#i will also read and reblog fics i have in my drafts!!!

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <3

[glossysoap]

price recs / poly 141 recs

requested by the one and only @vgilantee! i’m so sorry this took so long 😭

mind the warnings/tags when clicking on each link.

like i said with my last rec list, if i think of any others i’ll edit this post to add them, then i’ll reblog this post with a note saying it’s been added to.

in addition, as i was putting this post together, i read all of these recs again. i have reblogs of them all drafted up, even if i’ve already reblogged them before. after i post this, i’ll start posting those reblogs so i’m sorry if it clogs your dash 😅

price:

- the space in between by @391780 (i mean come ON. you know i had to. that series, and early, has me by the neck. i rec anything from early, duhhh)

- the arrangement by @/391780 (as i’m typing this i’ve only read the first chapter and i already KNOW i’m obsessed with it)

- mafia price au by @cordeliawhohung (there’s also pieces for ghost, gaz and soap in the same universe that i recommend as well! it’s all linked in the same masterlist)

- oral fixation by @/cordeliawhohung (foaming at the mouth for this oh my god 😵‍💫 and literally anything by core obviously)

- mask on by @/391780

- the captain’s wife by @/391780

- first time by @/391780

- sick day by @/391780 (so so sweet and what a cute read 🥹 tossing this at char while they’re sick because it’s absolutely perfect.)

- captain’s on the way by @/391780 (once i get that text, oh you can bet your ass i’ll be ready 🥰)

- price returning from deployment by @vgilantee (i recommend anything from char duhhh. if you check in the reblogs you’ll see any additions char has added to this post.)

- kissing price by @/vgilantee (literally the dream)

- subspace + oral fixation by @/vgilantee (oh jeez 😵‍💫 this is still just as hot as when we talked abt it in dms)

- cumming in his pants by @/vgilantee (if you check in the reblogs you’ll see any additions that char has made to this post)

- heavy by @/vgilantee (i know it’s heavy, i just know it. i can hold it—)

- were - price’s cock by @/vgilantee (if you check in the reblogs you’ll see any additions that char has made to this post)

- cockwarming him while sick by @/vgilantee (check the reblogs and you’ll see any addition that char has made to this post)

- devoured by @xxshadowbabexx (woof woof woof oh my god. still barking at this request you filled for me 🤭)

- rules are made to be broken by @/xxshadowbabexx (oh lord oh lord oh lord. foaming at the mouth for this request you filled for me 😵‍💫)

- you stopped sharing your location with price by @syoddeye (one of my first reads that yanked my ass into dark fic 😵‍💫 i need that man)

- barista sized hole by @/syoddeye (god this changed me 😵‍💫 bark bark bark. literally anything from sy!! duh)

- flashing by @/syoddeye (oh i’m gonna need him to chase me thru the house just like that)

- thighs + choking kink by @pfhwrittes (anything from p really. oh this made my fat little heart sing!!!)

- male submission by @/pfhwrittes (i need him i need him.)

- older by @femalefemur (oh lord this spoke to me 😵‍💫)

- calling him captain by @/femalefemur (GOD the title kink/honorific kink was fed with this. i rec anything from cyn, obvi)

- peeping tom i / ii / iii by @secretsynthetic (i wanna say these were the first pieces i read from naomi and ugh, they warmed my heart. i rec everything from naomi, duh.)

- priceghost/puppygirl reader intro i intro ii / i / ii / iii by @/secretsynthetic

- tiger balm by @/secretsynthetic (so so precious. i love pricegaz as a ship and naomi captures it so so well and adding reader into the mix just makes it even better 😵‍💫)

- take me home, country road by @ceilidho (duh, of course. and i think we all know i rec everything from ceil)

- pretending to be husband/wife by @/ceilidho (woof woof woof)

- babysitter au by @/ceilidho

- captain price x reader x captain mactavish by @sprout-fics (this was such a NEED. also i rec anything from her, duh)

- (re)organized crime by @charliemwrites (oh this series is so fucking cute. i’m in love! i rec anything from charlie, let’s be real.)

- price’s thighs by @captainswhore (i love everything they post and i love when you tag me for my thoughts on things 🥺 i rec anything from them)

- hoarfrost i / ii by @eilidh-eternal (the way this feeds my predator/prey kink is absolutely outrageous. i love it so much never stop please 😭 rec everything from eilidh, duh)

- house hunting by @/eilidh-eternal

- nevermind i / ii by @captainfern (these were one of the first cod fics i ever read and whew buddy, it not only infected me with the price bug (that’s never leaving) but its also one of the fics that made me wanna start writing for cod. so i’m absolutely rec’ing everything from fernie 🥹)

- headlock by @/captainfern (rorororo oh my god. y’all know how i am about headlock sex.)

- you know you’re right by @/captainfern (jealous bodyguard price fucking you stupid? oh i need him)

- about a girl i / ii by @/captainfern (i’m always fucking weak for the trope ‘he makes you squirt for the first time and now he’s gonna make you do it like 5 more times if it’s the last thing he does’)

- bury your teeth in me by @yeyinde (jesus christ this was so hot, i’m stunned. i rec anything from lev, ofc.)

- spanked by price by @/yeyinde

- keep quiet by @kyletogaz (woof woof woof! that’s me barking! i rec anything from jess!)

- retirement party by @sentientcave (i need to catch up on this but i’m rec’ing regardless bc i know it’s gold. i rec anything from charlie)

- firewatch by @roosterr (oh this was amazing. i loved their banter!! so cute! i rec anything from rooster!)

- outside it starts to pour by @/roosterr

- john? by @ghastlybirdie (sunny this was so 😭😭 when i first read it (and any time after that) i just about cried bc it’s so!!! so so sad but also precious. it’s so immersive and amazingly done. i rec anything from sunny ily)

- my daddy didn’t love me by @makoodles (oh lorddddd this fed me so well. daddy issues gang rise up 😭 i rec everything from them)

- walkthrough by @mikichko (sosososo cute!! i rec everything from kiko)

- inspections by @moondirti (fuck fuck fuck 😵‍💫 i rec everything from them ofc)

- price + nik inspection by @ghouljams (literal legend, ofc i rec anything from them!)

- backshot hc by @/ghouljams

- landscape with honey by @/ceilidho

- neighbors by @eowynstwin (i rec literally anything from madi!!! send them love <3)

poly 141:

- origins of poly 141 x reader by @/vgilantee (keep an eye out for any additions to the post, as always. i rec anything and everything from that au)

- monster 141 au by @/vgilantee (i know it’s not all technically poly but in my head it is, so 😌 and i rec anything and everything from that au) click the tag under that post to find all posts in that au

- #141omegaverse~ by @/vgilantee (idk how to make links for tags unless it’s already made into a link, so go search that tag on char’s blog 😅 and i rec anything and everything from that au)

- price’s girl is the 141’s barracks bunny by @/vgilantee

- mafia au series by @groguspicklejar (y’all KNOW i had to include this. really anything from kelsi ofc)

- from specgru with love by @/charliemwrites (the angst in this is so fucking good. the 141 yearning for reader while readers moved on and leaving them in the dust? AND the jon bernthal face claim for the hot as fuck captain on readers new team? i’m fainting.)

- mister(s) steal your girl by @/charliemwrites (i need to catch up on this one but i’m rec’ing anyway bc i know it’s pure gold)

- tf141 kinks by @/pfhwrittes

- tf141 kinks pt2 by @/pfhwrittes

- tag, you’re it by @/sprout-fics (what a classic. i’m 99% sure i reblogged them a lot earlier in my fandom days but regardless, i’m going through and reblogging everything in this list anyways.)

- omegaverse au by @/sprout-fics (i need to catch up on this but i’m rec’ing regardless bc i know it’s so fucking good.)

- afterburn by @/sprout-fics (what a great aftercare fic, so soft and sweet and heated all at the same time.)

- poly 141 headcanons by @/sprout-fics

- netflix and chill by @luvit (this series was sooo 😵‍💫 the variation of kinks between each one was so hot. also it’s totally obvious that i rec everything from them)

- that man is a dog! by @/luvit (i need to catch up on this but i’m rec’ing this regardless bc i know it’s gold)

- contractor au by @/kyletogaz

- vampire 141 making you cum with a bite by @/kyletogaz

- you, gaz, and price by @kyletogaz

- squirting by @chamomiletealeaf (woof woof this is so fucking hot. i rec anything from them)

- 141 sharing you by @/captainfern

- backshots by @/captainfern

- free use by @ohbo-ohno (oh lord,, that is just the dream. where do i sign up? also i rec anything from bo)

- orgy by @/ohbo-ohno

- fucking machine by @/ohbo-ohno (i know this one isn’t including a reader but its sooo 😵‍💫 that i had to include it)

- body electric by @/yeyinde (THEE call of duty gangbang fic.)

- virgin reader x 141 i / ii / iii by @/yeyinde

- spoils by @/syoddeye

- pack cuddles by @mockerycrow (so so so cute. i’ve reread this countless times. i rec anything from crow)

- spread open by @iciclesses (oh lord!!!!! oh my god 😵‍💫😵‍💫 i rec anything from them ofc)

- they decide you’re theirs by @fulltacs (bowing down to you and your genius brain. thank you for feeding us and for doing the lords work ykwim 👀. i rec everything from them)

- poly 141 therapist sharing au by @kyletogaz (holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck)

- heavy hitters; a wrestling au by @dwarvenales (love love LOVE. i rec anything from kai ofc)

- scp au by @ghouljams (ok i know it’s not technically described as poly 141 per se but it’s a 141 au and i couldn’t resist adding it)

- binders and boyfriends by @pfhwrittes (again i know it’s not poly 141 per se but it includes the 141 as a whole and i couldn’t resist adding this to the rec list)

- tradie 141 au by @/pfhwrittes (again, couldn’t resist)

[1-800-kami]

R U MINE? feat gojo satoru (II)

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it. 

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: this is part TWO (and the final part) of the r u mine? mini series. make sure to read part one of this fic before proceeding! :)

content: 5.4k words, afab!reader, rich college frat boy gojo, SMUT (fingering & unprotected sex.. wrap it before u tap it kids!) ANGST, (i listened to deftones while writing the breakup era LMAOO i was in my feels 😔) gojo "everything reminds me of her" satoru is really going thru it, idk how to feel about the ending tbh, cheating implications, kinda proofread ig, more emo gojo (u luv to see it)

author's note: guys. where do i even start?? first of all, thank u for all the support on the first part of this mini series!! we also hit 100 followers on this blog so tysm for supporting me n my writing <3 here's the long awaited part two (n also the finale) as i promised that i would get it out over the weekend! just a quick announcement that i may be a little bit more inactive from here on out.. mainly because classes r starting again nd im starting to get busier. i do have more fic plans though, (and a geto smut in my drafts? 👀) so i'll make time to write when i can! happy reading and thank u for all the support on this silly little series :)

tags: @soley613 @feariteriu @bear-likes-mushrooms @96jnie @keilaq1 @whydohumansss @luftyluft @fatbootymuncher (bold = i'm unable to tag u)

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

everything’s been hazy.

you don’t really remember how you got home– you either waved down a cab or walked until you somehow found your house. either way, the alcohol is worsening the pounding in your ears. the straps of your dress are clinging terribly against your skin–you want to take it off, you want to wear something more comfortable, you want to just go to sleep, preferably forever… but you can’t bring yourself to.

you can’t even bring yourself to move.

so the rumors really were true? but why did gojo pursue so far just for you? why did gojo say those words to you when you spent the night together? why did gojo try so hard to convince you that night that he wanted to have sex with you because he loved you–and not solely because he wanted to have sex?

why did gojo lie to you?

another series of pings sound throughout the room, and you finally move to silence your phone. the noise is all so overwhelming. why the hell is your phone blowing up?

you check your notifications–mostly dms from people you don’t know, either asking if you and satoru were dating, or questioning you about what the hell happened at the party. you know that you’re gonna be the subject of gossip once you’re back at campus, and you hate it.

you were surprised at the numbers once you scrolled down your notification list a little further. ten missed calls from satoru, accompanied by a series of fifteen panicked messages. you open it, and you stare sadly at his contact photo and name, remembering the fond memory behind it. once you two actually started dating, you were merciful enough to add a heart next to his name, and even updated it to “toru”. he was elated at that.

you think you can barely even call him gojo now.

the most recent message was barely sent a minute ago. like it was on cue, you see the bright headlights pull up outside of your door. you wanted to sink into your couch and never resurface ever again.

you hear suguru’s car door open and close, and then frantic knocking outside. you walk to the door while sniffling, looking through the peephole just to confirm your suspicions. it was satoru.

“i can hear you crying through the door, y/n. i know you’re there.” he takes a deep inhale, and the tears start rolling down your cheeks again once you hear the complete and utter vulnerability in his voice. you just don’t know what to believe anymore. “shit, i’m crying too. well, i’m gonna explain myself even if you don’t care enough to listen to me. uhm, believe it or not, what happened at the party wasn’t my doing… at all. when you went to use the bathroom, this girl went up to me and started flirting with me, like she was waiting for you to leave or somethin’. i was g’na tell her to go fuck off but she pushed herself on my lap and before i could do anything about it you walked in and it was just all horrible timing and- god. i know it sounds unbelievable, right? you must think i’m terrible right now.”

“you don’t have to believe me. if i were in your shoes i wouldn’t know what to think either. i’m just… explaining what happened.”

there’s a long period of silence between you and satoru, aside from the occasional sniffling on both ends. you don’t know what to say. you want to believe him. you want to do nothing more than to open the door and let him hold you in his arms again, but you just don’t know what to think anymore. you poured your entire heart out to a man who you knew you shouldn’t be messing with, and now you don’t know who or what to believe. you feel like a fool, and you’re just tired. so damn tired. the silence feels asphyxiating, like it's tearing your relationship with satoru further and further apart the longer it draws on.

satoru is the first one to break the silence. “i’m guessing from the silent treatment that you don’t believe me. it’s okay, y/n. i’ll wait an eternity for you to forgive me because i’ll always choose you- fuck… over anything, and i hope you know that.”

your mind is a mess, and satoru’s words make it even messier.

i’ll wait an eternity for you

i’ll always choose you over anything

you put your head in your hands and sob. it hurts.

a minute passes–gojo hears you get up from where you’re sitting behind the door, and his heart fills with hope.

“i just… i just don’t know how to believe you, gojo.”

his heart breaks when he hears the door–presumably to your bedroom–open and close, leaving him alone with his shattered heart. his heart breaks when he takes in your voice, noticing how weak and exhausted you sounded. he wonders how much you’ve cried just from this past hour alone. his heart breaks once he realizes that he’s alone with his thoughts again, alone with the voice in his head that was berating him for not being able to prevent all of this if he hadn’t frozen up and just pushed her away the second that girl started flirting with him. finally, his heart breaks once it registers that you called him gojo–the last name that he shares with his corrupt and money-crazy family… the family he tries so hard to get away from. it was also the name you called him during the days that you barely trusted him.

now, he’s back to square one, and he has none of your trust again. this time, satoru swears that he’ll do anything in his power to get it back once more.

you didn’t come to school today.

there’s been nothing but radio silence on your end. gojo has sent you countless messages over the weekend asking how you’ve been, with the occasional desperate voicemail where he tells you that he loves and misses you. you’ve turned off your read receipts, so gojo doesn’t even know if you’ve seen his texts or listened to his voicemails. he’s concerned for you, even though he knows that he’s the reason behind all of this. he was hoping to talk things out with you today.. but you weren’t even here.

one thing gojo knew about you is that you cared deeply about your academics, and you wouldn’t miss attendance even if you were sick. it pains him to know that he was the reason that you weren’t here today. you were avoiding him, and he felt helpless.

he’s talked to geto—and the best advice that his best friend could offer was to “find proof that you didn’t cheat on her.” he’s right, though. the last thing you had said to gojo was that you don’t know how to believe if he’s telling the truth or not. gojo has absolutely no idea how to prove his fidelity to you, since words clearly weren’t enough. it frustrates him to no end.

gojo now knows that he feels absolutely lost. all when he’s not with you.

it feels nerve-wracking to walk the halls. 

he remembers telling you the night that you slept together that he’d learned over time to drown out the rumors about him. he learned not to care about what other people thought about him, and he eventually became unaffected by the school’s gossip. 

however, this time was different.

this time, he finds it difficult to drown out the rumors when he hears your name in them. he flinches every time someone whispers your name and his as he walks the halls, feeling that all eyes are on him. “i heard y/n and gojo broke up…” “they were dating?!” “yeah.. i didn’t believe it at first, either! apparently he…”

he doesn’t want to hear it, so he walks a little faster. it hasn’t felt this suffocating to be on campus in a while.

maybe that’s partially why you didn’t show up. rumors are hard to ignore if you don’t know how to shun them out. 

gojo lets out a sigh. he decides that he’s going to ditch the rest of class. you weren’t here, he couldn’t talk to you, and he felt he was gonna go mad if he heard your name spoken by someone again, so he turns to leave, but flinches as he feels a hand lightly tap his shoulder.

“gojo-san?”

he turns around, with a girl that he’s never seen before standing in front of him… not that he pays attention to them in the first place, though. he raises his eyebrow in question, and the girl looks so nervous she might pass out. “i have to tell you something-“

“if it’s a love confession or whatever, i don’t want to hear it-“

“-no!” she flushes a deep shade of red, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes. she coughs awkwardly at his expression. “um, no.. it’s not that. please, just give me two minutes in the library. i have something to tell you.”

he decides to entertain this girl for a bit. he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t curious about what she had to talk to him for. gojo sighs and says, “two minutes. that’s all you’re getting.”

“this is about the party last friday, no?” he says while taking a seat near one of the tables. he feels sick just being here. he’d never gone to the library before meeting you–as he had no reason to go here at all. then, he started accompanying you everywhere as he tried to win your heart. “study dates” were frequent here, and he even remembers forcefully changing his contact name and number on your phone during one of your dates.

gosh, everything literally reminds him of you. he can barely live like this.

she takes a seat across from him, and she shamefully nods at his words. “i went to the party on friday, and i just want to say i’m sorry-”

gojo gets up to leave. he can’t do this. he doesn’t need anyone’s pity. pity can’t change the fact that you still won’t talk to him. she panics as gojo is about to walk away. “wait!”

the librarian tells her to quiet down, and she mutters an apology. still, she persists. “please, just wait for two minutes… i need two minutes to explain myself. you promised you’d give me that.”

she stares at gojo, who hasn’t left yet, and takes that as her opportunity to speak. “i was a friend of… her,” he doesn’t need an explanation to know who she was talking about. “the reason why she came up to you was because of a dare i told her to do. she’s had a crush on you for a while now, so of course she was willing to flirt with you.”

“um, that was the dare, by the way. my friend told me to record it, because we were all drunk, and we thought it would be funny. just another memory to laugh at in the future, right? we didn’t know you were dating the girl you were with at the party. sorry but, we assumed she was just a fling… or something… we didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”

“yeah, i was dating the girl at the party.” gojo scoffs, and he feels his anger bubbling up again. “then your friend had to do that stupid dare, and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.”

“i’m sorry-”

“i don’t need your apologies. is that why you came up to me? to apologize so you don’t feel guilty about what happened anymore?” gojo sneers. he was right, though. guilt is ridden all over her face, and she can’t even meet his eyes. he’s about to leave, thinking that this entire conversation was useless, but gojo thinks back on what she said earlier.

“...my friend told me to record it…”

he turns back to look at her, which surprises her, to say the least. “hey, you said you recorded the dare, right?”

“uhm, yes.”

“so you still have the video?”

“it should be in my camera roll somewhere-”

“if you came here to apologize to me, then you should send me that video.” she looked a little horrified at his words, and gojo could almost laugh. “what? i’m not gonna do anything bad with it, god.”

she thinks about what gojo’s intentions could be with that video, and her eyes light up in recognition as she connects the dots from what he said beforehand. i was dating the girl at the party… then your friend had to do that stupid dare… and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.

she nods in understanding. this is the least she could do for him. she pulls out her phone, looking for the video, and says, “i hope you two make up soon, gojo-san.”

gojo satoru walks- no, runs out of that library with determination. determination as he finally has the video evidence of what happened at the party–his saving grace so he could finally get you to forgive him.

you miss him.

you miss him like hell, actually, and you blink at the messages he just sent you in complete disbelief.

you didn’t show up to class today because you were afraid. you were afraid to see satoru again, yes, but you were also afraid of what everyone else would say about you. the party was one thing, but the after-effects and the rumors were something completely different. you didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that, unlike satoru, so you stayed home. all because you were afraid of what would happen on campus.

you just wish things would go back to how they were before… all of this happened. you didn’t want to admit it, but you’ve read all of satoru’s messages, and you’ve listened to all of his voicemails. you’ve cried to them. and it hurts because you’re still torn apart in the midst of your own feelings. and now, satoru wants to talk to you, because he’s been wanting to do nothing but fix everything between the two of you.

the doorbell rings, and you almost jump out of your skin. 

you didn’t even know if you would open the door or not. despite that, you felt your body moving on its own, like you were relying on your own instincts. you washed your face to get rid of the dried tears on your cheeks, brushed the tangles out of your hair, and dressed into something more presentable. the next thing you know, you’re leaning against the wall next to the front entrance. your shadow is visible underneath the door, so satoru knows that you’re here.

“hi, y/n..” he sounded so nervous that you almost laughed, but you felt equally as terrified as him. “i have something to show you… uh, on my phone. if you don’t want to see me, it’s fine, i’ll just send it to you, but i’d really prefer if you open the door and we’ll talk about this inside-”

your hand is already reaching the door knob before you can even think about it. it’s such an impulse decision that you look at him in surprise once you open the door. it’s the first time you’ve seen him ever since you were at the party. it’s only been three days, but you can’t help but notice how his eyebags are more prominent, his eyes are a little redder, and he looks nothing short of exhausted.

“hey,” he manages to breathe out, his eyes meeting yours. “can i come in? please?”

you nod, too stunned to say anything, and he exhales in relief as he walks in. the two of you sit on the couch, and gojo notices how you’re keeping your distance from him. it breaks his heart a little.

he looks for the video on his phone and gets ready to show it to you. this is it. his last ditch effort for your forgiveness. he’s really fuckin’ hoping that this works. “i got this video from a girl who came to the party. it’s a recording of, um, what happened.”

he hands the phone over to you, and you take it skeptically, still choosing to keep silent. you press play, and you watch the recording. a shaky hand holds the camera, and the person behind it says, “holy shit, she’s actually doing it!” they're presumably talking to their friend, and the camera focuses on a girl walking over to gojo. your heart is pounding, eyes widening in recognition as you stare at her... the one who caused all of this in the first place.

the all too familiar girl comes up to him, saying something out of earshot. when gojo looks at her, completely uninterested, she pulls that move. the scene you saw at the party before you ran out. tears fill your eyes again, and you almost want to stop the video, but your interest is piqued at the next part.

..this… this part was something that you didn’t see. gojo angrily reacts at the girl’s move, with her falling on the floor as she looks at him, stunned at how furious he looks. the person behind the camera gasps, continuing to record out of shock as a crowd of people turn to stare at the two. geto eventually comes into the frame and takes gojo away from all the chaos. the video ends there, and you grip gojo’s phone shakily.

holy shit.

tears roll down your face, but this time, they’re tears of relief. you waste no time in hugging satoru, crying your heart out as you bury your face in his neck. you’re happy. you’re so fucking happy, and so relieved knowing that he didn’t lie to you. of course he didn’t.

“m’sorry-” you sniffle into his shoulder. gojo is so shocked at what was happening that it takes him a second to hug you back, but when he does, he starts crying. “m’so fucking sorry i didn’t believe you-”

“shh, it’s okay, it’s okay…” he says, and you only hug him tighter. “m’so tired, you know that? these past three days fucking sucked. i’m just so glad you’re in my arms again, fuck-”

“-i love you, i love you, i love you so fucking much, toru.” you repeat, laughing as you kiss him all over his face. it’s been a while since you said that to someone. you wipe his never-ending tears away, still in disbelief, and whisper, “you’re real. right? you’re actually here with me right now ‘nd i’m not dreaming, right?

“i’m very much real, baby.” he says, putting his forehead against yours as you take in his features again. “god, i missed that pretty face so much.”

he finally closes the gap between you two, pulling you into a much needed kiss. it’s a kiss filled with so many emotions–desperation, happiness, relief. satoru thinks his heart is finally whole again. he’s missed you. he’s missed you so fucking much, and you’ve missed him too. 

you’re like an anchor to satoru. the light of his life that keeps him grounded. and god, he’s been apart from you for too long. 

you reposition yourself as you’re deepening the kiss. you’re on his lap now, and you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging on his hair in desperation. “oh yeah? ‘y gonna do anything about it?"

“of course i am,” he says, hands roaming underneath your shirt as he caresses your bare waist. fuck. he needs you. right now. especially after thinking that he was about to lose you forever–for something that he didn’t even do. “i’m gonna show you just how much i missed you, baby.”

gojo can’t let you go.

you’re in your bedroom, and both of you waste no time undressing each other. he takes you in–all of you, in awe of every crevice of your body as he trails his hands further down your waist.

god, you’re so beautiful. “i can’t believe i almost lost you.”

his words are shaky, like he’s still uncertain that you’re real and you’re in his arms again. he can’t seem to break himself away from you, almost like you’ll disappear if he lets you go. “but i’m here now, toru.”

“i’m here to stay, and i’ll never let you go again… ‘m yours,” you whisper, and your words set a fire in him, fueling his body with nothing but desperation. desperation to have you right here, and right now. 

he wastes no time in plunging two of his fingers in your cunt, and he groans at just how wet you are. “satoru-”

“fuck, you’re so wet… and it’s all for me,” he mutters, spreading your legs effortlessly when you try to close them, thighs shaking in pure pleasure. he adds another finger, and you already feel stretched to the brim, and you haven’t even taken him in yet. the thought of his cock inside of you makes you even wetter than you already are, and you look up at satoru with eyes full of lust and desire. “missed you so much, baby. missed you and your pretty little cunny,”

his fingers are long, and you whine at how full you feel right now. you’re so loud, and you don’t even care. right now, it’s just you and satoru finally feeling each other again. it’s only been three days, but it feels like you’ve been apart for years.

everything about this was filthy. from your erotic moans and the way your cunt squelched against his fingers… not to mention the vice grip you had on them- fuck, satoru thinks he can cum untouched just from watching you like this.

“haa-” you whimper when his fingers curl and hit that spot in your cunt that you can barely seem to reach on your own. it’s exhilarating, and only fuels the growing heat in your stomach. “toru- don’t stop- please, i’m close-”

“really?” he taunts, and it feels so fucking good–your head is numb, and the only thoughts filling your head are thoughts of satoru. the pleasure is too much, and you try to get away from him, but he keeps you in place, curling his fingers faster as punishment. “don’t run away from me, baby… be a good girl and just take it, yeah?”

“toru- fuck- i’m gonna cum, please-” you’re on the brink of release, but suddenly, he stops, ruining your orgasm. “no- wait-”

he pulls his fingers out, and you whine at the loss of stimulation. you were so close–why did he take that away from you? you try and swat at his hands, but he just takes his fingers and puts them in his mouth, locking his eyes with yours with a sly smile. “you taste so sweet, i can’t help it,”

“aww, is my baby mad ‘cause she didn’t get to cum?” he coos sarcastically, caging you in between his arms as he tilts your face up with his finger. “too bad… the only thing you’re cumming on tonight is on my cock.”

and with that, he eases his painfully hard member into your walls. your insides hugged him perfectly–it was like you were made just for him. you gasp once he’s fully sheathed himself inside of you. his fingers were already a lot to take in, but his cock was something completely different. he moans your name, barely keeping his cool. “fuck- you’re squeezing me so tight,”

“missed everything about you, baby. i need to hold you, please,” he pleads desperately, clasping your small hands against his. the size difference alone between the two of you almost makes him cum, but he holds himself back, choosing to bask in this intimate moment. he’s missed every part about this. “you ready f’me?-”

“-just fuck me, satoru, please-” he doesn’t need another confirmation from you.

he can’t bring himself to hold back. next thing you know, he’s fucking you into the mattress, and you feel the headboard shake at how fast satoru is going. fuck–you feel every part of him, every part of his cock as it slams against your tight hole. he’s so big, you feel yourself gasping for breath, and you moan out loud as you notice the prominent bulge forming in your stomach. it’s him, it’s all him, and it’s driving you mad.

satoru follows your eyes in the midst of all of this, and he watches everything in fascination. he decides to be a little mean, and presses his free hand against your stomach–it feels so good, you could almost scream at the pleasure. “you feel that, baby? that’s all me inside of you, hmm?”

“please-” the onset of pleasure feels so overwhelming, and tears fill your eyes. you feel an oncoming orgasm coming, and you know your release will hit you like a tidal wave. your heart is pounding, but satoru only grips your hand tighter and fucks you even harder. “oh, fuck!”

“m close, baby. are you g’na cum too?” he manages to say between pants, and you somehow nod, mind hazy and your release only coming closer. you feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “cum inside of me, toru- please- i need to feel you-”

gojo groans at your words, and you both cum together. you ride out your high, screaming as you spasm around his cock, the pleasure overfilling your senses until you’re trembling from it. he fills you up, staying inside of you as the two of you catch your breath. everything’s hazy, and you’re barely aware of your surroundings… it takes you a few minutes to recover. 

“angel, are you with me?”

“yeah, fuck, just… give me a second.” you say, and gojo thinks that he would gladly give you all the time in the world if you needed it. he pulls out of you with a hiss, and his warm seed drips out of your cunny. it makes his cock twitch, but he knows that you’re probably not considering a round two right now.

when you come to your senses, you notice satoru–who put his clothes back on already, wiping your legs down with a rag. his touch is so soft, like he’s afraid to break you, unlike how he handled you just a moment ago. you look down and notice the bruises starting to form on your legs and waist. satoru looks guilty as he stares. “i didn’t go too rough with you, did i?”

“not at all,” you reassure him, and you see him soften up a little. “it felt really good, actually… thank you, toru.”

“s nothing. you know my girl only gets the best,” he teases, and you laugh. “i’m gonna go get you some new clothes and some water… i’ll be back, okay?”

you nod, closing your eyes again as satoru leaves the room. he’s back in two minutes, and he’s gently changing you into new clothes that he found in your drawer. you’re so tired that you can hardly move, so you let satoru do all the work. he caresses all of your bruises, apologizing again even if you already said that it was okay. he’s so gentle, a swift juxtaposition to what just happened beforehand, and so soft with you. once you’re clothed again, he brings a glass of water against your lips, and you greedily gulp it down as he keeps a hand on your back. he places it on the nightstand once you’re finished, and you grab his wrist after, tugging him back to the bed. “lay with me for a bit, toru.”

satoru doesn’t hesitate, laying down next to you on the bed and placing your head against his chest. your breathing is back to normal, and you feel his heart thumping against your ear. you wrap your arms around him, and satoru thinks that this moment is so domestic that he can’t help but daydream. he looks at your face, memorizing every feature about you with a lovesick look in his eyes. you’re so beautiful, so perfect, and he’s just so fucking glad that he didn’t lose you. 

satoru thinks he could wake up to this everyday.

“you’re starin.” you say with an amused look on your face. gojo doesn’t even try to play it off. “what’s on your mind?”

“nothing. i just… love you so much, y/n.” he says, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead. satoru would trade anything if it meant that this moment wouldn’t end. “m so glad you chose me.”

“i think it’s the other way around,” you tease. “you chose me. ever since you saw me at the party, you’ve done nothing but try to win my heart.”

“how could i not? there was just something different about you compared to everyone else.” he reminisces about that night at the party, and how far he’s come with his relationship with you. he remembers that night like it just happened yesterday.

you sigh, almost like you were thinking about that night too. you pull him into a kiss, finally finding the courage within you to say a proper “i love you.” to the man who meant the world to you.

“i love you too, angel.” he says, and you snuggle into him tighter. “you know i’ll always choose you…”

“..from this life and into the next. i’m so glad you gave me a chance, y/n. i’ll forever be grateful to now be called your husband. i’m the luckiest man ever knowing that you let me into your life, and i’m the one who gets to read these vows to marry you. i cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you. i love you so much, y/n gojo.” he’s crying. gojo satoru is crying, and he’s hardly ever cried before. though, that changed after he met you.

the last time he cried was during pre-k, and now he’s done it time and time again… all because of you. he cried once during your first argument with him, another during the night he thought he’d lost you forever, and then another when he finally had you in his arms again once he proved his innocence… and now, during his wedding, when he finally gets to call you his wife.

and when you share your kiss at the end of the ceremony to symbolize your togetherness, you hear all your friends cheering. mainly shoko, utahime, and geto. if you showed this very scene to shoko during your university years, she’d call you crazy, saying this would never happen. gojo satoru was once a man who’d never willingly committed in a relationship before, but you came into his life and you changed everything about him. it was like magic.

you pull away from the kiss, wiping his tears away and whispering against his lips, drowning out the crowd, “thank you.”

for memorizing all my favorite foods so you could buy them for me. for walking me to class every day. for making me fall in love with you that one day at the park. for waiting for me to slowly love you even when i was scared to love. for waiting for me even if i didn’t trust you. for loving me. for proving those rumors wrong. for proving that satoru gojo is actually capable of falling in love and pouring his heart out to the one he loves the most.

for everything that you have done to love me.

it was like gojo could hear all of your unspoken words. he smiles, letting one more tear roll down his cheek, and says, “it’s all worth it if it’s for you.”

thanks for reading <3 -kami.

[imrllytootiredforthis]

Sub!yuta okkotsu agenda has me in a chokehold rn but there are not that many fics so could you recommend some ? 🖐️🤤

LOVE SUB YUUTA, just let me concur a list of my faves for you rq! some of these are with yuuta and maki but it's still dom reader in all of them

- weekend- maki x yuta x reader

by my bae, @stardustlixie<3, so yummy i wish i could eat it🤤

❥❥❥❥

-Photogenic and Simulator

by @tinytreatsworld, these are so damn good too, probably some of my fave sub yuuta fics

❥❥❥❥

-Granted by fate and bunnyboy, also unnamed (virgin yuuta)

by @darlingpwease

❥❥❥❥

-Chew toy and Guilty pleasure

by @starrierknight 

❥❥❥❥

-unnamed (fic abt yuuta sucking a strap😫) and Like a girl

by @mysicklove, i literally died and came back to life multiple times while reading these, good lord😫

❥❥❥❥

-his girlfriend (also maki x yuuta x reader) and shy horny yuuta (the audio-the fucking audio)

by @entirelytoooobsessed 

❥❥❥❥

-unnamed (fic abt eating out afab yuuta w a new tongue piercing)

by @kokonoihell (legit never felt so sad to have a tongue piercing without yuuta to hold his legs up and let me use it on him😔)

❥❥❥❥

-

there definitely a whole lot more amazing fics out there with sub yuuta, these are just some of my favourites that i have liked, reblogged or in my drafts that i thought i reblogged but never did😭

[starzgaze]

SCRAPPED: MANA OVERLOAD

"what happens if there was a sudden influx in mana that could twist with a hunter's sanity? well i might be able to answer that!"

scenario/ramble: behold my scrapped art of the concept i had ahahahhahahahah I actually have jinchul and thomas in my drafts but like i hate how they ended up SOOOO anyway here!!! I'll ramble a bit on the three because it feels way too weird to also include thomas and jinchul because they're... not there so yeah anyway this was supposed to be around the concept of mana overload and how this screw up their psyche and YOU will be acting as a researcher who will help to facilitate them because higher ups said so! anyway the main idea is two of them (jinchul and hae-in) would be 'cured' or whatevr.. but they used to be patients they were just given jobs on the facility just to prove themselves and blah blah which is why u shouldn't trust hae-in or even jinchul for the matter.. erm and of course we have the national hunters who r complete psychos and the main reason why ure there LMAOO you can try to guess which one of them threatened the department to put you in their block but it's one of them for sure!! okay anyway if uve read allat tysm anyway ill work on something else and hibernate again baiaiai ALSO!!! U MIGHT WANNA CHECK REBLOGS CAUSE CAUSE i add doodles so hehe pls 🙏

also ignore ugly layout I've been struggling how to organize it and I HATE ITTTT don't mention it to me please i swear I'll compensate by writing a fic or making something else pls.... 😭

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

The Plan [Marcus Pike x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: The Mentalist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x you/cishet f!reader. Reader is fat/overweight but this is never explicitly mentioned. Also, reader is a lawyer. (I know nothing about lawyering.)

Tags/Warnings: Sad Marcus, alcohol mention, one night stands, fellatio mention, neighbours with benefits, safe sex, squirting, cunnilingus, reader has a difficult relationship with her family, mad dash through the airport at Christmas, trauma dumping (Marcus coming clean about his disappointment after Lisbon dumped him).

Summary: A drunken one night stand with your cute new neighbour Marcus Pike eventually leads to more. Takes place after his story arc in the show.

Words: 7,895

A/N: My first Marcus Pike fic, and also I finished a goddamn fic! There is so much cause for celebration here, folks. Remember to comment and reblog: sharing is caring.

Shout-out to @missredherring and @pazizz who read drafts and helped me forward with this story <3

Marcus Pike does not have a bitter disposition. He does not sulk, or harbor resentment. It's just not in his nature.

Until now.

There is just something so unforgivable, incomprehensible, wrong about the way Teresa Lisbon left him. She called him to say she was coming to D.C., that she would marry him, and two hours later she called again to inform him that she wasn't. That she was in love with Patrick Jane. That asshole.

Marcus has been divorced, and not even that made him spiral as hard as the breakup from Teresa. It just hit harder, because he had fallen so hard for her, for the way she dipped her gaze and chin when a smile broke out on her lips, before looking back up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. He fell for her sense of humor, her intelligence, the way it was so easy to be with her. And he really thought that she fell for him in the same way. Maybe she did - but Jane was there, in the background, confusing her, wooing her with one last big, desperate gesture. If Marcus had known that all it took to keep Teresa was to get himself arrested, he would've done that instead of bringing her takeout at work, making her morning coffee just as she liked it, loaning her his jacket when she was cold during that date, all the thousands of little things that he did for her, that he loved doing for her because he loved her so much that doing those things weren't a chore, they weren't planned, they were an honest, spontaneous expression of his feelings for her.

And then, one big, desperate gesture that rendered Marcus's all small, everyday gestures moot. And it pisses him off.

Practicality kicked in as a form of survival. He quickly cancelled the purchase of the house he had Teresa had picked out, found a condo instead, moved in with his things, and threw himself into his work. Most of the boxes were left unpacked. His place didn't feel like a home because he couldn't let it. He was supposed to share one with Teresa, and now there was just him, surrounded by moving boxes that he had to deal with but couldn't, wouldn't. What should've been a house for the two of them - maybe more in the future? - with a little garden, walls impregnated with love and excitement for a life together, sunlight through the window during long weekend mornings of slow breakfasts, putting up Christmas decorations together, all those things that he was looking forward to. Now he has a bachelor pad, in a fancy apartment building with a doorman, but a sad bachelor pad all the same. The furniture is more or less where it should be, but he hasn't bothered to plan that much. The kitchen table is too big, but he's not in any condition to sell it off and buy a new one. The bookcases are half full, and his artwork is still unhung. He really tried there, but the first painting he got his hands on was one that he had seen before him in the spacious yet cozy living-room in That House, with the fireplace, and suddenly no wall in his apartment was good enough. So he put the painting away, and the rest were left packed down.

He even started going out after work, when he couldn't stay any longer but didn't want to go home. He found a watering hole to his liking, and became a regular, nursing one whiskey after another until he could go home and fall into bed for a deep, dreamless sleep.

It's after one of those nights that he finds you, his neighbor, trying to open his front door with your key. Your clumsy yet meticulous movements tell him that you're intoxicated, and there is something endearing about the way you're frowning, the tip of your tongue sticking out the side of your mouth as you focus on sticking in the key that doesn't fit.

When Marcus comes closer, you notice him, and look up. Quickly registering that it's the workaholic neighbor that you rarely see, you just nod, and go back to trying to open the door.

"That's my door," he says, and you look up again.

"What's that?"

"That's my door. You're trying to get into my apartment."

You frown, your hand holding the key falling to your side as you process his words. You then squint at the number of the door, taking a few seconds to realize that this is, indeed, not your front door.

"Oops," you mutter, then grimace apologetically at your neighbor. "Well, this isn't embarrassing at all."

"Don't worry about it," he shrugs, fishing his own key from his pocket. You step to the side to give him access to the door, and when he stands right next to you, you can smell his cologne, sophisticated and with a hint of bergamot.

He eyes you, just as drunk as you are.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Late night. You?"

"Same." He looks so tired when he says it, but you can tell that there is a dimple aching to appear in his cheek. His face, bleary though it is, is handsome, and looks like it was made for smiling.

"What is it you do again?" you ask. You've exchanged pleasantries with him when he first moved in, but you never had the time or mental capacity to actually remember who he is.

"FBI, I investigate art theft."

"Ah, right." Yeah, that's it, something so unusual and random that one couldn't make it up. Then again, D.C. is full of people who do stuff you only hear about in movies.

"Marcus," he offers his hand, and you take it, and give him your name.

"And what is it that you do?"

"Law. I work with government contracts and related investigations at a law firm here in D.C."

"Sounds complicated."

You shrug. "I'm smart enough."

"You look good, too."

You scoff. "Are you coming on to me?"

"I'm trying." Now the smile breaks through, lighting up his whole face. Gods, but he's cute.

"Okay." You make the decision quickly, nodding at his door. "Looks like I picked the right door, after all."

Marcus unlocks the door and opens it for you.

His head is pounding, and his mouth is dry when he wakes up. For a moment, he doesn't know what day it is, what he's supposed to do, or what happened last night, but then the flashbacks start to put things together. The flirty neighbor. Her naked skin. Her alcohol-fuming kisses.

He turns his head and sees you, still asleep next to him. Oh, okay.

Sitting up slowly, he gets his bearings before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Clothes are strewn over the floor. Right next to the bed is a used condom, tied up and looking sad and abandoned. Okay, good, at least he remembered to use protection. He picks it up and takes it to the bathroom, where he disposes of it before washing his hands and face.

He hears the rustle of bedsheets, and returns to the bedroom, realizing that he's naked. You might not want to be greeted by a naked stranger first thing. Looking around for his underwear, he's nevertheless too slow in finding them: you're already sitting up and rubbing your forehead.

He clears his throat. "Good morning."

Your smile is a little lopsided. "Morning."

"You want breakfast?" Marcus immediately offers, wanting to do the gentlemanly thing before he sends you off so that he can take about ten aspirins, and go to work. "And I'll put out a clean towel for you so that you can use the shower."

"Appreciate it, but I live right next door," you point out as you get out of bed. You're as naked as he is, and Marcus tries very hard not to ogle your body for what he suspects will be the last time.

"I don't mind."

"Thanks, but I have to get to work." You pick up and put on your panties, bra, skirt, shirt. Marcus spots his boxer briefs, and pulls them on.

"Okay, well... I had a good time."

"I did too."

Now you're standing right in front of him, buttoning up your silk shirt. Even with your makeup smudged out, and terrible morning breath, you look really nice.

"I gotta ask you something, though, because my memory is a little... hazy." Your cheekbones seem to glow, and he realizes that you're blushing.

"Yeah?"

"I sucked your dick, didn't I?"

Marcus feels the heat rise to his ears. "Um... well... yes, you did."

"Well?"

"What?"

"Did I do it well?"

"I think so."

You grin at him. "You don't remember much either, do you?"

"It was all consensual, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that." You surprise him by placing your hand on his naked chest. His heart skips a beat, and he hopes that you won't notice.

"I really have to go, but maybe I'll see you again soon?" you ask softly, and Marcus finds himself relaxing.

"I'd like that."

You even kiss him good-bye, a quick, closed-mouth peck to keep morning breaths from mixing, before you grab your shoes, your purse (muttering under your breath about several emails, and two missed calls), and head over next door.

Marcus, still only wearing his underwear, looks thoughtfully at the closed door for a long while before going into the kitchen with the too big table to make coffee.

Work occupies most of your waking hours, six days a week, often seven. You don't see Marcus again for weeks, don't hear any sounds from his apartment during the hours you're home and awake. Barely having time to think about him, your thoughts nevertheless stray to him when you're standing in the shower or going to bed at night. You haven't been able to fit a boyfriend into your life in a long time, and casual hook-ups have rarely left you satisfied, but even with your hazy memories of the night with Marcus, you left his apartment that morning with a feeling that it was good. So that's where your thoughts go when you touch yourself, the few times you have the energy to do so.

One Friday night, after a long but satisfying week that ended with a contract being accepted as it was, which meant you could have a weekend with only a couple of hours of work from home, you're hurrying home with Chinese takeout in a bag. Looking forward to a quiet night in front of the TV, with an early morning at the gym the following day, you run into Marcus on your way into your apartment building.

"Hi," you smile, immediately noticing how he seems to square his shoulders when he sees you. "Going out?"

"Yeah," he nods, moving his weight from one foot to the other as he takes in your food bag. "And you're staying in?"

"Finally, a Friday night without work," you acknowledge. Marcus's smile lets you know that he knows about that all too well.

"Enjoy."

"You too, you going somewhere nice?"

"No, I mean... I'm just going by myself."

There is something so despondent about the way he averts his eyes when confessing to going out alone. You're not in a position to start saving people, but you see an opening here.

"Join me for dinner instead, Marcus."

"I don't want to bother you."

"It's no bother," you shake your head, now moving towards the elevator while beckoning him to follow you. "Come on, before the food gets cold. There's enough here for two, I always buy extra."

He hesitates for only a split second, you can see it in how his body seems to pull him away, out to some sad bar with too much to drink. Instead, he nods, smiles softly, and follows you. He insists on bringing a bottle of wine from his place, and you accept.

You find out more about him that night, as you share your takeout with him, and he shares his wine. He tells you of heartache, only summarily, clearly not wanting you to feel sorry for him, but you can tell that he's been torn up about the "amicable" break-up. He also mentions that he's been married, and you wonder what's wrong with him. He seems perfectly nice and normal, why hasn't he been able to keep a woman? To his credit, he never complains about nice guys finishing last, only states that maybe he's meant to focus on his career.

"There's a lot to be said about having a good career," you agree. Marcus sips his wine with a small smile.

"Work doesn't break your heart."

"That, too."

"I take it you don't have a partner who'll suddenly come home to find me in his kitchen?" he jokes lightly, but you recognize the question for what it is: he wants to know if you're Seeing Anyone.

"Not one for relationships," you shrug.

"You don't long for anyone to snuggle up with in front of the TV on a Friday night?"

"I don't have time. And they never seem to understand that. Or they're working, too." You pick at the scraps in your takeout box with the chopsticks. "And I seem to attract douchebags. Dunno if it comes with the field in which I work. I always seem to go out with terrible lawyer guys."

Marcus chuckles. "Their loss."

"I miss having sex, though." You look him in the eye, and his tongue slides over his lower lip, catching some runaway sauce.

"Yeah?"

You nod, and feel your cheeks heat up. You're a no-nonsense person, but not always this forward with men. But it's easy with Marcus. He takes it all in stride, doesn't seem to think you're aggressive, or slutty, he just smiles and tells you that he misses sex too.

"But what we had was okay, though?" he adds. "Even if neither one of us seems to remember it that well."

"It was," you agree, raising the glass to your lips and draining the rest of the wine. After putting it back down, you tilt your head and bite your lower lip.

"You wanna do it again? Now that we're sober and all?"

"I'm a little tipsy," he warns you with a chuckle, "But I'm in."

Both of you get up at the same time, chairs scraping the floor simultaneously in the kitchen that mirrors his own but has a table that fits it. All of your apartment just fits in a way his half-assed dwelling doesn't. He realizes that it's because your apartment is a home, decorated and lived-in, warm colors and fabrics, Scandinavian wallpapers in bold but tasteful patterns that he himself would never consider but that feel right here.

You step up to him, snugly fitting yourself to his frame, and place your hands on his narrow hips as you kiss him. The two glasses of wine that you've had have laid a warm, cozy blanket over your busy mind, and now you're fully focused on Marcus, whose soft, plump lips are meeting yours as his arms go around your waist.

You make your way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes as you kiss and get undressed, get undressed and kiss. The bed in unmade, you just threw the covers to the side when you got up this morning. Wearing only your underwear, you lay down, pull Marcus over you, rake your fingers through his hair, moan when he palms your plump tits through the bra.

"Tell me what you like," he asks you hoarsely. You hum when he scatters kisses along the lace trim of your bra.

"That's a good start."

He hums back as he pops your tits out of your bra and lick around the nipples.

"Go on," he asks, and a shiver runs down your spine at the low barytone of his voice. You reach around to unhook your bra, and Marcus takes it off you and flings it to the side before burying his face between your breasts.

"You eat pussy?" you ask him breathlessly, and he looks up at you.

"Of course."

"Not everybody does," you wink, and he shakes his head.

"Their loss."

He's in a hurry, you note, but it's endearing in an unexpected way. When he pulls down your panties and gets settled, your legs over his shoulders, you remember to give him a warning.

"I, uh, I don't orgasm from oral, just so you know."

"Really?" His breath is hot against your folds, but he's looking up at you with attentive eyes.

"Yeah. It's not a comment on your skills, I just need you to know it," you shrug, accustomed to always having to tread carefully around the matter. Too many men get offended or take it as a challenge.

"Thanks for telling me," Marcus smiles in a way that's way too innocent and adorable for a man who's got his face inches away from your pussy. "But do you really want me to...?"

"Oh God, yes!" you reassure him. "I enjoy it a lot, and it gets me wet. I just can't cum, I need vaginal stimulation for that."

"You got it," he pats your thigh lightly before his tongue connects with your folds, and your eyes fall shut as you hand yourself over to the pleasure, to Marcus's deftly dancing tongue. He's good, he's attentive and eager, yet you don't get the feeling that he's trying to prove you wrong, to make you orgasm. Lord knows men have tries that in the past, and it's just stressful. No, he just seems to enjoy your moans, the way you writhe and grab his hands, the twitches of your pelvis when he does something extraordinary.

"Goddddd, Marcus, that's so fucking good..." you wail when he alternates between sucking your clit and licking it with a quick tongue. He's getting louder, sloppier, and you know you're dripping. Your clit is throbbing, and you know this is the perfect time to speed things up. You push him away, your thighs closing around his head, and Marcus retreats, chin glistening as he licks his lips.

"You okay?" he wants to know. You nod, breathless and with a pounding heart.

"Need to fuck you."

He scrambles up for a deep kiss, wet and lewd, before you push him over to get a condom from your nightstand. He drapes himself over you as you stretch across the bed, and peppers your back with kisses, like he's unable to stay away from you. You roll around, finding yourself caged between his strong arms, and you pull him down for more kissing with lips swollen and dry but still wanting more.

"How do you want me?" he gasps between the kisses as you pull down his underwear and paw at his small butt.

"Can I be on top?"

He rolls over onto his back immediately, watching you with open-mouth excitement when you remove his shorts and put on the rubber. When you finally sink down on his length, his fingers dig into your thighs as his breath hitches.

"Oh, that feels good..."

"Uh-huh," you sigh, staying still for a moment to adjust to his cock inside of you. You smile inwardly as you find yourself thinking about just how perfectly sized it is: thick but not too long.

"What?"

Your eyes open to find Marcus grinning at you.

"What what?" you grin back. He caresses your hips slowly.

"You looked like you had something to say."

"I was just thinking about what a perfect, gorgeous dick you have."

His cheeks turn pink. "Thank you. It came with the body."

You chuckle and start a slow grind, hips moving lazily back and forth as you seek out the right spots, the right rhythm. Finding it, you plant your hands on Marcus's chest and let out a low moan as you go slightly faster.

"That right for you?" he huffs, sitting up to catch a nipple in his mouth.

"Mmmfuckyes..."

You drop your hand to where your bodies meet, fingers seeking out your clit. Pleasure zaps through your body when you rub it, and you clench tightly around Marcus, causing him to dig his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips, both of you groaning.

"So good," he gripes, soothing the sting of his fingertips by rubbing his palms over the affected areas before he moves his fingers to your front. "Need a hand?"

"'m good," you gasp, your free arm slinging around his neck. You clench around him again, and Marcus's hips jut upwards, slamming into you with a force that makes you choke.

"Fuck! God, Marcus, that was..."

"Can we try something?" he pants, pulling you in for a kiss. "Please?"

"Okay?" you frown, a little frustrated at being interrupted, but Marcus gestures for you to rise, so you do as he asks, and let him pull you down with him.

"Get on top of me again, but lie down," he instructs you. You must look doubtful because he immediately adds:

"Just try it, if you don't like it, we can go back to what you were doing."

"I'll try anything once," you shrug, and get on top of him again, this time with your back turned to him. Marcus pulls you down, positioning you on top of him, legs spread, his own legs on the outside of yours. You hesitate for a second, the reality of your weight sometimes haunting your mind, but Marcus insists.

"Just come here, baby," he tells you softly, so you let him take your weight. One of his arms sneaks up the side of your ribcage to cup a breast. With the other, he guides himself into you, pushing himself in with an upward thrust of his hips. You choke on your breath and let your head hang back on his shoulder, one arm seeking a position to support you, the other coming around Marcus's neck when he presses a toothy kiss to your neck. He thrusts into you again, fingers playing with your nipple, and then his other hand comes to rub your clit.

You keen at the sudden intensity, back arching on top of him, and he plants his feet more firmly on the mattress.

"Fuck," you gasp, "that's good, Marcus, this is good..."

He sucks a kiss to your neck, his teeth stinging just a little, and your legs kick in search of a hold so that you can stay just above him. He slips out, and you whimper.

"Relax," he soothes you, thumb abandoning your clit to instead guide himself back into you. "Put your weight on me, I can take it."

You follow his instructions, back sinking down onto his chest and stomach, pelvis angling slightly to help him stay inside you. His fingers return to tease your clit, and your head falls back onto his shoulder as he settles into a rhythm that makes your toes curl.

"That's it," he praises you, his breath hot against your ear. "Just like that, take it, just enjoy it, let me take care of you."

The slow drag of his cock against your slick walls is maddening in how it pushes at your spot but leaves you wanting more. You buck your hips down eagerly.

"Faster, please, Marcus."

He obeys immediately, moaning at how you immediately clench around him. Your fingers thread through his hair, the other hand fists into the sheets. The pressure on that one spot inside you is growing in intensity, insanely, perfectly, knocking your breath out with each jab of Marcus's cock against it. Your moans become whimpers, a moan too complex a sound for you at this point, when you are so close, so utterly close to the climax that you now need as much as you need air -

The release floods your body and your cunt, and for a split second you're horrified at the wet feeling on your thighs, the rippling sound, until you realize that you squirted. A half moan, half giggle escapes you as you press your thighs together as if to lock in the orgasm that pulsates through your cunt and lower belly. Marcus gasps an excited Fuck, yes before bucking up a couple of errant times, and then relaxing down. He kisses your temple, drags his soaked fingers up over your soft belly, making you squirm.

"Sorry," he murmurs throatily. You murmur something back and slide down next to him. Everything between your legs seems wet and now cold, but you're still prickling all over with excitement.

Marcus heaves a deep sigh before turning his face to you. "That was so hot."

"I didn't know I could do that with a man."

"You haven't before?"

You shake your head. Marcus smiles softly.

"I'm honored. Was it good?"

"Yeah. How about you?"

"So fucking good."

You smile back at him before turning your face back towards the ceiling, and taking a deep breath that you sigh out audibly. Your body relaxes quickly, a muscle in your lower back mutters about the position you just were in, but you feel extremely good, and wrung out in a fantastic way. In the corner of your eye, you catch Marcus taking the condom off, before getting up to take it to the trash. When he returns, he looks around, looking for his clothes. You roll over onto your side.

"You don't have to leave, you know," you tell him quietly. Marcus stops, boxers in hand.

"Yeah?"

"I mean... don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for a relationship," you hurry to assure him. "But I wouldn't mind you staying over. Unless you have plans?"

"I don't."

He drops the boxers, and slides back into bed, next to you. You smile a little wryly.

"The sheets are wet. I'll change them, feel free to grab a shower.

"Soon," Marcus tells you, low voice heavy with a calm confidence. "I suggest we wet them a little more first."

Your deal with Marcus is simple and beautiful: sex, with or without staying the night. The occasional take-out dinner. Quickies when you run into each other in the corridor outside your front doors, with ten minutes to spare. It's undemanding, friendly, mutually satisfying. Uncomplicated, with no romantic feelings involved, so nobody can get hurt.

Marcus is an active lover who smoothly takes charge. Not bossy, but firm and empathic, and not afraid of using aids of different kinds to raise your orgasms to the next level. He's not opposed to fucking you fully clothed in the morning and leaving you wanting as you go to work with his cold cum in your panties, shot there after he removed the rubber after fucking you.

It is, in short, the perfect set-up.

Fall passes by, and you see yourself forced to fly out to see your family over Thanksgiving. You spend as much time as you can working in your childhood room, however. Your parents do not understand your choice of profession, your mother does not see how a woman of your age has chosen to be childless. Your older brother knocked his girlfriend up at sixteen, your younger sister was married at eighteen and divorced at twenty-eight. You love them, but you don't have a lot in common with them, and even if your siblings at least pretend to understand your life choices, their contempt steeped in jealousy of your life shines through at times. Your parents choose to simply ignore the life you have built for yourself in D.C., talking instead about Mrs. McCall next door, Annie down the street, Cybil in town, Kearney at the gas station, as if you knew any of them or cared about what they said about Kayleigh's twins.

You endure for two nights, and text Marcus from the airport, before boarding: I'll be home after nine tonight. You free?

He replies almost immediately: I'll pick you up at the airport.

You text him the flight number before turning off your phone, settling for a three-hour nap in lieu of working.

When you finally land, puffy-faced but breathing freely now that you're back in the city you call home, Marcus is waiting for you in arrivals. The way his smile lights up his eyes when he sees you makes your heart miss a beat. There is something there that's beyond what the two of you have, something much more sincere.

You shake it off and smile back as you walk up to him. He leans forward, like he's about to kiss you, but ends up giving you an awkward half-hug.

"Welcome home."

"Thanks. And thank you for picking me up."

"My pleasure."

The two of you turn and start walking towards the exit. Marcus offers to take your carry-on wheelie bag, but you decline, accustomed as you are to carrying your own luggage yourself.

In the car, he asks you how your Thanksgiving was.

"As holidays at my parents' usually are. One night would've been enough."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. It's just..." You rub your forehead. "Whenever I visit, I feel trapped. Everything back home is... small. People are kind, yes, but they're small-minded. The town is small. The spaces in which to move, physically and mentally, are small. And I feel like some kind of big city snob who comes to visit twice a year, scoffs at their very ordinary and, as far as I know, happy lives, and then flies back to my vegan frappuccinos and twenty-four-hour sushi restaurants."

Marcus chuckles low. "I think I know what you mean. But it's hard for me to imagine that you'd be a snob about anything."

"I probably am. But I... I don't know, I outgrew that town when I was fifteen. Couldn't get out fast enough. And I don't like going back."

"Does your family support your choices?"

You shrug. "Yes and no. Mom and dad are proud, I guess, but at the same time they don't have any idea what it is that I do. 'If you wanted to be a lawyer, couldn't you be one here? Where it's not as stressful and you could start a family, and work normal hours?' As if I could practice the law I'm interested in over there."

"What's the most common type of lawyer in your hometown?"

"General practitioners who do a little bit of everything, wills mostly. And there are three, I think."

"Wow."

"Exactly."

The conversation turns to other subjects as Marcus drives the two of you to your apartment building. As he parks in his spot in the underground garage, you place your hand onto his thigh. He turns off the engine and looks at you.

"Thanks for picking me up," you tell him quietly. His hand comes to rest on top of yours.

"No problem."

"You have any plans for tonight?"

He shakes his head, then leans forward over the middle console as you reach across the same for a kiss. His fingers thread into your hair before closing around the back of your head to bring you in, and you sigh softly against his lips as you feel the rest of the pressure from your Thanksgiving visit melt away. If the town you grew up in felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable, D.C. and Marcus feel like home. And there's nothing you want to do more now than be with Marcus in this city.

You break the kiss and lower your gaze to his fly, where your fingers are already working on unzipping him. Marcus exhales in an audible sigh.

"You missed me that much?"

"Don't get any ideas," you warn him before bowing down over his lap.

Later, when you are freshly showered, and lying awake in Marcus's bed with him deeply asleep next to you, you wonder when his presence at night became such a comfort for you.

Marcus visits his parents over Christmas. You manage to convince yours that you're way too busy and the holidays too short for you to fly out. Settling in for a couple of days off work, you plan to go to the gym, meet friends, and maybe finally get through that book you started three months ago. You plan for simple yet delicious meals and come home with bags full of groceries and bottles of wine that you balance in your arms as you're digging for the keys in your pocket.

"Lemme get that."

Marcus appears by your side, taking a grocery bag from you.

"Thanks."

You manage to let yourself in, and Marcus follows you to the kitchen, where he leaves the bag on the table.

"Hi," he smiles. There is something so endearing about this man, his smile lights up the whole room, you can't possibly keep from smiling back at him.

"Hi. I thought you already left for the airport?"

"Just on my way now. Glad I caught you."

"Oh?" You unbutton your coat, unwrap the scarf from around your neck. "What's up?"

"Just... I wanted to see you before I left. Wish you happy holidays."

"Right." You take off your coat and leave it over the back of a kitchen chair. "Well... happy holidays, Marcus. I hope you have a nice weekend with your parents."

"Thanks." He clears his throat, looks down and scratches the back of his head. "Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve?"

"Not that I know of."

"Do you maybe... want to do something?"

"Sure," you nod, a warmth spreading in your belly. "Like, dinner?"

"I was thinking Hirschhorn? You said you were curious about their special exhibit. Then dinner, and maybe a movie, if you're not opposed to spending so much time with me at once?"

You feel your cheeks heat up a little. "I don't mind at all. That sounds lovely."

His smile widens, his warm eyes glitter. "Great. I'll get back to you as soon as I return."

He kisses your cheek before leaving, his hand resting momentarily on your arm. When he closes the door behind him, the apartment feels empty.

That emptiness stays with you over the holidays. You're enjoying the time off, yes, and downright cherish not having to spend time with your family. You were looking forward to Christmas eve drinks with a couple of friends but are disappointed when they only talk about holiday preparations, gift shopping, and visiting in-laws. The detachment makes you annoyed. It's not that you want that kind of life, you don't want kids and a house and Thanksgiving dinners and all of that. But there doesn't seem to be any alternatives. You get the feeling that they feel sorry for you, that they think you should look up from your laptop once in a while, go dating, settle down, maybe work less.

Always work less. You love your job so much, maybe you won’t forever, but right now you do, and it doesn’t feel taxing when it gives you the gratification it does.

You grab a cab home, earlier than you thought and morose for not getting the carefree night you had planned for. Maybe it's your own fault for thinking that people with families wouldn't have changed.

You weigh your phone in your hand for a couple of blocks before texting Marcus.

Hope you're having a better time than I am. Just getting home after drinks, and realized I have nothing in common with my friends anymore :/

You regret the text as soon as you've sent it. It sounds whiny, and you know that you're being unfair to your friends. But Marcus replies almost immediately:

Sorry to hear that. Wish I was there to make you feel better.

You smile, and your heart skips a beat. He always knows what to say.

It is what it is. Early night for me.

He replies with a Santa emoji that makes you chuckle.

Too old for Santa, you type back. Or too naughty. Either way, he's not coming.

Only man who should come in your apartment is me ;)

You stare at the message, cheeks heating as you lick your lips. Your brain scrambles for an answer to match his tone.

I'll be the judge of that, mister. If you're away for too long, I might get lonely.

The reply comes almost immediately.

I'll be back before you know it.

Your heart is fluttering like a butterfly inside your ribcage, and you react with a thumb up to the last message. For the rest of the cab ride, you're chewing on your lower lip while looking out the window, decorated windows racing past you as the cab driver navigates towards your apartment building.

You fall asleep in front of the TV and are awakened by a text.

You up?

You rub your eyes, realize that you're still wearing makeup, and curse low.

It's two am.

Marcus's name immediately lights up on the phone, and you answer the call.

"What's up?"

"Sorry to wake you."

"That's fine, I was on the couch. Gotta schlep my ass to bed," you yawn as you turn off the TV, and stand up, scratching your head.

"I'm outside."

"What?"

"I'm outside your door."

You frown, trying to understand what he's saying. "What are you doing there?"

"Just open?"

Call still active and phone held to your ear, you walk over to the front door, and unlock it. And there Marcus is, holding his phone but lowering his hand and ending the call while smiling wryly at you.

"Hi."

"What... why aren't you at your parents'?" you stutter, still holding the phone like you're talking to him through it.

"Because I can't do this at my parents'." He steps up to you, cups your cheek, and brings his lips to yours. His face is cold, so you understand that he has just arrived from the airport. Your sleep-riddled brain still doesn't understand, and Marcus breaks the kiss, breathing softly against your lips before drawing back.

"Did I... fuck this up now?"

You lick your lips and realize that you're feeling calm and steady in a way you no longer do when he's not around. You grab him by the jacket lapel and pull him in through the door.

"No," you reply, a shiver running through you when he puts his arms around you. "No, you did just the right thing."

You don't use your tub as often as you would like to, yet it was one of the main reasons why you bought your apartment. It's spacious, has gorgeous vintage style brass faucets, and is placed by the window, from which you can see the park, now wearing a white winter coat of snow, on the other side of the street. The shower booth is at the back wall of the bathroom and your busy lifestyle has you favoring quick showers instead of long, luxurious baths.

Now, however, you're stretched out languidly in Marcus's arms, the back of your head on his shoulder, his hairy thighs pressing up against you on either side. The water is hot and scented with oils, and if the orgasms you had before getting out of bed hadn't relaxed you, this would definitely take away the last vestiges of stress knotting your muscles.

"This is a really nice tub," Marcus mumbles into your ear, his hand running up the inside of your arm, resting on the edge of the tub. "Wish I had one."

"You're welcome to use mine," you smile, just as his hand disappears into the water, finding your breast and cupping it, thumb lazily stroking the nipple.

"I like your apartment better anyway," he admits. "Mine doesn't feel like a home."

"That's just because you haven't unpacked."

He raises his shoulders in a shrug. "Been busy."

"Doesn't help much that you're fucking me every time you're off work."

“One could even say it’s your fault I haven’t unpacked,” he muses, lips touching your temple. You shake your head, hand finding his and leading it away from your breast.

“Nuh-uh, you don’t get to pin this on me.” There is no vehemence in your voice, and even if Marcus can’t see your face, he can plainly hear the smile threatening to break out.

“I had to try.”

You bring your hand back to your chest, and sigh when his fingers brush over your nipple. It would be so easy to just let things slide, enjoy his hands, his mouth, his cock that’s resting softly against your lower back… But your interest is piqued.

“Why haven’t you unpacked, Marcus?” you ask quietly. “I’ve seen that you have painting just waiting to be hung on the walls and given how much you like to criticize my dentist’s office artwork from Ikea, I can’t imagine why you haven’t done more to decorate your apartment.”

His hand stills, and you feel him swallow. He clears his throat, sighs, clearly stalling, but you don’t show mercy. You want to know.

“I guess… I thought I’d be making a home with someone. And when that didn’t happen, I didn’t like the idea anymore.”

You braid your fingers with his, the water gently rippling with your movement.

“Your ex?”

“Yeah. Teresa.”

“What happened?” He’s mentioned some tragic breakup but never specified, and you’ve never asked. Now, however, you’re asking. You want this puzzle piece to fit right, want to know everything there is to know about Marcus Pike.

“I don’t want to burden you with that…”

“I want to know, Marcus.”

He hesitates, but eventually tells you how his ex, a smart, beautiful woman that he fell head over heels for and eventually proposed to, accepted his proposal over the phone but called again thirty minutes later to tell him that she was leaving him for a coworker. Marcus had been transferred to D.C., had asked Teresa to come with, had a plan for a life together, and she turned out to be in love with a coworker: a charming, unreliable man who worked out an elaborate scheme to make her choose him instead of Marcus.

You’re shocked to silence when he stops talking, an array of emotions simmering inside you. When Marcus speaks your name, the first one to burst is anger.

“What a cunt!”

Marcus sputters your name, but you don’t feel bad.

“You know I’m right!”

“No need for language like that,” he protests, but you can sense a change in him. It’s like something’s loosened in him. Even if you can’t see his face in this position, you can feel it in how his body feels against yours.

“I’m sorry, but that behavior is despicable. And from what you’ve told me about that asshole that she went with because of you, I’d say they deserve each other.”

He shrugs. “Or maybe I was too pushy. We didn’t date for long before I asked her to marry me. I should’ve given her more time.”

You turn around in his arms so that you can meet his flickering gaze. Raising your hand to his cheek, you caress the slightly scratchy surface that sorely needs a razor.

“If it feels right, it feels right,” you tell him softly. “There’s no shame in being open and honest about your feelings, Marcus.”

He blinks, and for a second you think his eyes look shiny. His lower jaw moves as he swallows.

“Thank you,” he eventually mumbles. “I don’t want to sound like I’m making excuses but… I did feel I was being straight with her. And she… really fucking hurt me.”

“Yeah, she did.”

His stare is suddenly relentless.

“Will you? Hurt me, I mean?”

You feel nothing but calm. “Marcus, I like you a lot. This is more than just sex now. But I won’t marry you in six months, and I don’t need you to have a plan for us. I like my job, I have a good career that I won’t give up. I don’t want kids, but I like being with you, and I want to keep being with you, not just have sex but do other stuff with you.”

He smiles at that and casts his eyes down. You lean forward to press a small kiss to his lips.

“And I will help you to unpack your shit, and I will come with you to get a new kitchen table tomorrow when the stores open. Because that huge monster you have jamming up your kitchen has got to go.”

“Not tomorrow,” he immediately tells you, and you quirk an eyebrow. “Because tomorrow I’m taking you to the museum, out for a meal, and then we’re watching Casablanca.”

You chuckle. “It’s a deal.”

He pulls you in for a deeper kiss, water splashing when his arms go around you.

“For the record,” he murmurs against your lips, “I like you too.”

“That’s a relief,” you smile, before a gasp escapes your lips; Marcus’s hand has slid down your soft stomach to the apex of your thighs, and one finger is slowly circling your clit.

“Open your legs,” he whispers, breath almost scorching your cheek that is already warm from the water and your rising desire. You move around, legs and hips repositioning themselves so that he can cup his big hand over your sex.

“Marcus,” you breathe in a low moan, “I already came twice this morning…”

“And you’ll come a third time,” he promises as he slides a finger inside your warm heat, rolling a nipple between two fingers of his other hand. You curl your arm back and around his neck, seek his lips for more kisses, push down against his hardening cock to make him gasp into your mouth. Thumb on your clit, he adds a second finger to your pussy, fucking you slowly as you exchange moans along with your kisses. Your hips jut upwards when he hits the right spot, and then he stays on it, water splashing over the edges of the tub when he goes increases speed. Your hand dives underneath the surface to find his cock, and a strangled moan travels from Marcus’s mouth to yours when your fingers close around the stiff length. When he slows down, so do you, when he fucks you faster, your hand works him faster.

The climax reaches both of you at the same time, your bodies tightening up, Marcus’s hips jerking up as your thighs clamp shut, cries bouncing off the tiles as you press your bodies together. As silence falls, the water stills and your hearts return to their normal rhythms, and Marcus’s lips are on your temple.

“Fuck, you’re amazing.”

“So are you,” you hum, a ripple of lingering pleasure making your legs twitch. He kisses you again, a light smattering of kisses over your temple, brow, cheekbone, before reaching your mouth. That last kiss is deep and slow, loving, and intimate in a way you haven’t had with him before. It’s unnerving, almost scary, but there is something so comforting about Marcus’s broad-shouldered body underneath you, something that makes you embrace the unknown.

“Happy Christmas, baby.”

The underwhelming meeting with your friends, the flirty texting with Marcus, that feels like weeks ago. But it was only last night, and your world has been thoroughly rocked since then.

“Happy Christmas, Marcus.”

[imsilay]

SOAR DRABBLE

all i wanna say is MDNI!!!

if you want some content go to MASTERLIST

“Please, for the love of god, don’t tie your hair up,” he mumbled as he untied your hair and watched it fall on your shoulders like a waterfall. “It’s too hot!” you whined, hating the way your hair clung to your slightly sweaty skin. Cringing at the way it felt, you snatched your hair tie from his hands and tied up your hair, sending daggers into his eyes through your gaze. You swore to god if he ever got his paws on your hair again you’d snap.

He was about to reach for your hair but he gave up with the glare you gave him. His hands dropped to their previous place and pulled you against his chest, you could feel his presence suffocating you. His shoulders twice size of you and his height towering even when he was seated.

So just imagine, that mountain of a man huffing and puffing behind you as you tried to watch the movie, his hands sneaking into your t-shirt and fondling your soft skin. He was so twitchy, not letting you focus for a minute with his constant squirming. “Seriously König, get the hell out of here if you’re gonna be like that!” you finally snapped, getting tired of his actions.

He tightened his grip around your middle and didn’t let you turn around to scold him further, instead he buried his head into your neck and bit down on your delicate skin.

Your eyes widened, mount formed a ‘o’ shape. With surprise and pain you let out a groan. Quickly realizing your mistake. He dragged his tongue along with the mark, the muscle flattened against your skin as if a predator tasting its prey before devouring it whole. “Didn’t you forget something, Meine Königin?” he snarled, his fingers digging into your skin and pinning you impossibly hard against his chest. He felt powerful, your smaller figure swallowed by his bulky frame, he knew you were in the palm of his hand. You could trash and squirm around but there was no way in hell you were getting away from him, his embrace. Not a comforting one though, not like a few minutes ago. His ego swelled, he was cocky enough already but your helplessness fed it further. “‘m sorry.” you murmured, voice nothing more than a whisper. “Ja? Really? You weren’t so sorry when you were shouting at me.” you turned your face other way, the mark on your neck stinging and throbbing. Of course you knew his rules, you had been living with him since he kidnapped you. You should’ve known that. You sighed in defeat, “I know i shouldn’t yell at you, i’m sorry. Please let me go.” you sounded like you were about to cry or faint. He chuckled and loosened his grip, not letting you leave though. “Braves Mädchen.” he kissed the mark, his hot lips stayed pressed against your skin, he was content now. “Now make it up to me with a kiss.” he grabbed your chin and turned your head to side, enough to capture your delicious lips with his hungry ones. His tongue needed no invitation, it owned the place. His lips suckled your tongue, absolutely loving how you were the squirming one now. Since the first time you kissed him, his kisses got hungrier, laced with desperation, became more demanding with time. He swore that day, you were his, solely for him, from your delicious lips to the tip of your nails.

He let go of your lips with a string of salvia between your lips. You leaned in and licked it off his bottom lip, which made him uncomfortably hard in his pants. God you were truly something else.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :* and i love to reply all of them :>

one of my fav fics T3T go read it please <3

i still think about it but then my mind wanders into other things then i loose track of my thoughts and i end up with so many drafts that i don’t have any time or energy left to answer your request :/ it sucks i know :(((

[mrs-lockley]

Once Upon a December

Pairing: Hades & Persephone AU, Miguel O’Hara x WOC!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 4.5k  Warnings: Arranged marriage, implied age gap (reader is a couple centuries old and of age), mention of death and a child death/funeral (no actual death graphically described or specified), dark imagery of the Underworld, use and mentions of Greek mythology, conflicted feelings, magical realism, no time period specified Summary: In the early decades of your marriage to the god of the Underworld, you resented him for abruptly ending your maidenhood. As the decades go by, you learn that there is more to the man who rules the dead than you realize. One day, your husband takes you to Tartarus, the depths of the Underworld, to suggest a proposition.

Author's Note: Hi my little doves, I'm semi-back with a new fic! To be honest, this fic has been in my draft for 3 years (date of origin: 12/30/2020) with First Order!Poe originally, but I thought Miguel suited Hades much better. I have a few fics in my wips and it's honestly like Russian Roulette because i did not expect to complete a Miguel fic before a Jake fic, lol. Special thanks to @soft-girl-musings and @v4mpires0ap for supporting me in completing this and giving me feedback! This fic was also deeply inspired by this comic illustrated by @katadesmoi, another take on the Hades & Persephone myth. If you like to listen to music while reading, I highly suggest listening to this Once Upon a December playlist on Youtube. Happy reading! Likes are appreciated, but reblogs make my heart go warm 🤍

Tagging: @soft-girl-musings @v4mpires0ap @venting402 @musing-magpie @writefightandflightclub but only if you would like to read it!

You have seen this place before. The place where the stars fall to the earth, where the roots meet the soil, where the ocean meets the shore. 

Where the dead meet the living, where the living meet the dead. 

Your reflection mirrors you in the sky as you look up to the clouds with the whispering images of Earth shining down on you. On Earth, the clouds weep at the loss of the sun, but other clouds have gone soft with crystals catching the last kiss of sunlight before nightfall. Other places show the yellow sun shining over glistening forests and beaches, and some a starlight projection over snowfall. 

A snowflake flutters from the sky, and you stretch your palm to watch it melt on your skin. 

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper.

Underneath the moonlight, the trace of a smile tugs at your husband’s lips. He moves to stand beside you and the two of you gaze at the glassy sky above. 

Miguel keeps his distance, a shadow’s length between the two of you. 

For a brief moment, a sparkling ember is reflected in those brown eyes, only to quickly disappear within a blink and a slight shake of his head. 

Your husband was not malevolent, nor was he benevolent. Miguel was a man whose moral conviction strongly aligned with the laws of nature, life, and death. He takes no sides, but only stands in the middle, seeing nothing but carnage to his right and hearing the wailing of tears to his left. 

You met him once before your arranged marriage. You and your mother were at a banquet one evening, your first banquet after the war when he caught your eye. Standing at the side of the hall with a glass of red wine in his hands, everyone fell into a hushed whisper. It was rare to see the god of the dead at a gathering like this, especially since the collapse of a universe. 

As your mother mingled with one of her sisters, your curious eyes drifted into his orbit. It was as if the darkness of the Underworld followed him into the light, but you were entranced by the shadows that caressed the contours of his face. Centuries of carnage and war clouded his eyes a deep brown, but in the dim candlelight, you could see that in spite of witnessing the heaviness of humanity, there were traces of his youth in smile.

A pair of older women passed you, whispering quietly about him. 

The wine looks too much like blood in his hands, one of them remarked with disdain. 

But not to you.

It was difficult to not notice him with his imposing height and stature. Even as he stood to the side and in the shadows of the banquet hall, the wine in his hands reminded you of the deep crimson of a pomegranate, waiting for you to cut it open so you could taste its juices. 

Smoothing your hair, you quickly averted your gaze and distracted yourself by listening to your mother discuss the upcoming spring harvest. You smiled at your aunt as she pitched in, acknowledging how the winter rain would help water the crops and contribute to a bountiful spring for the mortal universe. 

But as the conversation continued, your skin prickled. It was as if something was burning you, a small flame lit on your skin and was rapidly growing into a thunderous wildfire that consumed everything in its wake.

You tried to ignore the sensation as you listened to your mother and your aunt's plan for the harvest, but the longer you ignored it, the hotter the fire burned your skin. It was as if you were thrown into a wildfire with the smoke filling your lungs, traveling to your throat, and threatening to spill from your mouth. Their voices began to fade into the distance as the roar of your heartbeat thundered in your ears. 

Unable to ignore the feeling any longer, you began to look around to find the cause of your discomfort. 

Your innocent eyes met his, and you could barely breathe. 

His brown eyes darkened into what you would believe to be the darkness of the Underworld. It was as if he was pulling you into its depths– not seducing you into temptation– but revealing all of your secrets into the light. 

All you could feel was the blood rushing to your face as he looked at you. You could not read the expression on his face as his eyes drank you in, but you could not tear yourself away. You were caught in his snare. 

But as your eyes met, you saw something else. As he was reading you, you were reading him, trying to translate the pages of a book that was presented to you in an ancient language you discovered for the first time. The introduction was breathtaking, but the first chapter was consuming and inviting. 

His eyes only left yours when you saw your father call and approach him. As he looked away, you too turned your eyes back to your mother and her sister. You could not hear what your father and Miguel were discussing behind you and your mother’s back, but you would soon learn that the god of the dead was blessed by your father for your hand in marriage. 

There was no warning. One day, you were laying under the sun in the springfields with flowers in your hair, singing a love song from days of old. The next day, you were escorted to the world below you, climbing your way through its webs to become queen of the dark kingdom to your betrothed. 

“I know you have assumptions about me.” Miguel’s voice is quiet as he speaks, barely above a whisper in the snowfall. “I cannot change them or how you feel, nor do I intend on changing your mind, but …” 

His words trail off, his voice fading into the distant sound of the winter winds howling in the cavern. 

Looking back up at the dome above you, you catch his reflection. A shadow crosses his stern face, its fingers stretching across his tan skin. In the dim moonlight, you could almost catch streaks of silver in his dark waves. The centuries have taken a toll on him, and while you were a couple hundred years younger than him, you, too, felt the heaviness in your chest. 

“I’ve heard stories,” you tell him quietly.

His eyes remain on the sky above with an unreadable expression. The only sound between you is the silent snowfall and the white clouds that puff around your lips with each breath you take. 

“Do you believe them?”

His question catches you by surprise. Your eyes widen, your breath stuttering in your throat as you think about how to answer him. 

Your husband turns to you then, a stormy look on his face as he looks at you. 

You remembered the stories and cautionary tales your mother told you about him. While you were tending the rose garden one day, your mother shared with you the stories she heard from the other gods after attending a banquet. 

He was the reason one of the universes collapsed. He meddled into the mortal realm when he should have stayed where he belonged- in the depths and shadows of the dead. 

He chased a young boy to the edges of the Underworld, all because the poor boy wanted to save his father from dying. Imagine how cruel a man could be to stop a boy from saving his father.

That man shows no mercy or remorse for the dearly departed. He only sits on his throne as he listens to their tears of sadness and cries of anguish. He would not even show mercy to a mortal man who ventured into the Underworld to bring his lover back to life– instead, granting an impossible task that doomed the poor man from the start.

Decades ago, you might have believed the whispers of the gods, goddesses, and other celestial beings as they spoke about him behind his back. For the first few decades of your marriage, you resented him for taking you away from your mother and the mortal realm. He stole you away from the sun with just a simple blessing from your father, and he had not even spoken a single word to you before making you his bride and queen. 

What he did not know was that once, you ran away. 

As Miguel was in the heart of the Underworld, you briefly escaped its darkness. It was winter in the land of the living, and somehow, you managed to sneak past the hounds, the souls, and the suspecting ferryman who stood at the crossroads between realms. 

(Whether he knew your plan of escape or not, he did not say. The ferryman merely watched with unknowing eyes as you slipped past him.)

Your lungs ached as you climbed your way out from underground. Soil crusted beneath your fingernails, your skin covered in earth when the light of the winter sun nearly burned your eyes upon your ascent. 

You did not know how long you wandered, but you walked until the soles of your feet burned crimson. The skies darkened into icy shades of gray and white before weeping for the loss of the sun and your fingertips mirrored the color of your feet. 

Day turned to night, and before long, you stumbled upon an evening wake. 

Outside the church, the deceased’s family mingled in the winter night. Their eyes burned with tears as their voices trembled with each word spoken. Loved ones gathered around them to offer their condolences while the children sat outside on the steps, playing with makeshift paper dolls and animals to pass the time. 

You wondered if anyone saw you, but the thought of someone recognizing you never crossed your mind. While your mother advised you to stay out of mortal affairs, there was something pulling you towards the coffin, urging you to stay. 

It did not take long for your heart to break. 

Tears pricked your eyes as you gazed at the little girl laying inside the wooden box. You remembered her youthful spirit and jovial smile as she would sit under your favorite tree, weaving flower crowns and sharing fruit with some of the wildlife that dwelled in the forest. The nymphs and dryads spoke fondly of her whenever she visited the lake, and a few times, you remembered picking up the blooming flowers that she left behind as an offering.

Overcome with grief, you placed your hand over hers, whispering words of assurance and comfort to her. Her skin was cold to touch, but you did not shy away as you left behind a small white lily in her embrace.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, you immediately stepped aside. You assumed the man who approached the coffin to be her father as you watched him place the coins over her eyes, whispering to his daughter in their native tongue with tears streaming down his cheeks. 

Your heart ached for the girl and her family as you watched them gather around her coffin. No one noticed you while you walked away, following the fallen petals of dried flowers to guide you back to the world below. 

It was as if nothing changed since your brief departure. The ferryman merely watched you with apathetic eyes when you returned, his boat filled with souls as he carried them over the Styx. 

You did not meet with Miguel that day, but as you wandered the Isles of the Blessed, you heard a familiar voice ring in the air. 

Not wanting to be seen or scolded for wandering off, you quickly hid behind a tree. Peeking from behind the trunk, your heart warmed to see that same little girl playing in the field with a man holding her hand. 

Miguel. 

You watched as he knelt down to her height, a gentle look on his face as he held her hands. You could not hear what they were saying, but from the smile on her face, you knew that he was nothing but kind and gentle with her as she adjusted to her new life in Elysium. 

“What is your name, little one?”

“Gabriella.”

“Gabriella,” your husband repeated as he brushed her hair out of her eyes. His fingers paused over the lily tucked behind her ear. “This is a beautiful flower you have in your hair.”

She smiled as she removed it from her ear and offered it to him. 

“I had it with me when the ferryman took me here. I don’t remember how I got it, but he told me to keep it.”

You held your breath as Miguel held the lily in his hand. It was not unusual for flowers to spring wherever you went, and you wondered if he knew that you snuck into the mortal realm under his watch. 

To your surprise, he smiled at her as he tucked the lily back in her hair. 

“He was right. You should keep it.”

You have not seen Gabriella since that day, but you never forgot her. Whenever you walked near the Isles of the Blessed, you could hear her laugh in the wind with the river twinkling in the shape of her smile. 

His question hangs frozen mid-air as the snow crystallizes around you. 

Did you believe the horrid tales, after what you have seen?

His eyes search yours as the two of you stand under the shadow of the earth, its roots tangling around you. 

Of all the myths and legends you heard about Miguel, it would be easy to sway you into believing he was an apathetic man who ruled the land of the dead. He stole you away from spring, but in the decades that followed since your marriage, you realized that not once did he ever try to hold you back. There were countless times you snuck away into the mortal realm, and every time he could have held you back or ordered the hounds to follow you. Yet, he never did.

Perhaps you have judged him too harshly before learning about the man beneath the mask. While a part of you still resented him for the marriage, you could not bring yourself to truly hate him. 

“I would have,” you answer him quietly, “once upon a December.” 

The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, amusement briefly flickering across his eyes as the ghost of a smile tickles his lips. 

In the mirror above, snow continues to fall like kisses from the earth. Its kisses leave droplets on your skin, but as you turn to your husband, you could count the snowflakes like stars in the night sky as they melt into his dark hair and brown skin. 

It was one of those rare moments where there was nothing and no one else in the world but the two of you. While Miguel was known to mortals under a different name and had a duty to follow in his realm, he gave you freedom to roam his world as you pleased without fear. You were his queen, and he treated you as such in his own quiet way. 

While he kept you at arm’s length, you were no fool.

“Why did you bring me here?”

The cavern almost seemed to engulf him as the moonlight shined upon him. Whispers of snow glistened in his hair, and the perpetual scowl on his lips appeared to soften the longer he gazed at the sky. 

He pauses, calculating his words. 

“Long before the mortals named me, I stumbled upon this place by chance. It is safe to presume that the deepest depths of the Underworld to be a frightening place of terror and grief, but it is more than what the legends say.”

Miguel takes a step forward until he is directly underneath the center of the mirror. Behind him, the outlines of a tree stretched its branches around him with its root tangling your shadow with his. 

The wind continues to howl like a wounded wolf in the dead of night. While the mortals would call this place Tartarus, it was not what you imagined. 

A deep ache settles in your chest, its roots ensnaring the heart in your ribs as the winter breeze fills your lungs with sharp knives of ice. 

“Only once in a blue moon could I walk into the world above, but here … it is the only way I could see the mortal realm without leaving mine behind.”

His eyes seem to mist in the moonlight, and your heart softens. The fortress of the castle he built around him begins to crumble, and for the first time, you see the lone king that resides within the darkness of its walls. 

The longing of the sun, the yearning for something warm, for someone to hold. 

As you look up at the mirror, you remember a time when you wandered the meadow in your youth and stumbled upon a stream where the carrion birds often flocked to. The nymphs, dryads, and your overbearing mother advised you to never venture near the river, but your youthful curiosity overcame you against their best wishes. 

The birds followed your movements as you stepped towards the river. Dark clouds gathered in the sky above with thunder rumbling in the distance, but you remained steadfast. White peace lilies and roses bloomed underneath your feet as you fell to your knees to peer into the murky waters beneath. 

Darkness swirled around your reflection as you gazed at the water below. The longer you looked, the more confused you were as you tried to decipher what lurked underneath the surface. What could cause the dryads and nymphs to urge you to stay away from this place? What worried your mother that you found a secret beneath?

You never told them about the river, nor did you ever return since that day, but as you look up at the familiar mirror above you, you wonder if the forbidden river drifted into the Styx. Perhaps the carrion birds were the ones who guarded the river in the mortal realm.

Perhaps as you wondered and peered into the dark waters, another face watched you from below.

His voice pulls you out of your thoughts, urging you to look at him.

“I know a part of you must resent me for taking you away from your mother — and I do not blame you for it — but this…” He gestures to the mirror above, a soft expression relaxing the curves  of his face, “is the only way we could see into the mortal universe. If I could bring a piece of the mortal world to you, it is the least I can do.”

Snow continues to fall with the winter winds howling around the two of you, causing a small flurry of snow to surround your two bodies. Frost begins to crystallize at your feet, indicating the official arrival of winter in the world above.

Your husband illuminates in the moonlight, a serene glow casted across his frame as he keeps his gaze on the sky. The corners of his lips curve into a lazy smile, and you could not help but think back to all the legends and myths you were taught about him, and the river that your mother warned you to stay away from. 

If this was the face that watched you from below, how could you despise him for bringing a piece of your world back to you, especially when he was not welcome in the light? 

“It is the winter solstice in the mortal world,” you tell him softly. The sky darkens above you, but you do not feel the cold as much anymore, not with the snowdrops beginning to surface from the frost. “The shortest day and the longest night of the year.”

You wonder what flowers would bloom in the spheres of the universe, what sky and stars the mortals see as they bask in the moonlight. While your marriage to the god of the Underworld dictated the seasons above, you lived long enough to know that the worlds above adjusted to your absence or presence in their own ways. 

The first winter you spent in the Underworld, you were inconsolable. While Miguel tried to comfort you, you were distraught, crying tears of anguish into your pillow as the darkness surrounded you. For the first time, no flowers bloomed where you stepped or where you lay.  Instead, only roseless thorns and weeds gathered where you walked, and in the world above, it was the worst harvest the mortals have seen in decades. 

While your parents argued with your husband about the conditions and length of your stay, you blocked out their voices. The only sounds you heard were your cracks splintering through your heart as you mourned the warmth of the sun and the endless blue sky. As much as Miguel tried to coax you out of your chambers and into the dark gardens of his kingdom, you planted your roots into the ground, refusing to be anywhere near him. 

Only for the winter, your father proposed. Your mother wept by his side, but your husband nodded in agreement, sealing your fate as swiftly as the seasons changed. 

It took some time, but throughout the first few years of your marriage, you began to be civil with Miguel. Much like him, you kept him at arm’s length, watching him and trying to understand what kind of king he was to his subjects in the world below. While you heard the whispering lore and legends of him in your ears, you soon learned that he was not everything that the people believed him to be.

A cloud storms in his brown irises as he looks over at you, his brow slightly furrowed. “If I may ask, are you happy here?”

A bitter laugh threatens to spill from your lips, but you quickly bite your tongue.

It has been decades since you were taken to rule the world below. While you may not have lived long enough to control your godly emotions, you still felt an aching pain and loss as you grieved leaving your home. 

“I did not have a choice in becoming your bride,” you answer, your voice laden with sadness and despair. “What say do I have as your wife?”

You were a younger goddess who lived only a couple centuries, but you had yet to learn the complexities of the universe. You still needed to experience the worlds around you, both above and below, but your maidenhood was cut short by the man your father arranged to be your husband. 

Even with the decades behind you, time had yet to fully heal the part of your heart that grieved for your maidenhood. You were conflicted in your grief and loss when Miguel had been cordial and respectful, in his own sentimental way. A part of you may resent him, but you still did not completely understand the feelings you held towards him. 

His brown eyes soften at your words, his lips slightly parted as white cotton clouds flutter in the air from his breath. 

“You are not a prisoner here,” he assures you gently, approaching you as if you were a skittish deer in the woods. “I am truly sorry for the pain I brought upon you.”

You look up at him slowly, seeing nothing but remorse in his gaze. You wonder if he would ask for your forgiveness, but it was too late for that. It has been half a century since your marriage, and the world already recorded the event in the stars and the sky. 

Miguel was a man of many things, but you know in his eyes, he is lawful. With the living and the dead, he merely rules over the departed to balance the universes. He only follows the rules of nature, but in godly matters, he follows the customs and traditions. A marriage only needs a father’s blessing for his daughter to be wedded without the husband needing to court or ask the bride. He broke no laws, but he did not fully understand the depths of your grief.

His voice is gentle as the winds quiet around him.

“I know it will take time for you to fully accept me as your husband, but I am a patient man. All I ask and plead is for you to give me a chance.”

The winter winds pull the air out of your lungs as Miguel turns with his hand outstretched towards you.

As you grieved the sudden end of your maidenhood, you reflect on everything you have seen. The gods and goddesses may indulge in heresy and scandals whenever they pleased, but from what you learned from their whispers, some of their stories did not reflect what you have seen. 

The god of the dead was not cruel, nor was he kind. He often deals in absolutes and ultimatums, with the universes remaining in balance as he ruled over his domain. 

Even so, you remember Gabriella’s smile as he held her hand in Elysium. A child taken too soon, but found comfort in the man who guided her to the Isles of the Blessed. 

Perhaps he was kinder than you believed.

Snow gathers in his palm as he holds his hand towards you. It would be easier for you to turn away and loathe him for the rest of your days, but something stirs in your heart. 

Darkness may have taken its hold over the mortal realm, but it has not fully consumed yours. 

Your fate is already written in the stars, your marriage bound in a godly affair. While you are still a younger goddess in a single web of the universe, perhaps it would do you no harm to trim the thorns that protected you and allow a rose to bloom. 

Slowly, you take his hand, his skin oddly warm against yours.

Your husband smiles gently at you and raises your hand to his lips. 

“I promise to love and care for you,” he whispers, “as long as you are by my side.”

Snowdrops and hydrangeas begin to bloom from the frost that dusted the ground beneath you, tangling with the roots of the tree as you walk beside him, allowing him to guide you away from the moonlight and towards the river from where you came. 

A comfortable silence falls upon you as Miguel rows the boat along the Styx, the water calm and quiet on the journey away from the darkness. The winter winds begin to fade into a distant echo, and as much as you wish to turn back to gaze at the world above one more time, you keep your eyes forward.

The winter solstice may have begun in the mortal realm, but the spring solstice has begun to blossom in the world below. 

And in the depths of the Underworld, the tree that holds the mirror above sprouts a single crimson fruit, a small pomegranate in the start of spring.

[daisynik7]

“Into you” by Fabolous for Connie Springer- smut + fluff

(S4 connie ofc)

Into You

I think you’re truly something special, just what my dreams are really made of

Pairing: Connie Springer x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.4k

cw: super fluffy, kinda cheesy, college au, modern day au, lots of basketball terms (applies specifically to NCAA and NBA), explicit language, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), implied creampie

Summary: You and Connie Springer have been close since childhood, growing up as next-door neighbors and best friends. The bond the two of you share is undeniable, but you’ve never been able to admit how deep your feelings are, either to yourself or to him. You continue to support him as his friend while he pursues his career as a basketball player, trying to get drafted into the NBA. Though the journey has its ups and downs, one thing is for certain: The two of you will always have each other, forever and ever. 

Author’s Notes: Hi anon! Thanks so much for requesting this song for the y2k karaoke party because it’s one of my FAVORITES! It really gives me Love & Basketball vibes, another favorite of mine that also happens to be a classic in the y2k era. This little fic is very loosely based off of that, so I hope you enjoy! Also, all the basketball/NBA tidbits are mostly from being with my boyfriend, who is a huge NBA fan, so yeah, sorry if any details are inaccurate lol. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! MDNI banner credit to @/cafekitsune. Header image from Pinterest (Slam Dunk manga).

“You have to pinky promise, okay?” Connie sticks his tiny finger out, wiggling it in front of your face, sucking on his cherry-flavored lollipop, lips and tongue-stained red. You’re both five years old, sitting cross-legged in the front of his yard, taking a break from playing hide-and-seek.

“What am I pinky promising?” you ask, voice squeaky and curious.

“That we’ll be best friends forever and ever! No matter what!” he exclaims, beaming at you with his eyes wide, twinkling earnestly. 

You only need to think for a few seconds before you’re hooking your pinky with his, committing to this promise for the rest of your lives. 

~~~

Ten years later, Connie makes it on the varsity basketball team in your high school. It’s rare for a freshman to make it to varsity at Ragako; the coaches must have seen that spark in him that you and his family have witnessed since he started playing at ten-years-old. You used to shoot around with him out in his driveway, where his father set up a little hoop. Eventually, the little one got upgraded to a real one, where the height was adjusted appropriately as Connie grew. You became his practice partner, no longer able to compete with him. Instead, you passed him the ball, watching in awe as he made shot after shot, sometimes deep from the street. He’d pick you up and spin you around, the two of you cheering together, impressed by his skills.

Year after year, he only improved. The way he handled the ball, expertly dribbling it between his legs, behind his back, one-handed, without looking. Or the way his feet gracefully shuffled along the court, the distinct squeak from his shoes echoing off the walls as you watch him on the bleachers, playing three-on-three against some of his buddies at the gym. One time, his friend Jean teases you. “You know, you should stop hanging around here or else people might think you’re his groupie.”

Before you can think of a smart comeback, Connie interjects, shoving Jean hard in the arm. “Hey! Leave her alone. I want her here. I only play like this when she’s around. And she’s not a groupie. She’s my best friend.” He wraps his arm around your shoulders, leading you towards the exit while Jean sputters apologies that go ignored. “Sorry about that,” he whispers to you. “Jean is an asshole. I want you around, got it? Forever and ever.”

You smile, leaning into him. “Forever and ever.”

~~~

It’s at the championship game during senior year that you realize that you’re in love with Connie.

Scouts have already contacted him about full-ride scholarships to university, recruiting him for their team. He’s the most celebrated point-guard in your school’s history, his average points and assists per game breaking records. Ever since he joined, your school has made it in the final round each year, last year resulting in a win, this year leading to a second. 

With seconds left on the shot clock, tie game, Ragako with possession, Connie makes his move. He inbounds the ball to his teammate, quickly taking position at the right wing, his sweet spot. As quickly as it leaves his hands, the ball is passed back to him. He shoots it, and as it flies out from his fingers into the air, the buzzer rings, and he makes it. The crowd goes wild; one side of the bleachers erupting into a frenzy, jumping up and down with excitement. Connie’s parents hug each other first, then surround you in their arms, elated. You don’t expect him to celebrate the win with you, not with his entire team huddling around him, splashing water on his head, cheering his name. Not with all the cheerleaders and fans gravitating toward him, eager to be in the presence of a sure-to-be star in the making. So, it surprises you when you see him maneuver his way through the crowd, heading straight towards you. He pounces on you, giving you the biggest, sweatiest hug with tears streaming down his face. It’s a split second where the surrounding noise goes blank and it’s just the two of you there, basking in each other’s warmth. Soon, his parents join you, also crying happily, and it’s in this moment that you realize this is where you want to be: with him. Forever and ever.

~~~

It's no surprise that the two of you attend the same college together. Most people will see it as you following him, but in actuality, Connie agrees to go wherever you go. Lucky for you both, your top choice is a D1 university where he’s offered a scholarship to play for their basketball team. It works out perfectly, as if it were meant to be. 

He’s busy from the get-go, practicing every day until the season starts in November. You become preoccupied with classes, and naturally, the two of you travel your different paths, meeting in the middle whenever you can. When the season official starts, you attend all his home games, cheering for him from the sidelines surrounded by the other students also chanting his name. Weeknights, he’s often too tired to hang out, retreating to his dorm room to fall asleep, only to repeat his busy schedule again the next day. He grows close with his teammates, spending most of his time with them instead of you, which is to be expected. After all, you and Connie are just friends. Sure, you’re completely and madly in love with him, but he’ll never know that. So, you watch from afar as he pursues his career without you in the way. It’s the way it has to be. 

By the time spring semester rolls around, you and Connie barely see each other. You’ll still text, sometimes video chat or talk on the phone. He mostly vents to you about teammates or coaches that have gotten on his nerves that day. He’ll catch you up on the other schools they’ve defeated or the ones that they’ve lost to. Your school’s record is quite good thanks to Connie, who’s only gotten better since high school. If they continue at this rate, they will win the conference tournament, meaning a trip to March Madness, the most prestigious competition in college basketball. Most importantly, it’s one step closer to the NBA.

As expected, the team does win the conference tournament. That night, the entire campus is lively with students buzzing in school spirit, ready to party the rest of the weekend. All you think about is calling Connie to congratulate him, hear his voice and tell him that you’re so proud of him. You debate with yourself for nearly fifteen minutes, staring at his name on your screen, fingers so close to dialing his number. You decide not to go through with it, certain that he’s too busy with his team, too busy with his fans. He’s not thinking about you, not when his whole world is about to change. And you can’t blame him; you’re just friends, and this is the way it has to be.

The following night, your school organizes an impromptu homecoming for the basketball team, welcoming them as they arrive on the bus, fresh from their championship win. They have a  couple days of rest before they leave for the NCAA tournament, but you’re sure they’ll be busy with press and practice until then. You’re not there to greet them when they step off the bus; instead, you’re sulking in your room, buried under the covers, feeling sorry for yourself for ever falling in love with Connie Springer. It’s a sad, pathetic sight, but at least you’re alone for the weekend to do it while your roommate is out visiting her boyfriend out of town. 

You’re surprised to see Connie’s name flash on your phone a few hours later. You let it ring twice before answering. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” he asks. There’s shuffling in the background, as if he’s walking outside. 

“I’m in my room.”

“I’m coming over now.” He hangs up, not giving you any time to respond. You sigh, mentally preparing yourself for what’s to come.

When you open the door to let him in, he wraps his arms around you in a snug embrace. “I missed you.” He pulls off to hold you by the arms, glaring. “Why didn’t you greet me off the bus?”

“I…” you start, unsure how to respond. 

“I was looking for you and you weren’t there. Where were you?”

“I was studying in the library.” This might be the first time you’ve ever lied to him. You feel guilty and gross. 

“Oh,” he says sadly, still staring at you. 

“Congratulations, by the way. It was an amazing win.” You give him a weak smile, blinking away the tears welling in your eyes. You don’t even know why you’re crying; Connie did nothing wrong. You’re letting your emotions get the best of you, and you can’t help but crumble in front of the only person who knows you better than you know yourself. 

“I don’t care about that right now. I care about you. What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Connie, I promise.”

“Don’t promise me shit like that. I know you’re upset. Tell me. Please.” His eyes search yours, desperate for an answer. 

You look at his feet, fixating on his shoes, scuffed on the sides from playing. Tears start to drop from your face and on the carpet. “I just…I missed you too. I miss you, Connie. I…I love you.” The confession slips from your mouth in a sniffle, and you’re so upset with yourself for letting it slide in this crucial moment. Neither of you needs the drama of your unrequited love right now. Not you, knowing he’ll be leaving again soon, and especially not him, who has bigger and better things to focus on. 

He gapes at you, stuttering, “You love me?”

You nod, biting your lip.

“Like, love love? Or love like a friend?”

You’re tempted to lie, just to make it easier. But you owe it to Connie to be honest with him. “Love love.”

His mouth is open, eyes bugging out, completely shocked by your admission. Before he can respond, you add, “I’m sorry, Connie. I shouldn’t have told you this right before the tournament, but…I don’t know. It just came out. I’m sorry.”

He stammers, “You’re sorry? This is the best fucking thing I’ve heard in my entire life.” He breaks into a smile, laughing hysterically, an even more bizarre reaction. 

You cross your arms, getting impatient with his ridiculous behavior, eventually grabbing his shoulders to shake him out of his fit. “Connie, what the hell?!”

He wipes his eyes, crying from giggling, beaming at you. “I’ve been in love with since we were kids. Been dreaming of hearing you say that since we were five-years-old.” He hugs you tightly, nuzzling his nose to the top of your head. “I love you and I want to be with you. Forever and ever, right?”

You nestle into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent you missed since he’s been gone. “Forever and ever.” 

~~~

The two of you spend the night together, making love for the first time. His lips are soft against yours, and you smile into his kiss, remembering the day you pinky promised that you’ll be best friends forever and ever, no matter what. His lips were stained red with cherry-flavored candy, looking sickly sweet as he smiled at you. And as you kiss him now, he tastes just as sweet as you imagined he’d be after all these years. 

You kiss him sloppy as you ride his lap, his cock buried deep in your pussy, filling you up to the brim. He moans your name into your mouth as he laps at the saliva collecting on your tongue, slurping your spit, swallowing it thickly. “Fuck,” he groans, hands gripped to your hips, rocking you back and forth on his thighs. “I’ve dreamed about this for so long, baby. So long.”

“Me too,” you whisper, starting to bounce on him, close to your climax. 

“What would you think about? Tell me,” he demands, thumb pressed to your clit, rubbing it raw.

You whine from his touch, increasing your pace, resting your head on his shoulder. “You and me, just like this,” you huff, short of breath. 

“Yeah? You thought about me deep inside you, huh? Fucking this sweet pussy until you come all over my cock, huh?” He thrusts up into you, grip tightening, fingers digging into your flesh. He’s close too, you can feel it.

You moan into his skin, sweat beading on your forehead, throwing your ass back against him in tandem with each pump of his cock. A few more strokes and the two of you come together, the mess spilling onto the sheets as soon as he pulls out. 

He wipes you down with tissues and baby wipes you have handy on your bedside drawer. As soon as you’re both clean, he cradles you in his arms, spooning you from behind. 

“I know this is going to sound super cheesy, but I truly feel like a winner now,” he says, kissing the nape of your neck. 

You chuckle, squeezing his hand in yours. “Wait until you win March Madness. Then you’ll really be a champ.”

“Even if I lose, I’ll still have you. And that’s been my dream all this time.” 

You shift your body to face him, gazing into his eyes. “I thought your dream was to make it into the NBA?”

He smiles, booping you on the nose. “It’s part of the dream, sure. But I wouldn’t be anywhere near where I am now if it wasn’t for you. You kept me going all these years. Knowing you were always on my side gave me the strength I needed to get here. As long as I have you, I’ll be living the dream.” He kisses you on the forehead. “I’m going to love you for the rest of our lives.”

“Forever and ever?”

“Forever and ever.”

~~~

In an upset, your school loses in the Final Four. It’s the furthest they’ve gotten in university history, and a large part of that is due to Connie and his extraordinary performance as their point guard. His efforts do not go unnoticed; his coaches and many prospective agents have contacted him, encouraging him to apply for the NBA draft. 

June of the same year, Connie Springer is drafted tenth in the first round and you’re sitting right beside him with his parents, cheering for him. Just as you have throughout all these years, and just as you will for the rest of your lives. Forever and ever. 

[bloatedandalone04]

Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 0.2

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which anakin returns home from the band meeting with some exciting information about his future while you also receive some news regarding your own.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 5.6k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

It was nearing eight when Anakin finally returned home. You look up at him from your place on the new couch when he enters the living room, a small smile on your lips when he meets your eye. “Y/n,” he rasped as he braced his hands on either side of the doorframe. “That was a lot longer than I expected it to be. I’m sorry.”

Shrugging, you place your phone next to you on the couch and gesture for him to come over. “It’s alright, I figured it must be something important if your manager was keeping you,”

He walks further into the room and eyes the dark velvet couch. “When did this come?”

“A few hours after you left,” you answer as he sits next to you. “It came with a coffee and side table, but the delivery guys couldn’t put them together for me. I told them my boyfriend would.” You give him a teasing grin and he shakes his head. 

“Yeah, alright,” he mumbles and leans back. “I’ll have one of the guys come over tomorrow or something and we’ll put together all the new furniture.”

You nod and move closer to him. “Okay,” you trace your fingers up and down his arm that didn’t have any tattoos at all and debate on whether or not you should tell him that you ended up sending in an application to that school in London. If you told him now then didn’t get in, you’d be embarrassed, but then again, you knew he would never let you feel embarrassed about anything, so what the hell. “I sent an application in for that program.”

Anakin lifts his head and looks over at you. “For the one in London?” He asks and you nod. He gives you a somewhat forced smile and reaches over to lace his fingers with yours. “That’s great, baby. You’ll get accepted, you’re too smart not to.”

You grin and press a kiss to the back of his hand. “Still down for coming with me?” He stiffened a bit then tried to play it off, but you caught onto it. “What? Did you change your mind?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. London would be so fucking fun to go to with you, but I’m not sure I’d actually be able to,”

You furrow your brows. “Why not?”

He looks conflicted for a second before finally meeting your eyes as he sits up straight. “Helena says we’ve been given a few extra locations to perform at. They’ve been added to the tour, basically,”

You give him a confused look. “But the tour is over. It has been for months,” 

“I know, but it’s been extended as of the end of this month,” he says and you break eye contact in order to stare at the floor in slight shock.

“They can do that?” 

“I guess so,” he mumbled. “She also wants us to record more songs as soon as we’ve got a draft ready. Something about needing to keep the hype alive and to get people excited for the new tour locations.”

You nod slowly and turn back to face him, giving him a weary expression. “So, what does that mean? You’re going back on tour?”

Anakin shrugs sadly. “Yeah, in a few weeks,” he confirms and runs his thumb over your knuckles. “But I don’t want this to affect your decision of going to that school, okay? I want to go with you, and I want you to come with me, but I also want you to do this for yourself. You’ve worked too hard to not give it a try.”

A silence passes over the two of you for a few seconds as you try to process everything. 

Anakin was going on tour again, and you had just applied for the writing program. He wanted you to go with him, but he also wanted you to go to London. The course would only be a few months, so you wouldn’t be away from him for too long, but it still didn’t make it any easier. 

“I might not even get in,” you remind him and move so you’re pressed against his side. “And I want to go with you. Who else will silently cheer you on from backstage?”

He pulls you tight against him and kisses the side of your head. “Hopefully no one,” he says. “Your spot backstage is just that, yours. It’s no one else’s….even if you can’t come with me this time.”

You hum and fist his shirt in your hand. “We’ll just have to see what happens,”

-

After you and Anakin spend the rest of the night on the couch and in each other’s arms, you end up heading to bed at one in the morning. It was nearing ten when you pulled yourself out of the empty bed and made your way down the hall, pausing as you passed by the living room. 

Anakin is busy hooking up the TV as you lean against the doorframe, eyeing his shirtless torso. “Wow, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” you tease and watch as he turns to look over at you.

“Wow, look who got up after me for once,” he teased back as he hooked up the HDMI cord. 

“I know, I’m surprised, too,” you say and push off the frame. “Why are you up so early, anyway?”

Anakin plugs the TV cord into the wall before pulling you into his side and pressing a kiss to your lips. “Vin called me a while ago,” he answered. “I answered it before it woke you up, too, and I couldn’t fall asleep after that. Figured I’d get a start on hooking this up.”

He gestured to the TV and you nodded, nuzzling closer to him. “Is he coming over later?”

“Yeah, him and Theo,” he said. “We’re going to write a bit after putting together the coffee table and your shelf, that was the deal I made with them.”

You shake your head and laugh. “Now that is not surprising,” 

He laughs and sets the cord down to give you his full attention. “Hey, have you heard back from that program yet? Did you check your email for any follow ups?”

Your smile drops a bit as you shake your head. “No,” you answer.

Anakin gives you a small grin as he presses a kiss to your temple. “I bet you had the best application that school has ever seen,” he hypes you up and it helps more than he probably knew. You were smiling by the time he added, “You’ll hear back soon, I’m sure, and with good news.”

You grin and he kisses you again, much deeper than the last one. It made it hard to pull away from, but you somehow managed to so you could go make something to eat. 

As you wait for the stove to heat up so you can make pancakes, you go on Instagram and immediately let out a scream at the first post that showed up in your feed. At the sound of your scream, Anakin practically sprints into the kitchen and looks around as if scanning the room for any sign of immediate danger. “What? What’s wrong?”

You look up at him and meet his eye as you say, “You, you’re what’s wrong,”

Anakin gives you a confused look as he takes your phone from you when you shoved it into his hand. He hesitantly takes his eyes off you in order to find out what made you scream like that, and almost immediately felt his face heat up at what he was met with on your phone. “I…oh,”

“When the fuck did you get those taken? And why the fuck didn’t you give me a warning so I could’ve mentally prepared myself to see that?”

Anakin’s lips sport an embarrassed smile as he hands your phone back to you. “I didn’t realize that they were posting those today,” he says, referring to the photos from the shoot he did during his last week on tour. He was called in for a quick interview with SLACKERS Magazine and had a couple pictures taken to go with the interview, but he completely forgot about it until now. 

It was done on the day you were stuck in the bus with food poisoning, so you really had no idea he had even done this, and he probably should have given you a heads up, but he genuinely just forgot. The photo that was on the cover was one of him shirtless and covered in mud, and he was surprised that he actually had a lot of fun taking those pictures. That was his first time on a photoshoot set, and he knew it wouldn’t be his last. 

“You didn’t realize? What the fuck, Ani! You look hot,” you gushed over him as you scrolled through the pictures again. “You really need to make an Instagram account so you can post these. Imagine all the likes you’d get.”

He instantly shot that idea down. “Not a chance,”

“Oh, come on, Ani, it’s fun! You can read all the sappy captions I’ve written about you over the past four years,” you teased and he just laughed. 

“That’s tempting,” he shook his head with a smile and pressed a quick kiss to your mouth. “I’ll think about it.”

You playfully roll your eyes and push on his chest. “Don’t be such an old man and get Instagram,” 

He softly glared at you. “I said I’d think about it,” he called out as he left the kitchen in order to get the TV working before the guys came over. 

-

“Quit being such an old man and make an account,” Vinny mumbled as he scribbled down a potential lyric onto a page of the notebook in front of him. 

Anakin sits up straight, pausing the flicking of his pencil as he looks over at his friend. “You’re the second person that called me an old man today,” he says and ignores the quiet laugh that leaves Theo from his spot on the ottoman. “Y/n called me that, too.”

Vinny shrugged, looking up from the notebook. “She’s not wrong, man,” he replied and tossed the book aside so he could lean back on the couch. “You’re missing out, that’s all. Our band’s account has over three million followers now, and I bet you had no idea.”

Anakin’s eyes widen in shock as he sets his own notebook down. “Seriously? Three million?” He asks and both Vinny and Theo nod at him. “Y/n updates me sometimes, but we were barely at two million the last time she told me.”

Vinny shrugged again and leaned over to sip on his beer. “That was probably before we released Sugar,” he thought out loud. “That song did really well and gave us a lot of exposure on TikTok.”

Smirking, Anakin looks away before he slipped up and told the guys what inspired him to write that song - as if the lyrics weren’t enough of a giveaway. A month before moving to this apartment, Anakin went down on you in the middle of packing and was instantly hit with a song idea after he got you off. He even postponed your offer of a round two in order to scribble out a draft of the song.

He refined it a week later and got the guys to add whatever they wanted to it, and a few weeks after that it was released. 

The song was very obviously about going down on a girl, more specifically, you, and he supposed that was enough to get them trending on that dumb app once again. 

“We should add Sugar to the setlist,” Theo suggested as he strummed the strings on his bass. 

Anakin perked up at that as he dropped the book onto the coffee table he and Vinny put together an hour or so ago and pulled out his phone. “That’s a great idea,” he agreed and knew that would probably be his new favorite song to perform live. He scrolled through the app store and muttered something under his breath before installing Instagram.

After messing around with the app for a bit, he had made his username ‘anakin_skywalker’ and uploaded a photo you took of him when he was looking out the window of the tour bus a few months back as his profile picture. He browsed through his gallery before settling on a selfie of the two of you he took on the last day of tour. You were both smiling and squinting at the camera as you tried to block the sun from your eyes, and it was probably one of his favorite photos of you and him. 

He made that picture his first post with the caption being a simple red heart. 

Anakin was still shocked to see that the band’s account did, in fact, have over three million followers when he followed it himself, as well as Vinny, Theo and you. Once he’s done stalking your account and scrolling through all the photos of you he had never seen before, he sets his phone down and that is when he hears the door to the bedroom open and the sound of fast paced footsteps coming down the hall.

“Anakin! You made an account!” You cheer as you throw yourself onto his lap. “I knew you’d give in.”

He rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Not really, I just wanted to see if we really did hit three million followers. Thanks for telling me, by the way,” 

“Oh, whatever,” you scoffed and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Your first post is us! I love that picture.”

Anakin grinned down at you. “Me too, princess,” he kissed you quickly. “But I’m a bit annoyed that I had to put a stupid underscore in my username. Seriously, who the fuck took ‘anakinskywalker’ when that’s literally the most unique name ever?”

“Fan account, probably,” Vinny answered before waving at you. “Hey, Y/n. Will we be blessed to have you join us on tour again?”

You tense a bit in Anakin’s arms, something you’re sure he noticed but didn’t say anything about, thankfully. “Maybe. I applied for this program thing that is set around the same time the tour starts,”

“Ah,” Vinny nods and smiles at you. “That’s cool.”

“It’s very cool,” Anakin corrects him as he slides one hand up to caress the back of your head. “My girl’s the smartest one out of all of us combined.”

Theo tilts the neck of his beer bottle in your direction. “Now that’s very true,” he smiled at you and you shook your head, wrapping one arm around your boyfriend’s shoulders. 

“You think too highly of me, all of you,” you brush off their words and stand up. Anakin reluctantly lets you go and leans back against the couch, eyeing the small tattoo on the side of your wrist as you look at your phone. “Wow, Ani, you’ve already got nineteen thousand followers.” 

“Fuck,” he laughed and looked at your screen when you showed him. “Is it too late to delete it now?”

“Yes,” you confirm and lean down to place a chaste kiss to his mouth. “So don’t bother.”

Anakin tries to pull you back onto his lap, but you just grin at him before pulling away completely and shoving your phone in your pocket. 

“I’ll leave you guys to continue writing and go get dinner,” you say and begin to back out of the room “Any requests?” 

“Get Chinese food,” Theo suggests, adding a quick “Please” once he saw the glare Anakin gave him at his demanding words to you. 

You laugh and lightly slap Anakin’s shoulder, instantly making his glare soften. “Be nice, it’s okay,” you murmur. “Chinese food it is. I’ll be back soon.”

Anakin watched your retreating form until you disappeared around the corner and left through the door. When he turned back to the guys, he found them smirking at him. “Dude, you are so whipped,” Vinny laughed as he picked up his notebook. 

Anakin rolled his eyes. “As if I wasn’t already aware of that,”

“How will you make it without her if she does this program thing?” Theo asks, making Anakin look over at the blond.

He really hadn’t thought about it, simply because he didn’t want to imagine going on tour without you there to cheer him on from backstage. He wanted you to do this program and wanted you to make a career out of it, but he also wanted you with him every day. 

For nearly five years he hadn’t spent longer than a week away from you, and that was including all the times he had to sneak you into his parents house back when you were both seventeen.

He couldn’t imagine spending more than a couple months without you. In fact, he was sure he physically couldn’t be away from you for that long. “I don’t know,” he answered as honestly as he could, not wanting to come off as even more whipped for you. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

The guys just nod and go back to writing lyrics and notes, leaving Anakin to get lost inside his own head as he thought about the very real possibility of having to be without you in a few weeks. 

-

A week goes by and Anakin has yet to see what the hype about Instagram is. 

He had over five hundred thousand followers now and still only one post, and even that had over three hundred thousand likes. He really only went on it to do exactly what you knew he would, which is to read your sappy but very romantic captions about him. 

Your latest one was probably his favorite so far, and it was a harsh dig at him. 

Y/nY/l/n: my 21 year old bf finally got ig and already has more followers than me and i’ve been here for seven years. seven. years. let that sink in, show off. you can delete it now.

The picture was one of you and him on the couch, both your tongues sticking out and hazy looks in your eyes. 

He had to laugh because you both looked high, despite neither of you ever touching a drug a day in your lives. Alcohol, on the other hand…well that’s a different story. 

“Maybe making an Instagram account was a bad idea,” Vinny commented as he looked over at Anakin from his place on the chair. “The dude won’t stop stalking his girlfriend’s account even though he lives with her.”

“What did you expect? More than half our songs are about Y/n,” Theo added and Anakin just shook his head and pocketed his phone.

“You’d be the same way if you landed yourselves a girl like her,” was all he said as he sat up in his own chair. 

“Hey, Clara is amazing, too,” Vinny defended his girlfriend, but there was no doubting that yours and Anakin’s relationship is a lot stronger than his and Clara’s. “And Theo is just a lost cause.”

Theo stuck his middle finger up as the two other guys laughed. “Thanks, asshole,” he mumbled as he looked back down at his phone. 

Vinny narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been looking at that all morning, man,” he points out. “Is everything okay?”

Anakin, too, noticed Theo’s recent phone obsession, but isn’t as vocal as Vinny is about that kind of thing, clearly. Vinny had no problem calling people out, and Anakin had to appreciate it to an extent, because he had been called out by him more times than he could count on one hand. It saved his ass many times when he got into disagreements with you and Vinny was the one who told him he needed to apologize.

Theo sighed and placed his phone on the coffee table. “It’s my mom,” he said as he crossed his arms. “She’s been feeling really sick lately and my sister and I are getting pretty worried about her.”

“Damn,” Vinny said under his breath, suddenly feeling bad about calling out his friend now.

“Is she okay? Should you be going back on tour right now with her feeling sick?” Anakin asked as he leaned over and braced his elbows on his knees. 

“She’s just not well, man,” Theo shrugged. “I told her about the tour and she said that I should go have fun and that Mary can look after her while I’m gone.”

Anakin nods and shares a look with Vinny. “We can ask Helena if we can push the tour back a few more months,” Vinny offers, but Theo just shook his head.

“No, it’s alright,” he waved his bandmates off. “I want to go back on tour. It’ll take my mind off it.”

“Okay,” Anakin said and leaned back in the chair. “Just keep us updated.”

Theo nodded as he asked, “Where is Helena, anyway?” 

Vinny shrugged and leaned back. “She’s usually on time, so whatever is keeping her must be important,” 

As if on cue, the door to the lounge opens and in walks their manager, done up in dress pants and a blouse. Her heels are loud against the floor as she makes her way over to them, a smile on her painted red lips and a folder in her hand. “Sorry, boys,” she apologizes as she sits next to Theo around the coffee table. “Traffic is no joke in this part of the city.”

Anakin laughs in agreement as he, too, got held up earlier this morning but still managed to make it to the studio by ten in the morning. “No worries, we get it,”

She gives him a grateful smile as she places her papers onto the table and leans over to scatter them around. “Okay, so you all know that you’re the first band I’ve ever managed, so we’re really learning how to do this together,” she starts, looking up at the three of them. “I was thinking that we need to do something to promote the shows that have been added. The tour ended a couple months ago, and I’m sorry to say this, but Sugar can only get us so far. It was a hit, yeah, but the fans need more. I’m really going to need you guys in the studio and making more music than you have so far. If you want to keep doing this for many years to come, we need more songs out by the time the next tour comes around.”

The thought of not singing or making music in the future was one Anakin didn’t want to think about, so he quickly pushed back his witty remarks and sat up even straighter, giving Helena his full attention as she began to go over a possible option for promo. 

-

You were at home alone and bored as Anakin had been whisked away to yet another band meeting. 

You were organizing your books when your phone went off from its place on the desk. Standing up from your crouched position and pushing away the box of hard covers, you grab your phone and click on the notification. It brought you to your email and your eyes widened a bit when you read the subject. 

Y/n, Congratulations!

Your hand was shaking a bit as you clicked on the email and read the first sentence.

Dear Y/n, 

We are thrilled to congratulate you on your acceptance into the Writing Program here at the Dun-Walsh Academy. 

You nearly dropped your phone as you read through the email about ten times before it really hit you. 

You did it. You got accepted. You did it.

You squeal a bit and jump up and down on the spot while hugging your phone to your chest, wishing that Anakin would hurry up and come home so you could share the news with him. 

Anakin.

You stopped jumping instantly as you remembered that he is going on tour again in a couple of weeks and wouldn’t be able to go with you to London like he wanted to.

“Shit,” you curse to yourself as you read the email again. 

You wanted to attend this school a lot more than you initially thought, but you also didn’t want to go without Anakin. You wanted to go on tour with him again and be his quiet cheerleader backstage. 

“Fuck,” you curse again and walk out of the shared office and into the living room. Sitting down on the couch and picking at your nails, you debate your options.

One; go to London, take the program and miss out on Anakin’s tour.

Or,

Two; bail on the program and go on tour with him. 

You were missing out on something either way. 

There will be other writing opportunities, right?

As awful as it sounds, you would rather choose Anakin over your own future, and that was a scary thought, but it was true. 

You were sitting there for about fifteen minutes before the door swung open and the sound of footsteps was heard. “Baby?” Anakin called out and you sat up a bit and set your phone aside.

“In the living room,” you called back and watched as your boyfriend entered the room not even a second later. “Hi.”

“Hey, pretty girl,” he said back as he leaned down to place a deep kiss to your mouth. He caressed your face as he pulled you back in for another quick peck before grinning down at you. “I missed you.”

“I missed you,” 

He smiled again and moved to sit next to you. “What’d you get up to today?”

You shrugged and picked up your phone again. “Nothing too exciting,” you answer. “Just sorted through a few more boxes.”

Anakin nodded and ran the tips of his fingers along the skin of your bare thigh. Your shorts did nothing to cover your legs from his intense gaze, and you swallow harshly as he mumbles a “That’s good,” in his deep, raspy voice. He leaned in to kiss you again, a much deeper one than before, and you moan quietly against his mouth. He hummed as he pulled away, “I love that sound.”

“Some would say you love it so much that you would put it in a song,” you teased, referring to the fact that he did include a recording of your moan in a song. 

He shrugged, smirking at you as he said, “The world needed to hear how hot you sound in bed,”

“Mhm, sure,” 

Anakin shrugged again before dropping the smirk a bit and moving to hold your hand in his. “Something’s on your mind,” he commented, lacing your fingers together and resting your joined hands on his thigh. “What is it?”

You knew he would be able to read you like an open book as soon as he returned home, so you didn’t bother hiding how you were feeling from him. “I heard back from that school,” you say and watch as he nods, urging you to continue. “I got accepted.”

Anakin stays still as his eyes flicker all over your face. His hand tightened around yours just slightly as he exhaled through his nose before smiling over at you. “I knew you would,” he brought your hand up to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I’m so proud of you.”

Unable to stop yourself, you move so you’re straddling him and his hands are on your hips instantly. “But you’re going back on tour,” you point out. “You can’t come with me to London.”

Anakin gives you a forced smile. “We’ll figure it out,” he assured you, but it didn’t help much. “Yeah, I’m going on tour, but that’s my future. This is yours.”

You bite down on your lip as you process his words. “But we’ve never been away from each other for that long,” you nearly whisper. “Not since we were in high school.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he promised, kissing your forehead. “We’ll be fine, we always are. It’s only a few months, and I think Helena said that one of the new tour locations is in London, so you can come see that one. I’ll need my biggest fan at one of the shows, at least.”

You nod and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “I’ll give it up for you,” you murmured. “You know that.”

“I know you would,” he responds and pulls you against his chest. “And I love you for that, but I can’t hold you back from making a potential career out of this. I couldn’t, not after you’ve been so supportive of me and the band.”

You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder. “We have two weeks until the tour,” you inform him. “Two weeks until I need to be in London.”

Anakin pulled you even closer, inhaling your sweet vanilla scent he knew he would be missing for months. “Then we better start making up for lost time now,” 

And that was how you found yourself completely exposed to his lust filled eyes as you break in the new couch by fucking him on it. 

Your clothing was strewn around the room and some of it hung off the couch as you sunk down on him at a fast pace. You were both pent up and anxious about having to spend three months away from one another, and you were putting that frustration into the way you fucked yourself onto him. “I love you, Ani,” you promised as you grind your hips against his. 

Anakin tilted his head so it was against the backrest of the couch, his firm grip on your waist helping you move on him. “I love you, too,” he said under his breath, sliding one hand to the front of your body so his thumb can rub harsh circles onto your clit. “I’m so fucking proud of you, princess. I always am.”

You sigh as you lean down to connect your lips in a kiss. “You feel so good, Ani,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his as you spoke. “Gonna make me come.”

“I want you to, baby,” he rasped, pinching your clit in a way that left you shaking against him. “I want it all over me.”

Your body shook a bit as your orgasm ripped through you, the rolling of your hips stalling as you cried out against his mouth. “Fuck, Ani, fuck,” you whine as he grips your waist to be able to thrust up into you. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmured as he kissed all over your neck, the relentless clench of your walls making his vision blur a bit. “My good girl.”

His sweet praises make you whimper and cling to him tightly. “Anakin, please,” you begged. You were so sensitive, but you also needed to feel him fill you up because you would be missing out on the feeling of him for months. 

You seriously couldn’t believe you were considering leaving him for three months. That’s a whole quarter of a year. Your five year anniversary is coming up next month, are you really willing to spend your half a decade milestone away from him?

“Please…what?” He teased, but his voice wasn’t mocking at all. “What, pretty girl? What do you need?”

Your body shook as you tried your best to hold yourself up. “I need you,” you whispered and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling his body right up against yours. “Need it.”

“Yeah? You need it?” He asked, sliding his hands up your back and pulling you roughly down against him. His lips press against yours with every fuck of his hips and he filled you so well, you didn’t think you could ever get enough of him. “Need me to fill you up? Keep you nice and full for when those London boys think they have a chance with you?”

“God, Anakin,” you moan, rarely ever getting to see his jealous side come out. He never had a reason to get jealous as yours and his relationship was pretty obvious to anyone with eyes, so no one ever tried anything with either of you. Sure, people looked, but that was as far as it went. “Do it.”

And Anakin was never one to deny your wishes. 

With a couple more thrusts he was spilling himself deep within your wet walls and painting you white. “There you go, princess,” he grunts. “Take it.”

You moan breathlessly and release your tight grip on him, softly running your hands through his hair. “Fuck,”

Anakin laughs quietly, wrapping his arms around you and gently rubbing your hips in his large hands. “We’re going to have to do that non-stop until we’re both satisfied enough to be able to not have sex for three months,”

You smile at him, brushing your nose against his as you say, “I’ll come visit whenever I can. Honestly, I don’t think I can go that long without you,”

“Me either,” he agreed. “Please, come visit me whenever you can. I’ll buy the plane ticket or whatever you’ll use to come back to me, but please, come visit me.”

You nod and nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. “You know I will, Ani,”

While you were both reassured for now, doubts and worries were beginning to linger in the backs of both yours and Anakin’s heads, but neither of you would ever admit it.

[fudgelling-away]

I am posting a WIP to share how happy I am that I've made that reference pic for Sans. It was a pain but it was worth it. It really is useful. I hope it will help me keep his appearance consistent for at least some time.

As you can see, drawing his belly was not enough to satisfy my simping needs, no... I had to lift his shirt up... heheh. I just cannot control myself.

Other than becoming more unhinged in my obsession, it feels like I started to make some progress in art. Learning how to draw properly is very hard for me because I am mentally exhausted after my office work. It's a very fast-paced, difficult job. After hours of problem solving I am left with no strength and no desire to learn anything new. All I want is to... do nothing and just rest, really, but I force myself to keep being creative. I cannot force myself to properly study drawing, though. That would be too much and I have no space for another mental load to bear.

That being said, I still feel like I am making some progress. And I am happy, and that's what matters. Right now I am working on a reference sheet for expressions, as well as drawing his skull from different perspectives. That's a lot of fun and it's not nearly as frustrating as I thought it would be.

Also, I am trying to become active on AO3. I've recently realised that I talk about my favourite fics all the time but I am yet to leave a single comment. That is shameful and that's going to change. I will do better.

Other than that, I am focusing on finishing some of my ficlets, but English has become weirdly difficult for me these days. Not just English, actually. I don't know why. Everything I say feels wrong. The sentences I build feel... off. I have no idea what's up with that. It's possible that it's the lack of a proper sleeping schedule. I hope it will pass eventually. It's horribly frustrating.

I hope you all are doing well! I have seen tons of your pictures that I plan to reblog and comment on (about 50 are waiting in my drafts). I have fics waiting in a queue to be read. There is so much art everywhere... Thank you, Sans simp community, for being so awesome.

[fenrislorsrai]

Fandom Trumps Hate- Good Omens Offerings

this is a non-exhaustive list because there are so many Good Omens offerings. These are just Discord pals that were go "aaaaaaaaaaa what if nobody bids on me!?!?!?!"

well, then what if I give you the opposite problem and EVERYONE bids on you. AHAHAHAHAHA. Chaos for a good cause! my favorite!

Read the full offering for details. I've just given a super quick summary and additional fandoms they do if you're going "I hunger for CROSSOVER" plus said nice things about them. HAHAHAHA. YOU HAVE TO ACCEPT MY COMPLIMENTS NOW!

Get art or words as a gift for your favorite fandom for a charity donation! Fandom Trumps FAQ on how it all works. @fandomtrumpshate

Dorli-+ Legend of Zelda, Avatar The Last Airbender- illustration, banner, or book cover -- up to M rating - does trans/nb characters, f/f ships - absolutely the softest, squishiest looking character work. get the most huggable version of characters. (or squishy AND hot. ohohohoho)

SassishMoon- illustration up to E rating- does trans/nb characters, f/f ships -special note, I got art for Moon last year and it was fabulous. also have a collab coming out in a zine and it is HOT HOT HOT.

WarGoddess- + FullMetal Alchemist- Illustration up to E rating- interested in angst, unhappy endings, genderbending- lovely textures. beautiful skins tones and absolutely fabulous wings.

Sightkeeper- illustration up to E rating- option for comic page if bid goes high enough!- interested in trans & nonbinary characters- Delicious line work and delightful facial expressions. also: monsters

TheRavenMuse - 5-10K fic up to E rating- make it dark, make it weird! and by weird, has done Bentley/Bookshop smut. TIME FOR CRACK.

contritecactite- + Final Fantasy: VII, XII, XV, Ace Attorney 5-10K fic up to E OR 5K podfic of your work up to M rating- interested in trans & nonbinary character, F/F, polyships, and canon compliant/fill in the gap in canon type fics- go get you some RADIO omens. and Book Omens. writes very caring stuff... and sometimes caring is a good healing fuck.

accidentaldemon- under 5k up to E rating- interested in polyships, trans & nonbinary characters, and humans AUs- do you need some Crowley & Young Shadwell fic? AccidentalDemon has you covered.

TawnyOwl- 5-10K up to E rating- loves AUs where they meet and find they're perfect for each other in a new and special way.

SeedsofWinter +Our Flag Means Death + Venture Brothers- Fan Labor for up to E rating. (length depends on final bid value) Deep content editor. Goes way beyond the basic spelling and grammar check. This is a draft editor to help fill in missing scenes and fix pacing. Has run several zines as the editor! Interested in trans /nb characters, polyships, f/f, reader insert, unhappy endings, and RARE PAIRS.

Ngk_is_cool - under 5K up to T- TV or Book Omens! time for all those secondary character to shine! anything but a/c. especially interested in ace and queerplatonic relationships. do you want a fic with some footnotes like the book?

Shaninal- under 5K up to M rating- A/C in some canon complaint fluff and humor. OR beta read for 5-10K up to E rating for Good Omens, Percy Jackson, or Miraculous Lady Bug

EdosianOrchids- 3 options! 2 soft & fluffy up to 5K and one 5-10K hurt/comfort. TV or Book Omens. especially known for chronic pain, disability, and PTSD focused fics. Come and get some HEALING and comfort for the chronic issues. also does aspc fics.

HKBlack- 10-20K up to E rating. Interested in trans/nb characters. Love AUs with a happy ending. THERE WILL BE PUNS. SO MANY PUNS

This is only a partial sampling go see the whole Good Omens tag

and if you are have a gomens offering not listed here, feel free to add in reblogs! Let's give some charities some money!

[musings-of-a-rose]

I Don't Want to See Tomorrow (Unless I See It With You) - Chapter 1

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader nicknamed "Juni"

Word Count: 3600+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I've had this idea in my head for well over a year and with the Fallout show being dropped (and absolutely AMAZING), I figured now was the time to post it! So this is a Triple Frontier/Fallout crossover au. Huge shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for listening to probably hours of audio at this point of me talking myself through this fic. And to @deathbecomesnerds for listening to me prattle on about video game fics and giving me her own advice.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

I Don't Want to See Tomorrow (Unless I See It With You) Masterlist

May, 2067

"We're so proud of you, honey!" My mom hugs me tight, my cap nearly sliding off my head with the force of it.

"We knew you'd get top marks!" My dad claps me on the back and pulls me in for another tight hug, my cap fully falling from my head this time.

"Thanks, Dad." My mom hands me back my graduation cap and I put it back on my head, attempting to get it to stay put as I look out over the crowd of people.

"There's my favorite graduate."

I spin, nearly falling over in my heels but Benny catches me, chuckling as I right myself. His smile is wide and bright, but there's something else. I can't quite place it.

"What a coincidence. My favorite graduate is here too," I bop him on the nose and he chuckles again. He moves to kiss me but then his eyes shift over my shoulder and he backs up, clearing his throat, no doubt having made eye contact with my dad.

"Ben, will you be joining us for dinner?" My mom asks.

"Uh, sure. Save me a seat."

My mom squeezes my shoulder. "We'll see you at dinner, honey."

I give them each a hug before they leave, turning back to Benny. He immediately pulls me to him, kissing me deeply before pulling back.

"Can I take you somewhere?"

"I'll go anywhere with you, Benny."

He takes my hand, so small in his large one, and leads me through the crowd to his old truck. He opens the door for me and helps me in before hopping in the driver's seat. I scoot next to him and lay my head on his shoulder, Benny laying his arm across the back of the seat. We drive for a bit before turning into our neighborhood and pulling into the empty park. We get out and he takes my hand, pulling me towards a juniper tree that was in a field next to the playground. He pulls me to him and kisses me again, my cap long since forgotten in the cab of his truck.

"Why are we here, Benny?"

"Don't you remember this tree, Juni?"

I smile up at him as I glance at the tree. "How could I forget? We met under this tree shortly after I moved here. It's why you call me Juni. Like juniper." I gesture at the tree.

He smiles at the memory. "We were what...5?"

"Yeah. Such a long time ago. Now look at us. 18 and heading to college."

There's an awkward silence and I look up at him. "Benny?"

He rubs the back of his neck, not quite looking at me. "About college."

I step back from him. "You're not going through with the sign up, are you??"

He holds his hands out, trying to placate me. "Look. Will is already there. He flew through basic and they're putting him in a special force if he keeps it up-"

"There's a war, Benny-"

"Exactly. And I know we aren't there yet, but we both know there will be a draft eventually-"

"You don't know that!"

"And if I sign up voluntarily, I get some say in where I go. I'm a way better shot than Will so I think I can make it into his-"

"No. No! I can't...I don't....I'll go with you!" I'm fighting back tears, my voice catching in my throat.

Benny shakes his head. "No, sweetheart. You need to go to college. You're too smart. Get that masters in..what was it...bio-nuclear agriculture practices? Sciences?"

I shake my head. "I don't care. I want to be with you! Unless...do you not-"

Benny's face becomes serious. He cups my face and forces me to look at him, his eyes so bright but worried. "Don't think that I don't want you. I do. I want you forever and always. But I have to do this. I have to get ahead of it. This way, I can watch Will's back too."

My tears break free, sliding down my cheeks. "I'm scared, Benny. I can't lose you."

"You won't lose me."

"You'll find some other girl and...and..." Benny cuts me off with a kiss, my tears rubbing off onto his face. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a simple, plain gold band. Not too thick.

"Benny?"

"Look, I'm not forcing anything on you. I can't do that to you, especially signing up for the army. But I did make this promise ring. And, in a few years when you're all graduated, if you still want to, I'll add a rock to it and we'll get married."

I hold the small band in my palm, touching it with my fingers before looking back up at him.

"This was not the best proposal," he chuckles and I do too, despite everything.

"It wasn't a proposal. It's a promise. How about you promise to come home to me in one piece?"

"I can promise to try my best."

I nod. "I'll take it."

Benny slides the band onto my finger and pulls out a thicker band from his pocket and hands it to me. I slide it onto his finger, winding his hand in mine and for a moment, we both just stare at our hands, feeling the weight of our futures.

"When you get your own power armor, make sure to send me a photo!"

Benny smiles. "Fuck yeah I will!"

10 years later...

Benny and I had stayed faithful to each other over the last 10 years. My friends never understood why I didn't want to go out partying, dating around. "He said he didn't hold you to anything!" They'd complain. But I would just shake my head. Benny holds all of me, always has, since the day we met under that juniper tree. He took one look at my scared face, alone in this new neighborhood, and took my hand, told me everything would be ok and that we were friends now.

He'd have to be the one to leave because I never would.

We met up over the years, sometimes being lucky his off time would line up with mine. We'd make the most of our time together, Benny preferring to spend as much time as possible between my thighs and I wasn't going to complain about that. But every time we talked about adding a rock to the band, his face would get worried. He said things were heating up with the war and he didn't want me tied down if something happened to him. I told him ring or no, I was already tethered to him.

Then, about 3 years ago, he told me he was saving up for that rock. That it would take him some time. I didn't care how long as we were already married in my mind. Our times together became less and less as the Sino-American War waged on, both sides at a stalemate.

Then finally, in May of 2078, a few weeks after I graduated from Vault-Tec University with my Masters in Bio-fusion Agriculture, Benny knocked on my front door, already on one knee when I answered it holding up a beautiful diamond ring in exactly my style. Once he slid the ring on my finger, I pulled him inside, not making it past the front entrance way before we were tearing each other's clothes off, Benny burying himself inside of me as I try to not slide across the floor.

We were married that same night.

He had to leave a few days later, but we made good use of our time together.

2077

Around late August, Vault-Tec moved my research lab from the city proper to a smaller research lab just outside the city. It worked out fairly well as it was stationed near the vault that was basically up the hill from my parent's suburban home. The one I grew up in. I liked being out of the city. There were less soldiers here, people were stressed still but it wasn't as violent.

The beginning of October rolled in, bringing cooler weather and the start of my favorite season. Morale, as a country, was low, so people took to decorating for Halloween early, the decorations helping people to smile a little more. But nothing put a smile on my face like Benny showing back up, his entire unit, including his brother Will and their other "brothers" Frankie, Santi, and Tom, all returning to their homes.

We spent a couple weeks together before the phone rang in the middle of the night. Benny yawns, picking it up with a grunt, his back immediately straightening out at whomever was on the other end. All I heard was "Yes, Sir," before he hung up.

"You're leaving?" I ask, grazing my fingers across his bare back.

"Yeah," he turns, pulling down the comforter to reveal my bare chest, his finger tracing lines around my breasts, my nipples hardening at the touch. "But not for long. They just want us to escort a higher up when they visit Boston."

"Sounds serious."

He nods, his hand sliding lower, under the covers and pressing between my thighs. "It is. Very serious."

"So..d-do you have t-to leave?" It was hard to focus, the pressure between my legs building the longer he caresses me.

He leans in close, kisses me softly. "Not before I make love to my wife."

He leaves about an hour later, my inner thighs sticky with him, my heart racing not with bliss but with worry that he won't return.

October 23rd, 2077

I wake to birds singing outside my bedroom window, ringing in a beautiful Saturday morning. I roll out of bed, get ready for the day before heading over to my parent's house to stop in for a surprise breakfast. However, my parents were gone, headed into Boston for an appointment, according to our Mr. Handy robot, Hawthorne. In the meantime, the robot had made me breakfast, which I sat and ate, looking at the newspaper but not really taking it in.

I get bored of the paper and set it aside, flipping on the tv, hoping to catch something interesting. I really miss Benny. His absence this week has been weighing heavily on me.

"...followed by flashes, blinding flashes, sounds of explosions. We're trying to get confirmation but we seem to have lost contact with our affiliate stations. We do have coming in, that's uh...confirmed reports, I repeat, confirmed reports of nuclear detinations in New York and Pennslyvania. My God-"

The TV cuts out and I sit there, momentarily stunned at what the news anchor just reported. Nucelar explosions? That can't be right. But then the siren rings, it's high pitched wail sending goosebumps across my skin.

"Ma'am, I think you need to head to the Vault," Hawthorne advises.

I shake my head to snap out of it, quickly running for the door. When I get outside, soldiers are already in the streets, the vertibirds flying towards Boston.

"...If you are registered, head to Vault 111 immediately!" A soldier yells through a megaphone as my neighbors run screaming in the street, some towards the path that will take them to the vault. Others stay in their driveways, cowering in fear.

Someone pushes past me and I fall, scraping my palms on the pavement. I scramble up, just making it to my feet before someone else collides into me, yelling at me to move my ass. I take one last look around and run to the vault, my bare feet thudding across the dirt path.

I pass neighbors with trunks of clothes scattered everywhere, the husband pleading with the wife to leave everything and just run. My heart is nearly beating through my chest as I make my way up the hill, a small crowd gathered in front of the gate to Vault 111. An angry crowd, yelling over the loud wail of the siren and the whoosh of the vertibird propellers.

"If you're not on the list, you're not getting in!" An official looking man yells at a couple who is standing in front of him, the man shifting his weight to his back foot.

"I'm getting in there!" He starts to move forward, but then the high pitched whine of a mini gun starts up, the soldier in power armor, standing at least a foot over the man, pointing it at him.

"Ok, ok, fine!" The man puts his hands in the air and stands aside, his wife following.

The crowd starts to push together, but I force my way through them, yelling to the soldier.

"I'm on the list!"

"Back away! Back away!" The power armored soldier aims again and the people back away, but only a couple of feet. The uniformed soldier looks down at me, clip board in hand.

"Name?"

"Miller." I give him my first name as well as Benny's and his rank.

"Ben Miller's wife? Head on in. Quick!" He waves me through, but I pause for a moment.

"Do you know where he is?"

"No ma'am. Now please, head inside!"

I look out at the crowd of people, now trying to shove each other to get inside, the gate starting to groan with their press. But the one face I want to see, Benny's, is nowhere to be seen.

I'm sure he's ok. I mean, he's a soldier, in an elite group. He's just guarding some fancy higher up in Boston. I'm sure this is just a precaution. I turn my back on my neighbors and run, as fast as I can, to the platform. Another soldier waves me over and points to the platform, where I stand between some neighbors with a baby and the Hendersons, the people who live across the street from my parents.

My parents. They're on the vault list too. Maybe they got into one nearer to Boston? Is that even how this works?

"Almost there!" One of the other people shouts as we wait to be lowered into the vault. I look out over the tree tops from our place on the hill, the Boston skyline gleaming in the distance, my heart hurting that Benny isn't here with me. I'm sure it's nothing, but I'm still terrified.

BOOM!

The ground shakes violently. My eyes reflect the mushroom cloud that explodes over Boston, it's dome slowly floating up into the sky as its sounds reverberate through my body. I can't help the scream erupting in my throat as a violent wind comes whooshing at us a moment later, the city already in flames. The ground below me moves, lowering us into the vault. We all duck just in time, the wind and fire flowing over the space we took up moments before, the whole cement tube rumbling and shuddering with the force of the detonation. For what seems like an eternity, we're in pitch black darkness, the creaking of the pullies lowering us and the sounds of our own whimpers and whispers, the baby crying our only sounds to accompany us down into the vault.

Then light appears as we settle into place, our platform locking in. The gate in front of us opens and a man in a lab coat beckons us forward from the end of the ramp.

"Welcome to Vault 111! Step this way for registration."

"What happened to all of those people up there?" Someone asked.

"Please, let's just get you registered, and through decontamination, and then we can address all your concerns!" Labcoat offers as he gestures towards a woman in a bright blue jumpsuit, yellow stripes down the middle and around the hips like a belt, giant yellow numbers on the back that say 111.

"They're all dead, you idiot. That was a nuclear bomb!" Someone else replied.

"No it wasn't. I bet that was just a trial. This is all practice." He argues back.

"That heat didn't feel fake," someone else pipes up.

Gone. They're all gone. Benny...No. No, I'm sure he's safe, made it to his own vault. All those fancy rich people had vaults. I'm sure he made it in time and I can contact him once I get checked in. I'm sure the vaults all have a way to communicate with each other. Right?

I take a shaky step forward, wiping the tears from my cheeks, willing them to stop for at least check in. I head to the lady Labcoat indicated and she smiles warmly at me. I give her my name and she runs a finger down her list, tapping on what I presume is my name.

"There you are. Mrs. Miller, female. Is your husband-" she glances back down at the list. "-Benjamin, here?" She looks back up at me, a soft, friendly smile on her face, which falters as she looks at me.

"I...he...he was on a m-mission wi-with..."I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "My husband is Lieutenant Benjamin Miller. He's in Delta Force. He and his squad were guarding some higher up when....do...do you have any...I mean, do you know..." I can barely choke out words, my mind on Benny but also his brothers.

The woman smiles at me. "I understand. I don't have any information here, unfortunately. All they gave me was this clipboard and some boxes of jumpsuits. But I'm sure once you get through decontamination, they can find out for you. Ok?"

I nod, sniffling, feeling the sob trying to burst out of me. The woman looks me up and down, reaching into one of the boxes around her before handing me a folded up jumpsuit that I'm assuming will look just like hers. "There's a bathroom down that hall on the right. Go ahead and get changed, then head down this hall to the next man in a labcoat. Ok?" I take the uniform from her, attempt a small smile, but my face doesn't move. She gives my hand a little squeeze before I make my way to the bathroom.

I quickly change, zipping up the blue jumpsuit. That woman sure is a good judge of size. This thing fits me like a glove. I gather up my clothes and head down the hall she indicated, taking one last look at the giant vault door, huge and solid, before heading towards the next Labcoat, who was beckoning me to him.

"Hi, Miss-"

"Mrs. I'm Mrs. Miller."

He smiles, but it's...unsettling. Something about his eyes worries me but I can't quite put my finger on it.

"You can leave those here," He nods towards the wad of clothes in my arms and points to a large bin off to the side. "We require jumpsuits from all vault dwellers."

I quickly toss my clothes in the bin, just trying to get through this quickly so I can get more information on Benny. My hands are shaking and I'm holding back vomit, willing my brain to not replay what's happened in the last 15 minutes.

He smiles again. "Thank you, Mrs. Miller. If you'll follow me." He turns and heads down another hall, turning to enter the 2nd doorway. Inside the room is rather large and cold, and I shiver, holding my arms around myself as the Labcoat walks further in. There are what looks like pods, about 6 on each side, facing each other. They have a myriad of tubes and pipes coming from them, a little control panel standing next to each pod. The doors appear to open up as opposed to a normal door. We stop in front of one of them, the door standing open for me, and Labcoat gestures to it.

"If you'll just hop in, ma'am."

"What is it?" I look inside and see some cushions, sort of like a chair if your were standing. I glance around and notice more people coming in, all of them standing in front or getting into a pod, donning the bright blue jumpsuits.

"It's a decontamination chamber. We have to make sure everyone is clean and free of radiation and other unpleasentries before we allow you into the vault. For vault health and security, of course."

I nod. "Makes sense. I do have a question."

He looks irritated but then that smile is back. "Yes, ma'am?"

"When I get through here, I'll be able to talk to someone about my husband? He's a lieutenant in Delta Force and I think he may be in another vault."

"Absolutely. Our communications specialists can help you with that."

A sigh of relief escapes me. "So you can communicate with other vaults?"

"Oh yes. Sort of like a telegram. If he's in a vault, we'll find him ma'am. Now if you'll just step into the pod, we can get you through decontamination and one step closer to finding your husband."

My eyes glance around the room, seeing everyone else hopping into their own pods. I'm so nervous, that vomit starting to make it's way back up my throat. And I fucking need Benny. He can't be dead. The possibility that I'd have to face a future without him is nearly unbearable. I turn back to my pod and get inside, nestling myself down into the cushions. Labcoat taps a button on the panel and my door starts to close at the same time as the others. My breathing picks up, air visibly puffing out and I swear it's colder in here than it was in the room.

"Now just relax and you'll be clean in no time!" Labcoat smiles at me.

I take a deep breath, my thoughts only of Benny as my world goes black, my mind slipping into unconsciousness. The last thing I feel is my skin freezing, my body going hard, preventing any sort of movement.

I'm coming, Benny.

>>Chapter 2>>

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Silver Lining 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"So your sister will be coming by next week with the little ones," your mother declares as you stand at the sink, scrubbing away the remnants of roast beef and potato. "You'll get to play auntie for the day."

"Mhmm," you nod, "what about Justin?"

"Oh, your brother's down visiting with his fiance's family. He said he'd try to make if for Christmas Eve but you know how her family is."

You sniff and pretend to know. You really don't. It's all hearsay to you. You don't hear much from either siblings; they have lives, you just happen to be related.

"S-sounds great," you utter as you put another plate in the rack.

"Oh, honey, you should just use the dishwasher," she says.

"It's f-f-fine, this works," you insist.

"Well, what about you? What are you up to?" She leans on the counter.

"I..." you don't know what to say. You need a lie, anything to appease her. Your brother's engaged, your sister has the white picket fence and you have nothing, "oh, I h-have a job interview."

"You do?" She sounds thoroughly disbelieving.

"Uh, yeah, w-well," you stammer through, trying not to give away your deceit, "since n-no one wants to h-hire me in my f-field, I f-found something new."

"That's exciting," she chimes, "what is it?"

"Uh, I w-want to see i-if it turns out b-before I say," you give a tight-lipped smile, "don't want to d-disappoint you again."

"Sweetie, you're not a disappointment," she hums, "I'm always happy to see you trying."

You look down at the sink and shrug. Behind that comment is the inference that you weren't trying before. That you haven't been. The long nights with vivid nightmares don't exactly motivate you and you've been all but blacklisted as an executive assistant. Even admin roles aren't responding. Even if you do get a bite, the job market is drawn out and tedious.

"Thanks, mom."

"Just... try not to mope around the kids," she chides, "it's Christmas."

You flutter your lashes, "sure, mom."

That's what you are to everyone; weak, pathetic, useless. No, don't do that. You'll make another appointment with Lisa, she always knows what to do.

☕️

Well, this is it. A last resort. One of those freelancing websites that pays pennies. It's better than nothing and will keep you from having too big a gap on your resume. You could easily do the writing gigs, easy money for transcription. You apply to a few of those and scroll on.

You sit up as you see a particular posting that interest you. Oddly enough, the pay isn't half bad. It's also labeled as 'may lead to ongoing work'. Well, well, well, now that's something.

You click into the posting for 'Podcast Script Writer' and review the details. A sample is required for application and lucky enough, you have lots of those hanging around. If it wasn't for your stammer, you'd have an episode done by now. You deleted enough recordings to the point of giving up. Well, this is a solution. You can get your work out there without having to embarrass yourself.

You go through the application, putting in your info and editing a draft before attaching it to the application. You just hope it's thorough enough. You never really let anyone else see and hitting submit makes your stomach flip. With the final click, you close your laptop and quickly get up. Alright, you're not going to dwell on it. If you hear anything, you'll worry then.

You try to read but can't focus. It just makes you think of the posting and your application. Oh jeez, imagine you're rejected but worse, they tell you you've done everything wrong.

Appointment! You can't forget that. You login to the app and put in a request for a Zoom appointment that week. Alright, you're getting things done, you can't say you've done nothing.

You put a video on your phone and lean it on the pop out grip, propping it up on your mattress to watch the compilation of sitcom moments cut together on Youtube. Your mind wanders and your eyes begin to sag as the day shrouds you in fatigue. You slip into a shallow doze as the glare of the screen flickers over you.

The distant clack of keyboards and clicking of mouses needles behind your ears. It's as if you're trapped in a bubble of silence, all colours and noised dampened by the unseen wall. You shudder as you hear his voice, the only thing that's clear. Your name crawls up behind the shell of your ear with his breath as his hands settle on your hips. Your body aches as every muscles tightens and your bones lock in place. Please, no, not again...

"Sir..." you try to speak but nothing comes out. He's always tugging your skirt up, his hand is around your throat. You close your eyes as tears stain your cheeks.

You wake with a start, your phone black as the battery's drained from neglect. You sit up and pant, looking around your dark bedroom, the moonlight limning shadows sinisterly. You gulp and fall back, watching the ceiling as the tears rise in reality and sting your eyes.

If you'd just said no. A simple word. Even you can manage that.

You lay for a while until your restlessness boils over. You get up and plug in your phone. The screen lights up as you rub your eye socket and yawn. There's an email notification in the taskbar. Probably more ads for things you can't afford.

You pull down the menu but find ‘Application Update’ emblazoned across the notification. Oh wow, that was fast. You keep yourself from tapping on the email.

You don't know if you can handle another rejection. You'd rather languish in the uncertainty. You've been doing so for so long, it almost feels safe.

[hystixia]

-> WRITING COMMISSIONS <-

-> if you’re interested in supporting me in any way please read below for details and prices. reblogs are appreciated and any type of help or support are appreciated as well.

i never thought i’d have to do this but my living situation has gotten increasingly worse and i am facing being potentially homeless sooner rather than later. i don’t have a job due to no sort of transportation and any money i had originally saved up has been pocketed by my parents and i am unable to get back nor am i even allowed to touch the money i did rightfully earn. so i am reaching out in this way to make some sort of money to get by and survive at this point. any type of help is greatly appreciated and i thank you for even reading this at all. it means a lot :,)

-> PAYMENT METHODS <-

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cashapp & paypal are the only ways of sending payment at the moment. these are the only options for commissioning for now.

-> COMMISSION DETAILS <-

commissions will always be open. there are no slots or deadlines to meet to get a commission. feel free to get one whenever and if u want to!! if you’re interested in commissioning please read the details below and dm me!! dms are always open for any questions during the process as well so don’t be scared to ask abt anything to do with your commission! :)

will do: nsfw, sfw, dark content, long fics/oneshots, chapters ( for more info check below ) + potentially more. can be discussed in dms!!

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if you would like to see chapters for rampage come out sooner you can also send tips ranging from $5 or more to help out in small ways and also get more chapters way quicker!

payment is sent after discussing details and specifics + a rough short draft/snippet is shown to confirm that you’re satisfied with what you will receive in full. commissions may take anytime between a day to a couple weeks. like i mentioned before i’m struggling terribly right now and so its even harder to find time to write but i promise i will get any and all commissions out as as i possibly am able to!!

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i’m sure i’m probably missing some things as i’ve never had to do this and i’m sure this is terribly formatted and set up so i do apologize for the sloppy format :,) i do however appreciate all of you for all the support you’ve given me thus far and i am sorry for coming to u all in such a way. i never thought i’d be in this position but here we are. if you’ve read this far i thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking time to read through all of this. any type of help is appreciated whether its thru commissions, tips, reblogs or anything of the sort. i appreciate every single one of you for all you’ve given me :,) you truly have no idea the impact u’ve all left on my life since i first started writing fics on tumblr. i hope u all have a wonderful day/night wherever you are <3

[fumifooms]

i know you aren't really into marcille/laios any longer, but since you went looking online for dungeon meshi doujins, did you happen to find any other marcille/laios ones? (funnily enough at the convention i was at a couple weeks back they had like five, but they were extremely over-exaggerated and personally i prefer my fan content relatively in character...)

Ok first of all: Yeah listen laimar doesn’t have a grip on me anymore but I still quite enjoy it! Just more passively… Altho I do have an analysis that focuses a lot on the importance they hold to each other in my early stage wips drafts, and listen in canon I do think they’re queerplatonic flavored, call me an ot3 qpr truther because Laios Marcille and Falin have a something going on and it transcends being put into a box. But hey hey I reblog laimar artworks I bought that recent doujin I put laimar fics in my -checks- 106 pages long to-read list… Also I have like 5 pages of fanfic prompts for them I may or may not get to writing. Though yeah I do feel bad whenever I notice people following after liking all my laimar posts haha

Sadly to get to the meat of the topic, not really… I don’t go to cons for lack of opportunity so whatever I find is through online. The one I got is The Fourth Basement Floor, it has an english ver and seems so so very in character I can’t wait to get it! Otherwise I’ve looked on Otakurepublic & Doujinrepublic since I use their services for merch from Japan, warning if you click on the link, there are 18+ ones and covers can be pretty explicit. I don’t remember any other laimar one except the one nsfw one I think, but on the plus side there are a lot of gen no ships doujins. I’m bothered because looking back I feel like the catalogue of doujins was wider when I looked all those months ago and it feels like I’m forgetting something hmm… I wish I could help more, but yeah 😔 Pixiv has many laimar comics up (in japanese) if that sates the hunger any

As consolation since I’m already here, why not show some of my laimar things laying around gathering dust I’m fond of. Don’t look if you don’t want to be spoiled for fics I may or may not write I guess? All down below is just laimar prompts

I spoke about some various ones and esp my timeline where she gets him into Daltian Clan here. "Laios… I was wondering, because you enjoy fantasy stories right? I was wondering if you’d like to give my favorite book series a go… It has monsters!" I love love love post-canon laimar where he gets the habit of chewing on her hair because he’s stimming and hungry. Like a goat.

Laios goes to Marcille for love advice.  "You like someone?! Do I know them?" She eagerly asked. "Erm… Yes…?" // Post-canon. He’s so nervous and puts his foot in his mouth n lets things slip out that he thought would give him away. (Comic) "You like someone??! What are they like? Who are they?" And he’s like "Well… She’s a half-elf." He’s like shit she’ll probably know right away. And she goes still. "I’ve never met another half-elf!! We’re so rare! You’re saying you met one and didn’t tell me???!" She’s shaking him. And then she goes still again, contempt drawing on her face. "Wait… Are you asking me for advice because I’m a half-elf?" Laios runs with it "Yes!! And because you’re so savvy with romance and what people like…? If, uh, if you were a half-elf, what would you like to get as a gift? What sort of confession would you want?" "… You saved it there. Okay so since I’m so knowledgeable on romance, tell me what is she like?" "-describes Marcille-" She nods, smug yet oblivious. "Aah I can already tell we’d be great friends. Good taste." (then Thinking bubble with him giving her flowers at a restaurant "Did you know roses are edible and used in recipes", candlelit dinner, or wait maybe the most romantic is cooking together alone at home, chocolate! It’s expensive though… Wait I’m king now!)

Lil comic, Laios wakes up snuggled against Marcille’s back then promptly falls off the bed. The noise makes Marcille wake up and she’s like omg are u ok?? Laios is so sweaty and panicked and in denial about her being special to him.  She explains, disgruntled at the memory "Izutsumi is bunking in with Chilchuck again, they’re taking the whole bedrolls." Pause. "Sorry, I should have told you, but you like sleeping with Izutsumi too so I figured…" She looked sheepish. "Between you and Senshi, I much prefer sleeping with you. It feels sort of nostalgic, like a sleepover, no?" He relaxes and gets in the bed again, smiling. "But… We’ve never had a sleepover?" She chuckles "I guess not. I must be getting that impression because of Falin…" And the air between them is warm yet bittersweet now, as she smiles like that and his eyes and smile cloud over. The earlier instinctive reluctance to touch is gone now. She snuggles into his arms and is like "Hug me?" "Okay." And he does, wraps his arms around her and tucks his chin over her head.

Post canon, marcille takes him to a squid restaurant. Cute lighthearted hehe. He sulks "If there are any parasites in this I will ban squid from this kingdom or so help me…"

Short post canon fluff marcille pov about laios gaining weight n becoming chubby. She used to dream of chiseled abs and angular elves, laios in every way, shape and form is so far from the beauty standards she idealized so. And yet… She loves how soft sleeping against him is, how much there’s more of him for her to hug and nuzzle her face in. She loves seeing him and seeing someone strong, who isn’t malnourished or underweight, someone healthy with color in their skin. An healthy appetite. He used to look more like a rectangle, severe and strict, but now he looked rounder, and seeing him smile at her always made her feel like that roundness suited him. She smiled back, and melted thinking about how her boyfriend was the sweetest in the world. ^I still wanna do this one really bad. Sometimes a fic premise comes from nowhere and puts you in a chokehold and you must finish it to obtain catharsis

Short oneshot about laios musing about Marcille’s smile, how important it is to him in subtle ways etc: Ends with Laios being like wait there’s something off (succubus). Then he grabbed her throat. Or smth

Laios seeing her dungeon like "this is so wrong Marcille you can’t run a dungeon for shit" and also "WHAT ARE THESE HORRORS OF MONSTERS NOO THEY CAN’T BE EFFECTIVE LIKE THAT"

Dinner for two: Very warm. Marcille and Laios are meeting up and cooking a dinner just for them both, no one else is there. They’re being so domestic and it’s light. Laios pauses at some point, doing the dishes, saying… I’ve always worried, thinking doing things like these would remind me of my parents.

Laios doesn’t know what to do when he realizes he actually *likes* likes Marcille, so he avoids her. Everyone notices and is disapproving of him.

Her mana acts up and she shares her dream with someone, kinda like with Izutsumi. Listen the premise could be smutty but I think it’d be more fun if they just hanged out n were silly, like the nightmares chapter without the nightmare

Laimar pining but from the view of Chilchuck, his love hatred sensing a storm brewing. The giggling, the looks. Ugh! It reminded him of himself and his wife when they were young and newly dating.

I love Laios and Izu being worsties so. Laios sees izutsumi rubbing her scent on marcille’s clothes and gets possessive. Maybe Golden Kingdom maybe something else I have no clue but Laios being ridiculous and cheek rubbing or something <3

I might want to do an AU where Laios gets into werebeast ring fighting, before canon and the split happens after he deserts the military. So he’s alone, has nothing going for him and stumbles into that sphere and gets werebeast tattoos done. It doesn’t make him happier at all and fighting sucks actually, but it brings money and he likes being a beast and being cheered by a crowd aka illusion of being liked, and money brings food and eating is the privilege of the living etc etc. So then when he goes to check on Falin at the academy it’s a big AU where he has a whole other reputation and look to him, and when he meets izutsumi their relationship is different and aaaaaa… He’s freeer in this au, lets himself be animalistic and weird, even though ofc the arc is him letting himself be more human as well and connecting with humans, through talking and infodumping n shit. Oh I went off but the laimar is because it’s inspired by cool laimar art here (warning tho it’s an art dump with toudencest also 😔) but werewolf Laios laimar AUs… A lotta fun stuff there idk idk