace.

“I…” She didn’t allow you to continue on the miserable spiel that she had heard so many times before.

“I don’t want to hear it. Not again. You need to realise that you’re worth more than whatever the hell this whole thing is,” She pleaded, pressing a kiss against your temple. “You have to stop doing this to yourself.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you sounded so fragile at that moment. Your voice wavered at the end, fading out as everything you felt became almost too much.

“Yes, you can. You just need to realise that you don’t owe him anything. Sitting here completely miserable isn’t going to make him change or do anything different.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve been here with you! Every night we go out to have fun, he comes along and ruins it.”

“No, he doesn’t.” You turned to look at her as you forced the words out harshly. But the look in her eyes made the feigned anger falter.

“I love you. You deserve more. Try to enjoy your life before you realise it’s too late,” She said, squeezing your shoulder.

Did you really deserve more? You had been caught up in the web of Flip for so long that you truly did believe that staying completely devoted to him was the only way forward. You knew he would eventually tire and stop indulging himself in others. It was an unconventional relationship, unfavourable to you in every sense.

But who was to say that you weren’t allowed to enjoy others? Just the way he were? An innocent tryst with another that would scratch that itch not even your fingers could ease late at night.

You let your eyes trail over the inhabitants of the local watering hole. There were the usuals there, sitting at the bar, nursing their beers. A group of frat boys were in the corner, cheering over shots. It wasn’t until a pair of dark brown eyes met your own that your interested was piqued.

You probably wouldn’t have dared made a move if he hadn’t come sauntering over. He didn’t walk like Flip. Flip’s walk was self-assured, dominating in a subtle way. This guy walked in a cocky way, shoulders swaying with every step as he though himself holier than thou. It was off-putting, but you thought you owed it to yourself to at least try.

“Saw you watching me over there.” His attempt at flirting was just as cocky as his walk.

“Oh, hahah..” Your laugh was awkward as you fumble for a reply. “Do you come here often?”

“First time actually, I’m here visiting my brother.” He motioned toward some guy in the back that you couldn’t see.

“That’s nice,” You said awkwardly.

He introduced himself as he took perch on the barstool next to you, shaking your hand weakly.

“So, what do you do for fun around here?” He asked, motioning for the bartender to refill both of your glasses at the same time.

“Ehm… Come here, I guess.” You waved your hand in the air, uncommittedly. Anxiety was flooding your nerves, practically inhibiting your ability to speak. You let your eyes trail over the room again quickly. Flip was still hands-deep in that woman’s skirt, your friends had slipped off somewhere else, getting lost in others.

The man, Chris, held a one-sided conversation without seeming to notice your less than keen interest. The thought of letting go and trying to flirt with somebody else was always easier in theory rather than practice.

It wasn’t his fault, if you were somebody else you might’ve enjoyed it. But all you could think about was the way his eyes were too dark, his hair too light, and his voice to high to remind you of Flip.

“Listen,” He placed his hand on your thigh. High up, bold, wanting. “I really like you, what do you say about getting out of here?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond before a chest pressed against your back.

“She’s not going anywhere with you.”

You felt faint hearing Flip’s voice rumble through his chest as he pulled himself closer to you. His hand wrapped around Chris’s wrist, forcing it away from your leg.

“Hey, man, we were having a conversation here.” Chris was foolish. It wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t from here, after all. He didn’t know the perfectly concealed rage that could simmer under Flip’s skin when he felt like he was being disrespected.

“I’m going to offer you a piece of advice.”

“Flip, don’t-” Interjecting was pointless. Flip did whatever Flip wanted.

“You should take your drink, go back to whatever lowly corner you came from, and stay there. Get it through your thick skull that you’re not wanted here.” Flip roughly pushed the glas of beer Chris had been nursing on the bar, it’s content sloshing over the sides as it almost toppled over.

The silence that followed hung in the air, permeating it, polluting it. It didn’t take long for Chris to visibly crumble under Flip’s stare but it was almost as if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. He didn’t want to give in to the menacing man that had appeared out of nowhere. Reasonable, perhaps, but entirely futile. Flip would always get what he wanted in the end, no matter what.

Chris left without a word, sparing you a pitiful glance before he was gone and all that was Flip took over your senses as he rounded you, coming to a stop so you were chest to chest.

You refused to look at him, staring straight ahead, focusing on the way his chest would calmly breath in and out as he waited.

“Look at me,” His voice was low, steady. You wanted to, of course, but you were stubborn. Just when you were putting yourself first, there he was again. A forever keg in your wheels, keeping you in the same place.

His fingers were soft against your chin as he urged it upwards, making you look at him.

He was smiling. Not a full on grin, but that sweet, cheeky little smile that held so much mirth that you wanted to hit him. It’s like he’d been waiting for this, waiting for you to act out and finally do something for yourself.

“Wipe that smile of your face,” you hissed out. “What could you possible have to smile about?”

“You.”

“Oh, yeah, because it is so funny ruining my fucking life.”

“Ruining it?”

“Yeah, ruining it.”

“You should’ve just said something if you felt that way.” You almost laughed at that. It wasn’t like you hadn’t said something. It felt like all you did was talk, and all he did was not care.

“Cut me a fucking break, Flip. Don’t act like you don’t know what you’ve been doing to me. This- this game you’ve been playing, toying with my heart. One minute it feels like you might actually want me but then the next you go and fucksomebody else and I’m just suppose to pretend that it’s all fine?”

“It’s not?” He said, playfully.

“Fuck you.”

“Stop swearing, and keep your voice down.”

“What? So that your whore won’t hear us?”

“She means nothing,” He said

“So why do you keep doing this? Why keep stringing me along?” You were defeated. Your relationship with Flip was strange. Peculiar. Unexplainable in certain aspects as you yourself did not entirely know exactly what you two were.

You looked up at him, tears brimming in your eyes as all the hurt you had felt over the past however-long caught up to you. He was looking down at you, as if in wonder. Was it possible that Flip Zimmerman was naive to the way he had treated you? To the way he had made you suffer? Had you been imagining it all in your head?

He didn’t look sorry, he didn’t sound sorry, but when the apology tumbled out of his mouth, you accepted it. Perhaps it was you who were naive but you wanted a moment of happiness with him. Even if it was a moment entirely clouded by delusion.

You nodded your head, a small movement of acceptance that made Flip light up.

Flip would always shine brighter than any star you had ever seen. He took your breath away and filled you with a rush of serotonin every time you gazed into his eyes for even a brief second. His eyes were like molten gold, blinding you as they tinkled. Devotion to him and only him was inevitable.

“Will you come home with me?” The answer was obvious. The question had been what you had waited for. Taking his hand and slipping out through the door before any of your friends still caught in reason could stop you.

His hand dipped between your legs, fingers mapping out a path to your most sacred place the second he pushed you through the door of his home.

"Look at you, already so wet for me." Flip chuckled darkly. He knew you couldn't resist him. Your need for him was as deep as his need was for you.

His lips met yours in a searing kiss that took your breath away. His tongue caressed yours as teeth clashed.

His fingers toyed with your panties, teasing you. He knew how desperate you were for anything he would give you.

He took his time, teasing your more and more before he finally was gracious enough to slide a finger inside of you. Just a single finger to test you. You walls clamped down around him tightly, gripping him, coaxing him to give you more. He pumped it in and out of you slowly, so slowly that you thought you might lose your mind if he didn't give you something more, and you voiced so much.

"Please, Flip." What you needed was clear. But that didn’t mean Flip would be so easy to give in.

"You’ll get more, sweetheart. Don’t you worry.” He said sweetly before withdrawing from you completely.

"Flip-"

"You're so impatient." He chided you, tutting teasingly with a lazy smile on his lips. “Go to the bedroom.” He commanded whilst motioning his head in its direction. You were quick to obey, of course, feet moving swiftly as you stumbled your way on shaky legs through the halls and onto his bed.

You flipped onto it in excitement, eager for his touch once again.

“Is this what you wanted? To be one of my whores?” He asked as he undressed slowly, unbuttoning his flannel and letting his jeans fall to the floor before he took a stand by the foot of the bed. He trailed his hands up your legs equally as slow before grabbing a hold of your panties and pulling them off you. You couldn’t get any words out to respond, whining with need.

The evidence of your excitement was clear to him, almost dripping and shining in the low light. A sane man wouldn’t be able to hold back having a women presented so willingly to him with her legs spread wide and skirt bunched up around her hip, chest heaving with excitement. And of course, Flip was a sane man, in some sense at least, for he was quick to crawl in between your legs and mouth attached to your clit.

Digging his fingers into your thighs, he hauled one of them onto his shoulder and connected his mouth to your sweet cunt.

The sounds of your breathless moans were intoxicating as he suckled your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the stiff nubb.

Your knees fought against his shoulders as your hand came to cover your mouth, willing any sounds to stay inside of you as you bit down softly as you were overwhelmed by the pleasure rushing through you.

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart.” Flip praised in a panted breath before diving back in.

You fought to keep your eyes open as your hips moved up and down in a desperate attempt to grind your aching clit against his mouth and nose in search for that perfect sensation that would drive you over the edge.

Your hand slid into Flip’s hair, gliding through it before grasping a firm hold of it as a wave after wave of moans finally made their way out of you.

Flip had already made you come once when he slid his fingers into you, continuing his ministrations on your clit with his mouth. His movement were much rougher than what they had been before, thrusting them into you expertely, hitting that sweet spot of yours over and over again.

Your back arched into the air and mouth fell open at the overstimulation. It was exquisite.

“Oh, oh, Flip. I’m gonna cum.” You whined desperately. “Oh, God.”

You clung to his arm in an attempt to hold on to any sort of sanity but it was all for nought. Your legs spasmed as you came with a cry.

Flip tried to hold you down as he never let up despite your half hearted please, flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit again and again and again. He worked you through your orgasm, never relenting as your silent whimpers spured him on. You had such a tight hold on his hair that it made him groan, sending a wave of vibrations through you that caused you to gasp. He only stopped once your whimpers had grown in volume to a steady whine of pleas.

“You’re such a good girl.” Flip praised as he came up, hovering over you. “You gonna let me fuck you, sweetheart?”

“Yes! Please, Flip.”

He tugged at his hard and weeping cock a few times as he admired you. You were breath taking like this, legs parted, eyes hazy from your orgasm, cunt dripping, ready for him.

"You’re gonna look so gorgeous, covered with my cum." Flip's voice was husky as he leaned down and pulled you closer to him by your face before planting a sloppy, wet kiss on your lips as he came to rest between your hips, a single arm keeping him up.

He dragged his thick and cum weeping cock through your folds a few times, thoroughly coating it in your slickness. The anticipation was killing you. His fingers and tongue weren't enough, you wanted more, needed it.

You grabbed a hold of his shoulders, pulling him closer even to you in desperation.

"Please, Flip." You whispered, ready for him.

The sigh the both of you let out when he finally slipped all the way into your cunt was one of relief. You had missed this, had missed him.

Flip didn't give you time to adjust to him before he started pounding into you at a pace that was brutal in nature, just the way he knew you liked it.

“You’re such a dirty fucking whore.” He spat at you and you clenched around him in response. "Look at you, so desperate for my dick you could almost cry." Being his whore and whatever he wanted was everything you had ever wanted since the moment you had laid eyes on him.

He was so deep inside of you that you barely knew what to do with yourself. Flip's loud groans were bouncing around the walls of his room, blended in with your own gasps from every thrust into you.

Your walls were clenched so tightly around him, drawing him deeper and deeper inside.

"Fuck" You groaned. "Feels so- fucking good." You shakily breath out.

"This is what you wanted right? My cock so deep within you you’ll feel me for days" He cooed, slowing down just slightly, but each thrust was still as sharp, still as precise, and hard, and calculated.

A wailing yes! left your lips. You were sure you would be able to feel Flip's hands on your hips as you would nurse your hangover tomorrow, and most likely the day after that as well. You would feel him in every step you took. Forever.

"Harder." You pleaded.

He pulled out so just his tip was left in you, waiting there for just a second before slamming back into you again, buried to the hilt. The groan Flip let out sent tingles down your spine and caused you to clench even tighter around him, triggering another moan from him.

"I love it when you do that." He praised, followed by another rut into you.

He continued pumping into yours sweet cunt, drawing moans from you that were filthy. The sound of skin slapping and noises of pleasure mixed together as they bounced on the walls and around the room.

His thrusts had picked up in pace one again, ruthless and reckless as he fucked deeper and deeper into you. You were trembling against him, breath hitching, getting caught in your chest as you almost forgot how to breathe. You could feel your release mounting quickly once again, shockwaves gripping your body and rolling through you with every buck into you.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come,"

"No, you're not." Flip withdrew from you completely, flipping down on the bed beside you. You were drunk on the feeling of him, needy and desperate, ready to take everything he would give to you.

His legs were spread, cock standing on full attention, bobbing against his stomach, it's tip coloured an angry red, ready to be inside of you again.

"Come on then." He pulled you out of the short-lived trance you had been in over the sight of him. You though again of how there was something so ethereal about him, something other than just his looks, something that would always draw you back in and keep you on his hook.

You were quick in your movements, throwing a leg around his hips and hoisting yourself upright, causing him to chuckle over your desperation.

"Eager, are we?" He welcomed you with open arms, hands coming up to rest on your hips once again, as he gazed up at you with a smile on his face.

He helped you pull your wrinkled dress over your head, placing open mouthed kisses on every inch of your skin he could reach. His lips attached themselves to your perked nipple, sucking it into his mouth and releasing it with a pop.

"You're so fucking gorgeous." He sounded as if he was in awe simply over the sight of you.

You sank down swiftly, engulfing him with your tight walls, stopping only when you were at the base, stuffed full of him.

"Oh, fuck, Flip!" The change in angle had you convinced that he was deeper in you than ever before, the tip of him nestling against your cervix.

"You feel so good like this." Flip moaned. He tapped two fingers against the side of your thigh, signalling you to move and you were more than happy to oblige. Your feet were securely rooted on the floor and you placed your hands on the walls to give yourself the leverage and support you needed to begin riding him.

He let you control every movement; let you set the pace as you slid up and down on his throbbing cock. Flip's hands were exploring every inch of you that they could reach, massaging your breasts, caressing your thighs, sliding across your back, and then, finally, they found their way to the apex of your thighs and started firmly circling your clit.

Flip let out a loud grunt every time you slammed yourself down onto him. It was a sound you wanted to hear every day, every waking moment and in every vivid dream.

The steady pace that you had managed to keep was slowly becoming nothing as you felt yourself loosing control over your limbs the closer you climbed to that high you were chasing. The muscles in your stomach were tightening rapidly over the coiling tension and your walls gripped him even tighter.

"Say my name."

"What?" You weren't lucid enough to possibly begin to understand what he meant at that moment.

"Say. My. Name." He repeated, making sure to punctuate every single word with a small thrust upward to meet you as you came down on him.

His name spilled out of your mouth just a few seconds later in the form of a moan.

"Who’s making you feel this good?" You weren't as quick to heed his words this time, the building pressure between your legs taking up all of your attention.

His hands were back on your hips, forcing you up, slipping out of you, and then guiding you dominantly into the position he wanted with your face pressed into the sheets and your ass high up in the ar. He was swift to enter you again, you had barely even had time to complain over the loss of him before he was drilling into you.

"Flip!" You shouted his name as you finally came, tumbling over the edge as stars were painted behind your eyelids. Your legs were shaking, spasming, through the waves, words of gibberish leaving your mouth as he made you babble like a brook. He hadn't even faltered in his movements, continuing to pump into you as he chased his own climax. He was panting loudly in between groans and the sound of skin slapping against each other.

"Who owns this pussy?"

"You." Another sharp thrust into you.

"Who owns this pussy?"

"You, Flip. Oh, god, you, Flip!" Small droplets of tears were leaking from the corner of your eyes as Flip was steadily driving you to cum again as he fucked into you.

You hadn't felt this way before, you didn't even know you could feel this way; the overwhelming stimulation that was rushing through your blood, lighting your nerves on fire, making you want to stay right here, right now, forever.

"That's fucking right." Flip came with a deep jerk into you, pulling out to come all over your back before entering you again to give you a few last thrilling pumps.

You laid there on his bed in a heap, totally out of it as he calmly came to rest beside you. He coaxed you onto your back so that he could plant a sweet kiss on your lips. Uttering words that made your erratic heart pump even faster.

“All mine.”

Thank you for reading! Please check out my Masterlist if you want to read more.

Tags in reblog.

[mrs-gucci]

For the Hunt

{ werewolf!flip zimmerman x female reader }

anon

Werewolf Flip wanting to knock you up (or role play at it) and scenting when you’re ripe for him and chasing you down and pounding you

thank you for submitting this!!

warnings. SMUT (18+), werewolf in rut, primal kink (hunter/prey), breeding kink w/no intention of actually getting pregnant, dirty talk, outdoor sex, creampie, minimal aftercare.

word count: 995

🐺 written for werewolf wednesday 🐺

Your breathing is soft, exhilarated, creating little puffs of steam in the cold night air. A shiver runs down your spine, out of excitement or nerves, you’re not really sure.

You two have an agreement that on rut nights, he has full consent to use you however he wants or needs to. He tells you what he needs from you on a particular night and you give it to him willingly, whether it's being tied up on the bed down in the basement or up at his remote mountain cabin.

His absolute favorite thing, however, is when he gets to hunt you. Which is why you’re currently standing behind a big pine tree, trying to steady your breathing.

By now you’ve nearly perfected the art of giving Flip a good chase, having been with him for almost six years. And tonight is an extra special full moon because you’re ovulating, which gives Flip the ultimate prize in his werewolf brain: the chance to breed you.

He looks up at the full moon with his golden eyes, knowing it’s time to hunt, he lifts his snout eagerly.

Almost instantly, he picks up traces of your scent and his paws thud against the earth as he runs into the thick Colorado wilderness. He can already feel that this is one of his more mild ruts, but he's still just as desperate and tuned-in regardless.

Flip slows down and sniffs the air again, knowing that he's close. You can feel him nearby, sticks snapping and leaves crunching under his large paws.

You sneak a look around the tree and he doesn't seem to notice, so you quickly attempt to sneak to another tree. But of course, his head whips over and you freeze, then take off running.

He feels the familiar tingle of his primal hunting instinct creeping up through his body, but he still gives you a head start before taking off in your direction, eyes beginning to turn black with desire.

Your breathing is heavy as you sprint away from Flip, trying to give him a good chase. He growls softly out of sheer thrill and quickly dips to the side to run around you, then stands proudly. You come to a screeching halt.

Strands of drool hang from his jowls as he takes a step forward, then another, piercing you with his lustful stare. You let out a shaky breath and step back, not actually afraid but acting so anyway.

"Please don't hurt me," you say softly, eyes flickering down to his hard member for just a moment.

He grunts when he notices your quick downward look and stands a bit taller, eager to present himself to you.

"I have something else in mind," he says in his deep, gruff voice. "If you do your job correctly, then it should be pleasurable for both of us."

You bite your lip as he steps forward again, sniffing the air.

"You smell especially good tonight, little girl. I could smell your ripe, fertile pussy from back at the house. You're so ready to be bred."

"I don't--"

"Run," he says, interrupting you. "If I catch you, you're mine."

Immediately, you take off again and he gives you a moment before taking three long strides, catching you and causing you to fall over. He quickly catches you with a clawed paw, though.

He brings his mouth down to your ear as he lowers you to the ground.

"I got you," he says. "And now, I get to pound you until you're swollen with my seed."

You whimper softly as he holds your wrists down and takes a sharpened claw to your pants, tearing the crotch open to make room for his thick, pulsing cock. He lets out a shaky breath as he pushes your legs apart and lines himself up with your wet entrance.

Flip groans when he finally gets the wet, hot relief he's been desiring all night within your walls. He gives you a moment to adjust before beginning to move, his hips delivering sharp thrusts.

You moan unashamedly as Flip growls and fucks you from behind. Hearing his noises of pleasure only arouses you more and you clench, earning a surprised, breathy grunt from your husband.

“F-Flip…”

His noises get louder and he leans down again, beginning to lick at your neck and jaw, occasionally scraping his teeth lightly against your skin as an alternative.

“I need you,” he grunts, hips speeding up slightly. “I need you to h-hold all my cum inside, keep it a-all…give me pups…”

You gasp softly, eyebrows knitting in pleasure.

“I will,” you breathe. “I-I’ll keep it all f-for you, my love.”

His cock throbs and he knows he can't hold on much longer. He always feels guilty that more often than not, you don't get to cum like this. But he definitely makes sure to return the favor the first opportunity he gets.

"Sweetheart, I'm gonna--" He cuts off as the intense orgasmic sensations suddenly rush through him. His eyes flutter shut and he rocks his hips desperately, spilling every drop he has deep inside of you. "O-Ohhhh god..."

You sigh softly as he lets go of your wrists and sits up a bit, still staying buried deep in your pussy. He helps you get up on your hands and knees, then licks your neck again.

"Are you alright? I wasn't too harsh?"

"I'm fine, honey," you reassure, looking back at him with a small smile. "I promise I'm okay. I would've used the safe word if I wasn't."

Flip nods and pulls out slowly, letting out a shaky huff as he does so. When you stand up, he gently picks you up and you rest in his large arms. You smile up at him.

"I love you, Flip."

His eyes soften and wishes he could return your smile. "I love you too."

You sigh softly and look up at the night sky as Flip carries you back to the house.

****

the fic-or-treat taglist is currently empty!

>> to join the fic-or-treat taglist, you have to send a message to my inbox!! your username must be included in some form. I will not accept tag requests that don't come through my inbox. <<

[renstardust]

Two months.

It had been exactly two months since you fled the First Order, leaving behind your life as Apprentice beneath Commander Ren.

You left without any trace or explanation. Ren assumed you left because you didn’t think anyone would care; that they could track down another dark side loving Force-user with ease. He worried that maybe, you thought you were disposable.

It’s not like the lingering glances or touches between you and your Master meant anything anyway — it was all just business. Neither of you had time for feelings or any of that soft shit.

He assumed you’d think he wouldn’t care if you left. That if anything, he’d probably be relieved. That he could find someone older, stronger, more serious about being in one of the most sought after positions in the galaxy.

Kylo was losing his fucking mind, actually.

The worst part was that he could feel you. Everywhere. Not just in the Force signature you’d left behind that lingered in the cold, metal hallways of the Supremacy, or in your former quarters (the same quarters he now only visits once a day, sometimes twice), but he could feel you, out there, running about.

Driving him utterly insane.

He replayed every little conversation in his head, every moment you’d spent together: training sessions, meditations, meal times, quiet moments in cockpits during missions. Trying to piece together every memory, trying to figure out exactly when and how he screwed up.

What he did — or didn’t do — to keep you.

Losing you made Kylo realize how deeply he actually felt about you. The sound of your voice that he felt soothed by, the way your black clothes hugged your body in a manner that would make his pants feel uncomfortably tight, how graceful and calculative your combat skills looked, both in training and actual fights.

He missed the warmth of your scent. The softness of your hair. Those beautiful fucking eyes. Your little quirks, your sense of humor, your confidence, your occasional stubbornness, your persistence.

Gods, he missed you. You haunted his dreams, interrupted his meditation sessions, caused a tightness in his chest that hasn’t disappeared since the day you were suddenly gone.

As if you were never here to begin with.

Kylo’s lip trembled, tears pricking at his hazel eyes as he sat in his quarters after a particularly rough day of training with the Knights. He shook his head, shoving his feelings aside, including the everlasting urge to go sit in your old quarters across the hall and try to smell the barely-there scent of your perfume. He still hasn’t let the cleaning droids come near that room.

Was he….grieving you?

Should he go looking for you? Maybe he could coax you back-

“Why is everyone being a dick to me today?”

Your voice suddenly filled his quarters, pulling him from his daze, the metal door sliding shut behind you. Kylo blinked, tense as ever, quickly rising from his seat and adjusting himself. His eyes were wide, eyebrows furrowed, lips parted.

“I get it, I took a little leave to visit my family, but I really needed it, and I’m glad I did it. Two months without my datapad was really refreshing too. It’s not my fault everyone else here is married to their job.”

Kylo cleared his throat, confused as all hell.

“Apprentice-“

“Especially Hux! He looked at me like I was a ghost. I get that we aren’t on the greatest terms, but he could’ve at least acknowledged me with a nicety.”

“APPRENTICE.”

Your lips snapped shut, eyes widening at your Master’s stern, husky voice. The extra deep version that you only heard when he was at his breaking point.

“What, Kylo?”

“Where the hell have you been?”

“…On vacation? I sent everyone notice like three weeks before I left. And the night before…?”

“Nobody knew you went on vacation.”

“But Officer Mitaka told me to have fun before I left.”

A beat of silence. A creak of leather in Kylo’s gloved hands, now squeezing into big fists. Tight, trembling fists.

“Which database did you forward the notice to?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Eleven. I usually message in eleven.”

“Highest ranking officials message in database thirteen, Apprentice.”

Your pupils dilate, lips parting. “Fuck, is that why none of you guys reacted to the pictures I sent?”

Kylo didn’t know whether he wanted to kill you, or take you right then and there. Irritation and relief pulsed through his body simultaneously as he took in slow breaths of frustration. He was fucking pissed.

And so, so fucking happy.

You were here.

You never really left.

Kylo pulled his lips into his mouth, eyes darkening before he responded. “Medbay. Now. Let’s go.”

“Why?”

“I’m getting you tagged, Apprentice.”

[jynzandtonic]

Um, hi frands 🥺👋 I’m back on here a bit and trying to be back on my bullshit so uh, you wanna send me some writing requests?

[juniperwoodwell]

Just a reminder that my requests are open for all the characters I have listed on my profile.

Please send any and all requests and I'll do my best to write them!

Ps: I will be adding 10 new characters to my master list tomorrow so stay tuned for that!

And yes I do have a tag list, DM me or comment below if you'd like to be added.

-Juni