#drabble game 8

[tessasilverswan]

The Golden Raven countdown: 8

drabble by the wonderful @you-know-i-get-itt <3

[pinkmirth]

hwoarang smut otw . . !

[triskhellion]

First & Last Lines / Writing Patterns

tagged by @dear-massacre 🖤 & @renmackree 💙!

Combining these since I'll be using the same posted fics for both because I tend to bounce around on my unpublished fics/chapters and am not sure of the order including those.

Rules:

Post the first and last lines of the last 10 fics you worked on. WIPs are allowed! / List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Gingerly: 2k, Sterek, teen (complete)

First: Stiles began working on his magic over the summer, but didn’t tell anyone because he wanted to have something impressive, or at least reliable, to show when he was inevitably asked to demonstrate. Last: It seemed like he was going to show off his tattoos after all.

Anticipation (Chosen 5): drabble, Sterek, mature

First: He lifted a hand to his throbbing mark, unsteady from the new and intense sensations coursing through him. Last: Daunting.

Mine (Chosen 4): drabble, Sterek, teen

First: Derek stilled as his senses expanded and were overwhelmed all at once. Last: Mine.

Mouth Stuff: 1.7k, Sterek/pre-Steraac, teen (complete)

First: The scent of intense irritation wafted over to where Derek was reading in his favorite chair.  Last: And if he had an interesting dream about both of them that night, well, it was no one’s business but his. 

Acceptance (Chosen 3): drabble, Sterek, teen

First: “…Mieczysław.” Last: A hungry mouth trailed kisses over his marked skin before fangs clamped down.

Answer (Chosen 2): drabble, Sterek, teen

First: Derek listened to the rabbiting heart of his intended over the white noise of the heater. Last: "Yes." 

Chosen: (Chosen 1): drabble, Sterek, teen

First: Stiles could tell from the size of the bite on his neck that he was in trouble.  Last: “I think you know.”

15 Shades of Red: 20.8k, Sterek, explicit (WIP)

First: His cool, calm, and collected demeanor was at odds with the anxiety and anticipation roiling inside him.  Last: M — Stilinski — had just entered the room, his room, and he was incensed.

Legs: 4.3k, Sterek, explicit (complete)

First: “Thank fucking God,” Stiles muttered to himself as the key finally turned in the lock after jiggling the damn door until everything lined up just right.  Last: And no matter who came in first, he was going to win either way.

Hunter, Dragon, Wolf: 1k, Sterek, mature (complete)

First: Every decision — theirs and yours — has led to this.  Last: Entwined.

Consider yourself tagged if you want to join in!

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

Little drabble for today, since technically today(or perhaps yesterday?) Was the day I had my little...moment of. Wow it would be so funny if I got engaged with Finn and of course it happens to be cliche a few days before Valentine's Day. Anniversary. I know I don't really post my writing a lot and keep it more private but that's mostly just cause it's harder for me to write things that aren't very emotionally incorporated, if that makes any sense? With drawing I can do a little cute doodle, draw some hearts around it, and that's it, a nice simple little thingy. But with my writing it is normally a lot more extensive, even if whatever I'm writing is just fluffy stuff. And. Not to mention. A lot of people normally brush over drawings after like five reasonable seconds, but with writing it isn't entirely something that can be consumed so quickly. But! I yap a lot on here anyway.

I don't thinkkkkkk this needs any content warnings? I tried to not go into detail about the actual extent of the woes I experienced and just said enough to get it out of my system, but everything else is true and accurate😉 it gets super sappy fluffy at the end because it is me we are talking about here, so of course it does. I did a shorter Speedrun version of my proofreading, so hopefully it has a nice flow to it!

--------

"Yes, but I want to actually do SOMETHING for today, I mean, something nice at least. It is a special day, we should do something.. special for it!" Kane reasoned, still in bed and curled up to a pillow. He cautiously rolled over onto his back, and his expression twitched like he had winced. He kept the pillow in his arms and loosely hugged it against himself.

"Kane, I'm pretty sure I just watched you die, I'm not going to let you expend what little energy you have left that needs to go to resting." Finn sighed, upset, sitting carefully at the edge of the bed. He certainly wasn't upset at Kane, more so the situation; and perhaps what little he could do- or have done- to remedy it, to no fault of his own, of course. Or anyone's, really.

Considering that Kane wasn't always that keen on bigger events anyway, his prying for one was a bit ironic. But just because he didn't like going out to restaurants or typical romantic events that involved eating out in public or resulted in lots of noises going on like at restaurants, it didn't mean that Finn didn't like those things. And, perhaps, Kane felt a little guilty inside, because he had been out of commission for most of the day, so anything that they could've done couldn't happen.

"It's not like I didn't know this might happen." Finn said gently, turning a little so he could look at Kane when he said it.

Kane sighed a little, almost in a pouting manner, and glanced at Finn to meet his gaze for a moment, "I mean, I know that we both knew it was going to happen, cause the prediction and all- and I could feel it- but..."

"But I'm feeling better now and-"

"Rest." Finn interrupted firmly.

Kane groaned in response, why must he need rest and recovery. Why must he be aware of how truthfully exhausted and sore he felt. "Okay, well I wasn't dying, I was just-"

"You were withering in pain, and trying to tug out your own hair so you could feel something else, you-"

"Okay, okay, but worse case scenario you could've just- I mean we live in England, all the houses and buildings are brick- you could've just bonked me out on the head and then drivin me off to the ER or like, urgent care or something."

Ah, and Kane was met with the look of a man who sometimes forgot what country people grow up to be. A look laced with concern because it was his partner he was looking at, but there was still a slight hint of "Fuck? No!" Whether Kane's country roots lying in America added to this was a different story.

"Er- euhm- Whatever the uh. Thing is called the-..." Kane looks around the room as he racks his brain for it, "The NHS! Yes! Whatever those.. they have like those walk-in urgent rooms, right? Like buildings?"

Finn looked like he wanted to respond with several things like "The NHS wait time isn't worth it" and "The day I put you out of your misery like some animal even if it is to temporarily knock you unconscious is the day I [redacted]" but with as ruffled and exhausted as Kane still appeared, he wasn't going to have the man waste his breath on discussing the complexities of the NHS and every other healthcare system, or whatever else was going through his mind. Instead, he ever so gently nudged Kane over closer to the middle of the bed so he could lay down next to him. He understood that going from forever sleeping on a bed that was hardly bigger than him to the luxuries of a bed that was probably a bit bigger than your dining table was something for Kane to adjust to, but it still drove him mad that Kane, for some reason, slept right at the edge of the bed. Even if he has yet to actually fall off of it.

And Kane couldn't help but crack out a grin over it, he spent a lot of time in bed so there was hardly a moment where Finn wasn't wordlessly gently shuffling him closer to the center of the bed.

"But we aught to do at least something, right? Today isn't just any other day today- not to me at least- I want to at least mark it like that by doing something special. Even if it is something small."

As Finn stretched out and laid down net to Kane, he let out a long exhale, "And you call me foolish?" Finn mused, and with as much little movement as possible he rolled over so he could face Kane and gingerly wrap an arm around the other man, tucking it under the pillow that Kane was still holding closely to himself. He was sure Kane was still feeling sore, so he treated every movement and touch he did like he was trying to do a waltz in a minefield.

Kane cocked an eyebrow, "I do call you foolish. Not that I'm any less foolish- if not more." "You certainly are," Finn's voice turned to a mumble as he tried to nuzzle himself infinitely and impossibly closer to Kane.

"And would you like to elaborate on that?" Kane asked, with a faint grin. He was feeling far more amused that he was able to express himself at the moment.

"The whole point of the day is just to spend it however we'd like, and I don't care how we spend it, I just want to spend it with you."

This was one of the moments were Kane was glad that Finn had his face buried up against him, because even if Finn could feel Kane hold his breath, it at least still spared Kane a little dignity because Finn would miss seeing his eyebrows furrow and the corners of his mouth twist and maybe his eyes watered up just a little as well. "Yeah, but you spent the day like a medieval doctor watching a patient and not being able to do anything about it but sedate them."

Finn frowned a little, but he would've frowned regardless of what day it happened on because it was still something that happened in the first place.

Kane let go of the pillow with one of his arms, and then decided to forfeit the pillow entirely altogether and shift his position so he was laying more towards Finn now. He didn't really have much left to say.

"I just want to enjoy the day with you, Kane." Finn murmured, the weight of affection in his voice was undoubtable.

Kane was quiet for a moment, his eyebrows were still furrowed, "I just want you to know that you are special," he responded, and if his sentence had been any longer his voice might've croaked.

Finn smiled, and tried to be as gentle as he could as he softly tugged Kane ever so slightly more closer to him, "I know that you think I'm special." Again, Kane took a moment before he responded. His mind was having trouble arguing with someone who seemed to radiate their love out of their body.

"You do?" Kane asked. Of course he would want Finn to feel special.

"This is where I get to use one of your own sayings against you," Finn said, starting to grin, "You always say that actions speak louder than words, don't you?"

As much as Kane loved that saying and thought it to be true, it bugged him a little that it sounded like something you would find spelled out as the lesson in the back of a book or TV show for children. Which perhaps was exactly where he had gotten it from.

"I do say that. And at least in my experience I've found it to be relatively true, give or take some case scenario exceptions; as with anything there's exceptions."

"Well I think it is plenty special that I get to do this with you," Finn gave Kane the lightest squeeze possible in his arms, "And you tell me in plenty of different ways all of the time how you feel about me." Kane knew that he did that, but part of him almost wanted to respond with "I do?" because it wasn't the usual for someone to be able to understand the funny language that he seemed to speak.

Kane looked at the ceiling for a little while, soaking in the words and the moment. Finn seemed quite content and peaceful with things right now- which is what Kane wanted. Truthfully, in an ideal scenario Kane would've spent the day treating Finn like he was some royalty- not that he didn't have tomorrow to do that, anyway.

"I like you, Finn," Kane said.

"I like you too, Kane." Just for a few moments Finn had closed his eyes. Then again, no one ever goes to close their eyes for just a few moments and it turns out that way.

No, maybe today wasn't and couldn't be spent as a day for a big grand gesture and display of love and affection, perhaps that was something that was going to be saved for another time, but there was still just as much love to be felt in getting consumed by the peaceful tranquility that came with not having anything but a nice warm and safe home, and being willingly boxed up in a room with someone literally, and figuratively, wrapped up around you.

[witherby]

Witherby's DC Masterlist

Here's where you can keep track of everything I've made for the DC fandom!

Visual key:

Headcanons || Drabble || Long Post || Closed Series (no continuations)

One-Off Posts

--

The Batfamily members in Squid Game

The Batfamily enjoys a Snow Day

Lonely in a Crowded Room - Neglected!Batsis!Reader

Close Call - Bruce Wayne x Batman

Mother Hen, A/B/O Edition - Hal takes care of the batfamily

Here's a Batlantern Selkie AU

Blood and Teeth - you don't make it home before sunset.

Here's some Brucie Wayne admitting a Sexy Secret on a late-night talk show

What if Dick fell in love with one of his rogues?

Hal gets called a homewrecker by the Gotham Gazette.

Batlantern Valentine's headcanons

Catwoman x Fem!Sidekick!Reader - it's exactly that.

The Realization - Selina is in love with her sidekick.

Chubby!Reader - how do the bats feel about it?

Series

--

Mer!Reader x Human!Damian

Damian, one of the newest employees at Gotham Aquarium, forms a fast bond with its only mer inhabitant.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9

Gotham Aquarium's Twitter: you respond to the people on social media

Family Photo - fan art of Damian, his Mer, and their child

Kryptonian Soulmate AU

What if Clark Kent had a human Soulmate?

What if that soulmate hated Superman?

What if you were both from Smallville?

The Littlest Wayne - Adopted!Reader au

Or, the one where Bruce brings home a baby, and your adorable little face wins the heart of your new, big brothers.

The Littlest Wayne - Bruce brings you home.

There's more where that came from! LW's Masterlist is Here!

Punchline: Daughter of the Joker

Bruce and Damian find you during what was supposed to be a routine patrol, and now the family has to take on the monumental task of breaking your programming from your father.

Punchline - The Batfamily finds out about the Joker's Daughter.

There's more where that came from! Punchline's Masterlist is Here!

Flight of Fancy: Damian Wayne x Winged!Reader

Damian rescues a metahuman. The safest place to keep you in Gotham is the Batcave.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4,

What does Angel look like?

Another depiction of Angel!

[[ If a fic is missing please remind me to update the list! Please do not repost my stories anywhere without my permission! ]]

[malavera]

Peaches: “Would you be so kind in lending a hand?” (18+) — Logan Howlett

summary: the friendly old man neighbor of yours is helping you with your wash day

warning: the setting of this one-shot is AU no correlation to Wolverine & Deadpool, SMUT! MDNI, fingering, female oral receiving, age gap (legal), no use of Y/N, the use of pet name peach, sir kink, squirting

wc: 3.5k (well it's a full shot not a drabble ehe)

creds: i forgot where the divider is from, creds to the creator!

dedicating this one to my favorite authors!

@velvrei @wolverinesleftclaw @stark-ironman @lovelybucky1 @cyber333angel @dollverine @joelsgoldrush

peaches masterlist

The day had finally come when you decided enough was enough. The laundry had been sitting there for three days, staring at you from the corner of your room like a silent accusation. Today was the day you would conquer it. Armed with your resolve, you hauled the overflowing basket to the laundry room. But as fate would have it, the universe had other plans.

The washing machine, that steadfast appliance you’d trusted for years, chose this very moment to betray you. The once familiar hum was replaced by a groan, a sputter, and then—nothing. You stared at it, disbelief turning to frustration as you realized the mountain of clothes in your arms was going nowhere. Your favorite pair of undies, buried somewhere in the pile, would have to wait.

You let out a long sigh, leaning back against the machine, its cool surface doing little to soothe your annoyance. Arms crossed, you dialed your father’s number, hoping for some semblance of a solution.

“Dad, the washing machine broke,” you said, half hoping he’d have a quick fix, half dreading his response.

There was a pause before he spoke, his voice calm, almost too calm. “Ask Logan for help, he’s pretty handy with stuff. I won’t be back until 8 PM tonight, buttercup.”

You nearly dropped the phone. Logan. Of course, it had to be him. The very thought of knocking on his door, asking him for help, sent a thrill of anxiety coursing through you. Why did it have to be him?

Logan Howlett—the man who occupied your thoughts far too often, the man who was the face of your wildest dreams. Just the mention of his name made your heart race. And now, you were supposed to ask him for help? The universe certainly had a twisted sense of humor.

You ended the call, staring at the washing machine like it was some cruel joke. The burnt toast theory, they called it. Sometimes, when things went wrong, it was the universe’s way of steering you toward something better. But as you stood there, contemplating the inevitable encounter with Logan, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was a blessing in disguise—or a test you weren’t sure you could pass.

Logan Howlett had been a fixture in your mind for five long months, ever since he moved into the neighborhood. It wasn’t just his rugged good looks or the way he carried himself with that effortless confidence; it was the way he seemed to have slipped so seamlessly into your life. Your dad, always quick to befriend a fellow drinker, had taken to him immediately. They were practically inseparable, sharing beers on the front porch, watching games in the living room, and even lingering over meals in the dining room.

And there you were, sneaking glances every time Logan was around, feeling that unmistakable flutter in your chest whenever he caught your eye.

Today, though, was different. Somehow, you found yourself standing on his porch, heart pounding as your fist hovered in mid-air. What were you thinking? Asking Logan for help—it felt too forward, too direct. But here you were, ignoring every ounce of self-doubt, raising your hand to knock on his door.

You barely had time to second-guess yourself before the door swung open. And there he was, the embodiment of everything that had been haunting your thoughts for months: tall, effortlessly sexy, his dark hair tousled just right. He was wearing a white shirt that clung to his broad chest and shoulders, tucked into denim jeans that fit him perfectly. You couldn’t help but notice how the summer sun cast a warm glow on his skin, making the moment feel almost surreal.

“Hey,” Logan’s voice broke through your reverie, casual yet deep enough to send a shiver down your spine. He squinted against the sunlight, his expression shifting into one of familiarity. “I was about to come over. Your dad called and asked me to check on something.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady as your mind raced. “Yeah, the washing machine broke. Dad said you could help… Would you be so kind in lending a hand?”

You could hear your own voice, slightly strained as you tried to strike the perfect balance. Not too high-pitched, not too low. Not too eager, not too aloof. But before you could overthink it any further, Logan flashed you a small smile, one that made your heart do a little flip.

“Yeah, sure, Peach.”

And there it was—that damn nickname that never failed to turn your insides into mush. It started innocently enough, the day your dad brought home a bag full of peaches and peach-flavored drinks. Logan had been there, chuckling at the sight, and ever since, he’d called you “Peach” with that easy, teasing tone. Now, every time he said it, you couldn’t help but melt a little, even if you tried to play it cool.

As you turned to lead him to your house through the backyard, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the universe’s way of pushing you closer to the man who had taken up residence in your thoughts.

“It made a really loud noise and it was shaking really bad, the sound was a bit scary,” you admitted, your voice tinged with worry. “And also, can you check if my clothes are alright? Did it tear them off or something?”

Logan nodded thoughtfully, a low hum of consideration escaping him as he surveyed the situation. “Where did your dad put his tools?” he asked, his gaze already scanning the room.

“Oh, it’s right there,” you said, pointing towards the shelf against the wall. Determined to be helpful, you stood on your tippy toes, stretching to reach the toolbox. But before you could grasp it, Logan moved past you with ease, his hand already closing around the handle.

“Careful, Peach. It’s pretty heavy,” he murmured from behind you, his voice close enough to send a subtle shiver down your spine. His presence loomed over you as he reached up effortlessly, the scent of his cologne mingling with the warm summer air.

You stepped back, feeling a mix of flustered and grateful as he handled the heavy toolbox with ease, making you feel small and protected all at once.

“O-okay.” The stutter slipped out before you could stop it. Seriously? Get a grip, you scolded yourself internally. Trying to regain some composure, you quickly added, “I’m just—gonna… fix you something to drink.” You gestured awkwardly towards the kitchen, hoping to retreat before you embarrassed yourself further.

Logan nodded absentmindedly, his focus entirely on the washing machine that seemed to be on its last legs. He didn’t even glance your way, which was both a relief and a disappointment. You took a nervous step back, then another, finally turning and heading to the kitchen, hoping a moment away would help you steady your nerves.

Leaving his presence created an unfamiliar ache in your chest, a tug of reluctance you hadn’t anticipated. It was as if some part of you didn’t want to leave his side, didn’t want to be apart from the quiet strength that Logan exuded. The thought of retreating to the kitchen, of putting physical distance between you and him, felt wrong, almost unnatural.

You wanted to stay. You wanted to watch him work on the broken machine, to see those skilled hands in action, to listen to the steady, assured way he moved and spoke. But at the same time, you knew you couldn’t trust yourself around him. Not when your heart raced at every little interaction, not when just being near him made you feel so unsteady.

You didn’t have the confidence to be casual, to act like you weren’t hanging on his every word and gesture. And you certainly didn’t have the strength to face the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you every time you were close to him. So instead, you sought refuge in the kitchen, hoping the distance would help calm the storm inside you, even as it left you aching for more.

Twisting the faucet, you watched as the water streamed out, the steady flow almost hypnotic in its simplicity. The kitchen was quiet, the only sound the gentle rush of water hitting the sink. You leaned forward, letting the coolness soothe your heated skin, and splashed your face with the cold water, hoping it would bring some clarity to your muddled thoughts.

For a moment, the shock of the cold jolted you back to reality, away from the overwhelming thoughts of Logan that had been swirling in your mind. You closed your eyes, letting the droplets drip down your face, trying to steady your breathing and collect yourself. It was just a broken washing machine, just a neighbor doing a favor.

You swung open the fridge, your hand instinctively reaching for your favorite peach-flavored soda. The cool metal of the can felt reassuring against your palm as you pulled it from its place. With a satisfying hiss, you cracked it open, the sweet, fruity scent immediately filling the air.

Reaching for a tall glass, you filled it with ice, the cubes clinking softly as they settled. Then, you poured the bubbly soda over them, watching as the fizzy drink cascaded down, swirling and dancing around the ice. After inserting a straw into the glass, you carefully picked it up, the cool condensation forming on the outside of the glass. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and made your way back to where Logan was.

"Here you go," you announced, placing the glass on the nearby table. Logan turned his attention from the washing machine to you, his eyes briefly darting to the drink you’d set down. A smile curved on his lips, the warmth in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “Thanks, Peach.”

“Ehe…” You offered a nervous smile in return, your cheeks heating up at the casual endearment. Trying to steady your fluttering nerves, you grabbed the straw and shoved it into your mouth with a little more force than intended. It was your way of silencing the awkwardness bubbling inside you, a desperate attempt to keep any embarrassing sounds from escaping.

“So, your dad’s going on a date later today, huh?” Logan’s voice was light, but he noticed the nervousness you were trying to mask. His intention was to ease the tension with casual conversation.

“Y-yeah, he’s working now, but that’s what I’ve heard,” you replied, nervously fiddling with the straw. You decided to sit on the edge of the table where Logan’s drink was, adjusting it carefully to avoid spills.

Logan glanced at you, then back at the washing machine, his smirk widening. “You okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you responded, a bit defensively.

Logan chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve never been too thrilled about him dating. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of Logan’s question pressing on you. Taking a deep breath, you decided to let your guard down. “Well, it’s just… I’ve always felt like I have to compete for his attention. It’s silly, I know, but it’s hard when you’re used to being the center of someone’s world.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he gave you an understanding nod. The moment of connection hung between you as Logan turned his attention back to the washing machine. He worked with focused precision, his hands moving deftly as he made the final adjustments. The clinks and whirs of the machine were soon replaced by a steady, rhythmic hum.

“There we go,” Logan said with a satisfied grin, stepping back to admire his handiwork. The washing machine was back in action, its gentle whirl now a reassuring sound.

You let out a relieved sigh, watching the machine function smoothly. “Thank you so much, Mister Howlett. I really appreciate it.” you said, your gratitude sincere as you adjusted from your sitting position to stand up. You set down your now-empty glass on the table, the slight clink of the glass breaking the brief silence.

Hearing you address him as "Mister Howlett" sparked something within Logan—an unfamiliar, yet undeniable feeling. It was a sentiment he had been trying to avoid, one that stirred within him despite his best efforts to keep his distance. The formal address seemed to intensify the feelings he had been wrestling with, making them more pronounced.

You're not the only one who has a crush, he does too.

From the moment Logan had closed the trunk of his truck while moving into the neighborhood, you had been on his mind. He remembered the day vividly—watching you step out of your car in a beautiful white sundress that hugged your upper body and flowed gracefully. The way the dress accentuated your figure, combined with the ease of your movements, had captured his attention in a way he hadn’t anticipated. As you came knocking on his door with your dad beside you to welcome him into the neighborhood, those peach-flavored pie you brought had been lingering in his mind ever since. He wondered if you smell as good as that pie where he devoured in one full bite that night. And here you are, wearing the same white sundress that's gotten him obsessed with.

As Logan took a step forward, you instinctively stepped back, forgetting about the table behind you. Your hips brushed against it gently, causing a small jolt. Logan had intended to reach for the glass of your beverage, but his proximity brought him uncomfortably close.

With a casual yet deliberate movement, Logan took the glass from behind you, his body nearly brushing against yours. He lifted the glass in front of you, tilting his head slightly with a smirk. “Thanks, Peach,” he said, his voice low and warm.

Without breaking eye contact, he chugged down the drink, his gaze locked onto yours. The act was both confident and intimate, making the moment feel charged with unspoken tension. The shared space between you seemed to crackle with a newfound energy as you both stood there, the air thick with the lingering effects of the brief but intense connection.

You cleared your throat, feeling a flush of heat spread across your cheeks as you managed to wiggle your way out from the proximity of Logan. You made your way toward the washing machine, watching it work through the glass as your laundry tumbled inside.

“Tell me, Peach,” Logan’s voice came from behind, smooth and deliberate. “Is your taste as good as this peach soda?”

Your breath hitched, and your mind raced. Am I hearing this right? Is this a dream? You thought, trying to process his words. Despite the possibility of it being a dream, you couldn't bring yourself to face him. Instead, you leaned against the washing machine, the rhythmic vibrations grounding you.

“Um—W-what do you mean, s-sir?” you managed to stammer, your voice barely more than a whisper.

You could feel Logan’s presence closing in behind you, the air growing warmer and thicker as he approached. The vibrations from the washing machine seemed to pulse more intensely against your torso, amplifying the sensation of his proximity. Each step he took made your heartbeat quicken, your senses acutely aware of the space between you shrinking.

Logan’s shadow fell over you, and you could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. His breath, though not yet touching your skin, was close enough that you could sense its warmth. 

“You wanna know what ‘m thinking, Peach?” He mumbles behind your ear. You wished he didn’t hear your shuddered breath and the swallowed saliva down your throat from the way he makes you nervous.

“I don’t think so, Mister Howlett.” you managed to reply, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to maintain your composure.

“Naw, why? Afraid you might like it?” You could feel the smirk slowly forming in his face.

“I-”

“I’m thinking of bending you against this washing machine, lift up your very short sundress and get on my knees. Slowly taking my time smelling that scent… of arousal from your pussy, where I know, she’s dying to be touched, to be fingered, to be fucked, by me.” You gasp once you feel the bulge from his rough jeans, teasingly grinding against your ass earning a chuckle from him as he continues,

“Oh yes I know, Peach. I know how much you want to feel this cock inside you. Should’ve known better to close your blinds at night when your delicate… fingers desperately trying to reach that high, because I’m always watching you, Peach. Even though you’re such a pain in the ass with that, Peach flavored pie, and that fucking beautiful smile. I wanna turn those smiles into tears… Tears of pleasure from me, fucking this cunt.” You gasped loudly as Logan roughly thrust his bulge against your ass, hitting you against the washing machine.

“L-Logan,” you stammered, your voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

“Call me, Sir,” Logan’s tone was laced with full authority, each word deliberate and commanding. You choked back a swallow before you corrected yourself.

"Sir, I don't know what you're talking about." You stood on your ground.

"Yeah? Let me remind you how it feels then, this time, with me." Logan grunted in your ears before you felt a rush of cold air blowing against your damped panties resulted from Logan lifting your skirt up. You whimpered once you feel his fingers grazing against your soaking wet cunt, earning a mocking tut from Logan.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk... Your cunt says otherwise, Peach." He rubs you through the panties before ripping them off of you, the sound piercing through the room.

Logan crouched on his knees, proving his promise to you the one where he'd like to take his time smelling you from down your legs up to your thighs, dragging his warm tongue on your delicate skin upwards earning a moan from you. Logan hummed once he connected his lips to your glistening pussy lips, his tongue swirling and lapping your gushing juices.

You feel like god had just granted you your wishes into doing this sinful things. You finally can experience the feeling of his tongue against your throbbing cunt that keeps on gushing. Logan moaned, while he laps your juices up like a dog. "You taste just as I imagined, peach-flavored cunt." He murmured against your pussy.

A rosy hue crept across your cheeks hearing his statement. "Come on, Peach. Gimme more." Logan breathed out, his two hands that were gripping your thighs pushed and lifted you upward attempting you to bend over more over the top of the washing machine. Spreading your legs wide, you moaned out loud once you feel his tongue crazily lap your pussy like a dog in thirst.

"S-sir.." You squeaked, feeling yourself close.

"Hmm, yeah, give it to me, Peach." Logan grunted, burying his face even more.

"Ngh, I'm gonna-" Before you could finish that sentence, you froze as you heard your dad's voice calls out to you.

"Buttercup! I'm home, have you managed with the laundry yet?" He hollers from the other room. You gasped while Logan didn't even budge, he kept resuming his action.

"Y-yes, Dad! Everything's good now!" You holler back, holding yourself back from moaning.

"Do you need any help, darling?" You heard the sound of footstep, your eyes widened and hurriedly answer, "No- No, Dad! Everything's good, I'll be coming in a second." Logan smirked.

"Okay darling, I'm gonna get some rest." Your dad holler back as his footsteps fading away. You sighed in relief before you gasped when you feel Logan entering two fingers inside your cunt.

"What a naughty little girl, she needs to make herself cum before she gets back to being the dotting daughter huh?" You whimper to his words.

"Please, sir. Don't stop, it feels so good.."

"Yeah? Wait till you feel my cock." Logan vowed. He curled his fingers inside you, effortlessly flicking your g-spot before he stood back up on his feet, leaning against your back. He gently guide you to stand on your feet even though it's impossible for you as you're still in daze from his fingers still working their magic.

Logan whispered all kinds of filthy things in your head to get you to reach your high. "Is this just like what you imagined, peach?" — "Feels so good yeah?" — "Yes it does. Are you gonna cum for me?" — "Yeah come on, almost there, I know," — "Make a mess on my fingers, baby."

As you choked a loud moan, Logan's other hand went to silenced you while you came gushing down on his fingers. Your whole body shook while Logan holds you in place as you're coming down your high.

"There you go, good girl." You panted once you've gained your strength to stand on your own, you turned around and to find him smirking, a notable wet droplet covered some parts of his jeans as you now just learned, that you squirted on him a little.

He brought his fingers up to his mouth, his gaze never leaving yours as he tasted what's remained of you on his fingers.

"Hmm, taste just like a peach."

let me know if you want me to start the journey for Logan & Peach 😉

[bunni-v1]

your shadow milk cookie relationships headcanons are now my canon. like what the fuck how can a piece of literature be so accurate to established information we know about him!!!!!!! hejsjsdjejwje ur shadowmilk is so loving and so cute lowkey

if you don't mind, since your requests are open, could you elaborate more on some more aspects of the relationship pre-ep 8 and post-ep 8? (if u haven't finished this part then u can just ignore this hehe) you mentioned how smc naturally gets more and more devoted as time goes on and he opens up (THEY MAKE ME FEEL SO ILL) so i've also wondered how he would act like when there is a threat that legitimately puts his lover in danger, or at worst, sets the tone to losing them. he'd mald, i imagine...

feel free to answer, feel free to ignore—i adore your work and i think it's not strange at all for you to shift to cookie run after dabbling in mostly human-ish games like ZZZ and TWST. all in good fun, plus you're feeding a parched audience (i am audience, haha) have a good day!

🍓Okay so this ask kinda has three parts to it, so please excuse me if it seems a little... all over the place. I'll answer both the pre and post ep 8 things, and then I'll be touching on what he's like with the threat. I do hope you enjoy my love <3

Tw: Mentions of body horror (cookie body horror?); Shadow Milk Cookie; Obsessive and Possessive behaviors; unedited

Info: Shadow Milk x Reader; Fluff; Angst (lowkey tho); Pre and Post episode 8 SMC (spoilers ahead lol); Drabble/Headcannons(?)

Pre Episode 8

From how the story seems to be set up, the confrontation with SMC should happen last, they just released it now because of the anniversary knowing he'd be hella popular lol. So I'm functioning with the idea that Gingerbrave and Co. arrive around when the other Ancients are finishing up their own confrontation with their respective beasts, meaning there's a lot of time to work with hehe.

Anyway, pre-episode 8 Shadow Milk leans into the category of 'yandere' a lot more than post. He's very obsessive about you, again stalking and watching you, learning as much as he can about you before he even allows you to see him.

You're more often than not being monitored by him, and if you're not, he's probably with you. He gets annoyed when other cookies talk to you, and he isn't afraid to voice that. While he does give you a lot of freedom, he does subtly limit the things you do and the people you're around. It's harder when you're not with him in the spire, but he goes about messing with the environment to keep you where he wants you.

And, yes, he'll crumble cookies in your name if he needs to. Their lives are arbitrary in the grand scheme of things, especially so if they're causing you strife. He won't hurt any cookies you hold dear to you -- though he really may want to at times -- only cookies that are a threat to your emotional or physical well-being. If the death causes you too much terror, then he'll tone it down to just... making their lives a miserable hellscape. It's what the deserve for hurting you, of course!

When you do join him in the spire (because you will, it's just a matter of how long it takes him to nudge you in that direction), the behavior is a bit more obvious. He doesn't like you leaving the spire for literally anything, and if you do he knows and will pop up by your side the second you stray too far. He plays it up as cute worrying, but he's legitimately scared for your wellbeing, like terrified. You're never alone in the spire if he can help it (and he can).

Like I said he watches a lot. There are eyes all around the spire and they follow you shamelessly. They appear content to just watch you, sometimes even literally forming hearts, so they're no threat to your well-being. Again, he's just observing you, more excited now that you're actually in the spire and close to him.

There is a notable difference in the environment, though you likely don't notice it (because you've only ever seen post you moving in). The atmosphere surrounding the spire is lighter, more colorful, and happy. It reflects his excitement at having you around, a visual nod to his love for you, even though you're not exactly away of it.

Despite the negatives here, there are positives! He's incredibly doting, you'll want for nothing with him. Your greatest dreams will come true with a wave of his hand, even with only half his power. He does let you wander around, you just won't be alone when you do so. He's very aware of the dangerous environment on beast yeast, he's cause for it, so he won't be risking your safety.

He's incredibly showy with his style of loving. Grand gifts and performances just to get you grinning and giggling. (He loves writing plays where the two of you are the main characters, falling in love in a million different ways, cutie he is.) He serenades you with syrupy sweet lyrics all about how much he adores all of you. Scoops you up in his arms and dances around with you. He's very touchy, like I said, always needing to have physical contact for whatever reason. (It's because he's scared you'll leave him too.)

He doesn't kiss you much if only to initiate more intimate activities. When he does, his intent is to fluster you nearly every time. Kissing is something that's hard for him, for whatever reason. It's more intimate than touches, and weirdly enough more intimate than sex in his mind. It makes him so vulnerable, so he tries to avoid it unless it's to get a reaction out of you.

Most of what he does is to get a reaction, actually. He likes seeing the way you express yourself, and regardless of what you do, he finds it cute. It's a little intimidating how much he stares, and he stares a lot. Very frequently you'll find him sitting around just... watching you. He won't stop even if you acknowledge it, just smiles all innocently until you go back to what you were doing.

That's sort of how it feels during this whole time, that he's just watching from the outside. There's a distance he keeps between you and him, the power dynamic is a lot more stark here. However, when you're not aware - be that you're sleeping or doing something where you can't see him - genuine affection comes out.

Floating around the spire in his arms as you rest, he whispers sweet nothings he could never bring himself to say to your face. He'll lead you around the winding halls of the spire with a path of your favorite flowers, aiding you in getting to where you want to go. He leaves gifts around, taking you on little treasure hunts just to reveal something sweet and heartfelt at the end. The spire itself shifts and changes around you to be more to your liking, and there are rooms within it dedicated to the hobbies you enjoy.

This gentleness is all hidden when you're together, though. Only showing itself when you can't look him in the eyes and reject him. He can't bring himself to let you in, he's scared of that rejection. He wants you to think he's powerful and amazing, so allowing you to see just how much he adores you would be terrible. What if you don't like him at his weakest? What if you realize that you could do better than him? What if you meet Pure Vanilla and you realize how much better he is? What if you leave him? Oh, it tears him apart.

So, he can't let you in. He'll put on a performance so dazzling it'll distract you from how much his heart aches when he sees you. He'll prove that he really does love you through flowery words and fantastical shows, anything to hide how much he adores you. Even when you try to get him to connect, he'll brush it off for fear of you not accepting him as he is. He can't handle you rejecting him, not after all he's done to keep you at his side, not after how hard he's fallen in love with you.

Post Episode 8

This is where we see Shadow Milk Cookie open up a lot more to you. After the so-called betrayal of Truthless Recluse, and his being incredibly emotionally vulnerable from Compassionate Pure Vanilla's offer for friendship, he's now forced with the problem of you knowing him. You saw that raw vulnerability, the loneliness that aches deep within his dough and infects his very being with a sickness he cannot cure.

No matter how much he puts on airs, he cannot avoid you knowing him now. He has nothing to hide behind anymore, you saw how much he craves connection and care, there's no going back from that. He briefly considers leaving you, but the idea of losing you sends shivers up his back, so he dismisses the thought as quickly as it comes. He may actively avoid you for a little while, but if you are patient and kind to him, he won't be able to hide for long.

Showing him that you still feel the same way by continuing your regular shows of affection is a huge relief to him. He truly expects you to think less of him now that you've seen that side of him, but you don't. It's rather odd to a cookie like him, who spent his entire existence being worshiped, revered, and feared. He assumes when you see him weak you will despise him - that you were only there for all the grandiose gifts and displays. He doesn't consider the thought that you have fallen in love with him. That you consider him yours as much as he considers you his.

It takes him a bit, but he begins to pick up where you left off. This time, though, he's more... gentle about everything. You get to take the lead around this time, and as odd as it is for him, it's cathartic to be taken care of for once. He can let his walls down and relax while you stroke his hair and hold him close to your chest. You kiss across his face with reverence that not even the most loyal of his followers could ever begin to replicate.

You love him.

He becomes addicted to the feeling, your affections being something he craves with a hunger he'd never felt before. It takes a bit for him to come to you for it, so usually you'll have to initiate it, but he melts into your hands so easily. It's pathetic how much hold a little cookie like you had over a god like him, but when you're humming sweet words at him he can't bring himself to care too much. (He will huff and puff if any of the other beasts give him shit for it, telling them off like a angry child.)

All of those hidden affections of his become much more obvious to you as time goes on. He's a bit awkward with it because he's never really been so open with any cookie before, but it's charming the way he tries so hard to be genuine with you.

You get to hear those sweet words of love from him directly, earnestly said while he holds your hand in an iron-tight grip. He gives you those heartfelt gifts by hand, telling you all about how he worked so hard to get it for you and how much care went into it. He leads you around places himself, preferring to be by your side than guiding you from a safe distance. Even the way he holds you is different, much more adoring than before. It's a kind of care he hadn't really shown you before, more considerate of what you might want rather than what he believes you might want.

And, of course, he kisses you now. Very frequently. He still does do it to fluster you at times, but less than he did before. Now every kiss has a purpose behind it, a means of displaying his affection for you. They're soft and loving, full of emotion.

Something that carries over consistently is the watching. He keeps an eye on you at all times, regardless of where you're at. Since you're no longer in the spire, there's more risk so he wants to ensure your safety. Even if you're with another beast or with Black Sapphire or Candy Apple, he's watching you anxiously.

Now if you acknowledge the eyes, they'll react to you. Before they usually just continued watching, but now they'll squint and shift excitedly at your attention. Sometimes he'll even drop flowers or a little plushie at your feet while the eye seems to grin at you with glee. You can kiss them, if you'd like -- they're warm and soft but they don't feel like eyes. If you do so the pupil with dart around nervously, then it'll pop out of existence and arrange itself to another spot you can't easily fluster him at.

Still, though, they just watch you for the most part. Making sure you're safe and happy when he isn't around. He's a bit less obsessive about who you're spending your time with, though. He trusts that you won't leave him a lot more now, and no longer finds himself threatened by anyone (other than PV).

Bonus below

Now, as a mortal cookie in beast yeast, most things put you in danger. It's a tough environment to live in, and there are a lot of violent characters around that wouldn't care if you died or not. However, most cookies are aware of Shadow Milk Cookie's, shall we say, claim on you.

There are very few things that could actually threaten you, especially with Shadow Milk Cookie monitoring you so closely. He makes the environment around you safer, and he makes sure everyone knows that you are off-limits. Unfortunately he cannot control everything, though he really does try to.

If anything, anything ever puts you in actual danger, he is beside himself with worry and rage. Your soft and sweet dough is not made for battle and danger, regardless of what you might feel. It would take the witches themselves to stop him from tearing apart the lands to ensure your safety. And tear them apart he would. He would carve deep valleys into the ground for you, slice mountains to their base, and raze forests flat if it means you will be safe.

If it's a cookie? Some insignificant act or protest from a foolish mortal, deciding to use you to get his attention? Oh, they'll know hell.

Depending on how much damage they do the punishment will vary, but it won't be pleasant regardless. If they just take you away for a little while, he'll torture them. Ensuring the life they go back to is much harder for them to live through, but he won't kill them. They have to learn their lesson and live to tell the tale so no one is stupid enough to follow their example.

If they hurt you at all, they're dead. Shadow Milk normally makes a show out of any crumbling he does, but when you are involved? He doesn't waste time with any silly shows, they just crumble. No fanfare, no sparkle, just death. They don't deserve anything more than that, not when they've caused you hurt.

Ah, and if there is a threat to you -- silly or not -- he takes it very seriously. His monitoring will increase tenfold, and he does his best to keep you with him at all times. He will not take your safety lightly, not when he adores you so.

If there is a genuine threat to your life, he will do everything in his power to remove it. After the fact, he becomes much more obsessive of your safety. It's almost suffocating for a while, but if you express concern he'll ease up a bit. Though you can feel the anxiety in his body language and the way which he speaks.

[daryltwdixon]

Joel Miller x Reader Just Coffee

fluffy Joel drabble to help clear my head. I was a barista for 8+ years and loved my regulars, so this is like a little slice of my life when I worked for a family owned coffee shop in the downtown of a city. Hope you enjoy! lmk if you want a ptII cause im thinking hot car sex w these two after their first date.

Inspired by that tlou (game) scene where Ellie asks if Joel used to go to coffee shops, and he admits, ‘All the time.’ And when she asks what he would order, he says, ‘Coffee, just coffee’ 

Vanilla latte, iced—extra pump of vanilla, three pumps of caramel, swirl, whipped cream. Chai latte, soy milk—hot, extra hot. Cold brew with sweet cream, shot of peppermint. London Fog—extra foamy, not too hot.

"Coffee. Just coffee."

You could’ve kissed him right then and there. And he was handsome enough that you wouldn’t even have to close your eyes. He must’ve caught the way your shoulders relaxed, how the sigh left your body like a weight lifted.

“Comin’ right up,” you smiled, ringing him up as he slid a few ones into your very, very empty tip jar.

‘Just Coffee’ guy settled at the small bar, joining the usual morning stragglers—people who took their time with their warm mugs, occasionally ordering a bagel or a scone to go with it. He sat next to your crossword regular, an older gentleman who always had a puzzle in front of him, filling in the blanks with unwavering confidence. Always pen, never pencil.

You left them to it, but your eyes drifted toward ‘Just Coffee’ now and then, making sure his mug wasn’t too low, wasn’t getting too cold.

The morning flew by in a blur of orders and chatter, the shop filling and emptying in waves. By the time you checked back on ‘Just Coffee’ guy, he was gone.

A pang of disappointment sat low in your stomach. You wished you would’ve gotten him talking—he had that air about him, the kind of presence that carried stories. The people who sat at your bar top, the ones who weren’t rushing in and out for their nine-to-five caffeine fix, were always the most interesting.

You were surprised to see him the next day. A smile lifted at his lips as he stepped up in line, cash at the ready in his large, dirt-greased hands. A man who worked manual labor, clearly.

"Coffee," he said, his twang deep and velvety. "Just coffee, miss."

"You got it," you said with a smile, handing him a warm mug of your house roast as he took his new usual seat at the bar.

"Dammit—" the man next to him muttered, scratching his chin with the tip of his pen. Steve, your crossword regular. Under his nose, the day’s puzzle sat partially filled in, his brow furrowed in frustration. “What in the hell is the ‘process of leveling or smoothing wet concrete’? Seven letters?" He called your name, exasperated. "You got any idea?”

"Steve, if I knew anything about construction, I’d be way further along on my home improvement projects," you called over the hiss of the milk frother.

"Screedin’ is the word you’re lookin’ for, I think."

‘Just Coffee’ spoke casually, like it was second nature, his voice rolling low behind the lip of his mug. Steve blinked at him, like he hadn’t even realized the man was there, his wide eyes darting between him and the crossword.

"I think that might just work! How do ya spell that now? S-C-R-E—"

"S-C-R-E-E-D-I-N-G," ‘Just Coffee’ said slowly, the drawl thick and steady as the letters tumbled off his tongue.

You smiled to yourself, glancing his way. Knew he had to be manual labor. But before you could turn and ask him about it, he was already stepping off the stool, giving a quick nod of thanks, and heading for the door.

A couple of ones landed next to his empty mug—more than the cost of his coffee.

He didn’t come the next day.

Or the day after that.

By the fourth morning, you caught yourself lingering by the bar, staring at the empty stool where he sat. The coffee shop was just as busy, orders coming in waves, regulars dropping their change into the tip jar, Steve grumbling over his crossword. But something was missing.

You’d gotten used to those hazel eyes meeting yours across the counter, the quiet weight of his presence. The way his dark, unruly hair framed his face, always a little windswept, a little messy, like he’d rolled straight out of bed and into a long shift. His hands—rough, calloused, dirt still lingering in the creases—wrapped steady around a warm coffee mug.

It had only been a handful of mornings, but somehow, he’d settled into your routine like he belonged there.

And now, the absence of him gnawed at you in a way that surprised you.

You should’ve asked him his damn name.

By the sixth day, you convinced yourself it didn’t matter. He was just another customer, just a passing figure who needed a caffeine fix before moving on. Maybe he found a different coffee spot. Maybe he’d never been the type to stick around anyway.

But on the seventh morning, as you wiped down the counter, movement by the door caught your eye.

You turned, heart kicking up against your ribs.

There he was.

Another worn flannel, same dirt-streaked hands, same heavy-lidded gaze scanning the shop like he hadn’t been gone for a week. And when those hazel eyes finally landed on you, a flicker of something warm and familiar crossed his face.

You pushed off the counter before you could stop yourself.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” you said, trying to sound casual, but you knew he could hear the lilt of amusement in your voice.

“How are ya, miss?” he drawled, stepping up to the counter, cash already in hand. “Been busy.”

You nodded, trying not to stare too long at the way his fingers curled around the worn bills. “Let me guess—coffee, just coffee?”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You got it.”

As you poured, you finally asked the question that had been itching at you since the first day he walked in.

“You got a name, or am I just supposed to keep callin’ you ‘Just Coffee’ forever?”

He smirked, tilting his head slightly as he watched you.

“Joel,” he said.

You smiled, setting his mug down in front of him. “Well, Joel—hope you don’t disappear on me again.”

His fingers brushed the warm ceramic as he settled onto his usual stool. “Jobs come and go, just depends on the day, hunny.”

Hunny. It was damn near like honey dripping from his tongue in that slow drawl, thick and warm. The way it rolled off his lips curled low in your belly, heating your cheeks as you turned to the next customer, hoping to God he didn’t notice.

The middle of the week was always slow, which worked in your favor today. By the time the morning rush faded, you found yourself wiping down the counters, clearing dishes near the bar, and finally getting the chance to ask Joel about his life.

You rinsed out a mug, letting the warm water run over your fingers as you glanced toward him. He was nursing his coffee slow, one hand wrapped around the mug, the other resting loose on the bar. His posture was easy, relaxed, but you could tell there was something there, something deep in his bones that he carried.

"So, what kinda jobs come and go?" you asked, keeping your tone light.

Joel glanced up from his mug, considering you for a moment. “Construction, mostly," he said, rolling his shoulders like the very word made them ache. "Been a contractor for years—fixin' up places, layin’ concrete, buildin’ what needs buildin'.”

Figures. Those arms—strong, steady—the kind that looked like they knew the weight of real work. His hands were large, rough and calloused, the kind you’d feel long after they touched you. But, Joel was a customer. You weren’t thinking that, of course not.

"Guess that explains why you knew the crossword answer last week," you teased, tossing the rag over your shoulder. "Steve still talks about it like you pulled magic outta thin air."

Joel huffed, shaking his head. "Man’s usin’ a pen for a crossword, and I’m the one impressin’ him?"

You grinned, leaning against the bar. "Hey, knowledge is power around here, Joel."

He let out a quiet hmm and took another sip of his coffee.

Before you could press further, the bell above the door jingled, and you got up hastily to take the newcomer’s order.

“Don’t worry about him,” Joel called over, sitting up straighter, setting down his coffee mug as his gaze flicked toward the man.

He stepped inside, his dark hair long, face clean-shaven, dimples deepening as he took in the scene. Something unspoken passed between the two of them—something that made it hard to tell if they were coworkers, friends, or something else entirely.

Then the man clapped Joel on the shoulder, grinning wide, “So this is what you’ve been ditchin’ the mornin’ crew for, huh, big brother?”

Your brows lifted. Brother.

Joel exhaled hard through his nose, eyes narrowing with obvious irritation, but his posture remained loose—like he was used to this, used to him.

“What ya got for me, Tommy?” he asked.

You barely had a second to process before Tommy’s attention shifted to you. His gaze swept over you, warm and playful, before he leaned a little too comfortably against the bar, ignoring his brother.

“Well now,” he drawled, flashing you a grin that could probably talk its way out of a speeding ticket, “if I knew this was the kinda place Joel was sneakin’ off to, I would’ve tagged along a whole lot sooner.”

Joel muttered something under his breath and rubbed his forehead.

You crossed your arms, biting back a smile. “And here I thought he just liked my coffee.”

Tommy let out a low chuckle, tilting his head. “Can’t say I blame him, darlin’.”

Joel let out a long, long sigh, already done with whatever this was turning into. He stood, tugging his jacket over his broad shoulders before clapping a firm hand on Tommy’s back—firm like a warning.

“C’mon,” Joel muttered, steering him toward the door.

Tommy let himself be dragged, but not without a final wink in your direction. “I’ll be seein’ you around, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past your lips as Joel shoved him out the door with far more force than necessary, the bell jingling wildly as they disappeared outside.

Joel glanced back once, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe the last two minutes of his life before heading off into the distance.

You just smiled, shrugging as you wiped down the counter.

But things changed after that morning.

Tommy only needed to step through the damn door before Joel was tensing at the bar, a muscle twitching in his jaw, his coffee suddenly the least interesting thing in the room. He continued to show up every morning, still ordered just coffee, still sat in his usual spot—but now, his eyes lingered on you more.

And now, he stayed just a little longer.

Not by much, not enough for anyone else to notice, but you did.

You noticed how his gaze flicked toward you between sips, how his fingers tapped idly against his mug whenever you laughed at something a customer said.

His brother joined him more too. You noticed the way he cut Tommy off real quick anytime his brother got a little too comfortable leaning against the counter, that exasperated “Tommy” carrying a warning underneath it.

And you noticed how his tips got just a little bigger after that morning, a couple extra bills tucked under his mug like an unspoken thank you.

So when a week passed—no sign of Tommy this time, no interruptions, just Joel sitting at your bar—you wondered if today might be different.

And it was.

Because today, as you cleared a dish from the counter, Joel cleared his throat. Not the casual kind, not the I’m just readjusting in my seat kind.

The nervous kind.

You glanced up, brows lifting. “What’s eatin’ ya, Joel?”

Joel exhaled sharply, shifting in his seat. “Yeah. Just—uh.” He scratched at the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “You, uh… ever eat anywhere that ain’t this place?”

Your lips twitched. “You askin’ if I leave my own coffee shop, Joel?”

His jaw tightened, clearly close to regretting whatever he was doing, but he powered through.

“I’m askin’ if you’d wanna get somethin’ to eat. When your shift is done.” He finally met your gaze, voice a little gruffer than usual, but there was something hesitant in his expression—like he was braced for you to shut him down, “With me.”

You leaned back against the counter, arms crossing as you took your time, letting him sit in it for a second. Watching the way his fingers curled around his coffee mug, how he resisted the urge to shift under your gaze.

Then you smiled. “Are you asking me out?”

His eyes flicked away, like he really hated how direct you were, but you could see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Yeah,” he muttered. Then, after a pause—“That…a problem?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head. “Not at all.”

Joel’s fingers flexed against his mug. “Good.”

You grabbed a napkin and a pen, scribbling something before sliding it across the counter. “Then you’re gonna need my number.”

He eyed it, then you, something unreadable in his gaze before he finally, finally reached for it. His fingers brushed yours as he folded the napkin, tucking it into his pocket without another word.But you swore—swore—you saw the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he took another slow sip of his coffee.

Part II is here :)

[someoneelse0109]

˚₊♡JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS˚₊♡

ೀ My most favorite works are collected in one selection. I think they are famous and many of you have read this, but they are my favorites, maybe you missed it so you should read them.

ೀ Special thanks for the @enchanthings divider. It's beautiful, so I will use it.

𓄵 Symbols: 💜 - fluff, ❤️‍🔥 - smut, 🖤 - angst, ❤️‍🩹 - hurt/comfort , 🤬 - swearing, 🎭 - drama, 🔪 - thriller, 🍑 - PWP, ✍🏻 - one-shot, 📝 - drabble, 👩🏼‍💻 - series

⟣ FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE by @dailynnt

━ ❤️‍🔥, 🖤, ❤️‍🩹, 🤬, 🎭, 🔪, 👩🏼‍💻 | mafia au

━ Jungkook and you, his childhood friend, live together in an apartment, sharing space as roommates. Your relationship, built on years of friendship, is gradually becoming strained by growing sexual tension. You decide to become friends with benefits, trying not to complicate your feelings. But Jungkook's world is not so simple. When you begin to realize that he is hiding something, you open the veil of his double life - a world of mafia, criminal activity, and risk that could ruin not only your deal, but everything you valued in each other.

⟣ AURORAᴺᵒʳᵗʰᵉʳⁿ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗˢ by @dailynnt

━ ❤️‍🔥, ❤️‍🩹, 🤬, ✍🏻 | ex to lover

━ A relationship that survived a breakup but could not be forgotten. Like the northern lights that appear only at certain moments, their feelings had their peaks and troughs, but always remained on the horizon. You meet your ex at some event. The feelings are still alive.

⟣ AGAINST THE RULES by @dailynnt

━ 💜, ❤️‍🔥, 🤬, 📝

━ Controlling yourself and not getting feelings for any of the memebers was the number one task. Besides, you're not allowed to do that. The company rules strictly forbid it. But it was with Jungkook that you had the hardest time. Because he always showed special feelings for you, and you stubbornly thought that he was just being caring. You thought that right up until this moment.

⟣ The Feeling's Mutual by emmiouija

━ ❤️‍🔥, 🤬, 🖤, 🎭, ❤️‍🩹, 🔪 | mafia au

━ You hated your brother's best friend. Jungkook was annoying, arrogant, and patronizing; he was downright insufferable. But when he offered to teach you everything he knew about sex, and in exchange, you would pretend to be his girlfriend to make his ex jealous, it was a proposition you weren't sure you could refuse.

⟣ teach me daddy by redcherrykook

━ ❤️‍🔥, 🤬, 🍑, ✍🏻 | daddy kink

⟣ ⋆˙⟡step by step - J.JK by @rispwr

━ ❤️‍🔥, 🖤, 🎭, 👩🏼‍💻

━ When your first love becomes your last love, but obstacles come your way, will he truly be your last love?

⟣ “3 words, 8 letters. I mean it” - J.JK by @rispwr

━ 💜, ❤️‍🔥, ✍🏻

⟣ Coming home to you. teaser + moodboards by @rerefundslocals

━ ❤️‍🔥, 🖤, 💜, 📝

━ when Jungkook returns to Willow Creek, what happens when he meets you again, struggling to make ends meet.

⟣ Take care of me - J.JK by @rispwr

━ 💜, ✍🏻

━ you haven’t gone to school or even touched your phone due to your flu. jungkook rushes to your apartment to take care of you

⟣ Stuck With You by @aajjks

━ 💜, ❤️‍🔥, ❤️‍🩹, ✍🏻

━ Imagine being stuck in a room with a walking nightmare who really wants to fuck you.

⟣ too much ☆ by @kissforyouu

━ ❤️‍🔥, 💜, ✍🏻 | daddy kink

⟣ UNO by Craztextae (Ao3)

━ ❤️‍🔥, 🍑, ✍🏻

━ A friend wants to play a new game with you.

⟣ That Night of Graduation bysmartkookiee (Ao3)

━ 💜, ❤️‍🔥, ✍🏻

━ After a stupid game of Truth or Drink you are convinced into telling everyone about the time you and Jungkook hooked up together the night of graduation. A missed connection that you and Jungkook hadn't even talked about. Bringing up some unexpected feeling that you hadn't realized had been lingering between the two of you.

⟣ The Art of Boxing by seokiie

━ ❤️‍🔥, 💜, ✍🏻

━ Jungkook loves boxing and in an attempt to get closer you ask him to teach you a few moves. You didn't think it would end up with you pressed face-first against the boxing ring floor.

⟣ JUST FRIENDS by @kinktae

━ ❤️‍🔥, 💜, ❤️‍🩹, 👩🏼‍💻

━ The transition from best friends to best friends with benefits is never easy, especially when there’s a daddy kink involved.

⟣ Blackjack by @kpopfanfictrash

━ ❤️‍🔥, 🖤, 🔪, 🎭, ❤️‍🩹, 🤬, 👩🏼‍💻 | mafia au

━ Bangtan is one of the most vicious mafias on the west coast. Only six members are known by name though, with a mysterious seventh member dubbed only as ‘the shadow.’ When you become indebted to the worst of the worst – how, exactly can you find a way out?

⟣ Oh My God, They Were (Quarantined) Roommates by @ot7always

━ ❤️‍🔥, 💜, 📝

━ What do you do when you’re quarantined for months on end with Jeon Jungkook - S tier cuddler, workout robot, and thirst trap extraordinaire? Fuck him, you guess.

⟣ (he)art thief | jjk by @latetaektalk

━ ❤️‍🔥, 💜, 🖤, ✍🏻

━ “jungkook is charming, kind, smart, and funny. jungkook is the guy to fall in love with. he is perfect in every sense, except that he is also a member of a notorious heist group and only getting close to you to steal from you. but what does he do when he starts to fall for you? who does he choose? his brothers or you?”

⟣ COLD NIGHTS & BLURRED LINES (m) — JJK by @awrkive

━ ❤️‍🔥, ❤️‍🩹, 💜, 📝

━ jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

Only the first page. I will add as I find something new ❤️‍🔥 Enjoy reading 💜

[mercurial-chuckles]

I met them, and now I’m their queen!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes | Stucky x F!Reader Warnings: Fluff | Language | Hot supersoldiers alert | Clingy supersoldiers | We've got game supersoldiers | Protective and borderline obsessive | Wet thoughts | Allusions to hot nights | Slight angst but happy ending | Confession | Friends to Lovers trope | Poly relation | Long one ~5k | Written in a feverish haze. Any, I mean, any craziness can and will be blamed on deliriously Nyquiled-mind! Lemme know if I'm missing anything. A/N: It really started with, "Let's write a drabble," and well, IT DID NOT end up being a drabble! But blame the two hot super soldier specimens for taking reins and striding through dominantly. This was supposed to be published (along with three other fics) on New Year's, but times have been testing! Anyhoo, Sydney and I—ever indulgently—worked ourselves up with some ideas and this burgeoned, and we both decided to collaborate having similar title and prompt. Inspiration: — confession to get it off their chest before the new year starts Read Sydney's I met them, and now I'm their princess and smother her story with love and affection! Forever grateful to Sydney for giving me the push to publish this and for giving this long-ass fic a read while I was sick and whiny! @buck-star Also, if there are any Windows 11 users, do you know an easy way of typing the em dash (Alt+0151 is no longer an option) Every time I have to use, I have to copy and paste and it's been a pain in my butt. So, any shortcuts would be a great help! Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner credits to me. Picture credits to internet! Divider credits to @buck-star Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Indulge Away!

'Have you been Naughty or Nice?'

I've been disastrous. You thought, snorting, looking at the quite colorful, only-for-adult-eyes kind of a poster.

While walking briskly to the truck in the parking lot, your eyes inadvertently fell on the shirtless guy with a Santa hat and red trousers posing sultrily. The show had been for Christmas Eve, now nearly a week old. Lucky patrons!

And your useless, absolutely horny mind brought images of two rugged, burly-looking muscular supersoldiers adorning the costume, and you shuddered.

Nope. No. No. Do not go there.

*Thud*

The distant sound startled you, and you looked down the deserted street but found nothing. You became aware of your surroundings and realized you were standing before a shady-looking strip club. Heart pounding, you hurried toward the truck you'd parked at the end of the street.

The local hill town was vastly different from NYC. By 8 p.m., the main street was completely vacant; the local stores were all closed for the night except for the convenience store at the gas station on the end of the main street and a local vet hospital, both of which you paid a visit tonight.

You quickly got into the truck and navigated out of the small town towards your temporary abode, decked in the woods near the lake.

It was New Year's Eve, and the entire day's theme was a series of unfortunate events and bad decisions.

Earlier that afternoon, having used up all the leftovers, takeouts, and groceries, you decided to venture out to find food. You cursed yourself for being so pathetic and unplanned. It was a hard bet you'd find a store open today or tomorrow.

You should have planned better, but it was what it was, and your poor mind couldn't possibly think logically when it was going through so much. So, forgiving yourself, you decided to drive to the town, hoping to get something to stock up the tiny kitchen for the next couple of days before you can go grocery shopping like a responsible adult.

But lo and behold, you had a flat tire. After groaning and cursing at your fate for a whole three minutes, you realize your aunt mentioned that you could take her truck around if it's still working.

You grabbed the keys and went to the garage. The truck seemed in good condition, with no flat tires. GREAT! You tried to start, but it won't budge. The check engine light blinked red.

Upon further inspection, you realized the spark plug was out and saw a pair of them in a cabby on the metal rack. You weighed your options, changing the spark plug in a somewhat cold and dim-lit garage or changing a tire in the chill out in the dark. It was an easy choice.

So, for the next two hours, you replaced the spark plug. Huffing and out of breath, you started the engine, which purred to your satisfaction. Feeling accomplished, you went to the only open convenience store and stocked up on some groceries. Fiona, the cashier, was a middle-aged lady who didn't talk much, unlike the other folks in the town.

When you went to pay, you realized you had left your phone. You must have left it in the cabin when you went to search for the truck keys.

Ugh! Sometimes, you hated that you remembered directions. It made you less dependent on your phone. Luckily, you had your wallet on you.  

After bidding bye to Fiona, you loaded the two brown bags into the truck. It was then you heard the yowling and the hisses. You saw the small white kitten by the lamppost in the parking. It looked like an Angora. She hurt her leg and was profusely bleeding. Your heart tugged painfully.

You unzipped your coat slightly and carefully lifted her up. She clutched at your shirt, meowing. You rushed to the convenience store inside, scaring sweet Fiona almost to death. You explained about the kitten, and she gave directions to the vet. She even called, telling them you would be coming with an injured cat.

So, you thanked her and decided to walk since it was not far, and the poor kitty seemed far too comfortable in your arms. As soon as you reached the corner house in the location, a young guy and a woman were waiting outside. The woman introduced herself as Darlene. She seemed nice and took the kitten gently from your hands. You waited for a bit while Darlene checked on the injuries.

However, the weirdly creepy receptionist, Mark, seemed to take too much interest in you, and he asked questions. A lot of questions. And he made you pretty uncomfortable. Luckily, Darlene walked out to tell you all was fine and that she would keep a watch on the kitten overnight. You were grateful that it wasn't anything serious. You promised to drop by tomorrow after she said it was okay for you to visit since it was a holiday.

Mark told you he'd walk you to the truck and wouldn't take no for an answer. By some miracle, Darlene understood and called him for something she needed. He begrudgingly got to work, giving you time to escape.

Yeah, it had been one crazy evening. Now that you think of it, the past month has been the same way.

****

In retrospect, it started with you getting buzzed after the Thanksgiving dinner at the compound. The seemingly innocent discussion with Vision about the white hole and string theory shifted to abstract physics. Then, it veered to your favorite multiverse causality, which brought to this discussion about your supersoldiers.

"You have such affection for them," Vision remarked.

"Of course I do," you replied breezily, sipping down the espresso martini. "They're my best friends." You grinned.

Vision tilted his head, studying you, dissecting your thoughts. "It is more than that," he said gently. "You love them. And it transcends friendship."

"What? No," you scoffed, a nervous laugh bubbling up. "That's... I mean, Vision, come on. It's not like that."

You defended, deterred, and denied. And you argued passionately with Vision that he was wrong and entirely out of his depth.

He gave you a smile. "One only argues this fervently when the truth threatens to unravel their carefully constructed narrative. No?"

And the point hit home like Thor's lightning.

Love? That wasn't love. That was friendship. Mutual respect. Admiration, loyalty, and the way they made you feel so cared for, and so so protective, it ought to be friendship! That's all it was. Wasn't it? Friends spend all day, every day together. Friends, just know what you need before you even say it... Friends do that. Totally!

You shook your head, muttering about Vision overanalyzing human emotions, and excused yourself to refill your drink. But his words trailed you, seeping in and breaking every carefully shackled, dreamy thought you occasionally had.

And your eyes landed on them. They were in the kitchen with Sam and Bruce. When your eyes met Steve's, he was already gazing at you. He wiggled your favorite ice cream in his hand, scooped it into a bowl, and winked at you. And Bucky's eyes softened when you met his gaze. He was in a mid-argument with Sam and casually leaned beside Steve, giving you a grin.

Your breath stilled. And something fucking snapped in place, and that realization disrupted everything.

Holy Shit!

Sitting on the nearby couch, you trembled as the flooding thoughts overtook your senses and limbs.

You've been inseparable for years now. You've known Steve even longer since he came out of the ice. Steve and you both were there to help Bucky through his healing. It had been a long journey through ups and downs, but you all were here with a somewhat stable life.

Now, there were times you felt extremely frustrated with the way they treated you, extremely protective and like you were delicate. They were there through your every whim and craziness; likewise, you were there for them. Though initially fostering a crush on both, becoming friends with them sidetracked your crush, or that was what you thought. Apparently not!

That rigid fact of love and its effects took hold of you, and you became even more aware of your predicament as time passed. Your thoughts buzzed as Steve casually sat beside you, eating ice cream while Bucky stole a few spoons from yours. The situation worsened when they fussed over your unusually quiet behavior, asking a hundred and some questions if something happened or if you were falling sick. You pulled yourself together and told them you were fine and downright rejected them staying over.

You woke up drenched that night, not from a nightmare; it was more of a wet dream starring two supersoldiers. What followed was you being hyper-focused on every little thing and how obsessively protective they were with you. And your heart was craving more, basking at their every little action.

It was bad.

And it got worse as the dreams continued and their worry for you catapulted, wondering what's going on with you.

Now, personal space was not a concept with both men. They were practically living two doors away in your apartment complex. And they were always around you.

You were starting to realize how fucked up the situation was. There was no way in the world this could work out. You loved them both. And you were acutely aware of their love for each other. How was this ever gonna work out?

Afraid of losing them, knowing you had no defenses against their piercing awareness of every flicker of your expression and every erratic heartbeat, you decided to take some time away. After all, distance helped you hate your family less. Out of sight, out of mind, right? You thought, why not try?

But it was not that easy to suddenly up and leave. Opportunity came in the form of a mission in Arizona. It was a level-2 mission, a low-level, routine assignment, far below the high-stakes operations you usually handled with the Avengers. Kert Harrison, the mission lead, seemed pleasantly surprised when you volunteered.

You let Steve and Bucky know only after you were strapped into the jet, delivering the news as casually as you could manage: the team needed a tech assistant, and you'd joined at the last minute.

Thus started the careful ghosting.

And the group chat exploded with messages. Bucky demanded the details, cursing up a storm, and you replied, 'Chill out, Sergeant, you know I can't communicate that stuff.'

You've ignored them after that. The mission was simple, walk-in-the-park simple, walk-in-the-house simple. Kept you occupied, though. But once the mission was done, the pit in your stomach grew, and the thought of seeing them terrified you.

"A little more time would help," you told yourself, "Just a little more time to breathe."

Knowing that Captain Softly Stern and Sergeant Toughly Tender would be your doom if you were anywhere close to them in this mindset, you ran for the hills. Quite literally.

Your aunt Ellen had a cabin in a small mountain town in NC. Conveniently, she was in Hawaii, leaving her cabin all alone. So, you decided it could use some company.

You then dropped a vague message telling them your aunt needed you, a family emergency, which was far from the truth.

And it sounded like the perfect Christmas. To be home alone.

But the problem was the cabin was not just lonely. It was alone lonely. The nearest town was 20 minutes away. Decked somewhere in the deep woods, a few other cabins surrounded near the lake. It suited Aunt Ellen, though. She occasionally came up to write or chill from the hustle and bustle of California.

And it didn't help that the whole setting felt like a Stephen King novel waiting to manifest. You couldn't help but internally whimper, but you sucked it up, pushing yourself to make it through.

You ignored the worried calls, always leaving them a text reply with a vaguely convincing excuse.

Guilt burgeoned your chest steadily for not spending Christmas with them. For the past few years, you three cozied up on the winter nights, cooking, baking, arguing, decorating, binge watching & cringe watching and the whole prospect had become a tradition.

Two days before Christmas, Steve had left a message asking if you could make it home. Home. He called it home, and your heart pained.

'Not likely, Steve.' You texted him.

'🥺🥹😭💔' he replied, making you almost break down and cry. He never sent any sort of emojis, and you always teased him about it. 'Emojis do the whole work and some, Steve.' You had told him a long, long while ago.

Steve might have thought this was the time to come after your heart with the series of emojis he sent. You had no guts to reply.

Bucky, however, seemed to stop buying your excuses after you ignored his calls. He stopped calling and texting altogether. It was typical Bucky. He got passively aggressive until you gave in. And you mustered a ton of courage to not just call or text.

Christmas morning, you woke up feeling like the Grinch. The memory of the worst Christmas when you were fourteen has been replaced by Christmas this year. This one felt far worse.

Steve left a voice message. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart. It's not the same without you." He sighed, voice soft and tattered. "We…miss you," his soft, broken voice shattered your heart even more.

Bucky, on the other hand, ignored you royally. But by the afternoon, he left a text with two words, 'Merry Christmas.' And your shattered heart further splintered.

This brilliant need-some-space vacation idea was supposed to be an escape, a way to clear your mind, to get over everything swirling inside. But it was only making things worse. It felt like you were meditating on them, and only them?

Ugh!

You mustered courage and called them that evening. Bucky picked up first, his voice gruff, replies short and clipped. "Fine. You doing good?" You hummed. "How's your aunt?" Steve piped in. They must've put you on speaker.

"She's ok," you said, and before they prodded, you asked them about their day. They mentioned getting your gifts, but other than that, they hadn't done much. The conversation felt hollow, and guilt weighed heavy on you. You felt like the worst person in the world.

Hurriedly, you said your goodbyes, fighting the tears that threatened to spill.

And then, you succumbed to the loneliness that clung to your heart and the messiness that tangled your thoughts. You spent six agonizing days in the cabin in the woods, fighting every instinct to run back to them.

That was a week ago. Seven horrible days ago. Today was New Year's Eve, and you thought you could use some sustenance, but it had already been one hell of a day.

~

Driving back to the cabin, you felt someone was watching you. You shook it off, chalking it up to the weird encounter with Mark. He'd set your nerves on edge, that's all. And at least the kitten was alright.

Pulling into the cabin's garage, you parked your car, not noticing the unfamiliar vehicle parked on the other side. You made your way to the other side to grab the grocery bags. The cold mountain air nipped at your skin.

The sound of boots against the gravel made you freeze. Your heart slammed into your ribs, and your pulse raced. There were a few other cabins nearby, but why would someone trespass, you wondered.

Was it Mark? Had he followed you? You grabbed the nearest thing within reach, a hammer, from the small wooden table.

The sound of heavy steps approached closer and closer, and you tightened your grip, preparing to swing. You almost threw the hammer, too, but realizing who stood there made you whimper in relief and dread.

"What the fuck? What are you two doing here?" you yelled, confused and rattled.

Steve briskly walked toward you, his expression concerned. "Is that blood?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he tried to get a look at your neck and hands.

Oh? You glanced at yourself and then up at them.

"Are you hurt?" Steve repeated his question sternly, pulling down the zipper to your jacket, completely unbothered.

"HEY!" You shook your head, stepping away from his hold. At least you tried.

Before you could protest, Bucky came closer, his brow furrowed as he unzipped your jacket, swatting away your tiny hand. Both of them froze, staring at your shirt. You glanced down and groaned. You'd forgotten you were wearing a Captain America T-shirt now covered in blood.

Steve blinked, visibly surprised. They had no idea you owned any Captain America merchandise, let alone a few bobbleheads, one of a metal-armed man and another of the man himself holding his shield, both of which you'd secretly bought earlier this year.

Bucky turned you around, cold fingers holding your chin up, demanding if you were hurt. Your breath hitched, looking up at him. His stubble was slightly grown, and the stressed look on his face made you more worried. You glanced at Steve; he looked like he hadn't slept in days, and his knuckles looked marred like he had been going at the punching bags.

"I'm fine." You whispered, not meeting their gaze and staring at the soft blue undershirt covering Bucky's broad chest. Steve had taken the hammer you still held in your hands and carefully placed them on the table.

"Start talking before you give us a heart attack," he sternly demanded.

You rolled your eyes and cleared your hazy mind. You took a steadying breath before explaining to them that it wasn't your blood and what had actually happened with the kitten, omitting Mark of course. When you finished, you glanced up at them, who looked at you angrily.

Bucky sighed, and he took another deliberate step closer to you. "Family emergency, huh?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Then why are you here playing house in the middle of nowhere while your aunt Ellen is in Hawaii?"

Your eyes widened, "How the hell…?" your question faltered on your lips as you caught the guilty look in Steve's eyes while Bucky shrugged smugly.

"Never mind. Don't answer that," you muttered, reminding yourself that you were talking to Captain America & the ex-Winter Soldier.

Steve zipped up your jacket when you shivered from the sudden gust of wind. "Let's go inside," he ordered. You nodded, reaching for the bags, but Bucky was already there, pushing you aside.

"Get your ass inside. I've got them," he grumbled, clearly angry at you for ghosting them.

You walked with Steve and Bucky beside you, fumbling for your keys, but Steve simply pushed the door open. "Don't bother," he mumbled.

"Unbelievable," you muttered. "You pried open the door?" you squeaked.

"Your phone was inside. Your car was outside. No sign of you," Bucky said defensively. "What the fuck did you expect us to do?"

When you glanced at Steve, who tended to be less of a rule-breaking hazard than Bucky, he shrugged, "Oh, I was this close to breaking it down. Thanks to Bucky, we managed to keep it intact." Steve chuckled, holding the door open for you and Bucky to enter.

"Ugh," you groaned, storming into the cabin with them trailing behind.

"Nice shirt, by the way," Steve commented as you walked in, "Didn't know you were a fan."

"Of course you like it," Bucky chuckled, glancing at Steve with that grin you were all too familiar with. Steve straightened up proudly.

"Do you also have a Winter Soldier plushie hiding somewhere? No judgment if you do." Bucky snickered, reaching you, dropping the bags on the counter, and effectively cornering you in the small kitchen.

Your face burned. "It's my aunt's. She's a fan. I found it lying around," you lied poorly.

"Uh-huh," Bucky smirked, and Steve grinned, knowing all the signs fully well.

You cleaned up your hands, washing out the traces of blood here and there. You felt agitated. They were here, the stupidly gorgeous men. Your friends. Your everything. They couldn't possibly understand the volcanic arc stretching your mind right now.

You grabbed a bottle from the neatly stacked row in the cabinet, placed it on the counter, and unscrewed the cap. Sidestepping Bucky, you quickly made your way to the living room. As soon as you sat down, you chugged half the bottle, feeling the cool liquid help clear some of the tension that had been building in your chest.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" you asked, feeling utterly exhausted and emotionally drained.

You heard them approach you as Steve settled beside you and Bucky sat on the wooden coffee table before you. For a split second, you thought it would give away, but the table looked sturdy.

You sighed and refocused on getting your brain to work, but it felt impossible with them so close.

Steve took your left hand into his large, firm grip. He traced his thumb along your wrist, his touch sending waves of warmth flooding through you, and for a moment, your heartbeat stuttered, racing beneath his fingertips. You tried to steady your breath, but it only intensified the sensation.

"What are you doing here, doll?" Bucky asked seriously, and you averted your gaze, trying to pull away your hand from Steve's, but he wouldn't let go.

"Steve," you muttered softly, helplessly, and he reluctantly let go.

"Uh…I…" you started, heart thundering. This was supposed to be your solace, your way out of the whole thing, and here you were being asked to confront. You hated it.

Your head started pounding. You rubbed your fingers to your head.

Bucky stood abruptly. "Alright, sit tight. I'll make you some tea. It'll ease your headache."

"No!" you snapped, your voice rising. "Stop that. Do not make tea."

Bucky froze mid-step, genuinely baffled by your sudden outburst. "Okayyy. No tea," he said slowly, folding his arms. "But I'm not giving you coffee. You'll end up awake all night, and it gives you a stomachache," Bucky argued.

You buried your head in your hands, feeling overwhelmed and helpless. How do you not become hyper-aware of all these little things? How? They never would get it.

Steve leaned closer, still maintaining distance, but his hand caressed your hair, comforting and enraging your senses, "Hey, did you eat anything besides cereal?" he asked, and you looked at him confused.

You couldn't help but scoff internally. How the hell would you know that, Rogers? But you didn't voice your thoughts aloud. Knowing he knew you better.

"Okay, we are not talking until you eat something. Go change, wash up. I'll make you something," he ordered.

With a dejected sigh, you dragged yourself up and headed for the shower.

The shower helped, mostly. It washed away the blood and tiredness, surely, but also washed some of your inhibitions away.

You headed back to the kitchen, where you heard them.

"Slice it, Buck, not Julienne."

"It tastes the same. How does it matter?" Bucky argued.

You couldn't help but chuckle. This was familiar. This felt like home. They were home. And there they were, making sandwiches and looking utterly comfortable, their shoes and jackets discarded. They also looked sinfully hot, those tight undershirts clinging to their muscles, and the agonizing thoughts returned.

"I miss your t-shirt," Steve quipped with a grin, eyeing your plain red t-shirt and leggings as you walked closer. "Again, that's my aunt's. Get over it, Steven." You muttered.

Bucky leaned against the countertop, his intense gaze fixed on yours. You walked up to him slowly.

"Sorry for yelling at you," you told him sincerely. His gaze searched yours, and his insanely pink lips curled into a small smile.

"C'mere," he said, his voice low and warm, pulling you into a hug before you could respond.

You melted into him immediately, feeling the heat of his body against yours, the familiar comfort of his embrace washing over you. That perfect mix of musk and something undeniably Bucky wafted over your senses and calmed the chaos inside your head. You tightened your arms around him, the ache of missing him--of missing them--filling your chest.

You could feel the deep rumble of his chest against your cheek, the sound vibrating through you, sending a warmth that felt grounding and exhilarating. And when he tightened his hold around you, pulling you just a little closer, your breath hitched. You flushed, overwhelmed by the intensity of it.

"'S all good, ok?" he murmured softly, his voice so reassuring it made your heart ache. "Let's eat."

Reluctantly, you pulled away, blinking as you tried to steady yourself, the flood of emotions threatening to spill over.

When you walked towards Steve, he grinned at you, and you leaned your forehead against his large bicep, feeling it flex as he worked. His familiar warmth settled around you.

"I hate it when you don't take care of yourself," Steve said. You stepped away before Steve decided to lecture you more.

You grabbed the plates and started setting them aside, wanting to keep busy to avoid the tension in the room. Your furtive glances toward them didn't go unnoticed. Both Steve and Bucky were quiet as you ate in silence. You hated yourself for not suggesting that you play something on the TV to distract from the discomfiting silence. But you were paralyzed emotionally.

When you tried to clear the plates, Steve gently stopped you. You reluctantly handed him the plates, feeling small in the space between you.

Bucky seemed to notice your unease. "Want to have that tea now?" he asked quietly, his eyes never leaving you. You averted your eyes; instead, you leaned against the wall for support. You nodded in response, trying to pull yourself together but not quite succeeding.

Bucky moved to prepare the tea, and you let yourself stay quiet, not looking at him--at either of them--afraid that if you did, you'd spill everything you'd been trying to hold back.

You felt so pathetic and helpless. Wanting to seek their comfort but feeling that would be unjust.

And you watched Steve walk to you, wiping his hands on the towel before walking closer.

He reached for your hand, his grip warm, and it felt perfectly assuring. You could feel the tension in his fingers, the way he held you as if he already knew the answer to the question he was about to ask.

"Let me ask you something. Did something happen that you're hiding?"

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to answer.

The intensity of his look only seemed to make it harder. You shook your head slightly, your voice barely audible as you mumbled, "No."

"Did Buck or I hurt you?"

"No!" you said, loudly and firmly.

"Then why?" His voice softened even further.

You stared at him, feeling the truth stuck in your throat, tangled in a way that made speaking impossible. Your eyes drifted, landing on Bucky, who stood just a few feet away, his posture tense, his eyes flickering between you and Steve.

You couldn't bring yourself to do it. You couldn't say it. You'd spent years building something so beautiful with them, something so right. And if you let it out, if you gave voice to the fear and guilt swirling inside you, everything could come crashing down. What if you lost them? Everything between you, the connection, the love, the trust. What if it all fell apart because you were too weak to keep it together?

That thought should have stopped you, should have held you back.

But the tears welled in your eyes despite your best efforts to hide them. You pressed your palms against your temples, trying to stave off the pressure building inside you. Still, the overwhelming rush of emotion was too much.

"Hey, hey…" Steve's voice was soft, and suddenly, his hands were on you, gently pulling your hands away from your face, coaxing your gaze back to him. His eyes, filled with nothing but tenderness, locked onto yours. "It's okay. Whatever it is, you can tell us. We're not going anywhere. You're not going to lose us."

You couldn't stop the tears from falling now.

You had no idea what to say or what to do next. All you knew was that you had avoided them to overcome the feelings, but here you were, confronting them head-on.

"You've been my home, both of you," you whispered, voice trembling as you looked at Steve and then Bucky. They were both silent and looked almost terrified.

"I was scared when I realized that... that..." You couldn't finish the thought. Steve and Bucky's eyes locked on yours, looking like they were waiting for something.

"I'm scared, selfish, messy, and all complicated," you continued, your voice breaking with every syllable. "I'm not strong enough to lose you both…" You sucked in a shaky breath, fighting to keep your composure. "I'm selfish. To want something I don't deserve. And you might just hate me after I tell you."

You sounded so pathetic to your ears. You couldn't look at them anymore. You couldn't face them. Without thinking, you walked away, stumbling to the drawing room, where you collapsed onto the couch, curling in on yourself. You clutched your t-shirt tightly by the sides and let the tears flow freely, everything from guilt to pain to fear pouring out.

You felt Steve and Bucky both hurry towards you. Steve knelt before you, large palms rubbing your thighs to calm you.

"Look at me," Steve said, voice barely above a whisper. "Say it," his commanding tone was merely begging, pleading.

And you obeyed.

"I can't keep this in anymore, Steve. It's suffocating me. I love you both, and I'm so scared."

You said it, sealed your fate.

For a moment, there was nothing. Complete silence.

You could feel Steve's grip on your legs loosen, his hands falling away slowly as if the weight of your confession had stunned him. Then, Bucky's breath hitched from behind you. His presence shifted, the weight beside you on the couch telling you he sat beside you.

You shut your eyes, silently crying.

You did it. You messed up. Didn't you? You felt ashamed. This was the moment you feared the most. They'd never look at you the same way. You'd ruined everything.

"Do you think I'd let just anyone touch my hair?" Bucky asked, his voice low and trembling. You looked up, confused. What did that have to do with what you said?

"What?" You managed hoarsely.

"You," he said, his deep blue eyes locking onto yours. "I let you cut my hair. I hate when anyone touches it but with you... it's different. It's always been different."

"Bucky..." you whispered, but he didn't let you interrupt.

"I loved you the moment you held me close after that nightmare in Wakanda. Do you remember that? I was a mess, and you just… didn't let go. Not until I could breathe again. I broke your finger by mistake at how tight I held you." His voice broke, and he swallowed hard.

"I love Steve. I've always loved him. And then... I loved you, too. It scared the shit out of me, but it's the truth." Bucky sniffled, and continued, "Ever since Thanksgiving, you've been distant, and I was terrified, thinking I'd done something terrible and lost you forever. And it fucking hurts, sweetheart."

Your breath caught in your throat. You stood up, stumbling ungracefully as you stepped away, needing to breathe. Bucky moved behind you, his hands on your arms, steadying you. You let him hold you. He tugged you closer, your back against his strong chest, his arms winding on your stomach, letting you put all your weight onto him, effectively calming you.

Steve stepped forward, holding something small in his hand. Your eyes widened as he held up a familiar notebook.

"Do you remember this?" he asked softly.

You nodded, stunned. That's the tiny notebook you gave to him. Years ago, right after he came out of the ice.

Steve opened the notebook and flicked through the pages. Your breath hitched as you saw it filled with sketches of you, Bucky, and moments you'd shared.

"You told me to fill it with things I wanted to remember," Steve said, his voice warm and full of emotion. "But all I could think about was you. I was so scared to feel love again. I loved Bucky for so long, and then you came into my life, and I... I didn't know how to go about it."

Steve exchanged a brief, meaningful glance with Bucky. His eyes softened as he continued, "But then Bucky returned, and I realized he felt the same. I've never been very religious, doll, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't pray for this every darn day."

Bucky chuckled softly, the sound deep and reassuring. "Believe me, we'd be a mess without you," he said, gently kissing your hair. "I love you," he murmured.

"I love you," Steve echoed, gently kissing your cheek.

You blinked rapidly and your mind was reeling. The world seemed to stop around you. Your heart raced, and your breath caught in your throat as you processed their words. But then, confusion took over.

"I... I don't understand. I can't choose," you stammered, your heart torn between the joy and the overwhelming fear of what this meant.

"You don't have to," Bucky said firmly, lips touching your right ear sensually, sending shivers down your spine. "Steve and I are a package deal. You get him, you get me, and vice versa. Take it or leave it. Actually, scratch that. Just take it."

Your lips parted in disbelief, and looked at Steve. He nodded, looking at you hopefully. You let out a nervous chuckle.

"What did you put in that sandwich? I think I'm high," you mumbled, laughing softly.

Steve smirked, his eyes twinkling joyfully. "Apart from Bucky's horribly chopped tomatoes, nothing you don't like," he teased. He crouched slightly to kiss you softly. Just a barely present touch, but it lit a fire so quickly that you trembled. He tasted perfect, just like him, soft and manly.

Bucky followed suit, twirling you in his arms, lifting you to his level, his kiss more fervent, grounding you. He tasted musky and familiar, spicy and so so him.

You pulled back, wide-eyed, your heart racing.

"Oh, boy," you whispered, a dazed smile across your face.

The distant sound of fireworks startled you, and the three of you turned toward the window. Faint remnants of flickering lights lit up the sky. The neighbors must have set the fireworks on the lake.

"Happy New Year," Steve said softly, his hand finding yours and Bucky's.

"Happy New Year," Bucky echoed, his metal arm wrapping around your waist.

Happy New Year, indeed!

And tomorrow, you'd text your aunt out of courtesy, letting her know you have visitors over, while keeping all the lewd details to yourself. Then, you'd go to the vet to check on the kitten, which the three of you decide to adopt and name her Alpine. A purrfect New Year, indeed!

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[sierrale8ne]

paige bueckers x teammate!reader

nsfw // oral, public sex, more fwb trope because i love it

gc had me thinking things during tonight’s game so here’s a blurb drabble oneshot thing? @thaatdigitaldiary @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @lupinqs @bueckersfive

“Good games from you four.” Geno says to Ashlynn, Sarah, Paige, and yourself. “How’s that ankle?” He asks, directing his attention solely to you.

“Good. All good.” You nod.

You no longer cared about the slight sting of your ankle, all you were able to think about was the feeling of Paige’s hand on your back, fisting your jersey between her fingers.

You didn’t play much tonight, still nursing that injury and on a minutes restriction. But you didn’t even need to, when Ash and Paige started the game 8/8 from three, you, your team, and the huskies fans knew what time it was.

“Take a shower, you all stink.” Coach jokes, leaving the room along side CD with an emphatic clap.

You untuck your jersey, rucking it over your head and tossing it in your duffle. The white nike sports bra on your body clings to you from sweat, 11 points and 3 steals compiling your stats for the night.

“Giving me a show, huh?” You hear her from behind you. Paige is a little too cocky tonight, something about the air in Mohegan Sun just give her that extra.. something. Confidence booster maybe?

“Is that what you call how you played tonight?”

“Shit, you think so?” She teases, sitting down by your locker tugging her own jersey off.

“You can quit with the humble shit. I know you.” Your comment makes her smirk. And it’s something about that, coupled with her rosy cheeks and flaked mascara that makes your legs tremble just a bit.

It seems like that’s always how it is around Paige. When you first transferred, she was the most welcoming, slightly annoying with a potty mouth that you’d never expected, but still charming. Then as the days passed and the relationship between you both became stronger, she had you wrapped around her finger. Literally.

“I played good?” She asks, praise kink evident in the way she’s speaking to you.

You nod, knowing that speaking anymore would give you both away to your teammates. “So good.” You cheese, reaching for the white towel in your locker. “Imma go shower, you’re welcome to join me.” You whisper the last part with a bite of your lip.

—

“Paige shut up.” You mumble against her lips. Hand tugging at her ponytail holder and releasing her hair down her shoulders in any attempt to keep her grounded to you.

Her hands were everywhere, gripping your ass and kneading it eagerly. She’s loud, and it’s been a while since she’s had you like this. Two days maybe three, and when your apartments are across the hall from another that’s too damn long.

“Fuck me then.” She retaliates, biting your bottom lip as you pull away. “Talkin’ all this shit. Do something, ma.”

And you are, eagerly kissing at her neck, sucking at that spot near her jaw that makes her writhe. The moan she lets out is pretty, high pitched and thankfully hushed behind the sound of the water hitting the ground.

“27 points? Who you feelin’ like?” You tease, trailing your lips down the column of her neck. Your hands grip her hips tight, keeping her still as you slowing move down her body. “Would fuck you crazy if you dropped 30.”

“Imma strap you so good tonight, y’ont even know.” She groans against you. “11 in 10 minutes? You’re like that, baby?”

You stop at her chest, nipples pink and perky and so fucking mouth watering. Your mouth encloses around one, softly rubbing circles over the other with your thumb.

“Maybe.” You giggle, kissing her chest again. “Been so wet for you tonight, P.” You comment. By the time you sink to your knees in front of her you’re pealing her legs apart to find she’s just as wet as you are. Maybe even more.

“Yeah, ma?”

“Mhm. Seein’ you all sweaty and shit.” You mumble, licking your lips at the sight of her. “I can’t play with you anymore, get me too distracted.”

Paige groans, sinking her hand deep into your hair and pulling it hard. A moan flys past your lips as you look up at her. Her chest is heaving, abs clenching, crystalline blue eyes looking down at you eagerly.

“Put your mouth on me. Stop talkin.” She says.

You oblige, knowing that waiting any longer would piss off not only your team, but your future self too.

Your tongue lolls out to make contact with her cunt, laying flat as you lick a stripe through her folds. Paige’s body shudders, her head tossing back against the shower wall. Seeing her face nearly made you leak down your legs.

You hum against her, wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking it into your mouth, tongue running over the underside of her clit.

“Good, mama. So good, like that.” Paige moans, nodding her head as her eyes close. The dark black of her lashes meet her cheeks, jaw dropping slack.

You’re both so lucky that the curtain covers you both fully because the sight of you on your knees in the shower would probably send the other to girls in the locker room into cardiac arrest.

Your jaw falls slack as you lap at her cunt eagerly. Paige’s hand holds you close, nearly suffocating you between her but in that moment, with your tongue deep inside, you decide you don’t care.

“Seniors hurry it up!” You hear Sarah call.

You pull back with an electric pop, catching your breath and looking up at Paige as if to tell her to speak up.

“Gotchu!” She says. And they can’t hear it, but you can. The obvious shake in her voice.

Paige looks back down at you, her eyes wide as she mouths, “make me cum.”

You’d be a monster to deny such a request.

As soon as the locker room door closes you’re right back on her like white on rice. Your tongue dives back in, fucking into her in that way you know she likes. Your thumb circles her clit, and Paige is slamming her hand against the shower wall.

“Baby.” She grunts, her hips bucking against your face. “Fuck, mmph fuck! Like that, jus’ like that.”

“Wanna cum on my face?” You tease. The question is rhetorical, because you and her both know the answer.

The blonde nods emphatically, toes curling underneath her and just slightly knocking her off her already fleeting balance. She doesn’t even try to hold back her moans anymore, grinding and bucking into your face that you nearly pass out at how good she tastes.

Her eyes roll back to her head, a loud moan passing past her lips before she’s cumming on your face. Juices dripping and you don’t even know if it’s her cum coming down your chin or water from the shower head.

You pull back with a breath, her arousal still lingering on your tongue. Paige’s hand finally leaves your hair, pushing you further away and attempting to regain what’s left of her composure against the wall.

You stand up, gripping her cheeks and meshing your tongue with hers. “Tastes so good, P. Right?”

“Mhm.” She hums into your mouth, slapping your ass and pulling her closer. “You might taste better.”

Paige reaches behind you to turn off the shower, the sudden silence in the room dawning on you both. “Lemme get you real fast.”

“We gotta go!” You push at her chest, shaking the water out of your hair.

“Yeahhhh, but I need that shit. I’ll be quick.”

“You and quick don’t belong in the same sentence.”

“Ight then, I’ll take you on the bus.”

And knowing her, she would make sure of it.

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 2

content warning: mentions of food because big boys gotta eat, there’s a ref photo for an outfit in here that is unfortunately NOT a plus-size girl 😞 (I couldn’t find a big girl wearing an outfit like that for the life of me, but let’s use our imagination), 18+ towards the end so MDNI!

word count: 1.7k (not very drabble-like, ik) kinda proofread

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up when his 6 am alarm rings, eyes tired and bleary. His roommate is sound asleep, thank god, and Miguel is just staring at the ceiling for a good 10 minutes before he decides to move. He has an 8 am and he needs some type of breakfast before he heads to class.

GymRat!Miguel who uses the college cafeteria to his full advantage. He made sure that his dad’s money went to the highest meal plan. One free meal plan a day and a loaded campus card for everything else. He stacks his plate high with everything the cafeteria is offering today. Sausages, eggs, 2 bananas, a blueberry muffin, and a protein shake he brought from his room.

GymRat!Miguel who made friends with one of the cafeteria ladies, Ms. Beatrice, by the third week of school. She noticed how much he visited the cafeteria and always snuck him an extra treat from the kitchen when she saw him.

“I missed you last Tuesday!” she says, squeezing his shoulder when she walks up to his table. She slides a wrapped egg sandwich across the table. “I was saving some extra cookies for you, but you were nowhere to be found.”

Miguel thanks her, happy to have something light for later, “Ah, I was stuck in the library doing a group project. Sorry about that, Ms. Beatrice.”

“As long as you’re getting your education, I don’t mind,” she says, hands on her hips. “Don’t go out there skipping class now, ok?”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Miguel says, waving her goodbye. His mom would kill him if that ever happened. Not that he would tell her, she just had a sixth sense for his “fuck-ups.”

GymRat!Miguel who makes it to his class fifteen minutes early to arrange his part of his desk to his liking. Sometimes he feels so embarrassed when he needs to grab something in the middle of class, his ears hyperfocusing on every little noise he makes in quiet, crowded areas. He always makes sure to get out his laptop, a pen, a pencil, a highlighter, a notebook, some white-out, and a water jug. He prefers to be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who’s feeling anxious when the sorority girls pass by his table, giggling and twirling their hair. They attempt to make conversation with him, speaking ill of the professor. He just nods along for the sake of being a gentleman. He thought the professor’s Millennial attempts at Gen Z jokes were kind of funny, albeit very 2010. He didn’t have the heart to tell them he actually enjoyed the lectures.

GymRat!Miguel who’s never been more excited for a lecture to start in his life. He didn’t know many more “wow”’s snd “that’s crazy”’s he had left in him. The noise of the ice hitting their plastic coffee cups as they struggled to get every drop out was starting to grate against his ears. He missed you and your sticker-covered water bottle. He looked over at his jug and smiled when he saw the ‘Game Over’ sticker you gifted him before the last lab. You noticed his joystick keychain and felt that his water bottle was empty.

GymRat!Miguel who declines the girls’ offer to join them on a morning jog after. He liked to work out in solitude and morning jogs with them would mean conversation. He would also have to be extra conscious about what he wore. No older lady walking her dog needed to spot him jogging with shorts that were too short for his own good and a tank top cut so deep that it was like string on his chest.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to head to the library in between class to kill time. He figured he can see if there are any science fiction he can check out to read in his free time. As he walks there, he opens Instagram to scroll. No, he has not been checking the app since this morning to see if you let him in, he’s not a freak. He stops walking when he checks his notifs to see that you accepted his follow request. He wastes no time to click your page again and is bombarded with tons of photos.

GymRat!Miguel who has to close the app immediately when he sees your first photo. It's a picture of you outside of a restaurant in a knitted two-piece. The top is open just a bit to see your chest and the long skirt is low enough to see a part of your stomach peeking through. Your smile is radiant and the caption is something about congratulating someone. You look delectable and Miguel can’t afford to run back to his dorm to let his mind wander over it right now.

GymRat!Miguel who gets another notification as he steps into his dorm room after his last class of the day and sees that you’ve liked and commented on his most recent post. It’s a mirror picture of him flexing his arm after his last work out. His shorts are riding high on his thighs and the curve of his ass is very noticeable. Gabriel had blew up his phone with voice memos of him cackling after he posted it.

“Looking good!! 🫣 Get those gains Miguel! 💪🏾”

Miguel runs a victory lap in his dorm room, thankful that his roommate wouldn’t be back until that night. He’s jumping and punching the air excitedly as if he were a boxer. If he wasn’t fearful of busting his ass, he’d do a backflip. Take that, Gabri.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to go back to your account, running on the hype of that one compliment from you. He stares at that first photo again, still mesmerized as if he didn’t see it earlier. He gives a like and starts typing.

“Wow…”

No, that’s corny.

“Loving the blue…”

Is he a frat guy?

“You look stunning”

Was that too much? He decides to add on a heart eyes emoji, afraid he might be coming on too strong.

GymRat!Miguel who goes a little further down your page. There’s a photo of you in a crochet cover up, your swimsuit peaking through the material. He groans as he slides to the next picture and the top of your cover up is off and it’s just a view of your back with your bikini string wrapped around it. Your lower half is in the water and if he can imagine it just enough, he can feel himself right behind you, taking in the view of your ass against him.

He’s hard. Again.

He decides to just let everything hang while he has the dorm to himself. His boxers are to his ankles as he sits on the bed, back against the wall. He keeps staring at your swimsuit pictures. Your breasts pushed together while you lean over the boat. Your hips swaying in a clip of you dancing with your friends. Your stomach on display as you lay in the sand, ready for him to squeeze.

He grit his teeth as he played the clips over and over again, his hand moving fast to bring him his relief. He closed his eyes and imagined he was there, watching you swaying before him. He would join you, grab your hips and let you guide him in the dance. He felt faint as he let go, voice shouting and white splattered across his shirt and fist.

He breathes fast, trying to calm down. He decides to like the photo dump and comment some aimless beach emojis under the post. It was the least he could do after using it to get off. How embarrassing.

GymRat!Miguel who jumps when his phone dings again. He was prepping to go to the gym when your response comes flying to his phone. His heart picks up when he sees you replied to his comment.

“That is so sweet of you to say! 🥺 Thank you 🥰”

He doesn’t know if you took it as a friendly gesture or a sign that he wanted you. Either way, he’s over the moon. There’s a pep in his step as he blasts Super Shy in his ears on the way to the gym. He had a new motivation to push harder in his sets.

GymRat!Miguel who tacks on 10 extra pounds during his arm workout. The guys in the gym are eyeing him in wonder and horror as he uses the 70lb weights for tricep extensions. He thinks of seeing you in lab later that week and decides to do some hip thrusts.

He can never be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to take a picture at the end of his work out to post on his story. He’s sweating, hair dripping towards the ends, his chest glistening. The angle is awkward as he moves the camera below him and flexes an arm for the picture. The story was meant for one girl and one girl only, so he didn’t really care how silly it looked to others.

GymRat!Miguel who almost fist pumps on the walk home when you like his story and leave a reply. He checks the private messages, grin on his face before he even reads what you have to say.

“Looks like you had a nice workout. I might have to join you next time and get some tips 🤔”

Miguel swiped the app up and texted Gabriel:

“Don’t ever question my game again”

"? Wtf are you talking about"

Miguel opened up his messages with you again and replied to text him whenever and he’d be happy to help.

GymRat!Miguel who winds down for the night, scrolling on his phone before he closes his eyes. Of course you posted a story and of course he pressed it within record speed.

It was a photo of you laying down all bundled up with a cute ‘good night’ gif moving across the bottom. You had on a spaghetti strap tank top and if your blanket wasn’t in the way, he’s sure he would see more than that.

You looked soft, adorable, kissable.

He liked the story and responded back a “good night” and closed his phone. He wanted you to visit him in his dreams once more.

dividers by: @gigittamic 🩵

a/n: tumblr mobile kept deleting full paragraphs of my draft. not happy about that because I kept losing my flow. 😒 it happened like THREE TIMES 😭

Thanks for reading! Like, comment, reblog, and tell me how you feel! 🩵

Wanna be added to the taglist for GymRat!Miguel? Comment and let me know. 🤗 (PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO. This series has been and will get even more NSFW!)

taglist: @ghost-lantern 🫶🏾🥺

[everrinsly]

a/n: i'm glad there's a few of you who also love sugar daddy suna, thank you; i really need him in this economy. we all need him haha ╰(*´︶`*)╯

~~~~~

suna may be a famous pro athlete, but he is first and foremost your best friend vibes.

and he loves spending money on you (especially on your weekly grocery hauls).

sugar daddying part 3 (450 pieces of candy and a pack of chuppets in aisle 8) with suna. long drabble. fluff. fem!reader. | not proofread.

sugar daddy suna | part 1 | part 2

more reads!

~~~~~

Maybe your first mistake was letting Suna push the cart. And your second mistake... was becoming his best friend because he had all your favorite foods and snacks memorized now—

"There's those peach-milk candies you like. Lemme grab them real quick."

"You want those fancy-ass yogurt drinks, angel? What flavor?"

"I'm gonna grab your favorite brand of udon, so we can make it later, yeah?"

"Mochi ice cream. Vanilla or matcha—actually, nah."

(He threw them both in the cart).

—so what started as a 'quick grocery run' turned into him casually knowing all the likes and dislikes of your tastebuds, speed-running your entire favorites list like it was a shopping game show.

You adored Suna, really. But it gets to a point where you're going to have to fight him at the cash register because you can't afford all of this.

"Rinnie," you sighed softly, tugging on the rolled-up sleeves of his hoodie.

“Hm?” He didn’t even turn, just kept scanning the candy aisle like a predator tracking prey, probably looking for those Hi-Chew candies he knows you love so much (he's right, it's your second favorite).

You leaned over the cart. “Why are there five packs of those fancy yogurt drinks in here—and..." you trailed off, counting. "One... two... three... four—eight?!"

You gave him a look, one that made him just want to squish your cheeks (you don't know that though).

"Rin! Why are there eight packs of peach-milk candies?!"

"You said you liked them," he said blandly.

"There's fifty pieces in each pack!" You slapped a hand against his chest.

Suna hummed, then shrugged, tossing another into the cart anyway. “Well, now you have nine. 450 pieces total. Stay sweet, angel.”

You flushed, groaning into your sleeves, which only made him grin as he pushed the cart forward with the lazy swagger and nonchalance of someone who had way too much money and not enough shame.

And then, when he tossed in your favorite seaweed snacks, your arms flailed.

“Rintarou! No—”

He blinked innocently, green eyes twinkling with mischief. “These? Oh, my bad. Thought they were for me.”

“You said they're too salty for you.”

“Yeah... but you like them. And I like you.”

Your breath caught. He didn't even look at you when he said it, too busy grabbing three of your go-to instant ramen cups.

You squinted at him, heart fluttering in your chest, just begging to be released to Suna's arms.

Suna stared down at you, like he was mentally asking 'you got anything else to say?'

You sputtered. No, you didn't have anything else to say.

Suna smirked like he'd just won a very quiet war. Then, he reached for your favorite brand of fresh milk bread and tossed it in the cart without a word.

"…You don’t even know how much this is gonna cost," you mumbled, trying to sound annoyed and failing miserably.

Suna finally turned to face you, leaning over the cart, his arms folded on the handle like he had all the time in the world.

"I literally make more per match than this whole store makes in a day."

“Still. You don’t have to—”

"I want to," he said simply.

And that shut you up again. Because you knew he meant it. Just like he meant it when he ordered your favorite takeout when you were sad. Or when he kept your favorite playlist downloaded on his phone even though he 'hated that shit.' Or when he drove forty-five minutes to your college campus just to bring you a new laptop charger because yours broke.

You sighed, cheeks warm. "You're really annoying, you know that?"

Suna smiled, a real one, slow and soft. "Yeah. But I'm your annoying."

And just like that, in the fluorescent lights of aisle 8, with your favorite snacks piled high in an overflowing cart, you felt your heart flutter in that dangerous, hopeful way it always did around him.

You didn’t say anything. He didn't say anything.

But you reached out, plucked a bag of his favorite multiflavored chuppets from the shelf and piled it on top of your snacks. Then quietly mumbled, “…Thanks, Rinnie.”

And in true Suna fashion, he pretended not to hear you, but the way his lips twitched gave him away.

Though, you weren't sure if that was caused by you or the chuppets.

[entitled-fangirl]

Masterlist <3

Game of Thrones masterlist

DC masterlist

Invincible masterlist

Vikings

Ragnar Lothbrok

#drew drools over ragnar lothbrok

Patiently wait.

Bjorn Ironside

#drew drools over bjorn ironside

New.

One and the same.

My strong girl.

#drew drools over hvitserk ragnarsson

Ivar the Boneless

A ring and a cold heart.

Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton

A beautiful thing to picture, indeed.

One happy marriage.

Saltburn

Felix Catton

He would burn the world for her.

I love hearing about your day. SMUT

The cold ground provided no comfort.

Sweet little nothings.

So guilty.

Breakfast is ready.

It's like heaven. SMUT

Anything for you, beautiful girl. SMUT

The Last of Us

Joel Miller

A civilized meal.

Never been more thankful.

They're not gonna hit you.

Her saving grace.

Sweet mama.

Miller baby.

Two idiots in love. Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 (Finished series)

Mandalorian

Din D'jarin

His perfect little Cyar'ika.

You've made me worry.

Such a pretty sight.

I know you made her your riduur.

Good Omens

Crowley

He may always be a demon, but she still loves him.

Is that a spot?

Hannibal NBC

Hannibal x reader x Will

I see the way you look at her, William.

His carefully crafted web.

A predicament.

Terms of Endearment (drabble).

Will Graham

No Pajama Party for you, Mr. Graham.

Fishing 101.

Their safe hold.

So scared but so happy.

Xmen

Charles Xavier

Of course, my love.

Polar

Duncan Visla

Four days of hell.

Midsommar

Pelle

That's a love rune. Casts a love spell.

Little bird.

Adjustment.

Twilight

Jasper Hale

Are you scared of me, Princess?

Sparring.

Marcus Volturi

The Best Thing for Marcus.

Caius Volturi

The human did interrupt.

Sherlock BBC

Jim Moriarty

A deer in the headlights.

Harry Potter Universe

Barty Crouch Jr.

His betrothed. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

I hope I do.

Severus Snape

The astronomy professor.

Remus Lupin

Our needs. SMUT

James Potter

Feeling unwell.

OC stories:

Harry Potter universe:

The misaligned stars.

Remus Lupin x OC x (past)Regulus Black

Summary: The golden trio knocks on the door of someone who can help them with the Slytherin locket.

.............……………….

Who I'm accepting requests for

More about my page!

My backup account: @poetic-endeavor 

Fanfic count: 78

[beabatiny]

𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𓇼 𓆞 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𓆞 𓇼 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴/𝘈𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴/𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𓇼 𓇼 𝘰𝘵8/𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Accidentally Have 8 Pets - @xuchiya ot8 x reader (series) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Ateez Responding To You Telling Them You Want A Divorce - @deerieme bf!ot8 x reader (text scenarios) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Bassists Do It Deeper - @crimsonbubble rockstar!hongjoong x reader x bassists!mingi (thoughts) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Calling Them Pretty - @nightbeforethend bf!ot8 x reader (text scenarios) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Coppélia - @spookwriter-xo mafia!ot8 x ballerina!reader (series) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘬𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 A Deal With The Devil - @mingi-s-dimples devil!hongjoong x pastor’s daughter!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Captain Little Mate: Round 2 - @crimsonbubble dad!hongjoong x mom!reader (hard thoughts) 𓆞 𓆞 Car Sex - @yourfatherlucifer bf!hongjoong x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Cry For Me [Part One | Part Two | Part Three] - @yeostinys ceo!hongjoong x secretary!reader (three parts) 𓆞 𓆞 Detective Kim - @mingkismain detective!hongjoong x detective!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Drunken Love - @kisseudoll bf!seonghwa x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Pink Star Presents - @holybibly pornstar!seonghwa x pornstar!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Pink Yarn - @daydreamingaboutkoreanmen idol!seonghwa x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Survivors - @koyagifs firefighter!seonghwa x er nurse!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Tattoo Artist Seonghwa - @everyonewooeverywhere tattoo artist!seonghwa x reader (drabble) 𓆞

𓇼 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓆞 Daddy’s Summer Fling - @mingi-s-dimples dilf!yunho x daughter’s best friend!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Don’t Hate The Player - @vampzity bf!yunho x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Livestream - @yunniverse bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Love Again - @xomakara single dad!yunho x single mom!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Lust & Love & Loss - @bananayuyu non-idol!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Nothing To Prove - @makeitmingi bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Pillow Princess - @look-at-the-way-i-ride bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 The Hills - @ateezscupid ex bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Snowflake - @mingi-s-dimples bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 You're Mine Baby - @wwooyology ex-bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘯 𓇼 𓆞 Casting Couch - @kitten4sannie frat boy!san x reader ft. frat boy!yungi (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Spiderman - @koyagifs spiderman!san x reader ft.wooyoung (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 The Perfect Cocktail - @covenha best friend!san x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 This Is How I Flirt - @yothangie boxer!san x med student!reader (smau series) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Wading In Wait - @pyeongstarr non-idol!san x yandere!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 By Her Side - @arilevenatz bodyguard!mingi x princess!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Little Doe - @bunnliix outlaw!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Me And My Wife - @koyagifs husband!idol!mingi x wife!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Strangers By Nature - @seongwars heir!mingi x heri!reader (series) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Your Secret Fan [Part One | Part Two] - @strrykais idol!mingi x idol!reader (smau) 𓈒𓏸

𓇼 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Asking You To Be His Valentine's - @makeitmingi idol!single-dad!wooyoung x dance teacher!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Secret Santa - @dinossaurz bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 The Beauty of Us - @xuchiya bf!wooyoung x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Thrill Of The Chase - @wwooyology bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Vivrant Thing - @hwaslayer best friend's brother!wooyoung x reader (series) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 A Cozy Game Night - @03jyh23 bfjongho x gn!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Hand Marks - @vampzity ceo!husband!jongho x wife!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Healthy Study Habits - @ohsoimaginari bf!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Part Of Your World - @makeitmingi bf!ceo!jongho x single mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Put The Book Down - @fivestaralien bf!jongho x gn!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸

[k4lenz]

sleepy girl ✮ jschlatt x fem!reader drabble

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

a/n: meow meow meow eepy little fluff drabble because im feeling eepy enjoy! i swear im gonna get to my requests and post the shit in my drafts soon. random thoughts - schlatt reminds me of forests. in a good way idk why. IM SO SORRY IF THIS IS REALLY BAD I JS WANTED TO GET SOMETHING OUT.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

𖡼 𖤣 ↟ 𖠰 𖥧 ˚ 𖥧 𖤣 𖡼

You aren’t very good at resting, at least not typically.

notes: fluff, sleepiness, domesticity, sleeping, GET SUM SLEEP READERS, food / cooking mentions, cursing, schlatt taking care of u <3, uni/college mentions

You’ll take hours before you get to bed, doomscrolling or playing a dumb game on your phone. And Schlatt indulges, of course, because he’s the same.

But some nights the exhaustion will really get to you.

You’ve been studying for a few weeks straight, and your exams are nearing. Every hour spent either in uni classes, or studying.

You got home successfully without falling asleep (barely), resting in your bed for just a second with sleepy eyes.

Schlatt was out buying groceries for you two, you were pretty sure. At least, he wasn’t home.

You were meaning to get up and study, set on it. But your eyes felt just a little too heavy. You made no effort to get up, still convincing yourself that you would.

The next thing you knew, everything was black. Laying on top of your bed still in your outside clothes, sleeping deep and drooling.

Schlatt unlocked the front door, and got home with a call of your name. Your lack of response making his eyebrow raise as he set the bags of groceries down on the kitchen counter.

He knew you’d been studying real hard, he’d bought some stuff for you while he was out knowing you needed a break. He hummed to himself, pulling his cap off and walking into the bedroom.

A fond chuckle escaped his lips, seeing your face smushed into your pillow and your lips parted drooling. The cats curled up at your feet. Being your boyfriend, he’d seen you in every state, messy and clean. He loved all of them, but seeing you so domestic made his heart happy.

He’d never admit it, though.

He grabbed a blanket and put it over you, a small smile on his face. Ruffling your hair, and snapping a picture of you he’d definitely set as his lock screen despite your future complaints.

He returned back onto the kitchen and unpacked the groceries to put them away.

When you finally stirred, the sun had gone down. You smelt something good. Your favourite food, making your stomach grumble in reminder that you’d not eaten since lunch.

You rubbed your eyes, wrapping the blanket around yourself as your feet padded against the floor, finding yourself in the kitchen.

You watched Schlatt, dressed simply in a black T-shirt and sweatpants, swaying and humming to the music cooking as Glen Campbell playing on his speaker. He heard you, looking up with a little smile to see you all wrapped up in the blanket.

A soft coo came from him, chuckling as he swiftly picked you up and set you up on the counter. Wrapping his arms around you.

“Mornin’, toots.” He spoke, broad frame holding you and chops against your neck.

“It’s not morning.” You giggled softly, fingers finding the collar of his T-shirt.

“Oh, really? You were sleepin’ like it was.” His tone was sarcastic. He laughed affectionately at his own joke, wheezy as he squeezing your waist . “Made your favourite, sweetheart. Figured you needed it.”

“Thankyouuu..” You slurred, arms wrapped around his neck and head lolling onto his shoulder. “I love you.”

“Love you more, you little nerd. Makin you get that good ol’ 8 hours of sleep now, though. Can’t have ya fallin’ asleep everywhere.” The brooklyn-er teased, pinching your cheek.

“Fuck you, dropout.” You grumbled, making him cackle.

“Callin’ me names, now? Still making you get 8 hours of sleep.”

“No!”

-

And when you saw his new lock screen, your endless complaints and struggle to try and steal his phone to change it only made him grin.

“Nah. Too cute to change it. I like it, sleepy girl.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───