#Should’ve started with ‘don’t read this

[emilys-bangs]

Hi i have a request for your celebration ! 17 in the marigold category « Packing them lunch » for season 16 or 17 Emily.

I just know that with all the work and shit that happens to her, she sometimes forget to eat… That would be so cute if the reader pack lunch and puts it in emily’s bag before she goes to work. And Emily finds her lunch in a little box with a cute post-it and spend the rest of the day with a smile on her face and is so grateful when she comes home to her wife !!

Also congratulations for your 800 followers you’re an amazing writer 💋

This is the cutest!! Evolution Emily needs to be wifed up and I VOLUNTEER!!! Heh part of the 800 celebration :p

Tags: smitten emily, established relationship, sc/uc emily, just fluff, petnames, mentions of emily being too thin

Word count: 0.7k

As much as Emily would like to think that she’s somewhat organized, she’s really not. She trips over her shoes in the entrance, misplaces to-do lists and reminders and grocery lists, more than often giving up on finding them and just committing everything to memory. Her purse, once she takes it home, is usually never opened again until she’s back at work. Pens go missing, perfume bottles get swallowed up in its depths, jewelry and makeup go in and never come out. If she ever had the misfortune of discovering that something was missing, it was usually in the office, far too late.

This morning it’s a bit heavier than usual, but she doesn’t care enough to chance a look at the contents as she slings it over her shoulder and kisses you goodbye. It could just be pressing down on the tender muscle at the junction of her neck, sore and achy from god knows what it is now. 

She forgets about it quickly. Right off the bat, there’s too much to think about, too much that needs her attention before the sun is fully off the horizon: tilting stacks of files, ringing phones and desperate callers behind them, scribbled in meetings that she can’t seem to cross off of her notepad. Emily barely gets off the elevator before Garcia’s on her, rambling about urgent consults and their apparently crushing, desperate need for new 8th generation iPads.

It all balls up into a slow but persistent headache settling at her temples. The pulsing starts sometime after ten, the bullpen buzzing with noise as she drags her blinds down with a rattle. 

Emily’s shoulders slump when she’s out of view. She blows out a breath, rounding her way back to her desk and rooting through her purse. Her search for Advil goes forgotten when her hand brushes against something she definitely hadn’t packed.

Smooth, heavy, and glass, it’s not hard to tell what it is. Emily pulls the Tupperware out, her lips twitching when she sees the fruit you’d packed along with a sandwich, a sticky note pressed flat on the lid and stealing her attention. She peels it off, laughing as she reads your familiar scrawl, your voice echoing in her head.

Fuel up, Chief! You’ve got a busy day ahead of you, and you gotta kiss me by the end of it. Don’t work that pretty head too hard, though. Your frown lines won’t thank you. 

Love you.

Emily doesn’t really think before dialing your number and pressing the phone to her ear. As it rings, she grabs the picture of you on her desk and carefully tucks the note inside the frame, slotting it between wood and glass and your beaming smile.

The tone dies.

“Hey, babe,” you greet sweetly.

“Hi.” Her grin travels through her voice. Whipped and boneless, it’s the same consistency as her mushy heart. “Thank you for packing me lunch.” She says softly. 

God, is she twirling her hair around her finger?

She’s twirling her hair. Jesus.

Emily drops the strand, tucking it behind her ear as you hum into the phone. “I wanted to put some strawberries, but we ran out. Might go get some today.” 

“Blueberries are fine.” She rushes out. “Perfect. I love them. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome. I should’ve started doing it a lot sooner. You’re skin and bones, Emily.”

“Am not.” She frowns.

“Uh huh. You’re worse than a toddler,” you murmur. She can imagine the scrunch of your nose. “Just eat it all, please? I’d like my wife to not wither away before I’m home to kiss her hello.”

Emily rolls her eyes, her lips pressing against a smile. “I won’t. You’re so dramatic.” Really, though, you’re not. Even she has noticed the recent airiness of her clothes, the way they hang less snug than they used to.

“Learned from the best.” You chirp, your laugh warming her insides. She lets you ramble on for a few seconds more, letting your voice dissolve the tension in her neck before you cut it short, “I have to go, Em. I love you.”

“I love you.” She murmurs, smoothing her thumb over the Tupperware and chewing down on another grin. “Take care.”

“Mhm. Come home.”

“You know I will.”

You hang up, and for a small, phantom moment, she forgets her headache. She’s preoccupied with snapping a picture of the note, something golden rushing in her blood and making her smile. It matches the glint of her wedding ring in the sunlight, unapologetically luminescent, both paths leading to you even when you’re miles away.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu @ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi @temilyrights @professorsapphic @decadentcatcrusade @piiinco @jareavsheavn @mourningthewicked @heartoreadallthequeerthingz @rustnroll @slutforabbyanderson

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

Ruined

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You’ve been testing König’s patience all day with that smart mouth of yours and now he’s going to shut you up.

Warnings: Degradation, rough sex, manhandling, size kink, choking, overstimulation, impact play, dom/sub dynamics, brat behavior, safe word implied (but not used). If you’re not into being treated like a chew toy with a smart mouth, skip this one.

MASTERLIST

This is pure filth, I had an idea and ran with it. I absolutely had no intention to post this but I thought you all might enjoy this.

Do enjoy 😉

——————

I should’ve stopped at the first eye roll.

Should’ve quit while I was ahead—before the second sigh, before the words “Big man, small temper” left my lips.

But where’s the fun in behaving?

König doesn’t answer right away. Just tilts his head. Slow. Calculating. That goddamn mask making it impossible to read the full storm behind his eyes—but I feel it. Vibrating off him like the low growl of a beast just before it pounces.

“Repeat that,” he says quietly.

I flash him a smile that’s all teeth. “Did I stutter, König?”

My voice is sugar-sweet and laced with venom. “Or is the altitude messing with your hearing, tall boy?”

There’s a pause. A long one. Just long enough for my smug little high to settle. And then—

I’m airborne.

No warning. One second I’m mouthing off, the next I’m lifted off the floor like I weigh nothing, thrown down hard onto the bed with a thud that knocks the breath from my lungs.

“What the—!”

“You don’t speak to me like that,” König growls, climbing over me. His weight pins me down, a massive thigh forcing mine apart like I’m just a doll beneath him.

I squirm—purely out of defiance, not fear. “Gonna crush me with that giant ass of yours?”

He chuckles. Low. Dark. Dangerous.

“I haven’t even started yet, Schatz.”

His hands are everywhere—rough, calloused fingers around my throat, pinning both wrists above my head with one palm like I’m nothing. Like I could fight him and it wouldn’t matter. He lets me squirm. For the thrill of it.

“You wanted to be a brat?” he hisses in my ear. “Then you get disciplined like one.”

He drags my panties down in one tug, rips my shirt, doesn’t even bother with finesse—and then flips me over like he owns every inch of me.

I moan into the sheets as his hand comes down hard on my ass. Once. Twice. Again.

My skin’s on fire, and he likes it. The way I arch up. The hiss of pain that bleeds into a whimper.

“Color?” he demands. His voice is tight—barely holding it together.

“Green, you bastard,” I spit.

He grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls my head back just enough for his voice to drop like gravel into my ear.

“Good. Then shut the fuck up and take it.”

I can barely breathe—and that’s before he tightens the hand around my throat.

My legs are shaking, body already flushed from the spanks, skin stinging, but he hasn’t even fucked me yet. König’s just watching me in that slow, calculated way like he’s studying a weapon he plans to dismantle piece by piece.

“Still got something to say?” His thumb presses against my lower lip. “Or is the little brat ready to learn her place?”

I glare. Bite his thumb.

Wrong move.

He growls—deep and guttural—and I swear my cunt clenches just from the sound.

The next second, he’s shoving two thick fingers inside me without warning, pushing deep, curling them just right. I cry out, back arching off the bed as he pumps them mercilessly, other hand pinning my throat like a threat.

“Loud now, huh?” he huffs, voice hot behind his mask. “Where’s all that attitude?”

“F-fuck you—” I choke out, and his fingers curl harder. “You’re—shit—so cocky—”

He pulls his fingers out, flips me again like I’m nothing. My legs are open before I even have time to resist.

“You think this is cocky?” he snarls.

And then he slams into me.

No warning. No mercy.

I scream—literally scream—as he bottoms out, one hand gripping my hip, the other still around my throat. My body tries to recoil, but there’s nowhere to go—he’s too big, too deep, stretching me until I feel like I’m about to break in half.

“Is that brat mouth working now?” König hisses into my ear. “Or should I fuck you until you cry for me?”

I whimper.

God, it’s too much—the stretch, the pace, the weight of him crushing me into the mattress. His hips snap against mine with brutal precision, forcing my breath out in ragged moans.

“You wanted to act up,” he growls, pace unrelenting. “Now you’ll come when I say. You’ll scream for me—not because you want to—because I make you.”

My hands claw at the sheets. He pounds into me harder, dragging the orgasm out of me like he’s claiming it. I cry out, nails digging into the mattress as I shatter, legs spasming.

But König doesn’t stop.

He grabs my face, forces me to look up at him—eyes barely visible behind the shadow of his mask. I see the heat in them. The rage. The possessiveness.

“You think I’m finished?” he growls.

I try to speak—I don’t even know what I’m trying to say—but all that comes out is a sob. My body is overstimulated, twitching. My thighs clamp around him instinctively, trying to push him out.

He laughs.

Dark. Ruthless.

“You’re crying already? Oh, Schatz…” He leans down, nose brushing mine. “We’re just getting started.”

My legs are shaking—numb, barely responding.

I came already. Once? Twice? I don’t know anymore. Time’s slipped somewhere between the wet slap of his hips against mine and the pressure of his hand still curled loosely around my throat.

“Poor little thing,” König murmurs, voice lower now. Not soft—mocking. “Can’t even keep count. I’ve fucked the attitude right out of you.”

I try to protest, but it comes out as a broken, wet sound—half sob, half moan. My vision blurs, not from pain, but from the pleasure he keeps wringing out of me until I’m raw, wrecked, ruined.

“You asked for this,” he grunts, slamming into me again. “You wanted to run your mouth. You wanted to be tossed around like a rag doll.”

He grabs me by the back of the neck and pulls me up, bending me in half, forcing my spine to arch like I’m nothing but a toy in his hands. I’m caged by his body—his size, his weight, his cock hitting a spot so deep it punches a scream from my lungs.

“Look at you,” he growls into my ear. “Crying on my cock. Pretty tears for me, hmm?”

I whimper, tears streaking my cheeks now, head swimming.

“You love this,” he says, breath hot and ragged behind his mask. “You love being ruined like this. Tell me.”

I nod frantically, gasping, words barely forming. “Y-yes—fuck—I love it—I love it—”

He lets out a low sound. Like he’s satisfied. Like that was all he needed to hear before breaking me again.

“Good girl.”

That praise—it shatters something in me.

Because his pace changes. Rougher. Deeper. Less about punishment and more about claiming. His grip bruises into my hips, dragging me back onto his cock like I belong nowhere else.

I scream when I come again—loud, desperate, choking on it as my whole body goes tight, clenched, then completely undone.

My vision whites out.

My voice is a sob.

And he doesn’t fucking stop.

“You’re mine when you cry like this,” he snarls. “Mine when you’re shaking. Mine when you’re drooling into the sheets because your brain can’t fucking think.”

My arms collapse beneath me. My body isn’t working anymore. Just trembling, twitching, spent.

But I’m still moaning.

Still whining for him.

He leans over me, cock still buried to the hilt, hand sliding back around my throat as his voice drops to a deadly purr.

“You feel that?” he whispers. “That’s what happens when you mouth off. I break you… and you beg me for more.”

I nod weakly. Or maybe I just twitch—I don’t know.

But his cock throbs inside me, and I realize—

He hasn’t even come yet.

Oh no.

————-

I need to touch some grass after writing this 😭

[magic-shop-stories]

lazy morning sex bts headcanons please i beg of you 😭

💌 Reply:

hiiii, there 💜 THANK YOU for this request (and for your patience! life’s been a too much lately (well actually just uni assignments and exams) 😭). I hope these headcanons hit the vibe you wanted - if not feel free to reach out again and say the word... ANY FEEDBACK HERE IS GOLD!!! full disclosure: I’m still finding my footing with writing explicit stuff (my anxiety is like pls no explicit, so i tried to focus on the vibes... I mean it's not like I can't write it, but I am a bit afraid to share publicly) – c –💜

BTS x Lazy Morning Intimacy Headcanons 

↳ BTS x f!reader

Pairings: OT7 x fl!Reader (Romantic) Rating: PG-13 (T) Genre: fluff, romance, domestic slice-of-life Warnings: None (mild implied intimacy, affectionate touching, kisses, cuddling, non-explicit)

KIM NAMJOON

= Slow, Thoughtful, and Deeply Connected

MOOD

quiet, rain-soaked mornings

the kind where time feels suspended

gray light filters through linen curtains

world outside hums softly

his energy is unhurried/ reverent

isn’t about urgency

it’s about presence

savors the intimacy like a rare first edition

turning each moment into a page to be annotated

HOW IT STARTS

you stir awake

the weight of his arm draped over your waist

his chest pressed gently against your back

his lips brush the nape of your neck

= warm and lingering

“Good morning, universe.” 

murmurs, voice sleep-rough and soft

hand trails down your arm

fingers intertwining with yours

“Don’t move yet. Just… let me be here.”

PACE

deliberate and unhurried

takes his time mapping your skin with his fingertips

= as if memorizing every freckle/ every curve

his touches are purposeful

thumb grazing your hipbone

palm splayed over your ribcage

his breath steady against your shoulder

believes in process/ the beauty of unfolding

TOUCH

Hands

calloused from writing

gentle in their exploration

traces the dip of your spine like it’s a stanza he’s trying to decipher

Lips

presses kisses to your shoulder blades, your temples, pulse point of your wrist

= each one a quiet affirmation

Forehead

rests his against yours

eyes closed

breathing synced

“This… this is my religion...” 

deep whispers

SOUNDS

rustle of sheets

= when he shifts to cradle your face in his hands

low, content hum

= when you card your fingers through his hair

“Feels like… home...” 

his voice barely audible

soft, fragmented phrases in Korean and English

“You’re so… god, you’re perfect… 어떻게 이렇게 아름다워…”

THINGS HE SAYS

Poetic Praise

“Your skin tastes like stardust. Did you know that?”

Gentle Teasing

“You’re stealing all the blankets. Again. Should’ve written a clause in our contract.”

Raw Honesty

“I don’t know how I got so lucky. To have this… to have you.”

AFTERCARE

brings you a steaming mug of honey-lemon tea

a book of Mary Oliver poems

reads aloud while you curl into his side

his free hand stroking your hair

drapes his oversized hoodie over your shoulders

kissing your forehead

“Wear this. It’s… softer with you in it.”

opens the window to let in the rain-scented air

“Today’s agenda: Nothing. Just… us.”

note: would 100% accidentally knock over a lamp mid-moment, laugh into your neck, and whisper, “Priorities.”

KIM SEOKJIN (JIN)

= Playful, Affectionate, and Full of Laughter

MOOD

golden, sunlit morning

air feels like a warm hug

Jin’s energy is bright and mischievous

blending tenderness with his signature humor

it isn’t just intimacy

it’s a celebration

= a chance to laugh, tease

remind you why he’s Worldwide Handsome (inside and out)

HOW IT STARTS

you wake to the sound of him humming

his fingers softly drumming a rhythm on your hip

pokes your cheek, before you can open your eyes

“Yah, sleeping beauty! Rise and shine... or I’ll start without you.” 

his grin is audible as he nuzzles your ear

breath tickling your skin

“Just kidding. Oppa’s too nice to leave you behind.”

PACE

leisurely but lively

no rush

he’s here to enjoy the moment

= like a chef savoring his favorite dish

alternates between playful teasing and sudden sincerity

keeping you on your toes

one minute he’s blowing raspberries on your shoulder

next he’s cupping your face like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen

TOUCH

Hands

warm and confident

tracing idle patterns on your back

tousling your hair

“Softest human ever. Are you sure you’re not a cloud?”

Lips

plants exaggerated, smacking kisses on your nose, forehead, cheeks

“Stamp of approval. Now you’re officially perfect.”

Cuddles

pulls you into his chest

rocking you slightly like you’re dancing to a song only he hears

“Shh, just let me admire my masterpiece.”

SOUNDS

deep, rumbling laugh when you squirm away

“Where you going? I’m the main event!”

playful whispers

“Admit it... you married me for my looks.”

fake gasps of offense

“You’re blushing? After all this time? Yah, I still got it!”

THINGS HE SAYS

Affectionate Teasing

“You’re lucky I’m so patient. Anyone else would’ve given up on your snoring.”

Unexpected Sweetness

“You’re my favorite place to be. Even better than... ahh nervermind."

AFTERCARE

whips up a gourmet breakfast with way too many heart-shaped garnishes

“Fuel for round two! Hypothetically.” 

winks as he feeds you a strawberry

drapes you in silk robe

insisting it’s “VIP loungewear” 

“You’re rocking my look. Almost as good as me.”

turns on a reality show

narrating the drama in a silly voice until you’re crying-laughing

“See? Oppa’s a whole package.”

MIN YOONGI (SUGA)

= Quiet, Grounded, and Unapologetically Tender

MOOD

hazy, gray morning

world feels muted

room is dim

curtains half-drawn

only the faint hum of the city waking up outside

his energy is calm and deliberate

no rush, no grand gestures

it’s about existing together (in stillness)

time bends

HOW IT STARTS

wakes before you

he often does, but doesn’t move

just watches the rise and fall of your shoulders

his arm slung loosely over your waist

when you finally stir, he tugs you closer

his nose brushing the back of your neck

“Too early...” 

he grumbles

voice gravelly with sleep

“Stay.” 

hand slips under your shirt

palm warm against your stomach

he is anchoring you to him

PACE

slow

almost lazy

intentional

he’s not one for theatrics

movements are measured

= like the steady click of a metronome

kisses the curve of your shoulder, the dip behind your ear

each touch is a quiet promise

he rolls you onto your back

a hand cradling your head

thumb brushing your cheekbone

“Easy...”

murmurs, more to himself than to you

TOUCH

Hands

slightly rough from guitar strings

but his fingertips are still moving gentle

tracing the line of your jaw, your collarbone, the inside of your wrist

= like he’s mapping a song only he knows

Lips

soft

lingering presses rather than urgency

kisses like he’s savoring something rare

the corner of your mouth, the pulse at your throat, the scars you once told him about

Body

prefers closeness without suffocation

his leg hooks over yours

he is pulling you into his warmth

tho leaves room to breathe

“You’re freezing...”

his smile/smirk betrays him

SOUNDS

the creak of the mattress as he shifts

his exhale

= a low hum against your skin

rare, breathy laugh when you tickle his ribs

“Yah. Focus.”

murmurs in a mix of Korean and sleep-slurred English

“좋아… just like that… perfect.”

THINGS HE SAYS

Dry Affection

“You’re hogging the sheets. Again.”

he’s the one who stole them

Blunt Honesty

“This... you... this is the only thing I’d wake up early for.”

Unexpected Softness

“Stay. Please.” 

request, not a demand

AFTERCARE

rolls onto his back

arm still draped over you

staring at the ceiling

“Coffee?” 

already knows the answer

returns with two mugs

black decaf for him

too much cream for you

sits cross-legged on the bed

shoulders brushing

no need to fill the silence

he’ll tug you into his studio

letting you nap on the couch while he works

“Don’t snore...” 

unseriously warns you

click of his mouse slows when your breathing evens out

note: would fall back asleep mid-cuddle. “Five more minutes” turning into two hours

JUNG HOSEOK (J-HOPE)

= Bright, Playful, and Overflowing with Love

MOOD

sunlit and joyful

= like the first day of spring

his energy is contagious

warm, giggly

infused with a tenderness that makes even lazy moments feel vibrant

turns intimacy into a dance

every touch is a step

every laugh a rhythm

HOW IT STARTS

you wake to the sound of him humming under his breath

his fingers tracing idle patterns on your shoulder

you shift?

he grins and pokes your cheek

“Jagiya, you’re finally up! Took you long enough.”

pulls you into a bear hug

nuzzling your neck like an overgrown puppy

“Missed you. Even though you were right here.”

PACE

mix of playful energy and lingering sweetness

he’s all about connection

switching between peppering your face with kisses and slowing down

savoring the way you sigh when he brushes his lips over your collarbone

his hands never stay still

roaming from your waist to your hair

= like he’s trying to memorize you through touch

TOUCH

Hands

warm and always moving

squeezing your hips

threading through your hair

linking your fingers together

“Your hands are so tiny. Cute.”

Lips

leaves a trail of quick, smiling kisses from your jaw to your fingertips

“One for each hour I waited for you to wake up.”

Cuddling Position

pulls you on top of him

your head resting on his chest

“Listen... my heart’s beating just for you.”

SOUNDS

bright, breathy laughter when you tickle his sides

“Yah! Cheater!”

soft, sing-song praises in Korean

“이뻐… 너무 이뻐…” (“Pretty… so pretty…”)

occasional giggle-snort when you tease him

“Stop making me laugh... this is serious...”

THINGS HE SAYS

Playful Banter

“You’re stealing all the blankets again. Again! Should I start calling you ‘Thief’?”

Affectionate

“You’re doing amazing, baby...”

Unexpected Sincerity

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you… but I’ll spend forever trying to.”

EXTRA: SHOWER MOMENT

tugs you into the shower

claiming it’s to “wash off the sleep and sweat” 

anything but lazy

hands you the loofah

eyes sparkling

you rinse his hair?

he leans into your touch

suddenly quiet

“This… this is the good stuff.”

AFTERCARE

wraps you in his fluffiest towel

dances around the kitchen making honey-butter toast.

“Fuel for round two! Or… y’know, nap time.”

plays “cozy DJ”

curates a playlist of acoustic BTS tracks and slow jams

sways with you in the living room

chin on your head

“We’re owning this lazy day, yeah?”

PARK JIMIN

= Softness, Fire, and Endless Devotion

MOOD

golden, sunlit morning where the air feels like honey

slow and sweet

his energy is a blend of soft affection and simmering intensity

like a dance between a lullaby and a crescendo

thrives on connection

making every touch a conversation

every glance is a promise

HOW IT STARTS

you wake to his fingertips tracing idle patterns on your bare shoulder

his breath warm against your ear

“Jagiya...” 

murmurs, voice still husky with sleep

“You’re too pretty to be real.”

lips brush the curve of your jaw, achingly slow

as if he’s savoring the first taste of sunlight

PACE

deliberate push-and-pull

softness that melts into fervent urgency

ebbs back into something achingly gentle

starts with languid kisses

hands cupping your face like you’re something fragile

when you arch into him, he matches your hunger

fingers tangling in your hair

breath hitching

slows again just as quickly 

“Shh, we have all day...” 

whispering against your collarbone

TOUCH

Hands

start as feather-light caresses

thumb grazing your cheek

palm skimming your waist

later grips your hip with possessive gentleness

grounding you

“Right here. Stay with me.”

Lips

alternates between tender pecks and deep, lingering kisses that leave you breathless

bites his own lip to stifle a grin when you shiver

“Like that, jagiya?”

Forehead

presses his to yours during quieter moments

eyes locked on yours

“You’re my favorite sight.” 

voice trembling

SOUNDS

rustle of sheets as he pulls you closer

fabric pooling around his waist

soft, breathy laughs when you tease him

“Yah, who said you could be this cute and this annoying?”

whispers that blur Korean and English

“I’ve got you… 넌 내 것이라서… don’t ever let go.”

THINGS HE SAYS

Sweet Affirmations

“You’re everything. Every damn thing.”

Playful Demands

“Look at me. I want to see you... all of you.”

Raw Vulnerability

“I don’t know how to love you quietly. You make me… burn.”

AFTERCARE

draws a bath strewn with rose petals

insisting on washing your hair himself

“Let me take care of you.” 

fingers massage your scalp until you’re boneless against him

feeds you strawberries dipped in chocolate

licking sweetness off your thumb

“Breakfast of champions”

smirks

wraps you in his favorite silk robe

nuzzling your neck as you both doze

“Stay. The world can wait.”

KIM TAEHYUNG (V)

= Whimsical, Romantic, and Unapologetically Artistic

MOOD

golden, sunlit morning

air smells like fresh coffee/cocoa and distant rain

room feels like a vintage film set

soft velvet throws, polaroids strung on the wall, record spinning Billie Holiday in the corner

his energy is a mix of playful mischief and soul-deep romance

= as if every moment is a scene he’s directing just for you

HOW IT STARTS

you wake to the faint scratch of a charcoal pencil and the warmth of his gaze

he’s already propped on one elbow

sketching you in his leather-bound journal

sunlight gilding the edges of his bedhead

catches you watching

he grins, all boxy and bright

“Don’t move. You’re perfect like this.” 

tho tosses the sketchbook aside

crawling closer

“Actually... do move. Come here.”

PACE

unpredictable and sweetly meandering

one second he’s tracing the shell of your ear with a feather-light touch

next he’s rolling you both into a cocoon of blankets

laughing when you yelp

he’s in no rush

kisses your knuckles, your knees, curve of your ankle

= as if every inch of you deserves a soliloquy

TOUCH

Hands

artist’s hands

ink-stained and tender

skims your collarbone like he’s sketching it

laces his fingers with yours, squeezing gently

Lips

alternates between soft pecks and playful nips

“You taste like yesterday’s wine. My wine.”

Forehead

presses his to yours, eyes crinkling

“You’re my favorite dream.”

SOUNDS

crackle of vinyl in the background

saxophone notes weaving through his whispers

his low, raspy laugh when you tickle his sides

“Yah... this is a serious moment!”

it’s not...

half-sung lyrics in Korean

voice still gravelly with sleep

THINGS HE SAYS

Dramatic Flair

“If I painted you right now, I’d call it ‘Chaos and Honey’. Or maybe ‘The Day Time Forgot’.”

Playful Teasing

“You’re stealing all the good pillows. Again. Should I write a song about it?”

Raw Honesty

“I didn’t know love could feel like… this. Like a song I can’t stop humming.”

AFTERCARE

wraps you in his hoodie

makes hot chocolate with heart-shaped foam

serving them on a vintage tray with strawberries

“Breakfast fit for… us.”

dances with you barefoot

his palm warm on your lower back

“No one’s watching. Just the ghosts of jazz legends. They approve.”

JEON JUNGKOOK (JUNGKOOK)

= Sweetly Enthusiastic, Playful, and Tenderly Protective

MOOD

rainy morning, after a thunderstorm

his energy is a mix of boyish eagerness and soft reverence

= like he’s discovered something precious and wants to cherish it slowly

his touches are warm

his laughter bright

his affection spills over in whispered jagiyas

shy smiles turning into smirks

HOW IT STARTS

you wake to his arm curled possessively around your waist

his nose buried in your hair

you shift?

he mumbles sleepily

“Jagiya… five more minutes.”

his hand slides up to cradle your jaw

thumb brushing your cheekbone

nuzzles your shoulder

lips grazing the edge of your tank top strap

“Missed you, even though you were right here.”

voice still raspy from sleep

PACE

playful push-and-pull between patience and passion

he’s eager but careful

= like he’s savoring a favorite dessert

lets the moment stretch

lingering kisses, fingers tracing idle patterns on your hip

then pulling you closer with a quiet growl

“You’re too pretty. Can’t help it.”

TOUCH

Hands

strong but gentle

calloused from the gym

tho tender as they skate over your skin

lets you trace his tattoos

he shivers under your fingertips

“You’re the only one who gets to touch them.”

Lips/Bites

presses open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone

nibbling just enough to make you gasp

“Sorry, jagiya… couldn’t resist.” 

teeth graze your earlobe, playful and warm

Forehead

rests his against yours

eyes dark and sincere

“You’re everything.” 

breathes heavily

SOUNDS

soft, breathy laughter when you tickle his sides

“Yah... play nice.”

whispers

“Jagiya, you feel so good… perfect.”

rustle of sheets as he shifts to hover over you

his tattoos catching the sunlight

THINGS HE SAYS

Sweet Nonsense

“How are you real? Like… how?”

Playful Demands

“Call me oppa again. Please.” [tho I'm 50:50 abt this]

he’ll pout if you tease him

Raw Honesty

“I used to dream about mornings like this. Now I don’t have to.”

AFTERCARE

makes you banana pancakes shirtless

flexing just enough to make you laugh

“What? Gotta maintain the view for my jagiya.”

wraps you in his black hoodie

sleeves drowning your hands

“Keep it. Looks better on you anyway.”

puts on a live later

subtly wearing the same hoodie

ARMY notices

“No, I’m not blushing! It’s… hot in here!”

[wonderjanga2]

Neglected Santa Clarita Diet (Zombie)!Reader x Yan!Batfam

Prologue (Here), Chapter One

Tw: Lots of vomiting, very brief, kind of subtle mention of the Reader’s death, and gore at the very end

I’d also like to say this Reader is Gender Neutral or at least you can pick your gender. Most of the pronouns are “you” and at the very beginning it’s “they” so… Yeah! Have fun reading and tell me if there are any spelling mistakes or things that don’t make sense.

Prologue

It all started on the night they’d had enough.

That day, the bullying at school had been worse. They’d been crueler, meaner, harsher, and made sure you got to experience every bit of that. The Reader’s single friend at school was also absent that day because family matters or something. They weren’t exactly listening.

On the bright side, said friend offered to get dinner together later so that was good. Just the thought of that got them through the day. They were truly one of the only people you felt you could rely on.

You both decided on going to a seafood place. The night was nice, you weren’t almost mugged, the two of you chatted and goofed off around each other. They ordered fish, they let you try some. You ordered Ruby's Devil-Red Clams, the special of the night, because you decided that if you were going to be bold at anything, it might as well be your food choices. You didn’t offer any to your friend because you knew they didn’t like clams. Overall, it was great, aside from the fact your stomach was a little upset. You bid your friend goodbye and went your separate ways, promising to meet up at school tomorrow.

By the time you got back home to the manor, it would never be home to you, your stomach was feeling worse. It actually hurt. You stumbled through the manor, trying your best to be quiet, almost knocking over a vase. You were queasy and dizzy. A not so good combo. Thankfully though, you somehow made it to the general vicinity of your room, and just to be safe, you veered off to the bathroom next to it and sat on the toilet to try and calm yourself down. It didn’t work though. You just grew more nauseous.

After a bit, you decided to get down on your knees over the toilet because you were pretty sure any moment now you were going to vomit. Sure enough, you did.

But uh… it didn’t stop.

It just kept coming.

It kept coming until your throat was raw. It kept coming until your eyes were watery. It kept coming even as the toilet couldn’t hold anymore It kept coming even as your hand slipped from the ceramic rim and you nearly banged your head on the cabinet next to your head. It was all over the bathroom’s tiled floors, on the walls, staining the wooden cabinets, etcetera.

It kept coming until you passed out.

“[Name]!”

A light turned on before you felt something pat your cheek a couple times.

You felt… gritty. Thats the easiest way to put it. The backs of your fingers on rested on what you were half sure was tile. They were surrounded by some type of mush. Dried mush. You could also feel said dried mush on your cheeks and chin. It was definitely crusted into your shirt and staining your pants as well.

The person who said your name, it sounded like Jill, your one and only dearest friend, spoke up again.

“[Name]! [Name], please wake up! Don’t tell you’re dead!” Jill sounded so worried. You were about to let her know you were awake, but then she moved you until you were pretty sure she was holding you against her chest. It was so comfortable. You also felt bad that you were definitely getting the mush on her jacket. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I should’ve been here sooner. Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve came to help as soon as I could.” Jill sounded like she was about to cry.

You felt something wet plop onto your cheek. It felt like a tear. Jill was definitely crying now. You opened your eyes, feeling surprisingly energized. “Are we in the bathroom still?”

“Oh, what the fuck.” Jill’s hands went to your shoulders, pushing you away as you looked around. Everything was… green. Like baby vomit green. There were some rust colored flecks in it too. “Are you okay?”

“Uh… yeah. Yeah.” You mumbled, wiping your mouth. “I just vomited. A lot. And that came out of me.” You pointed to a little red, oval-shaped, prune-looking thing sitting amidst the vomit. One could also compare it to the end of a sausage, but let’s not get into the logistics.

Jill looked between you and the prune thing over and over until she finally settled on you again. “I don’t care about whatever that— thing is! [Name], you scared the life out of me! When I went to check your pulse I didn’t feel anything! I thought you were dead! We’re taking you to the hospital. Immediately.” With that, she grabbed your hands and hoisted you up. “Here, lean on me. Let’s go.”

“Oh, no I’m good.” You declined as politely as you could but still held her hands.

“[Name], look around. You’re definitely not good. Lean on me.” She gestured to the vomit all over the walls and floor.

“But I can walk just fine, see?” You made a show of walking out of the bathroom, letting go of one of Jill’s hands yet still clasping the other. Your friend looked like she didn’t know how to feel about that.

“…fine. Whatever, but you’re still going to the hospital, okay?”

“ ‘kay.” With that, Jill started pulling us along.

The two of you just almost made it out the door before you were interrupted by Damian Wayne. The Damian Wayne. The one you’d told Jill came at you with a whole katana and gave you the giant scar up the side of your left arm.

“You’re certainly filthy.” The little shit (wow, you’ve never thought of Damian like that before) remarked in that usual condescending tone of his.

“Fuck off.” Jill ground out immediately, pushing you behind her.

“Yeah, Damian! Get run over by an eighteen wheeler!” You yelled over her shoulder with a distinctful cheeriness that you probably hadn’t summoned since you were about ten years old and your mom got you an ice pop at the zoo.

That got you not one, but two looks of incredulity from both Damian and Jill. Huh. You’ve never ever said something like that to Damian before, have you? It feels really good to let those thoughts out.

She pulled you out of there before you could say anything else.

“Wow! I can’t believe I said that!” You exclaimed.

“I know.” She said, giving you a weird look before she looked forward again and kept pulling you along.

The both of you ended up waiting in the ER for nearly three hours. Jill was still holding your hand. She was also bouncing one of her legs and looking to the receptionist every now and then. She’d gone up there four separate times to ask when you were going to get checked up. You were so bored. That was when you finally remembered to ask what had been plaguing you earlier as you two had left the manor.

“Jill? What were you doing at the manor?”

“I came because you didn’t show up at school and you weren’t answering texts or calls. Alfred let me in.” She explained, very indiscreetly glaring at the receptionist lady before she looked to you.

“I wasn’t at school?” But you were? It was hard to forget how mean everyone had been. You’re definitely going to throat punch one of them the next time you see them. You should definitely do that.

“No. You weren’t. You were gone for the entire day.” Jill spoke, looking to the receptionist again, impatiently before looking back to you. She could tell you were slightly confused. After all, she was your best friend! “[Name], when exactly did you start hurling your guts out?”

“Last night?”

Jill stared for a solid minute before putting her head in her hands. “Oh my God.” She muttered.

“Jill? Are you okay?”

The girl dragged her hands down her face before looking at you with a clearly forced smile. “Yup! Great actually. It’s totally not as if there’s clearly something fucking wrong with you yet no one wants to do anything about it!” Jill’s voice raised to a yell as she pointedly looked at the receptionist lady who in response rolled her eyes.

“Okay… well, then why don’t we do something about it? Like leave? Jill, I wanna change out these clothes and take a shower. I probably look and definitely feel like a gas station bathroom.” You tried your best attempt at a serious tone as you gestured to your clothes.

“We can’t just leave. Did you see how much vomit you vomited?” She asked, exasperatedly.

“Well, yes, but, if we’re being honest? I feel wonderful! Like I could do anything! Plus, Alfred’s probably already cleaned my bathroom too so it should be safe now.” You said with a smile.

“I…” Jill trailed off. She then slumped against her chair. “Five more minutes? Please?”

You sighed. “O-kay.”

You both ended up leaving the ER before you were called. By this point, it was dark out in Gotham. Or at least darker than usual which normally meant it was nighttime now. Lovely.

Along the way, you actually got to ask more about what she meant by not showing up to school. Apparently, it turns out that you’d been out cold in the bathroom for about a day. Then Jill came to get you.

“I’m surprised Alfred hadn’t checked up on me.” You remarked, a little hurt. “Jackass.” You grumbled.

Jill gave you another weird look for some reason. “He said that when you came home from school yesterday, you looked really upset. He left you alone because of that. Then, when you didn’t go to school today, he assumed you were taking a break or something.”

“Oh. Wait, that’s actually a little thoughtful. Now I feel bad.” You mused, spying Jill’s apartment complex up ahead.

“Don’t. It just sounds like he was avoiding having to comfort you.”

They bounded up the stairs and into the building. Jill lived on the first floor, apartment 106.

“I assume you’re staying over?” Jill asked, opening the door.

“Yup! Do you think I could stay with you forever? I don’t wanna go back to that house ever again.”

“Uh… maybe? My ma likes you a lot so who knows.” Jill gave you her fifth weird look. “Speaking of her, she’s out of town for the next couple days so you could probably crash as much as you want.”

“Awesome!”

It was a couple hours later that the two of you were now on Jill’s couch, watching a movie. She was eating popcorn. You were eating chicken drumsticks. Raw. Straight from its packaging.

Those weird looks kept on coming.

Finally, after another wet squelch of a bite from the chicken, Jill paused the movie and turned to you.

“Okay, there’s something seriously wrong with you.” She looked so concerned.

“Huh—” You started choking for a bit and she smacked your back a couple times until you swallowed. You then cleared your throat. “Huh?”

“Don’t huh me. [Name] you’re literally eating raw chicken!”

“So?”

“So that’s not normal!” She moved to put the popcorn on the coffee table in front of them. “You’re also acting super weird!”

“I’m not being weird…” You grumbled, taking another bite.

“Yes, you are. Back at the house, you actually wished that little shit’s death! I’ve literally seen him talk shit at you for like five minutes straight with you doing nothing except look kicked puppy!”

“Am I at least a cute kicked puppy?” You ventured.

“Yes! But you’re also happier? There’s also the fact you’ve cursed more times in this single day than in the nearly ten years I’ve known you! Just to preface, we’re seventeen.” Jill crossed her arms.

“Okay, yeah maybe I am acting different, but you’re making it out to be a bad thing.” You put your container of raw chicken drumsticks to the side and also turned to face her. “Jill, like I said back at the hospital, I feel amazing! Like actually awesome! And honestly, I don’t think felt this awesome since… ever.”

“But— but the vomit?” Jill was so close to sounding like she was whining, probably from how hard she was trying to make you understand that this isn’t something normal. You just shrugged in response. “And the chicken drumsticks?” Another shrug from you. “And the little prune-ball-thing in a ziplock bag at the bottom of my freezer?”

“Now that I think about it, what should we do with that thing?”

“I don’t know! If it really is an organ, do you think you should reswallow it again?”

You gave her one last shrug before reaching over to grab one of the drumsticks. You were about to bite into it before a loud crash interrupted you. It sounded like a window shattering.

“Shit.” Jill hissed as she rushed to the kitchen, likely to get the shotgun under the sink. You continued to sit on the couch. Someone was trying to do some B&E? Seriously? In the middle of this awesome movie, with some awesome food, with your awesome friend, while you’re feeling awesome?

You stood up. No one was gonna mess up your time with your best friend. She’s the one person we take solace in! Your Clyde to your Bonnie. Your Tom to your Jerry! Your— wow, you’re unhealthy attached to her, aren’t you?

You stepped out into the hallway. That’s when you saw the guy. He was a big man, holding a handgun. Wasn’t even wearing a mask. He was clean shaven and looked more like he should be doing accounting, despite his large stature, rather than breaking into people’s houses. When he saw you, he immediately trained the gun on you.

“Don’t move! Don’t you dare fucking move!” He yelled in a tone that promised he’d shoot if you did. Despite that, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

After all, earlier, when you cut yourself on the rusted bars of the stairs leading up to Jill’s apartment, you hadn’t bled. Another not-normal thing added to Jill’s list.

Anyways, it’s safe to say, you don’t think you’ll bleed if you’re shot. Emphasis on “you think”.

“You’re gonna stay right fucking there, you got that?” The man yelled once more. What was with all the dang yelling? Geez…

“Oh. Uh… no.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no.” You spoke as you took a step closer. “I’m gonna move and you’re going to get out of this apar—”

Bang!

Oh. Wow. He actually shot you. You stilled for a moment and slowly looked down, the burglar did the same. Nothing. Except some black ooze starting to leak from the wound. The man slowly lowered his gun, probably caught off guard.

It was then you lunged.

You tore into him, your vision going black as the only thing you registered was the food you were eating and just how delicious his kidneys were. You tore through a piece of his lung and then started on of his intestines. You were only broke out of this daze by the sound of clattering.

Your head snapped up.

It was Jill. She’d dropped the shotgun and was looking at you with an emotion akin to horrification and surprise.

“Holy shit…” She mumbled.

For those who’ve watched the show, our friend is going to be our Joel, and for those who haven’t? You’ll know what I mean by that in due time.

[karikarasuno]

part four | part five | wc: 2.4k

“You like that girl.” Ace cannot catch a singular break. He’s exhausted. He spent his entire morning outside fixing the chicken coop and all he wanted to do was shower and rot away on his couch for the rest of the day. But he forgot he told Whitebeard he would take him to his appointment. The man could drive himself, but after his lung cancer diagnosis Ace felt better if someone went with him. For moral support or whatever. And now he has to go to your place and see why your lights are out. Which he doesn’t have an issue with. Because yes, he likes you. He just doesn’t like being hounded about it.

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s all in the eyes, boy,” Whitebeard nods thoughtfully beside him. Like he’s stuck in his own memory. “You can spot a lovesick fool in an instant just by the way he looks at a lady.”

Ace doesn’t have a response. Whitebeard has always been a wise man. But with age and illness he has become soft. And not in an insulting way. He’s still stubborn as all hell, but his resilience has taken an air of nostalgic reflection. The typical roughened edge to his words, his advice, has been sandpapered down. Smoothened into something palatable instead of brash.

“It’s a little complicated,” Ace sighs. He realizes the predicament he’s in. He recognizes that he does need to talk to you about this. But he especially needs to figure out what he even wants. Aside from sex. Because there’s no doubt in his mind that he definitely wants that.

“How the hell is it complicated? The girl just dropped into town,” Whitebeard says gravelly. “Can’t be that hard to take a woman on a date. You kids these days can’t do anything right.”

Ace is far too tired to argue or explain his situation with you. He doesn’t want to come on too strong. Especially considering the way your ‘relationship’ even started, but Whitebeard obviously has a point. He just needs to ask you out. Today.

So that’s what he decides to do. Right after he fixes your power issue, that is.

When Ace arrives at your house, the front door is propped open with a stool and you’re sitting in a rocking chair on the porch reading a book. Well, you were reading until you heard his truck approaching. You meet him at the top of your steps, holding your book to your chest and looking relieved to see him. He won’t lie, it does stroke his ego a bit. The way only he can help you.

“Thanks for stopping by,” you sigh, shuffling out of his way when he climbs the steps quickly. “It’s unbearable in there now.”

“I’m sure it’s an easy fix. I’ll get you cooled down in no time,” he says, releasing a short laugh through his nose.

“Show me to your breaker,” he says as he follows you inside your home. Well, Jinbe’s home.

“My what?” You ask as you turn to him. There’s plain confusion on your face. It’s cute.

“I actually already know where it is,” he admits, “but I didn’t want to just walk through your house. That would be rather impolite of me.”

“Right, we wouldn’t want Whitebeard showing up and scolding you again,” you tease him, your body taking another step towards him. And it’s small, but inches feel like you’re traveling miles when you’re already so close.

“Don’t you mean Edward,” he says with playful callousness and you laugh. Bright and pretty. “Had enough of that the last hour, I could use the break.”

His step towards you is much larger than yours. Bolder. Aggressive as he blatantly takes over the air around your frame. Your head has to tilt upwards to maintain eye contact with him. And he watches the way your chest rises deeply.

“I think you should show me where my breaker is,” you swallow and your eyes briefly glance at his lips. He should’ve missed it given how fast it was. He would’ve missed it but observing you is quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes.

“You don’t even know what that is.” He all but breathes his words in your direction. Another step and he swears he sees your breath hiccup when your lips part.

“So show me.”

He steps so close to you your chest brushes his. Goosebumps light his arms and that surprises him given how fleeting the touch is. He angles his face towards you, nearly tasting your lips on his tongue. The memory tugs at him.

“It’s in your laundry room.” He points over your shoulder down the hall. To the room right beneath the stairs. “It’s kinda hard to miss.”

You use two fingers to push him away. Your fingertips digging into his chest. “That’s only if you know what you’re looking for.”

****

“I know you said it was normal, but I’m still grossed out by the fact that a lizard found its way into my breaker and started flipping switches.”

“Just one,” he laughs, shutting the door to your laundry room behind him. “The main one which is why everything went dark earlier.”

“Well it’s good to know that I can fix it myself next time instead of ambushing you in your own home.”

“Only an ambush if you weren’t welcome.” You smile at him when he says that. A smile that reaches your eyes. Genuine. He wants more. Maybe he’s greedy, but he doesn’t really care anymore. Ace wants to see where this goes. Where it has the potential of going. Because he really does like you.

“Are you hungry, Ace?” You ask suddenly. You’re shuffling in place when you stop near your kitchen.

“I usually am.” He answers, a smile tugging at his lips when he realizes where this might be going.

“Can I make you dinner?” Your fingers knot together in front of you. A nervous tick. “To repay you for your time.”

You don’t have to repay him. It was an easy fix, plus your home is on the way to his, so it’s not like he had to go out of his way for you. And even if he did, he would have. “Hard to say no to a home cooked meal.”

“Good,” you smile, your fingers loosening their grip on each other and your hands fall to your side. Definitely a nervous tick of yours. “Because I should probably cook this bacon before it goes bad. How about carbonara?”

“What’s that?” He tilts his head in contemplation since this isn’t something he’s familiar with. At least he doesn’t think so.

“You’ve never had carbonara?” Your eyebrows knit together. Disbelief on your face.

“Never heard of it.” He shrugs, staring as you step into your kitchen and opening your refrigerator.

“The pasta dish?” You clarify, popping your head over the top of the fridge door after bending over to look at the contents of your fridge.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” You bend over again. He tries not to look at your ass. He fails. Obviously.

“Huh.” You shut the fridge door with your hip after pulling out bacon, eggs, parmesan cheese, and a few cloves of garlic. “You’re in for a treat then. I add garlic to mine even though you’re not technically supposed to. Just don’t tell the Italians.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” There’s a new excitement coming from you when you line everything up on the counter. A sort of delight emits from you as you gather a pan, cutting board, and knife.

“I haven’t cooked for someone else in such a long time,” you say airily. “It’s been hard for me to adjust to cooking only a single serving since I moved out here.” You send him another smile over your shoulder. His heart skips. “So, this is nice.”

“Well, feel free to triple it. I got a pretty big appetite.” He leans against the counter opposite you, staring as you smash the garlic and peel it.

“No surprise there,” you chuckle, rough chopping the garlic. “Luffy eats me out of house and home whenever he’s here.”

“That’s about the only thing we have in common.” He grins because even though you’re complaining about Luffy there’s still something sweet about the way you say it. Like you’re fond of him already.

“I doubt that.” You start cutting the bacon into small pieces next. “I’m sure you’re just as stubborn as he is.”

“What makes you think that?” He asks with his arms crossed and a laugh waiting on the tip of his tongue.

“I don’t have enough proof yet to support my claim, but for now it’s just a hunch.” You wink at him over your shoulder as you add oil to the heated pan.

“And the basis of your hunch is what exactly?” You flit around the kitchen confidently as you pull a pot from a cabinet beside the stove, eyeing him playfully as you walk to stand directly beside him while you fill the pot with water.

“When’s your birthday?” You ask out of nowhere.

“January 1st,” he answers. Skeptical.

“Well, there you go.” You shut off the water and head back to the stove top. “You’re a capricorn.”

He rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and chuckles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’re stubborn like your brother.” You add the bacon to the pan, the sizzle interrupting you. “Who’s a taurus. An earth sign. Just like you.”

“I guess I’m just gonna have to prove you wrong.” You grab a handful of pasta and place it in the boiling water. Then you look at him, eyes dragging slowly down his body before you grab another handful and add it to the water.

“I guess you will, but lucky for you I like capricorns.” His smile stretches across his face without his permission. It’s a natural response to you. One that he didn’t realize he developed. But one that he thoroughly enjoys.

The dish is done surprisingly quickly. Less than twenty minutes and you’re stirring in the egg and parm mixture (which he was initially suspicious of), but it forms a glossy sauce that looks more appetizing than he expected.

“Ok, now you just gotta add a little salt and pepper to taste,” you sprinkle in the seasonings, giving the pasta another stir, “and we’re done.”

You show off the dish to him excitedly before turning to grab a fork from the drawer by your hip. He then watches you twirl together the perfect bite directly out of the pan. “The garlic adds a nice bite with the crunch of the bacon,” you say, almost adoringly.

“Here.” You step closer to him, hovering the fork near his lips. “Try it.”

Ace leans forward, eyes stuck on you. No one’s ever fed him before. And it’s odd, the affection that fills his chest. He never would’ve expected to feel this way about a gesture so simple. But despite your ease, there’s an intimacy in your actions. One that makes his heart flutter.

His lips wrap around the fork and even though he cannot stop thinking, looking, yearning for you, the flavor that bursts across his tongue is startling. It’s good.

“There’s egg in this?” He asks around his mouthful. Your lips stretch into a grin that’s not as coy as the others you have given him. There’s a confidence alight in your eyes that he hasn’t seen since the night you met. A confidence that he finds endearing. And sexy.

“Mhm,” you hum, shifting closer to him. “It’s yummy, isn’t it?”

You whisper it giddily in the limited space between you. He’s leaning forward on the counter, bracing his upper body on his forearms. The angle forces him to look up at you slightly. An angle he’s unfamiliar with, but doesn’t mind. Not when he’s sure you’re about to kiss him. He chews faster. Anticipation licks at his neck. It burns.

“Yeah,” he says around a swallow, but he hardly gets the word out. Hardly even gets to finish his swallow when you press your lips to his. It’s softer than he’s expecting. Your lips are warm where they touch his. He’s pretty sure there’s still bacon in his mouth. Which sounds deeply unattractive except you sigh when he parts his lips. You melt when his hand rises to cup your face.

You push your weight against him next. It forces him to straighten to keep up with you. With your urgency. Your impatience. He groans when you deepen the kiss, your free hard tangling in his hair. His other hand finds your waist and he squeezes.

Ace is functioning on a muscle memory he didn’t even realize he had. But when his hand travels down to grip your hip and you whimper in the back of your throat he remembers. In vivid detail. Rough. Hard. Fast.

He presses your back against the counter, slipping his tongue into your mouth when he slides his knee between your thighs.

“Ace.” You whine and a shiver runs violently down his spine. You’re clinging to him, your hips find motion against his thigh and he swallows the moan that crawls up your throat.

He needs more access to you. Better access. His hands find your waist to prop you on top of the counter but as soon as your ass meets the edge of the counter, metal clatters and the fork you used to feed him clangs across the floor.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologizes in a hurry. But you laugh as soon as your feet hit the floor again.

“We got carried away,” you breathe out another little laugh against his chest. “We’re supposed to be eating.”

“That was entirely your fault,” he laughs in response, smiling down at you when you stare up at him.

“You’re right,” you nod, pushing yourself away from him and out of his arms. And he feels insane because he already misses you. “I’ll behave.”

You grab two forks this time when you open the drawer to replace the one that fell. But when you hand him his he grabs your wrist and tugs you back to him.

“What are you doing Thursday night?” He asks, remembering Whitebeard’s words.

“I work until 8. Why?”

“Let me take you out.” He says, pulling your wrist closer to him and kissing the inside. Your lashes flutter at his action, and you bite down on your bottom lip.

“Ok,” you mutter, a bit dazed when his lips drag across the soft skin of your inner wrist. “I guess I can let you do that.”

taglist: @a-girl-cant-decide-on-a-name @nico-ith @chillerkiller @jozhenji @starchild-unnamed @certain-tragedies @hannahbarberra162 @kanekisheart @stuckinmymind22

[stellar-solar-flare]

I appreciate you being so patient and understanding with my delay, and apologize for being so late to comment. Lots of crap going on this week, which unfortunately made me unable to honor my original promises on the exchange schedule. <3

Comment under cut.

For years, you have been in love with your Dad’s best friend, and your family’s next-door neighbor, Steve Rogers. Having just graduated from college in May, you’d decided to come back home for the summer while you figured things out.

I mean. I would be too, if he was my dad’s best friend.

He wanted you to come home and move in with him, to finally come out and tell the world you were in love. The problem was that you weren’t sure if you were ready.

Oh, interesting! I didn’t expect this to go here but it’s a lovely change on the trope – I’ll admit I don’t read it a ton but most of the fics I’ve seen are about the couple getting together, and this feels interesting to me. Also definitely like Steve to a) want to be public about it and not hide it and b) be a bit of a hotheaded dumbass and push too hard.

Placing your bags down, you considered unpacking, but instead decided that there was no time like the present to talk things out with Steve. You were both adults, and would be in close proximity for the next few months, so the sooner things were settled between you, the better.

Oh, healthy communication! Always here for it. At least they’re hopefully finally going to talk like adults about this.  

“What do you want to talk about? It’s been five months since you left me hanging without a single phone call or text.”

Oof. Yeah, it’s understandable he’s hurt by that. And understandable that she wasn’t ready to make a commitment/be public about it. It’s always interesting to me when situations are actually complex since the age gap and the relationship between him and her dad does make this complicated.

“I don’t know if you can doll. I love you dearly, never stopped, but you really did a number on me.”

Oh, this feels very realistic, and it breaks my heart. And it may sound odd but I like it that he’s not willing to immediately roll over once she wants to make amends – sometimes in fic you see the female main characters do all this crap and then the male main character just doesn’t have feelings over it other than absolutely adoring her. And like, I’m not blaming her for being ready but five months of ghosting is a… lot.

“I’m giving you another chance, but this time you have to talk things through. No shutting me out like you did before. Does that sound fair?”

Healthy communication! Boundaries! Love it!

Ohh, sex after making it up! Another trope I definitely love and hey, I don’t blame them from not wanting to give this up if they are feeling like this over each other and have such good chemistry.

“After you left, I wasn’t in a good headspace. So one night, I show up depressed and drunk at your dad’s house. He asks what’s wrong, and I say I’m in love with your daughter. That I wanted you back and I was going to marry you.”

OH. MY. GOD. I definitely didn’t expect this but honestly, such a Steve move just deciding to jump on that grenade and SURE he should’ve asked her but this is just so in character. And just accidentally spilling the marriage thing too. Oops.

“Your dad threatened to shoot me if I ever broke your heart. We didn’t talk for a few months, but by April we were hanging out again.”

Good Dad. And good Dad for respecting his daughter’s agency, too, letting her in the end make the choice for herself.

“Same Stevie. This is the start of a new chapter for us.”

Awww! A happy ending. I’ll admit I was so nervous at one point because I jumped into this without checking the tags on whether it had a happily ever after after the angst – it could’ve gone either way, you built it so realistically with their conflicted feelings.

Thank you so much for sharing this lovely piece of writing. <3 Now I’m just sitting here like WHERE’S MY STEVE TO CUDDLE IN BED. Dammit.

Love Knows No Bounds

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader 

Word Count: 2004

Summary: Your dad’s best friend, Steve Rogers, has been in a secret relationship with you. When Steve wants to take your relationship public, you freak out and leave for college. Once you’re back in town, you want to work things out with him. Will he forgive you?

Warnings: Age gap, Reader is in late 20s & Steve is in 40s, Angst, Arguing, Dry Humping, Make up sex, P in V. 

A/N: For @avengers-assemble-bingo AA-Kinky Bingo with squares Dad’s Best Friend + Dry Humping. Card (KB010)

A/N 2: Thank you to my beta readers @late-to-the-party-81 & @lfnr-blog-blog-blog. Thank you to Jen @late-to-the-party-81 for my header.

Please Read, Reblog, & Comment. It lets me know you like my work. 😊💜

I do NOT consent to translating or reposting my work on any social media platform, app, or third-party site or run through AI. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen.

For years, you have been in love with your Dad’s best friend, and your family’s next-door neighbor, Steve Rogers. Having just graduated from college in May, you’d decided to come back home for the summer while you figured things out. However, as you travelled, sinking into the familiar comfort of your Dad’s truck, you couldn’t help but remember the last time you saw Steve, devastation plastered over his face.

That night, the pair of you had argued over what your plans were gonna be once you graduated. He wanted you to come home and move in with him, to finally come out and tell the world you were in love. The problem was that you weren’t sure if you were ready. Steve had been so upset by your indecision that he’d pushed for an answer. However, it had the effect of making you so mad that you’d threatened not to come back home. Then, before you’d let him get a word in, you stormed off. 

That had been a horrible way to leave things, and you wondered how were you supposed to fix things that seemed so broken? Especially considering that you’d been at college since January - a whole five months had passed with no contact between you.

It was nighttime by the time your dad arrived back at the house and pulled into the driveway. Grabbing your duffle bag and backpack, you got out and made your way to the front door.  A glance over to Steve’s house revealed him standing at a window, staring at you. Not knowing what to do, you waved, but he just walked away and disappeared into the house. Your fingers curled, and your arm lowered at your side. Great, so this is how it was going to be, you thought. 

Walking into the house, you headed upstairs to your room. It all looked the same as when you’d left. Placing your bags down, you considered unpacking, but instead decided that there was no time like the present to talk things out with Steve. You were both adults, and would be in close proximity for the next few months, so the sooner things were settled between you, the better. You looked in the mirror and decided you were just going to stay in your leggings and shirt.

Heading back down the stairs, you told your dad you were going for a walk, not even waiting to hear his reply. Walking next door, your stomach was in knots as you made your way to his front door; however, before you could even knock, the door swung open.

Steve filled the doorway and just stared at you, as if he didn't know what to say after you left him the way you did. It was clear that a part of him was still angry, but you hoped that a part of him had missed you too.

“What do you want, doll?”

Your hands started to fidget in front of your body, fingers twisting together, as you spoke. “Can we talk?”

“Now you want to talk? Fuck.” He ran his hand through his hair, sweeping it back off his forehead. “Fine. Get in here so no one gets nosy.” He stepped to the side to let you pass. You walked into his house, and he motioned you towards the living room as if you weren’t already intimately familiar with the place, its similarities to your own home’s open concept notwithstanding. You made your way to the couch and sat down, Steve taking the easy chair to your left.

 “What do you want to talk about? It’s been five months since you left me hanging without a single phone call or text.”

You took a deep breath to prepare for the fight that had been brewing for months.

“Steve, I want to apologize for how I left things between us at the beginning of the year. I was confused and scared.”

“No shit. But what exactly were you scared of? Me? Commitment? Both?.”

You shook your head. “No, I’ve never been scared of you. You’ve never frightened me in all the years we have known each other. And I’m not afraid of commitment either. I’m afraid of what my dad would say if he found out about us. He trusts you, Steve, like you’re family to him. This would break that trust and damage my relationship with him.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m not dumb, doll, and I’d been figuring out a plan for months, but you never gave me a chance to explain. Do you know how badly you hurt me? I thought I lost you. Hell, I might’ve already.”

You started to tear up as you listened to him speak. You’d never intended to hurt him as badly as you did, and now he thought he’d lost you for good.

“All I wanted to do was take our relationship to the next step,” he continued. “But instead, you broke my heart. I don’t know how to fix this!”

You’d really screwed up and also had no idea how to fix it, either. But you were going to try anyway.

“Steve, I want to fix this. Tell me how, and I’ll work towards it.”

Steve got up from his seat and started to pace the living room.

“I don’t know if you can doll. I love you dearly, never stopped, but you really did a number on me.”

“Steve, I love you too. Always have and always will. Please, I'm begging for another chance.”

Tears started to gather in Steve's eyes, and he looked completely lost. Did he still long for you inside his heart? You waited, breath caught in your throat as he contemplated what he was going to do. Would he tell you to go, or would he give you another chance?

“You know, a part of me wants to call this quits. Move on and find a wife. The other part of me knows I won’t ever be as happy as when I’m with you. You complete me in every way imaginable.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before opening them again and pinning you with his ocean blue gaze. “I’m giving you another chance, but this time you have to talk things through. No shutting me out like you did before. Does that sound fair?”

Tears spill down your face as you start crying. “Yes, that’s fair.”

Steve sits down in his chair and holds his arms open for you. “Come here, love.”

You pushed off the couch, crossing the space between you, and straddled his legs as you sobbed into his chest. Steve wrapped his arms around you and held you close to him. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, doll. Everything is going to be okay now. Just wait and see.” His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back.

Your crying slowed, and then stopped, as you nuzzled your face into Steve’s neck. Your lips start to press softly against his skin and you could feel his cock twitch beneath you. A moment later, Steve grabbed your hips and started to move them, making you grind against his muscular thigh. You let out a whimper as you began dry humping against his ever-growing bulge. The friction was increasing your arousal and a wet spot formed on your leggings. 

Steve kept making you grind against him, but when you were about to cum, so close your body was trembling, he suddenly stopped. You whine at the loss of the friction, and Steve chuckled.

“I don’t want you cumming in your leggings. Your pussy only cums around my cock.”

He lifted you with ease, and your legs wrapped around his waist. Steve carried you up the stairs and to his bedroom and when he placed you back on your feet, you both started to undress one another, clothes flying everywhere until you were both naked.

You crawled up the bed with Steve’s eyes following your every movement. You lay on your back and spread your legs for him and he finally moves to follow, climbing onto the foot of the bed and working his way up your body, kissing you all over. When he reached your face, he went back down again, kissing your breasts and the spot on your neck that always made you whimper. You knew he would love to take his time with you right now, he always did prefer it that way, but right now both your bodies are screaming with need. He grabbed his cock and slowly pumped it a few times and you couldn’t draw your eyes away as he rubbed his tip through your wet folds and finally sank home to where he was meant to be.

Steve leant on his arms as he drove his thick cock in and out of you. You groaned in pleasure as he pushed you higher and higher, back towards your orgasm. In and out, slow and steady, Steve made love to you. He dips his head, panting against your neck, now and again, kissing and sucking on that spot that drives you wild. Your legs are wrapped around his trim waist, anchoring you together even more, as he worked you over and over again.

Steve finally drove his cock into you for that one pivotal moment where you finally came around him, a long moan of his name on your lips. As your walls squeezed and spasm around Steve’s cock he slowed down for a moment before speeding back up and starting to fuck you into the mattress. Your fingers laced with his and he placed your hands by your head.

“Fuck, doll. You feel so good. I just want you in my bed. Every. Fucking. Night.” He punctuated each word with a hard thrust. In and out, harder and faster, he took you until finally, he came deep inside your pussy with a shout of your name. 

After a few heavy breaths, Steve pulled out of you and went to the bathroom to clean up. He returned with a towel and cleaned gently between your legs before throwing the towel in a hamper. In a moment, he crawled back into the bed and pulled the covers over both of you. You turned to cuddle into his side, your head resting on his chest.

“Steve? What was the plan you had figured out for months that I didn’t listen to?

Steve chuckled for a minute before he could compose himself.

“I talked to your dad about us already,” he admitted.

“Wait, what?” You sat up and looked down at him, taken completely by surprise

“After you left, I wasn’t in a good headspace. So one night, I show up depressed and drunk at your dad’s house. He asks what’s wrong, and I say I’m in love with your daughter. That I wanted you back and I was going to marry you.”

“You want to marry me?” You gasped in shock. 

“I do, doll. Well, after I spilled my drunken heart out, your dad punched me in the face a few times. Told me he had a feeling something wasn’t right cause you kept going for walks every night. He even said he could see you light up every time I was around.”

“So what did my dad say after that?  Is he mad at us?”

“Your dad threatened to shoot me if I ever broke your heart. We didn’t talk for a few months, but by April we were hanging out again.”

“I’m surprised he’s okay with this. Us. Although, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway because I’ve decided I wanted to move in with you. I’m going to find a job in town so we can be together.”

Steve rolled you onto your back and kissed you passionately. “Now that just made my day. I’m so happy you decided to choose me. I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together. Just the two of us.”

“Same Stevie. This is the start of a new chapter for us.”

Taglist:

@americasass81

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@caplanbuckybarnes

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@fictional-affairs

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@stellar-solar-flare

@steviebbboi

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@wolfsmom1

@yenzys-lucky-charm

[vaaaaaiolet]

f / m, angsty ooooh. you guys are exes. leon drops you off at a party after your car goes kaput and defies logic by staying. cue sad baby tate mcrae era worthy breakdown.

a/n: i’m supposed to be on hiatus rn but i‘m at a party where i don’t like anyone and no one likes me so i’m #thuggingitout by writing fanfic on my phone 🔥 no i’m not projecting anything onto leon. no i didn’t melt off my mascara crying to girl in new york by role model or her by the american dawn. mobile docs is so ass pls forgive any goofs 🙏

word count: 902 // read on ao3 // drabble masterlist

In hindsight, he never should’ve picked up your call. Leon’s standing in the furthest corner of the living room, here at your friend’s party tonight, nursing a red Solo (so that’s why they named it that) cup full of something too watered down to dream of taking any edge off, figuring out why it’s common fucking sense to let the phone keep ringing when your ex calls.

But he just can’t help himself when it comes to you. Never could.

Leon doesn’t know anyone here. He didn’t think about that part either. The last thing he remembers is dropping everything to pick you up at the side of the road where your car gave out. There you were, sat on the curb looking like a Barbie fresh out the box. Dressed in a shimmering little number he couldn’t remember paying for unlike all the ones before. Tears gelling your eyes. Chin tucked over knees spattered with new, purpling bruises he’ll never know the story behind. Didn’t know who else to call. 

(But he knows it must’ve been your bathroom cabinets. You’d become a hurricane in there when you got ready, always tripping over the stupid jut-out handles on the bottom. He used to kiss the little galaxies on your knees all better. 

It took every fiber of his being to not bend down again when you finally looked up at his face.)

Call it morbid curiosity. Leon wanted to know where you were going tonight that had you in such a rush to get out the door. What else is his insomnia supposed to ruminate over later? So he paid the towing fees, opened his passenger door for the first time in forever, and kept his mouth zipped while you typed in your friend’s address on the GPS. Zipped besides the minimum, you know:

Are you okay?

Does it still hurt?

No use thinking about it still.

– all about your car, of course.

Leon needn’t have bothered trying to calm you down on the drive here. You’d patted your bruises back to health with spare makeup from your bag. Your heels didn’t wobble when he followed you to your friend’s doorstep to make sure you got there safe, not even when she insisted he stay – new friend, Leon realized. She didn’t recognize your ex. You simply hadn’t known her long enough to tell the story. Clearly, you haven’t been shutting yourself off from the world like him. He should be happy you’re doing better.

Different people have different coping strategies, Leon soothes himself with a swirl of his cup. 

But two can play at that game. He doesn’t even miss you. 

Except in the mornings and evenings, and on weekdays and weekends. He didn’t think twice in the car about pressing a kiss to the back of your hand whenever the traffic lights turned red – just at the first one. There’s no need for an actress in his dreams when he can go at a punching bag long enough to tempt dawn, creeping through his semi-permanently shuttered windows. And he’s never been a song person either. Your laugh replaying in his head keeps him occupied on the longest drives. It’s not like it stings to even think about ejecting the Jeff Buckley CD you left behind in the console. Did he hallucinate you looking at it on the way here?  

No, Leon’s never wondered if you still think about the way you used to feel in his arms. 

Or how long it took for you to tell your mom that he broke your heart.

When is your friend going to start glaring daggers at him?

That thought sets him straight. He can leave. He should leave. You’re a smart girl. You’d figure out a ride home and Leon could use a drink more than anyone here. 

You’d told him a story once: of a tiger chasing a monk down a cliff. The monk, too panicked to take a turn, had ran right off the precipice, managing to grab on to a solitary grapevine as the tiger licked his chops from above. All Leon had gathered was that the guy was a goner. A pancake whether he gets gulped or falls victim to gravity. 

You said there was a lesson here, sweetheart. He’s just going to die. 

Okay, okay! So there he is, the tiger’s about to eat him, the vine’s starting to give way. He’s completely doomed. Then he notices a bunch of grapes growing off the end of it.

The vine?

Yeah. 

So they’re magic grapes? Do they save him somehow?

He uses one arm to hang onto the vine and the other to pluck a grape off the bunch. He pops it into his mouth. And it’s the sweetest grape he’s ever tasted. 

The monk falls to his death. Obviously. It didn’t matter to Leon, not when he’d tickled you to tears under the covers, his tired laugh drowned out by yours that sounds like tinkling bells, begged you to tell a different story before he turns the light off. Leon’s always the one telling stories for a reason. All his have endings that make sense.

But then he sees you in the center of the room, shining brighter than any mirrorball, laughing that same laugh, one he hasn’t heard for so long that it shatters his ribs – and he stays. 

How sweet the rim of his Solo cup tastes.

the monk story is a zen parable i got from my fav short story of all time, maria of the grapes by jen silverman pls read her book the island dwellers i beg

click for my full drabble collection, and find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

[maybejj]

the boys are separated for the first time since charlotte passed away and rafe doesn’t understand.

from my fractured ties universe. read story here

warnings: grief, mention of a dead parent

notes: rafe is 7 and jj is 5 in this blurb! they are also brothers in this universe for anyone new reading 🫶🏻

rafe didn’t know how he felt. or rather, he did he just didn’t know how to explain it. his little mind couldn’t comprehend such a huge change in his life so suddenly.

charlotte had just passed away and ward didn’t hesitate to pack up rafe’s things out of the room he shared with his little brother, jj.

jj and luke had watched the whole time ward muttered to himself and snapped at rafe to help him gather his belongings.

ward would mutter things like,

“we don’t have all day.”

“the cuts dangerous, son. i should’ve got you out of here a long time ago.”

“strong boys don’t cry.”

and normally, rafe would stick his chest out and agree with his dad. he’s the oldest, he had to be strong. he was strong. his little brother was watching, he couldn’t let jj down.

but this time? he was sad.

his mom was gone.

forever.

at least, that’s the way ward explained it to him and now rafe couldn’t stop thinking about never seeing his mom again. or how he wouldn’t share a room with his baby brother anymore. who was going to save jj from the shadow at night? that was rafe’s job. he couldn’t protect jj from ward’s house. and now jj was all alone too. he didn’t have rafe or their mom. just like rafe didn’t have jj or his mom either.

rafe just wanted to go home. with his mom. with his baby brother. even if jj was super annoying it felt wrong not having him close.

he remembers his mom sitting him down a couple weeks ago and saying, “this island isn’t kind, rafe. one day you’ll understand that. they think jj is… less than you because he has a different dad and that’s not true my sweet boy. you have to remember that. so when the boys in town pick on him, it’s up to you to watch out for him. to remind them that he’s not less than. and neither are you.”

he still didn’t quite understand what she meant because he had always seen jj as his little brother. nothing else ever came to mind but he had heard a few new terms in the last couple of days that was making his mind start to question.

ward and rose kept muttering “pogue” and “kook” and he didn’t know what those words meant but he knew “pogue” couldn’t be anything good with how his dad basically spit the word out of his mouth like it tasted bad.

rafe didn’t know what to do with himself. he felt lost. scared. alone. and the room he was currently in, his new room, felt uncomfortable.

there wasn’t a huge toy box in the corner stuffed to the brim. there wasn’t a fort in the middle of the room him and jj built one night while they were suppose to be sleeping. there wasn’t a bookcase full of his favorite books. he even missed jj’s orange lava lamp that use to be on their shared nightstand.

it all just felt wrong.

but ward told him this was where he would be staying. this was his home now.

but rafe knew it wasn’t. it couldn’t be.

because his little brother wasn’t here.

his mom wasn’t here.

and they wouldn’t be.

no matter how much he wished for it.

tagging my fractured ties babies: @yesshewrites1 @bee-43 @xoxo-ada @imsiriuslyreal @marleymarleymarleymarley @freyawhitexxx1 @arabellamaybank @papercranesandinkstains @onelonelybitch @pr3tty-pink @xoxosblogsblog @justdamnpeachy @laniirackssss @okay1723 @anacamofficial @always-reading @luvrclub @partywithjay @niaunoffical @moonywhisp3rs @mariamadison6-blog @wrtzia @jaes-last-words @faephoria @lmaowhatt @voidangxls @reeseswirl @isinpfortvdmen @hotvampdragon @jjslvt @smokahontas-113 @starkeyslove @yourmomdotcom42069 @moustacherryismyhusband @barnesboo1967 @akobx @emelia07 @stanseventeen @st8rkey @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @ilovedrewstarkey27 @certifiedjjsimp @kittluzbills

[folkwhoreberry]

hiii any chance you can do a fic about clarisse la rue? like flirty enemies to lovers

All Bark, All Bite

clarisse la rue x reader

or... the one where you’re on opposite sides - of the bed

word count : 701

warning : stupid ahh one bed trope, english is not my first language!!!

on the radio : you’re so vain by carly simon

♟️🎀

you were, so to say… not on best conditions.

academic rivals, enemies - whatever you wanna call it. but at the same time, there was tension between you, anyone could see it.

always fighting to be better, in training, to win in capture the flag - anywhere, anytime.

clarisse la rue had been a thorn in your side since the first day you stepped foot into camp. always louder, stronger, more aggressive - and gods, so annoyingly good at everything. you couldn’t stand her. and she couldn’t stand you.

probably.

so when chiron announced that you two would be going on a quest together, there was a collective oh no across the campfire. because everyone knew it’d be a disaster. and it was. immediately.

“you pack like a mortal,” clarisse muttered, slinging her bag over her shoulder as the sun rose behind you both.

“you act like one,” you shot back, not missing the way her jaw tightened. “do you even know how to read a map?”

“do you even know how to shut up?”

yeah. a great start.

the day was long, filled with sweltering heat and near-constant arguing. when you weren’t fighting off monsters, you were fighting each other. over directions, over strategy, over whether or not you should’ve taken the shortcut (spoiler: you should have, you were right).

by the time the sun started dipping below the trees, your legs were aching and your patience was nonexistent. clarisse found a small abandoned cabin in the woods - probably an old hunter outpost, dusty and half-falling apart - but it had a roof. and a bed.

a single bed.

“nope,” you said, turning around. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“floor’s covered in spiderwebs and rat shit,” she replied, already dropping her bag. “I’m not getting tetanus because you’re afraid of sleeping next to me.”

“not afraid,” you grumbled, arms crossed. “just disgusted.”

she smirked. smirked. “sure.”

eventually, you both collapsed onto opposite sides of the bed, backs turned, arms crossed. you could feel her presence like a storm cloud behind you, tense and warm and so there.

“you snore,” she muttered after a few minutes of silence.

“you breathe too loud,” you replied instantly.

another stretch of silence.

“you’re annoying.”

“I know.”

she shifted. the mattress dipped slightly. and for the first time all day, she didn’t sound mad when she said, “but you’re also… kind of brilliant. you were right about the shortcut.”

you blinked at the wooden wall in front of you. “you saying I’m smart?”

“don’t push it.”

a small laugh slipped out of you. a real one. and it made her laugh too - low and surprised, like she didn’t expect to enjoy it. you rolled onto your back, staring up at the cracked ceiling.

“you know, for someone who supposedly hates me, you’re kind of obsessed with beating me,” you said.

clarisse turned too. now you were face to face, only a few inches apart. her expression was softer in the dark, shadows curling around her features. “maybe because you’re the only one who ever actually challenges me.”

“is that your idea of a compliment?”

“do you want it to be?”

you hesitated. because this - this closeness, this quiet - it was new. and maybe it wasn’t just rivalry. maybe it had never been just rivalry. the fights, the tension, the constant need to be better than each other… it all felt different now, under the same blanket, breaths mingling in the dark.

“why do we fight so much?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

clarisse’s gaze dropped to your lips, just for a second. “because if we weren’t fighting, I’d probably be kissing you.”

your heart jumped into your throat.

“…so why aren’t you?”

her breath hitched. the space between you vanished.

her lips tasted like adrenaline and starlight and everything you’d been denying since you met her. it was messy and a little awkward and perfect in the worst way. when she pulled back, her forehead rested against yours.

“I hate you,” she muttered, a small smile tugging at her mouth.

“I hate you more.”

but your fingers were already laced together between you. and neither of you moved away. ————————————————————————————

© all rights reserved to folkwhoreberry. no stealing or copying will be tolerated.

a/n : gimme wlw loveeee</33

[riddleswhcre]

Hii can you maybe make a fic where joel supposed to punish reader by denying her orgasm but eventually getting sick of her crying and make her cum over and over again until she begs to stop. Some mean!joel i guess

────۶ৎ not done yet

joel says no. your tears say otherwise. and he’s not stopping until you’re sobbing for mercy.

warnings: mean!joel, orgasm denial, overstimulation, crying, begging, rough sex, bondage, dom!joel, degradation, light humiliation.

more

ᖭ༏ᖫ

you should’ve known better than to whine. you knew how he gets—when your lip wobbles and your thighs tremble, when your voice turns high and broken, when you call out his name all soft like you don’t deserve what’s coming.

“that’s the fuckin’ problem with you, baby,” joel growls, thumb dragging through the slick at the base of your clit, slow and cruel. “you think cryin’s gonna get you off the hook. think battin’ them pretty lashes is gonna earn you a fuckin’ orgasm?”

you’re breathless, aching, thighs shaking like they’re already spent—and he’s only just started.

he’s been teasing you for hours. spread on the bed, wrists bound with one of his old shirts, legs hooked over his shoulders while he’s knelt low, watching you twitch and beg with glassy eyes. he’s mean, tonight—meaner than usual. calloused fingers playing your cunt like an instrument, but never letting you get close enough to fall over the edge.

“joel—please—please, i can’t—”

he laughs. laughs.

“you can’t?” he murmurs, voice all gravel and heat as he drags the head of his cock through your soaked folds, just enough to make you buck. he doesn’t let you have it. not yet.

“poor baby,” he says. “all that cryin’, and for what? you ain’t even come once yet.”

you sob then, honest-to-god sob, and that’s what finally cracks him.

“...fuck.”

he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt with one brutal thrust. you scream—high and desperate—because it’s too much and not enough and finally.

“you wanted it, didn’t you? little crybaby just needed to be ruined.”

and then he fucks you. hard. rough. unrelenting.

not for your pleasure. not for his.

just because he can.

he holds your wrists down, presses his chest to yours, grinds his cock against that soft spot that makes you see stars. and when you finally come, sobbing his name like a prayer, he doesn’t stop. not even close.

he fucks you through it, into the next one. and the next. and the next. until you’re hoarse from screaming and there’s tears on your cheeks and slick on your thighs and the only word you remember how to say is please.

you don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore. for more. for mercy. for anything.

he just smiles. mean. fond. dangerous.

“not done yet, darlin’. not ’til you’re beggin’ me to stop.”

ᖭ༏ᖫ

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

[leaderwon]

CHAPTER 31 — CRACKS AND CONFESSIONS

wc — 900+

prev — masterlist — next

You didn’t want to see anyone.

Not Jay, not Jake, not even Lia — who had somehow managed to turn your entire world upside down with one stupid decision she thought would help. You stayed in bed for as long as your body allowed, wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets and shame. But no amount of sleep could quiet the noise in your head. No dream could save you from the gnawing ache in your chest.

The whispers followed you everywhere. In hallways, in lectures, even in the silence of your own room. You could feel the weight of every glance, every conversation that stopped the second you walked past.

And the boys — you didn’t even know where to begin with them.

Jay had been the first to corner you. You should’ve seen it coming, really. He wasn’t the kind to let things fester. He needed answers, closure, something to make sense of it all.

You’d just stepped out of the library when you saw him waiting by the steps, arms crossed, face unreadable.

“Can we talk?”

You wanted to run. You wanted to pretend you hadn’t seen him and vanish into thin air. But you didn’t. You just nodded and followed him to the nearest bench, your heart thudding with every step.

He didn’t waste time.

“So…” he said quietly. “That letter.” You stared at your shoes. “I didn’t mean for anyone to see it.” “I figured.” His tone was calm, too calm, and it only made your stomach twist harder. “But you still wrote it.”

You swallowed hard. “Yeah.” A long pause. Then, “Do you love me?” Your head snapped up. “What?”

He looked straight at you, eyes dark and searching. “I’m not asking because I want to put you on the spot. I’m asking because I need to know if I was just… some safe place you ran to when everything else fell apart. Did I mean anything real to you, or was I just convenient?”

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. Because the truth was, it wasn’t that simple.

“I don’t know,” you admitted softly. “You’ve always felt like home, Jay. That was real. But maybe I clung to that comfort more than I should’ve. I didn’t mean to use you. I swear I didn’t.”

His expression didn’t shift, but his eyes flickered with something sharp. “I’m not asking for an apology. I just needed honesty. And I guess I got it.”

Before you could say another word, a voice cut in from behind.

“What’s going on?”

Jake.

Of course. Of all the people to walk up at the worst possible time.

His eyes flicked between you and Jay, reading too much into the distance between you.

“You two look cozy,” he said dryly. “Don’t start,” you sighed. “I’m not starting anything,” Jake snapped. “But it’s funny how you keep saying you’re confused, and yet here you are, having heart to hearts with him.”

“Jake, stop.” Jay stood up now, eyes narrowing. “This isn’t about you.” “Isn’t it?” Jake’s laugh was bitter. “Because from where I’m standing, it always comes back to me. I’m the one who gets dragged into every mess. Every emotional breakdown, every secret letter — somehow, it’s always me who ends up looking like the idiot.”

“Don’t do this,” you said quietly. “Why not?” His voice was rising now, sharp and angry. “You wrote that letter, didn’t you? You spelled everything out in black and white. Jake makes you feel like fire, Jay makes you feel safe, Sunghoon’s a ghost you can’t forget. So what am I supposed to be, huh? Just your chaos? The thrill before you crawl back to comfort?”

Your heart felt like it was splitting open all over again.

“Jake—”

“No.” He cut you off, voice cracking slightly. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep getting caught in the middle while you figure yourself out.”

Jay stepped between you then, tension rolling off him in waves. “Maybe you should go cool off.” “Maybe you should mind your own business,” Jake shot back.

“Guys, stop!” you burst out. “This isn’t helping anyone!”

But neither of them backed down. You could feel your head spinning, your breath coming in short gasps, and suddenly it was all too much. The shame, the anger, the guilt pressing down on your chest like a weight you couldn’t shake.

“Enough!” you cried. “Just, God, I’m done. With both of you.”

The words fell out before you could stop them, louder than you intended. Your voice cracked, trembling with exhaustion.

Jake’s face went blank. Jay didn’t say a word.

“I never wanted this,” you said, quieter now. “I never asked for any of this. And maybe that’s on me, maybe I let it all spiral too far. But I can’t keep being pulled in different directions. I can’t keep apologizing for things I never meant to happen.”

There was silence. A different kind of silence this time. Heavy. Final.

Jake turned without another word and walked away. Jay stood there a moment longer, eyes lingering on you before he followed.

And you stood alone.

For the first time in what felt like forever, completely alone.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You just let the stillness settle into your bones like a second skin.

But later that night, as you sat in your room staring at the mess of your thoughts, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was what clarity felt like, ugly, brutal, and maybe necessary.

You weren’t sure where things stood now.

Not with Jake.

Not with Jay.

And definitely not with Sunghoon.

But something in you had snapped.

And maybe, just maybe, that meant you were finally beginning to let go of the pieces that no longer fit.

© @leaderwon 2025. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[pankowcrumbs]

Exposed X Kit Connor

MasterList

The Warfare premiere was a blur of flashbulbs, velvet ropes, and the feeling of Kit’s warm hand gently intertwined with mine.

I was used to red carpets. As an actress, they were part of the job. But tonight felt different. This wasn’t just a film premiere. This was the first time Kit and I were stepping out together publicly, undeniably. The industry had been whispering about us for months. Now, the whispers would become headlines.

He looked devastatingly handsome in his black tailored suit, that signature boyish charm softening his strong features. I wasn’t sure I looked half as put-together, but he kept squeezing my hand like he couldn’t believe I was real. That alone made it all feel worth it.

“You alright?” he whispered, leaning close as we posed for photos.

“Terrified,” I admitted under my breath, smiling for the cameras.

He chuckled. “Don’t be. I’ve got you.”

And he did. Through every interview, every question about his role, every mention of his transformation, he always found a way to include me a soft glance, a small gesture, or a proud introduction when we were asked to take couple shots.

The film screened. The afterparty buzzed. We laughed with his co-stars, dodged overly enthusiastic fans, and drank champagne under chandeliers that looked like they belonged in a palace. It was… perfect.

Until we got home.

Kit fell asleep almost immediately, sprawled across the bed in his premiere suit trousers and a white vest. I sat on the edge, wiping off my makeup, my phone lighting up with notification after notification.

I should’ve known better than to open them.

But I did.

And there they were. Hundreds of comments. Thousands. Picking me apart, frame by frame, photo by photo.

“She’s older than him right? You can tell.” “She looks like his teacher, not his girlfriend.” “Does she think she’s A-list enough to walk this carpet?” “She’s clearly using him for attention.”

I dropped my phone like it burned me.

There it was the thing I’d feared. The one thing that had kept me from agreeing to go public for so long. I knew it would happen. And still… it hurt.

I didn’t sleep. I lay next to Kit and stared at the ceiling, the heat of embarrassment and shame flooding my chest.

In the morning, he woke up to find me curled up on the balcony sofa, hoodie pulled over my head, tear tracks sticky against my cheeks.

“Hey what happened?” He dropped beside me in an instant, pulling me into his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“I shouldn’t have come with you,” I whispered. “I shouldn’t have walked with you. This was your moment.”

He frowned, brushing my hair back. “Why would you say that?”

“Because they hate me, Kit. The internet. Your fans. The press. They think I’m using you, or that I’m too old, or not pretty enough”

“Hey,” he interrupted gently. “Stop.”

He didn’t say it cruelly. Just firmly. Quietly. Enough to still the spiralling in my head.

“Do you love me?” he asked.

My breath caught. “Of course I do.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” He held me tighter. “Y/N, I don’t give a single shit what strangers on the internet say. I know you. I know how you laugh when you’re trying not to cry during sad films. I know the way you talk to your dog like it understands full conversations. I know how good you are, and how much you love.”

I wanted to believe him. But the weight in my chest lingered.

“I just feel… exposed,” I whispered.

“I know,” he said. “And I hate that I can’t protect you from it. But I can remind you every day how bloody lucky I am to have you.”

He pulled his phone out and tossed mine aside.

“Look,” he said, scrolling through his comments. “People call me soft. Say I’m not man enough. Ask why I bulked up and then chose to date someone like you.”

My heart sank.

“And I don’t care,” he said flatly. “Because they don’t know that when I couldn’t sleep before filming started, you stayed on FaceTime and read Pride and Prejudice in that ridiculous voice. Or that when I told you I was nervous to kiss you for the first time, you told me you were scared too.”

I laughed, just a little. “You were shaking.”

“Terrified,” he grinned. “Thought I’d pass out.”

I leaned against him. “I guess I just thought being older would make people less cruel.”

“Maybe. But it also means you’ve lived. You’re grounded. You know who you are. And that’s one of the reasons I love you.” He cupped my face in both hands. “You’re not just ‘my girlfriend’. You’re you. And no one else gets to define what that means.”

I didn’t reply right away. I didn’t need to. I just wrapped my arms around his waist and let him hold me while the rest of the world fell away.

Later that day, we posted a single photo. It was blurry, a selfie from the back of the car on the way home from the premiere. I was laughing, head thrown back, and Kit was pressing a kiss to my temple. No caption. Just the photo.

The comments still came. But they didn’t matter as much anymore.

Because when I looked up from my phone, he was there holding a cup of tea in one hand, offering me a blanket with the other, eyes full of nothing but love.

And that’s what I chose to listen to.

[pascalispunkczechia]

Rules I Break For Him 6

I wake up to bright morning light. The sun’s blasting through the windows. Javier’s still next to me, breathing steady. It’s nice. But we’ve got work.

“Javier,” I whisper near his ear. “We gotta get up.” I kiss his cheek lightly.

He stirs, blinks, and looks at me with a lazy grin before kissing me back. Still tastes unfairly good. Seriously, how?

“I need coffee,” he mutters and gets out of bed. He’s completely naked. Of fucking course.

Javier fuckin’ Peña is walking around my room in the nude like it’s nothing. And sure - he’s already done things to me that should’ve permanently short-circuited my brain, but damn. The view of that ass? And yeah, let’s not skip the front - makes my thighs clench automatically.

Anyway, no time. Work calls.

We clean ourselves up in the bathroom, turn back into functioning humans, and head out.

Coffee and food? Still a fantasy. My fridge’s a crime scene. But honestly, if Peña wasn’t fucking me into another dimension every night, I might’ve actually had time to grocery shop.

I smirk. He catches it, gives me a questioning look. I just wave it off with a grin.

We each take our own car. No need to give the station a reason to gossip about… whatever this is. Javi pulls out first, I follow close behind.

By the time we park at the station, we manage to meet at the entrance like it’s pure coincidence. Brilliant camouflage. So subtle. So adult.

Inside, it’s the usual chaos - overlapping voices, ringing phones, shuffling papers.

“Morning, boss,” detective Miguel calls out across the floor.

“Morning,” I reply.

The day rolls on pretty quietly. Until evening. That’s when Miguel bursts into my office. “Intercepted phone calls gave us a solid lead on Cali. We’re thinking we might’ve identified one of their primary coke labs. If we shut it down, we cut off a major supply chain.”

“Alright. I’m taking point on this,” I say without hesitation.

Right then, Javier knocks once on the door and walks in like he owns the place. Which, let’s be honest, he kinda does. He doesn’t say anything, probably heard enough. Just walks up to us, eyeing me like he’s trying to read a fucking classified file.

“Sorry, boss,” he says with a tilt of his head, “you’re taking point exactly how?”

Miguel wisely excuses himself.

“I mean, agent Peña,” I say sweetly, “I’m going into the field. You’re coming with me. We’ll bring two more units. That should be enough.”

“Will it be enough?” he asks, sharp.

“Based on the file Miguel handed me, and what I scanned through, yeah. 10 minute departure window,” I say, then walk out.

It’s been a while since I’ve worn a tac vest. Strapping it on feels heavy. But right. I grab my weapon. Already know Javi’s pissed. If we weren’t surrounded by half the office, I don’t even wanna think about what he’d do or say right now. That thought alone sends a shiver down my spine. Still, I stay calm. Professional. On the outside.

“Let’s move,” I command.

We get to the location around 7 pm. It’s dark enough to work in our favor. Nobody expects DEA at night. We get out of the vehicles one by one, Javier’s up front, I’m right behind him.

The building’s entrance is barely closed. We slip inside. The lab’s supposed to be on the second floor. Guns drawn, we move up the stairs, step by step. When we reach the door, Javi nods to Miguel, then at me and kicks the thing in like he’s been waiting all damn day. And yep. There it is. The full setup. And a handful of armed narcos to go with it.

Gunfire. Fast and loud. We get a few of them cuffed and hauled out. The rest scatter like cockroaches. Whatever. We got enough. And hopefully, one of these assholes sings. Javier and I exchange a look, guns lowered and holstered, both of us about to start rifling through the desk before calling in the techs.

But then… a click.

Behind me, one of those almost invisible wall-doors swings open. Hidden. Probably a closet. I don’t even get time to think before a strong arm wraps around my waist, yanking me back. My weapon goes flying from its holster.

Javier reacts instantly - gun up, aimed at the fucker behind me. “Let her go!” he shouts, voice already past the breaking point.

But the bastard pulls me tighter, using my body as a shield. His arm presses hard into my throat. I can’t breathe right. My eyes start to sting, tears pressing forward from the lack of air.

“Drop the gun, asshole,” the dealer hisses at Javier. “Or I blow her fucking head off and have a little fun with what’s left.”

I feel sick. But his grip loosens just slightly when he sees Javier lower the muzzle.

“Easy,” Peña says, voice rough, steady… but I can see it. In his eyes. A flicker of something sharp. Fear. Real fear. And that scares me more than the man behind me.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

What now? That piece of shit’s not letting go. Where the hell are Miguel and the rest? They’ll come check on us if we’re gone too long, but until then?

I’m out of fucking time.

He’s got a goddamn knife now. Pressing it against her neck. Too fucking close. She’s pale, but her eyes - they’re fire. Anger.

And me? All I’ve got is fear. Fuck, I’m scared out of my goddamn mind.

Then, finally! Miguel and the guys rush in. Dealer doesn’t even have time to think. He jerks the knife, slices her neck… not deep, but fuck!

They take him down hard.

I grab her, drag her away from that bastard like I need to physically erase the fact that he ever touched her.

Miguel gets him cuffed. They haul him out like the trash he is.

I hold her close, hands already at her neck, checking the cut. It’s shallow. Thank fuck! But I was this close to losing my goddamn mind.

She leans into me. I pull the edge of my shirt up and wipe the blood from her skin. It’s all I’ve got on me. I don’t give a shit.

“Oh god. This was… I’m such an idiot. I should’ve checked the closet,” she breathes, voice cracking.

“Hey,” I snap. “That wasn’t your fucking fault, alright?” My voice comes out rough, almost a shout. “You hear me? You’re not an idiot. That guy was already hiding the second he heard us coming. He planned that shit.”

She doesn’t answer, but she’s still clinging to me. I don’t let go.

I call in the techs. Everyone else is busy hauling narcos to holding. Let them stew. We’ll get what we need tomorrow.

“Let’s go,” I say quietly, guiding her out with my hand on her back.

Outside, there’s only one car left. Mine. So we get in. No words. Just drive. The op dragged way longer than expected. By the time we’re back at the base, the place is dead. No surprise. Colombian work ethic: legendary. Which is why it’s always up to us DEA gringos to keep this shit running.

Straight to her office. Grab the med kit. Fix her up.

She gives me this look - half grateful, half ashamed. “Thanks,” she says, voice tiny. Still blaming herself.

I finish cleaning the cut. Touch her wrist, firm and warm. “Baby, listen. This wasn’t your fault, okay? Shit like this can happen to anyone. There’s no such thing as a perfect mission.”

She gives me a little smile. Tired. But real. “Ever the gentleman, agent Peña,” she says softly.

Then I remember. Bottom drawer. Whiskey. “Hang on. I know exactly what we’re missing.” Three strides, I’m at my desk. Grab the bottle. Back to her office.

She arches a brow. “Well, that’s gonna help. Glasses are over there, por favor.”

I pour. We clink.

She sits behind her desk. I drop into the chair across from her. We knock back the first one like it’s water.

I pour myself another. She waves me off. Doesn’t want more.

I look at her. And it just comes out. “You know… I was fucking scared today.” Sip. “Like actually scared. Thought he was gonna shoot you. Or stab you. Or worse.” I look down at my glass. “I don’t think I could’ve handled that.”

Another pause. Then I say it. “I realized… you matter to me. More than I expected. You’re important, alright?”

Eyes burn. Fucking hell. I’m not gonna cry. Not in front of her. But shit, I feel it.

I’m not lying. She really does mean something to me. Never thought I’d say that… especially not about someone I met a few days ago.

But right now? I’d fucking kill to protect her.

She looks at me. Really looks. Then stands. Comes closer. Eyes locked on mine.

“Javi,” she whispers. “Fuck me. Right here. On the desk. I need you.”

Jesus Christ. Did not see that coming. But fuck if it doesn’t set me on fire instantly.

I take her hands and stand, already unbuttoning my shirt, tossing it somewhere behind me. I pop open her pants, pull her in, lift her up, set her on the edge of the desk. Kiss her hard.

She buries her fingers in my hair.

My cock’s already straining against my pants. No fucking way I’m lasting long. I undo my belt, shove everything down to my knees, underwear included.

She looks straight at my dick and bites her lip. That’s it.

I grip her hips, yank her closer, shove her panties to the side, and slide into her in one rough thrust.

No prep. No hesitation. She’s fucking soaked. I start moving, fast and deep. Her moans echo around the office. She’s saying my name over and over… like a prayer, like a fucking curse.

I don’t care which. It’s hot as hell.

I pound into her harder, faster, losing myself in the rhythm, in the heat, in the fact that we’re fucking on her desk in an empty station.

She starts to clench around me. Yeah, she’s close. So am I.

We come together. Her nails dig into my back, body tight as she pulses around my cock. I explode inside her - every ounce of rage, fear, lust - emptied into her in one brutal release.

After a few seconds, I pull out. Lift her off the desk, hold her against me. Her legs wrap around my waist. I sit back in the same chair I had earlier, holding her in my lap.

Still inside her warmth. Still fucking here.

I light a cigarette. Exhale slow. Never underestimate the post-orgasm smoke. It hits different!

“Give me one too?” she asks quietly.

I pull another from the pack, place it between her lips, light it for her.

We sit there in silence. Breathing. Smoking. Holding each other.

Then she speaks. “You know… I wanted to thank you. For being here. Whatever this is… it’s not just about the sex. Even though… yeah, that helps too,” she says, cheeks flushing.

I nod. Cup her face in my hands. Kiss her nose. And then we’re kissing again. Softer this time. Like we’ve got something to lose.

Adrenaline’s still running through my veins. From nearly getting killed on a raid. From fucking on my own desk. From kissing him and feeling something I still don’t fully understand. And mostly - from what he said!

That I matter to him. I’m not gonna get ahead of myself. No conclusions. No daydreams. I don’t even know what the fuck this is.

Us.

Whatever’s happening between us. Whatever the hell it means when just being around him makes me feel like this… like I’m not in control of my own skin.

Javi’s got his fingers tracing slow circles down my back. He’s watching me like he’s trying to figure something out.

“What?” I smile at him.

“Today was insane,” he says, voice gravelly. “Think I’ll suggest to my boss’s boss that maybe she shouldn’t ride out with me anymore.” He smirks.

The teasing’s back. The edge is softer now. Like he’s letting go - or trying to.

“Oh yeah? Well, your boss doesn’t agree. She’s gotta keep an eye on you too,” I grin and scrunch my nose.

“Uh-huh. Like she did today?”

“Okay, touché,” I admit.

We’re both laughing now. God, we needed that. The release. The shift in air.

“Alright,” I say, unwrapping myself from his arms and standing up. “We should go. Tomorrow’s gonna kick our asses.”

“Mmm.” He squeezes my hand gently. “If you say so, boss.”

He gets up too. We both zip up. Javi throws on his shirt and slings that black leather jacket over his shoulders like a fucking movie star.

Lights off. We head out.

The night air hits colder than expected. I shiver. Javi notices - of course he fucking does - and wraps an arm around my shoulders, guiding me toward my car. “I’ve gotta take care of something, baby,” he says low, almost reluctant. His eyes flick toward me like he’s checking my reaction.

“I’m a big girl,” I say with a wink. “I can make it home alone.” A million questions spark in my brain: What’s he doing? Where’s he going? Why now? But I don’t ask.

“Alright. Call me if anything comes up,” he says, tapping the radio clipped to my belt.

“Yes sir,” I joke, giving him a mock salute. Then I slide into the car, shut the door, roll the window down.

“See you later,” he murmurs, reaching in to brush my cheek.

I smile. “Take care, whatever it is you’re handling.” I turn the key in the ignition and drive off, headed home. Headed for a shower, a bed, and a few hours of sleep.

Hopefully.

I watch her car disappear down the street. Then slide into mine. I’m headed to Vanessa’s. Or, hell, the brothel. Whatever the fuck you wanna call it. No idea if this is smart. But I need to end it. For real. It’s been six months. Haven’t touched her since. She’s been calling. Texting. Still won’t quit.

But I can’t give myself to her not if this shit’s like Vanessa still clinging to me. She deserves better. And I’ve gotta be clean when I show up at her door.

I pull up fast. Street’s loud. Girls hanging everywhere. Don’t recognize most of them. Vanessa’s probably the last one left I still know.

“Hey there, handsome,” a too-young voice calls.

I shut it down. “DEA. Just here to handle something.”

She eyes me hard. Then walks off. Mumbling something to the others.

Good. Let them think I’m just another agent on duty. It’ll keep this cleaner.

I head up the stairs to Vanessa’s room. Stop at the door. Deep breath.

Knock.

Silence.

Please don’t let her have a client in there.

Door opens. It’s her. Hair a mess. Dark circles. She looks… rough. She didn’t used to look like this. Eyes light up when she sees me. And then she’s on me - arms around my neck, fingers already grabbing my ass. “Javi!” she shrieks, practically purring.

“Wait. Wait,” I mutter, grabbing her wrists. “I’m not here for that.”

Her smile drops. “You’re not? Then what the fuck are you doing here?”

I exhale. Keep it simple. “We should’ve had this talk a long time ago. Back then, things were different. I’m not the same. And there’s no more us.”

“No more what?” She’s laughing now. But not the nice kind. The sharp, hysterical kind. “You show up after ignoring me for months… using me for fucking intel, which could’ve gotten me killed… and now you think you can just end it?!” She starts hitting me. Hard. Fists on my chest, my arms.

I take it. I fucking take it. Not raising a single hand. “I don’t mean this as personal. I’ve just… moved on. This,” I motion around the room, “this isn’t me anymore.”

“Oh, it’s not?” she spits. “So what, you got yourself some little bitch now? Some DEA princess who doesn’t know where the fuck you’ve been?”

I don’t answer. But she sees it in my face.

“There it is. It is some whore,” she hisses. “You know what I think?” she sneers. “I think it’s that American bitch. The one you brought to the bar. Maria saw you. Told me you walked in with her.”

She starts shoving me toward the door. Tears in her eyes. Rage on her face. Right before she slams the door on me, she looks at me like she was waiting for something else to happen. A different ending.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“Go to hell, you son of a bitch!”

I don’t wait around. I’m gone. Fast. Car. Ignition. Pedal down.

Home. Gotta get home. Gotta fucking breathe.

My head’s a fucking mess. What the fuck do I even tell her? Do I lay it all out? Do I tell her about Vanessa? Will she throw me out the second she hears it?

Don’t know. Still gotta do it. The drive goes quick. Before I know it, I’m parked out front.

Her light’s still on.

I knock.

She opens with a smile. A curious look. “That was faster than I expected,” she says. “This little errand of yours.”

“Yeah… uh…” I clear my throat. “Can we go over to mine instead? Need to talk. And, no offense, you don’t keep whiskey stocked.” I raise a brow.

She laughs. “Right. Whiskey. The cornerstone of every serious conversation.” She’s in a tank top and sleep shorts. Cute as hell. And I wanna wrap her up in my arms like she’s mine already.

What the fuck is happening to me?!

We walk down the hall to my place. First time she’s ever been here. Shit. Should’ve cleaned.

She steps inside. Glances around. Gives me this amused little smile.

Okay, it’s not a pigsty. Just clearly not a place anyone lives in. Just survives. But it’s got a good couch. And a solid bed.

I tell her to sit. Grab two glasses, pour us each a decent hit, and walk it over. “You hungry? I’ve got empanadas,” I offer, nodding toward the kitchen.

She shakes her head. “Nah, just ate. And yes, before you ask, I finally stocked my fridge. Except the whiskey, obviously.”

Smartass.

I smirk. “Good. I’m not hungry either. This,” I lift the glass, “will do.”

She takes a sip. Leans back into the couch. “So… What is it you needed to talk about?” Her eyes are steady. Curious. Totally unaware of the storm I’m about to dump in her lap.

Here we go. It’s time to tell her everything.

Next chapter coming soon!

FOR MORE FICS -> MASTERLIST

[wonderjanga2]

Neglected Santa Clarita Diet (Zombie)!Reader x Yan!Batfam

Prologue, Chapter One (Here)

Tw: So much blood, mutilation, brief mentions of vomiting in this chapter, definitely not as much as the last time.

I’d also like to say this Reader is Gender Neutral or at least you can pick your gender. Most of the pronouns are “you”. Have fun reading and tell me if there are any spelling mistakes or things that don’t make sense!

Chapter One:

“Oh my God.” You muttered, looking down at the bloody mess of the burglar’s carcass.

Would you look at that? You just killed a man.

“OH MY GOD?” Jill’s voice rose looking between you and the body

“OH MY GOD!” You rose your voice in return because apparently you were both yelling now?

“YOU JUST ATE SOMEONE.”

“I KNOW.”

“LIKE YOU TORE HIS FUCKING FACE OFF.”

“I KNOW!”

“WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO WITH HIM?”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

“[NAME] HE’S STAINING MY WOOD FLOORS.”

“I’M SORRY! I’LL PICK HIM UP!”

“I’LL HELP YOU!”

That’s how the two of you ended up stuffing the man into giant plastic container. It had originally been used by Jill to store old school or art supplies. Now… well, all that stuff was emptied on the ground of her room and you were both trying to brute force the burglar into it. The forcefulness of the two of you caused the already torn apart body to be mutilated further from being pushed into what was comparatively a tiny space compared to the body. In then end, a good chunk of the guy’s head and his entire leg were still sticking out.

Was this a good time to mention that said container didn’t have a lid?

The sight was quite… inefficient to say the least and it ended with you both dragging the dead guy, still in the plastic container, which scratched across Jill’s floors by the way, to the bathroom. You pulled him out and dumped him in her tub.

Your eyes narrowed at the burglar in the tub. You and Jill stood before him until you turned to her with a grave expression. “Get me something… sharp.”

Jill screamed into her hands.

Nearly an hour later, you were both struggling down the street, carrying a the same plastic container from earlier. It was refilled with the burglar and thankfully was only slightly overflowing now instead of having entire limbs sticking out. It sloshed with each step. It was more liquid than human.

Who knew people had so much blood in them?

Remember how the container didn’t have a lid? Neither you nor Jill ended up finding it. The only thing protecting you both from having the man spill all over your shoes, which really would’ve been a pain because the two of you showered before you both left (you went first to get rid most of the blood left in the tub), was a thin of piece of seranwrap. Looking at how the man threatens to topple out of it with each step makes you think you should’ve at least put another layer instead of the single flimsy one.

Right now though, you had more important things to worry about out instead of getting rid of the guy. Like the current conversation between you a Jill. Earlier, after you finished chopping the burglar up, you went to Jill’s freezer to grab more chicken drums to nibble on, but you couldn’t eat them anymore. They tasted gross.

“Jill.” You started before you both grunted as you moved the container again. It was so heavy.

“Mm?” She grunted out as you both moved it again. The two of you were going at a snail’s pace. It was a miracle you’d both gotten it down the stairs but it seemed like that would be your only miracle of the night. You were both moving it in short bursts, picking it up and moving it at about a foot at a time.

“I don’t think I can eat meat anymore.” You quickly glanced at her and then back at the container.

“What?” She stopped trying to move it as you picked up your side and moved it. The container, sloshed dangerously and was now sitting diagonally against the grimy Gotham sidewalk. She didn’t seem to notice as all of her attention was focused on you instead.

“I don’t think I can eat animal meat anymore. I ate some of the chicken and it tasted like baby shit. Then, I didn’t ever get to try the beef before I almost vomited from its smell.”

“My kitchen cannot handle you vomiting.” She muttered.

“I know.” You nodded solemnly. “But all the meat I tried has repulsed me since I had this guy.” You jerked your head at the remains of the burglar.

She stared at you for a solid twenty seconds before she stood straight up, letting go of the container. “Well, we can’t start killing people. As soon as we get rid of this guy, I thought we were gonna go back to normal, and killing people isn’t normal, [Name].” She had a forced grin and her hands were clenched at her sides.

“Well, I know tha—”

“Then as soon as we get home, you’re gonna dig in to the tilapia back at my place!” She bent back down to grab the container again and you both got back to moving it one foot at a time. You did that in silence for about a minute until you spoke up again.

“Jill, what if, once I’ve tasted human flesh, I can’t go back?” You asked as you spied Gotham’s Harbor up ahead. The end was in sight. Thank god. It was a such a good thing Jill and her mom lived near it.

She stared at you for a nearly minute, eyes darting to the side every now and then as you both kept moving the container of the burglar until she let go and rounded it to grab your shoulders.

“Okay. Maybe, just maybe, it’s the freshness of it, not the human-ness. Because that guy was super fresh. Maybe you can only eat an animal if it’s just been killed! Could that be it?”

“What if it’s not?”

“What if it is?”

“What if it’s no—” You were cut off once more, not by your best friend this time, by a car speeding past the both of you and hitting a couple pidgins on the road.

The two of you looked at each other, then at the pidgins, then at each other, then at the pidgins, then at each other before Jill gave you a look that said you might as well go for it.

That’s how you let out the loudest sigh possible. “Please?” You begged. You really did not want to eat the pidgin. It was probably super radioactive from all the shit it ate off the ground and has like fifty million diseases.

“For me.” She said seriously.

You let out another sigh, walking over to it, stopping every now and then to give pitiful glances back at her.

Only Jill could make you take the walk of shame to go eat a flattened and freshly killed pidgin.

So that didn’t work.

You barfed over its body just at the whiff of it. Thankfully, you didn’t have a repeat of last night, but still. Gross. Jill tried to say that maybe it looked disgusting and that was why you didn’t want to eat it, but then you brought up the argument that the guy you ate was pretty disgusting too. Inside and out. That got her to forcibly accept you needed to feed on humans now.

Also, some guy in a red helmet, you were 50 percent sure it was a motorcycle helmet based on the fact he was holding said motorcycle so it wouldn’t tip over, watched you as he stood across the street. So not only did you barf, some guy saw you.

Lovely.

On the bright side, now you were both now at the pier and steadily making your way to the end of one of the wooden docks.

“So, I was thinking, if and only if you can’t eat animal meat anymore, because I’m going to make you try some more later, we have to do this right.” Jill said between grunts as you both moved it.

You both ended up taking a break halfway up the dock so she could talk without being interrupted. “We can’t just kill anybody. We have to kill someone who won’t be missed.”

“Someone without a family.” You chimed in.

“Right. And someone bad who deserves it.”

“Ooh! Yeah, like who?”

“I don’t know… I guess the prototype would be a young, single Hitler.” She crossed her arms and sat down on the dock. You followed her example and now the both of you were leaning against the container as you talked.

That was a pretty stupid idea now that you thought back on it.

“And when we do find someone, we have to be prepared. No more impulse killing, it’s too risky.” She waved her finger around.

“True. The cops suck and are mostly corrupt, but if it gets to someone actually good and they pursue it, we could get busted.” You murmured.

“Exactly. We also have to get tarps, gloves, tools,” Jill spoke, and you could slowly see the despair in her eyes as she thought of how much all of that would cost.

“I’ll pay!” You chirped.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, my dad may be a deadbeat piece of shit, but at least he was willing to throw a black card at me to get me to stop bothering him.” You shrugged as an angry look crossed her face at the thought of an eight year old you, just lost your mom, begging for attention only for him to literally throw some money at you to get you to go away.

“Right… anyways, we also need mops, sponges, bleach to clean up the blood…” She trailed off. “All the blood. So much blood. Blood everywhere.” She looked to the side, resting her cheek on her hand, sounding shellshocked.

“Jill?”

“Yup?”

“You don’t have to go with me.”

She looked back to you, almost offended. “I’m not sending you out to do this alone, [Name]. We’re doing this together.”

“Awe.” A sweet smile crossed your face. She wouldn’t leave you alone. She was the best. “But I’ll do the actual killing, okay? Don’t even worry about that.” You moved your arm to try and elbow her in the side only for said arm to tip over the container behind you.

You both stared at each other with the blankest faces possible as you listened to the burglar spill all over behind the two of you. You then both slowly looked behind to the mess.

““Shit.”” The single word left the both of you simultaneously.

That started the mad scramble of shoveling the remains into the water.

You were both now both walking back to Jill’s apartment. Both of your arms were covered in the guy’s blood. The same could be said for a little bit of your torsos and pants. You felt a little bad to say the least. The clothes you were wearing were Jill’s. The clothes you ate the burglar in had been Jill’s as well after you changed out of your vomit covered ones. You really had a track record for ruining her clothes, huh?

The two of you were walking in pure silence.

You were carrying the container as punishment for spilling the damn thing in the first place, but you’d both washed it out earlier with some definitely chemically altered water from a random person’s hose in the front of their yard so at least it was blood-free now.

“At least you can reuse it?” You offered.

“For what? More bodies?” She spat.

Ouch.

Jill sighed and then started to speak fast and apologetically, one of her hands almost running itself down her face before she caught herself and let it drop back to her side. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, but come on, we’re covered in blood right now and I’m trying my best to ignore the smell and the fact we have to start killing people soon.”

That made you frown. Jill shouldn’t have to apologize for something you dragged her into. “I’m sorry too. If only I hadn’t turned into… whatever I am.”

“A zombie?”

“I might as well be. I eat people, can’t bleed, and don’t have a pulse.”

“You don’t have a pulse?” She whispered, sounding like she couldn’t believe there was more to this shit show.

“No?” You placed a hand on your chest. Nothing. Then your neck. Also nothing. “When we were in the bathroom didn’t you say you couldn’t feel one too?

“Well, yes but…” She trailed off and then threw her head back in a groan as the two of you stepped around some random man standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

“What the fuck happened to you two?” The man asked which caused the both of you to stop in your tracks. The two of you looked back.

This guy, this weirdo, was wearing a bright red helmet, which was a little familiar to you. Hey, wasn’t this the guy who saw you vomit over the pidgin earlier?

Both you and Jill shared a look.

“We… almost got mugged.” Jill spoke, which didn’t sound convincing at all, you thought.

“Really?” The man didn’t sound convinced either. “Is that why you’re so bloody?”

You snorted at that. “You should see the other guy.” Those words earned you a sharp elbow to the ribs from Jill and the helmeted guy turning his head to you. It was hard to tell what expression he was making exactly, but you got the distinct vibes it was similar to the weird looks Jill gave you earlier.

“Right… Listen, why don’t I walk you two home?” The man offered, but it honestly sounded more like he was stating it.

“Uh…” You looked to Jill, who looked back at you with an equally perplexed expression. This was the most blatant attempt at a kidnapping you’d ever come across. You could tell she was thinking the same.

“We’re good, creepo.” Jill said, grabbing one of your hands.

“Creepo?” The man sounded like he’d never been called that before and you honestly have no idea how he hasn’t if he’s been approaching strangers the same way he approached you two.

“Yeah. Creepo.” Jill repeated before grabbing a glass bottle that probably had syphilis and throwing it at him. She pulled you along to run away with her so you didn’t get to see if the bottle connected or not.

“Bye, Creepo!” You shouted as you both turned around a corner.

So, you guys know how I said Jill will be our Joel in the last chapter? I think I actually might make her your love interest. It depends. We’ll have to see where the story goes. Also for those you still don’t know what a Joel is, what I mean is that she’s going to be our partner in crime.

Taglist(?): @shinning-stars

[octavikravecell218]

Can you read???? Can you understand what you read???

Did you properly read any of my replies or just gloss over them to start properly arguing with me?

I’ll reply in order to make it clear for you:

1) I don’t have an issue with lando being rich as shit - most of the come from very privileged backgrounds

HOWEVER lando is a special case- cause he acts and wants to make out that he comes from hardship

I’m from Bristol - lando and I were born in the same hospital I know the school he went to and let me tell you he doesn’t care from hardship

Ok he may have been bullied and I’m sorry for that but that doesn’t mean he had such a hard life

Be on food banks

Have your electric get shut off and the bailiffs come knocking

Lost someone to a ketamine overdoes or a stabbing - that is what’s happening in Bristol and that is not what lando comes from

My issue is that he tried to act like his life has been so hard and not recognising his own privilege

2) yes mark Webber is a piece of shit and his comment about trans people is disgusting

Yes Oscar is managed by mark but Oscar has never publicly shown support for what Webber said or has done

The second he does I will criticise that

Oscar could be a massive transphobe behind closed door that’s fine you have that right

The second you take that public is when I will go after you - which is why I’m doing it to lando cause he took it public

3) omg did you really not read my replies - I said that I don’t care how much lando apologies or says he doesn’t support trump

The one time he did voice support WE ALL HEARD IT and lando has a huge platform of young impressionable people he needs to be careful with his words

And Oscar did not ONCE show any support for trump he simply said no comment which is what lando should’ve done

4) I’m not asking for every driver to be a saint it’s why i especially praise Vettel and Hamilton because they do good with their voices

WHAT IM SAYING IS

If y’all want to act like lando is this perfect little cherub that is such a good guy

Then he should be doing those good things and that high level of activism that we see from Hamilton and Vettel

BUT HE DOESNT

You are hyping up and ride or dying for a man (a grown ass man that you treat like a child) that’s hasn’t earned it through this words or actions

Have a lovely day ☺️

A message for the McLaren girlies :

I don’t care how good you think he is (he’s overrated btw and not as good as Oscar. If f1 were a spec lando wouldnt be in the top 5 but not my point)

I don’t care how much of a silly little goofy guy he is (also he’s a 25 year old grown man y’all need to stop infantilising him)

If you are a woman, a POC, queer or marginalised in ANY way

YOU SHOULD NOT SUPPORT LANDO NORRIS!!!!!!!

Because he has actively shown support- and told other to respect and admire- people who would actively see harm down unto you and to your loved ones

He does not deserve any semblance of praise or respect you give him

This goes beyond f1 - people like that shouldn’t be put on a pedestal just because they’re fun

And I know this can be said for many drivers - but none are as big as lando and it’s bullshit

Instead of showing your support for lando ‘trump supporter’ Norris can I instead direct you to Sebastian Vettel? He said society REGRESSED when trump was voted a second time - he just held races for women in Saudi Arabia in fact. Or Lewis hamilton? Who cares so much about marginalised groups that he had to be told to stop protesting in f1

I’m not saying people have to be perfect

And you do have the right to believe what you want and support who you want

But there’s a line

And lando had crossed it

By supporting the man who is helping fund a genocide - who tried to overthrow the government- who calls people aliens if they don’t look like him - WHO RAPED A WOMAN!!!!!

That’s your guy???????

I would ask you to take a hard look in the mirror cause I wonder what that says about you

#btw please share this I need as many McLaren fans to see this is as possible cause I need them to straighten up and wise up

[nonbarbari]

Trope Rating Game

Rules: How much do these tropes affect your decision to click on a fic?

-10 -> very dissuaded

0 - don’t care either way

+10 -> very enticed

nope -> if it’s a hard no and you’d never click on a fic with that tag or if you have the tag blocked, or if you’d instantly click out of the fic if it wasn’t tagged. Bonus points for explaining the rating and whether it’s conditional.

I'm kinda new to Tumblr and still figuring out how everything works. I got a tag notification, but I'm not sure if I was actually tagged. Whether it was a mistake or not ..I did it anyway 😅

@himelander Thanks for tagging me in this challenge, it was fun!

Age gap: +8 I like it. I think it’s cool and sometimes even funny. A person with issues and all... never mind.

Codependency: +10 I definitely love it, I’d read it at any cost. (I hang myself off these.)

Obsession/Possessiveness, jealousy: +5 It makes fics more fun and sometimes better. Jealousy makes them do cute things.

Opposites (grumpy/sunshine etc): +10 This is the best thing ever. Two opposites making it work? I’m all in.

Enemies to lovers, Enemies with benefits: +10 I’m absorbing these fics like a sponge. If I could, I’d give it a million points. The thought of two people who want to destroy each other falling in love is always beautiful to me.

Friends with benefits: +3 Why not, I’ll read it, but only in specific cases.

Sex to feelings: +10

good good

Fake dating/relationship: +10 I love it, whether in a movie or a fanfic. Those kinds of relationships are full of drama, and I love reading about the drama.

Friends to lovers: +5 Only between people with a very specific dynamic.

Found Family: +10 100%, this one’s super attractive. It can show character growth, which I love.

Hurt/Comfort: +10 Deep feelings, care, and support? Yes, please. *Wipes under their eyes with a tissue*

Love Triangle: +4 I can enjoy it, but only if my favorite character wins in the end.

Poly, open relationships: -10 Nah, it just feels weird to me.

Mistaken/hidden identity: +10 The thrill of waiting for the truth to come out is so awesome. So yeah, I’m here for it.

Monsterfucking: -1 If it’s a werewolf or vampire, I’m good.

Pregnancy: +10 Is the character wild, tough, or aggressive? Make them pregnant to calm them down. Yes, yes!

Second Chance: +5 If it’s good, I like it—unless it’s about cheating. Can cheating even have a second chance?

Slowburn: +7 Well, the 3 points off are for when the story drags and gets boring.

Soulmates: +8 Two opposites or enemies being soulmates? Give it to me.