#I'd really like to know what you guys think of it. How it can be expanded and stuff

[gothicfied]

hi!! i LOVE your writing! i was wondering if you could write something about dae ho meeting reader in the game, maybe she doesnt speak korean? like theres a whole language barrier thing and he sort of becomes her unofficial translator? something cute like that <3 thank you!!!

Kang Dae-ho / Player 388 with a foreign reader

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho / Player 388 x foreign!reader (SEASON 2)

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Mentions of gunshots, killing, death (Typical Squid Game stuff), this is set in Season 2, Reader doesn't have a specific ethnicity/race and is just said to be foreign to South Korea, other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (English isn't my first language... how ironic)

A/N: Alright, so this request is literally like 6 months old AND I AM SO SORRY TO THE ANON WHO ASKED THIS😭 this has been sitting here in my drafts, unfinished until now. Season 3 came out today and I obviously had to binge watch the entire thing. I won't spoil anything, but I'd rather take S2!Dae-ho over S3!Dae-ho and I can definitely write more about the former. Anyway, I'm glad you enjoy my writing and I hope this doesn't suck lololol

This place was so bizarre. You didn't speak Korean, or at least not well enough to understand what was really going on. When you came to South Korea to study, you didn't think the living experience would be so expensive and exhausting. Coming here, being put into these uniformly tracksuits and only being talked to by your number gave you an eerie feeling.

If it wasn't already hard understanding what was going on — Because you certainly didn't expect this when the guy in the suit gave you an opportunity to win money — it's definitely going to be hard now: When other people started looking at you funny. Because you're not from there, they recognized it straight away. With your broken Korean, you understood whispers like "Look, a foreigner.." and "What's someone like that doing here?" It made you feel even more left out.

From context clues and certain English words the other players used while talking, you kind of picked up on what this thing is. You play games, if you win you get to go to the next round, if you lose... you're out. And you single handedly got to experience what it meant to 'be out'.

No one told you anything. No pink guards, no other players, no one had the decency to let you in on things. While nervously standing in this big arena, walls painted to look like grass with a baby blue sky and a big doll-like statue standing roughly 20 meters on the other side, you suddenly felt a tap on your shoulder.

You quickly snapped your head back to see a guy with the number 388 printed on his jacket. "It's Red Light, Green Light." He told you, his English sounding better than you had expected. You felt so relieved when finally hearing a familiar language and you expression immediately softened while looking at him. "What?" The man pointed at the statue on the other side. "You know.. the game? You go when it's Green Light, you stop when it's Red Light."

Your eyes followed the direction his finger pointed at and nodded like you understood him. "Thank you." The man smiled at you and patted on your back, saying something back in Korean you could hardly make out.

The language barrier made you miss the whole frenzy monologue the guy with the number 456 had before the game started. When looking around, all you could see is shocked faces, people in distress or the complete opposite: People not taking him seriously. You didn't know what was going on, but as soon as the statue of the girl turned to the tree behind her and a jingle started to play, everyone made a move in her direction. You did too, what else could you do?

Then suddenly— Pang. A gunshot, really loud, echoed through the arena and killed a girl. Frozen in shock, you watched as the other players around her started to freak out and move, getting shot one by one, orchestrating an absolute massacre.

It's a miracle you made it out.

On the way back to the sleeping area, or whatever this was, you felt a familiar tap on your shoulder behind you. "Hey," It's Player 388. "You made it!"

"Yes. Thank you again.. I just. I don't understand, they literally killed these people. I don't understand anything, what is going on here—?" Dae-ho saw the discomfort and fear in your eyes and decided to tell you what Gi-hun had previously yelled at all the participants. The things that went down at the Game were gruesome, but man, he couldn't even imagine trying to survive while not even understanding the language.

"So.. wait, you're telling me that when you get eliminated during one of those Games you get killed? Like they fucking shoot you?" You asked Dae-ho, who had now also introduced himself to you, and he just nodded. "He said that." He pointed in the vague direction of where Gi-hun had retreated once in the sleeping area again. "Dude, no this is so fucked up.. I gotta go! We can't die in here, they can't do this?"

You started to hyperventilate. Die? In this shithole? Oh my god, why did you even say yes to this stupid thing? It should've been suspicious enough that a guy in a suit would play a traditional Korean childhood game and slap you if you lost. But.. you needed the money. Carefully, Dae-ho placed a hand on your shoulder and looked around to see if anyone was listening in on your conversation.

"I will help you." He said with the most calm expression ever. Sure, he was scared himself, scared shitless even. But, seeing a young woman — A foreigner — in such distress.. it reminded him of his sisters. And he always swore up and down that he'd protect them, too.

"They don't," Player 388 pointed around the area, "Speak English well. I will help you, okay? I can tell you things." His Korean accent was quite cute whenever he spoke, which made you calm down a bit more and smile. You, again, expressed your gratitude to him and sniffled a bit. "Is there no way out of this?"

Dae-ho shook his head. Well, he didn't know, but he just assumed there wasn't. He went on to ask you more about yourself in general, why you were here, where you came from. It was nice having a conversation in English after trying to learn and speak Korean for months on end.

"I'm so sorry. Korea made a bad impression on you." You chuckled a bit and shook your head. You knew how to appreciate the country, it's culture and it's people. But this was definitely weird and definitely illegal. Dae-ho was here for you, though. He made you that promise now.

"I will protect you and help you, okay?"

Slowly, you raised your hand and held out your pinky for him to interlink with his. "Pinky promise?" The man looked at your hand and then back up to you with a confused look on his face. "Pinky... promise?" You smiled when you understood that he doesn't quite get what you mean. Or maybe he just hasn't ever heard of the expression before. "Like.. pinky promise, you do this," With your other hand you took his to make the same motion and interlinked your pinkies, "And now you're not allowed to break the promise."

Dae-ho grinned. "Okay, pinky promise."

[extraspicynoodles-blog]

JEALOUSY LOOKS GOOD ON YOU (Gojo x You one shot)

He barely said a word on the way home. Just sat there in the passenger seat, arms crossed like a petulant teenager who didn't get picked first for dodgeball, lower lip fully out. The silence was loud. Comically so.

"Are you seriously mad?" you asked, glancing over.

"No," he said flatly.

Which, of course, was Gojo-speak for absolutely, yes, I'm in my feelings and I want attention.

You bit back a smile. It was stupid, really. Some guy at the arcade had made a dumb comment while Satoru was off buying snacks, something harmless and forgettable like "You should ditch your boyfriend and come let me win you a prize instead." And okay, maybe you laughed. But only because the guy tripped immediately after and karma did her thing.

Still. Satoru hadn't let it go since.

He sulked the entire walk to the car. Threw your drink in the cupholder like it personally offended him. Didn't even open his Pocky.

"You're mad because a guy with cargo shorts and a neck tattoo hit on me," you said, unbuckling your seatbelt when you parked.

"I'm mad because you laughed," he said, finally turning to look at you - and oof, there it was. That stupidly pretty face pulled into something taut and dangerous, jaw tight, eyes glinting.

"You laughed, baby."

You blinked. "You're being dramatic."

"And you're being cruel," he said, voice too calm. "You think it's funny? Watching me walk back and see someone else flirting with what's mine?"

He leaned closer, eyes dragging down your lips like he was already imagining them wrapped around something else.

"...Satoru," you warned, heartbeat skipping.

His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb stroking slow and possessive, like a threat wrapped in velvet. His voice dropped to a rasp.

"Say it again."

You swallowed. "Say what?"

"My name. Like that."

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. It was too hungry for that.

"You know how fucked I am for you? How long I've been waiting to get home just to remind you?"

When you arrived home, you barely made it to the front door before he had you pinned against it. His hands gripped your hips like he wanted to leave fingerprints. His mouth found your neck, teeth scraping like he needed to mark you - stake his claim in something primal and desperate.

"You're mine," he breathed, hot and ragged against your skin. "And I'm gonna remind you exactly how much."

You didn't answer, not with words. Just stared up at him, eyes wide, heart pounding in your throat.

Satoru's gaze flicked down to your lips again, like he was restraining himself. Like he wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss you or drag you back to the car and wreck you in the backseat.

"Do you even know what you do to me?" he muttered, voice rough now. "You walk around smiling at people like it doesn't kill me. Like I'm not over here losing my fucking mind."

"You're being ridiculous," you whispered, but your voice shook, and he caught it. “Can I open the door before you berate me?”

His hands slid under your shirt, digging into your back while completely disregarding your request. "I saw the way he looked at you. Like you were something he could win with enough stupid arcade tickets. Like he even stood a chance."

"You're jealous of a man with a Monster energy tattoo," you teased.

"And I'd burn that entire arcade down if it meant you'd only ever look at me like that," he said, dead serious.

You blinked.

He kissed you. Hard.

No patience. No pretense. Just hours of pent up need crashing into you as he pressed you harder against the door, his body fitting perfectly against yours.

“Babe, let me open the door first,” you argued, while fumbling for your keys as Satoru stared at you in awe. Maybe a little bit like a lunatic.

You barely got the key in the lock. His chest was flush against your back, his breath hot and ragged in your ear.

"You think I'm kidding," he murmured, voice tight, fingers digging into your hips like they were the only things tethering him to sanity. "You really think I'm gonna walk through this door like a normal person after watching some idiot breathe in your direction?"

The key turned. The door opened a crack.

He slammed it shut with one hand.

You gasped. "Satoru-"

"No." His tone dropped, dark and low, almost a plea. "Not yet."

He spun you around and pinned you flat against the door, wrist above your head, one knee slotting between your thighs, the other hand gripping your belt loop like it had personally wronged him.

"You don't get it," he growled. "You looked so fucking pretty standing there - smiling, laughing, like he even had a shot. Like I wasn't right there. Like you weren't mine."

"Satoru-"

"No. No, don't say my name like that unless you want me to lose it." His forehead dropped to yours, jaw clenched, breath stuttering. "You don't understand what it does to me. Seeing someone else even look at you- fuck, I should've bent you over that air hockey table right then and there."

You whimpered. Your legs buckled. He caught you instantly, arms tightening like he was scared you'd disappear.

"I wanted to wait," he admitted, lips brushing yours. "I was gonna be good. Take my time. But then you... fuck, you had to go and smile like that. Laugh like that. And now I'm done. I'm fucking done."

He kissed you again - hard, messy, all teeth and tongue and need.

You tugged at his shirt, breath catching. "Then remind me."

"Oh, I'm gonna remind you," he panted, lifting one of your thighs around his waist and pressing you harder to the door, grinding against you through denim like he could break the tension that way. "Right here. I don't care. Door's locked. Neighbors can hear? Good. Let them."

You tried to speak, but he swallowed the words with another kiss, then moved lower, lips brushing your collarbone, teeth grazing skin.

His hands trembled. Not from nerves, but from restraint.

"Gonna fuck you right here," he breathed, voice wrecked as he unbuttoned your jeans like they were holding him back from air. "Gonna ruin you for every guy stupid enough to breathe the same air as you. Including future me."

You blinked. "What?"

"I'm gonna ruin future me, baby. That's how bad it is." He shoved your jeans down and groaned, like the sight of your thighs alone broke his last brain cell. "I'm never gonna recover from this. You understand that? You ruined me."

You laughed, breathless, dizzy. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm yours," he corrected, dragging his mouth up your neck. "And I'm gonna make sure everyone knows it."

He dropped to his knees so fast it knocked the breath from your lungs. His hands were already dragging your panties down with a frustrated snarl, like they were in the way of something vital - like oxygen, like salvation.

"I don't care," he muttered, almost frenzied. "I don't care if it makes me jealous, crazy, fucking insane. So be it."

His voice cracked as his mouth hovered over your inner thigh, breath hot, reverent. His hands clenched your legs like he was grounding himself, like if he let go he'd unravel completely.

"You're perfect," he said, lips brushing over your skin like worship. "You're unreal. You're a fucking angel, and you let some guy with a cheap pickup line get within ten feet of you?" He laughed, but it was bitter, broken. "You're mine. You have to be. Because if you're not, if I have to watch someone else even try, I'll lose it. I am losing it."

And then his mouth was on you.

You didn't even have time to gasp before your knees buckled. He caught you, groaned, buried his face between your thighs like he could crawl inside and live there. His tongue licked a stripe through your folds and you sobbed his name.

And that? That's when Satoru shattered.

He moaned against your pussy - loud, obscene, like the taste of you broke something in him. He gripped your thighs and yanked them wider, like he needed more access, needed to drown in you or die trying.

"Oh my God," he gasped, already breathless, lips slick and glistening. "You taste like fucking heaven. Like divinity. Like everything I'll never deserve but need anyway."

And then he devoured you.

No finesse. No rhythm. Just need. Desperate, feral, greedy need.

His tongue worked you over like he was starved, nose bumping your clit, lips dragging through your slick, sucking and groaning and whining like it physically hurt to be this obsessed. It was messy. So fucking messy. Slick dripping down his chin, coating his mouth, his cheeks, his jaw. His hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his hands shook where they gripped your ass.

"Mine," he growled, lips dragging across your soaked cunt. "Mine. Mine. Mine. Fuck."

Your legs trembled, the door at your back the only thing keeping you upright.

He babbled - oh, god, he babbledddd.

"Fuck baby, you don't get it-" his voice was soaked in worship, wrecked with truth, "-I get hard just hearing your voice in my head. I jerk off remembering how you taste. I can't think, I can't breathe. You live in my fucking brain and I don't want you to leave. I don't want you to go anywhere. I need this. I need you. I need-"

You moaned, high and needy, and tugged on his hair. He whined in return. Full on, high pitched and shameless, grinding his hips against the air like your moan alone made him feral.

Your thighs clamped around his head. Your hips stuttered. Your voice broke on his name.

When you came, he groaned loudly, like your orgasm dragged one out of him too - untouched, still clothed, just from the sound of you falling apart.

When he looked up at you, his lips were red and trembling, face soaked, eyes glazed over with worship and madness.

"Please," he rasped, barely holding himself together. "Please. Again. I can make you cum again. I know I can. I need to. Let me, please, please-"

He looked wrecked. Ravenous. Worshipful.

"Baby, baby, it's okay," you breathed, cupping his flushed face with trembling hands, still dazed, still high from what he'd just done to you. "You don't have to-"

"Yes, I do," he interrupted, voice breaking. His pupils were blown wide, his hair a tangled halo, mouth glistening from where he'd ruined you seconds ago. "I have to- I have to- fuck, please don't stop me-"

"Satoru-"

"Shhh, shh, just let me. You don't fucking get it," he rasped, fumbling with his belt like it physically pained him to wait another second. "You don't get it. I'm going insane. Every time you laugh at someone else, I see red. I feel like I'm dying."

His pants hit the floor with a thud. You reached for him instinctively, trying to soothe, trying to steady, but he surged forward and kissed you again - sloppy, teeth and tongue and desperation.

"I'm trying to be normal, I swear I am," he babbled against your lips. "Trying to play it cool. But I can't. I fucking can't. You're so beautiful it hurts. You smiled at him and I saw hell."

"Satoru-"

"Shut up," he whispered, not mean, just desperate. "Just shh. Just let me. I need to feel you. I need to be in you. I need to lose my fucking mind inside you or I'll explode."

You knew he would really stop if you wanted him to. If you told him no, he’d control himself. But you didn’t want him to. You liked seeing him like this.

You gasped when he picked you up, hands trembling but strong, pressing you against the wall like he was trying to fuse you into it. You wrapped your legs around his waist and barely had time to speak before he pushed in.

And when he did, he whimpered.

Not a yell. Not a grunt. A full, wrecked sob of relief like he'd just come home from war and stepped into heaven.

"Oh my god, fuck- you're so warm, you're perfect. Mine- mine mine mine-"

His pace was frantic. Erratic. He wasn't trying to show off, he was trying to survive. Each thrust like a plea, like a prayer, like he needed you to anchor him to reality.

"You're everything," he whimpered. "I think about you when I sleep. When I eat. When I fight. I get hard just hearing your voice. I fucking ache for you. I want to crawl inside you and stay there forever."

"Satoru-"

"Don't say my name like that," he groaned, hips stuttering. "I'll cum. I swear to god I'll cum the second you say it like that again. Fuck- please, say it again- no, don't, wait- shit-"

You were clinging to him, thighs shaking, chest heaving, nails digging crescents into his back like you were anchoring yourself to the moment. But Satoru wasn't there. Not really. He was gone.

Pupils blown wide, lips parted, body trembling with every desperate roll of his hips like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to earth.

"I can't breathe without you," he choked out. "I don't want to. I don't want to exist if you're not mine. I'm yours. I've always been yours. please, please let me stay- let me fucking stay-"

Each thrust was erratic now. Not controlled. Just frantic, stuttering little snaps of his hips that had him whining into your mouth like a man unraveling in real time.

And when you came, sharp, sudden, gasping his name like salvation, that broke him.

His whole body jerked like it physically shocked him, like the sound of his name spilling from your lips was too much. Too good. Too yours.

"Don't- don't say my name," he gasped, covering your mouth with his palm like he couldn't take it. "Shh- just- fuck, shh-" His hand trembled, thumb brushing your cheekbone, and then he faltered. "Wait. Baby- shit, I'm sorry-" He moved his hand to cup your face instead, cradling it like he'd just hurt the one thing in the world he couldn't live without.

"I'm so sorry, oh my god, I didn't mean to-" he kissed you like he was trying to put you back together, like he was kissing away his own panic, "I'm just- I'm fucking ruined, baby- look at me, look what you've done to me-"

You did. His flushed cheeks. His tear glossed lashes. His mouth still trembling from how badly he was falling apart.

"Don't say my name- fuck, no, say it again," he begged, voice hoarse. "Say it again, please- I need it- I don't know what I need- wait, don't, fuck- yes, say it- say it, say it, say it-"

He buried himself deep again, deeper than before, rocking into you with dizzy, desperate force, like he wanted to break you in the shape of him. He was panting now, full body shaking, forehead pressed to yours as he sobbed through it.

"Mine," he whimpered. "Mine mine mine mine mine- fuck, you're everything, you're all I want, you're all I've ever wanted-"

And then he came with a loud, cracked cry, hips jerking, mouth on yours, slick sliding down both your thighs from the force of it.

He didn't stop moving. Didn't pull out just yet. Just rutted into you through the aftershocks like he didn't want it to end, like letting go meant waking up from the only dream he ever wanted to live in.

"I love you," he rasped again and again, moaning it between kisses, half crying. "I love you, I love you, I love you- please let me keep you, please-"

When it finally slowed, he collapsed against you. Still inside, still shaking, still clinging.

He didn't move. Didn't speak. Just held you like you were the only thing keeping him alive. He held you there, pressed gently to the wall, his arms locked around your back like he was trying to fuse your bodies together. His face was buried in the curve of your neck, breath shaky and uneven, lips ghosting over your skin like a silent apology.

Like if he stayed still long enough, the world would stop spinning and everything would make sense again.

You felt the tremble still running through him - soft and involuntary, like aftershocks. His heartbeat thundered against yours.

Then, a whisper. Barely even a breath:

"Sorry... I- I didn't mean to go that far. I just- fuck." His voice cracked. "You're okay, right? Please tell me you're okay."

"I'm fine baby," you whispered breathlessly. "Absolutely fine. You're perfect, it's-"

"-I need to clean you."

You stirred a little in his arms. "Wait, no. I can do it, baby, it's-"

He pulled back just enough to look at you - hair tousled, eyes red rimmed, voice hoarse. "Let me take care of you. Please."

You blinked, still hazy. "Satoru, you're doing the most..."

"I always do the most," he muttered, kissing your temple as he scooped you into his arms like a bride. "You know that. Nothing halfway when it comes to my girl. Especially not after I just jealous-fucked the shit out of you. Christ, I'm so sorry."

You snorted into his shoulder. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm ruined," he corrected solemnly. "And now you're getting the deluxe recovery package."

He carried you to the bathroom, setting you down gently on the edge of the tub while he ran the water, checking the temperature like a man on a mission. When the bath was ready - steamy, warm, filled with bubbles and a few drops of whatever calming oil he found first, he helped you in like you were porcelain.

He knelt beside the tub, rolled up his sleeves, and went to work.

His fingers massaged softly into your shoulders and neck, tender and reverent like he was trying to apologize through touch. He washed your hair slowly, lathering and rinsing with such exaggerated care it made you laugh. Between every step he whispered, "Sorry, sorry," like a mantra, punctuated with featherlight kisses to your temple, your cheek, your wet hair.

"You don't have to keep apologizing," you murmured, eyes half lidded, fully relaxed under his attention.

"I do," he murmured, rinsing your hair again with slow, tender strokes. "Because you let me be a little insane, and I love you for that. But I still have to earn it. Every time."

You tilted your head back against his chest, fingers combing through his damp hair. "Baby, you already have."

But, in true Satoru fashion, he didn't listen.

When the bath was done, he wrapped you in a towel like you were something breakable and kissed your shoulder. Then he dried your hair with the kind of reverence usually reserved for religious artifacts, whispering apologies into your skin between passes of the towel. Apologies you didn't need, but ones he needed to say.

And then came the second phase of Operation: Spoil My Girl.

Without a word, he padded into the bedroom and returned with every pillow and blanket he could find. You watched from the doorway, amused, as he rearranged the couch like a man on a mission - fluffing, stacking, folding, tucking, until it resembled something between a cloud and a fortress.

He grabbed your favorite hoodie, the oversized one that smells like him, and held it out like an offering. "Arms up," he said, already tugging it over your head before you could roll your eyes. Then came your soft pajama shorts, and the gentle way he eased them up over your hips like you were made of glass.

When you were properly bundled, he sat down beside you, lifted your legs into his lap, and tucked the blanket up to your chin. Like you were fragile. Precious. Sacred.

"I'm still sorry," he said softly, brushing your damp hair back from your face.

"I know," you replied. "And I still like when you're like that."

He smiled, just a little. But it didn't reach his eyes. "I know. But I also need you to know I never want to scare you. I never want you to think it's about power. It's not. It's just..." He looked away. "I can't fucking imagine someone else thinking they have a shot. It short circuits my brain."

You reached over and curled your hand around his. "You're mine," you whispered, soft and certain.

And that? That finally quieted something in him. You felt it in the way his shoulders dropped, in the way his thumb brushed over your knuckles like he couldn't believe you were real. Like your words had pressed the "reset" button on whatever had short circuited inside him.

Then, in true Satoru fashion, the calm lasted all of ten seconds.

He jolted upright. "Tea," he announced, as if remembering oxygen. "You need tea."

You blinked. "Baby-"

"Or coffee. No- too late for coffee. Tea it is. Wait, soup. You need soup too. Oh my god, I'm making soup."

And just like that, he was gone.

From the couch nest you heard it all: the sink turning on. A drawer slamming. A muffled "Fuck- ow," followed by, "stupid cabinet." Then running water. Clattering. Footsteps. "Where's the ginger? Why do we never have ginger when I need it?!"

You smiled into the blanket, still warm from the bath and the way he'd touched you like you were his entire world.

When he finally returned, his hair was damp - clearly splashed water on his face in an attempt to regroup. His hands were still trembling slightly as he carried a mug in one and a bowl in the other, lips pursed in that way that said don't you dare laugh at me for being like this.

First was the tea. Herbal. Your favorite. He oversteeped it, obviously. Burned his fingers on the mug, cursed under his breath, then blew on it for a full minute before handing it to you like it was a sacred relic.

And then came the miso soup. Seaweed, tofu, too many scallions because "they're good for your soul," and he'd googled it to make sure.

"Sorry, angel," he whispered as he stood like a guilty child in front of the couch. "God, I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. You looked so perfect, and then that guy- fuck, he looked at you like he could even dream-" His voice cracked again. "And I just lost it. I didn't mean to. I swear."

He held the tea and soup like it was a peace offering.

"Satoru, I already told you it's okay-"

"No, it's not," he said instantly, eyes red and so full of guilt you thought your heart might break. "I should've controlled myself. I went too hard. You didn't sign up for that. You didn't-" His thumb traced your cheek like he was memorizing it. "I just... fuck, I can't even imagine someone else thinking they can have you. That they could touch you. Be with you. It makes me insane."

You smiled gently. "I told you baby, I like when you're like that."

He blinked. "Yeah, well, I don't. I wanna be soft. I wanna take care of you. You deserve that."

You cupped his cheek. "Then take care of me."

And oh, he did.

He kissed your temple. Called you baby in that quiet, reverent tone he only used when he was completely overwhelmed by love.

When he set everything in your lap like an offering, steaming tea in your favorite mug and that bowl of miso soup so packed with tofu and scallions it could barely be called broth, he looked at you like you were a miracle.

"Eat," he whispered. "And after... I'm scratching your back. No arguments."

You raised a brow. "You're being dramatic."

"Correct," he said solemnly, already tucking the blanket tighter around your legs like you might suddenly flee. "I'm also riddled with guilt. So. I am watching you eat every bite and drink every drop."

You stared at him. "Seriously?"

"Dead serious," he replied, sinking onto the couch beside you with all the intensity of a man standing guard. "You think I can go feral on you like that and not take full accountability? No ma'am. Spoon to mouth. Let's go."

You snorted. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet here you are, wrapped in a nest I built, eating soup I made, while I emotionally spiral next to you. Admit it. You're thriving."

You shook your head fondly, sipping the tea. "You're out of your mind."

"I was," he said dramatically, eyes still glued to you. "And now I'm only marginally better. But this helps. Watching you. Taking care of you. Letting myself be, you know... insufferably obsessed with you."

You nudged his knee with your foot under the blanket. "You're so ridiculous."

He smiled, softer now, eyes heavy with love. "Yeah. But I'm ridiculous about you."

And as you took another bite, he visibly relaxed. Because the food was warm. The tea was sweet. And you were here. Safe. Full. Loved.

You made it about three seconds after finishing your last bite before shifting, trying to slide the empty bowl off your lap. “Okay, let me take these to the kitchen-”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

You blinked. “Satoru, I can do it. You hate doing dishes.”

He didn’t answer. Just leaned in and kissed you - slow, deep, reverent, before pulling back with a look so serious it was almost funny.

“Shhh,” he whispered, brushing your hair behind your ear. “My girl deserves queen treatment. You think I’d let you lift a finger after what I just put you through? Sit. Cuddle. That’s your job now.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “You’re so dumb.”

He grinned. “Yeah. Dumb in love. Like actually stupid. It’s okay though, because I’m dumb in love with you.”

You tried to argue when he reached for your empty bowl and mug, but he silenced you with another kiss and a pointed look.

“Let me do this. Seriously. I can do dishes when it’s for you.”

You opened your mouth again, and he just raised a brow. “Shhh. Queen treatment, remember? Sit back, relax, think about how amazing I am.”

You snorted as he walked off, muttering something about “royalty shouldn’t lift a finger” and “I’m gonna make these dishes sparkle.”

You heard the sink turn on. Then the clatter of porcelain. Then an “ow- stupid tap, I didn’t even touch you that hard,” followed by what sounded suspiciously like him humming your name to the tune of a pop song as he cleaned up.

It was obnoxious. It was adorable. It was him.

And when he came back, his hands were slightly damp again from the splash zone, sleeves pushed up, and a dumb, proud smile on his face. “Mission complete. Sparkling. Spotless. Martha Stewart would sob.”

You laughed as he flopped back onto the couch beside you, tugging you gently down with him. He maneuvered you both until he was lying behind you, chest pressed to your back, your legs tangled up like vines. One arm curled around your waist, the other slipped beneath yours, lacing your fingers together like second nature.

He sighed, content. Melted into you like you were made of memory foam.

“Okay,” he mumbled into your hair. “Now we stay like this forever.”

You hummed, half asleep already.

“Forever,” he whispered again. “Or at least until you want snacks. I’ll allow snack breaks.”

You sighed, melting into him in return, your breathing already slowing.

But he didn't stop whispering. Not even then.

"You smell like me," he murmured into your hair. "Drives me crazy."

His thumb brushed gentle circles over your knuckles.

"You're so soft."

A kiss to your shoulder.

"Love you so much it makes me fucking stupid."

You snorted, half asleep. "You are fucking stupid."

He grinned against your neck, completely unbothered. "I know. Now sleep. Or don't. But if anyone hits on you again, I'm hexing them. No jujutsu. Just pure, unfiltered spite."

You smiled, eyes fluttering shut.

He was yours.

And you were his.

Always.

No backsies.

[zepskies]

I've never actually done this before...

Reaching follower milestones has never really been my main goal here. I hopped over from Ao3 to the Tumblrverse two years ago to share my stories and see if I could connect more with any potential readers. What I didn't know was how amazing SPN (and adjacent Jackles fandoms) would be over here...

How much fun I would have expressing myself, challenging myself to write new things and grow as a writer, and getting to vibe with my readers and other amazing writers.

I now consider some of those special people my friends, and they continue to make my day better every time we interact — whether it's hyping each other up and fangirling in each other's comments and reblog comments, or talking about everything and nothing in our DMs. That support has gotten me through some rough times in the past two years.

So "celebrating" this milestone of over 5,000 followers is really just me saying THANK YOU to everyone who's supported me by reading, commenting, and reblogging my work, helping me brainstorm, giving me inspiration, or just simply being my friend! 💜

⋆˙⟡ WAYS TO PARTICIPATE:

Because you guys know I'm extra af 😂, there are 3 sections to choose from:

⟡ Ask Me Stuff

⟡ Summer Writing Challenge!

⟡ Mini Fic Requests

Ask Me Stuff:

⟡ Let's revisit these EOY Artist/Writer questions. Ask me any of them!

⟡ Ask me anything you want to know about my storyverses: Break Me Down, Unravel Me, Lost On You, Midnight Espresso, Smoke Eater, The Honorable Choice, Every Second Counts, Take Me Home, or any others!

Summer Writing Challenge:

If you're feelin' frisky and wanna join this summer writing challenge of less than 5,000 words before September 1, here's how to play...

💗 Gif Check: I'll send you a gif depending on the character you choose from the list below. Write a story that matches the vibe or completes the "scene." Just shoot me an ask with the character you want to write about, and request a gif!

🎨 Color Prompt: You choose a character from the list below. I'll choose a color palette for you based on what I think your aesthetic is!

🎙️ Songfic: Give me a character + a decade and/or genre of music, and I'll give you a song to match!

**Guidelines:

Submissions with pairings can be Character x Reader, Character x OC, or Character x Character.

(Please no RPF or Wincest.)

Include tags, notes, warnings if necessary - including if it's 18+

Please use the "Keep Reading" break if it's over 500 words.

Max word count 5,000 (for your sanity lol). Minimum 500 words.

Tag @zepskies (me) somewhere in the post.

Include this tag - #Zepskies 5K - within your first 5 tags.

Send me an ask until July 30! Post your fic by September 1.

I will of course read and reblog with my thoughts on your amazing work! If you get a chance, please try to do the same for others who participate. At the end, I will compile a master rec list of each fic submitted. 💜

Mini Fic Requests:

Uno Reverse! 🔄 For these drabbles (1,000 words or less), I will only answer non-anonymous asks so I can verify if you're over 18. Please make sure your age is listed in your bio! 😉

Check out the "characters I currently write for" down below. My inbox will be open for these types of requests from June 27 - July 4 only!

💗 Gif Check: Pick a character from the list and send me a gif! I'll do my best to write you a drabble that matches the vibe.

🎨 Color Prompt: I've been getting a lot of inspo from color aesthetics and moodboards lately. Pick a character from the list and a color. Any color! I'll do my best to write a drabble with that color scheme in mind.

🎙️ Songfic: Most people who know me know that I get a lot of inspo from music. Pick a character from the list and send me a song you think I'd like! I'll do my best to write a drabble that fits the song.

☕️ Characters I currently write for:

(or would like to write for)

⟡ Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester - Supernatural ⟡ Soldier Boy - The Boys ⟡ Mark Meachum - Countdown ⟡ Beau Arlen - Big Sky ⟡ Russell Shaw - Tracker ⟡ Joel Miller - The Last of Us ⟡ Javier Peña - Narcos ⟡ Harry Castillo - The Materialists ⟡ Alec McDowell - Dark Angel ⟡ Jason Teague - Smallville ⟡ Boaz Priestly - 10 Inch Hero ⟡ CJ Braxton - Dawson’s Creek ⟡ Éomer, Aragorn, Haldir, Thranduil - Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit

THANK YOU!! (Part 1)

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @waynes-multiverse @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@wvffles @tofics @kazsrm67 @mostlymarvelgirl

@chevroletdean - Thank you for giving me the idea for the "color" prompts and the guidelines for the writing challenge with your 500 follower celebration!

@winchestergirl2 @lacilou @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @waywardxwords

@twinkleinadiamondsky @my-stories-vault @0ccvltism @wayward-dreamer @waywardlatina

@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@deanwinchesterswitch @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @jollyhunter @moodyquesadilla

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@siampie @spnbabe67 @talltalesandbedtimestories @sam-is-my-safe-word @redhoodieone

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005 @kmc1989 @foxyjwls007

[sinnabarmoth]

Hiiiii!!!!!

I just wanted to ask, how would the LIs react if they accidentally found out that the reader/mc is bi?

Since June has almost come to an end I wanted to make this req- (I can't help but wonder how they'd react cuz I'm bi myself, hehe🌝🫂✨)

Fellow Bi girlie here! Excited to do this one!! Got a little silly with it.

Zayne: I think the way Zayne finds out you are bi is he meets one of your ex-girlfriends at work. She starts work as a nurse and recognizes Zayne from your instagram or whatever and is like "Hey! I know your girlfriend. We dated for a couple months." And he's just standing there like "...oh. So that childhood crush on Princess Jasmine was more than her just thinking she was pretty. Good to know." He's super chill about it. You had never put a label on your sexuality and he never asked but he goes home and mentions meeting your ex at work but frames her as just a friend to give you the chance to come out on your own when prompted.

Xavier: Xavier finds out you're bi before you two started dating. You were going out a lot with this girl that he thought was just your friend but then he sees the two of you clearly on a date and is just having a moment thinking "I didn't think I had to worry about women hitting on my crush. Guess I have a new rival." You've only been friends for a while so he's not surprised that you never brought it up but he does just point blank ask if you are into girls to clear the air. Meanwhile you're looking at him confused like, "You met the girl I was dating multiple times, how did you not know?" "I don't know. So do you like guys too or just girls?" "I like guys too." "Great. So can your girlfriend fight?" "What?" "What?"

Rafayel: Rafayel found out by scrolling through your entire instagram and finding pictures of you at Pride with a little bi flag. He's a little surprised but overall is glad to know more about you. He is a little pouty that you never told him. Did you not trust him or something? Did he give off an anti-queer vibe? He was literally part fish! Gender basically doesn't exist in Lemuria! You find him painting in the bi flag colors and making a point to donate to queer and trans organizations during pride month so you know you can trust him and come out to him. June is almost over and he's getting more antsy before just blurting out "So have you ever wanted to kiss a girl?" "I have kissed girls. Did I never tell you I am bi?" "No!" "Oh...well I am." "Wow, thank you so much for trusting me with that information, cutie! I love you so much!"

Sylus: I think the way Sylus found out you were bi is when you went out to a party and you got a little drunk and told him "If you were a girl I'd still love you so much. You'd make a great lesbian!" and he's carrying you into the house like, "Thank you, sweetie. I suspected you were not entirely straight but glad to have confirmation. We'll see if you remember any of this in the morning though." He's surprised for sure but not by much. He's maybe a little worried that it took you getting drunk to come out to him but it is something nonetheless. Of course you don't remember the night before so Sylus plays back the recording that Mephisto took of the conversation. You freak out for a second before Sylus gives you a sly smile. "You really think I'd make a great lesbian, sweetie?"

[avianyuh]

You Get Me | Min Yoongi

Part Two

Summary: After a month of recording, Y/n and Yoongi have grown closer. Late night talks and a half completed album lead to a late night at the studio that ends in his apartment. But what happens after that fateful night?

[Part One]

A month later, I had not only adapted to the cold air in his studio, but had found myself thoroughly enjoying every moment I spent with Yoongi more and more. I looked forward to walking down the dark stairwell outside of the apartment building, going all the way down to the bottom floor where his studio was situated. Every time he opened the door to greet me, his cold face would warm up, a smile would paint his lips and it would meet his eyes as Yoongi would wave me into his safe place. At least that’s what he called it. “It’s my safe place, I can do anything in here, sometimes I prefer to sleep here instead of my apartment. I just feel productive down here…” 

The first few weeks were spent getting to know each other and solely working on songs. “I think I'd be able to do my best work if I knew you well.” Yoongi had said during our second session. “You're handing over your personal writings and trusting me to turn them into songs. I think I need to learn about who you are in order to give you the best album.” 

At the time I found it endearing, but felt nervous opening up to him. Maybe it was due to the fact I found him attractive? I didn't want to sound stupid in front of him. So when he'd ask me about certain songs and I'd explain how most of the sad songs were about pointless situationships and one actual ex, I assumed he was silently judging me. 

“I had gone on a few dates with this guy and I really thought he was into me but he just stopped responding to my texts. So, I felt like the only way to get over it was to write it out” I shrugged, avoiding eye contact with him. I wondered if he thought I was pathetic? Bad at making an album and love. He had never given me a reason to assume he was anything but kind, I just found myself judging everything I told him, afraid of ruining my delusional “chance” with him. 

“That guy’s an idiot.” He had responded after I had finished the story. “He didn’t deserve you…” Yoongi continued. I couldn’t think of a good response at the time and instead opted to smile at him, which he returned. Over time, Yoongi also started to slowly open up, which surprised me. 

After a month of talking about my personal life with Yoongi in between recording and mouthfuls of takeout food, I had assumed we would either end the night there or go back to work. 

“I remember the first song I ever wrote. It was about this girl in my class back in High School, I liked her. Always stared at her in class, but she never noticed me. Before we had graduated, I had noticed that she'd started dating some other guy. It crushed me and for the life of me, no matter how many weeks had passed…I just couldn't get over it. Over her. So, I started jotting down some of my thoughts and I somehow made a poem out of it. I had already been playing piano for a few years by that point, so I made a song out of it. That was when I realized I had a passion for music…” Yoongi explained. He was sitting next to me, his chair turned towards my own. Because of how quiet he always seemed, I assumed that behind his stoney exterior he did indeed have a softer side to him, which I was now seeing. 

“That's actually how I started writing music too.” I chimed in, tilting my head at him in amusement. “I liked some guy and he really never noticed me. I think I titled it ‘Unrequited Love’ or something stupid like that…” I laughed. He seemed intrigued as he looked at me with a sense of intensity. He always gave me these longing glances and I had never been sure if it was real or not. 

“How could anyone not notice you?” Yoongi said, not breaking eye contact. His voice was low, his computer screen long abandoned as it started to dim from a lack of inactivity. We had been talking for the last half hour after finishing up track six. I nervously laughed, shifting my weight in my seat. 

“I don't know…I’m nothing special.” I murmured, refusing to meet his gaze. I suddenly found myself hyper aware of the situation. Was he flirting with me? I thought as I quickly scanned his face, searching for any sign of humour, insincerity, something to stop me from fully falling down the rabbit hole, but he looked serious, almost pissied off. 

“That's bullshit.” He quickly responded, grabbing my hands, pulling my chair closer towards his own. “This whole past month, for the first time in years, I actually look forward to working with someone all night.” His thumb trailed over the top of my own, sending a shiver down my spine. “You're incredibly special to me.” He whispered, his gaze darting between my eyes and lips. I swallowed, also debating on whether I should look into his dark eyes or his lips. Before I could fully take in what was happening, we both leaned in, our lips joining together. Yoongi’s mouth moved against mine perfectly. I let a quiet moan slip past my lips as he sank his teeth down onto my lower lip. My hands traveled into his hair, while his own hands cupped my face.

I climbed into his lap and Yoongi swiveled his chair around so my back was against the edge of the desk. I could feel the heat forming between my legs as I gasped for air in between kisses. He moved his lips down to my neck, along with his hands which now settled onto my waist. He bit down on the skin of my neck, making me cry out his name. “Do you want to do this? We don't have to.” He said, moving his face away from my neck, but his hands stayed placed firmly on my waist, keeping me steady. 

“I want to.” I responded, moving the hair out of his eyes. “I've wanted to do this since the day I met you.” I confessed, a blush still finding a way to creep onto my cheeks, in spite of my compromised position. He nodded and smiled, placing a chaste kiss on my lips before resuming his movements. First my shirt came off, followed by my jeans and bra. He carried me over and sprawled me out on the black leather couch in the back corner of the studio, removing his own clothes before all that was left between us was our underwear. We were both out of breath, panting, foreheads pressed together. 

“I'm crazy about you.” Yoongi said, staring into my eyes. He trailed his kisses all the way down to my panties, which he slowly removed, along with his own. He held my hands as he slipped in and out, he never broke eye contact other than the few times he tested his head in the crook of my neck. 

After he finished, he lay side by side for a few moments. My breathing steadied after a while, along with his own. Yoongi turned to face me, resting his head against his arm, using it like a pillow. 

“Do you want to spend the night with me?” He questioned, his face returning back to its blank expression I had become used to. I nodded, silently agreeing, instead of words opting to grab his hand and kiss it. 

We redressed, and I watched from the door as Yoongi shut his programs, equipment  and computer down, turning off the light and locking the door behind us. 

Inside of his apartment, it carried the same appearance of his studio. Nothing too bright, everything was a neutral color, a keyboard was set up against one of the walls in the living room of his apartment. He led me to the bedroom, and pulled out one of his t-shirts from his dresser drawers, handing it to me with a soft smile. Before we went to sleep, he held me in his arms and kissed the top of my forehead. “Thank you.” He whispered. I turned to face him, still in his arms. 

“For what?” I asked, caressing his cheek with my thumb. 

“For making me feel something again.” He answered as his eyes started to flutter closed. 

That next studio session I had with him came three days after we had slept together. The morning after, he drove me home and kissed me goodbye before I got out of the car. He promised to call me but he never did, but to be fair, I never reached out either. 

So when I showed up outside of his studio door, I found myself hesitant to knock. Was he disappointed in me? Was he not satisfied? I was suddenly embarrassed. I couldn’t believe that I had been so stupid as to sleep with the guy who was producing my album. Yoongi was my last chance and I foolishly found myself falling for him, I felt hopeless, like I had just ruined everything. 

When he opened the door, he didn’t smile this time. Instead he looked concerned. “Uh, hi.” Yoongi murmured, running a hand through his hair. He seemed like he was on edge, and I assumed he was just as uncomfortable as I was. 

“Hey, sorry I’m a little late.” I responded back. The truth was that I was in fact late, but only because I walked at a snail's pace all the way over here. I had been curious to see him and possibly get an answer as to why he had never called, but I was also dreading the inevitable reunion for that very reason. I was afraid of the answer I would receive. 

“It’s no big deal, come in.” He said, gesturing inside. I walked past him, immediately setting up my laptop, not wanting to waste anytime. We had already finished half the album by now, so regardless of what happened between Yoongi and I personally, I still had every intention of finishing this album, no matter how awkward it would probably become. Yoongi closed the door and sat down in his chair, clicking his computer mouse a few times, most likely opening up all of his programs. “So, I was thinking we could get through two songs tonight? Then we’ll only have four left…” He proposed, scrolling through the list of demos we hadn’t started work on yet. 

“Sounds good.” I nodded, doing my own fair share of clicking and typing. I was trying to play off any feelings of rejection. I found it ironic how just a month ago, I had told him about my experience getting ghosted by a guy. He had said that the guy who never called me back was an idiot, so why did he end up doing the very thing he disapproved of. 

An hour into the session, halfway through the first song, he took off his headphones and turned to me. “Y/n, I know you’re mad at me and I know I don’t really have an excuse for not calling but all I can say is that I feel horrible about it.” My eyes went wide as I listened to him try to explain his side of the story. “I panicked. I don’t do relationships. Especially with someone I’m working with. I meant everything I said to you. I am crazy about you, you have to believe me. I didn’t call but I was thinking about you the whole time.” He pleaded. Here was the answer to my questions. Not because he regretted it, or that I wasn’t good enough for him. No, instead it was all him. He felt guilty, he was thinking about me. 

“Yoongi…I felt horrible about myself. You slept with me and never called. THe whole time I was thinking you hated every minute you spent with me.” I whispered, my head lowered. He shook his head in disapproval of my words. 

“That wasn’t it at all. It’s me, I should’ve been honest with you.” Yoongi said, sincerity evident in his expression. 

“So you don’t want a relationship?” I asked, feeling like I already knew the answer. 

“I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have or make promises I can’t keep.” Yoongi responded, holding my hand in his own and giving it a tight squeeze. “I still want to produce your album for you if you’ll let me. I understand if things are too weird.” He said, sighing in defeat. My heart sank, I had felt something so different with Yoongi. He was unlike anyone I had met before. He made me feel special, he shared the same passions and experiences as me, yet here was the guy I had been waiting for right in front of me, yet he couldn’t be mine. How could I continue to work with him if I still had feelings for him? I’m singing about love and heartbreak, and the guy that’s currently causing all of it is outside of the recording booth, creating all of the instrumentals. I blinked away the few stray tears I could feel forming, making sure I didn’t show any emotion. 

“Yeah, I’d still like to work with you. But after we’re done with the album, I hope you understand why I probably won’t want to keep in touch.” I could see a pang of longing flash in his eyes. Or maybe I imagined it. He gave me a subtle smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes before he turned his attention back to his computer screen, putting his headphones back on. After tonight, only four more tracks, and then I’ll never see him again…

~

{A/N: PART TWOOOOOOOOO. Don't have much to say other than I'm sorry if I missed a typo. I wrote half of this on my phone but I hope I got everything. Also, why tf are sex scene so awkward to write lmao. I hope it wasn't too cringey lol, but I promised smut so this is my attempt. Okay anyways, part three coming soon, have a good day/night, I love you and mwahhhhhhhh💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋}

[gamergirl929]

She Dances On My Tongue (Tastes Like She Might Be The One) (Alex Morgan x Reader)

A continuation of the multipart fic Hate Me, Hate Me (Chase Me, Chase Me).

After the events of When You’re With Him Do You Call His Name (Like You Do When You’re With Me?) the relationship between you and Alex drastically begins to change, so much so that Alex begins to wonder if the only she wanted from you was purely sex, or was it something more?

Just thought I'd remind those who are new readers of this series that the reader is g!p, this fic contains A LOT of smut, and infidelity so if that isn't for you, go ahead and skip this one.

I'd really love to know what you guys think, feedback is always appreciated!

“Oh, fuck!” Alex Morgan cries out, her fingers tangling in your hair as you devour her like a malnourished animal. 

Her thighs clamp around your head as she quakes, orgasming for a third time that night.  

Alex stares up at the ceiling of your bedroom, her chest heaving, her blue orbs glassy, the forward whimpering when you lightly flick the tip of your tongue against her throbbing clit. 

Multiple times a week, you ended up in the very position you were currently in, your face buried between her legs. 

Once she learned how good you were with your mouth, she found another feeling she craved other than the feeling of you being inside her.  

Alex’s eyes widen when her phone begins to ring, your eyes thus widening.   

You remain motionless as she answers the phone, her index finger pressed against her lips when she sees her husband’s name across the phone screen.   

“Hey honey.” She says into the phone, completely unaware that you’re ducking down towards her core, a malicious smirk stretched across your face. 

Alex is barely able to bite back a moan when your tongue runs through her folds, her eyes slamming shut as you tease her already pulsing bundle of nerves.  

“Ye-Yeah, I’m fine.” She coughs, pulling the phone away to whimper when you suckle on her clit, her toes curling.  

“Uh-huh.” She says, her free hand’s fingers tangling in your hair as you lick her with earnest, your eyes locked with hers. 

“I’ll be home soon.” She swallows; her brows knitted in pleasure as you consume her.  

“Okay, bye, love you too.” She says, being sure to hang up the phone before she throws it off the bed and cries out, her body trembling violently. 

She lets out an ear-piercing moan, the sound unlike any you’d ever heard, her body shaking, her eyes rolling in the back of her head as she comes for a fourth time.  

She pants heavily, giving your hair a pull, signaling you to stop your assault, your eyes locking with hers as you lick your lips.  

“Goddamn.” She heaves, her blue orbs locking with your Y/E/C’s as she cups your cheeks, guiding you up her body.  

She wraps her arms loosely around your neck, kissing you lazily, her tongue lightly brushing your own.  

“You almost got us caught.” She says as you kiss, your lips splitting in a grin.  

“I think you might have a thing for that.” You tease, the woman whimpering when your erect member brushes between her legs.  

She breathes heavily, her hand sliding between your bodies, the woman running your tip through her lower lips.  

You whimper as she sinks down onto you, her core fluttering around you.  

“We can stop, I know you’re sensitive.” You sigh, your brows furrow when she rocks her hips.  

She lets out a whine when you give your hips an iota of a thrust, your tongue swiping at your lips.  

“Al, we can stop, I don’t want to hurt you.” You whisper, Alex’s eyes flashing open, her blue orbs locking with your soft Y/E/C’s.  

She blinks rapidly, cupping your cheek gently before she leans in, kissing you softly.  

You sigh, the woman’s nails scraping against the nape of your neck as you kiss.  

You shift slightly, the woman you’re still sheathed inside whimpering, but it’s not in pleasure.  

Slowly, you slip out of her, earning a frown. 

“Wait...” She says and you shake your head, ducking down to kiss her forehead.  

“I’m not going to hurt you Al, I’ll be just fine.” You smile as you roll off of her, your back hitting the mattress beside her.  

“Are you sure?” She asks and you nod, wrapping your hand around your throbbing extra appendage.  

“I’m sure.” You say, your breath hitching as you give it a pump.  

You moan, your heels digging into the bed as you stroke your already throbbing rod. 

“Fuck.” You grunt, Alex’s throat bobbing, her blue orbs hungry.  

You’re about to continue when Alex suddenly takes your hand, your eyes widening when she rolls over on top of you, kneeling between your legs.  

“What are you -- 

Your eyes widen when the woman ducks down, her blue orbs locked with your Y/E/C’s as she takes your pulsing head into her mouth.  

“Fuck.” You moan, your back arching as she bobs her head up and down, taking your entire length into her mouth until your tip hits the back of her throat.  

You moan, arching up into her warm and wanting mouth.  

She pulls back, her blue orbs locking with your Y/E/C’s as she slowly takes you back into her mouth, never breaking eye contact.  

“Ugh I’m-- Al, I’m so-- 

You fall silent, thrusting into her mouth as you come, your thighs twitching and quaking.  

Alex eagerly swallows your release; your brows knitted in pleasure as she releases your head with a wet pop. 

She crawls on top of you, ducking down to press her lips against yours.  

You gently cup her cheeks, rolling over until she’s pinned beneath you.  

“You have to go?” You ask and she nods.  

“Yeah.”  

You pout, the woman rolling her eyes as she leans in for a kiss, kissing the pout off your lips.  

“Maybe someday I’ll be able to keep you in bed all day.” You smirk, the woman’s breath hitching when you kiss from her neck, down to her chest, your tongue teasing her erect nipples.  

She whines as you kiss your way down her body, stopping to flick your tongue against her swollen clit repeatedly before you move off of her, the woman growling.  

“Tease.” She mumbles and you smirk.  

“You know it.” You wink, making your way towards your boxers and pulling them on, missing the pout from the woman on the bed.  

You turn towards her, nodding to her clothes.  

“You better get dressed; I don’t think you want to walk out of here naked.” You jest and she rolls her eyes, reluctantly leaving your bed.  

You watch closely as she slowly gets dressed, visibly dragging her feet, something that makes your heart warm.  

She didn’t want to leave, you knew she didn’t want to leave, but she had a husband at home to go back to, something you wish she didn’t have.  

You wouldn’t say it out loud, but you wished she would pick you over him, but you knew she wouldn’t.  

Alex makes her way towards you, your eyes widening when she guides you back against a nearby wall, her arms wrapping loosely around your neck as her lips meet yours.  

The kisses remain soft, the woman sighing against your lips before she reluctantly pulls back, her forehead resting against yours.  

“I’ll see you soon?” She asks and you nod, tilting your head back to kiss her forehead, her cheeks flushing. 

“You bet.” You smile, Alex kissing your lips one more time before she leaves the room, your apartment door opening and closing as she makes a reluctant exit.  

You sigh, leaning back against the wall, your head thumping against the wall.  

“Fuck.”  

***********************************************************************

It surprised Alex how much she hated leaving your apartment, what had started as nothing, but sex had become more than that, so much so that she no longer felt the love or attraction that she use to with her husband.  

Alex sighs as Servando rolls off of her, the man panting heavily, his arms slipping around her as he kisses her neck.  

All she could do while lying there was compare his touch to yours, the way he laid against her back, the way he held her against his chest, the way his chin rested on her shoulder.  

It was then that she realized she preferred your touch over his, she preferred your touch more so than she did her husband’s, so much so that she faked an orgasm just to get him off of her.  

“Are you okay?” Servando asks, the man smiling when Alex rolls over, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, his facial hair scratching against her face, something that makes her grimace, thankfully he doesn’t notice.  

“I’m alright.” She smiles and he nods, kissing her lips again before settling behind her, falling asleep soon after.  

Alex sighs, her head resting against her pillow, the man’s chest rising and falling against her back, his hot breath against her neck in no way bringing her the comfort that yours did.  

In that moment, her eyes widen, her throat bobbing when she realized that what was happening between you REALLY wasn't just sex, it was so much more than that, and she had no idea what she was going to do about it. 

[basket-of-radiants]

I'm not sure I've seen you talk about the Szeth flashbacks much. Did you like them at all? It was probably one of the only parts of the book I liked personally

True, I have not discussed them much. I can do that! I liked them well enough! They were cute! Also they contained Szeth, and Szeth is always great, as a character he is above criticism, even if he's in a scene where stupid stuff is happening.

Prior to W&T, I think there was already a lot we knew about him, at least from context clues. We knew he was a kind and good person in the past (he sincerely abhored violence and cruelty). We knew he had a genuine love of motion (just LOOK at his chapters, if Szeth wasn't somehow a dancer in his past, I would have called bullshit). We knew that he loved his family, and that he missed his home, and that he was ridiculously clever and skilled at basically everything, and that he'd trained with all the honorblades, and that he'd heard voices which guided him as a child. And we knew he had a massive complex around truth. He'd claimed the radiants and voidbringers had returned, and he'd been told that was a lie so grave that he deserved to live as a Truthless for the rest of his life. I didn't know the exact details, but I had an idea of the shape of his past.

So going into his backstory, my main question was "what is this guy's deal, why does he behave like this". I was undeniably curious as well, to the causal events that led him from being a shepherd's son to being the coolest smartest deadliest badass on the planet, but really that could have been anything. (Oh I also wanted to know how he learned literally every single language ever, I assume the rest of you were clamoring for that as well.)

Szeth is a very strange person. For the first couple books, I think we'd be excused for thinking "huh I guess he's from a culture with really strict notions of honor and really anti-consequentialist notions of justice, the Shin people sure have some unique values and norms, interesting worldbuilding." But by Oathbringer you're probably getting the inkling that even compared with the rest of his people, Szeth is probably a little Extra. One of my big questions for this book on the whole was "what the fuck is up with Shinovar, do they really all act this way????" The answer is no they do not. It was very funny to finally see his backstory, and everyone else is a normal person, and Szeth is Just Like That.

Except he's not Just Like That, not really? He was predisposed to take instructions too literally, but I don't think that was his entire personality, mostly he just wanted to be a good boy. He probably could have grown out of that mentality on his own, at least somewhat, as he grew and learned to see the world as a complicated place. But not so long as he had a Voice in his head at all times, telling him exactly what to do at every turn. His entire life he's been fed orders to obey, he's never been permitted to make choices of his own, he's never been allowed to learn and grow from his mistakes. Szeth is responsible for all of his decisions, in that he has always been the one physically taking the actions, but also the decisions themselves have never been his. Ishar was in Szeth's very thoughts, grooming him into the perfect, obedient soldier. Even when Szeth did do things of his own volition, it always seemed to serve the Voice's agendas, leaving it unclear if he was ever in control of his actions. In the end Ishar wasn't especially bothered by what course Szeth took, so long as it left him colder, harder, and more useful. (Which is why as much as people make fun of this scene, Szeth saying "I am the law" and then throwing it all away in front of Ishar's face was something he probably had to do, to thematically bring that all to a close.)

Anyway, none of that is the answer to "what is Szeth's deal?" It's the answer I'd thought I wanted but it's not the important thing about him. No, the most important, the most in-your-face-from-his-first-words-of-introducton, the most fundamental piece of Szeth-son-son-Vallano turned out to be something else entirely. When he fought Kaladin, it was very clear that he knew some dark truth, but that he would prefer kill and then to die and then to suffer eternal torment rather than acknowledge it. We were lead to believe it was the returning of the desolations, but that was just a part of it. The real truth he was repressing was that his father was wrong. At the end of everything, Szeth was just a kid who loved his dad.

Meaning I think I got what I was hoping to get from his backstory. They were a fairly good time. His family was pretty sweet. And I liked how the flashback chapters weren't written with the same tongue-in-cheek prose that eventually wore very thin with the main story. I also enjoyed seeing some of Shinovar and it's culture. Honestly, I could have used a lot more of that in the main plot as well. (Please show me real interactions with locals, give us more of a before and after here, I don't think everyone in the entire country is in some depressive fugue state.)

Unfortunately there was no on-screen scene wherein Szeth was sat down to be taught every single language on planet, so at the end of the day I have to call these chapters a 0/10.

[fandomlit]

gif cred belongs to @smoshmonker

requested by anon "i’d love a reader x ian hecox fic if you’re taking requests! preferably in-smosh but up to you :-)"

imagine secretly dating ian hecox

"who do you guys think would die first on a desert island?" courtney asked, tapping their pencil against the table. you, courtney, shayne, angela, and amanda were awaiting some cast and crew to filter into the meeting room after they finished a shoot.

"probably chanse," angela nodded seriously, gaze locked on the far wall. courtney laughed out in surprise. "i love him, but i don't think he could fend for himself."

"i don't know how well you would do, angela, especially without caffiene.."

"i think ian," amanda proposed after a few other suggestions. mutterings arose from her comment, both for and against it. "i just don't think he'd know what to do with himself. i think he'd be totally lost."

"i don't think so," you spoke in return, the first true opposition of the conversation. your friends heads snapped to you, watching as your cheeks reddened under their gazes. "i think ian would do just fine." when you were just met with silence and a sly gaze from courtney you continued, "i mean, he leads us well. he's a smart guy and he knows how to separate his feelings from his work while still being passionate." your cheeks were only getting redder as your friends gazes remained locked on you. "i think that would get him far."

"you seemed to notice a lot about ian, y/n," courtney hummed. they opened their mouth to say something more to your small group when the door opened.

"alright, alex will join after they finish tear down and then we can start," ian sighed as he walked into the conference room, a few others trailing in behind him. he froze, just inside the doorway, when all of the gazes snapped to him. "what?"

"y/n doesn't think you would die first on a deserted island," amanda offered with a smirk. ian just furrowed his brow at her, giving a slightly offended look.

"yeah, she just defended your honor," courtney added with a knowing giggle. you felt like you were on fire when ian looked over at you.

"you people seriously don't think i'd make it on a desert island? i'm literally your boss! your leader!" he demanded as everyone broke into laughter in the room. ian shook his head as he finally sat down. "y/n, you're promoted." you clapped for yourself as angela mock-gasped.

as a fake argument ensued over your "promotion" and how whoever could truly survive on a desert island deserved that promotion instead, ian's gaze flicked to you. he could tell from the look courtney was giving you that they thought they had figured your feelings out just by their little hypothetical. but then ian caught your eye, and with a warm feeling pooling in his heart, shot you a wink and a smile. you smiled sweetly in return.

if only courtney really knew.

[blackwall-my-tiny-husband]

Thursday Bangers 6/12

Wowie I swear we all got bombarded with work and irl stuff all at once! And I’m still playing catch up on things I so badly want to write! I’m still trying to read all of the Harding week things and everyone’s words and bangers so don’t stop tagging me I’ll eventually very happily read them <3

Lyric game started and hosted by @woundedsoul12 this week and thanks @chaosherald and @serensama for the tags

Rules: Free form a blurb or drawing based on the weekly lyrics prompt. It doesn't have to include the prompt just whatever you're inspired to write, write it! Then tag some friends so they can play as well. It doesn't have to be finished on Thursday just post it whenever you can (you have a whole week between Thursdays)

And I'd give up forever to touch you // Cause I know that you feel me somehow // You're the closest to Heaven that I'll ever be // And I don't wanna go home right now ~ Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls

Enjoy a little more of the Modern tech assassins au (I really never know what to call it) but a pre relationship piece! Harding week really had me all up in the still getting to know each other vibes

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Harding had been putting together a sandwich in her tiny postage stamp apartment when she tried to scoot past her couch and rammed her shin into the coffee table. She’d cursed loudly and wondered again why she’d moved to this city. It was huge and bustling and high tech and so so fancy. She’d been excited to live somewhere new after her stint with the military and Antiva City just seemed so interesting. But on her tiny salary she couldn’t afford much and her job prospects seemed bleak at best or too dull to stand. She tossed the plate onto the couch, glaring at the offending table corner and wishing she could kick it out of the way but there just wasn’t room.

Just as she was debating sitting the table up on its side the doorbell rang. She wasn’t expecting company and frowned, giving it a moment but then frantic knocking started and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Carefully, she snuck her way to the door and looked into the peephole.

She flung open the door and stood with a hip jutting out, hand on her hip.

“Zalan what are you doing here?” He was one of Varric’s many inside sources and when the journalist had introduced the two she hadn’t been all that impressed by the flirting and easy going charm he’d been sporting. She’d seen him trailing after Varric a while after that and had begrudgingly gotten to know him, he grew on people like a fungus. But for him to be showing up at her door? Unannounced? She wasn’t even sure how he knew her address!

“Hey Harding what’s shaking?” He was sweating and leaning against the doorframe but still trying for a charming smile. She glanced around behind him at the empty hall and frowned. “Hey can I come in? Varric and I were following up on a lead and I need a place to lie low for a minute or two.” She would have happily slammed the door in his face or told him to go wherever Varric had gone normally. But something about the way he was almost shaking and the urgency in his voice with undercurrents of fear made her think twice about shutting him out. And instead, she had a feeling she’d regret this later, pulled the door wider.

“Get in here and tell me what happened.” She said it on a sigh and he quickly shuffled in and closed the door, locking it for her and rushing them both away from the entrance. She pinched his hand on her shoulder and swatted at him, stepping away with a glare.

“Sorry sorry, lying low remember? T-those guys might be looking for me.” He voice seemed strained and he pressed a hand to his side. Which had Harding furrowing her brows and coming closer.

“Zalan de Riva, you tell me what in Andraste’s name is happening. Now.” She was firm and the glare she was giving him wasn’t lessening but he chuckled and smiled at her, leaning against the back of her couch and putting a hand on her shoulder, swaying.

“Have I ever told you you’re beautiful when you’re angry?” He asked, breathing hard. She thought about punching him but only scowled at him instead, “I didn’t know where else to go, my house is on the far side of the city and Varric sent me to check up on a lead- he’s in the hospital you heard? Broken leg- he sent me to check on a thing. A-and I got shot.” He staggered forward and this close now that she was looking for it she could see the dark spot blooming on his dark jacket, and growing. The information took a moment to sink in as she stared and then she burst into action.

She was yelling at him for being an idiot but moving him to the couch, clearing the space and momentarily mourning the loss of her sandwich and plate but refocusing and sitting him down to yank up his shirts.

A neat hole was gushing blood and Harding cursed grabbing a blanket and pressing down on the wound, as she felt around the man’s back she could feel a hole there too which was good. The bullet wasn’t lodged somewhere and she pressed his hands to the blanket,

“Hold this pressure.” It was a command and she ran for her medical supplies. Zalan was doing exactly as she instructed and had managed to wiggle free of his shirt and jacket laying on them and looking pale and green for his efforts.

She muttered idiot which he must have heard because he chuckled. She couldn’t figure him out, he was calm and was actively helping her as she got supplies out and cleaned the wound. Who was this guy that bullet wounds seemed to be just a part of his life?

He was suddenly less than collected as his eyes fluttered and rolled into the back of his head. Harding felt her own heart jump as she rushed to press wet fingers to his pulse. Cursing loudly the scout got into position and started compressions. Luckily for them both he came back quickly and Lace thought she might collapse there but she wasn’t done yet.

With her suture kit in hand Harding looked at Zalan, cringing. She didn’t even have any alcohol to offer him to dull the pain. He noticed her hesitation and flashed a weak grin,

“You can admire my stunning body later Harding, for now sew me up.” He waited a beat and gave a huff, “Don’t worry about me, I have a high pain tolerance.” He assured her and she gulped but braced herself and did as he she said.

//

He hadn’t screamed or flinched away and she had rushed, her sewing only barely passing for good. He was breathing shallowly and laying on her couch and she leaned over him, knee on the edge of the sofa. His eyes were glazed over but he hadn’t passed out yet which was good.

“So? How did I do? Did the Lace Harding save my life?” He asked, words slurring slightly and head nodding back as he struggled to sit halfway up. Lace shook her head at him in dismay, how could he still be like this after everything. Zalan followed her movements with drooping eyes. “No? Oh well if I’m dying at least I’m getting to see you before I go.” He mused, touching the back of her hand and a soft smile.

She couldn’t help the blush that blossomed over her skin at that and she scoffed and shook her head but didn’t shake off his hand.

“You aren’t dying you boob. You just got shot. No big deal right?” She wondered how it was no big deal but he hummed and nodded his agreement and closed his eyes, hand sliding into hers loosely. She didn’t like that he was drifting off but with his hand in hers she could feel his pulse. That was the reason she left it there, or that’s what she told herself as she watched him.

He’d have to answer some questions when he woke up. But for now, for Varric, she’d stay there and watch over him, she’d already saved him she couldn’t let him die on her now.

[immedealwithit9855]

Whats The Turtle's Take on the Perfect Sex

This is gonna be interesting given their very different personalities and interests. These guys have sex appeal written all over them so they have to have some dos and donts when it comes to bumpin n grindin' in them sheets. Each turtle is given their own interviewer. All have private interviewers so to avoid any clashes and awkwardness. Let's see what these guys are REALLY like behind closed doors.

Lets start with the eldest, Fearless Leader himself.

He offers the interviewer the good chair as he plopped on the couch in front of her. She was pleased with this hunky leader in blue allowing her and her colleagues to interview him and hsi brothers. She bit her lip at his scales, appreciating his entire form. An astounding creature he was. She shook herself out of her thoughts and began asking questions.

At first they were civil. His methods on protecting the city, his workout routines, codes of honor he follows. He answered professionally and precisely, lining up with his normal demeanor. Then she started asking questions he was not expecting.

Interviewer: I have to ask, what is your definition of perfect sex?

Leonardo choked on the tea he was drinking. He had to pat his chest to get it down. She smirked at his surprised behavior.

Interviewer: (Got em')

After clearing himself up, he answered.

Leonardo: Ma'am. I am a gentlemen. I don't wish to make you uncomfortable with my response.

Interviewer: Leonardo, I've heard it all. It's alright. I'd love to know, how you define the perfect sex. Besides, I was bold enough to ask you the question, I'm sure I can handle your responses.

He could see the seriousness in her eyes. His brothers were doing their interviews so there won't be any interference or teasing for that matter. He took a deep breath.

Leonardo: If you insist. Candles are a must. It sets the mood and makes the girl feel at ease. I want her to feel comfortable and safe. I'll offer her a massage, loosen her muscles, if she lets me. Taking a good shower is also essential, clean body, clean sex.

Interviewer: Okay, good start. Like the approach.

Leonardo: There has to be trust. Trust goes a long way and as you can see I'm not human. She has to be willing and open to the idea of being with a non-human male. Willing to let me hold and kiss her, tenderly.

She blinked a few times at his remark. Imagining his lips kissing hers!

Interviewer: I can understand. There's some who are open to the idea and some that aren't.

Both nodding.

Interviewer: If I'm being honest, you seem like the dominating type. Like the 'tie her down,' 'chains & handcuffs,' 'blindfolds,' kinda guy.

He quirked a brow at that. He chuckled a bit. Thinking this interviewer is very bold with her questions and comments. He was flattered.

Leonardo: Dominance, like being on top, Yes. The whole 'tie her down' thing, Not really. I've been in a situation where me and my brothers were bound. Wouldn't feel right doing it to my girl. There are better ways to show dominance in bed. I like the blindfold idea. People rely on sight too much during intimacy, take away the sight, it intensifies the pleasure. But, thats where trust also comes in.

The interviewer mentally bit her lip at that. Immediately getting the vibe that Leonardo is not the type of turtle whose fond of being played. Trust is a serious thing in any situation. In this case, sex without trust is awkward and a complete turn off.

Interviewer: Okay. What position suits you?

Leonardo grinned and shook his head, wondering how it came to this.

Leonardo: The lotus position or a cradle position is fitting. I like to see all of her. Let her touch me as I touch her. Gazing into her eyes as we slowly make love. Hearing how good I am to her. Makes the climax flow naturally. If she'll allow me to, I'd taste every inch of her body, including the most sensitive spots. I like the idea of getting to know my girl's body, pinpoint her likes and dislikes.

Interviewer: What do you like?

Leonardo: I like taking my time. I like my girl and I to enjoy one another at our own pace. To be completely nsync. To be one.

Interviewer: Slow and Steady wins the race.

Leonardo: Exactly. So to define perfect sex, I'd say a night of clean and steamy passion that ends in the most beautiful climax any one could ever endure. Togetherness. A shower after is good aftercare, plus another round if shes willing.

With that, she started to gush. Starting to find his responses more arousing then ever.

Leonardo: Any other questions?

Interviewer: Just one. How would you feel about a woman finding everything about you 'attractive?'

Leonardo: Depends. Does she like turtles and would she be okay with one being a walking, talking ninja?

Interviewer: Absolutely. I think she'd like to get to know you better. If thats okay.

He gulped, smelling just how interested she is in him.

Leonardo: Then heres my question: Does she trust me?

She gets up, walks over to him and stands between his legs. His eyes became her addiction.

Interviewer: Yes, she does.

Up Next, Mr. Sex Appeal himself. What he gotta say.....

Dude isn't good at manners. But he did his best to clean his room for the interviewer. It's not often he has girls coming around asking him questions. He gives her a seat, he takes one of his old benches as a seat.

She took out her tape recorder and began the interview.

She asked questions regarding his workout routines. Tips for staying fit. Whether he considers himself a second in command to the team. His answers were cocky with extra attitude. He wasn't big on interviews, only aggreeing so he can share his thoughts without Leonardo breathing down his neck.

12 minutes go by and he notices her turn off the tape recorder and start a different one.

Raphael: Whats wit da extra tape recorder?

Interviewer: This is our other interview. Next set of questions regard your take on the perfect sex.

He froze. Shocked that this human female had the guts to ask him of all his brothers questions related to sex. Then, he started to chuckle, thinking shes joking with him.

Raphael: Perfect Sex, huh? This is a joke, right? I ain't human! What human woman would want me that way? Whose punkin' me right now, cuz I think ya askin'da wrong guy. You ask a human guy dis, not me.

Interviewer: I can assure you this is no joke. Times are changing, Raphael. And from looking at you so carefully I'm asking the right guy. Lets start simple. Settlings? Kinks? Romantic? How would you describe perfect sex?

Her eyes filled with curiosity, body language calm and collected, ready for his responses. He couldn't believe what was happening but on the other hand, his brothers aren't in the interview and it's his room.

Raphael: Alright, I'll bite. Some music in the background sets da scene, gets her goin.' Colored lights. In my case, Red. She gotta be up for a thrill if shes gonna be screwin' a mutant turtle.

She started to invision his every word.

Interviewer: Fascinating. Colored lights is intriguing. Music during sex is hot. Anything get you going?

Raphael: My girl wearin' lingerie while givin' me a lap dance is a good start. Gets me hard. If shes wearin' a thong in my color, she ain't gonna walk right for a week.

Interviewer: Oooh. Aggressive, aren't we? You like it rough? Soft? Slow? Fast? You give off the rough and animalistic vibe.

He could blush. While inwardly she could tell he was a biter.

Raphael: I ain't big on dat mushy type stuff, maybe Donnie or Leo, not me. I'll start slow, cuz I ain't human and neither is the beast in these shorts. She gotta accept the beast, once shes used ta me, I get rough. Especially when I rip that thong off! Hearing her moaning my name adds to scene and if she lets me, I'll grab them knocks.

Interviewer: Oh Okay, grabby type.

He was feeling the vibe from the woman, smirking when he caught a whiff of her desires in the air.

Interviewer: Given your responses, I take you to be the type that goes off of instincts. I also imagine there's a particular position that fits you.

He smiled big at that. He knows what he is and unashamed of it. He was almost tempted to share how much hes packing in the barnyard.

Raphael: Position? Easy. I like my girl on all fours, face down, booty up, and shakin' for me ta pound. It's always been our natural position. We walk upright and all but I prefer good old doggy. I'd still like to see her face, so a mirror helps. Showing me the face she makes when I drill dis meat into her. What I like da most is seein' her freeze when I got her against the wall, both my hands on each of her head, watchin' her unfold unda me. Rubbin' them thighs fer me. Wantin' me as much as I want her!

She quirked her brow at that.

Interviewing: Tasty, indeed. Would you share your girl with your brothers? Or have another girl with you?

He laughed at that question, finding it unreal that hes in this interview at all. 'Is she askin' if I'll do a threesome? And sharin' my girl with my brothas? Really?' But he wanted to continue to play ball.

Raphael: 2 girls, maybe. I can go more than one round (winks). Sharin' my girl with my bros, dats gonna be a 'NO.' I share enough with em' already, I ain't sharin' my girl too!

The interviewer shrugged, understanding of his take on threesomes. She laughed a little when he emphasized on not sharing his girl with his brothers.

Raphael: Da girl gotta be down wit me not only bein' a mutant turtle, but a territorial one at dat!

Her breath caught in the back of her throat.

Interviewer: I'm sorry. You said territorial. Care to elaborate?

Raphael: Turtles get territorial. When it comes to a girl they like, its first come first served. (He snickers when he caught the innuendo). Say a gal waltz into my territory. If I like her and she likes me, its an automatic claim.

He stands up, walks over to her. Her knees begin to shake, heart rate reaching abnormal levels as he hovers over her. She realizes her predicament: Shes in his room, door is closed, hes in very close proximity of her, letting off a scent that speaks lust. She swallowed her hesitation and looks him directly in the eye.

Interviewer: Guess I'm the prey in your territory, huh? What now? Gonna get me to submit?

He looks her dead in the eyes without flinching. She shakes in her seat, he inches his snout to her neck.

Raphael: It seems I already did. So to answer yer question of the perfect sex.......

Shes already frozen in her seat from his form overpowering her much smaller form. Nuzzling his snout into her neck making her swoon.

Raphael: Is when me and my girl share a deep need for each otha. A need that tackles even da most crazy ideas. When I'm done wit her, imma treat her like the queen she is.

The interviewer just about dropped everything, subconsciously spreading her legs for him. She wondered if his voice itself was the key because the entire time he talked, she became more and more aroused. He picked her up. He turns off her recorder, she willingly allowed.

Raphael: Do ya like me?

Interviewer: Yes. A lot.

Raphael: Do ya want me?

Interviewer: Yes!

He smirks. She shivers.

Raphael: Don't worry, DollFace. I take good care of what's mine. Let's take dis to da showers, get dis sweat off.

Ah Geez. The Nerd. Lets see what this staff wielder has to say......

For being the most socially awkward he has shown to improve as he cleaned an area for the interviewer to sit. She was impressed with the set-up in his lab. Taking notes to improve her workspace.

He agreed on account of wanting to share his inner thoughts with someone other than April and his brothers. The tape recorder start and so did the questions.

They were mainly based on his role on the team, his gadgets, their origins, and how they managed to stay so undetected. He answered shyly at first then got comfortable as the questions were more up his alley. The interviewer was impressed with the tall terrapin's works and the truck. He even showed her his blueprints along with the tartuga's functions. She was a reporter but like April shes shown to be trustworthy enough to not share their secrets. Then things begin to change, something Donatello was not prepared for.

Interviewer: Whats your take on the perfect sex?

His eyes bugged out and he silently squeaked. He was not expecting that. Shes asking an over 6ft tall, bo staff wielding, geek about the perfect sex? He gulped.

Donatello: Uhm. Are you sure you want my answer on that? I mean, look at me.

She could see him getting shy again, she placed a hand on his knee, stunning him.

Interviewer: I'm looking through you. The vibe you've let off is astounding and you're the genius of the group. I wanna know what this genius has to say about gettin' freaky in the sheets.

He snorted at first, then looked away in embarrassment. She had to reassure him to not he embarrassed. She thought his snorting was cute. He blushed and took a deep breath.

Donatello: Well, the perfect sex should include a deep connection. Knowing each other's wants and needs is a must. The girl voicing said wants and needs makes the sex more exciting. More alluring.

Interviewer: Fantastic. What are your wants and needs if you don't mind me asking of course.

He started fidgeting his suspenders, a needs natural reaction to sex talk.

Donatello: Well, I like to take things slow. Some people rush into these things without thinking. Many do it just for fun and games. It's important when it comes to sex that its with someone you plan on being with forever. I want my girl to accept me for me. All of me.

The interviewer was moved by this response. Even though Donnie wasn't human, hes seen a lot to make such a strong statement regarding intimacy.

Interviewer: I love that response. Very thought-provoking and to the point. I have to agree, we live in a world where sex is a game or a weapon used to get respect. Some take it too far, hurting themselves or the other party.

Donnie was relieved with her response. Seeing so much from the shadows, he has learned that many have a horrid way of disagreeing. She smiled.

Interviewer: (clears throat) What do you like in bed?

Donatello: Explain.....

Interviewer: Toys? Role-Play? Any hidden fetishes? Maybe bondage?

She quirks her brows but inwardly Donnie was a mixture of shy and kinda freaked out. But he answered accordingly.

Donatello: I can assure you I'm not for being tied up. Already been there. Don't plan on going back. I'll try Role-Play, keeps things interesting, a lab assistant or a nurse seems fitting. I don't necessarily believe in toys because it says the person you're with isn't enough. I view it as an insult to your partner. It's like calling them your ex's name while your making out.

Interviewer: What about on yourself?

Donatello: (gulps). Definitely not. It's weird and your settling for a piece of plastic rather than the real thing. The real thing always feels better. Power to those who do it, but I prefer a real person.

Interviewer: Does that also include (blushes).....Sex Dolls? Magazines?

Donatello: (poker faced) Yes. Tempting but gross. People spend all their money on toys, dolls, and all these other pleasure items yet fail to appreciate the real things standing in front of them. Magazines are no different. Why rely on models on pieces of paper to get satisfaction? Getting off on battery operated toys, pictures, and expensive blow-up dolls is a waste, plus my brothers live here too, they may get ideas. I don't need batteries or rubber to please my lady or obtain satisfaction. Am I not enough?

'Honey, you'll always be enough!'

The woman was literally falling in love with Donatello. Looking pass his outer appearance was one thing but his responses regarding perfect sex was a whole new level. She admired the strong facts he was spewing, wondering if hes single. Wondering how big he is, given his very toned yet fit stature.

Interviewer: You're incredible. I've never thought of it that way. Gotta say, you've given a lot of insight on this. Now, do you like it slow? Fast? Oooh. What positions?

He snickered.

Donatello: Slow. It makes the sex more intimate and the release flow out in the most decadent way. I want my lady to know that I won't hurt her despite what I am. If she wants it fast, I'll happily oblige, it takes 2 to tango. Position? The butterfly or my girl seated on the desk, legs spreads giving me full access. I'm pretty lengthy, so she may need time to get used to me. I'm a patient turtle.

He rubs the back of his head at that. She didn't even ask about his length and he just blurted it out. Apparently he was more comfortable with the interview than he lead on. She wet her lips a little.

Interviewer: What else? Like what do you expect from the woman? How do you go about pleasing her?

Donatello: (clears his throat) Patience is a virtue. I like to learn about what she likes. What makes her moan. What makes her want more. I'd like to study her body, kissing, touching.....tasting.

She blushed. 'I wouldn't mind you tasting me!' It didnt take a rocket scientist to see that Donatello likes to learn new things. Of course, when it comes to intimacy, theres a lot to learn regarding the female body.

Donatello: After I've made her come multiple times, I'm sure to have her thoroughly cleaned. A hot bath with scentes candles on the side, rose peddles in the water, a few strawberries seems fitting. I don't ejaculate like an average human male does. It gets pretty messy. After wards I like laying with her, enjoying her company, her smile, her love for a creature like me.

'Did this turtle just say 'come multiple times?' Sign me up, this turtle got me!'

It was hard to not get hot and bothered around Donatello. His height, his body, his mannerisms, his mindset, was all attractive to her.

Interviewer: That's so touching. I mean that, sincerely. Very good responses. Just got one more question though.

As if what he said wasn't enough, this charming interviewer wanted more. He was silent, ready for anything. He was just as stunned when she turned off the tape recorder.

Interviewer: Is there a way we could, get to know each other? Maybe a date?

He started churring, watching her study him carefully. 'Did she just ask me out? This was unexpected!'

Donatello: Well, I have to see what my schedule looks like but I'd love to get to know you. Can I maybe, uhh....

Interviewer: Have my number? Absolutely!

His night just went got interesting didn't it, folks?

Last but never least. (I'll keep sayin' it if I have to because its Michaelangelo. He's never least at anything, okay?)

He was excited beyond understanding when Leonardo gave the okay for each of them to give an interview. Rolling his eyes when his brothers explained to the ladies that they're not one for publicity and that they shouldn't be blabbing to the whole world about their existence and so on.

Mikey was very polite. Offered the lady a seat at the dinning table. He offered her some pizza to which she accepted. They got comfortable and she began the interview.

Michaelangelo: Ask me anything, Sweety. I'm an open book. Everything goes and I do mean everything. (Quirks his brows)

She laughs. Starting simple with how he contributes to the team. His take on the crime rates lately. His fighting style. Evening asking about his diet plans. Mikey was quick to answer each question with confidence and forwardness. He did not shy away from flirting with the woman either. She was flattered, she wanted more from the fun loving turtle.

Interviewer: Tell me, Mikey. How do you describe the perfect sex?

He dropped a slice of pizza on the floor. He was shocked that she asked him that question. He didn't want her to think he was a wimp so he gathered his thoughts and gave a response.

Michaelangelo: Romantic equals perfect sex. Get the girl nice and cozy. Give her some chocolates and flowers to lighten the mood. Do a little flirting. Hot meal ready to be devoured. That sorta thing.

Interviewer: (nodding) Who says a woman don't like to eat? Please, go on.

He was liking this interview.

Michaelangelo: Give her those Denzel Washington eyes. Turn on some slow tunes, start doin' a little dance. Get her interested.

Interviewer: Hmm, Like Magic Mike type?

Michaelangle: Better than Magic Mike!

She smiled, then was surprised when he pulled her up out of her seat and started swaying. Looking into his eyes, made her rethink so much. It was as though he was changing her perspective. He slowly dipped her down, gently bringing her up.

Michaelangelo: After a meal, a dance, and flirting......Dessert is served.

Interviewer: Really? What's for dessert?

He smirks at her, giving her his answer.

Michaelangelo: The works. Whip cream, brownie bites, chocolate syrup, and the best part......

Interviewer: Which is......?

Michaelangelo: My girl naked and ready for me to decorate, AngelCakes.

She just about choked. This turtle was indeed an amazing specimen. Obviously he loved his sugar too.

Michaelangelo: I'd lather her boobs and snatch whip cream, place a brownie on each boob, putting one over her lady part. Then slowly drizzle her with the syrup.

He licked his lips at the image as did the interviewer. He caught that, she shook herself out of the fantasy and continued.

Interviewer: Food type. Real unique and appetizing.

Michaelangelo: Yeah it is. I'd devour every inch of sweetness off her soft body. I'm a grabby type so I'll be feelin' everything. Hearing her shrills and wants. Her eyes sayin' how much she wants me. When I'm done cleaning her off, im goin' South for the winter, if ya know what I mean! (Wink)

She stopped herself from rubbing her thighs together at his comment.

Interviewer: Uhh. Im feeling pretty hot right now. (Proceeds to take off her jacket)

Michaelangelo: Allow me. (Helps her out of her jacket, hangs it up behind her seat)

His touch alone was enough to send her to Jupiter and back. This turtle was having an affect on her she'd never felt before.

Interviewer: Go on.

Michaelangelo: After I get her nice and wet, I unleash the dragon. I give it to her good. Telling her how drop dead gorgeous she is. How sexy her skin is against mine. Then, I let her ride the dragon!

Interviewer: By that, you mean.....

Michaelangelo: Exactamundo. I'll let her ride me as I grope her waist, keepin' her steady. Diggin' the scene, diggin' on her, as shes diggin' on me. I let her finish first, then join her.

Interviewer: Wow. You got right into it. Love the energy. Obviously, you're quite the lover. What would you say you crave most during sex?

Mikey was baffled for a moment. He started to acknowledge how comfortable she was being around. No fear. No hesitation. She was a chill person like him. He answered.

Michaelangelo: To be honest, I like cuddling. Ya know, feeling my girls hands on my scales. I don't have skin like a human so to feel her touching me, makes me feel normal. That adds to the perfect sex.

She was moved by his response. 'Aww, hes touched starved.' She knows some animals like to be touched, held, cuddled, pet, and played with. Some don't. Some reptiles aren't big on any of those things and here this unique turtle is sharing how much he'd love to be touched. How much he wanted to get accepted. She scooted herself closer to him.

Interviewer: Can I hold your hand?

He looked at her, stunned. Yet, nodded his head slowly. She took his hand into hers. Running her fingers over his calloused palms. He watched, waited for her to freak. But she didn't. She really felt for Mikey, sad that despite what he and his brothers do for the city, hes still seen as a........'monster.' She brought his hand up to rest on her cheek.

Interviewer: I accept you.

His eyes became glossy. She took it step further bringing him into a tight embrace. He froze, wondering what to do. His body acted, hugging her back. They separate.

Michaelangelo: I uhhh....(clears throat). Is there any other questions?

Was he being shy? The hyperactive turtle of the group, bashful?

Interviewer: (Turns off the tape recorder) Yes. Wanna dance? I wanna learn more about you, Michaelangelo. You down with that?

He smiles hard. This charming human woman wants to get to know him better.

Michaelangelo: I'm down, Sweety. So down.

@uniqueoutlierblog

[robinvomit]

[ lil preview for "Add To Cart." // sugar baby hal. ]

"...so is this where i find out i'm being sold for parts, or am i supposed to start stripping?"

you grinned, lifting your glass to take a sip of something he was positive he couldn't afford. "depends.. what's the refund policy on emotionally unavailable pilots?"

hal choked, not expecting such a direct response. "okay," he mused. "damn."

"sit, sweetheart," you said, and gestured to the empty seat across from you, shifting to cross one let over the other. "it's not a lot of fun havin' to look up at you the whole time."

he hesitated, for obvious reasons, and looked at you and then really looked at you. all pretty lips and sweet perfume and jewlery that said yes, i can afford to waste my time on someone like you.

"wait," he said, slowly sitting, eyes narrowing. "you're the one who sent that guy down?"

"mhm." you nodded, head tilting as you tapped your nail against the glass. "i saw you trip and decided i wanted to know what kind of man does that in a leather jacket with that much confidence."

"you saw me fall and thought that one's sexy?" he couldn't help but laugh, already wondering the hell he just walked into.

"i saw you fall," you corrected, "and then smile like you meant to. never said i liked a man with a brain."

"ouch," he started, nodding slow. "well. now i am scared."

"don't be. i don't bite."

"that sounds exactly like something a biter would say."

you leaned in with a sigh and set your glass down, reaching to touch his knee. it was a same touch, thumb brushing over the bone, but it clearly held intent. "i'm offering you time, attention, maybe some presents," you began, patting his knee. "you offer me something entertaining in return. dinner, banter - cute, maybe a little heated. unwarranted confidence. let me parade you around a bit."

"wow," he muttered, eyes flicking down to your hand, then body and back up with a half smile. "so, you just wanna pay me to be hot and dumb, yeah?"

straightening up, you nodded, flashing a little smile. "if you're a real good boy, i can throw in some health insurance if you're in need."

he barked a laugh. loud, genuine but you could tell he was nervous. "lady, i don't know what the hell kind of bored fantasy you're living, but i'm not exactly-"

"stop." you raised a hand, your tone velvet soft but sharp. "don't ruin this with modesty, that's so.. annoying. you're hot, hal jordan. you know it. you walk like it. you flirt like it's a birthright. and i'm rich, bored, and very, very good at getting what i want. there's no shame in living a better lifestyle in exchange for some entertainment."

"are you saying i don't live a-" he stopped and blinked a few times, slow. "wait… how do you know my name?"

you smirked. "sugar, i have a staff. you think i'd throw money at a man without at least getting his name first?"

he stared for a moment and brought a hand up to push through his hair, debating whether that was attractive or if he needed to find the closest exit and a new identity.

"now," you said, sitting back like royalty on a throne, "you have two options."

he raised a brow, gesturing for you to continue.

"one: you finish that beer and go back to your little friends, and we never speak again.. two: you come with me after this, let me buy you something ridiculously expensive, whatever you want, and see where this goes. no expectations. just… fun. don't even have to kiss me."

you could see the gears turning as he thought it over, glancing around the room. he wondered if anyone else knew of the odd transaction he was currently facing, wondered if this was just normal socialite behavior. then he shrugged, waving a hand.

"alright, to hell with it. sure," he said, then paused. "…do i have to call you ‘mommy' or something?"

"oh, goody." you got up from your chair and smoothed over your clothes before offering your hand to him. "only if you want a bonus."

[lucentloo]

The Letter

Summary: James is given a letter you wrote to him before you passed.

Past James Potter x Female!reader

wc: 1204

Content Warnings: Angst, ANGST, there is no happiness in this, I apologize in advance, reader is dead, this acually goes against what I said I would write about but I couldn't help myself, James and reader used to be in a relationship, Jily now though, they have Harry already, Dumbledoore is there for a few seconds, wolfstar implied, that's really all I can give without giving it away but as always if you find something I missed don't hesitate to tell me!

A/N: Hey guys! long time no see huh? (I posted my last fic like three hours ago). ANYWAY I decided to take a little turn away from what I usually write and try out some angst, this probably isn't going to be common and I might actually never do this again but I thought I'd give it a whirl for my TENTH FIC! Boom guys I got to ten lets all clap, okay but fr now I hope you guys enjoy it!! And I'll see you next time!! (Also I'm thinking of adding pictures to my fics, do you guys think it's a good idea?)

James has never been as quiet in his life as he has now. 

Dumbledore sat in his living room while Lily kept Harry occupied in his room, giving James the privacy Dumbledore had requested. However, after hearing what Dumbledore had just said, he wished more than anything that Lily had never left. In fact, he wished that Dumbledore had never come in the first place. 

“James, I know how difficult this is for you to hear, but no one else was willing to confront you,” Dumbledore said, lowering his head. “You meant a great deal to her, and I know she was very important to you as well.”

James furrows his eyebrows as he stares at Dumbledore. “Who? As far as I know, everyone I need is with me now,” he says, gesturing upstairs where Lily and Harry are. But all Dumbledore does is shake his head.

“I’m sorry, dear boy,” Dumbledore whispers as he hands James a letter. “She wanted you to have this. She knew she wouldn’t be here for much longer.” After James takes the letter, Dumbledore stands and gives him one last sorrowful glance before apparating out of the apartment.

James lingers in thought, the joyful laughter of his wife and sons drifting from upstairs. Despite their happiness, a heavy weight settles in his gut. Why would someone send him a letter? Curiosity overpowers the urge to discard it, and with trembling fingers, he opens the envelope. 

As he reads the first line, time seems to freeze.

Hey, Sunshine.

The familiar greeting floods him with emotions; you were the only one who ever called him that. His heart races, memories rushing back, leaving him in disbelief and longing after so many years.

I know you’re probably in shock, or something like that. We haven’t talked in a quite a bit, huh? I hope you’re doing well. I heard you have a kid! I think his name was Harold? Harry? One of those.

James huffs a small laugh at the last line. You never did have the best memory.

Anyway, the reason I’m writing this letter is because I know I probably won’t make it to tomorrow. Voldemorts been on my trail for months now, and it’s only about time before we cross paths. And if someone managed to find you and give you this letter, it means we did.

James takes a deep breath. His eyes fill with tears as he grips the paper tightly. This has to be a joke or a prank, right? You wouldn’t be foolish enough to get caught, would you?

These last few months have been hard without you. I know we haven’t spoken since our fight in Seventh year, but now more than ever do I wish I could have one of your hugs. I’ve barely been able to sleep without waking up to a twig snapping or someone's voice close to my tent. Your arms could always help me rest.

James’s breath grows shaky, and his denial is overthrown by his grief.

I’m sorry to bombard you with all of this. I know you’ve moved on and started a new life with Lily, like you always wanted. And I am so very happy that you were able to do that. I know a family was always one of your dreams. You remember that night, on the astronomy tower, when we talked about our future?

How could James forget? That night was one of the happiest moments he shared with you. You stayed up all night, talking and cuddling under a single blanket. James had sworn at the time that he had never been happier.

We talked for hours until the sun came up, and all you talked about was our family. I remember every detail. You wanted two daughters and one son. A dog and a cat for both Sirius and Remus. You wanted to have a little garden full of my favourite flowers, and we would have waffles for breakfast every morning. Our daughters' names would be Annie and Molly. Our son's name would’ve been Harry. Is that what you ended up naming your son?

James couldn’t hold back the tears rolling down his face. He realized that, unintentionally, he had named his son after the name you two had dreamed of when you were kids. As he looked at the letter, he noticed the tear stains and understood that you were likely crying as you wrote it, too.

I miss those times when it was just us. When you would pass me notes in class, or teach me how to ride your broom. When you would sneak me food for when I was sick, or hold my hand before an exam because you knew it made me nervous. I miss the words you would say at night, when it was quiet and Sirius and Remus had snuck off together and Peter was out doing Lord knows what. So it was just us. And you’d hold me close, and whisper in my ear, “I’ll never leave you, you’re always safe with me.” Merlin, could I use that right now? I miss you, unfunny jokes, and the way you would stumble into the door when you weren’t looking. I miss you, James.

James let’s out a whole sob at the last line. He misses you too. More than you will ever know.

I’m not supposed to. We said some really hurtful things the last time we talked. You were paranoid, and so was I. Just kids freshly graduating and already being drafted into the war. We didn’t know what we were going to do, so we did what we both do best. Push each other away. Except this time we wouldn’t see each other in class the next day or at Dinner and have time to talk. We both went our separate ways. 

James has to pause his reading for a moment; otherwise, he feels like he might forget to breathe altogether. The giggles of his son break the silence, and he can’t help but wonder if he would sound like them if he were yours, or if he would have your laugh instead. That thought makes his chest ache.

I’m sorry. I should stop this letter now rather than never finish in the first place. I do hope you never get this letter and we can maybe meet up again when the wars over. We could be friends and I can meet your son and we could talk everything out. But if you do get this letter, I just want you to know that I tried my best and I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.

Your Love.

James doesn’t know what to do or how to behave. He never imagined he would face something like this in his life. You were always a constant presence for him, providing warmth he could lean on when he felt cold. You supported him throughout his time at Hogwarts. His friends even knew about you and how much he loved you.

He never thought there would be a world without you. Even after the fight at King's Cross, he always assumed he would see you again. But now you are gone—truly, actually gone.

[jadegrey711]

Call me

(Bucky x Fem!phone sex operator)

A/N: This gif really got me thinking about how much fun a Fem!phone sex operator x Bucky oneshot would be. So here's my take, Bucky is like more still (winter solider) but like hitman for hire who doesn't work for any side. The end is a little dark but nothing too much. I don't think I'll be making a part two of this though so you'll have to let your imagination win with what happens after this. And as always;

Not my Gif *

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting​​ to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711) 

This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake.

You were surprised as you heard your phone ring with the familar ring tone of your favorite client, and eagerly grabbed the phone and went into your bedroom. Flopping onto bed and trying to calm your racing heart as you put on the familar persona of your phone sex operator voice and accepted the call.

"Hi darling." He greeted you in that familar, dark, rich voice.

"Hiya honey. I wasn't expecting your call tonight." you said honestly. You truly weren't expecting to hear from your favorite client tonight. His phone session usually held a standing reservation with you on Saturday night, usually around 10pm.

"I know darling, but work has been shit and I needed to hear from my sweet bunny."

"Oh yeah? You wanna tell me about it." You asked, as you made yourself more comfortable on the bed.

Bucky let out a let out a sigh. "Just politics darling. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about."

"Hey! I'm not just a pretty voice." You giggled. "I've got a pretty big brain behind this sultry voice, too."

"Oh. I know that bunny. That's why you're the only one I talk too."

"Well then tell me what's got you all worked up honey? That's usually my job." You chuckled and in return heard a deep chuckle on the other end of the line.

"I certainly enjoy getting worked up more from you than from anyone else."

"Well I'm glad to hear it. Means I'm providing an excellent service. Be sure to give me high stars at our end of call survey." You said cheekily, earning another deep chuckle from the other end of the line, before he let out a long deep sigh.

"I wasn't kidding when I said it was politics." He chuckled, when he heard a small gasp coming from you.

"Oh my! I've bagged myself a senator!" You said, fanning yourself even though he couldn't see you. "But, I've seen most of the senators on TV and none of them sound as hot as you honeypie."

"I never said I was a senator, Bunny."

"So, just randomly in politics?" You let out another little gasp. "Are you the man behind the curtain? The puppeter? The pied piper that leads all the rats?" You giggled, earning another laugh from him.

"No. Not in politics at all. More politics adjacent. I keep the wheels moving you could say."

You cocked your eyebrow at that, when a thought came into your mind. "Are you a hitman, Honey?"

The other end of the line was silent for a moment before he spoke.

"What if I was Bunny?"

You covered your side of the reciever and let out a scoff in disbelief, then chuckled. So, tonight is going to be role play? That's a first for your Honey.

"Well first I'd ask if you help the good guys or the bad guys?" You teased.

He took a moment to ponder this before he spoke. "Both. I'm what you would call a neutral party."

"Ah... so you vote Green party!"

You heard a louder laugh came from the line and smiled. It was rare to get your Honey to laugh that hard and when he did it was like music to your ears.

"No, Bunny."

"Are you dangerous?" You asked, your voice going low.

He stayed silent for a moment again, before answering with another question. "Would that scare you if I was?"

"I mean as long as you aren't planning on taking a hit out on me. Then I wouldn't mind. Hypothetically speaking, if you really are a hitman for hire."

"Never, Bunny." He said in a serious tone. "I might be dangerous to others, but not to you; never." He said matterof fact.

"So..." You drawed out. "What's got you all riled up from this job I'm assuming that you're on?"

He let out a sigh. "Just didn't go as I planned. Client is upset, but I couldn't give a fuck."

"Should I ask?"

"I wouldn't Bunny. These things don't need to reach your pretty ears. The only thing that needs to reach your pretty ears, is my voice telling you how much I want to bury myself in that pretty little pussy of yours."

You bit your bottom lip. There's my Honey, as agressive and verbal as ever.

"Would that make your day better? Burying that thick, hard cock in this sweet little pussy?"

He let out a low groan, and you knew he was touching himself. You never did this with other clients, but you found yourself reaching into your little pajama shorts in kind. Your Honey the only one who could pull this out of you; who could make you this wet, this fast.

"That would definitely brighten up my day Bunny."

"Hmm." You let out a low hum as you played with your clit. "I'd be more than happy to help you out with that. Working as hard as you do. The least I could do is greet you when you come home from a long day with my legs spread open for you. My pussy eager and waiting for that fat cock."

"I'd need your mouth first Bunny. It was an especially hard day."

"Of course Honeybunches. I'd love to be on my knees for you, my mouth wet and warm as it takes your big cock. Giving you a proper welcome home from a job."

You could hear him breathing harder on the other end of the line.

"You'd put your hands in my hair and fuck my mouth so good, wouldn't you honey?"

"Yeah baby." He panted.

"My pussy would get all wet just from me sucking your cock off. Just the thought of it right now has got me all sticky honeybunches. Would you let me play with myself as I sucked you off? Or would you be selfish?"

"Depends on if you've been a good girl for me Bunny."

You let out a mock gasp. "I'm always a good girl! You know that honey." you teased.

He let out a chuckle. "Yes you are Bunny. But you're a tease too."

"You love it when I tease you. I'd tease you even with your cock down my throat. I'd run my tongue up and down your fat cock, making sure to circle the top of your pretty cock with my tongue before sucking you back down. All the while, my fingers are buried deep in my pussy, wishing you were there too. I want to be filled completely by my Honey." You moaned out, your fingers finding that spot inside that just made your back arch.

"Fuck Bunny." He said and you knew he was close. "I'd fuck you good and hard, just like you need it."

"Yeah?" You moaned out and the you found he was flipping the script on you.

"Yeah Bunny. I grab that gorgeous hair of yours and wrap it around my fist, pulling you close to me as I pounded into you. Having you on your hands and knees, keeping you so close to me, there wouldn't be an inch of you that wasn't touched by me. And while I pounded into that perfect pussy of yours, my fingers would be busy playing with that clit, knowing that I couldn't and wouldn't cum until you came under me atleast three times."

"Three times?" You teased.

"That's just the appetizer." He whispered and you could practically feel the smirk that you knew was plastered on his face. "If I got my hands on you bunny. I'd ruin you with my cock. There would be no one else, that pussy would be molded and shaped by me; for me."

"Oh fuck." You moaned out dropping your persona for just a moment.

"You like that Bunny?"

"Yeah." You agreed your voice husky.

"My Bunny is just as possessive as I am."

"Oh Honey, yes." You moaned out.

"Is my Bunny touching herself?"

"Yeah Honey."

"That's my good girl. Does that pussy crave my cock as much as I do you?"

"Yes. I'm so empty without you buried deep inside, my honey."

The other side of the line stayed silent for a moment, just the sounds of his filthy moans were heard as you continued pumping your fingers in and out of you, truly wishing it was him inside you.

"Do you hear how wet my pussy is for you Honey? As I fuck my pussy with my fingers wishing it was you filling me up?"

You'd never met or even see your Honey, but you knew he was gorgeous and would be an absolute beast in bed; just by the sound of his voice. You knew he spoke true, he would ruin you just to put you back together and do all over again.

"Fuck Bunny. I'm going to take you away from everything and it's just going to be me and you."

This was different for your Honey, but you were too wrapped up in trying to reach your orgasm to care; so you played along like you usually do with your clients.

"You're going to take me away from my life honey? Treat me like the princess I am."

"Yes Bunny."

"Mmm." You hummed over the line at the thought of finally meeting your honey, the mysterious and so called hitman taking you away from your dreary life working three jobs; to a secluded island where he fucks you silly. "I think I like that idea, honey."

"Good. Now cum for me Bunny. I want to hear those moans and I want you to think of me pounding my cock into that soft and willing pussy."

"Oh fuck!" You moaned out as you felt yourself climax around your fingers, biting down on your lip as your orgasm crashed over you. All the while you heard the soft tell-tell groan of your honey, cumming with you.

You let out a small chuckle as you pulled your hands from your pj bottoms and felt your body calm, in its post-orgasm bliss. "Well you know your special honey 'cuz I don't cum for any of my other clients."

"Just me." He confirmed.

"Just you, honey."

He let out a low hum on the other end of the line. "I'm glad. I don't think I could handle you fingering that sweet pussy for any man but me."

You chuckled. "Oh no honey. It's all for you. But I'm sorry honey, our hour is up and I have to get some shut eye. Which will be much easier now that you've helped me get off. It's very appreciated."

"Anytime bunny. Good night."

"Good night honey." You said before ending the call and smiling to yourself as you plugged your phone in the charger and shut off the light.

As you drifted to sleep you imagined what your honey would look like, and you let your mind wonder to the idea of him whisking you away to some remote place, just the two of you.

And as you drifted, Bucky stood outside your apartment complex, staring up at your bedroom window and gathering the nerve to do just that.

[glitchy-npc]

wip waturday

I forgor whose tagged me lately but i'll no pressure tag @nukbody @kidhellion @drymouther @crowshuh @camillathe6th and anyone else who would like to. I've been chipping away at the Sidestep era fight community prompt its just been slow going. I know where I want to go, just figuring out how to get there.

"Yeah, I really don't see us punching our way out of this one." You swing yourself off the back of Ortega's motorcycle as he kills the engine, taking in your surroundings. The air shimmers with heat radiating off the asphalt of the city streets but the cause isn't the unforgiving summer sun, but a 12 ft tall mass of what appears to be pure, molten lava — your villain of the week. Small fires trail in its wake as it blazes a trail of destruction down 9th street.

"Remind me why we're the frontline guys for this again?" You roll your shoulders, trying to push down your doubts. Your fears.

The Marshal cuts a heroic figure next to you, back strait, head high, looking every bit like a true hero, straight out of a comic book. Too bad none of the ones you've read had any bright ideas on how to deal with this particular situation.

"Steel's helping Anathema coordinate with the LDPD to set up some kind of containment device, repurposed from the Nanosurge I think. Between his armor and Anathema's invulnerability they can get closest. Sentinel's on scouting duty and civilian round up." He winces a little when the superheated mass overtakes a parked vehicle, melting it in seconds. "I hate keeping him out of a fight but I think a fire tornado is the last thing we need, don't you?." He flashes you a bright smile and a wink that makes you roll your eyes behind your mask.

"Ok, what about us then?" You wouldn't have caught it if you weren't looking directly at him but you swear his eyes soften and his smile widens. He likes the sound of the word 'us'.

"Seems our molten friend here isn't very chatty and if he can hear us well…maybe theres lava in his ears or something." A warm hand comes down on your shoulder. "That's where you come in, see if you can find out what he's up to." He taps his temple, indicating the use of your telepathy.

"I'd need to get closer." You feel nauseous, running through worse case scenarios on your head. If that thing so much as touches you, you're done for.

"That's why I'm the distraction." He gives your shoulder a firm squeeze and before you can do so much as protest his voice drowns yours out. "Hey hot stuff! How'd you like to see some real sparks?" And quick as lightning he's bounding off towards the creature.

Leaving you to come up with a plan.

[ye4gerism]

𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑪𝑲 𝑻𝑶 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑩𝑶𝑶𝑲𝑺 - 𝑱𝑬𝑨𝑵 𝑲𝑰𝑹𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑰𝑵 𝑿 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹 part three

word count 3.6k

content tags/warnings fake dating, jealousy, weird roommate and her weird boyfriend, black reader friendly

author’s note hi.

synopsis sophomore di lacrosse player jean kirstein gets dumped by gymnast mikasa ackerman. your roommate wants to break you of your shell. what happens when a party hosted by his teammates leads to him asking you to be his girlfriend? part two

"Anonymous" 3hrs

Jean fumbled

3k upvotes

You're sitting at a booth across from each other.

The longer your food takes, the more you're in your head about the decision you just made. The sentence 'I'll be your girlfriend' repeatedly played in your head. It was loud. It was quiet. It even had different accents and dialects.

"Are you good?"

Jean sits across from you, forearm resting on the table. With his other hand, he pushes his hair out of his face. You like how much he has. It isn't too long or short.

And those arms. You knew he was an athlete but what the hell was he eating to look the way he does?

'Calm down. He doesn't really-"

"Hey, you know what?” You weren't focusing. Again. “Let's talk terms and conditions."

"You made a contract?" you ask. Had he really thought that deeply about his proposal? Where did he even find the time between school, practices, and games? You were surprised but a little impressed.

"No? I didn't think it'd be that serious. Would you prefer one?"

You think for a moment. It really wasn't that serious. The Paradis Lacrosse League Draft occurred at the end of the school year in May. It's only February, meaning you have three months with this guy.

"I don't think a contract is necessary," you finally say, "I assume our ‘terms and conditions’ won't be too hefty?"

Jean nods. "Shouldn't be. Do you want to lay some ground rules?"

"Um..." You think back to all the corny fake dating Rom-Coms you've seen over the years.

"Obviously, we need to have a level of PDA, and several times we want to be seen in public," you start. You look at Jean's arm resting on the dining table. It's probably better to practice now. You take your hand and place it in his. Jean adjusts his hand to hold yours. Your stomach felt something - flutters, maybe. Or you were nervous and it’s just turning.

"Well...well...you know, we could do things like this. Holding hands and um...maybe hugs?" you suggest.

"We could probably do breakfast and lunch at the dining hall," Jean adds.

"That'd be nice." You normally had breakfast alone. Sometimes, a classmate would join you, but because nobody gets up for 10 a.m. (surprisingly), you are often left alone.

You imagine eating with Jean, whispering nonsense about your situation, and walking to class together as everyone gawks at you in the hallway. Then you remember the golden rule.

"Absolutely no kissing," you blurt out.

Jean cocks his head to the side. "Really?"

You blink. "Why? You wanna kiss me?"

"No. Well, yes! But in the context of our situation..." He hums. "I think it'd be appropriate to engage in some physical activity."

Your face twists in disgust. "Physical activity? Am I your fake girlfriend or your 'get over Mikasa ticket'?"

His face drops in realization of what you just said. "I didn't mean it like-"

"Sorry for the wait! Here's your food enjoy!" Your waiter had finally arrived with both of your plates. You say your ‘thank you’s before looking at each other to wrap up your PDA conversation. Hopefully, some food in your bellies would make the conversation a bit easier.

"I meant the kissing. Of course, I'd never hook up with you," Jean tries again. Your eyebrows furrow and you pull your hand away.

"And what makes you think I would want to hook up with you?" you hit back.

You and Jean look at each other with the same frustrated look. "We can just kiss at parties and games. No hooking up...and it's not because you're not pretty or anything."

You roll your eyes and begin eating your food. You ordered a skillet with eggs, green peppers, and potatoes.

Jean starts talking again. "You are pretty. You really are. I just don't think it'd be appropriate for us to have sex-"

"I don't want to have sex with you!" you say a little too loudly. Other guests and employees turn their heads to look in your direction. You cover your face in embarrassment; only some comical bullshit like this could happen to you. Jean on the other hand stifles a laugh.

"She's joking, she's joking," he says out loud, trying to wave wandering eyes off.

Your hands are glued to your face as you don't ever want to be seen again. You feel your side of the booth dip. Your fingers spread allowing you to see that Jean has moved over to your side. He puts his arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer.

"Hey," he says quietly.

"Hi," you whisper back.

"We can leave. I'll ask for the bill and some boxes," he offers. You mutter a "yes, please". If there was one thing Jean could do for you, you would want him to take you back to your dorm immediately and never talk to you again. How could he bait you into saying that?

Jean flags down your designated waiter. You pull yourself together. Hopefully nobody you know is here. He pays for the breakfast and you both pack up your food. Finally, you're out of the establishment.

You let Jean open the passenger seat door for you and you slip in. Jean gets in on his side and starts the car. The ride is silent - silent in such a way, it makes the incident sink in and difficult to brush off. You're thinking about how embarrassing that moment was. You paint the scene out in your head and the more it plays, the more twisted and sickening it feels.

"Um...let's talk about social media," you hear Jean say. “I know you don't post much...which is great. I'll do most of the heavy lifting. We can take some pictures at games and...maybe you could soft launch us on your DirectGram story?"

You nod but don't add on. He looks over at you and back at the road. "Hey...what's our public narrative?" he tries again.

"We met at a party," you start.

"And I thought you were cute, so I approached you," he adds.

"We clicked really well and the rest is history," you say.

"We're just trying things out but I like you so much, I might even call you my girlfriend," Jean finishes.

The silence is awkward between you. "I really ruined our date. I'm so sorry," you apologize, "I'm so so embarrassed. I don't even know why I said that so loud-"

"No, no, no, I shouldn't have egged you on. This is on me," Jean interrupts, "I know we aren't a real couple but...can I make it up to you all at D-Hall? Maybe over breakfast?"

"I'd appreciate a do-over," you respond.

He smiles at you and places a hand on your knee briefly.

There's one rule you forgot but you didn't want to make things more awkward than they already were. No feelings. You will not fall for Jean Kirstein. It doesn't matter how charming, funny, or understanding he is; you must not fall for Jean Kirstein.

It's Wednesday afternoon. You just got back from your final class. Hitch was well aware of the situation.

"No, no, no, you're gonna make him eat his words" was her response to the sex conversation. Her answer to this was to take you shopping for "hotter" clothes. There was a party tomorrow by a frat; you asked Jean if he wanted to go and he felt it'd be a good idea.

The minute you stepped through the door, Hitch was ready to drag you right out and take you to the mall. She gave you some grace and let you set your bags down before rushing you right out again.

"Hitch, it is seriously not a big deal-"

Your roommate brings a finger up to your lips. "Shh...Your life changes tomorrow night."

"What is wrong with you?" you exclaim. You're in front of an elevator and it opens with, unfortunately, students inside, so you can't ask any further questions for now. The elevator finally reaches the lobby. You give Hitch one quick look, hoping she continues to contain herself until you get outside.

You walk out and Hitch leads you to a somewhat familiar car and once you get closer, you see that Marlo is sitting in the driver's seat. "He's coming too?" you ask Hitch.

"Yeah, why not? He's very much a part of this, is he not?" she replies callously.

You didn't have a problem with him tagging along but you would have appreciated a heads up beforehand. Hitch gets into the passenger seat as you get into the back.

"Hi Marlo," you greet sweetly. "Hi Y/N," he responds. You observe how Hitch and Marlo naturally lean in to each other for a quick peck and the thought of Jean just comes flooding. From his critique on Hitch to the idea of tomorrow - you in his arms as he introduces you to all his friends and...and the fact he'd be kissing you tomorrow.

"I saw you eating breakfast with your little friend," Marlo says. You look into the rear-view mirror and make eye contact with him. "Was he also prepping you for tomorrow?"

Maybe you're crazy or maybe this fake dating thing was all in your head but you felt that his tone was a little off. Was it jealousy? Marlo was the only person who didn't seem receptive to the whole plan.

"No...we were just eating breakfast. Like you're supposed to," you reply cautiously. Jean had made breakfast up for you, as promised. He talked to you about practice, asked you about your day, and even his teammates came by and said hi.

Marlo looks at you, still through the rear view mirror, for a moment. He opens his mouth but closes it. You look out the window and Hitch and Marlo start their own conversation.

Hitch had you try on a plethora of miniskirts, shorts, and crop tops. At first, it felt a little weird; it was almost as if Hitch wanted you to be Hitch rather than Y/N. You understood that this situation was scripted but you at least wanted to show some truth.

You gave in and picked some of the suggestions she provided. At least you could look forward to donating everything at the end of the year.

"Okay, we got a good amount of party clothes but...we need to make you look like a WAG," Hitch says.

"A WAG?" you ask.

"Wives and Girlfriends of athletes," Marlo clarifies, "You're the girlfriend of an athlete."

"There isn't a better acronym or term for that. Why WAG?" The term made you think of a dog wagging its tail. Was that like the joke?

Hitch drags you into Dylan's, a shop you thought only your mom or grandma would go into but when you think about the context, having a nice little over the over-the-top fancy dress would be helpful. Award ceremonies, end of year banquets...The Draft.

"You should get a dressing room. I'll surprise you with more clothes. Marlo, watch her." Hitch struts in the opposite direction.

You and Marlo head towards the dressing rooms. "So, um, you know your situation..." he starts.

"What about it?" you ask, a little annoyed. What was so confusing about you dating-not-dating a well-known athlete at your school who just got out of a dedicated relationship?

"Doesn't it feel like blackmail? I mean, come on. 'Date me, so you can get a job!'" Marlo points out. His tone is protective, however not in a way that a friend or even Hitch would want to protect you. It feels out of place with the extent of your relationship but at the same time…weirdly possessive.

What is he even talking about? Well, yeah, it did sound like blackmail to an extent. You walk up to the fitting room attendant, hoping that Marlo would lay off. He's just like his girlfriend.

"We were hoping to hold a dressing room. My friend is bringing some clothes down," you tell the attendant.

"That should be fine. Your boyfriend just can't come inside the actual dressing room," the attendant tells you, "Follow me."

You don't bother correcting her but give her a small smile before following her.

Once the attendant gets you a room and leaves, you step inside, creating a barrier between you and Marlo.

"It's just that you're really smart, you know?" he starts up again, "You don't need to date a guy to get a job you know you can get on your own."

"Maybe you should focus on your girlfriend and her liquor intake," you hit back, "Since you're so good at identifying promises."

"What was that?"

You don't respond. What the fuck is his problem? When you first met Marlo freshman year, you only knew him as the boyfriend - Hitch's boyfriend. You didn't speak beyond 'hi' or 'hello'. But now that Jean Kirstein acknowledged your existence, suddenly Marlo had so much to say about you.

You feel so much relief when you hear Hitch singing your name.

She comes back with a few dresses for you - some sundresses or athletic dresses for hotter game days, some you take and leave behind.

The last dress you tried on is a grey slip-on bodycon dress that goes down to your knees. It hugs you in such a way that you have to come out of the dressing room.

"Hitch?" You step out and do a slow spin to give her a look. "Where the hell would I wear this to?"

"To his apartment, maybe after a game or when he's stressed out," she starts. Hitch gets up and starts to circle you slowly, taking in your image. "I mean the whole point of this dress is to slip on and slip off...if you catch my drift," she teases.

You let out an "Ew!" as that's the last thing on your mind.

"I mean Marlo, back me up here. Is that not the whole point?" Hitch asks. Marlo is sitting in a seat, arms crossed. His eyes aren't on Hitch. They're locked on you.

"I just don't think he deserves all of that," he responds, almost in a trance. You look over at Hitch, who's looking at her boyfriend with pursed lips. Marlo slowly looks up at her and snaps back to reality. "I mean, she's not really with the guy! It's just for show. Y/N doesn't need all the extra shit."

Hitch stares at him a little longer before turning to you. "He's right. You don't need that. Doesn't look too good on you anyway."

Yikes. 'I'm being punished because your boyfriend has wandering eyes?' you think to yourself.

"I'll pay for it." You've felt off about Hitch for a while - from the first party you attend with her, the sudden interest in this fake relationship, and now these weird moments with Marlo. But you weren't sure and you didn't want to go to your roommate. The one thing that was clear in your mind though: you were going to start setting boundaries now.

"You're not seriously going to do that, are you? Like Marlo said, it's not like you're screwing the guy," Hitch hits back.

"Right, I'm not. But who knows...I can wear this to class or save it for that someone special. Someone that isn't Jean," you suggest. Hitch looks you up and down once more. She's trying her best to hide her disgust.

"Whatever," is all she can say.

Marlo and Hitch drop you off at Survey Hall and then drive off...maybe to make up for your shopping trip gone wrong. In the wise words of your roommate - whatever.

However, you couldn't help but feel a little upset. Did those two agree to make the day miserable for you? Why was she the only person you defined as a friend anyway?

When you get back to your dorm, you put all the shopping bags in your closet as you won't need them until tomorrow. You climb into your bed and let out a deep sigh. You pull out your phone and swipe through your contacts, looking for someone with whom you could share your frustration. Of course, everyone was a classmate or a family member who wouldn't understand your situation.

"Would I be weird if I texted Jean?" you ask yourself.

Hmm...

Fuck it.

Jean Kirstein

⤷ y/n hey! i hope your day has been good so far! thank you for breakfast this morning

y/n i know you're probably getting ready for practice but i'm so frustrated

y/n my roommates get on my fucking nerves but i can tell you over breakfast or lunch tmrw

jean kirstein hey. sorry to hear that. how long are you staying up? come to late night dinner @ d-hall. let's talk there

You turn off your phone and turn to lie on your side. Late night it is.

You wander around the dining hall, hoping to bump into Jean. It’s packed and, unlike breakfast, there weren’t any seats available. There are so many athletes walking around and eating and you start to understand why this specific time was called 'Late Night Dinner'. It felt a little strange to be here after dining hours with a bunch of people who probably wouldn’t look your way.

You walk to the back and you finally spot him. He has a black hoodie on and his hair is a little messy. Someone is sitting next to him, that little grey-headed head buzz cut kid from the party you went to. You walk up to their booth but when you get closer you find two more girls sitting with them on the opposite side.

You let out an "Oh!" and they stop the conversation they were having to look at you. 'I probably look so stupid right now,' you think.

"Hey Connie, get up and find a chair," Jean tells his friend. Connie gives him a confused look. "Why? I don't even-"

Jean raises his eyebrows at him and Connie eventually gets up to find a chair. Once his spot is vacant, Jean taps on the seat. "Hey Y/N, you can sit here."

You slip in. As you sit, you observe how he raises his arm and you realize that very arm is going around you. Time to play the part.

You scooch into him and he kisses your forehead.

One of the girls on the other side of the booth makes a confused face. She has brown short hair, tanned skin, and freckles sprinkled all over his face. "Okay, Jean, who is this? Didn't you just get out of a relationship just last week?" she asks.

"But to be fair, she has been spending a lot of time with Eren." Next to her is a blonde girl with her hair tied in a low ponytail.

"Y/N, this is Ymir," Jean points at the brunette and then at the blonde, "and this is Historia. Ymir is a softball player and Historia cheers all year round."

"And what about you Y/N? What's your story? How do you know Jean?" Ymir asks. Jean lets go of you, allowing you to breathe.

"Well, I'm all about school. I'm a PR major...um I'm not very athletic. I used to dance though, back in high school," you say. Dance was something you had enjoyed doing growing up but you didn’t take it as seriously until your sophomore year of high school. You took a class and fell so in love with it. You considered joining the team but later figured that you wouldn’t make it.

Connie comes back with a chair. He flips it over and sits on it, his chest laying on the back of the chair. He realizes his food is in front of you and leans over to drag his tray over to his side. He stops and looks up at you like you’re an actor he recognizes in a film. "You're that girl from that party. Hitch's roommate.” He snaps his fingers, as he clearly is trying to piece together important details about you. The one who threw your drink at Floch!

You feel your cheeks heat up. "That was you?!" Ymir exclaims!

You let out a meek, "Yeah.” "No, don't be embarrassed. We hate that guy," Ymir clarifies.

Everyone around the table mutters about how much they hate Floch before it all dies down.

"We still don't know how you two met," Historia says. “Wait let me guess! You threw your drink at Floch and Jean witnessed it and came to your rescue."

Jean shakes his head. "She came to her own rescue. I just thought she was cute and decided to approach her." He looks into your eyes and you literally want to explode. Explode in the sense that all of this makes you feel strangely happy.

"This is all news to me, man." Connie's tone is skeptical. From what you remember, he lives with Jean and they probably know each other well. Could he see the cracks in all of this?

"Maybe because I wanted to keep this private, man," Jean hits back. Connie rolls his eyes. "Sure."

"So, you're rooming with Hitch. What's that like?" Historia asks innocently. You look at Jean and then at Connie. You try to find the best words as you don't want to offend them but to be perfectly honest, you were really not starting to like Hitch.

"It's okay, we’re not big fans of her either…no offense, Connie,” Historia then says. Connie rolls his eyes and lets out a little “yeah, yeah.”

You smile to yourself, happy that you agreed to come to dinner and get connected to your fake boyfriend’s friends. It’s only a hope they don’t fade away when it’s all over.

"Anonymous" 29m

Bruh, who is this girl eating with jean @ l8 nite????

150 upvotes

[vicedmuses]

at first, it doesn't even cross charlie's mind how this is something that can spiral and become much more serious. he's always used to joking around. whether it's with billy, jacob, or someone else. perhaps it's because he doesn't think any of bella's friends are going to see him in a sexual way. so when the speed picks up, he's genuinely surprised.

"someone's gonna think that you mean something else when you say something like that, kid, so i'd watch your mouth if i was you." not that the older man seems to mind the compliment.

thinking about how not all of the guys deserve that is funny. not because he thinks it's true. mainly because he doesn't think about that stuff at all. charlie rarely thinks of what other men deserve because he's not one to pry into someone else's life. hearing that he should never go without it, that brings a smile to his face. “we can just chalk that up to me not having the time then. don't want you thinking i'm fully dried up or that no one's wanting to. i'm an eternal bachelor after all. a fine ladies' man.”

his thoughts are so scattered now that he barely feels like a coherent one is going through his mind. one second he's thinking about the food and how good it tastes. jake's a good cook, he has to hand him that. then he thinks about the younger man now on his knees, ready to take him like no one has in a long while. this is wrong one so many levels, but it feels so good.

the sheriff laughs a bit at his own words being used against him. jacob's good. he has to give him that much. “i didn't think that would mean you using your mouth to respect me out of all of the old men that you know.” old people in general. he's billy's best friend, or at least the man is his. if no one is going to find out, then what's the harm? just two guys getting each other off. it doesn't have to mean anything.

so he takes another bite of the food. uses it to buy himself some times while he thinks of a response. wonders if he should stop this or not. “good. i can tell that you're good at keeping secrets. at least if it's about something that you want.” even his own voice is a literally lower than before, heavier. charlie finally realizes that this is something that jacob wants. so he gets comfortable and his shoulders drop, finally resting fully on the chair.

there's a mix of emotions and thoughts coming from his side. charlie groans the first time that he feels jacob's tongue reach his shaft. slowly but surely, he hardens fully as the man starts to take more of him into his mouth. it causes him to roll his eyes a bit. only the food is what works enough to muffle his sounds, but that also causes him to moan a bit. bella's friend is not only a good cook, but he's also a good cocksucker. who would have thought? absentmindedly, one of his hands move over to the other's head, resting on the top. then he eats with his right, digging into his food.

his cock throbs in the man's mouth and he possibly can't get anymore aroused. he's sure of it. even the gagging and the tears seem to turn him on. he's really putting in the work.

so the sheriff grins a bit. he moves his hand down from the back of his head over to his face. he wipes away the tears that he can and leans closer to him. “fuck, boy, you're doing a good job. haven't had a blowjob like this in… well, ever.” then he sits back up to enjoy the rest of his meal. something else that's clearly giving him pleasure.

"who would've thought you were this nasty?" again, the sloppy blowjob isn't bad. it's one of the best he's ever gotten. still, he has to note that it's not the neatest one that he's ever gotten either. so he finishes the food, finally, so he can focus on the man. he wants to give him all the praise he deserves.

when he's done with the meal, charlie pushes the plate to the center of the table. then he grabs his beer to start to finish it off. then a part of him has an idea. “you want me to feed you again? this time something a little more direct? straight from the tap.”

if jake is down for it, he'll take some of the beer and swirl it around in his mouth. then he'll spit it into his mouth, feeding him more of the beer. although a part of him is distracted by how good his shaft feels. his toes curl in his shoes as he leans back, spreading his legs out even farther. he wants to give the younger man enough space to move around as much as he wants.

his hand moves back up to jacob's head. then he starts to push him down, putting some more force into it and shoving him down on his cock. which causes charlie to moan a bit more, not thinking that he can possibly be even more turned on.

jacob knows rationally the sheriff's just teasing, but something about the way he says it. like jake should do better for him. he can't even think of a quick reply, just bites into his lip. wanting to please the sheriff is not new, maybe something he learned from his father, but the intensity of it now is... a bit much. like the unruly cock in his pants.

"not usually," he answers honestly, despite keeping quite a few of them he isn't fond of it. "you're worth a few though, sir." like the beer, like the feeling growing inside him.

his heart races. and it's normal, guys talk. the pack does, a lot really. and it's fun, sharing, teasing, discussing what feels good. talking about it with the sheriff though? jacob is tempted to pull himself out and stroke to his voice admitting that stuff. he chuckles. "yeah but not all men deserve that special attention, i think. and you going without..." he shakes his head, looks down at the sheriff's crotch and grins slowly. just a guy commiserating, right? except no, he wants to fix it. someone has to be good for him.

then the food is on the table, full plate in front of him and the sheriff is praising his cooking skills. "picked up here and there." muttered, halfway to the floor where he settled between his legs. all nerves and need and hard cock leaking into his pants just from the way he fits between his legs and how the sheriff's smell hits his nose, musky, arousal kicking in in-between the confusion.

he nods at his question, mouth dry, eyes hungry and pleading. he has been dancing around it since the man started talking with him, and now he's so close he's more drunk on it than the beer. "you told me to respect my elders." the touch sends shivers through him, forcing him to look into his eyes, naked hunger there for the sheriff to see. he is almost ashamed, but it feels too good to be on his knees for him for jacob to mind.

secrets... he almost grins, his good boy, jake's mind is stuck on that. a gasp, tongue wetting his lips and another nod. "yes sir. it'll be our secret." he's breathless as he says it, hands caressing the sheriff's thighs, "no one's gonna know." voice raspy and pleading, low and dirty. manly, in the same way drinking charlie's beer and discussing his wife felt. truthfully, the others might be able to smell charlie on him, but he can explain that easily enough. (besides, he wants to smell like him, a little.)

charlie's hips pull closer, and jacob's breath catches on his throat. he chokes on the smell of him, on the heavy pull of desire invading his veins. his eyes track calloused hands opening the jeans, pulling down old boxers, the smell thicker as the sheriff fishes out his cock like a treat for a starving man. jacob grunts, nice and obedient as every moment is registered into his memory, erotic like nothing he's ever seen. even half hard the sheriff is beautiful, nice and thick and manly. he hungers but does not move, the sheriff teases him with it. painting his lips with his taste, growing into his own authority. a man who deserves this, but has been neglected for too long.

jacob is already addicted to it. lips closing around the tip once given permission, sucking gently, tongue running across the glans while his eyes stay glued to the sheriff's.

he's sucked cock before, but never... it feels like quick, silly play at it now that he has a real man's cock in his mouth and not the ones from boys he grew up with. traded in quick nervous moments when just their hand won't do. this feels real, deep. charlie's bigger, better, older. his smell thick and powerful, manly in a way they can't emulate.

jacob's eyes struggle to remain open as he pulls more of him into his mouth, feels the weight of it on his tongue and the taste making his mouth water. he worries it might become too sloppy for the sheriff's tastes, but the feeling of his cock hardening inside his mouth fucks any thought straight out of his head.

this is his father's best friend, the man he's admired his whole life, bella's father. and that last part just makes him want to worship him more. charlie's quiet power, his manliness. the fatherly way he acts. and the man underneath... jacob needs.

he takes him all the way down his throat, and promptly chokes on it. coughing and gagging and pulling back to kiss the tip in apology as he wipes at tears with the back of his hand. then, he swallows him down once more, content to keep it going while the man finishes his meal, servicing him like a good wife should. the type of thing he didn't get.

he tries to do better, take less, give himself time. gently fish out his balls from his pants too so he can play with those as his tongue runs down from tip to root and back again and drowns in the taste and smell of charlie.