#I would put a READ MORE thing on this but when I do it screws up the text??

[grif-hawaiian-rolls]

Anyways the “essay” about the energy sword to character development pipeline below the cut

Ok so like yea tucker-crunchbite-junior is, obviously, the first instance of the sword-quest-companion theme/trio that im like, rattling in my head rn

Tucker finds the sword, crunchbite shows up and theres the “quest” that challenges tucker both in the false intent (you need to be the hero) and the true intent (SA leading to Junior which is not handled well but it IS important) which is a push against tucker’s character thus far in that he’s the comic relief, make everything a sex joke archetype— he doesnt take it seriously, he doesnt see himself as important beyond getting just enough recognition to be “hot” and now he’s made to be the so called “hero” and the true plot puts him in the one position that he probably never thought could be him. Bc he wants to get laid so… yeah. Pushes his character if you give it like three seconds of critical thinking and not just the standard “haha alien baby bullshit” (that said, i do enjoy fics that explore crunchbite more and play with the potential of the “joke” shitty character into someone less sinister, but im doin my best to stick to canon rn)

And JUNIOR, oh man, because theres the thing that really solidifies this for me like

The dude who doesnt care doesnt bother is all jokes and ‘man whatever’ energy is a dad, and it starts with him trying to avoid it but he really fucking quickly steps the FUCK up for Junior and its the start of his development that people are like “oh he learns to be a leader on chorus” which i mean kinda yeah but he never struck me as a Leader even on Chorus even tho he does decidedly lead, its not the same as when kimball leads or when wash leads or carolina

He’s leads as a dad bc he is a dad

Not always a good one, but he’s trying and yea sometimes that means being the asshole, sometimes that means screwing up but it also means you fucking care and you take responsibility and you put yourself in danger first (the rescue mission, leaving the lieutenants behind)

And that doesnt start on chorus! Its the most evident there sure but

it starts with junior

It starts with him going after tex to protect his son, it starts with him trying to be a diplomat so they stay together, in sending junior away so he is safe while tucker buys time protecting the temple, it STARTS with him looking at church and going “leave my kid out of this” and yeah the way rvb was written and approached does Not take that seriously bc it wouldnt and if it did it would be a very different show but the implications are there and its acknowledged with tucker’s photograph of junior with his 5th grade basketball team (“i know right? Who carries actual pictures anymore” -tucker) which i could go on about THAT too but suffice to say its very clear that tucker cares so gd much about his kid and yeah his character development isnt super linear but you can basically pinpoint when it starts with the sword and junior

The second run of this trio of things is actually grif which is admittedly, a stretch, a big ol reaching for straws (okay, TECHNICALLY grif is the third run, but i’ll address that in a minute) largely a stretch bc grif… does the pattern backwards

This IS S16 stuff so if ur a shisno paradox hater i respect that, i however am gnawing on it with everything i have and will be going feral so this is your warning thank u for reading the tucker side of it mwah appreciate ya

Anyways

Grif does his plot backwards during timetravel shenanigans

He gets the alien companion/friend who contrasts his character first in Huggins

Grif is a loyal friend, but he is lazy, even after s15’s breakdown and apparent change of tune, he’s still looking to take the path of least resistance, avoiding the call, trying to keep things from moving

Enter Huggins: zippy, full of energy, excitable and just so different in that she is not only so proactive she puts herself in danger (which helps everyone in the long run/plot but its the principle) but shes so fucking lonely

As far as she knows, her family is dead, except for muggins who is so dettached from her, he might as well be a coworker and not her brother

Compared to grif, who has a family even when he tries to push them away (the reds, the blues, KAIKAINA) but hates taking action

Huggins is the start for grif’s arc of “it sucks but someones gotta do it” which in their case is best shown as the trudge across the bottom of the english channel which is so fucking funny to me but it really pushes both of them and puts them firmly in the friends category

Huggins cant zip ahead without grif, grif cant stop moving because huggins wont let him, so they find their little balance of gas vs brakes and together they cruise along p well

The actual push of the “quest” is grif having to be the one who steps up (kinda like tucker but its to the left) he’s the one who starts getting everyone together again across the timeline, even if he is very,,,

Well he’s very Grif about it, but it is still fundamentally, the change in character

Tucker isn’t a always good dad, Grif isn’t always a good instigator of action

But theyre trying and theyre working on it and grif’s arc suffers a Little from being so late in the show and thus not having much of a parallel to pull on but you could argue he gets the parallel from s15 anyways with the refusal of the call (from fake church/loco) and rescue mission but i hesitate to call that a parallel bc its literally back to back but an argument could be made for it which i love

Enter part two: the alien quest giver

“Wait wasnt that huggins”

NOPE huggins was alien companion! The Bestie in grif’s case,

The alien fetch quest comes from atlas, in that stupid wishing sequence but cmon it wouldnt be rvb if the character development wasnt sandwiched inbetween obnoxious gags and stupidity

The quest is less important here admittedly bc again, with grif doing this in reverse its not the challenge to his principle character that it was for tucker, his connection to huggins was the challenge, and this becomes the final push into the development, the “you have a role, now play it” that gives grif the final shove into Doing Things literal!! And his prize? For this character development arc? An alien sword

And thus the inverse version reaches an end, sort of (im pissed that technically he loses his sword, im also ignoring that he loses it in canon bc he fucking earned it okay this is a bit of canon i will ignore and loophole my way around it)

And now we track back to Chorus and to the second iteration of the sword-quest-companion plot

Locus

Now okay i will admit this is conjecture and pepe-silvia-on-corkboard-with-red-string fuckery at this point but hear me out okay!

He gets the sword with Felix’s death. We know this. What we dont know is how the fucking hell he gets off Chorus! We just see him show up later with A’rynasea. The vaguely alien (maybe sentient?? AI? Its implied with the way he addresses her but we literally have her for like two episodes) ship that seems to be the driving force (literal) (bc shes his ship) behind his chosen redemption arc where he pushes himself to help others at no apparent benefit to himself, but because it is, and i quote “the right thing to do”

Arguably, Santa could be Locus’ quest giver, seeing as how he is the one who triggers the whole shift in view for Locus in the first place and that is, technically, what crunchbite does and what atlas finalizes for grif! But the problem is we simply dont have enough of A’rynasea to draw the parallel between her and Locus as personalities, as companions for it to work for me??? But that might just be me overthinking? But it does make Locus’ version is a bit messier depending on who you consider his quest-giver but as far as I’m concerned, he’s still on his quest snd its just up to interpretation if A’rynasea is his companion?? or if theres a secret third alien for Locus that we never wouldve seen even if they planned for that bc its red vs blue and im just delusional about locus and his role in plot and this is just me firing concepts blindly into the sky at this point like - yeah i could still theorize what kind of companion characterization i think locus would work well with bc its more about the wielder than the companion in this sense (sorry junior and huggins i love yall i promise) but thats a completely separate rant at this point and not nearly coherent enough at this exact moment to add it PLUS its ridiculously self indulgent and only marginally canon compliant/adjacent but i will never not be amused by this very specific plot beat happening enough to draw these parallels, as tenuous and vague as the parallels are

[crazychaoticizzy]

Just the Tip

CONTENT: 18+, MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, morning sex, dom/sub/switch reader and character depending on which one you’re reading, my knowledge on some of these characters is limited since i’m new to the fandom so they may be mischaracterized, the most basic concept but it’s something ✨

WORD COUNT: 573

MASTERLIST

“C’mon, baby… Just the tip, I swear.”

You both knew he was lying. He didn’t do just the tip. You knew that, and yet you still obliged him in the early morning.

“Just for a bit. I have a meeting today,” you mumble. You bury your face further into your pillow as he climbs on top of you. Now that you’d said it, you realized how much you didn’t want to go to that business meeting.

“I know, baby. I swear this time it’ll really be just the tip.”

You hum as he pushes your panties aside. His fingers briefly glide against your folds before he replaces them with his cock.

For a moment, he abides by his promise and only puts in the tip. He ruts into you and moans in your ear before pushing more of himself in. You’re too tired to notice entirely, although you can feel it. You don’t comment on it, though, even knowing that you should. You excuse it by convincing yourself just a little bit of indulgence wouldn’t hurt anyone.

It isn’t long until his hips meet yours. Your mouth falls open in a surprises moan when he pulls out almost completely and shoved himself back inside. Your eyes shoot open, and you look up at him with a questioning gaze.

“Oops.” The stupid smirk on his face tells you this is definitely not and oops situation, but you can’t find it in yourself to argue. Especially not after he begins a fast pace.

It looks like that meeting will have to wait. What a shame…

Jean Kirstein, Eren Yeager, Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Toji Fushiguro, Ryoumen Sukuna, Roy Mustang, Portgas D. Ace

There was no sound prettier than the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, still groggy with sleep as he holds onto your hips for dear life.

Just the tip. That’s what he’d promised you. But Jesus Christ, the way your walls stretched and squeezed around just the tip made him delirious. You’d barely given him anything and his eyes were already rolled to the back of his head.

He whines and whimpers in your ear, pleading, begging for you to let him put more of himself inside.

“Baby… Baby, please… I know you’re busy today but I need-”

With the way he moans in your ear, his hands twisted in the sheets and leaving bruises on your hips, it would just be cruel to say no, wouldn’t it?

Armin Arlert, Reiner Braun, Choso Kamo, Sanji Vinsmoke

Sometimes you find yourself hating how coy he can be. How fucking clever he is infuriates you, especially when it’s early in the morning and the only thing you want is for him to not follow what you said.

You moaned his name, long and drawn out, as you tried moving your hips back to push more of him inside you.

But he keeps his hands on your hips, preventing you from moving any further. He tuts and shakes his head, barely moving the tip in and out.

“We can’t get too carried away. We both have things to do today,” he whispered, his voice still raspy and thick with sleep.

You groan, attempting to move your hips again. When he resists, you give up. “Please,” you beg.

He chuckles. You think for a moment that he’ll give in to your pleas and screw you until you’re a mess beneath him, but he only kisses your cheek and pulls away.

It leaves you feeling empty and upset, even with the promise of a proper fucking when the two of you return to work.

Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman, Kento Nanami

this has been in the drafts since at least February sorry about that guys hope y’all enjoyed 💜

[hellenhighwater]

Do you just do a ton of, like, scouring buy/sell groups, online marketplaces (ebay? craigslist? FB marketplace?), and online or in-person antique shops?

I'm in the process of buying a house and know I have, like, no furnishings for when/if I manage to pull that off. I really love the idea of reusing older furniture (both for sustainability reasons and because anything "new" in my budget would be, like, prefab stuff that's usually more on the minimalism-side aesthetic-wise), but outside of what's listed above, I'm not even sure to how to start! (Also totally fine if you prefer to keep how you find stuff secret, thanks for reading either way. :) )

Yeah it's like 90% just Facebook marketplace. I have luck at thrift stores for decor items but not furniture, and antique stores are mostly not in the budget. Just start trawling Facebook!

And let people know that you're moving and are looking for furniture. They might not have your style, but if it's free it'll give you something to use while you look for the right thing.

Edit: it's also worth investing in moving gear. Ratchet straps, work gloves, furniture sliders, dollies, scooters, moving blankets, a shoulder dolly, etc. If you're disassembling furniture, always bring a zip lock bag to put screws and stuff in so you don't lose them.

Oh yard sales! Also good. They just don't happen in the winter where I am.

[eddiesxangel]

If you ever felt like it, would you be cool writing reader and Eddie; their best friends and they both perv for each other but never show it and she was invited to DND and she needs to rush to the bathroom to literally rub one out and Eddie silently makes his way to see what you’re up to

Just Friends |Perv!EddieMunsonX Perv!bestie reader

AN: I made it modern just to make it more pervy! hope you enjoy :) ps. If you see any typos no you didn’t 🤫

WC: 3.2k

It’s been almost a year since you and Eddie became friends, you’ve been inseparable since. You and Eddie first met when you were sleeping over at Nancy’s and Eddie was over for a DND session. You had literally run into Eddie, you smacked your face into his chest as you rounded the corner, in your pyjamas no less. You gave an awkward giggle and introduced yourself. You didn’t really recognize him, your lunch periods weren’t the same and he wasn’t in any of your classes. But fate swooped in, and due to that fated night everything changed. 

Eddie was struck by you the second you crashed into his chest. He had seen you occasionally with Nancy in the halls but never could come up with a good excuse to approach you. He thought you were cute, like really fucking cute. So cute to the point that when you did actually touch him (by accident) he popped a boner the second your sparkling eyes looked into his for the first time. Lame, he knows. He couldn’t believe you had this visceral reaction over his body, but all he could think about was your lips, how they moved when you spoke his name and how you smiled at him. Eddie was absolutely screwed, and he had to do something about it he just didn’t know how. So when you finally approached him at Mike’s one day he seized his one opportunity. Turns out you were really fucking cool, on top of being really fucking cute. 

Eddie wanted to spend the most amount of time with you that he could. He was always asking to hang out one on one. His favourite would be when you would ask him over to your house. He loved being able to have access to all things you. The first time he was invited over he couldn’t believe his luck. In the midst of your hang out, you had to take a phone call in the hallway and you left him alone in your room. Eddie felt like a creep the first time but he had to know. He found your underwear drawer, it was filled with soft cotton and lace. His eyes almost popped out of his head when his hands found your red lacy thong. Pocketing it and slamming your drawer ship when he heard you giggle goodbye. 

The second time Eddie was left in your room you told him you were going to take a quick shower, leaving him to his own devices for a least ten minutes, he saw your book on your nightstand, it had a cutesy little cartoon cover, very girly, he was planning on mocking you when you got back in because who reads romance novels? He opened up to where your bookmark was, and his eyes bulged open when he saw what exactly it was you were reading

His strong hands gripped my bare hips as he pinned me down to the bed. His fingers travelled down to my soaked pussy, slowly and agonizingly circling my sensitive clit. I begged for more but he only laughed, "Only good girls get what they want" he whispered and I ground my hips up into him the best I could, but his hold was too much. "Please' I begged. "Please Sir I will do anything, I want your cock so bad, I promise I'll be a good girl." I cried. He was torturing me...

Eddie could not believe his eyes, he had no idea you were so dirty. His best friend had another side to her that he had yet to see, that he would literally sell his soul to see. Oh to hear you say those dirty words to him that he had just read. He popped a boner just thinking about it. He hadn't time to fix it so he grabbed your cow squishmallow to put on his lap when you re-entered the room in nothing but your pink bath towel. You were literally going to be the death of him. 

You loved when Eddie would come over, but you also loved being in Eddie’s space. Being consumed by all things Eddie, the decor, the smell, the comfort of being surrounded by him. Eddie let you into his home anytime and all the time, it didn’t matter if he wasn’t home yet, you knew where the spare key was, he texted you he would be home in 40 minutes so you let yourself in and hung out until he got back. 

You walked into Eddie’s room and the urge to snoop was growing. You didn’t know what you were looking for until you found it. Stashed under his mess of clothing was Eddie's laptop. Your hands couldn’t move fast enough to the search history. Luckily for you, he was dumb enough to be logged into everything automatically. You didn’t care that this was wrong, yet you wanted to know if he had been talking to anyone. You hadn’t seen him romantically attached to anyone in the almost year you’ve been just friends. You're sure he would tell you. However, the jealousy gremlin was nipping at your ear; telling you to keep going. 

After being unsuccessful at finding any dirt you continued through the search of his laptop and found a particularly interesting bookmark. You knew this was so wrong and he probably would never forgive you if he found out but you had to know what Eddie was into. 

You clicked on the link and a porn website opened. The video was of a woman solo touching herself, and using very racy language about what she would do to the watcher. It was much different than what you consumed when you were to indulge yourself, but it was starting to turn you on as you examined the naked woman spread out in front of you. Thinking about Eddie and what he would be doing while watching this…in this bed you were sitting on, naked, touching himself to her sexy words. You thought about how big he would be, how those delicious fingers would grip himself. You often found yourself dazing out while staring at his thick ring-clad fingers. Especially when he would practice guitar, and how quickly he could move them without missing a note. Your mind drifted and you found yourself lying down in Eddie’s bed. 

Trailing your hands down underneath the waistband of your jeans, you brought a worn t-shirt that was thrown on the bed up to your nose, it smelled so strongly of Eddie. Your fingers teased your clit edging yourself as you pretended they were your best friends. You thought of how it would be to have him on top of you, how it would feel to have his cock slip past your entrance. You hummed his name quietly over and over until the slam of the screen door made you jump and you snapped out of your bliss. You quickly exited the screen and slid the laptop under the pile of clothes that rested atop the bed before Eddie entered his room. 

A bright smile struck his face when he saw you there sitting in his bed. He was oblivious to what you had been doing seconds earlier. Eddie's mind spun with the scenarios he imagined the both of you in, preferably naked. He never divulged these fantasies, of course, he couldn’t have you finding out about what a perv he was for you, or else you would never let him near you again. 

Tonight Eddie invited you to watch in on Hellfire because you told him Nancy had a date and you had nothing to do this Friday night. You’d never attended before, you were always busy with Nancy. So when you showed up to game night you didn’t know what to expect. Eddie tried so many times to explain the game to you but you never really understood, there were too many rules and you’d always zone out as you watched his plump lips at work. Day dreaming of them on your lips, or on your neck, or on your pussy.

You walked up the the Wheeler household feeling a bit strange that you weren't here to see Nancy. You were let in by Mrs. Wheeler who was on her way out with Mr. Wheeler for a very rare date night.

"Hey guys" you greeted the group as you made your way down to the basement. 

“Hey, cutie" Eddie greeted back with the biggest smile on his face. 

It truly was a mystery to the others how the both of you weren't picking up one another's signals. You saw Mike roll his eyes after Eddie spoke but you took it like he didn't was his annoying sister's friend here to ruin their ritual. Little moments between you two were clear as day to any onlooker but to the both of you, you were oblivious. Too blind to see the signs because you’ve convinced yourselves that the other one would never share the same feelings. 

You had settled in sitting on the couch behind the DND table so you could give them space without crowding around. Eddie was directly facing you so you could see everything but still do your own thing.

As the night progressed you’d been so turned on by Eddie’s performance. The passion that filled him, the way he deepened his voice, the gaze in his eyes as he described the frightening scenes that played out for the club members. Everything that you lusted for from Eddie was heightened by 100 tonight. Eddie had such a hold over you that he didn't even know about. 

You crossed your legs trying to focus on the tiktoks you tried distracting yourself with however they were not helping because it had been a bunch of thirst traps and sexy excerpts from romance novels. Yes, you were on Booktok and no you were not ashamed of being an avid smut reader. 

Since the distractions were not working and the throbbing between your legs was becoming unbearable you needed to excuse yourself, and quickly. You barely mumbled that you needed the washroom before sprinting to the main floor to find some peace in the powder room. 

You shut the door so quickly you may have accidentally slammed it which altered Eddie's even more. He was worried about you. You'd been squirming on the couch looking very uncomfortable, and then you ran out of there like a bat out of hell. He knew he needed to see if you were okay, maybe you had gotten your period or something? 

Eddie walked up the steps and called out your name but there was no answer. As he rounded the corner he noticed the light coming from under the closed bathroom door. He walked closer and heard your muffled voice but couldn't make out the words. As he approached the door he almost knocked but froze halfway when he heard your voice loud and clear.

"Eddie please" you moaned. Eddie couldn't believe his ears because there was no way this was happening...until you did it again.

"Fuck me please, Eddie right there!" you gasped. Your clit had been throbbing the whole time you’d been downstairs you couldn’t help but relieve it. You were silently watching the secret video you had taken of Eddie while he was commanding the game. It has turned you on so much, and watching it back was even better. Eddie didn’t know what to do. But he had to think quickly because his time was limited. He hesitantly knocked on the door and cleared his throat before he spoke. “ uhhh are you alright right in there?” he stuttered out his words. The knock on the door scared you. You let out a small scream as you ripped your hands away from yourself and up to your chest feeling your heart pounding. How much had Eddie heard? How much does he know you don’t think you’re being that loud? Where are you? Oh shit, maybe you were? 

“Uhhh I’m-I’m fine Ed’s” you managed to stutter. Oh my god, you were mortified. The handle of the door giggled like Eddie was trying to come in. “Come on sweetheart open the door I really need to come in,” he continued on jiggling the door until you unlocked it. Eddie needed to seize this moment. He was never going to have another opportunity like this.

“Eddie I-” You didn’t finish your sentence because Eddie had cut you off with a kiss as he cupped your face while backing you into the opposite wall. “You’re such a little pervert. I know what you think about now when you want to touch yourself, do you think about me and what my fingers can do to you huh?” Eddie broke away from the kiss and started kissing down your neck. All of this was so sudden. You had no idea that this was going to happen when you had left the basement. “I’m not a pervert!” You defend yourself. “No baby? So if I took your hand and sniffed these fingers I wouldn’t smell your pussy all over them?” he cocked his brow. “And I didn’t hear you moan my name twice just now?” He hummed. You had never heard Eddie speak like this, not even in your wildest dreams did you think he had such a filthy mouth. “You want me, baby? I heard you and your dirty words through the door. Do you want Eddie to make you feel good? Can’t get off without me? That's it huh?” Eddie’s cockiness was only making you wetter. “Fuck Eddie I need you I have needed you for so long. Please touch me.” You gasped as his plump lips sucked the delicate skin of your neck.

“Could have just asked baby, I would give you the world” His hand grazed up your leg to the open zipper of your jeans until his calloused fingers found the waistband of your baby pink panties. Your breath hitched as he found his way into your pants, brushing over the short hair of your mound to your slick wet slit. “Oh oh oh baby,” he chuckled darkly “you’ve been hiding this from me? I don’t think you deserve me to touch you, you’ve been very naughty. Tell me, baby, you always get this wet for me? What other dirty things do you do when I’m not around?” Your mind was numb with pleasure as Eddie slowly made contact with your pussy lips. He was being so mean like he was punishing you, grazing everywhere but your clit. “Fuck. Eddie please” you beg girding your hips up into his fingers to get some relief.

“I don’t think so sweetheart” you’ve been a very bad girl. “Have I? You try to spit back. “I recall you stealing my favourite pair of panties. Don’t play innocent Munson. I found them in your room yesterday.” You chide.

Eddie kissed you to shut you up. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth as you moaned in pleasure. Your slippery slick coated Eddie’s fingers as they prodded their way up into your tight hole. “Oh, Eddie!” You sighed. “Fuck say my name again” he growled.

“Eddie!” You moaned throwing your head against the wall. His fingers were so thick. He really knows how to work his fingers. “That’s it scream my name” his cocky smirk hasn’t left his face. All disregarding everyone downstairs, you didn’t try and keep quiet. Eddie watched your chest heave as your breasts raised and fell. His free hand scaled up your shirt over your bra. His hands explored your breasts and he pulled down the cup to free you. His hands worked your nipple and your clit. The way his fingers felt exploring your body only made the feeling in your core build and build. Eddie dipped his head to take your perked nipple in his mouth. You arched your back into him and his warm tongue latched onto you. A soft “Eddie baby” slipped from your lips as you were washed away with the feeling of everything Eddie. You were getting so close so fast, you had already warmed yourself up and Eddie was here to take all of the credit. Not that you’re complaining but the coil in your core was being wound up so tightly you need for it to snap. “I'm so close! please don’t stop.” 

“Oh, so you are a good girl who knows her manners, go on then, on cum for me baby” 

Eddie kissed the sweet spot on your neck while playing with your nipple with one hand and your pussy with the other. Your senses were on overdrive and you were bumming from his words. Your body shook and your release dripped down Eddie’s fingers. A few seconds later after you come down from your high you realize that he was having all the fun and you haven’t touched him yet. You graze your hand down his stomach, to the button of his black jeans. You quickly moved your fingers to unbutton and unzip his pants. You slide down the bathroom wall and get on your knees in front of Eddie. He gathered your hair in his hands and you pulled out his cock. “You’re complaining about me hiding from you when you’ve been holding out on me this whole time?” You don't hesitate. You start making out with the base of his cock moving your way up to the tip. You coddle his balls in one hand and use the other to tease the tip of his red cock. “Fuck” Eddie sucks in a breath. You continue to worship his cock. How could you not? It was so pretty, long and thick, and slightly curved to the right. Hearing Eddie whimpering above you was music to your ears. You loved the feel of the weight of him on your tongue. You swirled your tongue on his tip taking in the taste of his precum before sliding down his length to the hilt. His pubs tickled your nose but you ignored that as you hummed onto his cock. You bobbed your head up and down. It was messy and it was loud. 

“Baby fuck fuck fuck if you keep going like that I’m-” Eddie couldn’t finish his sentence before he came down your throat. The hot thick liquid ran hot down your throat. “Shit I’m sorry I’m sorry” he panted as you continued to suck him dry. Humming in satisfaction. Eddie finally loosened the grip of your hair as you pulled back and opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue to show him you’d swallowed it all. Eddie’s eyes went wide, he hadn’t expected you to be so filthy, just for him. He pulled you back up by your hair to stick his tongue down your throat. A giggle left your mouth and he pulled away. 

“We are so doing that again” he breathed. 

A pounding on the bathroom door made you both jump. 

“We get it you guys are disgusting! Let's get back to the game please!” The sound of Lucas’s angry voice came from the other side of the door. You could practically hear his eye-roll. Eddie and you burst out laughing “Come on baby, the Dungeon Master needs to finish up and then I will be seeing you later for more” Eddie left you in the bathroom, flushed and more than satisfied. You couldn’t wait for him to finish that sexy little game. 

[rememberwren]

A Complete Set (Whatever That Means) || 2

A continuation of Skin Deep. Part one of this sequel is here.

About this: previous warnings apply, oral sex (f receiving), alcohol, gross imperfections, not a single nipple unfortunately, an eyebrow though. For @/moody-alcoholic, I hope this manages to quench even the tiniest portion of your thirst. 1 more part left. 7k

-

“Simon?” 

“Hm.” 

“Are you seeing anybody else?” 

Simon looks up at you. His hair is getting long, falling over his forehead and looking nearly brunet in the dim lighting. You don’t think he’s cut it since the two of you have started dating. 

He’s been drawing for half the night, hunched over with the sketchpad in his lap, doing terrible things to his own posture and blocking his own lighting all at once. When he answers you, it’s in that dry tone that lets you know he thinks you’ve said something funny or clever: “No.” 

A knot in your chest loosens. It’s hard to believe you worried over such a question for so long just to receive such a simple, earnest answer. He goes back to sketching. 

You content yourself with this and stretch your legs out until your toes touch his thigh at the other end of the sofa. His mouth twitches, but he keeps working. 

-

Six months pass, and how do you celebrate? You climb topless onto Simon’s lap, eager and anxious in equal measure. Your nipple piercing had stopped hurting months ago (save for the time you had snagged it on a cable knit sweater and nearly seen Jesus), but you had read online that piercings heal from the outside inward, and as such you had made every attempt possible to leave the thing alone even when all you wanted to do was play with it. 

In his own way of celebrating, Simon had bought you your first new barbell: a black one with black gemmed studs at each end. You couldn’t help but notice that it looked similar to his, only with a more delicate, feminine touch.

“Will you change it for me?” you ask him. Your hands are shaking.

“Alright. Let me wash my hands.” He shifts you off of his lap and disappears into the bathroom where you hear the faucet turn on. You cross your arms over your breasts, feeling silly being half naked without Simon in the room. Your foot bounces impatiently, but you know that if cleanliness were a love language, it would likely be Simon’s. 

Not that he had told you he loved you—nor had you told him. You had promised yourself that you would wait until he said it first (the only sure-fire way to avoid coming across as overeager and scaring him off). Still, there were a thousand ways in a day that Simon made you feel as if he loved you: the way he would go out to start your car in the wintery mornings when your remote start stopped working; the way he always offered you the first bite of his food if you weren’t sharing a meal; the way he’d crack open your drinks before handing them to you. Was it wrong of you to try to read between the lines? 

Simon comes back and tugs you onto his lap again. His hands look huge compared to the jewelry through your breast as he dexterously works the ball free from the barbell. He has the hands of a surgeon: steady and calm. You close your eyes in anticipation of pain, but there is none; it just feels alien, sensitive whenever his calloused fingers brush over your pebbled nipple, even as he removes the barbell itself. 

Taking the sanitized jewelry, he carefully puts it in and screws the stud in place. 

“That didn’t hurt at all,” you say, reaching down to tug softly on the barbell. Still, no pain. 

“Great,” he says, eyes on your breasts. He grips your hips. “Up, now. C’mon, up.” 

He tugs you up onto your knees so that you’re the perfect height for him to take your nipple into his burning mouth. You shiver, one hand gripping his shoulder and the other burying itself in his hair, gripping softly to keep his mouth in place. If you had worried that getting the piercing would make you less sensitive, you were wrong. He tugs on the jewelry gently with his fucking teeth and God, holy shit, fucking hell, definitely not less sensitive.

“Been waiting to do this,” he says, nuzzling the skin between your breasts as he gives you a moment to catch your breath. “Six months of hell.” 

“Yeah?” You pant lamely, chest heaving. 

He hums. His thumbs stroke beneath your breasts along the sternum tattoo he gave you—a favorite part of you for him to touch—as his lips find your nipple again, lashing softly with his tongue. His hands have begun to tremble where they slide down the curves of your sides and to your hips, touch soft and worshipful as he brings you down to rest your weight against the hard line of his cock still confined in his jeans. The shaking says more than a thousand of his words ever could. 

“I want you,” he mutters. “Say yes.” 

“Yes, God, yes.”

Simon guides you off of his lap, kneeling down into the space between the couch and the coffee table. He pushes the table backwards with a little more force than is necessary when there isn’t enough room for his long legs and accidentally sends a cup full of charcoal pencils tipping over onto the carpet. You snort with laughter. He peels your leggings and panties off and drags you to the edge of the couch, pressing your thighs open wide. 

Getting head from partners in the past had been a fraught, mostly unenjoyable experience. Even your first few times with Simon had been tense, with him quickly moving on to something else after noticing your inability to relax. A less eager man might have counted his blessings and moved on, but Simon’s gentle persistence had gone a long way toward reassuring you that he truly wanted to please you this way. It had gone a long way toward reassuring you that you could let him. 

He spreads you apart, thumbs slipping against your slick folds, heated gaze pinpointed on your most intimate parts before he leans in and licks a broad stripe over your entrance and up to your clit. You shut your eyes (and cover your face for good measure). His warm breath fans against your pussy as he laughs. He could be mean and pull your hands away, but he lets you hide this way and you are grateful for it. 

Simon takes his time mapping each part of you with his mouth, nose brushing your clit whenever he doesn’t have his lips sealed over it. Your thighs shake, toes curled, as he pulls whines and choked gasps from your throat. 

You peek through your fingers when you feel him shifting beneath you to find that he’s worked his cock from his jeans and is jerking off, only noticeable by the tell-tale rhythmic motion of his arm against your calf. 

“Jesus, Simon,” you whine. 

He makes a little sound of acknowledgement in the back of his throat, shifting on his knees to change the angle of his mouth against you. Something about him so unashamedly enjoying himself makes it easier for you to enjoy yourself too, to let your hands come away from your face and thread them through his hair. 

“Can we fuck?” you breathe, aching inside deep where his tongue can’t reach. 

He nods against you and kneels up to kiss you. You still aren’t used to the taste of yourself in his mouth, but it’s growing less foreign—and nothing could ever make you turn away from one of Simon’s kisses. 

He pulls you off the couch onto your knees, his legs spread to either side of your own. You arch your back, feeling his cock brush against the back of your thighs. Two of his thick fingers slip inside you, testing your give and your wetness. He twists them; turns to hook them against that soft, vulnerable spot inside you that makes your legs shake. Simon works a third finger into you, a stretch that your body struggled to take before but which it accepts eagerly now, the sting welcome and familiar.

“Fuck. I need a condom,” he rasps. 

“Just pull out,” you say. 

You can sense him rolling his eyes. Your fondness for the (dangerous) pull-out method had been formally noted by him and thus far rejected at every turn. 

“Don’t insult me,” he mutters. He grabs your hand and guides it between your own legs. “Be good and keep yourself warm. I’ll be right back.”

He’s barely gone long enough for you to stroke your fingers through your folds, but when he returns (flashing the intact condom package at you like he always does), he watches you for an endless, lingering moment.

“I like that,” he says at last, taking his spot behind you again, condom in place. 

“Like what?”

“Watching you touch yourself.” The head of his cock nudges your entrance. He finds the right angle and slips inside you, stretching your walls to make room for himself. You groan, your fingers digging into the couch cushion. It stings a little, right towards the end, but he just softly saws himself in and out of your pussy, soothing the ache with pleasure. His words go completely over your head. 

He reaches so deep inside you, like with his every thrust his cock bullies the air out of your lungs. The slick sounds are lewd, keeping time with your moans and sighs as his fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips, manhandling you further onto the couch to the perfect height for him to fuck into you, your knees barely skimming the carpet.  

Your hand ends up crushed between your pelvis and the couch. You let your fingers find your clit and the touch reminds your body of how close it is, that coil deep in your belly stretched tight and ready to release. Your fingers trail down to where his cock pistons in and out of you, and at your touch he groans, slows to a smooth drag, his length slippery with your own arousal. 

“Touch yourself, not me,” he chides, his voice rough. “I’m close enough.” 

“I’m close enough,” you say.

He flops against your back, nearly crushing you with his weight to hook his chin over your shoulder and ask: “Then what the fuck are we waiting for?”

You can barely draw in the breath to laugh, and it’s only worse when you cum. You bury your face into the couch cushions, giggling, fingers rubbing a gentle, hectic rhythm against your clit as your pussy spasms around him. He snorts at your laughter, a soft quiet exhale against the back of your neck. Then he cums, his thrusts sloppy and hard, turning his head at the last moment to bite your shoulder lazily. 

“Sex makes you so weird,” you pant. Your face hurts from smiling. 

“You like it?”

“Yeah. I do.”

He ties off the condom and throws it away. The two of you sit naked on the couch together, curled up. It’s a little alien to be this open about your body with someone and to have them be so open about their body in return, but it’s a good strangeness. So much about loving Simon is. 

“I need to get the other one pierced now,” you mention, toying with his unpierced nipple. “Have to complete the set.”

“I never did.”

“You’re incomplete. Don’t you know?” 

He snorts. “I feel quite fulfilled, thanks.” 

“Please Simon?” you ask. “I want to.”

“Don’t ever say please. I’ll text Soap in the morning,” Simon says, trailing his fingers up and down the length of your arm, making goosebumps appear. 

You hesitate. Should you tell him what you’d been thinking about for the last several months? Would it offend him to know that you didn’t want to go to Johnny for any more piercings? 

Whether it offended him or not, your pride couldn’t rest easily going back to the tiny room behind the curtain in Skin Deep. While there had been only a few other tense interactions between you and Johnny since Simon’s birthday (and usually he seemed to favor outright ignoring your existence), the situation had not improved. 

“Simon—I think I’d rather go somewhere else for my other nipple. To someone other than Johnny, I mean.” 

Simon frowns. “What’d Johnny do.” 

He phrases it like that—more of a statement and less of a question, immediately assuming that Johnny is at fault. 

“It’s just—it’s like I said on your birthday. He doesn’t like me much.” 

Simon turns to look you in the eye. When your gaze tries to skirt away, he lets out an irritated breath through his nose—but doesn’t fight you. Simon always lets you run. Maybe because he knows his legs are long enough to catch you. “You really feel like that?” 

“You’ve never noticed?” 

“Thought it was in my head,” he mutters. Then he says the most dreaded words he possibly could: “I’ll talk to him.” 

“No!” you nearly shout. You struggle to lower your voice to something more appropriate for indoors, your heart tap-dancing to an anxious beat inside your chest. Just trying to picture Johnny’s irritated expression at any of Simon’s potential efforts to talk to him made your stomach turn over. “I mean—don’t. Really. It’s fine.” 

“It’s not. I need you two to get along. You and Johnny—you’re the most important people in my life,” he says baldly. His honesty does something to your lungs—empties them, crushes them. You only just realize the position that you’re putting Simon in, and it makes you feel about two inches tall. How could you let your petty problems with Johnny potentially get in the way of their longtime friendship? Their brotherhood?

“I’m begging you, Simon,” you plead. “Promise me you won’t talk to him. Just, give me more time to get to know him or something.” 

“Can't promise that.” He stands up and stretches, joints popping as you stare at him, your stomach tearing itself to pieces at this knowledge. This is not how this conversation was meant to end. But he disappears into the bedroom before you can gather your wits enough to say another word.

-

There is nothing like sleeping beside Simon, his arm beneath your head, your body turned and cradled against his side, a leg thrown over his thighs. His heart is as slow and steady as his breaths, his calloused thumb tracing a line back and forth on your naked side, a line which grows slower and slower as he drifts closer to sleep. 

You ruin it like this: “Simon?” 

“Hm.” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“If you got’a.” 

“On your birthday, you said that women meant for you sometimes ended up being Johnny’s. What did you mean?” 

He’s quiet for so long that you mistake him for falling asleep. You’ve resigned yourself to asking him another night when he speaks, his speech is slow and thoughtful, like it is hard to put it into words. 

“When Soap and I are in a room together with women, I’m like a ghost. He’s a fucking human being. Flesh and blood. Alive. People want to talk to him, to know him, to laugh with him, to have a drink with him. I’m not like that. I haven’t ever been like that. More than once Johnny would try to get me together with a woman who would end up falling for him instead. Eventually I convinced him to stop trying.” 

“Were you jealous?” 

He makes an ambiguous sound. “It’s hard to be jealous of Soap.” 

“Not impossible, though.” 

He rolls you over onto your back, coming to rest over you, your legs a tangled mess beneath the sheets. The darkness lengthens the shadows of his eyes, but you can still feel his gaze, tangible as any touch. He braces himself on his elbows over you and lets his forehead rest against your own. “I just wanted someone who was mine,” he says. 

It’s on the tip of your tongue, those words that are building inside of you and growing harder to withhold by the day. But you say it like this and hope he can translate: “I’m yours.” 

He ducks his head and kisses you. 

-

In the morning, Simon has slipped a piece of paper just beneath the edge of your mug of tea. When you look at it, written in charcoal pencil is DARCELINA: Dream City Tattoos and Piercings XXX-XXXX. 

-

It’s one for the record books: the rain. Thick pregnant clouds carry more than eight inches of rain to your city in the course of a day. The last time it rained so much was apparently during the Civil War era. The city floods, including the basement of your apartment building, which leads to a building-wide power outage. 

Simon has you pack a suitcase, junk the majority of your refrigerator and freezer, and come stay with him. You’re giddy, feeling like it’s a semi-permanent sleepover when he gets the call that Skin Deep has flooded as well. 

Then things take a turn for the worse. Simon is gone for nearly 36 hours straight making endless calls to attempt to clear the water and begin repairs, and sometime in the midst of that, the fight with Johnny happens. 

It’s an ugly one. 

Simon comes home in the foulest mood you’ve ever seen him in. It turns him positively stony as he moves around the apartment making himself a hasty meal, avoiding your eyes every chance he gets. After he eats, he sits heavily on the sofa, pulls out his sketchpad, and trashes no fewer than six entire pages before you get the nerve to ask him what’s wrong. 

“Soap,” he mutters, crumpling a paper in one strong, dextrous hand. He throws it toward the small garbage can beside the telly and misses. “He’s looking for other locations to pierce at.”

“Is the building that bad?” you ask. “You guys will have to find a new place?”

“Soap is looking for a new place. One without me.”

You gape, the shock of this news reaching all the way to the core of your being. 

“You don’t think it’s because of—?” Me. You can’t even finish the sentence, the thought upsets you so much. You tuck your legs beneath you on the couch, curling up, seeking to become small and harmless as grief and horror wash over you in wave after wave. 

“This is my fault. I tried to talk to him but he’s so fucking—he gets under my goddamn skin like he was born to do it.” Simon pauses heavily, before adding: “I need to tell you something about the night Soap pierced me.” 

Story time. Alright. You uncurl your legs, choosing to sit with them criss-crossed, your body turned toward him, giving Simon your entire attention. It’s been months since you found out that Johnny had been the one to pierce Simon, but you had been no closer to getting the story from either of them. Your curiosity was a dangerous, corrosive thing, eating away at your insides. 

“I’m listening,” you say, hoping you don’t look as eager as you feel. 

Simon looks to be at a loss for words, running his tongue along the sharp edge of his teeth. When he speaks, it’s hardly the lengthy story you had been anticipating: “We fucked.”

You blink. “You and—Johnny?”

Simon sighs and shrugs a shoulder. 

“I didn’t know you were…” Simon stares, waiting for you to finish your sentence. “…interested in men.”

“You are. Why can’t I be?”

You feel a chilly pang of horror, like someone has slipped a dagger between your ribs. You rush to assure him: “You can! You—“

Simon’s mouth twitches as he rubs at the crease of one eye, and your panic fades. He mumbles: “I’m just fucking with you.”

“So you’re bisexual.”

“I’m… I don’t fucking know. I’m attracted to who I’m attracted to. I never named it.”

“Okay,” you say gently. “We don’t have to. But what does that have to do with now?”

“The day after we—y’know. Fucked. I told him it was a one time thing. Maybe it’s in my head,” says Simon, frowning. “Maybe I’m crazy. But sometimes he looks at me or says something to me and it makes me think it’s not over. Not for him.”

“Is it really over,” you ask, “for you?”

Simon looks at you, quiet. He says: “I want you.”

And you are so relieved by the obvious honesty in his answer that it never crosses your mind to think that’s not what you asked. 

-

Simon is uptown at a café holding consultations while Johnny directs cleanup efforts at the shop, and you think that now’s the perfect chance. 

Your hands shake against the steering wheel the whole drive there, nerves less like butterflies and more like great winged moths in your belly. A part of you says that this is a mistake, you should turn back and let Simon and Johnny work it out on their own. But another part of you feels personally responsible—even if Simon says you aren’t. All your life you have taken things too personally, shouldered burdens which were not your own, bent over backwards to solve problems that weren’t yours to solve. If there was any chance that you could resolve this, you would put your pride on the line to do it. 

You park alongside the street and are thrilled to find the front door unlocked. The entire place smells musty, like a basement. The wooden floors have warped a little under your tentative steps, announcing your presence sooner than you’d like. 

Johnny sits in the chair where Simon tattoos clients. Sunlight streams in through the blinds and lights him up like some kind of punk-rock angel, his mohawk freshly clipped, dark finger nail polish chipping. Sometime between now and the last time you’ve seen him, he’s pierced his eyebrow: a black barbell with studs that reminds you a little too much of the one through your nipple (and Simon’s. Was that intentional? Did Johnny pick jewelry to match Simon’s? To match yours? For some reason just the thought makes your nipples tighten). In his hands is one of Simon’s sketchpads, and he’s flipping through it leisurely. 

He glances up toward the sound of your footsteps. 

“If you’re here about the water—“ his words die out on his pierced tongue as he stares at you, gobsmacked by your appearance. 

“Hey,” you say lamely. 

“Where’s Simon?” he asks, eyes flickering toward the protective spot where Simon usually hovers just over your shoulder. “He said he wouldn’t be in today.”  

“He’s not. It’s just me. I thought maybe we could talk.”

Johnny openly grimaces. He shuts Simon’s sketchpad and sets it down (hopefully where he found it). Standing from the chair, he takes a few casual steps away from you, clearly heading towards the curtain that leads to the back of the shop. “Really cannot think of anything we have to talk about.”

You square your shoulders, fighting down that instinctive urge to make yourself smaller, to give in and be manageable. “I think we do.” 

“You should go.” 

“Not until we work this out.” 

“There isn’t any this, alright, just—does Simon even know you’re here?” Something guilty must splash across your face because Johnny gives a mirthless laugh, reaching up to palm at his eyes. “Tha’s great. Just great. Could you be more incriminating?” 

“Incriminating—? Look, Simon told me about the night you pierced him.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Johnny says flippantly. 

“About how you two slept together.” 

Now that stops Johnny in his tracks. It’s clear that he didn’t expect Simon to really tell you about that night all those years ago. He looks at you with a fresh caution, waiting to see how exactly you’ve taken this news—what you plan to do with it. “Aye, then. I guess he did.” 

“I’m not trying to take him away from you.” 

Johnny makes a derisive sound. His words are well-rehearsed, like he has said them to himself a hundred-hundred times: “Cannot take what isn’t mine.” 

“He was your friend first,” you say, aiming for conciliatory and gentle the same way you might approach a feral animal. Johnny stares at you with flat, suspicious eyes. They’re so fucking blue—so different from Simon’s own dark ochre ones. “He told me that you’re one of the most important people in his life.” 

Johnny’s face softens. He says: “You shouldn’t tell me that. He wouldn’t.” 

“He’s not always good with words. Please don’t leave the shop, Johnny. I think it would break Simon’s heart.”

“I didn’t know he had a heart to break,” Johnny mutters. He leans against the wall beside the curtain and sighs, lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ll think about it. Now out. You shouldn’t be breathin’ in this air.” 

Johnny ushers you to the door, hand hovering just above your back, careful not to touch you. Once you’re out on the street, he shuts the door and locks it audibly. Then he leans in and huffs a heated breath beneath the “NO WALK INS” sign. In the fog, he adds: “No GFs!”

You flip him off. 

He flips you off. 

On the way back to your car, you find yourself smiling. You force yourself to scowl. It’s a more appropriate expression. Giving one last glance back toward Skin Deep, you find him still standing there, watching. 

Likely just to make sure you’re really leaving. 

-

Not long after you are moved back into your apartment, you find that Simon stops sleeping. 

You’re ashamed to say that it takes you a while to notice; nothing changes on your end of things. Anytime you are sleeping over, he lays down with you, tugs you up against his chest, and holds you for ages, his body still and breathing even. But one night you wake to a cool, empty bed. And later in the week, it happens again. Until more often than not you realize that any moment when you expect Simon to be sleeping, he isn’t. 

Usually you find him sketching, shadows like charcoal smudged beneath his eyes. He doesn’t meet your gaze and tells you to go back to bed, that he’ll be there soon. Sometimes he even does come to lay back down beside you—but only long enough for you to convince him that you have fallen asleep again. Then he is shifting away from you, disappearing into the other room, shutting the bedroom with the quietest click behind him. 

You know that he’s busy. His schedule has been booked—and with deposits nonrefundable, people more often than not kept their appointments. He’s been working with a client on mock ups for a sleeve, and the various pieces and the way they all come together around the contours of the person’s body are very delicate. Johnny’s threat to find a new job doesn’t help, either. Have they talked and resolved things yet? Simon never says so. 

You can’t imagine the stress that he is under, and you’d do anything to be able to shoulder a fraction of it for him. 

That’s how you end up with drunk Johnny in your car. 

It starts with Simon falling asleep before you—for once. You can tell he is well and truly asleep by the sheer weight of his arm over you, the soft snores that he gives out against the nape of your neck. After so many nights of sleeplessness, his body has finally given in. You’re about to slip off to sleep yourself when the buzzing of a phone startles you back into wakefulness. 

Not your phone—Simon’s phone. And it goes off again. And again. And again. Who the hell could be sending so many messages at midnight?

You know you should leave it alone—if it was urgent, they would likely call—but curiosity gets the better of you. Carefully you slip out from under Simon’s arm. It’s a testament to his sheer exhaustion that he doesn’t wake as you jostle him. In sleep, he looks painfully young and relaxed, and it makes you long to reach out and brush back his hair that has fallen onto his forehead. But not at the risk of waking him. 

Sure that all you are planning to do is shut Simon’s phone off so that he can get some restful sleep, you are surprised to see that Simon has his text notifications visible on the homescreen, so all it takes is a simple tap to open them up. 

Johnny. All Johnny. 

Ghost. 

Ghost

Are you uo? 

Up* fuck my fingers 

I need a ride home

Simon

I’m at that bar on… The text is cut off. To see more, you would have to open his phone. So Johnny is stuck at some bar, drunk more than likely. Well good riddance, you think to yourself, the hurtful way he treated you still very much fresh in your brain. But then you remember your talk at Skin Deep, and your traitorous heart softens. Could you really just put the phone back now and pretend you hadn’t seen the messages?

Simon doesn’t even have a password; that’s how much he trusts you. Would he still trust you after this, if he knew that you had gone through his phone, even if it was for a good cause? 

Making a spur of the moment decision, you could only hope so. Your conscience wouldn’t let you wake Simon, and as much as you disliked him, it couldn’t let you leave Johnny stranded at some bar either. 

You open his phone as quickly as you can, swiping so that it goes straight to Johnny’s texts and nowhere else. The name of the bar is right there, and you scramble for your own phone to type it down in Google Maps. He’s not far. Probably would be within walking distance, if he weren’t drunk. You could be there and back before Simon ever knew you were gone—you hoped. 

As Simon, you send back to Johnny a simple OMW. 

There is no hint of spring in the frigid March air as you slip outside into your car. The parking lot is dim and quiet, and traffic is minimal as you follow the GPS on your phone to Johnny’s location. The pub nightlife spills out onto the pavement and you struggle to find a place to park, grimacing at the knowledge that you will have to get out of the car and go inside to find Johnny, considering you see him nowhere on the street. Leaving the warmth of your car is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, especially in just a thin tank-top and a pair of leggings. Gathering your coat more tightly around yourself, you rush out of the car and through the people on the sidewalk and into the warmth of the pub. 

You keep your eyes peeled for Johnny, but can’t spot his silly haircut anywhere. What if he’s gotten a ride home from someone else? What if he’s decided to walk, or found someone to go home with? You shift up onto your toes, looking over everyone in the bar when you spot him in the corner at a table with a few other men. 

Johnny doesn’t even recognize you at first—either a testament to how unexpected your sudden appearance is or how drunk he is based on how difficult it is for his eyes to focus on you. When he realizes who you are, his mouth drops. He points. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, accent so thick and slurred that you can barely understand him. 

“Picking you up. You said you needed a ride.”

“Aye but not from—oh, Jesus make me still. Yer not wearing a bra, are you?” 

All the men at the table turn to gape. You snatch the sides of your jacket closed where they had loosely fallen open, your face flushing with warmth. The table roars with laughter, but Johnny in his drunkenness doesn’t seem to notice your embarrassment. 

“That was mine!” Johnny shouts, elbowing the man next to him. “Did you see that? That was my work!”

“We get it, bruv,” the guy says with a roll of his eyes. “She’s no ten.” 

“What’d you fuckin’ say?”

The table laughs. 

Johnny grabs a fistful of the guy’s shirt and drags him nearly clean out of his seat. “I said, What’d you fucking say about her?”

The table stops laughing. Johnny cuts an impressive figure even when drunk; he’s easily the largest guy of the group. Your stomach drops and lands somewhere between your shoes. This is not going to plan at all. Reaching out, you try to insert yourself physically between the two of them but can only wrap your fingers around Johnny’s wrist, feeling the strength poised in the tendons. 

“Johnny,” you say, loudly to be heard over the sounds of the pub. “Come on. Let’s go, yeah? Simon…Simon’s out in the car.” 

“Simon?” Johnny let’s go of the guy’s shirt, his bad mood evaporating as quickly as it had manifested. He nudges his way out from behind the table, all politeness. Once free, he stumbles into a woman in a slinky dress who gives him a look that could melt glass. 

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize to her, wrapping an arm around Johnny’s waist and doing your best to keep him steady. “He’s an idiot, and he’s drunk. You look amazing by the way—“

“Control your boyfriend,” she snaps. 

“I will,” you promise, guiding Johnny away from her and into the crowd. 

His nose brushes the shell of your ear, breath fanning across your neck as he says with a laugh in his voice: “I’m not yer boyfriend.” 

You flush. “Thanks for letting me know, Johnny. I had no clue.” 

He says something back, some Scottish phrase, his accent so thick you couldn’t understand the words even if you knew them. 

“English, please,” you mutter. 

“Je-sus,” he groans, dragging the words out into multiple syllables. He takes your chin in his hand and squeezes your cheeks a little. “You’re just like him. ‘English, MacTavish’. Ha!”

You bat his hand away. 

“He’s been rubbing off on you,” Johnny mutters, laughing a little. Beneath his breath (though far more loudly than he likely intends), he adds: “In more ways than one, I imagine.”

Your face goes hot. “Johnny, stop talking.” 

The two of you exit the pub out into the cool night air. It seems to sober Johnny some, as he takes in deep, gulping breaths. He walks a little steadier as the two of you cross the street, and by the time you’ve made it to your car, he has shrugged you off altogether (even if he is still a little unstable on his feet). He stands outside the car for a moment before opening one of the rear doors. 

“What are you doing?”

“Rather sit back here.” 

“I’m not your cabbie.”

“Strange manner of dress if you were,” he says snidely, slipping into the backseat. 

In the driver’s seat, you let yourself have a small breakdown. You grip the wheel tightly, taking a few deep breaths of your own, searching for inner peace. You thought that you and Johnny had a tentative truce after that day at Skin Deep, but clearly he is still holding some grudge. Your search for peace turns up empty. 

“Sorry I lied about Simon being here. I just really needed you to leave the pub,” you explain politely. 

“Knew you were lying,” Johnny says from the darkness of the backseat. He sounds remarkably like Simon: brooding and irritable. “He’s got no idea you’re here, does he? He’d never let you come alone.” 

You frown. “No. He doesn’t. He’s sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him.” 

“Nightmares?” 

“Huh?” 

Johnny leans forward. You glance at him in the rear view mirror. “I said, Has he been having more nightmares?” 

You didn’t know anything about Simon having nightmares. That sour feeling in your belly was back, the one that made you feel like you would never truly know Simon, not the way his friends did. 

“No,” you say, a little defensive. “He’s been working on this sleeve for a client. Staying up way too late to finish it on time.” 

“Aye. Nightmares. Anything else is just an excuse he’s telling himself—and you.” 

Done with the conversation, you turn the key in the ignition and pull out into the street. “What’s your address?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Left my keys at the bar.” 

“Goddamnit.” 

You turn towards Simon’s apartment. “Then you’re staying with us—with Simon. You can sleep on his couch and get your keys in the morning; I’m sure he won’t care.” 

“Are you staying there?” 

“Yes.” 

Johnny mutters something under his breath. You consider yourself lucky not to have heard it. For a while, the two of you drive in silence. Then Johnny says: 

“You never came for your second nipple.” 

“It’s only just been six months.” 

“So you’re due for an appointment then, aren’t you?” 

You steel yourself, gripping the wheel tightly at ten-and-two. “Actually, I’m going to someone else.”

Johnny’s seatbelt unclicks. He hovers at your shoulder bringing with him burning warmth and the scent of whisky. When he talks, his breath brushes your neck, fury tangible in every syllable. “Who is it? Who the hell is he taking you to? Darcelina? Astrid? Dusty? Whoever it is, consider the appointment canceled. No one is piercing you but me.”

“You don’t get that privilege,” you grit out between your teeth. “Not anymore, not after the way you’ve treated me!”

“Oh, did I offend you?” he breathes, clutching one hand at his breast. “Not falling down at your feet? Not worshippin’ the ground you walk on?” 

“Fuck you, Soap! I wanted to be friends.” Your voice cracks embarrassingly. Suddenly the road goes blurry. You blink rapidly, forcing yourself to calm down—you’re driving for fuck’s sake. You swallow past the lump in your throat, the silence interrupted by rustling as Johnny leans forward again in the backseat, trying to get a look at your face in the passing streetlights. 

“Fuck,” Johnny groans. “Are you crying?”

“No!”

“You are. Fuckin’—pull over, before you get us killed.” 

Keen embarrassment only has your eyes watering more, until you have no choice but to do as he asks, pulling over to hastily parallel park and throw on your hazard lights. You let your elbows rest against the steering wheel, face in your hands. His words echo in your head, said in that stupid Scottish brogue: not falling down at your feet? Not worshippin’ the ground you walk on? Are those really the things he thought you wanted? Is that the sort of impression you gave to Johnny, to Ghost’s other friends? 

The backseat door opens and Johnny climbs out. A small part of you hopes that he will walk himself home—and good riddance. But he horrifies you by walking all the way around to the driver’s side of the car and tugging on the door handle until you begrudgingly unlock the doors. 

“C’mon,” he says, trying to pull you out of the car with your seatbelt still on. 

“What’re you—?”

“Just—wouldya—so stubborn—“ he drunkenly leans over you and mashes his fingers against the button of your seatbelt until it releases. For that brief moment, he is a warm weight across your lap, bringing with him the scent of cologne and whisky. Then he pulls you out of the car—and into his arms. It’s a tight, full hug, chest-to-chest, not bone crushing per se, but all-encompassing. 

You don’t realize how badly you need it from him until you’re getting it. 

“You’re such a dick,” you groan against his shoulder, sniffling.

“Aye,” he says, swaying a little on his feet, like the two of you are dancing. “But I’m right. We cannot be friends. So you’ve got to let this go, alright? Just breathe out 'n let it go.”

“I don’t understand,” you mutter. “He wants us to be friends.” 

“He doesn’t know what he wants,'' Johnny says, one hand rubbing gently at your shoulder blades. “No more crying. It’s out of your hands. Aye?”

You shake your head, hands gripping his shirt. 

But your tears slow and eventually stop. Cars pass occasionally. One of them honks at the sight of you both entwined on the side of the road, rolls down their window to let their passenger yell something suggestive, and it makes your face go hot. Johnny pulls away, nearly stumbling out into the road to give the car both middle fingers as it peels away. He slips on the damp asphalt and goes down hard on his side, taking the skin off his elbow and palm. 

“Fuck, I’m hammered,” he laughs. 

“Clearly,” you say, struggling to help him up and into the backseat. 

Once in the driver’s seat again, you feel exhausted, emptied, like a washcloth wrung out and left to dry. The drive back to the apartment is silent, and when you’re in the parking lot, neither of you make a move to get out of the car. 

You warn Johnny: “Simon’s asleep, so be quiet inside.” 

Johnny warns you sleepily: “Ghost is right there.”

There’s a tap on the glass of your window. It nearly makes you shriek—but it is only Simon, half-smoked cigarette in his fingers, bundled up outside the car door. You roll down the window sheepishly. 

“Need a little help?” he asks, taking a drag and turning his head so the smoke doesn’t touch you. His eyes are on Johnny in the backseat. 

You hold up your fingers with just a smidge of space between them. 

[fluffylino]

hyunjin will do anything for your attention (psst maid dress ehe)

-contains mature themes

your eyes landed on your boyfriend who was all dolled up. wearing a flimsy little dress. his milky white thighs exposed even more when he crossed his legs.

ignoring him, you walked into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water. you couldn't help but steal a couple of glances.

he had pretty pink bows in his hair. a cute bell around his neck.

quickly pretending to rinse the glass. when you saw how he quietly walked upto you. sitting himself on the kitchen counter. a few inches away from the sink.

right next to your standing figure.

you simply gave him the cold shoulder, walking right past him to place the glass back on the stand.

he let out an almost inaudible whine and you mentally smiled to yourself.

two days ago. the both of you had an argument.

it was pretty petty. yet you were still giving him the silent treatment. hyunjin had been busy. no doubt. however it always felt like you were the only one putting effort to go on dates with him.

of course he too would also. but it had been 2 weeks since their comeback. and he had a lot of free time. and whatever. the point was, it was mainly you getting annoyed to the extent you didn't pay any attention to him. it was mean. and maybe a bit funny. but you genuinely were a little hurt.

you had stuck a tiny note on the fridge the night before. after he had fallen asleep.

it read :

"i'll only talk to you if you actually try to and make an effort for me to forgive you. i don't care if it embarasses you.

- :] "

he seemed to take it seriously.

in the first 24 hours he bought all your favourite dishes and cooked up some spicy ramyeon. adding an egg on top because thats how you liked it.

of course you ate it. eagerly. not leaving a thing behind. you were annoyed.

but your love for him was still stronger. you couldn't possibly hurt him by not appreciating the effort he took. however you hummed casually. not giving him any response. simply brushing him off like he was non existent.

washing your plate and his before walking away to shower. hyunjin sat at the table, head down.

almost like a attention deprived puppy.

today though was different.

you looking forward to his next attempt.

the tv playing on thr background while you sat on the sofa. not a single thought in your head.

except for the images of your beloved boyfriend in that skimpy dress. not to mention thr fact that he was still loitering around in the kitchen.

you stared at your chipped nail. trying your best to make it seem like you didn't see how he carefully trodded across the room. choosing to sit in the space between your spread legs on the ground.

he sat sideways, long legs awkwardly placed on the floor.

his dress riding up his thighs. just maybe a centimeter more and you'd see his panti-

was he wearing pink lace panties?!?!?

you bit your lip subtly, tilting your head to the side, to peek at what was under his dress.

you were right. he really was all dolled up. not to mention the perfume that radiated off his body.

making you want to pounce on him.

shit you were looking. you averted your gaze so fast you felt dizzy. luckily he was too busy pulling the straps of the outfit up his shoulders to notice.

you could feel his gaze on you. so strong. so captivating. you were sure his lips would be jutting out.

was he wearing your lip gloss??!!!?.

the extra shiny pink shade that you'd only wear on extremely special occassions. damn, you were screwed.

you wanted to take him right there and then.

in the corner of your eye, you could vaguely see him looking up at you.

and you finally spared him a glance when he placed his head on the inside of your thigh. rubbing his cheek affectionately.

Sighing, you rubbed your temples. heart shattering upon seeing the way his expression dropped. eyes growing sadder. and slowly he moved away.

like a kicked puppy who was mistreated and ignored.

"come here" you quickly let out before he could get up. he scrambled up to his knees. elbows digging into your thighs.

"where did you get this?" you asked, carefully tucking a strand of his hair behind.

"online" he mumbled. leaning into your touch.

"m'sorry"

you couldn't stay mad at him. honestly you were fine. just driven by curiousity. "i know" you let out, sitting up to kiss him on his forehead. his eyes still closed as you pulled away. lips parted.

god, he was so cute.

.

.

"c-can't i can't hhnggh-" hyunjin cried out. bent over the short table. your strap pushing into him. it was a bigger size. the one that he was begging you to use on him.

"you can." you stated. raising your hand to adjust the cute pink bow that was clipped into his hair. it had come undone.

the sight below you sending waves of pleasure through you. his hole sucking you in.

lube all over his thighs. staining his pretty lace thigh highs. the bows had come undone. hanging down.

his dress pushed up on his back. displaying all his parts to you. dick hanging between his legs. leaking all over the floor.

"you're my pretty maid, aren't you" he panted, shaking his ass onto you. as if agreeing to you.

"y-yes...always at your service"

you smirked, kneading his plush skin. loving the way his lace panties were still on. torn from where you entered him.

"anything for you m-master"

"anything? careful what you wish for baby"

"i can take anything and e-everything you give aahh mhm...m-me"

.

..

.

i wanna write some more...but maybe with j-jisung........?

[nastyaromatherapy]

ok but what about ethan landry stalking the reader as ghost face for a while and him finally sneaking in to her house one night cause he can’t hold back. y/n she knew that ghost face was stalking her and she also knew that it was ethan so she puts a pretty lacy nightgown on and waits for him. he finds out that she knows because when he walks into her room she gets up from her bed and he pins her to a wall and she says something like ‘i want you so bad ethan’ so he fucks her till she can’t think or speak.

(maybe some praises like good girl and pretty girl but you definitely don’t need to write those in if those aren’t your thing)

ALSO i just love your writing so much like omg i even read some of your other fanfics for different characters even though i don’t want them cause i just love the way you write 😭

Ghostface's Good Girl (18+)

Your stalker, Ethan, couldn't hold back one night and went inside your house to take what was his.

pairing - stalker!ethan landry x reader

one shot length, 3.0k+ word fic

warnings: PIV, dom ethan, creampie, praising, minor slapping and choking, finger sucking, BJ, slight corruption, teensy size kink, ghostface ethan, whore reader, name calling, orgasm control

Ethan Landry loved you. However, it was all parasocial. You barely knew him. The only thing you knew was that he was Chad's roommate. You saw him occasionally when you were over at Chad's place.

“Hey, y/n,” he would wave to you at a weak attempt at getting closer to you. It was awkward, especially since at the time, he didn't know you and Chad were fuck buddies. He had always liked you and thought you were really hot.

You on the other hand, had never even thought about it. He looked so innocent, so sweet, and Chad was like his older brother. It'd be weird to screw with your fuck buddy's younger brother.

For Ethan, hearing the two of you fuck at night was both a blessing and a curse. He reveled in hearing your moans and begs, biting his lip to keep quiet as he touched himself to your sounds. He hated how it was Chad fucking you, hated more how you were whoring around, knowing Chad wasn't the only guy you were messing with at the time.

He knew that if you were his, he'd put you in your place. You wouldn't be caught with other guys because he'd be the only guy you'd ever need. And once you and Chad broke things off, that's when he started to stalk you.

I mean, before then, he would keep some of your belongings you left at his place as keepsakes and souvenirs, but only now would he begin what he'd label as stalking.

He started visiting the coffee shop you worked at more, too afraid to order anything or say hi; he'd just sit in a corner on his phone, scrolling through your instagram. When your shift would finish, at seven pm, he'd rush over to your place, arriving way before you did.

Straight after work you'd get into the shower, which pissed him off. As sick as he was, he knew he couldn't enter your house. There were no windows in your shower, obviously, and you'd keep your curtains closed.

Oh, when you finished, though, he'd watch through your bedroom window in ghostface attire as you dried and lotioned your legs, so badly wanting to feel your soft skin against his.

Everything about you was so delicate. You were so softspoken, even your whines which he heard through thin walls were pretty and angelic. He needed to know how it'd feel to corrupt you, and keep you as his pretty doll.

And he'd do this for nights, the same routine. Every night he'd watch you get out of the shower and get ready for bed, and it took everything in him to not just break in and take what was his.

Ethan Landry's secret was no secret though, which you found adorable. Did he really think you wouldn't notice him sneaking looks at the cafe? Did he really think you wouldn't notice his car parked in a confused neighbors driveway, every night you came home? Both you and him expected you to be scared, concerned, and disturbed. But in reality, you loved the idea of Ethan obsessing over you, and following you around like a puppy. You found it cute how he couldn't muster up the courage to just talk to you, and ended up resorting to stalking.

You tried amping him up, often discarding worn panties in the bin at night. Was the shuffling and tipped over trash raccoons? No, it was Ethan. At first. you just found it cute, like when a little boy likes an older girl that's way out of his league. It was only after a month that you started to question what being with Ethan would actually entail.

Would he by kind, sweet, and gentle, massaging your feet? Or would he be jealous, and violent? The thoughts kept you up at night. Oh, and the day you almost “caught” him, and he dashed so quickly he left his dainty Nancy Loomis mask, you'd say you were in love too. Your stalker, Ethan Landry, was ghostface. That only made things more exciting.

Day after day, it got harder and harder for him to not just go inside. After time, you decided to leave your door unlocked. He noticed, and it confused him. You'd never changed your routine before. Then he started to ponder, did you know?

One night, you changed your routine drastically. You oiled your legs, discarding the lotion you used to use. You dressed into a lacy lingerie slip, unusual since you usually wore a victoria pajama set.

He was already growing hard in his pants, his mask concealing his needy eyes. He was desperate to feel you, and needed to take a step inside. The stairs creaked as he walked up them onto your porch, and he hesitated before laying a hand on your doorknob. He sharply inhaled before twisting it, making his way inside.

You noticed his steps on the ground, due to his huge boots, and waited anxiously for him to enter your room. He slowly scurried his way through your house, finally opening up the door to your room.

He entered with the iconic ghostface head tilt, and your breath hitched. You slowly stood up, trying to hold back your blush for the masked killer who stood inches higher above you. Like lightning he pinned you against your poster covered wall by your throat, his hand easily wrapping around it. You left your mouth agape and choked a little, staring deeply into the dark puddles where the mask covered his eyes.

He noticed how you easily and willingly complied and softened his grip, letting you quickly let out short breaths. “I know it's you, Ethan,” you whispered breathily, and his face contorted- although you couldn't see, into a writhe of concern. “I want you so bad,” you whined, and your hands made way to under his mask, lifting it up to expose his face, curls frizzy since the mask wasn't lined with satin.

He suspected you knew, but he never actually thought his suspicions would be correct. He digressed, however, and continued his concentrated activities. “And you can have me,” he spoke, his voice low and seductive. “But know that your compliance labels you as mine. Do I make myself clear?” You swallowed and nodded, leading him to lean into your ear, his steady breaths making the hairs on your neck stand up.

“Do I make, myself clear?” He repeated through gritted teeth, squeezing your neck tighter as he spoke, before slowly diluting while awaiting a response. “Yes, sir,” you choked out almost inaudibly, but he caught it.

“Good girl,” he cooed as he got even closer and toyed with the straps of your dress. When he towered above you, your head was tilted upwards to meet his eyes; his lanky yet broad figure was just as frightening as alluring.

“You're usually so talkative in class,” he whispered cunningly, dragging his gloved finger along your jawline. “Why so silent now?” He asked, alluding to your sudden meek behavior.

You didn't answer, but when you saw him continue to stare like a deer in headlights, you whispered, “I just want to be good for you.” He clicked his tongue and journeyed his hand up, from your jaw to your cheek, stroking it lightly with his thumb. With your mouth slightly agape, his thumb slowly shifted closer and closer to your lips, before finally making contact. You inhaled through your mouth slightly, mimicking a silent gasp.

His finger grazed your soft lips, lightly tapping it for you to open even wider, requesting entry. “Open,” he ordered when you didn't get the message. Once you furtherly gaped your mouth, he gave a nod of approval before sliding his thumb inside. Not needing to be told twice, you didn't hesitate to clamp around his finger, sucking it lightly.

“That's it,” he whispered as you hollowed your cheeks around his thumb. “Just like that.” You moaned slightly around his finger, leading him to groan in response. The interaction made you so desperate and painfully wet, and you squirmed uncomfortably, your thighs awkwardly trying to gain friction on their own.

He noticed this and smirked, finding it cute how impatient you were being. With his hand still on your cheek, he stroked it gently, the skin so silky and the peach fuzz so soft. He was about to ask a question, so he removed his thumb from your mouth since he expected an answer. “Are you gonna be my good girl tonight?” He asked huskily, making sure you knew what you were getting yourself into, once more.

You nodded, which wasn't enough for Ethan, who wasn't reluctant to strike your cheek when you didn't answer, leaving a bright red mark. You cried in the form of a moan as his rough hand made contact with your dainty skin, finally realizing which Ethan you'd been fantasizing about you'd get tonight. A masked, violent, short-tempered killer. “Yes, sir,” you spoke.

He didn't feel you were ready for praise, yet, and he tossed you onto your bed, face forward. Your legs dangled off the edge, showcasing your tulle-trimmed socks. When you attempted to turn onto your back he laid his hand on it, keeping you in place. “Stay still,” he huffed, making you quickly do as told. He kneeled below your lowish platformed bed, flipping your dress up to expose you ass.

He leaned in, and you whined as you felt his hot breath against your almost exposed cunt. Your pretty white panties were still covering your pussy, although they were almost see through since they were so sopping. “God you're a slut, so fucking wet,” we muttered to himself as he hooked the gusset in his fingers, revealing your dripping sex.

He removed his gloves before sliding his fingers up and down your slippery folds, making you whine. “Ethan,” you whimpered, wretchedly grinding against his hand. He spit on your cunt, before licking a stripe down it, latching onto your clit. He groaned as he was living his dream of tasting you, hands spreading your cheeks apart for easier access.

“F-fuck,” you moaned as his tongue fucked your hole, kicking your legs a bit so you didn't get too overwhelmed. He chuckled when he noticed, making your lips flutter, slightly humiliated. Soft “ah's” left your lips, and they gradually grew louder and louder the closer you got.

You felt the warmth build up in your stomach as you grew more sensitive to each movement of his tongue as you neared the edge. “Ethan,” you sobbed. “’Gonna, cum,” you whimpered, and he responded by abruptly pulling away, edging you. You whined in disapproval at his absent tongue that was taken away without warning, wanting to cum so badly.

He laughed softly and stood, quick to pull you up with him by your hips. “I control when you cum,” he taught, making you nod before quickly remembering he disliked that. “Yes sir,” you whispered sweetly, your eyes large and doe. He smugly smirked at your response, “Good girl.” You loved the affection you seemed to gain from him.

“Now get on your knees,” he ordered as he removed his cloak, discarding it in a corner of your room. You kneeled below him, and he started to undo the buttons on his black slacks, pulling them down and kicking them off his ankles. He was left in his boxers, and your eyes couldn't pull away from his erection.

You started to venture your hands closer to his waistband, but for safe measure, you watched his eyes to see if he was okay with that. His eyes said nothing. That was extremely unhelpful. What you’d learned so far was that Ethan was often vague and not very talkative about what he wanted.

Noticing how he didn’t say anything and how he didn’t seem angry, you gripped his boxers, pulling them down to his ankles in a swift motion, revealing his erect cock. He gave a soft sigh as his dick was released and no longer confined.

He chuckled when he saw you contemplating whether or not to touch it, afraid of upsetting him. “This is the hardest you’ve ever gotten me,” he whispered perversely, smiling a little as he enjoyed this a lot. “Better than staring through windows, huh?” You asked, fighting your urge to just grab it and stroke him. He nodded and reached for his cock, stroking it gently.

“Open your mouth,” he spoke to you as he tapped the tip against your lips. You opened your mouth nice and wide to accommodate his girth, and he spoke words of approval, “That’s my pretty girl,” before sliding himself in.

Your mouth flooded with the smell and taste of him, making your eyes water a bit as it hit you so intensely. You hollowed your cheeks as you bobbed up and down the head, using your hand to stroke the base. He groaned, pushing into you a little further. “Fuckk.”

His curls covered his eyes as he looked down, watching you suck on his length, still wearing the cute nightie. When strands of hair covered your face, which made it harder for you to see him, you’d push them behind your ear, being loyal and giving your undivided attention to him. He loved when you moaned around his length, showing how much you enjoyed it.

Your mouth was warm and hot, and his cock relished in the higher temperatures that you engulfed him in. He threw his head back, absentmindedly thrusting forward ever so slightly, making you gag from time to time.

Your eyes were red as they burned with unshed tears, his scrotum feeling fuller and heavier the deeper in your mouth you took him. “God,” he moaned in a strained voice, feeling himself grow close. He didn’t want to cum yet, though, so he pulled out of your mouth.

You gasped for air as saliva dripped down your chin, feeling empty without his cock in your mouth. He smirked as he looked down at you and ordered, “Get on the bed.” You quickly hopped off your knees and crawled onto your mattress, and he was right behind you with a hand on your waist to help position you.

He clawed at your nightie before taking it off, pulling it up over your head. You were flipped onto your back, and he pulled your legs up so your feet were leveled with his shoulders. He pulled your panties off, leaving you completely bare underneath him.

“Please, Ethan,” you whined as he rubbed his cock up and down your wet slit, your cunt gaping, awaiting entry. He tilted his head at you, “Please what?” You swallowed and looked away, not answering him.

“Answer, bitch,” he fumed, placing his hand on your neck, squeezing your pipe ever so slightly. You lightly choked before attempting to speak, “P-please fuck me, Ethan.” He removed his hand from your neck and cockily smirked.

“Yeah? Does my slutty little princess need to be fucked by my cock?” He taunted, and you vigorously nodded in response.

Your breath hitched as he lined himself up with your entrance, and he threw his head back and inhaled before sliding in. “Fuck!” You yelped as he stretched you out so beautifully. Your legs trembled under him as he slowly started to thrust into you, his movements rhythmic.

“That’s it, take my cock,” he groaned, his hands moving to grip your soft hips. As he started to speed up, you couldn’t help but get louder. You turned your head around to try and hide your face, but he caught on.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice stern and demanding. You slowly turned your head back around, trying your best to suppress the faces he was fucking into you. He chuckled at the way your features contorted, especially when he went deeper.

Once he saw that your cunt was perfectly stretched around him, he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder to get a new angle. You were lifted off the mattress ever so slightly, as your leg didn’t reach that high naturally.

He started to fuck you roughly, his cock pistoning in and out of your starving cunt. “Ethan!” You screamed, which only made him needier. You could no longer suppress your moans now, as your heart was racing and your breathing was erratic. His hands clawed into your hips painfully, but you could only focus on the pleasure he was giving you.

“Do I do it better than Chad? I don’t even know why you wasted time on his lame ass; he didn't deserve someone as gorgeous as you. My pretty girl,” he groaned, each word getting whinier and whinier. “Yes, Ethan,” you cried, your toes curling. “You fuck me so much better than Chad; don’t stop, please.”

He gripped your hips so harshly that your ass was completely lifted off the bed. Seeing this, he picked you up entirely, slamming into you as you tried to hold on tight to him. “Fuck! Ethan!” You moaned as he took every inch of you.

“You’re mine,” he huskily whispered into your ear as he fucked the lights out of you. You nodded. “Yes, Ethan. I’m yours,” you moaned as you shut your eyes tightly, completely overwhelmed from the stimulation. “Can I cum?” You asked, and Ethan didn’t answer. His hands that were gripping your ass gave it a light smack, making you jump a little.

“Holy shit,” he groaned, going deeper, getting closer. “Please Ethan!” You repeated. “Please let me cum!” You whimpered as he tore your pussy apart. He couldn’t hold back anymore; your whines turned him on so much, and he buried himself in your cunt as he shot his load inside you. “Cum,” he whispered into your ear, and you wasted no time to release.

You screamed, and your legs vibrated as you came all over his cock, just as his warm cum filled your pussy. “Take all my cum, good girl.” After he calmed down, he put you back on the bed and joined you.

He laid on the bed and placed you on top of him, his hand reaching down to rub your sensitive clit. You moaned as he touched you, and then you moaned into his mouth as he leaned in to kiss you. His lips pressed against your pillowy ones, and from the way you whimpered into the kiss, he felt himself getting hard again.

“I want you to ride me, okay?” He asked, although it was meant as an order, not a question. “Yes, sir,” you obeyed. He ran his hand through your soft, untangled hair, giving you a peck. What you didn’t know right now was that you were now Ethan’s. You didn’t know before, but all this time he’d been training you to be his, to be his perfect fuckdoll. “Good girl.”

[jellyfishsthings]

WARNINGS: stlll angry reader because i am a petty and grudgy (is that a word? I am not sure) queen, death, funny internal monolgue (i am getting good at them) um not exactly smut but suggestive content ... oh and my terrible writing because it has been a while... also how cool is this collage like 🤯

part 1, part 2

The hotel they had been stayed was a little bit dusty and not overcrowded but his family hoarded him like crazy. They were talking his ear of nonstop demanding answers he didn't have once again. His shoulders felt too heavy and he just wanted to sleep. His lovely wife was avoiding him and when she wasn't avoiding him, she glared at him. His heart ached at her presence. How had he screwed up this one lovely thing fate threw in his way?

His family was a calming presence sure. But he didn't crave them the way he needed her, his chosen family. Don't get him wrong he loved his annoying siblings to bits, those little shots were everything he had. But he didn't seek them out the way he did her. He was infuriated with her from day one. He was a trained assassin, a ruthless killer, yet one simple smile from her, as lightly mean teasing comment turned him soft, weak to his knees, ready to do her every bidding. It wasn't healthy ... right?

He was glad she was getting along with his family and overjoyed when she fought by their side in the Sparrow Academy proving to be a valuable asset. He told her as such which resulted in more yelling from her and a fond smirk on his face formed on his lips as he heard his brothers snickering behind his back.

"Asset? You have the nerve to call me an asset?" Her voice could be heard from miles away but his heart flattered at her sight. Her cheeks were read from the fight and a new cut was adorning her right cheekbone and Five couldn't bring himself to care for the scene they were making because she was finally here, next to him, alive and partially unhurt. He would take her anger over her absence. His mind was calmer and he was more rational, less reckless. All he wanted was to grab her angry face and kiss the anger out of her. Was it toxic? Perhaps. Did he need her desperately? Definitely.

The days have gone by with the blink of an eye and as their impending doom approached them he could she her resolve crumbling, she became less harsh with him, tangling their fingers in show of silent support and Five at that moment felt invincible, there was nothing he couldn't do. If he was going to die he was going to die in her arms, he was going to feel her lips against his one last time and he was going to feel her around him again.

The opportunity arised in Luther's crazy wedding. He could understand the sentiment. He had done the same but he thought his marriage was more beautiful than his. His dark green eyes were constantly scanning the room as he consumed one drink after the other. He was going to be hammered beyond recognition and his wife seemed to have the same idea as she mixed drinks and swayed on her feet. She had never looked more beautiful. She had put on a bit weight, yet not enough and all he wanted was to staff her face with her favorite foods to make sure she would stay healthy.

Somehow they had ended up on the dance floor, stumbling over each other's feet as they giggled lightly underneath their breaths. They were watching them closely from the balcony of the room, yet he was so far gone in her that his brain was stuck in that thought as it repeated her name in an endless circle. His fingers ghosted patters in her lower back and he could feel the goosebumps rising at her exposed back. She had been wearing a beautiful dress, the one that resembled THE dress, the one she wore when their relationship started.

Their last night on Earth.

They were going to spend it together.

With a bottle of the strongest whiskey in hand and pulling her by the waist they ended up in an abandoned room as they stumbled and fell on each other. They flopped down on the bed, bouncing on the mattress and the springs groaned from the sudden weight. His jacket had been discarded in a matter of minutes as he pounced on her like an animal would to its prey and kissed her hungrily.

In a matter of minutes their clothes were resting on the carpeted floor and he was inside her moving at a lazy pace, gathering the other in their arms as soft chuckles and moans filled the air between them. For a moment they were back to their weeding night, were they had drunk once again more than it was humanly possible and they recited their vows while they made love. Five had always craved the softeness, the intimacy of this act were you could still be coherent to treasure and worship your other half with receiving and giving pleasure.

"I take you as mine, knowing and loving all of your strengths and faults, just as I offer myself to you as yours with all of my strengths and faults. I will be there for you in your times of need, just as I know I can turn to you when I need a guiding hand."

Tears were slipping past his eyes as he repeated his oath over and over. He had to make her remember just how much he loved her, because if they were going to die, she had to know that she was loved and treasured, and that he would do anything to make thing right once again.

The angry red sky was what greeted them and found them in each other's arms with pounding headaches and disturbed groans. His face was buried in her neck, drawing in her familiar scent, waiting for her wrath to unveil and kick him out. He had stepped over the line last night, they had both been drunk and not clear headed as things went too far. Yet her fingertips drew shaped in his spine and a chill raced in his bones.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was so soft it could have been lost in the mayhem that surrounded them. Five unfurled himself from around her and leaned in his arms staying on top of her, keeping his weight off of her.

"No. Don't do that. I am the one who should be apologizing."

"No... I- look I do not want us to die and still be angry with each other."

"I could never stay angry with you... not for too long at least." He let her startled laugh wash over him and he softly smiled at her as she nuzzled her face on his chest and hugged him close.

"You don't hate me?" She whispered in a defeated voice.

"I could never hate you my love"

words: 1.237

TAGLIST: @js-favnanadoongi @loca4moony @inkedeye2345 @baguettehead @stvrlitsky

[glitterjay]

— how i think enhypen would take care of you while sick

⠀⭒fluff, ot7

— LHS.이희승 the sweetest of them all. you'd feel better from whatever sickness you may have but would probably get diabetes from this man. he'd make sure you always have what you need at reach. ngl, i have the strong feeling heeseung would absolutely use his beautiful voice as a way to relax you. singing your favorite songs for you and also putting up a little show to keep you entertained (since he wont let you leave the house either).

— PJS.박종성 acts and services. he's doing all the house work, doing laundry, feeding the pets, cooking food, he's got everything covered. jay would spend most of his time making sure things get done, but as soon as he has time he's onto you checking how you're feeling, and giving you lots and lots of affection.

— SJY.심재윤 puppy jake would be worried most of the time because his s/o being sick is probably one (if not thee) worst thing that could ever happen to him. i know for a fact he would not leave your side 24/7. work? screw it. practice? forgotten. a hang out with the boys? can wait. his baby is in need of him and that is the only thing that matters.

— PSH.박성훈 i think hoon is the awkward type of boyfriend in this situation. he's always been taken care of, so he isn't very familiar with what to do himself. constant questions such as "is there anything you need? would you like me to do this or that? would this make you feel better?" but it's okay because his cute akwardness makes you feel better instantly.

— KSN.김선우 sunoo is another lovely sweetie pie :( he makes sure to give you all of his attention and even offers to buy you your favorite snacks in hopes that'll make you feel better. i personally feel like he would ask what your favorite book is and he would read it for you until you feel better. at home dates like watching a movie or baking something (if you feel good enough to get up) are a must.

— YJW.양정원 jungwon's natural boyfriend instincts would tingle and he'd be immediately making you some tea he learned is good for when someone is sick. he has been preparing for this moment HIS ENTIRE LIFE and he's more than ready for it. did he spend night after night lookikg for remedies and effective medicine? of course. did it pay off? absolutely. there is no cold that could go past jungwon.

— NRK 西村 力 now, ni-ki is the type to latch onto you and just... never let go. i feel like he's already the affectionate type, but it just gets more intense if you're sick. small fights would happen often because you don't want him to get sick but he doesn't care (or listen) at all. ni-ki ends up winning in the end and just spends his time watching movies with you and asking those around him for help when you need something.

© glitterjay | tumblr

[sunshine-on-marz]

Bad and better days

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

In which reader is stressed and Hotch is a gift giver.

Lots and lots of fluffy fluf (I’ll proofread later)

Very much inspired by @mariasont s ABSOLUTELY AMAZINGLY WONDERFUL bimbo assistant series that i literally can’t get enough of. If you even remotely enjoy this fic go read hers” series, and if you don’t like this fic, go read her other stuff. It’s worth it I promise!!!

“Sir!” You were practically a blur of pink as you run up to him, well, run as much as you can in your heels.

“Y/N, hi, what on earth could be this worrying-“ he checks his watch “-two minutes before the work day starts” he chuckles softly, an occurrence that seems to become less and less uncommon when you’re around.

“Well, sir, I was filing papers and I got a call- well you got a call which means I got a call which means I walked away from papers and when I stood up they fell on the floor and they’re time sensitive and-“ he cuts you off with gentle hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N do you need me to help you reorganize paperwork?” He asks, smiling softly at your frantic nodding. “Alright, lead the way, slower this time maybe?” He jokes, you laugh, he does his best to memorize the sound (not that he doesn’t already know it by heart). “Yes sir” you nod, turning to walk back to his office. And it really was just one file you’d knocked off the desk, but it wasn’t case paperwork that you could’ve easily picked up and reorganized, it was paperwork for Strauss, detailing a week worth of work in the bureau, along with staff ratings and a couple legal documents.

“I hope you know that this is not at all an inconvenience to me, we all make mistakes, if the biggest slip up this week is an unorganized file, I think we’d have to throw a party” he says, laughing softly, you do the same, the tension falling from your shoulders. “Yea, well, I was nervous to greet you with a screw up” you say, he puts down the papers to look at you.

“Y/N, you’re an amazing assistant, you’re great at your job and the million other things you do far outside of your obligations, this office wouldn’t function without you, I wouldn’t function without you, this-“ he taps the folder “-doesn’t even register as a screw up. Having to turn around the jet last week because Morgan forgot his phone? That was a screw up. JJ emailing a random cop witness statements from an unrelated case? That’s a screw up. You dropping a file? That’s not even a minor inconvenience. You’re alright.” His voice goes back to his normal tone at the end, but the gentleness is still very much there. He’d taken note of your stress the last few days. You’d clearly overworked yourself, something he knew would happen eventually. He was worried.

“Thank you, sir” you say softly.

“Aaron” he corrects. You must’ve looked like he asked you the square root of 43,862.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, your head dipping to the side

“Well I told you on your first day to call me Hotch, and you haven’t, so I’m seeing if telling you to call me Aaron will get you to tone down the formality.” He smiles. You laugh. He smiles harder.

“So should I call you Aaron or Hotch?” You ask, he shrugs.

“You can decide” his voice is even, but he can’t quite calm the grin still plastered to his lips.

“Alright, Aaron” you say, you feel like you broke some unspoken rule, but Hotch? He understands why sailors abandoned ship for sirens. He wants nothing more in that moment than to hear you say his name again.

But he just nods, going back to reorganizing papers. You pipe up with a question “should I go see if JJ has a case yet?”

“No, not yet, the work day started a few minutes ago, no need to rush her” he says, you nod.

“Should I-“ he cuts you off by putting his credit card down on the table. “You should go online and look for office supplies” he says, and once again, you look at him like a confused puppy.

“I talked to Strauss, we agreed that you do far too much around here to not have an office. It’s by no means extravagant, but I talked her into giving you the empty office” he says. You know exactly what he’s talking about, and it’s really not extravagant, it’s probably a little bit smaller than Penelope’s lair, but it’s right next to Hotch’s office and it’s big enough for a desk and a filing cabinet. You’re ecstatic.

“Really?!” You squeal, practically bouncing with excitement. “Really” he nods. You hug him, it’s awkward, you’re bent over to hug him while he sits. You don’t really mind, but Hotch wants to acknowledge your affection, so he stands and hugs you back. Wrapping his arms around you and gently rubbing your back. As you pull away you smile up at him.

“Thank you so much Aaron” you smile, he just nods to the card. “You’re very welcome, and get whatever you want for the office, don’t worry about the cost” he says, your eyes go wide.

“Oh no- I can’t. Really. I’d feel awful and-“ he cuts you off again.

“I mean it. Whatever. You. Want.” He says sweetly, but you protest again.

“I really can’t. I couldn’t.” You say, he nods “alright, send me what you like, if it’s not too much I’ll get it, then you can buy the rest, would that work?” He offers, you shake your head

“I can’t take your money-“ he once again, stops you. “It’s my final offer. I buy it all or I buy some. I want to do this for you” he says, you blush, he takes note. You nod.

“I’ll- uh- I’ll send you what I like” you say. He nods “good, you can start looking now if you’d like, I have to go talk to Rossi.” He says “don’t worry about anything else until we debrief alright? You’re officially on break.” He says, you nod. “Thank you. So much. For all of this” your sentence comes out in parts, like you’re building it once it’s already left your mouth. Hotch smiles. “Rest for a bit Y/N, you’ve more than earned it” he says as he leaves the office.

You have a nice, 20 minute break before the debrief. You get right back to business as usual, only adding in excited rambling on the jet too Spencer about how you plan to decorate your office, Hotch listened with a smile.

“Are you planning to eavesdrop on that poor girl the whole flight? Or are you just really interested in colored gel pens” Emily asks, tone teasing and sarcastic. Hotch rolls his eyes. “I have interests” he says, Emily grins. “Yea, you’re definitely interested in something” she says, Hotch laughs softly. “Maybe” he admits.

He knew that maybe was a definitely, so did Emily, but neither of them mention it. She drops the topic and he goes right back to listening in on you and Spencer.

The case goes by quickly. A less than 72 hour turn around. Hotch sends everyone home early when you get back. A small congratulations for a successful case. You, as always, stay behind when he does.

“Y/N, go home and rest” he says, you shake your head

“I’m fine to stay” you assure him, he won’t have it “you’ve been tired and stressed. Go home, rest, and come back tomorrow feeling a little better. That’s what I need from you.” He says it like an order, you honestly feel like you’ll get fired if you don’t go have a spa day. So you just nod. “Yes sir” you nod, putting down the files you were holding.

“Have a good night, Y/N” he says as you leave. “You too Aaron, head home at a good time, I’m sure Jack misses you”. He assures you he will. You nod and leave.

An hour later, you’re home, watching bad tv and eating take out, which absolutely counts as self care, when you get a text.

Hotch!: “Jack wanted me to tell you he says hi.”

You laugh and text back

-> “Awww!! Tell him I say hi back!!”

You don’t wait long for a response.

Hotch!: “He’s very excited to hear from you. Have you picked anything for your office?”

You smile

-> “I’ll have to babysit again sometime!!! And yes, here🙄 (but 4real, thank you so so so so much for paying. Absolutely don’t worry about anything thatz 2 expensive!!)” you text back, including an Amazon wishlist

The next day is normal. Completely average. No cases, no major drama. Just paperwork, random ramblings to Hotch about whatever is on your mind and gossip sessions in the bullpen. Good, but average.

Then the next day comes. And you squealed so loud that Derek thought he’d be on rat catching duty again. But nope, much better, you walked into Hotch’s office and were greeted with Amazon package after Amazon package.

Hotch smiled “I figured you’d be picky about how the office is set up, but I did come in early and set up your desk and filing cabinet.” You hugged him and probably thanked him a dozen times, excitedly rushing to Penelope’s office to get a decorating buddy.

He’d never admit this to you, but he confides in Rossi later that day that he never approved your office with Strauss, but he knew how happy it would make you, and he knew he wanted to be the reason you were that happy. He’d argue with his boss a million times to make you smile.

Your day was obviously above average, but Hotch’s was wonderful, just because he got to spend it watching you run back and forth with the biggest smile on your face. He knew he wanted you before, but now? God, he wanted to spend forever making you smile like that.

I pulled an all nighter and spent 2 hours in a haze writing this. I hope you like it!!!

Click here for more of my work

Please remember to reblog with feedback!!! It helps writers a lot and is how my work reaches more people!

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Could u do a Tom Blyth x reader where they’re roaming the streets of Berlin late at night after a day full of filming and the public don’t really know if Tom is in a relationship and then a few fans see you and Tom together. They post it on social media and it blows up and you read the comments and find very negative comments about you . The next time you and Tom go for a walk, you are very on edge and Tom notices this and asks you what’s wrong and he finds out you’ve been reading hate comments and he posts smth on his social media abt it or smth

Thank you :) I love ur work so much 💗

Noticed in Public || Tom Blyth x gf!reader

A/n: I love this! Thank you anon :) Also included my own little twist of reader being his hair and makeup artist.

Warnings: none!

Wc:

Divider by @pommecita

"I've been waiting for this all day," Tom lets out a sigh of relief as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, your arm wrapping itself around his torso. The two of you were on your nightly stroll around the city of berlin.

During the day, Tom would be filming on set and you would be doing his hair and makeup. You enjoy the time you would spend with each other during the hustle of filming days, but you most enjoyed the alone time you would have, exploring around the city that you would be in for a couple more months.

Berlin never slept. There was always something to do around even in the late hours of night. And you and Tom never got bored; whether it be exploring different parks, trying out different restaurants, or just walking around with each other; talking about everything and anything, enjoying each other's company.

You and Tom walk along on the many bridges in Berlin, people littering it. The good thing about hanging out in the middle of the night was that fans spotting the both of you was very rare. Tom's fans didn't weren't even fully sure that he was dating someone; let alone his own hair and makeup artist. Your relationship with him was very private, only with a few pics of you together but no one though much of it.

With an arm still around his torso, and his around you shoulder, pulling you closer to him, the two of you walk past a group of girls who probably were in their late teens. You couldn't help but notice their whispering as they looked at the two of you, Tom oblivious to this.

Feeling your arm slightly loosen around his torso and your attention somewhere else, he tilts your chin up, placing a kiss on your lips. "You okay?" Tom looks down at you as he studies your features. You nod, giving him a smile, "Yeah, of course."

He then peppers your face with kisses as you squeal making him laugh. "Are you Tom Blyth?" One of the girls from the group calls out from behind us as we both look back then look at each other. "Busted," He says before he walks fast, his hand pulling you along as you follow him off the bridge.

~

The next morning, you woke up beside Tom, his arm haphazardly thrown across your waist. For some odd reason, you woke up with a weird feeling in your stomach, you just weren't sure why. "Morning," Tom groggily says as you cup his face and place a kiss on his forehead. "Morning," You reply back as a lazy smile makes it to his face.

"You're going to be wearing your locks today," You point out to your boyfriend as he brushes his teeth, your preparing everything you would need to put his wig on. "Great, I get to spend more time with you," He smiles, his toothbrush still in his mouth as you laugh at his cuteness.

When you finish up with his hair and slight makeup, you walk with him to the filming set as you still needed to be with him throughout the day, fixing his hair and makeup throughout the day.

Around lunch time, you felt a buzz from your phone as you see what is was. It was a message from your sister. You and Tom are trending all over tiktok rn. You screw up your eyebrows as you follow the link she sends. Straight away, you recognise the girl to the be the girl who called out to Tom.

You watch the tiktok as she explains how she saw the Tom and a mysterious woman walking on the bridge and how she saw him kissing you, and walking away quickly when she asked if it was him.

She also mentioned that she couldn't quite tell who the mysterious girl was that was locking lips with Tom due to the darkness and the fact that you were wearing a beanie.

You tap on the comment section and scroll through them. A few people immediately saying that it was you since there were already a few pictures released of the two of you together. You couldn't help but notice the hate comments aswell.

Tom always told you to ignore the comments but you couldn't help yourself. You wanted to know what they thought of it, even though it wasn't there business who Tom was dating. The comments stung.

They were the usual, 'she doesn't deserve him,' and the, 'he could do so much better' comments that stabbed you deep. Your mind lingered on it throughout the rest of the day. Tom could tell something was up when you were removing his hair and makeup.

You would usually conversate and laugh about the funny things that happened on set and whatnot, but this time, you were quiet, not really responding. "Darling," Tom grabs your forearm as you were packing up the desk.

"What's wrong? You've been acting strange all afternoon. If there's a problem, you know we can talk about it." He says softly as all you wanted to do was break down and stay in the comfort of his arms. "It's nothing, I'm just really exhausted. That's all," You try to smile, though it doesn't reach your eyes which Tom notices straight away, not buying your excuse.

"You sure?" He watches you as you quickly pack up everything as you smile at him and hum. Tom knew better than to push you and knew that you would tell him when you wanted to.

~

As the two of you did your usual walk around Berlin and buying random things, you were slightly on edge. Always on the lookout to see if there was anyone watching the two of you. You both decided to get some ice cream and waited outside the parlor.

Your head resting on his chest as he rubs circles on your back. Your eyes catch a glimpse of a group of girls walk your direction, whispering and giggling to each other. You instantly move so that Tom's frame was covering you as they walk by.

Tom looks down at you confused and then looks to the group that just walked by. "Y/n," He softly says to you as you don't respond, burying your face deeper in his jacket. "Y/n, please?" You sigh, turning your head to the side.

'"That girl that called out your name last night on the bridge made a tiktok about it and it's circulating around social media-" "Did you read the comments?" Tom blatantly asks.

"W-What?" You meet his eyes, "I said, did you read the comments?" He moves a strand of hair from your face as you sigh in defeat. "Ok- yeah- yeah I did. I couldn't help it!" You sniffle as hugs you tighter.

"Sweetheart, you know I how I don't like you reading those comments. They don't even know you and have absolutely no idea of how a beautiful girlfriend you are. I love you," He whispers as he kisses your forehead.

A single tear rolls down your cheek as he wipes it away. You go on your tippy toes and kiss him. His arm pulls you even closer to him by the waist to deepen the kiss. "I love you too" You whisper against his lips as you both smile.

tomblythupdates

Liked by tomblyth and 4,298,928 people

What did I tell you guys? Tom and Y/n are the cutest 😭 (edited: HE FREAKIN LIKED MY POST)

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user387: my parents <3

user19: the fact that she’s his hair and makeup artist!

user2984: GUYS GUYS GUYS HE LIKED THE POST AHHH

user102: I KNEW SMTH WAS UP WHEN THAT VIDEO OF HIM GETTING HIS HAIR AND MAKEUP DONE WAS RELEASED

[coff33andb00ks]

American Idiot - LS

American Idiot pairing: Logan Sargeant x reader summary: rule #1: don't fall in love. rule #2: don't break rule #1. rule #3: you broke both rules didn't you? word count: 3567 warnings: smut (18+ only), not proofread, Logan has a bit of a frat guy attitude in parts, mentions of past sexual assault (non explicit) {your mental health is more important than any engagement I get on this, so please don't read if that is a triggering subject for you ❤️} a.n.: here I wrote a happy thing for logan

"Yes, baby, just like that," he moaned, gripping her hips tighter. He wanted to watch her but his eyes slipped shut and he dug his fingers into her skin. "Gonna make me cum."

Y/n suddenly lifted off him, causing his eyes to snap open. Her face was screwed up and at first he thought she was in the middle of cumming, but she let out a pained whine and he decided that couldn't be it.

"What," he gasped, wincing when her knee slammed into his hip as she collapsed next to him.

"Cramp," she whimpered. She lay on her side, almost perfectly still, leg bent at the knee while she lightly punched the mattress. "Fuck."

Logan exhaled harshly and dragged a hand over his face before shifting, sitting up. He could see her calf muscle clenched, lightly spasming under her skin and winced. "It's okay, I've got you."

"There's nothing you can – ow!" she cried out when he gently grasped her ankle and extended her leg. Immediately she was trying to bend it back but he kept it straight. "Logan, no, it hurts!"

"Relax, let me rub it out," he said softly, cupping his other hand over her calf. He began to massage, keeping his touch light at first while she pressed her face into the pillow and nearly screeched in pain. "Y/n, just breathe—"

"Fuck you," she whimpered. "I'm never riding you again. I always get a leg cramp."

"Because you don't stretch," he pointed out, applying more pressure.

She just turned her head and looked at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Oh, just waiting for you say you expect me to stretch you."

"I thought it went without saying."

She tried to kick him, hissing and tensing at the pressure it put on her cramp. "It's not working, Logan."

"I've been doing it for thirty seconds," he sighed. Leaning over, he kissed her cheek. "Please just relax, okay?"

She exhaled slowly. "It hurts, Logie."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I'll never ask you to be on top again," he assured her, feeling the cramp starting to loosen. She whined and he was quick to shush her. "Breathe, baby."

She did, slowly and deeply, occasionally groaning in pain as he manipulated the muscle. "Sorry for ruining the sex."

"We can try later," he said with a shrug.

"Maybe I have plans."

"Do you?" he asked. He would be surprised if she did. She tended to stay in on a Saturday night, getting her drinks and partying done on Fridays so she could enjoy the weekend.

"No," she mumbled. "Do you?"

"Only thing I'm doing tonight is you."

She laughed at that, humming when he bent and straightened her knee. "Were you really about to cum?"

"Yeah, but it's fine." It wasn't as though she'd leave him hanging. It was the whole reason behind their arrangement: neither party leaves a meeting unsatisfied.

She'd typed out the agreement in full legalese. Then she'd presented it to him as though arguing a case in front of a jury. Complete with a sexy suit that had only encouraged him to agree and sign so they could get to business.

"Mm," she moaned.

"Better?" He already knew the answer. Her muscle was fully relaxed now, though he was sure it would be sore for a while. She nodded and he kissed her cheek again before sliding off the bed to throw away the wasted condom.

"Thanks, Logie," she murmured when he rejoined her in the bed. She scooted over, hissing softly as she lifted her leg to drape it over his. "Just give me a few minutes."

Her few minutes turned into an hour long nap but he didn't complain. Content to lie with her, he smoothed her hair while she slept, a little amused. She'd been his friend for years, and if anyone had told him even two years before he'd be sleeping with her regularly he would have laughed in their face. But here he was, and as he reached for the covers to pull over them it occurred to him that if he couldn't have sex with her when she woke up he wouldn't be too upset.

"You're so busy with racing, you can't spare time to make an emotional connection with someone enough to sleep with them. I'm busy with work and I'd rather kiss a frog on live tv than let some loser I meet at the club fuck me. It makes perfect sense."

It did, so he'd agreed. Maybe she caught him in a lonely moment, or an extremely horny one. Maybe she'd caught him during a dry spell. Either way, he'd agreed to become platonic lovers with her.

Friends with benefits.

Fuck buddies.

Booty calls.

She'd been right, it was beneficial. He was usually so sexually satisfied that when he met someone he could see as a potential mate, he could focus on actually getting to know them as opposed to getting them in bed. And, having met her coworkers and more than a few of the losers that went to the clubs she did, he knew he had to be a better option than what she had around regularly.

"No falling in love. We're friends, nothing more. No jealousy. If you find someone to love I'll be over the moon, and if I find someone you'll be happy. No unprotected sex. I don't want to be a mom before I'm 25 and you're not ready to be a dad. We both agree to regularly get tested if we sleep with other people. And, lastly, if one of us wants to end the arrangement we end it. Most importantly, we remain friends."

At first it had been amazing. Guaranteed pussy whenever he wanted or needed it? He'd been sold on the idea before she'd even finished the suggestion. If he was away for a race he could just call or FaceTime her for a quick phone sex session?

Amazing.

No pressure. No worries. He didn't have to deal with the girlfriend stuff. He didn't have to remember important dates or to pick up something for her on his travels. She didn't expect him to be her date to work events or to go around pretending to care about the stuff she wanted to buy.

And they still hung out. Sometimes before, sometimes after. Nothing had changed at all in their friendship. She still called him out for being a douchebag, he still insulted her music taste, they still laughed while watching stupid movies.

It was, he thought, like having a girlfriend without all the work.

Until, suddenly, it was different.

He didn't know why he'd bought the stuffed animal in Miami. Probably because she'd said she liked eagles. And it had an American flag shirt on which made it even better in his opinion. But he'd bought it, he'd shown it to Oscar, who'd groaned and laughed and called him painfully American, he'd packed it in his suitcase for the trip back to England.

And he was watching her take it out of the gift bag now, a big stupid grin on his face when she began to laugh.

"Oh my god I love it," she said, hugging it to her chest then hugging him.

That was why he'd bought it, he thought a few minutes later when she was on her knees, staring up at him with pure lust in her eyes. And then he noticed that she kept it on her bed.

She went to Switzerland for something work related. He didn't know what, because she'd told him right before going down on him. They FaceTimed when they could during the two weeks she was out of the country, and when she got back she had a gift for him.

A cuckoo clock.

He loved it and laughed every time it went off, and felt a little rush of warmth because she'd thought of him. It turned out she hated it, because it had a knack for cuckooing loudly just when she was about to come, but he made up for that. At least, going by the way she'd murmur yay when he went down on her.

"So today marks the anniversary of the worst day of my life," she announced one summer afternoon as she walked into his place.

Logan grunted when she pushed her shopping bag at him. "Which worst day?" he asked, closing the door. "When you got dumped by that dickhead Dave?"

"No, that was in November."

"When you caught your boss cheating?" He peered into the bag and set it down, following her to the sofa.

"That was January, and that wasn't a worst day, just a weird day. Like, bad because he can't keep it in his pants but also good because I got a raise." Kicking off her shoes, she flopped onto the sofa.

He racked his brains, going over as many of her worst days as he could recall. The time she'd gotten food poisoning in Brighton? Apparently that had been in March. The time a guy got sick on her in the club? October, how could he forget? The asshole had ruined her costume. Groaning, he threw his head back in defeat, realizing he was rubbing her feet. "You gotta help me out, babe."

"Wow, you did forget." She sighed dramatically, throwing an arm over her face. "And I thought you weren't like other guys? Do you even love me, Logan?"

"I'm rubbing your gross feet—"

"They're not gross I just had a pedicure this – Fuck you," she snorted when he laughed.

"I'm rubbing your amazing feet," he corrected with a roll of his eyes. "The most beautiful feet in the world—"

"Ew, don't make it weird." She lowered her arm and sat up. "But really? You don't remember?"

"No… Wait, was it that time the guy came before you could put the condom on?"

"No, it's – Actually that's next week. Do you know I saw him a few days ago? He pretended he didn't know who I was."

"You made the guy cum in seconds, y/n."

"Okay, and? I made you cum in a minute thirty and you still talk to me."

"You…" He tipped his head. "You timed it?"

"It's my personal best. Aside from Preemie Pete but he doesn't really count because I didn't even do anything to him except grind on him—"

"What's my nickname?" Logan asked suddenly.

"Logie?" She looked confused. "Logie Bear."

"No, no, my nickname. Preemie Pete, Dickhead Dave. You called that guy you met at the store Sainsbury's Steve and the firefighter was Fireman Fred. What do you call me when you talk about me with the girls?"

"That's classified information. I'm not at liberty to discuss it with you, as you are not one of the girls."

"Bullshit, because you've told me all the others," he pointed out. "Go on, tell me."

"Logie—"

"I'm not like Car Guy am I? Because that—"

"Wishbone."

He stopped rubbing her feet, fully turning to face her. "Wishbone?"

"Yeah. Wishbone." She swung her feet to the floor and moved to stand. "We still doing dinner?"

He grabbed her arm and dragged her back down. "Why Wishbone?"

"It's stupid," she groaned, pretending to fight against his hold. "All the nicknames are stupid, they don't really mean – When I first told them about you we'd just met and I said I wished the stupid American would bone me, okay?"

He let her go, even more confused now. "But I have."

"Yes," she said slowly, getting to her feet. "Many times."

"Then why am I still a wish?"

"Well they don't know you're fucking me." She shrugged, grabbing up her bag and heading to the kitchen.

He let that marinate in his brain for a minute before getting up to follow her. "Why don't they know?"

"I don't tell th… Right, I do tell them everything. But they know I was super into you back then and if they found out that you're the only guy I'm sleeping with they'd never stop teasing me. Chicken or salmon?"

"Chicken." She'd been into him back when they met? He tried to remember, to see if he could recall any obvious signs she'd wanted him then, but couldn't. Could only remember her rolling her eyes and looking annoyed when he talked about anything.

But he did remember—

"Oh, y/n," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

"I'm okay," she said quickly. "It was years ago. I'm pretty much over it."

"Don't lie to make me feel better." Because she did. Especially when it came to that. Pretty much over it. Rarely think about it. So far in the past it's hardly worth mentioning. But it was the reason she still slept with a light on. The reason she never went out alone at night. The reason she was wary of new men entering her life. The reason she was hyper aware of her surroundings in public, always mapping out an escape route if needed. It was one of the reasons behind her need to joke and laugh about everything, because she had to keep people liking her. It was the reason she spent so many of her precious days off working with the sexual abuse charity, willing to tell her horror over and over again so girls with similar cruelties would feel seen and understood.

He hadn't known her then. Would never know what she'd been like before her innocence and faith in humanity had been fractured. He only knew her as the woman she was. Fierce and protective and stronger than anyone he would ever know. He often wished he didn't know what had happened to her on that horrible night, but felt honored that she trusted him enough to share that side of her life with him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly. She shook her head.

"Can we cook together?" she whispered.

"Of course." He hesitated, finally reaching to squeeze her shoulder. She lifted her head and he saw the tears shining in her eyes. She may not have wanted to talk about it, may have wanted him to just step away and wash his hands or whatever, but he pulled her to him, tucking his chin on her head while he held her, keeping silent while she let herself cry.

Wishing he could meet the monster face to face for just ten minutes.

He held her until her shoulders stopped shaking, until she sniffled and let go of his shirt. Pressing a kiss into her hair, he let go and offered to turn on music, making sure to pull up the playlist of songs that were cheerful and lighthearted. They cooked, or rather she cooked while he stood to the side to hand her things and clean up, and ate on the couch, watching her favorite movie.

And he realized it was his favorite movie now.

She stayed the night and he didn't care that she didn't want sex. Didn't care that she pulled her stuffed eagle out of her bag and held it close while he got ready for bed. Didn't care that the lamp was on. He was just happy to be there for her, to hold her while she fell asleep and then lie there watching her sleep. Even rocks needed support sometimes.

And it struck him – a full two months later – that he looked forward to just seeing her more than he looked forward to the sex. She'd become more than his best friend, more than his hookup, and he panicked constantly that he'd somehow let on that he'd broken the first rule of their arrangement.

But he had the feeling she knew, especially when he went straight to her office after flying in from Singapore to see her instead of going straight home to sleep off the jet leg. Her eyes lit up and she smiled brighter than the weak sun ever could, and when she hugged him tight and told him she'd missed him he knew she meant it.

"Dinner tomorrow?" he asked before leaving. The answer was yes and, no longer exhausted or feeling mediocre as he sometimes did after a race, he went home with a smile on his face.

She showed up at his door with that bright smile and oohed and aahed over the candles and the flowers. Teased him for being a try hard for wearing a suit and kissed his cheek.

Dinner might have tasted divine. Or it might have tasted like sawdust. He would never know.

"Logie?"

God, she was beautiful. Always had been, he realized, wondering why he'd been so blind until just recently. But tonight, in her light blue dress and her eyes sparkling in the candlelight, she was stunning.

Heartbreakingly so. Because she would only ever be his friend.

"Yeah?" he finally murmured, realizing he was staring.

She stood up and left the table, coming back with her purse. Pulling out some papers, she sat down and bit her lip. "We need to talk."

Never a good thing when a woman said that. Swallowing hard, he took a sip of water to push down the lump in his throat. "About what?"

"You remember this?" She held up the papers and he nodded, seeing the contract she'd typed up and printed out for them both to sign.

"You want to end it?" he asked, anxiety curling in his chest, embarrassment heating his face at the way his voice cracked mid-sentence. Had she met someone?

"I think we need to," she said with a frown.

"Wh-why?" God, she'd met someone and hadn't told him and even worse, she'd fallen in love and now he'd be alone—

"I broke rule number one," she blurted.

"We don't have to end it," he said. "Rules get broken all the time. We can work it out—"

"Logie—"

"I can't go back to random meaningless hookups anymore. I can't go back to models that don't know their ass from a hole in the ground—"

She let out a sharp giggle at that, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Logan!"

"I can't do it, y/n. Not when I've had the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I'm not even talking about the sex, it's just… We've spent more time together and I know I wasn't supposed to but I did it anyway because my heart's stupid I guess. I can't just go back to nothing with you—"

"Do you even remember what rule number one was?" she cut in, staring at him with wide eyes.

He froze, blinking slowly. "The one about protection, right?"

"Oh my god," she groaned, slapping her palm to her forehead. "No, Logan. Of course you don't remember. But you do, because you always remember everything, like how I need to sleep with a light on and can't watch horror movies after dark and that I only like white wine even if I'm eating red meet. You play the part of a fucking idiot so well because it shields you from people wanting to get too close and knowing the real you, like you're not the greatest thing America's made since chocolate chip cookies. Like you don't have a heart bigger than Texas."

"Um, y/n—"

"Which is exactly why I broke the stupid fucking rule that I made, because how could I not?" She threw the papers down and covered her face with both hands. "I didn't do it on purpose, you know? But I fucking did it, I fell for you, because the only bad thing about you is your annoying American pride."

"Y/n—"

"And it took everything in me to tell you this, but at least now I know you don't want to change this. You're happy just being fuck buddies and I have to be okay with it because I was the goddamned idiot that wrote the rules—"

"I love you too," he blurted.

She stopped. Lowered her hands. And stared at him.

"I love you," he said softly. "Always have, I think. I just… Never realized it until I wasn't supposed to."

"When did you know?" she whispered.

He sighed, shrugging one shoulder. He couldn't tell her. It would be embarrassing to admit he'd been holding it in since—

"Miami?" she asked.

"Oh come on, how could you know that?"

"Logan Hunter Sargeant, you brought me a stuffed eagle. You hate stuffed animals!"

"Yeah, but I love you."

She stared at him for a few seconds. Then, to his confusion, she began to laugh.

His favorite sound, followed very closely by her moan.

"Oh god, Logie," she giggled.

"When did you know?" he asked once she'd stopped laughing.

"When you left for Miami and I cried because I couldn't go with you," she said.

"God, we're both idiots," he muttered. Then he sat up straight. "Wait, hey, you said… You love me?"

She laughed again, nodding, and stayed laughing while he grabbed the papers and ripped them in half. And was still giggling when he pulled her to her feet and caught her in a sweet kiss.

"And we did break the protection rule," he whispered a lifetime later when they pulled apart.

"You pulled out, doesn't count."

"That's not in the rules."

She rolled her eyes, wrapping her arms around him. "There aren't any rules anymore, Wishbone."

~end~

[writella]

The Confession

Synopsis: Confessions shared with the wrong person gone so sinfully right.

Details: rick grimes x reader, afab!reader, smut—masturbation, unprotected sex, riding, both rick and reader being desperate in the dark. I made the exact reason for the confession and occasion very vague. 18+, wc: 2.6k. Proof read, but there might be some errors.

A/N: Not sure how much I like this one, but I had this idea back in early October and I wanted to finish it and give you guys something after a whole month.

I miss you, I’m sorry. Hope you’re all well!! With love from writella. ♡

Your voice is solemn and heavy as you sigh before starting, “I don’t do this very often,” you say, “I hope this is okay.” Your eyes lowering shamefully as you stop. It’s only the first sentence and you’re finding it hard to continue. It’s almost as if there are needles piercing into your throat. “I just feel so embarrassed,” you admit.

Then you pause.

No response from him comes after.

Only silence fills the dark and hallow space of the wooden confession box. Only your thoughts, every creak you made on the built-in bench, and the light wind that rustled from the cracked door were heard.

You wait a second longer.

Hoping.

But still, nothing.

Part of you was suspecting that Gabriel would have been more inviting, telling you it’s okay; and doing so with his kind and gentle voice, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t doing anything it seemed. You only saw the silhouette of his face when you walked inside— the outline of a nose and mouth, really. He seemed to be sitting as far from the small barred window as he could, but you didn’t dare look again. You didn’t even turn on the light fixture in the corner. Your fear was all too big, and his unwavering quietness made it worse.

Maybe you had come at the wrong time, maybe you interrupted him. You almost wanted to ask. But maybe confessions happened in complete silence… you didn’t know anymore, but at this point, you were hoping so. You had already wasted five minutes and managed only one sentence. Perhaps he heard the fear in your voice and was just trying to be a good listener… yes, maybe, you pretend as you urged yourself to start again:

You breathe in sharply, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” The words come out in an uneasy, hushed whisper. “It happens a lot and I know it’s wrong. And you’re probably going to look at me differently after this, but I have to tell someone so I can stop.”

Your eyes screw shut, the next phrase coming out jumbled and continuous as you try to explain yourself quickly: “I’ve journaled about it and told myself it’s wrong but it’s not helping.” You start to weep, almost laughing at yourself, “I feel so stupid.”

You sigh and you almost think you hear him do so too, but you keep going.

“I’ve been thinking about someone,” you finally say. “For a long time. And I know it’s bad, I know it, but I do it anyway. It's all I think about.”

Another pause.

You catch your breath.

You wait.

But nothing.

So, you start again.

“I think I love him sometimes.” And if you couldn’t get any more timid, your cheeks flush, and your voice grows quieter, “I like his hair, and his eyes, those button-downs he always wears…” you smile at yourself, these were silly things, “Even his beard.”

And then you hear him shuffle, and a light sound is emitted.

It startles you, but silence ensues again thereafter. Maybe you imagined it.

“I like his kindness too. People would usually say strong or giving, but that’s what I like to tell him— that he’s kind. I think he’s kinder than other people give him credit for. He’s just protective. Everyone, and especially himself, we put a lot of pressure on him to make the hard decisions, but, really…” and there it is, “that's not the only way I think about him. There are things–” your throat tightens again– “ things that I think about. And things that I do.” Your eyes screw tight as you force yourself to say it, “I touch myself.”

Another bout of silence comes before the question.

One you’d never suspect.

“Can you describe it?” The voice asks, dark and curious.

The cool spring air of the night turns cold, but it adds no relief to the summer heat that burns in your heart as it begins to beat painfully. The texture in his voice, the inflection at the end that lined the sentence as a request, it rings through one ear and out the other and back again in a cycle.

You knew who it was.

“What?” You shriek so lightly as if playing dumb would help you now. He knew who you were talking about, you made it so desperately obvious.

“Can you,” he repeats steadily, “describe it?”

“I… shouldn’t.”

“What other better time could there be?” You can’t tell if he truly means it. His voice remains firm and lets out no hints of his true intentions, but despite doubt, you start anyway. He’s right after all, you’re in here because there hasn’t been a better time.

“I- I start by touching up my thighs, trailing up slowly… I always get so nervous… I never do it fast because I know I shouldn’t do it while thinking about you- about him,” you correct yourself, squeezing your thighs together, your hands gripping the bench tightly.

“But you do it anyway.”

“I do,” you reply meekly.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“I can't.”

“What happens when you finally reach all the way up?”

“Gotta touch myself.”

He puts his hands on his knees, making sure his voice stays leveled. “Where do you start?”

“Rubbing my clit.”

“Do it.”

And then you do. You truly can’t help it. Your fingers slide down your hips to the front of your heat, chilly fingers pressing up against your lips over your underwear.

He hears the little sigh as you finally allow your finger to reach your clit in between.

“How does it feel?”

“My fingers are cold right now, so,” a quick breathy laugh leaves you, “ good, really good.” You rub your fingers in slow circles, but your hand and hips jerk, forcing you to speed up, but you try, try to not seem so pathetic to yourself as if there was any attempt at going back now.

His voice’s a slight strain as he asks, “And what do you think about?” He starts to rub his thighs, feeling his cock stir to the side of his jeans, making the material feel tighter than it truly was. His fingers trail closer, knuckles brushing against his erection. He’s pretending like he can stop himself too. “What does he do in your head, sweetheart?”

“He watches,” you say as your movements speed up again. You really can’t help it now, his voice edges you on. Your hand goes under the band of your underwear, fingers collecting wetness below to bring up to your clit, “He’s standing at the edge of the bed,” you tell him, “he’s unbuttoning his shirt, and then he starts taking off his belt… He’s smiling.”

If only you knew that hearing how bad you wanted him was making him do the same thing on the other side.

You’re panting now, one foot comes up to the bench as you slide yourself over to press your back into the corner of the wall, your head tilting back as well, using the assistance to grind into your hand. “He thinks I’m pretty.”

“That's cause are.” He’s lowered his pants now and takes his cock out from under his boxers. Your words make his mouth gape and his eyes close as he begins to stroke himself. “You really are.”

His smile fades as he bites down on his lip lightly. You’re so needy for him and so desperate to admit it. It makes him feel powerful. Almost God-like, despite you both starring as the other’s tempter. So sweet and sinful the sounds you’re making are. How could he not give in? How could he not make you wet for him even at church and stroke his cock as it happens? You’re making it so easy with every whine and little moan you try to withhold. He could hear you getting restless, but he wants to make you want it more, “Keep goin’,” he tells you. “What’s happening now?”

“I put two fingers in,” you whine, “not big enough. Never enough.”

You let your two fingers stay inside you as you press your palm down on your pussy, rubbing your clit with the underside of your hand. You stop for a moment to take off your pants and underwear entirely, discarding it on the floor before you return to your spot. You put one leg up on the bench as you continue to finger yourself.

“I want him so bad.”

“How bad, sweetheart? What would you let him do?”

“Anything, Rick.” You say it louder than you intend, you’re losing yourself. “Anything for him.”

“Anything?”

“Everything.”

After that only nonsense comes out, simple sounds of desire and pleads. It was becoming too much to talk.

Rick felt the same. His hand on his shaft made quick and short movements, his lips parted and pink, more red on the bottom than the top from when bit his lip again at the words anything and everything for him. He repeated it in his mind, listening to your sweet little whines in the present. His head tilts so far back that it bangs on the wooden wall and he hisses.

It reminds him to compose himself.

Even after you let out another moan of his name, and he swears he could almost hear just how wet you are now, the squish of your fingers going in and out, louder and louder.

He swallows hard and takes a breath before he says, “What if I say I want you in here right now?”

That’s when your movements completely stop. You can hear the wind swirling again. You were speechless.

He turns to the netted window. You two can’t see each other but you know he’s looking. “C’mere.” He says slowly. “Now.”

And after that, your body takes control. Swift and instantaneous you move from your door to his, shutting it hard. You don’t even take a moment to look at him, it was too dark anyway, and that’s not what mattered. You’ve already dreamed of his curls, and the pierce of his blue eyes. You knew what he looked like. It’s time to know how he felt.

Rick takes off his shoes and fully lowers and discards his pants. Before he could even consider his shirt, you’re on top of him. You’re kissing his face, your lips and tongue missing his lips by just a little, but it doesn’t matter.

You begin to rock, your wet pussy making the length of his cock and thigh slick before it's even inside of you. You couldn’t help yourself and it makes him laugh, all cocky and proud. Something that you’d cross your arms to, even quip back at in any other situation but right now, it’s so fucking hot.

His hands latch onto your hips, his legs slide back to hit the wall. He raises your frame and you grab him. Your sticky fingers lace around his dick and then you both lower yourself down onto him.

You try to bottom out fast, but his nails dig into you, slowing you down. Your face reaches back with a pout and a whine as he says, “Wait,” even after he’s inside of you.

Your pussy quakes around him. You’re both trying to hold it together, but he’s faring much better than you.

His hand holds your jaw, thumbs caressing your cheeks and a tear falls from your eye, all the sensations becoming too much.

His eyes trail the sight as it rolls down and he tells you, “You’re right. I do think you’re beautiful.”

And he kisses you. Tongue slipping past your lips just as quickly as they depart, going to whisper in your ear: “Go on now,” he smiles, “show me everything.”

You begin to rock against him instantly. Initiating the kiss this time, your tongue slips into his mouth but his goes on top of yours. He grabs the back of your neck, deepening it, and you continue to take charge below as you ride him.

You squeeze around his cock tightly with every movement forward and you hear a strangled groan come out of him as his dick twitches at the sensation.

It makes you moan so loudly, you could wake somebody up.

But it doesn't matter.

You could even come right now just from feeling him inside you for the first time.

And it doesn’t matter.

“I've wanted you for so long, Rick!” You tell him.

He’s all that matters.

“You’ve got me.” He tells you breathlessly, kissing down your neck with his hand tugging on your hair. “You always could’ve.”

Now you know you’re all that matters too.

Your head tilts to the side, eyes closed, and mouth open for each pretty sigh and slight hiss that come out as he bites and kisses.

His hands lower to the hem of your shirt and he pulls it off. You start to undo the buttons on his too.

It’s fast and rushed and messy, but now your chests can meet. You press into him. Your hips are rocking hard. Your clit meets his pelvic bone making you whine and moan again. “Really good,” you say.

Rick’s hands slide to grab your ass, helping you go faster until they rise to your hips again. His thumbs press into the crevice of your hips and legs and he starts to bounce you on him.

You grip onto his arms, assisting him in his efforts. Your eyes are still closed, you’re smiling— already in a state of bliss, yet relishing in the fact that he was pushing you further and further into the dream-like feeling that was to come: your orgasm was close, and the string of airy moans made it evident to you both.

The way his hands move to caress your waist, trail up your back, roll over your arms, and back down again feels like gliding on ice. You felt him everywhere.

“Come on,” he tells you.

“I'm trying, I want to.”

“I know,” he affirms. He takes hold of your upper arms, letting his hands slide down to yours that tightly gripped his biceps and placed them on his shoulders.

You bounce yourself down on him harder, switching it up to rock on him and give your clit attention, then repeat it again.

Once you’re back to bouncing Rick takes one hand on your hip, helping you go faster while the other rubs your clit as vigorously as he can.

Your mouth is open wide, pants and squirms, and pleads coming out wildly. You almost feel like you’re making the whole box jump along with you as you bounce, and bounce, and bounce, and then… there it is: you shout his name and he speaks back to you, you both come together and ride out your high.

A glow emits as you smile, your head crashing into his as you catch your breath.

Then a noise erupts.

The church door closes.

Steps become louder and louder until they reach the open confession box door.

Rick puts his finger to your lips, silently quieting you both. Your eyes are owl wide knowing what the person in the next section would find in there. You almost squirm but Rick slots his finger into your mouth to stop it. “Quiet,” he mouths as the person next to you drops the wet garments they just touched, almost running out of the place as fast as they could.

You lower your face to his shoulder. Embarrassed, you sigh, “What are we gonna do now?”

Rick is unfazed: “Well,” he starts, picking you up by the hips, securing your legs as you wrap them around him, “we could do this one more time.”

He locks the church door and then walks you down the aisle and onto the podium, placing you gently on the ground. He’s standing above you. Just like it all your daydreams.

It was his turn now.

[izhape]

hi...i could really use some help

im trans, gay, indigenous, and my ankle is. very much broken

i had an accident and broke all of my ankle and the back of my leg, resulting in a plate and 4 screws being put in. i have 5 weeks until i can begin physical therapy to walk again and up to three months (around May) before i can continue my usual job which is hard labor.

here's the problem: unemployment denied me and i don't have short term disability insurance with my job. this means i have absolutely zero money coming in at this time.

i have roommates which is a good thing but i need money for my car, my phone bill, and moving when my lease is up in june. my living situation right now is pretty difficult, it's a long story that i can explain in dms to anyone curious but tldr my roommates don't really want to sign another lease to give me more months to work and get back on my feet (physically and metaphorically) enough to move out. living here has been a mental struggle that has left me exhausted and genuinely suicidal. i need to get out

im trying to find remote work and if you have tips for that, that would be awesome, but im also in need of donations.

a single dollar would help. i can do tarot card readings (i have well over 8 years of experience) for cheap pricing, and i have some furries on sale over on toyhouse if that's your sort of thing.

my paypal

my venmo is @/hylian

i do not have a cashapp at this time but could figure something out if that's your only way of donating

donate what you can really mean just that! even $2 can matter

reblogs help!! thank you 💖

[multifandomgirl08]

Be Something You'll Love and Understand [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Daniel Ricciardo (Platonic)

Summary: He knew that he should have called his mom yesterday but he was still wrapping his head around the idea of being a father.

Warning(s): N/A

A/N: This is set the day after the Prologue.

Title taken from Simple Man originally by Lynyrd Skynyrd covered by Shinedown.

Words: 1.6k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

Max had never felt more sleep-deprived in his life. Even staying up for a 24-hour endurance race had never made him this tired.

Daniel had been at his apartment last night helping him with Nico. He helped Max order formula, clothing, and diapers. Most of it would be delivered today. Both he and Daniel had to look up instructions on how to make the formula out of powder and warm water, and then how to put the bottles together so that Nico could eat.

Right now he was running on less than 8 hours of sleep, and Daniel was sitting on his couch with Nico who was finally asleep after a diaper change and a bottle that he didn’t end up screwing the portion size up.

He pulled his phone out of the front pocket of his pants and dialed his mom. He knew that he should have called her yesterday but he was still wrapping his head around this whole thing.

He let the phone ring in his ear for a few seconds before he heard the dial tone come to an end. “Mum?” He asked.

“Max?” She questioned back. The sound of her voice made some of the tightness in his shoulders go away.

“I… I need your help.”

“What’s going on Max?” He could hear the unmistakable sound of concern in her voice. It was something that he was still growing used to at times after not having remembered much of the time that he got to spend with her when he was a child.

“You remember Amelia?” Max’s eyes fell over the open letter that laid face up on his coffee table. Her scribbled words ran through his head. You’re the best thing for him. He had taken to finally reading it when Nico had managed to fall asleep around 4 am.

“Yes,” She started to say.

“She, she was pregnant when we ended things. I didn’t know, she never told me.” He started with. He was trying his best not to break down into tears. “Mum, she left me the baby.”

Sophie said nothing to him for a few moments before he heard, “Oh Max.”

“I don’t know what to do. Daniel has been helping me since I found out yesterday.”

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” She calmly said. “I’m going to pack a bag, and then I’m going to take the first flight that I can to get over there.”

Max just nodded even though his mother couldn’t see. “Has the baby eaten?” She asked.

“He ate an hour ago, Daniel finally managed to get him to sleep.” Max could hear the distant sound of typing through the phone.

“That’s good. Let him sleep for as long as possible. You and Daniel can take turns with him, and nap in between until I get there.” 

“Mum?” He half asked.

“Yeah, Maxy?”

“Thank you, I love you.” She was dropping everything to fly to Monaco to help him with this. She didn’t have to do it. She could have just stayed home and tried to help him with this from a distance.

“I love you too, I should be there in a couple of hours. My flight should get in by 4, I’ll take a cab so you don’t have to pick me up. Okay?” Max tried to find the clock on the wall and saw he would only have to wait 5 hours until his mother would be here.

“Okay.”

After getting off the phone with Sophie, Max was able to get some sleep. It wasn’t much, he had been awake when Daniel had gone up to his apartment to grab a change of clothes, Max’s eyes started to feel heavy as he was lying on the couch. At some point he woke up, forcing his eyes open to see Nico still on his chest, and the clock read 4:29 pm.

He could hear the sound of keys banging against the front door to his apartment before the door opened fully.

“He’ll be happy to see you.” He heard from Daniel. “He’s out of his element with this.”

He couldn’t hear his mother’s response, but he did see her dark hair from where he was lying on the couch.

“He was still sleeping when I went to let you in.” Max could hear the wheels from what he could only assume was his mother’s suitcase.

“Max?” Sophie asked, looking out into the living room. He tried to move up the couch without moving Nico. As he tried to sit up, Nico let out a disgruntled whimper.

He met the eyes of his mother and could see the shock in her eyes. It was one thing for him to tell her that he had a child but another to see him with a baby swaddled into his chest.

“Hi Mum,” He did his best to move Nico into the crook of his arm. He didn’t want to wake him, but he did want to sit up on the couch.

Sophie made her way over to him leaving her bag by Daniel. She moved to sit next to him before peering into the bundle of blankets to see the little boy sleeping. She said nothing as she looked at Nico.

“Can I hold him?” She asked.

Max didn’t even have to think about moving Nico into her arms. He saw her lean back into the couch and then placed Nico into her arms. He could tell from the look on his mom’s face that she was a little shocked to be holding a baby that he had a part in creating.

In the background, Max heard Daniel mention something about putting Sophie’s bag in the guest room before leaving the two of them in the living room.

“How are you managing?” She asked. Max couldn’t help but slightly shake his head.

“Not well,” If his mother wasn’t holding Nico he would have put his head into her lap. He wanted to tell her what Jos had done, but he also didn’t want more bad blood between his parents. It was only in the last few years after he turned 18 that his parents had finally managed to co-exist with each other peacefully.

“What are you not telling me?” His mother knew him too well.

“Dad…” He tried to start saying, “He knew about Nico. He tried to pay Amelia off so I wouldn’t know about him.”

Sophie said nothing, she just kept rocking Nico in her arms for a few moments.

“Was it because of her… or was it about you racing?” Max knew that she didn’t really have to ask.

“You already know the answer.” He said flatly.

“Well, I’m sure to him he was doing what he thought was right by your career.” Max knew that his mother didn’t have to defend Jos or take his side on things. Was Max horrible for wanting her to tell him that Jos was out of line for making choices for him? Max was 22, he didn’t need his father going behind his back and making choices for him that he didn’t agree with.

“But what about what’s right for him?” Max gestured to Nico.

His mother gave him a soft smile, “Well, as his father. It’s up to you to figure out what you think that’ll be as he grows up.”

Max felt like he could start spilling all of the things that he didn’t want to do as a parent, every possible insecurity that he had, and the concerns about how all of this was going to work in the long run.

Max was grateful that Nico was in Sophie’s arms while the thoughts were running through his mind.

“How’s he doing, sleeping, eating?” Sophie gestured to her arms. Max started to talk about Nico’s odd sleep schedule. Every three hours almost on the clock he needed to either eat or sleep. 

Max talked about the formula mishap, he had given Nico only three ounces, then he was still crying because he was hungry. Max made more but Nico only drank a bit not finishing the rest of the bottle.

When Nico started to get fussy, Max moved to the kitchen assuming that he wanted to eat, but instead, Sophie stuck her nose right up to Nico’s diaper and declared he needed to be changed. Max pulled out the diaper bag that Nico came with, finding the last two diapers left. Sophie had asked for a soft towel since they would be changing Nico on the couch since Max didn’t have a changing table.

Sophie oversaw as Max changed Nico’s diaper, only suggesting to not strap him into it so tight, after all, it was a diaper, not a racing seat with five-point harness. Max got it right leaving a two finger space in the front before snapping the bottom of Nico’s onesie back in place.

“Have you figured out how you are going to manage your schedule and him?” Sophie had asked after Daniel had offered to order all of them dinner.

“Not yet, I thought a nanny for when I am not home but for now, I can take care of him until I have to leave for promo in February.”

“That’s smart,” Daniel said. “Gives you a few months with ‘em before the season.”

Sophie gave Daniel a soft smile.

“I’ll stay with you until you find someone you like.” Sophie was quick to offer.

“Mum, no.” He immediately protested. Victoria just had Luka and his mom should be back in Belgium helping her, not worrying about him.

“I know what you’re thinking, but Victoria has Tom. You need me right now, just until you find a nanny and figure out a schedule for my grandson.” Sophie looked over to the couch where Nico was lying between a few pillows. He was fast asleep for now having just finished a full bottle of formula at the correct portion size.

He wanted to protest again, stating that he could figure it out. Sophie gave him a soft but stern look that he read as, I’m not leaving, deal with it.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab, @thedecalcomania-blog, @xoscar03, @em-gvf01, @haikyuen

[tastesousweet]

⭒ blurb : stream hype

bf!hamzah x poc!reader

summary: based on this ask!!! just a lil blurb where yn gives hamzah and viewers a try on haul during a stream

mickey speaks: ok i did smthg different than the tiktoks for this one but i love writing these & im glad u love them too 😭💗 i need hamzah as my boyfriend like NOWWW

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hamzah’s streaming in the corner of your shared bedroom when you get home from a day out with your girlfriends

he can hear you make your way through the house before you peek your head into the room with a smile, “hi, i’m home!”

he’s immediately grinning at the sight of you, “heyyy, look who’s back” and motions you to come closer with his hand

he’s not shocked at alllll when you have handfuls of shopping bags with you when you open the door fully

you place them on your bed with a large sigh before coming closer to greet hamzah

he remains seated as you hug; his face tucked into your lower stomach and loving arms wrapped around your hips as you play with the bits of hair peeking from his beanie

he whispers “i missed you” hoping the stream doesn’t catch it since he’s further away from the mic

they totally hear that shit and the chat is flooded with remarks about how cute the two of you are

he pulls away and looks up at you as you talk, “missed you more...do you need me to grab you anything? i’ll probably go watch something and give you a haul whenever you’re done here.”

“no, im good. i won't be on for too much longer”

"m'kay," you nod your head and make sure to greet the viewers before you exit, bending down so you’re in frame and showing off your lovely smile and energy (that hamzah admires in the monitor) “hiiii and byeeee!” you wave and blow a kiss. hamzah’s smile never fades as he watches you.

as soon as you’re gone hamzah reads over the chat, which is full of people begging for you to come back, “seriously??? am i not enough for you guys?”

after a while he gives in and pulls out his phone to call you, showing the camera his screen with your name and photo on it, before putting it on speaker for them to hear

“hi, are you okay?” your smooth voice comes through the scratchy phone audio

“yes, but the people are not. they want you to hang out in here” he smiles and bites his lip in anticipation of your response

“are you lying?”

his face screws up, “why would i lie??”

“well why’d you call instead of yelling for me?? im just in the other room,” you giggle

“because this is fun-er.”

“okay, im coming”

“YOURE WHAT?!”

you hang up and hamzah laughs

★

you have a chair pulled up next to hamzah as you both sit and interact with the chat for a bit

you tell them multiple stories about your shopping trip and he suggests you give everyone a haul

you waste no time getting up to grab your bags from the bed and bring them over to his set up

as you go through and unfold various tops, bottoms, and dresses he adds plenty of commentary and “lemme see”s while holding them in front of his face

“this thing is not gonna cover your ass, are we serious???” he holds up a mini skirt with a laugh

and you grab it from him with a playful shake of your head, “i was gonna wear it for my other boyfriend anyway”

hamzah just stares at you with a smirk until you look back over to him, “what?!” you giggle.

“don’t play with me, girl” he smiles and leans back in his chair, “go ahead and show them the rest”

when you get to a particular dress you just about squeal, “h, you’re gonna looovvveee this one! i almost sent you a pic in the dressing room it’s so perfect.”

“show me, show me!” his eyes are wide now and his mouth spreads into a grin.

you reveal a soft, coconut white dress with leafy ruffles tied into roses (me when my describing skills shut down bc what does this even mean bruh)

“oh wow…” he looks from your glowy face to the dress held beside you and back. “can i see it on you?”

you nod your head, “yeah i took pics at the store,” you go to grab your phone.

he kisses his teeth, “now why would i wanna see some pics when i have you right here??”

you look up at him from your phone and begin to laugh under your breath. you look over to the monitor and your face gives away the joke you’re thinking of, “uh huh, okay. look someone said ‘the sassy man apocalypse has gone too far’” you point to the screen

hamzah looks for a second and then adds to the joke himself, “oh em gee, they’re saying ‘girl go put on that damn dress we wanna see already, with the rolling eye emoji!!!’” he covers his mouth as if he’s shocked, “are you really gonna take that bae??”

you try not to laugh at the pet name he uses, “hamzah whyd someone just say ‘take that fuck ass beanie off your head before you speak on a bad bitch, lil boy’?” you act just as shocked as him, “they’re some haters for real…”

hamzah deadpans and gives a side eye to the camera

★

“okay you can look now” you tell him and he slowly uncovers his eyes.

he immediately pretends to faint at the sight of you in the material that hugs you so perfectly

“oh fuck, my heart- it’s giving out, everything hurts. i can’t- breathe-!” he gives out a breathy monologue and you laugh at him before moving further away from the camera to give the viewers a better view

you turn around and ask them what they think all while hanzah fakes his death nearby

you eventually find a spot across his lap and tap his cheek telling him to be normal

“my bad my bad, i need to lock in.” he exaggerates a shake of his head

“you like it though?”

“of course i like it, look at you!!!!” he points at the both of you in the monitor

“good, i think ill wear it when we go to curaçao”

“that’ll be perfect- can you get up and do another twirl for me please? i missed it”

you pout but when he squeezes your thigh you get up and does as he asks

“guys isn’t she the prettiest??” he gushes

you blush in the form of a large smile and bend down away from him to grab another item to show off, to which he jokingly makes various sexual gestures and faces at your ass that is left pointed towards him

when you turn back around hamzah pretends to adjust a watch, which is actually just him hovering awkwardly over his wrist