#NEVER apologize for long asks i love them sm

[fallenclan]

seeing as though hailcrash is starting to get older, i've scrapped together a list of contenders for deputy for when/if she retires. i tried to pick younger cats, as many of the cats i'd probably want for deputy are getting quite old </3

daisypetal: her charismatic personality would allow her to be knowledgable about interpersonal dynamics within the clan. she's a cat who i'd place as "in the loop," being both the mate of a medicine cat and being a charming individual. she would know how to inspire a clan and would be good at supporting maplestar when he begins to doubt himself.

beefreckle OR hawkwish: i'm grouping these two together because they both have the "righteous" trait. beefreckle is honestly just sort of a Guy™ but this actually works in his favor. he could be developed into any sort of personality. i also just like righteous cats. they tend to create drama with their strong definitions of right and wrong.

rowanleaf: doesn't exactly strike me as the type to want a leadership position, but i think it'd be cool to have one of moxieoak's kids as a deputy or leader. same goes for willowsplash.

sleepycloud: a diligent and kind-hearted warrior. his cautious nature would make it so that he isn't going to jump to any conclusions right away. he wants to hear all sides of things, hence the "good mediator" trait as well. he would be a well-liked deputy, but i'm not sure whether he has the "tactical" mindset needed for planning patrols.

yewberry: he has some deep-seated insecurites, however after becoming mates with brambletuft and becoming a father, i believe he feels a lot more confident in himself. him being ambitious is interesting to me. i feel like yewberry thinks he has a lot to "prove." he thinks his reputation has been tainted by otterslip, and he wants to be better than his father. i believe yewberry would want to be deputy, but whether he would make a good deputy is still in question.

poppyfeather: a very laid back and chill lady. she has the same charisma that would benefit daisypetal but poppyfeather is also an eloquent speaker. she knows what to say to get cats to listen, and she has the clan's best interests at heart. i just think she's a cool gal.

yellowjay: she has a lot of confidence and energy. on top of being bold, i imagine that she's actually quite clever. in a time of war especially, yellowjay isn't going to hesitate. hesitation can cost lives... but so can rashness. she's adventurous which makes me think she's open to new ideas. yellowjay wouldn't feel strongly about tradition like a more righteous or strict cat might. she looks to the future, not the past.

fernslug: adding her because a lot of people seem to like the idea of a fernstar. i'm not against this at all! however i personally don't think she would want to be deputy or leader. she's just a silly who likes slugs. politics and taking care of an entire clan seems a bit much for her (reasonably).

moosefall: he's kind but perhaps a little too forgiving, in my mind. he seems like someone who is extremely caring/loving but is also easily influenced (he isn't a pushover by any means, but i think he's someone who deeply values the input of his loved ones, even if that input isn't always the best for him or the clan). i think maplestar would see a lot of his younger self in moosefall, too.

antbite: his strictness would help in a time of war, although his youth works against him. similarly to yellowjay, i think antbite would have a very strategic mindset, but even moreso than her. he would be a brilliant deputy in a time of war, but in a time of peace? who knows. i like the idea of him becoming deputy at such a young age and excelling as deputy, but as soon as the war with shallowclan ends he's sort of left in the water, where he isn't sure what to do. i think once he's older, he would be a good deputy during both peace and war, but at his current age maybe not. lots of potential with this one....

mossfrog: she's young, yes, but also very clever. she sees things that others often miss. i feel like she's the type to be a prodigy in all things, but this also leads to her crushing sense of loneliness. she finds it hard to relate to other cats most of the time. she would be an excellent leader/deputy but find herself lacking when it comes ot interpersonal relationships among the clan. she's definitely at risk of "gifted kid burnout." mossfrog is probably one of my favorite contenders on this list!

cats i'd add if not for their age: evie, bluefern, blizzardfang, crowflame, applebranch, wormshade, flyspots, pinefrost

i'm curious to know what you and others think. maybe at some point there could be a poll (could be cats on this list or any you think are fitting) over who should be deputy at some point?

-🐉 (ended up not being busy like i thought i would be! yay! which means more rambling about fictional cats and my Thoughts about them... i'm sorry for the long ask but i can't promise i won't send more long asks in the future)

ooo, i LOVE how well thought out this is,, excellent notes on all of the cats overall, and i have some additions!

daisypetal - not someone i had considered previously, but certainly would be a good choice! i feel like she's a good mix of logical, social, and silly. they're 77 moons currently, so maybe a Little on the older side, but depending on who the leader was at the time, still an excellent choice

beefreckle or hawkwish - both good choices!! i really like the idea of beefreckle especially--i think hawkwish would be a fun choice, but she had the nervous trait for most of her life before becoming righteous, vs beefreckle who had the wise trait. i think they'd both do pretty well, though (and now im imagining beefreckle getting a life from spiderclaw AUGH)

rowanleaf - BIG agree on your stance, i don't think she'd necessarily want to be in a position of power but i do think it would be cool to have a moxieoak descendant as leader/deputy. i wouldn't necessarily say shameless would be the best trait for that, but it is funny to imagine lmao. plus my girl needs to do more interesting things, i've only drawn her like 4 times wtf

sleepycloud - also a really good choice!! he has the Good Mediator trait so i feel like he's good with the social aspect of things, and he's very kind. like you said, though, i'm not sure if he has the "tactical" mindset per se

yewberry - i LOVE yewberry and i'd love to see him as leader/deputy,,, he'd be a good choice too i think. i also love the idea of him feeling like he has a lot to prove, especially since Otterslip.

poppyfeather - until recently, i absolutely would have agreed with your statement, but she appears to no longer be such a laid-back kitty. recently she aquired the vengeful trait, which came out of Nowhere to me, though tbf i think that would make for some very interesting stuff, story-wise

yellowjay - definitely leans on the impulsive side, but i agree with you saying that isn't always a bad thing. she would for sure be an interesting choice, though idk how responsible she is--she always struck me as the type to goof off a lot, which is good for lightning the mood on a patrol, but maybe not as much for deputy. i'll take her into consideration though, bc i do love her and i'd love if she took a more active part in the story

fernslug - you're actually so correct saying she wouldn't really want to be deputy/leader. i think she's pretty content just being a warrior and helping out her clan that way, maybe even taking on the role of a mediator when she's older. i do love her very dearly, and until recently i was nudging her towards that position, but reasonably i think she wouldn't care much for that, and would only do it if she was specifically asked to

moosefall - him as deputy is such a cute idea tbh. i agree with everything you said in his little section--he's a very kind-hearted cat and perhaps very easily influenced. i think he'd do well as leader as long as the deputy was a little more cold/strict, and do well as deputy as long as the leader was a little more cold/strict. its about balance

antbite - interesting choice! i always saw him as a little more rough around the edges, certainly ambitious enough to want the position but maybe a little too harsh to do well in it. lots of potential, i agree. but like with moosefall, he'd probably do okay with a softer deputy/leader by his side

mossfrog - ok. i know shes young but im a little obsessed with this idea now. i've always loved her and the idea of tiny, un-intimidating little moss being the leader of this massive clan is. adorable. maybe next litter of kits we have, she'll get an apprentice? looking at her with my autistic eyes

IN SHORT. your ideas are delightful and have given me much to think about. i'll probably narrow it to my top three some time before hailcrash retires/dies/is promoted to leader, and run a poll to get everyone else's input too

[josukespimphand]

your art is so gorgeous i cannot BELIEVE it hope you are having a wonderful new year

Ahahajjjjhsjs thank you so much!!!!!

[ilovewomenfr]

just take your shit and go

click before reading

ex!abby, bottom!reader

men dni!!!! NSFW

cw: pretty vanilla, fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), praise kink, make up sex, idk what else

a/n: yall i thought i would be done this on tuesday. ive been so busy this week w work and life ive barely had time to write. this one’s a bit short but i had to get this idea down. i might improve it some time in the future. not proofreading and i kind of dont like it but thats ok. also requests are open as always. AND THANK YOU FOR SM SUPPORT ON YOU ARE SUCH A NERD! I GENUINELY WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT. xx.

you and your ex broke up two weeks ago, a huge fight blew up between the two of you which is why abby is at the door of your apartment, backpack slung over her shoulder, to collect the rest of her things. when you answer the door, you see abby’s gaze rake over your body.

“seriously abs?” you scoff at her, looking down at your abby’s baggy t-shirt, “do i get my shirt back?” she asks as she rolls her eyes at you, gesturing to the band tee. “oh. uh. yeah. i guess” you respond in a quiet tone.

“do you want a drink or something?” you offer and abby shakes her head, her blonde braid moving along with. the braid she would only take out at home when she was with you. the braid you used to tug on when she was drunk off your pussy to see her half-lidded blue eyes. you lick your bottom lip at the thought before shaking it away.

“are you gonna let me come in?” abby asks in a slightly annoyed tone. you get out of the doorway and allow her to come into the apartment. “most of your stuff is on the couch,” you mumble as you point over to the piles of things you threw onto the couch in a blind rage the night she left.

“aw how sweet of you to put everything on the couch for me.” abby says sarcastically, resulting in an eye roll from you. “just take your shit and go.” you grab a couple boxes and put them on the coffee table. you watch as she starts packing away her clothes into the boxes, standing awkwardly. “so this is it then?” you ask,

“what do you mean?”

“all it took was a fight.”

abby walks over to you, crossing her arms and resting her weight on her hip, “you were the one who told me to get out and never talk to you again, if i remember correctly.”

“because i was mad. i didnt actually expect you to go.” you look up to her eyes, trying to find any trace of resentment, but you find none. instead you still find love, “why are you looking at me like that?” she puts her hands on your waist, instinctively your own arms wrap around her neck. “im not looking at you like anything.”

“you are.” you play with her braid, “you’re looking at me like you still care.” she leans in and kisses you, catching you by surprise. the kiss is full of longing and desire. the way she holds you makes you feel as though a fire is stirring within you. she pulls away and sighs, walking back to the couch and sitting down.

“youre so confusing. i mean you tell me to go then dont want me to go? then you dont even text me for two weeks and when you finally do its because you want my stuff out of the apartment.” you nod, knowing you’re in the wrong here. “but i still care about you y/n.” abby leans back on the couch, practically beckoning you to come and sit on her lap.

you make your way over to the couch, sitting in silence as the both of you look at each other, tension growing in the air. “im sorry. i shouldn’t have told you to go.” you apologize, breaking the silence. “i shouldn’t have left.” her voice is softer than before, her hand find its way to your knee and her thumb brushes soothingly along your skin. the apology hangs over the two of you, and once again your eyes meet. abby’s eyes have a look of desire in them, one you know all too well. that’s all it takes for you to climb over and straddle her.

her hands find your hips immediately, “i’ve missed you, ya know.” you say gently, “prove it.” your hands hold her face and you kiss her again, sensually and slowly. abby’s hands run up your back to your hair trying to deepen the kiss. you part you lips and your tongue meets hers. you almost moan at the familiar taste, but you pull away instead, “does that prove it?” she lowers you onto the couch so you’re below her, “haven’t proved it quite yet.” she murmurs as she captures your lips once more. her hands slide up under your shirt as your tongues dance together, palming and squeezing your breasts, the simple action resulting in arousal shooting down to your core. she captures your moans with her mouth, before planting kisses down your neck, suckling the sweet skin.

moments later both your clothes are on the floor as abby kisses your inner thighs, “abs please” you beg, “i need you.” she looks up at you, “mm look at you begging for me, so needy, huh?” she goes back to sucking and kissing your thighs and you push her head towards your soaked pussy, “abbyyyy please.” you beg, “hm? what do you need pretty girl? need me to eat your pussy?” she nudges your clit with her nose eliciting a needy whine from you. “fuck, just eat me out already! please!” your begs are desperate now, your aching cunt waiting for attention. she pulls your legs over her shoulders and laps your slick, the sensation drawing a shiver from you. your hands clutch her hair as she begins sucking your clit, “fuck abby yeah” the moan is involuntary and in response you feel the vibration of her own.

youre a complete mess under her by the time the knot in your stomach snaps, your release dripping out of you pussy and onto your thighs. abby just keeps going, lewd sounds leaving you and echoing around your living room. she slips her fingers into you and curls them, your back arches as she repeatedly hits your g-spot, “so fuckin pretty when you’re falling apart baby” she murmurs softly. she uses her thumb on your clit and it’s like you’re on top of the world, your cries are becoming pornographic at this point and it’s just egging her on, “yeah, you like my fingers filling you dont you?” she nips your hip, “mmhh yeahhh. fuck baby ‘m gonna cum!” she keeps hitting your g-spot and the pressure building up inside of you reaches its peak, you feel your legs shaking as you cum on her fingers, “youre doing so good for me baby.” she lets you ride out your high on her before sliding her fingers out, “fuck i missed you so much abby” you say, she kisses you, “i missed you too”

tags: @jamiesturniolo

[noxtivagus]

IT'S ALREADY WEDNESDAY !?! DAMN 🥺 thursday basically now bcs it's just turned midnight here omg.

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART SEVEN

previous chapters | welp. it's here. this one is a DOOZY, and i'm so sorry. i never expected it to get this long but oh well!!! go grab a snack and get settled cause this one is kinda wild. love u guys sm. i proofread this very quickly so i apologize if there's any mistakes!! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: the pressure is building in more ways than one. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, sexting, n00ds, oral (m receiving), lap-sitting, thigh riding, alcohol, lemme know if i missed any! word count: 15.6k ao3

You're beginning to learn that Joel runs hot and cold.

There have been moments with him, intimate and special and warm, moments that make you feel light on your feet and send butterflies wilding through your stomach. Moments where he's open and present and wants all his attention to be on you, on your body, your pleasure. His touch sets you alight, his words send tingles down your spine.

And then weekdays happen and you start second guessing yourself all over again.

On Sunday you'd attended church with your parents, another attempt at appeasing your mother in lieu of all the lies and deceit. You've only gone to a select few services since you came home, something you know they've been silently judging you for and just waiting to hold above your head. Admittedly you'd been afraid of bumping into people you knew, having to switch on your teenage persona of Good Catholic Girl™ and lie through your teeth about how good it feels to be back home again. Luckily in the few services you'd attended, you'd only run into some elderly family friends, managing to avoid anyone you went to high school with.

Your luck had to run out at some point, though. This service you'd been accosted by none other than Bethany, one of your childhood friends who you'd practically left in the dust when you'd gone away for college. Her friendship was always full of judgement, perfection, and not to mention heaps of Catholic guilt. She'd taken one look at you, appraising you up and down as if assessing you for imperfections, then pulled you into a tight hug.

"It's so good see you," she'd said when she'd pulled back, a wide - and borderline frightening - grin plastered on her face, "My momma told me you were back, thought I woulda heard from you by now!"

Your mother, standing beside you in your pew, had furrowed her brow at this, clearly confused. You hadn't understood her reaction completely until Bethany had headed off to go say hi to someone else.

"I thought you had lunch with her and Alice the other week," she'd murmured softly to you under her breath, giving you an accusatory look, "Said you'd be helping them out over the summer. That's what you told me, anyway."

Fuck.

"O-oh, right," you'd had no idea what else to say other than that, biting down on your lip and staring straight ahead as the service began. She hadn't said anything else about it, but you'd sat in discomfort and anxiety for the next hour.

In a panic, you'd found Bethany after the service and quickly asked if she needed any extra help at Sunday School, to which she'd responded with enthusiasm - a little too much - that they always needed extra hands on Thursdays to help with lesson planning. You'd jumped at the chance, telling her you'd be there.

That night you'd texted Joel. You hadn't heard from him all day despite it being a weekend, and part of you had been hoping you might go over and see him once your parents were asleep.

guess who's volunteering at church now? this idiot.

You'd expected words of comfort, maybe a joke, at least something that would make you feel better about the situation. However, his response to yours had been brief, short, simple:

Rough. Get some sleep x

This trend of short responses has only continued throughout the rest of the week. He's distant when you text him, responds with a few words at best, short and simple and almost like an entirely different person. It's hard to believe it's the same man who whispers good girl in your ear and tells you how well you're doing, how wet you are, how pretty you look. His texts are some ghostly version of him, constantly fading in and out, barely showing interest or desire - that is, if he texts you at all.

It makes your skin itch, sends your insecurities into a tailspin. Why does this always seem to happen? You can't make heads or tails of it - you know he's busy, know that his job takes a lot out of him, and yet you can't help but feel that there's something more he's not telling you. He'd told you on his back deck all about how he wasn't very happy at his job, how he'd prefer to be retired by now, living life on his own terms - so why can't he just do that? It's clearly taking a toll on him, and while part of you feels empathetic and yearns to comfort him, another part feels angry, irritated.

You'd gone to your friends with these concerns, hoping for some sort of answer or solution to the problem. Instead, they'd been more sympathetic to Joel's plight than yours.

you gotta remember you're not in a relationship with him babe

right!! men are v simple creatures. they see things black & white. ur his fuck buddy and he prob doesn't rly want it to go beyond that.

now THAT'S going too far. she's more than his fuck buddy definitely. he wouldn't have told her his whole life story last weekend if that were true.

telling her he had a fucked up childhood isn't necessarily his whole life story. most guys had shitty childhoods lbr

but he opened up!!!!! fuck buddies don't do that.

exactly

i wish you guys were here :(

i'm honestly 5 secs away from booking a flight to texas bestie. gotta use my dad's frequent flier miles somehow.

--

"My friend Tasha is coming to visit this weekend," you tell your mom on Wednesday evening with a smile, turning your phone toward her to show the Airbnb you'll be staying at, "We're gonna stay at this little bungalow, have a girls' weekend."

Her brow furrows, "Why can't Tasha stay here?"

Because Tasha would terrify you, you want to say, because Tasha doesn't wear pants unless absolutely necessary. Instead you just smile again and say, "I think a change of scenery would be good for me, it'll be like a mini vacation. Plus there's a hot tub."

"Now that's something we need," she turns back to her book with a shake of her head, "I swear, your father is more interested in buying that boat we'll never use instead of something new for the backyard." You hadn't been asking for her permission, but her indifference sends a wave of relief through you; you've still been trying to be on your absolute best behavior lately to make up for the lies.

You head out to the backyard and seat yourself in a lounge chair by the pool, unlocking your phone again and swiping to your last conversation with Joel from last night.

hope you had a good day :)

I'm sure yours was better. Sleep well x

Curt and to the point, not at all what you'd wanted him to reply with. You recall one of your first phone conversations, the one where you'd been experiencing the same lack of interest in his texts, what he'd said to you: Don't think for one second that I don't think about you. But how can you not? How are you supposed to feel desired when he's being like this?

can you call me tonight?

You try not to wait too long before biting the bullet, not wanting to talk yourself out of it, but you do stare at the message with your finger hovering over the send button for longer than you really need to. The sound of the back door sliding open forces you to send it, locking your phone again as your mother walks over and seats herself beside you in another chair.

"It's nice to see you wearing that again," she says with a nod to your chest, referring to your crucifix - after wearing it again last weekend you'd thought that keeping it on might please her. "You're starting to really settle in here again, aren't you?"

You try not to grimace, "Yeah, it's nice being home."

She leans back in her chair, letting the suns rays hit her for a little bit without speaking. You sit there waiting for her to say something else, discomfort flooding through you. You're reminded of how easy it was to sit with Joel in his backyard last weekend, how little pressure there was to put up any kind of front - sitting here with your mother is the exact opposite.

"So, you lied to me," she finally says, voice quiet.

Your eyes widen and you sit up a bit, turning to her with panic already rising in your throat, "Wh-what do you mean?"

She doesn't turn to look at you, continuing to stare at the sky, eyes covered by her comically large sunglasses, "You know what I mean."

You sit there, staring at her with a mix of confusion and fear. There's no way she knows about Joel, how could she know? Who would have told her? You wonder if perhaps one of her neighborhood friends saw you leaving his house, saw you in his car... but the guise of lessons is your cover now, so how would any of that point to your relationship?

Some relationship, you can't help but think to yourself, based entirely on sex and only communication on the weekends.

"Bethany and Alice," your mom finally states, and you feel the panic in the pit of your stomach loosen immediately - oh.

"Mom," you say immediately, shaking your head, "I-I know. I'm sorry. I know I told you we met up but..." you bite your lip, trying to come up with some kind of excuse but coming up empty.

Instead, you do something that surprises you entirely - you tell the truth. Or at least... half of it.

"I really feel like my friendship with them has passed," you admit with a frown, "I'm... I'm different than I was when I left, you know that, don't you? I'm sure you've noticed."

She's still not looking at you but you catch her nodding slowly, thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry I lied but... I didn't want to disappoint you. And I didn't want you to worry about me being alone all the time. I'm actually rarely ever alone at college so it's been nice to have some time to myself," you smile, thinking of the girls in your group chat constantly waiting for new updates, "Having lunch with two people I haven't talked to in years just... didn't seem appealing to me. I have different friends now, you know? I'm older, people outgrow each other."

"Friends like Tasha," your mom states, bitterness in her voice, "Tasha who you don't even want me to meet."

You make a face, "Mom..."

She puts her hands up in defeat, shaking her head, "It's fine. You can do what you want and so can she," the words are drenched in judgement, "But you should remember that there are rules for staying here, young lady. And honesty is one of those rules."

You take a deep breath, swinging your legs around the edge of the chair and placing your arms on your knees, your face in your hands. You're so close to snapping back at her, making a comment that'll surely start an argument, but you shove it back down as best you can, counting to ten in your head.

"I'm sorry," you finally say through gritted teeth, "It won't happen again."

"It better not." She stands up then, disappears from the chair as quickly as she'd settled in it. You watch as she walks to the back door again, reaches for the handle.

Your mouth can't stop itself.

"Have you told Dad about my guitar lessons yet?"

She freezes, turns and stares at you for a moment without saying anything, then opens the door and heads back inside, slamming it behind her.

Checkmate.

--

I will when I get home.

Your anxiety is through the roof as you pace back and forth in your bedroom after darkness has fallen, freshly showered and pampered and already out of distractions. Without really thinking much about it, you pull Joel's flannel from under your mattress and wrap it around your shoulders, breathing him in as you sit on your bed and try your best not to keep checking your phone. When it finally vibrates you're not even embarrassed when you pick up on the first ring.

"Hey," you murmur, settling into your sheets and closing your eyes, "Is everything okay?"

"With me?" he asks, voice tired and gruff, "Thought it'd be the other way around."

Your brow furrows, "What do you mean?"

"Thought you'd wanna talk about this church volunteerin' stuff," he's moving around as he talks - you hear the sound of a cupboard banging and the clang of a glass against a countertop.

You don't speak for a moment, listening to the sound of liquid being poured into a cup and Joel taking a swig. There's no sound of the tap - you'd be willing to bet that it's not water he's drinking.

"No, I..." you frown, "I was worried about you."

You hear him take another sip, swallowing loudly and then placing the cup back down with a clink. More pouring. You swear you hear the faint sound of a chuckle before he takes another swig.

"Well that's silly," he states, and you suddenly notice there's a strange difference in his voice, a heaviness you're not used to.

"Are you drunk?"

He chuckles again but there's no humor in it, "Nowhere near as drunk as I'd like to be."

You frown, readjusting yourself against the pillows. You hear him take another sip, "Did something happen?"

He sighs then, deep and tired. You hear him put the glass back down on the counter, "No, babygirl, nothin' happened," hearing him say your pet name makes you feel a little better, the anxiety ebbing away a bit, "It's just that my job is the bane of my fuckin' existence."

He sounds genuinely exhausted, words tinged with resentment. You pull his flannel tighter around yourself, breathe him in, pretend you're in the same room as him, "Talk to me," you say softly, "Tell me what's wrong."

He doesn't reply for a moment - you can make out some footsteps on the other end, the creak of his stairs as he goes up to his bedroom, "No, darlin', it's nothin'. Shouldn't be talkin' about this with you."

"Hey, if something's bothering you, I wanna hear about it. I wanna make it better... if I can."

You hear him settle onto his bed, a satisfied little noise emanating from his throat that makes you smile, "That's the thing, babygirl. You can't. This is just the way life works. You do shit you hate and then you die, plain and simple."

"Joel," you admonish quietly - it's the first time you've said his name aloud since last weekend, it feels right on your lips, safe. He sighs but doesn't say anything else, breath evening out in your ear. "What is it? Really? I've been worrying about it all week."

"Oh honey," he murmurs softly. "Shouldn't be worryin' about me, there are more important things."

"Not to me," you admit, closing your eyes and shaking your head even though he can't see you, "First I thought maybe you were just busy, but-"

"Busy," he scoffs, "Right, yeah, busy. That's my middle name at this point. Fuckin' busy."

He really doesn't sound like himself - you know you still don't know him very well at this point, could be wrong about so many things, but part of you just knows that this isn't Joel. You know his softness, his safety, his kind eyes and crooked smile. This version of him sounds so sad; you can't help but wish you were in his bed right now, able to hold him close and run your fingers through his grey curls. You want him to open up to you.

"You don't wanna hear this shit, angel, you don't," he continues, voice gentler this time, "I know you're thinkin' somethin' is wrong, thinkin' somethin' in particular happened to make me feel like this, but the truth is..." he sighs again, deliberates for a moment and then simply states, "Truth is I'm just bein' stupid."

"You're not stupid," you say immediately, and he chuckles.

"God, you're so sweet, babygirl," he murmurs softly, "It's nice to hear your voice."

Your feel your skin heat up at the words, crossing your legs together unconsciously, "It's nice to hear yours too," you whisper with a smile, "I've missed you this week. Every time you've texted me it's felt like it's not really you."

"I'm sorry, baby," you can hear the sincerity in his voice buried underneath the tiredness and alcohol, "I'm just... I'm a mess." You hear him shuffle a bit in bed, like he's turning onto his side, "Work is always puttin' me in a shitty mood lately and I just...I don't want you to see this side of me."

"But why?"

Another sigh, then-

"'Cause I don't want you to look at me differently."

You bring the sleeve of his flannel to your lips, "I could never look at you differently, Joel," you whisper, "Promise."

He's quiet for a moment and you hope you haven't upset him, hope he's just thinking about what to say. You mean your words; it really would take a lot for you to look at him differently. You know you probably shouldn't feel that way considering you've known him less than a month, that the feeling should scare you... but it doesn't.

"I'm tired, angel," he finally says, voice sad and distant, "I'm too old to be doin' this job."

You wait for him to speak again, listening as he takes a shaky breath on the other end of the line, almost like he hasn't told anyone this. And maybe he hasn't.

"But it's hard to admit that to myself," he continues, "And even harder to admit it to you of all people. I don't want you to see some washed up, tired, old geezer, ya know?" he says it with humor but you can tell that he means it, "I mean I used to... god, I used to be able to do shifts like this no problem. Be up at five and home by midnight and able to do it all over again the next day. Now it's like I'm runnin' on a half empty tank of gas. Got no joy in this job anymore and my back is killin' me and-" he cuts himself off suddenly, "And I need to shut the fuck up before I scare you away."

"You're not gonna scare me away," you whisper, and you mean it, "I'm not going anywhere."

He laughs softly to himself; you're not sure if he believes you, but you're choosing to hope that he does, "Ya know, I didn't even wanna tell you my age when we were first together? I wasn't gonna tell you, I really wasn't. But then you were so sweet and vulnerable and honest with me-"

You scoff, "Yeah, lying about knowing how to play guitar, that's certainly honesty."

"That's not what I mean and you know it," he chastises - you can hear the sudden smile in his voice, "No, darlin'... when you told me you hadn't done anythin' before. That's when I knew I had to tell you, 'cause it wouldn't have been right otherwise," he makes an odd noise in his throat and then corrects, "Not that any of this is really right, but..."

"It feels right," you say softly, staring down at the plaid lines on the flannel shirt shrouding your body, reminding you of what it means - that you're his.

"It does," he agrees, voice rough and low, "Right and wrong in all the right ways, huh babygirl?"

You nod to yourself, unable to help the grin that spreads across your face, "Exactly."

The both of you are silent for a few moments but just like last weekend, it isn't uncomfortable or awkward. It's calming and safe, just listening to each other's breathing. You can tell he's tired, can hear it in his slow exhales; again, you can't help but wish you were lying beside him. And you can't help but wonder if a more sober Joel would have even said any of this to you, would have just kept it to himself and continued to deal with it in silence, not bothering to tell anyone how he's been feeling. It breaks your heart a little bit.

"It'll be okay," you whisper gently, soothingly, "It won't be like this forever, Joel."

He sighs, deep and sleepy, "You really are an angel," he murmurs, "So sweet and lovely, babygirl. Love hearin' you say my name like that."

His words send warmth throughout your body - no one has ever spoken to you the way Joel speaks to you, makes you feel the way he makes you feel. You close your eyes and bury your face in the sleeve of his flannel, listen as his breathing gets slow again.

"You should get some sleep," you whisper, even though you really don't want to end the call - but Joel is tired and you want him to feel better, "Text me tomorrow, okay? Even if you're grumpy."

He almost laughs but he's so close to sleep that it comes out slurred and low, "Okay, baby, I will. Promise."

"Goodnight, J-"

"Wait wait wait," he suddenly sounds a bit more alert, rousing himself from sleep, "You didn't tell me 'bout this church thing. You okay with it?"

You giggle at his sudden concern, "It's nothing, really. Just helping an old friend out with lesson plans for Sunday School. Not very exciting."

"Fun," his voice is sleepy and low again, "What're you gonna wear?"

You have to bite down on your lip to stifle another laugh, shaking your head even though he can't see you, "Go to bed, you perv."

He chuckles, "Okay, okay. Goodnight, angel."

"Goodnight, Joel."

You're about to end the call when you hear him murmur one final thing, so soft you're surprised you can even make it out - but you do:

"Hope I dream about you."

You fall asleep with a smile glued to your lips.

--

You end up wearing the same outfit you'd worn to Joel's last Saturday, though you leave the stockings at home; you doubt the women at church will be offended by your bare legs. You fasten your crucifix around your neck and make sure your mom gets a good look at you before you leave the house; you haven't spoken since yesterday afternoon but you still want her to see you're putting in some effort, as surface level as it may be.

She's in the living room when you come down the stairs, and her expression can't help but turn to one of surprise when she looks up from her book to see you standing there in your Sunday best.

"I'm going to the church," you explain softly, "Gonna help out Bethany with the lesson plan for Sunday School."

She assesses you up and down, eyes fixing on your crucifix for a moment before trailing back down to her book. She doesn't say a word.

Silent treatment. Typical.

Fifteen minutes later you find yourself being greeted by Bethany, blonde hair flowing down her dress as she stands outside the church with a bright smile plastered on her face. You recognize the forced expression immediately, one that you yourself have become an expert in feigning, though for different reasons. You haven't seen her in years but you still know her well enough to tell when she's less than thrilled about something - this time that "something" is you being there.

"I'm so excited you're here!" she tells you, voice shrill as she immediately takes a step forward to envelop you in a haphazard hug that feels neither excited nor genuine.

You should have known it would be like this. When you'd left for college a few years ago you'd promised to keep in touch with both Alice and Bethany, the only "solid" friends you'd managed to keep throughout all the studying, the tutoring, the church services, the extracurriculars, volunteering, etc. It's a miracle in itself that your friendship had even lasted through high school, if you're being honest. You'd begun to distance yourself from them a bit in those final years as you started to lose your faith while theirs only seemed to grow stronger. Leaving for college had been the last nail in the coffin.

"Me too!" you lie, feigning a similar smile as you both pull back from each other.

Though her grin is unrelenting, you can see the distance in her eyes, the sourness and disdain for your presence extremely evident. She doesn't like you. There's an awkward few seconds of silence where she assesses you up and down again, like she had at the service on Sunday.

Why did you even say yes to me coming here? You want to ask as you stand in front of her awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. If you didn't want me here you could have just said there wasn't anything for me to do. But you already know why you'd still been invited despite her obvious disdain for you - keeping up appearances means everything to these people; actually being honest about her feelings would have been disastrous for her reputation.

"Was sure you'd forgotten all about me," she finally says with an edge of malice still shrouded through her smile, "Haven't heard from you in what? Three years? And then you just show up outta the blue, huh?"

You grimace, "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. There was... I mean, I've just had a lot going on, I guess." You kick your feet awkwardly; this is not the conversation you want to be having right now.

"A lot goin' on, huh?" she echoes, eyes still scanning you up and down, "Right. Busy with college?"

You nod quickly, "Yeah, it's been kinda crazy."

She raises an eyebrow, "What are you studyin' again?"

"English Lit."

She snorts then, shaking her head and taking a step back, "Right. Reading. Sure sounds crazy."

Your brow furrows, "It's more than that."

"Oh, I'm sure it is," she puts her hands up in defense, fake laughing and smacking her lips together, "Just find it funny that an English Lit degree takes up so much of your time." She's being pretty bold with the sarcasm but you suppose she has a right to be angry, though you'd never assumed she'd be this pissed about you cutting her off, "Anyway, we should get inside, they're waitin' for us."

"Bethany," you take a step toward her, softening your expression, "I'm really sorry."

She just shakes her head again and turns away from you to reach for the handle on the front door, forced smile finally fading into a natural frown, "Forget it."

Great start.

You don't talk much after that, not after you're led into a side room off the chapel where a few other women are sitting in a circle with binders in their laps. Bethany simply gestures for you sit down in an empty chair and the meeting begins. Everyone immediately begins their rapport, discussing their plans and reading quotes aloud from their binders while you just kind of sit there unsure of what to do or say. A few of the women give you a tentative smile or two, but the way Bethany periodically glares at you is enough to keep them from actually speaking to you directly. You're okay with it though; as awkward as this is, you'd rather sit in silence than have to pretend. Still, if you'd known it would be like this you never would have come - it's not like your mother appreciates it anyway.

Your phone vibrates at one point, a text from Tasha confirming her flight information with lots of !!!!!!'s that make you smile. As if sensing your sudden mood shift, Bethany puts her hands up with another grin that doesn't reach her eyes.

"We keep phones in our purses" she says sweetly, "So we don't get distracted."

You nod and slip it back inside your bag, a gesture that's more of a peace offering than anything else; it seems to appease her.

It's strange being inside this part of the church again after so long. You'd attended your own Sunday School lessons here, prepped for choir and readings, learned your scripture. It certainly doesn't feel as safe or inviting as it once did, though you have to admit that there was always an undercurrent of pressure, of judgement - an energy that still remains today. Bethany watches you closely, quietly assessing you as you nod along to everyone's suggestions and ideas and try to keep up your long-time façade of obedience. You push down the new parts of you that long to take back a bit of control, maybe say something shocking or suggest something ridiculous just to see how they'd react.

You've been sitting in silence for about forty five minutes when Bethany announces its time for a quick phone break. Like clockwork everyone in the room pulls out their devices and starts checking for missed calls from their kids, their husbands. You pull yours out and your eyebrows go up in surprise when you see a text from Joel on your lockscreen:

How's your day going angel?

He didn't forget his promise. A smile plays at your lips as you start typing out your reply, but it quickly fades when you feel Bethany's eyes on you, watching.

"I'm, uh-" you stand up, smoothing out the creases in your dress and gripping your phone tightly, "I'm gonna take a bathroom break."

--

The bathroom is the same as you remember it, high ceilings and white walls, your footsteps echoing loudly as you walk over to the sinks and lean your back against the countertop. You continue typing out your reply to Joel:

well all the church ladies are giving me the silent treatment til i'm worthy of being here again lol. but jokes on them cause my mom is also giving me the silent treatment so i have training! anyway i miss you. wanna hug you. hope you're feeling a bit better today 💕

You turn around and face the mirror while you wait for his reply. You're still smiling - it's impossible not to when you're thinking about Joel, but this smile is bright and genuine, unlike the forced grins you've been sharing with Bethany for the past hour. God, you can't remember the last time anything made you feel as free and happy as Joel makes you, like nothing else really matters. Your phone buzzes and you tear your eyes away from the mirror to read his reply:

Aw baby I'm sorry. I wanna hug you too. Wanna do a bit more than hug if I'm being honest, but you know that already.

You bring your other hand up to your mouth, smiling even wider into it as his typing bubble pops up again only seconds later:

And I'm sorry about last night. If I said anything stupid please forget it ever happened. Me and alcohol don't mix that well sometimes. I'm alright, don't worry about me x

But I do worry, you want to say, I want to make you feel better. But how can you do that from a church bathroom, miles away from wherever he is right now? You're suddenly reminded of something he'd told you a few weeks ago, something you hadn't quite understood in the moment - You can text me whenever you want, tell me all about what you're doin', brighten up my workday. Maybe send me some pictures.

Oh.

You look at yourself in the mirror again and carefully place your phone down on the edge of the sink. Your hand slowly comes up to push aside the collar of your dress, pull the stretchy material past your shoulder and down your arm. You do the same to the other side, slipping out of your sleeves and tugging down the high neckline of your dress to expose your bare chest to the mirror, putting your cleavage on display. You bite your lip, willing yourself to see what Joel sees, a pretty girl in a pretty dress, bra straps clinging to her skin and a crucifix hanging from her throat. Filthy.

You grab your phone and turn it toward the mirror, opening up your camera app and moving it close enough so he can see only your torso, sleeves hanging limp at your sides while your other arm comes up to squeeze your breasts together a bit, accentuating your cleavage even more. You snap a pic and send it to him before you can talk yourself out of it.

He replies seconds later:

Fuck

A grin spreads across your face and you make quick work of slipping your bra straps down your shoulders as well, just as another text from him comes in:

Send me another baby. Please.

Already one step ahead of you, you think to yourself as your cheeks warm and you pull down the cups of your bra, your breasts spilling out into the cool air of the bathroom. You squeeze them together again, nipples hardening tightly as you take another picture and send it along with a coy message:

better?

He must be staring at his phone, waiting for it, because his typing bubble appears instantaneously. You can't help but feel a sense of pride at the power you're holding right now, a change of pace from your usual naivety.

Oh babygirl. This is just what I needed.

i know :)

You glance at the bathroom door and then at the time - you still have a few minutes before the meeting starts up again and your mind is already racing with what you can do with those few minutes. With barely any hesitation you tug your dress up over your thighs, pulling your panties to the side and aiming your phone underneath. You frown when you pull your phone back up to find that it's dark and blurry.

"Hold on," you whisper to no one, then carefully lift your leg and place your heel on the countertop for support, pulling your dress up again and aiming your phone a little better. You pull back your panties and aren't surprised in the slightest to feel that they're suddenly damp.

This picture comes out much better. Your pussy is bare and a little wet, clit poking out past your lips, panties pulled against your inner thigh. You already know it's gonna make him crazy as you hit send.

Jesus Christ

He's already typing something else when you receive it and you can't help but giggle, covering your mouth and trying to picture where he is right now, what he's doing. Is he in a bathroom too? On a break? Or is he in the middle of a job, surrounded by other people? The latter thought makes you even wetter somehow.

Fuck you have such a pretty pussy baby.

thank you mr. miller :)

Will you hold her open a little for me? Show me that sweet little hole?

Who are you to deny such a request? With heat radiating all over your body you bring your phone down again and scissor your lips apart, exposing the innermost part of yourself to your phone camera. You can feel your own slick on the tips of your fingers, and when you push yourself open you feel a bit of your wetness dribble down onto your palm. Fuck. This is hotter than you'd expected it would be. You'd thought it would be a good way to make him feel better, get him through his work day like he'd said; you never thought you'd enjoy it this much.

Oh sweetheart. Look at that.

You feel another rush of pride as you take your leg down from the counter and tug your dress back down, rubbing your thighs together and doing everything in your power not to touch yourself again even though you want to. A quiet whimper unconsciously tears itself past your lips at his follow-up message:

Who's that perfect pussy belong to babygirl?

You've never typed a message back so fast in your life.

you. it's yours mr. miller.

That's right. Good girl.

Your skin is on fire, body tingling in all the right places. You smooth a hand down your bare chest, cup one of your breasts, gently squeeze. It's impossible for your eyes not to roll back a bit when you imagine Joel's hand on you instead, big and firm and callused and perfect. Your pussy throbs in your underwear and another whimper slips past your lips.

i'm really wet now :(

I know angel. Come over tonight and I'll take care of it, Ok?

Your heart leaps at the invitation, even more wetness pooling in your panties at the thought of what Joel might want to do tonight, if there's another “lesson” he has in mind.

yes please

Eyeing the time again, you bite your lip in disappointment when you realize you should probably be getting back. You wait until Joel has finished typing his final response, a message that makes your skin burn with anticipation:

Don't touch yourself til you see me. Keep that soft little pussy hidden, baby. Promise me.

i promise x

Just as you hit send you suddenly hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps down the hall, quickly approaching the bathroom. Your eyes widen in the mirror, gaze snapping to your bare breasts, sleeves still hanging loosely at your sides. In a panic you hurriedly attempt to stuff yourself back into your bra before you have company – but you're not that lucky.

The bathroom door bangs open and you freeze with one arm halfway through your sleeve, breasts still completely exposed in the mirror as you turn on the spot to see none other than Bethany standing there, frozen in place.

“I-” she looks flabbergasted, expression one of pure horror as she takes a step back from you and grips the knob of the door like she could rip it off at any moment. Your free arm that isn't trapped in a sleeve comes up to cover yourself as best you can, but you know she's already seen everything.

“I'm- I was just-” You're similarly taken aback and at a complete loss for words, unsure how the fuck you can explain what exactly she's just walked in on.

Her eyes fall to the phone in your hand, like she's putting the pieces together, then she shakily takes another step back and leaves without saying another word, the click of her heels echoing back at you loudly until the door finishes closing behind her.

Shit.

You don't have time to stand around thinking up an excuse; you do briefly consider escaping through one of the windows to avoid facing her, but you know it would just delay the inevitable. Instead you hastily finish pulling your dress back on and stare at yourself in the mirror for one final moment.

Your smile is gone. So is the light in your eyes. You suddenly begin to feel that familiar sense of guilt creeping in, the shame, the sin. You blink a few times and find that there are tears welling up in your eyes, a lump in your throat. A tiny voice in the back of your mind, one you've been attempting to mute for years, whispers to you: What have you done?

--

Bethany doesn't speak to or look at you for the rest of the meeting. It's not much of a change from before you'd gone to the bathroom, but there's something new in her silence now, something you can see in her eyes as she stares down at her binder while the other women talk. Fear. You've known her for most of your life, can sense certain mood changes from a mile away; you've frightened her. And somehow that just adds even more to the guilt building in your stomach.

You'll apologize to her after the meeting, it's all you can do. You genuinely feel horrible that she'd walked in on something so private, seen something she never intended or desired to ever see. You wonder if there's anything you can use to pass off as an excuse; maybe you spilled something on your dress and were cleaning it off? Maybe it was too tight and you needed a breather? Anything is better than the alternative – the truth – but you somehow doubt she'll believe anything you say at this point. That bridge was broken the second you left for college; there's no repairing it now.

The meeting ends with a few pleasantries exchanged and several comments about picking kids up from school, getting home to cook something for dinner, normal things that remind you how abnormal your own situation is in comparison. Half an hour ago you'd felt on top of the world, in control, had power in the tips of your fingers. Now you just feel small again, inconsequential.

You wait until the other ladies have left before taking a step toward Bethany, ready to unload your apologies and beg for forgiveness. She surprises you by speaking first.

"I'd think twice before wearing that again,” she hisses at you, venomous and pointed. Your eyes widen.

"Excuse me?"

"I said,” her words are slow and full of bitter intention, eyes glaring daggers at you, “I'd think twice before wearing that again" she gestures to the crucifix around your neck and you unconsciously reach up to take it between your fingers, glancing down at it before looking back up to meet her angry gaze.

“I'm...” you feel overwhelmed, tears pricking in your eyes again at the sudden burst of rage being directed at you, “I don't...”

"You might not understand this,” she practically spits through her teeth, “but that symbol actually means something to the people here."

"I know what it means.” It comes out as barely a whisper, voice shaky as she takes an intimidating step toward you with nothing but malice in her expression.

"So that's why you've got your breasts out in a public bathroom? A church bathroom?”

“Bethany, I-”

“You're not welcome here anymore, understand?” her voice is full of finality, “You can come to church with your parents-” The mention of your parents sends your anxiety into a tailspin, heart beating frantically in your chest as she continues to step closer and closer toward you, “And you can pretend you're their good little girl. But I know the truth. And it's not welcome in my Sunday School ever again. Got it?”

My Sunday school. The superiority complex is strong and you know deep down that this is all completely rooted in her own fears, her own desires, her pride, but none of that seems to matter when she's staring you down like this, holding you captive with her hostile words.

"Got it,” you whisper, nodding shakily.

"Good. Now go home and take," she points toward the crucifix, the tip of her finger close enough to faintly brush against the shape of it, “that,” she suddenly prods it, giving you one final sneer, “off.”

It takes you twenty minutes to leave the parking lot after that, tears blurring your vision as you cry in your car and try not to let the shame completely envelop you.

--

Going to Joel's that night carries none of the anticipation you'd felt earlier this afternoon; instead you feel nothing but shame as you steal your mother's house key from its dish in the hallway, closing the front door behind you as softly as you can and hurrying out into the night. There's no excitement or rush like the last time you'd done this. You feel like you could cry at any moment as you approach Joel's house, climbing his front steps with a heavy weight on your shoulders that wasn't there before, that hasn't been there in weeks.

The door opens before you can even turn the knob – he must have been watching from his window, waiting for you in anticipation for tonight's “lesson”. Your stomach lurches.

“There's my little Sunday School girl,” he murmurs, taking your hand and tugging you gently inside.

“Please don't call me that,” you say quietly, head down.

He shuts the door behind you and takes your hands in his – you can feel his eyes on you but you're unsure of the look on his face, what expression is on it. Does he sense there's something wrong? Or is he waiting for you to jump his bones?

“Hey,” his voice is soft, concerned, “Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”

You shake your head, still staring at the floor.

“What happened, babygirl?” he murmurs, one of his hands releasing yours to come up and stroke your cheek gently, thumb grazing the wetness beneath your eyes, “Why're you cryin', darlin'? C'mere.” His finger travels down to your chin, pushes your face up to look at him.

His expression is worried, brow furrowed and forehead creased, a frown playing at his lips. You feel your heartbeat slow, the weight on your shoulders decreasing just a little bit as safety settles in your bones. He cares.

“I had a horrible day,” you whisper, feeling tears trickle down into the corners of your mouth, “I know you want to...want to...” you shake your head, “Whatever we were gonna do. But I don't think I can tonight, Joel. I don't feel good.”

“Oh, babygirl,” he breathes, releasing your chin and immediately wrapping you up in his embrace, arms tightening around you as he pulls you against his chest, “We don't have to do anythin', don't even worry about that.”

You bury your face in his chest, breathe him in. His flannel underneath your mattress is nothing compared to the real thing, the real smell of him overtaking your senses and filling you with a true feeling of warmth and safety. His arms are so big – he's so big – and without meaning to you find yourself going completely limp in his arms, bones turning to jelly. It's like finally breathing in the fresh air after holding your breath underwater, a natural reaction to finally being where you belong.

He doesn't question your body's response, almost seems to understand completely as he pulls you up from the floor and adjusts you slightly to cradle you in his arms, carrying you past the living room, past the kitchen, up the stairs and to his bedroom. You just close your eyes and bury your face in his shirt, inhale the scent of sawdust and sweat and cedar and Joel.

He tips you gently onto his bed, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before settling in beside you without saying anything. You feel his arm wrap around you, tug you in closer beside him as he noses your hair and lets you just exist.

Minutes pass before you finally break the comfortable silence, voice quiet and small - “I feel so ashamed.”

You feel his brow furrow in your hair and you turn around to face him, bringing your arm up around his torso and pressing your hand firmly against his back. He looks at you with confusion, concern.

You tell him everything. About Bethany, your friendship with her and Alice before you left for college, the way you'd already begun to lose your faith even then. You tell him about your mom, about the silent treatment and her reaction to the white lie, the lie that's practically nothing in the grand scheme of deceit you've been weaving these past few weeks. You talk about church and Sunday School and all the guilt you'd felt in that little room growing up, how being there again felt wrong and uncomfortable. You tell him how free you'd felt in the bathroom with your camera, the power you'd felt, reclaimed, and how all of it had been snatched away from you the second Bethany had entered. How she'd destroyed any semblance of confidence you'd been able to find today, how she'd shamed you for the crucifix that you don't even want to be wearing. It's the most you've ever told him, the most you've ever talked to him about anything.

And he listens.

He doesn't seem put out by your venting, annoyed or irritated or ready to send you home at any minute. He just nods, frowns at the right moments, strokes your arm and your cheek, kisses your forehead when you start to cry. Wipes the tears away when you apologize for crying. He stays with you and remains present and attentive, lets you talk and talk until you start to apologize for how much you've been talking.

“I know this isn't even what you signed up for,” you blubber, shaking your head and bringing your hands up to cover your face, “I'm sorry I keep bringing so much- so many complications into your life.”

“Shh,” he soothes, placing his large hands on yours and pulling them away from your tired eyes, leaning in to brush his nose against yours, “Stop apologizin', baby. Stop. You've got nothin' to be sorry for.”

You suddenly sit up in bed, leaning back against the headboard and bringing a hand up to touch the crucifix still clasped around your neck. You hadn't taken it off like she'd told you to do; you'd felt like doing so would have made you weak, would have been like giving up, even though you'd never wanted to even wear it again in the first place.

“Why does this little thing have so much fucking power over me?” you ask aloud, not directed at Joel but more-so to yourself, “My whole life, no one has ever seen me, they've just seen this.” You shake your head, squeezing the tiny cross in your hand. “And wearing it again has just brought all that shit back, it's done absolutely nothing good. Wore it for my mom and she still gives me the silent treatment. Wore it for Bethany and she still treats me like garbage, tells me to take it off. It's just a fucking necklace.”

Joel sits up beside you, places a warm hand on your thigh and peers at you with those soft brown eyes, lulling you back into a sense of calm, of serenity.

“Give it to me,” he says quietly.

Your brow furrows in confusion. You stare at him for a moment, then watch as he carefully brings his hands up to graze his callused fingertips against your neck, brushing the chain.

“I'll take it off your hands for a bit,” he murmurs, “Outta sight, outta mind. And if you want it back, I'll have it ready for you. How's that sound?”

You nod slowly to yourself, feeling your eyes begin to sting again at his words, “...Good. Th-that sounds good.”

Without saying anything else you hear the sound of the clasp being undone, feel the chain slip away from your skin as Joel takes it from you. You turn your head to watch as he fists it in his palm for a moment, gaze thoughtful and faraway as he traces the shape of the cross with his thumb. A few seconds later he opens his bedside table and carefully places it inside, then shuts the drawer.

And just like that, the weight is gone.

--

You take a shower in his bathroom again, wanting to wash this day off you and start over, clean slate. You could have had one when you got home from the meeting earlier but you'd instead opted to just lay in bed feeling sorry for yourself for much longer than you'd needed to. Now you close your eyes and let the hot water envelop you, wash yourself with Joel's body wash and allow yourself to become his again, picturing him laying in his bed in the other room, waiting for you. This is what matters. This moment. Right now.

You enter his bedroom wrapped in one of his towels, drops of water still spilling down your skin onto the hardwood floor. He's sitting up in bed, shirtless with his legs hidden under the covers. He's seemingly deep in thought as he stares at his phone screen, brows scrunched together. You watch as he pulls the phone away from himself, eyes squinting and lips parting a bit, then pulls it back, like he can't see what he's looking at properly. You realize that's probably the case.

“You need glasses,” you say with a soft giggle, and his expression relaxes when he sees you standing there, phone going back on his nightstand.

“I have glasses,” he admits sheepishly, giving you a tender smile, “Just hate wearin' 'em.”

“Of course,” you roll your eyes and take a few steps forward, still gripping the towel around yourself. His eyes fall to the parts of you that are bare, revelling in the way the lamplight reflects on your wet skin. You feel tingles erupt through your senses under his gaze.

“Are you naked?” you ask softly.

He shakes his head, “Wearin' pants, don't worry.”

You stand there for a moment, staring. He just stares back, eyebrows going up a bit while he waits for you to say something else. When you don't, he tilts his head slightly, appraising you.

“Do you want me to be naked, babygirl?”

You're answering before you even really know what you want, "Yes."

Without needing to be told twice he reaches under the covers with both hands and shimmies his way out of his pajama bottoms, staying hidden under the sheets as he tosses them out onto the floor. You bite your lip, still just standing there staring at him without moving. You're still dripping everywhere, a little puddle of water forming at your feet the longer you stay frozen.

He raises his finger and playfully curls it toward himself with a smile, "C'mere, baby," he murmurs, "Be naked with me."

You don't need telling twice either.

The towel drops from your body, landing in the puddle of water on the floor - easy cleanup. You feel heat radiating through every inch of your bare skin as you walk toward the bed, avoiding Joel's eyes and quickly slipping in beside him. You really don't know what you're doing - you'd said when you got here that you didn't want to do anything, not tonight, and it's still true. But part of you just aches to be close to Joel, to feel his warm heat, his rough skin, be connected to him somehow. It's what you've wanted all week.

You inch in beside him, back against the headboard, your bare thigh touching his lightly beneath the sheets, and you find yourself tensing up unconsciously. He clocks your reaction immediately.

"You don't gotta be nervous, angel," he tells you softly, soothingly.

You swallow and take a deep breath, "It's hard not to be," you whisper, though there's no reason to, "I'm just... I'm so..."

"What?" he asks, brown eyes seeking yours in the dim light. His hand comes up to cradle your face, thumb swiping beneath your eye again like he's checking for more tears - luckily you're feeling much better in that department.

You sigh, shrugging slightly, "I don't know what I'm doing," your eyes fall down to the duvet, knowing that if you pulled it back you'd see your bodies touching underneath, his rough and tan skin pressed against yours, soft and untouched, "I mean, I don't even know why I came tonight. I knew I didn't- that I didn't want to-" you sigh again in frustration, unable to find the right words, "I just... I missed you," your eyes travel back up to meet his, "I just wanted to be near you."

His expression softens, still stroking your cheek as he peers into your eyes, "You feel safe with me, don't you?" You nod. "You know I won't do anythin' you don't want me to do, right?" Another nod. "So it's okay to just relax when you're with me."

You grimace, "How can I relax when we're naked in bed together?"

He chuckles, dropping his hand from your face and shuffling down into the bed a bit, away from the headboard, "Okay, time for another lesson."

You feel your heart sink again, worried that he's not understanding - probably because you can't explain it right - but he smiles reassuringly at you and curls his finger slightly, urging you to follow him downwards. With a quiet inhale you slowly inch away from the headboard and further down into the bed, beneath the duvet. You both stop moving when your heads hit the pillows, laying down fully beside each other.

"Gettin' naked doesn't always mean there has to be sex," he says softly, and you watch as he very slowly brings his hand down beneath the duvet; you know where it's going before it touches you, but you still shiver when you feel his fingers brush lightly against your bare arm, "Us bein' naked in bed together doesn't mean anythin' has to happen."

"But earlier today I said..." you trail off, shaking your head, "I promised that-"

"Earlier is earlier," he brushes your arm again, tender and comforting, "Circumstances change, your day got shitty. Mine was no better. It happens."

His hand travels downward, toward the skin of your hip. He curls his palm around your bare flesh and gently massages it, thumb stroking the edge of your tummy. It's intimate and new, but somehow it feels more safe and comforting than sexual, like he's simply doing something casual, normal.

"Sometimes you just wanna lay in bed with someone" he murmurs, still touching you tenderly, "No expectations, no pressure. No nothin'. Sure, it's fun to touch each other and be together like that, but if you just wanna sleep..." his fingertips brush your back gently, then press firmly into your skin as he pulls you a bit closer toward him, "If you just wanna lay here with me, that's okay too."

You're not sure what to think, staring at him with a million different thoughts flooding your mind. Your interpretation of what men want has always been a bit of a grey area, but you've heard enough from both your family and your friends to know that most of them are just after one thing. You'd heard it from your parents your whole life who always warned about non-Christian boys and their sinful thoughts, then from the girls at college who dealt with disrespect and catcalls, men who turned on them in an instant the second they realized they weren't getting any.

Joel isn't like that. Sure, he wants sex - that's been obvious since day one, when he'd invited you inside his house within minutes of meeting you. He'd only had one thing on his mind, just like your parents had always said. But he hadn't thrown a fit when you'd said no, and up until this point he's made it abundantly clear that the ball is in your court, that it's up to you what happens between the two of you.

"I know all this stuff can be scary," he continues softly when you don't reply, "I know you're embarrassed about bein' so inexperienced, but you don't need to be. I'm here to make it easier for you; I want you to be comfortable."

He nudges forward a bit and slowly begins to wrap his arms around you, warm and inviting. You let him, body going loose and comfortable in his grasp as you feel your eyes close; safe. You feel so safe.

"You're so warm," is all you can think to say, loving the way it feels to have his broad and hairy chest pressed up against your bare breasts, his big and strong arms winding around your smaller form.

He chuckles softly and you feel him press a gentle kiss to your cheek, beard scratching your skin in your favorite way. You bring your arms up and hug him back beneath the blankets, feeling your naked thighs press firmly against his. You're aware of his cock - it's hard not to be, not when it's pressed gently against the base of your tummy, soft against your skin - but he doesn't rub himself against you or do anything to initiate more than this, more than just being together like he'd said.

He really means it, you know he does.

"I can't wait to have sex with you," you hear yourself whisper in his ear; it sounds dirty but you don't mean it to be, "I just...I'm really glad it's gonna be you."

And I'm pretty sure I'm falling for you.

--

You wake up the next morning to a firm and solid presence at your back, bare and warm and comfy. You're surprised you're awake before Joel's alarm, wondering what exactly woke you up in the first place - and then you feel it. Something wet and sticky against your lower back, something pulsing and twitching every so often against your skin.

Good morning.

He hadn't pressed his cock against you like this last night when you were cuddling, hadn't asked you to touch it or even acknowledged its presence. But sleeping Joel is an entirely different person, his big arms wrapped around you tightly, one splayed across your belly while the other holds your right breast, cups it like it's meant to fit there. He holds you in place firmly, breath at your neck, nose in your hair.

You're not sure how much time you have left before his alarm goes off. The sun is only barely starting to come up outside the window, so it could start ringing at any time now. All you know is that the sensation of having him so close to you like this, his most intimate part so close to yours, so wet and warm, it's making you all wet and warm. Your skin almost feels itchy, especially at your neck where his warm breath leaves a damp spot beneath your ear, a spot you're suddenly longing for him to kiss, to lick.

"Joel," you breathe, unable to wait any longer, scared that at any moment he'll have to leave the bed and start getting ready for work.

No response.

"Joel," you repeat, a bit louder this time, and with his name you carefully grind back against him a little bit, the wet head of his cock trailing back and forth against your warm skin. He makes a grumbling noise in his chest, pulls you in a bit closer, "Joel, wake up," you moan, painfully aware of the shape of his balls against your ass, big and heavy and suddenly the hottest thing you've ever felt in your life.

"What?" he groans, rousing from sleep, "What is it?"

It's all the confirmation of awareness you need to suddenly turn in the sheets, bring the duvet down to expose your naked bodies to the both of you. His eyes are bleary and tired as he watches you from beneath heavy eyelids, sees where your gaze has settled.

His cock lays long and thick and loose against his tummy, round tip drooling precum into the hair smattered above his belly button. God, he's so big. Your lips part, saliva filling your mouth like it had the last time you saw it, like somehow your body knows exactly what the next step is.

"I wanna put my mouth on it," you whisper, pushing your hair back behind your ears and turning your gaze back to Joel's face, "Please."

His eyebrows go up in surprise, eyelashes fluttering with sleep. He's probably wondering where this is coming from, how the girl in his bed right now is the same one who just wanted to be held last night, but he doesn't seem to be complaining. He nods quickly, stretches his arms above his head and tries to rouse himself even more from sleep.

"Of course you can, baby," he mutters huskily, voice deep and dripping with arousal, "Go ahead."

"Tell me if I'm doing something wrong," you murmur softly, and before you can even fully process what you're doing or question if you'll even be good at it, your lips are pressing against the warm heat of his wet tip.

He hisses immediately and you pull back, frightened for a moment that you've already fucked up somehow. He shakes his head quickly at you, "No, no, you're good baby, that's good," one of his hands comes down to settle against the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, "Give it a kiss, just like that."

And you do. Time is already not on your side - you feel like there's a countdown clock hanging over your head as you press another kiss in the same spot, his precum sticky on your lips. You'd thought it might be gross, had heard lots about blowjobs from your friends and how unpleasant they can be, but when your tongue darts out to carefully prod against where he's leaking, you find that it doesn't bother you that much at all.

"Tastes funny," you murmur softly, peppering a few more kisses around the wide head and then down to his shaft, thumbing the prominent vein on the underside as you do it.

"Kinda gross, huh?" you hear him say softly above you, a strained edge to his voice that makes you smile against him.

"I think I like it, actually," you admit softly, tongue darting out once again to slowly lap up a bead at the tip. You're not lying; there's something masculine and sexy and inherently Joel about it, something you hadn't been expecting.

"That's good, sweetheart," he murmurs, stroking the back of your head gently, "That's so good, angel." You don't know whether he means your opinion on the taste or simply a reaction to the things you're doing with your tongue, but either way you keep going, hoping that the alarm doesn't interrupt you.

You wrap your lips around the tip carefully, pulling it into your mouth and sucking it gently - very gently. He makes a breathless sound above you and you can't help but bring your gaze up to his face, your eyes meeting his as you swallow him down.

"That's it, that's a good girl," he breathes, thumbing a strand of hair at your temple and pushing it behind your ear, eyes dark, "Look at you."

You swirl your tongue around the tip, still making sure to keep eye contact with him as you carefully slip more of him inside your mouth. He's so big, there's absolutely no way you'll be able to fit all of him inside, at least not without some practice. He doesn't seem to mind that you can only take a little bit of him, his thumb coming downward to stroke gently at the corner of your mouth. He wipes away a bit of drool pooling there, brows furrowing.

"You're doin' so good, angel," he whispers, nodding slowly to you in reassurance as you very slowly begin to lift your head up and down, up and down, eyes going hazy, "Takin' that cock so well."

His words spur you on, encourage you to take a little bit more. You've got about half of him in your mouth and you already know you won't be able to take anymore, the spongey tip pushing dangerously close to your gag reflex. You absolutely do not want to choke, don't want to ruin this in any way. You want him to feel good. Feel better.

"Oh, honey," he groans softly when you begin to palm his balls, rolling them gently and feeling their fullness, round and heavy, "This mouth," he touches the corner of your lips again, a bit harder this time, trails his fingers downward to grip your chin, "Made to have my cock in there, huh?" his eyes are boring into yours, pupils blown wide, "You like havin' your mouth full like that, babygirl?"

You nod and whimper around his length, speeding up a little bit and never breaking eye contact with him, obsessed with watching his eyes get darker and darker, filling more and more with lust as he watches you pleasure him.

"Yeah, you do," he murmurs, voice soothing again like last night, calm and safe, "What a good girl you are, wakin' me up to suck my cock. Couldn't wait, could ya, baby?" you shake your head and the head of his cock slips past your throat a little too far, so much that you have to pull off him quickly to be sure you don't gag, "Aw, baby, that's okay," he reassures you gently, "It's a lot, I know."

Your eyes are hooded and your jaw is already starting to ache - you're not used to doing something like this and he knows it, strokes your cheek gently as he takes his cock in his hand and carefully pushes the tip against your lips.

"You just kiss it, baby," he whispers, dark and deep, "Kiss that cock 'til I come, okay?"

You do as you're told, lips parting slightly as he rubs the head of his cock against your lips and strokes himself a few more times, bringing himself close to the edge. He's so gorgeous like this, so rugged and almost animalistic as his chest heaves, groans escaping his mouth as he watches your lips. His hand is still in your hair, grip getting tighter and tighter as you lean down a bit so he can gently fuck the tip of his cock back into your mouth. Your eyes close involuntarily and you can feel your pussy throbbing against the mattress with every thrust, lips tight around him.

"Ah, fuck," he grits out suddenly, then pulls his cock away from your mouth and releases all over his chest and stomach, thighs tensing up as you watch his eyes practically roll back into his head. Your eyes are wide and attentive, locked onto the white ropes of come that spurt against his bare skin. You find yourself wondering what it would feel like at the back of your throat instead, on your tongue, what it would taste like...

Your thoughts are interrupted by Joel's alarm going off, loud and obnoxious. Before he can pull himself up to turn it off, you lean over to the nightstand and do it yourself, swiping it off and turning back to his blissed out form. He lies there panting for a moment, eyes closed. You can't help but smile, feeling pride swell in your chest again at the knowledge that you made him feel like this.

"Don't go back to sleep," you whisper softly, "You gotta go to work."

He groans then, but opens his eyes and gives you a crooked smile and a wink, expression still sleepy and satisfied, "Who needs an alarm clock when I got you, huh?" He gestures with his finger for you to move closer and you do, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, "Mornin', darlin'," he murmurs against your mouth.

"Morning," you whisper back, and you revel in the smile on his face when you pull away, "Sorry for jumping your bones so early."

He just shakes his head with a wide smile, "Never apologize for jumpin' my bones, baby." His eyes fall to your naked body, settling on your pussy, still wet and aching against the sheets, "Aw, sweetheart, lemme take care of that for you."

You shake your head, pointing to his phone, "We don't have time, you gotta get to work and I gotta get home before my parents wake up," you slip out of bed and reach down to pick up the clothes you'd stripped yourself of last night before your shower. He starts to protest but you put your hand up with a soft laugh, "It's okay, Joel. I wanted to do this for you, start your day out right. Give you a chance at a good day."

He peers up at you from the bed, face smooshed into the pillow as he watches you get dressed, "Doesn't seem fair."

You just roll your eyes, pulling on your panties and shorts and pointing to his phone again, "Really, we need to hurry," you bite your lip as you slip your t-shirt over your head, "I have keys this time but I still don't wanna risk it."

"Okay, okay," he grumbles softly, "I'm goin'."

He slips out of bed and stretches, tilting his body back and forth. You both hear the way his bones crack, the noise that emits from his throat when he bends his back a certain way. You watch his expression change, going from content and sated to embarrassed and grumpy in seconds.

"And just like that, the illusion is gone," he mutters to himself, limping away from the bed and toward the door without so much as a side glance to you, clearly upset by the sudden reminder of his age. You frown, watching him go and feeling an ache in your chest that makes a home there for the rest of the morning.

--

He'd made you breakfast last time, so it's only fair that you make something for him today. Unfortunately cooking has never been your forte, so about fifteen minutes later you're waving a dish rag at the fire alarm while the sausages you'd managed to burn are smoking in the sink. Joel comes running down the stairs after his shower with a look of concern on his face, only for it to fade into one of amusement when he sees the situation.

"Now why am I teachin' you guitar when you clearly don't know how to even use a stove?"

"Oh, shut up," you can't even pretend to be mad at him, grin spreading across your face as you shake your head and breathe a sigh of relief when the alarm stops going off, "Help me clean this up."

You end up making toast instead.

"You know, we've still got about ten minutes," he says across from you at the table as you eat, peering down at his watch quickly.

"Yeah, 'cause I fail as a cook," you mutter, making a face at your slice of toast, "I was gonna do eggs too, you know."

"Let's not reach for the stars too quickly now," he says with a sly smile, putting his hand up quickly when you prepare to retort, "Anyway, that's not what I meant."

"What did you-" you look up from your toast and see him beckoning you toward him again like he had last night, finger curling toward himself with a sly smile on his face.

You look at the clock on the oven, biting your lip.

"It'll take five minutes tops," he says, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

"Really?" you challenge, "Five minutes?"

"Five minutes."

That, you'd like to see. Dropping your toast back onto the plate, you stand up and walk to the other side of the table, unsure what exactly he wants you to do. He spreads his legs a bit, points to his thigh.

"Sit here, babygirl," he says, voice low and hypnotic, "Wanna show you somethin' new."

Yes please.

You situate yourself on his lap, one leg going between his thighs while the other dangles carefully off the other side of the chair. He pulls you down, big hands coming up to palm your hips and hold you there firmly. You swallow tightly, unsure exactly what he has in mind.

"You know what feels really good?" he murmurs, thumbs slowly stroking the bare skin between your shirt and your shorts.

"What?" you whisper, peering down into his eyes with intrigue.

"This," he says softly, then very slowly begins to move your hips, dragging you carefully back and forth along his thigh. Your eyebrows shoot up, lips parting as you feel the ache in your core immediately return, the pressure of his thigh and the movement of his hands setting your nerves alight.

He looks down at his own handiwork, watches as he moves you back and forth, back and forth, rocking you over and over again until you're whimpering in his lap, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders. He just smiles up at you, doesn't stop his movements.

"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?" he breathes, watching your expression closely, "Feels good to finally have somethin' touchin' that pussy, huh baby?"

You moan at his words, hands slipping from his shoulders to wrap around him as you lean forward to bury your face in his neck. He just starts to move you faster, chuckling softly to himself when your hips buck against him. It's amazing how such a simple action can feel so fucking good, the constant stimulation against your clit through layers of material making you writhe and whimper.

He removes one of his hands from your hips and slips it inside the leg of your shorts, fingertips tickling your inner thigh gently. You grapple onto him even tighter, hugging him like a koala as his thumb slowly begins to stroke you through the wet spot of your panties.

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about this pussy yesterday," he murmurs, thumb rubbing your clit over and over in little circles, "Those pictures were so filthy, baby."

You moan against his shoulder, gripping him tighter as his thumb begins to pick up speed. He presses a kiss to your neck, wet and hot; it makes your eyes roll back.

"And this little hole," he murmurs in your ear, suddenly adding a finger inside your shorts to circle your entrance slowly, "Kept thinkin' about this tiny little hole, all open for me."

God, when he talks like that you can't even fucking think, brain running on autopilot as he pulls you impossibly closer and lets you bare down on his thigh, his finger and thumb trapped under your weight, pressed firmly against your core.

"Who's gonna fill up that hole, babygirl?" he whispers in your ear, soft and secret, "Huh? Who's that hole belong to?"

"You," you whimper into his shoulder, eyes shut tight as he strokes his finger up and down through the fabric, adding even more pressure to the overwhelming sensations you're already feeling "It's yours, Mr. Miller."

"And what's gonna go inside it, sweetheart?"

"Hnhng," you can't speak, inhaling shakily as Joel's other hand presses harder against your hip and continues to guide you, fucking you back and forth against his thigh. He just watches you, eyes dark, lips parted, brow furrowed.

"Words, babygirl," he reminds you softly, "Use your words. What's gonna go inside that tight little hole? Huh? Tell me."

"Y-your cock."

"That's right," he murmurs, the tip of his finger prodding inside you gently, taking the damp material of your panties with it, "Gonna fill you up so deep with my cock, honey. You're gonna feel it right here," he moves his hand up and places it at the base of your belly, pushes against it softly, "Gonna be so big inside you, sweet girl."

Oh fuck.

"I want it so bad," you groan, wrapping your arms even tighter around him, "I need it Mr. Miller."

"You do need it," he agrees softly as he kisses the top of your head, bringing his hand back down from your belly to guide you again, moving you back and forth "Need to be fucked so bad, don't you baby? Til you can't even think straight."

You nod frantically, continuing to grind yourself down against his thigh over and over and over, "Please," you whimper, almost a squeak, "Please, Mr. Miller."

"Shh," he soothes, pulling you in closer and moving your hips against him, looking at you with those big brown eyes full of lust and safety, "I will, babygirl. Soon. I'll fuck you so good, honey. I promise." Your body hitches in his lap as you near the edge, eyes going wide and mouth popping open as your orgasm starts to hit you, "Yeah? You like thinkin' about that, huh? Me fuckin' this soaked little pussy into my mattress? Fillin' you up so deep you can feel me in your stomach?"

You can't hold on anymore, eyes shutting tight and high pitched whimpers flowing past your lips as you start to come. He pins you against his thigh, holds you there tight and firm as your pussy pulses and throbs through his pants. You lean forward to bury your face in his neck as you ride it out, feel his hand press against your back.

"Oh, good girl, that's it, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple gently and stroking your back in little circles, "Come all over my lap, sweetheart. Show me how wet she can get, there you go. Good girl."

After a moment of catching your breath and willing yourself to pull your face away from his neck, you both bring your attention to the clock on the stove - five minutes have passed.

"Told ya," he murmurs, pulling you into one more hug, hitching his chin over your shoulder and rubbing your back gently as your head lolls against him.

You're too blissed out to tease him back.

--

The arrivals gate isn't as busy as you'd expected, thankfully. You lean against your car a few hours later, still reeling from your morning with Joel as you wait for Tasha to show up. You'd told him about your weekend plans before you'd left, insisting that despite spending time with Tasha you'd still be attending your Saturday lesson.

"Can't wait," he'd murmured to you, low and deep in your ear after giving you one final kiss at the door, "Got somethin' real special planned, babygirl."

You'd practically melted down his front steps.

"THERE'S MY FAVORITE SLUT!!" you suddenly hear someone shout, and you look up to see Tasha at the sliding doors, bags dropping to the ground as she sprints at you head on and collides with you seconds later, wrapping her arms around you tightly.

She's just the same as she was the last time you saw her, high spirited and excitable and sweet, practically vibrating in your arms with joy. Only she could rock a bright purple cowboy hat and sweatpants, not to mention the lime green flip flops.

"Oh my god," you gasp in her ear, hugging her back and spinning on the spot, "You're insane."

"I'M EXCITED!" she squeals, pulling away from you and clapping her hands together, "We're going out tonight!!! Together!!! For the first time ever!" She brings her hands up and places one on either side of your face, lips turning down into a pout, "My baby bird is leaving the nest," she sighs dreamily, shaking her head, "I never thought this day would come."

"Please get in the car," you laugh, popping the trunk and gesturing to her bags, "before I change my mind and send you back."

--

You give Tasha the complete run-down on Joel as you get ready at the Airbnb, updating her on everything that's happened since you'd last checked in. It feels so good to actually talk about it, not text or simply mull it over and over in your head. She gasps at all the right spots, makes ridiculous faces in the mirror as she curls her hair, nearly drops the curling iron on the floor when you tell her about this morning.

"AND YOU LIKED HOW IT TASTED?" she practically screams, running out of the room and then running back in like she has no idea what to do with herself, "Oh my god, you are down bad. Jesus Christ," she makes a face, "Sorry, I mean- uh, fuck."

"Tasha," you roll your eyes, "You can say Jesus Christ."

"I can?" her eyes widen and she sighs in relief, picking up the curling iron from the floor, "Thank god."

You're going clubbing tonight for the very first time; a night of dancing and cocktails and flirting and living out all the college dreams you still have yet to experience. You're a bit tentative about the flirting part though, a concept that floors Tasha immediately.

"You can't go clubbing and not flirt," she says with faux shock, spinning in front of you as she assesses her dress in the mirror, "It's the best part!"

"I have a-" you cut yourself off, making a face at your reflection.

"You do not have a boyfriend," Tasha says immediately, "There has been no definition, babe. You need to keep reminding yourself of that."

"But it's not just fucking," you argue with a grimace, "I mean, it's not even fucking at all, we still haven't taken that step yet."

"I know, I just don't want you to get your heart hurt, honey," she frowns, leaning toward the mirror and applying some lipstick, "Boys are mean."

"Well, Joel's not a boy," you say quietly, fingering the hem of your own dress, a short and cute pink number that Tasha had brought specifically for you to wear, "He's a man."

"Mmhm, so you keep telling me," she raises an eyebrow, "I think I need to see this man for myself. Give you my honest opinion, see if he's really this gorgeous, perfect hunk you make him out to be."

You bite your lip, trying not to smile as you think back to this morning, how he'd looked in the early morning light, naked and sleepy and beautiful. And all yours.

"He is," you murmur softly.

--

You're supposed to be going clubbing, supposed to be out dancing and drinking cocktails and living out all your college dreams for once in your life. But where are you instead?

"O'Neil's!!" Tasha says excitedly, pointing to the red neon sign outside the bar you've just arrived at, throwing you a shit-eating grin that just makes you playfully roll your eyes.

You never should have told her the name of the bar Joel frequents, because she's now made it her mission to find him, get a good look at him and judge for herself if he's really all you're making him out to be. It's your own fault, you suppose, considering that you don't have any pictures of him or any frame of reference to articulate exactly the way he looks. For Tasha he's shrouded in mystery, but not for much longer.

Your ears are already ringing when you get inside the bar, the chatter and buzz of other people's conversations flooding your thoughts. You're not used to being out like this, being around drunk people or high people or literally anyone whose ideal night out is spending time at a bar. It's nerve-wracking and you instantly feel like a fish out of water, gripping onto Tasha's arm after showing your ID to a man who ogled both of you way more than he needed to.

"So this is where he hangs out," Tasha says, assessing her surroundings and leading you towards the bar where most people seem to be gathered, "Quaint. Little divey. Definitely not for our crowd but hey, we're learning new things tonight." She taps the counter and tilts her head toward the bartender with a smile, "Watcha got on tap?"

You wrinkle your nose, "I thought we'd be having cocktails."

"Oh we will at the club, don't you worry. But if we want the authentic dive bar experience, beer is necessary," the bartender lists the options and Tasha orders, though you barely hear what either of them are saying over the loud music and conversations. Your eyes scan the bar for any sign of Joel, but people are packed so tightly in here that it's hard to really see anybody, faces and bodies melding together.

The bartender hands Tasha the drinks and she throws him a wink, "Thank you, darling."

You envy how easily she navigates a situation like this, so natural and graceful despite her surroundings that are anything but. She hands your beer to you with a smile and holds hers up in front of her, tilting it toward yours until they clink.

"To you finally coming out with me," she toasts with a grin, "It's about damn time."

You smile back and take a sip, trying your hardest not to wince at the bitter flavor. It's not like you've never tried alcohol before, you just already know that you hate beer.

"Delicious," you lie, and Tasha just laughs and gestures toward a suddenly empty booth in the corner of the room.

"Let's sit there while we suss him out," she mutters to you, pulling you along with her and slipping inside, "Now, what's he look like? You've been pretty vague about those details." She waggles her eyebrows, "Be honest, is he bald?"

You almost spit out your second sip, shaking your head furiously, "No, he's not bald. Full head of hair."

She puts her hands up in defense, "Hey, it's not that crazy to assume!"

You just shake your head and laugh, turning back toward the bar and the people and trying to get a gage on where he might be. You know he usually comes here with his contracting crew, but what the hell does a contracting crew even look like?

"Help me out, gimme a description!" Tasha says eagerly, wiggling in her seat a bit and following your gaze, "He has facial hair, right?"

"Yes, it's kinda messy and scruffy," you bite your lip, squinting a bit as if that'll help you.

"And what's his hair color?"

You don't look at her as you reply, "Um.. grey."

Tasha's hand slaps down on the table and you jump, eyes going wide as you turn back to her, "What?"

"Grey? Girl, how old is he?" she doesn't sound angry or judgmental - she sounds intrigued. And almost... impressed? You gnaw on your lip, scrunching your eyebrows together as you look back toward the crowd of people.

"Um... he's..." you stop short, freezing when your eyes land on a familiar shirt near the bar, a red and black plaid button down that you'd seen only hours ago, "There! He's there!" You point at him quickly, ducking your head a bit and motioning for Tasha to lean in closer to get a good look.

"Oh... my god," she breathes, and you feel a rush of pride at her response, unable to stop the grin from plastering itself to your face as you peer at him.

There's something different about him that you can't place - maybe it's just because you haven't seen him in a public place like this, aren't used to what he looks like when it's not just the two of you. You try to put your finger on it, and while you're doing so he does something that makes your heart positively swell in your chest.

He smiles. That beautiful crooked smile that pulled you in the day you met him, set your skin on fire and brought you to the point of no return. Those crinkly eyes, the grey in his beard, the softness of his eyes, they send that familiar feeling of safety rushing through your bones. And you realize there's nothing different about him at all. That's your Joel, sitting on a bar stool after a long day of work, nursing a glass of whisky and chatting about his day. He's the same Joel who you'd woken up with this morning, just in a different setting.

You're so distracted by his rugged beauty out in the open like this - overwhelmed by his charm and his smile - that it takes you a few seconds to see who exactly he's smiling at.

You feel your heart in your throat.

There's a woman sitting beside him. Not just beside him, but so close their stools are touching, so close her legs - long and lean and beautiful - are brushing his. It's not subtle the way her ankle moves against his calf, up and down, up and down. She's wearing jean shorts and a halter top, skin dark and gorgeous and exposed in all the right places, beautiful brown braids cascading down her back and shoulders. You can't see her face but you already know she could be a model. She probably is.

No. No, something isn't right.

Maybe it's not him.

Time feels like it's frozen, like everyone in the bar has stopped moving except the two of them, like a giant spotlight is shining directly on where they sit, where they touch, where they smile at each other. Because it is him. It's him in all his gorgeous Joel glory, peering into the eyes of a woman who isn't you, a woman who's probably more his type, closer to his age, a woman who's somehow making him smile like that when she shouldn't. That's how he smiles at you. That's your smile.

A woman who's now leaning in for a kiss.

No. Please no.

A woman who he kisses back.

This isn't happening. This isn't real. This is just some sick and twisted nightmare you're about to wake up from at any second.

His hand comes up to cup her face.

"I'm gonna throw up," is all you manage to gasp out to Tasha as you yank yourself from the booth and sprint out of the bar, hand splaying across your belly as you bend over and release the contents of your stomach all over the sidewalk.

You feel Tasha's hand on your back, pulling your hair behind your ears. She's saying something but you don't understand it, ears continuing to ring despite being outside in the cool air, away from the loud music and chatty conversations, away from them.

"Oh honey," you finally hear her say, soft and kind as she rubs circles into your back, a comforting action that brings no comfort to you, not now, not after what you've just seen. "I'm so sorry."

[ashtheketchum]

How would the Sawyer family react to their first kiss? (+ Thomas Hewitt)

A/N: I thought for a long time about whether I really wanted to start something with the horror fandom here and I've decided to do it! I'm a huge Texas Chainsaw Massacre fan and accordingly I'm going to write something about these characters. This is my first time writing for the Sawyers and Thomas, so please show mercy!

Warnings: GN.Reader, mention of s(c)ex, mention of cannibalism, I use they/them pronouns for Bubba

Characters: Bubba Sawyer, Drayton Sawyer, Chop Top Sawyer, Nubbins Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt

______________________________

Bubba Sawyer:

They would squeal loudly and mumble something that you can't understand

They never thought that someone as adorable as you would ever kiss them!

They would also be so happy that they would hug you and spin around on the spot

If your ribs aren't broken from the hug, they wouldn't let go until you couldn't breathe anymore

Then they would apologize with loud whimpers and squeaking noises

If the brothers found out, they would be a little shy before admitting it

They would make fun of it in their own way, but you didn't mind

But they themself would never kiss you on the mouth afterwards, but on the cheek or forehead

They just feel too insecure to kiss you on the mouth without really knowing that you want it too (But oh boy, you want it)

But you also respect that they doesn't want to step out of their comfort zone

Drayton Sawyer:

This poor old man would say insults under his breath

Don't expect too much of a reaction from him, he doesn't believe much in love and (as he would spell it) scex

But he's an old fashion man that means he would also give you a peck back (But only if his brothers aren´t around-)

But nothing more

"Why would you kiss an old man like me now?" would be a question he would ask you, but he still has a slight grin on his lips

Sometimes he also teases you that these lips recently ate a human

If his brothers found out about this, he would beat them with his broom

Bubba would just shyly turn away and cover their eyes, so Drayton only insults them

Don't you dare kiss him in front of his family! He doesn't like to do it, but if you provoke him, he'll use the broom on you too!

With him, there would only be small pecks, don't expect more from him

Chop Top Sawyer:

He would jump around happily and scream loudly

"I just got a kiss! I just got a kiss!"

Then he would ask you for a kiss again

And then again

And then again-

His brothers wouldn't even have to find out, he would tell his brothers himself

When Drayton acts disgusted or disappointed, Chop Top just teases him about being jealous

When you're alone, you always listen to music together and while listening to the music, you would kiss over and over again

Chop Top says that you should time your kisses to the beat

After your first kiss, there would be no more "normal" kisses, only passionate kisses

Nubbins Sawyer:

He would be similar to his twin brother

After your first kiss, which was just a small kiss, you wouldn't kiss normally anymore

Sometimes he would take pictures of him kissing your cheek or gently biting you (aka. His way of kissing you)

I can really imagine that sometimes he would just gently bite you instead of kissing you

"B-b-but this is m-my way t-t-o kiss you, y-y-y/n!"

You accept it as long as he doesn't bite you hard

The pictures he takes he would hang on your wall or try to sell to some victims

Just like his twin brother, Nubbins would just tell everyone (Even the victims-)

He would be like: "Y-y-y-you know…! I-i just ha-ad my first k-kiss!"

He might be a little too proud of it, but give him this moment

Thomas Hewitt:

At first he would be completely overwhelmed

For a whole minute he would just stare at you and not move at all before he would flinch and shake his head slightly

Although you could hardly see it through his mask, he would turn completely red

After that he would gently stroke your cheek and grunt quietly

Luda May would just smile lovingly at you two and murmur quietly how proud she was of her son

Hoyt would just gag quietly before sending Thomas back to the basement to continue working on the ,,dinner"

Thomas would only kiss you in the basement or when Hoyt wasn´t near you two

When you go to sleep, you sometimes kiss more passionately, but only when you go to sleep

You would play with his long hair while he would stroke your back

Before he goes out to hunt the victims, he gives you a quick kiss on the lips

[cheolhub]

sarrrrrrr🩷 happy bday to cheolhub!!! you are fr one of my favourite accounts on here. i always get so happy seeing ur name pop up on the dash whdjshsjs, i hope you’re doing well & drinking your water & looking after yourself 🫶

coulddddd i possibly req ❛ let me come in you, please. i want to fill you up. ❜ & precious vernon for your event? 🫶

8:01 p.m. – hansol vernon chwe

prompt. “let me come in you, please. i want to fill you up.”

wc. 2k+ 

warnings. unprotected sex for the first time, creampie, saying ‘i love you’ during sex, pet names [baby], a very needy couple ^^!!! — MINORS DNI 18+

note. j u are too sweet im gonna cry !!! thank you thank you thank you !!! i love u sm, i hope u like this >< i’ve been wanting to write vernon a lot recently so i went a little bit overboard with this one,,,, and it’s not my best so i apologize bsgsgs [not proofread, kinda rushed]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ join the birthday bash!  ࿐ྂ

hansol vernon chwe has never been one for public displays of affection. any type of affection– kissing, hugging, holding hands, etc. it’s just awkward. it always is and he’d rather keep it to himself. keep you to himself.

and vernon is usually so patient when it comes to his hunger for you. he’s so virtuous and so composed. it’s admirable, really. but there are nights, like this one in particular, where he just wants to sink his teeth into you and mercilessly fuck you into the mattress. 

these nights don’t come by very often. they rarely ever do, honestly. he only thinks tonight is different because he hasn’t touched you in over a week. there was no real reason for it, you just kept missing each other due to your taxing schedules. 

so you planned a date on a night that you knew you were both free. something nice, giving you an excuse to doll yourself up for your boyfriend. 

you did exactly that and vernon’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he picked you up from your apartment. he thought you looked so fucking pretty. you looked so pretty gazing out the window in the passenger seat of his car. you looked so fucking pretty when you kindly laughed at the waiters joke (that wasn’t the slightest bit funny). you look so fucking pretty when you asked him, “are you okay, baby?” 

he wasn’t. how could he be okay when all he wanted was to put his hands on you and inhale the scent of your seductive perfume? how could he be okay when his cock was straining in his pants begging to be inside of you? how the fuck could he be okay when he needed you so fucking bad?  

of course, you could tell he was anything but fine. your boyfriend was stoic sometimes, but he always wears his emotions all over his pretty face. his carnal desire became obvious when he placed his hand on your thigh, squeezing at your flesh. and even more obvious when he pressed a few kisses to your jaw. and then blatantly obvious when he pressed his lips to the shell of your ear and said, “i’d rather eat something else.”

so you ate half your meal, paid the bill, and got the hell out of there because, if you were being completely transparent, you missed the way his cock felt inside of you. you missed tugging at his hair and marking his skin and the messy, messy kisses you always share. you missed him and a week apart from your lover was 5 days way too long. 

he’s already pressing his lips to the back of your neck by the time you get up to your apartment’s door, leaving wet kisses on your scolding hot skin. it’s distracting and your hands keep fumbling the keys, but you eventually get the two of you in. you lock the door and he practically chases you to your room, both of you breathily giggling. 

upon arrival, his hands are grasping and pulling at the clothing on your body in attempts to rip them off while yours do the same with his.

“need you so bad, baby.” he mumbles during his conquest, pulling almost everything off of you. 

when he sees the pretty set underneath your date outfit, he’s left breathless. shocked. and it’s not because he’s never seen you in something this pretty, but it’s that he’s right about to bust a load in his jeans. 

he groans, “fuck, i think i’m gonna cum.” 

“you’re cute.” you smile cheekily, pulling him on the bed with you. “better not be before i get to feel you, though.” 

“i’ll try,” he grunts, his cock twitching and throbbing in what feels like the world’s tightest boxers. 

you lay against your plush pillows, slipping your panties off and throwing them to the side, exposing your soaked pussy to the cool air that circulates through your room. you suck in through your teeth, spreading your legs open. “condom?” you ask expectantly.

he furrows his brows. “you don’t have any?”

you crack a grin at the frown that appears on his face when you shake your head. “you’re the one with a dick here! you should always keep one on you for emergencies. this would’ve been the perfect emergency.” 

“baby, we used all my emergency condoms and i forgot to buy more.” he huffs in frustration. “i can just run to the market and grab some. it’s not that big of a deal.” 

it is a big deal. his cock is aching.

you look at him in awe, “you’re that desperate? you’re gonna go all the way to the store and buy condoms, hansol?”

not that you’re any less desperate the way you clench around nothing and ruin the sheets under you.

he deadpans at your subtle teasing, “yes.” 

you hum, stomach twisting in anticipation at a vulgar thought that pops into your head. 

he could… just not use one.

he could fuck you raw and you could feel everything. “what if…” you shudder before you can even get the thought out. “what if we don’t use one?”

you think his face drains of color. “w-what?” he stutters, unsure if he heard you correctly. “baby… what did you say?”

you bite your lip for a second, feeling heat spread like wildfire through your entire body. “we can do it… without the condom. if you want?”

vernon is going to cum– untouched, in fact–  just at the mere thought of it. of-fucking-course he wants to, what kind of idiot would pass that up? (read: someone who isn’t actually an idiot)

“what about…” he trails off as his wide eyes look at your tummy. 

“i started birth control a while ago, baby, don’t worry.” you whisper. “it’s only if you're comfortable… but i’m okay with it… i trust you. and i wanna feel you.”

his heart pounds erratically and he’s tugging his boxers down before he can even form a proper response. his hard, leaky cock slaps against his abdomen and all either of you can think about is how it’ll feel without the latex barrier. 

he breathes out his words, as he presses against your drooling hole. “i’ll pull out.” 

“okay, baby.” you pant, hands already gripping at the sheets in preparation. 

though, you fear there was nothing you could do to prepare for this moment. feeling vernon’s cock— all of it— is amazing. heavenly… hot. you find yourself wishing you would’ve done this a lot earlier. you can’t believe how much of a difference there is.

you feel all the heat, all the veins that trace through his gorgeous cock, all the delicious friction and you’re fucking addicted to it. 

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” vernon moans, jaw going slack and his face pinching in euphoric pleasure. “baby, fuck, you’re so tight— feels so good.”

vernon has never felt anything so perfect in all his years. he feels your walls flutter around his bare cock as he bottoms out, finally buried deep inside of you. 

you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him down to press his mouth against yours. the entirety of the kiss is intense and passionate and you can’t think of a time you’ve felt this close to a man during sex. you can’t even recall a time you were this in love with a man.

you break, whining against his lips and tightly clenching around him. “move, please. need you to move.” 

he nods hotly, pulling his hips back and pushing them back against yours. he does this a few times, slowly thrusting into you until he builds a steady, consistent speed. the bulbous tip of his cock rams into your sweet spot with every shove. you can’t help the cry that bubbles in your chest or the way your legs wrap around his waist tightly.

“hansol,” you mewl, one of your hands snaking between your bodies and rubbing at your clit. “i-i love you.” 

he delivers a sharp thrust upon hearing your words. “i love you more, baby.” he responds with a wavered voice. “i missed you.”

you nod in agreement, clamping around him again, ultimately making vernon hiss. “me more,” you declare on a whine. 

“not a chance.” he grunts out but it falls on deaf ears. his words are practically silenced by the lewd squelching and your cute sounds that bounce off the four walls. 

and it’s all because vernon fucks you like his life depends on it. he feels your walls tightening around him with every thrust but there isn’t a single ounce of vigilance in his body. he wants to memorize every single second of this. burn all of this into his head. he wants to be able to recall the way your blunt fingernails dig into the smooth skin of his shoulders, your moans that sound even prettier in this moment, how your velvety walls flutter and pulse and grip around him as your cunt swallows him up.

his abdomen tightens, balls drawing up as he nears his desired release. before he can warn you, your breathing alarmingly picks up. your chest rises and falls rapidly, your whines and mewls get louder, you trap his cock in a tight grip, refusing to let him go, all the telltale signs of your impending orgasm. 

“vern–vernon, baby,” you gasp, back arching off the bed and heels of your feet digging into his back. “baby, ‘m-m gonna cum. keep fucking me like that,” you plead, eyebrows coming together in gratification. 

he obliges, snapping his hips against yours over and over till the tightrope in your tummy snaps. you come undone choking on a dry sob as your body seizes underneath his. you’re panting unevenly as you go lax, limp body weakly clinging to his as you attempt to come down from your high.

your orgasm is almost too much. too overstimulating for how high strung vernon is. he’s just about ready to explode, but he can’t bear to leave your spasming cunt. 

“baby, i— god, i-i know it’s not safe— fuck—“ he babbles, anxiously panting out his words. “i know… know it’s not safe—but let me cum in you, please. i want to fill you up.” 

you cry, nodding your head and weakly clamping around him at the thought of his warm seed flooding your cunt. “y-yes, fuck yes. please fill me up, ‘sollie!” 

he curses under his breath, his cock twitching and brain fogging over at your permission. he gives you a few sloppy thrusts before he groans noisily, stilling and spilling his cum inside of you. 

he twitches ceaselessly above you as his orgasm washes over him, head digging into the crook of your neck so he can drown out all of his throaty moans. they still echo throughout the room with your whiny pants. 

the sensation of his release has your entire body surging with warmth. it has you feeling nothing but bliss and pure exhilaration— you’re on cloud nine. 

“sorry,” he murmurs into your neck as his body collapses on top of yours. “couldn’t help it.”

your hand comes to thread through his hair, scratching at his head. “‘s okay, ‘sol.”  you mumble back. “felt really good. don’t worry.”

“do you need a plan b?”

you snort, shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so, baby. told you i’m on the pill now.” 

he lets out a breath— probably one of relief— followed by a muffled, “then… can we do this again soon?”

you smile, “yeah, babe, we can do this again soon.” 

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[ennabear]

gas station!ellie fluff 😞

a/n: thanks for the love on my recent posts :3 ily guys sm you don’t even understand!!! and thanks for 500 here’s a treat!!

dedicated to: my baby my love my biggest fan @plutolovesyou 🤭

gas station!ellie who asks you to be her girlfriend after two whole months of seeing you every night and blushing profusely. she’s practically shaking in her boots, her heart is beating so loud she thinks you might hear it, but she manages to mutter, “will you be my girlfriend?” out of the blue.

gas station!ellie who smiles so big once you say yes you think you might melt. she leans over the counter and captures your lips in a sweet, long kiss. you two pull away grinning and blushing and giggling like idiots.

gas station!ellie who writes corny love letters and poems about you in her chicken scratch handwriting when things aren’t busy. she slips them into your palm when she hands you your receipt and flashes you a shy grin.

gas station!ellie who will stop at a phone booth after her shift is over and call you to make sure you got home alright. if you’re in the middle of getting ready for bed while she calls you, she’ll apologize, bid you goodnight, and try not to think about how soft and domestic it would be to get ready with you.

gas station!ellie who says her first i love you when you’re about to leave the store. you’re literally halfway out the door when you hear her call “i love you!!!” from the counter. so of course you turn around and give her a loving smooch that leaves her breathless before turning around to leave again.

gas station!ellie who will start to trust you the longer you’ve been together. you start to realize she’s not as much as a loser as you thought she was now that she can actually look you in the eyes and hold a conversation with you.

gas station!ellie who starts to write songs about you, just short and silly little things that she comes up with when she’s bored. on your anniversary she sings them all to you, feeling like her heart might explode.

gas station!ellie who usually works alone, but tonight her coworker, jet, is working alongside her. she doesn’t really mind having someone to keep her company, especially because he’s quiet and they share the same music taste.

gas station!ellie who gets teased relentlessly by jet that night after you leave. he sees how she was practically eye-fucking you and how you flirted right back, and says “holy shit, are you guys married or something?”

gas station!ellie who has never thought about marriage before, but she could actually see the two of you getting married and growing old together.

[chryblossomjjk]

distractions | jjk

⇢ PAIRING: fuckboy!jk x inexperienced reader

⇢ RATING: m/18+

⇢ WC: 1.1k

⇢ WARNINGS: cute couple content, they drop the 'l' word guys, n*pple piercings n sucking bc u know... fixation lmao, v suggestive but no actual sm*t, finger sucking lol, the love is requited :')

⇢ SUMMARY: jungkook agreed to let you do his makeup, but he can't stop getting distracted.

⇢ NOTES: ugh i missed them dearly!! will be putting out more drabbles soon, but i'm currently trying to focus on my other wip!! i haven't posted anything in so long so i wanted to share this with you guys! school n work is hectic i already feel swamped pls be patient with me :') i miss having time for a hobby lmao!! anyways, i hope you enjoy and let me know ur thoughts! love u <3 also apologize if there's any typos or weirdness, this wasn't beta'd!! if you haven't read practice yet, pls read before this!!

⇢ SERIES MASTERLIST

“Kook, look up! How many times do I have to tell you?” 

Four months into the relationship and his attention span, or lack thereof, never ceased to amaze you. With a frustrated groan, you place the pointy end of your Sailor Moon brush between your teeth before gripping his chin and turning his wandering gaze back to you. 

“Bambi, I’m looking up!” He yell-laughs, doe-eyes wide and sarcastic as they bear into you, equally frustrated. You can already see the concealer you applied just a few minutes ago creasing. Dramatically, he karate chops his tattooed arm towards the ceiling, paralleling your scantily clad frame straddling him. The sudden jump has you shifting against his crotch deliciously. Now’s not the time for fooling around, though. You’re determined to put the cute brush set Jungkook randomly gifted you a few weeks back to good use, starting with giving your sweet boyfriend a full beat. “This is up! What other direction is up?”

What an asshole. 

You pop the pink plastic out of your mouth, taking an annoyed chomp out of his annoying fingers. It's playful, of course. You mean, you’ve just got done with a whitening strip, after all…

Jungkook takes the opportunity to shove his digits further past your glossy lips, reaching down just enough to feel your throat constrict, then pulling back. He stares up at you with the cheesiest fucking grin, clearly pleased with himself.

“You’re mean,” you cough, wiping the drool at the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand.

“No you,” he counters, pinching your cheek patronizingly. “I love you, though.”

One month into the lovey-dovey phase of the relationship; that one where the initial butterflies fly away and you’re left feeling like ‘wow, maybe this is a forever sort of thing,’ and you still feel lightheaded every time Jungkook murmurs those three words.

“I love you, too,” you coo, reaching down to adjust his teddy-bear headband. Jungkook’s been growing his hair out. This was his last semester and he was determined to go out with a bang. For whatever reason, he had decided that bang was a mullet. You remember how confused you were when he showed up at your dorm at 3am, drunk off Fireball and excitement, asking you to cut his hair. You thought the request was outlandish and foolish, but you did it anyway, in your bathroom with eyebrow scissors. It came out a teeny bit crooked, and a tiny bit choppy, but Jungkook loved it, staring at his reflection with a big bunny smile and starry eyes. “But baby, this-” you tap on the headboard behind him, “-is up.”

He squints his eyes in defiance before complying. Ah, you’ve trained him well. A very good boy, indeed.

You’ve spoken, or thought, too soon, because after a few swipes of the plush bristles, a high-pitched ‘Appa!’ from your phone, leaning against your Kuromi makeup bag on the nightstand beside you, draws his dark pupils back to the cartoon. 

“That’s it,” you huff like an overwhelmed mother of three, yanking the device out of his sight. “Say goodbye to Aang. You’ve lost your Avatar: The Last Airbender privileges.” 

“C’mon, seriously?” He laughs while lunging forward, attempting to wrestle the phone out of your grasp. Giggling wildly, you toss it on the pink shag rug below you, out of his reach. The movement almost sends you toppling over. Luckily, Jungkook wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady. “Bambi, you know I’m easily distracted.”

“But you said I could do your makeup,” you pout, batting your lashes at him.

“I know, I-”

“Don’t touch!” You shriek, preventing him from rubbing his eye.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes through a chuckle, holding his hands by his head in defense. “Maybe I…” You deadpan him as his eyes scan around the room before, not so subtly, landing on your chest. Cocking his head, he tuts his tongue and grips the hem of your shirt. Shamelessly, he stuffs the nearly transparent material into your mouth, exposing your bare breasts. “There, just like that,” he whispers, warm palms grazing up your torso to cup them, thumbs grazing over your little diamond heart jewelry. You gasp at the touch. “You know, I still can’t believe you actually got ‘em’.” Neither could you, honestly, but if there was one thing Jungkook has taught you, it’s that sometimes, you need to step out of your comfort zone. Take risks. Especially when it results in the cutest little nipple piercings. “So fucking sexy…”

You feel his forming bulge poking against you. God, do you want him. But even Jungkook’s dick couldn’t derail you from the mission at hand. Raising an eyebrow, you lift up the makeup brush.

The tits really seem to keep him preoccupied. With a hand on his cheek, you feel his mouth hollowing, sucking your nipple gingerly as you lean over him and fill in his thick brows. Obviously, it’s a bit hard to focus. Every now and then, you have to tug his hair to redirect his nibbles back down to soft licks. 

“Okay,” you announce, letting the shirt fall from your candy-coated lips and sitting up, “what color?”

Out of the entire thirty-pan rainbow eyeshadow palette you’re holding up for him, he lazily points to the darkest shade in the top color. His favorite color, of course; black. You should’ve known. Your lips scrunch to the side in contemplation. Jungkook would look so yummy with a smokey eye.

So you blend and blend away with blacks, whites, and grays. Shockingly, your boyfriend manages to stay still throughout the entire process. You’re proud of him, really. He’ll definitely get rewarded afterward. And you were right, the final product is absolutely delectable. 

“Baby, your eyelashes are stunning!” You swoon. “And the smokey-eye looks so so so good with your eye shape.”

Silence.

“Jungkook?” You lean forward, gripping his shoulders and shaking softly. Nothing but the sound of faint snores reaches your ears. The little fuck fell asleep. No wonder why he’s been so good. You laugh in disbelief, picking your phone off the floor and snapping a few pictures to show him in the morning. Reaching into your drawer, you take out a couple makeup wipes and start cleaning him up. You loathe makeup wipes and only keep them for emergencies, but Jungkook looks so peaceful that you can’t bring yourself to wake him.

Next, you snuggle beside him with a spare blanket, unable to yank your comforter out from under his thick, muscular thighs. He stirs when you gently pull off his headband. “I love you…” he mumbles, still half asleep. It’s as if the emotion is so ingrained in his subconscious that they bubble to the surface, even when he’s sleepy and incoherent. 

And you feel the same exact way. 

“I love you, Jungkook. Goodnight.”

© chryblossomjjk 2023 [do not copy, translate or repost]

[pinkmelodie]

Can I request horny reader, but she's too tired to do the work so Gaz just softly makes love to her and then they curl up and go to bed

>-<

Feel free to ignore this if it's yucky

Love, 🥺anon

Thank you sm for the ask anon !! I love sleepy smut, especially with Gaz ^^ apologies for taking so long to get to this, but I hope it’s what you wanted ♡

౨ৎ Sleepy sex with Gaz ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

18+ , soft sex, f reader, pet names, p in v, mating press position(?), cuddling, soft, fluff + smut, Gaz is kinda possessive in this (keeps referring to reader as his but in a cute way), he talks you through it !

You can feel your exhaustion seeping into your bones, but still you somehow can’t manage to fall asleep. Your fatigue weighs you down into the mattress and you feel like never getting up again, but you can’t ignore how your arousal flares in your gut.

You stared down at your handsome boyfriend sleeping soundly beside you. It was only a day ago that he came back from a 4 month long deployment, you knew he needed this sleep. You felt horrible waking him up just because of your own neediness… .. .but it’s impossible not to stare at his chiselled jaw, well shaved facial hair that you could feel the phantom touch of scratching against your inner thighs when he…

You were getting progressively more wet the more you thought about him, as if the man wasn’t right in front of you. You watched the rise and fall of his chest with every calm exhale, all the stress leaving his body the second he was asleep next to you. You ogled his plump lips and how good they felt pressed against your own, his gorgeous brown eyes and how they could look so soft and puppy-like staring up at you, but so dangerous and demanding when staring right through you.

You noticed his eyelashes flutter and your focus turned to that. You swear he had to be using some kind of lash serum because what. Hand some of that length over bud. (The other one too 😼) You kept daydreaming about him while you rubbed your thighs together for some delicious friction. Only when the pressure on your clit released some tension and your mind cleared did you do a double take. Wait, his eyelashes fluttered? 

You called his name softly and his eyes blinked open while he smirked at you. “What’s wrong? Dreaming about me, princess?”

You rolled your eyes at him, as if he was far off.“Dealing with you awake is enough, I don’t need you haunting my dreams too.” You bantered, but your soft, drowsy voice only made him laugh.

“Everyone needs a bit of me.” He chipped in, but couldn’t keep a straight face. “Unlucky for them, I’m only interested in my gorgeous girl.” 

You blushed and squealed when he pulled you into his chest by the waist and peppered kisses all over your face. “So, what are you doing up?” He asked between smooches.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” He repeated skeptically.

“I- I just couldn’t fall asleep.” You muttered truthfully.

“And why’s that luv?” He asked, running his hands through your hair.

“…Nothing” 

He raised an eyebrow, suspicious of your avoidance of his questions. He noticed you move slightly, and he lifted up the blanket to see you ‘discreetly’ rubbing your thighs together to the sound of his husky tired voice. 

“Ohh” You could hear the smirk in his voice, “so my girl is just needy.”

You blushed and looked away in embarrassment. “Didn’t want to wake you up.”

He huffed, “Dove, you can always wake me up for anything, especially this.” He emphasized his point by grabbing your thigh and pulling you even closer to him. 

You gasped at his warm hands so close to where you need them, lazily bucking your hips towards his fingers until they were rubbing at the wet patch on your panties.

“So soaked for me princess, what are you imagining me doing to you in that pretty little head of yours, hm?” He asked, reaching his other hand up to cradle the side of your face. He talked to you so gently in your tired state, letting you feel all soft and compliant next to him.

You were too embarrassed to answer him, hiding your face in the blanket while you squeezed your thighs together to trap his hand between them. Being a toned military man with  biceps you drooled over—he easily pushed your thighs back apart and settled between them—holding you down just an inch far enough away from him to where you couldn’t grind your aching clit on his bulge.

He was above you now, admiring the pleading look in your eyes when you stared up at him. “Answer the question, gorgeous.” 

With a reluctant whimper you whispered out, “wanted you to fuck me Ky….please.” with such a desperate look on your face he couldn’t possible decline.

He smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, unintentionally pushing his hard-on right against your clothed cunt and making you moan out.

He pulled back to press his face into your cunny until you grabbed him and draped your arms around his shoulders. You pulled his face onto yours and softly kissed him until you couldn’t breathe. He pulled your panties down, breaking away from the kiss to watch the string of your cream coat them. When he rubbed your slick around your cunt messily and was about to gently prod a finger in, you stopped him again with a pathetic whine.

He looked concerned, about to ask if you wanted to stop before you were interrupting him. “I don’t want your fingers, just your cock.” 

“You need stretching, luv.” He huffed out like it was the most common knowledge in the world, not up for debate at all with him. (Your lovely bf is terrified of ever potentially hurting you.)

“No, m’relaxed.” You promised, about to start bawling in pent-up exhaustion. “I need it.”

“Alright then.” He chuckled—a little dumbfounded by the extent of how horny you were at the moment.

He pulled down his grey sweatpants and boxers at once, his hard cock slapping against his toned stomach. Pre-cum leaked from the tip, and he spread it down his thick shaft before positioning it at your entrance.

You sighed in delight when it finally started to push into your hole, stretching your leaking cunt open deliciously. He was slow and deliberate, letting you be split open at a bearable pace. 

You sunk into the warm duvet and settled into the comfort, eyes already starting to flutter shut. Gaz commited that image to memory—his girl all sleepy and comfy on his cock in his bed in his clothes.

He cherished moments like these with you, just basking in each other’s presence. With every drag of his length in your gummy walls you whispered out quiet keens and moans of his name like a mantra. 

He bent your legs and pushed your knees to your shoulders so he could reach the deepest parts of you, pressing his lips to yours and swallowing up the loud mewls you let out when he hit that spongey spot inside of you. 

You could barely keep your eyes open—drifting in and out of consciousness until the only thing in your brain was him. He noticed this of course, and smiled down at you. “It’s okay baby, I’ve got you. Just let go.” he encouraged.

And fuck, you wanted to so badly, but you knew you’d pass out right after and you wanted to be filled up by his warm seed when you drifted off.

You stuttered over your moans, feeling nothing but bliss. “cum with me.” You pleaded.

He groaned at the request and angled his hips deeper, circling your clit with the pad of his finger and tracing out the letters of his name. “Keep making those pretty noises then, baby.”

And how could you not? You gasped and keened under him, moaning out his name because it’s the only thing your fucked-out brain could comprehend other than a slurred out ‘I love you.’

“I love you so much, my perfect girl.” He groaned out, getting so unbelievably pussy-drunk on you. He tilted your chin up and latched his lips onto yours, swirling his tongue around yours until you suddenly tightened around him. He pulled away with a string of saliva connecting your lips to whisper encouragements to you, talking you through your orgasm as it came crashing down on you.

“Go on, make a mess of my dick. You look so gorgeous creaming all over me, just like in your daydreams, yeah baby? This is all you needed, just some good cock to help you fall asleep.”

You were coating his cock in your arousal, gripping him like a vice while your pussy gushed around him. His moans mixed with yours when he spilled inside you, rocking his hips while your pussy milked him.

He filled you up completely, some spent dribbling out and coating your plush thighs. He continued to rock his hips into you, riding out both of your orgasms until he watched your eyes flick closed. He deliberately pulled out of you and toppled over beside you, pulling you into him and wrapping his strong arms around you. His head was resting atop yours, with your head pressed into his chest so the first thing you’d hear when you woke up in the morning would be his steady heartbeat—running on nothing but love for you.

[denwritesandcries]

gf!Shauna Shipman HCs

Pairing: shauna shipman x fem!reader

Summary: To be Shauna's girlfriend is… Something else, to say at least.

Word count: 1,4k.

Content: 96’ timeline, cursing, suggestive, kissing, kinda toxic shauna, jealousy, fluff, the team being done with u two.

Note: I think that’s probably a little too long for headcanons but I’m really glad someone asked for it cause I love writing for Shauna sm.

English is not my first language.

- You most likely only spoke to each other because you were paired up on some project in a class that you both hate. A classic, but also one of the few ways for Shauna to actively approach anyone she hasn't known for years or been introduced to by Jackie, the girl isn't very sociable.

- She definitely found the most random and stupid reason possible to not like you at first, just because she enjoys being a little hater.

- Like she doesn't want to meet with you to discuss the topic and just leaves you to do your part alone and you just do it because this quiet girl on the football team is pretty hot and also scares the hell out of you.

- When you guys inevitably put it all together she'd take one look at it and say it's shit and make you do it all from scratch again in like one night as if it was your fault.

- And you simply wouldn't understand why she decided to pick on you. She’d have a beef with you that only exists in her head and you’ll be like??? Wondering why the heck she keeps staring at you like a judging hare even after getting (surprisingly) an A+.

(that’s a strangely accurate description, but you think it fits her perfectly well. Eyes widen following you and nose angrily twitching when you pass by.)

- She has a crush on you. Since the beginning. But she has too many problems to actually admit that to herself.

- She would finally admit that fell for you when she sees you reading something by an author she loves. She's a cliché and a failure, no matter how much she tries to deny it. You'd be in the stands during one of the Yellowjackets' practices (by pure chance, definitely not because you want to watch her too), with a notebook open at your side and a book on your lap, working on an assignment for extra credit, Shauna would see you when she stopped to have some water and she wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else for the rest of the day.

Especially if it was something by Virginia Woolf, Emily Dickinson or Shirley Jackson. She’d go feral. Seriously.

- Then she finally decides to act (after some suspicious looks from Jackie and screams from Taissa for disturbing everyone during the game) and it's like she was never mean to you. She’ll literally act like she's already your friend because she doesn't know how to apologize and start something properly. Will sit next you in class – and kick out whoever actually sat there – and talk to you normally, looking away and chewing on the end of her pen, speaking in a soft and innocent voice.

- You're very much confused and a little suspicious about all this, but you're not gonna complain about it with her slowly running a hand up your arm and blinking her bright deep eyes at you. Even though she still stares. A lot.

- This is how you get a girlfriend, which isn't really what you expected at all, but it's a pretty welcome change.

- gf!Shauna who only asked you out and took you for a milkshake on your first date, even though she doesn't really like sweets, when she heard Nat tell Van that she was thinking about doing that exactly same thing and finally decided to do something (they did it on purpose, just so that Shauna would stop bothering them with her constant yearning).

- gf!Shauna who accompanies you to all your classes, sometimes even being late for hers. She is so show off carrying your backpack for you and walking close enough for your shoulders to brush and rushing to Jackie's side after opening the door for you.

- gf!Shauna who keeps a hand on you all the time, on your shoulder, on your waist, on your arm, but who is too shy to hold your hand and intertwine your fingers properly. She'll become a mess if you hold her hand in the hallways or in front of the team and pretend like she doesn't like it, complaining that you're being clingy (she won't let you let go of her hand at all though).

- gf!Shauna who is jealous and possessive as fuck, no one is safe from her, not even Jackie. She will shoot daggers with her eyes and scare anyone who even breathes near you in a way that makes her feel insecure. Especially if it's someone on the team. Lottie is usually a recurring target of her reactions, making a point of keeping as much distance as possible from Shauna on the field after she sees her talking to you.

- Will totally pretend not to care and say there's nothing wrong when you ask if she's alright, while silently seething with rage and acting weird towards you, keeping everything to herself until she eventually explodes. gf!Shauna who waits until she's alone to write shit about you and the other person in her diary with a horrible, rushed handwriting.

- gf!Shauna, with whom you have to be really patient.

- gf!Shauna with whom you have study dates where she actually makes you study because she won't admit being with someone with a poor average, but who will start kissing you pretty quick until she ends up straddling you the moment she gets tired and decides you both had enough.

- gf!Shauna who absolutely loves seeing you in the stands during practice or a game. She'll show off like never before as soon as she realizes you've come, especially if you yell or cheer for her when she scores a goal. Nat, Lottie and Tai are rolling eyes hard for you two every single time.

- gf!Shauna who takes you in her car wherever you want and whenever you want, driving with one hand on the steering and an elbow resting on the window. Who looks at you with her big eyes shining like a kicked puppy if you ever say you don't need a ride.

- gf!Shauna who has the worst, most questionable taste in movies ever and who gets outraged if you mention it or try to get her to change her choice on a movie night. She's too stubborn to change her mind, so you settle for admiring her profile and leaning back against her warm body on the couch.

- gf!Shauna with whom you have almost weekly sleepovers because her parents are too oblivious to realize there’s something between you. Sleeping in her bed under the pretext that the floor is too cold and keeping the door closed so as not to bother anyone with your teenage nonsense and loud music. It's the perfect combination.

- gf!Shauna who keeps her favorite polaroids of you on your dates alongside the photos of her and Jackie on her bedroom wall.

- gf!Shauna who's always the big spoon and loves feeling your body against hers. She's practically a furnace, perfect for hiding your face on her neck or chest. The best way to fall asleep is with her arms around you and your face buried in her soft skin.

- gf!Shauna who loves to bite and leave marks for every inch of exposed skin you have. Who bites your shoulder joint and digs her nails into your back when you have her pressed against the mattress or the lockers in the changing room.

- gf!Shauna who goes crazy when she sees you in her clothes, especially her button-down shirts and flannels. Sometimes even hides your clothes just to have the excuse to give you hers, because she doesn't know how to ask you to wear them.

- gf!Shauna who writes cheesy and lame love poems for you like a victorian poet, because she doesn't know how to express herself in words without being on impulse or in a fight. You always praise her and thank her a thousand times for them, without letting her know that you don't understand most of what she writes.

- gf!Shauna who demands you tell her you love her before she does it first. She literally asks for it. And then she only says it back weeks later, rushed and nervous, at the moment you least expect it.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Thank you sm 😭 you actually did so good! It felt so nice to see my favorite creepy boy with those head canons 🥹🥹 but yes your writing is absolutely amazing!! I can’t wait to keep seeing everything you write!! And I apologize in advance if I ever get too excited and request too much 🥹

Perhaps creepy boy relationship head canons with a fem!reader who attempts to steal their clothes because they miss them?

- 🩶 Anon

Laughing Jack, Eyeless Jack, and Hoodie x fem!reader who steals their clothes because she misses them!

went ahead and threw in some other characters that i think would be silly with this request since you didnt specify :3! was gonna add slenderman but im on the fence about whether or not his clothes are a part of his body.. shrugs!! feels weird not doing masky since im doing hoodie too but shrugs again laughing jack included as you state hes your favorite :3 and WAAAAH im glad you enjoyed the previous request!! and no need to apologize; i get it !! sometimes i get excited too with requesting stuff !! ill let you know if youre being too intense (though i gotta admit i love writing creepypasta stuff, had a longish break between august and now where i hardly wrote for it and i missed writing for the fandom loads TToTT)

EYELESS JACK:

honestly for a moment i was going to say his mask but i genuinely think that would be a deal breaker for him since it kind of acts as a comfort and security thing for him. even if hes not wearing the mask around you, dont take it. now his hoodie or one of his shirts... thats a different story.. would rather you ask him, though, but he does find it a little sweet that its because you missed him.. mind you he thinks so lowly of himself that he might even be a little shocked that you *miss him.. might let you keep on his shirts! might have to wash it though and patch up a hole or two but its nothing major.. though i dont think he would let you keep one of his hoodies, he has way less of those than he does shirts and he kind of needs them to keep warm.. also the hood comes in handy.. for things.. will expect you to return his belongings when asked, will not take any excuses since they are his belongings and he cant really waltz into a store and go shopping

LAUGHING JACK:

okay so this one is a little funny since i do personally hc that his clothes are just a part of his body for the sake of the post lets turn a blind eye.. theres so many options for you.. his shirt (sleeves! long and floppy!) or a spare sweater than hes claimed... hmm.. i think regardless of what piece of clothing you've taken from him he would be thrilled that you miss him THAT much! he rarely goes out, in fact i dont think its often that he goes far from where his music box is.. gotta stay in decent range, you know? but the point still stands... you miss him? i think that actually does wonders for his abandonment issues, since it reassures him that you care about him and think of him when hes away. probably scoops you up in his arms and hugs you, likely wrapping his arms around you like a snake. offers to never let you go, and kind of sticks true to that until you need to tend to your bodily needs

HOODIE:

another victim of jacket thief... a moment of silence for this man losing the thing that literally sparked his name.. okay jokes aside i dont think he would care that much, hes probably hoarded other clothing while staying with you; from hoodies to sweaters. so hes not going to sweat it if you briefly snatch something from him so long as you eventually give it back.. might sign some teasing words at you for missing him, might also prompt a session of you two cuddling.. good luck getting up because hes probably not going to let go.. why would he, you missed him! also might make him try to spend more time with you since every now and then he does have decently long periods of just. being gone doing whatever it is that he does.. probably leaves you his main hoodie and wears a different one when he knows hes about to dip for a while..

[mccormickgf]

I LOVE UR YUNA LAYOUT SM!! its sooo nice to see some kpop stans around here😭😭 anyways, could i req main 4 w a fem reader that smokes cigs a lot? thank you and have a good dayyyy<3

eric, kyle, stan, & kenny with a girlfriend who smokes cigarettes

warnings: fem!reader, smoking + drug use mentions

note: i apologize if there’s any typos or weird sentences, i wrote this with a migraine 😭 kpop and south park fans unite lollll i hope you enjoy <3

Eric Cartman:

• deep down, he’s completely unbothered by your smoking. as long as it’s not in the house, he doesn’t care.

• but he’ll make you think he cares.

• the second you light up a smoke when you’re around him, cartman’s already fake coughing.

• “eric… i just lit it, and the smokes not even going towards you!”

• “YOU’RE GIVING ME ASTHMA, WOMAN!”

• “THAT’S NOT EVEN HOW IT WORKS!”

• he doesn’t really notice the smell of it on your clothes or on your breath, thankfully.

• you’d never hear the end of it if he did.

• but god forbid you ever ask him if he wants to try it.

• he literally acts like you’re trying to murder him.

• he calls his mom, kyle, kenny, stan, butters, every single person in his contacts just to tell them that you’re ‘trying to get him addicted to drugs and kill him’.

• but once he gets bored of driving you insane with all this, he does get used to it.

• he does still make comments occasionally, though. but dating cartman, you’re already pretty used to that.

Kyle Broflovski:

• to be completely honest, he hates that you smoke.

• he doesn’t really mind when kenny smokes weed around him, but the smell of cigarettes makes his stomach churn.

• plus, he knows the health risks that come with smoking and doesn’t want you to experience any of them.

• you two have definitely gotten into small arguments about it where he’s trying to get you to quit, but you don’t want to and/or can’t.

• for his sake, you’ve tried to quit, but the withdrawals are too much to handle.

• between the urges, the moodiness, and the restlessness— it was safe to say it was the worst week of both of your lives.

• you couldn’t even be in the same room as each other without you snapping at him that he was ‘breathing weirdly’.

• after that, he gave up on asking you to quit. you did compromise a little bit and smoke less.

• he doesn’t like it, but as long as you smoke outside the house and away from him, he keeps his mouth shut for your sake.

Stan Marsh:

• in my opinion, he definitely smokes.

• so having a girlfriend who also smokes would have very few negatives.

• he doesn’t have to worry about smoking around you and you being bothered by it.

• and you both can smoke together without worrying that the other will be grossed out.

• you two spend a lot of nights in his room, the window open, smoking together while you watch cuddle and watch TV.

• probably the only negative is when you guys mix up your packs. accidentally smoking his instead of yours, and vice versa.

• but overall, it’s pretty great.

Kenny McCormick:

• kenny smokes too, but he smokes weed instead of cigarettes.

• he’s tried cigs, but he isn’t a big fan of the taste.

• but he definitely doesn’t mind you smoking them if you don’t mind him smoking weed.

• you both go on a lot of late night drives, smoking together, stopping at gas stations to get cheap snacks, and listening to music.

• there aren’t really any negatives. kenny loves that he can smoke with you.

[sinking-in-a-gentle-pool-of-wine]

Hii!! I love your writing so, so much-- it's soo good!! I'm not sure if you're taking requests, but I'll send it anyway :)

What about something where Sebastian and Ominis are fighting, and the reader tries to intervene, but Sebastian just starts fighting with her as well? So she goes on a mission (they were supposed to go together) alone? And he's looking for her and asks Ominis, and he tells him that she's in the hospital wing. And he goes to her and he apologizes?

Thank you so much, and if you don't like the idea, and you don't want to write it, it's perfectly fine!

HELLO. I’VE DONE IT. I… may have gone a titch overboard—I got really invested. Thank you sm for your request. Here it is (if you wanna see a nicer formatted one (italics, etc.) check out my Wattpad it’s on there too!):

Keep Me Honest // Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Angst/Action?/Fluff

Word count: 4k+

(All characters aged to 18+ (really just ‘cause, there’s nothing in here that requires it))

———————————————

“I don’t care that no one got hurt!” Ominis shouts. “You broke your promise, Sebastian.”

You stop in your tracks. You’ve just descended into the Undercroft, ready to meet with Sebastian for a practice session, when you overhear the stirrings of an argument between the two boys you know best. You quickly duck into the shadows, not wishing to interrupt. It wasn't clear to you yet which of their arguments this one was: would it rise to a head and resolve, or would one of them storm off in the heat of the moment and drag the conflict on? You could never tell with these two; both had quite the flair for the dramatic.

“Look,” you hear Sebastian start tersely. “You and I agree that Anne should be able to protect herself. How is this any different?”

“Do you think I woke up yesterday?” Ominis jabs back. “Protecting oneself does not require Unforgivable Curses!”

“Sometimes crucio is all that a goblin will listen to. Anyway, it's already been done, Ominis. What do you expect me to do about it now?”

You knew Anne had been trying to get back on the saddle in terms of spell practice, but you had no idea what all Sebastian had been teaching her during his visits to Feldcroft. You weren't sure how you felt about it, but if Anne had asked him, you supposed it was all right... Ominis did have a tendency to shy away from knowledge that posed any similarity to dark magic. But all the same...

“Promise me that you will never teach Anne another spell that puts her morality in danger. That puts yours in danger, too,” Ominis says.

“I can promise you that I'll not tell you the next time I teach Anne a spell.”

“That's not how we've ever worked, Sebastian, and you know it.”

That was it. Before you know it, you're striding into the torch light to provide some back up. Ominis was right: the three of them had been a team since as long as you had known them. Cutting Ominis out was not the answer; you knew Anne wouldn't stand for it either. As you round the corner, you finally see the scene of the argument.

Ominis was standing ramrod straight, clenching and unclenching his fists, bright red nail marks in his palms. Meanwhile, Sebastian looked erratic as ever, his hair sticking out at all ends from messing with it too much, and his wand held loosely in his hand as he paced back and forth, casting shadows on the wall behind him. When he turns for his next loop, he sees you and halts, his hand tightening on the wand and his eyes wide.

“What are you doing here?” he demands.

Your mouth hangs open, unspeaking, for a few seconds. You don't know what you had expected him to say, but it wasn't that.

“Y/N?” Ominis asks, unmoving.

“Yes, it's me,” you respond. “I got here a few moments ago and... overheard you two arguing.”

Ominis lightly kicks at the ground, agitated.

“Well, if you're here to intervene, don't bother,” he says. “I don't want to hear it. I'm tired of you two galavanting off to who-knows-where to put yourselves in danger despite my warnings, and I'm even more tired of you coming to Sebastian's defense no matter the transgression.”

“Actually, I... wanted to second your wish, Ominis.”

Ominis's jaw drops slightly; he clearly hadn't been expecting your support. Sebastian, on the other hand, looks mutinous.

“Seb,” you start, “I know you want Anne to be safe--we all do!--but going behind our backs isn't the way to do it. Particularly Ominis's.”

“When he refuses to be reasonable,” Sebastian starts, shaking his head, “what choice do I have?”

“Did Anne come to you with the wish to learn Crucio, though?” you push.

“Why does it matter whose idea it was? She seemed happy to learn it!”

“You know she does all she can to please you,” Ominis cuts in.

“So what?” Sebastian responds. “You think I manipulated her--accidentally? How is that even possible?”

“No one's saying you manipulated Anne, Seb—”

“Stop calling me 'Seb'!”

This time, you really weren't expecting him to say that. Your face flushes, and you take a step back. Perhaps you had misread this situation--this friendship, you think. You thought you and Sebastian had grown infinitely closer this last year... that he wanted to tell you everything the same way you did him. That fluttery feeling you'd gotten every time you received a piece of exciting news lately because it meant you'd get to tell Sebastian--it feels empty and silly now. How could you have not noticed until now?--that this feeling hadn't been reciprocated.

You take a deep breath, watching Sebastian white-knuckle the wand in his hand. Willow wood.

“I'm not one of you guys,” you start. “I know that. But Ominis is your family as much as Anne. You owe it to him to be honest.”

You see Ominis's face soften in understanding, his mouth still set in a grim frown. Sebastian, however, tenses his jaw and finally looks at you.

“You're right,” he says. “You're not one of us. So stop butting in where you're not wanted.”

“Fine! I won't,” you say, turning on your heel and all but stomping out of the Undercroft, throwing the door open and not bothering to shut it behind you.

“‘Fine, I won't?’” you mutter to yourself. “Couldn't have thought of something with a bit more finality?”

You feel hot pricks behind the backs of your eyes, and you shove the heels of your palms against your eyelids, shoving the tears back. You wouldn't cry. Not for this. Not when you still had work to do. You'd almost forgotten in the heat of the discussion that this particular training session was only the prelude to another task of yours and Sebastian's.

One thing Ominis had gotten right was the fact that the two of you did often get up to a bit more trouble than you’d bargained for. That being said, the trouble would come no matter what the two of you did, so you figured it was best to go it together, at the end of the day. Now you could hardly imagine back to only a few months ago, when exploring on your own was the norm. You supposed that was about where you were now, though. You could reach out to someone else, but you thought the solitude might do you some good. Perhaps it was time to retrain your independent side.

It wasn't really all that dangerous, anyway. All you had to do was take out a bandit camp, a bit northeast of the Forbidden Forest, that had been causing some trouble for residents of the Hogsmeade Valley. You had hoped that tonight could be the night you introduced Sebastian to Merlin trials, though that didn't appear to be possible anymore.

You run the rest of the way through the hallway and through the main doors into the crisp fall air. You inhale deeply, the smell of damp leaves, dirt, and fresh grass comforting to you. Looking around you once to make sure no prefects were outside to see you, you summon your broom to you and mount it, before bursting off the ground and into the sky. You've come to know Hogwarts enough to not need a recalibrating pause in order to know where you were going--North, South, to the Forbidden Forest, or Hogsmeade, or Feldcroft...

You shake your head, willing the glum thoughts away, and squint to see better in the actively darkening sky. The most recent modifications that Albie Weekes made to your broom are nice, and you feel yourself cutting through the air more cleanly than you ever have. Already, the Forbidden Forest looms up on your left, and you bank right and begin to slow down, searching the ground below. A calm, clear stream runs lazily through the grasses, and you see a figure on its bank. You slow to a stop, watching from a distance still, and the figure stands up from the water and begins to walk back into a patch of trees.

That's gotta be it, you think. You fly closer to the ground but remain on your broom, drifting slowly and steadily through some of the taller grasses to stay as hidden as possible. You see a warm orange glow through the branches of the crop of trees and hear voices on the other side of the thicket. You pull your wand out and are about to dismount, when a blast knocks you off your boom.

The broom is ripped out of your hand, but you keep your wand grip tight as you catch air. Praying that you'll fall in grass or the water or anywhere but a jagged rock, you pull your knees up and make yourself into a ball just before crashing onto the ground. Cold water floods your senses, and you feel your robes instantly soak. You stand up as quickly as you can, slipping in the mud and adjusting your hat so you can see. What you see in front of you makes your blood run colder than the water streaming below you.

Bandits. At least a dozen of them, and a few more apparate into the group as you watch. One of them must have seen you coming, and their spell drew the rest.

“Damnit!” you swear under your breath, and a masked bandit near the front of the group laughs.

“You thought you could sneak up on us all alone, little girl?”

Little girl? You seethe.

“It's not like I haven't singlehandedly taken out camps of your bandits before.”

“Bold words for someone who's just been dismounted.”

“I prefer fighting on the ground, anyway.”

“Is that so?”

With a slight flick of his wrist, the bandit shoots a basic cast at you, and you barely throw up a protego in time to deflect it. You try to follow up with a stunning blast, but the bandit easily deflects it. Taking this as their cue to start engaging, the rest of the bandits begin hurling curses and fire in your direction. You can't get a spell in edgewise. You fumble in your bag for a mandrake and whip it in their direction, wincing against the muffled sound of its cries. Though they've scattered slightly, slowly trying to form what you fear is a circle around you, most of the bandits are affected by its screams, hunching down to cover their ears with as much fabric of their cloaks as possible.

“Bombarda!” you yell, aiming at the largest group of bandits you see. The spell lands cleanly, and dirt and rocks explode, sending the bandits stumbling and falling over themselves. You then disarm two of the bandits closest to you before summoning your broom. You don't want to flee, but you need to get away from the trap you've tripped and restart your approach somehow. As your broom, slightly splintery but still very much intact, flies to you, you spot another bandit mounting their own broom. You throw your leg over the wood and leap off the ground as quickly as you can, kicking a bandit in the face as you do so.

You hear them swear colorfully as you accelerate in a random direction. You refuse to flee back to Hogwarts, but you don’t know where to go that’s safe. You look over your shoulder to see not one, but three bandits flying into a V-formation behind you. The odds of losing all three of them were quickly dwindling, and you could feel now that your robes were slowing you down. The cold air was biting your hands as they gripped your broom, and the fabric sagging off your frame threatened to harden with frost.

Swearing, you shoot down into the trees of the Forbidden Forest, dipping below the canopy line but staying well above the ground. You don’t want to lose the bandits just to find yourself face-to-face with a troll. You can hear the whistle of the wind behind you, signaling the presence of the three following you. As you zig-zag around trees, you think you can hear them panting--with effort or with thrill for the chase? You hope for the former.

You then hear a SMACK! followed by a string of yelling. One bandit down, you think, but don’t dare to look back and confirm. And the end of the tree line is already in sight... so close to the castle.

“Diffindo!”

As you break through the treeline, you feel a slash of pain on your back, crying out as you feel the skin tear as if under the crack of a whip. Your grip on your broom loosens involuntarily, and your vision blurs with tears, even as you see the lights of the castle up ahead. You will your broom to go faster, faster, almost there, you bank on the hope that a prefect or professor or someone will be out on the grounds when you arrive, otherwise there's no stopping the bandits from finishing you off in the front gardens.

You look over your shoulder to see just that one bandit--the other got left behind, you suppose--but he's wearing a wicked grin. As you both rise over the outermost wall of the castle, the bandit is stopped by an invisible barrier, but you hear him throw out one last spell before you make it through the first gate:

“Depulso!” he shouts, and you are thrown from your broom, blown forward and unable to hold on tight enough. Your back, still bleeding, sears in pain from the pressure of the spell, and you tumble through the air, hearing the laughter of the bandit behind you. You can't find the strength in your limbs to form into a protective ball again, and as the ground looms up beneath you, all you can do is shut your eyes.

————————————————————

“Where is she?”

Ominis sighs.

“She wouldn’t be in the Slytherin common room, now would she, Sebastian?”

“How do you know who I’m talking about? I could be asking about a Slytherin,” Sebastian protests.

“Who else would you be talking about?” Ominis retorts.

Sebastian clears his throat.

“Well?”

“And why are you looking for her at this hour?” Ominis asks.

“Ominis, it’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon. And… we were supposed to go on a mission together last night, but—”

“But you broke her heart and sent her into certain danger by herself?”

“Merlin, Ominis, when you put it like that—”

“That is what happened, Sebastian.” Ominis sets down the scroll he was fidgeting with. “You’re lucky I didn’t run off into danger, myself. I must admit, you made it tempting, but thankfully I’m a bit more level-headed than our Ravenclaw friend.”

Sebastian runs a hand through his hair; his wand feels slippery in his palm.

“You don’t think she actually went off without me, do you?”

Ominis can’t hold back a snort at this.

“What do you think?”

————————————————————

Your body has never felt more stiff.

You wake up with a crick in your neck and soon discover it’s from sleeping at an odd angle due to the rough bandages spanning the length of your back. A bitter taste sits at the back of your throat, and your head is throbbing. You feel for a moment that you may be sick, but a few deep breaths through your mouth settle you.

A slow scan of the room lets you know that you’re in the hospital wing. Huh, you think, not remembering being brought here. What was the last thing you remember?

A flash of red, dirt, blood, the cobblestone rising up to meet you—

You wince, turning to see a glass of water on the table next to you. You start to reach over to grab it, and it’s only then that you realize your arm is in a sling. Your wand arm.

“Shit.”

“Miss Y/L/N!” you hear the nurse from behind you, and sure enough, she walks up to you, a frown on her face. “You will not use that language in my hospital wing.”

“I’m sorry. But could you please help me with that glass of water?” you ask, holding out your other hand. “I can’t reach it.”

You feel pathetic—unable to finish a mission on your own, unable to heal yourself, unable to lift a glass of water for Merlin’s sake. Hot tears threaten to show themselves again, and you bite your bottom lip—hard—to stave them off.

She passes the glass to you, and you raise it to your mouth. It’s still cold, and you feel it fill your stomach and ease your nausea. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“Thank you,” you say.

“Mhm. Now, I’m not going to ask you how you came to be rushed into my wing, all battered and bruised, with a broken broom, no less—and at the ripe hour of three in the morning!—but I am going to tell you to not do it again. You’ll take a bit to recover; some injuries can’t be undone with the flourish of a wand, you know. You’d do well to remember that.”

Throughout her speech, you felt your face growing hot, and you didn’t know if it was from indignation or embarrassment. You hold your tongue, though, and watch as she flounces away, off to get some Wiggenweld potion, or patronize some more students, or what have you.

Now you were left with nothing but your thoughts… and the almost empty glass of water. What had gone wrong? You couldn’t believe how quickly the previous evening had turned to disaster. You typically kept such a cool head during combat—and allowing a bandit to sneak up on you was unheard of. You know Professor Fig would reassure you that the fact that it had only happened once was an accomplishment, but you expect a level of performance from yourself that exceeds simple assurances. Had going without Sebastian truly thrown you that off your game?

Frustration—at Sebastian or at yourself, you didn’t know—bubbles up inside you, and you wish you could just stand up and walk out of there. You hate being stuck—feeling stuck. Your relationship with Sebastian hadn’t felt stuck at all until last night. Sebastian helped you feel free, capable, clever, brave even. Were you not those things without him? Or did he just help you unlock those parts of yourself? You know it’s the latter, but you still wish you could continue to share those moments with him.

Despite the argument in the Undercroft, you find yourself wishing you could see Sebastian—just try to make him hear you out one more time. And if he really never wants to see you again, then that’s fine. The last year of friendship could mean nothing to him, if that’s what he decides, but you know you would fight.

As you’re steeling yourself to wait it out and perhaps imagining hypothetical scenarios in your head, you hear that very same Slytherin’s voice from outside the wing.

“Let me in, Peeves.”

Your skin starts tingling, and your heart racing. You really didn’t think the time to talk would come so soon. You gulp and look around; none of the other students seem to be paying much mind to the ruckus on the other side of the door.

You hear Peeves blow a raspberry.

“What’s the password?”

“Eat my shorts.”

“Nope! Not even close. Man, you Slytherins really aren’t that clever, are you?”

“Peeves, I’ll curse you if you don’t get out of my way.”

“Oh yeah, and why do you need to get in there so badly? A certain Ravenclaw need your attention?”

Your eyes go wide; you look around frantically and see that some of the students have started to pay attention to the ongoing debate.

“I bet she could guess the password,” Peeves continues.

“Peeves, I swear, I will sic the Bloody Baron on you,” Sebastian responds.

“Ha! Like you have any pull with him.”

The conversation goes quiet, but you hear muffled speaking—Sebastian’s voice. The other students in bed are indiscreetly leaning towards the door as well, trying to catch a phrase or two, when suddenly it bangs open. Sebastian stands in the doorway, looking a mess: his hair is in his eyes, and his robes are askew. His left shoe is even untied. He takes in the room, squinting his eyes when he notices his eavesdroppers, finally landing on you. His whole face changes, the lines disappearing and his eyes brightening, as he strides to your bed and grasps your hand in his.

“Thank Merlin you’re all right. I was afraid I wouldn’t find you in one piece.”

“What?” you start, indignant despite yourself. “You think I couldn’t handle going out alone?”

His eyes harden slightly, and he lets go of your hand.

“What? No, I just heard from Ominis—after much prying, might I add—that you had been rushed to the hospital wing in the small hours of the morning.”

“Oh,” you respond weakly. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“So I was worried,” he says flatly.

You could cry—he had come in exactly how you pictured he would if you could have your way. And then you ruined it.

You sighed.

“But I could go, if you’d prefer,” Sebastian starts.

“No!” you gasp, grabbing his hand back. “No. Please. I’m—I am… embarrassingly happy to see you.”

He smiles, his eyes softening again. You were vaguely aware of the eyes and ears on you both—here in the middle of the hospital wing—but you didn’t care. Not with Sebastian here, looking at you like that.

“So—” you start.

“Listen—” he starts at the same time.

You both laugh.

“You first,” he says. “You first, please.”

You swallow dryly.

“You, um… I—” you take a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize, for being reckless last night, and for crossing a line or not respecting a boundary of our relationship, I just…”

You pause, but the earnest, open look Sebastian is giving you propels you forward before you can stop it.

“I just want to tell you everything, always. I want to share just about every experience with you. And if that’s weird, that’s weird, and I’ll stop trying to do that, and… And I’ll certainly not expect that of you… but… Well I know what you said last night, actually, so I’ll assume that’s not wanted, either, so. Actually… yeah.”

While you were stumbling through whatever that confession was, Sebastian’s face was taking on an expression you hadn’t seen before. You weren’t sure if it was melancholy or joy, or trepidation. When it’s clear that you’ve said your last filler word in an effort to prolong his response time, he grins.

“Please, never listen to a word I say ever again,” he says, releasing your hand to cup your face in his hands. “You are the best person—the best thing to happen to me.”

You feel the lines in your face release, and you reach up to hold his wrist.

“You keep me honest,” he continues, “and I think I sometimes hate that. But I’ll work on it—I am working on it. I lashed out last night, and that’s not okay. I’d maybe hope that if we get into an argument again, you won’t go and get yourself diffindo-ed, of course…”

“Yeah yeah,” you laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Really, though. I mean it. Because I’ll be with you next time. And the time after that. And the next one…”

“But then we’re done,” you interject.

“Yeah, all right,” he laughs, lightly punching your shoulder.

“OW!” you yell, gaining back the attention of those in the room who had finally diverted it.

Panic immediately sets in on Sebastian’s face, and he’s about to fall over in his haste to get the nurse, when you start laughing.

“Merlin, Seb,” you say. “Learn to take a joke.”

“I’ll kill you first,” he says, smirking.

“You got any classes today?” you ask.

“Not ‘till Astronomy this evening.”

You scoot over on the bed and pat the space beside you, the question on your face. Sebastian pretends to look around for the nurse in secrecy before gently climbing in beside you. Both of you feel the release of relief settle over you, and you let your head drop onto his shoulder.

“What was it you said to Peeves that convinced him to let you in, anyway?”

[chaosisalwayscrying]

i NEEEEEED a chris or matt x british reader cos there just never is any and i just want. i’ve asked before but they lowkey just kept on saying “it’s chewsday innit” over and over again 😭

LONDON GIRL

⇥ synopsis : matt goes to with his girlfriend to the place she grew up, london

⇥ warnings : none :)!

⇥ extra : ummm i hate this 😝 its been pushed back sm cause of school AND i rewrote it sm cause i hated it. i hope this is good enough 😕 ty for the request anon!!

⇥ masterlist !

⇥ taglist !

    you and matt had met at an influencer party, after you had just moved in with friends in LA from london. they were big in the influencer scene and decided to drag you out. of course, they ditched you in favor of drinking and flirting with whoever possible, but you weren't interested in even speaking until matt ran into you.

when you turned, it was like love at first sight. he frantically apologized for almost knocking you over, and when you spoke and he heard your accent, he fell harder. your thick accent was so attractive to him, and he was asking for your number before his brain could even process it.

you gave it to him, figuring that nows the time to make new friends.

    and now, a year later, you're in a happy 8-month long relationship. matt was nothing short of amazing, he pampered you and make you feel special every day.

    so, when you decided to go back to london for week to visit, you drag matt, chris, and nick with you too.

    "are you sure its ok we come back to london with you pretty? dont you want to visit family and go around alone?" matt asks, watching you from his place on the bed.

    "i wanna show you all my favorite places matt, and we can explore and shop with your brothers!" you return, a wide grin on your face as you turn to look at him. you were in the middle of packing you and matts clothes in a suitcase.

matts heart swells as you smile at him, before asking for the tenth time if you wanted him to help.

"no it’s ok, i like to pack stuff. plus i wanna organize it. we already set out our outfits so i just have to pack them" you say, turning back to the suitcase and placing a shirt on your side.

"oh! actually, can you go pack the toiletries? i wrote out a list of all the stuff, it should be on the vanity with the bag" you ask, not turning as you hear him get up and shuffle around.

"of course, ill be back" he said, coming up behind you and kissing the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“thank youuu!” you say in a sing-song voice as he walks out, blush burning on your cheeks from his actions.

by the time you had packed you and matts things, it felt as if your whole wardrobe was packed up all over again. when you had gone upstairs to check on chris and nick, nick was sat on top of the suitcase as chris tried to zip it, making you laugh for a good few minutes.

once you stopped laughing at their expense, they practically begged you to help them reorganize and pack, to which you obliged with a smile.

—————

landing in london was like sweet relief, the plane was uncomfortable and there was a lot of turbulence, and you had gotten so dizzy and nauseous at a point you had to lock yourself in the plane bathroom.

the plane rides were brutal, from la to boston, then to london in the same trip was sure to take a toll on anyone, but the triplets had never flown that long before and it was definitely taking its toll. chris could barely order the uber for all of you, and matt almost missed your shared luggage and grabbed someone elses.

    the next few days were chaotic, magical, and felt completely unreal. you and the boys started off your week by exploring some little shops close to the hotel, not wanting to go too far because of the jetlag still wearing off.

    the day after that, you dragged the boys around to all the tourist locations possible. nick and chris were so eager to get cool pictures and film for their channel, that you and matt were able to have nice quiet moments and cute pictures (courtesy of nick and chris).

    when you were near big ben, chris and nick had gone off to an obvious tourist shop to get stupid shirts and whatever else they could find, leaving you and matt on a bridge nearby as the sun began setting.

    "y'know," matt began, turning from the sunset to look in your eyes. "i’m really happy you invited us on this trip. seeing the place you grew up from your perspective and exploring your favorite spots feels so special. i love you" he smiled, leaning in for a kiss right after.

    the kiss was soft and sweet, matt holding your hips as your hands rest on his cheeks. as you part, you hear obnoxious cheers from certain boys a few feet away. you blush furiously as matt turned around with a playful scowl on his lips.

“you guys suck!” he calls, a chuckle breaking his angry facade. he turns back to you and playfully rolls his eyes, though in his head he was hoping his brothers got photos of them in front of the sunset.

“im glad you’re having fun, matty. i was scared you’d hate london” you smile, finally responding to his previous comment. matts expression morphed into disbelief, which made you laugh.

“hate london? i love it here! minus most of the food, but other than that i love it here baby, im so happy you invited us.” he smiled, leaning in to press another kiss to your lips.

you smiled too, happy that he and his brothers were having so much fun in london, a place so beautiful and near to your heart.

ove the next few days, you and the boys explored the city some more, finding cute boutiques and cringey tourist shops alike. all the shopping you did made it hard to repack your bags and fit everything, and you had to get nick and chris to sit on your suitcases to get them shut.

you would say the trip was a success, you got to revisit all your favorite places and make them even more special as you made new memories there.

⇥ TAGS !

@sturnioloshacker @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hertvgirl @cupidzsq @sturnnie @leah-loves-lilies @billkaulitz0630

[hannahlovesluca]

Hihihihihi K Anon here :DD

Feel free to do this last or put this one as the last in the row !!

Can i request Luxiem boys(+ Ver cause he's my pathetic boyfailure)'s reactions to finding out that their s/o has a naturally cold body temperature?Like you'd think they'd be warm from their personality but when you touch them it's just freezing cold and they just go (:

Anyways please take care of yourself,drink and eat enough and rest enough !! Your health is important pookie

-K Anon

Luxiem + Ver with S/O Who has a Cold Body Temperature

• before you guys had actually met up irl (met through NIJI) and you told him how cold your hands always were, he lowkey didnt believe you because you just have such a warm personality

• however, when you guys first get together irl, first thing he’s doing is holding your hand because he’s so smitten

• and then his eyes go wide and hes just like??

• even though you don’t actually feel cold, he’ll take both of your hands in his and try to warm them up

• he also lowkey likes it too because he definitely prefers to be cold when sleeping and when you guys are cuddling hes just 🥰🥰

• our boyfailure just loves u sm!!!

• i love ver but i’ll be honest idk too much about him so writing for him is xtra hard 😭😭

• lets say you guys knew each other before niji

• maybe you went to the same high school and started dating then?

• anyway he genuinely worries for you, he does his research and its a pretty big sign for low iron so he’ll probably always ask if theres anything thats bothering you and you have to reassure him that its okay

• im sorry but he DEFINITELY blows on your hands softly to warm them up :((

• hes such a horndog but he can be so so soft and sweet

• and he knows how soft he is with you and isnt afraid to admit that he is!!

• he will NOT hide the fact that he loves you!!

• even if you’re not actually cold your skin just is, he’ll still tuck you in with extra blankets and make sure to cuddle the coldest parts of your body!!

• im sorry but he cracks a few jokes about you being elsa or some shit

• he probably flinches the first time he feels how cold your hand is :((

• he prefers being cozy and warm so it’s a big adjustment for him but he’ll do ANYTHING for you!!!

• definitely teases you about it as long as he knows your comfortable with it, otherwise he wouldnt

• i watch mysta, but again, not one of my oshi’s so its somewhat hard to think of things to add but i swear im trying

• even after knowing about your body temperature, he still probably flinches sometimes :((

• poor baby loves you so much and he wants you to know that and he feels so fucking bad because he doesn’t think hes showing it enough

• apologizes to you repeatedly about it :(

• much like vox, he’ll definitely make sure you’re always covered up even if you’re not actually cold

• “mysta, im having a heat stroke..”

• “too bad.” *sticks tongue out at you*

• GOLDEN RETRIEVER GIVES YOU HIS GLOVES

• “y/n, baby, are you okay? 🥺”

• looks at you exactly like that emoji

• holds your hands in his and probably presses them up against his chest for extra warmth 💟💟

• is the type to make you hot chocolate not only because it tastes good and you like it but because it’ll warm up your body

• hes so thorough with everything he does and remembers everything about you :((

• much like vox, he looks it up and once he sees that it could be something like low iron hes just like :0

• he hadnt even thought about that!!! what kind of a boyfriend was he!!!!

• ^ the best one ever

• HE LOVES TAKING WARM SHOWERS/BATHS WITH YOU

• im brain rotting i want to shower with him

• pls he deserves so much love how has he never had a gf anyone would be so lucky shouldve been me shouldve been me oh my god

• no parasocial

• anyways probably tells the lucubs and your fanbase about how cold you are just naturally and how hes worried, and when the clip gets shown to you youre just like 🥹🥹🥹

• “yeah, chat! Y/N is so cold, it kinda worries me. Apparently it can mean a lot of things and im scared they might have low iron or something..” *with a pout*

• and that was when they realized something was going on between you two

• THE MAN OF SEX HIMSELF

• anyways, much like vox, he definitely blows softly on your hands with warm breath to warm them up im so :(

• he also, like luca, will probably get you gloves (he would lend you his but they wouldn’t fo much)

• he probably reads to you while holding your hand and will look at you now and then just to make sure you’re ACTUALLY not cold

• he worries so much about you and being an overthinker doesnt help his case

• i imagine he’ll probably breathe on your hands whilst singing to you softly and just cradling you in his arms

• the man wants nothing more than for you to be happy and healthy and and and and

• ugh he just wants you to have everything good in life because you deserve it and

• i could rant about this man for ages plz restrain me

• anyway if he catches you wearing the gloves he bought you his heart will explode because he got you those and its just so :))))))))

• yk that Harry Styles song “Falling” thats literally him with you thats him in a relationship i cant explain it i just

• he also has a naturally cold body temp

• so the first time he holds your hands hes just :D

• much like ver, he prefers sleeping somewhat cold so when he cuddles you hes practically in heaven 🥰🥰

• his head buried in your chest while cuddling i cant

• brain is not functioning

• shu is just such a chill guy he wouldnt really have that much of a reaction 😭😭