#I started writing them down after the first two quotes

[slttygeto]

SO, YOU GOT A BOYFRIEND? | GETO S.

synopsis: when watching a certain scary movie gives your husband, suguru, the perfect idea on how to ruin you.

c.w: p0rn with plot, fem!reader, reader is referred to as “good girl” “pretty girl”, mask kink (hehe<3), slight fear play, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, suguru talks you through it, praise kink, strength kink if you squint, im obsessed with suguru's arms, clit smack, multiple orgasms.

word count: 2,1k

note: i am BRICKED after writing this. happy halloween hehe.

ghostface suguru! ( @aurelianamu )

In a dimly lit room, at around 10PM—it was a bit cold outside, the perfect weather to snuggle up and watch some movies. Romance movies? No, you did that last week. Action movie? Eh, you were not in the mood for that—oh, Scream. Your thumb presses on the movie before you put the remote control down and walk towards the kitchen to grab some snacks.

“Sugu, I picked a movie!” you announce as you make your way out of the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and two drinks. Your husband marches down the stairs in a lazy manner, his long strands messily sticking out of his ponytail that he has to stop and tie it up again. He sees what movie you picked and he stands behind you on the couch.

“Scream?” he questions, hands resting on your shoulders.

“First movie, pretty iconic.”

“I don’t think it’s that scary though,” he doesn’t really say that he would rather watch something else, simply joins you on the couch and pulls you towards him with the bowl of popcorn resting on your lap.

The movie is indeed not that scary, you kept quoting some of the lines here and there, which earned you a chuckle from Suguru every time.

“No, please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface I wanna be in the sequel,” you say in the same voice and attitude and your husband runs a hand through your hair.

“I think you’d easily outsmart him,” your husband is very supportive of you, but instead of making fun of his statement, your heart thrums in your chest when you picture Suguru in the ghostface mask.

“Really?” you look up at him through your eyelashes but Suguru is staring ahead and doesn’t notice the eyes you’re giving him.

“Yeah, they’re all pretty stupid—minus Sidney, I mean the fact that—“ your husband goes on a three minute ramble about the plot, how he appreciates the intelligence of the main character all while saying that the choice of the ghostface killers was nice. Unbeknownst to him, you were thinking of something else. Something far dirtier than intended.

“Baby,” you cut him off from his ramble and he hums in response.

“You’d be pretty hot as ghostface.” Suguru looks down on you when you say that and raises both eyebrows knowingly.

“Are you insinuating something?” To which you shrug your shoulders before staring back at the big screen in your living room, playing innocent.

“Just saying.”

You weren’t just saying, you knew exactly what you were doing. The next day, you’re sat on your bed folding laundry while watching the newest episode to your favorite podcast. You liked keeping your brain stimulated, and it distracted you from the fact that your husband was always gone for long hours during the day. But when you hear the keys rustling and the front door opening, you raise an eyebrow but don’t question it. Today’s mission must’ve been quick, you think to yourself.

“Welcome home!” you call out from your bedroom but don’t bother to get up, you knew he would come to your bedroom immediately so you keep your eyes on your computer and go back to folding the laundry.

A couple of minutes pass and Suguru doesn’t walk inside the bedroom, so you start getting a little suspicious and decide to go check on him.

“Sugu?” you walk out of the bedroom and notice how the lights downstairs are turned off. You remember leaving them on for him, so he must’ve turned them off on his way upstairs—but where was he?

“Baby, are you in the shower?” the lights in the bathroom were on but the door was closed. Suguru never walked to the bathroom first without greeting you—unless something was wrong. You put your hand on the door handle, but before you could twist the knob, a warm and rough hand covers your mouth and your blood runs cold when you’re being pulled into a different room.

You don’t have time to scream or panic, because when you’re being pinned to the wall by a rather familiar set of hands, your eyes almost bulge out of your skull when you notice the ghostface mask. You’re breathing heavily, cheeks flushed but there’s no sign of panic because you know who this is—the dragon tattoo peeking out of his shirt and the wedding band on his ring finger are enough evidence.

“Do you like scary movies?” Suguru’s voice sounds silky smooth, but the flirting connotation to it has your heart leaping out of your chest.

“Sugu—“

“Wrong,” he pins both hands above your head and his body is so close to yours that you feel the heat radiating off of it. “Let’s try again, I know my girl is smart.”

Your breath is caught in your throat, but you play along and nod sheepishly.

“Do you like scary movies?”

“Mhm,”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” He traces a finger over your cheek, and the arousal slowly starts pooling between your legs.

“Hm, I don’t know,” you reply in a similar flirtatious tone, nervousness long gone. The realization that you didn’t have to explicitly tell your husband about the ghostface mask and him buying it for your pleasure made all of this very thrilling.

“You have to have a favorite, what comes to mind?”

“Hm, Halloween,” you stick to the same script of the movie, you buck your hips towards him but he pushes a knee between your legs and pins you again to the wall. “Y’know, the one with the guy with the white mask that walks around and stalks baby sitters?”

“Yeah,” Suguru breathes out and takes in how gorgeous you look like this—how he should’ve thought of doing this a long time ago. Your eyes were blown out with lust, chest heaving in excitement all while allowing him to play with you like this. He could feel his pants tighten and his cock was slowly getting hard from knowing exactly what was coming.

“What’s yours?” you bring him out of his thoughts and although you can’t see his face, you know that he was giving you that signature charming smile that always won over your heart.

“Guess.” He purrs out and you subconsciously start grinding against his knee before giving him a reply.

“Nightmare on Elm Street,”

“Wrong,” Suguru goes off script and your lips part for a moment. You’re about to complain, tell him that this wasn’t in the movie—he lets go of your wrists and throws you over his shoulder, delivering a harsh smack to your ass, his rough hand kneads the skin as he makes his way towards your bedroom.

“Better luck next time,” he throws you on the bed and you let out a gasp when your back hits the mattress. You try to sit up, but your husband grabs your ankles and pulls you down towards the end of the bed. “Now let’s see just how fucking filthy you are,”

He parts your legs with his big hands covering the plush skin of your thighs, and you whine out when he removes your shorts to reveal your panties that had an obvious wet patch on them.

“Fuuuck,” he breathes out and lifts up the mask enough for his mouth and nose to be visible. He presses his nose against your panties and takes a whiff of your arousal, the sight is obscene and your face turns red at how pussy drunk he sounds. “Fuck, fuck—should’ve done this sooner baby, you smell so fucking good,” he gives your pussy a kiss through the fabric of your panties before his fingers remove them so messily that you let out a startled noise.

Suguru dives in between your legs and the wet sounds are dirty and make you feel even more turned on. His tongue laps at your clit, fingers pulling the hood back before spitting on it and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he sucks. Two of his thick fingers prod at your entrance, gathering some of the slick that’s pooled there before pushing a single finger inside.

“Thaaaat’s it, good girl,” he breathes out against your clit before giving it a kiss as he pushes the second finger inside. “Yeah, this pussy loves being stuffed by me—fuck, you’re so wet for me. All because of this mask baby girl?” his tone is playful but you’re far too gone to complain and just mindlessly nod.

“So drunk off of me and I haven’t even given you my cock,” he pumps his fingers in and out of you all while curling them to find that one spot inside you. He licks, sucks and spits on your clit with so much passion and when he finds that one spot, you let him know pretty quickly.

“Oh!” you gasp and your thighs shake. “S-Suguru, oh fuck--!” his wrist is burning as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you, and the veins in his forearm are bulging out from the sheer strength he is using to finger fuck you until you see white. His free hand comes down and presses against your stomach to apply pressure and keep you pinned down.

You make the mistake of opening your eyes to stare at him. His hand is covered in your arousal, but what truly pushes you over the edge is the fact that his mask had come down and was covering his face entirely. So when he decides to talk you through it, give you that one final push—the ghostface mask seems to intensify the orgasm tenfold.

“I know you’re a good girl, but I’m gonna need you to get dirty for me baby—there it is, theeere it is,” he sounds proud when you finally cum, and you’re loud. You whine and let out soft cries, your hands weakly push at his arm when he keeps fingering you through your orgasm.

“Suguru—too much!” you cry out and gasp when he pulls his fingers out of your soaking pussy to slap your clit.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he quickly starts to unbuckle his belt and pushes his pants enough to free his cock. The tip nudges at your folds and your husband hovers over you with his lean stature. Big broad shoulders cover your entire frame and you’re fucked out from your previous orgasm.

“I’m going in baby, let me in,” your legs spread instinctively to welcome him inside of you and you groan when you feel the sheer size of him inside you. Your hands grip at the back of his shirt, but Suguru holds himself up on his forearms so that you look at his mask.

“Yeah, that’s right—look at me baby, filthy fucking girl,” his strokes were slow but hard. His hands grab at the back of your thighs and push them before fucking into you harder. “You like it, huh?” you couldn’t even give a proper response, only mindlessly nodding when you could feel him even deeper inside you.

He pushes your knees to your chest before setting a dizzying pace. You feel so full of him, so full of his thick cock and Suguru’s eyes roll to the back of his head behind his mask every time he felt your pussy squeeze around him. His finger rubs at your clit the same way that you’ve shown him you like it, and the tip of his cock repeatedly nudges against that one spot that has you falling apart underneath him with a loud cry.

Your orgasm hits you hard and Suguru can’t hold it in any longer—he fucks into you for another minute, head buried in your neck as he groans out your name. Your pussy milks him dry, and he fills you up to the brim—to the point where you could feel him leak out of you.

You lay there breathing heavily, and you weakly reach for the ghostface mask and remove it off of your husband to reveal his sweaty forehead and flushed cheeks. He looks gorgeous like that, and you lock eyes for the first time since the entire night and you’re immediately pulled in towards one another.

Suguru kisses you with so much passion, dick still buried deep inside you and your legs stay wrapped around him as you two make out heavily under your sheets that stuck to your sweaty bodies. You pull away for a moment to kiss his forehead and Suguru closes his eyes as he melts at your touch.

“Thank you for that,” you say, so love struck that the man can’t help but chuckle at how breathless you sound.

“Let’s do it again, yeah?”

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

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[midnightcrw]

Fight

Pairing: Ghost x Reader, Price x Reader, Soap x Reader, Gaz x Reader

Summary: Your child gets in trouble

a/n: This one is a little different from my usual ones, but I just felt like writing for all four of them. I'm not sure how accurate you'll all find them as I've deliberately exaggerated them, but I do believe that Gaz is a sassy man after seeing how he didn't want to shake Graves' hand. I've also named the children of the TF141, I hope that's okay with you all.

Scenario:

The moment you both heard that your child got in trouble, the first thing you two did was rush into the principal's office in fear that something happened.

And now you were both sitting in the principal's office with your child, while another child was there with his parents.

Ghost:

Your eyes widened as you heard the principal say that Daisy and another girl in her class had gotten into a physical fight.

"There was also something your daughter said that is completely unacceptable," Mr. Smith said, looking disappointed at Daisy, even though the girl apparently started the fight and your daughter was just defending herself.

"It wasn't even that bad..." Daisy muttered underneath her breath as she crossed her arms.

Simon was very quiet, but his stoic expression spoke for itself.

"Daisy, I want you to quote what you said," Mr. Smith continued, not wanting to hear another word from her unless she quoted exactly what she said to the girl.

Your daughter looked at you, a pleading look on her face but you just shook your head at her in disappointment, wanting to hear what she said.

She sighed and quoted what she had said before, "You have a face that only a mother could love."

Without missing a single beat, Simon started wheezing in his seat the moment he heard his daughter's insult to the girl.

You glared at him, "Simon!"

Trying to calm down, he put his palm on his mouth as he continued, completely ignoring the angry looks of the principal and the other family.

"Mr. Riley, I want you to calm down. This is highly inappropriate," Mr. Smith said as Simon calmed down.

A few seconds of silence passed between you all before your beloved husband opened his mouth.

"Did you win?"

"Simon!?"

Price:

It felt like hours as the girl's parents and the girl herself ranted and raved about the fact that your daughter Sophie punched her.

At first you had both been shocked, completely angry at your daughter until the parents opened their mouths to speak.

You almost fell asleep listening to the mother go on and on about how her daughter's nose was bleeding because of Sophie.

Price, on the other hand, sat still in his seat, listening to the whole thing, not having said a word since he walked into the principal's office.

"Your daughter should be suspended!" The father said, glaring at Sophie.

Mr. Smith didn't even get a single chance to say anything, as they continued.

Slowly, Price seemed to lose his patience and turned his head towards you and your daughter.

He whispered, "Punch her harder next time."

"What?" The principal asks.

"Nothing."

Price says as Sophie giggles at her dad.

You tried to stifle your grin by putting a hand over your mouth, just hoping that the parents would shut up soon.

Soap:

Your son sat between the two of you, his nose bleeding and his face bruised as he frowned at the boy and his parents.

You were extremely worried as you put a hand on your son, Callum's arm, and quietly asked him if he was hurt anywhere else.

Callum just shook his head, not wanting to speak while Soap was already getting bored listening to all of the talking the principal was doing.

"It doesn't matter if he started insulting him because Callum was the one who got violent," Mr. Smith said as you tried to defend your son.

The boy obviously looked much worse than Callum. His hair was disheveled and his face was bruised. His nose was also bleeding, as was his lower lip.

It looked like your son had done some damage.

"What exactly did he do?" Soap asked, wanting to know exactly how Callum had hit the boy.

As Mr. Smith explained what your son had done, Soap's eyes lit up and a smile appeared on his face.

"I'm so proud of you, you used the punch I taught you," Soap said, extremely pleased that Callum had listened and actually used the things he had taught him.

Callum grinned at his dad's antics as you put your face in your hands, sighing and muttering "Why did I marry this idiot..."

Gaz:

You were shocked to hear what your son, Ethan, had done to the boy.

Mr. Smith was obviously upset and angry that Ethan had acted so childishly, and immediately got into a physical fight the moment the boy wouldn't stop insulting him.

You felt the headache already pounding in your head as you rubbed your temple, completely out of it.

Ethan didn't really say anything, he just listened to everything that was said.

The boy's parents glared at the three of you, never once looking away.

The boy that insulted your son, looked angry, obviously still being pissed at the fact that Ethan punched him, even though he himself started with the insults.

Gaz was not even shocked, sitting there with his hand holding up his head up as he looked extremely uninterested in the principal's endless speech.

Rolling his eyes, Gaz moved closer to you and Ethan as he whispered.

"Did you break any of his bones?"

"No."

"Good, because I'm not paying anything in this economy."

[dclovesdanny]

Dead Serious

4/4

Danny had made peace with the fact he did not have a soulmate. He had! After several years of no response to the countless drawings and writing notes on his skin, he had grown resigned to the fact that he was part of the 5% who did not have soulmates. He was fine with that.

(Dash would tease him about how no one would ever love him, adding salt to an already irritated wound. His parents were soulmates, and he remembered when he was drawing on his father’s arms and watching as it appeared on his mother’s. Jazz had been drawing and writing to her soulmate for years. Her soulmates name was Jason, and she always talked about how he was with her. She was one of the few people who comforted him when he stopped drawing or writing to soulmate. )

Damien taught at an early age that there was no use for soulmates. They were only distractions. He knew grandfather had no soulmate, and his mother had never responded to her own. He never responded to the drawings on his arms notes the notes in English on his (and he didn’t try harder just because he wanted to read his soulmate writing that would be ridiculous.)

Damien never told his family about having a soulmate. Even as he slowly got used to the differences between them and slowly learned how his grandfather was he could never bring himself to respond to the slowly lessening drawings and messages.(He couldn’t bring himself to respond because deep down he knew he didn’t deserve a soulmate. He was a monster, a demon. He didn’t deserve it.)

Danny stopped trying so desperately to contact his soulmate at age 11(the age he held his sister as she cried, her soulmate’s last message scribbled in desperate frantic writing on her arm. He never resented his parents so much when they didn’t even leave the lab for two days, not paying any mind to their sobbing child on the floor above them.)(it was the first time he didn’t envy having a soulmate.)

He was fourteen when he started drawing on his arms again.(it was shaky, much more than the older drawings, but even if he didn’t have a soulmate, he wanted to leave them a mark, just in case, the same way Jazz wrote quotes from different books on her arms.)

(When he found out Vlad didn’t have a soulmate, he refused to acknowledge another similarity they shared. He refused to think about how Vlad’s desperation made Danny think of his own desperate writing for his soulmate. Soulmates were a topic he never spoke of, and Vlad must have known, must have found out about how Danny didn’t have one, but he never commented on it. (It was the only boundary that was never crossed.))

(Damian wasn’t disappointed when his soulmate stopped writing to him. he didn’t trace over his arms, wishing that he had the confidence to write back. He didn’t spend hours wondering if his soulmate was gone without knowing Damian had seen him. He didn’t trace over the drawings his soulmate made with awe after four years of silence.)

Damian always covered up, so he was the only one who noticed when his soulmate started writing to him again. Never sentences never notes like they were before, but shaky drawings appeared on his skin. They were less detailed than before, almost shaky, as if the person drawing them couldn’t hold a pencil, steady, but they were real. Damian never said a word.

It was October 15 when Damien saw something on his arms that made his blood go cold. A message that he read over and over while commandeering the plane and ignoring the rest of his family yelling for him to explain himself. He desperately calibrated the jet while staring at the words, praying to a God he did not believe in that he would not be too late.(Unaware that Todd was following going in the same direction with the similar message written on his arm from a girl that Jason had deemed too good for him.)

Dear soulmate, even if you aren’t there. Everyone in Casper high is writing on their arms and I might as well try to warn someone. I am from Amity Park, Illinois, and we are under attack. The GIW have cut all outside communication. We are currently hiding in Casper high school, barricading the entrances, but it will not last long.

According to the government, we are not legally sentient or human. The agents outside want to dissect us, citing that we are scum. I don’t want to see my classmates die at the hands of my parents. I don’t want to see my friends and my sister die.

I don’t know if you are there, or if I really don’t have a soulmate, but I don’t want to die (fully) without leaving some sort of note.

My name is Danny. I love you. I’m sorry.

[dwaekkicidal]

Idk if your asks are still open, but I have a recommendation...

Where it's like a poly with two of the members, and they're arguing over which fingers to use on you. (While actively demonstrating)

(Ex. One member is a firm believer of using Pointer/middle finger. While the other prefers middle/ring finger) idk if it makes sense lol

A possible quote "Who the hell told you how to use those fingers"

poly asks have my heart i need MOAR. thank u :3

VocalRacha x Fingering Argument

~500 words | warnings: fem!reader, fingering, (1) pvssy + thigh slap (im sorry i cant help myself), kinda meandom vocalracha, mentions of being tied up

So the first two who really came to mind were Seungmin and Jeongin. And it would SOOO start off as a random argument between them 😭 I won't write a full fic about it for this ask but I'll write a little drabble of sorts

❥ It would happen one of the times you leave them unattended at your apartment. Maybe you had to run out to grab food or wanted to run to the corner store on your own. You're gone for no more than an hour and they still managed to get on the topic of sex and fingering. (probably due to an nsfw meme one of them found/one of the boys found and sent to a group chat)

❥ Bombard you the second you walk in the door. "Jagi, which fingers do you prefer when we fuck you?" & "Puppyyyy~ Tell him I'm right. I know your pussy better than him, right?" Front door wide open and all lol

❥ They argue about it through the whole night until you inevitably get sick of it and just tell them it's all the same. Which, to your dismay, only ends in you in the bedroom with them both between your legs. If you think it's all the same then they feel the need to experiment.

❥ Minnie's most likely gonna be mean to both of you during the whole thing. Starts with a swift "Sit the fuck still or else I'll tie you down." to you and a "Who the fuck taught you that?!? Paboya." to Jeongin

❥ They'd try to do it by taking turns at first. Seungmin lets Jeongin go first and lets him try to "explain" why his way is better but gets fidgety and eventually pulls the other boy's wrist away from you. So Seungmin forces his turn like that and all goes smoothly while he tries to explain his way.

❥ All until Jeongin gets antsy and now they just go back and forth, shoving their fingers deep into your cunt while they bicker back and forth about whose way is better.

❥ They tried to get your opinion on the matter, but after 20+ minutes of them unintentionally edging you and accidentally bullying your G-spot, you're sort of zoned out. A little "fucked dumb" if you will

❥ Jeongin's fingers are still in you when they realize you aren't paying attention and he curves them meanly into your G-spot in an attempt to get your attention. When that doesn't work Seungmin will land a harsh slap to your folds and/or to your thigh

❥ When they find out that you haven't been paying attention the whole time they'll roll their eyes and tell you to focus because they "have no plans to stop until you give us an answer."

❥ At this point it's not so much about what fingers are better, they just want to be right no matter what. Which! Inevitably turns this a competition on who can make you cum faster with their fingers and/or them edging you until you tell them whose way is "better"

❥ You're having a whole lot of orgasms that night. Almost all of which are pulled from their fingers and, depending on how much you toss and turn, may or may not end with you being held down forcefully by whoever isn't knuckles deep into your cunt 🤭

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina @rylea08

@grandma143 @caught-in-the-afterglow @yaorzu-blog @jabmastersupriseee

[honnelander]

go fish!

so i fell in love with Sanji just like everyone else. i've never seen the one piece anime or read the manga so i'm solely going off of the live action. i had fun writing this and plan to make this a series of some sorts where it's a fem!reader x Sanji moments of awkwardness, fluff, and mutual pining because i love reading that stuff myself. if anyone has any suggestions or requests for this series please leave a comment or send me an ask!

WARNINGS: none

word count: 1.3k

pairing: opla!sanji x reader

summary: reader and Usopp are playing a card game when Sanji finds them. teasing ensues.

prequel part 2 part 3 part 4 masterlist

“Care for a refreshment, Madam?” a smooth, deep familiar voice asked to your left, breaking your concentration on the card game in front of you. 

“Hm?” you looked up from the cards in your hand and saw the Going Merry’s own chef looking down at you with a crooked, charming smile as he held a chilled glass bottle of water in his hand. “Oh, hey Sanji,” you greeted quickly with your usual smile as you looked back down at your hand. “What’d you say? Go fish Usopp.” 

Your opponent across the barrel from you grumbled as he took the top card off the deck sitting between you both. 

“I was just asking if the lovely madam sitting here would like a nice, cold refreshment on this particularly hot day?” Sanji asked again with a hint of amusement, his crooked smile deepening as he watched you study your hand once again. 

“’Lovely madam’?” Usopp repeated sarcastically, his eyebrows pulling together. “What about offering her super buff, brave, and heroic opponent an ice-cold beverage instead?” 

“Nope,” Sanji corrected, popping the 'p'. “Ladies first Usopp. Always.” 

Even after knowing Sanji for a couple of months now, his consistent chivalry always managed to make your heart flutter.  

You laughed lightly and couldn’t help but smirk as you said with a matter-of-fact, teasing tone, “Just say you wish you were a girl, Usopp. No judgment here.” You paused for a moment before asking, “You got the five of spades?” 

“Now even though I would make an extremely attractive, gorgeous woman, I am a man through and through.” A grin broke out on Usopp’s face as he glanced at his hand and triumphantly called out, “Go fish, y/n.” 

“Fair enough,” you hummed as you reached for a card. “And yes Sanji, I would love a glass of cold water. Thank you.” You shot a quick look of gratitude the chef’s way as you took a card from the deck. 

Sanji placed the two glasses onto your makeshift barrell-table top he was holding in his left hand and started filling up the glasses with water. “Of course. Anything for the missus.” 

Missus. Ugh. It made your heart skip a beat to hear him call you that. But you knew he didn’t really mean anything by it. It was just how Sanji spoke, forever the gentleman. 

“Oof. If you keep sweet talking like that Sanji, you’re going to even make me blush, just like y/n,” Usopp joked. 

Your eyes widened as your eyes snapped to look at your dumbass crewmate and friend sitting across from you. “I- I am not blushing Usopp!” God, if you both were using a real table instead of a barrel right now you would’ve broken his shine with your foot. You really weren’t blushing before but Usopp’s stupid comment definitely made your cheeks heat up now. “It’s the heat,” you hissed.  

“’Heat’,” he mocked with air quotes and snorted. “Right.” 

“I-” before you could defend yourself, Sanji spoke up. 

“Actually,” the blonde chef chimed in with a light laugh as he filled the second glass, “that’s why I came over in the first place. You were looking a little flushed y/n, so I thought you guys could use a cold drink.” 

Sanji’s words caused both you and Usopp to look up from your cards simultaneously, making eye contact with each other. A mischievous grin started to form on Usopp’s face as he saw the blush deepen on your face. You quickly looked back to your hand, suddenly finding the eight of clovers card extremely interesting.  

Sanji saw you looking flushed? He saw you? From across the deck? From inside the kitchen’s window? He was watching you play cards? The thought of Sanji watching you when you didn’t expect him to made your stomach erupt in butterflies, and it certainly didn’t make your stupid little crush on him go away. Just the opposite. In fact, it just fueled your delusional fantasy even more.  

And it certainly didn’t help that the only person who knew about your crush on the head chef just so happened to have a big mouth and loved to tease you about it any chance he got. And that he was sitting right across from you right now, watching all of this unfold right in front of him. 

“Oh? So you were watching y/n and I play cards out here?” Usopp innocently asked his blonde crewmate, but you knew better. There wasn’t an ounce of true curiosity in his tone whatsoever. 

“Yeah, from the kitchen,” Sanji answered casually as he recapped the glass water bottle. 

“Usopp,” you warned. 

“And you said that she looked ‘flushed’?” Usopp asked, quirking a brow at the end of his question as he turned his gaze from you to Sanji. 

Sanji blinked in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together for a second before looking down at his crewmate. “Yeah...” he said slowly before continuing, “Her cheeks looked a little pink so I figured-” 

“Oh?” Usopp asked, his voice becoming louder. “You noticed the color of her cheeks, from that far away?” 

“Usopp,” you hissed louder but it fell on deaf ears. Once your friend got on a roll, there was little anyone could do about it. Especially when it came to teasing you about your feelings for Sanji. 

“Yeah,” Sanji replied to Usopp’s question with a confused smile. “What are you-” 

“GO FISH!” you blurted out loudly, cutting Sanji off and having both men turn their eyes towards you.  

“Huh?” Usopp blinked his eyes at you, suddenly remembering the game in front of him. “But I didn’t even ask you anything y/n. And you just drew a card, so it’s your turn to ask me.” 

You let out a quiet sigh of relief at the fact that Usopp stopped grilling Sanji with all of those embarrassing questions right in front of you....even though you couldn’t help but perk up at the fact that Sanji in fact had been watching you from the kitchen, and that he was sweet enough to bring you (and Usopp) some water.  

“Well, I tried,” you shrugged and lied, “but you just kept yapping so you didn’t hear me. Do you have the Queen of hearts?” 

Usopp studied you for a brief moment before looking at his cards, smirking to himself. “You know y/n, it’s funny you asked about the Queen of hearts,” he said as he plucked the requested card from his hand and reached out to give it to you, “since you make heart eyes yourself whenever you look at-” 

“GOOD game Usopp!” you practically yelled as you threw your cards down onto the barrel and stood up, hoping your outburst drowned out the name Usopp was about to so stupidly blurt out. You shook his free hand with both of yours as you said, “You totally win my friend.” 

“What?” Sanji laughed slightly as he watched you and Usopp shake hands. The poor guy was as confused as ever. “But the game isn’t over.” 

You looked Usopp dead in the eye as tightened your grip on his hand. “Oh no, it’s over. He definitely won.”  

Yeah, he won alright. He won the game of making your life a living hell and embarrassing you in front of Sanji. He won the gold medal in that game. 

“I sure did,” Usopp agreed triumphantly, putting his cards down. 

You dropped his hand and took the glass of cold water that Sanji had so generously poured, the cold glass making you feel better already. “Thank you for this Sanji. I think I’ll go enjoy this on my hammock inside.” 

You couldn’t bear to look at Sanji, feeling humiliated for no reason with your face on fire, you stepped away from the barrel sipping your water as you made your way across the deck towards the ship’s living quarters.  

“Yeah, that’s a good idea y/n!” Usopp called, giddy from the high that could only come from successfully teasing a friend. “Maybe that’ll help calm down your flushed face!” 

Before stepping inside, you flipped off a laughing Usopp, completely missing the brief look of disappointment in Sanji’s eyes as he watched you go. 

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | three

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: joel gets a little birthday surprise, and you get a little too drunk. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, pining, f!masturbation [barely], sending nudes, joel finally locks his office door, dirty talk, the slightest slip of possessive language, uh.. ahem.. biting, protected piv birthday sex, a messy dinner party, excessive alcohol consumption [i'm talking embarassing], irritating men, soft!joel. word count: 10.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: let the pining commence folks. hey siri, play brown eyed girl by van morrison. special thanks to @bageldaddy for the emotional support as i endured the labour that was the final hour of editing this. hope you guys enjoy! this is part three of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two.

Thursday.

A fortnight passes in the slow blink of a bleary eye.

Fall nudges Summer out the door, solidifying its presence in Maine with flaxen leaves and rolling grey clouds.

The rain comes at night. Rivulets of moisture that leak onto the windowsill, seep into the cracked wood there and fill your room with the sweet smell of petrichor. It clears before the sun rises most days, but you unpack of a box of sweaters and hang them in your closet, nonetheless. You enjoy communal coffees in the kitchen and try not to frown when the morning light doesn’t warm your legs the way it used to. Force yourself not to feel mournful when you get home one afternoon and find Pete on the sofa with a blanket over him.  

And perhaps that’s why when you wake on Thursday to sunshine—to warm bed sheets, to blue sky, to bright whites and yellows coming through the window—you feel lighter. Start the day with a calm countenance that has you blinking sleep from your eyes and smiling drowsily as your fingers trail the windowsill and come off dry. You share a pot of coffee with Pete; let him explain soil vapour extraction to you for the fifth time. Listen, smile, nod, and don’t roll your eyes when he asks do you get it now? And when the time comes to get ready for the drive to campus, you are smiling. Shoulders loose, eyes bright.

It had been a tiresome couple of weeks.

As the middle of the semester drew closer, you’d spent days on end poring over a laptop with tired eyes and cramping fingers. Writing and editing—and then rewriting and re-editing—your first round of essays and analyses. Balmy afternoons spent nursing glasses of cheap wine with your roommates evolved to late night coffees alone in your room, eyelids drooping as you fawned over every word, every quote, every fucking comma – all of it for him.

Him who you hadn’t been alone with in almost fifteen days.

Him whose texts were seared into your memory, left unanswered on your phone.

Him who you could hardly look at during lectures, for fear of losing your train of thought.

Him who you were hellbent on impressing. 

Joel, Joel, Joel.

And as busy as you’d been, it hadn’t stopped the stares. Brief, intimate glances from down the hall in the history commons. The flash of a knowing smile as you shuffle toward the exit after a lecture. The graze of fingertips against your elbow, muddling your mind as you rush to meet a text translation study group.

Watching, waiting, wanting – a near insufferable task since that afternoon in his office.

Late into the first week you’d discovered that, upon focusing hard enough, you could still feel the ache in your knees; the rug burns his carpet had left on your skin. And then you shoved the memory of it down; compressed it somewhere deep inside, hidden away until you had the chance to open it back up again, and take your time with him like you truly wanted to.

And it seems today was that day.

You stare out the window for a moment. Sip your coffee and rake in the greenness of the grass, the cloudless sky, the ray of sun shining across your bedroom floor – and decide you’ll wear a skirt to Joel’s seminar.  

The pin on his shirt is blue.

Not cerulean, or baby, or steel.

Not like how the sky was blue as you drove to campus with your windows down. Not like clear turquoise waters on a white sand beach in Greece, or like a robin’s egg swathed in leaves and sticks. But a deep, rich colour. Royal blue. A folded circular pin, with two tassels coming out the bottom of it.

It’s the first thing you notice when you walk into the lecture hall – the thing your eyes snag on repeatedly as you wander towards the third row and tuck yourself into a seat. That vivid splash of blue against a plain white t-shirt. No buttons today; formal wear forgone in place of a simple tee that hugs the vast planes of his chest, snug against the thick span of his biceps. His arms are almost enough to distract you from the gaudy brooch.

Joel won’t stop moving at the foot of the room, pacing the same length of floor over and over again, waiting for the crowd to settle. Hands busy themselves at his waist, wiping a small square of cloth against the lenses of his glasses. A muscle in his forearm twitches with every swipe of fingers against glass, and the sight has a hazy flush rising in your neck. Despite yourself, you try in earnest to catch a glimpse of what the pin says. Bare thighs tensed in your seat as you tilt your torso forward, eyes squinting.

The last students wander in, and he’s shifting, sliding those glasses onto the bridge of his nose, and snatching the slide clicker from the desk. He offers a polite greeting to the room.

It doesn’t take long for someone to speak up. “Special occasion?”

Joel’s hands still, chin tilting down as he glances at royal blue and then back out at the group, a wry smile breaking across his face.

“Just a thing the faculty does here,” he clears his throat awkwardly, laughs a little. It’s a soft sound, his laugh. Tickles your ears and makes you want to smile in return. “Some of the others started it a few years back… they make everyone wear one on their birthday.” 

A chorus of surprised well-wishes chime from around the room, and Joel waves them away with a broad palm, shaking his head.

Even from three rows back you can see the pink in his cheeks; the resistance in his eyes as he intercepts the kind words soaring in his direction. You recognise a shyness there, an unwillingness to be the centre of attention, and it surprises you. Joel always seems so confident, standing week after week in front of 30 odd people and talking for hours. But you suppose then he can hide behind his words; behind years of knowledge and study and practice. When it’s about him? He falters. Tries to hide. You almost want to curse at him for being so endearing. And maybe you would – if it wasn’t his birthday.

“Nah, none of that,” Joel tuts, shaking his head. “Let’s get started, alright?”

He claps his hands once, and the sound reverberates through the quietening room. The fabric of his pants clings to the meat of his thighs, tightening around muscle as he rests against the edge of the desk. You fight to keep your gaze on his face.

“Today we’re gonna start with talkin’ about the instigators in our parallel texts.”

And you try to listen, you really do.

Try to focus on his words as he talks, spouting thoughts about antagonists of war, about Helen and Menelaus, about Paris of Troy, but you can’t get past the spread of his thighs against the desk. The way his body moves when he finally rises, wandering to-and-fro across the space. How his thick thumb presses against the clicker in his hand, slides shifting on the wall behind him. There’s a dull ringing in your ears, the rough spell of his drawl vibrating inside your mind, spinning it’s yarn, and tangling itself in the space where rational thought normally resides. Birthday. It’s Joel’s birthday. Your hands clasp in front of your face, knuckle snagged between teeth, biting down, clinging to some far reach of clarity; something to bring you back to the ground and halt the dallied trance you seem to come under whenever he’s nearby.  

Birthday, birthday, birthday.

As he discusses the Judgement of Paris, your mind wanders to a teacher you had as a child. A stern woman in her sixties who was fearsome among the gang of six-year old’s you roamed in. One year it had rained on your birthday, a spitting storm of hail and thunder. And when you cried, she told you that it only rains on your birthday when you’ve been a bad little girl.

It was sunny the next year, but she wasn’t your teacher anymore, and there was no one around to praise you for how good you must’ve been that year. For how hard you must’ve strived to achieve such wonderful sunshine on your special day.

A wry smile splits your face, tucked into the back of your hand, for you know better than anyone else just how bad Joel has been. And yet today, for his birthday, the sun shines.

He steps closer to the front row of seats, and your eyes glean across the lettering on his pin; the words Birthday Boy laid out in gold. A huff of laughter escapes you, and then your eyes are drifting up, past tan skin and scruffy facial hair, to find Joel staring straight at you. Dark, intrigued eyes. Assessing you, undressing you. Frowning.

“Somethin’ to add?” he clips.

The smile slides off your face. “Sorry?”

“Do you have somethin’ to add?” he drawls, unimpressed. The words slow and paced out as if he were speaking to a fool. “You seemed amused.”

“Oh,” you blink.

You shift awkwardly in your seat, straighten up, aware of every set of eyes in the room on the two of you. Joel’s face is stony, unimpressed. It’s the first time he’s made direct eye contact with you since you stepped into the room, and he is… on edge, clearly.

“No,” you decide on the safe answer, tone firm. “Nothing to add.”

He stares for a moment and then nods. Mutters a stern Pay attention underneath his breath before returning his gaze to the rest of the room. You scoff quietly, and swallow down the stab of embarrassment his words bring. The feeling is sour in your mouth, like the seed of a lemon is stuck behind your teeth.

Two seats to your left you hear a poorly concealed titter. Turn your head to spot a woman, maybe a year or two younger than yourself, giving you a pitiful smirk. You arch an eyebrow. Mouth what?

She simply shakes her head at you and turns to look at Joel, all glossy lips and doting gaze as she listens to his continued ponderings about Menelaus' role in the Trojan War.

You watch her for a moment. Note the way she laughs at his jokes, smiles as he goes off on a mindless tangent about something you aren’t paying attention to; hanging onto his every word. And you wonder if this is how you look to other people when you watch him. Another stark-raving Maenad, thirsting and possessed by the spirit of this Bacchant of a man. The Roaring One. The one with bedroom eyes and cheeks like wine. Joel Miller; fraught, brooding, and willing to embarrass you in front of a room of your peers to feel an inch of the self-control you've so easily ridden him of. A Dionysian fit to oppose the doomed Bacchant inside of you, whose mouth foams and eyes roll in ecstasy at the mere presence of him.

He crosses the front of the room, back and forth, and you imagine him as a bull of a man. Golden locks and thorned head, thyrsus in hand as he commands the attention of an enthralled audience. Corrals them to follow him, to adore him. And yet the image you create is distorted at best, a watered-down version of the truth, for what spites you the most is that he simply… doesn’t have to try. There are no attempts to convince; no persuasion in his voice, no dishonesty necessary as the room swoons for him. As you yourself yearn for him. Covet his touch, his body, akin to that of a God’s.

And perhaps there is some immorality there, some gross misalignment of hubris, that yearns to reset the scale. To remind this man that indeed you have knelt before him, but he knelt for you first.

The thought has your thighs pressing together.

“Well, Juno hates Aeneas because she hates Trojans. And for that we have Paris to blame,” he answers someone’s question with a chuckle. Gains a few scattered laughs in response. “Because we all know how Juno feels about Paris.”

You rise from your chair, legs shifting before your brain can catch up. Take careful, tip-toed steps towards the exit. Joel’s eyes drift in your direction, curious gaze draping over the bare skin of your legs as he talks. Just for a second though, a split second, before he’s looking determinedly back to the room, and you’re disappearing from his line of sight.

“And so, she thwarts the Trojans every chance she gets,” his voice grows softer as you stray farther from the door, until it’s nothing more than a vague purr down the hall. You wander into the women’s bathroom and slip inside an empty cubicle.

Birthday, birthday, pay attention, birthday, they make everyone wear one on their birthday, pay attention.

Your brain is abuzz, nerves alight as you place your phone carefully atop the toilet paper dispenser. Trembling fingers graze the hem of your skirt, the warm skin of your thighs, and yes you’ve been wet since you saw him. Turned on from just the sight of him, the sound of his mellow voice, the idea that maybe, just maybe, today you will get to touch him again. You can feel how it clings to your panties, sweet soft warmth pooling out of you, a dizzying wetness that longs for Joel to come and find you. To take you in his hands, tilt you down to his parted lips, and drink it from the source. 

Your fingers are cold against your skin. A delighted shiver swims down your spine as you graze them along the front of your underwear. Barely touching, hardly any pressure, simply grazing over the spot where your clit has begun to pulse. A little firmer now, you press against the thin material of your underwear, let it slip between your soaked folds. You bite your lip to contain a soft sigh, and smile as you feel how wet the material is getting. Once you’re satisfied you pull your hand away, leave a shimmering streak against your leg where you wipe your fingers, and reach for your phone.

Position one foot on the closed seat and rest your back against the cubicle wall, angling the phone between your spread thighs. Tilting your phone this way and that until the camera catches you in the perfect light; the flared material of your skirt bunched around your hips, the shiny smear across your inner thigh, the damp stain of slick against the front of your light blue panties. You take a few pictures. Trail your hand down your stomach and let it appear in some of them as well; fingers poised over the band of your underwear, just a tease. Finally content, you tuck your phone away, splash some cold water on your neck, and wander back into the lecture theatre.

Joel looks up when you walk inside. He’s seated behind his desk now, the room quiet as people jot down notes, eyes flitting between their laptops and the presentation displayed across the wall. Furrowed eyebrows and brown eyes shining with that barely-contained interest they always seem to hold when he looks at you these days. You offer him a nonchalant smile before turning your back to him. Sway your hips with exaggerated emphasis as you waltz up the stairs, slide back into your seat, and take your phone back out.

No one’s watching you now. Not your fellow Maenad, with her sharp judgemental eyes. Not even Joel. Your fingers dance their way into your text thread with him, and you select your favourite from the pictures.

You glance at the two lone messages in the thread, gaze lingering on the second message.

That can’t happen again.

Hesitation grips you, fingers hovering over the screen as you contemplate the seriousness behind the words. And then you hear him answer someone’s question, and the rough drone of his voice has you pressing send anyway.

Happy Birthday Professor x

You imagine you can feel the vibration of his phone. Feel it groan and shift in the pocket of his pants, screen lighting up. You wonder if he’s saved your name in his phone, or if a picture of underneath your skirt just popped up from an unsaved number. You try to focus on the article laid out in front of you. Stare at the messy under linings, at the notes on the margins made in your chicken-scratch handwriting, and wait.

It doesn’t take long to feel the heat of his gaze, almost paranormal in its effect. You can feel it’s weight – how it glides across your skin, sticky, viscous, and impossible to ignore.

When you glance up, you have to resist the urge to shrink into your seat. Joel’s face is a mess of emotions. Square jaw clenched tight; lips sealed. Stormy eyes that dart furiously between you and his lap, where you imagine his phone rests. Previously neat curls are now tousled and stressed over. You watch he glares downward, and drags tight fingers through the locks again. He doesn’t look up for a long time after that. Shoulders hunched forward, chin to his chest as he stares down.

Joel doesn’t stand up for the last 90-minutes of the seminar. Doesn’t smile, doesn’t joke. And he certainly does not look in your direction again. Not until the little hand on the clock strikes 11 o’clock, marking the end of his seminar, does he even entertain your side of the room. And not until the last student files out the door do you rise and meet him by the desk, a knowing look in both of your eyes.  

You walk ahead of him the entire way to his office. Joel keeps an all-too casual distance from you, but you can hear the weight of his steps against the hardwood floors. Can feel his looming presence over your shoulder – sense his bursting need to get you alone. You only fall into step beside him when the office door comes into view, and then he’s herding you towards it, palm pressing flat against the small of your back in trivial, insistent shoves.

With a final glance over his shoulder, Joel nudges you inside his office.

There’s music playing inside. Soft waves of sound undulating toward you from the record player, and yet when he drags the door shut behind him you still hear the undeniable click of his key turning the lock. The window is closed, curtains half-drawn, and the air in his space is warm; almost stuffy from lying dormant and empty for hours.

Silently, Joel makes his way across the room to where his record player sits. Your eyes trail him faithfully, trained on how his shoulder blades shift like tectonic plates beneath the thinning fabric of his shirt. The urge to wander forward and pull it off him is intense. To run your nails down his skin and leave marks on his body the way he’s done to you.

“You think you’re funny?” his voice comes, a low murmur that you almost miss through the music. He lifts a hand and pulls the glasses off his nose. Tucks them carefully onto the table.

“Funny?” you reply, mouth suddenly dry.

Joel shifts the needle, restarting the record. Momentary silence swells into a bright intro, and he’s turning to look at you, thick arms folding across his chest. Your heart is a galloping staccato behind your sternum. A bead of sweat glides from the hollow of your throat down your chest, dampening the fabric of your shirt.

“Sendin’ me that picture of your pussy all wet for me,” he tuts softly. “Knowin’ damn well, I couldn’t do anythin’ about it.”

You swallow as he takes a step towards you. His hands drift to the front of his body, and you watch with bated breath as long fingers begin working at the silver buckle on his belt.

“Y’gimme nothin’ for weeks, don’t even pay attention during my fuckin’ classes, and then…” he pauses, almost glaring at you. But it’s not contempt in his eyes. No, it’s something else, something deeper—black brown peppered with frustration and lust and… There’s a lump in your throat. Something heavy that presses against your windpipe and makes it hard to swallow.

“You get off on this, hmm?” he asks, voice gravelly. “Torturin’ me? Makin’ me wait?”

“I’ve been busy,” you murmur, eyes fixed on where he drags leather through the beltloops of his pants. He discards it on the ground between you – an offering, an invitation.

“Busy girl,” he murmurs dryly. “And what about now? Now that I’ve got you here all alone… you gonna make me beg for it?”

Your pussy clenches at the thought of him on his knees, palms clasped in his lap, and it has that slick heat pooling between your legs. You want to denigrate him the way you feel he has done to you. Order him to kneel, to apologise, to fucking beseech you. But Joel’s eyes are dark, face drawn as he watches you. And you know that you’ve already gotten even.

Royal blue swims in your vision and you give him your best smile. Shake your head and say, “Not today, birthday boy.”

Something glints in his eyes, hands twitching by his sides. You mirror him, finally inching forward a step across the carpet. His belt is solid beneath your shoes.

He’s shifting in an instant, swallowing the final stretch of distance between you until his chest knocks into yours. The breath rushes from your lungs at the contact, and his hands are clasping your face, mouth slipping against yours in a brutal collision.

It’s rough, messy, teeth knocking and chapped lips. It’s the first time you’ve kissed since that night at the bar, and it consumes the both of you.  

Joel’s body seizes yours, wraps around you and holds you to him, gripping the skin of your arms, your neck, your face, anywhere he can reach. Saliva pools in your mouth and wells into his, low sounds of desire being swapped back and forth between dripping tongues. There’s something desperate about it – how his lips bruise against yours. Something earnest and needy and urgent in the way his thumbs dig into your jaw, fingers tangling in the hair around your ears.

You’re gasping into his mouth, hands dropping to undo his zipper in a frenzied hurry. You can feel him behind the material, a firm bulge that becomes more and more evident as you work to get him undressed. His hands drop to your waist, your ass, and he’s pressing up, up, up the hem of your skirt, nails digging into skin as he squeezes and pulls you flush against him. Broad palms splayed across searing flesh, the tips of his fingers dragging dangerously close to where you’re aching for him. Your fingers shift from his pants to your own shirt, gripping the hem to tear it over your head—but Joel stops you. Bats your hands away and hoists you off the ground instead.

“Shit,” you huff in surprise, holding his shoulders for support as his arms tighten like a vice beneath your thighs and around your waist. He cuts you off with another sweltering kiss, and he’s moving. Stumbling blindly backward, a blurred mess of two people, all harsh exhales and clashing teeth, tilting back, back, back until his calves hit the armchair and he’s dissolving into it, dragging you down with him. Your knees sink into the plush fabric on either side of his waist, and his hands are on you, bunching your skirt up around your hips until your underwear is visible. He breaks the kiss and looks down quickly, lip curling upward as he takes in the sight of your barely covered cunt hovering over his lap.

“Fuck me,” Joel breaths. He cants his hips upward, clothed cock grinding against you. The pressure on your clit is exquisite. It has your nose scrunching up as your shallow breaths flutter the curls across his forehead. “Dress like this for all your classes?” he asks, fingers snapping at the band of your panties before his hand drops to cup your entire sex. “Fuckin’ filthy girl.”

“No,” you gasp as his palm settles over you. “Only—oh fuck, no, no, only yours.”

A rough sound escapes him, and he’s pushing the material of your underwear to the side. Thick fingers glide over the coarse hair on your mound, dipping in between your folds, right to the beating centre of you. You stare at his face while he stares at the swollen mess between your thighs. 

“S’damn right,” he grunts. His eyes are ablaze. “Just for me.”  

Your eyelids flutter closed, face warming at the words, and you’re whimpering as he rubs firm circles over your clit. Joel’s tongue presses against yours, coaxes your jaw open until it aches.

“So fuckin’ wet,” he marvels into your mouth. “Always so fuckin’ wet.”

A finger drops to your slick hole, slips slowly slowly slowly inside until the tip of it is curling against the soft spot inside you that he reaches so fucking easily. The air in the room is thin, his breaths a hot wash against your face, and a languid moan snakes its way out of your throat.

“Quiet.” Joel adds a second finger. It’s everything and nothing at the same time. Fingers so long, so thick – fingers that pale in comparison to his cock.

“I want you,” you gasp.

“Hmm?” he hums dangerously.

“Please,” your head tilts back, mouth ajar and thighs trembling as he works you open on his fingers. Joel lets out an impatient sound, and then his fingers drop from your swollen core, and he’s holding a condom. He must’ve pulled it from his back pocket, or between the cushions of the chair, but you don’t dwell on it. Don’t care where or how or why, too restless to be filled to ask; just give a pleased nod and lean back so he has enough room to free his cock from his pants.

The thick weight of it rests in his palm. He’s swollen and thick, the tip a deep rosy colour that reminds you of his flushed cheeks, his puffy lips, and has your mouth watering. And it’s wet with slick strands of precome that drip down his length to meet the movement of his fist.

“S’this what you were thinkin’ about?” Joel breathes shakily. “Got your cute little panties all soaked thinkin’ ‘bout my cock?”

“Yes,” you bite your lip. Watch him tear open the foil packet and roll latex down his length. You ignore the familiar urge to say forget it just take me I’m here and I’m yours just fuck me. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. Drags his cock against the dripping seam of your cunt. “Say that again.”

“Please,” you repeat, fingers twisting in the front of his shirt. “God, Joel, please.”

A sharp wet smack and a trembling gasp fill the air as he taps the tip against your clit, and then rests himself at the notch of your entrance.

“Show me how bad you want it,” he orders huskily, hands drifting to rest on the arms of his chair. “Go on, fuckin’—ride it.” 

Breathing heavily, you reach down to grip him. holding his length still as you lower yourself over his lap.

There’s a stinging resistance there – your body pushing back against the size of him, against the angle.

Joel’s fingers drape against your clit and he rubs soft circles above the spot where you’re connected. You grip the back of the chair, face twisted in muted concentration. 

“C’mon,” he breaths, jaw set with clear intention. “Fuckin’ drippin’ for me, y’can take it, I know you can. Yeah—yeah, that’s it.”

You sigh, body relaxing, and you’re pressing down, through. Sink down on him another inch, and then another, until he’s bottoming out inside of you and the skin of your thighs is flush with his pants and he’s making this rough, low sound from deep in his chest. Your mind goes blank for a moment, vision whiting out and lungs squeezing as you hold your breath and adjust to the sheer size of him, to the delicious burn between your thighs where he’s stretching you. And everything is soft and hazy around your mind, but you can see Joel’s eyes on you. The glassy, blissed out expression on his face as you clench around him. His hands drift to your waist, fingers groping bare skin underneath where he holds your skirt up.

“Fuck,” Joel pants. “So god damn tight.”

A pathetic whimper catches in your throat as you grind down, clit rubbing against the coarse hairs at his base. You’re so full, every sense heightened by the feeling of Joel, pressing you apart and making a home for himself inside of you.

Slowly—tentatively—you rock your hips forward, rutting against him in short, shallow movements. His hands encourage your body, guiding you along his cock as you gain confidence.

Soon enough your hips are lifting and dropping back onto him, over and over, tilting against him, doing whatever it takes to drag more hopeless sounds from his mouth. The music from his record player is a low, thrumming bassline in the back of your mind, every bright refrain of guitar punctuated by sharp gasps and elongated sighs.

Joel’s eyes shift from the space between your bodies to your face. Pupils blown, sweat beading along his forehead. Watching you, he seems to fall backward, into himself perhaps. His body goes slack against the armchair, head lolling back as he stares.

“Jesus,” he mutters lowly. “Missed this perfect little pussy.”

There it is again. Perfect, perfect, perfect. You clench around him at the word, rut your hips in a particularly rough movement that has Joel’s eyes rolling back and a guttural moan falling from his lips. His chest is heaving with ragged breaths, the tendons and veins in his neck on display as his chin tilts upward. A bright red flush has raised across the exposed skin of his collarbones, his neck. You lean in and lick the skin there, skirt your teeth across his pulsing jugular. Joel’s palm clasps the back of your neck, holding you against him. You can feel his thighs tensing below you, and then his hips begin to snap upward, meeting you thrust for thrust. The angle is harsh, and he's filling you to the brim, the tip of his cock bruising against the deepest part of you. You cry out against his skin, and the hoarse sound only spurs him on.

His wide palm shifts to hover at the base of your neck, slips beneath the collar of your shirt. Splays over your collarbone, dull fingernails grating against the skin above your breast, by your armpit. You lean back to let him see you, and his eyes drop to watch the way your hips roll over his lap. His finger snags on the strap of your bra and it snaps against your skin.

“Take it off,” you mutter urgently. Need to feel his skin against yours. Chest to chest. Heart to hea—

“No.” His hips snap up into yours faster, knocking the breath from your lungs. One hand grips the armchair, one his shoulder, trying to find some kind of leverage as he pistons into you from below. That fucking Birthday Boy pin is still stuck to his shirt, and blue flashes in the periphery of your vision. A particularly rough thrust has a loud moan parting your lips, but as soon as it begins Joel’s hand is crashing over your mouth, fingers gripping your face to silence the sound. Your eyebrows raise, silently questioning overtop his hand.

“Need to shut up,” he grits out. “Gonna—ohhh—gonna get us caught.”

You glide your tongue against his palm, taste the salt on his skin. Feel his fingers squeeze your jaw harder in response. And then your own hand is moving from his shoulder, fingers gliding across the sweaty skin of his neck, to slot over his mouth. You stare at one another, wild eyes locked, palms sealed over slick lips, and something fiery pulls taught between you. Liquid heat spreads through your muscles, tightening and loosening with every movement of his body against yours. You can feel the coil at the base of your stomach tightening. Your pussy throbs in a rhythm sympatico to that of your heartbeat, and your fingers squeeze around his face.

You can feel the vibration of Joel’s moans against your hand, and then his teeth are sinking into the soft flesh of your palm. For a moment you wonder if he’ll pierce the skin. Let your blood seep from the wound and spill across his tongue; a sacrificial offering. Drink you down, devour you as he lies within your body. You bite down on his palm in return, holding his gaze as your bodies grind and rut against each other.

Your back arches suddenly, and your forehead knocks against his as your orgasm steadily approaches. Joel’s eyes stay locked on yours. Your shoulders begin to lock up, thighs burning, but he doesn’t let up. His hips collide with yours at a devastating pace, and his free hand drops between your thighs. The pad of his middle finger circles your swollen clit, and you jerk against him, every nerve inside your body fraying and sparking.

Joel slurs a curse against your hand and then you’re coming with a haggard whine into his hand, walls constricting around him in a vice grip. You close your eyes only to discover that royal blue is stained on the inside of your eyelids, unavoidable. He is unavoidable. Even in the darkness of your own mind, he lurks. The smell of him in your nostrils, the taste of his spit in your mouth. You think you hear a garbled version of your name spoken into your palm, and then a stinging sensation rips across your ass as Joel starts to come, fingernails dragging across skin, as he grinds his cock desperately into your pulsing heat. Your eyes flutter open, body shivering with the aftershocks of your high, and you watch him. Admire the way his jaw softens beneath your grip, teeth retracting and leaving dull indents on your skin in their wake.

There’s a low pinch between your thighs. It rings out minutes later, a sullen ache, as you lift your hips and let him slip from your wet clutch. His hands fall from your body, and you suck in stale air, taking a clumsy step off his lap to stand shaking on the ground before him. There are circular white marks on his cheeks, lingering reminders of how you held him, smothering his wanton groans of pleasure. You watch them slowly fade to pink, and try to settle the unsteady breaths that wrack your frame.

Your fingers drop lazily to adjust your underwear, but then those hands are tilting your hips, encouraging you to turn until your back is to him. They slip beneath your skirt, find purchase on the band of your panties, and slide the drenched material down your legs. You step out of them, and gasp in surprise when he flicks your skirt up again. A shiver travels down your spine as he glides a finger through your swollen cunt.

“Joel,” you whimper, lips poised to say that it’s too much, too soon, that you need a second to breathe.  

But Joel exhales a quiet groan, and something sharp nips the sensitive skin of your ass. Peaking over your shoulder, you find Joel’s mouth there, wet tongue soothing over the mark his teeth made on your flesh. There’s a slip of blue clenched in his fist, held protectively in his lap beside his softening cock.

You feel the vibration of something against your skin, a murmur of words that you can’t quite make out, before he pulls back. Retracts all points of contact, carefully removes the condom, clears his throat softly as he tucks himself back into his pants. The tell-tale sound of the moment drawing to a close. You swallow down that familiar tang disappointment and hold out a hand for your underwear.

And then Joel surprises you.

This soft, teasing smirk lights up his face, and Joel knocks your hand away. A huff of surprised laughter escapes you as he rises and wanders toward the desk. You watch, stunned into silence, as he drags open a drawer on his desk and tucks that blue slip of fabric inside. It slides closed with a definitive thud, and Joel falls down into his desk chair. His eyelids must be heavy, because they droop closed while you watch.

There’s a damp patch at the bottom of his t-shirt that has your face in flames, but he doesn’t seem to care, chest rising and falling with deep breaths as his body relaxes into leather. Your legs tremble as you grip the strap of your bag, taking that as your cue to quietly head for the door.

“Liked your essay.”

You pause with your fingers on the door handle. Turn to find that his eyes are still shut.

“You’re only saying that becau—”

“No,” Joel interrupts, the firm tone a sharp contrast to his lax frame. Eyes open now. “It was good.”

You hum quietly and rock back onto your heels. Unsure of what to say, you settle on offering him a small smile. He nods in return. The silence drifts back in, and you find yourself unable to speak until his eyes close once more.

“Happy birthday, Joel.”

So softly, so as to not disturb. And you aren’t sure whether he heard you or he’s already fallen asleep, but you do notice the corners of his mouth tilt upward ever-so-slightly.

Friday.

A crimson tablecloth covers the expanse of the table. Deep dark red, almost brown, reminiscent of old blood.

Plates smeared with remnants of a dinner long-past litter the surface, dirtied knives and forks stacked precariously atop them. Sauces have hardened to thickened globs on the China, sticky and stale and calling out to be cleaned. But the end of the evening is nary in sight, as Ian, your gracious host, deposits another bottle of wine onto the table.

“It’s a Cabernet Franc,” he slumps back into his seat at the head of the table, directly opposite you. “My parents brought it back from their trip to Bordeaux this past Summer. A gift.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes for the thousandth time in three hours. Pour yourself a generous glass and taste it. Say, “I’m more of a Merlot fan,” despite being drunk as all hell and having zero knowledge to help discern between different wine grapes.

Pete offers a supportive smile, and you watch as his friends light fresh cigarettes that send plumes of smoke to the already stained roof of Ian’s apartment.

Ian’s girlfriend Claire, a wildlife and conservation biology undergrad, is draped across the chair to your left. Eyelids half closed; her slim fingers grip a half-smoked joint for dear life, hand hovering dazed in mid-air between her thigh and her face. You think back on the words Pete spoke to you this morning in the kitchen – there’ll be another woman there, don’t worry. And Claire’s great, I swear. You try to reconcile his words with the girl beside you, and the dank smell of burnt weed drifting toward you through the air. She’d been high when she arrived, and after speaking a measly three words of greeting in your direction, had sequestered herself to a chair and smoked through the entire dinner. When none of the others batted an eye, you held your tongue. And their nonchalance became clear when, upon completion of the meal—overcooked chicken, sticky carrots, and undercooked parsnips—Ian and Henry lit up cigarettes at the table too.

You weren’t sure why you agreed to attend the dinner party.

They’re really cool, Pete had blabbered into his mug that morning. We do it every Friday. It’ll be nice to have you meet some of my friends.

Oh, Pete. Cool, they are not.

Henry and Ian, friends from one of Pete’s environmental engineering units, are filthy rich. The kind that you can smell from a mile away. The kind that radiates from their expensive clothes, their manufactured pearly teeth, their god-awful haircuts. The kind of rich boys that have their own apartments in Portland, paid for by a Mummy and Daddy who holiday in Europe every summer—a trip that Ian has managed to bring up at least once an hour since the moment you met him.

The one beautiful, stunning, gorgeous saving grace is that there is alcohol – enough to ply yourself with in order to deal with Ian, who asked what your postgrad was in and replied slyly, “Oh, a fun one.” Ian, who, upon learning about your translation internship in Greece, said, “Sounds like you had a marvellous vacation.”

In return, you sat like a good little house guest—ornament—and listened to the three of them talk ad nauseam about engineering. Consume glass after glass of wine, decline cigarette after cigarette; you get profusely intoxicated as they debate—interrupt each other—the validity of different pollution control policies.

It’s not until early in the fifth hour of the dinner that Ian raises the topic of philosophy.

“It’s curious, that’s all,” he says, cigarette hanging limply between wine-soaked lips.  “That these old guys would just hang out all day and… what, talk? Never understood why people rave about Socrates and Aristotle all the time. Just a bunch of sad sacks that liked the sound of their own voices a little too much, if you ask me.”

You hum against the rim of your glass, decidedly unbothered. Nothing you haven’t heard a hundred times, in a hundred different ways. His dining chairs are stiff, and your ass is aching against the heavy mahogany. Pete shifts awkwardly to your right. You can feel him looking at you, trying to gauge your impending reaction, and your face remains placid, numb from all the wine rushing through your veins.

“Is that what your degree is like?” Ian asks. “A bunch of old guys who love to listen to themselves talk?”

And that almost makes you crack a smile. You respond with a lacklustre shrug that neither confirms nor denies his suspicions, and definitely don’t think about—

“I don’t know,” Henry slurs, shooting a pointed glance in your direction. “I used to date this girl—”

“You fucked her once,” Ian interrupts.

“—Rita—"

“Rose.”

“—and she studied all that shit. Used to tell me about that guy who, he, uhm,” Henry pauses. Belches loudly. “He said something about God committing suicide and like, we’re his body or—wait what is it?”

“Mainländer,” you nod, mildly surprised. “Yeah, it’s a creation theory of sorts – God commits suicide to create the universe, and we’re all living on his decaying corpse.”

“What do you think of that?”

“Of a potential God’s potential suicide?”

“Yeah,” Henry grins dopily.

You sigh. “Would’ve been cooler if he left a note, I suppose.”

Henry guffaws loudly, leans back until his chair is balanced precariously on two legs. The cigarette falls from his fingers to his lap, glowing orange cherry leaving charred ashy marks on his jeans. If you were more sober you might’ve said something. But as if were, you just laugh and drain the final dregs of wine from your glass.

“So, your degree involves stuff like that?” Ian asks then.

“Sometimes,” you hum, already bored with the hint of mockery you sense in his tone. “We study the societies as a whole, so yeah, there’s talk about philosophy on occasion.”

“And mythology,” he wiggles his eyebrows from across the table, fluttering his fingers in the air. “Must be fun to talk about made up ideas all day.”

Henry clears his throat roughly and plucks the cigarette out of his lap, all remaining hints of laughter filtering into silence.

You stare. Feel your hackles rise. Sharper this time, as a more acute sense of irritation floods your system. “You do know that Greece and Italy are real countries with real histories, right?”

Claire moves for the first time in fifteen minutes, takes a long drag from her joint. Exhales in your direction.

“Sure,” Ian shrugs. “But you have to admit, all the stuff about the Greek Gods is a little silly.”

You spare a quick glance in Pete’s direction and find him wearing a tight, awkward smile, looking at you with something apologetic in his eyes.

“Silly,” you repeat the word slowly. It as though your brain is working at a thousand miles a minute, desperate to catch up with the conversation. Constantly two steps behind wherever Ian is dragging you. And he’s giving you this smarmy, sympathetic smile that screams oh your poor thing, you have no idea how poor your future job prospects are, and you’ve seen that smile a hundred times, had this conversation a thousand more, and you can suddenly envision yourself reaching across the table and pouring your glass of wine into his lap.

“And what about the rest?” you ask tersely. The collar of your shirt scratches against your neck, and his cigarette is spilling ash onto the fucking table, and he’s an asshole, and you want to throttle him for getting off on belittling you.  

“The rest?”

“The rest,” you nod. “I suppose I can admit that those gods are silly, so long as we’re also admitting how fucking laughable biblical Gods ar—"

Pete says your name sharply. You pause, seal your lips shut. He shakes his head almost imperceptibly, the wary glint in his eyes a reminder that you’re a guest in Ian’s apartment. Ian’s apartment that was paid for by Mummy and Daddy; Ian’s apartment that has a crucifix above the kitchen entryway.

“More wine?” Pete asks smoothly. He’s rising from the table before you can respond, lifting the bottle and pouring a swell of red into your glass. Ian’s grin broadens, and a fresh round of irritation flares across the back of your alcohol sodden brain.

“Gimme a second,” you mutter, pushing your chair out. Your body sways as you stand, blood rushing to your head. Blinking the dizzy spell away, you grip Pete’s shoulder for leverage and make your way past him, shuffle down the hall and into a swanky bathroom. Your feet are heavy, mind a blur, as you collapse onto the toilet seat and rest your face against the cool tiled wall.

“Silly,” you grumble under your breath. “You’re fucking silly… asshole.”

Digging your phone from your pocket, you squint against its harsh light. Fingers fumble across the screen to your messages app. Tap Nora’s name, and hold your finger against the voice memo button.

“Nora,” you mumble, nose squished against tile. “It’s awful, you... I need you to save me.”

There’s a roar of laughter from the dining room.

“Why do men always have to be the smartest person in the room?” you continue as the sound dies down. The tile is cool against your skin, a welcome reprieve from the boozy flush that’s taken over your body.

“Pete is such an—” hiccup “—asshole for inviting me to this, I swear—”

Your phone hits the ground with a sharp clatter, and you curse, torso tilting forward as you reach clumsily for it. When you tilt the screen back to your face, a jolt rushes through you. You stare for a moment, dumbfounded, at the picture. There’s the soft sound of rushing water in your ears – your pulse, you realise.

“No,” you mutter, senses sharpening the longer you stare at the picture; your soaked blue panties. At the voice memo underneath said picture, that had certainly not gone to Nora. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, no.”

A moment of painful clarity comes when you make out the delivered sign below the voice message. Blurry eyes dance across the screen, vaguely deciphering the capitalised word MILLER. Panic swirls in your stomach, a churning writhing thing that feels a lot like nausea.

And then a text appears.

Are you drunk?

Your thighs are still numb from sitting for so long, so you slink dejectedly onto the floor and type out a response.

yes

that wasn’t for you

Ten minutes pass. You stare at the bright screen until worn-out tears prick in your eyes.

Doing okay?

tired

ate bad food, drank alotta wine

Probably time to go home.

cant drive

thought you hada phd? telling me to drunk driev

bad profeseor

Five minutes. Pete knocks on the door to ask if you’re okay and you assure him that you’re fine.

Where are you?

You type out the address carefully. Wash your hands in the sink and combs wet fingers through your hair to tame your appearance before skulking back into the dining room, where the vulture awaits you.

“I’m going,” you announce blandly. Claire is asleep, you think. Ian and Henry are playing an aggressive game of cards. Only Pete looks up.

“How are you getting home?” he frowns.

“Got a ride,” you mutter. Collect your things and give his shoulder a brief squeeze before slipping out the front door.

The air is cool outside the apartment building. A sharp breeze whistles through the parking lot, snakes it’s way beneath your clothes to curl against your skin. You welcome the chill. Rub lazily at the goosebumps on your arms as you glance at the last text from Joel.

Be there in 20.

You’re perched on the stoop when headlights finally appear. You curse, eyes smarting as you duck to avoid the harsh fluorescents, and then a black truck is idling a few metres away, engine purring. The passenger door kicks open and you squint, trying—and failing—to see inside through the darkness. Until—

“Get in.”

You’re barely in the car before Joel is pressing a bottle of water into your hand. The plastic is sweating, damp with condensation, and you sigh in relief. Press it against your neck, your face.

“Drink it,” he says sternly. You crack an eye open and look at him. He’s so close. Just a hairsbreadth from you, in a soft t-shirt and jeans. Glasses on the end of his nose. Fluffy hair—bed hair. There’s a soft frown on his face that dips and rolls in your vision. A downward tilt to his mouth as he puts the car in drive and tears away from Mummy and Daddy’s apartment.

“Hey,” you give him a lop-sided smile.

“Hey."

“Were you in bed?”

“You stink,” Joel ignores your question. “You chain-smokin’ in there? Christ.”

“Not me,” you huff in frustration. Take a small sip of water, careful not to spill on the seat. “They were smoking at the table. While we were eating.”   

“Who was?”

“Pete’s friends.”

“Who’s Pete?” Joel grunts. He’s got a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, and his eyes are set on the road. Only when you don’t respond does he look back at you.

“Who’s Pete?” he repeats. Something stony in his voice. You smile.  

“One of my roommates,” you offer. “Why? You jealous?”

“Quit it,” he bites out. “You gonna tell me where you live or am I s'posed to guess?”

Your smile spreads into a full-blown grin as you type your address into his phone. He snatches it from your hand and tells you to drink it all. You sit in silence for a while after that. Roll down the window and let your hand rest outside the car, fingers fluttering as the wind whips past them. He’s driving fast, green traffic lights blurring in your vision, and you feel your head spin faster, harder. Mumble under your breath.

“What?” he asks, voice too loud.

“Slow down,” you repeat, inhaling a deep breath. You feel him ease his foot of the gas instantly, a hand coming to hover over your knee.

“You feelin’ okay?” he murmurs.

“Mm.”

You let your eyes slip shut. Just for a second. A minute. And then—

“Hey.” A firm hand is on your shoulder. Thumb pressing into the skin beneath your collarbone. “Wake up.”

You jolt upright in the seat. Rub a palm roughly against your eye. Forget that you’re wearing makeup until you see black smeared across your hand.

Joel is saying something as you climb out of his truck, but you don’t hear it. Too busy pressing the door shut behind you and stumbling up the paved path to your house. Cool metal slides in your palm, numb fingers grappling for purchase. You scratch the key against the door’s aperture once, twice, and then feel it slip from your hand. A wave of dizziness hits as you watch it clatter against the ground.

“Shit,” you grumble. Bend down to pick it up. Rise and try a third time as silver swims in your vision. You hear a car door slam, the sound of heavy footsteps approaching, and slur another impatient curse under your breath.

“Let me help,” he says from behind you.

“It’s fine,” you protest, skin searing with embarrassment.  

“C’mon.” Joel’s warm hand covers yours. Pries the key from your palm and unlocks your front door in a one easy movement. “Let’s get you inside.”

“I can do it.”

“Just let me help you.”

You practically float down the hall, buoyed by the thick arm around your waist, towing you along. In your room, Joel clicks on the lamp in the corner. Dim orange light envelops the space as you fall back onto your bed with a huff, shirt riding up to expose a sliver of your stomach.

“You need more water before you sleep” he says. “And a fuckin' shower.”

“Mmm,” you agree, eyelids fluttering. “I'm… just gonna lie here for a second.”

The responding sound is that of heavy footsteps disappearing down the hall. A fleeting rush of liquid somewhere in the distance. Your eyes close for a minute, maybe two, and reopen to find Joel’s broad frame hovering in the doorway, holding a glass of water and gripping the doorknob as he assesses your most private space. Your eyes are hardly open, but you can see him in the dim light. Glancing into the darkness of the hall and then back to you, slumped messily against the pillows. After a thick moment of silence, he steps decidedly across the threshold, and closes your bedroom door behind him.

As you watch him, you begin to feel a sense of startling clarity.

Joel Miller, in your house. Joel Miller, in your bedroom. Joel Miller… seeing you make a complete fool out of yourself.  

“Oh fuck,” you blurt out.

“What?” Joel asks sharply. He rounds the bed in two quick strides, and then he’s pressing a glass of water on your side table and sitting beside you. His weight on the side of the bed has the mattress dipping, your body tilting onto your side to face his back. A wave of nausea strikes suddenly, and you suck your lips into your mouth. No.

“Y'oughta warn me if you’re gonna be sick,” he warns.

“M’not.”

“You better not.”  

“I won’t.”

“Think you’ll need about ten of those,” you hear him say. “But one glass is a good start.” 

But there’s already an ocean inside you. Rocky, white-wash waves that lap at the walls of your stomach, press against your lungs, and have your mind swaying even as your body lies still. Fingers, moving faster than your brain, seek purchase. Crawling across the sheets to snag your index through a belt loop on the back of his jeans. Chilled skin against worn denim, an anchor. Something sturdy to calm the eddying current inside you.

“What’re you—”

“Did you have a good day yesterday?” you interrupt, eager to distract yourself.

Joel is silent for a while. Keeps looking down at you until he finally says, “Yeah,” so quiet that your ears strain to hear it.

There’s a hint of something there that you can’t quite read. An emotion that he holds clasped in tight hands, just beyond your reach. You let it be, mind distracted by the soft orange light emanating from the lamp. When you close your eyes it glows against the back of your eyelids, vibrant swaths of sunset and marigold that make it hard to fall asleep just yet.

“Seventy, right?” you tease.

An indignant scoff rings out, and you squeak as a set of rough fingers pinch at the skin of your exposed stomach. The quickest touch, just a graze of flesh, before he’s pulling back. You laugh easily, open your eyes to look at him again.

“Careful now,” he warns. But you can see humour in the lines by his eyes, the quirk of his lip.

Your finger wiggles against his belt loop, tugging on the material there once. A tired patience in your eyes as you wait.

“Fifty,” he finally concedes, smile wavering as his gaze darts to the sheets.

“Mhm,” you murmur. Lips part as you let loose a low, impressed whistle. It comes out as more of a lacklustre exhalation of air. Joel’s shoulders are shaking with silent laughter when he meets your eyes again, a little more relaxed. “The big five-oh, huh?”

“The big five-oh,” he repeats simply. Tired as you are, you can see the question in his eyes. This searching, curious thing that rakes across your features, waiting to note any hint that you might be perturbed by the fact.

“S’nice,” you offer quietly instead. “Get any good gifts?”

The muscles in his neck strain, shirt tightening around his shoulders as he turns to look at you head on. Soft eyes gleam with something darker, teasing, as his lips pull into a lazy smirk.

“Sure,” he agrees, voice low, suggestive. “Good’s one word for it.”

Warmth floods your stomach and your toes curl. But you falter under the intensity of his gaze, a weary heat rising in your cheeks as your gaze lowers to his collarbone.

“Hey," you say quietly. “Look, I appreciate you helping me out tonight, I just…”

Joel’s eyebrows pinch the middle of his forehead, relaxation dissipating as he stares.

“Sorry,” you grimace, skin on fire. All of a sudden, your finger feels swollen in his belt loop, a promise that you can’t keep, the fabric branding hot against your skin as the words tumble out of you. “I’m just, I’m pretty wasted, and I’m grateful, you know, but I don’t think I can—we probably can’t fuck tonight—"

Joel says your name quickly. His hand is gripping your bedsheets, sun-kissed skin against pale yellow. “We’re not fucking.”

Unwitting relief courses through you, and you nod slowly. “Yeah, okay, I just wasn’t sure if you thought maybe… I don’t know—"

“Thought that if I gave you a ride home you owed me a fuck?” he asks plainly, expression tight. A dark, frustrated laughs spills from his lips and his shoulders are tightening, muscles shifting beneath his t-shirt. “That’s not how this goes, darlin’. So don’t go thinkin’ that way, ever, y’hear me?”

You blink, eyes wide. Suddenly alert. Feel the warmth in your stomach spread to your chest, your thighs. Darlin’.

“Okay,” you murmur. “Yeah, that’s—how does this work then?”

The indent between his brows only deepens as he gazes down at you.

“You call the shots,” Joel says. “I thought that was well established by now.”   

His brown eyes look so soft in the dim lighting of your bedroom. Honeyed and golden in the warm orange haze. You stare at them for so long that you lose track of whether or not he’s answered your question. Forget everything that isn’t the lines beside his eyes, the dark speck of his pupils, the wild hairs of his eyebrows. You feel yourself drift closer to sleep again.

“Pretty,” someone says faintly. You. “You’ve got brown eyes.”

“Jesus.” He’s still frowning.

“Brown-eyed girl,” you sing—slur.

“Alright, Van Morrison,” Joel grumbles, the lines in his face softening. “Drink up.”

You do as he asks, gulping down half the water while he watches. His fingers rest cautiously at the base of the glass in case you drop it. And when you’re finished, he takes it from your hands, stands. Another wave crashes inside you when the mattress shifts in the absence of his weight, and you drift, unmoored, onto your back again.

Joel is staring at you. Towering over the bed, hands jammed awkwardly against his hips. His presence so large, so looming. He crowds your small space, his size ensuring that there is no room for another; only you and him, you and him, you and him, and you call the shots. You squeeze your eyes shut, determined to block that thought out.

“I think I’ll go to sleep now,” you mutter. “If that’s alright with you, teach.”

Joel says something, but it’s a far away sound. You tuck your face further into your pillow.

You think you hear him say good night, or some version thereof, but you don’t hear him leave. Don’t hear his boots on the hardwood, or the creak of your bedroom door. Don’t hear his truck start up outside.

And when you wake, alone, you find that droplets of rain have settled on your windowsill, marking another wet September morning. But you don’t frown as you drag a sweater from your closet, nor as you draw the curtains and clamber back into bed. Don’t yearn for the warmth of Summer as the dull ache of a hangover ricochets inside your skull. For you can smell Joel on your sheets; can still feel his presence lingering in the corners of your room.

And that’s warm enough for you.

tags: @lovely-ateez @nana90azevedo @stevie75 @evyiione @dameron-grant-spector @brittmb115 @ashhlsstuff @casa-boiardi @sinfulrock @bbyanarchist @murc0cks4eva @hopplessilse @joeldjarin @anoverwhelmingdin @bluevxnus @kelp-dreaming @prettyinpunk85 @spacelatinos4life @iluvurfather @daisies-yellow @mrsquill @sarap-77 @sunnywithachanceofjavi @alleyy-katt @zeida @mendessi @love-the-abyss @myrealmofchaos @a-roving-woman @punkshort @gracie7209 @whichwitchwanda @fellinfromthetop @bitchwitch1981 @suzmagine @lmariephoto37 @harriedandharassed @cumberpegg @tonysttank @ourautumn86 @my-tearsricochet @shotgun-shelby @5oh5

thank you for reading! x [and idgaf okay i was gonna put that birthday boy pin on him no matter what shitty excuse i had to come up with]

[writingwithfolklore]

How to Nail your School Essays

                Not to brag, but I’m kind of a big deal when it comes to essays at my school. Since I started highschool I haven’t received a grade less than 90% on an essay—so I’m here to share my secret. This works for the classic essay, but you can also use the same advice and fit it to formal reports or other academic writing.

1. Your essay is about 2 things, demonstrated 3 or more times

This is how I’ve always thought about essays. They’re about two ideas, demonstrated as many times as you need to fill the wordcount. Shakespeare + Feminism, Media + Truth versus Misconception, etc. etc. If you’re lucky, your teacher or prof will give you one of your elements. You’ll get assignments like, “write an essay about Hamlet” or “write an essay about the American dream” lucky you, that’s your first thing—now you need to connect it with another.

This connecting idea is my favourite part because you just get to choose a concept or idea you’re interested in. Here’s a tip, if your first/given topic is something concrete, choose an abstract connecting idea. If your given topic is something abstract, choose a concrete.

So, Hamlet (concrete) could be paired with any abstract concept: Loyalty, Truth, Feminism, etc.

However, if your prof gives you something like, “truth” or “race theory”, you’ll find it much easier to connect that with a more concrete thing, like a book, movie, or other piece of media, or even a specific person.

If you are luckiest, your prof will give you both things, “write about the American Dream in The Great Gatsby” in this case, you’re onto the next stage.

2. Stick to the formula

Tried, tested, true. Nothing wrong with a formula, especially not when it gives you A+ grades. Typical essay structure is:

Intro with thesis

2. 1st Body

2a. Evidence that proves it 1

2i. Justify its relevance

2b. Evidence that proves it 2

2ii. Justify its relevance

Etc.

3. 2nd Body

3a. Evidence that proves it

3i.Justification

Etc.

4. 3rd Body

4a. Rise and repeat, you know where this is going.

5. Some may argue…

6. Conclusion

Let’s break it down.

Thesis:

                Thesis completely outlines all your points, or the three+ places you’re demonstrating your connection, and why it matters.

                Here is an intro + thesis I wrote a couple years ago:

“This literature review will explore the impacts influencer marketing has on the children that regularly consume social media content. Specifically, this review will focus on how influencers can impact children’s brand preferences, dietary choices, and lastly, the influx of children taking advantage of this system and becoming influencers themselves.”

Or

“Burned discusses the human aspect of sex work and reverses reader’s expectations on sex workers, while Not in My Neighbourhood discusses prostitutes as victims of a system created against them. Both challenge readers’ perceptions of sex workers, effectively drawing attention to the ethics of displacing sex workers from their cities.”

                So you have your connection (children and social media)/(Burned and Not in My Neighbourhood and sex work), and the different ways you plan on exploring or proving that idea (children’s brand preferences, dietary choices, children becoming influencers.) etc.

                You may also have a more specific stance in your thesis. Such as, “In Macbeth, ambition is shown to be Macbeth’s ultimate downfall in these three ways.”

The Body Paragraphs

                You start out every body paragraph with the point of the paragraph, or what it’s aiming to prove. Such as, “Influencers often include advertisements within their content, which can encourage children to feel more amiably to certain brands their favourite content creators endorse frequently more than others.”

                After this claim, you spend the rest of the paragraph further proving it through examples. This will look like citing a specific source (a book, academic journal, quote, etc.) such as, “The authors claim likeable influencers can associate their likeability with the products they use, influencing children’s perception of brands, referred to as ‘meaning transfer’ (De Veirman et al. 2019)” (super important to always cite these sources!)

                The last part is after each example/proof--you need to justify why this proves your point/is important. So, “This proves children are more influenced towards certain products depending on how close of a relationship they perceive to have with the influencer.”

                Typically, your evidence will all lead into each other so you can transition to the next piece of proof, then the justification, rinse and repeat until you’re finished your paragraph. You can have as many pieces of evidence as you want per paragraph, and the longer your word requirement, the more you’ll want to fit into each point (or the more bodies you want to have.)

                Piece of evidence + why it matters, rinse and repeat.

Some May Argue:

                This is a small paragraph just before your conclusion where you anticipate an argument your readers may have, and disprove it. So, for example, you’d start with, “Some may argue that with parent supervision, the impacts of influencers on children could be lessened or moot. However…” and then explain why they’re wrong. This strengthens your argument, and proves that you’ve really thought out your stance.

Conclusion:

                Lastly, you want to sum up all the conclusions you came to in a few sentences. Your last line is one of the most important (in my opinion). I call it the mic drop moment. Leaving a lasting impact on your reader can bring your essay from an A to an A+, so you really want to nail this final sentence.

                My final sentence was, “Ultimately, it is hard to know in advance how technology and social media will impact the development of children who have always grown up with some form of screen, but until they grow up, parents and caregivers need to take care in the content their children consume, and their very possible exploitation online.”

This sentence is backed by the entirety of the essay that came before it, and usually leaves a little something to chew on for the readers.

Any other tips I missed?

[fullsunstrawberry]

Nct Dream Reaction: Getting caught making out

requested: yes <3

warnings: public make-out, alcohol, steamy shower kiss, and mentions of length and moaning (I think that's all)

[dreamie masterlist]

a/n: this is a collab with the lovely @rockstarhaechan <33 (they did all the indented writings and i did the bulleted) make sure to give them lots of love ‼️‼️😍

permanent taglist: @vvsmydiamonds127 @haechansbbg

mark: 

marks arms were wrapped around you, pushing you against the wall.

“mark what if someone comes in?” you mumbled in between the kiss, hands tangled up in his hair.

he suddenly looked at you, stroking your hair out of your face tugging a strand of hair behind your ear.

“baby no one is gonna come in, don’t you trust me?” he blurred out before pulling you back into a kiss, tongues playing with each other, while his hand found the way to your waistband of your skirt.

you could swear that you heard a knock on the door, but quickly turned your attention back to mark.

right as his hand slipped under your skirt someone opened the door and stepped in.

“what the fuck are you guys doing here” you looked at a mad chenle who’s arms are crossed in front of him, standing right next to the two of you.

helplessly staring down at the floor, feet shifting every now and then until mark finally spoke up.

“see it’s not what it looks like chenle” he scratched his neck, practically staring into chenle’s soul.

“i caught you two making out, bro what about ‘we are just friends’ “ he quoted while looking at you and mark.

being clearly embarrassed by what just happened but returning back to you signaling you to leave.

“we’re gonna talk about this later” mark just told you before you left the room leaving him alone with chenle.

renjun: 

sitting in the corner of your favorite café, renjun beside you.

you two decided to grab some cake and coffee as celebration for you getting accepted into your new job.

“renjun should we wait for the others to arrive before ordering or are you going to order for them?” you asked him before turning your attention back to the waiter who was patiently waiting for your order.

“i’ll have an iced americano and a tangerine cake please” you told the waiter your order, and zoomed out when renjun told his drinks and snacks to the waiter.

“baby are you listening?” he grabbed your wrist gently, carefully pulling you on his lap.

no one was able to see the two of you cause you’ve been sitting in the very back of the café.

“renjun what are you doing” you let out a little laugh but before he even answered your question you suddenly felt his lips on yours.

his hands, traveling up your spine, yours resting on his chest.

your make out session was about five minutes long until someone behind you started talking.

“why in the middle of a café, can’t you guys get a room?” jeno asked the two of you.

“oh fuck” you mumbled, quickly sitting back on the bench, tugging your hair behind your ear acting clueless.

“well we ordered for you guys” you blurred out trying to cool down the situation.

“should’ve ordered a room for you guys” you heard jeno say quietly.

haechan: 

haechan invited you to one of his house parties with the rest of nct dream.

whenever he is at their dorm they usually throw a little party together while casually drinking a little bit.

after a while you started to get a little tipsy and everyone decided to play truth or dare.

haechan was the first one to spin the bottle and just to your surprise it landed on you.

“doll, truth or dare?” he questioned before you decided to go with truth.

“okay, is it true that you have a crush on me?” not knowing what to say you started to look around for help, but noticed that no one of the boys was going to help you so you’re stuck with this one.

“hm maybe, why don’t you find it out?” trying to sound confident about your answer but indirectly asking yourself if it was confident enough for them not to notice your huge ass crush on haechan.

you’re by now pretty wasted, it’s been an additional hour and you’re currently in the middle of the kitchen, looking for something normal to drink.

“where do these boys have their soda” you slurred out while looking into the different cabinets.

“whatcha lookin’ for” haechan hummed while grabbing your waist from the back, making you groan a little.

his hands slowly started to grip your waist tighter as you continued to look for a soda.

“babe” he called out, making you turn around.

“what did you just call me haechan?” looking into his eyes as you tried to get out of his grip.

not because he made you uncomfortable or anything else but because you didn’t know if you could resist him.

haechan noticed that you wanted to get away, so he pulled you even closer.

“i know you have a crush on me, why are you trying to run away now?” not being able to get a word out until you finally wanted to talk.

“i-i don’t-“ stuttering and stumbling over your own words when haechan cut you off by kissing you passionately.

picking you up without hesitation and placing you down on the kitchen counter before he started to kiss you again.

softly moaning into the kiss until you heard someone clearing their throat at the kitchen door.

haechan immediately broke the kiss and looked at the door, an impatient expression seen on mark and jisung’s face.

“we thought we should check up on you two since you’ve been missing for quite some time now, but guess you had something important to discuss” jisung said grossed out before turning around and dragging mark with him.

“can we continue now?” was the only thing haechan said before kissing you again and turning it into a heated make out session.

Jeno:

protective boii

He knows that he would never be able to get you alone with a dorm full of men. Especially not in his bedroom.

The only place they didn't bother him in was the shower

it took a little bit of convincing but his hands on your body washing all the body soap off you was definitely worth it

"wait I think I missed a spot" His hand came up to your face and rubbed his thumb against your lips

"I knew this wasn't just an innocent shower" you giggled, already closing your eyes waiting for him to kiss you

when he did you stumbled a little bit, resulting in jeno putting his arms around you and holding you against him

you felt his hardening length pressed on your body as his gaze traveled down your figure, taking in every curve. You felt shivers as you met his intense gaze

He leaned in again, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss

His hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of you.

You responded eagerly, running your fingers through his wet hair. The water from the shower cascaded around you

Right as your hands were making its way down his body, following the drops of water, a loud scream startled you both

Jeno quickly hid your body with his own while looking back to see who ruined the moment

Chenle stood there eyes widened In horror

“Get out before I gouge your eyeballs out!”

Chenle ran out of the bathroom screaming about how he just needed to brush his teeth

“You scared him!”

“HE SAW YOU NAKED!!”

Jaemin:

This boy would not care at all! Instead, he would put on a show,,

“Come here princess” he called out with a mischievous grin.

"Yeah, no kissing tonight! The guys are here"

Jaemin did not get why you cared.

Pulling you onto his lap and letting his hand rest on your check "Baby, everyone knows not to disturb us"

You couldn't help but smile at his charm, giving in to his playful demands.

Jaemin saw your body relax and started pressing small kisses to your neck

As Jaemin's lips brushed against your neck, a shiver traveled down your spine. His touch was always electrifying.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to submit to the sensation, forgetting about everything else at that moment.

You could still hear the sound of laughter and chatter from the living room but you didn't care anymore, pulling his face away from your neck to finally meet his lips.

As you tangled your fingers in his hair, a soft moan escaped from his lips

"Let's take this off" He groaned, breaking the kiss to pull off your shirt

Not wasting any time he hungrily reconnected your lips. His hands explore every inch of your exposed skin.

You were so focused on Jaemin that you didn't even hear the door open

Jaemin's movements were swift and precise, his arms wrapping around your waist as he flipped you over with ease. He positioned himself on top of you, his body covering yours possessively.

"Don't just stand there! leave or join," his voice laced with arrogance and a bit of humor

Jaemin didn't bother to look up at whoever had entered the room. Instead, his eyes remained fixated on yours, filled with an intensity that sent a rush of heat through your veins.

Chenle:

He says it's your fault it happened because you looked too damn good!

He's been very busy, so he invited everyone to hang out...playing basketball

You protested at first but came around to the idea after he gave you his puppy dog eyes...how are you supposed to say no to them!!

You made sure to sneakily take one of his jerseys from his closet.

Showing up earlier than the guys just to get Chenle's reaction

"You ready to lose?"

Before he could say a sassy remark he turned to face you, mouth opening in shock

"You okay?" you laughed walking closer to him "You know exactly what you're doing" He smirked wrapping his arms around you.

"Even picked the one with my name" he whispered into your ear.

"You're my favorite"

"Good" He finally closed the distance between you two by pulling you from your hips and pressing his lips against yours

You pulled away before he could deepened the kiss, "We can't, the guys are going to be here soon"

"We got here early" he whined, looking at your lips before kissing you again. But this time he was in a rush, sliding his tongue into your mouth and letting his hands dig into your waist

The door to the court swung open, and the sound of laughter and chatter filled the room. You both jumped apart, trying to compose yourselves as the guys filed into the basketball court one by one.

"Hey, what's going on here?" Jaemin asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He nudged Chenle playfully. "Did you guys start without us?"

Chenle cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact with his friends. "Nah, we were just...practicing our moves."

Donghyuck raised an eyebrow, smirking knowingly. "Sure, sure. Practice makes perfect, I guess."

Jisung:

This poor, poor baby… He doesn't even give you public affection, he might literally wither away if caught.

"The guys said they were going out," Jisung smirked, his fingers lacing through yours as he pulled you closer to him.

"How did you get out of this one?" You asked, playfully raising an eyebrow.

"Said I had more important things to do," Jisung replied, his arm wrapping around your waist.

"So I'm more important?" You couldn't help but tease him

Jisung smirked “Let me show you just how important you are”

Jisung closed the distance between you two, trapping you against the wall

The cool surface pressed against your back grounded you in the intensity of the moment. As his hands found their way to cradle your face, deepening the kiss

Your fingers tangled into his hair, eliciting a small moan from him. Taking advantage of his parted lips, you eagerly explored his mouth with your tongue

Not wanting to give up dominance, Jisung's hands roamed over your body, sending shivers down your spine as he stopped at your butt and gave it a playful squeeze

Lost in the moment, neither of you heard the door opening until a gasp filled the room.

Both of you tensed up and widened your eyes in realization...

"MY EYES!" Jaemin screamed in shock

Instead of pushing you away and hiding, Jisung hid his face into your neck and giggled

“I thought they would be gone”

Nct dream taglist: @loveforred @rmslover

[poge-life]

𝕍𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝔽𝕒𝕚𝕣 ~ 𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕨 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕖𝕪

“ I’m (y/n) (l/n) and we’re the cast of Outer Banks and today, we’re going to test how well we know each other.” You smiled looking between the camera and the group to your left. Carlacia raised her hand as she motioned between you and Drew, “Drew shouldn’t be allowed to answer any of these because none of us will even have a chance.”

Everyone let out sounds of agreement as you shook your head, reading the first question, “I don’t know. These are questions that made me think about my answer.”

“Okay, oo. This is a good one. What movie animal is my dog named after?”

“I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned this.” Drew told you but you shook your head in disagreement, “I’ve mentioned it before but I think it was when you guys first met him.”

“The adventures of Milo and Otis?” Chase asked and Madison agreed but you shook your head. Both Austin and Drew leaned forward to try and read the car but you quickly pulled away, tucking the card against your chest, “Cheaters!”

“What movie has a dog named Milo in it?”

“Oh! The mask! His dogs name is Milo!” Rudy answered and you flipped your card, showing ‘The Mask’, “I’m a huge Jim Carrey fan and since Milo is also a jack russell, it was fate.”

“Oo, you guys are never going to get this one,” you laughed, reading the card, “it literally took me so long to even think about this one. When I was 5, I jumped off the banister and had to get stitches. Where were the stitches?”

Everyone looked over at Drew, who would be the only one to remotely know the answer but he just tilted his head at you in thought.

“Your head?” Madelyn asked but you shook your head, “Nope. My sister did though. Cracked her head open.”

“How are you and your sister still alive?” Austin asked, looking at you in surprise as you shrugged before writing your answer on the card.

“Your legs?” JD asked, snapping his fingers at you

“Nope. Not even close.”

Drew clapped his hands once as he looked over at you, “Your tongue. You bit through your tongue and had to get 6 stitches.”

“Your tongue?!?” Madison asked, looking over at you in shock as you flipped your card, showing the answer, “Yes. I smacked my chin on the arm of the couch and bit right through my tongue. My tongue was stuck and I had to get stitches.”

“You just need to live in a bubble at this point, girl.” Carlacia laughed as everyone agreed with her.

“What do I think is the grossest thing a person can do?”

“THROWING UP!” Drew and JD shouted at the same time as they high fived. You cringed as you showed your card that read ‘throwing up’ as the answer.

“I hate throwing up. I hate the way I feel before, during, and after. It’s just so gross and gives me the ick.” You shuddered as Austin patted your leg, “The first time she threw up in front of us, she cried because of how grossed out she was.”

“That was traumatizing for all of us,” Rudy explained, “we were out on a boat and she just went very pale and threw up. Everywhere. We had no idea what had happened and then she just started bawling her eyes out. We all started panicking, thinking something was wrong but then she said how she hated throwing up and it just…it killed the whole vibe.”

You chucked the marker cap at Rudy, who ducked but went to retrieve it, “Sorry that being seasick killed the vibe, dillhole.”

Letting out a laugh at the nest question, you looked over at Drew and shook your head, “you’re not allowed to answer this one. You’ll get the answer right away.”

“I’ve known all of these, baby,” he winked and your face went red as you hid it behind the card, “just trying to give them a chance.”

“You guys gross me out.” Madelyn teased, looking between you two

“What is my favorite show to binge?” You asked, but you wrote down two possible answers.

“That 70s show is one.” Chase answered, “I always hear the theme song in your trailer and you quote it constantly.”

“You also watch the walking dead a lot too.” JD added, pointing to Chase, “you yell at your laptop a lot.”

“Dude, you have no idea how long it took me to get used to her yelling at the tv.” Drew told him, “the first time she did it, I thought she was pissed at me for no reason but she was just watching the walking dead.”

Everyone started talking about how into your shows you get, causing you to hold up your hands in protest, “Okay, okay! There’s nothing wrong with being passionate about movie and tv shows. But yes, that 70s show and the walking dead are my go to.”

“Two complete opposite shows, by the way.” Madison pointed out

“Oo, how many tattoos do I have?”

Everyone went quiet as they stared at you, no doubt picturing the tattoos that laid under your clothes. You had been purposely asked to wear a long sleeve top and pants to not let them get the answer so easily.

“I wanna say…12?” Carlacia asked, tilting her head at you, “Most of them are on your right arm but I know you have a few on your left. You have the fairy wings on your back…”

“I know you have a dinosaur on your leg because I drew a hat on it last week.” Austin answered, causing you to look up from writing your answer, furrowing your eyebrows at him, “you drew a hat on Terrance?”

“You named the dinosaur Terrance?” JD laughed as you nodded, “Terrance the triceratops.”

“Terry, for short.” Drew added, pointing at you as you nodded

“I wanna say 10 or 15.” Madison said, leaning forward, “I know you got P4L after season 2 came out.”

“You only had like 2 when the show started.”

“There’s a few you guys don’t know about cause they’re always covered.” You told them, going over your answer. Drew didn’t even miss a beat with his response, “Well, they don’t. But I do.”

“Okay! Who’s next?!”

[churipu]

Hi! ☺️ First and foremost, I hope you're doing well. Also, I just recently found your page and I love your writing!

I really liked your post on the super sensitive reader with the jjk men. Can I get headcanons of the jjk men with reader who is very stoic and a little emotionally constipated? Like they have never seen reader cry ever while in their relationship together, but then reader ends up having a hard week and ends up crying from frustration.

jjk men & their emotionally constipated partner

featuring. shiu kong, itadori yuuji, todo aoi, geto suguru x reader

warnings. cursing and jjk men being sweet and soft to their partner <;33

note. hi anon! i'm doing great, hbu love? thank you for liking my works, you don't know how much that means to me, i hope you have a great day! and thank you for requesting, i find this request very interesting <33 also, thank you guys for the big amount of support i've been receiving for the last two days, can you imagine i gained like 140+ followers in that matter of time? i'm going to start violently sobbing istg. anw, i hope u sexies enjoy this <33

SHIU KONG. shiu loves you a lot, even if you struggle in showing the love back to him, he knows you love him a lot. shiu would receive random messages (mostly a picture of something and then you tell him that it reminded you of him, probably deemed as your love language now). i feel like shiu is partly happy that you don't take things into the heart - but at times he'd be very worried about you. you never cry, you almost never get angry at him even if he did something wrong (you'd just tell him it's nothing and you weren't mad, but he sometimes think it's because you didn't want to engage yourself in arguments), and hell, he barely sees you smile at all.

shiu has heard you tell stories about your new work place, which you quote unquote as toxic. and you've been in the company for no longer than three months, but the stories about your very annoying co-worker and your boss never stops. he swore that the topic of your work place was the only thing that could get you riled up.

i feel like shiu would be the type of boyfriend who would tell you to stop working because he's financially stable enough to provide for you, but you decline telling him that you didn't want to live off of him.

shiu didn't force you to stop or quit your job though, he'd be glad to listen to you talk about your days at work.

"y/n? you're ho— darling, what happened?" he saw the solemn look on your face and realized that something must have happened (yet again) at your work place, he dropped the cigar that was lodged in between his lips and immediately approached you.

you shook your head, inhaling sharply before kicking off your shoes, "work, of course."

"is it your boss? or that same co-worker again?" shiu knew that it was either your boss or this one co-worker who doesn't seem to enjoy your presence in the office.

"both." you sat down on the couch, throwing your head back in exhaustion (you were about to cry and the only way to stop your tears from coming out was to just force it back in with your head back), "i'm getting my paycheck reduced this month."

shiu took a seat next to you, "why?"

"i was blamed for something my co-worker did, this is so unfair," your voice cracked a little and shiu pulled you into a hug, you choked out a sob, "this is so unfair," you muttered out, your pent out anger and disappointment finally seeping out in a form of tears.

"hey, shh..." he soothes you, pulling back to see your tearful eyes. he grazed over your cheek to wipe the droplets away, "let me take care of them, yeah?"

you shook your head, "don't have to, i don't want to make this into a bigger mess."

shiu planted a kiss on your forehead, "don't worry about it darling, you trust me, don't you?"

"yes."

shiu had a "talk" with your boss and your co-worker the very next day and your co-worker ended up resigning right after, and your boss, well they never bothered you anymore (and you're getting an extra paycheck for the next half a year).

ITADORI YUUJI. people always wonder how you and itadori ended up with each other. him being this ray of sunshine, and you were like the moon. but he didn't care about what everyone says, he loves you — and that's what matter, right?

wrong. don't think that you didn't notice the enormous shit talking about you behind your back, about how you probably bribed itadori into dating you and what not. usually, you'd shove all those down the drain and forget about it.

but for some reason, you couldn't help but to rethink about what they said. how itadori isn't too fit for you, or how you don't deserve him at all. the only thing that managed to trigger you was how somebody said that itadori deserves someone more "emotionally available" for him, and that person isn't you.

you never liked being emotionally constipated, people always talk about you behind your back, saying how you're so distant and that being the reason you don't have any friends. you keep telling yourself that you're used to it when it comes to you, but when it comes to itadori and your relationship — you feel helpless.

"y/n? are you okay?"

you looked up at him, a glint of worry flashing in his eyes. and you can't help but to feel the frustration building in you as you remember the words people say to you, "yes..no? i don't kno—" you choked out, smacking your hand on top of your mouth at the sound you let out.

it just got worse when you feel the tears you've been penting up for the past few weeks come out. itadori blinked feverishly, a little surprised to see you crying like this. he has never seen you cry before, "y/n..?" he breathes out, his hand reaching out to you, but you moved back, trying to avoid his touch.

the embarrassment you felt was horrid, you hated crying in front of people, even your own boyfriend, "baby," itadori mutters out seriously, grabbing your arms and then pulling them away from your face, "tell me what's wrong. talk to me."

i feel like he knew where this was going, he had a hunch. for the past few weeks, you asked him about why he was with you, why he loves you when there were better people out there (you think). and he knew it was because of what people said.

"i...i just don't think i'm the right one for you, yuuji. they're right, you need a more emotionally available partner."

itadori's face fell when you said that, and he shook his head, pulling you into his embrace. rocking back and forth like a baby, "why would you say that? why would you listen to them y/n?" he asks quietly.

"i...don't know."

he pulled away, brows furrowed and he held your shoulders, "you're perfect for me, i don't give a fuck what they said about you and i. the next time someone says something, i'm going to beat them up," the thing is, he looked so serious you couldn't help but to chuckle.

"you just chuckled.." he breathes out, "my life is complete."

TODO AOI. he's very boisterous, and i feel like he'd be the type of person who would defend his partner everywhere they go. when you accepted his feelings, he was surprised since he never expected you to like someone like him. but he was pretty damn proud of you, and as a boyfriend, he shows you off like a trophy.

telling people about how amazing you are, how you make him happy, or how you treat him nicely. but people are fucking judgmental, some of them don't like the idea of others living happily — and you never thought that "these" particular people would target you next for it.

saying how fucking weird todo is for liking someone like you, and you had to be honest, it did get into you. and so began your avoidance to your own boyfriend, todo.

he hates it. he hated how you changed out of the blue, no matter how hard he tries to reach out for you, you weren't the same anymore and he never got why you decided to change.

believe me when i say that he tried asking his friends about it, or about tips to get you to talk to him. but really, they weren't much of a help, saying how you probably got bored and is avoiding him so he would be the one to break up first with you.

todo didn't want to let the idea of that get into him, but after a few weeks of you avoiding him non-stop, he began thinking the same thing. were you bored of him? did he do something that you didn't like? or is it because he ate the last chocolate chip cookie you were saving up and blamed it on someone else?

so when he got the chance to bump into you, he immediately took it as a chance to ask you about it.

"why are you avoiding me?" you tried ending the conversation right away by going the other way, but man is fast fast so he didn't let you — still wanting to know about the sudden change in your behavior.

todo knows how you didn't like being cornered, or how you don't like talking about the relationship, sappy shit. but if he didn't talk to you about this, todo knew he was going to regret it.

"y/n," he grabbed the back of your collar, pulling you back lightly, "did i do something wrong?"

you were silent for a few seconds before todo's ears perked up at the sound of soft, choked out sobs. you were crying. you were crying. and the panic sinks in, "i..i'm sorry, did i pull on your collar too hard?!" he panics, flailing his arms.

you shook your head, "...no, i'm sorry for avoiding you."

todo stopped his panicking and stood up straight, "i couldn't stop thinking about what people have to say about us, and now that i think about it, i feel like you deserve more than me," todo widened his eyes and looked around.

"who the fuck said that? i'm going to beat them up so bad people won't recognize them," todo mutters out and the corner of your lips tugged upward, "is that why you're avoiding me?"

you nod, "it was wrong. i know i should've said something about it. i'm sorry for avoiding you."

todo laid his hand on top of your head, brushing your h/c softly with a gentle smile, "you're perfect for me, fuck those people," he cusses out, "next time you hear em', don't forget to find out their names— i'm going to give them a lesson for it."

SUGURU GETO. suguru and you are like two peas in a pod. people never see him without you and vice versa, and often people would say that you both are the perfect couple. despite your personalities almost being the same type of calm, suguru is a calm man, and he's soft spoken. while you were just plain cold and stoic, rarely speak of something or even show your emotions.

someone bothering you? okay. someone making fun of you? okay. you were practically a walking definition of "i give zero fucks". but that doesn't mean you can't feel hurt, you are still human after all.

so when suguru told you about how he has a new co-worker, and how she has been clinging onto him, how she tries to get in his pants. you find it cute how he tells you about it, even telling you that you should come to his workplace so he could show you off.

you didn't feel anything because you trusted him. until you see the so called "co-worker" of his. she's pretty, you can't deny that. and you could see how she gets along with almost everyone, having no problem in instigating a conversation or complimenting people. people definitely like her.

that's where the insecurity began sinking in.

would suguru fall for her like everyone in his workplace does? would he leave you for her? so many questions you wanted to find the answer to.

"baby?"

you look at him, completely out of your daydream. he cocks his head to the side, "are you okay? you've been zoning out a lot lately..." he said, voice gentle and worried.

you nodded, "yeah. sorry. got a lot in my mind."

"do you want to talk about it?" he brushes a few h/c strands from covering your face, "you've been a little distant. is it something that i did, baby?"

god, just the thought of suguru thinking it was him made you a little sensitive. the past few weeks was already hard enough for you to contain yourself from breaking down, and him asking that made the tears you held in for so long drop out all at once.

suguru was a little taken aback and he sat straight up, alarmed, "y/n? baby? what's wrong?" he asks you gently, wiping the tears that never ceased from your face.

"i feel..i feel like i'm not enough. you deserve better than me, suguru." suguru swallowed the lump in his throat, he should've known, ever since you came to his workplace, you had started getting distant. and he should've known that was the reason.

suguru shook his head, cupping your face before giving you soft little kisses all over your face, "don't" a kiss on your forehead. "you" a kiss on your left cheek. "dare" a kiss on your right cheek. "say" a kiss on your nose. "that" a kiss on your chin.

the male gazes into your eyes deeply, "i love you," he softly said before planting a kiss on your lips, "you're the one i want, you're perfect for me. i can't see my future without you y/n, so please don't think about that..."

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !

[theealbatross]

Sebastian x Reader: come one, come all (One Shot)

Plot | Five years after graduating, two kindred spirits are finally getting married and their friends reminisce on their brilliant histories.

or, Lucas Brattleby interviews their friends on their memories and opinions of the future Mr. and Mrs. Sallow as a little gift for the couple.

Tags | None, fluff, overuse of the name Merlin, mentions of slight torture (hexes), lowkey bullying, lowkey codependency if you squint, obsessive behavior (but it's okay cause theyre in love), cursing, Lucas lowkey has a crush on Sebastian lol

[A/N: A line from this story is not made by me, "I would follow him to hell but I wish he wouldn't go there" so to whoever wrote that first just know your quote is the inspiration for this story!!]

“What is this again?”

The brat, Lucas Brattleby, had grown obscenely taller the last time Imelda had seen him, which was about 3 years ago when he was a rookie reporter covering her latest game. She heard he is now a publisher in his own right but didn’t seem to brush off that annoying lint in his voice back when he was still a Gryffindor matching illegal unsanctioned duels in the Clock Tower.

“A small gift of mine for the couple,” he grinned (still as irritating, she’s seen that grin enough times before she got her ass handed to her so forgive her for not being enamored), pushing the pen (recorder?) to her that she reflexively pushed him by his face. “Sorry.”

“And why should I do this?”

“Oh come on, Imelda. It’s just harmless questions to take us back down memory lane. It’ll be played at the reception and I promise I’ll send you everything before I finalize it just so you can make sure –”

“Alright!” She stopped walking, rolling her eyes when Lucas quickly assembled his camera, even quickly conjuring a chair and putting it at the center of the frame. Clearly, he knew she could change her mind at any moment.

“My lady,” he bowed dramatically, pointing a palm to the seat.

“Don’t call me that. You have 10 minutes before warm-ups start.” Lucas raised both of his hands in the air before quickly running behind the camera and clicking the button to start recording.

“I’ll be out of here in 5.” Lucas flipped a paper in front of him. “Let’s start with your name, a little something about yourself and where did you meet them.”

She took a deep breath, putting on the poker face she usually plasters on her face when talking to the media before her many games instinctively. “Imelda Reyes, Vice-Captain of Puddlemere United, and I had the misfortune of being in the same boat as Sebastian Sallow during our first year. She, however, was a little late to the party and wreaked havoc on my life when I was a fifth year.”

Lucas was meticulously writing notes in his fancy notebook.

“What’s the fondest memory you have of the couple?”

She scoffed, not even needing to think about it. “Sebastian? Definitely when he caught a bludger … with his face.” The memory of the cry he emitted pulled a real smile on Imelda’s face. “We almost lost and I would’ve killed him for it but oh was it glorious.”

He remembers this game.

“Didn’t he fall off his broom midair?”

Imelda waved a nonchalant hand in front of her face. “That girlfriend of his caught him with an Arresto Momentum so no harm done – well, except the crooked nose he sported for a week.”

Lucas chuckled with her, “And for the future Mrs. Sallow?”

“Nothing much, most conversation we’ve had was her beating me – beating me in a race, beating me in a duel, Merlin, she even beat me with the class ranking on her first year in Hogwarts. I had a five-year head start how was that possible?!”

Lucas smiled, reading that as bitter her words were she truly held no grudge over it. He was caught off guard, however, when Imelda suddenly had a small, serene smile on her face, her voice when she spoke softer. “She was … it was like I was always chasing after her. We all were, Sebastian always first in the race but … it was fun. I had fun. She made Hogwarts fun. A true competition, yknow? Didn’t have much at that point in my life.”

“Competition?”

“A friend.”

Lucas couldn’t help but be surprised – not everyone can be considered as Imelda Reyes’ friend as picky as she is, though he quickly fixed his face when she shot him a look that told him not to probe. “Did you ever think they would both get married?”

Imelda scoffed out a laugh, crossing her arms. “I knew the only way they wouldn’t get married is if Sallow got assassinated by one of her many admirers and even then I wouldn’t put it past him to somehow turn into an Inferi just so he can still be the one to marry her. I’m honestly surprised he held on for this long, pretty sure he would’ve popped the question the moment we graduated.”

“Technically, he did. They just decided to get married this year.”

That one made her laugh out loud, shaking her head at her old friend’s antics. Of course, she knew those two would get married, basically tied to the hip, always getting in and out of trouble with each other and for each other. Bloody hell, they’d been married since fifth-year and just didn’t know it.

“Typical Sallow,” she caught herself. “Well, Sallows now, Merlin help us all.”

Lucas rechecked everything on his notes, making sure to mark any and all important details of the words his enchanted pen has written for him as he spoke with his former Senior, Garreth Weasley, who was once a thorn on the side of Professor Sharp but was now a renowned Potions Master actively getting scouted by Hogwarts, his blends sought upon by the most respectable wizards and witches all over the world.

“Did I think they would get married? Mate, Sebastian almost bit my head off when I tried to ask her if she would like to be partners for one potion class. One! And we were sitting next to each other! I’m sorry if I thought I was being friendly?!”

Lucas has heard and has unfortunately been a victim of Sebastian’s … tendencies. You, despite being the top duelist in Hogwarts was always, more often than not, partnered with Sebastian in every duel. The one time Lucas had agreed in a quiet solo duel without letting Sebastian know his senior had caught him on his way to his potion's class and nailed him to the wall by his cloak while threatening him to never let it happen again or he will turn him into a pretty outline in the walls of Hogwarts with Bombarda.

He thinks that was the closest thing he had been to peeing his pants.

“Yeah, Sebastian doesn’t have the best track record with friendly males around his girlfriend.”

“They weren’t even courting by then how would I bloody know that –”

“Ready, Poppy?”

Surprisingly, the sweet woman in front of him has been the most difficult to track down. Amongst their mutual friends she was the one he had no idea where to start, especially after his only lead, her grandmother, had no other information to give him aside that the last she heard Sweet Poppy was down South Clagmar Coast ‘doing Merlin knows what’.

Thankfully, the citizens of Cragcroft were a bit more helpful and he was able to send her an owl about his little project.

“Where should we start?”

Lucas made sure she was framed perfectly in the shot before nodding to himself. “Nothing complicated Poppy, just first impressions or any memory you have of the young couple.”

She pursed her lips in thought, nodding to herself, “The two of them have always been terrifyingly intimidating, especially for someone like me. Seemed to just attract attention and trouble on their own – I mean, killing a troll in Hogsmeade on the first day – just a bunch of troublemakers they were. Brilliant troublemakers – which only made them scarier in my eyes.”

Lucas nodded in total agreement but he couldn’t help but squint at her.

“You aren’t exactly innocent, Ms. Hid-a-Hippogriff.”

Her eyes widened, blushing at the accusation. “In my defense, future Mrs. Sallow helped me take care of Highwing.”

Poppy recounted the memories with a smile on her face.  Her dainty smile grew bigger as she recapped happy memories she had with her classmates.

“But they’ve always been lovely. Lovely people and an even lovelier couple. Sebastian has always been bright and charming and surprisingly kind for a Slytherin and she … she’s always been unapologetic of who she was. It also meant she never judged anybody for who they are either.”

The woman paused, the smile on her face remained frozen as if she was in deep reflection.

“A true friend – one of the truest I had.”

Lucas was never in their circle, hell, aside from each other and maybe Ominis nobody was truly ever in their innermost circle despite their popularity. At every explosive trouble the two were always caught in he couldn’t help but wonder just what they get up to when they weren’t caught. Even back then he knew he would’ve risked his life and followed them no question asked if it meant his young self got to go to one of their death-defying adventures with them.

But being two years younger was a barrier he could never overcome.

It is refreshing to hear of stories from their friend’s perspective and not in passing in the Central Hall in Hogwarts where it’s all half-true, fabricated, or painfully hyperbolic. Maybe that’s why he had thought to do this, a reporter’s disease of needing to know the truth, the dark side of the coin they hid with their secrets and anonymities passed only in hushed whispers and clandestine meetings with each other.

“Are you excited about the wedding?”

Poppy nodded eagerly. “Oh, I’m extremely happy for my friends! It’s not every day two souls find each other and just not let go. I’m glad they didn’t. After all they’ve been through, they deserve to have each other.”

He couldn’t have agreed more.

“That they do.”

Mr. Lucas Brattleby,

I have received your owl, unfortunately, I will not be able to go back there till the night before the wedding as I still have a business to wrap up here in America. For the questions you sent, I shall send this Howler and you may record it.

I have nothing good to say about Mr. Sebastian Sallow, that boy had done nothing but torment me in my youth. It’s a bloody miracle he had managed to snag the Hero of Hogwarts as his girlfriend – terrible lack of judgment on her part I must say, we all have our flaws – much less agree to be his wife. If there’s one good thing he did do, it was willingly become a lowly servant to such a lovely witch. Least he could do, really.

However, despite their blatant differences and unfortunate similarities I, for one, knew immediately that not even Death could sever such a connection – not if Sebastian Sallow had anything to say about it, and trust me I speak from experience. They’ve fought through detentions, goblins, dark wizards, and a damned troll – I’m sure marriage will be a breeze in a park.

Well, if I’m wrong, then let the future Mrs. Sallow know I would be more than willing to offer a comforting shoulder.

Leander Prewitt Department of International Magical Cooperation

PS. To my darling wife Leonora, light of my life, the last part was a joke and If I somehow disappear it was Sebastian Sallow who did it.

“They give Sebastian too much credit when my dear friend was equally as obsessed about him. Do you remember Allia?”

Lucas snapped his fingers when he finally put a face to the name he hadn’t heard in a while but made sure to look around lest one of the younger students managed to hear such … delicate matters in the DADA classroom. “Didn’t she transfer during your 6th year? Something about personal … complications?”

Natty laughed out loud, doubling over with tears in her eyes. “Oh, that excuse was all thanks to Ominis swinging around his name. Our dear witch hexed poor Allia while she was asleep for trying to poison Sebastian with Amortentia! Sneaked straight into the Ravenclaw tower and cursed her to grow the features of a rat every time she even thought about Sebastian! The only way Ominis could convince our friend to take back the curse and avoid expulsion was at the condition of her transferring and never letting the couple see even her shadow again.”

He never even noticed that his jaw was hanging off his face.

“Oh, if everyone only knew that fights I had prevented if a Junior so much as fluttered their lashes at Sebastian,” she shook her head, still laughing to herself.

Now all the pieces he hadn’t realized were part of the same puzzle clicked on his head. The flat smile on her face that never quite reached her eyes every time they were surrounded by strangers, the grip she always held on Sebastian’s arms no matter where they were going, the ‘promise ring’ Sebastian also wore when traditionally it was just the girl who had it, and the absolute absence of Sebastian’s name when girls talked about boys they fancied in the common room when he was undoubtedly better looking than most students in Hogwarts.

“A jealous witch she was, thinks she’s good at hiding it,” Natty chuckled.

Lucas realized in horror that she had scared off the entire female student body.

“But by the gods was she better at hexes.”

When Lucas had heard that Ominis Gaunt had been working closely with the Minister for Magic and was undoubtedly being groomed to be his successor, he wasn’t exactly surprised. Everyone knew he would be someone important someday so Lucas had damn near lost all hope as he sent an owl to the man.

When he received a reply in a fortnight brought by a regal-looking owl, Lucas thought he must have some soft spot for his fellow alumni. But it would seem the man just had a lot to let out of his chest.

“Oh, the stories I could tell! If I had a knut for every time I had to rescue one of those idiots out of a horrific situation they found themselves in I would be richer than the Blacks!”

He’d never seen his hair this undone in the 7 years they had been on the same campus. Maybe Lucas was just that good of a journalist or maybe it was the half-empty bottle of expensive whiskey that was the reason for his loose lips.

“I mean, Sebastian was bad enough, but once he found someone who would willingly dive with him to whatever dangerous expeditions he found interest in and I was outnumbered it was a bloody nightmare.”

For the first time in his life, he felt pity for the man. It was never really a secret why Sebastian didn’t serve half the detention he deserved nor why neither of them had ever been expelled when a trail of evidence led to the both of them red-handed and always at the scene of the crime. But he has to give it to Ominis … a lesser man would’ve cracked at their mischiefs.

“And Sebastian … everybody knows he would’ve willing let himself be target practice for all sorts of curses if she had asked.”

Lucas can’t even defend his childhood hero. Especially, of the things he had learned from his previous subjects. It would seem even the mightiest of men would always buckle in the face of their true love.

“I-I’m sure they’ve done the same for you,” Lucas winced.

“Oh, they better, with the flaming hoops I had to jump through to make sure we graduated alive,” Ominis waved him off indifferently. “They are my best friends. I would follow them to hell but I just wish they would stop going there for one damn semester.”

Lucas snickered, unfortunately unable to hold it in with just how stressed the memory of the mischiefs his favorite couple got up to has brought Ominis. He was sure the older man would choke him but he just sighed out a laugh until the two of them were laughing to each other.

“I guess they have always been the perfect person for each other.”

Ominis nodded, leaning his head on his fist. “Yeah …”

He threw Lucas a look.

“Do you think they won’t make me their children’s godfather if I begged?”

Lucas bit his lips. “My money is on the eldest getting named after you so …”

Ominis groaned.

Lucas refilled his glass.

[enheene]

Rich kid boyfriend heeseung fucking you into oblivion as you try to study- can you make it a fic?

He wants it? He gets it.

18+ MDNI

Lee Heeseung

}^Warnings: spoiled!boyfriend!hee x afab!reader, unprotected sex, pet names, idk just annoying hee but then both of them being all lovey dovey, reader crying cuz a bit overstimulated, oral (female receiving), idk semi?squirting, breeding

}^Words: 1022

}^A/N: I’m new into writing this kind of stuff, sorry if you’re disappointed by it!! I’m as well hoping for my fast improvement in writing fics^^

Studying isn’t a thing you enjoy at all, but to get a well-paying job, that’s the only thing you can do. Having a part-time job as a waitress in a small café isn’t paying you enough for you to pay all of your bills alone. What about the food you need to survive? Well, your boyfriend Lee Heeseung, who is a young man, from an upper-class family with a playful lifestyle, helps you out. A lot. To which you’re of course grateful, but he just doesn’t take anything serious. Why would he though? He’s one of the most spoiled people you’ve ever met. He doesn’t need to study as much as you do, he doesn’t need to care about the bills, he gets whatever he wants and that means he also wants you most of the time.

„Seungiee, not now. Later”, are the only words repeatedly leaving your mouth for about 3 hours now. Your boyfriend still doesn’t seem to care, that you’re busy studying for your upcoming final exam of this semester.

,,But y/nnn, I can’t wait anymore. Do you know how hard it is to not throw you on our bed and fuck your brains out? Just, please, get a little bit of a break.”, seeing him all pouty, whiny and horny just for you, makes you less concentrated on your studies. As always. He already knows how to make you give up on your assignments, chores, etc. It annoys you sometimes, but what can you do? He’s your lover after all and you appreciate all of his efforts to make it less stressful for you.

„No, I have more important things to do.” You answer him. „More important than me? Is that so, angel?” Cocky and horny. Nothing new about your boyfriend.

As you continue to study with a book and pen in your hands, he picks you up and lays you down on your king-sized bed. „Heeseung! What are you doing?! Did you lose your mind!?”

„I actually did, yeah”, he informed you with a smirk on his face. Slowly taking off your sweatpants, as you try to get out of his grip, unveiling your pink, laced panties with a wet patch on them. ,,You’re losing your mind as well, princess. Aren’t you?”, Heeseung chuckled with a now slight smirk remaining on his face. He took the pen you were still holding in your hand and started moving up and down your clit with it. You started whining at the sudden touch of something unfamiliar but yet satisfying to you. ,,Princess, do you mind reading out loud what’s in your book?” He asked you while pulling your shirt up, uncovering your breasts. Right after, he’s pulling your panties down and throwing it on the floor. As the wetness is dropping down your cunt, Heeseung decides to take off his own shirt and pants, being left in his boxers only. You start whining asking him to touch you already but he just answers you with a ,,I asked you to read.” Scrunching your face you start reading the quotes first, making him finally put two of his fingers into your pussy moving them in and out. ,,Hee, please stop”, your trembling voice telling him throughout reading the book as your back started to arch slightly. „Is that what’s written in your book? Besides, I don’t think you actually want me to stop”, he teases you as his mouth starts kissing your thighs and then licking and sucking on your clit harshly but yes so lovely. Your moans of being close to your climax and struggling to read the book makes him harder and harder each second “Cum for me, baby”. He’s moving and curling his fingers in your cunt even faster than before, untying the knot in your belly as you moan his name out loud losing the concentration from reading the book. All of your juices being slurped by Heeseung leaving his chin wet. ,,So fucking sweet, princess. You did so well for me.” He doesn’t wipe it away as he starts kissing you making you taste yourself. ,,Don’t stop reading.“ are his only words while he’s taking his boxers off enough to free his leaking with pre-cum dick. As you start reading again, Heeseung puts the tip of his cock into your still sensitive cunt making you squirm. ,,Please, no more.” Just these 3 words falling out of your mouth made him put his whole length in as you let out an almost pornographic moan. “I’m pretty sure you can take it, my angel baby.”

Tears slowly falling out of your eyes as he’s thrusting deeply into you at a fast speed, making you moan his name over and over, as the book is fully forgotten by you. “Princess, I didn’t tell you to stop reading, did I?” Your boyfriend reminded you, while breathing hardly, about the book laying next to your head. You reach out for it and start mumbling some nonsense that isn’t even written in the book. Heeseung chuckling deeply with a smirk on his face only to speed up the pace. “Fuck, so tight, baby.” He groaned. “I’m about to c-cum.” Were your last and only words coming high-pitched out of your mouth, including his name and the mumbling of the nonexistent phrases out of your book. Your cunt throbbing and releasing even more juices than before, makes Heeseung curse under his own breath as your clenching cunt brings him to release his seeds inside of you. “I’m so proud of you, angel. We should do this more often though.” Hee chuckled as you agreed with him. You whined as he pulled out of you, feeling empty and surely telling him about the feeling of emptiness. He smirked at the common sight of his babies dropping out of you. Picking you up and walking to the bathroom now him fully undressing both of you. You and him stepping into the shower feeling the warm water falling down on your skin as you both hug.

“I love you, my princess.” “I love you too, my prince”

[ladykailitha]

The Harrington Pattern Part 6

Yay! Another History Nerd Steve!! And I got a shit ton of awesome writing done yesterday so I was able to catch up to omegaverse. But it's looking like this one will finish first. As I think I have one or two more chapters to go on this one (as in past my backlog not past this chapter specifically).

In this chapter we get Eddie being a good dad, Mike getting introspective and Will getting some perspective of his own. And a little bit of Eddie keeping Mike humble for funsies.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Eddie gathered Mike and El up and took them outside of Will’s hearing.

“Hey,” he said gently, “I’m not mad at you, okay? But I have to explain something to you both.”

Mike and El looked at each other in confusion. “About what?” El asked.

“About offering to help Will buy the staff,” Eddie said. “It showed that you are kind and generous people who only want to help their friend, but Will does not see it that way.”

“He doesn’t?” El asked.

“When you grow up poor,” Eddie said fiercely, “it is drilled into you that any help at all is charity and should be avoided at all cost.”

Mike and El looked at each other again, their confusion even greater than before.

“But why?” El asked.

“Because supposed ‘well meaning’ people,” Eddie put air quotes around well meaning, “think that when you are poor you don’t deserve good things and gifts like that always come with strings attached.”

“So Will thinks that if we help buy the staff we’re going to ask him to do something that he might not want to do but will feel he has to because we bought him the staff?” El asked in one great big rush.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Eddie said. “Do I think you’d hold it against him? No. But...”

“But when it’s all you know it’s hard to see there is a problem,” Mike muttered looking at his shoes, remembering what had happened only hours before.

Eddie’s expression softened. “The very like.” He gave them a group hug. “Besides Steve’s got it covered.”

Mike and El stepped back, confusion back on their faces.

“What do you mean?”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “If the staff is still there on Saturday, Steve going to suddenly have ten extra dollars from Joyce that she gave him for Will’s meals that he didn’t end up spending because Will eats like a bird.”

El frowned. “But that would be a lie and friends don’t lie.”

Eddie shrugged. “Is it a lie or is it Steve stretching the truth a little to help a friend. After all your friends have lied for you. Lying to you to make you feel better is something that isn’t going to hurt anything in the long run.”

“I don’t understand,” El said, tilting her head.

“It’s like you could tell Mike he looks hideous in yellow,” Eddie pointed out. “But he wears it because it’s your favorite color. Him wearing yellow isn’t hurting anyone and it’s sweet he’s wearing it for you. So if he asked how the yellow hat looks on him you would say what? That it looks awful or that you love it because you understand the intentions behind it?”

El blinked. “You’re right. Thank you!”

Eddie smiled and began walking back to the table.

Mike started hurrying after him. “But I don’t look hideous in yellow, right? Right, Eddie?”

Eddie just kept walking with his smile turning into a feral grin.

****

Steve smiled at Eddie when he sat back down next to him. He bumped him with his shoulder. “If I’m the mom, you’re their dad.”

Eddie turned bright red and shoved his hair in front of his face. “Shut it.”

Steve bumped their shoulders together. “I think between the two of us we form one half-way decent parental figure.”

Eddie smiled that closed lipped dimpled smile that Steve loved so damn much and he couldn’t help but smile back.

Holy shit was this crush getting wildly out of hand. He just wanted kiss those dimples so, so much.

Across from them Mike raised an eyebrow. He looked between the two older boys and after a moment he made the connection. He thought about it for a moment and decided it wasn’t any of his business as long Steve didn’t take over their DnD time.

And considering how well Steve respected that time as friends with Eddie, he really didn’t think dating would change all that much. Just the level of PDA they would show would change.

Mike continued to watch them to see if they were a couple and hiding it or if they hadn’t gotten there yet.

His consensus? Hell if he knew, to be honest.

But better Eddie than Nancy at this point was all he was going to say on the matter.

They finally were all done with their food and they all split off again. He watched Steve and Eddie go off together and shook his head.

Will tilted his head. “What’s up?”

Mike knew what Will was. Had done for ages now. He just smiled at his best friend. “I haven’t held much stock in there being one person for you in all the world, but you know sometimes you see two people together and just think ‘yeah, I couldn’t see them with anyone else,’ you know?”

Will looked in the direction Steve and Eddie were walking away and nodded. “Yeah, I think I do.”

****

While there wasn’t much to do the kids still came home that night filled with tales of wonder and amazement.

But later that night Will came and knocked on Jonathan’s door.

Jonathan pulled off his headphones and motioned him in.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked as Will hesitantly stepped into the room.

Will sat gingerly on the bed. “How well do you know Steve?”

Jonathan sighed. “Probably not as well as I should. He was around in the outside of my circle and then we’d only really see each other when the world was ending. Why? What’s up?”

Will twisted his fingers nervously. “What would you say the possibility was of him liking guys?

That brought up Jonathan short. Sure there was a chance that Will was just projecting his hopes for Mike onto the older boy, but this was Will and his little brother was far too perceptive for his own good.

So he gave it some real thought. All the times he saw Steve in high school and around town. All the times they interacted to help save the world. And he was starting get a picture.

Jonathan shrugged. “I suppose it’s possible. It’s hard to tell admiring glances from signs of attraction.”

Will cocked his head to the side. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Would you say Max or Robin were pretty?” Jonathan asked scooting over on the bed to sit next to Will.

Will shrugged back. “I mean, I guess. My friends are attracted to them so they must be.”

“Right,” Jonathan agreed. “Is Mike good looking?”

Will snorted. “Not really, maybe when he’s gotten past the awkward giraffe stage. Steve though...” He ducked his head and blushed.

Jonathan laughed. “Fair enough. I’m not attracted to guys and even I know that Steve is hot.”

“So attraction is more than looks?” Will asked. “Like you can find someone of the opposite that you’re attracted to good looking, but you wouldn’t want to date them or have sex with them?”

Jonathan nodded. “So while it’s possible Steve could be attracted to guys, I really couldn’t be the judge of that. Why do you ask?”

“I think even Mike picked up on Steve and Eddie’s flirting today,” Will muttered.

Jonathan’s eyebrows really did shoot up on that one. If Mike picked up that Steve was flirting with Eddie...

But then again... actually.

“That makes more sense then you realize,” he told Will slowly.

Will straightened up. “What do you mean?” He was really getting tired of asking that phrase at the moment.

“Who would know more about what Steve’s flirting looks like from the outside,” Jonathan said, “then someone who witnessed it with his own sister.”

“Oh. Nancy. Yeah, you’re right that does make sense.” Will blinked away his confusion.

Jonathan smiled. “So did you get the answer you were looking for?”

Will thought for a moment. “I think so. I mean Robin and Eddie have come out to us, but Steve hasn’t.” He paused for a moment. “Though, I think that Steve may have hinted it to me earlier. I told him that I thought Eddie might like him back, but I don’t know if that was enough, you know? For him to come out, I mean.”

“It could be that Steve hasn’t figured it out fully himself,” Jonathan said with a huff of laughter. “Like he might know he has feelings for Eddie, but not what those feelings mean.”

Will nodded. “Thanks, Jonathan. I’ll let you get back to your music.”

“Oh shit!” Jonathan scrambled to stop the tape. He sighed when he realized it was near the end of it. He hit rewind and looked back at Will shaking his head fondly.

“I think you need to lay off the weed, dude,” Will said, getting to his feet.

“Never!” Jonathan shouted after him, but Will had already slammed the door behind him.

****

Mike was lying on his bed looking up at the ceiling. Unlike what he knew was happening in friends houses’, the near constant talking about how awesome their day was, Mike had made an excuse that he was just tired, that he did have fun and couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

In the dark comfort of his own room, he knew they weren’t lies. Not really. He was all three of those things, but he also had a lot on his mind.

Racism and homophobia. He remembered all the awful things he had thrown at Will. All the things he said to Lucas.

He knew his parents were conservative. Whatever the hell that really meant. But they weren’t bad people. His mom had never tried to tell him not to be friends with Lucas or that gay people were evil.

But all the little things were starting to add up. Gay men deserved to die because the disease didn’t affect anyone else and they just weren’t the effort.

But he thought about Will and Eddie. And yeah, maybe Steve, too. Did they really deserve to die just because of how they had sex? That didn’t sit well with Mike. It made his stomach turn uneasily.

Dustin had been right about the Vulcans, they were of different colors, too. So why couldn’t elves? Why were the Drow evil? Was that racism, too? Plus did it even matter?

Almost all the campaigns Mike had been in were what the game makers called home-brew.

Yes, they used the game as the framework, but then colored outside of the lines all the time.

After all, Vecna was just a lore character where only the dude’s hand and eye were left out in the world. But Eddie had taken that lore and turned it into an amazing story.

He got ready for bed and laid back down. He stared up at his ceiling again. He had been a bad friend for years. Ever since El came into their lives, she was his only focus. It was a god damn miracle that they hadn’t thrown him off before now.

There must be something that they still liked. He would just have to figure out what it was and lean into that.

And with that, Mike drifted off to sleep as tried to figure out ways to keep his friends.

****

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @customization @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss @croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv @dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Annotations | Spencer Reid

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Just fluff! & a mention of child trafficking, but hey, what's different in the CM universe?

Author's note: I'm finally writing a season 1 Spencer fic! Wanted to add a bit of Elle in this one 'cause I do miss her! I actually also just love this one... I think it might just be my favorite Spencer Reid fic I've ever written.

Words: 3K

After a well-deserved day off, the BAU team was back at the FBI headquarters, ready to tackle another case. Spencer had enjoyed his Sunday at home, just reading and playing chess all day long, but he was happy to be back at work, too. 

He was the first one in the office and decided to head into the breakroom for a nice cup of coffee. As he stirred in his mountain of sugar, he turned and took a seat at the table. The breakroom table was almost completely empty, save from the single book that was on it. Intrigued by the lonely item, Spencer reached for it. ‘Looking for Alaska’ it read on the black cover just above the cartoon of a daisy. 

It was a book he hadn’t read yet but after quickly reading the back, he was quite interested to read the whole book. Seeing as Spencer had a little bit of time, which was probably enough for him to finish the entire book, he started reading it whilst enjoying his morning coffee. 

As he went through the book, Spencer noticed the annotations in the margins and the highlighted quotes. Something he’d found even more interesting than the book in itself. There was so much you could learn from a person by just reading their margin notes and even their handwriting. 

From the handwriting alone, Spencer could tell a lot about the owner of this book. The letters were of average size with a lot of space between them. They even slightly slanted to the right. They were well-adjusted and adaptable, they enjoyed their freedom and didn't like to be overwhelmed or crowded. 

Whoever this person was, judging from their notes in this book, they were the smartest and most interesting person ever in his opinion. 

“Everyone who wades through time eventually gets dragged out to sea by the undertow.” 

They had underlined the quote and wrote “Everybody dies – Death is inevitable” in pink. Spencer fought the urge to write his own thoughts right next to it. This was someone else’s book, not his. He couldn’t ruin this person’s book with his scrawny handwriting. 

Besides, his coworkers started to file in and JJ told everyone to gather in the briefing room. He left the book on the table and joined his coworkers on the case instead. Though his mind was preoccupied with the details of the case, it kept going back to the notes in the book. 

He didn’t even know who this person was and still, he couldn’t keep them out of his mind. It even got to the point that he got weirdly excited when the book was still there when he returned from the case two days later. 

This time around, he decided to write his own thoughts in the margins. They had used a pink pen, which allowed him to use his usual black one that made his notes stand out from theirs. It felt weird writing in someone else’s book, but he felt somewhat of a connection to this person reading through her annotations.

They had gotten halfway through the book, Spencer noticed. The annotations stopped when the ‘AFTER’-part started. Which was where Spencer decided to stop, too. He could read the entire book before their morning briefing, but he didn’t want to spoil the person reading this. 

Besides, he secretly hoped the book was there again tomorrow with more notes for him to read. 

Luckily for Spencer, the next day he got in, the book was still there. Or, upon further inspection, he found that the book was there again. The person had continued reading and continued annotating. When he went back to the notes he wrote down, he noticed more pink words. 

“What’s your Great Perhaps?” 

With a soft smile, Spencer grabbed a notepad with the FBI logo imprinted on it before scribbling down the answer to her question. There wasn’t enough space in the margins for all his ramblings, so this was his best option. 

Once he was done, he stuffed the A6 page between the book in the right spot before continuing to the next part where new notes in pink lettering had appeared. They had underlined and highlighted a couple of quotes, written down some thoughts. 

Spencer actually found her notes more interesting than the book itself. 

For days, Spencer spoke to the book’s owner through their notes. At first, it was ‘Looking For Alaska’ for a couple of days. Even though they had already finished the book, they kept communicating through their notes. The next Monday, they had left him ‘Little Women’ by Louisa May Alcot. As they kept going back and forth, they kept changing the book they left. From old classics to poetry books to new releases, the two of them had their very own book club, even if he didn’t even know who this person was. 

“What are you doing?” Elle asked when she entered the breakroom where she found Spencer hunched over yet another book. 

It had been ten weeks since Spencer had first given his thoughts on Looking For Alaska and now he was reading ‘Something Wicked This Way Comes’. Or, in Spencer’s case, he was re-reading it. It had been Spencer’s favorite book since forever and it made him wonder if she knew that. 

“Oh, I’m–” he let out a chuckle. “I-I guess I’m kinda book clubbing with someone I have never seen before.” He looked up to find Elle staring down at him with an amused smile on her face and an eyebrow quirked. Spencer chuckled before turning back to his book. “Yeah, I know how it sounds. But she’s been leaving me books in the breakroom and we’ve been leaving each other notes in the margins.” 

“She?” Elle questioned, stirring her milk into her coffee. 

A smile befell Spencer’s lips as he tried to hide the obvious red tinge that tinted his cheeks. “Yeah, I learned that her name is y/n a couple of days ago. She’s been writing to me in the margins in a pink pen.” 

“Romantic,” Elle wiggled her brows, which didn’t help Spencer’s furious blushing at all. “Have you seen her around? I mean, she must work here, right?” 

“I haven’t dared to look her up yet.” His coworker shot him an inquisitive look. “Yeah, I-I guess I’m kinda nervous? I mean– I got this pretty vivid image of her in my mind from her words on the paper and even her handwriting, I guess I’m scared she’s going to transcend my expectations.” 

A teasing smirk tugged at Elle’s lips. “You’ve got a crush,” she pointed out. 

“Who’s got a crush?” Morgan asked when he and Penelope walked into the breakroom, sending an even deeper red to Spencer’s cheeks. 

“No one,” he mumbled before grabbing his book and coffee, and heading back into the bullpen. 

The worst thing was that Elle was right. He did have a crush on someone he didn’t even know. He knew her thoughts on every single book that ever existed and he could tell a lot of things from her handwriting and her notes. 

No matter who she was or what she looked like, she was already the most beautiful girl in the world to Spencer. 

And that scared him. 

Especially when he started noticing the books she was leaving him. At first it was ‘The Other Einstein’ then ‘Crime and Punishment’ and lastly, she left him ‘The Color Purple’. When she left him that last book, he knew she knew who he was. She wasn’t scared to look him up and find him. 

By week eleven, she started leaving him notes on his desk, too. It surprised Spencer that she hadn’t pushed him to meet. It had come up once, but Spencer got too scared and dodged her question. He thought she would just stop talking to him because he didn’t want to meet, but when the next book came the day after, he knew she respected his decision. 

“I think us here to wonder, myself. To wonder. To ask. And that in wondering about the big things and asking about the big things, you learn about the little ones, almost by accident. But you never know nothing more about the big things than you start out with. The more I wonder, the more I love.” 

Upon reading the note, Spencer felt the tips of his ears heat up. He started to fall in love with the swoop of her ‘s’ and the way she dotted her ‘i’s and crossed her ‘t’s. 

He reread the note a couple of times, each time even better and more beautiful than the last. And each time, he noticed more and more how the pink ink was fading at the very end. 

That was when he decided to buy her a new pen. Two even. One with pink ink, the other with purple. He left them in the break room, slotted between his copy of ‘Love: Poems’ but not without underlining his favorite quote in the purple color. 

“Does the one who always waits suffer more than the one who has never waited for anyone?”

When Spencer found the book again a couple of days later in the exact same spot he had left it, he wondered if she had found it and read it at all. The disappointment slowly built inside his chest, bracing him for the worst. 

But when he opened the book, the pink pen had vanished and underneath the line he’d indicated with the purple pen was her answer. 

“So I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Til then my windows ache.”

The first five words were underlined twice as well as the last part of the line. She had even drawn little hearts in the margins. Spencer couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. He was probably crazy for thinking this girl felt the same way about him as he did about her. But seeing this, seeing the little hearts, he couldn’t think anything else. 

“You seem happy this morning,” Penelope said as she and Elle walked into the breakroom for their own coffees. 

Spencer quickly slammed the book shut and looked up at his coworkers. “Yeah, uh… I-I guess.” 

The two women in front of him exchanged glances. It was stupid of him to lie to one of the best profilers in the BAU and the woman who thrives on workplace gossip. He knew that, but he couldn’t just come out and tell them he was falling in love with someone he’d never met. 

“It’s her, isn’t it? Y/N?” Elle asked, her lips curling up on one side into a smirk. 

Penelope’s eyes shimmered at the promise of some new office drama while the two women walked closer towards Spencer to take a look at the book in front of him. Though he held his hand tightly on the item, Penelope and Elle somehow knew how to pry it off and open it, causing the purple pen to fall out and fall on the carpeted floor. 

Almost feverishly, Spencer picked it up and dusted off any dirt that had gotten on it. 

“She’s drawing hearts,” Elle pointed out. 

“Aww!” Penelope cooed. “She’s drawing hearts!” She clutched her chest as though her heart was going to pop out. 

Trying to ignore the heat that rose to his cheeks and that probably tinted his skin a bright red, Spencer grinned sheepishly. “What d’you think that means?” he asked, pushing his glasses further up his nose. 

“I think she’s into you as much as you are into her,” Penelope commented excitedly, which didn’t do much good for the blush residing on his cheeks. 

“You think so?” 

Elle scoffed. “Yeah! It’s very clear you guys are into one another. You should ask her out!” 

Before Spencer could say anything, Hotch poked his head inside the breakroom. “Who should ask who out?” he asked, having caught just the end of their conversation. 

“Spencer and y/n,” Elle replied without batting an eye, much to Spencer’s dismay. 

It was one thing some of his coworkers knew, but having his boss know about his little crush. This was even more embarrassing than when Morgan had tackled him in a park in Illinois when they were hunting down an L.D.S.K. and they had to duck before they would get shot. 

“Oh, y/n from the third unit?” Hotch asked, immediately capturing the youngest’s attention. He knew her? It surprised him a little that he didn’t know that. Neither did he know that she was in the crimes against children unit, though that part didn’t surprise him that much. “She’s coming in to help us with the case later today. We’ve got a child trafficking case.” 

Spencer completely froze up. He was actually going to meet her and it wasn’t even on his own terms. Of course, this was bound to happen, seeing that they worked in the same building. But he’d hoped he could ask her to meet him away from work. When he wanted to. 

“Seems like you’re gonna get your chance to ask her out, Romeo,” Elle joked as she smacked the book against his chest, holding it there for a moment until his hands got a hold of it, before passing by him.  

Penelope and Elle followed behind Hotch, leaving Spencer in the breakroom. He looked down at the book for a moment. He wasn’t going to have time to underline anything as a message to her, so instead, he drew a quick purple heart right next to the pink one she had drawn. At least then she’d know that he had seen it. 

During the briefing, Spencer couldn’t quite concentrate. His mind was a little too focused on the impending meeting. He was incredibly curious to know what she looked like and sounded like and if her perfume did smell of violets the same way her books sometimes did. 

“We’ve got the agents of the third unit consulting on this case with us,” Hotch explained to them and the mention of the unit y/n worked at captured Spencer’s attention. “Let’s meet at the SUV’s in ten minutes.” 

Hotch concluded the briefing and exited the room, having the others follow behind him. While everyone either went for a quick bathroom stop before leaving or gathered their stuff from their desk, Spencer made a beeline for the breakroom where he was hoping to meet her. 

As predicted, there was a girl hunched over the book he had left with a pink pen in her hand, scribbling some of her well-thought notes on the pages, sprinkling a portion of her in his belongings. She clutched her pen, her thumb sticking out ever so slightly. It looked almost childlike, but it was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen.

“You hold your pen funnily,” he pointed out, capturing the girl’s attention straight away. 

Though at first, her brows were furrowed at the weird comment, her features quickly softening as her eyes landed on him. “Hi,” she greeted, her face breaking out into a big, toothy grin. 

Spencer’s world started spinning. The girl he had been talking to had to be the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Her smile, her bright, shimmering eyes, the freckles that were scattered across her nose and cheeks like a constellation… Everything was even more beautiful than he’d imagined. She was even more beautiful than he’d imagined. 

He was proven right. She did exceed his expectations in every way possible. 

“It always shocked me when I realized that I wasn’t the only person in the world who thought and felt such strange and awful things.” The quote rolled off his lips a little too easily. But it was the first thing that popped into his head once he realized he hadn’t said anything and he was just staring at her. 

Y/N’s head tilted slightly, almost in confusion. Then, she stood up and slowly approached Spencer. “At some point, you just pull off the Band-Aid and it hurts, but then it’s over and you’re relieved.” 

There was a double entendre to her words. On one hand, she was merely quoting the first book they’d read together, but on the other, she was telling Spencer that them finally meeting was like pulling off a Band-Aid. 

Though in this case, it didn’t hurt. 

Spencer let out an airy laugh as he looked down at her. She was actually right here. In front of him. He could touch her, if he wanted to. He could smell the hint of the violet perfume she used. He could look into her eyes and actually witness how soulful they were. 

“I-I’m sorry it took so long for us to– I didn’t mean a-anything. It’s just–”

She placed a hand on his arm to stop him from stuttering and rambling, and chuckled. “It’s fine, Spencer. I get it. We were sucked up in our own world, communicating through these books… It was hard to break that bubble.” 

“Yeah,” Spencer all but whispered. He then grabbed the hand of hers that was still on his arm and squeezed it. “But now we can–we can talk about books in real life?” The statement came out in a question, uncertainty dripping from his tone. “I-I know this really nice bookstore in the city. I-I’d love to take you there sometime.” 

Her face lit up at his words. “Are you asking me on a date, Dr. Reid?” she asked. 

An awkward chuckle rolled off his lips as he scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, not wanting to let go of her hand just yet. “Yes? I-I mean, if you wanna go. You don’t have to feel like you have to say yes.” 

Y/N squeezed his hand right back. “I would love to, Spencer.” 

And just like that, their fairytale that started in the margins of her books, sprang to life. 

Underlined quotes came out into longing gazes and sweet touches.

Annotations became sweet nothings whispered under the dim light of the bookstore. 

The perfect romance you’d only read about in books. 

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty @littlemissaddict @n0wornever @wanniiieeee @unnowhatthisistbh

Criminal Minds Taglist: 

@boimlers-gonna-boim @samsbirks @tinaasthings @dysphoricsanity @love4lando @elenamoncada-ibarra @r-3dlips @magstheslayer 

[onyx-syn]

"All Eyes on Me"- LA! Husband! Buggy x Chubby! Wife! Female Reader

Warnings: Little to no plot, Some Fluff, Smut, Sub! And Dom! Elements, Flirting, Bondage/Restraints, Praises/ Some Degradation, Pre cum used as lube, Unprotected Sex (no pulling out), Body Worship, Pet Names and Foreplay

*Don't steal my writings and claim it as your own*

*18+ Only*

Summary: After many nights alone without your husband by your side due to his busy schedule, you finally get time alone to explore eachother once more.

A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE! I've had this idea for a while, I'll come back here and make some changes but for now let's just enjoy this piece ✨ (heh, get it, piece, like a piece of Buggy's body part, heh)

“You know, last time I was just my head in a bag was when-"

You turned your husband's decapitated head to look at you in the palm of your hands. Your fingertips gracing his painted cheeks, caressing them softly as you held him, "Shhh! Shush! Just - l-let me do my thing bugs", Not like he could see you. You covered his eyes with a thin black cloth which surprisingly did well at hiding your figure from his sight.

However, that didn’t stop the onslaught of lewd words from his red stained lips, smugly smirking as he did "Wow, getting feisty I see!” He started. “I’ve always liked that side of you doll~ What are we doing tonight hm? Am I gonna have to- eat you out like a feline? Maybe with some popcorn in there heh. Hold you down with my hands only? Or-"

“Bugs!” You cried out, puffing your chubby cheeks out ready to smack that dumb look of his face you adored so much.

You couldn’t really see it, but you watched his eyebrows raise a bit over the black blindfold, presuming he was rolling his eyes at you from behind them.

You cradled Buggy's head in one arm now, pushing his cheek against the fabric of your outfit clenching to your chest. You raised your free hand and flicked his head, which brought the clown a stinging pain, erupting a noise out of him.

"Okay! No need to show your claws missy" he exclaimed, pouting a little wishing he had his hands right now to do the same comeback to you.

You smirked down at him, giggling at your husband's reaction. "Well that's what you get~".

You have suggested the idea of switching things up tonight earlier in the day, wanting to do something 'special for buggy', quoted in your own words. You two haven't had the time to spend nearly as much together as you used to. With all the meetings he's been going to, talking with Alvida and such.

It didn't help that whenever he came back from those meetings, he would either be too busy sleeping or scheming his next show to spend alone time with you. Ultimately it did hurt you, but you understood where he was coming from.

So, on the day that he finally had off -no meetings, no show runnings, no rehearsals, no nothing- you told him that you two were going to spend time together tonight no matter what.

At first he was a little annoyed, joking and groaning to get your attention. You knew he wanted to spend time with you just as much as you wanted to. The nights he would come back to your quarters from the meetings, he would be exhausted from it all. He was more or less annoyed, as he felt like they weren't getting anywhere and wanted to call the big actions during the meetings too.

He would nuzzle up to your tummy once he returned to your bed together. Mewling into your stomach, his makeup smearing on it. He would grope your sides, pulling and jiggling them. It was like a stress toy for him, and he enjoyed it very much, amongst other things.

You pull yourself out of thoughts once you hear your husbands, still in your arms, complaining and questioning.

"Hey! Heyyy baby!~ You awake over there? Curtains are still calling" He manically giggled as he spoke, the way he would crack himself up with his own puns. "Where are we heading anyways? Where the hell did you take my body too? It feels like... Erm. Something I'm sitting on-"

You shook your head as your husband spoke, trying to talk and come up with conclusions on where you put the rest of his body at. As much as he would blabber on with this and that, it was endearing and sweet to hear him speak.

“We’re here, Mr. Dinkleberry” You say aloud playfully, walking up to your bedroom quarters that you both share and opening up the door with Buggy still in your one arm, who looked visibly confused even behind the blindfold.

“D-dinklebe- What the hell does that even mean?!? Are you making fun of my name now huh? Wow, after everything we’ve been through doll-”

“Oh my god Bugs!” You pinch his cheek, a bit of his makeup smudged on your fingers now. Buggy made a smile that resembled pain, but you knew he was only joking. You sat his head down on a little blanket with radiant sunflower tapestry on it on the dresser that faced your bed. Luckily, the tides weren’t bad outside of the ship, the waters were calm which would make it easy for tonight's activities.

Buggy, to say the least, was a little bit curious of what was about to happen. You and Buggy have always been adventurous in bed to say the least, so he was more excited than anything else.

Your husband was going to speak before he felt his breath hitch in his throat, feeling your hand rub his neck slowly, putting pressure lightly before you moved downwards. The tips of your fingers grazing the skin of his bare chest lightly, sending a shocking wave of euphoria up his spine.

Buggy gritted his teeth, wanting to tear this blindfold off of him to see what you were doing. A small sweat tear gliding down the side of his head. You held back a giggle, walking over to pull the blindfold off your husband. Once the blindfold was off, Buggy fluttered to keep his eyes open, getting used to the bright light now being in his line of sight.

When Buggy got back to his senses, which was pretty quick to say the least, he was greeted by the most wonderful and gracious thing he's ever seen. Your chubby body, in a beautiful sheer lingerie, clutching to your sweet rolls. The lingerie stopped at mid hip, making your flesh spill underneath making it look squishy and pudgy. Your breasts cupped perfectly in the lingerie’s cup holders, making a slight jiggle as you moved ever so slightly. Because of the sheer fabric, Buggy could see your nipples perked through the fabric, a bump against it. Buggy gulped, feeling as if his breath left him and went above the great clouds in the sky.

With the sheer fabric of the lewd clothing Buggy could see with his eyes your beautiful stretch marks. Buggy would compare the tidal waves out at sea to your stretch marks, how wavy they were and how they decorated your skin like the engravings of eroding wood of a ship from the waves. Buggy could feel himself lose it, his river color eyes looking up at you, almost in a puppy like form. Your hands were behind your back as you looked down at him, swaying your shoulders back and forth.

A smirk was plastered on your face as you looked down at your husband, leaning down so you could grasp his chin in your hands. You watch as his eyes glance from your eyes, down to your hanging chest -taking note of the stretch marks on them that he oh so wanted to kiss- and then back up to you.

You decide to break the sensual tension and speak up, "You like what you see?~" you question playfully.

Buggy responded with a toothy smile plastered on his face, making his red stained lip stick perch up almost all the way to the top of his cheeks.

"Very much, my baby~"

You giggle lightly, letting go of his chin and start walking over to the bed. Buggy disrespectfully looking at your ass, watching you sway your chubby hips as you walked over to the bed. He wanted to do so many sinful things to your body it was unbelievable, grip harshly onto your love handles and feel your weight bounce off of him.

You walked over to the bed, lifting your hand as you slide up and down his chest once, slowly getting on top of the bed, putting your exposed cunt onto the crotch of his pants. You bit your bottom lip as you felt his clothed bulge collide with your pussy. Rolling your hips to gain friction, a small bubbly feeling created in the pit of your stomach, it felt good and erotic. His chest was bare, his skin glistening in the light illuminating from the lantern next to your bed. The only thing that covered him was just his pants, the part he desperately wanted off so he could rail your beautiful self.

You moved your body just a smidge downwards, jiggling a bit as your hands caressed the sides of his thighs, watching him tremble underneath your touch.

"y-you!" Buggy exclaimed, biting the inside of his cheek. Buggy had many sensitive spots that he liked to be touched at by the grasp of your hands, even through the clothing. His thighs were part of the case.

Of course he could just attach his head back but... oh fuck he wanted to be a good boy for you. After all these stressful meetings he wanted to be pleased and pleasured, just feel the righteousness of your love and attention, even if it meant he wasn't allowed to touch you just yet. He wanted to get the greenlit from you before he could enact all the sinful things he had in mind to do to you.

His breath hitched as he felt his cock be released from the comforts of his pants, the thick air he was feeling in the room hit his sensitive muscle. He bucked his hips in the air, your eyes glaring at the flesh of meat flop in the air as he did so. You couldn't help but let out a little playful giggle at the sight, truly finding enjoyment out of it all.

Buggy had enough, he used his hands -attached to his body- to try and grab you, only to make a noise of discomfort once he realized they were restrained by rope on each end of the bed frame. Buggy, although very pouty and ready to throw a tantrum that he couldn't touch you, was smirking with devilish delight.

"We're bringing in ropes now huh?~ very naughty from a performer to do my doll~"

He admitted, his body squirming underneath your chubby figure trying to break out of the ropes. The ends of your lips curled up, watching your husband desperately trying to get out and fuck the ever loving shit out of you.

"Does my baby boy want his wife to let him go?~" you ask, your voice oozing with sensual tense.

Buggy rolled his eyes, still struggling to get out of the ropes, "What does it look like dumbass, of course I do! Fuck you until your brains are pouring out" He said, not having an ounce of embarrassment as he watched in glee as you looked away from his staring, a flustered smile appearing across your face just now.

"I wanna do a lot of backstage stunts with ya baby~" He giggled.

You looked back at Buggy once you gained composure over yourself. You moved yourself back against the bed, laying halfway on your back but kept yourself raised on your elbows. The flesh on your hips and thighs expanding once your bottom half laid down, how squishable and pudgy it looked. Buggy loved your hips, how much he could grab and mark with just his hands alone.

You settled yourself between your husband's legs, spreading your big thighs apart to reveal your exposed cunt to your husband's head still perched on the dresser. Buggy's eyes were swirling in a lake of lust, seeing your fat pussy on full display to him.

The way your flesh was rolled up in the sheer fabric as you laid down, how it clenched like its life depended on it to your skin. You can hear the bed frame shake vigorously, like his hands were about to break the entire bed. You hiss as the air in the room touches your cunt, your clit twitching from the sudden contact.

"fuck~" You whisper under your breath, surprisingly buggy didn't hear, too focused on trying to get out of the restraints cursing at how tight it was. You knew he could easily get out of it, but you knew that he wasn’t a complete master at his trade. Regardless you loved him and even more so loved to tease him.

Your hand trails down from your breast down your belly, moving over the rolls that were prominent in your lingerie. You stopped your hand just at the top of your pussy, touching the squishy flesh lightly making Buggy go wild at how close you were to your entrance. You can see the desperation in his eyes, you knew he wanted to touch you -grasp- at your skin, mark all over your rolls and handles. Make you remember who you belong to.

You were in love with this dynamic now, smiling at your poor husband’s reactions as you slide a finger down your folds, mewling at how wet you already were. You slide another finger down, thrusting your hips up just a smidge that wasn’t noticeable. Your chest feels heavy all of the sudden, rising up and down a little slower now, your breathing becoming hefty.

You add two fingers into your pussy, gasping at your own intrusion. Moaning abruptly into the thick air. The heat of the room rushing to your chubby cheeks, you bite the inside of your cheek as you start to go further into your pussy with your fingers, reaching your knuckles. You continued to do this process over and over for a few moments until you found a nice rhythm, adding speed and pressure to your cunt fucking.

Buggy’s eyes were entranced at the scene in front of him, seeing you all flustered from your own actions. He was jealous that you could feel your own satisfaction while he had to sit back and watch. His hands tighten into fists, frustrated that he wasn’t gripping you by the hips and railing you into oblivion. His hips thrusted into the air, imagining you riding him, how he wanted to feel your tight walls around his hardened cock. Pre cum leaked from the slit of his red hot tip down to the base of his cock, gliding down the vein that started from the top and ended mid way.

"Shit" Buggy said aloud, seeing the slick of his wetness drip from the tip of his cock.

His mind started to sprout dirty thoughts seamlessly out of thin air making the poor head shut his eyes close. He imagined your mouth wrapped around his tip, swirling your tongue around, putting pressure onto his veins and underside of his cock, sucking the cum out of him. A soft whine erupted out of his throat, his cheeks burning hot which brought his makeup to grease now. His whine, however, did not go unnoticed by you.

You smugly pride yourself with a smirk on your face, throwing yourself off by your own pleasure of your fingers. You spoke, “Aw~ looks like someone is enjoying the show? Is my baby boy enjoying the show?~” You ask him, your voice in a low seductive voice ending it in an annoyed moan. Your fingers brought you great bliss but didn’t go far enough.

Buggy pouted his bottom lip, opening his eyes and looking away from your gaze, making an occasional glance back over to your position. To say he was upset would be an understatement. “This is unfair” He replied to you, sounding petty.

You didn’t respond, only shaking your head before you stop, reaching a spot in your fat cunt that boiled a pit of hotness in your stomach. You sped the speed of your fingers, trying to go deeper to hit your g-spot with little to no luck.

The speed of your fingers now started to make your flesh jiggle, triggering Buggy’s head to stare fully right at you, the struggling of his tied hands stopped, memorized at how much your body jiggled just from a single movement or touch. You let off a cry, desperately trying to reach that sweet spot of release but nothing.

A wicked smile started to form on your husband's face, a maniacal chuckle rumbling out of his mouth. “Does my baby need help over there now, hm~?” He questioned you, knowing what your answer will be, or should be.

Your breathing became heavier, arching your back as you deepin your fingers, putting on a real 'good' show for your husband's delight. To Buggy, it felt like you were edging him at this point, finding it a real big shame in his case that he wasn't gonna be the one to make you cum.

But you had a little scheme up your sleeve. You slowly pull out your fingers with ease, showing off how much you've stretched yourself with just your chubby fingers alone. You hummed in delight at the feeling, noticing how slick and glistening your fingers looked in the light.

Your thighs were quivering at the sensation, just the pleasure you brought upon yourself extreme your acceleration. You slowly but surely moved back on your knees, struggling to keep yourself stabilized as you crawled back onto your husband, straddling yourself on his thighs. You brought your hands and caressed them through his trousers.

You watched as he trembled again, hearing him let out a noise of enjoyment. You moved his trousers more downwards, showing off his bare naked skin to you. You felt heat rise up from your neck to your cheek seeing your husband so bare. It's been so long since you've been this close to each other, even the sight of his sweating head brought much euphoria to you then it has in so long.

You leaned down, pressing your precious lips onto his sweaty skin, tasting the saltiness of him. Buggy was so quick to reattach his head back to his body that you didn't even realize it until his body jerked under your lips, forcing you to lean back and almost have your neck attacked by Buggy's greedy red stained lips.

Your eyes lock onto your husband's, how desperate and lenient on kissing you, ravishing your body as if you were a prized steak for him to eat up like a lion.

"Baby, baby baby baby~" Buggy whimpered out for you, pulling at the restraints once more, wanting -no- needing to get out of them and fast.

You tsk at the man below you, he was at your will and command. You felt buggy hum in a sensual tone deeply under his breath as he felt your added weight switch back onto his hips, watching you straddle your thick hips onto his. Your dripping wet core was hovering over his cock, in one drop you would be in direct contact with his cock entering you.

Buggy could not get over the fact he could not touch you. He tried to thrust his hips upwards, colliding the tip of his cock with your folds as you tried to move away from the moving mound of flesh. He moaned at the contact, feeling how wet you were which sent a shivering cold sensation up his spine.

He let out a breathy sentence, "P-please i- hmmmm" he begged, throwing his sweaty greasy head back against the bed frame, sweat gliding down his body.

"I... I want you- fuck" He was embarrassed of speaking. His lust coated eyes staring into the ceiling before glaring back at you, licking his lips slowly as your rolls jiggled at the slightest movement once more. 

You smiled deviously at your husband’s pathetic excuse of begging. You trailed your hands back down to his body, feeling how sweaty his flesh was against your skin. You caressed him, moving your thumbs in circles around on his torso and side. 

Your lips started moving, “Does my husband want to be a good boy for his woman?~” You asked gleefully, your hips moving downward little by little. You bit your bottom lip once you felt the slit of his leaking cock touch the entrance of your fat cunt. 

Buggy nodded profusely, giving in to his predicament of his constricted hands. “Yes yes yes please i- Shit! I’m supposed to be on top fucking your brains out! Not like… Erm… This…” He admitted defeat. He loved the dynamic but hated it so much at the sametime. 

You chuckled, leaning forward and pressing your lips on his cheek, pressing many kisses on his face. You can feel his makeup melt from the intense heat of his cheeks, how much he was blushing and flustered from the ordeal you put him in. You moved along down his cheek, reaching the edge of his lips. You pulled back just enough for the tip of your nose to touch his. 

You began to speak, your hot breath sending goosebumps throughout Buggy’s body, his watercolor eyes staring right back into your colored orbs. 

“You want me?~”

Buggy gave you a toothy grin, giggling lightly, stopping abruptly once he felt his tip enter your core just slightly. He tried to thrust his hips up until you stopped him, pulling yourself off from intrusion. Your hands traveled up to his shoulder, moving your hand in the way to wag your finger in the side of his vision.

“Nuh uh, uh~” You told him, smirking devilishly at the poor man who was desperately wanting you badly now. You can see the desperation in his eyes, lust and hunger swirling in them like a pool of lava. 

He whimpered as you kissed him for a quick second, pulling away before he could slip his tongue deep into your throat. He wanted to feel you, feel your touch in more then just his exposed areas, he wanted to love you so deeply that his cum explodes in your and paints your walls.

"please! Just, fucking, fuck my cock goddamnit! I wanna feel you baby~" He proclaimed. "Feel your ice cream around my cone~" he giggled at his, otherwise, stupid joke.

However, you liked his response enough to give him what he so ever wanted. "As you wish, my husband~" you whispered against his lips.

Your lips locked onto his once more, as you pushed your chubby frame down onto his cock, moaning aloud in his mouth, feeling a burning hot creation being made at your regions. You felt his redden tip spread your wet folds apart. His pre cum acting as lube for his entrance way to your fat pussy. You hissed in the kiss, feeling tears amerge from the edges of your eyes as you felt his cock being swallowed by your walls as you continued to lower yourself back onto his hips.

Buggy was no better. His breathing fastened, his chest rising up and down heavily. His tongue swirled around in your mouth, dancing with your tongue as he took in the sensation of your cunt. Your walls were so warm and wet, coating him in your slick and bliss. He was sweating intensely, the euphoria of sex bringing heat throughout his body. He felt his knuckles burn from the fist formation of hands, trying hard not to break the bed frame from the restraints. His hips squirmed, pushing up a little out of instincts. He groaned as he hit the back of your wall, breaking the kiss.

You pulled up from the kiss panting, pressing your hands down on his chest as you sat on your knees. You cried out a moan, setting yourself on his hips now, your big thighs straddled on each side of him. You sprouted out curses underneath your breath, your cunt taking his cock fully. Your cunt walls stretch at the size and girth of his length, been a while since you've felt him this close to you and in you so it was quite an experience to re-experience once more.

You pulled your hands into fists, trying to get used to his size and length. You could feel his cock twitch inside you, sending a surge of pleasure throughout your pussy and up your spine.

"oh fuck buggy~" You whimpered out, trying to change your breath as you wiggled around, not noticing how your husbands eyes were entranced by the way your hips shake with each wiggle.

"Goddamn baby" He said aloud, thrusting his hips just a little bit. Just enough so he could feel the tip of his harden flesh touch your gushy walls.

"I wanna fuck you so bad, please please please... please just... fucking, FUCK ME!" He couldn't hold it in anymore, he wanted you, needed you, every part of your squishy flesh out on him. All your weight, all your gloriousness, put up on him so he can completely wreck you.

You nodded quickly, your face sweating from the intense heat brought upon your chubby cheeks. You shook your hips, trying to get comfy in the position as well as getting used to being on your knees with the slightly constricting lingerie.

"Yes darling, fuck I-i~" you huffed, holding yourself together, keeping your breathing steady.

You raised your hips up slowly, Buggy's river eyes staring at your folds lifting and spreading, showing his wet cock off glistening from the light as you lifted yourself up before coming back down on him.

Buggy jerked his head back, mumbling out a moan from his chest as he felt you clench around his entire length with your slippery cunt. He looked back quickly, watching you go up and down slowly, painfully slow for that matter. His ocean orbs staring in a trance at the way your rolls recoiled from you riding him. Oh, how gracious your skin looked beneath the sheer lingerie as it jiggled. Your stretch marks stretching as your flesh moves up and down on his cock.

He could see the ends of the lingerie that stopped mid hip losing its placement, moving up further slightly, showing off the dark imprint it left from its tightness around your squishy skin. The chest of your lingerie that cupped your breasts perfectly was also starting to let loose, the top of your breasts slipping out of the holding, almost as if they were gonna completely let loose and flash your husbands eyes.

Low huffy moans erupted from your parted lips, riding him up and down. You looked so beautiful on top of him, the way you had control of how you wanted to ride him, swallowing his cock hole in your wet core. You could feel a similar heat swirl in the pit of your stomach, a sensational lustful feeling that you've experienced before.

Buggy was so hard, it was starting to hurt with how much he just wanted to slam your hips and fuck you. He couldn't believe that you would do this to him, what did he do to deserve this punishment of not being allowed to fuck the most priceless treasure amongst the 4 seas that he claimed as his.

He was gonna fuck you so hard once he got out of the restraints.

And then, it finally happened.

You watched -your eyes clouded with sinful aura- as a light bulb clicked on Buggy's head, seeing him detach his right arm entirely, floating over to untie the restraints of his left arm and repeated the process with his right arm.

You could almost watch in horror as Buggy's torso and top half leaned up, wrapping his around your thick waist and pulling you in closer. You gasped at the sudden new position, feeling yourself lose the control of keeping yourself at your own pace and be in your man's arms. Your breasts pressed harshly against his sweaty chest, the tears of which stained through the sheer fabric of your lingerie. His cock still deeply inside of you, twitching aggressively as Buggy now had the power of switching up roles between the both of you.

You looked at Buggy with wide eyes, your hands raised up to grasp at his shoulders, taking note of how close and how tightly he held onto you.

Buggy on the other hand, was in a greed of delightfulness, sinfully smiling at you as his eyes narrowed at you, tightening his grip around your waist.

"My how the tables have turned, sweet cheeks~" He exclaimed, chuckling darkly. He lifted you up by the waist, seeing you whine at the empty feeling of your cunt, upset that he pulled himself out of you.

You let out a noise of surprise, feeling your entire body switch positions so quickly you could not process it fully until your back hit the warmth and comfort of the bed sheets, how soft they were to your skin. Your body recoiled as you hit back against the bed, sending Buggy into a crazy rage. He quickly went in between your legs, wrapping the thick mounds of flesh around his waist, letting out a hum in glee at how you could easily crush him with your thighs. God how he- no, not now, later maybe he could find out- but now was not the time. He needed to fuck you.

He looked down at you, seeing your beautiful self spread out across the sheets. Your chubby face burning from the intensity and movements, your breathing just a tad bit heavy from early activities.

Buggy loved it, adored it, adored you, loved you.

"God your so beautiful~" He mummers underneath his breath, pushing his length back into your pussy admittedly.

His eyes memorized with the way your lips parted, letting out a cry as you felt your cunt get plummeted with the hardened piece of flesh, taking it in whole. The way your flesh recoiled from the harsh thrust he gave you, his blue curls gracing the top of your pussy.

Buggy huffed out a low chuckle, his body surging with adrenaline or sinful delight.

"So perfect, so perfect for your captain, your husband, your director~" He slowly pulled himself out of your pussy, watching as the base was still coated in the slickness of your fat pussy and walls clenched around him, before immediately slamming back into you. Your body recoiled from that greatly, a little shred of fabric appearing from the lingerie, showing off a stretch mark that claimed your skin.

A sheer cry leaves your throat, gasping for air as you feel your insides turn into a gushy mess from the harsh impaling of your cunt, his tip touching the edges of your walls feeling you up. His hands grasped at your thighs, huffing out low breaths as he composed himself. Sweat dripped down his sides, his gloved hands wet through the fabric.

"Holy shit~" He mumbled, his mind becoming foggy. He started to thrust his hips in and out of you, his eyes focused on the way your rolls bounced off his cock, seeing you recoil and jiggle.

It was incredibly erotic.

His grip around your thighs became tighter, surely leaving a bruise behind for the morning. "So g-good, you feel so good baby fuck~" He praised you.

His right hand trailed down from your thick thigh to your stomach, gripping onto the moving flesh through the tearing lingerie. He sped up his pace, wet ludicrous sounds emitting from the slapping of skin that could be heard across the quarters near your room.

"Look at how beautiful you are, hmph, my wife~" He groaned out loud to you, smiling deviously as he began to pinch and pull at your roll, his hand ripping through the fabric which caused a bit of a hole to appear.

"So soft, so soft, so soft. God I've missed this, I've m-missed you my sweetcheeks~" he told you in a genuine tone, smiling still as he did so.

He was trapped into a deep entrance by the way your skin felt underneath his covered hands, completely overtaken by this sensational effect. How good your body felt underneath his touch, his grasp. How beautiful your moans sounded, sounding like music to his ears.

His eyes watched the expression of your face commence, seeing you become his drooling brain fucked wife spread across his bed just from his cock alone. His hips were deeply thrusting into your core, his tinted red tip hitting the back of your cervix which sent a thrilling shriek to abrupt from your wet lips, face burning hot.

"Fuck right there bugs! Right there!" You yelled, leaning forward to wrap your arms around Buggy's neck, bringing him down so you could hold onto him. He could feel your chubby flesh roll against his torso now. Buggy was in total bliss from how close you too were now, enjoying every second of it.

Buggy let you take him down, leaning down so his nose was right next to your ear. His hot breath sending a next heating shock through your body, already feeling overstimulating from the pleasure.

"That's it, that's it baby, that's my girl~" he whispered in your ear. His thrusts became unstoppable, going at a pace beyond this known existence.

He can hear your moans scream throughout the room, hoping the crew could hear how much you loved your husband and how much he was making you feel good. His harden flesh hitting the back of your fat pussy with every single rough thrust he gave into you.

You drooled out, "I'm. So. Close!~" you could feel the pit of your stomach curl tighter, ready to explode at any given moment.

Buggy took your words into effect. He leaned back up to his knees, his hands gripping your legs and pushing them forward -moving his grasp around your big thighs- your legs now beside the sides of your head. He loved the way it made your chubby rolls looked like a row of dough ready to be turned into deserts for the oven. He absolutely adored it to the ends of the four seas.

The new position gave him the advantage to continuously ram into you, hearing the sweet gushy sounds your slick pussy made from his cock. Your walls greeted him nicely, taking him in whole with no drawbacks, accepting his full size and length. Your rolls recoiling ever so slightly, however your thighs trembled underneath his touch. He knew you were getting close to coming.

He grinned, "You wanna cum baby?~"

You nodded, trying to find the right words to say but couldn't be able to pronounce them aloud to him.

Buggy licked his lips, tasting the old cherry flavored lipstick he applied way early in the day. "Do it~" his grip tightened, pushing his hips into you roughly, bringing a loud moan out of from your chest.

"Cum for me, cum for your husband. I want to hear you sing my name for the show. Every. Single. Show!~"

With one final push, his cock ticked your g-spot, sending you into feel euphoric shot. Your nails dig into his back, leaving deep red marks for later as your walls clenched down around his cock, warm liquid spurting out of you. You reached a point of total bliss, moaning still as buggy continued to slowly fuck into you before a deep rumbling moan left his chest, his hips stuttering a bit before his liquid spewed into your cunt.

His cum coated your insides, white of his product. Both of your eyes were clouded with a lustful aura, your room stenched with the smell of sex and sweat. Your thighs quivered as both yours and Buggy's cum leaked out of your puffy walls once he pulled his cock out of you slowly -almost cumming at the new feeling of fresh air from your insides- your inner thighs and folds burning intensely from the harsh thrusts.

Buggy could see how out of you were, and granted so was he. You both haven't been this 'passionate' together in so long, both of you couldn't help going this far with each other. It was most needed.

Many people wouldn't expect it, and dear god if anyone besides you found out, but he was certainly an affectionate man in bed surprisingly when it came down to the final moments like this, wanting nothing more then to craddle you in his arms and love you. He could be the most disrespectful man between your chunky thighs and then give you all the kisses in the world for you.

He rolled you both over in the bed, pulling your sweaty body onto his. Your poor lingerie was torn at this point, the fabric just barely hanging on as all your mounds of flesh spilled out and collided with his.

You breathed heavily, trying to compose yourself and find a steady point as your thighs shook with a great deal. Buggy wrapped his arms around your, keeping you close to him. He nuzzles his face into your chest, smothering his face in the valley of your breasts.

He kissed the skin in-between your mounds. The kisses weren't light, making sure his makeup smeared on your skin, but he made sure they were hard or rough, knowing how over stimulated your body was from his electric touch.

For Buggy, this, this was his heaven, this was his treasure, this was his favorite show. He had a deep love and appreciation for you that he hasn't felt for so long, and for a while he was worried that you wouldn't feel the same way for him anymore when he became busy with meetings.

You shakily hold your husband's cheeks in your hands, your thumbs rubbing his greasy skin as you moved his head from your breasts and made him look up at you.

You lean just enough to press your lips onto his, turning your head just a smidge so his nose could have a comfortable spot resting against the side of your nose or cheek. You both closed your eyes into the kiss, letting your lips do all the talking.

You moved in synchronization, letting your tongues intertwine with each other in a waltz like dance.

It didn't last long, however. You pulled away, a thin layer of salvia connecting your wet lips from his. Your lips went up and kissed his forehead, whispering softly, "I love you, my Bugs~"

Buggy's hold tightens around you, his hands gripping your walls as they spill over his finger tips. He has only ever heard those words leave the mouths of three people who are or once were important to him in his life.

His mother

Shanks

And you

Buggy always loves the spotlight being on him, no matter what, wanting the attention with every chance he gotten. He wanted all eyes on him, to see him shine, to have the chance to put on a spectacular performance, hence why the meetings he would go to would help him get the spotlight he wanted.

But he knew, the only eyes he needed was yours. His beloved. His wife. Your eyes and attention, was the only one he craved for each and every day no matter how he presented himself as a dangerous and cruel pirate to those who imposed a threat to him and his crew.

Buggy looked up at you as you pulled back, locking onto your colored orbs. He couldn't help but smile gleefully as he stared at the beautiful woman laying beside him, genuinely happy to spend time with you once more.

"I... I love you, sweetcheaks. My wife~"

[writingroom21]

Hi hello! I love your writing and I thought I would send a request idea I had if you’re willing.

Could you do a Rafe x reader where they recently started dating and went to high school together but the reader has always been a big nerd but she “got hot” after leaving high school, however she still hangs out with the same group of “nerds” as high school which consists of a few guys and Rafe just doesn’t like the types of people you hang out with because “he doesn’t think they’re good enough for her” and she’s constantly reminding him thats not fair or true since she is still one of the and has been since they were kids. Rafe’s insecure because his friends say that if he doesn’t chill out on his jealousy she’ll probably dump him for one of her friends if she realises how much of an asshole he really is. -Maybe they resolve it with a Lord of the rings movie night with her friends🩵🪼

Nerd

Warnings: none

Wc: 2.1K

A/N: Hey! Thank you so much! I hope you like this and never be afraid to send requests

Once again here he is sitting off to the side not knowing what the hell you are talking about. You and your friends are going on and on about some fantasy book series he hasn’t even heard of. This seems to be a constant since the two of you got together a few months back. You would mention or quote something he knows nothing about. Normally he wouldn’t care because no girl lasts long but you were different.

Sometimes he still feels bad for the person he was when you were both in highschool. He can remember hearing your name but for the life of him he couldn’t remember actually seeing you anywhere. Which would make sense since you ran in two different social groups. Rafe was the typical rich cool kid that thought he was better than everyone else. You well you were the nerd in the front of the class that knew every answer.

Back then he wouldn’t have even thought twice about you. To be honest he probably walked past you in the halls and never noticed you. But one day a few months back he was out with Topper and saw you. He thought you were hot and wanted to get your number. 

“Yo know who that is?” Topper looks at where Rafe is pointing to and sees you. “Yeah that's the girl from your homeroom. Remember the one that wore the stupid Harry Potter shirt.” Rafe tries to think hard but he doesn’t recall the memory. “Nah don’t remember her.” Topper laughs and claps a hand over his shoulder. “That was because she hung out with the nerdy kids and you were too popular to care.”

He honestly doesn’t even know why you gave him a chance. It seemed like the two of you were completely different people yet here you were. You smiled at him and every girl was just done for him. All of his thoughts were consumed about you. What you were doing that day. What your favorite color was. Even if your family would like him.

Getting your number and not blowing the first date was his best achievement to date. But that all seemed futile when he couldn’t keep you entertained like your friends. It started out small, you saying random quotes when you would hang out. He would always go “Huh?” then you would try to explain what you were saying. Only to say “It’s okay that you don’t get it. It’s not your thing.” Which only made him feel even worse.

It’s not like he hated your hobbies or what you were interested in. If he had one wish it would be used to make himself less moronic. That’s what it really came down to for him. He felt dumb.

You would tell him about the books you were reading or the shows and he would get a thing. Sure some of them were fantasy so he knows that it isn’t real but it didn’t make him feel any less dumb. He could hear how you and your friends talk when you are on the phone and they get it. They understand all of your jokes, quotes and references. For heaven's sake you even seem to laugh more with them than you do him.

It got to the point where everyone in his life was ganging up on him for his feelings. It feels like he can’t even voice his concerns without someone calling him out.

“All they talk about is that dumb show. I tried to watch it once with them and they kept asking me questions about it. “Oh Rafe, what did you think about Donna being their daughter?”, “Can you believe that David Tennet is back for a short time. It’s so cool,” I swear they are doing it to make me look dumb.”

Topper and Kelce share a look with each other. This isn’t the first time Rafe has brought up this topic with them. It usually consists of them just nodding along to what he says, not wanting to get too involved. “It honestly sounds like they are trying to include you.” Kelce says.

Rafe shoots him a look from across the table. “Man you don’t get it. It’s the way they say it, like they know I don’t understand and want me to trip up.” Kelce shifts in his seat. “Maybe they are actually trying to be nice. But you know they are nervous about having a new person in the group so the tone comes off weird. I don’t know man.” Rafe is trying to see how that could be the case but the piece won’t fit. “No, they are just not good enough for her. They can’t accept the fact she changed and is with me. It’s just some ploy to get her to leave me.”

“Well if you keep talking like that then maybe she will leave you. These are her friends she’s had for years. They just are trying to include you because you’re her boyfriend.” Topper stares back at Rafe, daring him to say something. “You don’t get it.” Rafe tries to start back up again but Topper isn’t having it.

“No Rafe you don’t get it. This is who she is, sure she’s gotten better looking. But deep down all that stuff is what she’s interested in. Those are her friends for a reason, that’s because they love her and relate to her. How long do you think you can continue being jealous of that before she realizes she’s better off?”

Rafe doesn’t say anything sitting there as Topper keeps going. “You’re lucky she hasn’t heard you say any of this. Could you imagine how hurt she would be if she knew how you were talking about her friends? I may not know her that well but I sure as hell know that it would make her sad. Plus what you don’t like them for is a part of her. She could take that as you not liking who she really is and wanting to change her.”

Kelce just nods along, agreeing with all of the points made. “He’s right dude. You need to control yourself or you won’t have a girlfriend anymore.” 

That conversation has been playing in his mind for the past two weeks. Everytime he talked or saw you he would look at how you behaved. He knew you liked it but it never fully clicked that you really like it. You like reading fantasy books over anything else. You like talking about movies like Star Wars. Like dressing up as characters with your friends for some convention.

All of the evidence was right in front of him and he never fully noticed. It made him feel even more shitty because how couldn’t he know all of this? He was your boyfriend but was too wrapped up in his version of you to see the real you. But now that he is really looking he can see the real you and it’s better than he thought. You were even funnier when he got past the feeling of being dumb.

You even smile a bit bigger when you fully pay attention and comment on things. It’s not like he didn’t pay attention to you, just that his mind was often clouded with the thoughts of him not being good enough. He doesn’t get how he could be so wrapped up in himself and not focus on you. He’s been trying hard to fix all of that but sitting here not knowing what you are talking about isn’t helping. 

All of your friends are commenting on different characters and plot lines. Rafe couldn’t even keep up if he wanted to. A hand resting on his thigh snaps him out of his thoughts. He looks down to see your manicured nails and the ring he got you. Enveloping your hand in his, he brings it to his lips to give it a kiss.

You lean closer to him, whispering in his ear. “Are you okay?” He smiles and wraps an arm around your shoulders. Making you scoot closer to rest against his side. “I am now.” You look up and give him a weird look, wanting to ask him what he meant.

“Hey lovebirds, what are you talking about?” One of your friends, he thinks her name is Sam, asks. “Nothing, just how hot he is.” You and your friends all giggle like school girls. “Actually I was asking what you are all talking about.” He took everyone by surprise, even himself. Usually when you have Rafe around your friends he’s super awkward, not really saying anything. This is the first time he actually tried to participate in a conversation.

“Oh it’s this book series I started called His Dark Materials. Technically I’m reading to my niece but it’s a good book so far.” Rafe nods. “What is it about?” He can’t see it but you have the biggest smile on your face proud of him for trying with your friends. Sam goes on to tell Rafe all about the book so far. Telling him that he should give it a read.

“Oh I don’t really read and never got into fantasy stuff like that.” The room went silent, all eyes on him. At first he thought he said something wrong, offended them somehow. It wasn’t until Becky shrieked that he realized that wasn’t the issue. “Does that mean you’ve never read Lord of the Rings?” The guilty look on his face was enough of an answer for them.

They all groan and you have to hide in his neck so they can’t see you laughing. It wasn’t like they didn’t know he didn’t find their interests well interesting. They all knew that but somehow had some false hope that he was a secret nerd like them. Like hello he is literally dating you, the biggest nerd out of all of them. “Dude how can you be dating someone who hasn’t read the book? Tell me you’ve seen the movies.” 

His leg starts bouncing afraid that once he leaves they will tell you to dumb him. “Um no, never watched them.” Their groans get more desperate with his answer. You sit back properly and try to contain your giggles. “Come on guys, not everyone is going to like them.” His hand squeezes your shoulder, soothing you.

“It’s okay. Never had anyone to really show them to me. Maybe all of you can tell me what I’m missing out on.” That peace offering opened up a whole can of worms. You and your friends spent hours telling him all about the series. Even after you both had left it was all you could talk about. Then a couple of days later he was added into a group chat with all of your friends.

Sam: Welcome to our Chamber of Secrets

Sam: That was a Harry Potter reference btw

Rafe: I actually understood that one

Becks: See he’s already learning

You: Guys don’t bombarded him with messages. You all said you’d be on your best behavior.

Sage: Dude this is like big. We are letting him in the group. Feel special we don’t do this for anyone.

Rafe: I definitely feel special. Thank you

Claire: We want you to join campaign

Rafe: Campaign?

Claire: Yeah you know DnD. Dungeons and Dragons

Rafe: Oh that’s really nice of you but I’ve never played

You: She’s joking. We want to watch Lord of The Rings this weekend. That way you can see what we were talking about. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.

Rafe: Phew I was scared for a second. I’m down

That brings him to Saturday, sitting on a tiny loveseat with you curled up on his side. The first movie was almost done and he doesn’t find himself hating it. He likes hearing all of the commentary you all share. Giving him inside tips about the movie he wouldn’t have picked up on. Telling him parts from the books he wouldn’t wouldn’t have known about. 

“Thank you.” It’s barely a whisper. You were trying to keep your voice down to not disrupt everyone else watching. Rafe looks down at you, smiling before pecking your lips. “For what?” You pull the blanket to cover the both of you better, snuggling him. “Doing this for me. I know this isn’t how you like to spend your weekends. So thank you for sacrificing something for me.”

“It’s not a sacrifice. You deserve to have someone who tries things you like. I want to be that person.” You give his thigh squeeze. “You’ll always be my person.”