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featherandferns · 1 day

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daylight - one

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 1 of the daylight series | read prologue here

content warnings: none

word count: 3.5k.

blurb: when your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, a stranger stops to help. It isn't until later that you realise why he seems so familiar.

It’s dusk, around eight at night, when you’re driving home. The dying sunlight is compensated by sparse street lamps. There weren’t many people in this area: houses or shops or anything of the sort. You glance down at your satnav. Still new to the area, all the streets look the same. All the houses do too, for that matter - at least those on the Cut. You’d ventured into Figure Eight last week on foot, camera in hand, and promptly turned back around. The Kooks were far from inviting; eyed you up like bait, practically snarling under breath at the sight of you. The houses were huge, stupid things compared to the two bedroom shack you and your parents had moved into. No, the Cut felt more welcoming. The people were genuine and real. Friendly and helpful, even if they had an edge.

“So…” Your friend Mimsy’s voice through the hands-free speakerphone brings you out of your daydreams. “How is it? Found any hot surfer bros yet?”

You laugh. “Sorry to break your heart but no, not yet.”

“Girl! What the hell have you been doing?” Mimsy scolds.

“I’ve been busy!”

“With what? Wallowing in self pity? Pining after my company?”

“Oh my God, how did you know?” you sarcastically return. “My life is just empty without you around, Mimsy.”

“Damn straight it is,” she mumbles.

Rolling your eyes, you continue down the street. “I’m looking for a side hustle to get some extra cash.”

“God, you’re so boring sometimes, you know that?”

You snigger. “How else do you want me to afford flights to Vancouver? It’s my only way to get back there and see you again. Unless you want me to hitchhike.”

“Nuh-uh! I just listened to the craziest story about hitchhiking! It's this guy called the ‘Glove Guy’ who roams Halifax and–”

“Mimsy,” you interrupt, “what’s our agreement?”

She’s quiet a moment, sighs and says, “one true crime story a day.”

“Mhm. And didn’t we already talk about Ted Bundy?”

“...yes.”

“I rest my case,” you say.

“Look, I’m just saying that if you have to get a job, maybe try and be the official photographer for the lifeguards or something.”

“Mimsy…”

“Then you can ogle at hot guys all day, catch a tan and get paid for it!”

Through Mimsy’s chatter and your stifled laughter, the engine makes a troubling rumble. With that, the whole car shudders. The steering wheel shivers in your grip and your stomach drops, panic rising. Smoke pummels out the hood. Clouds your vision.

“Oh fuck!”

“What? What is it?”

“I gotta call you back!” you blurt, hanging up in a hurry.

You take a fleeting glance in the mirrors and swerve off the road, shutting off the engine. The smoke makes you cough, catching in your lungs.

“Oh shit! Oh shit!” you continue to cuss, grabbing your phone, scrambling to get your keys out the ignition. Swinging the door open, you throw yourself out of the car and run away, scared it might catch on fire or even explode.

As you gape at it, chest heaving, you’re relieved to see the smoke is dying down with the engine shut off. Sighing, you plant your hands on your hips and look up and down. Nobody. Nothing. Not a gas station or a shop you can dash in for help. Hell, any shops would probably be closed either way. You reply to Mimsy’s frantic texts with a brief explanation and then contemplate calling your parents. Before you can, the sound of another car approaching catches your attention. It’s a campervan. Brown paint which is mostly chipped and peeling; stickers decorate the sides and windows. It’s well-loved and well-worn. There’s a guy driving, about your age from the looks, and he’s slowing down at the sight of you and your abandoned car.

He pulls up. Your skin prickles nervously. It’s lonely around here. The engine shuts off and you watch as he jumps out the car and saunters over, hands in his short pockets.

“You a’right?”

“Yeah,” you lie.

He quirks a brow and glances at your still steaming vehicle. “You sure ‘bout that?”

“I, uh,” you follow his line of sight and flail your arm uselessly at it. “Well, no. I kinda broke down.”

“Ah.” He wanders over to your car and whistles. “She’s smokin’, huh?”

“Yeah,” you nervously laugh, following. You keep a comfortable distance between the two of you.

He heads to the car hood. Glancing at you, he asks, “you mind?” whilst gesturing down to it. You shrug yes. He pops the hood and laughs through his coughs, fanning his face free of the smoke.

“Goddamn. The hell happened?”

“I don’t know. It just blew up on me out of nowhere,” you reply, coming over.

He pulls a rag out of one of his pockets and wafts it over the engine. As he checks out the engine, you do the same to him.

Donned in a grey t-shirt, graphic decal on the back mostly faded, and a pair of black cargo shorts and boots, he looks the image of Kildare County. His dark blonde hair is kept under a red cap. It’s fraying on the lip. A shark tooth necklace hangs around his neck, rings decorate a few of his fingers, and several string and beaded bracelets adorn his left hand. He’s good looking, even in the low visibility of the night. There’s also something strangely familiar about him. Almost like you’ve seen him before.

He meddles with something, nodding. You snap your eyes back up to his face from his well-kept figure just in time as he looks at you. “It’s the radiator. Seems to have overheated or detached or some shit. I mean, whatever happened has completely busted the thing.”

You raise your brows. “That supposed to mean something to me?”

Laughing, he shrugs and gestures at the mechanics. “In simple terms? The thing’s a goner. You’re gonna need a new part on it.”

“So I can’t drive it?”

“Nope. Not ‘til you get it fixed,” he replies.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and exhale deeply. “Fucking great.”

“I mean, there’s a garage not far from here. They’ll probably fix her up for you no problem. Have her good to go for Tuesday.”

“Tuesday!? I thought you said it just needs a new part?”

He takes off his cap, revealing a head of messy hair. Raking a hand through it, he says, “well, yeah, but you’re gonna need the part first. They might have to order it in and stuff.”

“Well, great,” you grumble. You pace away from the car and take your frustrations out by kicking the tyre. “That’s just great.”

“Look, if you want I can give you a tow.” Looking at him, he shrugs. “The garage ain’t far so it’ll be fine to take it using the Twinkie.”

“The who?”

He laughs at himself, shaking his head. “Sorry, uh, that’s what we call the campervan.”

“Oh. Right.”

You look around and take in the situation. It’s dark, isolated, and your phone is on 5% (thanks for that, Mimsy). Calling insurance and a tow company is only going to bump up your bill. Besides, this guy seems genuine. Non-threatening. You can practically hear Mimsy screaming at you from across the continent: so was Ted Bundy! Eyeing him up, you assure yourself you could probably take him if you really had to, and trust your female intuition and gut.

“Alright. Only if it’s close.”

“It is, I swear. I know the owner, Barry," he says. He pulls out his phone and types something on the screen. Then, he approaches with maps open, showing the garage. It’s true: it is nearby. Ten minutes max. “I mean, if you prefer I can just call you a tow or a cab or something.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you say. You close the hood shut and shake your head, laughing. “Can’t believe my Goddamn luck.”

The guy laughs too. In your peripheral, you see him extend a hand to you. “I’m JJ.”

Shaking his hand, you introduce yourself. Then the two of you spend the next five or so minutes sorting out attaching your car to his van. He does most of the heavy lifting, almost jumping at the chance to flex his strength (not that you were complaining) and you do as he asks. Fasten this here; steer this whilst I push. Eventually, you’re good to go. He offers you the front or the back and you opt for the front. Mimsy is probably having an aneurysm about now.

The campervan smells of weed, damp and a dying air freshener. The front seats are red leather. It’s soft and supple and comfortable, and you hitch a leg up and rest one arm on the window ledge, watching the world pass by as JJ drives. The radio is humming out a Mac Miller song and it fills the semi-awkward silence.

“So, what’s with the accent?” JJ asks.

“What’d you mean?”

“I mean, you ain’t from round here, right?” JJ asks, glancing between yourself and the road.

Smiling, you reply, “Yeah, I’m not.”

“Where you from then? Midwest? East Coast?”

“Vancouver.”

“Vancouver? As in Canada Vancouver?” JJ checks, eyes growing wide.

You laugh quietly and nod. “Yep. As in Canada Vancouver.”

“God damn. You’re pretty far from home,” he laughs.

“Well, not anymore,” you reply, voice turning sombre. “We moved here.”

“In May? Pretty shitty time to move.”

“Tell me about it,” you mumble, looking back out the window. It hadn’t been your idea. In fact, you’d protested loudly against it.

“So, how you finding Kildare so far? Wait, scratch that - how you finding North Carolina?”

“Um…alright. You guys have pretty good waves here and the weed’s pretty good so at least there’s that.”

“Now you’re speaking my language,” JJ grins.

You laugh at that, feeling yourself relax more and more as the conversation continues. “Yeah, I think it’s the only thing getting me through.”

Love Lost fills the quiet that comes. You glance at JJ. He drives with one hand on the wheel, holding it by the top in his fist. The streetlamps sneak through the windows and highlight his features in flashes. And it’s in one of those flashes, when his handsome profile is illuminated, that you suddenly realise why you recognise him.

The kegger.

You quickly look away. Your eyes grow wide. Did he recognise you? Did he even remember that?

“I heard Vancouver’s pretty as fuck though,” JJ says, unaware of your quiet panic. “Pretty gorgeous scenery and shit, right?”

“Mhm,” you hum, heart ticking nervously. “You ever been?”

“Nah. Never left the States before.”

“Not even Canada?”

“Too far,” he shrugs. “Couldn’t dish out that kinda cash.”

“I hear you,” you say. “My friend Mimsy really wants me to go back this summer but I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to make enough in time to afford flights and stuff.”

“That blows,” JJ mumbles.

The conversation comes to a natural close when the garage comes into sight. Its neon sign shines bright in the dark like the beacon of a lighthouse. JJ pulls in and shuts off the engine. You linger in the car a moment to catch your breath whilst he looks at unhooking the tow gear.

It doesn’t seem he remembered you or that mortifying moment at the kegger. At least, if he did, he’s acting like he didn’t. So…That’s good, right? You can just move past the whole thing. Besides, it’s not like you were doing anything that weird. You took plenty of pictures that night (though everyone else was in pairs or groups) and it was a public get-together. It wasn’t like you were halfway up a tree and peeping through his window.

You jump at the sound of rapping on the passenger window. JJ’s stood there, frowning in confusion.

“You comin’?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah,” you mumble, unbuckling your seatbelt and climbing out the van. You follow him into the shop.

A burly man sits behind the counter. He’s watching a sports game on a crackling television, drinking a beer shamelessly on the job. At the sound of the bell chiming above the door, he glances over. He seems to recognise JJ.

“Hey, Barry,” JJ grins.

“Hey there, kid,” Barry's gruff voice returns.

They share a bro-style hug and you awkwardly side by him near the counter. JJ plants a friendly hand on your shoulder.

“My friend here had her radiator blow-up on her just now. She needs it fixing up stat. Any chance you could get a push on it?”

“Just the radiator?” Barry checks, glancing between yourself and JJ.

JJ nods. “Yes, sir. I checked it out and it’s just overheated or some crap. A new one and I swear it’ll be good as new.”

“Hm…” Barry contemplates. He glances at the clock and the sports game and cringes. “I don’t know, kid. It’s late and I’ve had a long day. It’s a lot of extra work that I could just get done tomorrow.”

“Oh, come on, Barry,” JJ argues cordially. “How many times have me and my old man helped you out?”

“Your old man stole fifty bucks from me,” Barry grunts.

Your eyes dart down to the floor, lips pursing. Yikes.

JJ falters for only a moment. “Alright, well, forget that then. How many times have I helped out? I mean, I’ll pick up a shift or two if you want? Get you some new parts or something?”

Barry sighs. He looks to you again and you smile politely, hoping your nerves don’t show. He’s a scary looking guy. He could probably crush you with one fist. Both his arms are covered in sleeves of tattoos. He’s missing several teeth and there’s a teardrop tattooed below his left eye.

“She’s new to the County,” JJ feels the need to add. “Gotta show some good hospitality, right?”

With that, Barry relents. He gets to his feet and trudges to the window to eye up your car.

“What kinda car is it?”

You tell him, reeling off as much information as you can recall. He nods, back to you, and sighs again.

“Well, I think I do got a part back here for that, actually. I ain’t making any promises though,” Barry says. He heads into the back with that, leaving you and JJ in the store. The moment the older man is out of sight, JJ grins at you.

“Am I good or what?”

“Why are you helping me so much?” you find yourself asking.

JJ seems surprised by the question but not offended. “Dunno, really. You seem nice. And I always kinda wanted to be a knight in shining armour.”

“So that makes me, what? The damsel in distress?” you joke.

He paces the store leisurely, eyeing up car parts and accessories. “Suppose so. You’re from a far away land so you’re already half way there.”

You laugh. Glancing around the store, you find yourself drawn to the pinboard behind the counter. It’s cluttered with posters, deals, business cards, receipts, reminders and a calendar. Amidst it is pictures and thank you notes from children. One picture catches your eye. It’s of Barry, a few years younger, with a little girl.

“She’s cute,” you smile.

JJ joins you and follows your gaze. He smiles too, though it seems sad. “Yeah, that was his kid. She died about a year back now.”

“Wait, really?” you frown.

Sighing, JJ nods and looks to you. “Freak car accident. Poor kid drowned. Her mom too. Lost his wife and kid in the same day.”

“Shit,” you whisper, looking back at the photo. Your heart tugs at the thought and you feel guilty for judging him by his cover. You had your problems with your parents but you couldn’t imagine them gone from your life.

Barry returns to the store, car part in hand. JJ clasps his hands and tosses them above his head.

“Barry, you fucking g.”

“Alright. Alright, don’t kiss my ass too much, Maybank,” Barry quips. He heads for the door. “There’s soda in the fridge. You kids help yourself.”

With that, he grabs his toolkit and heads out to your car. JJ doesn’t need to be told twice. Whilst you feel rude for intruding on this man’s evening, JJ is happy to revel in the hospitality. He tosses a can at you before grabbing one for himself. You follow him out the back. The light from the store overflows onto the sheltered concrete. There’s two plastic garden chairs back here with a busy ashtray on the floor. JJ relaxes in one of the seats and you copy.

“You known Barry long?”

“Him and my dad go way back,” JJ replies, sipping his soda. “I used to come here all the time as a kid.”

“Sounds like they’re not on great terms right now, huh?” you say.

JJ sips his drink and shrugs, looking out to the abyss of greenery surrounding the garage. “Pretty standard for my dad. Kinda his M.O.”

You get the feeling that you hit a sensitive spot. Sipping your soda, you switch topics.

“So what do you guys do for fun around here, then?”

“Surf. Fish. Smoke,” JJ lists. “Sometimes we go to a kegger at the beach and stuff. You been to one yet?”

You wonder if he’s trying to rat you out but when you look at him, you see no sign. “Yeah, I went to one. I didn’t stick around very long though. Didn’t know anyone and felt kinda awkward.”

“That’s fair,” JJ says. He pulls a vape out of his pocket and takes a hit, and it’s like the nicotine gives him an idea. He turns to you, renewed energy. “Oh shit! You should come with my lot!”

“Hm?”

“My friends. You’d get along great with them, swear down,” JJ tells you. “You fish?”

“I can but I don’t exactly relish the opportunity.”

“Alright, well, that’s gonna change,” JJ says, making you laugh. “You surf too, right?”

“Mhm,” you nod. Vancouver had a good surf scene. You and Mimsy used to spend hours on the beach and in the waves, although part of the appeal for your friend was the surfer bros. They were her kryptonite.

“Well, it’s settled. You’re coming to the next hang we have,” JJ tells you with a grin.

He relaxes back in his chair and takes another hit of his vape. It smells like blue raspberry. As you watch him, you find yourself laughing.

“Alright, seriously,” you say. “Why the hell are you being so nice to me?”

“I told you: you seem nice.”

“Okay, but seriously,” you repeat.

JJ studies his vape for a moment and a knowing smile comes to his face. Chuckling, he sighs and relents, looking back to you. “Alright. You’re fuckin' hot. Sue me.”

You bark out a laugh. JJ cracks up too.

“What!? You asked!”

“No, no, I did,” you laugh, catching your breath. “That’s fair. I had that coming.”

“It’s just like you’re exactly my type. Kinda freaky really,” JJ continues. It seems that now the cat is out of the bag, he might as well let it roam free. “Like you’re smokin' hot and you surf and shit. And you got a dope accent, it's kinda exotic.”

“Since when was Canada exotic?” you laugh, rolling your eyes.

JJ shrugs with a boyish grin. His eyes stay trained on you. “I dunno. Since I met you, I guess.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t affected. JJ’s attraction hadn’t passed you by and, in truth, he was just your type as well. Confidence that borders on cocky: handy and hunky, but not in a steroid-style way…Maybe Mimsy wasn’t the only one who had a thing for surfer boys. To cool yourself from the intensity of his gaze, you take a sip of your soda.

“I just weren’t gonna say anything cause, you know, I didn’t wanna freak you out,” JJ admits.

“Freak me out? How so?”

“Random guy, random area. Alone?” he replies. Sheepish, he shrugs. “Might be kinda creepy.”

You catch his drift. Shrugging, you flash him a smile. “Nah, you didn’t freak me out. You’re not too bad to look at yourself.”

“Gee, don’t hold back,” JJ sarcastically returns. You laugh. “Look, you ain’t gotta say anythin' about it. I think you should still come hang with me and my friends, whether you’re madly in love with me or not.”

“Wow, are you confident?” you chuckle incredulously.

JJ grins. “Charming, ain’t it?”

“One word for it,” you return. You debate his offer and come to a conclusion pretty quick. Lord knows you could do with some friends, and if his gang were anything like himself, you could see yourself getting along just fine. “But yeah, I’d be down to hang with you and your friends.”

“Sweet.” JJ holds his can out for a toast. “Then let me be the first to say, welcome to Kildare.”

You clink your can against his with a small laugh and the two of you drink. Maybe your new life won’t be as boring as you first thought.

part two coming soon!

taglist:

princesssuki21 |

#jj #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #obx #outerbanks #outer banks #obx series #outer banks series #outerbanks series #obx fic #outer banks fic #outerbanks fic #jj fic #jj maybank fic #jj x reader fic #jj maybank x reader fic #jj x reader series #jj maybank x reader series

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frenchkisstheabyss · 2 days

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♡ Sympathy for the Devil ♡

♡ Pairings: mobster!boyfriend!jimin x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: mafia au/angst/smut

♡ Summary: After an arguement with your boyfriend, you set out to get back at him by bringing a date to the restaurant he frequents on a night you know he'll be there. It's a dangerous game, toying with another human life to get your way, but you do love danger, don't you? You wouldn't be looking to make a killer jealous if you didn't.

♡ Word Count: 3.2k

♡ Warnings: appearance of other members (non romantic), dom Jimin w/ switch vibes sprinkled in, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, rough sex, clit teasing, marking (hickeys), pet names (baby), you're feral for each other, fingering (f receiving), spanking, you give him a lil slap, choking, bathroom sex, possessiveness, jealousy, you're both kinda psychotic, implied murder, & that's it for the list of wholesome things in this fic.

♡ A/N: I'm such a sucker for mafia movies so I have the biggest soft spot for mafia fics. I want to thank @anyamaris for reading this first and encouraging me along the way when I was struggling with writer's block. Idk what I'd do without my #1 cheerleader for my dom Jimin agenda ❤️

Some of the prettiest animals in nature are simultaneously the deadliest. Park Jimin is no exception...

It’s impossible not to be enchanted by him. His face is a heavenly mixture of handsomeness and beauty. The cadence of his voice is like a song you can’t quite get out of your head and just when you think you have it’s back again. It’s all enough to make a girl blind to the blood on his hands.

Falling in love with him made the rest of the world all fuzzy. It blurred out everything. Not just the money laundering or the drug trafficking. To love him, to be loved by him, makes everything else feel like background noise. You've never touched a hard drug in your life but, the way he makes you feel, he must qualify as one.

That’s why you’re here doing the dumbest shit you’ve ever done in your life.

Arguments are inevitable in relationships. But arguments when you’re dating a mob guy? They’re different beasts entirely and it’s a bitch to tame them. Your last argument with Jimin led to you packing a bag and running off to your best friend’s place. In the beginning you never had to question if you came before everything else. You were special to him—at least you thought you were—and he’d stop anything to be with you.

But lately that hasn’t been the case. He’s been replacing his presence in your life with gifts, thinking he can make up for missed dates and lonely nights with designer bags. Maybe the other girlfriends are content with cuddling up to some ugly mink coat in place of their man but you aren’t one of them.

He just can’t seem to get that through his thick skull so you’ve set out to make him. If the death stare he’s giving you across this bustling restaurant is any indication of how your plan’s going, it’s working like a charm. You spent hours styling your hair just the way he likes it. Elegant and sleek, marrying beautifully with the softness of your face.

Your manicured nails are painted a translucent blue that deepens the slightest bit when the light hits it a certain way. The dress you’re wearing accentuates your curves in all the places he loves which, let’s be honest, is everywhere. And your heels, the heels, somehow makes your ass look more perfect than it already is. All of this and you’re sitting at a table having dinner with another man.

You spot Namjoon throwing an arm around Jimin’s shoulder, no doubt leaning in to give him one of his infamous pep talks. "Don’t worry about her” he’s surely saying, “It’s not worth it, man. See, sometimes love is just…” Joon goes on, doing his best to keep his younger brother from doing something stupid but Jimin’s hardly listening. How can he when his blood’s boiling hot enough to eat its way through his flesh?

Every Sunday night the brothers and their girlfriends come here for dinner. The owners, a sweet elderly couple, love them as if they were their own and give them the biggest table no matter how packed it is. This is the one night they get to pretend they’re a normal family. It’s tradition and you don’t fuck with tradition. Everyone knows that. You know that.

“The thing a lot of women don’t understand is that men by nature aren’t monogamous” your date rambles between messy bites of dinner. The man’s not ugly by any means but god is he a pig, in more ways than one. Not that you’re complaining. It’s why you had your best friend set you up with him. Whoever you bought here was no doubt being led to slaughter. Who better than a pig?

A chill runs through you at the ruthlessness of your own thoughts, wiping the smile from your face. Looking up, Jimin captures you in his gaze, the death glare replaced with a look of childlike amusement. It’s as if the smile had fled from your face to find its new home on his, taunting you from afar. What’s he smiling for? You’re not foolish enough to think it’s for anything good.

“I was thinking, it’s kinda loud in here. Wanna go to my place?” your date asks, his poor attempt at getting laid tonight falling on deaf ears.

Jimin stands up, slipping out of his suit jacket as he does so. Rolling up the sleeves of his pressed dress shirt, he leans to whisper something in Yoongi’s ear. Yoongi pours him a shot and he knocks it back like it’s nothing. The rest of the table watches on, concerned but doing their best to carry on dinner as usual. Their collective heart rate increases but none more than yours.

Maybe you hadn’t really thought this one out. Noticing the color drain from your face, your date reaches out to touch your hand. “Don’t!” you snap, jumping up from your seat. “I’m sorry. I just need a second.” Jimin’s halfway across the dining room when you flee toward the bathroom, nearly knocking into some poor innocent waiter in the process.

Navigating your way through the halls, you scramble to find a way out. You’ll tell the guy you’re sick. That’s it. Say you’re not feeling too well, must be the food or something, and send him on his way. Pretend this never happened.

“Beautiful dress, darling” an older woman smiles as she leaves the bathroom. You dash in before the door closes behind her, peeking your head back out to avoid being rude. “Thank you!” you shout after her, quickly shutting the door and hurrying to the sink to splash some water on your face.

“Snap out of it” you whisper, flicking specks of icy water at the makeup you worked tirelessly to apply. “Maybe…maybe he won’t do anything, right? We’re in public. He wouldn’t—” You force a weak, pained smile at the girl staring back at you in the mirror. “Who are you kidding?” you groan, burying your face in your hands, “He’s gonna kill him.”

“But you knew that already, didn’t you?” sighs a voice that is distinctively not yours. Your hands drop from your face and there Jimin is, standing in the doorway with that same smile on. The one he’d so brutally ripped from your face. And here you are, shivering like a child too afraid of the monster under the bed to make a run for it.

In all your panic you could’ve sworn you locked the door when, in fact, you’d done no such thing. If he’d knocked you would’ve had to open it anyway—you’ve never been great at saying no to him—but at least you would’ve given yourself a fighting chance. Nothing to stress your pretty little head about. Jimin steps in, easing the door closed, and you hear a sharp click. It’s locked now.

The heels of his black Louboutin shoes tap against the polished tile as he approaches the sink. Your heart jumps with each tap, the sound growing unbearably louder the closer he gets. Jimin brings his arms around your waist, holding you as only lovers do, “You want me to hurt him, don’t you? Want me to break every bone in his body to show you how much I love you?” His full lips brush against your neck, soft tongue running along the surface of your skin like the head of a match ready to light up with dazzling flames.

Your eyes are glued to the mirror, watching helplessly as his hands skate up and down your body, fingertips ghosting your most sensitive areas. His touch is a truth serum, forcing you to betray yourself and lay your motives bare. “You protect the things you love, Jimin. I only wanted to know if I was still one of them. Even if that meant…” you shudder at the thought. “We get what we want by any means. That’s what you taught me, isn’t it?”

Jimin grins, locking eyes with your reflection as he inches your dress up to reveal your pillowy thighs. “Aah but you already have me. I let you throw your little tantrum but I’ll never let you go. You know that.” His fingers dip between the warmth of your thighs, teasing your clit through your panties.

“So why?” he whispers, his other hand coming up to lovingly stroke your neck, “Why would you try to embarrass me?”

You part your lips to speak but your words are forced back down by the sudden pressure applied to your windpipe by his hand. All that escapes are broken words and hushed gasps for air. The light abandons his eyes, that boyish charm he so effortlessly wields burning to ash as you squirm in his grip. You kick your legs to get free but it only serves to give him the room he needs to tear your panties to the side, the pads of his fingertips dripping with your arousal as they glide through your folds.

He loosens his grip on your neck and you manage to rasp out “Mmm…sorry…didn’t mean” before you’re plunged back into silence. Curling his fingers against your entrance, he sinks one into your core. A single digit pumping into needy walls that are already clenching in anticipation of the next one. Snatching your head back, he kisses you like he hates you. Hates you so much that he loves you. Loves you so much that he hates you. A cycle, endless and all consuming, that neither of you can break from.

“Prove it to me” he demands between your lips, plunging another finger into you, “Bend over and show me how sorry you are.” Your back arches, bringing your soft ass flush against his bulge. You press back into him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass each time his fingers slam into your core. Jimin sneaks a glimpse at the mirror to watch the way your body jiggles from the motion. Thighs trembling, tits rocking in sync with the harsh movements of his wrist.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby.” Jimin slips his hand away from your neck, drenched fingers abandoning your pussy to apply sharp, wet slaps to your ass.

Spinning around to face him, you land an equally sharp slap across his face, “Choke me like that again and I’ll rip your head off.”

If the burning of your palm is any indication, you know you hit him hard but he’s unphased. He's actually smiling, licking his lips at you like you’re the most delicious thing in this restaurant. He sweeps you off of your feet, setting you down on the sink, “So. Fucking. Pretty.”

The marble’s even colder against your bottom than it was your hands but you don’t give a shit. Jimin’s tongue’s down your throat as he pushes your dress up, ripping away what was left of your panties. That’s the only thing you give a shit about.

“Jimin!” you giggle, tugging at the zipper on his pants, “You’re gonna make me fall.”

Hooking his arms behind your knees, he spreads your legs, pushing them to your chest. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let you fall.”

“Promise?” you pout, fingertips tracing the veins along his length.

They pulse and twitch as he raises his hips, dragging the underside of his cock between your folds. “I promise. I won’t—aah, shit, baby” he moans, his cock glazed in your arousal without having even been inside of you yet. “I didn’t know you missed me that much.”

You grab onto his shirt, the cotton knotted in your fists as you bask in the feeling of the head brushing your clit. “I did. Missed you so much” you mewl, guiding him to your entrance. Jimin peppers your cheeks with kisses, pushing into you. Filling you. Claiming you. “I, mmphh, missed, fuck, missed you too” he confesses, each word emphasized by thrusts that have you wanting to climb every wall in this bathroom.

When it comes to women Jimin’s told more lies than he can remember but never with you. He misses you and he means it, misses you so much that it hurts. Not just because you take his cock so well, somehow managing to look majestic when you’re being fucked up against this mirror. But because he feels incomplete without you.

Before you all he knew was violence and greed, constantly chasing power that would never be enough. Always needing more. He often wondered how much money it would take, how many buried enemies, to fill the emptiness that’s haunted him for as long as he can remember. And then you came along—the girl whose eyes twinkle as she stares up at him, your entire body calling out his name—and he had his answer.

All he needed to cure that emptiness, rid him of the nagging feeling that something’s missing, was you. But men like him have an image to maintain. In this world people come to know you for things, fear you for them, and you can’t let them think you’re soft. Not for a second. Not if you want to get what you want. “We get what we want by any means”. That is what he told you but nothing’s worth having if it’s by way of losing you.

Dragging you to the edge of the sink, heart thumping out of his chest from how tightly you’re clenching, he whispers into your open mouth, “Come home. I’m in hell without you. Everything’s so…so empty. Just say you’ll come back to me. Say it.”

“I-I’ll come back home. Fuck, I’ll go the moon if you want me to” you pant, watery eyes sending mascara streaming down your cheeks. You tug harder at his shirt, sending a button or two clinking into the mirror. He’s in you so deep, hitting every spot like only he knows how, that you’re ready to explode. Implode? One or the other. Maybe both.

Jimin laughs, his tongue grazing yours, “You wanna go to the moon, baby? Hold onto me. I’ll take you.”

Knowing better than to doubt him, you throw your arms over his shoulders and hold on like your life depends on it. The sink creaks beneath you as he fucks harder into a pussy that just won’t stop leaking for him. You lose control of your body. All of it belongs to him, as it should. You make no attempts at denying yourself the ultimate satisfaction when it hits. Your lips crash together as you climax, your moans, bordering on screams, pouring onto his tongue.

He eagerly devours them, returning some of his own as your walls spasm wildly, milking the cum from his swollen tip. Your cunt wants every drop of it and he’s determined to give it to you. Fill you up until it’s dripping out of you, making your thighs warm and sticky with his seed. Your body gives out and he tucks an arm behind you, sticking to his promise not to let you fall.

Staring up at the ceiling, you’re sure you see space, stars twinkling before your eyes as you float there, completely weightless. Jimin’s lips meet your heaving chest, suckling at your silky skin to leave hickeys along your collarbone.

“Mine. All mine” he repeats, “Love you so much.”

You run your fingers through his hair as he marks you, letting yourself get lost in the moment. “I love you too.”

“Excuse me, sir. You’re holding up the bathroom” a comically high pitched voice says, tapping at the bathroom door. Jimin drags himself upright, knowing the voice too well. “You okay?” he asks, shuffling to make you both look presentable. He tries to fix your dress but there’s no use, he’s stretched it out more than he has you.

“Baby, it’s fine” you giggle, shooing him away, “I got it.”

Jimin unlocks the door, snatching it open to reveal precisely who you both expected. “Thank god!” Jungkook cheers, rushing into the bathroom and over to the toilet. “Whose idea was it to have one bathroom here, man? I’ve had to piss for like—” Reading the look on Jimin’s face, he follows his gaze over to the sink where you sit buzzed off of the afterglow with your tattered panties at your feet.

Jungkook grins, looking you both up and down, “Safe to say you two are having a good night, huh?”

Jimin hits Jungkook in the back of the head, walking over to help you down from the sink. He holds you close to him, kissing you as he steers you towards the door. “Is it done?” Jimin asks over his shoulder but you don’t hear Jungkook’s response. It’s drowned out by the symphony of sounds that assault you as you venture back out into the restaurant, Jimin’s arms still holding you tight. Scanning the restaurant you spot the table you were at with your date but now there’s another couple there.

“Long time no see!” Jin says, jumping up to hug you. His girlfriend follows behind, hugging you like she hasn’t seen you in years. “Come sit with me” she insists, noticing your disheveled appearance, “I’ll fix you right up. I have everything in my purse.” You settle into the chair beside her and she goes straight to work cleaning the mascara from your face.

Jimin sits beside you, an arm draped over the back of your chair, and watches attentively as you get your makeup done. “Nice to have you back” Taehyung smiles, pulling something from under the table and passing it to you. Jimin sets them down before you—your jacket and your purse. You’d forgotten them at the table when you fled to the bathroom.

“Uh, thanks, I—” you stutter, cut off by Hoseok’s sudden reappearance at the end of the table. You’d seen him earlier but hadn’t noticed his seat was empty when you returned. He tries to play it off, hide it behind a smile, but he’s out of breath, utterly exhausted from something. The men glance around the table at each other. It’s a silent conversation you know you shouldn’t be in on.

“Jimin” you whisper, when you’re sure you aren’t interrupting, “Where’s…”

Jimin casually pours you both a drink, presenting you with a glass of wine. “Where’s who?”

“The guy that I was…”

“The guy that you were what, baby?” he asks, brow crinkling as he feigns ignorance. “You’ve been here with me all night, haven’t you?” He turns to the rest of the table who all seem to share his collective memory loss. “Hasn’t she?”

“Absolutely.”

“Yeah.”

“Been here all night.”

“See? Now enjoy your drink and finish getting your makeup done” he coos, kissing you on the cheek.

Just like that, everyone resumes their conversations like it’s any other Sunday night dinner. You take a sip of your wine, the post-orgasm haze finally lifts from your brain, and all of the pieces come together in your mind. You shake the truth away, opting instead for the constructed reality necessary to pretend you just didn’t get a man killed.

What date? What guy? You’ve been here all night with Jimin. The man you came here with. The man you’ll leave here with. The man you love too much to ever run away from again. Unless, of course, you want to raise the homicide rate.

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts smut #bts angst #jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin angst #jimin x you #bts au #bts au fanfic #bts mafia au #jimin au #chubby reader #plus size reader #bts x fem!reader #park jimin x reader

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trans-androgyne · 2 days

Note

but what is WRONG about the statement “men and masculinity are privileged above women and femininity, so transmascs must be privileged above transfems”? that is sound logic, and it’s not disconnected from reality, because reality supports the idea that men and masculinity are privileged above women and femininity. even among trans people. that statement means “there is a particular scrutiny and struggle that women face that men do not”, not “men and masculine people aren’t ever oppressed and trans men don’t experience transphobia”. you seem to think that the issue is that not enough transfems/people are listening to what transmascs are saying about their own experiences, but when it comes to transfems talking about how their experiences with oppression are more severe, it’s perfectly ok for you to not listen to them?

Incorrect. The reality is that isn’t true for everyone, which is what we’ve been trying to demonstrate over and over. “Men and masculinity are privileged” when it’s cis men. Masculinity and identification with manhood is not encouraged above femininity for women or people believed to be women. Femininity for me would be gender conformity. Masculinity makes me transgender. And we are kicked in the teeth for it constantly, by both cis people and our own queer/trans community. All the worst stereotypes of both men and women are applied to us, as is true for trans women. If that supposedly common sense logic copy + pasted from narrow cisfeminist understandings were to be taken literally, transmascs would be privileged over cis women too gender-wise because masculinity is privileged over femininity, and we just Happen to experience transphobia with zero gendered oppression.

I am listening. I have been listening and agreeing and supporting for years and years and years. But other people speaking up made me realize my problems mattered too even if they didn’t fit into the narrative. And now this is my response. Now I want to be heard. I am telling you that my masculinity—my queer, my trans masculinity—is not fucking privileged above shit. I was nearly kicked out over it; I have been made to feel like I am ugly, worthless, and an inherently worse person for it; I am excluded from spaces I need resources from for it; I feel invisible in my community for it. Queer/trans masculinity gets you fucking harassed and assaulted — ask butches! Ask transmascs who don’t pass! Or the stealth ones who suddenly fail to, a nightmare situation for many of us. Look at the numbers for me — trans men and transmasc non-binary people have the highest rates of sexual assault of any gender category. It can and does happen to many due to being transmasc (including someone I know personally) even sometimes taking the route of corrective rape with the intention of “detransitioning” them. I feel less safe since I’ve started transitioning, not more. Before, I wondered if I was being stared at since I was pretty and had long hair. I would get catcalled. It felt gross. Now I wonder if I’m being stared at because I’m visibly queer. I still get catcalled. I feel less gross and more afraid.

We also experience things transfems and cis women don’t! “There is a particular scrutiny and struggle that trans men and mascs face that other people (typically) do not” that’s precisely what I have been trying to convey. And that’s exactly what our tag is full of. The belief that our oppression is “less severe” is mistaken, you just haven’t heard our voices enough. It is the result of our historical and compounding invisibility. We are speaking up and begging you to listen.

#transandrophobia #ask #mine #long post #intracommunity issues tag #resource #SA tw #rape tw

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winstonsns · 2 days

Text

the gang and pda

authors note: some of these might be inaccurate so sorry about that! i’ll probably post a masterlist soon since i’ve been posting often :) sorry that this preference is really short, i didn’t have a lot of ideas for this one. also if you don’t know what pda means then it means public display of affection 💗

includes: ponyboy, johnny, darry, soda, dally, two-bit and steve

word count: 1.4k

warnings: mild cussing, mention of being jumped, a little suggestive in dallys part

PONYBOY CURTIS

since he’s really young he doesn’t really like making out nor does he know how to do it

he really enjoys kissing and holding hands though but his hands can get really sweaty at times

in public, he doesn’t mind showing affection, he rather wants it than doesn’t

if you randomly kiss him in public he’ll lightly scoff, smile at you then kiss you back

he really loves you but doesn’t always know how to show it, sometimes he shows it in awkward ways that you don’t understand but you appreciate the effort

he actually prefers gifts so when he gives you something it really comes from the heart

but anyway he doesn’t mind showing pda, prefers showing affection in different ways besides physical touch

pony really loves holding your hand though

doesn’t matter where you are since he always wants your hand to be in his

JOHNNY CADE

he’ll be really close to you in public but gets nervous to hold your hand sometimes

he doesn’t want people to give him or you shit for it but if you grab his hand he’ll keep it there

also kisses your cheek, reversed too, and occasionally gives you a normal kiss if no one’s around

he also just feels like those moments should really be cherished and not on the disgusting streets

just overall feels more comfortable with physical touch when you’re in a safer setting like the curtis household

he really loves you but sometimes gets scared to set boundaries since he thinks you’ll leave him, so he doesn’t necessarily say what makes him uncomfortable

he ends up setting boundaries once you teach him how to, so you know not to always show pda unless he initiates it

that’s how you know he’s comfortable in whatever place you two are in

if he gets too nervous he’ll start fidgeting so you’ll rub his back soothingly and he’ll calm down a bit

that’s the only pda he’s always 100% comfortable with

DARRY CURTIS

this man is strong as fuck and you’re so attracted to it

you’re always latched onto his arm and when he hugs you you love it so much

yk that trend where the guy squishes the girls face with his biceps

that describes your relationship

he likes physical touch, makes him feel loved and stuff

like others, he’s not really up to full on making out in public, prefers doing that in private since it’s more intimate and doesn’t feel like people should see that

this man follows the sidewalk rule with his life

basically the sidewalk rule is he walks on the side where the cars are and you stay on the inside, so if the car were to get close you would be protected

his hands get sweaty sometimes too, i feel like all the curtis brothers would have sweaty hands idk why

darry will hug and kiss you in public and he’s not ashamed of it

sometimes he’ll get teasing from his brothers but he really doesn’t mind, he’ll just tell them to knock it off

SODAPOP CURTIS

he LIVES for pda and physical touch in general like it’s insane how much he craves it

he always tries to be as close to you as he can since he doesn’t want to be far from you

part of it is so he always knows where you are so he can protect you, the other part is just for comfort

if you hold his hand in public while walking around he’ll get so smiley it’s adorable

he doesn’t really have to keep up a reputation like dally so he doesn’t have to keep his act up or anything

soda also loves to be touching you whenever you’re with each other, non-sexually though

like you’ll be reading a book and he’ll just lay on top of you while one of your hands is on his head

he literally has no shame and will kiss you in public even if a whole crowd was watching

a little more hesitant on making out in front of everyone, he feels like that’s way more intimate and should be between just you two

he just loves to be around you and to be touching you at all times, like if you’re eating at the same table he wants your knees and/or thighs to be touching

when the two of you are sitting on a bench or something in public, he likes to be shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, knee to knee

sometimes he’ll even hold your hand even though you’re really close, he’s still aware of his surroundings though due to getting jumped many times

DALLAS WINSTON

this one’s kinda difficult since i feel like he’d be really possessive and touchy but he has a reputation to keep up with

ok i feel like he’d be really touchy but wouldn’t let people say it’s in the “i love you” way but in the protective “stay the hell away” type of way

like when someone stares at you for too long whether it’s judging you or admiring you he’s always like “the fuck you looking at?” and the person walks away

he’d be fine with wrapping his arm around you and making out with you in public, sometimes a kiss on the cheek

he knows making out with you is more intimate but he feels the opposite, kinda feels like making out is more rough and possessive rather than lovey in a cute and romantic way

he prefers to do cute kisses when the two of you are alone since you can take your time and it’s not just horny

sometimes when he gets a little agitated he doesn’t really like physical touch since he doesn’t want to burst out at you

ik its a little off topic, after he’s calmed down he’d lay on his bed while your head is on his chest, he’s smoking a cigarette while petting your hair

ugh he loves you so much sometimes he just doesn’t know how to express it :((

TWO-BIT MATTHEWS

doesn’t really care about pda that much, he’s fine with it since it doesn’t make him uncomfortable

yall disrupt peoples peace when you go down the streets with two-bit going on and on making joes and you laughing your ass off every time

he loves making you smile and since he’s not embarrassed about that there’s no way in hell he’d be embarrassed about some physical touch

he’d probably wrap an arm around your shoulder while you’re standing, sitting, walking together, etc

he doesn’t even think much of it, he just does it and it doesn’t bother him

two-bits fine with kissing in public but if you wanna make out with him he’ll be like “why”

he just doesn’t see the point of doing all that in public

it’s not that he’s embarrassed of you or anything, he just doesn’t get why you’d want to make out when there’s a lot of people around

STEVE RANDLE

he also doesn’t really have a reputation to keep up so he isn’t embarrassed showing pda

he just doesn’t want the two of you to get in trouble for it, and by that i mean getting beat up by socs

he really likes being around you

although he’s more of an acts of service guy, he’s fine with physical touch

he’s never had a problem with it in the past but doesn’t really crave it, steve doesn’t hate it though

if you want physical touch he’ll do whatever you want and if you wanna show pda then he’ll let you

since he doesn’t really have an opinion on it, pda doesn’t really happen very often since you really pay attention to what he says and he appreciates that

like two-bit, he’ll normally wrap an arm around your shoulder and will kiss you sometimes

authors note: sorry i’m posting a lot! i enjoy it and ill try to make a schedule soon :3 💗

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wellionlybroughtthree · 11 hours

Text

it's going to be a long, long time - matty healy

[title is rocketman lyrics, has nothing to do with the fic but i was listening to elton john trying to figure out what to call this thing so i just went with this, i really want to make this a series ngl but i'm shit at world building so we will see how that goes. once again thank you @abouttofillhisshoes for the beta reading, it is honestly an honour. oh and no, this is not the kidnapping fic.]

wc: ~8k

cw: fluff, reader has anxiety and body image issues, just really insecure over all, they are friends, matty is kinda horny, smut, he just gets her off with his fingers nothing crazy, dirty talk, matty cums in his pants <3

So Matty paid for the pizza and you hope he chokes on it. He can be so infuriating. You know what else is infuriating? Realising that you are enjoying his fucking company more than you should.

When the pizza arrived, he answered the door before you could, shoving the money at the teenager and telling him to keep the change before turning with an innocent smile to look at you where you were glaring at him from the couch. He then said if you were really upset about it, you could just pay for the food next time.

Next time.

You sat with a petulant glare at the TV, while Matty picked a movie, looking happy with himself when you didn’t argue about there being a next time where you would buy him dinner. He picked the movie Gremlins, which surprised you but also made you give him a suspicious squint. When you asked him why he picked it, he simply pointed at Loki, your dog, and then looked at you with a ‘well duh’ expression saying “Wasn’t that hard to put two and two together and realise you like that movie.”

…Okay so maybe it is your favourite movie of all time, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of telling him that.

Loki sat on the ground watching you, as you started to eat your pizza, staring at Matty like he was Romeo and Loki was a tubby slobbering love sick whore of a Juliet. You rolled your eyes when Matty tried to inconspicuously pick bits of meat off his pizza and drop them on the floor for him. Loki isn’t a quiet eater, he’s like a vacuum that makes wheezing pig noises every time he inhales but you decided not to say anything, smiling to yourself when Matty was basically eating a vegetarian pizza by the time Loki was done harassing him.

You were picking at your own pizza, following the same ritual you always do with eating all the topping first before you eat the base - it’s an old habit that you haven’t been able to kick, sometimes old rituals just stick, you know?

“OKay _ No, stop, stop. I can’t watch this any more - what are you doing?” Matty asks from his spot next to you, where he has sat far closer than he needs to. He’s glancing from your naked pizza slice, then to your face with an incredulous expression. You look at your pizza slice and then back to him. “Cleaning my butthole, what does it look like I’m doing?”

He rolls his eyes, wiping some sauce from the corner of his mouth away with his thumb before sucking it into his mouth and releasing it. “Idiot. Look, I was able to look past the pineapple on pizza thing - you psycho, but I can’t sit here and watch you eat the topping and then base like some lunatic.” You give him a blank stare so he continues his rant. “It’s like watching someone take a bite out of the middle of a burrito, or taking a bite out of a whole kitkat instead of breaking it apart. Were you raised by savages?”

You watch his face as you turn your empty pizza slice around, bringing it to your mouth and then take a bite out of the crust first and watch him look like he’s about to have a mental breakdown. “Some people just wanna watch the world burn, Matty.” You shrug, fighting the urge to cackle at his mouth hung open with wide mortified eyes.

“You’re gonna eat the rest of your pizza like that now, aren’t you?” He looks disgusted by the thought and you love it.

“Absolutely.” You agree without missing a beat and turn your face away to watch the TV again, ignoring Matty just staring at you while you continue to bastardize the simple act of eating a pizza. You continue to watch the movie, literally able to feel Matty’s disapproving stare on you. You can feel him cringe every time you bite into your pizza and can’t hide the amused look on your face.

“You know, you kinda remind me of a Mogwai.” Matty says all of the sudden sounding thoughtful, and you look sideways at him pausing your chewing.

“Why? Think if you feed me after midnight I’ll turn into a gremlin?”

You see that usual sly smirk on his lips. “No, I think if I got you wet, you’d surprise me.”

You drop your pizza into the box and whip your shocked face at him.

“Matty!”

He blows out a laugh that he was trying to hold in, and gives you a doe eyed coy look. “”What? I was gonna say you look like you’ve got strong legs, think you’d be a great swimmer.”

“Bullshit. That’s not what you meant and you know it.” You narrow your eyes at him, smacking his shoulder. Scrunching your lips up to not give him the satisfaction of a smile and it only makes him throw his head back giggling to himself.

As you continue to sit and watch the movie, you much preferred it when you were eating, having something to distract yourself and also do with your hands because now they’re just fidgeting in your lap which isn’t helped by Matty’s periodic stares at you. “You’ve got an interesting way of watching movies.” You dig at him with a dry tone, when his eyes are focused on the side of your face instead of the TV.

“You’ve got an interesting way of eating pizza, guess we all got our quirks.” He throws back, refusing to look away and you want to squirm on the spot with how anxious it is making you.

“Watch the movie, idiot.” You huff, barely being able to pay attention to what you’re seeing on the screen. Wanting to bite your tongue off when you accidentally glance at him and your eyes go to his mouth before snapping away. “Far more interested in what I’m watching right now, actually.” He says with a tilt of his head, and you close your eyes with a drawn out frustrated sigh.

He leans closer, barely keeping an inch between the side of your face and his nose, feeling his breath fan across your neck. You just keep your eyes planted firmly on the screen and dig your nails into the palms of your hands to soothe the way your heart nearly jumped out of your fucking body.

“You okay darling? Something you want?” He asks with a suggestive amused drawl that makes you clamp your teeth down on the inside of your cheek.

Don’t kiss his stupid face. Don’t kiss his stupid face. Don’t kiss his stupid face.

“I want you to watch the movie” You blurt with your voice hitching in your throat, which only makes him smile and look even more pleased with himself. He hums a disbelieving “Mm-Hmm.” But leans back, facing the TV again and you fight nearly throwing yourself off the couch when he shifts to lay down all of a sudden. He throws his feet up over the arm of the couch, laying on his back to pillow his head on your lap, lacing his fingers together on his chest and watches the TV with a casual expression.

“What are you doing?” You ask, hovering your hands above him with no idea where to put them, while he tries to hide his lips twitching up at the corners.

“Watching the movie like you told me to.”

You don’t know what to say, or what to do with your hands so you just stay rigid, swallowing down the dry feeling in your mouth and opt to rest your arms along the back of the couch to avoid touching him which only makes him grin.

There was a moment where Matty (you swear it was on purpose) moved one hand down to pull up the hem of his shirt over his stomach, acting like he had an itch he needed to scratch but then just left his hand on his exposed soft stomach and carved hips that his trousers had shifted dangerously low on. He rested his other arm hung above his head, the top of his arm rested against your thigh while his hand rested against the couch and his fingers made a habit of grazing against the side of your bare thigh occasionally.

By the time the movie was over your stomach was in that many knots you’d swear it was practising to be a sailor and your muscles ached in your body from how tense you had been the whole time. Matty acted completely oblivious to your distress, moving up off the couch and asked how he went about putting some music on and when you explained how to, you gave him a suspicious look when he put Elton John on from his phone to play through the Bluetooth speaker on the stereo. He came back to sit next to you, raising a brow. “Don’t act like you’re the only one with a good music taste, darling.”

You roll your eyes, but Matty just looks over your figure. “You seem tense. I want to try something, loosen you up a bit.” You look at him with panic flashing across your face, which makes him clarify what he means straight away. “I just meant to give you a head massage, I’m really good at them. Perks of all the years of shampooing hair with hairdressing, comes with the job.” You shake your head, leaning back. “Oh no, I’m good. I don’t like massages, let alone people touching me. It’s torture, not relaxing for me.”

You’d literally pay someone to not touch you if you could.

He pulls his lips to the side with a disbelieving look and tugs your hand again. “If you really don’t want me to touch you I won’t, but I’d like if you gave me a chance, I might surprise you.” You press your lips together in a flat line when he gives you the most pathetic begging puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. For fuck’s sake. “Fine. But I’m telling you right now, I’m going to hate it.” Matty’s solemn expression turns into a bright smile, and he gestures between his legs spread apart where he is sitting. “Just say the word and I will stop whenever you want. Come on, sit on the floor between my legs.”

You roll your eyes again. “Bet you’re gonna love that, getting me on the floor between your legs.” You sigh, pulling yourself forward up off the couch and moving to sit on the ground between his legs with your shoulders against the back of the couch and his knees either side of your head. “Doesn’t do much for me unless you’re on your knees darling.” He jabs back, and for some reason it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. It’s like you’re just becoming accustomed to his crass sense of humour. At least you think he was joking. Right?

“It’d be a cold day in hell before that happened.” You quip and hear him laugh under his breath as he starts to run his fingers through the tops of your hair to pull it back away from your face. You feel your muscles constrict when his long fingers slide into your hair up from the base of your neck. You’re fighting your natural instinct to recoil away, and panic over someone being this close. You don’t know how this anxiety is ever meant to feel good.

You still don’t rightfully know why you’re even letting him do this. You know the answer is deep buried down, you’re not stupid but you’re refusing to acknowledge it because it will tumble you off a cliff you’re not ready to go down. Far better keeping those doors closed. You’re just humouring him.

Matty stays silent, as his fingers begin to work against your scalp, massaging his fingers in slow motions as he moves up your head.

…Oh.

You’re shocked by the feeling, it’s like you had strings pulled taught on every limb in your body that have just been cut and your body slumps, and the more his long fingers work it starts sending waves of tingles sending down your spine. Goosebumps prickle over your skin, and your head lulls back while your eyes close. “Just relax.” He coos, keeping his voice soothing.

Well this doesn’t feel…terrible.

You feel like a lump doll, like all the tension in your body is melting away. You’re always tensing some part of your body every second, whether it’s subconsciously clenching your jaw, tensing your shoulders or clenching your fists, always on the edge. You can’t even say you truly know what the meaning of relaxation felt like, you just assumed you weren’t capable of it. But right now you feel like you could melt into the floor.

“Don’t you miss someone making you feel this good?” Matty doesn’t even sound like he is concentrating on what he’s saying.

“Can’t miss what you’ve never had, I guess.” You reply under your breath without thought, feeling your breathing shallow and you could literally moan at how incredible this feels.

It’s the truth though, it’s a large part about why you’re so complacent about sex. Sure it has felt okay but if you’re being totally honest, you really don’t think you’ve ever loved a single hand that’s touched you. It has never been about you enjoying it, it was about you being enjoyable for the other person.

Never about you or how you felt, it was always about them. Your pleasure only mattered if it benefited them but for the most part they wanted you to inflate their ego, not actually make you feel good. Could’ve won an oscar with some of your performances. And those were the times you actually wanted to have sex…the other times, hell, you may as well have not even been a person. How you felt certainly didn’t matter then, and what you wanted didn’t matter either. Matty’s fingers pause in your hair and it makes you slowly blink your eyes open, jumping when you see his face way closer to yours than you expected.

His pupils are blown out, with his lids hooding his eyes and his brows are pinched together as he darts his gaze over your face. There’s several emotions mixing together over his face that are confusing you, there is sadness, irritation and to be honest you don’t know if hungry is an emotion, but he looks like that too.

Matty’s fingers slip from your hair as he slides his hands to hold either side of your face, and he leans in closer, flicking his eyes between yours. It’s getting harder to breathe, it feels like everything else in the room has evaporated - you can’t even hear the music.

His tongue darts out to dampen his lower lip, and his voice is soft but low as he speaks.

“I could show you, you know…I could make you feel good, if you let me.”

Your chest tightens at the same time as your stomach jolts when he dips his head down to lean close enough that his nose nudges your chin. “Can’t stop thinking about it, to be honest.” He murmurs, hovering his mouth over yours but not going further. His long fingers are on the underside of your jaw, tilting your chin up more until there is barely a hairs width between your mouths and you can almost feel his lips touch yours as he speaks. Your heart doesn’t know whether to give up or beat a hundred miles an hour, it feels like it’s trying to do both and your breathing is so shallow you can barely feel it.

Matty takes the fact that you haven’t smacked him or yanked yourself away from him as a positive sign, because he nudges your lower lip with his own before murmuring “Dying to kiss you - but that’s up to you. Do you want to kiss me?”

Both sides of your brain are screaming at each other while your skin heats over your whole body.

Don’t do it, idiot.

Matty sighs, slipping his tongue out to ghost against your lower lip and every organ you have clenches while you ball your hands into fists. “Go on darling, do whatever you want..” He dares in a low whisper.

Don’t do it.

It’s a split second before you’re sucking in a breath and closing the fraction of a distance between you, pressing your lips against his, feeling completely out of your mind.

God dammit, you idiot.

As soon as the pressure of your lips touching his happens, Matty takes a firmer hold of your jaw, drawing in a sharp breath through his nose before he starts to mould his mouth against your own. His slow careful movements are quickly replaced with hard and needy ones that have you feeling like you’re spinning while you’re sat still.

The kiss only lasts a few seconds, then his mouth is being torn from yours while he grabs under your arms to pull you up to your knees, turning and tugging you until you’re crawling up onto him. But the second you were facing him again his lips were connecting with yours as you struggled to keep up. You’re not even thinking, your body is just doing whatever the fuck it feels like apparently. It’s almost like you’ve blacked out, mind going blank and all you can do is just feel.

He keeps pulling you towards him until your knees end up either side of his hips, panting out low moans into the kiss that just becomes more intense the second he taunts your lips with his tongue and you welcome it with your own. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, boiling your insides along with it while his hands roam around your body like he can’t decide where to put them. You’re still not sure what to do with your hands, so they just move up to hold his face. Gripping around his sharp jaw that tense and flexes with the movements of his mouth.

His large palms slide down your back, grope at your hips before they move lower and pause for a second, like he’s hesitating until he finally moves them to take large handfuls of the flesh there through your shorts. You gasp into the kiss when he pulls you down against him at the same time that he groans low in his throat, digging his fingers into your behind. All of these situations are firing through you, making you feel high and drunk at once as Matty deepens the kiss, becoming frantic with his lips and tongue while his breathing starts to heave in his chest.

The moment that changes this from just kissing though, is when he tugs you against him at the same time that he rolls his hips up into your centre, grunting out a sharp moan the second your centres press against each other. He repeats the action again, using his grip on your behind to rock me against him as he snaps his hips up, making your breath hitch in your throat. You felt the very distinct excitement that swelled hard and strained against the denim of his trousers.

Shit.

A jolt of electricity zaps up your spine and floods your nerves, like it wakes a part of you that’s been dead for years when you feel him but it’s also the moment that hits you like a freight train and your body becomes stiff. Matty notices as soon as your demeanour changes, and your body freezes up. He lets go of your behind to grab your hips and hold them still, lifting them up while he pulls his lips from yours, gasping in deep breaths but keeps his mouth close to yours.

“I’m sorry.” He pants, pinching his eyes shut like he’s in pain and swallows. “Sorry - I got carried away, are you okay?

You catch your breath and just watch his face for a moment. He actually stopped? And he’s asking if you’re okay. Okay? Why?

Well that’s never happened before.

You lick your lips that feel raw, and try to sort your thoughts out but you keep getting distracted by his fucking mouth so you decide to look down between you two.

Terrible idea.

Christ, you’re surprised the zipper to his jeans hasn’t exploded open, that looks like it hurts trapped in those tight trousers.

You whip your eyes back up, and Matty notices where you looked so he chews on the corner of his lip. “Sorry about that too - but I really can’t help that at the moment. Need you to talk to me though, you okay? Did I make you uncomfortable? I didn’t mean to.”

You clear your throat and decide it’s easier to just look at his mouth than his eyes at the moment. You feel so fucking insecure right now.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable…that is kinda the problem.” You mumble, swallowing down your nerves. You don’t do honesty about your feelings well and you’re unsure how he has the ability to drag it out of you.

Matty ducks his face down trying to get you to look at him, keeping his voice soft but it’s hoarse in his throat. “Gonna need you to elaborate a bit, darling.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, and rest your hands against his chest. You feel his muscles there twitch and jump from the small contact and your insides do that weird flipping thing like they’re bloody gymnasts.

You take a deep breath, cursing yourself in your head at how stupid you think you sound. “It’s just - It’s been a long time for me with you know…sex, or anything like that in general and I’ve only known you for a couple of weeks, and most of that time I wanted to strangle you and now I’m kissing you. This is just really confusing for me, I enjoyed what was happening and I feel like I shouldn’t, sorry.”

A couple of weeks might be a long time to some people, and hardly any time for others.

Matty pauses to choose his words before he speaks, and brings his hand up to nudge his knuckle under your chin to force you to look at him. His face is earnest, but you don’t miss that giddy flicker in his eye but you’re not entirely sure why it’s there. “Look, I had no intention of trying to have sex with you tonight. I mean I really fucking want to right now, I’m just going to be honest about that. But I’m not a moron, I know that sort of thing is like…a sensitive topic for you and I’d never push you into that. I was just testing my luck with some kissing, I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand so fast.”

Your brows crease, unsure if you really buy that. “You really expect me to believe you weren’t going to pounce at the opportunity to have sex with me as soon as you had the chance?” Matty’s face falls, his lips pressing together as he leans back and sounds genuinely upset by your question. “Okay, first of all, you’re not an opportunity. And no, I wouldn't have. I don’t even have condoms on me - and I literally always have them on me. So even if you were the one that wanted to, I still would’ve said no.”

You look at your hands on his chest.

“You barely know me.”

“Time doesn’t equal value.” He states, trying to catch your eyes but you keep staring at your hands. “And you’re more valuable than you think.” He adds. He leans forward with his face washing over with that drunk look again and he darts his eyes to your lips. “Kiss me again?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…I enjoy it too much. I don’t know if I could just kiss you, and then stop there? But I’m not ready to sleep with anyone yet.”

That almost feels like a bold face lie, because with how you felt a few minutes ago you’re not entirely sure you wouldn’t want to sleep with him.

You feel Matty’s chest jump with a sharp breath while your heart is hammering again, you feel all your blood rush to your face and Matty pulls your hips down to rest against his thighs and he smooths his hands down to rub against your own thighs. There is a drawn out silence again, until he leans forward, ducking his head to your neck and presses a kiss there. “That is fine with me, but…”

He starts to drag his lips up to your neck and your head tilts involuntarily to give him more access to it, feeling your tummy knot each time his warm lips touch your skin as he murmurs against it.

“If you wanted to…There are a lot of other things we could do to make you feel good. Would you want that?” Regardless of how strongly you feel that this is a bad idea, and that you shouldn’t be doing this. But you dare anyone that’s been starved for years to have a mouth watering meal put in front of them, and not want to at least have a taste. Your subconscious is screaming at you over how stupid you’re being but you just can’t help it.

Matty sighs out a deep breath as his palms smooth up your thighs, his fingers grazing the insides of them while he kisses up to your jaw. “I’d be careful with you, we can stop whenever you want. Can I make you feel good?”

You swallow, breathing out a quiet “yes” while your eyes roll shut and Matty lets out an approving hum that sounds like a flustered mix of relief and excitement. He digs his fingers into your thighs to pull you forward again, dragging kisses from your jaw back to your mouth and nips at your lower lip which triggers you to connect your mouth with his again, savouring the feeling.

He breaks his lips away, only to nip and kiss at your lower lip between his words. “Tell me what you like.” He takes your lip between his teeth, to give it a gentle tug before releasing it and teases his tongue over it. “I’ll do whatever you like, just tell me.”

Matty waits for your answer but insecurity cripples you because you don’t know what to say because…well you Don’t know the answer.

You’ve had plenty of sexual experiences but it has never been about what you liked, you have never thought about it.

Matty pulls back at your hesitation and his brows crease. “Don’t be shy, you can tell me.”

“I-” You clear your throat, feeling flustered. “I can’t tell you because, well I don’t exactly know.” His brows scrunch even further in confusion and you shrug your shoulders. “No one has ever asked me that before.”

His expression falls with a sigh as he presses his lips into an annoyed flat line. “We need to have a serious talk about the kind of assholes you have been with, but we can do that later.” He taps his fingers on your thighs as an indicator for you to get up. “C’mon, hop up.”

You give him a confused look with your stomach dropping as you stand, thinking that the fact you told him that made him change his mind and not want to touch you. But he stands when you do, grasping your hand and starts to walk over to your bedroom, looking over his shoulders and notices the insecurity on your face which he matches with a soft and determined look. “You don’t know what you like, and we are going to do something about it. I’m gonna help you figure it out.”

Your eyes widen at how matter of fact he sounds, but he stops just as you were about to reach your door and you hear wheezing and trotting footsteps behind you. Matty looks behind you to see Loki following, then looks to your face, cocking his eyebrow. “I know you love that dog, but he can’t watch. Doubt he’s gonna wanna see what I’m doing to his girlfriend either. I think he has seen enough already.”

You give him a flat look and that makes him bite on his lip with a cheeky grin ,a look that makes you want to kiss him again instead of slapping him like it used to. You look at Loki and point to the couch. “Sorry baby, couch tonight - I’ll make it up to you, I promise - go on, off you go.” Loki huffs and whines, before turning and hanging his head, walking away with slow steps and you immediately feel terrible. Matty notices the guilty look on your face, and pulls on your hand, tugging you into the room and shutting the door behind you before you can protest.

As soon as the door clicks shut his hands are grabbing your face, crashing his lips into yours to kiss you that hard you would have fallen over if his hands didn’t immediately let go of your face and grab your hips instead, hoisting you up until your legs wrap around him and you speak in shock at the action. He walks towards the bed, stumbling while he tries to blindly find his way and you’re surprised you both made it without him tripping and eating shit hitting the ground while he turns and falls back onto the bed.

His mouth continues to attack yours while he moves your legs either side of his hips and grabs the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and only breaking the kiss to tear it up over his arms and head before he tosses it and latches his mouth to yours again. Both of your chests are heaving while the air in the room feels like it shoots to a thousand degrees, and Matty grabs your hands to place them on his bare warm chest before his own hands explore over your torso in greedy frantic touches.

His hips roll up underneath you, grinding his centre against yours with a whine in the back of his throat and you’d snap your legs together at the sound if you could. Holy shit.

His fingers grab at the hem of your shirt as he starts to tug it up but then pauses. “Is this okay? Can I take this off?” He checks, his words muffled against your lips. You’re nodding before you can stop yourself, mumbling an agreeing ‘mhm’ against his lips. Next thing you know the material is being pulled up and torn off you, thrown aimlessly and his hands go back exploring all of the new exposed skin that they can.

His lips kiss down your throat where he latches onto it, sucking at the spot above your collarbone with his ragged breathing hitting your skin. You whimper as he sucks and laps at the spot while his palms smooth up your back and his fingers stop at the back clasp of your bra. “Can I undo this?” He rasps, snapping the band of the back of your bra against your skin.

“Yes.”

He swallows as he continues to pant, dragging his warm tongue up your neck to your jaw as his fingers undo the clasp of your bra with impressive ease.

The material of your bra starts to slip from your body, and you gasp in surprise when his hands go to your shoulders, grabbing you and flipping you quicker than the crack of a whip and he’s hovering above you. He pauses looking down at you with his face flushed and unruly hair draped around his face, glancing to your bra laying loose over your chest and he takes hold of it, not taking his eyes away while he slips it down your arms and tucks his bottom lip under his teeth.

As soon as he drops your bra next to you on the bed your instinct is to cover your chest, looking away from him and you curse yourself for feeling so ashamed. Matty scolds out of breath, grasping your arms to pull them away. “Don’t hide yourself.”

You close your eyes when he removes your arms from in front of you, wishing it made you invisible. Matty curses under his breath and you don’t know if that’s good or bad. “Look at me, darling.” You keep your eyes closed and his voice becomes more stern. “Look. At. Me.”

You force your eyes open, sucking all the air you can into your lungs the second you see the look on his face, it’s enough to make you want to shrink back into the bed as he stares at you under his brows.

“I don’t know what the hell you think is wrong with your body…Because I can’t for the fucking life of me figure out a single problem with what I am looking at right now.” He says, slipping his palms higher. “Wanting to hide this” his fingers grope and knead at your skin as they go higher, and he gestures his face down referring to your bare torso “hiding this is just unacceptable.” He leans down, keeping his eyes on your face, kissing in between your sternum and then drags his lips up over your left breast with his breath heating your skin. “If I had it my way you’d never wear clothes again - I’m hooked now.”

You don’t know how something that was meant to be a compliment also sounded like a warning, but all you can do is watch helplessly while his mouth tastes and teases over your chest. You think you’re going to hyperventilate, you’ve never had something or someone be so damn intense.

To be fair, usually the sex would be over by now from your past experience. Very in and out, and over and done with. But he seems like he is in absolutely no rush at all.

He pulls away just after he kitten licks at your nipple making your back arch up, and crawls off of you to stand at the edge of the bed, keeping his starving eyes on you as they dart all over your body like they can’t decide where to stay and he starts to undo his jeans, tugging them down once they’re open.

He lets out a relieved groan, once they’re down past his hips which you’re assuming is from the lack of restriction he has now and you try not to look while he shuffles them down his legs to kick them off but the hard bulge, begging to get out of his boxers is hard to miss.

He brings his fingers up to push his hair away from his face and sighs, looking like he is in pain. “You’re making it very hard to have self control right now, darling.”

You just stare at him with your brows twitching together. You chew on your lip, not sure what you should say while your chest rises and falls in slow but harsh breaths.

Matty rubs his hands over his face, groaning a strained ‘fuck’ into his hands, before dropping them and stepping forward to hook his fingers under the material of your shorts, flicking his intense eyes up to yours. “Can I take these off? I want you to get under the covers after I do, if that’s okay.” You give him a shy nod and he gives you a warning look in return. “You’ve got a voice darling, use it.”

“It’s okay.” You blurt under your breath, your ovaries feeling like they strangle themselves over the stern demanding tone of his voice. His mood flips again as he smiles, holding his tongue between his teeth. Which looks far too adorable of an expression to have while he’s getting you naked and starts to pull your shorts down along with your underwear, but keeps his eyes on your face. You hold your breath when he slips them off your legs and then drops them on the floor next to the bed, gesturing his chin towards the pillows. “Under the covers.”

You will your body to move, shuffling up the bed as he watches your face and once you tug the covers back and climb under he moves to follow you. “You’re leaving those on?” You question, glancing to his boxers and have no idea where you got the guts to even ask that. Intimate moments are when you’re most insecure and not even your wit can save you. He slides into the bed next to you, nudging you to lay on your back and then urges you to roll on your side with your back facing him. “Trust me darling, much better for my self control if I leave these on this time.”

This time.

You scrunch your face up in confusion, but then jolt when he scoots up behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist and slotting your shoulders flush against his chest that radiates heat through your body. He rests his mouth near your ear and starts to trace patterns over your abdomen with his fingers “I know it was a lot letting me see you, so I thought we could try something else. I want you to be comfortable. I’m going to ask you some questions, you can answer however you want - there’s no wrong answer, however I need you to use your voice okay? Nodding isn’t going to work for me.” He says in a gentle tone, flattening his hand against your stomach. There is a strange tug in your chest, over how observant and thoughtful of that he was and how foreign it is that someone is being to attentive towards you.

“Okay.” You breathe, biting down on your lip so hard you nearly taste blood when he leans up and his mouth goes to your neck again. “Don’t be offended - but you’ve had an orgasm before right?” He asks in between slow kisses down your neck, making his way to your shoulder.

“Yes.”

You think one word answers are the best you’re going to be able to drag out, because you’re even struggling with just those. He lets out a thoughtful hum, nipping at your shoulder as his hand moves higher to massage over your breast. “Has anyone else ever made you come? Or just yourself? Be honest.”

“Just myself.”

“Thought as much.” He sighs in a mutter, sounding annoyed but not towards you, your answer just seemed to frustrate him but he doesn’t sound surprised. “So you’ve never came during sex? Or from someone else touching you? Ever?”

“No.” You clear your throat, deciding to add “Just assumed I was defective or something, because I couldn’t.”

Matty pauses and leans over to look at the side of your face, but you just stare at your wall in embarrassment. “There is nothing wrong with you? Understand me? If you can make yourself come, so can someone else. Whoever you’ve been with either didn’t know what the fuck they were doing, or didn’t deserve to touch you in the first place - the idiots never even stopped to ask what you like or find out - they are the fucking problem.”

His words are firm and direct, and you’re so used to his cheeky light nature that hearing him sound so harsh and serious makes your muscles tense. You don’t know why all of this has struck such a nerve with him, but he obviously feels very strongly about it. Could’ve done with the lecture when you weren’t butt ass naked though.

“Point taken. I don’t have a broken vagina, good pep talk.” You quip with your voice tight, and the tension from Matty’s speech breaks when a bright chuckle vibrates in his chest.

“Definitely don’t think it’s broken…Maybe a little neglected but not broken.” He teases, and you’re just about to fire back at him but he slides his hand down to grab your thigh to lift it, running his fingers up the area where your leg meets your groin. “Only one way to find out though.”

Your belly coils that tight you’re just about to choke, your muscles twitching when he tickles his fingers over your pubic bone. “Can I touch you?” You bite down on the inside of your cheek, hard. Your hips have the urge to shift forward of their own accord to encourage him, and you’re trying to adjust to constantly getting asked permission. The normal side of your brain would have been sarcastic, but the hormonal one is the part that murmurs a shy “yes”

That three letter word has Matty’s fingers ghosting down, making you grit your teeth when his careful fingertips drag a slow stroke between your folds, a deep long exhale leaving his mouth as he does. His fingers move back and forth, exploring every slick bit of skin he can and you feel him shift on the spot behind you like he’s trying to get comfortable. “Feels pretty perfect to me, darling.” He murmurs, leaning down to press an affectionate kiss to your jaw. “Just relax, I want you to do something for me.”

He removes his hand from in between your legs, taking your hand that you hadn’t even noticed was clamping onto the sheets and moves it down with his own. “I want you to take my hand and show me what you like, when you touch yourself. What feels best for you. Just place your hand on top of mine and move my fingers however you want.”

“Matty I can’t do that.” You stutter while you try to comprehend what he just said. You’re definitely not comfortable enough for that but he just tutts you. “Yes you can.” He dismisses, placing your hands between your legs and moves his fingers to rest against the sensitive spot that’s started to throb. “Just close your eyes, and breathe. You can do it, and I’m not moving my fingers until you do. It’s up to you.” He applies more pressure but keeps his fingers still and you cuss under your breath, squeezing your eyes closed.

How the fuck are you meant to cope with this?

“While you’re deciding…” Matty starts with a coy tone to his voice, still not moving his fingers that feel torturing at this point. “I’m pretty wrapped about the fact that I turn you on, feeling how soaked you are. Enjoy kissing me that much, do you?” You can’t answer, too distracted by the ache that’s getting worse between your legs. Matty just sounds amused now, and keeps talking with the smug expression evident in his voice. “What else turns you on, darling?”

You’re huffing out breaths through your nose fighting to keep your hips still, and Maty moves his lips to your ear. “What about dirty talk? That get you off? Let’s see if it does.” He drawls in a low voice that feels like it shivers down your spine at the drop of it. “Wanna know how much you turn me on, darling?” He breathes against your ear, his words slow and sound filthy enough from his tone, his hips press forward, his hard length clothed underneath his boxers circling against your behind and he moans. It has to be on fucking purpose with how drawn out it is, before he continues to speak. “You feel that. Rock fucking hard for you, and this is not the first time either.”

Does air exist? Because you can’t seem to find it.

“Know what I did last night?” He drags out, continuing to rock his hips against you while that ache between your legs makes you want to scream. While you try to shift your hips he is pinning you back against him to hold you still. “Just move my fingers love, you know what to do.” He taunts and you growl in frustration at the back of your throat which only makes him smile. “Now where was I? Oh yeah, last night..I had a shower, you know what I did while I was in there?” You try and stop the strangled moan that echoes in your throat when he circles his erection against your behind in slow hard movements but your body betrays you.

“Was thinking about you, thinking about how badly I wanted to kiss you.” He murmurs, moving his head to press a kiss to your shoulder. “And I got to fucking hard, I couldn’t even concentrate. So I wrapped my fingers around myself…leant my other hand against the wall and started to fuck my fist, started slow and got faster and faster the more I thought about you, what it would be like to touch you, have you in the shower with me, all the things we could do. And then you know what happened?”

You swear on your unborn children that you’re going to suffocate to death. You can’t even explain what is happening to your body at the moment, it feels like every ending nerve you have is screaming. Matty’s breathing gets heavier as he continues to grind himself against you, while his voice becomes thicker and he damn near moans his words out. “I came…really, really fucking hard. Could barely hold myself up, making filthy sounds I couldn’t control, felt so good darling, so fucking good.”

The image that is now burnt into your brain is going to fucking kill you, along with the sound of his voice. Your throat feels like it’s closing on itself and you can’t take this anymore so you suck in a sharp gasp and use every ounce of non-existent self confidence you have.

You grab his hand, placing yours over his and press his fingers against your aching nerves, whining at the relief when you start to move his fingertips in slow circles.

Matty’s lips pull into a grin against your shoulder, and he hums to himself. “Guess we can add dirty talk to the things that turn you on, then.”

You circle your hips back against his fingers whimpering at the feeling. This is mind numbing.

“You really enjoyed that, didn’t you? Matty coos, sounding breathless as his hips grind harder against you. “Didn’t know it was possible for you to get even wetter, making a mess of my fingers lovely girl.”

You’re going to have to get a priest to bless your showerhead, so you can cleanse yourself under the water for a week straight after listening to that filthy mouth of his.

You decide you’re not going to be the only one that’s a mess and push your behind back against his length as you start to work his fingers faster at the pressure and speed you know will unravel this painful knot in your gut the way you need it to. Matty grunts a low, guttural sound with a strained “Oh fuck” following it, and thrusts his centre hard against you, dropping his humid forehead against your shoulder. His fingers keep up the rhythm you have going, pushing me closer to that devastating feeling that’s making your stomach muscles start to tremble and you drop your hand away, unable to keep it there anymore and dig your nails into the mattress.

You haven’t even had a thought about what you should be doing, the sounds you should be making or how you should be reacting because that is all you used to do - making sure you were reacting the way the other person wanted but right now you can’t think of a god damn thing, all you’re doing is relishing how incredible this feels. His fingers continue to mimic the exact motions you showed him, playing your body like an instrument he mastered in minutes and you start to writhe against him while he grinds his centre against you like he’s consumed by his own movements.

“Oh god.” You gasp, your breath hitching in your throat. “Faster, please? I need - please go faster.” You beg sounding incoherent, you just need that last little push to unravel everything. Matty moves his face to hover over yours, and you barely recognise his voice with how low and hoarse it is. “You gonna come for me, lovely girl?”

You bite down hard on your lip, scrunching your eyes shut tighter with a sharp desperate nod and Matty nudges his nose against your cheek. “Kiss me- and I’ll go faster. I’ll make you feel so good I promise, darling just kiss me.”

Honestly he could’ve asked you to eat a shit sandwich at this point and you would have.

You turn your face, with his lips capturing yours as soon as they’re in reach and immediately the kiss is desperate. It’s wet tongues and careless lips while his fingers quicken against your sensitivity and he captures every single one of the choked moans that leave your throat. Every muscle in your body tenses as that coil in your abdomen unravels and pulses out from your lower half through your body in shock waves, spasming your nerves and constricting your stomach as it does while your hips thrust and roll to ride the feeling as it washes over you.

Matty’s fingers continue to drag the feeling out, pulling high pitched whimpers and strangled moans out of your chest while your kissing becomes uncoordinated until he stills his open mouth against yours as his hips jolt forward. He chokes out a whimpered “oh my fucking god” against your mouth, his own body jolting and trembling while his centre rolls against your arse until you feel a liquid warmth against your skin soaked into the fabric of his boxers.

You jolt your hips away when you become too sensitive from his fingers. Both of you are panting, with Matty’s forehead against your own and his long hair that’s become damp in places is tickling against your cheeks. He presses lazy kisses to your lips, sighing to himself and finally slips his hands from between your legs when your hips still, hugging his arm around your waist like he can’t get close enough to you.

“You feeling okay, darling?” He asks with a tired voice.

“Really good, good, I’m great.” You sigh, sounding groggy and you can’t string a sentence together. Orgasms are great. You’re so sleepy. Matty laughs under his breath at how spent you are, sounding pleased with himself.

“You know I haven’t came in my boxers since I was about 12, so thanks for the nostalgia.” He muses with a giggle. “You’re welcome.” You hum, half asleep and barely paying attention to what he is saying.

“I need to clean myself up before I fall asleep, but I kind of ruined my boxers…So you wouldn’t have any shorts I could sleep in, would you?” You hear the slightest hint of bashfulness in his voice. You smile to yourself.

“Yeah I do.”

#i hate this #the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy smut #every time i post i want to delete tumblr right after

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grox · 2 days

Text

I dont even know how to say this but I think I love my job. Like I am under the belief that I landed an actual good job. Coworkers are fun and nice and responsible, management is chill but stern where it counts, the work itsself isnt that bad, the pay is fine, same as I made at subway but I'm guaranteed a dollar raise every three months, 9 hour shifts, no pesky required 30 minute break to take 6 bucks a day out of my pocket, the work leaves me hurting but in an athletic and refreshing way never before seen, they dont micromanage inventory so I can swipe a peperoni if I want, I can bring a pizza home every day and they dont even write that shit down, the smell of the place is exciting and fun, there is a good mix of wise coworkers to advise me and unwise coworkers to play with, when I get snapped at its more of like, learn this real quick, no one harbors any genuine anger and the coworkers I dont get along with we still help eachother out, you can be on your phone sometimes, its a real restraunt not a subway so you don't even gotta deal with customers you just play papas pizzeria all day. It's awesome. Like the only bad part is the commute and that damn 5 am bedtime/1 pm mornings. But I feel like a winner. Like I thought I was a lost cause and a bumbling oaf all throughout training but these pasg few shifts I locked the fuck in and I'm like waiiiit I'm fucking good at this. Like I'm genuinely alright. Like its gonna be fine maybe unless I get fired but honestly I am keeping up with all my coworkers I no longer feel like I'm lagging behind that much

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siphoklansan · 3 days

Note

HEYHEY SIPPY!!! For the ask game, I hope you don't mind me asking for... kind of a lot because I'm really curious jskdkfs but you can cut some out if want to, dw!

🌹♥️♠️⚗️📚🏆 for Siphok and 🌟🤖 for Pin-cha?

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS ᝰ.ᐟ

sippy and riddle are friends! both of them have one thing in common: a stickler for rules. the only difference is that sippy doesn’t follow crazy rules (ex. heartslabyul’s strange traditions!)

fun fact: they both hated each other before the end of book 1 because:

⤷ sippy likes to voice out her opinions, so she gets into a yelling match from time to time with riddle when she disagrees with his behavior. ( “IT’S JUST A TART, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!” 💀 /j but yeah something like that-)

⤷ riddle hates how she doesn’t give two shits about his rule. ( “Nuh-uh.” “What do you mean “Nuh-Uh” ?!?”) and she also defends adeuce when they break the rules, much to their surprise.

at the end of book 1 they both had a truce and became some sort of buddies to each other! they both share an interest in small critters <3

ACE TRAPPOLA & DEUCE SPADE ᝰ.ᐟ

besties for life (adeuce will not admit it) they always go everywhere with each other and grim!

sippy is #1 deuce defender because she kins him😭 so ace rarely wins and argument when she’s around. sippy tutors deuce for history class (more on this later!) and deuce returns the favor by helping her fix things around ramshackle <3

like deuce, sippy bickers a lot with ace but it’s all fun and games. she’s like a tired mom with him (begrudgingly watches his basketball matches because ace insists on it so much, secretly doesn’t mind and enjoys it lmao-). I lowkey see ace as a therapist friend for some reason since he’s usually the voice of reason so she goes to him for advice sometimes! Only for certain occasions though cuz we know how ace is💀 /hj

DIVUS CREWEL ᝰ.ᐟ

#1 dad for sippy. they both go on shopping sprees together (crewel insists on it, because sippy wears the same outfit everyday and it irks him 💀). sippy isn’t the best at potions class so he tutors her privately at times!

crewel designs outfits for sippy sometimes! in the ghost bride event, her suit was tailored to her by crewel.

a short angst scenario for them would be sippy feels bad to see him as a dad because she doesn’t know if crewel sees her as a daughter but he actually feels the same😔.

other than that, sippy got a little more strict because she picked up some habits from crewel (much to adeuce’s dismay😭).

MOZUS TREIN (doesn’t look like him, i know) ᝰ.ᐟ

that one proud grand-uncle (?) TM /j

sippy is likes history classes, so it’s like a breath of fresh air for him in class (“Finally, someone who does not snore every 2 minutes.” /j)

not much to comment on them, but one thing trein dislikes about sippy is that she covers for students who are slacking off in class ( ex. covering grim’s sleeping form with a book) and he’s just like -_- but trein counters that by deducting both her and the other student (who’s mostly grim) participation points💀

ASHTON VARGAS ᝰ.ᐟ

that one crazy and upbeat uncle at family gatherings TM 💀 /j

while sippy is good in athletics, she doesn’t do very well in flying due to a small fear of heights.

⤷ “THE BROOM IS TOO THIN IT CAN’T CARRY MY FATASS!” “LANGUAGE! But no, it *can* hold your weight.”

sippy dreads vargas’s class because he pushes her more than anyone else.

⤷ “lift some more weights! your arms are like noodles!” vargas says, as he dumps some more shit into her arms-

KALIM AL ASIM ᝰ.ᐟ

pin-cha and kalim is like the worst nightmare for jamil, who’s already acting like a single mom who works two jobs who loves her kids and never stops-

yes, they go on carpet rides together🥺💓 pin-cha reminds kalim of one of his siblings back at home so they hit it off pretty well!

jamil is a little weirded out how well pin-cha is good at household chores but is also secretly relieved (and concerned) how pin-cha is babysitting kalim and not the other way around /hj

CHEKA KINGSCHOLAR ᝰ.ᐟ (NOT A SHIP ART!!)

RRAAAGHSGSHHSHGSHSG FINALLY SOMEONE MENTIONS CHEKAAAAA!! THEY’RE BESTFRIENDS, YOUR HONOR😭✨

cue leona thanking the gods for giving cheka someone to play with so he can finally nap in peace LMAO

cheka drags pin-cha away from his cleaning duties in rsa! the headmage of rsa adores them both (happy grandpa noises) <3

cheka enjoys when pin-cha shows his unique magic, summoning little spirits around to play with them. it’s like having extra friends to play!

yes, they both call leona “unca”💀 leona had to call sippy over to help him babysit them both (an excuse to be with her I MEAN WHAAATTT⁉️ I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING-)

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK, TARU!!💖💖 SO SORRY FOR THE LATE AND VERY LONG REPLY😭🙏 I had a lot of fun with this ask though I can’t find the link to the OG post anymore :((

I swear this whole post looks like some character who is liked by everybody but I promise you it’s not the case😭 she just has a good impression on the professors AHUSHSUGSYSI BUT ANYWAY I’ll list some characters who doesn’t like sippy (but i’ll leave the reasoning out for now👀)

⤷ ruggie

⤷ sebek

⤷ idia

⤷ jamil (kinda like a hate-neutral relationship?)

With that said, thank you again for the ask!!🥺💖🫶🫶

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barbiewritesstuff · 14 hours

Text

Filthy COD squad fucktoy thoughts

@ravensmadreads / @feedthemadness-sweetie

This was written in 10 min. I've never played or seen much COD before but she's dragged me into this and then told me to post this here.

SMUT. MDNI.

----

Imagine being the squad's little fucktoy.

It starts with Ghost. Just a quick fuck when you need to but Gaz walks in and instead of stopping like you expected, Ghost tells him that either he joins or he fucks off and closes the door.

He joins.

After that Gaz takes you whenever sometimes with Ghost, sometimes by himself. Soap's next. Gaz mentions him and Ghost are using you for stress relief and one day he has a real bad day and bends you over the nearest surface and fucks you til you can't talk.

Except you can scream. And Price hears it. He thinks you're hurt, that something bad's happening but then he hears the moans, and the way you chant Soap's name and he gets jealous. He offhandedly mentions something about what he heard to the other guys, trying to fish for information, and they all look at each other weirdly, like they're hiding something. And you do the same when he asks you. Price feels kind of offended, he knows he's being kept out of something but he doesn't know what

Price opens the door with more force than he needs to. He's pissed. He's fuming. He's been pushed to the side on this for much too long.

He's hurt. Actually.

Gaz, Soap, Ghost and you are his squad. His family. And there's something going on that you're not letting him be a part of.

He sees the glances the boys throw at each other when he asks about you and Soap. And then, a week later, when you're holed up somewhere south of Porter Canal in a place where shit absolutely should not have gone south, he catches a glimpse of Gaz fucking you raw, fingers rubbing frantic circles on your clit.

He figures it out then, and it's somehow worse now he knows you're letting everyone have a go but him. It feels more personal. What about him doesn't do it for you?

He knows he's a good looking man. He's older, yes, but it doesn't bother him, and it's never bothered anyone else before. He's a high ranking officer, which proves he's trustworthy, responsible and a born leader, all things he's always been led to believe makes him a good choice for a mate.

And he always thought you liked him. You squirm when he flirts, you blush when he touches you... you masturbate in the shower when you think he can't hear, softly moaning his name. His first name.

It's not fair.

It's so unfair that when you land back at base, he calls you to his office, determined that if you won't give him what he wants, he'll just have to fucking take it.

---

He bottoms out into you, filling you to the brim. It's almost painful, the way he stretches you out and fucks you without letting you adjust.

"Letting everyone else have a go at you?" He grunts, "Singling me out?"

"Why's that?" He asks, pulling your hair back by the pigtail, "C'mon, love."

"I didn't --" you start, sentence cut in half by a loud, pornographic moan.

"Tell me."

"Rank," you spit out between screams. He's too deep and not enough. It hurts but not enough. He's everything and you want more, "Captain," you add, trying to make a coherent sentence with whatever words thoughts bump into your brain like a dvd pause screen.

Price scoffs, "Thought your captain wouldn't want you, pet?"

"Couldn't."

"Let me make something clear," he growls, "I decide what I can and can't do. I can, and I will, fuck you."

He slams into you.

"I will fuck you until I damn well decide I've caught up with the boys," he says, "And then I will keep going."

You don't respond, you're too far gone. There's only Price in the world now, jjst the feel of his cock hitting your g-spot over and over again. You've lost count of how many time you've soaked his cock with your come but you're sure it must be in the double digits now. And there's another one building up, slowly and differently, it feels stronger and there's a brand new pressure that travels down from your pussy until eventually, Price pulls out and you squirt, soaking his trousers in the process.

He chuckles, half in disbelief and half in mockery, "Any of the boys make you do this?"

"Never," you manage to say, "Only you."

"Make sure they know," he groans, turning you around on the desk by your hair so he can look you in the eyes, "Next time they fuck you. You tell them Price made you squirt."

"Yessir," you slur.

"Good girl," he says.

Price slinks down on his office chair, still holding your ponytail with a firm hand, and guides you down to kneel in front of him. You obey, eyes glued to his cock, slick with your juices.

"Clean me up, pet."

You don't react, his voice taking a second to reach whatever's left of your brain.

"I said clean me up," he orders, "You made the mess. You lick it clean."

He pulls your hair, practically forcing your mouth on his dick and finally you kick into gear, sucking, licking and nibling on and around his cock. He turns more vocal, allowing himself to moan every now and then when the back of your throat hits his tip.

There's a knock on the door and you still, Price's hand pushing you up and down his member at the same speed.

"Come in," he orders, making no attempt at hiding you, or disguising what's happening. Like he knows who's behind the door.

Ghost walks in, soft footed as always.

"You wanted to see me Captain?"

"No," Price says, "Wanted you to see her. My pet now. But I'll be nice... I'll let you share her still."

Ghost stays silent for a beat, the sound of you slobbering on Price's cock filling the silence in the room.

And then, quietly and filled with jealousy, Ghost replies, "Thank you, Captain."

"Make sure my property returns to me," Price says

#john price #captain price #john price x reader #john price x you #cod x reader #cod x you

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impala-dreamer · 19 hours

Text

Meet Me At The Beach

A Supernatural Story

~ Texting and emails can feel so impersonal. There's nothing quite like exchanging tangible, handwritten letters with someone you love...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader, Sam Winchester

4,025 Words

Warnings: Bittersweet Angst. SFW.

A/N: This is for @jacklesversebingo "Writing Letters To Each Other" was the prompt. I hope you enjoy...

June 2

Dear Dean,

This feels so weird. Do people really write letters anymore? Am I going to get strange looks at the post office when I go to buy a stamp? Will they even know what to do with this tiny envelope and folded piece of loose-leaf paper? I almost don’t know how to write anymore. My script looks kinda like chicken scratch, huh? Hopefully it’ll get better. It is weird not typing though. But emails just seem like work. Impersonal, ya know? Besides, it gives us something to look forward to when we hit the mailbox. Nice to open something that’s not a delinquent credit card bill, huh?

Speaking of which- how the fuck do you do it? I just got another card canceled. My credit is non-existent. Fuck, I need to get a job. Could you imagine me in an office? High heels and panty hose and my hair tucked into a neat, matronly bun? I shudder to think!

OK, this is weird. I just wanted to write “LOL” but it’s not an email. Or a text. Why are we doing this again? Oh, yeah, see above.

Anyhoo- - - - I don’t even know what to say! Umm… I’m in New Orleans for a bit. Not working, just hanging out. My friend Emily from high school tracked me down online and we’ve been chatty. She’s in a band. They’re not bad. Not great, but not bad. So yeah, I took a drive down to see a show and I’m just lingering. Drinking too much, sleeping past noon. It’s fun. Nice little vacation.

Which - ahem - you should be taking. When are you gonna get your ass out of that dusty old bunker and stick your toes in the sand? I already told you I’d meet you in Pensacola with sunscreen and a cooler of beer. You know you want to. Or are you just scared to show off your ugly toes in flip flops? Your boots might actually cry if you ever took them off, so I guess it’s just as well.

Hey, do you remember that night in Richmond when it started pouring and your boots sank into the mud puddle? God, that was a mess. We were soaked to the bone. Nice way to warm up, though - cuddled in the back of the Impala. I miss that car. Sometimes, I think I can hear it at night when the world is quiet and the wind is still. It’s like the engine roars in the back of my mind and I start thinking about all our adventures, all the time we spent driving into the sunset.

I miss you. Is that wrong? I probably shouldn’t. Or at least, I shouldn’t tell you that I do. But I do. I miss you so bad sometimes that it hurts. Like someone has punched me right in the chest. Maybe we can end up in the same town soon. Grab some tacos and sit on the hood. Make a mess. I’d like that.

OK, before I get too emotional and start asking you to run away with me, I think I’ll end this ranting scribble of horrid handwriting.

Write me back soon.

Love, Y/N

June 21

Y/N-

Your handwriting does not look like chicken scratch. I like it. Mine is like some toddler just learning his letters. Whatever. I never learned that fancy shit. I can sign my name and make a grocery list. That’s all I need.

This is weird, yeah. But it’s kinda nice. Feels more… like you’re here. Does that make sense? Like seeing your handwriting, the dents in the paper- I don’t know. Just feels more real. Like you’re not just some computer talking back at me. Also there’s something strange about answering questions weeks later. I meant to write this sooner, but I got a little distracted. There was a Kung Fu marathon on and I just lost track of time. Too much pizza, not enough Carradine. Ya know? You know.

Remember that horrible motel in Raleigh when we both caught that nasty stomach bug and stayed up all night watching old tv shows? Saltines and Little House. I’ll never forget it. You were so sick that day. Shit, I was sure I was gonna end up taking you to the hospital. Sure, I was puking too, but you looked like death. I hated that. Hated that I couldn’t help you, make you feel better. I did cook up a mean chicken noodle soup though, didn’t I? Not that it stayed down for long.

Thank god for that yellow Gatorade. And yes- it’s fucking yellow. Not green.

Anyway- I miss you too. I try not to, I really do. Not all the time, no offense, but sometimes I’m just fucking insane with shit going on. But at night, especially, I miss having you beside me. I miss rolling over and seeing you there, or hearing you snore. I miss feeling your freezing feet under the blanket. I don’t know, I just-

What can I say? I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I’m the biggest piece of shit in the universe. I shouldn’t have pushed you away.

Can’t change the past. Just gotta move on.

Maybe someday you’ll forgive me. I hope so anyway.

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t dump that all out in a letter. I almost ripped this all up and started over. I actually let it sit for a day before I came back to it. But, fuck it- we said we were gonna write to each other and be honest, and here I am, being honest.

Fuck, I’m so tired. That kinda tired when sleeping for ten days wouldn’t even put a dent in it. Yeah, OK, so things are getting a little better. Chuck’s gone for good this time. Jack’s got things back in place, even made a few improvements. Sam’s- well, he’s Sam. He’s fine, doing his thing. The dog is- did I tell you we have a dog now? Yeah, I know. Me and a dog- yeah right. But we do. Miracle. He’s a good boy. I’ll send you a picture soon.

Never thought I could slow down like this. Feels like for the first time we can just - work. I mean, I’m never gonna give up hunting, not totally, but- feels like I could just ease back a bit. Been looking at some jobs in town- nothing crazy, fixing engines and stuff like that. Don’t know if you remember, but I’m pretty good with my hands.

Did you blush?

You did.

OK. I guess- that’s it for now. I have no fucking idea how to end this so - bye?

~ Dean

P.S. I’ll meet you at the beach soon. I promise.

Fifteenth of July

To Whom It May Concern:

Re: Beach Vacation

Dear Mr. Winchester,

I am very pleased to hear that you are agreeable to meeting me at the beach. It should be delightful fun to run through the surf and hunt for sea glass with you.

Oh shit! Do you remember that new age shop in… where the fuck was that? With the sea glass necklaces in the window that I said were so pretty and the witch inside said they were blessed to give the wearer riches or some shit like that. Where was that? Who knows.

Feels like we’ve been all over the world together. Well, this country at least. Lord knows I could never get you on an airplane. If only you could drive to Paris. Did I ever tell you about my trip to France? God, it was beautiful. Rained the whole time, but it was this beautiful, warm spring rain that made everything smell like dust and petals. Not rose petals, but those little white ones that grow on trees, ya know? It was so beautiful. Fuck it. I’m taking you one day. You need to see more than the dash of your car and the backroads of America. Time to travel!

Speaking of- I’m glad you’re slowing down a bit. I know that won’t be easy for you but if you think about it, you’ve spent the last forty years running from problem to problem like a damned bomb-sniffing dog.

A DOG?! Dean Winchester, I never thought the day would come. I can’t wait to see a picture. Don’t forget it next time.

I think you’d be a great mechanic. It was always very hot seeing you covered in sweat and grease especially if you had those damned coveralls on. I mean… what? I don’t think about you like that anymore, you know. It’s over and done with and we’re just friends. We are friends, aren’t we? Maybe something more than friends, I guess. Ex lovers? Ew. I hate that word. Lovers. So gross. Well, then what are we? Just two souls swimming in a fish bowl…

Year after year. Day after day. Do you know that I put nearly a hundred thousand miles on my poor truck this year? Back and forth, up and down the country. I don’t have to tell you how exhausting it is. Fun, but exhausting. Rewarding, but not. I wonder how many people remember me after I leave? Does that family in New Haven think about me whenever they go into the basement and it’s no longer haunted? Is there a photo of me on a fridge in Wilmington where I saved that guy’s fiance from the vamp nest? Probably not. I’m sure people remember you - The Great Dean Winchester. The sexy hunter with the green eyes and the giant black car. You’re hard to forget. Also, you hang out with a giant. Tell Sam I said hi.

I do remember that puke fest! And it’s green. It’s literally neon green. Fight me.

We could probably write a book, you and me. ‘Winchester & Y/L/N Do America’. It’s a coffee table book with pictures of random diner signs and gas station bathrooms. Maybe a list of the country’s best french fry places. Shit like that. Let’s do it. I’ll call my literary agent in the morning. Ha!

SPARTA!! That’s where that damned sea glass shop was. It just hit me! Stupid brain. I swear, I’ve been hit in the head way too many times. Broken too many bones. I’m getting too old for this shit. Did you know that my left knee pops whenever I stand up now? Like, how old am I?? I can’t stand it. I need a month at a spa somewhere in the desert. That’d be nice.

Damnit. I just got a call from Vinnie Alverez. Do you know him? Hunter out of Pittsburg. Anyway- he needs help on a job. Guess I’ll cut this letter short. Hopefully I’ll find a box to drop this in on the way to PA!

Miss you.

Sincerely yours,

Y/N

P.S. - I do forgive you, Dean. Of course I do. Things were just too hard back then. Life didn’t want to cooperate for us. It’s not your fault. Not my fault. It just was. Please don’t carry that guilt in your heart. You deserve better than that.

August 2

Dear Y/N-

You’re a real character, you know that? Love the corporate letter. I’m in for the book by the way. Could be awesome. We do need a full chapter on onion rings though. Make a note.

I heard about your hunt in Pittsburgh. Came through the grapevine that you kicked some serious wolf ass. Nice job, kid. Hope you’re being careful. I know how bullheaded and impulsive you can get when you’re in the zone. Just watch your back, OK? Promise me. Last thing I wanna hear is that you got your heart clawed out or you’re walking around with a demon in your ass.

Demons. Haven’t seen so many running around lately. Queen Rowena’s been keeping them in check. So fucking weird that she’s in charge now. Not that I’m surprised- she’s a badass bitch. If I had a nickel for every ruler of hell I was friends with, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice. The kids still say that, don’t they? See, I’m not old. I keep up with pop culture and shit. Started watching the tik toks. I still don’t get it, but I like the woodturning stuff. Thinking about taking up whittling. Maybe carve you a keychain so you stop losing them.

I got a call for a job interview. Chickened out though. I don’t know if I’m ready to start all that, ya know? Start a real life in the real world- just seems- I don’t know, scary. Yeah, I’ve faced every deadly thing on this and other worlds but the idea of getting a 9 to 5 civilian job scares me. I’m some kinda fucked up, huh?

I think about it a lot though. Getting a job, finding a little house somewhere, settling down. A little fenced in yard so Miracle can run around and dig up dirt. Might put a rocking chair on the porch and watch the clouds, some shit like that. Would you come visit me in my Barbie dream house? I’ll cook you breakfast every morning and you can rub my feet at night. Real cozy couple stuff.

OK, so maybe I’m thinking about you more and more these days. Maybe I’m regretting leaving. Maybe I’m just an idiot daydreaming about meeting you somewhere in the middle and sweeping you off your feet. One of those running hugs that hurts when you collide but ends in a kiss that makes everything feel better. I’m a real romantic fuck, huh? I was digging through my drawers yesterday and I found a pair of your socks. Those tiny ones that barely covered your ankle. I don’t know why they were stuffed in the back of the dresser, but there they were. Dingy white socks with the pink threads on the toes. I’ll bring them to the beach when we meet up.

Oh, Sam says hi and he hopes you’re good and he wants you to shoot him a text when you can. You can do what you want, but you better not mail him a letter. That’s just for me. God, my hand is cramping up. I’m not used to this. Oh, and you’re not alone. My knee creaks like a haunted house when I go up stairs now. And my right wrist pops, and my neck makes this weird almost squeaking sound, and my ass- well, I could go on, but just know you’re not alone. Kinda weird to think that we lived long enough to be this old, ain’t it? I never thought I’d live to be thirty and here I am staring down 42. Forty Fucking Two. Can you believe that shit? Goddamnit I got old. Let’s go find a nursing home together. Maybe we can get a double room- or a king sized bed?

Think about it. We could be cranky old people together. Losing our memories and shuffling around with walkers and shit. You’d look cute with white hair. And fuck, my beard’s already going gray. Should I grow out my beard?

Write back soon. I really like seeing your letters in the box.

Dean x

My dearest Dean Winchester, it is with great happiness that I write this letter to you and I do hope that it finds you well and happy and all good things and I can’t keep this formal shit up. Ha!

Anyway- but yeah, things are good. I know it’s been a while since I’ve written, but I was on a little trip around the continent. Headed up to Montreal for a bit. Killed some nasties, salted some bones, generally fucked around. My beloved truck crapped out in Burlington, Vermont, so I had to hang out there for a while and gather my resources to get a new vehicle. I think you’d like her. Green Ford Explorer from ‘94. OK, she’s not as sexy as the Impala, but she gets me where I need to go. Which, apparently, was Maine! I met up with some friends in Greenville. Cute little town full of witchcraft. So much fun. Also had a lobster roll on a pier… I swear to god, they plucked this thing right out of the water and slapped it on a buttered roll. You’d LOVE it. I’m gonna take you there someday.

Speaking of- We need to make plans for Florida. I picked up a little bikini on my travels and I think I really need to show it off. Maybe you could be my bodyguard and keep the creeps away while I’m sunbathing? To repay you for your services, I’ll gladly let you take it off me at night…

Oh, and I’ve thought about this extensively, and I believe that you should, in fact, grow your beard out. Like, full on, bushy lumberjack beard. I can’t wait to see all that gray. You know I have a thing for older men… and you’ll always be older than me, Dean Winchester and don’t you forget it!

And for your information, I don’t lose my keys anymore! I got one of those… apple taggy things. Now I know where they are at all times. Can’t find my phone to find them sometimes, but that’s another issue.

Two weeks later, I’m picking up my pen again. Sorry this is taking forever. Things are stupid busy. I wish I could just… put this fucking gun down and go live with you on a farm somewhere. Not a working farm, we wouldn’t keep pigs or anything because gross, but a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Big white house with a giant tree in the yard and a tire swing and a picket fence and a kid chasing the dog around and -

Shit. Do you ever think about it? I do. A lot. More than I’d like to and it fucking cuts me up inside every time. I know we could never have kept it, and life- I mean- it just wasn’t meant to be. But I do think about it sometimes. Imagine if we’d just walked away from the life and tried to be a family? Impossible, I know. Maybe in another life.

Shit, I’m sorry. Fuck. Ignore me. I haven’t slept in a while and I just

I want to see you. Can we meet somewhere? Wherever you want. I’ll come to you.

~ Y/N

Dear Dean,

This is my second attempt at writing this. Crumpled up the first one because I’m an idiot. Am I an idiot? Did I piss you off with the last letter? I honestly didn’t mean to. I just- we said we’d be honest, and you’ve been so open in your letters that I thought it was ok to talk about, but I guess not. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have dug that stuff up.

I’m so tired and stressed and I miss you so much. Since we’ve been writing back and forth it’s almost like I can’t stop thinking about you. I get so fucking excited to check the mail whenever I roll back into town. It’s like… I don’t know, it’s like Christmas every time I see your handwriting in my box. Remember the time you wrote your name on my thigh in Sharpie? That stayed on for like a week. I shoulda gotten it inked on. That’d be something, huh? Branded by a Winchester.

Fuck, Dean, I really hope you’re not mad at me. I really want to call you, but we said we wouldn’t. Just write me back, please.

I’ll be in your neck of the woods next week. Got turned onto a haunting up in Abilene. Maybe we can meet on the road somewhere? Please?

Hey, did you know there’s a Hunter, Kansas? Wonder why they didn’t build the bunker there. I don’t know, made me laugh when I was looking at the map.

Anyway- Please write me back. Or call. Or text. Or send a damned pigeon with a tiny letter taped to its foot. I don’t care, how, just do it please. Even if you’re mad at me and don’t want to talk anymore, I get it. But please. Just let me know, OK?

I’m sorry.

Love, Y/N

Dear Y/N,

I didn’t know you and my brother were writing to each other like this, but I found your last few letters to him in his private P.O. Box. I didn’t even know he had one of his own, but I guess we all keep secrets from those we love. I hope you don’t mind that I read your letters. Not all of them, but the last two that came through. Please know that Dean would have responded if he could have, I know he would have. He talked about you a lot recently. Said you two were in contact and that he was hoping to find some time to meet you for a vacation. I don’t know where you guys were planning on going, but I found a new Hawiian shirt in his closet with the tags still on it.

I know we spoke on the phone after he passed, but I wanted to send this to you. I was cleaning up his stuff and found his notepad. Looks like he’d started a letter before we left for Canton. I think he’d want you to have it.

I’m closing up the Bunker soon. I don’t really know where I’ll go, but I can’t be here right now. Not without my brother.

I’ll always be around if you need anything or want to talk. I’ll always answer the phone for you, Y/N.

Be well,

Sam Winchester

Y/N/N,

If I could take it back I would. Every fucking word. I think about it now and I know we made the wrong choice. I know we could have made it work if we tried. But we are both total fuck ups who can’t be normal. We just can’t.

Forgive me

That’s dog slobber up there, not tears. Just fyi. Definitely not tears. I think I might have been a little drunk when I started writing and then well-

Anyway- Maine sounds awesome. We were there once but no time for lobster rolls. Guess I missed out.

Not much to report since the last letter. Been kinda quiet here. But… I did apply for a job. Well, I filled out the application. Well, I started filling it out. It’s actually underneath this notepad right now. I’ll get to it. I will. I just need a good kick in the ass. Or maybe a pinch… wink wink

I absolutely think we need to get together. Pick some place stupid like the World’s Largest Frying Pan or South of The Border. I’ll meet you. Just say when.

Guess this letter will take a little longer to finish. We’re leaving for Ohio in a little bit. There’s a buncha vampire dicks making a mess. Gonna take ‘em to batting practice. Show them my machete swing. I’ll give a full report when we’re back home

Dean Dean,

I made it to the beach. It’s hot, like stupid hot. Had to stand in the water just to keep my toes from burning. I’ve been sitting here for hours trying to think of something to say, but all I can say is I love you. I miss you. I wish you were here with me. I wish things had been different. I wish and wish and wish.

If I throw this into the ocean will it get to you somehow or will my words just wash away like the sand?

I’ll see you again someday. I hope so, anyway. Let’s just pretend I’m destined for Heaven. I know you’re up there. You were too good not to be. You sacrificed so much, cared so much, saved so many people. I know you made it. If there’s any mercy in this universe, I’ll be up there someday too. Just don’t have too much fun without me.

I love you, Dean. Always.

Y/N

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