#But it has come to my attention that I am being kicked to the curb

[roosterscockpit]

Not me being shadow banned 🙄 BRB whilst I complain to support as usual.

@sarahsmi13s Thanks for letting me know, babe. 😫

[sacredthefran]

Cream & Sugar

Pairing: Jake Kiszka + Female Reader  Warnings: Sugar Daddy, Some Drinking, Oral Sex (M receiving). 18+. Minors DNI Word Count : 10.2k  Authors Notes: The recent pics of Jake have been giving me sugar daddy vibes. This is my first smut. I’m scared. I’m thinking about making this a series but I’m not 100% sure yet  Enjoy :) 

Part 2 (x)

Tick tock.Tick Tock. You glanced at the clock on the far wall from your cubicle. Just two more hours, you kept repeating to yourself. See, your job wasn’t horrible, it’s just been a hell of a day. Monday’s, gotta love them, right? You woke up late, your car wouldn’t start, spilled coffee all over your favorite blouse and heels. But the thing that really topped your morning off? Receiving a letter stating that you had a week and some spare days to pay your rent up to date or you were going to be homeless. To be fair, your landlord has been an angel for the past couple of months. Your payments have been consecutively late or you just haven’t paid for a couple of months. You guessed they decided that enough was enough. As close to homelessness as you were, none of your friends or family would let that happen, they would take you under their wing in a heartbeat. But the last thing you needed right now was your father giving you the lecture of a lifetime. 

“Now y/n, you know damn well that if you were falling behind on bills that you could’ve told us. We have no problem helping you out.” 

Your mother and father still viewed you as their little girl– constantly ignoring the fact that you were a grown twenty-five year old college graduate and one of the only women actually holding a position other than  “secretary” at your law firm. Granted you were just an intern, still-it felt like a huge accomplishment. American Justice wasn’t the biggest firm in Chicago. None of the lawyers here have yet to receive a big case or have any big name clients. Slowly but surely, American Justice was starting to gain more attention. But, that didn’t really matter to you. You were willing to do anything it takes to make a name for yourself.  

“Hey, fuck face. Come take a smoke with me.” 

Oh Beth, she always had a way of making a grand entrance. With a swift roll of your eyes, you grabbed your pack of Marlboro Menthol Ice and headed towards her.

“You okay? You’re looking a little stressed. All that stress is going to make you need botox.” 

You turned to her with a quizzical look.

 She backtracked, “Not that you need it right now, but you keep furrowing your eyebrows. Those wrinkles are going to catch up to you sooner than you realize.” 

Grabbing Beth's arm you started a brisk walk towards the doors, “Yeah, yeah. You got a lighter or am I going to have to ask one of the pricks upstairs?” 

“You know I always have a lighter.” 

You inhaled the nicotine and exhaled the stress. Silently hoping that all the comments about your stress were over. It turns out Beth wasn’t finished with that conversation quite yet. After taking a long drag - she speaks her mind once again. 

“C’mon y/n out with it, I can tell that something is going on with you. Lie all you want but I know when something is eating you up. What is it? Guy issues? I thought you kicked the last guy to the curb. Or were you lying to me about that? You better not have been. Wait, I know exactly what it is!” She exclaimed. “It’s money issues isn’t it?” 

Dammit, she was always so good at reading you. While being at the ripe age of thirty-six, Beth has experienced some things. She has a habit of telling people bits and pieces, but never the full story. 

“Okay, okay. If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone. I mean anyone.” You looked at Beth with hope that she would promise you to keep her lips sealed. 

“Damn kid, did you kill someone or something?” Beth chuckled, but it dropped the minute she saw how serious you were. “Cross my heart and hope to die, I won’t say anything”. 

You took a deep breath and mumbled. 

“Huh? You know I’m old, I can't hear you.” Beth spoke. 

“I’m so far behind on all my bills! I'm going to be homeless in a week if I don’t pay my rent. I can’t be homeless, I can’t move back in with my family. I can’t do it Beth, I just can’t do it.” You finally lifted your eyes to meet Beth’s. 

“Hey, it’s going to be okay, you can always just move in with me and my family.” 

As much as you loved Beth, it wasn’t ideal. She had a nice little townhouse filled with her husband and three kids. You loved kids– actually, you absolutely adored them. You couldn’t wait to have your own, but you just didn’t want to deal with them in your twenties. 

“Beth you know I love you, but I can’t do that.” 

Beth started chuckling “Oh, I know. I wouldn’t want you to deal with those little crotch gremlins. They make me want to rip my hair out and I’m their mother. I can only imagine what they’ll do to you.” She always had a way of making you laugh when you wanted to cry. It just wasn’t working this time.

 “Beth……I’m serious. What the hell am I going to do? I’m scared.” You felt teardrops starting to leak out of your eyes. 

“It’s easy. Just become an escort,” Beth shrugged her shoulders as if she was just mentioning what she wanted for lunch.

 “I’m sorry, what the fuck did you just say to me?” You huffed.

 “Easy tiger, maybe not an escort but a sugar baby.” 

Beth must be out of her mind.

“Look, I know it's not an ideal situation for you. Trust me, there are good men out there who just don’t have time to date, they just want someone to talk to. Maybe occasionally fuck, and they just so happen to pay you for your time.”  

You looked at her with so many questions in mind. “How do you know so much about being a sugar baby?”

Beth started chuckling once again.  “Wipe that stank look off your face. I used to be one. I did it for two years before I started law school. I was able to make enough money to put myself through school and I didn’t have to work. I know it sounds crazy, honestly, you should just try it. I’ve been out of the game for a long time, but I’ve kept in contact with one of the girls, Deandra. She’s still in the business and I bet that she would help you out.”

Beth kept on rambling. 

“Matter of fact, she asked me if I would be interested in this one guy, but obviously I turned it down because I have Dean now. I can send you this guy’s number. That’s all she supplied me with. Deandra does a background check on any guy that comes across her radar - weeds out the bad ones and handpicks all the ones that seem promising. He’s too young for her to deal with. You know what? Y/n you don’t have a choice in the matter, I’m sending his info over tonight.”  

She put her hand up quickly before you could retort. “Do not try to fight me on this. You won't win.” 

With a roll of your eyes you and Beth hooked arms and headed back inside, you to your desk and her to her office.  She’s crazy, you thought. Glancing at the clock, you sighed happily knowing you only had one hour and forty-five minutes left. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A couple of hours later and just a little tipsy off of some Cabernet, you were finally taking a relaxing bubble bath. Probably the last bubble bath in this apartment, that thought kept replaying in your head. A flash of light caught your attention, looking over onto the floor you noticed it was text from Beth. Realizing that she actually did it, she actually sent you the contact information for  this man. At least she gave you a name this time ; Jake. Jake, okay that’s not an old man’s name. Maybe you could do this, maybe you could go on a couple of dates with him, listen to him bitch about how hard his life is and make a couple of thousand. Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen? After downing the rest of the blood red liquid, you managed to draft up a text. Even after the three glasses of liquid-courage, you still felt yourself having trouble finding the right words to say. Here goes nothing.  

Y/n- Hello, I’m not really sure how to go about this…. but I’m y/n. I got your number from Deandra. She mentioned to me that you were looking for a special type of arrangement. 

After sending that text, you decided you weren’t going to sit around and wait for a response. He probably won’t respond anyway, he’s probably going to wonder about why Deandra pawn off his info to someone else. You decided to put your phone on airplane mode until you were finished with your nighttime routine. However, it was almost as if Jake knew that you were planning on not waiting around for his text..

Jake- Y/n, what a pleasure it is to finally hear from you. I was wondering when you were going to message me. Deandra informed me Beth had a gorgeous woman that would reach out to me 

Fuck. How in the hell were you supposed to respond to that? Maybe you need another glass of wine. 

Y/n- Charming. I wanted to text you and see what kind of a deal we could make. Or how this whole process goes. Sorry. I’m just new to this whole type of arrangement. 

Great, now he’s going to know that you’re inexperienced. Way to go y/n. The time seemed to tick by at the speed of molasses. Finally, your phone dinged with the familiar text notification.

Jake- No need to apologize. Deandra already mentioned to me that you wouldn’t know how to go about this whole situation. You’re a smart girl, we’ll figure it out. Besides, everyone has to start out somewhere. I think that we should ease into this relationship. Since you’re new to it. I don’t want to scare you off before I get to experience the lovely y/n in action. Matter of fact, how about we meet Friday night for dinner? 

Breathe in, breathe out y/n. It’s just a simple dinner. You can do this, just pretend you’re meeting up with an old friend. It’ll be easy. 

You- That sounds perfect. What restaurant do you have in mind? What time would you like for me to meet you there? 

Jake- Don’t worry about the restaurant. I’ll make a reservation. I will have a driver come pick you up. His name is Taylor. He will be there precisely at 5. Sharp. Make sure you are ready to go. Please make sure that you are wearing a green dress. I think that it compliments your skin tone well. I look forward to seeing you. 

You- 1)How do you know what the hell I look like? 2) How do you know where I live? 3) I don’t wear green, I prefer purple. 

Jake- Like I stated before, make sure the dress is green. I don’t do well with people disobeying me. Don’t worry about how I know those details, I know a lot of people in this city. It’s late, you need to go to bed. Have a goodnight Ms.y/l/n.

What the hell am I doing? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next couple of days seemed to fly by. Jake texted you off and on that week. It seemed as if he was excited to see you, but you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself. Tuesday morning you were met with Beth’s beaming face proclaiming that she wanted to know all of the details. Who are you to refuse Beth? It felt nice just to get it out of your system and express all your worries. Of course, the biggest worry was that this man already knew your last name and where you live. 

 “Oh, that’s easy. I had Deandra tell him your full name and I guess he did his own research to figure out your address”. 

Beth then proceeded to tell you that this was normal in the industry, especially as someone of his status. Having little to no details about Jake, you decided to trust Beth’s judgment. She kept promising that he was a good man all throughout the week. Almost like a broken record. Every time you would ask for more information about Jake she would shut you down. Apparently he was the type of guy who wanted to keep all his details private until a deal was made. Cause that’s not sketchy at all.

Wednesday came and went. Thursday morning you walked into work to see a bouquet of flowers on your desk. Attached to them was a little note “I hope that this finds you well, in the envelope there’s a couple of hundreds. Like I stated before, I'm expecting you in green. Wouldn’t want for you to receive a punishment during our first meeting.  I look forward to seeing you tomorrow - Jake” . 

There was no way this was actually happening. Peaking into the envelope, reality started to hit you. You were actually going to meet this mystery man and let him pay your way through life for the next couple of months. Your inner feminist was screaming at you, it told you to run–preferably away from this whole situation. Your conscience was begging you to just forget about this and go back to your parents. Deciding against your better judgment, you ended up taking Beth out shopping to find a little green number that would drive this man crazy.

“That’s it!” Beth proclaimed. You did a final look in the mirror acknowledging Beth's statement. 

After going to countless stores; trying on every green dress possible. You finally opted for something short and lacey. Usually you want to cover every part of your body, but if you were going to commit to this sugar baby bit, why not buy something that is guaranteed to keep all of his attention on you? The dress came just below your fingertips, thank God for dresses that cinch around the waist, it accentuated your hourglass figure. Every curve on your body was looking right and let’s not forget how the cups in the dress were pure lace. Looks like there was no way for you to wear a bra, fuck it.  

Friday morning came faster than you could imagine. Maybe it was the nerves or maybe it was the fact that you wanted to make sure you looked perfect for Jake tonight, after all, your life was betting on how dinner would go. It’s been a while since you had to dress for male validation. You were putting on your shoes when a knock on the door startled you. 

Looking out of the peephole, you noticed a man standing on the other side of the door seemingly to look directly in your eyes through the small glass circle. “Uh hello?” You opened the door with a shaky breath. 

“I work for Mr. Kiszka. I’m Taylor. I’m going to be your driver for the night. I was given specific orders to be at the restaurant by five-thirty ma’am. Let's get a move on. Mr. Kiszka doesn’t take too kindly to people wasting his time. I’m sure he’s mentioned that to you before”. 

No. Fucking. Way. It can’t be. There’s no way that Jake is Jacob Kiszka. He was one of the most notorious lawyers on the scene right now.  Jake was a practicing lawyer at New Horizons Family Law. It was the biggest firm in Chicago. Jacob Kiszka was a force to be reckoned with, he rarely lost a case. Word on the street was that his clients were actually a part of organized crime, instead of “family law”. Standing in your doorway, you prayed that you wouldn’t stick your foot in your mouth and ask him about his clients tonight. You figured that it would scare Jake away more than anything. You were pulled away from your overthinking to Taylor clearing his throat and pointing at his watch. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Much to Taylor’s dismay, you actually arrived at five thirty-five. Exiting the car you came to the realization that you have no clue if you should wait out front for Jake or if you should already be seated when he gets here. Turning to Taylor you asked him what option would be best, with a huff and puff he told you to go to the host and tell them you’re with Mr. Kiszka. No questions would be asked.

Following his directions, you were shocked at how fast the host was scurrying to get you to a table.

He led you past all the tables in the restaurant, noticing the look of fear in your eyes, he mumbled “Mr. Kiszka is one of our high profile guests. He likes to have all of his meetings in a private room.” 

It was all starting to click with you. Jacob Kiszka is the man that you have been texting all week leading up to this moment. Once you finally were seated, the host froze as the door on the left was whipped open. Something was telling you that he wasn’t supposed to be here when Jake arrived.. 

Oh. My. God. All your suspicions from earlier were true. Standing in the doorway was Jake Kiszka. Before you could get a good look at him the host ran out of the room mumbling a quick “I’m sorry”.  

Slowly making his way over to you, you were observing as many details as you could. The first thing you noticed was his hair was pulled back, giving you a perfect view of his angelic face, he was wearing black dress pants with a white shirt unbuttoned all the way down to the beginning of his torso. He wore a golden pendant that rested gently in the middle of his chest, you just wanted to reach out and touch him. He didn’t seem real.  Once your eyes finally met his, Jake gave you a smirk. Hopefully he didn’t see you looking at him like an art collector finding an undiscovered Davinci. 

“Well, I hope you’re done checking me out. I’m ready to have a seat now,” Jake said smugly. 

“Oh, of course. Have a seat. I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” Not only did Jake call you out for ogling him, his smile grew tenfold when he realized how rosy your cheeks were getting under his gaze. 

“I know who you are and you know who I am. I think we can skip past all this small talk and actually start to get to know each other. I also wanted to apologize for being late. I had a meeting with my client run over. But, I guess that doesn’t really matter since you were late too.” Jake replied with a smug grin.

 “I, uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be late. I couldn’t find my shoes,” you stuttered nervously. 

“So you want to start our relationship off on a bad note?”

 You gave him a quizzical look.

 “Taylor told me that you were ready to go but you just couldn’t stop daydreaming about me. So much so that it made you late. I don’t do well with people who are late. I expect proper punctuality from now on. It’s okay, I'll let it slip this time. By the way I noticed that you followed my request and wore green. Good Girl.” 

You’d hate to admit it, but those two little words had you squeezing your thighs together. No one could blame you for that. This man practically dripped sex. It’s like he knew what he was doing to you. 

“Tell me princess, or do you prefer y/n?”

 Swallowing the lump in your throat, you finally met his gaze. “Princess works for me.”

 Jake grinned at your acknowledgement of your pet name already. “Do I live up to your expectations? Or should I pack it up and send you on your merry way?” He already knew the answer to that question, he just wanted the confirmation from you that you were attracted to him and willing to do anything that he wanted. 

“No, you definitely meet my expectations.” Fuck, that wasn’t supposed to come out. Good Job y/n. Now he’s going to think you’re desperate. Jake kept beaming at you, he really was as cheeky as all the rumors stated him to be. As he was about to answer, a waitress came through the door. Saved by the bell. 

“Sorry to interrupt, I was wondering if you guys were ready to order?” She offered both of you a smile.

 Without breaking your eye contact Jake responded, “We’ll have a bottle of Cuvee Indigene and the chefs special. Thank you.” 

You looked at him with an open mouth. 

“What?” He looked at you confused.

 “Cuvee Indigene? That’s an expensive bottle, I don’t want you to feel like you have to impress me.” You stated matter of factly. 

 Jake interrupted you by sucking his teeth. “I’m not trying to impress you, I know you like Chardonnay, so why not get you top of the line? I’m about to wire some money into your bank account so I wouldn’t be worrying about how expensive the bottle is if I were you. Also, close your mouth unless that’s an invitation for me to put something in it." 

If it wasn’t possible before, your jaw was practically on the floor. Who the fuck does he think he is? Your inner feminist wanted to smack the hell out of him. But as much as you didn’t want to admit it, he was making you feel things that you weren’t supposed to. Judging by how dark your eyes got, Jake could sense it too.

Little to your knowledge, Jake was trying to see how turned on he could get you and how far he could push his limits. 

Once again, the door to your left opened and you could hear the noise from the outside. Something to distract you away from this awkward conversation. You noticed in her hand that she had the bottle of wine and two glasses in her hand. Thank you, Jesus. As she went to pour some wine in your glass Jake waved her off and insisted on doing it himself. 

“Now, now. What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t take care of my girl?” 

My girl. You barely know this man and he's already staking his claim. Taking the wine glass in your hand, you reached it out towards him to fill up. Even though there was clearly a power imbalance in between you two, you still wanted to make it known to him that you weren’t some run-of-the-mill sugar baby. You actually would let him boss you around and ruin you, but you didn’t want him to know that yet. You had to keep some semblance of composure. 

“Relax Princess, no need to start getting hostile. I just want to show you what it’s like to have someone take care of you.” 

Aaaand there the cheekiness is again. He kept filling your glass until it was a half inch from the top. 

“Drink up, we have a long night ahead of us.” 

Yes, Sir. 

Once again the room was filled with silence, it was like neither of you knew what to say to each other. It didn’t feel like it was the proper atmosphere for you to ask him what his favorite movie or color was. Think y/n. Think. You were sweating bullets thinking about what he was implying with “long night”. 

If you knew anything about Jake, you would be able to tell that he felt like he stuck his foot in his mouth. He didn’t want to come off too cocky, Jake was attracted to you and wanted to make you aware of it, but he wasn’t sure how to do so. Just as Jake parted his lips to speak, he was interrupted by the waitress coming back into the room. 

“Sorry, to interrupt you guys again, but the food is ready.” She glanced at the couple with a nervous smile. You felt bad for the poor girl. You could pick up that Jake’s demeanor made her nervous. As she set down the dishes, he kept a stone cold stare at the back of her head. You waited until she left and then cleared your throat. 

 “Mr. Kiszka, what are these dishes exactly?” 

“Please, call me Jake. Have you ever had French before?”

 You quickly shook your head no. 

“Why didn’t you tell me when I suggested French? And this dish is called Bouillabaisse. The chef is a personal friend of mine, I made sure that he used Cod instead of Sea Bass, it tastes better.” 

You kept your gaze down. 

“If you don't like it, I’m sure I can speak to him and have him make you something different.”

When you finally looked up at him, he was biting his lip–staring at you intently. 

“No, no. I’m good with it. I didn’t even try it, I was just wondering what it was.” After you stated that, you quickly took a bite to ease his nerves. Damn y/n, you barely know this man and you’re already aiming for his approval.

Jake smiled at this and kept making small talk over the course. 

“So what’s the main reason why you wanted to be a sugar baby, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

Well, it looks like that was the end of the small talk. You gulped down the remainder of the first wine glass and started motioning for him to fill it up again.

 “Do you want the real reason or do you want me to give you some bullshit excuse?” 

Jake was in the motion of filling up your glass and looked you dead in the eyes. “I always want the truth, if we are going into this type of relationship I need you to be a hundred percent honest with me. At all times. Do I make myself clear?”

Clear as crystal. 

“Does the same apply to you?” You asked him in a venom-ridden voice. 

“Of course it does. I know you don’t know how these types of situations work, but I like to run all my relationships based on honesty and trust. If you don’t have trust with your partner, then there isn’t a relationship. That applies to business and personal. You should know that, being a lawyer and all.” 

So Beth wasn’t lying. Someone of his status does their research. Well, there goes the thought about being able to lie about why you needed the money. You finally pulled your gaze away from the floor and made eye contact.

 “I don’t come from a wealthy family, as much as my parents say they would love to help me, they wouldn’t be able to handle it. If they paid my rent and the bills that I'm behind on, that would put them in the hole. I can’t do that to them. As you know I’m a lawyer, well not yet, technically. I passed my bar but American Justice wont let me practice yet. They want to keep me as an intern. So obviously, they’re not paying me enough. Ever since this damn pandemic, I haven’t been able to support myself. Everything is just starting to add up. Monday I got a letter threatening to evict me if I couldn’t pay the past two months rent by next Thursday. Frankly, I’m just scared. I don’t want to come across as a failure to my parents.”

 Jake interrupted your rambling “How would you be a failure?”

You looked at him like he had three heads, “How wouldn’t I? I left for school telling them that I was going to be somebody. I can’t show up on their doorstep years later begging for a place to stay.” You could feel the tears starting to well up in your eyes. Jake noticed this, in an attempt to stop you from crying he reached across the table and rubbed your arm. 

“American Justice just wants to keep you as an intern?” You slowly nodded your head at him. “Have you thought about applying to different firms?” 

“Of course I have. You don’t think I’ve done that already?” You huffed back at him.

“First off, watch your tone when speaking to me. I’m just trying to help you. After all, this whole arrangement is about me helping you. If you don’t like the way I speak then feel free to leave. The door is right there, princess. Nothing’s holding you here.” 

Except the fact that you needed his money. 

After realizing that you weren’t attempting to flee the scene, Jake cleared his throat. “I read over your essays from law school. Specifically your thesis about Women's Rights. I’m friends with Roxanne from Sisterhood Movement. Have you tried there? Roxanne would take you under her wing. She would help you build your cases. Roxy is all about empowering women.” 

Jake was studying your face. He couldn’t make out your expression. 

Looking down at the table, you took a deep breath. “I can’t apply to Sisterhood Movement. Are you kidding me?”

 “Why can’t you?” He countered back.

 “They’re all powerful names over there. They take on the most high profile cases. I don’t mean just the cases in Chicago, I’m talking about the cases that they take all across the States. As much as I love Roxanne’s work, I don’t want to go over there and ruin everything she’s worked for. I’m just not ready to take on cases of discrimination and sexual harassment yet. I just can’t do it, Jake” God, you sound so insecure right now. Pull it together. 

Jake could see the tears forming in your eyes again. He understood that he had to wait until he knew you a little bit better before he could keep pressing the issue with you. “Okay, okay. I won’t keep pestering you about it.” 

After that statement, you felt like you could look him in the eyes once more. 

“Thank you.” 

He smiled weakly at you. “Of course. Now, is there anything that you want to ask me?” 

Well there is one thing. 

 “Out with it. You’re biting your lip. If you’ve got something to ask then just ask.” 

You weren’t sure if it was the wine or your nerves but you quickly blurted out “Are you actually a defense attorney for the mafia or is that just a rumor?”.

His eyes turned ice cold at that moment. 

“I don’t think that’s anything for you to know. You should know that I do not disclose my clients information. If you were worried about me being connected to the mob, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now, would you?” You hated the fact that warmth started to flood all over your body. 

He sensed a change in your breathing pattern. “Now, anything logical you want to ask me? Or do you want to keep sticking your foot in your mouth?”  Your jaw dropped open again. 

“Princess, I thought I told you earlier to keep your mouth closed. You’re practically begging for me to put something in there.”

 Instead of replying to that comment you decided to lean forward just enough that he could see your cleavage. Two can play this game. 

Innocently, you traced the rim of the glass. “Mr. Kiszka, I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just asking a simple question.” 

Jake could feel himself harden. He wanted nothing more than to bend you over the table at that moment. Jake wasn’t dumb, he knew what you were trying to do to him.  “You should really finish your wine right now,” 

You tilted your head and in the most innocent voice you could respond, “And why is that Mr. Kiska?” Sitting back you smiled sweetly at him. It was at this moment that Jake registered you weren’t wearing a bra. Your nipples were peaking out of the lace at him, begging to be touched. 

“Because, if we're going to continue this conversation, I want to be in the privacy of my own home. Plus, I want to play with my new toy.” 

You were positive that your cheeks were painted red at the mere thought of him referring to you as a toy. Without hesitation, you gulped down your wine and smiled at him. “Good Girl,” Jake reached his hand out towards you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jake Kiszka wasn’t a man to waste his time with words, when his actions could do the talking.  The whole car ride back to his penthouse, he kept inching his hand further up your leg while driving. Which is kind of ironic to you because he sent you a driver but he preferred to drive himself. 

You weren’t sure if it was the wine talking or your subconscious, but you could feel the sexual tension. You could practically cut it with a knife. Unbeknownst to you, Jake was feeling the same way. 

Once arriving at his place, he dismissed you from following him into the kitchen and instructed you to “sit still and look pretty” on the couch. After five painfully long minutes he came back into the room with two glasses filled with an amber liquid. Offering you the glass, you winced as you smelled it. Jake chuckled, “Not a fan of Bourbon? This is Guadalupe. It’s good, take a sip.”

Jake then proceeded to raise the glass to your lips and tilt your head back. Opening up your lips, you realized that you were ready to swallow whatever this man would give you. Jake soon realized this was a mistake as you started coughing up a lung after taking a pull of amber down your throat. 

“You good over there?” Jake gave you a wicked grin. 

“Uh, yeah I’m okay. I'm just more of a wine drinker.” You replied shyly. 

 “Noted, I'll be more careful next time when I make you swallow something”. 

You were sure that your eyes were the size of golf balls. Acting like he casually just asked about the weather, Jake circled back to the conversation at the restaurant. “So anything else you want to ask me?” 

Taking another small sip of bourbon, you found the courage to speak again. “Why are you a sugar daddy?” Peaking over the glass at him, you noticed Jake furrowed his eyebrows. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just curious. You're Jake Kiszka. You could get any woman you want. I know women throw themselves at you all the time.”

Interrupting you, Jake sighed from his spot. “You’re right. I probably could have any woman I want. I always sucked at dating. Just never had the time to give to someone. To be honest, I frankly don’t have the time right now. I basically only have the time for a casual dinner and a quick fuck. A couple of my friends do this and suggested it to me. I have the funds to give to a pretty lady. So why not try it?”.

It was surprising that he even gave you the answer that he did. Jake didn’t seem like the type to open up to people even a little bit. 

“A quick fuck? That’s what I’m here for?” You stood up, you knew you were here for his money, but he didn’t have to talk to you like you were nothing. Like you weren’t a person. Fuck That. 

“Sit back down. You and I both know that you’re not going anywhere.” Swallowing your pride you took the spot next to him on the black leather couch. You hated that he was right. 

“Obviously it’s not going to be quick. I have stamina. Did you miss the part where I said casual dinner too?” Jake was chuckling. “I didn’t think I had to go into details. There is going to be communication between us. You will be taken care of y/n, as long as I’m taken care of. At any moment you can walk away from this. If you're uncomfortable we can just forget that this meeting ever happened. Anytime you feel uncomfortable, you tell me to stop and I will. No questions asked. Now, are you okay with this?” 

You shook your head yes. 

“Y/n, I need to hear it.”

 “Yes, I understand.” you breathed out, shakily.  

Jake beamed at you. “I’m assuming that this is the time where we talk about your payment? I was thinking of a weekly allowance of $1,500 to start, then if you’re a good girl for me we can up it. I’ll make sure to wire you the money on Monday.”

 You nodded along, “Jake, I'm grateful for this, don't get me wrong. But is there any way I can get an advance? $1,500 isn’t going to pay my past due rent.” You felt embarrassed even asking him this. He knew you needed money, but you didn’t want him to see you grovel for it. 

Jake then picked something up off the table. As he got closer to you, you recognized that it was a check. “I knew that you were going to bring up the rent situation, so I went ahead, called your apartment manager and wrote you a check for the next two months. I already paid your past two.”

 You were shocked to say the least. You couldn’t help it but your jaw dropped at the thought of how much money that is, even though it's probably spare change for him. 

“You must really want me to put something in your mouth, princess. All you have to do is ask.” Jesus. This man is going to be the death of you. 

“Anyway, I know we talked about the weekly allowances, but there’s some other things involved as well. Of course I have benefits, galas and public appearances to keep up, you will be attending them with me. No excuses, obviously with that comes all the shopping that you could want. I need you to be dressed to the nines when we go out. It comes with the territory. I’m sure you understand. Think this is something that you can do?”

 You nodded along with what he was saying. “Yes, Jake. I’m positive I’ll be able to handle all of this. Are you sure I’m the one that you want? Don’t you want to shop around a little and see what other options are out there?”. 

He looked at you like you were crazy for even suggesting the thought. “No, I’m sure that I want to do this with you. The minute I saw your picture, I knew I wanted you and wouldn’t stop until you agreed to this deal.”

This man was persistent, maybe it was a trait that he formed being a lawyer. It didn’t matter, you couldn’t get over the fact that he saw a picture of you before you locked eyes at the restaurant. 

“How did you get a picture of me?” You quizzed him as he finally took a seat next to you.

 “I have connections, don’t worry about it. '' He was looking deep into your eyes while licking his lips. You couldn’t help but drop your gaze to the spot that he just wet.

 “You know, it’s okay to go after what you want y/n,” leaning into you. He was giving you the option to lean into the kiss or pull back.

 “I don’t know, I’m just a little nervous,” Jake seemed to smile at the small confession. 

“Nothing to be nervous about, darling. It’s human nature.” 

That right there sealed the deal, you closed the gap between you. Your lips melted together, it was like he was made for kissing you. Just as you were about to pull away to admire the man in front of you, you felt a hand making its way to the nape of your neck. It wasn’t aggressive, he was just holding you into place, giving you the option to stop if you wanted. Jake noticed that you weren’t pulling away. He took this as a sign to deepen the kiss, there was only one problem here. You were fighting him for dominance.

Jake broke the kiss and pulled you to straddle him. “Stop trying to take control.” 

Pressing his forehead against yours, he gave you a lustful look. With a simple nod of your head, you felt yourself losing control. He took your nod as reassurance to continue, and you watched as he moved closer. His hands grabbed your thighs as he lifted himself up towards your face, capturing your lips again. From your outer thigh, his hands began to travel upwards until you could feel the heat of his palms drag up your waist, then the small of your back. You melted with his touch, feeling yourself lean deeper into the kiss. Your skin tingled as he reached your breasts, protected only by the lace cups of the dress. You could feel your cheeks reddening as you followed his lead. Fuck, he just brushed against your nipple. You jolted at the sudden sensation, and he sensed you were feeling it. He swiped his thumb against the other one. While you were distracted, he moved his mouth lower, to the crook of your neck–kissing a trail all the way to your shoulder. His breath was hot on your skin and you moaned at even the slightest of touches. Was it the wine from dinner? The bourbon? Was it him and his obsession with being suave? Or was it the way he kept looking at you with lust filled eyes? 

“I like you best when you’re at my mercy,” he said before closing his mouth around the lace that covered your nipple. 

The first thing you felt was the heat, then the pressure–and finally, the pleasure. And you wanted more.  Instead, Jake lifted his head. You opened your eyes, suddenly realizing that they were closed all this time. You met his gaze, wanting to open your mouth, hoping he’d say something about filling it again. But you didn’t. Instead you wet your lips. 

“Show me why I should pay your rent,” he whispered in your ear, oozing with lust.

 “Wha-what do you mean?” you stuttered nervously.

 “I want you to show me why I’m spending my money on you. Show me I made the right choice to choose you out of all others.” As he was distracting you with his rugged voice, Jake was sneaking his hand underneath your dress to feel the puddle of warmth that was forming between your legs. “Damn, princess. All this for me?” he licked your ear and then blew on it. 

“Yes Jake, it’s all for you”.

 You felt a sharp stinging pain on your ass and when you went to lift up off his lap, he pulled you back down in a sharp motion. You could feel his cock struggling against his pants. 

“Looks like I’m not the only one enjoying myself,” finally, it was your moment to tease him. 

“I would enjoy myself more if you would take my cock out of my pants and show me how much you want it,” he growled out.

You could feel yourself looking down at him with hooded eyes. It was at this moment you knew that you were always going to be at his mercy. This man knew how to turn you into putty. 

Instead of giving into Jake, you decided to tease him a little bit more. Grinding down on him and reaching down to pull your dress over your head. You felt strong hands grabbing your wrists. 

“Nuh-uh, only I get to take off your clothes, you do as you're told.” 

You moved back and forth on him a little bit harder. Leaning forward, you whispered into his ear, “But I thought you wanted me to show you why you’re paying my rent.”

 Jake paused for a minute, before deciding to grab onto your waist and flip you around. He realized that having you on top made you feel like you were in charge - you never were going to be when he was around. 

“Is that back sass I hear? That won't get you far with me, darling.” He was staring you down like a hunter stalking his prey.

 “Darling? I thought my name was y/n?” You replied coyly.

 “Keep talking and I’ll have no choice but to punish you.” 

You involuntarily felt your pussy clench. Jake could feel it too, his cock was nestled right in between your folds with just a thin layer of lace separating the most intimate parts of yourselves. “Oh, it seems like you like that idea,” he smirked. 

You moaned in response, there was no way to keep you quiet. Just with Jake’s talk alone, you were ready to orgasm right then and there. 

“But I don’t want to fuck you yet, I want to see how badly you want me.” You're doing the best you can to keep your composure- well, what was left of it anyway.

 “I want you, I want you to fill me up, I want you inside of me,” You mumbled into his neck. 

“Princess, you really don’t listen do you? We’re going to have so much fun with all the lessons you need to learn. I said I’m not going to fuck you. Trust me I want nothing more than to feel this tight little pussy around my cock, but I don’t think you’re ready for that yet.” 

Your body felt like it was on fire. It was like Jake was just casually asking you what you wanted to eat, all of this just seemed to roll off his tongue. Before you could stop yourself you found the words slipping past your lips “Can I put your cock in my mouth?”. 

“You know that’s not how you ask for what you want.” he reapplied smugly. ”Beg for it.” 

“Ja-” A quick swat on your thigh stopped you. “Sir?” 

Jake shook his head, “You’re getting closer, but that's not what you should call me, princess.” 

You had one guess left in your mind. “Daddy?” 

Jake didn’t think it was possible for him to get harder, but hearing your sweet innocent voice and doe eyes peering up at him, he couldn’t hold himself together. “Daddy, can I please suck your cock?” 

“You want Daddy’s cock in your mouth?”  

Instead of answering him, you pushed on his shoulder, flipping both of you around and then pinning his shoulders to the couch. Jake didn’t fight you on this, he wanted your mouth on him just as much as you wanted him to fill your pussy. He wanted you to feel like you had a little control–for now–it gave you confidence. 

“Go ahead baby, take it out. Show Daddy how much you want his cock.” 

With shaky hands, you undid his belt and started to pull his boxers down. Jake could feel you starting to hesitate. He gently put his hands over yours and helped you pull down the fabric- freeing his cock. You couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of his cock going into your mouth and eventually your pussy.

 “Aw, is my princess speechless? Don't worry, it’ll fit in all the holes you want. Right now we’re just gonna focus on putting it in the back of your throat. Then we'll focus on it fitting in that sweet cunt of yours. I can just tell it's a ripe pink and I bet right now it's just aching for my touch. Isn’t it? You want me to rub on that sweet little clit to give you some relief?”

 You couldn’t hold back the little whine that escaped your throat. “You like the sound of that huh? Daddy touching you? Just wait until I put my tongue in your pussy. Oh baby, I can tell that you’re going to taste divine.” 

At this point you were melting into him, you started to move your hands in a twisting motion, hoping to bring Jake as much pleasure as he was giving you with these filthy little thoughts spilling out. 

 “Sorry, it’s not going to happen, it’s all about you putting my cock into that sweet little mouth of yours.” 

Jake didn’t give you any time to respond to that, he lifted up three fingers to your mouth, urging you to open up and let them in. You did as he asked and wrapped your mouth around his fingers, but Jake noticed something, you were so nervous that your mouth was dry.  Pushing you down onto your knees, looking at you with lust blown eyes he pulled your hair, forcing your head to tilt back.

 “Open your mouth now.”

 “Why?” 

Jake gave you a stern look. “Trust Me. Open. Now. “ 

Sitting in front of him, you watched in amusement as he took a sip of the amber liquid. Making eye contact with you one more time, he leaned forward and spit the liquid directly in your mouth. 

“Swallow.” 

Starting to gag a little on the taste, Jake chuckled. “Princess, that wasn’t even a lot to swallow, we’re really going to have to work on that, aren’t we?” After watching you swallow he grabbed your jaw, “Ready for more?” 

Nodding your head wasn’t going to work–Jake had you in a grip that wouldn’t allow you to move. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good Girl. Now open up for me again.” 

Per his request you opened it up again. “Wider princess. C’mon. My cock wont fit in that tiny little opening.” 

Fuck. You were drooling for him. Jake didn’t come this far with you to not have you put your mouth on his throbbing cock. 

“That’s my good girl. You’re listening to Daddy so good.” Jake looked like he was debating on doing something. After a moment of contemplating, you watched in fascination :as a solid string of spit left his mouth and fell on your tongue. He dipped his fingers back into your mouth and spread the fluid all around your mouth. 

“Don’t close your mouth yet, it’s not wet enough” He spit back into your mouth with a firm: “Don’t you dare swallow.” You didn’t want to disobey him, you wanted to do everything that he said, word for word.

 “Good Girl, keep your mouth open, we’re not done yet.” Jake then directed your head towards his cock.

 You caught a second glimpse at it and just had to admire it. It was long, thick and had the perfect pink tint. His mushroom tip leaking precum- begging to be tasted. Jake didn’t stop until his cock was right in front of your mouth, with a hand wrapped around his base, he gently eased it in. He kept going until he hit that little sweet spot in the back of your throat that makes you gag. Jake finally let out a groan as he felt you wrap your lips around him. 

The groan that Jake left out was unholy. It sent a shock all the way down to your core. Once your mouth got used to the feeling of his cock stretching you out, you slowly started to bob your head up and down. In need of a breather, you released Jake out of your mouth with a solid ‘pop’. After sitting back for a couple of seconds, you dropped a thick bead of spit on his head, while using your left hand in a twisting motion, staring at Jake’s face. You started at the base and worked your way to his tip, getting a good feel of every single little detail of his throbbing cock. From how thick it was, how you needed to use two hands, and last but not least, the way he would twitch when you touched the underside of his head right where a prominent vein is.  His mouth was opened in pure bliss while he was looking down his nose at you. God, you wished you could see Jake like this everyday. 

He had had enough of your admiration and was starting to yearn for the feeling of your mouth again. Jake ran his fingers through your hair again and yanked you upwards. Chest to chest; forehead to forehead. Feverishly, your neck was whipped to the side and you felt the presence of hot air hitting your ear. 

“I think that's enough princess. My cock is missing your mouth already. Show it how much you love it. I want you to suck me dry, I want to cum in the back of your throat and I’m not stopping until I do. Do you understand?”

Not wanting to waste anymore time, you quickly nodded and tried to free your hair out of his grip. Jake didn’t budge. “Do you understand?” You nodded again.

Jake wasn’t taking that as a response. “I need a verbal answer princess, before we go any further”. Locking eyes with him you said, “Yes Daddy. I want to make you feel good.” 

With a quick groan, Jake let go of your hair and pushed you back down so your face was right at his cock. You wanted to be a good girl for Jake, hell, you wanted nothing more in life than to hear those filthy noises coming out of his mouth. Taking his cock into your hand again, you sunk your mouth onto him slowly. Taking him inch by inch. As much as Jake wanted you to go fast, you were going to take your time. You wanted to work his cock like your life depended on it, after all, it did. You were taking your time with him, as he was filling your throat back up, you kept swallowing around every inch. Once your plump lips reached the bottom of his cock, tears started to form in your eyes. Jake could sense that you wanted to move your mouth off of him again, so he put his hand on the nape of your neck holding you there. 

Looking up at Jake through your tears, you saw him smirking. “Oh, is my baby starting to gag on Daddy’s cock? You want to take it out for a second?” You moaned around him. The vibration from that alone had Jake ready to shoot his cum down the back of your throat, he just had to hold on for a little bit longer. 

“That's too bad princess. You’re going to keep my cock in your mouth for as long as I want. Here let me move your hair out of the way.” 

Doing as he said, Jake took the elastic band that he keeps around his middle finger and moved all your hair back. Jake wanted to enjoy the show, he wanted to see all of you, trying to take every inch of him. But those watering eyes were doing something to him, your eyes looked so clear and filled with lust. Grabbing the base of your ponytail, he decided to start moving your head up and down. The sound of you gurgling around his cock was deafening. While Jake was busy with not trying to blow his load prematurely, you successfully snuck your hand down into your underwear in search of some type of relief. 

You dove your fingers through your folds hoping to gather some moisture. When you finally gathered enough, you reached up to circle your clit a couple of times. Silly you for thinking that you could get away with doing this in front of Jake Kiszka. After the third swirl on your clit he noticed that your moans were starting to change octaves. He quickly opened his eyes and realized what you were doing. He snatched your hand out of your underwear in an instant. 

“I don’t think so princess, this is about me getting off tonight not you,” Jake growled out.

 You looked back up at Jake with tear glossed eyes. This only made Jake yearn for you even more. You pulled your hand gently out of his grip and cupped his balls lightly. With a slight movement of your fingers, you felt him start to twitch. “C’mon baby, just like that,” he sputtered out as he started to feel the pleasure really begin to take over his body. Moving your head wasn’t enough for Jake. 

Holding your head steady, he started bucking his hips off the couch. With every buck your nose was touching his pelvic bone; breathing in  the woodsy smell of this man deeply. The more you tried to move your head back the more force would be pushed onto the back of your head to keep you still. Jake could feel your throat start to tighten up and try to push him out. 

“Keep that throat relaxed for Daddy baby. He’s almost there.” 

The mixed noises of your gags and the praises that Jake kept slipping out were taking over the atmosphere. You could tell that he was close to his peak. His thrusts were becoming sloppy, the sweat was starting to roll off his torso and drip down to his pelvic area. Jake’s breath was becoming unsteady, every other moan kept getting hitched in the back of his throat. You went into overdrive at the mere thought of his release coming, with every thrust towards the back of your throat, you were sticking your tongue out in search for his balls when you reach the base. 

Jake finally felt the tip of your tongue grazing that soft spot on top of his balls. A deep guttural moan spilled out of him. “C’mon princess, just a little bit longer. Daddy’s gonna give you his special little treat.”

 As soon as those words fell from Jake's lips, you hollowed your cheeks as much as you could and put all your effort into just breathing in Jake. Placing your hands on both thighs, you let him take full control over your mouth. You could tell that Jake was ready to come any second, the tip of his cock kept swelling up in size. Jake was in a frenzy he couldn't stop. The thing that pushed him over the edge was you looking up at him one last time. He pushed himself all the way into the back of your throat, let out a loud groan and emptied his load down your throat. 

“Stay right there Princess. Don’t swallow yet. I’m going to take myself out of your mouth now, I want to see it in there.” 

Jake slowly slid his cock out of your mouth. Looking down at you to make sure that you were listening to him and not swallowing anything. He pulled you up to his height with a single hand around your throat. 

“Open up princess, let me see.” 

As you slowly opened your mouth, Jake slid two of his fingers in there and pulled them out. He was mesmerized looking at the cum threading through his fingers. 

“Look up at me” he jerked your head up with a hand under your chin. “Now you can swallow,” he closed your mouth with the force of two fingers pushing your jaw up. Jake beamed at you as he watched your throat move up and down, proving to him how much of a good girl you can be for him. 

Jake took your hand and led the way to his bedroom. He finally found his own little sugar baby, there was no way that he was going to let you get away that easy. 

“Hey Jake?” you spoke up. 

“You okay? What's up?” He turned around to face you.

 “Nothing, I just wanted to know if I could use the bathroom?” 

Jake gave a jerk of his head towards the door on the right, without speaking another word you headed in that direction. After opening the door, you startled yourself. Looking at the reflection in the mirror you couldn’t recognize yourself. Mascara was running down your cheeks, lips swollen and your hair looked crazy. Jake was kind enough to move it back from your face, but he seemed to pull out over half of it when he was holding you down to his pelvis area. Fuck, these knots are going to be a bitch to get out. Running your fingers through your hair, you peeked into the bedroom once again in search of Jake. With no luck you called out for him. He came out of his closet with a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt.

 “Here. Change into these, it’s late. Taylor will drive you home in the morning.” Glancing from the clothes in his hands back up to his face you didn’t quite understand. 

“What are these for?” Jake looked a little bit taken back at your comment.

 “Like I said, change into them. There’s makeup wipes in the one drawer. You don’t have to stay here. You can stay in the guest room if you want. Once again, it’s late. Taylor will drive you home in the morning.” 

 At this point Jake was shoving the clothes into your hands, he didn’t give you any room to protest. Once you closed the door you slid down it and just kept thinking to yourself. 

What The Fuck Did I Just Get Myself Into.

[rebelrayne]

James One Shot

Title: The Other Side - AO3 or under the cut

Rating: T - Teen

Pairing: James x OC

Was it really happening? He had to have been dreaming. He wasn’t big, rugged and buff like Hazeem. He couldn’t be cool and collected like Kobi. He’d never be as handsome as Dylan. There was no way he could ever be charming or suave like Youcef… He was just… him?

@mrsbsmooth I expect my payment to arrive in 3-5 business days (joking - mostly because I couldn't make it smutty for the life of me...)

James groaned at his keyboard. How could his agent expect him to write a love story with more romance? Uh, not that he’d openly like to admit that it was something he lacked in real life… Romance, that is. He’d had a few girlfriends but they never went anywhere. James would lie to you though, he would tell you it was because he was too inexperienced and shy. He was just much too self-conscious to put himself out there like other guys, like his best mate, Bruno. But no, this wasn’t the case. He knew it was because of Estee.

Who was Estee? Oh my God, who was Estee? You couldn’t ask James a question like that, not unless you wanted to see his eyes light up as he gushed over how amazing his best friend was. Estee was something. No, no, wait. Estee was everything. She was beautiful, she was brave. She was so smart. Her coffee and cream colored eyes hung the moon and the stars. The way she demanded attention with just a smirk in a crowded room? Or what about the way she giggled even when things were barely funny?

That was all beside the point. He was meant to be writing a novel, he was meant to be accepting his fate as being ‘friendzoned’. He would never be anything more than the best friend, the guy who inevitably watched these terrible boyfriends come and go like a revolving door. First there was the landscaper, Hazeem. His jokes were so terrible that James could still see the wrinkles he’d caused on his own face by forcing a smile. The guy was bland, he was boring. James could still hear the suppressed groans in his mind lingering around, and that was two fucking years ago.

Then of course, we could never forget the barber. Oh, man… The barber. Did Kobi have a backbone? No. No, he did not. He would laugh about something, or he would talk to James about football for hours. He’d clasp James’s shoulder like they’d been best mates forever then his eyes would spot a pretty girl in the crowd and stare for too long. He was fine, it was fine, but needless to say, James wasn’t upset when he was kicked to the curb.

Who else? Oh! The “professional” volleyball player, of course. Dylan the Villain, as James had dubbed him (at least internally). Thank heavens that guy was only around for a hot minute, even if that minute was still 60 seconds too long. He wore his shirts too tight, and his brain was most certainly two sizes too small to match it.

Oh, but now? Now, he has the privilege to deal with the narcissistic French model. ‘Oui, I’m Youcef, bonjour. I’m a model.’ The guy was a damn intern for a fashion magazine. You walk in one runway show because they need a filler at the last minute and suddenly, you’re a professional fashion model. “Le loser,” James muttered under his breath.

He still hadn’t written another word in his document. He was wasting time, he knew he was avoiding the task. He placed both hands on the edge of his desk and pushed himself away softly. He sighed, leaning his head back on the back of the chair for a moment before picking himself up and rising to his feet. He stretched his arm out to shimmy his long sleeve up and checked his watch. Dammit, he had to be at work in thirty minutes. And he got nothing written for his book. Again. “Why am I like this?” he asked himself out loud.

He shuffled over to the front door and snatched his keys off the side table. The very side table Estee promised him he’d use all the time. He never did, but she looked really happy when she picked it out for him so he bought it. He really was in deep. Not that he’d ever admit it to her but… in the safety of his own mind, he knew. He knew he had it bad.

--

He wrapped an apron loosely around his waist behind the bar. He’d told himself this was temporary a thousand times over but here he was… Five years later and the best damn veteran bartender there was at Hattrick’s. It wasn’t something he was particularly proud of… Especially at parties. He hated parties. Not that he didn’t want to be social, or anything, but um… Well, he didn’t want to be social but he also really hated being in charge of making everyone’s drinks, too. It was just work without the tips. Wouldn’t that be called free labor?

“Hey James!” Cora yelled over the music as she leaned herself over the bar. “Didn’t know you were working tonight. How’s Estee doing?” Oh how his friends loved to ask him. It almost felt like they were teasing but the pitying look on Cora’s face… Well, that almost made it worse.

James grabbed a white bar mop from the shelf closest to the floor and whipped it over his shoulder as he stood up straight again. “Uh, good, I guess,” he said with an unsure shrug. “Same as always.”

Cora’s eyes widened, almost in horror. “Oh my gosh,” she said, “you didn’t know?”

“Huh?” He pulled out a glass and placed it on the counter. “What didn’t I know?” He grabbed the soda gun and started to fill the glass with water.

“Hello?” Cora leaned back and placed one hand on her hip in a sassy motion. “Estee and Youcef? They broke up yesterday? Geez, I thought you two were best friends.”

“What?!” He hadn’t even noticed he moved his arm… Which caused him to clumsily spray water all over the surface of the bar. “Dammit.”

Cora shook her head. “You know she’s going to come here, right?”

James knew it all too well. She did this thing, this thing where she would date assholes then cry on his shoulder about it. No, no. He couldn’t think that way. He needed to be supportive, right? That’s what best friends do, right? God, why was he so pathetic… “Yeah, I guess I do…” He grabbed a few more bar mops and started tossing them onto the bar. “It’s a shame I’ve got Find My Friends on for her,” he said. “She’s definitely coming for a few free shots.”

“Maybe you should take your shot,” Cora answered sternly. She was right, he knew she was but he couldn’t do that. No, she liked this guy. She was entranced by this man… He wouldn’t hit her with his feelings now, not like this.

“It’s not the right time I don’t think…”

“Then when will it be the right time? Come on! Live a little. Tell her how you feel!”

“I just think–”

“Who is James telling how he feels?” Both Cora and James snapped their neck to find Estee placing her purse on the bar and sliding onto a barstool.

“Nothing!” James exclaimed. “I mean, no one! No one, there’s no one.”

“Smooth,” Cora muttered. “Uh, well, I better get ready for my set. I’ll catch you two later.”

Great, now she’s going to keep asking me about it. Thanks a lot, Cora. James grabbed the now-soaked mops from the bar and threw them into a hamper. He grinned, but he knew it looked forced. Oh, she was not going to let up on him. Not at all. “So,” he said, “What can I get you?”

Estee sighed loudly as she placed her elbows on the bar. “Patron,” she answered, “double shots. Four of them.”

Oh boy. “Uh, that bad, huh?” He grabbed three double shot glasses and spun on his heels to grab the bottle from the top shelf. “So what happened with Youcef then?”

“First of all, how do you know something happened?” Estee sat up straight and rolled her eyes. Why did she have to look so perfect? Even when she was frustrated with James, she looked flawless. “Second of all, I asked for four. Having trouble with basic counting there, Barker?” Even when she was sassing him, she was downright exemplary.

James poured the tequila into the glasses carefully, ensuring he gave her every bit plus a bit more in each of the glasses. “If I remember correctly,” he said, “it was you cheating off my math exams and I was mediocre at best in that subject.” Yes, he’d been in love with her since they were 16-years-old. No, he’d never had the damn courage to tell her. Not even once. Or, no, actually he did have it one time when they were drunk one night but she passed out while he was talking… Even though he was the only one there that remembered it, it was still quite embarrassing. “And I see you’re avoiding the question…”

He pushed the three shots her way. He reached under the bar and flipped the lid on the fruit tray. “Normally, I would charge for the bartender therapy session,” he laughed, “but for you, I’ll discount it.” He placed three limes on a plate for her then handed her a salt shaker.

“Won’t be needing those,” Estee answered as she pushed the plate away. She grabbed one of the shots and threw it back quickly. James hadn’t even stopped to look at her yet. Why hadn’t he stopped and looked at her yet?! She wore her hair in long beach waves, her signature look. But tonight, she did her makeup differently. It almost looked… It looked like she went for an understated look. He found it odd, she always did herself up. Maybe the breakup was bad… “It’s one of those nights, I guess.”

“Ah,” he mumbled. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.” She took another shot then cleared her throat. God, she looked beautiful even when she was making that face every time she took a shot. “Yes.” She wrapped her fingers delicately around the last glass, but she just kept her eyes fixated on it. “Broke up with Youcef.” She looked over at James. “Yeah, yeah, I know, he was a jerk. Go on then.”

“I don’t think I need to rub it in,” James said. He grabbed one of the empty glasses and poured another. “This is the last one you’re getting, by the way. I know how you get when you drink tequila.”

“Thanks for looking out for me, dad,” Estee answered with a hint of sarcasm. She removed her elbows from the bar and reeled them back into her. She was even wearing something that didn’t quite look like her; Estee was a pretty fashion-forward type. She loved anything glittery but tonight? Tonight, she wore a simple black dress with spaghetti straps. “Don’t think I forgot about the conversation you and Cora were having.” She looked down at the bar, seemingly staring at the two shots filled with liquid gold. “What’s her name?”

She seemed… Sad? Why would she be sad? James tilted his head and scrunched his nose. No, it couldn’t be because of him. She was so clearly upset that yet another relationship hadn’t worked out. James knew she was excited about this one. Youcef was just so ‘worldly’ according to Estee. “Oh, um…” he trailed off. He had to think of something, anything to get her off his back. “Uh, no one. Cora was just teasing me.”

Estee nodded solemnly. James had never seen her so docile before. All this over some French guy? No, something else had to be up. This wasn’t like her. “Oh, I see.” She met his eyes, the smallest and most heartbreaking looking smile on her face. “When are you done here?”

He grabbed one of the glasses from under the bar, which was still wet, then started to dry it off with his bar mop. “Um,” he paused and looked back at the clock on the wall then back at her, “it’s a slow night so I can probably get away with leaving after Cora’s band is done playing… I mean, if you need me to…” He placed the glass down. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh! Yeah,” she nodded her head like a bobble head. “Yeah, everything’s great! Peachy even. Uh, what are you doing tomorrow then?”

She’s acting weird… Maybe this breakup was worse than the others? “Hanging out with you?” He said it like a question, almost like he was asking permission in a way. Why am I like this?

But her golden eyes sparkled at the response. God, what he wouldn’t do to see that smile. He’d go to the ends of the world if she asked him to, all she had to do was mutter the question. No, that wasn’t completely true. She just had to start the question, he’d jump up and do it before she even finished the sentence. Yes, he was in that deep, he was all in that much.

“Yeah! You could come to my place,” she said.

“Your place?” He frowned. “No, your neighbor hates me.”

“She does not hate you.” Estee laughed, that gorgeous laugh. He felt himself falling further as she carried on with that laugh. “Angie’s just rough around the edges and to be fair, you did wake her up pretty late…”

James groaned. “I tripped and hit the shared wall by accident! It’s not like I meant to do it!”

“Yeah, but it was like two o’clock in the morning, James.”

“Uh, I guess you’re right…” He threw the bar mop over his shoulder again and placed the glass under the bar. “Tomorrow at um, what time?”

Estee pushed her two shot glasses forward, the two James should have damn well known she wasn’t going to finish. “Maybe like eleven? In the morning, I mean,” she said, “I know you like to write in the evening and it’s when you do the best work. Plus, I mean, um, I’d like to talk with you about some things.”

“You’re making me nervous,” he said as he grabbed the two empty glasses and placed them onto a tray to be cleaned. “Did I do something wrong or–”

“No! The opposite actually,” she said but her eyes widened, “uh, no not like, opposite but… Wow, I’m talking in circles. Must be the tequila, huh?” She giggled nervously, but he knew she was trying to pass it off. She had this habit, this habit trying to make herself seem calm but she ended up in a fit of awkward giggles. Normally he would find it adorable, his palms would sweat and his heart would race but in a good way… Not tonight though. Tonight his heart sank hearing that nervous giggle. Oh God, what could have possibly happened? What could he have possibly done? Did he forget her dog’s birthday? No, no. That’s next week. You’re fine, it’s fine. Calm down. 

“It doesn’t sound like something that can wait,” he said. “Let me talk to the other bartender and I’ll meet you at your place. Are you alright to walk there by yourself? You could aways–”

“That’s sweet, James but you know my place is only one block over. I mean, um, if you don’t mind coming now…” She stood up from her seat and smirked. But… This smirk… He’d never seen her give him that smirk. He gulped. There was no way. “I could use the company.” She flipped her hair as she turned on her heels. She glanced over her shoulder, giving him a sweet wave as she headed off. Of course, she left without paying but she knew she didn’t need to. Oh, she had to know with him behind the bar, she would never need to. But he couldn’t help but wonder… What was that about?

--

James had somehow talked his boss into letting him go early. The man wasn’t happy about it, he cursed under his breath and complained the whole time while James tried to explain that he needed to help out his friend. The compromise, of course, was that James would be working all weekend as compared to his Friday and Saturday only schedule. James didn’t have the desire to push back on it. Sure, he could have stood and argued about it but what good would it have done? It would have only caused him to stay at the bar later and he didn’t have time for that. He was too busy overthinking, too overcome with the thoughts of what Estee could possibly want to speak to him about.

It couldn’t actually be what I hope it could be, could it? Wow, did that even make sense? He shoved his hands into his jacket pocket as he rounded the corner on the street. Estee swore that she didn’t pick this place because it was close to James’s work, but she always seemed to stop by when he was working. He would actually be able to count on one hand the number of times she didn’t wander into the hole-in-the-wall establishment, it would be easier than counting how many times she did come in to visit him. I’m thinking in circles now.

He took a deep breath as he lifted his hand and knocked on the door. Being Thursday night, it was quiet out on the street. He glanced around but saw no one else around. He put his hand back into his pocket, shrugging his shoulders as if it would help him warm up.

The door flung open and Estee was smiling ear to ear. What the– Did she change her clothes? She had. She had definitely changed but… into something less comfortable? She was now wearing a lacy red tank top with tiny jean shorts. James felt his jaw drop, he knew he was staring… But he couldn’t quite figure out if it looked like he was entranced or if it looked like he was confused.

“Hey! Come on!” She grabbed his arm, which caused him to pull his hand from his pocket as he followed her inside. She practically led him to the couch, finding that there were already two glasses of ice water on the table. What is going on? “Sit. I need to… We need to talk.”

“Those words are usually not good when strung together in a sentence like that,” James answered. He sat down next to her on the couch, his knee bounced uncontrollably and he fiddled with his fingers. “Um, what’s up?”

She sighed then shifted her eyes, seemingly glancing at something right behind him rather than keeping her eyes on his. “I just… I just can’t be friends with you anymore, James.”

Wait… Wait… No, what? “I don’t… I don’t understand. Is this because of Youcef? I mean, I get it, I guess… If that’s what you want…”

“No, it’s not because of Youcef,” she said. Her brows were furrowed, her lips parted but would open and close the gap as if she was searching for the right words. “I just… I need to get over this, I think.”

Get over… this? “What do you need to get over?” James tilted his head but then it finally clicked. It couldn’t be happening, could it? No way. Him? James? Estee was perfect, she was exciting and she was interesting. God, why couldn’t he think straight? “Are you saying…” he paused, because he wasn’t exactly sure if he was correct, “are you saying you like me? I mean, like… like me?”

She met his eyes but her cheeks were flushed bright red. “This is awkward,” she answered. “But it’s… it’s more than that, James…” She looked down at her lap, chunks of her golden brown hair falling to hide her face.

Was it really happening? He had to have been dreaming. He wasn’t big, rugged and buff like Hazeem. He couldn’t be cool and collected like Kobi. He’d never be as handsome as Dylan. There’s no way he could ever be charming or suave like Youcef… He was just… him? “Estee,” he whispered. He watched her twitch her head, almost looking a bit frantic, like she was contemplating on the reason why she chose to even speak up. It was now or never, he told himself. If he wanted her, he had to do something. Now.

He grabbed her face with both hands and lifted her head. Her eyes looked glossed over, they looked regretful. Oh God, did she regret saying something? Did she want to press rewind and pretend like this hadn’t happened? He couldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t let her think that. “Estee, I–” He had to be brave. Say it, just say it so she knows. “I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes grew wider, her lips gapped. There wasn’t really much else to say… He felt the magnetic pull as they leaned closer to one another. His heart flipped and leaped with each inching movement. Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God. He was a nervous wreck. The second their lips met, the moment they crossed the line… Nothing could ever be the same.

And that… That made him move quicker. He felt his hands trembling but he never wavered, he didn’t move them from her face. He’d imagined what it would be like to kiss her so many times but nothing he conjured up in his mind could have ever measured up to this. How was she so perfect? Why did her face fit so perfectly in his hands? Why was it so effortlessly easy to fall into rhythm with her at that moment?

She threw her arms around his neck. “I’m in love with you.”

He rested his forehead on hers, breathless and dumbstruck. She could have anyone, anyone in the entire fucking world. And she was choosing to have him? He couldn’t believe his luck. She was staring back with that infamous, flawless signature smirk of hers and this time… This time she was looking at him. Not a buff gardener, not a barber. She wasn’t throwing a glance the way of a handsome French model. She was looking at him. Maybe he’d be able to finish writing that book after all. With her by his side, he could do anything. He was sure of it.

[femdomliterature]

FemLit 0451 - Center of the Universe...

Why do some men think life is all about them? Why do they think that they are owed certain things because they supposedly love their Wives...

Then they think their Wives are prudish or not interested in D/s? These guys are total fucking losers. No matter what, they will not find fulfilment or happiness because it is all about them! Well what about their wives? Why shouldn't it be also about them...

If these loser husbands have the audacity to think that as long as they say "Hey honey, I love you and I have been around for 20 years" that should be enough, then they have another thing coming! They say to themselves "Oh, come on baby, what's your problem? I want to pretend to be submissive as long as you do exactly what I want you to do and I don't have to do anything else but be the centre of the universe. Fuck you honey, it should be good enough that I grace you with my presence everyday. Don't you know wifey, this marriage is all about me and what you can do for me! Let me tell you something, if you don't do exactly what I want, when I want it, I will treat you even more like shit, ignore you completely and go off and live in some fantasyland where I can pretend to be at the mercy of some woman, just as long as she is also making everything about me."

Men like this are so totally frickin' pathetic it is scary. I feel so bad for their wives, these women could be married to someone who adores and appreciates them. These women could have everything they have ever dreamed of, if they would just kick these losers to the curb and actually find someone who would treat them like the Queens they are.

If there are any wives reading this and this is hitting close to home, I have this to say: YOU DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS. YOU DESERVE TO BE LOVED, CHERISHED AND ADORED. YOU DESERVE TOTAL ADORATION FROM THE MAN IN YOUR LIFE. YOU DO...

People think I hate internet fantasyland, and this proves why I do. These guys go and look at sites that make it all about them. They think that women want to go around giving endless attention to these pathetic men, without getting anything in return. Who the hell would want to do anything where they don't get something out of it?

A man who thinks his wife will want to tease him daily, denying his orgasms and not give her anything back is totally living in a fantasyland. If the husband isn't going to put his wife on a pedestal and make her feel attractive, adored and cherished, why does he think she will ever want to anything for him?

I am not even talking about having to live a supposed 24/7 D/s marriage.

Not everyone in this lifestyle wants it to be all the time. I am talking about making your wife feel like she did when you first met. I am talking about not taking her for granted and not making everything about you. When you married didn't you say you would "Love, honour and cherish"? Did that go out the window the minute your wife had nothing left to give? Don't you realise that you will end up happier in the end if you adore and cherish your wife?? Don't you realise that she will want to take more control of you if you make her feel attractive and special? I guess not...

In my marriage, I feel loved and cherished. My husband makes me feel like I am his whole world, showing me respect and adoration. He doesn't go around doing everything for me and he has his own personality. He gets a lot out of this marriage because he gives. By him giving to me, it gives me the energy and desire to give back to him. Women in general are very giving creatures, but they can't give if they aren't being replenished. That is the husbands job to replenish.

I guess I am done ranting and raving. I have one thing more to say to these men, stay in your little world, jacking off to thoughts of the whole world revolving around you and you not ever having to do anything but take, take, take... I can promise you that no woman, unless she is paid, will ever want to do anything remotely FLR with you...

You have nothing to give because you are a leach, sucking the very life out of your wives. Taking what you can and never giving anything back. You are right where you deserve to be - in a pathetic , miserable world.

I hope you are happy, loser...

[josiebelladonna]

just yesterday and today, i’ve been seeing a shitload of things that remind me of her: mentions of architecture and architects, the word “g*psy” (often in junction with “wedding” for some reason, too), her first name, her goddamn birthday (june 8). so, i relaxed for a moment and began paying attention to my assumptions and how my body reacts to them because i knew it was going to drive me nuts. i have my assumptions but none of them really made me react that much. like, why don’t i like this woman like how i like krista belladonna, tiffany billy, and susan silver? why am i just not vibing with her at best and finding her downright malicious at worst?

there was one thing that stood out to me—and i sort of mentioned it the other night, too—and literally every time i think about it more and more, i get a chill up my spine.

she’s a terf.

sure. she’ll mention feminist things but the way she talks about it is such that she assumes that women aren’t women unless they have female genitalia. there was one post on her blog (i’d link it up but the link is kaput now… which is… really fucking weird and unsettling, too) where she talks about being a woman in the field of architecture, and she talks about the stereotypes behind architects and feminists, and i really wish i remember the exact details, but she very explicitly makes it about womanhood, which is a terf-ism. terfs will obsess over bullshit like that, where true feminists don’t care. true feminists will look at a woman in a male-dominated field like architecture and high-five her, they won’t care about how her body looks or how “feminine” she is. she makes whole entire blog posts about it and she has this aura that women are frail at the same time. she freaking nitpicks and dissects shit when there’s really no reason to, reminiscent of that phony feminist i finally kicked to the curb last week because i got tired of her making everything into an issue when there was no reason, or there was but it was so lost in her own ramblings that it was hard to follow (plus, i found her antisemitic and prejudiced against religious people who are just people).

also… is it just me or does it seem like she forces alex to bend to her every whim. i can’t think of any better examples of this than refusing to be in a photo with him, or his not coming to me for comfort when his mom was sick, or the fact i can tell you right away that she was not just a “consultant” on planetary coalition (you know what a consultant does, no matter what field it is? they’re basically advisors. they lay out plans and throw out ideas and suggestions. they don’t… fucking do everything to the point the project is basically a product from them rather than the man himself. “well, he probably could have forced her to do it all,” i hear the apologists say. then why have one person do it all when you could have hired several people to do stuff like the photography, the goddamn artwork, the compositions and production, all of that like on… oh, i don’t know. the trio’s albums? the man has connections, he probably could have done it with a bunch of people behind the scenes but instead, one woman took over because she’s a woman and he’s a deer in the headlights every time he sees her.) another trait i see about terfs is they’re manipulative: they’ll make you think they’re the good guys (“oh, i’m just a private person, i’m just a nerd and an architect female woman person who dresses femininely feminine feminine feminine”) when they couldn’t be more deceptive about it.

bitch is a terf, i’m sure of it. add to this, i snooped around her instagram… and found nothing about lgbtq+ support. every time i think about it, i get a deep chill in my body. like, i can promise you that it’s not just because of my crush on alex and the fact that the feelings are mutual althoughthathasalottodowithit. no, this so-called “amazing woman” is a phony and she poisoned alex with her bullshit.

[lindhardtdonnelly34]

Technologies and Our Kids

With most people connected in all the time, We often wonder just what effect technology is having on our kids. Some point out technology is an additional helpful learning tool that is producing our kids cleverer and several say that is having zero significant effect in all. Still, some others propose that technological innovation use is encouraging cultural isolation, increasing attentional problems, encouraging bad habits, and in the end changing our traditions and the approach humans interact. During your time on st. kitts isn't an origin relationship between technologies use and human being development, I carry out think some regarding the correlations are usually strong enough in order to encourage you in order to curb your children's display time. Is tv set really that harmful to kids? Dependent on the exhibit and duration associated with watching, yes. Experts have found that exposure to courses with fast edits and scene reductions that flash unrealistically across the screen are usually associated with the development involving attentional problems inside kids. As the brain becomes overwhelmed using changing stimuli, that stops attending to any one thing plus starts zoning out and about. Too much direct exposure to these frenetic programs shows the human brain more practice passively accepting information without deeply processing it. However, its not all applications are bad. Youngsters who watch gradual paced television programs like Sesame Road are not since likely to develop attentional problems since kids who view shows like The particular Power Puff Young ladies or Johnny Neutron. Educational shows will be slow paced together with fewer stimuli upon the screen that gives children the possibility to practice participating in to information. Kids can then practice making connections in between new and earlier knowledge, manipulating details in working memory, and problem solving. Conclusively, an excellent concept of thumb is definitely to limit television set watching to a hr to two several hours a day, and even keep a watch away for a glossy-eyed transfixed gaze on the child's face. It is a sure sign that his or the girl brain has stopped focusing plus its certainly time to turn off the tube in order to start thinking, creating, and making perception out of points again (all actions that grow quite than pacify the particular brain). If you choose close up off the pipe, don't be shocked for those who have a burn upon your fingers. Technology comes with a hard to kick quality since it consistently activates the discharge of neurotransmitters which might be associated with pleasure plus reward. There possess been cases associated with addictions to technology in children because young as four-years-old. Recently in The united kingdom, a four-year-old lady was put into intensive rehabilitation treatment for an ipad tablet addiction! I'm positive you know how rewarding that is to hint onto Facebook to see that red warning announcement at the top rated of the screen, or even more directly how satisfying playing games on your pc can be because you accumulate extra "accomplishments. " I am guilty of obsessive compulsively checking out my Facebook, e mail, and blog during the day. The regular answer to this specific problems is, "All things in moderation. " When i acknowledge, moderation could possibly be challenging for children to attain as they perform not possess the abilities for self discipline and will frequently take the easy path or even directed by simply an adult. According to be able to a new review by the Kaiser Family Foundation, children spend about 5 hours watching television set and movies, three or more hours on the particular internet, 1/2 hrs texting phoning around, plus a 1/2 hr talking on the phone daily. That is almost 75 hrs of technology use each week, and i also is sure these answers are mediated by parental controls and affluence. Imagine how very much technology children make use of when left in order to their own defense! In a new Huffington Post post, Dr. Larry Rosen summed it up well, "... all of us see what are the results if you don't limitation these active engagement. The kid continues in order to be reinforced inside the highly engaging e-world, and more mundane worlds, such while playing with playthings or watching TELEVISION SET, pale in comparison. " Greetings at any time going to get a child to go through a black and white boring old book when they might use an elegant, rewarding iPad alternatively? Children on common spend 38 mins or less each day reading. Do you really see a top priority problem here? Together with such frequent technology use, it will be important to understand if technology use encourages or attempts healthy habits. It can reported that between heavy technology users, half get C's or lower in school. Light technological innovation users fair many better, only the quarter of them receiving low marks. There are several factors that can mediate the relationship involving technology use plus poor grades. One particular could be lowered hours of sleeping. Researchers from the Department of Family and Community Well being at the University of Maryland found that children who three or even more technological devices in their rooms obtained at least forty-five minutes less sleep compared to average child the same age. Another may be the attention problems that will are correlated using frequent technology make use of. Going further, multitasking, while considered the brilliant skill to get on the job, is proving to be able to be a barrier to children. This is not unheard of to see the school aged kid using a laptop computer, cell phone, in addition to television while trying to also finish a homework assignment. If we appear closer at the laptop, we might discover several tabs exposed to various social networks and entertainment internet sites, and the mobile phone itself is some sort of mini computer these kinds of days. Thus, while multitasking, children are neglecting to offer their studies complete attention. website may lead to a new lack of effective studying, a malfunction to transfer information from short term to long term storage, which leads eventually to poorer grades at school. Furthermore, that is difficult for a child to interact is some of the increased information processing skills such as making inferences and making connections in between ideas when multi tasking. We want our kids to be heavy thinkers, creators, plus innovators, not passive information receptors that later regurgitate details without really offering it good consideration. Therefore, we ought to limit access to several devices as effectively as limit timeframe of use. Age comes into carry out when discussing typically the harmful effects of technological innovation. For children young than two-years-old, repeated exposure to technology may be dangerously harmful as it limits the particular opportunities for conversation with the physical planet. Children two-years-old and younger are within the sensorimotor level. During this period it is crucial that they shape objects in the particular world using their bodies so that that they can learn cause-effect relationships and item permanence. Object résolution is the realizing that when an subject disappears from view, it still exists. This reasoning demands the opportunity to hold visible representations of items within the mind, a new precursor to understanding visual subjects such as math after in life. In order to develop these skills, kids need several options every day in order to mold, create, and build using materials that not have a new predetermined structure or even purpose. What a new technological device gives are programs along with a predetermined purpose that can be manipulated in minimal ways with implications that often no longer fit the rules from the physical entire world. In the event the child will be not being presented a drawing application or the like, they are likely given programs of which are essentially the lot like workbooks with structured activities. Researchers have located that activities such as impede the cognitive development of children this particular age. While analysts advise parents in order to limit their little one's screen time in order to two hours or fewer everyday, I might say it's far better to wait to be able to introduce technology to your children until as soon as they have at very least turned 3-years-old and even are demonstrating healthy and balanced cognitive development. Actually then, technology employ should be restricted enormously to supply toddlers with time to engage inside imaginative play. Technologies is changing the way children learn in order to communicate and use communication to learn. Many mom and dad are using devices to quiet there children inside the car, with the dinning table, or even where ever sociable activities may take place. The risk below is that this little one is not watching and thinking regarding the social relationships playing out prior to him. Children understand social skills by means of modeling their mother and father social interactions. In addition, listening to other people communicate and talking to others is exactly how children learn to speak with themselves plus be alone. Typically the benefits of solitude for youngsters come from replaying and behaving out conversations these people had or seen during the day time, and this will be how they in the end seem sensible of their particular world. To put it succinctly, typically the more we reveal our children to technological devices, the particular worse their social skills and conduct will be. A Millennium Cohort Study of which followed 19, 1000 children found of which, "those who observed over three hrs of television, video clips or DVDs a day a new higher chance of do problems, emotional signs and symptoms and relationship problems by the period they were 7 than children that would not. " When you are heading to provide a little one screen privileges, in least set aside an occasion for merely that, and do not work with technology to calm or preoccupy your own children during social events. There's zero question that technologies use can guide to poor results, but technology by itself is not in order to blame. Parents need to remember their particular very important function like a mediator among their children and the particular harmful effects of technologies. Parents should restrict exposure to gadgets, discourage device multitasking, make sure products are certainly not used during social events, and even monitor the content material that the youngster is interesting in (ie. Sesame Street vs . Ashley Neutron). Technology can easily be a pretty good learning device, but children furthermore need time to be able to interact with objects throughout the real life, participate in imaginative enjoy, socialize face-to-face with peers and older people, and children numerous need solitude and even time to allow their mind take off. We need to put a lot more focus on the "Ah-ha! " moment that happens when our own minds have time associated with distractions. Because of this by yourself, technology use should be limited for all of us.

[miscelunaaa]

spin cycle 14 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x female reader

genre: drabble series, slow burn, idiots to lovers, fluff, lil bit of angst, eventual smut

summary: This random guy has started doing laundry at your favorite laundromat each week (at the same time as you, no less!) and to be honest, it’s going to be a problem. You’re just not sure how yet.

rating: 18+ for eventual smut

word count: less than 500

warnings: Swearing. Grocery shopping. Controversial opinions about traditional American Thanksgiving foods. Roomie denying her feelings for Namjoon. Mild holiday-induced stress.

notes: Nope I am definitely not using Roomie as a mouthpiece for my opinions on Thanksgiving nOPE WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT??

notes 2: Hi! I’ve been really weirdly active for the past several days and am now exhausted 😅 So!! I might be taking a posting break next week so I can just log out for a couple days and focus on myself. I’ve got some mild personal stuff happening that needs my attention. Nothing to be concerned about, I just think I need a break, if I can make myself take it. I need to finish up my Ask My Muse prompts, and just do a lil bit of house keeping before all that though, so stay tuned!

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You’re walking through the grocery store. It’s Monday evening. The appointed holiday is a mere three days away, and as it approaches, Roomie is becoming more and more neurotic. You’re not always present for the weekly grocery run, but she insisted on bringing you to this one for some reason. She probably needs the emotional support, judging by how frazzled she seems.

It appears that she’s fostering some serious feelings for her FWB and now that you’ve noticed, you can’t unsee it. Every detail she’s planning for the Thanksgiving feast drips with the desire to impress him in some way. Since—shit, what’s his name again? Joon? Namjoon??—is coming over, she’s pulling out all of the stops. Honestly, you’re in awe. Roomie’s usually stone cold with the men she brings home, kicking them to the curb the moment they (or she) start feeling attached.

He seems like a nice guy, though you’ve only spoken maybe ten words to him. To be honest, it’s kind of cute to watch her squirm a little about a man for once. It’s helping you move past your own boy weirdness. You’re already dreading the next time you see Jungkook.

“Okay, all of these chickens are way too big. Why are they all so fucking big??”

“How big is way too big? And—wait—chicken? If you want to impress him—”

“I’m not trying to impress him.”

“Right. Chicken though? Isn’t turkey better? I know we did chicken last year but …”

Roomie sighs in exasperation as she picks a bird and gently places it in your cart. She starts to walk away and you push the cart after her. “My sweet, innocent, obviously non-cooking person, it is not. A nice chicken is the superior bird. I’m not breaking down a turkey. I’ve never done it. I’m not going to risk a meal for a holiday by cooking something I’ve never cooked before.”

You find yourself nodding. This all makes sense. The two of you have always kept Thanksgiving simple. It’s your holiday together, and neither of you cared to get too fancy before.

“And for this holiday of dubious origin, I like bucking tradition. Subverting the norms.”

“Hey, I think Brussels sprouts are on sale. Do we want them this year?”

“Yes. Can’t subvert all norms. What kind of pie do we want?”

“Apple. Does Namjoon know you’re anti-traditional Thanksgiving food?”

Normally she wanders around the grocery store with careless abandon and you just follow her with the cart, letting her enjoy the feeling of being unencumbered. Normally she’s efficient, but when planning a meal like this, you think she probably thrives with the freedom. Your question, however, stops her in her tracks.

“What makes you think I care about what Namjoon thinks about my menu choices?” Her tone is sweet to the point of acidic.

You drop the subject, but not without shooting her a knowing smirk. She makes a face back, but it doesn’t quite hide her shy smile.

Thank you for reading! Drop me an ask and tell me what you think. Find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work. Thank you.

posted: 3.28.2022. updated 4.2.2022 with front matter fixes.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 3)

Summary: Reader earns her nickname, and Spencer sinks to a new level of sin. A/N: Here, take your first dose of smut 💊 ✨ Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Drinking, alcohol, masturbation (male) Word Count: 5.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

If I had to pick my favorite thing about working for Spencer Reid, it would probably be something that most people wouldn’t expect. Sure, it was nice to be able to work with a human encyclopedia, and he was definitely very nice to look at, but neither of those things contributed to my love for my job.

It was the sense of belonging. An overwhelming feeling of serenity that existed, flowing freely beneath the surface like a network of roots twined together. I never felt out of place when I was with Spencer — which couldn’t be said for basically any other time. Especially not now.

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays because it’s just absurd. You harass your neighbors while dressed in a costume and they reward you with something sweet (or, in some cases, change). As I’ve grown older, not much has changed aside from the creativity and length of the costumes.

... and the sweet treats being replaced by the bitter sting of alcohol.

“You do realize that guy was hitting on you in there, right?” my friend shouted from less than a foot to my right.

“He was just being nice.”

“Yeah... in a bar,” another girl chimed in, “On Halloween.”

I tried to remember the face of the man they were talking about, but my memory of his eyes blended into the flashing lights of the club. Even if I wasn’t drunk, I knew it would have been hard to remember him. Because the truth was that he wasn’t the person I wanted to see when I closed my eyes.  

“Leave her alone. She’s trying to stay pure for her professor,” my friend snickered.

Despite the treachery, I still caught her before she almost pushed us both straight off the curb in her drunken state. But it wasn’t her opinion I was worried about, because at that point, I was certain she would remember none of it by the time class rolled around come Monday. It was our other acquaintance that I responded to, with a very squeaky and unreliable, “I am not doing that!”

“Yeah, what she wants isn’t pure at all,” the mess on my shoulder droned. That was enough of a reason for me to drop her, although it really resulted in both of us barely staying on our feet on the somewhat crowded sidewalk.

“Stop! It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not.”

Then, something else caught her attention. Knowing her, I figured that it was either a man in a scandalous costume, or it was a two for one drink deal plastered in front of a bar. I assumed it was the latter, because as soon as she finished talking, she grabbed hold of our hands and yanked us against the brick wall of the next bar.

“So you wouldn’t mind if, theoretically, Professor Reid saw you in your costume?” she asked.

I like to think that I am a relatively smart girl. After all, I had made my way to graduate school, and Spencer seemed to think that I wasn’t a complete hopeless idiot. But in that moment, I couldn’t understand why on earth she would ever think to ask me that.

Running my hands over the fuzzy pink bodysuit I was wearing, I tried to picture his reaction. As soon as I tried to look down, however, the two floppy bunny ears affixed to the hood dropped over my eyes.

“I-I mean, I guess not…?” I mumbled, my face growing hot from something other than the alcohol, “I’m wearing it in public, so...”

But then she said it — the most terrifying two words I’d ever heard in my life.

“Okay ­– good.”

My eyes shot up immediately, trying to follow her eyes through the crowd of drunk, costumed people. By the time that I spotted him, somewhat thankfully dressed in normal clothes, I was powerless to stop it.

“Dr. Reid!” My friend’s voice rang out into the night, “Dr. Reid, come over here!”

The moment our eyes met, I knew I was fucked. Totally, completely, and utterly fucked. A clever little grin filled his cheeks as he quickly spotted me trying to hide under my hood.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I shrieked, but he was already on his way over.

“You said you didn’t mind!”

In a panicked whisper, I bit back, “I didn’t say call him over here!”

When he grew closer, though, I corrected myself. Because it was not just Spencer who was walking over. There was someone else with him. Another man, just as tall and just as beautiful as Spencer, but with a dark complexion and an even more wicked smile.

As for my company, they had already scattered into the bar behind me, leaving me with a wordless, dumbstruck look on my face that was very poorly hidden behind bunny ears.

“H-hey Prof— Dr. Reid,” I managed to get out.  

“Hey,” he answered in a tone I’d never heard before. A slightly guarded, very entertained but mostly awkward stretch of the vowel.

The man beside him, however, was quick to question.

“Who’s this?”

As I said before, I like to consider myself a relatively bright person. But the alcohol that night had been both free and strong. So, when I was asked by a handsome man who I was on the Devil’s night, I answered honestly.

“I’m a bunny!” I cried, bringing my hands together over my chest and turning to present the small pink pompom affixed to my lower back.

“I can see that,” the stranger replied through a genuine chuckle. But while the action was amusing to at least two of us in the conversation, Spencer looked mortified. It wasn’t necessarily negative, though.

I couldn’t be sure, of course, considering that I had already consumed more liquor that night than I had in the past month, but something told me that Spencer was less humiliated by me, and more worried about how blatant his response to my answer was. Because when he spoke, he did so through a smile.

“She’s uh... my teaching assistant.”

“Teaching assistant, huh?” his friend repeated, clearly amused.

There was almost a challenge to the title. Something about the way he said it setting my heart into overdrive. Unable to control my own treacherous tongue, I continued to dig myself a wonderfully sized hole to jump in to.

“I’m also very good at hopping,” I said.  

Once again, the better company of the two laughed. Spencer, however, covered his smile with a hand that brought attention to just how red his face had grown over the course of a few seconds. I was so distracted by it, lost in the way I could still see upturned lips just from his eye shape alone, that I failed to acknowledge the other man for a suspicious length of time.

“Well hey, don’t let me get in the way of you two catching up. Reid, I’ll go tell the hostess we’re here, so the others know where to go.”

With a firm pat on the shoulder, the man almost turned to walk away. But before he could, I drew him back again.

“Ooh, is there a party?”

Spencer, finally able to speak again, rushed his reply.

“No, it’s nothing.”

It was obviously not nothing, though. Judging by the toothy grin that his friend flashed, it was a very big not-nothing.

“Did he not tell you?” he asked with an incredulous, mischievous tone, “It’s his birthday.”

And it was, by far, the most insulting, scandalous news I’d heard that night. Enough to elicit a sharp gasp and hand reaching out to grab his wrist in a way I knew I shouldn’t have.

“You didn’t tell me it’s your birthday!”

My mind was racing, kicking myself for having not figured it out sooner. I was trying to recall the monthly staff newsletter, but then quickly remembered that I usually relied on Spencer to summarize them for me.

“It’s not my birthday,” he explained with a sigh, “It was a few days ago.”

His friend seemed pleased by my response, although he clearly saw it dwindling. My heels had already dropped back down with my hands that fell away, signaling a very different emotion than the excitement from seconds prior.

“We’re meeting up with some people for drinks and dinner. You want to come?” he asked, trying to convince me before it was too late.

But the moment had passed, replaced by loud, insecure ranting that insisted that Spencer wouldn’t have avoided telling me his birthday unless he didn’t want me to know. That meant he either didn’t enjoy making a fuss out of his birthday, or he didn’t want me to, specifically.

“Uhh...”

“Don’t answer that,” Spencer cut in, swiftly raising a hand to dismiss the other man whose name I finally learned. “Thanks Derek, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Suit yourself,” he mumbled back. But Derek, in all of his disappointment, didn’t fail to draw out one more flustered laugh from the two of us who remained as he gave a tiny half-wave and sang, “Goodbye, Bunny.”

Spencer’s neck craned back, never once leaving his friend until he had safely entered the restaurant. Once he was sure that he was safe from ridicule, or at least observation, his entire demeanor changed.

“I’m sorry about that,” he offered, but I couldn’t accept. If anyone had been a bother here, it was me (and my friends).

“No, I’m sorry I bothered you!” I rushed.

The silence stretched between us, an unsettling reminder that we rarely interacted outside of work. That he’d never known me to party, and I’d never thought of him doing something as routine and normal as celebrating a birthday. It shouldn’t have been strange, but it was.

Perhaps that feeling was what drove me to continue, proudly stating, “I promise that I will have all your work ready first thing in the morning.”

It wasn’t until Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened in a strange, lopsided grin that I’d realized I made a mistake.

“Um...” he spoke through laughter, “Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“I’m very motivated?”

Thankfully, he saw the humiliation and was happy to offer me a graceful escape from my humiliation. “How about I give you until Tuesday, instead?”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best, huh?”

I gladly took it, staring down at my heels as I tried to find anything else to focus on. Anything that wasn’t his eyes that seemed even more powerful after dark. But true to the magnetism I always experienced in his vicinity, I was drawn back into golden irises full of an emotion that made my heart beat twice as hard.

“Where did your friends go?” he asked. I didn’t trust myself to answer, so I just threw my thumb over my shoulder and towards the bar behind me. I didn’t turn away from him then, too scared to acknowledge that I would be leaving him soon. That we would go our separate ways again and I would have to wait until Tuesday to drown in the honey of his eyes again.  

Sure enough, Spencer gave a solemn nod and cleared his throat before mumbling, “Right. You should probably go find them, so they don’t get worried.”

But I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with him, the rest of the world be damned. I wanted to feel his eyes on me longer, especially when they started to wander my figure that I’d secretly hoped he would see.

I could pretend to hate my friend for calling him over all I wanted, but when I slipped into the costume hours earlier, I’d wondered what he would do if he saw me like this. And now that the answer was in front of me, torn between the exposed skin of my thighs and chest, I wanted to experience it for as long as possible.

With my fingers on the zipper to try and calm my heart, the inebriation manifested in soft giggles as I replied, “I think I’m pretty safe with you, Professor.”  

Spencer didn’t need to vocalize his disagreement. I saw his contention in the form of wayward eyes falling to my hands that fiddled with the tiny piece of plastic keeping me covered. When they trailed back up the zipper teeth to meet my eyes again, they were filled with a hunger that took my breath away.

Unfortunately for us, though, our smitten haze wasn’t shared by anyone else in the vicinity. Especially not the drunk pack of men who passed, completely unaware of the amount of space they took up on the sidewalk. I don’t even remember one of them running into me, but I definitely remembered what followed in extreme, vivid detail.

Spencer caught me, quickly and more gracefully than I thought him capable of moving. His arms were locked around me, not only preventing me from face planting on the concrete but causing me to press my face directly against him.

Before he had a chance to say or do much of anything else, I placed my hands on his chest and tore myself away from the warmth of his embrace. Because I was already drunk enough on the alcohol — I didn’t need to be any more inebriated from him.

“S-See? You caught me!” I squeaked.

I didn’t miss the fact his hands stayed on my waist even with the added distance, his fingers subtly digging into and stroking the plush fabric. I didn’t try to stop them, either.

“Are you going to be okay? Should I take you home?”

I knew it wasn’t how he’d meant it, but my inner voice still pleaded, Yes, God, please, yes! My outer voice, however, clung to reason and respectability.

“No! Don’t miss your birthday dinner!” I insisted, but he didn’t look convinced. “I’m fine, seriously. I just suck at walking in heels.”

Any part of me that would have normally been offended by his insistence that I couldn’t handle myself while drinking was quelled by my desire to keep his hands on me as long as possible. Although there was enough space for my arms between our chests, I swore I felt his fluttering heartbeat against my fingers. I thought of hummingbirds.

Resigned to my stubbornness, Spencer took a moment longer to stroke patterns through the pink fabric wrapped around my waist before he sighed, “If you say so.”

“I do!” I giggled, leaning closer like I might convince him not to leave at all, “So you better listen up, mister Professor man.”

The look he gave me was sweet, honeyed bliss. But even that seemed minuscule in comparison to the way his hands slid over my sides, making their way over my shoulders and gently brushing the errant bunny ears back out of my face. He left them there, too, with a barely-there caress of my face.

“You look cute,” he said, like it wouldn’t break my heart.  

Shier than he’d ever seen me before, I somehow managed to still look him in the eye as I answered, “So do you.”

It was a good thing I’d been paying attention, too. If I hadn’t been staring into his eyes, I would have missed the flash of chaotic playfulness that appeared just as he glanced down at the space between our chests.

I wouldn’t have been prepared at all when he dropped one of his hands from my face to the zipper of my costume. Not to say that anything could have prepared me for the way it felt to have his knuckle brush against the skin just below the lace bralette that had been meant to protect my modesty.

Before I could even comprehend the delicious friction of our skin, it was gone. Spencer pulled the zipper up to my chin, releasing the plastic in favor of grabbing hold of my chin once more.

“Be careful with that zipper,” he instructed, “I don’t need you getting hypothermia this early in the semester.”

Unsure of how else to respond, my body responded on instinct as it stammered, “I-I promise.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, and my autopilot continued.

“Double promise. Promise squared.”

“Okay. You have my number so... call me if you need anything.”

I absently nodded, but Spencer accurately concluded that I hadn’t actually processed what he’d said. When he let go of me, he took the time to smooth out the bunched up fabric over my shoulders. I tried to convince myself that he was just interested in the soft fluff, but it was hard to ignore the hunger that’d only grown stronger. The darkness that rivaled the moonless hallow’s eve.

“I don’t mind giving you a ride home if it means you get back safe,” he said with a deathly seriousness strongly contrasted by the flippancy that followed. “Otherwise I’ll have more work for Tuesday.”

I was grateful for the shift, because it made the loss of his hands hurt less. My chest filled with laughter that quickly burst from me with frantic, messy words.

“Of course! The work. For Tuesday. Okay! Thank you!”

“For what?” he also said through laughter.

“I— don’t know.”

Spencer turned away from me, looking behind him at the obligations that would tear us apart. I wondered if he, too, was busy contemplating how well it suited just how different we were. How two establishments side by side could house such different things. How we were frequenting opposite ends of the spectrum.

Whatever he was thinking about, however, it didn’t break his spirits too badly. Because before he sent me on my merry way, he flashed me the goofiest little bouncing peace sign before he sang, “Hop along, little bunny.”

So I did, turning back to my life and letting him return to his. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes following me until the darkness of the bar swallowed the space between us.

Still, I didn’t need him to be there to remember how it felt for his hands to roam my body like familiar territory. I saw that look in his eyes every time that I closed my own and remembered how it made my legs shake like weak stems bending to the wind.

I decided then that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that he’d seen me in my costume. In fact, I think he quite liked it.

 ——————————————————

 There are few things more relentless than Derek Morgan. Death and taxes, perhaps. When it came to mocking me, there wasn’t a single missed opportunity. Even at the darkest hour, I trusted him to be consistent and predictable.

That was precisely why it made no sense that I had made it through an entire dinner and drinks outing with the team without him mentioning what had happened. Not even once. I almost let myself be relieved. Perhaps time spent with a child that can talk back did him some good, I thought. But when the time finally came for us to take our leave, I realized my mistake. He wasn’t holding back out of the kindness of his heart.

No, Derek wanted to wait until there was no escape route. He wanted to have me trapped in a car hurtling down a highway before he spoke the words that he’d been waiting to say all night.

“So... Bunny.”

“Her name is (y/n),” I quickly corrected. Unfortunately, Derek wasn’t in a merciful mood. Although there was a notable smirk on his face, his next words were uttered with a hefty dose of skepticism. A warning that it was a subject that ought to be approached with a critical sincerity.

“Her name is Trouble. That’s what her name is,” he said, shaking his head.  

“She’s just my teaching assistant,” I said like I might actually convince myself, though we both knew that I wasn’t going to convince him. “It’s fine.”

“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?”

But that time, it was me who issued the warning.

“Stop,” I ordered, meeting his eyes to find him hiding his genuine concern under jokes that weren’t really jokes at all. “I respect her. She’s very bright and she earned her position.”

“I never said she didn’t. I know she’s probably smart, but I also saw the way you looked at her.”

The words felt like a blow to the stomach — yet another reminder that my affections for her were so thinly veiled they might as well be scrawled across my skin. He didn’t need to be a profiler to notice that I was fond of the girl, but it certainly made it worse.

Because he knew that I was lying when I muttered, “You don’t need to worry about it.”

He knew that I was lying, but he still asked, “Why’s that?”

“She’s...” I started, pausing while the word tried to form on my tongue. The word that had haunted me ever since those damned girls mentioned it. That short, simple little noun that had taken a cursory affection and turned it into full blown lust.

“She’s a virgin.”

Derek’s brows jumped up his face, his jaw dropping the same way mine had when I first heard the news. Then, just as I had, he put the pieces together and realized that it should have been a foregone conclusion.

“Trouble with a capital everything,” he half laughed.

But this wasn’t a joking matter, and I really wished that I could make him believe that. That definitely wouldn’t happen, though. Not when he looked up to see me hiding behind my hands, sinking into my seat like it would get me out of the conversation.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s obviously waiting.”

It was the wrong thing to say. I should have seen his response coming from a mile away. But I didn’t, and so I was forced to listen to his childish giggles that were followed with an even more lighthearted crooning.

“Yeah, waiting for the right professor to come teach her the lesson on the birds and the bees.”

“Cut it out.”

Without even looking, he astutely observed, “Kid, you’re blushing.”  

“Yeah, because you’re talking about me fuc–”

The word never made it out, getting caught between my teeth as I bit down on my tongue damn near hard enough to make it bleed. I wished it would. I wanted the iron to drown me and rid me of the sinful things it sought to do, instead. Opting for a more… distinguished explanation, I eventually stammered the rest of the thought.

“You’re talking about me... deflowering my significantly younger employee!”

“You can say fuck, Reid,” he deadpanned, “I think you’re old enough now.”

“I don’t want to. It sounds too... crude.”

I didn’t expect him to understand. How could he? He’d only seen her when she was at her most provocative… by far. Part of me envied him, to be able to sequester her innocence and view her as just another girl.

But she wasn’t like anyone else. She was an untouched bloom, a magnolia of unearthly shades. A beautiful blossom that had broken through the concrete walls I’d maintained for so many years. A tantalizing taste of the life outside that I refused to let in.

A fucking tease.

“Too crude for little miss innocent bunny?” Derek cooed, and it was so uncomfortably close to my thoughts that I couldn’t help the way I snapped back.

“Are you done?”

As we pulled into my parking lot, Derek just waved off my hostility, recognizing it as nothing but misfired shame and anguish at the thing I wanted being out of my reach.

“Yeah, I’m done. I hope you had fun, even with the teasing.”

I chose not to dignify the second half of the statement, climbing out of the car like I couldn’t step away from the conversation fast enough. But of course, I knew that only made my guilt more apparent. My culpability was clear and conclusive. There was no argument to be made.

“You know I’m right!” he shouted just before the door shut. A final reminder, one last cautionary call for the beast inside of me to keep itself hidden lest I allow myself to sink my teeth into something pure.

“Goodnight!”

Few things changed when I reached the confines of my apartment walls. Fantasies had only devolved into a vividness that was borderline frightening. How easily I could get lost in visions of her, only promising my return in exchange for my imagination agreeing to become a reality that I would get a chance to experience.

But that wasn’t fair to her. She was just a girl doing her job with an astounding amount of patience and understanding for her hopeless romantic of a boss. For a moment, the guilt became so overwhelming that I let it win. I managed to swallow my newly acquired memories well enough to navigate my nightly routine without wishing she was there every step of the way.

Wishing that she would call me. That she would grant me the excuse to return to her, to touch her as freely as I had earlier. I imagined a world where, upon arriving to her destination, she invited me in.

As I collapsed on my bed, I wondered if she would have preferred the privacy of my home. A place far enough away from other students and academics to finally see me as something more than a superior. Something attainable in a way she never seemed to be.

Just as I closed my eyes to give in to the dreams, my phone buzzed. The sound set off every nerve in my body, all of them very poorly coordinating to allow me to grab the device and turn it on to reveal her name.

“Hey Professor! I just wanted to let you know that I got home…”

I’d never opened a notification so quickly, but I should have waited. I should have paused and taken the time to notice that what I was opening wasn’t just a collection of letters and symbols.

It was a set of pictures.

Pictures of her.

“Safe and sound and zippered up. No hypothermia for this bunny tonight,” she tagged onto the end, “Sweet dreams!”

How could I ever dream of anything but her? How was I meant to turn off my phone now, knowing that she was there; her drunken, lustful stare on display? I only tore my eyes away from her face long enough to notice her surroundings. I took extensive, painstaking notes on the color of the sheets on her bed and the way the zipper I’d tugged at to control myself from taking her had fallen away again.

I could feel the softness of her skin against my knuckle again. I heard the way her breath nearly broke at the force with which she sucked in air at the feeling of me touching her. How hard she pressed herself against me, how her back arched when I held her and how she never even tried to stop my hands from finding new places to rest.

They worked diligently now, too, trying to keep her awake and with me for as long as I could, but also wanting to free myself of obligations so that she wouldn’t notice how long I’d stared at the pictures she’d sent.

“Goodnight, little bunny,” I sent before adding, “I’ll be counting rabbits instead of sheep tonight.”

As if to reward my efforts, another picture flooded my screen. Her face was scrunched up in an adorable innocence, half covered with her hand but still effortlessly beautiful.

I stopped myself from responding again. I forced myself to stop, to prevent treacherous hands from calling her and begging her to let me come to her. It wasn’t fair — it was manipulative, downright evil, even — to take advantage of her inebriated state to hoard any insight she might provide.

But she’d already sent these… So, would it be so wrong to indulge in her? By touching my own body to the thought of her, would I taint her? Did I care even if it did? Maybe it was for the best to plant the seed of impurity now, to strip her of her power over me.

But deep down, I knew that I would still want her. I would still wish that the hand that sneaked beneath the sheets belonged to her. I could almost feel it as my hand traversed familiar territory. It would be new for her, and it would be new for me to feel the delicate, unmarred skin of her palm slowly sliding down my stomach. Her fingers bashfully brushing through soft curls at the base of me, still too nervous to hold me the way I needed her to.

Her face would be buried in my shoulder, with dew from her breath wetting my neck and raising the hairs on my arms. I would take her hand in mine and guide her to wrap her trembling hand around my cock.

Just like I was doing to myself now, with my other hand still holding the phone displaying the image of innocence. My hand wasn’t as soft or inexperienced as hers would be, but as long as my eyes stayed on her half-lidded gaze staring back at me, I could pretend.

I could hear her panting my name— my real name, Spencer— in my ear, praising the feel of silky skin beneath her fingertips. She would whisper about how she wanted to feel it elsewhere, too. She would beg for me to replace a hand for her most precious place.

That damned angelic girl showing her hand on the zipper would beg me to steal away her innocence. She would unveil herself slowly, knowing that I needed the time to memorize every inch of her skin as it was seen by another for the first time. Seen by me, and only me. The vision would be for my consumption and indulgence.

I wanted it. I wanted her.

My stomach tensed as I pictured the girl staring back at me straddling my hips. I stroked myself harder, faster, letting my thumb trace down her body on my screen.

If I stole it from her, would it be mine?

Would she be trapped as I was, only able to feel anything when I was with her? Would she dream of me? Would she cherish each and every memory of my touch and play it back in her mind? When she felt the urge to break and burn, would she picture my hands lighting the match?

If I ruined her, would she be mine?

I pictured the girl on the screen with tears in her eyes, her mouth stuck open in a silent scream and her hands clutching desperately to mine. I imagined how tightly her body would grip me as I fucked her. How hard it would fight the intrusion of my sinful touch. How I would hold her down despite the resistance until she gave in to me. Until I broke her, thoroughly and irreparably.

She would be mine.

That was the thought that took me over the edge, all energy that was not delegated to my hand feverishly stroking my cock remained with my other hand to hold her picture in front of me. It never even wavered, never once shaking and risking losing any clarity. Even my eyes refused to close all the way.

She would be mine.

The warm, sticky mess of my desire coated my hand and stomach, but all I could think was how it would feel to mark her as mine. To feel the excess drip back down my cock as she collapsed against my body. To know that she would never be the same, never be wholly herself again. That she’d let me inside of her soul and that when I left, I hadn’t left empty handed.

She was already mine.

 ——————————————————

| Part Four |

[wizkiddx]

your voice

angsty vibe, requested by @hollandlover19 than you for th rq and hop this doesn't disappoint too much :)))

summary: tom says something so stupid and has to deal with the consquences

warnings: a bit angsty, but ends in fluff! argumnts and raising voices, I guess could be associated with panic attacks tho not written with that intention

//////////////////////////////////

“Oh, Y/n er sorry.” Harrisons morning dulcet tones were what you were awoken to with a groan.

Everything was achy, and your head was pounding, making you grumble in discontent as you shifted uncomfortably on the technically too-small-to-sleep-on sofa.

This was not the morning you’d foreseen even 12 hours ago.

Lockdown had been difficult for everyone, even removing the tragic health crisis. Being locked in with your boyfriend and his brothers and friends was, for the most part, amazing. Lots of laughs, lots of beers and lots of quality time that you usually didn’t get. But it was also intense.

Without a doubt, since you first got together, this was the longest time you’d ever had with Tom. And it had been brilliant, your relationship getting so much closer and just learning the subtlest intricacies about the other. In fact, when lockdown had been announced, you’d never lived together (the most a week-long holiday).

Though it was also like a pressure cooker, Toms rented house. When one of you were in an understandable but stubborn lousy mood, it affected the whole house.

Yesterday night had been the perfect storm. The weather was unbelievably scorching; your work had announced that they had to let some staff go because of the financial implications of the pandemic; a ‘mole’ had released personal details of your relationship.

And it was like a pot on the stove; everything went from controllable to violently boiling over in a matter of minutes.

Honestly, you didn’t even know why you had started arguing - it was that pathetic. And yet you’d both said pretty horrible stuff - though it was Tom who had crossed the line. Frankly, the way he’d spoken to you was almost unforgivable.

You’d both known instantly too, all his anger at you had immediately evaporated when he’d realised what he had said. It took no time for him to become a grovelling apologetic mess, however even that- it was already too late.

It might sound feeble, but honestly, you’d run and locked yourself in the downstairs loo. You’d cried on the inside- whilst from the other side of the door, he had been begging and pleading with you.

After an hour though, Tom finally gave up - hence why you’d had a pretty uncomfortable night on the sofa.

This brings it back to Harrison, the early riser of the house, barrelling into the living room after his morning run. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, except also slightly terrified looking as he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“I’m up now” You sighed, dragging yourself into a sitting position on the sofa whilst massaging your crooked neck.

“You er…. you fell asleep watching the TV?” Rolling your eyes, you sighed at the blonde, even if his poor acting was a little entertaining.

“Are we both pretending that you don’t know what went down last night?” Of course, Harrison knew. The walls were thin, you’d been screaming and he was Tom’s best friend. No doubt, Tom had immediately gone to him for help and advice last night.

Harrison held his hands up in response, caught in the act, and clicked his tongue. “What he said was bad. You shouldn’t be the one ending up with the sore back.” He wasn’t wrong.

“And yet here I am…” With a sigh you smiled which he returned with a sickeningly empathetic one “Anyway, don’t let my sad self get in the way, did you come in here for anything?”

Now, because Harrison was mentally a five year old, that’s how you ended up sat crossed-legged on the floor, clutching a wii remote and angrily shouting at yoshi on the mariokart screen. The whole household was competitive as hell and you were no exception - so some rouge elbows were flying when he viciously knocked you off the track.

Slowly Harry and Tuwaine filtered in and picked up remotes too, so the quiet morning was very quickly switched into a tense atmosphere of yelps and shouts. None more so than Tuwaine, who was possibly the worst looser you had ever met.

Really, you knew all the boys were only doing this as there way of showing you they were with you. That they also thought Tom was a massive raging dickhead. And you appreciated it more than they would ever know. Locked down in Toms house, very much not mutual ground, having three stupid boys behind you meant everything.

Just as you got on to the 18th and final race of the house’s mario grand prix, another voice cut across the tense silence as you waited for the coutdown to turn into ‘go’. Naturally, you flipped round to see Tom, looking as though he literally just rolled out of bed with puffy eyes and messy hair and no top. The sight made your heart flutter, to the point you had to consciously check yourself - refusing to smile softly at him like you usually would, instead narrowing your eyebrows and looking back at the TV.

Tom had so desperately hoped that when he came down this morning, everything would be better. That all it’d take would be a quiet conversation for the two of you to make up - for him to have you in his arms again. Primarily as he had heard your excited laugh echoing through the halls in reactions to Tuwaines yelps of protests - it made him hopeful. Waking up to a cold and empty bed was almost soul-crushing this morning. He did not want it to ever happen again.

Which is why his heart sank so much when all you gave him was a scolding look, before turning your attention to the TV. Admittedly, he was naive to think that what he’d done last night would be an easy fix - he knew it too. So with dropping shoulders, Tom silently took a seat on the sofa, watching from afar. You spent the rest of the race more absent, not joining in with the Harrison or Harrys trash-talking, acutely aware of Tom’s eyes burning the back of your head.

Then came Harry’s celebrations as the overall winner (only just) and when Harrison suggested another game Tom piped up again.

“Give me a turn Harry.”

The three boys kneeling next to you all stiffened, looking immediately to you for what seemed like consent - as if they were engaging with the enemy. (At least it was good to know everyone was on your side).

“I’m gonna go prepare for my meeting anyway.” You spoke quietly, already placing the remote on the floor and standing up.

“Y/n I don’t mind swappin-“

“No. Thanks, H but no.” You weren’t being selfless and giving Tom a turn. You were running away from seeing him.

And Harrison was still really angry at Tom. He’d been so selfish and insensitive and had hurt you- someone who Haz also cared a lot about too. Yes Tom was his bestmate, that he’d grown up with and known for years - but Haz really liked you too, in fact all the boys did. So they were almost as pissed with Tom as you were.

So while you threw the cushion you were sat on back on the floor, Harrison shot Tom the filthiest look and practically shooed him away.

“come on Y/n … just one more? Then you can do your boring work.” You were about to refuse when Haz tilted his head toward the door, only then noticing that Tom had slipped out the room. Now that he was gone ,yes, just one more wouldn’t hurt. The meeting prep wasn’t time pressured; it was an excuse for an escape.

Tuwaine whooped a little when you nodded, planting back down and ready for the first race. Yet apart from that, the room was still a little awkward, you being the first to break the silence.

“Actually Haz, would you mind giving me a lift today?”

“What to the shops?

“Um no not quite.” Tuwaine laughed in his usual innocent and infectious style before asking more.

“Seriously? You know we’re locked down? Boris won’t be happy if you going mad and leaving the house.”

“Just to Y/f/n’s. She lives on her own so it’s legal.”

“She lives just down the road right? Can’t you walk?” Harry was confused, making him look away from the screen, ultimately leading to his ‘diddykong’ falling off the track.

“I’ll have my bags. I um… I think I’m going to stay with her till lockdown eases more.”

As soon as you said that, Harry pressed pause on the race, all three boys looking at you mouth-opened.

“For real?”

“Yeh I um… think me and Tom need some time apart and being locked in isn’t helping.”

“I’m not saying to forgive and forget what he said… but he is really sorry.”

“The twats literally kicking himself.” Tuwaine added, making you smile a little for calling Tom that.

“I know just… I need some space and-“

“Are you breaking up?” Harry almost announced, cutting you off. He would miss you too.

“No! Nono I … well I don’t know. I just- we both need this.”

The boys all nodded, looking at the floor for a moment before Harrison’s blue eyes were back on you.

“Course I’ll drive, but… but I’ll miss you.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You’d left merely an hour later, whilst Tom was holed up in the garden doing what looked like an almost unbearable work out. It meant he was also out your hair and you could throw all your stuff into two suitcases without him being any the wiser. It was probably pretty cowardly to leave without speaking to him, but you couldn’t. It would hurt too much and you didn’t want to break down in front of him. No doubt as soon as you had got to Y/f/n you did - into a blubbering mess of tears - but Tom hadn’t seen so it was okay.

Speaking of. Tom.

Tom was not in a good way at all. He’d been trying really hard to curb his’ short fuse’ lately- all of which had been well and truly blown in the past 4 hours. After finally being realised from meetings, which he’d not been able to concentrate on anyway, Tom had mentally prepared himself for a lot of grovelling. Once he’d vaguely hunted the house and not found you there, he naturally asked Harry and Tuwaine (both of whom were in the living room) if they’d seen you around.

It was a typical question, the answer he was expecting was that you’d just gone on your daily walk. And yet the response he got was… well a lot more confusing. Harry’s eyes widened whilst T did his awkward-uncomfortable chuckle, the two locked in an intense bout of eye contact. It was as though they were arguing with each, but through the powers of telekinesis... and it put Tom on edge. He was already stressed because you were so angry with him, so not getting a clear answer out of his brother and best mate - lets just say it tested his patience.

“You two need to tell me what the hell is going on right now.”

The two boys both looked panicked to speak to him, which was the opposite of the usual situation. They were some of the ONLY people in his life that would just say it how it is, no sugar coating. Like if he was away and being ‘famous’ was getting to his head; or if he wore the wrong pair of jeans. Even yesterday evenings events, they’d both called him out on what he’d said to you.

So why the silence?

Eventually, it was Harry who spoke up, but in doing so, practically just waved all responsibility on to another innocent party.

“Ask Haz.”

And then Tom knew. He knew this was bad. Immediately his heart was pumping at an alarmingly fast rate, taking the stairs two at a time and not bothering to knock before bursting the door open.

“Where’s Y/n?”

Harrison was reclined back on his haphazardly made bed, laptop balanced on his lap as he looked up with a sigh. He’d known this conversation was coming, but it didn’t make it any less easy. With a sigh, Haz closed the lid of his MacBook and sat up on the bed.

“Tom just-“

“Where. Is. She.”

“She’s gone to Y/f/n’s.”

“Oh… okay.” Suddenly Tom’s voice was muted, thinking he might’ve blown his top at nothing. This wasn’t weird - Y/f/n was in your support bubble and you went to hers often.

Tom was grossly underestimating the situation - and Harrison heard didn’t fancy stringing him along though.

“No like gone. She um… she took all her stuff. I think she’s going to stay there till-“

Tom was already out his room at that point, slamming the door as he did so. Making a beeline for his own room, Tom then frantically started to pull out the draws and rummage around the shelves, confirming what he already knew. Your clothes were gone, your toothbrush and toiletries were gone, you were gone.

It’s important to note Tom didn’t really cry all that much. Or if he did - it was more inconsequential, at a sad movie or one of the rescue dog stories from battersea. Actually, when it came down to it, he didn’t really cry.

Now though, it was impossible to ignore the burning of his eyes, as he sank down onto the bed that now felt twice the size. With ragged breath, he repeatedly fisted his eyes, not actually letting the tears fall - but it was impossible to not acknowledge their presence. Harrison stood wordlessly at the door frame, knowing it best not to interrupt - whilst at the same time knowing Tom shouldn’t be left alone. There was a delicate balance between the two, which he was walking on a knife-edge on right now.

After a short while, Tom looked up with red eyes and nodded at Harrison, effectively granting him entrance. With a sigh once again, Haz moved and sat next to Tom on the bed, clasping his hands together nervously.

“She said you both just needed a break from each other. Think lockdown and everything was just a bit too intense.” Haz had tried to explain, yet it seemed Tom had only managed to lock onto one of the first words.

“A break? Or breaking up?”

“I uhm… she didn’t explicitly say ending things. But I just… I don’t know to be honest mate.”

“You see the way she looked at me this morning? Like she hated me. Wouldn’t even acknowledge that I was there.”

“I don’t know what to say… she needs time and space I think.” Tom was silent for a beat, shaking his head as he cradled his forehead.

“I hate the fact you and my girlfriend are on better terms than I am.” Anddd his voice was back to scathing.

“I’m not on anyones side. But your both my friends and she… she needed some time.”

With that, Harrison made a quick exit out, getting Harry to take over the Tom supervision.

Ever since the atmosphere in the house had been tense. To say Tom was highly strung was an understatement, particularly towards Harrison. Deep down he was thankful Haz was looking out for Y/n: he was glad that Haz was checking she was okay. It’s not like Tom could, because Y/n was refusing to answer his calls, texts, whatsapps, even the slip of paper he’d slipped under Y/f/n’s door in the middle of an especially dark night.

So it was good to know Y/n was okay, but the fact she was going on socially distanced walks with the rest of his housemates was rubbing salt in the wound.

After a week and a half of complete radio silence on your end Tom had utterly worn down. He didn’t have the emotional capacity to be angry anymore, he was just tired. Tired of missing you with every breath, tired of the ten-tonne weight of guilt pressing on his chest, fucking exhausted with being angry at Haz and Harry and Tuwaine.

The best thing in his life and one of the very limited opportunities was quality time with the people he loved more than anything else. He had ruined it all.

And it was the small things. It was waking up to your soft, whispered voice in the morning; it was your infectious giggle when he surprised you with a hug from behind and gentle kisses to your neck; it was your quiet singing in the shower. Especially when he knew Haz, Harry and Tuwaine were all still seeing you and laughing with you. It hurt like hell.

Which is how he ended up hesitantly knocking on Harrison’s bedroom door at half eleven at night, with his tail between his legs. Having been so uber-healthy all lockdown, Haz was already in bed following his sleep cycle, though for Tom right now- he would be awake.

“I’m um… I’m sorry I’ve been a knob. There’s no excuse of anything I’ve just… I’ve been a knob.”

“You’re not wrong.” Harrison nodded in agreement with a sly smile, motioning for Tom to come into the room, after which he perched on the edge of the bed.

“I just… I need to speak to her but I… I don’t want to push her if she’s still hurting and I…”

“You absolutely promise not to blow your fuse? Because she couldn’t handle that.” Tom’s eyes widened, thinking this would be a much harder pitch than how it seemed to be going.

“Yesyesyes i- I promise. I just, I feel broken you know? Even if all I get is the time to say sorry, I-I really need to.”

Harrison released a deep breath, nodding slowly before throwing the covers off himself. Tom watched all his movements with a curious gaze, silently sitting as Haz pulled on a hoodie, then socks too.

“Well? Let’s go.”

//////////////////

Now, what Tom had not in the slightest bit been prepared for was this to happen tonight. Really, he hadn’t even thought Harrison would agree to let him talk to you… and even if he had, Tom not in hell thought it’d be at 11:30 that evening.

His heart was thundering in his chest, trying to hurriedly script how on earth he was going to apologise meaningfully to you - as him and Haz walked the short distance to your friends house. Honestly the whole situation was peculiar to Tom - finding it hard to believe that if you weren’t to answer his texts you wouldn’t be open to an in person conversation.

What Tom didn’t know, was how you’d been texting Haz at a similar point of desperation. You weren’t happy and even given everything Tom had said and acted - you missed your boy. No matter how infuriating he could be when trapped 24/7 - you’d quickly learnt this was the only way you wanted to spend these weird times.

So yes, Tom’s best friend knew you were hardly sleeping either, but needed that little push to interact with you boyfriend. No doubt, you’d still be awake to answer the door.

Once he’d arrived at the apartment block and walked up the stairs to the right floor, it still took some prodding and pushing from Harrison to get Tom to knock on the door. Plainly, because he was shitting himself. Haz hadn’t given him enough pre warning, enough time to work it all out in his head. So it took another encouraging nod from Harrison for him to knock on the slightly rough-round-the-edges flat door.

Y/f/n was single and young, starting her career in Kingston - so the flat she could afford was modest at best. When it was just occupied by a single person, that was manageable - two was a push. You’d only been living with her for a week and a few days but it was enough to know this flat was not ideal for two people in lockdown. You were already stepping on each others toes. It also wasn’t technically legal to move households but Y/f/n had always been in your support bubble as a single household otherwise. And so there was also a layer of guilt to it all.

Naturally then, sharing a bed with someone who wasn’t Tom meant you just were not sleeping. Even if you had both gone to bed early (just to kill some hours in the day) you were still wide awake at quarter to twelve - when a timid knock echoed through the minuscule apartment. Curiosity peaked at who the hell would be calling now; you silently slipped out of bed, managing to not disturb Y/f/n, and closed the bedroom door.

Now you weren’t an idiot. Even though this was southwest london, hardly the capital for crime, Y/f/n lived in a dodgy building with some questionable characters. And it was midnight. Hence why you approached the situation cautiously, tiptoeing to the door and waiting with your ear pressed against the wood.

“I told you she wouldn’t answer!”

“She will! Might just be in the loo or something.”

“Haz this is stupid-“

The air in your chest froze when you immediately recognised the smooth tone of his voice. It was him… and you’d missed that so much. Already there were tears in your eyes and you couldn’t open the door just yet. So no, instead you slid down the doorframe before calling quietly out into the night.

“Tom?”

The bickering on the otherside of the door was silenced, but you heard a quite tap on the door... and could envision exactly what was going on. Tom, pressing both palms and his ear to the door, as Harrison took a few steps back - sensing his work was done.

“Y/n? You there?” He sounded desperate, you could hear the emotion dripping off his voice. It was only when you tried to reply did you realise your own voice was having a harder time speaking.

“Yeh its-its me.” It felt as though this heavyweight that had been pressing down on your chest was slowly lifting, making your voice all cracky and low.

In response, there was a short and sharp exhale. It sounded relieved before some fidgeting as you imagined him crouching down beside the door - mirroring your image.

“Fuck, it… it feels so good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too… I’ve-i’ve missed you.”

Tom snorted at that, a gentle bang allowing you to realise he’d just whacked his head on the back of the wood.

“You have no idea how this week felt.” He was wrong though, you did.

Yes, maybe without the insurmountable guilt that Tom was rightfully feeling, but it didn’t mean that the time apart wasn’t easy.

“I do. This hasn’t been a nice holiday for me you know?”

He sighed, knowing that yet again he’d said the wrong thing. This time though, he didn’t rebut instantly (which surprised you), instead his response was more measured and calculated.

“I am so sorry. And of course, I know because I was the one that hurt you too. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that.” You nodded but given this conversation was happening through a door Tom didn’t see your gentle agreement - opting to fill the silence.

“I um… I’m not good at this whole um… speaking my feelings. But I’ve hated myself ever since I picked that fight with you. It was stupid and uh it-it was all my fault. I’m so so sorry for hurting you.”

“‘Why?” You tried to ask, except the words were stuck in your throat, making you have to clear it before asking again. “Why did you say it?”

“To get a rise out of you. It’s stupid and petty and fucking-fucking dumb. I said it not because I’ve ever thought it, I never ever have, but I knew it’d hurt you. I was preying on your insecurities because I was angry at the world and that was so unfair. “

“No shit.”

Silence reigned as you fiddled with your fingers - specifically with the promise ring he’d bought you a year ago.

“You-you think you could ever forgive me?”

“Thats the annoying part. I want to hate you because you literally stabbed me then twisted the knife but… but all I’ve done this week is miss you. Even when I saw Haz or Harry or Tuwaine. I just fucking missed you.”

“Can you open the door please love?”

Clumsily you scrubbed the tear tracks off your face, scrabbling to your feet so you could thrust open the doors. Because you might still be bloody pissed at him, but at the same time - you needed your Tom. Thrusting the door open, the first thing you registered was being pressed into Tom’s chest. His arms slinked around your waist and held him tight, which you reciprocated, squeezing tightly round his neck. Your senses were all being assaulted by one thing and one thing only. Tom.

He smelt like usual, except maybe the slightest bit stronger than usual - you figured he hadn’t showered in a day or two or bothered with cologne. The top of your forehead was pressed up against his chin, and as he readjusted his grip on you, you felt the scratchy feeling of his unshaven stubble. He kept whispering apologies against the top of your head, almost desperate and religiously.

Arching back, you brought both hands to cup his cheeks, looking into his glassy brown. eyes, which looked so lost and confused.

“I’m still angry.”

“Of course-“

“I’m still angry but I’m going to kiss you okay?”

Safe to say Tom didn’t require a verbal response, taking it upon himself to nudge his lips against yours, yet waiting for you to initiate the kiss. And that you did, everything else about this godforsaken week and a half. His index finger traced the angle of your jaw, whilst he held your lower back tight, pressing himself as close as physically possible to you. Needing you.

Eventually arching back, your thumb ran over his deep and sunken under-eyes, which added so much age to his face.

“You look tired Tommy.”

“Can’t sleep without you telling me goodnight.” That was another tradition you had had. Even when he was away, you���d even set an alarm for whatever bedtime was for the other across the world. Just so you could send a little message or voice not saying goodnight. Was it cringey? Yes. Did either of you care? No.

But since you’d been away all the evening wishes were absent from you. Which hurt Tom more than you may ever know.

“I know you’re still angry but will you please come home to me? I need you to be the last thing I hear at night and the first thing in the morning.”

would love to hear any feedback <333 (but think this is a bit of a shitter so im sorry!!!)

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @pandaxnienke @thegirlwiththeimpala @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @hollandlover19 @hunnybunimdun @crossyourpeter @thefernandasantana@hallecarey1

[chiwhorei]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭

cross-posted to Ao3!

pairing: issei “horse cock” matsukawa x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ mdni

word count: ~4.4k

tags: stripper!issei, stripper!seijoh, roommate!oikawa, tendoukawa (bc @heauxzenji said it an it’s now the only ship in my head) dry humping, lap dance, a little corruption, spitting, public, alcohol and recreational drug consumption (weed and coke), spanking, degradation, hardly edited

a/n: howdy! this is my contribution to the smut pile’s western collab and it is so incredibly late but what the hell else is new. the masterlist for the collab can be found here! @messwriting and myself, in true chaotic duo fashion, built an absolutely depraved multiverse of seijoh strippers: the lawbreakers. lee, i love you so much. this journey we’ve been on the past few months has been chaotic and beautiful, and there’s plenty more to come. 

the multiverse: hanamaki || iwaizumi || kyoutani

hymn: save a horse (ride a cowboy) by big & rich

and all the girls say— save a horse, ride a cowboy

A fog of smoke burns in your eyes. The room around you feels like it could curl in on itself, four walls marked sparsely with dusty furniture, the smell of weed and cash. 

You fix your gaze onto a long, diagonal tear in the leather couch across the must and g-strings, the rip in upholstery is stuffed with wrinkled one dollar bills. 

It feels like observing an exhibit at a museum, or a zoo. Lines of coke, random dustings of pot and discarded swisher tobacco, too many open handles of liquor. Sitting on an end table is a bright pink teddy bear with a cowboy hat on it’s head.

How the fuck did you get here?

***

You shift your weight on either foot, arches aching already. The pair of jeans and top you had planned on wearing tonight were all but ripped off of your body, casual boots thrown down the hallway with sadistic glee and replaced with heels that are taller and a dress much too short.

“Damnit, you’re walking too fast.” Your appointed captor turns around dramatically, stopping in his tracks to watch you catch up. The cigarette pressed into his mouth cards in two fingers and extended towards you as a peace offering. You take the half gone stick and bring it to your lips.

Tendou’s mission was simple, drag his boyfriends roommate and best friend-- possibly kicking and screaming-- out for a night she won’t soon forget. 

“Were those really necessary, Satori?” You point with the remnants of his cigarette and he feigns a kicked-puppy expression, looking down dramatically at his all black outfit contrasting drastically with a flashy pair of brownish-red cowboy boots. 

“I am being a supportive partner. Plus Tooru and I wear the same shoe size.” His hair is bright outlined by the neon sign above the building.

You inhale smoke and nicotine, eying him over once again before continuing. 

“Does it bother you when he’s dancing on all of those horny women?” The cigarette butt falls to the ground, you snuff it out while exhaling remnant smoke from your nose, the bachelorette party walking towards the door in a parade screaming emphasizes your question.

Tendou pulls you close, mouth pressing against your neck to bite against the skin. You jerk away from his embrace, with a feeble push against his chest to match the scoff scratching against your throat. The tall red head above you, currently leaned into the dip on your neck, always has an air of vulgar humor and zero personal space. 

“Watching my pretty little boyfriend grinding on women that would never stand a chance with him,” he pulls away just in time to catch another eye roll before grabbing your wrist to pull you inside, “I think it’s hot as fuck.” 

You stumble behind him, the doorman recognizing your friend immediately and lets the pair of you through tacky saloon doors. You catch a glimpse of the tattered sign standing right next to the entrance. 

Lawbreaker’s Presents: The Guys of the Wild West

The club is drastically warmer than outside, the chill in your barely covered limbs thaws in a mixture of stage lights and body heat.

 You sigh deeply as the sound of country music fills your ears, seemingly in rhythm with the squawking of drunken hens sipping on tall flutes of champagne. Thinking back briefly to when you first signed the lease with Oikawa, you remember he wore glasses and a sweater vest. 

He said he worked as a “fitness instructor.”

“Ah, my two favorite people in the whole world,” Tooru’s ears just have been burning at your recollection, as your roommate appears in front of you in nothing but white spandex shorts and a pair of shiny boots to match, a tray of drinks is placed to the side on an unoccupied table. The white cowboy hat on his head gleamed in the low light of the club, rhinestone star shimmers-- you want to shy away from the bright refraction hitting your eyes.

He looks in his element, completely confident and cocksure as he walks around in only underwear and body oil. 

“Aren’t you glad you came out tonight? I promise, you’re going to have a great time.” Oikawa melts into Tendou’s side, he looks just as content in the current atmosphere. Tendou seems at home in any ecosystem he wanders into.

“The show starts in 15, go get yourself a drink and try to pull the stick out of your ass. I’m going to, uhm, wish Tooru an extra special good luck.” 

“I really didn’t need to know that, thanks. Tooru, break a leg.” You turn around at the sight of the wandering, tattooed hand on it’s journey south on Oikawa’s abdomen and retreat to the bar. You aren’t shocked by the display, not hardly, not with the two of them using almost every surface in your apartment as a debauched playground.

The space around you is emptier than you imagined it would be, but there is still time before the night actually starts. The bartender approaches just as you sit down on one of the wooden stools, every fixture around you is designed to look like an old saloon-- save for the strobing lights and dj booth.

You order something strong and amber, partially to stay in-theme, partially for the nerves settled in your stomach that draft beer wouldn’t be able to curb.

The woman smiles brightly and turns to pour your liquor, leaving you to pick at a cocktail napkin and await your friend’s return.

“You’re Shittykawa’s roommate.” A stranger's voice is deep and bellowing, sounding high above your ear. You swivel in your seat, gaze meeting a tanned chest instead of a set of eyes. Trailing upwards past thick black tattoos and an unavoidable pair of silver nipple rings.

You can feel the muscles in the back of your neck as they strain to meet his chocolate brown stare, he looks amused as you all but gawk at him.

“Yes, uh, I am. And you’re, uhm--” the train of thought you try to hang onto derailed completely by a devastating smile, “one of Tooru’s co-workers?”

If his smile wasn’t enough, his laugh could level the building around you. Your new friend taps the black Stetson against the bar top before putting it back on his head. He gestures broadly to his attire, or lack thereof, with another disarming and smooth chuckle. 

“What gave that one away, darlin’?” You realize how stupid your question sounded, mentally kicking yourself but trying desperately not to show it on your face.

Long, thick legs are wrapped in a pair of leather chaps, the tight fabric hides nothing even if it covers most of his lower half. A matching vest hangs open on his chest, the muscles in his arms look bigger than your head. He seems huge in presence and physique, your own form is a shrinking violet below him.

“Your drink, dear. Double Jack n’ Coke.” The bartender slides a glass towards you, and you accept it with a gracious smile. The distraction is definitely appreciated, any excuse to break the eye contact that has you dissolving like lye.

“Jack n’ Coke, a gal after my own heart.” You choke, a coupling of small coughs break out of your chest. You curse your bodies reaction, you don’t even know--

“You’re name, uh, w-what’s your name.” Casual conversation seems like the best option, because it’s only been two minutes with the almost-naked Casanova and there’s a gnawing feeling that you don’t want him to walk away.

You blame it on the alcohol not yet even running through your veins. 

“Call me anything you want, pretty girl, but my name’s Issei.”

A smile creeps from one end of your mouth to the other. His presence is jarring to say the least, but there’s something about the way his teeth peek out past curled lips that makes you want to lean in instead of away.

Tendou calls your name, effectively pulling you out of Issei’s orbit and reminding you where you are. Heat flushes in waves on your face as Tendou wraps his long arms around your shoulders from behind. Acknowledging your new friend with a pointed, “Howdy partner,” before turning to order his own drink.

“Something sweet please, and strong.” You hear his voice singing to the bartender but still face Issei, having his attention is more intoxicating than whiskey. You want him to talk to you, to ask you questions, to grace you with that smile over again.

You feel the ability to breathe escaping when Issei leans into you impossibly close, his hand enclosing around your back and pulling you in so slightly you could swear you imagined it.

“It was nice to meet you. Make sure I hear ya’ out there, darlin.”

You’re left almost falling from the bar stool, watching as Issei strides toward the back. The way his hips sway is unfair in every--

“Hey,” Tendou’s fingers come up to snap in front of your face, “Didya hear me? Let’s go take our seats.” 

That’s right; you feel like you’ve just run a marathon, heart beating erratically at the briefest interaction, your night hasn’t even started yet. 

You’re dragged directly towards the front of the stage and sat in a small two person table. You agreed to the night out between gritted teeth, hauled to the uber with absolute defiance; but most of your protest has fizzled away-- definitely not due to a pair of deep brown eyes and planes of perfectly tanned skin-- as you get comfortable next to the boisterous bridal party. You can hear their idle, drunken chatter at your back. 

“I heard they call one of the dancers ‘Mad Dog’. Apparently he’s totally feral.”

“One of them is nicknamed the ‘Big Tease’, he really likes the pretty little brides~” 

“Oh yeah? Well there’s one dancer called ‘Horse Cock’. I’m going to go home with him.” 

The women behind you howl with laughter, enjoying their friend’s last night of freedom. The straw in your drink twirls idly, thoughts drifting with each turn of the plastic against your liquor. Surely, Issei had just intended a friendly introduction, he wouldn’t be raking in tips by being unapproachable.

Friendly, you decide, repeating it to yourself until the lights drop and a black curtain is pulled up, he was just being nice. 

* * *

The show starts out mostly how you would expect. Through a few sets, toned, beautiful guys take their clothes off and fling articles at the screaming, panting crowd. The table next to you gets the most attention, bridal parties, you assume, would be the prized cash cow.

Oikawa comes out in the most obnoxious, white and teal outfit and strips into nothing but a thong and boots. Every inch of his skin sparkles, the cause becoming obvious when he jumps down to the audience and swivels his hips and ass right into your lap. Your hand comes up to his hip reflexively to brace yourself-- of course, body glitter.

You watch on at the sweaty writhing of the most beautiful men you have ever seen in real life. The atmosphere around you is absolutely contagious, it’s impossible not to fall into the rhythm, losing inhibitions with every stray piece of fabric as it’s tossed into the sea of women.

Just as you lean over to Tendou to admit that you’re enjoying yourself, the next song blasts loudly from the speakers. The beat vibrates your table, soaking into every nerve, but is almost drowned out completely by the shrieking from every patron around you. They must know what’s coming. 

 Looking back up front, you realize why the crowd is losing their minds. The man that commanded your attention at the bar is even more alluring now. His strut to center stage is deliberate, flashing smiles and winks to no one in particular and hypnotizing every person in his reach.

Issei is stunning in his element, soaking in the reaction with a humble tip of his hat. You could swear, though you’re sure that it’s just your imagination, that he’s looking right at you.

His performance starts out like the rest of them, but each movement of his tattooed hands as they travel over his chest is spellbinding. 

Issei discards his leather vest and tosses it to the side, it feels like you’re watching him in slow motion. He’s gorgeous, skin tanned and tight over thick muscle, arms wrapped in black ink and shining with sweat.

His chaps are next, ripped from his legs just as music behind him picks up. The wedding party next to you so loud you swear the laundromat next door can hear.

 All that’s left is a thong that’s barely covering his cock. You try desperately not to, but all your eyes can focus on is the bulge under a tiny piece of black leather. Your thighs rub together in search of any relief to the feeling growing hot and slick in your stomach.

He moves like liquid platinum, every long, deliberate swivel of his hips and overt palming over his crotch is enough to cause delirium. He soaks in every whistle and shriek of his name, vibrating on the high of squelching attention. 

Issei is a natural. He’s a wild animal, and, along with every other woman there, you wish he would tear you apart with his canines. 

He descends the short staircase with a quick stomp of his boots, now making rounds through the crowd. He stops in front of tables at random, invading the space between strangers and collecting wrinkled one dollar bills.

Why does something so blatantly performative feel voyeurous?

All you can do is gawk, ignoring how every time another woman’s hand runs down his abdomen you heat with envy. As he turns away from the bridal party neighboring you, your blood turns ice cold.

Issei has you, unmistakably, in his sights. His eyes pin you, holding you down tightly in your chair as he struts forward. Tendou whistles loudly as the brunette approaches your table. You wonder, in your last moment of cognizance, if Saroti and Tooru had planned your evening in more detail that you originally thought.

“Long time no see, darlin’,” Issei stands over you, and all you can do is stare dumbly up at him, “do ya trust me?” 

You don’t answer, not with words, not like he would even hear your quiver over Big & Rich booming through the speakers. His question is stupid, to trust someone you just met so vaguely?

You do. Against any better judgement, you do. 

He doesn't give you the chance to ask what he means, stuck in the gooey feeling of his attention. Issei reaches behind you, picking up your half empty glass. He swirls the drink with an almost evil smile before bringing it up to his lips and draining the last bits of whiskey and coke. 

Your face reads confused, not putting his intentions together until you feel his thumb pressed against your chin. Issei’s eyebrow quirks, eyes trained on your reaction. You’re options are to shy away, turning back in your seat, running for escape in the bathroom, or--

The gloss on your mouth is sticky as your lips part in obedience. Issei tries to hide his elation, but it’s difficult to remain aloof as your tongue lulls out and your eyes beg him.

Issei’s hold on your chin tightens, nudging you to lean in so he’s only inches away. Your eyes shut lightly, the shouting surrounding you sounds little more than a whisper with the blood rushing in your ears.

You swear you can hear him groan above you as the sharp taste of liquor hits your tongue. Willing your body to cooperate, you swallow the drink with only a small cough. 

His face dips down, it seems like a habit now, to brush his promises against the shell of your ear once again.

“You’re an agreeable little thing, I think you can take it.”

His hands are on either side of your chair in a flash, lifting you up with trained, bulging muscles. You fall forward in your seat, bracing against Issei’s chest. Every cell in your body is tight with tension, if you lift your head up to meet the audience’s eyes, you’re sure you’ll crack like glass.

He steals you from relative comfort, shifting your weight in his arms as he ascends back onto stage. You’ve gone limp in his hold, pliant to his will. The unfamiliar presence at a dusty bar top has turned into more than a front row seat to depravity.

You’re thrown off balance as he sets you down, eyes adjusting to the white hot stage lights. You’re exposed to every set of eyes in the building, even if you can’t see him-- you know Satori is smiling from one sharp cheek to the other. Wherever Tooru is, he’s most likely sitting in the same satisfaction.

Aren’t you glad you came out tonight? I promise, you’re going to have a great time.

Issei rounds the back of your chair so his actions are hidden from your view. The brim of a leather cowboy hat breaches your field of vision, much too big for your head.

His hands come down onto your shoulders, snaking down your bare arms. His touch leaves a scorching fleet of chills. Issei runs his finger tips upwards, tracing against your collarbone before wrapping his grip lightly around your neck. 

He can feel it, he has to, the racing pulse right under the surface of your skin.

The music transitions effortlessly, going almost unnoticed. The next song, still sharp with a cheesy country twang, is slower, deeper.

Issei’s thumb brushes against your cheek, your body wants to relax into the touch before it remembers how public the gesture is.

You hold in a shaky breath as he comes to stand in your eyeline again, you might as well be bound to your chair with rope. He looks larger than life-- in both stature and presence-- in front of you. His skin is glistening, refracting from the harsh lights with sweat and oil. 

He is an unstoppable force against your will. Your desire to hide from the blinding attention is nothing compared to the desire to please. To please a stranger, to please the man you met only an hour ago. 

To please Issei.

He flashes you another wink, taking a moment to rake his stair down your body. He memorizes the outline of your cute little dress, red is definitely your color. 

Issei slides across the smooth surface of the stage to meet where you’re perched. The barreling, almost naked body now impossibly close to where your knees are pressed together.

He starts at your ankles, tracing the soft skin of your legs until his palms press flatly against your lower thigh. Issei savors the moment for a beat longer before prying your legs apart.

The crowd below you is loud and hollow in your ears, the shame bubbling up against your cheeks and nose is nothing compared to the pressure between your legs. 

Issei’s hands wander up and under the hem of your skirt, scratching his nails on the vulnerable skin before they find his prize in the form of thin lace.

The “Wait” and “Stop” sitting on your lips shrivels up and dies as your panties are ripped off. You see the bright color, the last remnants of opposition twirling around his pointer and middle finger.

The crowd goes wild, watching as your body is made a fantasy that they can all live vicariously by. all you can do is watch as the fabric is stuffed into the side of his thong to accompany fistfuls of singles.

* * *

You’re still in shock by the final dance, still under a trance as Tendou pulls you towards the back. Stumbling behind him to catch up, you’re given no time to think about what you’re about to walk into. 

A fog of smoke burns in your eyes. The room around you feels like it could curl in on itself, four walls marked sparsely with dusty furniture, the smell of weed and cash. 

You fix your gaze onto a long, diagonal tear in the leather couch across the must and g-strings, the rip in upholstery is stuffed with wrinkled one dollar bills. 

It feels like observing an exhibit at a museum, or a zoo. Lines of coke, random dustings of pot and discarded swisher tobacco, too many open handles of liquor. Sitting on an end table is a bright pink teddy bear with a cowboy hat on it’s head--

“I didn’t go too far did I?” Snapping back into reality, you hear Issei call to you. You’re vaguely comforted by a familiar voice before remembering the man attached had spat whiskey into your mouth and stolen your panties just 30 minutes prior. You heat up at the tips of your ears at the recollection of two things you had let him do, that you had wanted him to do. 

Your eyes find Issei sitting on the couch on the opposite end of your freshly showered roommate, seemingly unbothered as Tendou flops down against the middle cushion and drapes both arms across the back. 

“Don’t worry partner, our girl doesn’t startle easy.” Oikawa laughs, adjusting to sit across his boyfriend’s lap.  Issei’s all leather outfit is replaced with a pair of grey sweats. He looks relaxed, effortlessly handsome. 

What was it like, you wonder, before you knew how it felt to look at him? Life past the single night feels grey around the edges. 

When was the last time you felt this alive? 

He takes a sip of a water bottle, wiping off his chin with the large rose tattooed on his hand. You can’t stop staring at them-- the ones that roamed your body in front of a club full of drunk bachelorettes, the ones that traced your skin like he already had the map. 

And now you watch those same hands, so new but so inviting, as two fingers curl inward. They pull you as if tightening a rope around your waist. You wade past tall sweaty men and freshly caught audience members as they tangle across dusty furniture.

You scoot by your best friends from where they sit next to Issei, ignoring the slap to your ass and the following laugh from Oikawa in between loud, sloshing kisses.

“Well, little one,” He pats his thigh, inviting you to the spot on his lap rather than the empty seat next to him, “you’re not gonna run away are ya?” 

Every nerve in your body is twitching, you’re not sure if you could run if you wanted to.

You don’t.

Issei takes in your small nod of confirmation, pulling you into his hold. The position is awkward at first, perching on his knee as you try to keep your balance. He laughs, his arm snaking around your back so you relax into him. You fidget with your fingers as they lie against your lap, watching the bustling around you. A cloud of smoke settles in the air, you wonder if it’s a permanent haze of tobacco and pot-- the scent is probably painted into the walls. 

“Is this what you expected?” Issei’s voice is low and close to your ear, you can feel the smile curled into his question. Your eyes are fixed forward, watching as Tendou pours a small white line into Oikawa’s collarbone and dives in nose first.

“Honestly,” you adjust, kicking your legs up over his other knee, “I’m pretty used to this kind of stuff.”

Even if your usual scene doesn't include a drug filled almost-orgy, you can’t say you’re fazed much. Not with the company you keep.

Even with the circus revolving around you, Issei is the only thing you can see. Everything else falls away but the smell of his body wash and the soft material of his sweats where they meet your naked legs.

His hand rests against your thigh, fingers just above then short hem of your party dress. The metal rings on each digit are cool against your burning skin. You’re sure Issei can feel the heat rising in your stomach as it spreads through your blood. 

You feel him lean back, fishing something out of his pocket to set in your hands. You feel every hair stand on edge as the thin cotton drops into your grip, heavy as an anchor.

“You know what I think, darlin’?” Your breath hitches, the room around you squeezing tight against your shoulders, “I think you’re a natural on stage. I bet you would have let me do anything up there.” 

A hand wanders down the path of your spine, rough fingerprints stroke past each vertebrae. You arch at the feeling, his skin is like a narcotic. The liquor still swimming in your mind is no match to this, to the heady smell of sex and sweat as it cuts through your senses. 

Issei’s right, you’ll let him do anything to you. You’ll beg for it like you’re trying to pass the gates of heaven.

Your body moves of its own volition, legs swinging to straddle his waist. The material of your dress bunches over the curve of your ass, completely exposed to the room around you before being eclipsed by steady palms.

You would be, should be, embarrassed by the display of public depravity. No one around seems to notice, half naked is still more modest than most everyone else. Tendou and Oikawa have dissolved into a pile of spit and clashing teeth next to you, saving you from any snide quips. There’s nothing but Issei, face an inch away from you and lips tempting you to lean forward.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I don’t usually do this?” 

Glassy eyes flick dumbly at the man below you. He sees the wobble of your lip, the glaze in your stare as you memorize every feature on his face. Any reassurance sitting on his tongue dies when you crash your lips against his, hips rolling down into him and knocking him off guard.

Your kiss is searing and drips with finality. You’ve decided what bed you’ll wake up in the morning with your tongue tracing against his molars.

“No, not really.” Foreheads pressed together, it’s your turn to laugh. If you’re honest, you probably made this decision while still sitting at the bar.

You dip back in, emboldened with the bruising fingers digging against the fat of your hips. The feeling of your cunt pressed against his crotch could bring a man to his knees.

He’s not opposed, he’s just gotta get you home first.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.22

Obstacle

04/08/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,413

Warnings: angst, jealousy, marital problems, pregnancy, allusions to cheating (no actual infidelity), fluff, smug Loki

A/N: It took me SO long to get this chapter down. I wrote literally like a few sentence a day for a bit and then finally got some good chunks out. This has been a tough week but this chapter makes it all worth it! I hope y’all think so too. A lot of good stuff happens in this chapter, as in stuff that I really like. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The shuffle around the palace as Loki escorts you through the front gate is overwhelming.

It’s safe to say that judging by your reception when you’d shown up in Heimdall’s tower located on the far side of the city, the Asgardians are happy to see you.

Armod is also happy to see you and you rush to get into your car before you can get swarmed by eager Asgardians.

Loki joins you in the back seat and lets Armod gush over his happiness at seeing you back home and healthy. And pregnant! More than anything, the people are happy to see the swell of your belly.

Many of the women are crying as you step out of the car at the palace gate, the men cheering enthusiastically.

Some of the children have found flower petals to throw into the air and it rains white, pink, and yellow blossoms.

It's the small waving hand of a little girl with ebony floor length braids that tugs too hard on your heartstrings and you give in to your impulse.

“Armod, stop the car, I’d like to greet the people,” you ask, swayed further by the eager faces of the young girl's siblings who flank her..

As much as being Queen had come unexpectedly and as much work as it's been, loving the Asgardians has never been a challenge and you've missed your people.

Their kindness has always been the best part of your day.

Armod gives Loki a quick look but stops the car just as the palace gates are opening.

He pulls over to the side, putting it in park before hurrying out to open the door for you.

“Are you sure?” Loki checks, reaching over to place his hand over yours on the seat.

“Of course. I owe them this. I’ve been gone for so long.”

“If you’d rather go in, we can find an excuse.”

“Loki,” you laugh once. “Is something wrong? Is there a reason I shouldn’t get out of the car?”

“Not at all,” he assures you. “I just don’t want you to force yourself. I know this pregnancy hasn’t exactly been easy on you.”

“I’m okay. And I’m sure they wanna see the proof that they have an heir coming. Really, Loki, I don't mind.”

Loki sighs, but gets out quickly to move around and take Armod’s place and offer you his arm.

Taking it, you pull yourself out, and after a long moment to steady yourself on your feet, you turn to face your people.

A large number of Valkyries suddenly pour from the open palace gateway and you wait as they line themselves in front of the gathering crowd. A simple border of control to keep you safe.

The people don’t seem threatened by the guard either and they continue to cheer until you raise your hand and call them to silence.

It only takes a few seconds for the noise to die, leaving only the ambient sounds of the city, wind, and the shuffling feet as more Asgardians and visiting humans gather.

“Hello,” you begin, voice a little shaky from nerves. “I’m...I-I’d like to start by first apologizing for disappearing. And then for being gone so long.”

The people watch and listen attentively, hanging on your every word. As your hands drop down to your belly to stroke it anxiously out of habit, their eyes are drawn to it and they seem to rattle with excitement again.

Looking down at your tummy, you contemplate the little one inside and the kicks he gave you earlier in the day.

He's really in there.

“It’s been a long journey to do what’s been expected of me. Difficult, actually. Giving you and Thor what we’ve all been hoping for is a privilege though. It's important that you all know that.

"However, I'm not as strong as all of you. I'm not as resilient. As soon as I knew that I was expecting the future prince or princess of New Asgard, I knew that I had to take precautions. I had to stop thinking like your Queen and just for a while, think like a mom. I told Thor that I wanted to take some time away from my duties as Queen if only to make sure that my pregnancy would take. In order to ensure the health of this baby.

“Im so very sorry if I caused any of you any worry or pain by disappearing. That was never my intention and it makes me...I can only say that I'm sorry. I hope that you all can understand why I left. The The thing is I’m happy to say that my efforts weren't wasted, clearly."

There's a rumble of gentle laughter that flows through the crowd and breaks the slightly somber mood your speech is causing. You give them a smile and they smile back.

"And while that does make me very happy, it has not been easy to carry this baby. I have been sick and weak but after some rest I'm now feeling stronger than ever. With the constant and careful care provided by Doctors Wilson and Alric, I’m finally able to resume my duties as Queen with the knowledge that this baby is strong and healthy and my body can take the strain of bringing him-or her into this world.

“I’m so happy to be back among my people, my home. You all are my family and it fills me with such joy to know that I have made you all proud.”

The people cheer, more and more gathering along the street so that it’s now clogged and impassable. Others have taken to peeking out of windows from the surrounding buildings or finding balconies and roofs to stand on to get a better look at you.

Their excitement changes to trepidation at the look on your face as you realize that now is the perfect time to address what happened yesterday.

They’re so attuned to your mood that they quiet down again and wait nervously for you to speak.

"On a more serious note, I know that many of you must have been shocked by the lies spewed onto the pages of the Watch. And I'd like to be as clear as I possibly can about my absence from the palace.

"I only left because of the concern I had for our future prince or princess. There was absolutely no other reason for my absence in our great city. While it is true that something did happen between Thor, Jane, and myself--well, I will only say that now I know that His Majesty the King of Asgard is wholly devoted to me and our family, just as he has been from the moment he accepted me as his wife.

"Not that I ever doubted it," you lie. No one needs to know how bad things are and it is true that now you know Thor is devoted to you.

So, it's not completely a lie.

"As a people," you continue. "We'll need to be vigilant about the people we choose to trust to come into our homes. We will be more cautious now, and as a woman…"

You swallow hard, thinking about the words itching on the tip of your tongue to tumble forward and make your heart clear. Maybe it's not right to say it? Maybe it isn't the queenly thing to do?

You don't care.

"As a wife and a soon-to-be mother, I will say that Doctor Jane Foster is not welcome in my home. She has proven to be unworthy of the trust we placed in her and while her expertise is an invaluable commodity that I am sad to lose, I would rather have the second best than risk the stability of my family."

To your surprise, there are a flutter of approving nods and smiles, wives and husband's looking scandalized by the confirmation that something went down but clearly it was Thor that had Jane kicked out. A few cheers come but they quiet down quickly.

"My love for His Majesty is unwavering. As is his for me. No marriage can be without it's struggles but Thor and I are as united as we have ever been. Both in love, devotion, to each other and you, our people. Together we will strive to protect this kingdom to the best of our abilities and with this child, I hope we can begin to lay down proper roots for us so that everyone on Earth will know that New Asgard is here to stay."

The crowd cheers. It's deafening and your hands are trembling so terribly even clenched into fists they shake.

"LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!" someone shouts and the others fall into the chant as it's picked up by what sounds like everyone in the crowd.

A cool hand presses against the center of your back and you lean towards him as he whispers in your ear.

"That was beautifully done, Y/N," Loki admires. "Now come along. You need your rest."

You cradle your bump and the crowd cheers louder as you wave while Loki leads you back into the car.

As it pulls away from the curb, the Valkyrie turn to follow behind you. Faces full of stern pride. Their gleaming armor shining bright in the late afternoon sun.

The large wooden and steel reinforced gates of the palace close with a thundering clatter and you lean back, heart suddenly clenching painfully. Your stomach turns and you feel like you might throw up.

You shut your eyes and open the window allowing the cooling air to help drive your nausea away.

"Y/N? You alright?" Loki checks, putting his hand on your arm.

"I'm fine," you assure him, unwilling to open your eyes.

"Are you sure? Only, you're looking a little green."

That doesn't actually happen does it? Do people look green when they're gonna throw up?

You assume he's exaggerating, but as the last bit of the swirl in your belly passes, you look at him with fearful eyes.

"I'm nervous," you admit.

"To see Thor?"

"Mm," you nod.

"He's missed you. He will probably try and hug you. Might even kiss you."

"I don't know if I can handle that, Loki."

"You'll have to. The guards around the palace are sworn to secrecy about anything that happens in here, but with the amount of information that magazine was able to get we're pretty sure there's a mole amongst our number."

You look away from him, frowning because the last thing you want is to hug and kiss Thor.

Well, that is, you really want to do those things. Which is why you shouldn't. Not until you can be around him with some kind of rational thought and control over your feelings.

You need to get a grip and come to terms with the reality of your situation before you can let yourself love hum.

You have to protect yourself.

It turns out that you have nothing to worry about.

Estrid who had come before you with your things is there to greet you. A few others of the palace staff come to see you and you're welcome back with fondness.

Because you know you have to play the part, you look for him.

"His Majesty had a sudden summons from the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, my Queen. He apologizes for missing your arrival but he's had the small dining room filled with all of your favorites.

"When you are finished with dinner, he has asked that you wait for him in his study."

Estrid's tone tells you she's wary for you. She wants to make sure you're okay.

The disappointment you feel gives you away not only to yourself, but everyone there to see your face fall as you caress your belly.

"A blessing in disguise?" Loki suggests in your ear for just you, but the smile on his lips says he knows better.

"He'll be back before it gets too late, Your Majesty," Estrid assures you, trying to soothe your sadness. "He promised. There’s nothing more he wants than to see you."

"I know," you smile at her, then the others before you head for the dining room, your stomach grumbling in anticipation of the foods you know are waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting is torture. You keep trying to read your book but your attention is pulled back to the door of Thor’s study every few seconds.

You groan, dropping the book onto the desk before throwing your head back with scrunched up eyes.

How is it possible to be desperate to see someone while also dreading it?

It feels like you'll die if you don't lay eyes on Thor but also like it'll tear you to shreds if you do. There's no winning here.

You gasp as the door opens and get to your feet in the same breath.

Thor's body is rising and falling heavily with his own labored breathing. He'd been running.

To get to you? No. You can't be swayed.

"I'm here."

His declaration is soft but heavy with meaning. More than just him announcing his arrival.

"Oh, aren't you a vision," he gushes.

"Hi," you whisper, only because you can't catch your breath.

He's wearing jeans, a plain black t-shirt stretched across his bulging chest. He's even more massive than you remember. Three months away has deprived you so fully that suddenly being in his presence leaves you hungry for him.

You want him so much.

"I've missed you, desperately," he confesses. "May I greet you properly?"

You frown, so undecided.

"Or not," Thor relents. "Forgive me, I just got caught up in the moment."

Why is this so hard?

You want to feel him.

"You can greet our baby properly," you give in.

A big part of you needs to feel him and this is the only way you can give in and feel like you're still doing your best to hold strong in your resolve to get some distance.

Thor’s eye lights up and quickly finds the swell of your tummy with recognition.

"Really?"

"I will never keep you from our baby, Thor. Even if I'm not ready for things to go back to normal between us just yet."

Thor takes a half step towards you and watches you carefully for any indication that you're not comfortable with his proximity.

You sigh, head tilted to the left slightly before you hold out your hand to him, beckoning him closer.

In three long strides Thor takes your hand and stops when he's only a foot away.

"Here," you gasp.

Your heart is in overdrive. Thor’s touch is doing things to your body. There's an initial rush of butterflies in your stomach and quickly you pull Thor’s hands to the spots where your baby is kicking in response.

Thor’s body freezes. He goes rigid. He even stops breathing.

For a moment you begin to worry that maybe you've broken him, until he suddenly drops to his knees.

He swallows hard, eyes pooling as he stares at the swell of your stomach as the baby continues to kick.

“They’re really in there,” he’s so choked up about it that his voice cracks around the words.

As he speaks, the baby kicks more.

Thor laughs but then leans in to kiss your stomach over the fabric of your dress.

“We really made her,” Thor gushes.

“Her?”

He looks up at you, confused for a second before he smiles wide, “Or him. It doesn’t matter. What matters is our baby is coming.”

Your heart swells, and you’re so happy that you could float away like a hot air balloon with the warmth flooding your limbs.

This is the moment you’d dreamt of. This is the moment that had been stolen from you by Jane and her lies. This is the moment that you and Thor had both been yearning for.

He’s so caught up in it, floating through the glow of this perfect moment that he presses his lips to your tummy again two more times before he’s rising, his hand hooked behind your neck as he meets your lips as he gets to his feet.

You’re so unprepared for it, so utterly lost in this sweet exchange between him and your baby that your lips pucker on their own.

He opens his eye and yours, already open, stare into his. He looks slightly shocked to find himself kissing you but he doesn’t stop.

Instead, his expression shifts into a pained look of desire. He pulls back, his hand dropping to grip your bicep.

“I would say that I’m sorry but I have been wanting to kiss you since the moment I left you three months ago.”

You say nothing, watching him, listening. You’re searching your soul to see if this is okay with you because it feels okay. Despite the sirens blaring in your mind about the restrictions you’d set for yourself when you’d decided to come back home, your body is telling you it needs this. Your heart is painfully aching at Thor’s touch.

You’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. 

“Is this alright? I can go.”

The idea of him going now feels like the end of the world. Rationally, you know that isn’t an appropriate response to his offering to leave you be, especially when you know you asked him for space for specific reasons.

“No,” your hands grip the sides of his t-shirt tightly, holding him in place without any actual strength since compared to him, you’re as mighty as a little mouse.

You refuse to look up at him, despite the crumbling of your resolve.

“No, don’t go.”

It’s an almost involuntary shy response to your diminishing shame at losing all control after his touch. After one kiss. You should be disappointed in yourself. And part of you is. However, that part of you grows increasingly small as Thor gently takes hold of your chin and guides your gaze up until you can meet his.

“I’m sorry, cherub. I will try and be worthy of you again.”

“I know,” you admit, knowing how sorry he’s been from the moment he realized that he’d done something that hurt you badly. “I know you are.”

“Can I kiss you, cherub?”

His voice is so deep, so alluring and coaxing that you drop your gaze again, fixing it on his collarbone before slowly you nod.

His arm winds its way around your waist and he pulls you to him before dipping down and catching your lips with his again.

He pulls away after a second because the swell of your belly gets in the way, but he laughs and looks down at it.

The pleasant sound of his happiness gives you too much joy.

As you begin to smile, Thor reaches down to press one hand to the side of your stomach while he pulls you against him again and kisses you this time with more fervor.

The longer he has his lips pressed to yours, the more enthusiastic he gets until finally you’re breathless and you pull back but instead of pulling away, you wrap your arms around him and fist the back of his t-shirt,

You bury your face against his wide chest and Thor brings his hands back up to caress the sides of your face, his lips kissing the top of your head.

“I know I may not have a right to say this, but thank you for coming home. Thank you for coming back to me. I thought I’d lost you."

His arms grow a little tighter, his heart is in an absolute stampede.

You turn your head sideways so that you can listen to his heartbeat.

"This is what I'd wanted," you whimper, starting to be overcome with the emotion of being reunited with Thor and things falling into place more easily. "This is how I'd wanted us to share this moment."

Thor sighs heavily, giving you one more squeeze before he pushes you back a little so that he can look at you.

“I’m so sorry that I robbed you of that. I was a fool,” he nods, his eye intense as he stares into yours with wordless declarations piercing into you.

The memory of your speech with the people when you arrived pops into your head and now with Thor’s arms around you it all feels a little like an overreaction. The past three months feels like a distant nightmare.

Or does this feel like a dream?

“Thor,” you begin but Thor’s lips are on you again, drowning out your words.

“Oh, to hear you say my name,” he declares and kisses you again.

Your mouth opens for him and you absolutely melt against his chest as he nearly dips you in passion.

He pulls back again, “Is this real?”

He kisses you.

“You feel so good in my arms.”

He kisses you.

“Your skin is so…” but then he hums and kisses you.

He dips down and with his arms tight around your waist but also careful with the swell of your stomach, he lifts you so that you’re level with his eye.

“I love you, so much, my cherub. Thank you, thank you for coming home. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I stayed away,” you sigh. “I need to be strong without you, Thor. I was hurt but I never stopped loving you.”

His face goes through shame, understanding, and then elation.

In a burst of subdued anger and aggression for what he put you through, you reach up and grab his shoulder. You dig your fingers in against the taut muscle then reach up to pull one of his ears.

You’re clearly not hurting him but he allows you to move his head, understanding the need to express your anger even if you’re not doing any damage.

“Never do that to me again,” you growl. “Never say that you’ll leave me. Why would you say that? Even in passing? You were so damn sure.”

“No, Y/N, I wasn’t. The moment I saw you, I knew that I could never leave you. I’m sorry. I could never even think those thoughts again.”

“You better not, or I won’t come back next time. I’ll disappear and you’ll never see me again.”

Thor takes your threat for what it is. A promise. Truth.

He shakes his head as he leans forward to press his forehead to yours, shutting his eye.

“I swear,” he begins. “On my life.”

He keeps you there, hovering over the ground with your heads together for a few minutes before he slowly lowers you to the ground. You realize it’s because he wants to stroke your belly and you take a slight step back so that he can.

He smiles, happy. It reminds you of the look your people had when you’d arrived only a hundred times as possessive and joyful.

Again, your speech intrudes on your reunion and this time, you won’t let him distract you.

“Thor,” you coax, placing your hands over his where they rest on the sides of your stomach.

“Yes, my cherub?”

He’s excessive in the affection he puts in his voice but you know that he must be floating on cloud nine after what you both went through when you made him leave you at your house.

“I-I did something and I’m not sure if it was right of me to do it,” you watch his brow wrinkle and for a split second you almost lose yourself in the beauty of his face.

Has he always been this handsome?

“When I got back I kinda made a speech? Everyone was so happy to see me and to see me carrying our heir and I wanted to apologize to them for leaving and for making them worry. I wanted to share in their excitement for the baby and with that stupid tabloid having come out yesterday-”

“Right, the article,” there’s guilt in his voice despite there being no truth to the rumors it printed.

“I wanted to put their minds at ease and I...I did confirm that something happened with Jane but not what they were thinking.”

Thor’s expression hardens just a tad and he pulls backs towards a large armchair. He grabs your hand though and pulls you along with him until he can sit and then carefully attempts to offer you his lap, unsure if you’ll sit.

You do, because you’re tired and because you’re not eager to be away from him again. Now that you’re touching him, you’re not in a hurry to change that again.

“What did you say exactly?”

Swallowing hard, you lick your lips nervously, “Um...I told them the truth. Not exactly the truth, but enough of it that they’ll understand that Jane isn’t welcome here. I said that the only reason I left is for my health and the health of the baby, which is true. I didn’t want them to worry about us because even if we didn’t reconcile, I want us to be united for them at least.

“But I don’t trust Jane, Thor. Not after what she did. Not after how she treated me when you weren’t looking, and the people need to know that I will protect them from anyone, no matter who they are to you or me.”

Thor’s face grows pained as you speak, his arm wrapping around your waist as his other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You’re starting to realize that it’s going to be hard to get his hands off it, but that doesn’t seem like a terrible problem.

“I wish you had told me that she’d been rude to you,” Thor sighs, taking his hand off of his stomach to stroke your cheek. “If I had known-”

“She wasn’t rude to me Thor, she dismissed me. I wasn’t even worth acknowledging to her and now I know it’s because she was jealous and wanted you back because what? She saw what we had together and suddenly it was good enough for her?

“I was in her way. That’s all I was. Even if in the end she couldn’t go through with it whether it was because she felt guilty for doing this to us or for lying or for having second thoughts and knowing that she doesn’t want to be Queen or a mom, she’s a bad person to me. And I have every right to protect myself, my baby, and our marriage from her. She’s not welcome here Thor. I never want to see her again. Ever.”

He’s cradling you now, holding you close because the intensity with which you're telling him that Jane is not welcome in your home is transferring to him.

“And if you’d known, you wouldn’t have done anything, Thor. You’d probably have talked to her and asked her what was going on and she would have lied to you and you would have believed her.”

He doesn’t deny it. He does look like it hurts him to know that you know though. That’s enough for you.

“I think it took her lying and doing this to us to make you see what she’s capable of.”

Thor shuts his eye, resting his head against your chest as he wraps his arms around you again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Thor. But you weren’t the one who lied. I mean, you didn’t tell me what was happening, but you weren’t the reason that this happened. If Jane hadn’t lied-”

“But she did,” Thor says, his deep voice anguished. “And I failed to honor my vows. You are my Queen and I should have come to you the moment she told me she was pregnant.”

You both fall into silence as you reach over to stroke his bicep. His skin is so soft. Touching it gives you comfort in a way you weren’t aware you needed. The more you touch it the more you need to feel it.

A finger stroking his skin turns into two, then four, then your entire hand is running up under the sleeve of his t-shirt.

With the way his hand curls around your thigh, you know that both your bodies are responding to your touch. Both of you are heated but instead of giving into that because you aren’t ready for that yet, you lay your head on his shoulder and curl in closer to his chest.

Thor sighs heavily, wrapping you up in his arms as he cradles you close.

“Now we know better,” you whisper.

“Now I know what losing you will do to me,” Thor agrees. “I’ve missed you so much, cherub.”

You don’t respond. You’re too choked up to say anything without your voice cracking so both of you stay like that for a while.

The cocoon of Thor’s arms is toasty and from the exhaustion you’re feeling plus all of the emotions that have drained you, your eyes are heavy and difficult to keep open.

“What about you?”

Thor’s chest rumbles with a chuckle.

“We can talk more tomorrow, cherub. Sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy,” you lie.

“Very well, then. What about me?”

“You’re sleepy?” you look up at him, full of concern.

He chuckles again, “No, cherub. What were you asking?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if you’re okay. What Jane did to you can’t have been easy. Despite what she did to us as a couple, she said she was pregnant. You’ve been wanting a baby for so long and she dangled that in front of you like the rat that she is. And then she wasn’t even pregnant?”

Thor’s arms constrict around you as he pulls you up towards him to kiss you.

It’s slow and full of emotion.

“Even after all of that, you’re still worried about me?”

“It took time,” you admit. “Once I wasn’t so angry and I thought about what Jane really did. I hate the idea that your heart broke over her lies. I can’t believe she ever loved you if she was willing to make you feel that way.”

Thor just stares at you, searching your eyes before he rubs his nose gently against your own. When he speaks, his voice is so low, so deep, an intimate whisper. It burrows into your chest and settles right there underneath your ribs and makes you breathless with missing him and desire.

“That’s why you’re my Queen, Y/N. And she is not.”

You’re not sure if it’s an Asgardian ability or if maybe it’s something specific to Thor, but he has a way of making you swoon.

“I missed you so much,” he confesses again, that whisper sinful. “Did you not miss me?”

You nod because you can’t speak. There’s a lump in your throat made of both sadness and want.

“Was your bed as frigid as mine was in your absence? Did you miss my breath on your neck as I did yours? Or the steady beat of your heart when you pressed your breast to my back as you held me while I slept?”

Fuck, he’s making this so impossible.

“I hate you so much,” you counter, but his lips stretch into a small knowing smile as you take a tight hold of the neck of his shirt and pull him up to meet your lips.

He exhales heavily into you, tasting you, relishing in every pulsating touch as both your hearts ache and yearn almost in disbelief as if both of you can’t believe that these wants, these needs are finally being met.

As he pulls back to tilt his head the other way, he takes hold of the sides of your face again, his lips grazing yours, “I love you.”

Before you can reply or yank him back into that torturous yet blissful kiss, a voice at the doorway clears their throat.

“Well, that was fast, what happened to keeping him at a distance?”

Loki’s voice pulls your gaze and you can feel your cheeks and neck burn at how easily it seems you’ve crumbled when finally face to face with Thor.

You frown at your brother-in-law, while Thor ignores his brother and leans up to press very non-chaste kisses to your neck, “I told you coming back was a bad idea.”

But Loki’s smile is blinding and with one chuckle he backs out of the room, shutting the door quietly as Thor turns you back to him so that he can get back to kissing you.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

happy birthday, @irrlicht-ghostfront ❤️ i love you, and i'm judging you for this being your prompt, but i love you some more, so here <33 (warnings: car accident) [NO MCD]

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Blink and a miss — accident — wrecked car, and fleeting on the painful side of barely conscious in a pool of his own blood. There was too much of it anyway. Castiel felt dizzy more than he felt the pain as time, almost tangibly, passed on.

There's no way he was going to live.

(It was supposed to end old — fingers crossed for painless. Featuring inevitably beeping monitors, and time to come up with last words. A goodbye to his family.

Not that he had much of one right now — he isn't sure if he can call Dean's family his, yet; Dean seems to insist on it but then he's always been a pioneer in giving Castiel more than he could ever deserve, starting with his own heart, so Castiel can't tell — but he'd finally started to have intentions to, in the future.

A dog, for Dean.

Children.

Intentions to beg his brother to come back, and not give up until he'd gotten his forgiveness and his only remaining family back. But that — well, it was a different alley than Castiel's thoughts swarmed to right now. And swarm they did, his head throbbing, and life thudding at its gates.

Castiel had also intended to marry Dean, misty-eyed and denying it. Intended to figure out flower arrangements, and guest seating. Intended to kiss him at the end of the aisle, with his hands cupping Dean's face, and Dean's around his waist.

Then, move out from their shared apartment into a house.

Yellow wallpapered bedroom.

Treasure, and keep Dean happy forever.

Fuck.)

His breathing is still ragged, and his head feels too empty, but the heaving has lessened. Probably the blood loss. Less pain, more haze. And the resultant thoughtlessness is perhaps the only thing that sparks the courage in him to do what he does next.

Castiel picks up his phone.

(A struggle, but he's determined.)

If he's dying, and he'll never get to live the life he'd finally started to dream of — never have a life to share with Dean, never get to see Dean again, then he'll take what he can get.

He's allowed this, he tells himself. Allowed to be selfish, one last time.

He's on his deathbed after all.

It's outstandingly painful to bend his neck enough to see he's picked the right number — but the mere idea of accidentally calling an acquaintance at a time like this brings a tensed sliver of life into his muscles, and straining, he looks. Right enough, he's got 'Dean :)' on the screen.

Pressing dial, he lets his head fall back on the seat, wincing again. Maybe that'll relent the floatiness, if his body circulates some goddamn blood into his brain — because he needs this.

He's dying, but he needs this. One last time, he needs Dean.

A thumb swipes the familiarly placed 'on speaker' button — he can't bring the phone to his ear right now. He's going to have to risk Dean hearing the still crackling ruins of the poor engine, strewn across the wreck in smoldering pieces.

He must make quite a sight, he thinks, waiting for the call to go through. Man found in car wreckage, trapped by the door, dead within —

"Cas?"

Dean's voice cuts through Castiel's morbid mental news report, and almost reflexively, he closes his eyes. There's a tangible relief in his head when he does it, and god, Castiel must've been doing worse than he's convinced himself he is.

Dean sounds beautiful as always, and so familiar its like home.

It's the last time he ever gets to have this.

"Hello, Dean." Maybe he manages to not sound weird, or Dean's just not listening for clues. The loud racket behind him, at Bobby (and Dean's) automobile shop, helps as well.

"Hey." There's a smile in his voice now. Fuck. He's smiling. He's smiling, and he's smiling at Cas, and it's the last time Castiel ever gets to hear it.

He loses himself trying to remember the last time he saw Dean smile — earlier this morning, kissing him goodbye before he left — no, down from their balcony, accompanied by a gleeful wave because Dean's shift started a couple hours after Cas's day in the office did — no, when Castiel checked the time, and the Dean on his lockscreen grinned up at him — and he doesn't realize he's fallen silent until Dean's speaking again.

"Babe, you okay?"

There's a tinge of worry. Only a smidge, and it still hurts. The last time Castiel hears Dean can't be laced with anything bad. And it can't be Castiel's fault.

There's a pause. "Cas, what's up?"

Castiel doesn't know what to say so he tries to hold on to the phone tighter, his throat fluttering as a tear rolls down his face.

"Wait," The worry dissipates, apology slipping in. "Am I forgetting something? Did we make plans for lunch, 'cause Bobby and —"

"N-no." Cas struggles, and it's getting harder to not pant. He sounds too breathy anyway. "We don't. Didn't."

He forces a smile into his voice while saying it. As if it doesn't break him that he'll never get to see Dean again. But he needs to smile, doesn't he? One last time. Just for Dean.

"Well, do you want to?" Dean sounds cheerful. Normal.

Perfect.

Castiel doesn't want to die.

"Not, today." He half-heaves, and another tear rolls down his face.

Not today.

(If he'd known, he'd have stared to his heart's fill this morning. Kissed him an hour longer. Held him in his sleep. Oh, if he had had any foresight at all.)

"Dickface-atron keeping ya busy?"

Castiel lets the air stuck in his chest out, and it probably makes up for a small chuckle. He doesn't want to lie, he just won't agree.

"Figures."

"Sorry." Castiel tells him, meaning it entirely.

"Nah, s'good. I love you." Dean adds, clearly smiling wider, because they've only recently added that to their vernacular instead of the pedestal it'd been on for the first eight months of their friendship turning into a relationship. Somehow, it feels grander though — or, that might also be because it's the last time Castiel ever gets to hear Dean say it to him.

Oh, he loves him so much.

(He doesn't want to die.)

"And I have my packed lunch anyway." Dean continues, filling the gap thankfully. Machines blare in his background and he braves on like a man used to not being able to hear his own words due to the racket. Castiel is grateful for it. He hangs onto every word, drinks it in. Makes himself hold on. "Pretty sure you'd kick me to the curb if I let a PBJ go to waste."

"Jelly?" Cas smiles, when he wants to sob. He's certain he sounds fainter too, he feels fainter, and it's a miracle it doesn't show.

The tears well up in his chest, for possibly the rest of time. Dead men don't cry, and Castiel can't.

(Can't be long now, can it?)

"Jelly." Dean confirms. "It's the curse of paying attention when you rant about jam, you know." He snickers. "I used to be normal."

"Yes, I'm very lucky."

Dean chuckles, and Castiel sighs.

He's yearned for Dean to be happy, tried to make him smile, longed to see him laugh, for so, so long it feels like a part of him now. And now, it goes back to Dean, without him.

Somebody else'll make him smile, somebody else will wake him up with a kiss on his temple, and somebody else will love Dean for exactly who he is because it's Dean, and there was never someone who deserved it more — so of course somebody will.

But it will never be him again.)

An untethered broken sound escapes his throat, and Cas winces, faking a cough with it.

That makes the blood gush.

"Oh, also — wait. Just a second." He interrupts himself, and probably covers the speaker with his palm before yelling blurrily to someone near him.

(Or perhaps it's not supposed to be blurry. Castiel wouldn't know. He can hardly make out his own breathing. It's a feat that he can make out the conversation, even if most of it is instinct memory, and all he's doing is holding onto Dean for as long as he can.

Somehow, it feels like he's been doing so forever. But the time left, had never been so little.)

When Dean returns, he sounds apologetically busy.

"Dude, that dick who yelled at Ash, remember? He's back. Garth went this time, 'cause douchebag brought a Sedan."

Castiel swallows again, and vaguely registers that it tastes like metal. Almost like there's blood mixed with saliva.

There's another morbid thought. What, in this wreck, is finally going to kill him?

"I should probably check on him. Garth sorta wears on you."

"Of course." He croaks, and slips — fuck, he slips — but for once, thank god for oversensitive customers and boyfriends with likeable personalities, because Dean's conversing off the phone again, his hand on the speaker.

"I'll call you back, babe." Dean comes back to add in a rush, and Cas sucks in a painful breath, slowly beginning to feel like the only thing keeping him conscious any more is the sensation of air in his lungs, in his mouth, in the back of his throat. "Still have to ask what you even called about, you know. Or maybe if you just missed me." He beams, he obviously beams, and Cas stifles a groan.

"I do." He wheezes. "I —"

"Me too." Dean returns, flirty, and Cas goes to add to it — because he has to, because he's not going to make it, he's not going to be able to hold on until Dean returns, and he has to — but there's a click.

Castiel stares at the screen, devastated.

(Or tries to, anyway.)

"I love you," He cries out, aware that the line's cut, but needing to hear himself say it anyway. Plus, his head feels too numb to keep words inside anymore. It's less a prison of thoughts, and more a canyon of loss.

More tears fall.

His heart is beating faster than it ever has.

"I love —" His voice trembles, tries again, and fails. His throat refuses to comply with the thousands of things there remain to be said, and the words slowly fade, neglected.

In more ways than one, it's like being administered anaesthesia before a surgery — Castiel was operated on for tonsils at age eleven, and he remembers it still — and it finally sinking in, and knocking you out, as the doctor says to count to ten, and you hardly graze six.

His hands clutch the phone tighter, neck rendering him incapable of looking anymore, so he has no idea what his thumbs are trying to type — but it doesn't matter, not really, because this is it. Completely alone, young, and desperately in love with Dean Winchester, Castiel closes his eyes for the very last time.

And everything fades to black.

*

When they find him, it's been at least four hours.

It's night.

The uniformed official stuck with the responsibility of calling the next of kin, Victor Henriksen, fishes out the wallet as the paramedics carry him into the ambulance and attach him to IV immediately, and steps away to dial his emergency contact with a crinkled brow of sympathy.

And as he waits for the guy, a Dean Winchester, to pick up, he can't help but notice that his number is exactly the same as the one the last text almost sent from the victim's phone had been typed to — clutched in his hand, an unnerving, 'I love'.

And well, he isn't particularly into romcoms, but he hopes the poor guy gets a chance to finish his sentence.

He was in pretty bad condition, Henriksen recalls, and the bloodloss had knocked him out for several hours, but he looked twenty five at most, more importantly healthy, and — he looks at the wallet again, and the picture of two men (one of them, the victim) smiling at the camera with their hands around each other — most importantly, seemed to have reasons to fight for.

(Plus, he'd been the one to call the accident in himself — albeit four hours after it happened, but Henriksen figured he'd been passed out for that long — so he had to want to live, right?)

"Hello. Dean Winchester, who's this?"

"Hello, sir, I'm Officer Henriksen, and I have you listed as Mr Castiel Novak's emergency..."

*

"You dick."

Castiel coughs, and gives up on squinting against the bright light. It's a LED. Like in hospitals.

"Jesus, Cas. You complete asshole, you —"

Castiel opens his eyes a sliver again. The walls do resemble a hospital. Plain, white tiled. Way too many AC vents. Is that something on his hand?

"So you'll open your goddamn eyes, and not even fucking look at me."

There's IV's on both his hands. And something stiff around his neck. Almost like a collar, but thicker. And when he breathes, his ribs start like they might hurt — but the pain is numbed as it registers. He must be running really high on painkillers; they never really worked for him.

"Fine. You don't gotta look at me." A pause. Then, more shaky. "I was so scared, Cas. So fucking terrified. They said they weren't sure, said it may be too late, and you were dying. And then they tell me the crash happened at three, and I feel like I'm going to have a fucking stroke."

His vision slowly unblurs, feeling returning to his fingers. He tries to fold them, and winces at the strain.

Immediately, there's a hand on his arm.

"Stop moving, dumbass. I'm going to kill you for this, you know. I am, but I need you to be okay first."

The words don't register, but the voice does.

(He sounds beautiful as always, and so familiar it's like home.)

"Hell, I just need you, Cas. Period. I need your ridiculous, stupid ass — and I need you to look at me when I'm begging you to be okay, and I need you to stay, with me, forever, and not call me first when you need a goddamn ambulance, you dumbass —"

"Hello, Dean." Castiel interrupts, a hoarse whisper, and he thinks he hears a sob from the general direction of the love of his life.

(He really can't move his neck — he's got to tell Dean that at some point if he's not understood already. It's the cast.)

"Oh, thank god." Dean cries, the words muffled by either him burying his face in his sleeve, or the lifesaving medications Castiel is alive on account of, but it's okay, right? Dean's here — and he's okay. It's fine.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm still going to kill you for this."

"Well, I'd deserve that." Castiel tries to joke, and almost pulls it off, except for the part where he can't see Dean's reaction until the latter lets out another broken sob, and grabs his hand. Castiel freezes, trying to squeeze back, tears welling up again. "I'm really sorry, Dean." Then, after a beat. "I'm going to make this up to you."

It feels like a strange thing to say, but it's exactly what he means.

"Yeah, you are. Although it can't stop my revenge being not texting you when I have a heart attack in aisle three when I'm eighty and you're buying eggs, but okay."

If Castiel could, he would've shaken his head at that.

(But at least, and this is what really matters — they made it. He's alive. He — he gets this.)

"I love you, you son of a bitch."

Castiel smiles slowly, a tear landing on his pillow. "I love you too."

[morgana-ren]

Pale Imitation

The front page of any porn site is always a marriage of humorous and disturbing, but he can honestly say he wasn’t expecting to see his name at the top of any list that had a direct connection to satiating someone’s libido, yet there it was, plain as day on the top ten.

He didn’t think of himself as particularly narcissistic, but this he had to see.

Rating: E

Warnings: Porn, Masturbation, Yandere, Stalker Shigaraki, Shigaraki is a total creep, Rough sex, Noncon Fantasy/Roleplay

Preemptive Note: Before you continue I just want to note: I'm not a sex worker but I have nothing but the highest regard and respect for them. What ensues in this story is pure kink and fantasy and is not meant to reinforce any harmful/mean stereotypes what so ever. My personal fantasy is degradation and I can't really seem to get off without it so it's a majority of what I write, but I swear to you it was not written with the intent to insult or hurt anyone in the profession! I realize the hardships endured by the men/women/NB/GN in the adult sex work profession and this is just intended to be a pure sexual fantasy and is by no means attempting to reinforce or normalize toxic behaviors in the workplace.

Bad wig? Check .

Poor voice imitation? Check .

Shoddy, unsealed makeup that sloughs off onto the unfortunate scene partner’s skin? Check .

All the tell-tale signs of a bad porno but with one distinct peculiarity that drew his interest.

You know, this certainly wasn’t what he was expecting to see when he settled in for his first nightly wank. The front page of any porn site is always a marriage of humorous and disturbing, but he can honestly say he wasn’t expecting to see his name at the top of any list that had a direct connection to satiating someone’s libido, yet there it was, plain as day on the top ten.

He’s no stranger to the villain kink page. Tons of civilians indulged in their darker fantasies through their nighttime excursions below their pantyline, and being a villain himself, naturally he was curious. Most of it is about what he’d expect. Villains, ancient and new, participating in copulation of all sorts. Some of it is that extremely out of character slow and romantic pornography. Other times, strangely enough, it’s the villains themselves getting taken advantage of. Sometimes by heroes, other times by random people, objects, or even tentacles. It’s interesting, to say the least.

Him though? He’d never seen himself in one, let alone being featured on the front page.

Up until recently, the media and all it’s sinful offshoots had opted to ignore him. However, his recent exploits must’ve caught the attention of the general public, and alongside it, the licentious denizens that dwell within. There had been a few forum posts, a little fan art (most of it flattering), and even a few oddly obsessive fangirls he’d come across. But this? Oh, now this was a whole new caliber.

He didn’t think of himself as particularly narcissistic, but this he had to see.

The guy they’d hired to play him was naturally a flat disappointment; Too bulky, and way too short. He could tell there was a classically handsome man underneath all that poorly done makeup that was meant to make him look pallid and dry. A sad, pathetic, and pale imitation of the real thing, missing some of his scars and moles entirely. The ashy gray wig they used to try to mimic his shaggy, unkempt hair had an awkward cowlick and kept flopping down too far on the actor’s forehead and looked far more dead than even his own unwashed mop. The voice he was using to mimic him was strained and scratchy, far too forced to be comfortable or even remotely realistic. If he had to place it, it sounded like the guy already had a terribly sore throat and had continued yelling for several hours to achieve the ‘desired’ effect.

He hadn’t expected much, but it was still disappointing. Though to be fair, they nailed the clothing, minus the brand of shoes he wears and the exact coat he’d chosen as his signature.

A part of him was ready to shut it off. Whatever lies ahead could only be utterly insulting, right? This grotesque pastiche lifelessly parroting his mannerisms was already curbing his sexual appetite toward something more violent, and not in the way he liked. Yet, out of sheer curiosity, he kept watching. What exactly did the average screenwriting porn cinematographer think he was into anyway?

It was a little ambiguous at first. At least until the shaky camera followed the Walmart brand Shigaraki knock-off down a generic hallway and into a borderline barren room, bringing into frame a quaking young woman tied up on a filthy mattress. After that, it became very quickly apparent just what type of smut he’d stumbled onto.

The camera zooms in on her face, tears leaking from her eyes and leaving trails of thick black makeup and mascara trailing down her cheeks, her begging and pleading muffled by a rag hastily stuffed in her mouth and secured with what appeared to be a bandana tied around her head. She’s clad in nothing but a flimsy tank top with the straps yanked down over her shoulders and a small pair of lace panties, covered in what appears to be made up lacerations and fake bruising. A nice touch, he notes.

He’ll admit, he’s intrigued now. It looks like they got one thing about him right, perhaps two now that he inspects the adult actress hired to play his unfortunate victim. She’s flattering, far more flattering than he expected given the low budget circumstances. Her watery eyes and quaking body coupled with the slight rope burn embedding into her chafing skin is enough to get his legs stirring and his pants tightening. She looks so pretty, so vulnerable behind all the waterworks and thick stage makeup. He thinks, just maybe, he might be able to get into this if he hyper focuses on her.

As his imposter approaches, she pushes her bound legs out, squishing herself back against the wall and as far away as she can manage from the threat encroaching on her personal space.

“Heroes can’t save you now.”

The shallow mockery of his voice grates at his ears, but he’ll admit the comment is on brand. The actor harshly yanks the bandana out of the woman’s mouth, her pouty lips trembling as she begins to grovel, blinking more tears down her swollen cheeks.

“I-I’m sorry! Please just let me go! I won’t tell anyone anything!”

All things considered, she’s convincing enough to get his blood pumping. Tomura readjusts himself in his chair, reaching his hands beneath the band of his sweatpants. If he can ignore her counterpart, he thinks watching her squirm and squeal will get him off. After all, it’s supposed to be ‘him’ violating this cute girl. Maybe if he defocuses his eyes enough, he can pretend it really is.

“I’m going to show you how much of a villain I really am!”

Ugh . Whoever wrote this dialogue clearly had never met him, or probably any real villain for that matter. It’s enough to make him want to retch, but the feel of his own hand on his cock and the soft whimpering of the actress  as the villain stand-in strips off his coat brings him back and makes him throb. The camera moves in to offer her a close up, face dropping and eyes widening in horror as she comes to the “realization” of what he means.

“No! Please! Anything but that!”

She kicks at him, trying to fend him off with bound limbs as he crawls over her onto the bed. A harsh slap to the side of her cheek is enough to quiet her down and allow the assailant to cage her to the bed with one hand, the other clumsily fumbling with the buttons of his jeans. After he shimmies his ill fitting skinny jeans down his thighs, she looks at him with eyes widened in horror, shaking her head erratically.

“No! Please Mister Shigaraki, it’s too big! It won’t fit!”

A hand far too burly to be his wraps around her neck, pointer finger plucked awkwardly upward. “Quiet! You’re my prisoner and you’ll do as I say!”

Just ignore it.

The free hand goes to grab at her tank top, a brief but noticeable pause in the filming leaves her topless with stage prop ash sprinkled along her torso, the ropes around her wiggling legs conveniently gone now. While the cinematic effect was laughably bad, Tomura can’t bring himself to care. Not when her tits are now on display for him to ogle.

Chest bare and heaving, perfect nipples perked to attention just for him. Smooth, creamy skin goose pimpled and tender, so tempting that he's aching to feel her. A quick swipe of his thumb over his sensitive, spongy tip elicits a rumbled groan from deep in his chest. It’s easier now to ignore the shitty portrayal of himself, especially when he can lose himself to the throes of lust and pretend that it actually is his hands wrapped around her little throat, other fingers drifting lower and lower down her trembling belly.

A quick hook around the seam of her panties and they’re ripped clean from her hips, legs splayed and leaving her pussy center frame, already wet and glistening. He swallows hard, the sight enough to make him salivate. She fumbles around beneath him, desperate to buck him off, but it’s to no avail. Fingers, his fingers, tease the entrance to her tight little hole, slipping one finger, and then two inside, oscillating in and out preparing her to take all of him. Just like she said, he’s so big. He doesn’t want to hurt her, not like that.

After that, it’s all too easy for him to slip into his fantasy. He strokes his cock in tandem with the pumping of the fingers, pausing only briefly as the girl mewls as the fingers slip out and the tip of his cock is aligned with her little entrance. He pistons his own hips as it slams inside, head reeling back on the edge of his chair.

The high pitched whine that escapes her throat as the fake buries himself deep inside has him biting his lip, slowing his hand by force on his shaft. Fuck, even her moans are hot. Her bouncing tits and staggered breathing as his imposter rails into her has him enraptured. The subtle way she leans into the hand on her throat, back arched off the filthy mattress, face expressing clear distress but body betraying her clever act.

It matters little that she’s being paid to partake in the scene with ‘him’. The fact she was open to it says more than he could have hoped to know, and clearly she’s enjoying the treatment. His hazy eyes focus in on her face, working his hand harder with every little nuance she gifts him. The twitch of arms as her nails imbed themselves into her palms, the parting of her moist lips. He’d be willing to bet her tongue could work magic, taking him all the way to the back of her throat. God, she’d look so cute like that. Hands tied behind her back, a sloppy, drooling mess around his dick.

“S-Shigaraki! You’re too rough!”

The hand clamped around her throat tightens, her final word more of a croak.

“You like it, you little slut!”

At least there’s one thing him and this mediocre porn actor can agree on; she certainly does like it. Rolling her hips against him and wailing in a way that has him wonderfully immersed in his fantasy. Hearing his name on those sighs only strengthen his hold, he can practically feel the warmth of her skin, indulge himself in the wet, clenching tightness of her cunt.

It’s fucking insulting that this trash gets to wear his skin, steal his countenance to fuck her. It should be him. If this whelp could get her all hot and bothered, just imagining what the real thing could do sends the remaining blood reserves rushing between his thighs, prick pulsing even harder in his palm. Yeah, he could get this little bitch squealing. She’d fucking like it too, judging by the look on her face as she gets plowed by a man wearing his visage.

Oh, he’d make her scream. Leave real bruising in place of that cheap costume makeup they’d so lazily applied to her naked form. Truth be told, the video itself was rather boring. He’d only kept watching because of how enraptured he was with the little witch being stuffed full of cock by his imitation. He’d never really been taken with an adult actress before but this one? Oh yes, he could really get into her.

He wasn’t sure what it was about her. So pretty to him, so deliciously pliable, so completely worked up about a villain using her as a toy, pumping in and out of her warm little pussy until he fills her with his hot cum and she’s overflowing with every fluid thrust. Sweet, sensitive neck exposed just for him to bite and abuse. Face stained with tears, puffy cheeks just aching to be squeezed and smacked. Probably tastes like rapture, eager to swallow whatever he decides to spill into her mouth.

And she could take it. He just knows it. Bent over for him, any hole he pleases free for him to use, hand-shaped welts raising on the swell of her ass. Fingers fisting her hair and arching that cute face back to look directly at him as he spits between her open and waiting lips. She’d swallow it like a good girl, just like a good girl, he knows she would.

He works himself faster, his own breathy whines joining the cacophony of licentiousness that echoes in his eardrums. His imagination shifts into overdrive, clumsy, irregular strokes of his hand tenting and deflating the crotch of his sweats. Soft, pillowy tits bulging through his fingertips as he kneads them, sucking on those tender nipples until they harden just for him. Fucking her mouth until her lips are swollen and red, face covered in a mixture of drool and cum with lipstick smeared around her cheeks. Legs locked around his narrow waist as he slams into her repeatedly, chanting his name and begging him incoherently not to stop, never to stop.

“P-please don’t cum inside me! Please- I-“

Oh, he’d cum deep inside. He’ll cum anywhere he wants on his little whore until it’s slick and dripping. He’ll tie her up, smudging it across her broken expression and let it dry nice and thick. Slip his cum covered thumb into her mouth and then ignore her until her thighs are grinding together and she’s begging for his thick cock again, any way he wants her.

Fuck- fuck she’d love it too. Ride him until each slap of her ass on his bony hips made his cock punch hard against her cervix, crying in pleasure and pain but never stopping until he allowed her. Dig his nails into her back, his teeth into her flesh and mark her up real good, let everyone who sees her know just what she’s been up to with him-

“Shigaraki! Fuck! Shi-Shigaraki!”

His name spills from her lips in a needy sob, voice cracking and so utterly genuine that it sends him over the edge. His cock throbs and stutters in his hand, shooting jets of sticky white seed all over the inside of his black sweat pants and staining his fingers. His entire body shudders, legs stiffening and balls tightening and clenching as his cum spills in fat ropes across the fabric. Try as he might to focus on her face as she cums for him, he simply can’t, eyes slamming shut and mouth left agape as a strangled cry erupts from his throat.

He gives a few subconscious pumps into his hand as searing pleasure crackles through his body, toes curling in his shoes as his lower body lifts off the chair to chase his high. Millions of images flash across his mind, the foremost of which is her, greedy eyes hungry for pleasure only he can give her, silky cunt milking him eagerly. A jagged tooth bites a little too hard into his blistered lip, enough to crack it open but he’s too submerged in bliss to notice. The only thing he can feel is her.

His thighs tremble as his body falls back down into the worn computer chair, orgasm leaving his entire body feeling weak and drained.  His breath comes in heaves, gulping down air as he tries his best to shake off the residual searing pleasure so hot it almost hurts. Overstimulation looms on the horizon and his heavy eyes drift open, feeling so drowsy now he can hardly keep them apart. The orange bar at the bottom of the video is all the way to the right, the video having concluded itself.

He’s never cum so hard in his life.

Her name. He needed to know her name. He needed to know everything .

He doesn’t bother reaching for the tissues. He simply withdraws his hand from his waistband, wiping his mess onto the knee of his pant leg before grabbing his mouse and scouring the page for any crumb of information he can find. The comments, while amusing, are hardly helpful.

So hot xx thanks

Who’s the guy even supposed to be?

This babe is so hot, luv her stuff everytime

Yall r gunna get rekt when he sees this shit lol

any sexy girls wanna reenact this with me? Hmu

I’m a girl and I love this!

Wish he’d do that to me <.<

He’d dwell on all of that later. For now, he settles for a quick search through the uploader’s account. It’s a small studio, only a few films out to date, most of which revolve around taboo relationships between villains and society. Following a hyperlink to their main website leads him to bio, complete with her stage name and picture, and even another link leading to an interview with a small time adult magazine, an article called “Cum to the Dark Side” that he bookmarks for later reading.

Even post-cum, she’s just as beautiful. Enchanting, sultry smile and cheeky little expression in her picture. Maybe it’s fate that he stumbled upon her. Maybe she really was just that good at acting and she didn’t have a thing for him at all. Either way, he wants some time with the talent. For research, of course.

Her personal details, as expected, are hidden. They go the lengths to protect their employees it seems. What isn’t hidden, however, is the studio’s number.

He thinks he can work with that.

[petersnya]

SOMETIMES PT.3

PETER PARKER X FEM!READER

Warnings: Angst (alotttt. I’m sorry lol)

Word count:1873

[A/N] So that there’s no smut in this part but it is SO worth it (trust me I hate when there’s no smut but this part is so SO GOOD)this part kinda like, BROKE my heart… ok it DID break my heart…  SEND ME YOUR FEEDBACK AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST FOR EACH CHAPTER! ENJOY… (send a request for anything you want me to write or if you have any ideas)

-J.T.S xxx

PART ONE  PART TWO

Ever since the incident at the drive-in theater, Y/N has been avoiding Peter. Whenever MJ, Peter, and Ned would walk out of school together, Y/N wouldn’t be leaning out of the window of the car smiling and waving at them. She would have the window rolled up and looked either straight out the ahead or down at her phone. 

Peter told Ned about the whole situation but didn’t tell MJ. He knew she would kill him because Y/N is her cousin and their like sister towards each other. 

“Peter I don’t know what your gonna do, but you gotta do it fast cause sooner or later MJs’ gonna find out and your not only gonna lose the girl you have a major crush on but also your best friend,” Ned pointed out to Peter. Peter didn’t want to admit it but he was right. He had to come out with the truth to Y/N one way or another. He had to tell her that he does like her and that he lied about the stark internship. 

He had to tell her that he was Spider-Man.

“Yeah Ned, I guess you right.”

“I am right Pete. Now go get your Princess Leia,” Ned teased as the bell rang, signaling that it was time for them to leave. The two boys made their way out of the building, talking about their project they still had yet to finish. They didn’t see MJ around like how she usually is until they heard familiar voices coming from behind them. 

“Here’s your schedule and your and the supply list. You can also sign up for clubs if you would like,” an administrator said.

“I’ll think about it. That you so much.” there it was. That voice. It was Y/N talking to the administrator. But I thought she was homeschooled? Peter thought to himself, trying to wrap his mind around what was going on. It’s not like it was a bad thing that Y/N was coming to Midtown, but MJ told him that she really wasn’t the type to go to school. She hated big crowds of people and was never really good at making friends. 

“Ok well, I can’t wait to have you as a new student at Midtown!”

Peter and Ned looked at each other with wide eyes then turned fully around to see who was behind them, even though they already knew by the voices. “Peter…”

“Ned,” he said to the tan boy next to him. They were both in shock by what they just heard.

“Y/N’s going to Midtown?” they said in sync. 

“Yes, she is,” MJ added as she and her cousin walked over to stunned boys. Ned sent them both a smile and Y/N sent him one back with a small ‘hi’. Peter couldn’t help but notice that something was different about her. 

She’s not wearing her glasses.

The four of them walked out of the building together, telling Y/N about all the teachers and classes at the high school. She also explained that she was tired of being homeschooled and wanted to have something to do outside of her one personal bubble. This new information didn’t make much sense to Peter. She seemed so happy when she was at home from what he could see. 

Ned said goodbye to the two girls before heading over to the bus, beckoning Peter over. 

“Later MJ, b-bye Y/N.” 

“See ya, Parker,” MJ responded before getting into the passenger side of the car, kicking her feet up on the dashboard. 

“Hey! Feet off the dashboard dude,” Y/N yelled at her cousin. MJ mocked her expression before chuckling lightly- keeping her feet on the dashboard. “Goodbye, Peter,” she said coldly, turning back to Peter before getting into the driver’s side, pulling away from the curb before speeding off down the road.

“I miss you.” 

The brown-eyed boy whispered to no one, but it was meant for Y/N. He truly did miss her. Even if they had met only one week ago, that same surge of energy raced through him. Peter knew this wasn’t an ordinary crush- he didn’t know what it was. But he knew he couldn’t afford to lose it. He felt like he was falling apart without her. He didn’t intend to be that rude to her that night at the drive-in, it just happening and he regretted it the second he did it once he saw that heartbroken-hearted look on her face. But instead of apologizing to her, he just sat there.

“Sup penis Parker!” a kid named flash yelled and he sped by him, causing Peter’s brown curly hair to fall into his face. Great. 

“Hey kid, I ain’t got all day. Ya getting on or not?” the bus driver said to Peter. He slumped his shoulders and lugged himself into the bus, taking his seat next to his best friend. “It’s gonna be ok man,” Ned told Peter, trying to comfort him. 

I hope so.

///

Peter was late-night patrolling as he usually did and spotted MJ’s place. Not being able to restrain himself he swung over to the building next to it. He noticed that that same room light was on that was on the first time he stopped by MJ’s on a night patrol as Spider-Man. 

Looking through the window to the lit room, he saw Y/N. she was sitting on her bed, her legs crisscrossed as she wrote something down in a thick, brown, leather-backed journal. 

He smiled at the sight before him. Y/N was wearing the glasses. She pushed them up on her face with her knuckle and continued them to write. Someone must have called her name because she got up from her position on the bed and left her room. 

Curiosity took over Peter as he swung over the ledge of the fire escape that was right at Y/N’s window. He peered into it and used his mask to focus closely on the open journal sitting on the bed. It was a letter:

Dear dad, 

I can’t do this anymore. I miss you so much. You were what made me smile every day, and you still do. But I thought I had found someone who could make me smile even more. He’s beautiful dad. He has amazingly curly brown hair and the brightest brown eyes I had ever seen. His smile made me smile just like how your smile made me smile. He was the one that convinced me to wear my glasses… your glasses. Not MJ. not mom. He did. I thought he liked me as much as I liked him, but I was wrong. And now I can’t stop thinking about what you told me: some people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes. I think he was the one dad, the wrong one. The one I wasn’t supposed to be with. But why does it hurt so much? I’ve been preparing for this to happen to me ever since you told about false love. But now that it actually happened, I cant take it. I cant let him go. But I-

The letter stopped. And anyone could tell that Y/N had been crying as she wrote it- there were tear strains covering the page. 

Peter felt lightheaded. Tears flooded his chocolate eyes and he unfocused his mask from the page. He slumped down, his back not facing the window. He was hurt. It felt like everything in the world had stopped, as time had frozen. He couldn’t bear to know the fact that he hurt Y/N so much to the point she thinks it’s her fault. 

He yanked the mask off of his face, his cheeks burning a shade of crimson just like his eyes. Peter ran a shaky hand through his hair, gripping it as he grounded out in frustration. 

Letting go he slammed his fist against the brick behind him, yelling out in pain. But not physical pain. He felt like someone just ripped out his heart and stomped on it. 

“Hello?” Peter jumped at the voice coming from inside of Y/N’s room. Nows your change Peter. Just go tell her the truth. That’s what one side of Peter said, the other side was the opposite. You cant tell her now, she’ll just hate you more. You have to wait for the right moment. 

But when was the right moment?

“MJ, did you hear that or am I fucking crazy?” Y/N asked as she exited the room. Peter took this chance to get away without being seen. He made his way but to his shared apartment with Aunt May. Entering his room and sitting on his bed, tears ran down his face as he silently sobbed.

///

“Students, I need your attention,” everyone quieted down their own conversations to hear what was about to be said. “I would like to introduce you to our new student, Y/N,” Peter’s head snapped but to look to the front of the class. His eyes landed on Y/N. he couldn’t help but admire her outfit. She was wearing high-waisted but loose, flared jeans with a grey Slytherin sweatshirt and black converse- ones like MJs. her fingers were covered in rings and she has a small necklace. There was a bag draped over her shoulder and her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail. She was holding her glasses in her hand, not daring to put them on.

Not in front of all these people. More importantly, in front of Peter. 

Her head hung and she stared at her feet, twisting the ring on her thumb. The teacher told that she could take a seat at an empty chair, and just to her luck, Ned wasn’t at school that day. So she was forced to sit next to Peter. She didn’t want to argue so she took her seat and sat there quietly not daring to even glance at the boy next to her. 

Half an hour went by and Peter noticed Y/N fidgeting next to him. Her hands were shaking, her ears were turning bright red and she shook the table from how much she was bouncing it. She was taking notes but the handwriting was illegible she was consistently squinting at the board, trying to read what was being written. 

“Hey Y/N, are you ok?”

“Fine,” she let out shakily, avoiding eye contact with Peter. He grabbed her hand, causing her to look him in the eye. Y/N’s eyes were red, tears swelling in the corners. 

“We’re going to the bathroom. Now.” 

“No Peter I’m f-fine.”

Peter grabbed Y/N’s arm, pulling out of the chair and into his arms, picking up their belonging with his free arm. They snuck out the back door to the classroom he and Ned used to sneak out of. 

Walking through the halls, Y/N’s breath became shallow. “Peter, peter I wanna go home. Please take me home. There are too many people in there. They were all looking at me a-and I didn’t want them to look at me. MJ. Peter where is MJ. I need-” 

“Ssshhh, relax Y/N. I’m gonna take you home,” Peter said, rubbing her back. She nodded her head at him as they walked through the back doors of the school. 

SORRY THAT THIS PART WAS SHORT BUT THE NEXT ONE WILL BE LONG AND I HAVE SOME REALLY GOOD SURPRISE COMING IN THE NEXT PARTS. I LOVE YOU GUYSSSSS

-J.T.S xxx

@love-granger

@moonlightbaby10

@oakiedokie

@hallecarey1

@tomhollandreader

[crash-cinematic-universe]

rumor has it

pairing: peter maximoff/reader

summary:  Idk if im doing it in the right one but whatever. Can you write a peter maximoff imagine where he has a girlfriend(reader) that has Allison Hargreeves powers from The Umbrella Academy - anon

warnings: none! peter is kind of Insecure but honestly when is he not

notes: this is a shor(er) and sweet one! it is 1 AM where i am so sorry if I missed some mistakes! im on the verge of collpase <3

taglist: @stranger-names @gooseyhouse @parkersdarling @amourtentiaa @toodles-me-doodles​ 

“I heard a rumor you stopped talking,” You groaned, watching as Peter’s lips went from a blur to a thin line. He slumped over, pouting at you with puppy dog eyes. You just stared back at him, your eyebrows furrowed and shoulders tense. As much as you loved Peter, he could be a real pain in the ass sometimes.

“Peter, look, I know you’re bored, but Hank really needs this motor fixed and I promised him it would be done by tomorrow. I need to work, but I can’t focus with you here, dollface, you know that,” You attempt to cheer him up, but he’s still looking upset. “The minute this essay is complete you’ll have me all to yourself, no distractions. My one-hundred percent, undivided attention,”

“How long will that take?” The rumor had worn off, but you didn’t mind. Peter looked at you, and the slight feeling of regret washed over you. He was just bored, and probably a little lonely. To be completely honest, this project would probably take you the rest of the day to complete, and probably the better part of tomorrow. It was a complicated motor, and even though you’re quite handy, this type of project is always a challenge. 

“The rest of today… probably a few hours tomorrow--” Peter sighed dejectedly and rested his chin on his arm. Disappointment was written across his face, and it seemed as if he was trying to hide it, albeit poorly. He understands that the work that you and Hank do is important, and he realizes that sometimes he can be a little overbearing, but lately you’ve been so busy he almost never gets to see you. 

“Can’t you just rumor Hank into forgetting about the motor for today?” Oh, you’ve definitely considered it. You take Peter’s face in your hands.

“You know I can’t, Peter,” He leans into your touch. It’s adorable. “It’s a violation of the trust and boundaries we established. Plus, he’ll probably get pissed at me and rip me in half,”

“He’d have to go through me, first,” Peter laughed softly. There’s something eating away at him, the gnawing feeling of worry tearing at his stomach. 

Peter Maximoff isn’t an idiot. He hears the whispers in the hallways, he sees the way the students look at him when he’s with you. They all think you can do better. They’ve all placed bets to see how long you last before you kick him to the curb. You’d think being a hero would make him more popular, but no. Peter Maximoff is just as much of a loser now as he was in high school, X-Men be damned. 

So, yeah, Peter Maximoff isn’t an idiot, but he is a loser. He’s a loser in a mansion surrounded by people who aren’t losers-- more specifically, your socially anxious lab partner. Everyone expected you and Hank to eventually end up together; you were both science nerds, you both enjoyed relatively isolated events, and you both moved at the same pace. That’s probably why the entire mansion was shocked to its core when Peter wound up being your boyfriend. Of course, he loves you with everything he’s got, but there’s always that feeling of doubt settled over him. It was too much, it was all too much and he needed to get away. 

“Whatcha’ thinking about, gorgeous?” Peter got so lost in thought, he forgot about the situation at hand. 

“I-- ” He sounded uneasy. This is how everything unravels-- he gets too honest and scares you off. Peter didn’t pay attention in history class, but he’s pretty sure Rome fell because some old guy was insecure and drove his girlfriend away. “I just, uh, don’t really want to be alone right now.” Peter thought he sounded pathetic. You thought he sounded sweet. 

You looked down at the motor on your desk, the tiny screws and mechanical components jumping out at you like your desk was a pop-art installation. With a smile and a shrug, you pushed away the bits and pieces and stood up, pulling Peter up with you.

“Hank is just gonna have to suck it up and wait another day,” Peter grins as you pull him close. You collapse on your bed, and Peter quickly gets comfortable beside you. His head is resting against your shoulder, and his long arms are locked around you. He plays with your fingers, examining every mark and every scar with the focus of a brain surgeon going into work. Sometimes you wondered if Peter was just trying to memorize every single feature and every little detail that you had. He was.

“Y’know, your mutation is so cool,” Peter muses. You press a light kiss of his temple. “You can literally get anything you want. You could get anyone to do anything for you at any given moment. Everyone in the world is like a video game character to you; all you have to do is give a command and we follow it,”

“I guess it’s alright,” You shrug. 

“It’s amazing.” Peter’s fingers are drumming against your arms at an impossible speed, but you don’t mind. “You’re amazing.”

“You’re pretty cool, too,” The drumming comes to a sudden stop. The gentle rhythm of Peter’s breathing falters as well.

“Eh,” He mumbles. “Compared to everyone else, I’m pretty lame. Compared to you? I’m nothing more than a speck of dust in the galaxy that is you.”

“Aw, Peter, you don’t give yourself enough credit,” It makes you sad to hear him say negative things about himself, but that’s part of building confidence. Sometimes you just need to be proven wrong. 

“Remember when you saved the entire mansion when Cerebro exploded? Or that time you kicked ass on that space mission we went on? If I tried to rumor you into being cool, nothing would happen because you’re already pretty amazing.”

“You really think so?” Peter looks up at you, and something about the look in his eyes makes you want to hold him close and never let him go.

“I know so.” For now, that was enough. 

“Y’know, I heard a rumor that you loved me.” Peter jokes, glancing up at you. You look right back at him.

“That’s a beautiful rumor,” A smile grows on your face. Your companion seems content with that. “Funnily enough, I heard the same one about you.”

“Rumors travel on the devil’s radio,” Peter giggles. You wish you could put his laugh on a CD and keep it forever. 

“Who knew the devil was such a romantic?”

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

A fluorescent green gaze pierced through him from the rearview mirror. As much as the eye contact sent chills down Dale's spine, he didn't want to look away. Some primal part of his brain was much more comfortable keeping his eyes firmly planted on the predator in the back seat of the police car.

"Why won't he leave?" Dale whispered to his partner, the woman grit her teeth.

"I don't know, but I'm not the idiot who decided to fucking arrest him." spat Whitney.

"I didn't think it would work!" Dale hissed. They were trying to be quiet, but he was certain the ghost boy could hear them clear as day, especially with the quiet of the late night streets. "I was just following protocol. We're not supposed to ignore criminal activity."

"The protocol," Whitney's knuckles tightened on the steering wheel as she circled the block for the third time. "Is to not fuck with the ghosts Dale. Especially that one."

She jerked her head roughly to the boy in the back seat, he was looking around the car and humming to himself, he didn't appear to be paying attention, but that didn't mean he wasn't listening.

"Look I just... we need to at least keep up appearances. We can't just let people think we aren't even trying."

"Yes! Yes we can!" Whitney snapped her mouth shut as her volume started to rise with frustration, she glanced nervously into the mirror and took a deep breath before continuing in a low tone. "We aren't paid to deal with this kind of bullshit, we radio it in and let a Fenton or a Guy in White deal with it."

"Okay I get it!" Dale ran a hand through his thinning hair. "I just... I feel so pathetic doing nothing when ghosts are just running around destroying public property-"

"Oh yeah no that's fine Dale that's a great reason to go and put handcuffs on the most powerful ghost in the fucking city." Whitney took the next turn a little too sharply, Dale felt himself lurch sideways, but the boy in the back hardly moved. It wasn't especially surprising given his usual disregard for the laws of physics.

As well as all the other laws that Officer Dale was supposed to be enforcing.

"I told you I didn't think he would actually come willingly." Dale whispered harshly, his voice containing just the barest hint of hysteria. "I just wanted to show him that we aren't total pushovers, I didn't expect it to go this far."

They circled the block once more as Dale checked the rearview mirror again. Phantom was playing with his handcuffs, jiggling the chain and twisting his hands around them. It was almost like he was trying wriggle his way out of them, Dale knew perfectly well that they were just ordinary handcuffs, and he could phase through them at any moment. Phantom had to know that too.

Whitney flicked her eyes between the mirror and the road.

"Asshole," the word was barely audible, Dale would have missed it had he not seen her lips move. "He's just doing this to fuck with us."

"Of course he is." Dale rubbed at his face tiredly. "He's probably got nothing better to do, maybe he'll leave if another ghost shows up?"

"And exactly how long do you expect us to go around in circles waiting for that to happen?" Whitney asked through gritted teeth. "This is getting fucking embarrassing."

"Maybe we should just take him in," Dale sighed in defeat. Whitney took another corner way too hard, jostling him roughly in his seat.

"I am NOT taking Phantom back for processing. They will NEVER let us live this down, and I am NOT becoming the joke of the precinct because YOU decided to be a god damn moron and arrest a fucking ghost."

Another sharp turn and the entrance to the city park flew by their windows again, Dale had lost count how many times they'd circled the block, but somehow he was certain that Phantom hadn't.

The little shit was enjoying this, why couldn't he just sneak into a movie theatre to get his kicks like a normal teenager?

Whitney growled and pulled the car into a complete stop, the wheels screeched and Dale let out a loud WHUFF as the inertia jerked him hard against his seatbelt.

His partner violently wrenched the door open and pulled herself out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her with far more force than was necessary.

Dale followed suit and looked over the roof of the car as Whitney pulled open the back passenger door and whistled sharply, pointing up and out into the sky.

"Go on, get. Ride's over, you've had your fun."

"Awww come oooon," Phantom whined, "I didn't even get to hear you use the siren!"

"Don't care, we're the police, not baby sitters. Go find some ghost cops to bother."

"The ghost cops aren't as fun," Phantom moaned, but he did as he was told and stepped out of the car. "You know, you guys shouldn't swear so much around minors, you're corrupting the youth!"

"I'll corrupt my foot up your ass if you don't get going." said Whitney, flatly. She put her hand out and Phantom effortlessly dropped the cuffs from his wrists and tossed them at her.

He pulled a face at her as she fumbled with the handcuffs, sticking out a very green tongue.

"I saw that young man!" Dale pointed at him from the other side of the car. "Don't let us catch you disrespecting an officer of the law again! Next time you won't get off with just a warning-"

"Dale! For the love of all that is holy shut your damn fool mouth!"

Phantom hopped backwards from the irate woman, his last few steps landing on empty air. He floated gently upwards with a shit eating grin on his face.

"Well this has been fun but I gotta head off, but thanks for the company! We should do it again some time, see you around!" He waved a casual salute and swung around, legs stretching out into a long swirling tail as he sped off into the sky.

Dale felt his knees shaking as he slipped back into the car. Whitney settled into her seat, hands steady as a rock as she belted herself up and started the car.

"That was terrifying." He gasped.

"And yet you still had to keep playing bad cop."

"I'm sorry it just slipped out! He's no different to any of the other punks we deal with around here. A wiseass with no respect for authority." Dale huffed and folded his arms, crossly.

"...He probably wasn't any different, before he died." Whitney said, quietly.

Dale didn't respond, letting the statement sit heavily between them as the car pulled away from the curb.

"I forget that sometimes, you know." said Dale. "This is the first time I've ever seen him up close and he... he really does just look like some kid. How do you think he... how do you think it happened?"

Whitney let out a deep breath as they completed their final lap around the block and headed in toward the city centre.

"I have no idea, and I'm pretty sure that's the kinda thing you can't ask." she paused for a moment, before continuing with a quiet pain in her voice. "He's so young."

"I wonder if his parents know," Dale mused sombrely, "That he's, you know, still around?"

"Who knows."

A car cut them off suddenly at an intersection.

"That was a red light." Dale announced.

The police car's lights flashed as the siren echoed through the empty streets, and Whitney slammed her foot down to catch up with the offending vehicle.

The conversation was over, but neither cop forgot about the incident, and neither could look at their city's hero and menace quite the same. Dale had gotten quite good at seeing ghosts as merely 'creatures', or 'monsters', things that were entirely Strange and Other. Being up close and personal with one had been a much needed reminder of what a ghost truly was.

And that ghost, the one messing around in the back of his car, was a boy. Just a boy. A boy who had a family, a boy who had a life, a boy who had died.

When Dale got home in the early hours of the morning, he hovered by his kids' bedroom, carefully easing the door open to look at their little sleeping faces. Just to make sure they were still there, right where he left them. Still breathing, still alive.

He knew there was a family out there somewhere, parents who had looked through their son's bedroom door and seen only cold, empty sheets.

Dale stepped very carefully over the spilt lego pieces on the floor, and gave his girls both a long, heartfelt kiss on their little heads, before going back to his own room to lay by his sleeping wife's side.

No, no he truly couldn't look at Phantom quite the same way, not anymore.