#and by god we are out of touch this thursday

[morallygay]

I’m sorry I know it’s been said countless times but. After a winning streak in the twink and dilf twitter competitions, reigen faces off against sans undertale in the finals of the tumblr sexyman competition. They’re both asexual. Reigen loses by 0.1%. It’s so close that mobile users see 50% & 50%. This is happening on the anniversary of Mob accidentally becoming an anti-conservative america symbol. Queen elizabeth died later on the same day. It’s a thursday. The nature of humanity is that every so often someone invents november 5th 2020 again

Hi if you read this you should check my milf addition btw, you may want to reblog that one

[seventeenpins]

a slight miscalculation - pt. i

pairing: Joel x F!Reader

word count: 8.3k

summary: Sarah is off to college, and Joel is about to be living in an empty nest. They road trip out together, and as she spends her first night in her new apartment, he's staying in a nearby hotel. Letting go of his inhibitions for the first time in a long time, he tumbles into a one night stand that becomes very complicated, very quickly.

content/warnings: smut, age gap, mycologist!reader, dick sucking, implied pussy eating, fingering, no outbreak au, reader likes to hike, reader also infodumps, joel miller has a big cock, he also has anxiety, reader has anxiety too, and a cat, reader is in early 20s--exact age not established, one (1) use of daddy, alcohol and weed consumption, joel is a diligent condom wearer, set in present day, discussion of girl scout cookies, joel is sweet and soft and hasn't been eviscerated by the death of his daughter

a/n: I'm intending this to be about five parts. This may change, but right now it's looking like five. I've been struggling to write for a while, unable to focus, but I think I'm back at it? as always, your feedback is hugely appreciated, and i'm kissing all likers and commenters and rebloggers deeply and with tongue 🩷

check out pt. ii

For the first time in nineteen years, Joel is completely adrift. Sarah's starting college in just two months.

It's the kind of realization that hits him like a bucket of ice water, a sudden shock and then an unpleasant trickling of anxiety wrapping about him in nasty tendrils. And then he feels guilty, because he's so, so happy for Sarah because he knows that she's thrilled, but fuck she's gonna be two time zones away and now what's Joel meant to do on Thursday movie nights when he's here without her?

It's terrifying, and it's new. And it's not that he's new to anxiety. He's usually anxious, and he has the Sertraline on his bedside stand to prove it. But if his general anxiety baseline usually hovered around a 6.4, where he was at now far surpassed a 10. It felt exponential, and totally exhausting.

When he voices his fears to Tommy, to Joel's horror, Tommy just doubles over in laughter.

"Jesus, Joel," he wheezes, wiping fake tears from his eyes in exaggerated movements, "You looked so serious I thought you were gonna say you'd killed someone."

Joel scowls. "The fuck you laughing for?"

"She's going to college, it's not like she's dying!"

"How'm I gonna be there for her? What if she needs me? What if-"

"Joel-," Tommy pats him gently on the shoulder, "She can always call you, and you can always call her. And we both know she's got a good head on 'er shoulders."

Joel snorts in concession. "Yeah, yeah. Better than yours and mine put together, and then some."

"Exactly." Tommy agrees, "And if there's ever anything that really goes wrong, you got me. We can drive out together and make sure she's okay."

Joel nods and feels the tiniest bit of tension leave him. One step at a time.

Just over nineteen years ago he found out he was about to be a dad. Suddenly, he had a purpose. Having a kid at twenty-two wasn't something he'd ever intended, but somehow he knew he loved his baby girl from the moment he knew she was a possibility. He spent a solid seven months running around, hustling, doing everything he could to get the very best for his kid. He'd take on doubles, working himself to the bone to make sure they had the best crib, and the best stroller, too. He was thrilled and terrified and so, so green.

Now, his heart feels so big he doesn't know how to handle it. His baby girl is an honest-to-god adult, moving out and going to college, and he has no idea what he's gonna do with his time now.

He has work, of course. But beyond that? He's really gotta to widen his circle, he realises, because who's he gonna hang out with? His brother?

He'd only just turned forty-one and had absolutely not come to terms with an empty nest--the few friends from high school he'd kept in touch with were so much further behind than him. The ones that had kids had them later in their twenties and thirties, and now they're raising middle schoolers while Joel's kid is a real fucking person, leaving home and everything. All the scrapping and saving he'd been doing since before Sarah was born–for his little girl to be able to follow any dream she chose–it was finally paying off. The precocious young woman she is, she graduated early and spent nearly a year working retail to save up some cash. She'd applied to colleges all across the country, and a few international ones, too. Joel had been crossing his fingers for months, hoping she'd choose something near Austin, but cheered with her all the same when she got her acceptance letter from Oregon State University. The previous summer, just before she'd started her applications, she and Joel and Tommy spent a miserable, wonderful week hiking round the Pacific Northwest. She fell in love with it, and the university offered a few of the majors she wanted to consider.

Joel didn't know what he'd do with his baby girl so far away, his life, his reason, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna tell her that. He will not clip her wings. His baby's gonna change the world and he's not gonna hold her back. He is, though, gonna require regular phone calls and check-ins and god they grow up so fast.

"Y'all should road trip out there," Tommy suggests one night over the dinner table.

Joel knew the conversation of how Sarah would get to the West Coast would come up, and it oughta be sooner rather than later. He was half afraid that she wanted to head out on her own, that she didn't need her dad anymore. Worried she would say she wanted to get a plane ticket, or take the Amtrak all the way to Corvallis. But he knows he needs to loosen his grip a little, so he braces himself when he turns to her.

"What'dya think, Sarah? You wanna be stuck in a car with your old man for a cross-country trip?"

Sarah rolls her eyes, but her face breaks into a grin. "Can we, Dad?"

This was too good to be true, he knew, but he wasn't gonna give up one last opportunity to spend some time with his girl till winter break.

"Course, baby," he tells her, and that flicker of anxiety quells just the tiniest bit.

The next few weeks fly by, and the knot of anxiety in Joel's chest feels like it's consuming him from the inside out. He's taken some time off, more than Sarah or Tommy can remember, but he's constantly trying to suggest ideas for activities to Sarah. For the most part, she's a good sport, understanding how much it means to her dad. She took pity on him, and let him drag her to places that ideally she would've gone to when she was little, but she humored him and he appreciated her dedication. He did his best to step back when she was heading out to spend time with friends--her time here was limited, after all, and she was always a social butterfly.

There are five weeks till classes start, four weeks, three, two, and in the blink of an eye, they're loading up the truck with all of Sarah's things, and Tommy is hugging Sarah goodbye, teary eyed. He gives Joel a hug, too. Joel would never admit it, but fuck he had really needed that hug.

They would take the scenic route. Make a memorable trip of it. Joel would make sure she settles in safe and sound, and then he'd head home.

6am Sunday.

You wake with a start. It's just over a week before term starts and your entire body aches. Fuck, you think to yourself, definitely overdid it with that last hike.

(The hiking part wasn't itself a problem, but one of the trails had washed out. You thought you'd found your way, but the "easy" three and a half mile hike took about five hours, leaving your calves bruised and your heels blistered.)

You roll over in your hotel room bed and, at the sound of a slight yelp followed by a gentle thud, realise with a sudden start that you just catapulted your cat off the corner.

"Shit, sorry goblin," you tell Spatula, who glares up at you with disdain as he licks at his paw. You reach down and, despite your inadvertent cat launch, he immediately rubs up against your fingertips and lets you scratch behind his ears.

"I'm sorry, baby," you soothe.

He meows, loudly. Howls, really. You take it as an apology accepted.

You sit up properly and look at your phone calendar. Nothing immediate. You don't need to get keys to your new apartment till tomorrow, nor do you meet your roommates till then–they're both moving in today, and moving is already horrible without having to navigate around the belongings of two other people. No, thanks. You can afford one more night at the hotel, and it'll make everything go that little bit more smoothly tomorrow. Besides, you have a bit of reading you'd like to get through, maybe stock up on non-perishables till you have a full-sized fridge, and get to know the city just a little.

You move gingerly, testing the ache in your muscles as you unfold yourself from the position you've been sat in and pull yourself from the bed. It hurts, but not something that won't be fixed with a little movement.

A plan forms. First, a walk, to try and loosen up your tight muscles. Then, errands. You have a whole list, with everything categorised by store, but then you enter IKEA and exit fifteen minutes later, only to find that five and a half hours have passed and it's evening now.

How was it that IKEA harnessed such a malicious power. How could anything harness that?

You need a fucking break. And a goddamn drink.

"Hey Dad," Sarah calls from the adjacent bedroom as Joel sweats, hauling another box towards her. The drive has been good, but it has been long. His legs ache. His back aches. There are parts of him that he didn't know existed that now ache.

"Yeah?" he calls back.

"Are you sure you're okay with me staying here tonight?"

Joel lets out a breath. He wants to be okay with it. And there's no way his nineteen year old would want to hang out with her dad when she could be spending the very first night in her brand new apartment. But he also wishes she wanted to spend one last night, hanging out in a hotel room with her dad. They could watch shitty movies together. Make the most of the final night before this cataclysmic shift.

But no.

That'd just be him being selfish. He can handle a night by himself. He's gotta handle a whole lotta them soon enough.

"O'course baby," he nods, hoping the smile he's plastered on his face looks totally genuine. "But we're still doin' breakfast in the morning, right?"

She nods, vigorous, and then waves her phone around. "I was looking up places! There's a diner called Tommy's," she laughs, "Wanna try that? 9:30?"

"Let's do it," he smiles, and this one is a little less forced.

"How much more do we have?" Sarah asks, nodding towards the box Joel's still holding.

"Last box," he grunts, "What else can I help with?"

He places the box down and lets out a slight, almost silent whimper. Sarah catches it, though.

"Maybe you should take it easy the rest of the day, Dad," she tells him, "We both know you have old man back."

He rolls his eyes but nods. "Guess you're right," he shrugs, "That my cue to take off?"

Sarah blushes but turns to him sheepishly. "Yeah, I-"

"No need to explain," Joel assures, "I know you must wanna get unpacked and settle in, get to know your roommates an' all."

She jumps up and, almost startling him, wraps her arms around him in a bear hug.

"Love you, dad," she grins, and she squeezes just a little tighter than usual.

He squeezes back, and they both pretend there aren't tears in his eyes.

As you step through the doors of the hotel bar, you decide you like it. The lighting is comfortably low. It's not loud, but it's not quiet, either. Colorful bottles line the shelves, the light of the filament bulbs glinting off the glass in rainbow prisms.

You take a seat at the bar and give a nod of thanks as the bartender passes you a small menu. It's unsurprisingly extortionate, hotel bar and all, but it'll do.

"Old fashioned, please," you tell the bartender, who nods in response. A minute later, he hands you a glass, delivered with a twist of orange and a cherry on top.

With your first sip, you feel your shoulders start to relax and some of the tension loosen from your body. The warmth of the burn envelops you and your stress starts to unravel, leaving only the buzz feeling good.

You order a second, and as the glass is handed to you, a voice to your right catches your attention.

"This seat taken?" a man asks.

You shake your head and offer a quick smile, gesturing towards it, "All yours."

"Much obliged," he nods, and slips into the backless stool next to yours.

The bartender comes over and passes him the same menu, but without looking at it he asks, "Could I get an old fashioned?"

You smile and catch his eye, tipping your glass towards him. "An excellent choice," you praise, "Though if you don't have a sweet tooth, I'd recommend asking Jeff there if he can go easy on the simple syrup."

"Oh yeah?" He asks, and then he leans in conspiratorially. "T'tell you the truth, I do have a bit of a sweet tooth."

You raise an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Suddenly, he breaks into a grin and it's dazzling.

"Yeah," he laughs, "I've got cookies stashed in secret locations all through my house."

You raise an eyebrow. "If I keep 'em in my pantry, my brother'll find 'em and eat 'em all," he explains, "But ever since my kid was a girl scout, I always get cravings for girl scout cookies, so I buy an armful o'boxes and try and preserve 'em throughout the year, till I can replenish."

"What's your favorite girl scout cookie?"

"Caramel deLites, hands down."

"Oh yeah?"

"Absolutely," he nods.

The bartender, Jeff, sets the man's drink down with a clink. You catch one another's eye and both erupt into a fit of laughter.

You're not even sure what's funny. Maybe it's just been a long day? Maybe the whiskey was getting to you?

Whatever it is, it feels good.

The man takes a sip of his drink and lets out an aaaahh and it's goofy and charming and then he extends his hand.

"Joel," he tells you, "Joel Miller". You shake his hand, introduce yourself, and then take a sip of your own drink.

"So, tell me about yourself," you smile, "You coming from out of town?"

"Yes ma'am," he nods, "Come up here from Austin."

"Texas?"

Joel nods.

"That's a long trip."

"Yeah," he laughs, "It really is."

"So, you're a nice Southern boy, huh?"

"Well," he swishes his glass and tries to bite back a smile, "I don't know that I'd go quite so far, but my mama did raise me to be a gentleman."

"That so?" you ask and his blush deepens.

"I... have been known to get up to some trouble, but I like to think I've mellowed in my old age." He gestures at the beautiful little smatterings of silver at his temples, and you cackle.

"Okay, that's hot," you tell him and he chokes, but you keep going, "Old age, though? What are you, like, forty?"

He exhales, chagrined. "Forty-one."

You roll your eyes. "That ain't old."

"It feels it sometimes," he smiles, "My kid is grown. My little brother's married with a kid of his own on the way. My back hurts, pretty much all the time."

You snort. You also notice, without trying to look, that he doesn't have a wedding band. Doesn't have a tan line for one, either. Interesting.

"But more than that," he continues, "I guess I feel- I don't know. A little... aimless?"

"Yeah," you nod, and you let the moment sit. "I get that."

He lets out a little breath, and then turns back to you, focused.

"What about you? Where're you from?"

"Oof," you exhale, "All over. Spent a bit of time on the East coast. The Midwest. Lived a few months in the South, even," you tease as you bump your shoulder into his and he laughs. It's a surprisingly familiar gesture, but miraculously comfortable.

"Ever make it to Texas?"

"Naw," you shake your head, "My time in the South was all in Mississippi. After that I moved out to California, and I've been slowly working my way up the West Coast."

"And what have you been enjoying about the West Coast?" Joel asks.

"The mushrooms," you grin, and Joel frowns.

"Like, the kind you get in a little baggy from the dealer down the street, or-?"

"No," you laugh, "Or, well- Okay, sometimes. Gotta say it is great out here for that, too. But I mean fungus as a whole--mushrooms, mold, yeast, lichen. But I'm most interested in mushrooms. They're just really fuckin' cool, and there's so much we don't understand about them. And, they're delicious."

"Huh," Joel ponders, "T'tell you the truth, I've never thought much about mushrooms, besides enjoying 'em as a pizza topping."

"Most people don't," you agree, "But fuck, like-- Okay, so we know there are over five million types of fungi on Earth, but we've identified less than two percent of them. Some fungus aids decomposition. Some fungus is bioluminescent. Some are known worldwide for their delicious flavours, and others are known by the slow, horrible ways they kill you."

Joel raises his eyebrows, and suddenly you feel a little self conscious.

"Sorry, I do this," you laugh, rubbing at the back of your neck, "I get very excited about fungus and manage to alienate everyone around me."

You half expect him to stand up and walk away.

Instead, though, he leans in closer. "Don't apologise," he tells you, "I'm learning something new. Tell me more?"

"No, I should stop. Otherwise I'll never stop talking," you wince.

"How about just one more fungus fact?"

You sit for a minute, pondering. "This is- well, I guess this is one of the reasons I find fungus so fascinating. So, fungus can't photosynthesise the way that plants do--they can't produce their own food from sunshine, and water, and carbon dioxide. Instead, their mycelium-- they're these thread-like networks--they branch out beneath the earth, seeking out food, growing in the direction where it can find the nutrients it needs and breaking down organic material all around them, sometimes living organisms, as a parasite, and sometimes dead organisms as a decomposer, or both. And it's just- It's this hidden world, that exists right beneath the surface even in some of the extreme places on earth, temperature-wise. And most days, we don't even think about it."

You punctuate your thought with a large swallow of your drink, which is half-watered down now that the ice is melted, and doesn't hit quite as hard as you'd hoped, but then you look up at Joel and he's smiling at you, pensive, and--

"That's- That's actually really interesting."

Before you can respond, though, Joel glances at his watch and balks. It is getting late. "Shit," he shakes his head, "I think I oughta call it a night," he says, pulling back. "Early morning tomorrow, and if I stay at the bar I'll just keep drinkin'."

Fuck. That's a dismissal. Of course you went on too much about mushrooms. You'd fucked this up. You'd thought this was going well, but now it felt like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. "Oh," you nod, matching his posture, and try to swallow down the sudden wave of disappointment. "Of course. Have a good night, Joel."

Joel stands up and then looks you up and down, considering. It's not brazen, but it isn't shy, either. And then understanding flashes across his face.

"Wait- Sorry, that's not how I meant it." He reaches out towards you and you melt into his touch. "I'm messin' this up." He chuckles, but it sounds pained. "Now look, I don't wanna make any presumptions. And I'm really hopin' I'm not coming off as some--dirty old man. Jesus, I haven't done this in a while. But I'm in room 308."

Your eyebrows shoot up. What you'd taken for disinterest was just--nerves?

"I reckon I'll be awake for a while yet. You're welcome to... drop by."

The disappointment melts, making way for a fluttering in your stomach.

"Twenty minutes," you assure him, "308?"

He nods and he brakes into a sheepish grin, shedding what you now realise had been something of an anxious wince. "308."

You watch him leave. When he's out of sight, you toss back the rest of your watery drink and go to pay your tab, but Jeff tells you it was already settled. You thank him and tuck your shaking hands in your pockets. You feel an electricity running through you as you take the elevator up.

When you get back to your room, you hop into the shower, just to freshen up--you keep your hair dry but scrub your body. Once you're clean, you brush your teeth.

Stepping back out of the en suite, you survey the hotel room. Spatula is lounging on the corner of the bed, entirely uninterested in your movements. You top up his dry food bowl and place a kiss between his ears before slipping out.

When you knock at Joel's door, you hear a slight rustle and clatter and then the door swings open, Joel's staring a little wide-eyed, like he didn't actually expect you to show. He's wearing grey sweats and a Johnny Cash t-shirt that looks like it's been around nearly as long as you have. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, an anxious tell that's desperately endearing.

"C'mon in," he smiles, and you step in, closing the door behind you.

You reach out to cup his face, delighting in the feeling of coarse stubble beneath your fingertips. Your first kiss is chaste. You both lean forward and press your lips to one another gently, exploring.

Then, you let out a little moan and Joel shudders. Heat surges between you, and his hands are cradling your head and brushing your cheek and he's pinning you against the closed door. You're kissing again, nothing chaste remaining, learning the taste of him, his rhythm, the crashing waves of give and take between you.

You wrap one leg around him and smirk when he lets out a throaty groan as you grind against his hard cock. You're pretty sure he's not wearing underwear, the thick bulge seemingly unconstrained in his grey sweats, the whole length pressing against your thigh.

Your head falls back and you let out soft, breathy noises as his lips trace along your collarbone, up your throat, and against that tender little spot behind your ear. When he puts your earlobe between his lips and presses his teeth gently against the skin, your knees go weak and he chuckles, strong arms wrapping around you, holding you up.

"Bed?" he asks, and you breathe yes and then, with a yelp and a throaty chuckle, you're lifted up and spun around and both tumbling into the duvet.

You're grasping at each other, desperate to keep your hands on one another. The only times you part is when you undress, and even then, you're helping each other--pulling the hem of his shirt over his lifted arms, pressing into him as he reaches around and moves to unhook your bra, but then he realises you're not wearing one and lets out a groan, his thumbs brushing alongside the tender skin along your ribs, moving gently as if to cup your breasts, but then he pulls back.

Normally you might wait, do this part slowly, draw out the tease just a little bit longer.

Tonight, though, you're ravenous.

As you fiddle with the buttons of your pants, you tug at the drawstring keeping Joel's sweats on his hips. The bow comes loose in one smooth motion, and he lifts his hips and you pull the sweats down.

Your mouth immediately waters seeing him bare, laid out for you. You watch a bead of precum drip down the head and pool on his belly. The coarse hair of his happy trail glistens with it. He's thick, uncut, and looks painfully hard, his cock head ruddy. "Fuck, you're beautiful," you tell him, and his cheeks redden but he grins. It's boyish, the way he grins, and devastatingly charming.

And, what you're saying is true. His body is gorgeous, something you wish you could sketch. Soft flesh over hard muscle, visible tan lines where his chest and shoulders are noticeably lighter than his arms. The muscles and veins along his throat are driving you absolutely fucking insane as he swallows and looks up at you.

He's got freckles on his shoulders, too, and without thinking, you lower yourself down to kiss at his shoulder. He shakes, just a little, and lets out the most beautiful gasp. It's addictive, pulling these noises from him. You follow the curve of him, giving him a taste of his own medicine--tracing feather-light kisses along his collarbone, up the tendons of his neck, behind his ear. You can feel the blood pulse in his veins as your lips brush along him. Joel goes from panting lightly to full on groaning, rutting his hips up towards you and, frustrated, meeting only air.

"Can I taste you?", you ask, and Joel lets out a half-strangled sound and nods, vigorous.

You scoot back, lower yourself, poke out your tongue and, without any preamble, lick at the slit of his head, tasting the salty, tangy precum.

Joel tips his head back and groans and you decide to be kind. You grasp onto his hips and take him in your mouth, slowly sinking down, inch by inch by inch and now you can feel him at the back of your throat, your saliva dripping down the shaft and collecting in the hair between his thighs.

You bob your head up and down, taking him deeper with each thrust, but your throat is full and there are still inches to go. You relax, doing everything you can to take him deeper, and he starts to thrust up gently.

You let him fuck into your mouth but release one of his hips, allowing him to move as freely as he needs and freeing up your hand, which you shove into your underwear, rubbing furiously at your clit.

It doesn't take much to lose yourself in it, to focus only on the sensation. You're so wet, slick coating your fingers, making the glide that much smoother as you touch yourself. Joel tastes so good, too, the intrusion of his cock the most delicious thing, feeling the way he shudders when you moan, the way he moans when you shudder.

"Fuck-" Joel gasps, and then there's a hand guiding you gently off of him.

You raise an eyebrow. "You okay?"

He swallows, hard, and nods. "More than okay. Felt too fuckin' good."

"Oh yeah?" and you lean down, as if to take him back in your mouth, but he chuckles and pulls you back again.

"It's been... a while. For me. And-" He drags his palm down his face, wearing an almost pained expression. "Christ, you just look too fuckin' good down there, mouth stretched 'round me while you touch yourself. An' it feels too fuckin' good, too. I ain't ready for this to be over yet but if you keep lettin' me fuck your throat like that it's gonna be over real quick. And I wanna feel that pretty pussy myself."

You sit back up and he pulls you towards him so you're straddling him.

"You gonna fuck me, Joel?"

"Yes," he breathes, "Yes, baby, please-"

You do an awkward wobble and then stand up, shedding your pants and letting your panties drop, stepping out of them, one foot and then the other, and the way he's watching you is addictive. He watches you with beautiful eyes, drinking all of you in, and suddenly the moment has changed into one of those quiet, intimate moments where you both exhale a laugh.

You straddle him again, and lean down to kiss him, and the electric current surges up. He grabs you by the jaw, meeting your desperation. His lips on yours are exactly the balm you need and you can taste the whiskey on his breath.

"Feels fucking good," you tell Joel as you slide up and down his length. He's not penetrating you, not yet, but the lips of your pussy are spread and you're gliding along him, feeling his head at your clit and thrusting back till you're nearly seated on his balls.

He watches you, nearly unblinking, drinking it all in. Then, he lets out a groan, and half-sits up, suddenly focused.

"Shit," he closes his eyes in frustration, "I don't have any condoms. Shit shit shit-"

You push him back down and kiss him again. Then, you hop off the bed and sift around in your jean pockets.

"Ah-ha!," you exclaim, once you've found your treasure. Joel raises and eyebrow and you wink. "Saw they were selling them in the lobby. Figured it might be a good idea."

"Shit," Joel laughs, and presses his lips just to the side of your mouth. "Clever girl," he tells you, and a shiver goes up your spine.

He leans to help, but you shoo him away and he watches, entranced, as you neatly open the condom wrapper and, with a small amount of difficulty, roll it down his cock.

"Feeling okay?" You ask him, "Shit, I shoulda gotten the Magnums. Is your dick okay? It's not being choked to death by an inappropriately sized rubber, is it?"

Joel snorts. "We'll manage," he says, and then he grips you by the hips, lines himself up. He draws his knuckles along your cunt and groans, "Fuck, so goddamn wet for me-" and, the moment you look at him and nod, he holds the head of his cock against your drooling lips and presses into you.

It's a big stretch as he lowers you down onto him, the intrusion almost painful, but before you can even take a breath, it melts into absolute pleasure. You've fucked people with longer cocks before, and you've fucked people with girthier cocks before, but never have you fucked someone with a cock that's both this long and thick and it feels like you're being split in two and it's perfect and you realise, with a sudden flip of your stomach, he isn't even fully seated inside you yet.

Then, you manage to focus on the words Joel is saying-that had really just been background noise for the past ten seconds or so-and suddenly you're tuning back in for "Tha's it," his voice low and hoarse, surprisingly gentle, "Good girl, takin' this cock so well, look at you."

His brow is furrowed and he's looking at you with such dark eyes, nearly black, the pupils are so blown. "Just a little more, that's it, just one more inch, you can do it, christ, look at you, takin' all of me."

His tone is reverent and it sets a fire through you. You can feel more slickness build and drip out of you, and from the way he moans, you're certain he can feel it too despite the condom.

"So fuckin' wet," he groans, "Soakin' my cock- grippin' me so nice-Fuck--"

He leans towards you and cradles your head in his hand, kissing you hard.

When you both pull back, you know your lips must be kiss swollen and red. His are--they're soft and bright, and you want to eat him whole.

"You're gonna be the death of me, woman."

He's thrusting into you lazily, holding you in place, but you need more, you need all of him.

You push forward and move his hand from your waist to your clit. As you manoeuvre him, his nostrils flare, and you'd wonder if he was angry, if not for the way you felt his cock stiffen even further inside of you. You start to move your hips, to rub up against the thumb on your clit, and to feel every fucking inch of him.

Urged on by the way he groans, you start to ride him, properly. Holding each other close, you fuck down onto him and he leans back, awed.

"Enjoying the show?" you ask.

"Damn- right- I- am-," Joel breathes, every word punctuated with a shuddering breath after you drive back down onto his cock, "Jesus- you- look- so- good- like- that."

You like being watched. Being admired. It sent an extra thrill through you, and your hips stutter, just a little, and now you're following a new, faster rhythm.

"Fuck, that's it, baby-" he praises, "Shit, yes- bounce on it."

You lean forward and kiss his throat, and then he makes this noise, half-strangled and beautiful.

"Shit, honey-- honey, honey, hold on-," he holds you still and you're glad he has, because your brain hadn't quite processed his words.

He's looking at you so earnestly.

"Baby, if you keep ridin' me like this I am gonna blow my load in the next twenty seconds and I don't wanna end this quite so soon."

You hum, a moment of consideration. You stare into his eyes, and part of it is calculated seduction, but another part is getting genuinely lost in the way he looks at you. The crinkles round his eyes. The way he seems able to focus on you, in a way that feels as frightening as it is exhilarating.

"How about this," You smile, "You get yours, and then you can eat me out till I get mine. And if you're ready to go again by the time I've come, we can see where we're at then. Hmm?"

You see a bead of sweat trickle down his temple, and take a moment to appreciate how much he's clearly trying to control himself.

After a moments of avoiding your eye, he looks at you again and he looks utterly wrecked. "You- talkin' like that?" He shakes his head and tries to even his breath. "Fuck, I nearly came right there."

"It's okay," you soothe, and you cup his jaw and resume you movements, riding him like you had before. "You can come if you need to-" your fingertips stroke the stubble of his chin, "You're close, huh? It's okay, daddy, you can let go."

Joel lets out a strangled noise and busts immediately.

You savor the way it feels, the pulse of his cock as he spills into you. No, into the condom, you correct yourself, but you can always pretend-

After his balls relax and you can feel him start to get soft, you hold the condom down as you pull yourself off, and you're nearly unseated when there's a sudden squelch noise that sends you both into tumbles of laughter.

It takes a while to calm down, and you find yourselves heaving, tangled in the sheets, and wrapped up in each other. The condom is hanging limply on Joel's now-soft cock and it's oddly cold and gooey as you accidentally roll against it, and that sends you both off again.

"Fuck," Joel snorts, and tugs at the condom, starting to roll it off his length, "I'd almost forgotten the weird texture of a used condom. Fuckin'... Slug-like."

"That-" you declare, "Is visceral. And I hate it. Thanks."

He snorts, and you suddenly have a question.

"Condoms not making too many appearances in your life?"

"Not many, no."

"What, you usually fuck raw?"

"Just haven't been sleepin' with anyone," he shrugs, nonplussed.

"Well, I gotta say, the good people of Austin have been missing out."

Joel shrugs again, and it comes off as casual, but you notice the way his ears tint pink. "Just- not been something I did. But now, I guess, I can. And with way less guilt."

"Why guilt? Are-" you venture, dread pooling in your stomach, "Are you married?"

His eyes flit up to you sharply, and then soften immediately. He lets out a breath and shakes his head. "No. Nothin' like that. I was married, but I've been divorced nearly twenty years now."

The tightness immediately uncoils and you realise how tense you were only a moment ago. I am not a cog in the machine of a collapsing marriage. Thank fuck.

But now your curiosity is piqued. "So... why the guilt?"

"Sorry, I- I really didn't mean to get into it. I'd rather not get into it. It's- complicated."

"Of course," you shrug, and it isn't a problem because this is just a hot fantasy hookup that you'll remember fondly, and it'll be wonderful masturbation fuel for probably the rest of your life, but you don't wanna make the poor guy go into his life's trauma, especially when he's looking at you so fucking earnestly and you are actually really fucking fascinated but no, you would not let this become a problem.

"Thanks," he says, and then steps out of the room. You hear the clang of the bin as he steps on the pedal, then drops the condom, takes a piss and washes his hands.

"You hungry?" He asks, and you realize very suddenly, you're absolutely famished.

"Yes," you jump up and he laughs when you run, bare-assed and shameless, over to the corner of the room filled with brochures and traveller info and finally, you raise it in triumph when you find it, the list of nearby takeaways.

"Okay," you look at the list, "There's one place at the top of the list here that's apparently highly rated, but I actually have plans there soon and I wanna wait till then to eat there. Hope that's okay."

Joel comes over to you and rests his head on your shoulder. "No problem."

"But... alright," you continue. "There's pizza. Or... more pizza. Or, look--there's a Southern-style place, that'll make you feel right at home!" Joel pokes you in the side and you swat at him as he grunts a laugh.

Suddenly, a warning sound starts playing on loop in your brain. It was dreadfully domestic, wasn't it? This was an absolute stranger you'd just met in a hotel bar? But... it also felt... nice? And it felt nice in ways that you'd never found yourself enjoying before. Even with long-term partners. Maybe because this was so low-stakes, you reasoned, such an inevitably temporary situation, so you weren't putting the same kind of pressure on yourself.

As soon as you think that, the eternal curse of overthinking shows itself and you suddenly feel desperately self conscious. Before you can pull away and make some excuse, though, Joel's arm wraps around you and his thumb starts rubbing little circles into a tender bit of skin between your hip and your tummy. The anxiety spiral you'd been teetering on the edge of suddenly vanishes.

"How about-," he nods at the list, "Pizza?"

After Joel calls in your order, the pizza delivery service tells you to expect your food in about thirty minutes. You remember you have a little box of edibles. You ask Joel if he minds if you take one, and he doesn't. You offer him one, and he automatically declines, but then as he starts to explain, he pauses and pivots, goes "Wait, actually. Yeah. Why not?"

A freckled kid who looks no more than sixteen pulls up with a short stack of pizza boxes and a two liter bottle of root beer. He raps awkwardly on the door after exactly thirty five minutes, and it swings open.

The room looks utterly wrecked, clothing strewn along every surface. Joel answers the door wearing a robe, his entire face smelling of sex, and his moustache still shining with the slick of your release.

"Thanks, kid," Joel nods, and hands him a small wad of cash. The kid eyes him and shrugs. "Keep the change," he tells him, and the door swings back shut.

The edibles have hit beautifully. You're both blissed out, comfortably hazy, lost in the sensation of bare limbs on bedsheets and the flavors of the pizza and it's assorted sauces. You lay together on the bed, paper plates strewn between you. In the background, an X-Files rerun plays.

"Ooh!" You sit up as you catch the premise of the episode, "I love this one! See the goo? There's a giant fungal... entity.. that's working on digesting them, and giving them hallucinations as they die."

"You and mushrooms, huh?" Joel laughs, but then looks back at the episode and contemplates the viscous yellow goo. "Jesus christ," he frowns, and sniffs, now contemplating the mushrooms on his pizza slice.

You spot his glare and snort. "I think you're safe."

He takes another bite and shakes his head as if to clear it.

"I'm getting tired," he admits.

"Me too," you agree.

"No pressure, but in case it wasn't clear, you're welcome to stay the night here."

"That's sweet," you tell him, and think it over. "If I took you up on that, would you be offended if I slip out early?"

Joel raises a brow.

"I have a cat," you explain, "And I'm working on moving into a new place, and meeting a friend for breakfast, and then I need to check out after breakfast because I won't be able to get my keys for the new place until the breakfast but I can't take my cat to a diner-"

You take a breath.

"Basically, I've got a bunch of things I need to do in the morning, but if you don't mind me slipping out around, maybe, 5-ish, then I'd love to stay."

He stares at you.

You regret saying as much as you said. You don't need to over-explain yourself to this actual stranger. He doesn't care. There's no reason for him to care. He's probably in it just for the fuck, and it was fun and if you stay then there's a chance the two of you will wake up at some point in the night, still horny and lustful and you might fuck again and you'd be lying if you said that wasn't part of the draw. You realise, though, you'd also be lying if you said you didn't care what he thought of you. All of a sudden, you are overwhelmed with caring what this man thinks of you.

How fucking inconvenient.

"I wouldn't be offended at all," Joel chews, swallows, wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin and speaks again. "What's your cat's name?"

You don't know what you'd expected he'd say, but it wasn't that. You buffer for a moment. "It's- Spatula."

"Spatula?"

"Yep." You feel foolish.

"Huh. Spatula."

A silent moment between you.

"Got any pictures?"

You weren't expecting that, either. "I... do? Do you want to see them?" He nods. You pull out your phone to scroll through.

Joel, suddenly scrambled around for his phone, too. It was late and he hadn't checked it for hours. Had it been on silent? What if Sarah had called and he'd missed it?

His panic eased when he saw he had only two notifications. Both from Sarah, but neither were bad. He hadn't been neglecting any crises. The first text was a selfie of Sarah and an unfamiliar person, which she'd texted to him with the caption New roomie!! The second contained an address to the place they'd have breakfast tomorrow along with Just wanted you to know I've invited a friend to join us tomorrow morning! Is that okay? Realized I should maybe have checked with you? 😬

There was an ache in his chest. He wanted to keep her to himself, get to spend one last day, just the two of them. It was the start of a whole new chapter, but more than anything, he wished he could hold onto the moment for just a second longer.

But Sarah was stressed, he knew this, so he wasn't gonna make it worse and put this burden on her. He could handle it. He had to handle it. He typed back- No problem, baby. Can't wait to meet your friend.

After a moment, he followed up with another text. Gonna turn in now. Good nite!

The less he texted right now, the better. He did not want Sarah to know anything about the night he was having.

His screen lit up a moment later. Night Dad! He takes a deep breath and wills some of the tension away.

He slips his phone aside and you scoot into bed next to him.

"This," you announce, "Is Spatula."

Joel scrolls thru, his brows raising higher with each image.

With a single nod, he opens his mouth and instead of speaking, he collapses into laughter. It comes out a wheeze- "I-- I know this won't make any sense, but your cat looks just like my goddamn brother."

You're laughing now too, both of you almost hysterical, even though you have no frame of reference. You cherish the absurdity.

Then, Joel pulls up a picture on his phone and shows you, and now you're doubling over again because his brother looks exactly like Spatula.

You don't remember falling asleep. You curse your body's internal clock because you wake up right at 5am, and even though you know you should get up and leave, you wish you could have just a little bit longer.

It's such a comfortable way to wake up. One arm is folded under your pillow, and the other is slung over Joel's hip. He's asleep, snoring softly, and strands of his hair are mussed along his forehead. Your hand is holding his tummy, but you realise there's something pressing against the heel of your hand, and then realise, with a delicious jolt, that he's hard and straining against his boxers.

It's so fucking hard to get out of that bed, but with enough barely-effective reminders--you're gonna fuck up your whole day if you're late, gotta make a good impression, Spatula's gonna be so disappointed if you're late with his breakfast--you manage to bully yourself out of the warm and wonderful bed containing blankets and absolutely fantastic dick, and you tiptoe through the room, dress quickly, and, after making a note and leaving it on his bedside stand, you slip out.

Joel wakes up with a jolt, and then rolls over to see that the alarm clock (which he dared not contemplate the number of times he must have snoozed) was telling him it was 9:13.

He was late. Really fucking late. And then the panic made his brain spin faster and that's when he noticed the note on his bedside table.

I had a really good time If you're in town for a little longer, don't be a stranger?

It's followed with your name and phone number, and a rather detailed mushroom sketch across the page. He wasn't sure what kind of mushroom it was, but it was beautiful, and clearly hand-drawn, and for whatever reason you'd decided to tear it out of, presumably, your sketchbook? And you gave it to him, and he's gonna read that note and replay last night for the rest of his fucking life. It felt incredibly precious. He placed it in a book so it wouldn't get creased or folded. Made sure it was all contained and neat, totally flat in between the pages.

Then, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower.

After scrubbing the smell of sex off of his entire body, he dresses quickly and checks his watch again. 9:28.

He texts Sarah and lets her know he's a few minutes behind. She responds with an eye roll emoji.

Joel settles in his truck and pulls up directions. It's only a few minutes away. He won't be too late.

When Joel steps into the diner, he's charmed by it. It's old school, with a checkerboard floor and bright red vinyl seats. He scans the room till he spots Sarah in a booth in the corner. She's laughing over a hot chocolate, and her friend must be in the seat opposite her.

He catches Sarah's eye and she grins at him, waving him over.

You've been at the diner about fifteen minutes, and you and Sarah are already getting along beautifully.

You'd met on a university message board and had become fast friends, but meeting someone in person was always a little terrifying. On top of that, you'd already committed to spending at least one (academic) year with this person, so you were damn sure gonna make it work.

Sarah waves over her dad. You can't see him yet, the back of the booth too high.

But then he's standing right there.

You already have a hand outstretched, but when he sees you and you see him, your stomach flips and dread runs through you. All the color drains from his face. He looks like a deer in headlights, and you'd be surprised if you didn't look the same.

Sarah looks between you, not quite concerned, but definitely confused. Sarah smiles and tries to diffuse the situation.

"Hi dad!" She grins, "This is my new roommate! Well, the other new roommate--the one in the picture, their name is Ellie, they weren't able to make it this morning. BUT. Breakfast seemed like a great time to hand off keys!"

Joel is still frozen and white-faced. Your brain whirs, and you know you've just fucking catapulted yourself into a disastrous mess, but you do your very best to save face.

Reaching your hand out further so he can't possibly miss it, he gives into some familiar social instinct, takes it and you shake. You think of his hands, how they dragged along your body last night, touched you, felt you, wrecked you.

You introduce yourself. He nods, avoiding eye contact.

"Joel." He grunts. "Miller."

Sarah frowns at him, but turns back to the menu.

This- was unexpected. Problematic. Arguably, really fucked up. All of those things and more. But it'll be fine.

All throughout breakfast, you repeat that to yourself, letting the words bounce around your head. It will be fine, you repeat your mantra, it will be fine, and you try not to feel too hurt at the way Joel's avoiding eye contact as if simply looking at you will cause him unimaginable disgust.

Everything will be fine.

Note: The fic's premise is loosely based on the book Mistakes Were Made which is a fucking excellent sapphic romance novel that utilises this trope. Would strongly recommend the book if you're into smutty queer stories.

[winterssecrett]

MIDNIGHT TALKS | THEODORE NOTT

ღ 02:00 a.m and the group of snakes was still on the astronomy tower, a place they had started to love when they discovered that professors and prefects never went to “guard” or check for students out of bed. Sleep was something hard to find with how dark and scary things had gotten in school and around the world, so their best option was to be together as a group and as a family.

Astoria was sitting on the floor with Draco’s head on her chest, playing with his blonde platinum hair. Besides her was Blaise, who had Pansy between his legs, hugging her by her waist. And the other three -Theo, Y/n, and Mattheo- were close to the balcony, finishing their cigarettes.

Y/n didn’t smoke much, not as much as her boyfriend, but it was exams week and the stress alongside her anxiety was too much, she needed to take it down a bit.

— I don’t wanna see a fucking book on the rest of my life — Pansy whined, letting out a huff

Draco rolled his eyes — If you pass, you won’t have to.

— can you believe it? In a few months, we won’t be here anymore — Y/n said with a bittersweet tone of voice

Theo nod a that, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend frame. For some reason, he was always looking for her warmth, and since it was so late and so cold, he loved having her close to his body.

— Does it matter? — Draco asked not waiting for an answer — It’s not like things are gonna change, or that we are gonna be able to escape the hell that our lives are.

Clearly the alcohol was working on the blonde, cause otherwise he would have never said something like that. Draco didn’t talk, and definitely not about how sad his life was back at home. All of them, including the whole house of Slytherin were living in the same hell that the dark lord brought, and that’s why no one talked about it, it was easier to pretend that everything was just fine.

— Well, it’s not a surprise. We have been marked and judged since we were kids, like it was our fault the last name that we carry, or the house that we are in — Theo responded with harshness, making her girlfriend frown

Mattheo let out a sigh — We better play our part, right?

He was the most fucked of the group, he was the son of the person that was trying to destroy the magical world for years on end. The silence invaded them and everyone started to get lost in their thoughts, Y/n turned around putting her arms around Theo’s neck.

— Well be fine, right? — she asked in almost a whisper, wondering how bad things were gonna be once they graduated

Theo caressed her cheek — Well be together, that’s all that matters, Bella.

Y/n smiled at him with sadness, they had just a month left of school and they were trying to enjoy as much of it as they could. For example having breakfast together everyday, even if they were dying to sleep a little bit more. Partying from Thursday to Sunday with not just their house, but also the other three. Swimming in the black lake at night, and then going to the kitchen to get cups of hot chocolate.

Just a lot of things to be happy in times of death, darkness, and cruelty.

— I love you, cara mía, you know that right? — He said with a small smile

Y/n smiled back at him — Of course I know, and I love you too, darling.

One of Theo’s hands went to the back of her head and brought her close to his lips, almost melting when he felt her warmth. God how he enjoyed kissing and touching her.

— Get a room you scandalous people!

Everyone laughed at Draco’s slurred words, he was gonna regret all of the fire whiskey he had drunk tomorrow morning.

[sincerelyneo]

mark doesn't know | n.jm

“but she’s under me and i’m not stopping”

💿now playing: scotty doesn’t know by lustra

❯ summary: You don’t even remember how it started, but Jaemin does. He’s wanted to get his hands on you the minute he met you — and he’d be damned if he let something as silly as his friend get in the way of the thing he really wants. So alas, you’ve been fucking your boyfriend’s friend for the last two months.

❯ pairings: jaemin x fem!reader (brief mark x reader)

❯ genre: boyfriend’s friend! jaemin, smut, light angst, college!au.

❯ words: 3.1k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, cheating (boo), unprotected sex (don’t do this!), dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, light chocking, hair pulling, begging, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader cheats on mark with jaemin.

You don’t even remember the first time it happened; or more so, how it happened. 

"J-Jaem we really shouldn't be doing this,” you huff out as your boyfriend’s good friend sucks on the skin against your neck, right below your ear. 

His breath is hot, and his touch feels melting. 

"You say that every time, and yet, look where you are. Back with me again.”

Your next words are cut off by the feeling of Jaemin’s lips pressing against yours. You want to give in, but something's on your mind this time — guilt. 

Pushing him back, you try to move from the wall, but he keeps you there. "We can't, not again. Mark’s on his way-"

He covers your mouth with his hand. He fucking hates when you bring him up. He fucking hates that his friend is the one that gets to have you on his arm. And he certainly fucking hates the fact that he had been the one to introduce the two of you in the first place. 

You were Jaemin’s lab partner before you even knew of Mark’s name. One night when you were over at Jaemin’s house for an assignment, Mark just so happened to turn up. If Jaemin had it his own way, he would have never even planned to introduce you to his older friend — but he was the one who told you to answer the door that night. 

And God did he fucking regret it. 

The memory of you answering the door with an immediate blush and flutter of your eyelashes at Mark’s presence played on his mind every time he saw the two of you together. 

You never looked at him like that — well at least not back then anyway. 

In Jaemin’s mind, he had made it very clear that he had a thing for you. He’d made it obvious, hadn’t he? 

Well, that’s what he thought. So, when news hit that you were fucking the older boy and going on dates with him; it was safe to say that Jaemin was beyond pissed. 

And when you were the one to kiss Jaemin one late night of studying — he seized the opportunity because he’d be damned before he lost his shot with you again. And thus, the two of you fucked every Thursday night’s study session. 

"Don't. Don't say his name,” he growls, low and nasally enough to have your stomach fluttering. “Now, nod your head if you're gonna stop worrying and listen to me.” 

You nod your head almost instantly with wide eyes. You couldn’t help the way your pussy grows even more slick, threatening to pool in your underwear, at his dominant demands.

"Good girl,” he says when you obey him, finally removing his hand from your mouth.

He sinks to his knees in front of you, pushing the few dishevelled stands of his hair out of his face to look up at you.

“I’m gonna give you something else to think about." He spreads your legs apart, snaking his hand delicately around your thighs to reach under your dress and tease the waistline of your panties. 

You wordlessly look down at him. And although you're not saying no it’s not enough for him.

"Tell me gorgeous, can I have you for tonight, again?" His voice seems deeper and his tone thicker, eyes searching yours for confirmation.

You close your eyes as he starts to drag the lace down your thighs, "I need words, Y/N. Can I have a taste?" 

"Yes." You sigh out.

"Yes, who?"

"Yes Jaemin.” 

He has you lift up your feet, one at a time, so that he can remove your panties completley. Your eyes shoot open just in time to see him stuff them in his back pocket. Your body starts to throb at the sight — the sight of him being so smitten for you. 

He grabs one of your legs, hoisting it up so that it's over his shoulder, exposing your bare core to him. Jaemin wasn’t a man of withstanding, so he wastes no time working his tongue the only way he knows best — the way you like it.

He starts by licking a long stripe up your wet cunt, groaning at the taste. The sound sends ripples against your clit, making your body jolt forward further on his tongue. 

"Can't believe you wanted to deny me of this,” he mumbles, shaking his head.

He suctions his mouth on your clit, making your breath hitch in your throat. You're biting down on your lip, hard enough to draw blood, as he starts sucking and pulling on the bud. You're certain your legs would have given out immediately had he not offered his shoulder as support.

"Sorry, m'sorry.", you moan, hands coming to grip his hair but he stops you. 

"I didn't say you could touch me yet,” he smirks up at you. 

He continues licking your clit until he reaches his hand down to your cunt to join his tongue. He watches your eyes shut in pleasure; the way your hands are clenching into fists, resisting the urge to touch him, wanting to try your best to follow his orders.

The pads of his fingers go to your swollen nerves, starting to apply pressure with slow torturous circles and your head slumps back against the wall, mouth hung open as a deep moan floats out of you. He lets two of his fingers dip down to your hole, teasing you a bit before sinking them in with no resistance. 

You know you’re not going to last, and you’re too out of your mind to even feel slightly embarrassed about it. You could get down on both knees right now and praise god for those fingers of his.

"I've missed how you feel against my fingers baby, couldn't forget it, soaking wet for me just like last time,” he says, looking up at you with thick lashes. 

It has your skin tingling, and your heart thumping against your chest; so hard that it's rippling down to the throb between your legs that only worsens as he continues pushing. 

"Can feel you clenching on my fingers,” he further teases, voice like gravel as he continues to watch you in amazement. "But I bet you wish it wasn't just my fingers, hm?" 

You bite your lip to stop a moan, but then Jaemin stops the movement of his fingers, pulling a whine from you. 

"Answer me baby. You want my cock in this tight little cunt, don't you?" 

You can practically feel him smile when he nuzzles his face into your thigh, watching you struggle to respond. 

"Jaemin please just-", you choke on your words when he begins to finger you again. 

"Just what? Use your words, Y/N."

"Want you to fuck me, please, stop teasing me,” you whine frustratedly. 

"Y'know I just love to hear you beg. Gonna fuck you, promise, but I want you to cum on my fingers first,” his fingers begin to pick up pace, curling to hit the spongy spot inside to which you cry out. 

Your teeth clamp down on your lip again as you circle your hips against his hand mindlessly, earning hiss after hiss from him. 

"Yeah? Gonna make a mess of my fingers? Be my good girl?" 

You can only moan in response, your mouth dropping open with small pants coming out. You start clinging to his shoulders, trying to stay upright. The sensation of your muscles contracting, with each thrust of his fingers and the heel of his palm rubbing against your aching spot, has your legs trembling.

"So close, Jaem, I’m so close. Let me cum." 

Jaemin looks up, nodding against you in a silent confirmation that you can — and you swear you see stars. You can feel your walls deep inside cracking as he starts sending shockwaves through your body. Jaemin even has to hold you up as your leg almost collapses and your hold on his shoulder tightens.

He continues to soothe and flick over your clit even after you come down from your high, and you're too weak to push him away.

"Jaem- baby I'm sensitive,” you tell him and he finally draws back, grinning up at you with a sly smile. 

He sets your leg down, getting up from his knees to stand right in front of you, his hands cradling your face as he kisses you. 

It’s sloppy and harsh, like he needs this or he’ll die, like he doesn’t want you escaping him, ever. You can taste yourself on his tongue and you groan into the kiss, your hands fisting the bottom of his shirt.

"More- I need more,” you mumble against his lips before kissing him again. 

Jaemin brings his hands from your face, to the back of your neck, using all the power he has to —somewhat— forcefully pull you away from him. 

"You know how this works. You gotta tell me more than that," his voice is just above a whisper, a sadistic smirk on his face as he watches your eyes struggle to leave his lips.

"What do you want more of, hm? More of my mouth?" You shake your head no, and Jaemin pretends to sigh. He tightens his grip on your neck, making you look him in the eye. "If you can't use your words, I can't help you." 

Jaemin knows exactly what you want and how you want it. But he can’t help but love seeing you get all needy and frustrated. It’s his own personal reminder of how much you need him — or better yet — how much Mark isn’t satisfying you. Knowing he gives you something Mark can’t, never fails to make his cock ache. 

"I want you to fuck me,” you finally say, voice barely audible. 

"I couldn't hear you. Repeat that for me?” He taunts and it makes you want to stomp your foot in frustration. 

"Stop teasing me, please. I need you to fuck me.” 

Jaemin grins at this, wasting no time in releasing your neck so that he can pick you up and carry you to your bed — Mark’s bed.

You let out a small squeal, swatting at him to put you down. You hated the way he was always picking you up, but for him, having you wrap around his waist was his way of being as close as possible to you. He tosses you down on the bed, making you look up at him with a glare.

"Be careful dumbass." 

He raises an eyebrow, lips quirking up into that stupid smirk once again. "You've got quite the mouth all of a sudden."

Jaemin kneels down on the bed in front of you, parting your legs so that he can be in between them. 

"Just a few minutes ago it was ‘oh Jaem I’m gonna cum, don't stop please,” he mocks with a small laugh, causing you to bring your hands up to hide yourself. 

Jaemin stops you though, pinning your hands down beside your head. "Oh none of that. Where'd my bratty girl go, huh?"

The way that he barely has to use any of his strength to pin you down, plus his large and muscular frame boxing you in, has you practically drooling. 

He inches his face closer to yours, tricking you into thinking he's going to kiss you, but just as your lips graze his he turns to the side, making you kiss his cheek instead. 

"Jaemin," you whine. 

"Sorry sorry, you just looked so desperate for it, I couldn't resist,” Jaemin knows the effect his words have on you because your hips are bucking up into the air as the throbbing returns to your core.

"Want a proper kiss?" he asks, and you nod, staring up at him with pleading eyes. "Yeah? Beg." 

It's a simple command that usually would have had you scoffing, telling Jaemin to get over himself and stop teasing, but you're so needy for his touch that you give in. 

"Jaemin", you whine again — and oh does he love the way you say his name. "Baby please, kiss me, I- I need it." 

He knows that you can beg better than that, he's heard you do it plenty of times, but he takes mercy on you, partially because his own need is screaming just as loud as yours is. He lets his lips connect with yours and wastes no time ravishing your mouth. 

He growls into the kiss, bringing one of his hands to curl around your throat, adding a little pressure as his tongue explores your mouth like he's never kissed it before.

You two are a desperate mess now, as you start to work with each other until you’re both fully undressed. Breathy pants and soft moans fill the silence in the room. 

Jaemin’s towering over you, his knees poking in between your legs to probe them wider for him. You don’t resist, you don’t want to. One of his hands reaches down to fist the throbbing cock between his own legs as he rubs himself teasingly between your seeping folds. 

"Condom?" You ask, trying to think as clearly as possible.

Jaemin looks almost offended that you've asked, scoffing as he positions his tip at your entrance. 

"Since when have we ever used condoms?" 

"We haven’t. I just thought you might want to-"

You're cut off by a gasp as he begins to push into you, the familiar delicious stretch and slight burn settling in. You hear Jaemin swear under his breath, as his hips flush right against yours. 

"You just thought what?" he asks as his head dips down, nosing along your jawline before peppering wet kisses along your neck.

"I- uh,” you stutter, losing your train of thought from the feeling of him inside you; so deep and hard and rough.

You bite down on your lip. You only ever have Jaemin like this; and you can't explain the overwhelming feeling you get whenever you get to have him with no barriers, getting to be as close to him as possible — even if you didn’t deserve it. 

"It's because of him right? You're worried that he'll have to feel my cum deep in this pretty pussy of yours, aren't you?" 

And although his tone is somewhat playful, there's a bite to it. You know how Jaemin feels about having to sneak around; knew all about how he wishes you were his and his only. 

He doesn't allow you to respond though, knowing that's a conversation you'll have to have at a different time. Instead, his hips slowly begin to rut against yours, your mouth dropping open in a silent moan. 

"Fuck fuck fuck,” Jaemin groans against your ear.

Your hands are clawing at his back as his thrusts pick up pace. And as much as he loves you doing that, marking him as yours in your own special way, he redirects your hands to his hair. You immediately begin to tug at his locks, loving the way it feels between your fingers. 

He speeds up his pace. The sharp sting radiating through you, mixed with the sensation of his centre grinding against your own. His movements cause a crippling to all of your senses and creates an unbearable, but familiar, throb in the pit of your belly.

Jaemin is a mess of pants and grunts on top of you, mixed with the low moans that rumble inside of him when he circles his hips harder against you.

"I'd drag this out all night if I could, but my cock is aching for you," he grits through his teeth, snapping his hips against you one last time before pulling away.

He wets his lips, darting his eyes to yours before snapping his mouth from your neck to lean down and press an affectionate kiss against you. Both of you are inhaling sharply into the kiss when you feel him hit his cock in the deepest places, collecting the arousal there.

Your parted lips hover against each other, shallow breaths mixing together as he pulls out of you, and you whine. He starts slowly circling around your entrance like he's teasing himself as well as you. 

You gasp, when he inches forward again, going at a tortuously slow place. He had you so slick with excitement as always there's no resistance at all.  

His eyes squeeze closed as his jaw goes slack, letting out the most erotic moans. You can feel your muscles stretching out to accommodate him and it feels euphoric.

You wrap your legs around him tighter, needing to be closer, as he continues to draw his hips back and forth in fast powerful strokes, switching between kissing you harshly and whispering dirty nothings into the air between you.

You grip your fingers tighter on his hair, moving your lips to go to his neck, kissing and sucking on the skin, feeling his pulse thump harder as you do.

He hisses, clenching his teeth as his hand takes hold of your hip, digging his fingers in while his hips jolt forward, "Shit, if you keep doing that I'm not going to last.”

How needy and desperate he sounds spurs a fire in you, moaning against his skin as you push your hips back against him.

“Then don't last, I won't either, I just need you.”

You nip and suck at the heated skin on his neck, swirling your hips against him to spur him on, and he lets out a frustrated growl before he angles your hips up and draws back, snapping forward roughly. It makes your head roll back as you arch into him when he repeats the action again.

"Is this what you needed baby?" he grits, his jaw tenses as he thrusts into you abruptly.  "Wanted me to fuck into you harder? Wanted someone to fuck you properly? Wanted me to show you just how much better you feel clenched around me?"

You can't answer, only managing to gasp out short, strained moans in rhythm with his thrusts as he drives into you in sharp, deliberate motions, filling and hitting all of the places inside you that only he can.

The noises leaving Jaemin are borderline animalistic, the guttural and hoarse sound, vibrating through your whole body as he starts to fuck into you at a relentless pace.

You can feel yourself tightening and clenching around him, muscles pulling him in with each thrust as he knocks against all the right places that were already aching for him, urging you further into your orgasm.

"Shit- Jaemin, I think I'm gonna co-"

You're cut off once again, but not by Jaemin, by the sound of your front door opening. 

"Babe, are you home?"

[universe-on-her-shoulders]

Prompt: Martha Jones spots The Fourteenth Doctor around London doing a mundane thing like food shopping. Thank you :)

At first, Martha wasn’t sure. It wasn’t that she didn’t recognise him; she’d know that hair and that side profile anywhere, even if he was now clad in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt instead of the long coat she’d been so used to. He was holding a jar of jam, reading the ingredients with bright interest, as though it were the most normal thing in the world to be in Tesco Express at ten o’clock on a Thursday night shopping for preserves; the basket beside him contained further mundanities like bread and milk, and she was so baffled by all of this that she tried to tell herself that it wasn’t him. It couldn’t possibly be him. He was a Time Lord, for god’s sake; he didn’t do dull things like buy pints of semi-skimmed milk or reduced Kingsmill white loaves.

But then he turned away from the shelf, sticking the jar in his basket, and the look on his face took her breath away. For several seconds she surveyed him as he continued to be unaware of her presence, and she tried to put her finger on what had changed. It was the eyes, she thought; there had been so many ghosts behind them when she’d first known him, and now he looked almost… well, serene. Calm. There were no spectres weighing heavily on his shoulders; there was no lingering pain in the easy, contented expression on his face as he scooped up his basket from his feet – still clad in Converse, because some things could never change – and then finally caught sight of her.

“Oh,” he said, the syllable hanging in the air between them for a moment, and she couldn’t read it; was he pleased to see her? Angry? Sad? Guilty? Was he about to cut and run? Then he beamed from ear to ear, really sincerely beamed, and held out his arms to her for – no, that couldn’t be right. He wanted a hug? Since when had he been a hugger? “Martha Jones!”

“Doctor,” she said reservedly, looking him up and down; he was older than he’d been since she last saw him, but all of the tension and impatient anxiety that he’d held within him seemed to have dissipated in the interceding years. Questions crowded her mind; questions about time and space and clothes and the air of contentment and – “Why are you in Tesco in Richmond?”

“Oh,” he said again, with dawning comprehension. “We’re out of bread.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

“Oh,” he repeated for a third time, then ran a hand through his hair before chancing a glance at the checkouts, and for one awful moment she thought he might be about to bolt. “It’s sort of a long story, actually. Why don’t we pay and find a pub, or something? Unless you’ve got somewhere to be… is Mickey expecting you?”

“He can wait,” she said with amusement, irrationally touched that he’d remembered. “Yeah, alright. Let’s pay.”

“Why are you in Tesco in Richmond?” he enquired, flipping the question back on her with some of the old cheekiness that she was used to. “That’s the real question.”

“Staying with mum for a few weeks while we have the kitchen redone,” she told him as they headed towards the self-checkouts; she started scanning her items while he did the same at an adjacent terminal, and she half expected him to sonic it, or in some way cheat it – space cubes, or god knows what else – but instead he took out an honest-to-god wallet and tapped a perfectly normal credit card on the reader. Her surprise must have shown, because he shot her a sidelong grin as he bundled up his groceries in a canvas tote bag and hefted it onto his shoulder as she swiped her Clubcard and did the same.

“Bit different to the old days, isn’t it?” he said ruefully, and she laughed.

“Yeah, never had you down as a wallet sort of man.”

“It was a present. I lost my last four credit cards.”

“That sounds more like you.”

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Rafe x reader "you feel that, that's what you do to me."

Yes yes, more Rafe!! Get ready for so much more OBX when the new season is out on Thursday!!

Warning: implied smut, erectile disfunctions

my taglists are here+you can requests hereat any time

—

Never in his life did Rafe think his manhood would betray him. He trimmed it well and emptied it regularly, complimented it and kept it fresh. So why did it betray him like that? Why did it embarrass him like that?

He was in one of the backrooms of the country club with a hot blonde, her white tennis skirt flipped up and underwear pulled to the side, ready to get railed after her golf session with her daddy…but Rafe’s got a problem. Little Rafe’s got a problem.

Rafe tried to pump it to get it hard, but it was not working.

He cursed and tucked himself back into his shorts before leaving. Finding the course of the problem had not been difficult. Rafe’s dick never faulted him before he met you, before he fucked you in his dad’s office a few days ago.

The tires of his truck screeched in the parking lot, rage in his blood as he drove home. If he was in luck, you would still be there filing paperwork for Ward. His old man was at a business meeting outside the island and put you, his assistant, in charge of his phone calls and other business related things all day.

‘’We need to talk,’’ Rafe declared, walking in his dad’s office as if it was his own.

You looked up from the paper you were reading, more serene than the boy before you. ‘’Do we? I’m waiting for a call from a buyer. It could be a pretty big deal and your father counts on me to—’’

Without warning and only a few steps, Rafe crossed the distance to the office desk and grabbed your hand, pressing it right over his semi-soft bulge. ‘’You feel that, that’s what you do to me.’’

‘’Rafe, I’m working.’’ You tried to move, but he would not let go of you. Thank god Ward was not home. ‘’I don’t have time for a quick fuck in your father’s office.’’

His intense blue eyes were narrowed, a mix of frustration and anger all over his face. ‘’You’ve ruined my life.’’ He lowered his voice next. ‘’You broke my dick.’’

You drew your eyebrows together, feeling him harden under your touch. ‘’It seems to be working just fine.’’

‘’Because it’s you.’’

A laugh spilled from your lips, unable to hold your seriousness. ‘’Excuse me?’’

Rafe let go of your hand and rubbed his over his face. ‘’Since we fuck last week, I can’t get hard for other girls.’’

‘’Damn. Am I that good of a fuck?’’

‘’I’m being fucking serious! It’s like you put a curse on my dick.’’

You laughed again. He was being ridiculous. ‘’Every time you open your mouth, the situation gets funnier.’’

‘’And every time you open yours—’’

‘’You get hard?’’ you interrupted with a smirk. ‘’I can see that, but unfortunately, ‘little Rafe’ will have to wait until the buyer calls.’’ You traced the outline of Rafe's cock over his shorts, making him hold his breath. ‘’Then, I'll let you bend me over your dad's desk.‘’

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx  @sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife  @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue  @acornacreacure @snownjune

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron

[morrieandlicky]

Sweet Moments Between Maurice and Alec That You Have Not Seen Before (From E.M. Forster's 1st Draft for Maurice)

Context: Forster's first version of Maurice, finished in 1914, has a rather different ending than the final published version (no hotel scene, and no boathouse reunion). See here.

Forster's first draft for Maurice is, in my opinion, the rawest in terms of boldly displaying the love shared between Maurice and Alec. This version shows much more of Alec's emotion and tenderness, as well as of Maurice's sentiments and affection towards Alec. It is definitely not as subtle as the final version, with quite a few straightforward declarations of love.

Hence, I'm disappointed that Forster did not manage to integrate at least some of these 1914 texts into the final version: it would've made the love between Maurice and Alec much more pronounced and convincing, as well as made Alec a character with more depth and feelings.

Having read Forster's first draft for Maurice, I share below some of these moments between Maurice and Alec that are not in the final version (ordered on how lovely I think each moment is. Bolded texts are the highlights).

1. After running into Mr. Ducie in the museum and Maurice bursting out to Alec.

M: "I'd possibly have blown out my own brains."

A: "Why?" he asked, stopping dead.

M: "I should have known by that time that I loved you."

A: "You can't, sir, you couldn't."

M: "I love you, sir be damned."

A: "Maurice"—never before had the word been spoken—"you're an angel."

M: "I don't want to hear that."

A: "Maurice, Maurice" his voice failed also; he had once said the rest to a woman. "Maurice - what you've said I feel. Understand?"

M: "I think so, but I want to be sure. Remember those rose bushes in the other rain? - Look at me hard - That's right. That'll do. It's settled." (Maurice is referring to the moment when Alec ran in the rain across the rose bushes at Penge just to see Maurice's face.)

2. The conversation after Maurice refuses to stay the night with Alec—a scenario that only happens in the first draft in 1914. Be prepared for tears.

A: "Come just for a little to me."

M: "If I came it would be for ever."

A: "Ever's the best."

M: "Why, man, you sail Thursday."

Alec found no answer.

...: here's when Maurice explains in a long paragraph why they can't be together because of their class difference and the fact that they're both men. But in this long paragraph Maurice pretty much brings up wanting to marry Alec—"We can't have the particular thing we want (which is roughly speaking marriage) unless we sacrifice something else"

M: I thought from that letter of yours you might want me to come. But, Alec, come where to?"

A: "I'd know if you weren't a gentleman," Alec said. "We'd a' found work together as mates."

M: "Yes, and if you were a gentleman, I'd take you this minute to my home.

A: "I'd a' been what young Clive was to you, then."

M: "He's a saint and we aren't. Leave out him."

A: "I'd a' been yours till death, then." ("I would've been yours till death, then")

M: "Out there if you get a chance to marry, take it. That's what I wish.

A: "Maurice, what'll you do without me, dear? Have you no other friends?"

Maurice dared not look forward to his own future. He rushed on the parting.

M: "And if there's ever a child, I shan't ever have that, so remember me."

A: "I'll remember you, child or none. God bless you. O God bless you, and be with you if I can't."

3. Right after Maurice puts his hand on Alec's back in the museum

"Yes, awfully serious," remarked Maurice, and rested his hand on Alec's shoulder, so that the fingers touched the back of the neck, doing this merely because he knew that he loved Alec, that he loved him not as a second Dickie Barry, but deeply, tenderly, for his own sake, beneath weakness and vulgarity.

4. In the museum, Alec in pain and acting cute

[Alec] had bitten his lip, his eyes were red too; face and body were cramped with pain.

M: "Alec -"

A: "Alec am I?"

M: "I'm sorry I used that other name of yours."

A: "Don't speak to me," he growled, "let me go, you calling me Alec when I"

M: "Did you give me away then on purpose?"

A: "You're correct.

M: "Was it to get money - or only to do me harm?"

A: "I couldn't say."

M: "Come, let's get away where we can finish our talk."

A: "What? What do you say?"

M: "Come along, Alec."

A: "Do you call me that still?"

M: "Come away, man, don't break down for God's sake...." He took hold of [Alec's] arm. The touch was not reminiscent; it hinted at a relation to come.

A: "Oh but you must, I want it." Alec yielded.

5. Maurice at night thinking about Alec's letter

He tried to forget the treacherous letter, but it stole back to his mind, and he suffered most during moments in bed, when it masqueraded as a real love letter, and offered him the completeness that Clive enjoyed with Anne.

(This is brilliant writing because we, as readers, know that Alec's letter is a love letter, yet Maurice's "muddles" prevent him from seeing it as a love letter, and it is only at night, when he's craving Alec's presence, that he's able to allow himself to see the truth and succumb to his feelings for Alec.

Here, again, is also a suggestion of Maurice wanting to marry Alec, like how Clive married Anne)

6. One version of Maurice's and Alec's first night together

A: "Good evening - sir, said the low voice. Was you wanting something? Couldn't you sleep?" It was the gamekeeper.

On your rounds? gasped Maurice, trying to sound natural, and felt corduroys. Their touch disconcerted him. Whither was he tending from Clive into what companionship?

A: "Just wait till I've set down my gun - eh aren't you trembling?"

M: "So are you - ah don't."

A: "Don't you like that?"

M: "I don't know."

A: "Christ you're fussy. Don't you like me to touch you."

M: "That's you lad."

A: "Yes."

Side notes: hopefully these will shut all the detractors (of the relationship between Maurice and Alec) up—namely Clive apologists, Clive+Maurice shippers, and all of those dark academia classist out there.

[jo-harrington]

Freaky Friday - A Stranger Things Story (Part 1)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Eddie and Steve (Enemies to Friends)

Summary: Eddie thinks that Steve has everything in life handed to him on a silver platter (including his new girlfriend who Eddie has a crush on). And Steve just can't believe that the kids look up to Eddie the Freak, or that he lives his life without giving a single fuck.

Must be nice. But you know what they say, the grass is always greener.

Warnings/Themes: AU with no Upside Down. Body swapping, dark magic/alchemy, unrequited love--some crushes at least, Babysitter Steve, No Upside Down means slightly still King Steve, unresolved feelings, manipulation/deception, Reader gets a nickname (Honey), no Y/N if I can help it, no smut in Part 1 but liable to be in other chapters

Note: After a very hot and fast suggestion by @shiftingtherain, this mini-series was born. And instead of working on Store Manager Verse like I wanted to, here we are. This part is a little shorter...it's the intro, sue me. Next few parts will be a tad longer.

Credit for the header partially goes to me for the design and the logistics but I was tired, so I may have borrowed gifs from @emziess and Netflix itself as a jumping off point (with permission from Emzies and Netflix is a corporation so they can rot). I can only do so much guys, I also had to write this thing too.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

If Eddie never saw Steve Harrington again in his life, it would still be too soon.

He didn't always indulge in rentals from Family Video—if it was too cold and wet to have band practice in Gareth's garage, or if he was having an especially bad week at school, or if he needed something a little more realistic than the illustrations of Heavy Metal magazine to help him satisfy his needs—but today just had that special feel to it.

He'd gotten a B on his math test, Rick had been feeling a little under the weather and let Eddie make the rounds to his usuals for a sweet little cut, and he had found a dusty old book about alchemy and occultism at the library that was going to help him put the finishing touches on tomorrow night's Hellfire session.

For all of that, Eddie thought a little reward was in order.

A little Dark Crystal, a little pizza from Lou's, a little weed...he'd be having the best Thursday night.

Except...

For the past twenty minutes, he'd pretended to hem and haw over the selection of movies just so he could glare across the store at the counter, where Steve stood, flirting and making grandiose promises, with you.

He burned with jealousy, and God, it took almost everything in him not to gag as Steve reached across the counter to slyly hold your hand. And everything else for his heart not to break as you just let it happen.

Eddie didn't know how or when or why this started—when Harrington had gotten his claws into you and how he had managed to charm his way into your heart—when it should have been Eddie instead.

Eddie'd had a crush on you for years but had always been too nervous to do anything about it.

You were a year younger than him, and friends with his pal Mickey's younger sister, so he'd seen you around quite a bit. Smart and funny and pretty; maybe not as unpopular as Eddie was, but certainly not in the running for homecoming court or whatever other social hierarchies were in place at Hawkins High either. He figured...you know, maybe once he got to senior year he'd get the courage. Maybe take you to prom or something; who wouldn't want to go out with a senior?

But he'd gotten the notice from Higgins that he wouldn't be graduating with the rest of the Class of '84 and it really put a damper on his plans.

He had been hopeful again the following year, actually had a few classes with you and sat with you for partner work when no one else wanted to work with him, when they laughed at him. You weren't even afraid to go up to him in the cafeteria to ask a question, or walk with him in the hall if you had to go in the same direction for your next class. You'd talk about assignments mostly, but he savored every little fact he could learn about you. What books you'd been reading, the fact that you watched Svengoolie on Saturday nights—just like he did—or that you'd had some squabble with Mickey's sister over a scrunchie of all things and were no longer speaking.

But Eddie knew how bad his grades were—somehow even worse than the year before—and aside from the work you did with him, he knew it wasn't gonna be enough for him to graduate. So he wasn't gonna put himself in the position for you to laugh in his face—not that you would but...just in case you did—by asking you out.

He thought you would disappear from his life after you graduated. Get the hell out of Hawkins the way everyone else wanted to. But no. You took a few classes at the community college and worked the dinner shift at Benny's a few nights a week. You'd been there every Tuesday night, when he and the guys grabbed food after their gig at the Hideout. The usual booth reserved, drinks already poured by the time they sat down, and their usual orders already written in your little order pad.

You usually gave him extra whipped cream on his slice of cherry pie too.

The guys always urged him to ask for your number...but he never did. How could he? Even if you were stuck in this town the same way he was...he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

And now...here you were, listening to Harrington talk about some great surprise he had planned for your third date the next day.

Eddie wondered why you hadn't screamed in outrage when Steve mentioned how much Nancy Wheeler had liked it when he took her to this mystery place. He would have definitely expected you to at least flinch at the mention of his ex-girlfriend's name.

"It sounds really great," you said instead, smiling and nodding. "I get out of class at 3 on Fridays...should I be here around 4?"

"4 is perfect, honey," Steve grinned.

Eddie couldn't stand to hear whatever sickeningly sweet goodbye you both would come up with so he just grabbed whatever tape was in front of him and approached the counter. You and Steve both flinched when Eddie slammed his selections down on the counter to be checked out.

“Uh…I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bye Steve,” you muttered, eyeing Eddie with a half-smile that felt a bit sad. “Bye Eddie.”

"Bye honey."

“Bye honey,” Eddie mocked once you were out the door, then turned back to Steve. “You gonna try and make goo goo eyes at me next Harrington? I don’t have all day.”

“Jesus Munson. What’s up your ass?” Steve scoffed, grabbing the tapes.

“I’m just trying to get my videos and go.” Eddie rapped his knuckles on the counter. “Not really interested in the kind of customer service you're trying to provide."

Steve wondered what the likelihood of getting fired would be, if he just punched that smug look right off of Munson's face.

Keith hated the guy too, he always left the Adult section looking like a mess. Maybe Steve would get a promotion instead.

For years Eddie roamed around Hawkins being a general menace with his gaggle of friends. Causing trouble, shouting at people, making faces at old ladies. He’d gotten “taken in” to the police station one too many times but always seemed to make it out without actually being arrested. Which baffled Steve; Eddie was a drug dealer for crying out loud.

And yeah, Steve had even asked him to come and deal at a party or two but…people like that were bad. Simple as that.

Even after all of that, after you got past the “bad boy” persona….he was a fucking nerd. He wasn’t even cool like the bad boys in movies were. Steve felt like someone was tricking him the first time he had walked past the Hellfire Club’s table in the cafeteria. For all the leather and chains and band tees—all the talk of satanic rituals and blood sacrifices—there was sure a lot of talk about elves and…and bards and Star Wars.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise to Steve that the kids would flock to Eddie by the time they made it to Hawkins High.

But it had been. A huge shock.

His unexpected little gaggle of morons…weren’t really his anymore.

Steve had dropped Dustin off on the first day of school and said “don’t get into any trouble.” Even made Robin promise to keep an eye out for him. He expected the kid to…join the mathletes or something. Get roped in with the science nerds.

But by the end of the week, the kids were all clamoring about how they would need to reschedule movie nights with Steve so they could go to Hellfire club with Eddie.

Steve couldn’t understand it. Eddie was a freak, a punk, some good for nothing…and now the kids were suddenly following him like he was some sort of prophet. Spreading the word of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

See? Steve could do the nerd talk too when he wanted...thanks to Dustin.

Who, much to Steve's annoyance, was apparently Eddie's biggest fan. The guy could do no wrong in Dustin's eyes, and it really irked Steve.

Will and Lucas were spending Saturdays at the library—not for homework, but for research because apparently Eddie really liked incorporating mythology into his campaigns. (Whatever that meant.) Mike was growing his hair out because "Eddie's hair was cool.” What about Steve, whose literal nickname was The Hair? Shit, he'd even seen Eddie give Max a ride to school on a few occasions when he was late dropping Robin off. And he knew Max and her mom had been having a hard time since her step-dad skipped town and Billy...

Steve knew some of the town gossip about Eddie was just a bunch of bullshit...but if Max Mayfield was cool with him?

Yeah, he just couldn't help but be suspicious of the guy.

Regardless, the sooner Steve could get him out of the store, the better his night was gonna get.

...actually...

"That's gonna be $10." Steve announced dryly.

"Woah, $10?!" Eddie scoffed. "I have a membership."

"Since when?" Steve asked, hands immediately landing on his hips.

"I use one every time I'm in here."

"Yeah you use Reefer Rick's."

"So?"

"New policy," Steve lied, hoping it would get Eddie out of his hair for a good while. "No sharing memberships outside of your family. Last I checked, your last name isn't Lipton. So you either cough up the $25 for a new membership Munson, or the $10 for your rental. What's it gonna be?"

Eddie grumbled and dug his wallet out of his pocket, slamming the money on the counter.

"Any candy?" Steve asked mockingly before grabbing the cash.

Eddie grabbed the tape and grumbled under his breath as he exited the store.

Yeah, Steve wasn't gonna be dealing with him any time soon.

For a second though, as he went to start processing returns, he wondered...

If Eddie was in some ritualistic cult...what kind of curse could he possibly put on me?

But that was a dumb thought to have.

Eddie's night just went down hill from the minute he left Family Video.

He didn't notice that they'd given him the wrong pizza at Lou's so now he was stuck with some specialty veggie pie with broccoli on it, the tape he had grabbed indiscriminately had been some artsy foreign romance crap, and just now he'd just spilled Dr. Pepper all over his Hellfire notebook.

"Fuck," he shouted as it spilled over the side of the coffee table and onto his sock-clad feet. He couldn't give a shit about the carpet, he could even ignore his wet socks, but his notebook. Weeks of work, planning and toiling over the most sadistic campaign.

He liked to keep all of the notes of Hellfire's completed campaigns, a sort of...record for future kids to look back on and reference. And now this specific masterpiece would be lost to memory.

He cleaned everything up as best he could before making a quick trip back to his room for an extra notebook or something he could use to salvage his plans for tomorrow's session. He had always been really bad at...keeping spare notebooks on hand. Even the ones he'd used for class always ended up covered in his drawings or notes, little bits and ideas of dialogue he could use for speeches or NPCs.

The best he could find was his math notebook from last year which, surprisingly, sat relatively untouched.

Eddie knew why: that was a class he shared with you. And as he opened to some random mostly-empty page, he saw his little scribbles in the margins surrounding half-faded, penciled-in algebraic equations. Daggers and hearts and his and your initials intertwined together.

It was the one class where he would never encounter partner work with you, so he felt compelled to fill the pages with his daydreams instead of fantasies and lore. You would never see it.

"Well," he huffed as he dropped back down onto the floor and slapped the notebook onto the coffee table. He grabbed his pen and scribbled over the drawings on the page. "Now that she's with Harrington, no use living in this fantasy. Fuck, I was stupid, so stupid to ever think she would want anything to do with me."

He grabbed the dusty old alchemical book from the library and found his place, staring at old sigils and runes and text indiscriminately until he came upon one that looked too perfect for the campaign. Concentric circles, arcane lettering, angular lines...

While Eddie would usually use a clean page for something like this—something he would hand off to his players—he drew a copy of the sigil onto the page and planned to rip the edges off, maybe singe them with his lighter to make it look more authentic.

He kept staring at the still-noticeable doodles beneath the pen scribbles and his heart ached a little in his chest.

Yeah, he would definitely want to burn those too.

By the time he was done copying the sigil, a wave of exhaustion overtook him and he glanced down at his watch.

It wasn't much later than he usually went to bed on a weeknight...

He stared at the half-ruined notes for tomorrow's session that he still needed to rewrite and sighed.

"Fuck it, I'll just redo them in the morning." He got up and stretched his arms over his head. "I can just sleep in tomorrow. Skip class. Show up for Hellfire. Who cares anymore.”

He put the rest of the pizza in the fridge for Wayne and then headed to bed, only to be plagued with dreams of scribbled out love hearts, movie theater candy, guitar solos, and big red gum.

When Eddie woke up the next morning, he felt...honestly felt like he was floating on a cloud. Every muscle in his body felt looser, yet somehow tighter at the same time. His skin felt tighter, like it wasn't right, like it didn't fit somehow, it was suffocating him.

He must have died but he wasn't quite sure if this was heaven or hell.

His eyes burned and blurred slightly as he opened them and what he saw was...unexpected.

Gone were the off-white walls, his posters, the piles of his crap, and that concerning patch of probably-mold in the corner of the ceiling. Instead there was a sturdy ceiling, plaid-papered walls, and matching curtains?

Eddie groaned and rolled over.

What the fuck was this place?

There was a slam of a door somewhere that practically shook the walls surrounding Eddie and as he sat up, he found himself only wearing...briefs? He didn't wear briefs.

This wasn’t his bed, wasn’t his room…wasn’t his… body?

He looked down at his chest, his arms, his hands…his fingers weren’t right, he didn’t have this many freckles and moles, he didn’t have…abs, if that’s what you could call the slight definition on his torso. Still it was more than his body had ever had. His skin…was itchy and mostly hairless.

Eddie reached up and touches his hair—shorter than he was used to, not curly…at all—then his face, as if that was any indicator to what he—

“A mirror!” He exclaimed. His voice…sounded familiar, but different. Fuck what kind of dream was this?

Because it had to be a dream right? It had to be. How else did he wake up in someone else’s body?

He pushed himself out of the bed, walking slightly off-cadence, which…yeah probably came with the territory of your brain needing to get used to a new body. Fuck…was his brain even his brain or did his mind just get transported what was happening?

Ugh it was too early to think about that.

Eddie slowly cracked the bedroom door open and peaked into the rest of the house. He spotted a bathroom just across the way, otherwise…shit, this place actually looked a little familiar. Where the fuck was he? Who the fuck was he?

He quickly crossed the landing into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He heaved a breath and leaned back against the door for a moment to calm himself; his hands were shaking and felt cold. Could he even feel his fingers? Nice to know the occasional nervousness that snuck up on him at his lowest moments hadn’t been left behind in his old body, that they’d followed him to this one.

His body…would it still be in his bed? What if he really had died and…had jumped into his new body? Was this reincarnation?

Fuck, if he was dead…Wayne would find him. Could he even…see his uncle again? How could he ever explain who he was?

Eddie felt the tears prick his eyes and his throat tighten and he slapped his face a few times.

“Come on man, come on,” he muttered. “It’s not that bad. It’s only…mildly awful. Fuck, ok. Just go, just look, just…rip it off like a bandaid.”

Eddie took a deep breath and nodded, then crossed the short distance to stand in front of the sink. He stared at his new feet, wiggled his new toes. You never…appreciated the toes you had until you have new ones.

That was awful and you’re an idiot. Just look.

Eddie closed his eyes again and turned his face up towards the mirror. He could do it. He would do it.

He opened his eyes.

“Jesus H. Christ!”

Steve woke up feeling like absolute shit. Everything ached—like he had pulled a muscle or something by sleeping crookedly—he had awful cottonmouth, and he had inhaled…some yarn or something because he woke up coughing and gagging until he got the intrusive strands out of his mouth.

“Gahh, shit, shit,” he said and scratched at his throat. He sounded hoarse. Ugh was he getting sick? He’d have to ask his mom to bring home some soup or something.

Could he call out of work? Shit he had to take Robin to school. She could walk today, he felt awful.

Steve blinked his eyes open and took in the unfamiliar popcorn ceiling with growing concern.

He looked around at the…piles of garbage and the cracks in the plaster walls partially covered by band posters...and felt the rise of panic grow within him. He tried to recall the night before.

He’d wrapped up his shift at Family Video, gone home and had a rare dinner with both of his parents, then…felt extremely tired and went to bed.

So how did he end up here…wherever here was?

This was a kidnapping; it had to be. He was…drugged—explained the cottonmouth—and kidnapped. And now someone was holding him for ransom or something to…blackmail his father? Thomas Harrington was kind of a dick sometimes, sure, but still…he was a pretty decent guy. Who would want to blackmail him?

“H-hello?” Steve called out. “Anyone there? C-can anyone hear me?”

There was some shuffling outside of the door of the room.

Thankfully Steve wasn’t tied up or anything. God, what kind of kidnappers were these? He quickly glanced around the room for a weapon of some sort and he immediately spotted...

A guitar? A few guitars actually. Man these kidnappers really liked music huh?

One was a weird shape--he'd seen some hair metal bands use guitars like that in magazines, but he'd never seen one in person--and was a mottled red color. One was just what you'd expect when someone said "electric guitar." And one was acoustic and looked like it could pack a real wallop.

Bingo.

Steve pushed himself out of the bed and immediately jumped because whatever had been in his mouth was on his shoulders now. He reached up to grab it: hair. Long, wavy, messy...knotty and frizzy. Like it hadn't been brushed for days, maybe weeks?

And his arm, sticking out from whatever t-shirt he'd been put in...was lithe and weak and there were tattoos. On both arms. A creepy claw hand and a bunch of bats.

What was this? How long had they held him hostage for? No wonder they didn't feel the need to tie him up! He'd been knocked out cold.

He needed to get out of here. Now. He needed to get home.

Steve crossed the room to grab the guitar when he noticed it. At first he thought it was another person. But no, it was just a mirror...and in the mirror...his reflection.

Only it wasn't...his reflection.

It had startled him and he had jumped. Then he moved his arms a little and watched the figure in the mirror mimic him. Over and over.

A wave, a turn, a funny face.

He couldn’t believe it. This had to be a joke. A dream. A nightmare.

Because it was him, his reflection. But it was not his—Steve Harrington’s—reflection.

It was Eddie Munson's.

[merchelsea]

can we go back? - oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!bestfriend!reader

summary: you and oscar decided to take a step forward on your friendship to become more and maybe that wasn't the right thing to do.

author’s note: i love oscar i had to write him

warnings: friends to lovers but also idiots who fell in love and can’t deal with it

masterlist

THURSDAY as you stood before the grand mirror in your room, you hurried to complete your makeup before oscar arrived. preparing for your first date was no easy task, especially when you were going out with your childhood best friend.

during all the years you spent together, that was the first time he actually seemed interested in being more than friends. it turns out he'd been harboring a crush on you since high school, though he had hidden it well.

you were filled with excitement, but a tiny part of you was also gripped by fear, worrying that things might go wrong.

you couldn’t give that thought space to grow into you, but it was there, in the back of your mind.

sooner than expected, there was a knock on your bedroom door, and when you opened it, you were greeted by a bouquet of white roses, your first ever. "oh my god, oscar, these are so beautiful. thank you," you smiled, genuinely touched. oscar was dressed in a white long-sleeved button-up shirt and beige shorts, looking as handsome as ever.

"you're welcome. I know these are your favorites, so I thought..." he began to explain, somewhat nervously. "well, I'm glad you like them," he finished, handing you your purse as you both prepared to head downstairs.

after finding a vase and placing the roses in water, you bid farewell to your mom and left the house. oscar had chosen to take you to lunch, a familiar choice to make the date feel less strange. there was no room for strangeness, not after taking this step forward.

upon arriving at the restaurant, the waitress promptly approached your table, leaving little room for conversation. you both ordered drinks first and decided to select your meals later.

you tried to get into every topic you could think of, both of you making an effort to keep a conversation, but it was just weird. it didn’t feel right. oscar looked like a whole different person.

you tried to engage in various topics, each of you making an effort to keep the conversation going, but something felt off. oscar seemed different, like a changed person. he was nervous, his usual habits absent. this wasn't the oscar you knew.

you wondered what might be going on in his mind but couldn't come up with a reasonable answer. finally, the waitress returned to take your food orders, but your meal was consumed in an uncomfortable silence.

it was frustrating to be sitting across from your best friend, sharing a meal in such awkward silence. "this is so strange," oscar commented once the waitress collected your empty plates. you nodded and managed a smile. "I'll pay, just to make up for putting you through this." he offered, reaching for his black leather wallet.

"no, you won´t." you protested, taking out your wallet as well, but he managed to snatch it away from you. "yes, I will!" he grinned.

after paying, he walked you home. in front of your door you invited him to come in, and he declined but stopped you from getting in as well.

after paying, oscar walked you home. at your doorstep, you invited him inside, but he declined, though he stopped you from entering as well. "hey, I'm sorry for this. maybe asking you out on a date wasn't a good idea..." he began, and your heart raced, fearing the break. "maybe I messed everything up," he continued, running his fingers through his hair. his words came out in a rapid stream, and you had to piece together the meaning. "not that I don't like you; I love you, but... this date didn't go as I expected."

love. he loves you. that was all your heart could hear and before you knew it you were smiling like an idiot.

“I don’t know what got into you but you were not my oscar in there.” you point your finger in the streets direction.

"I was trying to impress you, I don't even know. lando gave me some tips, and I just followed them. I guess it didn't work." the british might be skilled with women, but you didn't love oscar for his ability to please the opposite sex. you loved him for his care, his lousy jokes that always made you laugh, his habit of crossing his legs, and how he always maintained eye contact.

“oscar, I fell in love with my best friend, not with lando’s tips.” you took his hand into yours and with the other one, removed his sunglasses. “if you wanted to impress me you could’ve just been yourself.”

he squeezed your hand and remained silent while looking into your eyes. the sentence "i fell in love" playing in loop inside of his head.

"fell in love?" with his free hand he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"fell in love, osc." you placed your hand on top of his and caressed it with your thumb.

oscar smiled as much as he could before leaning in. he looked deeply into your eyes, just as your mother appeared, wondering why the door had been left open for so long.

"oh, I'm sorry. I just- you two continue whatever you were doing." she rushed in with a grin planted on her lips, as she had been fantasizing about the two of you getting married since he took you to prom.

"oh my god." oscar laughs. "she's going to call my mum." you chuckled. "she absolutely is."

you both stood in an akward silence for a while, uncertain whether to pick up where you left off or not.

"i should probably go." oscar said, not wanting to but feeling the need to.

"yeah, you probably should." agreeing was the last thing you wanted to do, but what more could you do? "when will you leave for the US?" you asked, trying to make sence of the timeline.

"this sunday. my flight is at 4 p.m." you nodded, and he indicated his intention to leave. your mind wanted to stop him, but your body felt paralyzed.

"well, goodbye, osc."

"goodbye, y/n."

SUNDAY you rushed into your car, determined to get there as quickly as possible. making a last-minute decision was already risky, but this one was even riskier. if you missed this opportunity due to overthinking, you'd never forgive yourself.

oscar would be leaving in thirty minutes, and with the distance between your house and the airport, you were unlikely to make it on time.

but what would this world be without a little faith? you had to believe.

that "believing" might result in a few traffic violations for running red lights and overtaking where you sh(c)ouldn't, but you were undeterred. when you finally reached the airport, you rushed inside, scanning for a papaya-colored shirt, not even certain if he was wearing one.

your watch displayed 4:46 p.m., and you quickly realized you wouldn't find your long time bestfriend anywhere. you reluctantly accepted defeat and returned to your car; you were too late.

closing the door of your bmw, you heard a brake noise coming from your left and shoot your head in that direction. your eyes fell over a papaya colored shirt and its owner. oscar was right there.

you immediately hopped out of the car and hurried toward him. he was beginning to sprint, trying to catch that plane, so you yelled his name before it was too late again.

the McLaren driver turned to face you, initially looking puzzled but breaking into a smile once he realized it was you. "what the hell are you doing here?" he asked, walking toward you. you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug.

"I need to talk to you," you whispered, and he closed his eyes, savoring the moment. realizing he had indeed missed his flight, you both decided to head to a coffee shop a short distance from the airport. oscar ordered a much-needed coffee, and you asked for a bottle of water.

"you don't want anything to eat?" he asked again.

"if I eat now, I might throw up," you replied, your nerves being a wrcking mess on your system. the thought of almost kissing him and then not speaking to him left you in turmoil. you couldn't help but imagine what life would be like without him, and it was a depressing thought.

"you can't get into that plane without having a proper conversation about what happened." you demanded, panic evident in your voice. "what would you do if you hadn't lost it? never talk to me again?"

you knew he could never do such thing, but the mere thought of that made you sick to your stomach. he remained silent, not wanting to overstep.

"why the hell did you leave, that day?" you asked, bewildered.

"why the hell did you let me leave?" he retorted.

"i couldn't stop you."

"you know you could. one word and i would have came back. you know that."

"it didn't seem like you wanted to stay." you replied, a hint of frustration in your voice.

emotions were running high, and no matter how heated the words felt, you were getting closer and closer, with onlookers easily sensing that this was not a "I'm going to slap you" kind of proximity.

"I damn sure wanted to," he admitted, his eyes shifting between your eyes and your mouth. your eyes betrayed you when they did the same.

as the emotional tension grew between you and the papaya driver, the coffee shop around you seemed to fade into the background. the undeniable chemistry and connection you shared couldn't be ignored any longer.

without another word, you closed the distance between you, capturing oscar's lips with yours. the kiss was filled with all the unspoken words, the longing, and the pent-up emotions from the past. it was a moment of pure clarity, a confirmation of the love that had been silently brewing for years.

when you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless and wide-eyed, caught up in the electrifying moment. it was a defining point in your relationship, marking the transition from best friends to something deeper and more profound.

[auspicioustidings]

The Revelation

Summary: You are pretty happy with the cult you have made for yourself, but when two newcomers show up you can't help but think how far you could go with this.

(this is a one-shot, I stg if your only comment on this is to say 'part 2' I will feed you to the tomato plants! If you like it and have brain worms about it by all means send those to me and we can bounce ideas around)

Words: 6.6k

CWs: Cult shit, dubcon (everyone is manipulating each other here), light petplay (hope you're proud of yourself Bo I am incapable of writing Ghoap without Johnny being a puppy now), smut, murder, slight allusion to cannibalism (in a round about way, just putting it here for safety), Catholicism

The Death of God happened on a gloomy Thursday afternoon. One moment he had been mowing the lawn and the next thing he had an epiphany about hating his suburban life, hating his suburban wife, hating the 2 kids and hating the lawnmower he had spent his last bonus on. 

The Revelation happened on a sunny Friday morning when you had popped up on his tiktok feed and told him that you understood him, that you were there for him. He had made his way to the commune, telling his wife it was just a visit to find himself. And he did. Which of course meant he never came home.

Truly you would consider yourself some what of a miracle working taking in this portly, charisma void of a businessman and turning him into some semblance of interesting. Well as interesting as anyone in this little slice of heaven. He had a fascination with growing tomatoes now. Good for him. 

The hundreds of little deaths of God had been great for business. When someone had a crisis, when someone thought they were broken, when someone just couldn't fucking take it anymore, that's when they were so desperate to believe in something that you could make them happy with a smile and a kind word every so often. You could keep them happy (well, what they believed was happy and wasn't that all that mattered?) by keeping them a little tired, a little hungry and occasionally a little high. Good for the soul really, that's what you always said. 

Surely you deserved to live on a steady diet of champagne, strawberries and decadence for all the good work you did. They all understood how difficult it was to be you. And despite your trials weren't you still so lovely to them? Even when they acted out you were gentle in your reminders that they needed fixing, that you were only ever there to help, that their friends and families would try and convince them otherwise because they didn't understand what it was to be broken. You opened your arms to them always, it was in their nature to err and in yours to forgive. 

Honestly you could keep this up for the rest of your life. A small group of people devoted to you, happy in their worship and happy in their toil. No violence needed to keep them compliant, just a soft touch and the occasional psychological torture as necessary. You had no aspirations to go beyond this, you had it good. No need for a death cult or to make yourself an actual God to them. You already had your champagne and strawberries after all, life was good. 

–

They were big, these two new men to your little oasis. It would be a tricky thing to half starve them you thought, but then it would also be a shame to have them lose all that bulk that you found you quite enjoyed looking at. Still, it was important for enlightenment and all that.

So you gave them a steady supply of soft smiles and reassuring touches, a diet of “yes this is an eco-living commune!” and “oh I never thought anyone would want to join me out here, I just got very lucky that so many wonderful people share the same morals.” They went easy of course, ex-military, used to structure and relying on someone above them to do the thinking. Perfect for you really, just two attack dogs that were impeccably trained.

They neglected to tell you that they hadn't been regular military, that they had been high ranked special operators in an elite task force. That would have made you suspicious after all and it was better you thought them stupid. Johnny had seen you on tiktok and wanted you and Simon never denied his boy anything, so here they were, playing you completely into their hands.

First it was getting themselves special privileges, unlimited access to food, a home right next to yours, full evenings of rest. Hadn't been hard to make you think it was your idea.

“Och it's alright lass, I ken we're naw military anymore. Dinnae need tae be a lean, mean, killing machine oot here.”

“Of course not Johnny, I'd hope you think you're very safe here.”

“Aye, feel safe with you. Ye look after us. Wish ye would let us look after you more!”

“I don't need anymore than I already have, but it's so wonderful of you to say, truly.”

Then a few days later when there had been time for that little declaration to settle in.

“Simon! How are you, I didn't see you yesterday.”

“Sorry, pulled my shoulder something awful. Felt like a right git not being able to do work properly.”

“Oh that's terrible, how did you pull it?”

“Ah just lack of training is all. Too used to being strong, retirement doesn't really lend itself to that.”

“You're still plenty strong!”

“I hope so. Some of the things I hear about what people's families think of you… if it ever came down to it, I want you to know I'd protect you with my life. Both me and Johnny would, strong or not.”

You had really been given an absolute gift here. That was something that had been making you a little paranoid. If family members escalated to violence there was really nothing you could do. You were a lover (here meaning awful con artist but that was just semantics) not a fighter. And now there was a solution right in your lap.

“How would you and Johnny feel about being security then? I'd hate to think we'd ever need it of course, but it would make people feel safer. Some of their families are terrible people I'm afraid, I don't want anyone to get hurt because someone tries something violent” you said gently, of course concerned for these innocent people being viciously abused by their awful families (these brainwashed people being taken by their loved ones to recover and live meaningful lives again, lives which did not involved maintaining your champagne and strawberry habit).

“If you ask us of course we'd never say no, it's just… would it be ok to have an hour a day to train? It's such an honour to protect this place, not looking to half arse it.”

“Of course! Come to my house with Johnny after supper and we can discuss some accommodations for your new roles.”

–

“How does that sound?” you asked, soft as silk.

You knew how it sounded, it sounded like you were the damn second coming. Giving them unrestricted food and sleep, telling them you'd have a house for them built right by your side? You knew it was working by how Johnny's eyes had went big and wet, projecting puppy-like adoration. And Simon? Oh that big, delicious man stood and walked over to you so he could kneel at your feet. Fuck you had never felt better about yourself.

“We don't deserve so much of your consideration. I-” he said, the first time you had heard him struggle to get words out through his emotion. “I want to thank you properly.”

He said it like it was a revelation and it peaked your interest. You could have squealed with delight when his cheek leant against your knee, your dress pushed by his face to let skin meet skin, eyes locked with yours as he turned to kiss your flesh. You hadn't fucked any of your followers, too messy. But these weren't regular followers anymore right? No, these were special followers. And it had been so long and he was looking at you like he was desperate to give you any pleasure he could. 

Oh Simon was desperate all right, had been thinking about getting you sloppy and pathetic for him since Johnny had excitedly shown him that bloody video of you acting like an innocent little lamb. He wanted to just barrel in, bend you over and claim you right away. It was Johnny who insisted it would be more fun to trick you, who had whined like a bitch about it until he got his way. Bloody MacTavish. He really needed to train those puppy dog eyes right out of the boy. Those had got him to indulge in all sort of risks already. Nearly fucked the whole plan right up when you had come dangerously close to catching him balls deep in Johnny in your bed, absolutely ruining him as per his own puppy dog eyed request.

For his part Johnny was positively giddy. He might give away the game if he really got to watch Simon taste you. Would he play gently with you? Oh my God would he pretend he was inexperienced to make you feel superior? Let you think you were guiding him? That might kill him dead. He tried to not fucking salivate and start panting at the thought of it. 

“Then thank me properly.”

Fuck the way his eyes lit up at that. This gorgeous man wanted you, he wanted to please you. As a hand squeezed your calf and he started to drag his mouth up your bare leg you felt the sick thrill of wondering how far they would go for you. Already people had given up families, friends, wealth. You had never pushed it beyond, horrified whenever you thought about how delicious it would be if they would die for you, kill for you and so shoving those dark thoughts to the back of your mind. 

But you didn't want Simon to die for you. You did want to see how far you could push, how deep his devotion ran. To that end you wove fingers through his hair and pulled him off of your thigh, his eyes flickering from your wet panties sticking to your cunt up to your own eyes in question. 

“I want you to kiss Johnny.”

You said it like a woman possessed. Fuck. That's exactly what you wanted. You wanted these big masculine men to fuck against their own desires but do it for you. They were dumb jocks really, probably had never fumbled around with another man before. They'd find it hard, find it wrong. You didn't really consider yourself a bad person before this moment, just a clever one. This was straying into something else, some monstrous part of you that was salivating with the thought of finally being released. 

“Will you do that for me?”

You heard a choked sort of noise and looked over to see Johnny hiding his face in his hands. Of course, big Scottish man must be scared of doing such a thing. Or rather having such a thing done to him. You imagined it would be some attack to his sense of self to have a bigger man press a kiss onto him. Fuck maybe he would tear up. Maybe he would fully cry if Simon pushed inside of him. You hoped that God really was dead because if not you were sure They'd have some stern words for you after this. 

“Oh I've never…”

Fuuuuuck. Simon's vulnerable eyes darting from Johnny to you were liable to make you cum on the fucking spot. You smiled indulgently down on him, running a hand over his face is a caress. 

“You know I only ever do what's best for you don't you? I wouldn't ever ask you to do anything that isn't for the greater good. Do you believe in me Simon?” you said, the years of practice infusing your tone with a cloying sweetness. 

“Yes” he replied, barely a breathy whisper of affirmation. 

His glazed eyes looked at you with such adoration before he nuzzled his face into your hand and left a kiss there before making his way across to where Johnny was sitting on the sofa, face still hidden in his hands. He went over on his knees, crawled. You pressed your fingers against your throbbing clit, cupping yourself to try and tell your body to calm down because there was so much more to come. 

Simon crawled between Johnny’s legs, going up on his knees and grabbing Johnny’s nape to drag his face down. He was whispering something in his ear, maybe trying to settle him, trying to assure him this was what they needed to do for you. Of course had you been aware Simon was hissing at Johnny to keep it together, to stop laughing about how easily you were falling for this, then the whole thing would really have been ruined. Luckily Johnny was still a soldier, Simon still his LT, so when he was ordered to put his game face on he did it. And luckily Johnny was still a good boy, Simon was still his master, so he knew that squeezing at his pup's nape always got that furrow in his brow to relax, got him eager to please and ready to tear up at the first little tease or overstimulation.  

It was really destiny that you would be this level of power hungry, this eager to push and see what you could make people do. He had been training Johnny to put all his eager to please energy to good use for years, had turned a feral mutt into a feral mutt with impeccable training. The chance to turn a corrupt fox into a corrupt fox whose only desire was to be stroked and pampered was making him painfully hard. Johnny had been right, tricking you was far more delicious than just forcing you into it.  

When he moved Johnny’s hands from his face it was to reveal a man looking ruined, looking liquid eyed and flushed. Simon mouthed a good boy to him before pressing a kiss to his lips. It was calculatedly shy and tentative and he kept a steadying hand on Johnny’s knee, squeezing when he felt he might lose control and start panting and licking his way into his mouth as he usually tried to do. Simon couldn’t very well punish him right now without giving the game away, so he just had to use the suggestion of a future punishment. 

After the first peck you watched a slow and decadent slide into forbidden desire. They got a little bolder with each press of lips, seemed to squirm a bit more with the struggle of it feeling good but wrong. When Simon pulled away and Johnny whined despite himself you slid your hand past your waistband, needing to touch yourself or you’d die. 

“You’d like it if Simon used his tongue wouldn’t you Johnny? Would be nice to feel it against yours. It’s important that you two are close isn’t it? To do your jobs well that is.”

Johnny would have agreed with full enthusiasm and pounced Simon to get them both on the floor so he could rut his hips down into the cock he was desperate for, but the hand at his bad knee squeezed again and the spark of pain reminded him of the mission. So instead he looked at you, teary and unsure.

“H-his tongue? I… I’m naw…”

“You’re not what Johnny?”

“It’s wrong.”

“Who told you that?”

You watched him play with the thin chain around his neck, the crucifix falling out of his shirt. Catholic. Oh this must be even more torturous for him. No matter, you had killed plenty of Gods already, you could kill his. Watch guilt eat and eat and eat at him until finally he gave in to the desire. Gave in to you. Let any other divine figure die in favour of a new God.

“Oh Johnny, do you think I would lead you into temptation? It’s ok, I would never make you. If you don’t like it that’s fine, you can both call it a night hm? Security is a tough job, I would never think less of you for not being up to the task. My fault really, I must have mistaken the potential I saw in you.”

He surged forward and shoved his tongue past Simon’s teeth and you moaned deeply, fingers so slippery that getting proper friction on your clit was a challenge now. You did not think you had ever been so wet in your life, feeling slick trickle out of you as they clumsily seemed to fight for dominance, saliva dripping down Johnny’s chin from how much he was trying to follow your instructions, how deep he was trying to pull Simon’s tongue with his into his mouth. 

When they next pulled away they both seemed dazed, like they couldn't believe they had just done that. Poor Simon turned to look at your pleadingly, legs widening so you could see he was straining against his pants. He was rock solid from making out with Johnny and you were cumming all at once, hips rolling in time with your fingers as you breathed out instructions with your cunt still clenching in waves.

“Good, so good for me. Want you both to cum, get all of that tension out. Wouldn't ever leave you wanting would I?”

They both looked needy, but the fact that they quietly waited for instructions on how to cum was possibly the most erotic thing you had ever seen. 

“It's OK, you can help each other. That's what it's all about here isn't it? Helping those in need in the community, and you're both in need. Jerk your cocks together, it'll be bonding for you to cum together like that.”

They fucking did it. Simon shoved his pants down enough to free the absolute monster of a cock he had and dragged Johnny only his lap on the floor. Johnny's cock was thick as anything and just as hard. Fuck the image of Johnny taking Simon’s cock, taking every hard inch of him in his ass. Crying about how it wouldn't fit, how it was wrong. Clutching his crucifix. You needed to make it happen soon. Maybe you could make Johnny wear a plug, say it was part of training. Get him ready to be fucked by his friend and once superior without him ever realising that's what you were doing. 

Their precum was already making the slide of it easier as Simon took the lead, big hand wrapping around both of them and slowly pumping, staring at it in fascination. You were slowly overstimulating your clit, feeling that tension start growing again already. 

“Spit on it Johnny.”

He did it without hesitation, his saliva making Simon’s jerking squelch. It didn't take long until Johnny was begging, needing to cum. You didn't even register that it wasn't you he was looking at as he begged, you were too lost in sensation, eyes locked on their cocks rubbing together.

“Go on, cum. Both of you.”

Simon sped his hand and his low grunt (the ‘s’ok pup, cum’ so low you hadn’t heard it over your pleasure) combined with Johnny's drooling and panting sent you spiralling over the edge again as they both shot ropes of sticky cum all over each other.  

Fuck. What else could you make people do?

–

Over the next few weeks life got even easier for you. Simon and Johnny were excellent right hands, earning respect from all of your followers and taking on almost all of the tasks you had (which you had made sure were as minimal as possible already, the whole point of this endeavour was to live an easy life). 

Simon was careful to make sure to be seen with you, start planting the seeds in people's minds that they were an extension of you. Johnny was rapidly losing patience which made him incredibly satisfying to fuck because he got to beat every single complaint out of him. It was him that wanted to go this route so he was going to finish what he started. It had been a long time since he had seen Johnny get so worked up over anything and he forgot how much he enjoyed him when he was like this, biting at every little bit of bait that Simon left with the express purpose of having an excuse to punish him later for it. 

Johnny needed putting down when he got this wound up, at this point Simon had taken him over his knee at least once a day, collared and leashed him most nights, fucked him silly so much that he was constantly aching and plugged to keep ready for a quickie when he needed it. Which right now was inhumanly often and with them still in the bunkhouse they were having to get very creative with the venue. Johnny was going especially feral given that you had only been alone with them once more since you had promoted them and you had acted like last time had never happened. Clever actually, Simon had to hand it to you, you were very good at playing with people. He could see the little glimmer in your eye, the delight at seeing how Johnny seemed to be vibrating with anticipation of something that never came. You were setting him up to beg, making sure that when he gave in and went directly against his God that it would be him pleading for you to let him do so.

It wasn’t like you had ever been close enough to tell, but that little cross around Johnny’s neck had SR carved into the back of it. Simon had corrupted the Roman Catholic out of this pup years ago, the cross only came out on special occasions when Johnny wanted to play coy and innocent or when Simon wanted to remind him who he belonged to (because it certainly wasn’t a God, it was his fucking lieutenant). Well and now, when they both knew the sight of it would give you such a power trip that you’d fall right into their trap. 

“I was thinking about your house” you said, the three of you standing where the foundations were already being put down. 

“Aye?”

“It just seems such a waste when I have extra bedrooms in my home.”

“It would be such an honour to stay in any of them. Would we not be intruding?”

“Of course not Simon, you are my right hand men now. It makes sense for you to stay close to me. To one another.”

You swore you could see Johnny’s ears perk up, a phantom tail flicking quickly behind him in rapt attention at that. Of course their minds would go there, just like you wanted them to. It hadn’t been too difficult for you to be patient, to play with them so that you didn’t push too far too fast. It was something you were very good at. 

“Would you… still let us build something here?”

“Oh?”

“I think a temple of sorts would be nice. Somewhere for you to relax. You work so hard for all of us and if you are taking us into your space I’d hate for you to have nowhere to go to meditate alone.”

It only took a few days to wear you down. You had no idea how much influence they already had with your followers, how easy it was for them to plant that idea there and have them be the ones appealing to you to please allow them to do this for you. And while that shred of morality you had left was screaming at you not to do this, not to actually Deify yourself lest it go too far, the adoration inflated your ego and drowned your conscience out. 

So they started to build your temple.

–

“Ah! Like that. That’s it, that’s what I need” you moaned out, Simon in between your legs worshipping. 

You had moved them into your home, the large house comfortable and spacious in comparison to the bunkhouse the other followers stayed in, and that night Simon had come to your room and gotten on his knees for you. How could you say no to him? 

The adoration of your followers was nothing compared to this. They loved you yes, but fuck Simon was reverant, tongue swirling around your cunt so there was more holy water for him to glut himself on. This was decadent, languid on your bed with him focusing entirely on your pleasure, expecting nothing in return. This man who was spending his days by your side, overlooking the building of a temple in your honour. You could not decide in this moment if you wanted him to fuck you on the altar when it was done or if you wanted to fuck him. 

It was a good conundrum to have because you felt that you could simply have both. You could have whatever the fuck you wanted with this man by your side. Who could stand against him and Johnny? And who would ever worship you more? You had never actually bought your own bullshit before, but if he kept this up maybe you were some sort of God because how else could you be living this deliciously?

You tugged his hair sharply to get him off of you and pushed at him until he was on his back. You would take what you wanted from him because it was your right to do so. He did not complain as you settled your cunt on his face and rode him, if anything his clever tongue worked harder to please you. You held his head and used him, and he drank you down and thanked you for the privilege after, vanishing out of your room as silently as he had arrived.

–

It only took another few weeks for Johnny to break and oh he broke so perfectly. Simon came to your room every night to pray, and Johnny must know, must have heard how Simon spilled thank yous against your cunt even as you pushed down to deprive him of oxygen, even as you smeared your slick all over his face, moving exactly as you liked with no consideration of him. You never touched him in any way meant for his pleasure, only to use him for yours.

It was not Simon who knocked lightly on the door. Simon didn’t knock at all, he always just let himself in. 

“Come in Johnny.”

He was nervous, that much was clear. You did enjoy the sight of him in only his boxers and crucifix, moonlight doing wonders in making him look incredibly edible. You wanted to knead his pecs like they were tits, wanted to sink your teeth into the meat of his neck until you tasted blood and he cried out your name instead of his God’s.

“I want…”

“Hm? You want?”

“Will ye let me please ye? I ken Si… I’m naw good enough for ye, but I want tae be. It’s just, I’ve never uh… I’m a quick study.”

And with perfect timing, in walked Simon. Couldn’t have planned it better yourself (well, actually Johnny had planned it, Simon had laughed and ruffled his hair at how eager he had been to act the part of the blushing virgin before unhooking the leash and getting him out of his collar and into his crucifix).

“Good evening Simon” you purred. 

The man didn’t really acknowledge that Johnny was in the room, instead going to his place by the foot of your bed and kneeling. It was always where you started, with him lapping at you until you ordered him onto the bed or the floor so you could take what you needed. Only you pushed him away with your foot when he tried to pull at your shorts, holding him at leg length and looking at Johnny.

“Come sit will you?”

He nervously shuffled over, sitting next to you on the bed with his eyes darting uncomfortably down to Simon kneeling pretty, your foot still holding him away from you. He swallowed and you thought it sweet how he held your gaze to avoid watching as you motioned for Simon to move and he did so without hesitation. Johnny still didn’t look at him even as you put a hand to his knee to make him spread his legs enough for Simon’s broad shoulders to fit between them. 

“If you want to learn I’d never stop you Johnny, I want you to be the best at the things you’d like. And I’m sure Simon makes a wonderful teacher.”

Simon didn’t need prompting, obedient and perfect boy that he was. He started licking up Johnny’s thick thigh the same way he would have if you were sitting there. Johnny, bless him, gripped onto your leg like it was a lifeline, fingers digging into the plush flesh hard enough that you imagined it may leave marks. You swallowed his loud whine with your mouth when Simon slipped his boxers down and took his hard cock right to the root. It almost made you laugh, if you tried to take that in your throat you would certainly be gagging and crying.

When you pulled away Johnny was a whining mess, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other still dug into the fat of your thigh. You wondered if he had ever gotten head. Certainly not from another man. Oh wouldn’t his priest be so disappointed in him. You could imagine a severe man in the robes of God, looking with disgust at the whore before him. But you were a kinder creature, letting him indulge in pleasure without telling him he couldn’t. 

Well, to a point. You pushed Simon to stop with the frankly immaculate looking blow job when it was clear from Johnny’s hips rutting that he was close. Then you swung your leg around, straddling Johnny and squeezing yourself to him, stopping him from trying to get friction from you.

“Not yet Johnny, you need to be patient hm? Simon, open him up. Tongue first, then fingers.”

Johnny was tearing up, looking at you like he didn’t understand why you were doing this while feeling horribly guilty that he liked it. He howled when Simon’s tongue started playing at his rim, his hands gripping at your hips to try and make you move against him. You put a hand to his throat and squeezed lightly.

“It’s ok, you can take it can’t you?”

“I-I cannae, please bonnie, I’m naw- I dinnae-” he whined before he choked on nothing, eyes blown wide, “h-his tongue is, fuck it’s inside.”

“I know Johnny, I know. Is it too much then? Should I tell him to stop? If you can’t take it, then at least you tried” you said, sweet as anything but putting a tiny edge of disappointment into your tone.

“I can take it! Please, I can! Dinnae make him stop, I can take whatever ye gie me!”

“Good boy.”

Oh, the reaction to those two words was worth exploring. It was like he changed from a man to some pathetic animal, eyes watery and begging, hands pawing at your hips while his own desperately tried to buck up. You felt how he froze, heard how he choked when Simon pressed a finger into him.

“Hmm that’s it, take what you’re given, you’ll be good and hold off for me hm?” you cooed, moving a hand to run fingers under his chain, all the way around until you were behind his neck and could yank, have that crucifix choking him. “Looks better like this Johnny, almost like a pretty collar for you.”

Jackpot. Even with you clamping down to give him as little room for friction as possible you felt the hot gush of his cum, him getting there from being choked, being compared to a dog to be collared. Well if he was going to be a mutt that came without your permission, the permission of his master, then he needed to learn his place no?

“Fuck pet, told you to be patient.”

“Sorry, m’sorry bonnie. Ah! M-make him stop, s’too much!”

“Make him stop? But he’s been good for me, followed everything I’ve asked, You went ahead and finished without permission. Wouldn’t make sense to punish him and reward you, I need to be fair pet.”

He was clearly overstimulated, his hips trying to rut even as he gasped at every bit of friction he got. Oh you wanted to see him fucked out and ruined. You wanted his heart on a fucking platter.

“More Simon. Johnny here is going to let you fuck him tonight, so you need to open him up properly.”

“I-I-” Johnny stuttered, bottom lip quivering and eyes wide and wet. If you weren't so high on the decadence of having these two men at your mercy you’d have questioned just how practised that was. 

“Tell me Johnny. Tell me what it is you want.”

Tell me what it is I want to hear that you want. Be a good boy, don’t disappoint me. You’d hate to disappoint me after all I’ve done for you.

“I want Simon tae fuck me tonight.”

“Good boy” you said, hammering that final nail in God’s coffin as you yanked again at the chain so hard it snapped, taking your trophy and tossing it onto your desk without ever having examined it closely.

You watched Simon ruin him at your command. You drank their praise like champagne, bit into their gratitude like strawberries bursting their juice on your chin. You were greedy in how many times you used them for your pleasure, their fingers, their tongues, the sight of them overcome with hedonistic abandon. 

You felt like a God.

–

The temple was beautiful, no effort or expense spared. The first floor was a space for everyone, for the brand new community gatherings that you occasionally led but had mostly been letting Simon and Johnny lead. Above that was two glorious floors of space only for you. The only other people permitted to set foot in here were your two right hands. It was something else, being in the luxuriant bed drinking champagne and watching the two of them play with each other for your benefit. 

You could not stop thinking about the way Johnny had writhed at the mention of a collar when you had taken his crucifix for yourself (it still sat on the desk right where you had left it). You could not stop imagining how such a thing would look around his thick neck, how your other followers would look at it and be jealous that he got to be so visibly claimed by you.

As always your wish was their command. Simon had presented you with a gorgeous necklace of sorts, almost a choker, the pendant a symbol you didn’t recognise. 

“This doesn’t look like a collar for you.”

“It’s for you. The symbol is from the cult of Venus, we thought… well we thought if you could wear it, show people, then when we wore it…”

“You want them to know you are wearing it for me.”

Perfect fucking boys weren’t they. They didn’t just want to show up in a collar, they wanted to show up in a symbol associated with you. It was pretty enough what they had chosen, delicate and clearly made with care and devotion. You turned and lifted your hair so he could put it on you and the very next community gathering was Johnny eagerly explaining the symbol to your followers. It was etched into the temple walls soon after. 

–

The realisation happened all at once. You only attended community gatherings for special occasions now and when you did they were all looking at you like you were their God made flesh. Your followers had become something else, something well beyond a little eco-living commune. That had not been your doing. 

The door was locked. You could not leave your space in the Temple. Your hand flew to the back of your necklace, realising with a startle that you couldn’t take it off. Simon and Johnny never did have collars made. Why would they? You were rapidly realising they had never intended to. You looked in the mirror, tried to find a clue. The pendant… it was only when you drew it over and over again that you figured it out. This wasn’t some symbol of an old Goddess, it was the letters S R J M twisted around to make a pretty symbol. You sat and stewed, waiting for them to get back. When they did you were sat on the bed, glowering at them.

“Aww ye figure us out bonnie?”

“You played me.”

“Like a fucking violin sweetheart” Simon cooed, walking over to flick the pendant. 

You huffed up at him. Everything was completely fucked now. You had all but ordered your followers to treat these two as your spokesmen. You had been slowly vanishing from public life, ingraining in their minds that you were a God who lived in a temple and only graced them with your presence when they had really earned it. All this after years of breaking them down so they thought nothing they ever did was good enough, so of course they would never think they had earned it. 

And you had never used violence for anything, you were soft and lived on champagne and strawberries for fuck sake, it wasn’t like you could brute force your way out of this. You were enough of a schemer to know when you had been outplayed.

“So the little shy virginal act?”

Johnny laughed and came over to nuzzle into your hair.

“Ye’d naw believe how many times Si has been in my arse hen, this isnae even the first house of God he’s bent me over in.”

You scowled and pushed his head away, but his eyes only sparkled with excitement as he bullied it right back into nuzzling you like a fucking dog. 

“Pup has been so excited about you finally figuring it out. You’ve been teasing him for months now, don’t think it’s time to give him a treat for how well behaved he’s been for you?”

It’s not like you were against the idea, it had been delicious being the dominant one all this time but there was something interesting about the idea of letting Simon take control, letting him get Johnny to fuck you the way you had let him fuck Johnny. Because that would be the case you knew now. It was so obvious knowing what you knew, you really should have figured out way sooner that Simon had always been in control. All the things you had done since he got here that you had thought your ideas weren’t yours at all, he had put them in your head. 

“So that’s it then? You keep me here and take over?”

Simon was looking at you with something deranged behind those eyes. It was dreadfully exciting. 

“You're coming to tonight's community gathering. You can decide if puppy gets a treat after that.”

–

The Birth of God happened on that brilliant Friday evening. One moment you had been fighting against your conscience, and the next you had let go. You had walked forward, no floated, and pressed a holy kiss to his head. Watching one of your followers plunge a knife into the heart of another on your altar, both with a smile on their faces, was fucking beautiful.

The Revelation happened about the same time. You dipped your fingers in the blood (the same colour as those tomatoes he so loved, the tomatoes that his body would feed and your followers would eat) and marked his murderer with your symbol, the initials of the men that had made you God. 

Puppy had more than earned his treat.

[gyuvision]

goodnight ricky

wc ; 1k - pairing ; ricky shen x fem reader

summary ; before your roommate left she promised she’d find you a replacement. 3 years later she never did, until now, leaving you as confused as ever while you looked at the 6ft male sitting in your room.

contains -> fluff/slight angst

you came back late, having class at a top (and painfully competitive) med school plus the late shift at the local coffee shop. you were tired especially during exams. all you wanted was to stay in your bed and read a book, or sleep for the rest of the night. however you pleased.

so naturally being that exhausted you were absolutely not expecting the man sitting in your desk, drawing towards the conclusion that you were hallucinating and that maybe sleep sounded like a better idea than a book.

“someone told me to wait for you here”

“what?”

“you know, your roommate?”

oh. right.

your roommate was your best friend. you were inseparable, shared the same dreams, got into the same college together.

but everything changed. she got a boyfriend, and suddenly your future wasn’t as intertwined as you originally planned it to be.

they broke up and she realized she wasn’t sure what she wanted. everything about her had changed and your schedule almost never lined up because of how many times she changed it for her ex.

so, she cut ties, peacefully. she explained she no longer wanted the same thing as you and left but promised to visit soon and that she’d find someone to take her place because she knew how much you hated being on your own.

guess that explained why the man (who you later knew as shen quanrui) was waiting for you, in the same spot she always waited for you to come home.

“its been.. 2 years since she left. how could you have found me when she couldn’t even shoot a text?”

“unbeknownst you, you mean a great deal to her more than you seem to think you do. i was her partner in art school before we had graduated, and she sent me here. she knows how you are, with your life plan laid out in front of you, for you. she knows you’d still live here even after almost 3 years. she knows you’d end up getting into med school after college. you’re not that unpredictable jung y/n.”

“so i’ve been prepared all my life, and what about it? i don’t march towards things without a plan. and how could you address me by my full name when i don’t even know yours?”

“shen quanrui.”

“shim what?” “shen. quan. rui. shen quanrui. its not that hard.”

“so you’re not korean?” “obviously not. i’m chinese.”

“can you say your name one more time?”

“my god. you can just call me ricky.”

“lovelicky.” “what?” “nothing.”

“i brought back food. it was supposed to be a snack for me but i guess you can have it now that i know i’ll be accommodating for two from this point on.”

“thanks. but uh- can we just go to sleep?” ricky asked, moving from your desk to sit on your twin bed.

“what? this is a two person flat. go sleep in her old room.”

“uh- i would, assuming she left behind her bed. but you kind of boarded up her room and i’m not looking to take it down at midnight on a thursday.”

“oh. i guess you’re right. i forgot about that. i just never assumed she’d actually send someone to me so i didn’t want to look at everything she left behind.”

ricky shrugged and laid down on one side of your bed, while he let you climb into the side touching the wall. since when was he wearing pajamas?..

“isnt this weird?” you muttered.

“not really.”

“i just met you.”

“your couch looks stiff as fuck and i’m not sleeping on the floor.”

right. you had a couch.. maybe med school is taking a toll on your memory. you feel like your frontal lobe is deteriorating.

ricky watched as you reached for a book, before he quickly grabbed your hand and set it back down on the shelf above the bed.

“no. sleep. you have school then the night shift at the cafe.”

“how did you-” “you leave your schedule framed on your fridge.” “right..”

“goodnight y/n.”

“okay. goodnight ricky.”

[herlondonboy]

Beauty And The Beast

Pairings: Tyler Galpin x gn!reader / Wednesday Addams x twin!reader

Summary: Tyler helps you realise that you really don’t deserve to love.

Warnings: angst kind, manipulation. I write this whilst I was supposed to be tidying my room.

Word Count: 1.0k

You never believed that you deserved the love your parents got; the love you see in movies or love at all. You weren’t as smart or as cunning as Wednesday and you weren’t as funny or kind as Pugsley. You found yourself wanting to be your siblings. You wanted the the relationship that they had. You wanted Wednesday to protect you from bullies in a bittersweet manner, you wanted Pugsley to talk to you, period.

You didn’t know what happened or what went wrong, but Morticia and Gomez somehow ended up with you as a child. Maybe you were switched with someone else in the hospital because you didn’t feel like an Addams. You felt like an outcast in your own family. You liked colour, you weren’t abnormally pale, your touch was warm. You were you and that was enough for your family, so why wasn’t it enough for you?

When your sister was sent to Nevermore, and your parents decided it was best for you to tag along, you almost began to despise them. It only got worse when you found out you had a single room, closed off from the rest of the school. It was like you were being punished for no reason.

You were exiled by the world’s outlaws.

It didn’t take long for you to realise that you weren’t welcome there. You started taking long walks down to Jericho after your last period just to sit in the back booth of the Weathervane and write down all of the reasons you didn’t deserve to be an Addams. The book was nearly halfway full.

But one uneventful Thursday, a barista, the youngest one that you had seen working in here, walked over to you. “May I sit?” He asked, a kind smile on his face. You nodded hesitantly as he sat. God, how you wished you could turn back time and tell him no. “My name’s Tyler.”

“Hello, Tyler.” You smiled at him, looking down. You felt like if you looked any longer you’d drown in his eyes. “Uhm, y/n.” You held out your hand.

“Oh, I know.” Tyler said, shaking it. “I’m not stalking you, I just… we have to put names on the cups, remember?” He said at your raised eyebrow. You chuckled slightly and he cleared his throat. “I know that we don’t know each other, but i was hoping that we could get to know each other.”

“I didn’t think it was so easy to make me cringe.” You joked, smiling at his blush. “I’d love to get to know you, Tyler.”

“Oh! Great, uh, great, yeah.” He stammered. It was as if he was expecting a swift ‘no.’ “Uhm, here. My number.” He handed you a piece of paper. “Call me. O-or text me, whatever you prefer. Uh, bye.”

From then on, your alone time at the Weathervane became your Tyler Time. Your notebook hadn’t been touched in weeks and there was a predominant smile etched onto your face. For the first time, you actually felt like you deserved to be loved. Tyler saw what no one else did. Tyler saw you. Not y/n Addams - not Wednesday Addams’ abnormal twin. You.

Tyler had asked you to be his date for the Rave’N and you said yes. It was a great nice. Excluding how the normies put red paint in the sprinklers and drenched everyone in a blood-like substance; how Tyler ran away towards the end; and how Wednesday’s friend was attacked by the monster she was hunting.

The first, and last, time you kissed Tyler, something happened. You blacked out and then suddenly you were watching Tyler turn into a beast and murder Kinbott, your therapist. And then you watched him attack Eugene Otinger. And then you watched him talking to someone about how you would help him get insider information on Wednesday. It was awful, like everything you had gone through to allow yourself to love was wasted. You gasped awake in Tyler’s arms as he looked into your eyes, concern written all over his face and you wondered. Was any of it ever real?

“I’m okay.” You mumbled. “I just- I need to go.” You rushed out of the Weathervane. Tyler watched until you were out of his view. You sobbed all the way to Nevermore, hugging yourself as you made your way to your sister’s room.

Wednesday looked almost alarmed when she saw the state you were in. “y/n?” She asked and her voice made you break down.

“It’s Tyler.” You said, standing awkwardly in front of her. You’d kill for a hug right now, but this is Wednesday that you’re talking about. “I kissed him and had this vision thing and saw him attacking Eugene Otinger and I-“ You choked on your words, finding it so hard to breathe. “I thought he really liked me too. I thought… I thought that I deserved love, but it’s all my fault.”

“y/n, nothing is your fault.” Wednesday said softly.

You shook your head. “It is. I told him things about you, us, the school, because I thought I could trust him.” You clenched your eyes shut, sadness dissipating into anger. “I’m so stupid. Of course he didn’t love me. Stupid, stupid.” You began hitting your head in frustration.

“y/n, stop.” Wednesday said, but you didn’t. She grabbed your hands and pulled you into a hug.

You cried into her shoulder. “I want to go home, Wednesday. Home was bad, but it was so much better than this.” You told her. “I loved him and he-"

“y/n, Tyler manipulated you and conditioned you into thinking about him like that. He used you to get to me. You are not at fault here. You let yourself believe that you can be loved, y/n. That’s good. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here for you.”

It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault. You could love again if you let yourself, but would you?

[dearcarmine]

is it casual now?

: ̗̀➛ pairing; jake “hangman” seresin + afab!reader

: ̗̀➛ tags; smut { afab receiving oral and implied vaginal sex } making out, angst { unfortunate situationship and fast paced imo }

: ̗̀➛ summary; you and jake have been together physically for a while, but never made it official. you get sick of it and address it, which results in a casual interaction.

: ̗̀➛ a/n; 1k based on casual by chappell roan and requested by @earth2lua <3 tysm for the idea i love it so so so much. don’t care if it’s a messy plot and not organized, i was feeling this all too well. # situationshipsurvivor

your eyes fixed on jake’s as he kissed on your thighs. you laid back in the passenger seat, the man’s head between your thighs and his hair messy from your grip. your hands had tugged on it multiple times before and his tongue forced itself into you like it was routine.

“fuck..don’t stop—” you pleaded loudly; your body shook in pleasure as he pushed his tongue in and out of your pussy, desperate for the taste he took in every thursday. it was a bit stupid in your eyes, to have certain days where you���d meet with him and do things you told yourself you’d never do or even think of.

something about him, his touch, and the way he talked..like he could pinpoint all different aspects of what you liked, loved, disliked, hated, and yearned. he’d talk you through anything, but you didn’t touch what could become more.

he moved his head up your waist and kissed along your stomach, “so fucking good,” he looked up, pussy drunk and desperate for more. jake kissed along your waist and shifted past your pulled down panties to get to your thighs; he worshipped every part he could. why wouldn’t he want more than this?

his tongue parted ways with your skin and started back, kissing gently on your clit before eating you out like it was his first time. your orgasm built inside you as you bucked your hips forward, needing his tongue deeper. his light eyes glanced up and a apparent smirk spread on his lips as he dug his face deeper.

“god— right there..jake,” you huffed and whispered his name like a chant until you came, coating his lips in your cum. he didn’t stop, he never was the type. his tongue kept going until you were clean from his effect and he’d look up at you with the impression that next week works.

he stood and leaned down between your legs at your level and kissed your lips, one hand in your hair and the other on your side. “taste that?” he moaned into the kiss and stopped briefly to tell you he needed you badly.

you moved your legs up and let him open the door to leave the passenger seat. his feet hit the pavement harshly and he walked around the hood to get to his place beside you.

it was a little difficult to get your jeans up and it didn’t feel like help when jake leaned over and helped button them. he touched on your thigh and smiled, kissing your cheek and reaching back behind his seat for a water. his truck was bigger on the outside; a smooth of shady grey with small, but prided, marks and scratches. it’s what he picked you up in; it’s what he dropped you off in.

jake handed you the fresh water bottle and changed the gear, “you can take the radio if you want.” you nodded and put a calm tune, something to ease the ride.

he drove across the empty road to make it to your house, turning slowly with the sound of the signal into your driveway. he shifted the gear and parked, looking over at you, “do you want me to walk you in? stay for a bit or?—”

“no, it’s fine.”

jake wasn’t taken aback by your dry statement, but he noticed something off. you didn’t exit, but instead stared down your front door as the headlights shined at the paint. “i’ll text you, okay?”

he leaned over to kiss your lips, but you moved your head and allowed his lips over your cheek. he pulled away with a confused look; you hated this. baby, no attachment, he said. his excuse to drag this on as long as you both needed. you blatantly shut the radio off.

“is this all we do, jake?” you asked him, refusing to make eye contact. your friends had told you what he told his friends; it’s a casual thing, there’s no attachment or strings. yet, there are feelings. the feeling of his tongue inside you and his lips on your tits like you’re the first he’s had. your hand reached for your house keys in the bottom of the cup holder, “nevermind.”

he took your arm, “what? what are you talking about?” your fingers left the car door handle. you tossed the keys back into the holder and shook your head, “it’s like— you’re telling the guys about us and i never hear anything official. you swear yourself i’m the only one, but you won’t even go as far as eating me out.”

and you didn’t lie. he never took off his pants unless it was you on your knees as he sat on his couch or leaning down in his truck.

with his hand on your thigh, jake moved over and kissed your cheek, lowering to your neck. it was embarrassing how easily you let him before shrugging away. “don’t do that shit, hangman. isn’t that you? leaving everyone to hang out and dry? the top notch naval avi—”

he shut you up with his lips pressed against yours, briefly pulling away to speak, “i don’t want to go any further when it’s like this..until i’m sure.”

your chest rose with shock from his bold movements. you looked away and your brows furrowed. “you’re not sure about me?”

he shook his head, “no, that’s not..”

jake didn’t want attachment because that meant commitment, you thought.

the headlights turned off. he trailed off his explanation and removed his hands from you. “what do you want it to be like then?”

he looked at you like it hurt his eyes if he didn’t, “i don’t know.”

he answered like you thought he would and that was worse than what you wanted. he wasn’t trying to, but made you leave the truck later than you wanted. he got out the truck and followed you and before you could close the front door, he held it and walked inside. you turned and waved your hand up in annoyance, “you’re wasting gas if you even come back, jake, i’m serious.”

he set his keys away and scoffed, “we both said we weren’t gonna get attached, you can’t get mad at that.”

“you’re acting like it’s the most casual thing in the world, jake! like fucking your close friend is a conversation starter with someone like coyote or—”

“it’s not!” he spoke loudly, almost with anger.

your eyes shot a deep look into his. he corrected himself quickly with a calm tone, “it’s not.”

jake neared you as you stood still, reaching his hand for your face and his other on your waist. it could be more than just casual, it can actually be something meaningful when he’s fucking you like you’re the only one he thinks about.

no attachment.

you looked up at his hooded eyes as they stared down at you with a sorry face. that wasn’t why you wanted to.

his lips leaned down to yours and he shut the door with a soft and quick kick back. the two of you backed into the living room and bumped the coffee table before making it to the couch.

“it’s not just a thing for me.” you took his words with more than a grain of salt for the first time.

jake’s mouth trailed down to your neck and you took off your shirt with his encouragement. he laid you on the couch and put himself over you. his hands roamed your body until they reached the waistband of your pants. he took them off and discarded his shirt, “you’re beautiful, baby,” he said as he kissed along your waist. his better judgement was clouded by the moment as was yours

if you had second thoughts, they were for a reason.

he shook off his pants as quickly as he could and leaned down to kiss you again. the two of you took in the rush of it all. “is this okay?” he asked you as he slid your panties to the side.

you nodded.

: ̗̀➛ a/n; it’s pretty late and i really wanted to see where this goes, but i was debating so much in this. it’s kinda my first angsty writing, but yeah. hoping to write something plotless and slutty for him soon, but i wanted to write more than i’ve been writing lately.

[sprout-fics]

In case I miss Thursday Thots that’s okay, but sundress anon here and I wanted to thank you for the very sweet fic you wrote with Gaz (it made me warm and happy and now I’m planning a shopping trip with girlfriends) so now I bring you Gaz making good on his promise and railing you against the wall in your apartment in your new dress, the man feral and weak at how you look, the feel of your thighs under your dress, and really he’s going to make it so he buys you a couple more….for selfish reasons too

SUNDRESS ANON LETS FUCKING GOOO!!!

God this made me so fucking happy honestly. Gaz absolutely would buy you sundresses just so he can ruck them up your thighs and see them crumpled on his bedroom floor. He's so sweet and attentive but also still a man who really does want to rail his partner and remind them of how beautiful they are, take them to meet the team and show them off and go 'This my girlfriend/boyfriend! :D' because he's literally so boyfriend

God I just- I love him so much. He deserves the world. Have some passionate but tender pressed against the wall sex after Gaz's mind starts vibrating from seeing you in a sundress.

“Can we go home now?” He had asked into your shoulder, head bent into you from behind, arms wrapped around your middle, fingers teasing the adorable tie of your sundress. With the music of the bar wafting over you both, he’d rocked you gently on your feet from side to side, cradling you in his arms and placing soft, chaste kisses along your bare shoulder. 

“We just got here.” You told him, raising a hand to pat his face, listening to Johnny’s raucous laughter from the other side of the pub. Kyle had only grumbled into your shoulder once more, had given you a teasing nip with his teeth that had you choke a stifled ‘K-Kyle-’

In the two or so hours the had followed Gaz barely took his eyes off you, finding himself wrapping an arm over your shoulders, fitting his chin over your shoulder from behind, touching you in every way he can- to the point where even Ghost had remarked upon it with a low, snide remark that you knew to be mere teasing. Gaz had only laughed, made a point of pressing a kiss to your cheek in front of the boys like he wanted to show you off. You ignored Soap’s feigned gagging in favor of his goofy smile that followed. 

As the night dragged on, Gaz had asked again, then again if you could both leave, and each time you gently encouraged him to stay just a little longer. Yet at the fifth time you had spun in his arms, your back pressed against the counter of the bar and asked “Why do you want to go home so bad?”

Gaz had grinned down at you- and you knew then from the mischief in his eyes exactly what he wanted. 

“Don’t want to strip this dress off you where everyone can see, doll.”

You’d make it exactly five steps in the door back at your flat before he has you pressed against his lips. 

“F-fuck, Kyle-” You gasp between warm, wet kisses, excitement, anticipation trilling through you with every press of his mouth against yours. “What’s gotten into you?”

He huffs a laugh, breath hot across the planes of your face, and you can taste the rum on his words as he murmurs: “It’s the bloody dress, doll.”

“The dress?” You gasp as his hands smooth down your sides, come to cup the swell of your ass and you gasp, thighs closing and hands fisting into his jacket. 

Kyle’s eyes are bright in the dimness of the foyer, his smile tugging up towards his ears, undeniably pleased at your reaction. You have to teeter on your toes for a moment as he draws you up, fingers kneading your ass through the soft fabric of the sundress- the one he picked out. 

“What is it with men and sundresses?” You breathe as he places a kiss on your forehead with a little laugh. 

“Can’t resist it.” He offers simply, and you get little warning before Kyle hikes up the skirt and teases at the fabric of your panties, cheekily snapping the elastic against your flesh. You jump a little in his arms, a startled little moan bubbling up your throat before you can stop it, and when Kyle laughs, it warms you through. “Can’t resist you.”

When he kisses you again you can feel your own smile pressed into the corner of his mouth. Gaz, for all he’s worth, for all the things he’s done and lives he’s taken, is always so good to you. Gentle, sweet, fun, patient and kind and sometimes silly with just how in love he is with you. His laughter is infectious, his smile bleeding into your own, warm and feeling like home. 

It doesn’t take long for his hand to cup you through your panties, and your arms go up to loops around his neck as he presses you further into the wall. There’s little curses and gasps as he gently grinds the heel of his palm against you, feeling wetness begin to spread across his palm. It’s almost embarrassing how tightly he’s got you wound, had whispered filthy things in your ear the entire ride home, had left his hands wandering across your body when you were both at the bar when his teammates weren’t watching. Kyle is always so sweet and gentle you sometimes forget just how insatiable he can be sometimes. 

“We- hah… we can move to the bedroom-” You try, grinding yourself down eagerly onto his hand, only for his fingers to dip past the waistband of your panties and circle the calloused pads of them across your clit. You whine, hand fisting at the back of his collar and hips jerking into his touch. 

“No, no.” He breathes back, air stolen from his chest. “Right here. Right here sweet girl.”

That makes a noise strangle you for a moment, realizing just how much you’ve worn on his patience with a single piece of clothing. 

He pauses then, pulls back from his kiss, his hand still in your panties. There’s a momentary concern across his eyes, lidded with lust, and he asks you in a panting breath: “Yeah? Can I? Please, doll?”

Oh fuck.

How can you possibly deny him when he asks you like that? Puppy-eyed and sweet and tender despite the violence of him- the brutality and resolve that contrasts with the softness of loving you. 

“Yes.” You tell him. “Yes, Kyle, please yes-”

You catch only a glimpse of his grin before he spins you around with surprising strength and speed, presses you up against the wall and once more dips his hands into your slick folds. He groans at the wetness he finds there, spreads it over your entrance and briefly pushes a finger into you, cursing under his breath at the lewd whimpers and moans he receives in turn. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He swears against your skin. “Got you worked up, didn’t I love?”

You groan at that, sink down further onto his hand and feel for a moment like your legs might be unable to hold you up, weakness trembling through your thighs. There’s a warm, liquid desire that pulses through you, rises up into your chest and coils below your belly in taut anticipation. You can feel your walls flutter over Kyle’s fingers as he idly thrusts and spreads them inside you. Your hands, placed on the wall to brace you, curl into fists and you beg him, voice equal parts irritated and imploring. 

“Bloody f-fucking hell, get on with it sergeant.” You demand, but your voice is a mere waver that sounds so much more desperate than you hoped. 

“With pleasure, love.” He breathes to you, once more nipping across the bare rise of your shoulder before you can hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, feel a blunt pressure at the core of you. He pauses, and you almost want to snap at him to quit teasing before he’s pushing forward, slowly sheathing himself in you and listening to the long, drawn out moan that falls from the bottom of your chest. 

It’s only once he’s fully inside you that you feel him release a hot breath across your nape, feel the twitch of his girth inside you with his hand wrapped around your hip to steady himself. You expect him to roll his hips forward with little fanfare, finally draw his patience to snap and have you the way he’s wanted to since this whole night began. Yet Kyle instead huffs a chuckle into your shoulder, as if he’s somehow caught the scent of your own inner thoughts and turned them into his own.

“It’s not the dress, doll.” He tells you then, head bent into the junction between your neck and shoulder. His other hand raises, and he places it over yours, braced on the wall, interlocking your fingers in a tender reminder of his affection. 

“It’s because the person wearing it is you.”

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

On thin ice (Hockey player! Miguel O’Hara x Ice skater! Fem! Reader

A/N: Hehe new chapter bitches come feast 🤭. The usu, so excuse grammatical errors and typos, Miguel being ooc most likely. Also if anyone knows that “get your hands off my stunt” tiktok I wanted to make a reference to it in here hehe.

(Y/N)- Your name.

Cursing, Miguel not knowing how to communicate his feelings, Peter trying to get Miguel to communicate said feelings. Logan being a king lol.

Word count: 1.4k

Series Masterlist

Chapter 12: Baby we both know,that the nights are mainly made for saying thing’ that we can’t say tomorrow day.

—

“Alright, let’s practice the lift.” Logan said, as he motioned for you to step closer to him, which you quickly obliged, standing next to him as you both postion yourselves for the crucifix lift. You took a deep breath as you grip onto Logan’s tone shoulders, trying to focus on you and your partner rather than the shouts and the sound of composite hockey sticks hitting the puck that was coming from the inside of the rink that was happening 20 feet away from you. Usually on Thursdays you both wouldn't go over your lifts off the ice while the spiders practice, but with a week and a day till regionals, anxiety has gotten the best of you, and the inability to get one of the empty dance rooms to practice only helped turn that anxiety into annoyance.

As Logan goes down to position his hands on you, and began to lift you, one the hockey players thought it would be oh so funny to shoot the puck in your direction, causing it to hit the plastic barrier with a loud bang, startling you a bit as you let go of Logan’s shoulders, letting out a small screech, and a few chuckles from the players on the ice. Thank god for Logan, the heavenly partner he was, was still able to go through with the move, although his movements were slightly shaky due to the scare. It seems you both weren’t the only ones to notice the shakiness, because one of the players that wasn’t on the ice was walking by and noticed too.

“I got her, I got her.” He mumbled as he stopped behind you and placed his hands on your waist, you didn’t move from the touch since if you tried to squirm away, your hip would hit Logan’s head.

Logan in response let out a dry chuckle as he looked over at the guy holding onto your waist, giving him a once over before saying, “get your hands off my partner.” To which the other guy quickly let go, putting both hands up in a defensive manner.

“Sorry man, just trying to help.” The guy said as Logan flipped you to put you back on the floor.

“Yeah, well, I didn't ask.” Logan replied as he whipped his hands on his practice tights. You couldn’t help but let out a little snort at Logan’s sassiness.

“Reilly! Stop talking to those two and get your ass in here! We still have 20 minutes!” You turned your head once you heard Miguel’s orders to his teammate, as he skated past you three, his eyes lingering a bit longer on you then it did on Logan or on his teammate, both your eyes locking for a split second, and in that second, time slowed for a bit.

“You heard him Ben, get your ass in here!” Peter shouts next, your eyes ripped from Miguel’s to look over at him. Honestly, the only one you could really recognize in red and blue sports gear was Mig, you only knew it was Peter who just spoke from the sound of his voice, even with the numbers and the names on the back, although you didn’t really know any but Peter and Miguel. With Miguel it was easier to tell him apart from the rest since his physique was so much different from the others. Sure they were all tall and muscular, but compared to Miguel…

“Oh my god stop being a horny bitch…” you scolded yourself internally, shaking your head as you watched the guy whose name was Ben Reilly (you were guessing at least, it made more sense to you then Reilly Ben.) made his way back on the ice.

“Fucking god… he thinks I don’t know what I’m doing…” Logan scoffed under his breath as he whispered to you, his eyes narrowed as he looked over at the rink before his gaze met yours, his shifting to one of a more playfulness once he saw the look of amusement in your eyes. “What?” He asked with a slight chuckle as he moved his hands to rest inside of his jacket pockets.

“Nothing, it’s just funny. When you said it like that, you sounded so possessive.” You grinned, lightly pointing him in his ribs, your grin widened when he scowled and squirmed away from your touch in retaliation.

“Well, excuse me, for not wanting someone else who I don’t know to be touching my ice dancing partner while we practice the moves.” Logan retorted with an eye roll, taking his hands out of his pocket to instead cross his arms in front of his chest. “Besides, I know you didn’t want him to touch you as much as I didn’t.” He added with a slight head tilt and a small smirk.

“Yeah, yeah...” you scoffed with a smile.

—

“Miguel…”

“Miguel..”

“Miguel.”

“Mig-“

“Shut the fuck up Peter, I’m trying to focus.”

“I know you don’t like ‘talking about your feelings’ or whatever but you can’t just ignore her-“

“Watch me.”

Peter let out an exasperated sigh, running his hands through his light brown hair, before putting both hands onto the small dining room table that was in their tiny kitchen area, leaning his weight against it as he watched Miguel, who’s eyes never lifted from We’re he sat at the table, shifting from the notebook, to his laptop then to his textbook and back again, but never actually letting his eyes wander up to meet his friend’s.

“I can ignore her till I die.” Now that was a lie. Miguel knew it the second he uttered the words, although not a complete lie, it was still a lie. Sure, he could tease you, call you names, send you those classic smirks of his, and kiss you with more hunger than a starving man could devour food with when no one was around to look, all he wanted. But having to look you in the eyes, talking about how you made his heart race far more faster than any sort of championship game did,having to keep his jealousy at bay when he saw the was Ben put his hand on your waist in an attempt to help support you, when you and Logan were practicing outside of the rink today, knowing if he didn’t you’d be a witness to the sight of Ben Reilly getting decked in the face. The thought of having to him allowing himself to lay bare to you, he couldn’t even imagine it, he was never was one to talk to others in a way to allow himself to be seen as vulnerable, as a human with complex thoughts and emotions, so the prospect of you the only woman to make his heart stir with such emotion that it felt like he was suffering a heart attack, knowing what he hiding in the depths of his mind was utterly terrifying to him.

“Besides-“ Miguel continued, finally looking up at Peter, “I'm more focused on my next midterm to be worrying about some silly, little crush. I'm not a schoolgirl.” He finished before looking back down at his laptop, his full dark brows scrunched together as he attempted to concentrate on the more important task at hand. If he was still looking up, he’d see how Peter’s eyes widened once he had finished speaking.

“Wait… say that again.” Peter muttered quietly, Miguel looked up at his dorm mate again with a raised brow, before letting out a huff of air as he closed his laptop, knowing he isn’t going to get any work done with Peter continuing to push the conversation.

“ I said I’m too busy trying to get ready for-“

“No,” Peter almost hissed with how quickly he interrupted Miguel, “not that. You said crush, you, Miguel O’Hara just said you have a crush.” Once the words left Peter’s mouth, both males covered their mouths with their hands as their eyes widened, one in horror, the other in excitement.

“No I didn’t-“

“Oh yeah, you did!” Peter’s hands slips from his mouth, revealing that childlike grin he always seems to wear, but it was 10 times more annoying than it usually was, Miguel in response just dug his face further into his hand, muttering a curse in Spanish that his friend couldn’t quite understand.

“You’re gonna be the death of me Peter…” he mumbled into his palm, but his thoughts continued the sentence, “If (Y/N) doesn’t kill you first.”

—

Taglist: @tayleighuh @cowboylikeevie @coralineyouareinterribledanger @jukioku @loser-alert @miguel-ohara-eater @serpentstarr @littlexscarletxwitch @darksidescorner @sukioyakio @minimari415

[simplymarr]

Chapter five.

warnings: +18 smut; fingering, penetration, kinda praise kink?

notes: FINALLY i was so nervous but excited to write this. i know some of you were waiting for this so this chapter is long af. enjoy.

Head buzzing. Cheeks still warm. Heart racing.

As i went to bed that night i couldn't stop thinking about it. That kiss. My skin still shivered just thinking about his touch. His hands cupping my cheeks, his warm lips against mine.

He'd be the death of me.

One side of me was completely mad about him, and the other side was just as concerned.

What would we do now? What if someone found out? My heart almost hammering in my chest as i thought of my classmates' faces if they found out. I didn't want them to think i was trying to seduce him to get my thesis done, i didn't need to do that. I wasn't that kind of person, and he knew it. Or i least that was what i expected.

Thursday morning was already slamming at my door. All my thoughts still rambling through my head as i entered the classroom, and then there he was.

Formal but simple clothes as always, his hair always in-between of being put together and decontracted, his characteristic front strands fell on his forehead.

He looked at me stealthily among all the people during all class, and i could sense that he was thinking about it too.

As the bell rang, always at 10 am, i hessitated. Should i go and talk to him? should i go? All my doubts vanished as i saw him slowly walking towards me, as he was doing time while all those people left the place. Hands in his pants pockets and a side smile. Oh my fucking god.

"Hey".

"Hey".

Silence; the tension almost intoxicating the two of us. He broke it first:

"Listen, i was thinking about last tuesday and-"

"You don't have to worry about it, you know?" I said, stopping him mid-sentence. "You're my professor, i'm your student, it's all clear". My tone trying to sound convincing as if we didn't just made out in his car two days ago. Obviously, it wasn't that clear.

He smirked confidently, looking at me. "I know that".

I looked at him quite confused; Was he the same man that acted all nervous an hessitant last week? Didn't he care at all?

"Well, okay then".

"I've read your progress on the thesis, it's going very well" he continued like nothing happened, though i sensed some tension in his tone. "Though I have made some corrections starting from page fifteen that i would like you to look at".

"Oh, okay." I didn't even know what to say. "I will look at it when i get home then".

I looked at him, batting my eyelashes nervously as he kept watching me stoic, almost analyzing my movements.

Then, all of the suden, he grabbed me from behind my neck with both hands and pushed me against a near wall where nobody that would enter the room could see us. He kissed me hungrily, breathing heavily due to the fast movement that he had recently made. I responded quickly, closing my eyes and grabbing him from behind his neck as his hands traveled from my own neck to my waist, bringing me closer to him. Our mouths devoured each other, this kiss was not like the previous one. This was a hungry, sinful one, as if neither him or i could wait any longer. As if we both knew that all this could only bring trouble.

Heat starting to fill my body and his when suddenly a loud noise echoed the space, like a door slamming in the distance, not the one in this room but it felt like it.

We both broke the kiss in a heartbeat as a instinct reaction. Chests coming up and down quickly, eyes filled with unsatisfied hunger.

"I want to see you again". I whispered to him. If it was still a bit of shame left in me, it was already gone.

"Would you like to come home? you could bring all your drafts"

I laughed at his innocent proposition, given to what just had happened.

"I would love to" I said, smiling at him.

"8 pm is alright? I could pick you up if you want"

I looked at him, smiling nervously.

"What? it's not like you haven't been in my car before" He said, with a smirk.

I laughed and gave him a playful hit on his arm. "8 pm is just fine".

He smiled, quite hessitant. I could sense that he was just as nervous as me.

I mean, the damage was already done, right?

-------------------

Nighttime had already come beneath us as he parked outside his house. A big, but modest one. Light grey walls and big windows, now covered by dark blue curtains.

The inside felt very cozy; warm lights, a round, wooden table at one side with a brownish sofa and big book shelfs.

A few wall paintings and a wine cellar from where he picked a bottle and two wine glasses. I looked at him almost blushing at the whole situation.

He was wearing a grey sweater and dark jeans, a bit more casual than what he'd wear at class. Silver hair perfect as always, the lines forming in his mouth as he smiled and handed me the filled glass.

"Thank you". Our fingers touching so slightly as i took the glass. He sat besides me at the sofa.

"Well, how did you do?. He said as he pointed at the drafts and papers on my hands.

"Pretty well, i would say. What do you think?" I handed him the papers as he put his glasses on.

He observed them in silence with a hand in his chin as i looked him with doubt. He chuckled to himself as he read them.

"What?" I said, opening my eyes to him.

"You are very incisive" He said in a playful tone, french accent dripping deliciously onto each word.

"I thought you already knew that".

He smirked as i continued: "Takes one to know one, right?"

The warm, subtle lights carressing his features as he drank the red wine.

"What makes you think that?"

"It just seems that you always know what you want".

He stayed in silence and sat closer to me. One hand on the sofa backreast, behind me. I continued:

"Do you?". Maybe it was the wine, already starting to hit on my words, or the way his eyes looked darker in the night. He smiled softly at me.

"I don't always know, no" I looked at him over my eyelashes, silence echoed the room as he continued. "But i think i know what i want just now".

He carressed my cheek with his fingers, the touch so tender but intoxicating. I needed his touch, his mouth on me again. I couldn't wait any longer.

"Vincent" His name coming out of my mouth as a pathetic moan as i begged to him. "Please, kiss me"

"How could i ever refuse?"

He then broke any remaining tension grabbing gently my cheeks and kissing me deeply. Slowly this time, as we had the night to ourselfs. He tasted like the sweet red wine we just drank and so was i. His perfume smelled, in fact, like a classic one. Wooden but not too harsh, just perfect on his skin My fingers ran into his silver hair as we kept deepening the kiss, both now lying down the sofa.His warm tongue intertwined with mine as his hands ran through my waist and i could feel the heat coming down my body.

He broke the kiss, heavy breathing as he whispered near my mouth.

"Are you okay with this?"

I nodded at him and attempted to kiss him again but he insisted:

"I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with, baby"

My entire body shivered just hearing the petname coming out of his mouth and his tenderness at each moment made me feel secure.

"I need you, Vincent. Please" My words coming out as weak whispers as my head buzzed, i needed his touch more than anything in that moment. His eyes getting darker as he was hearing me beg. He lifted me up softly in his arms and carried me into his bedroom.

The room was dark as only the weak, pale moonlight entered through a window besides de big kingsize bed. We were standing at the edge of the bed as i could feel my cheeks getting warmer and warmer under his touch. His hands slowly taking up my shirt as he stared with devotion at my body. His eyes wandered at each mole and each mark. Then he slowly kneeled in front of me, leaving a trail of gentle kisses down my stomach. He looked at me from below with greedy eyes.

"Can i?" He whispered to me, touching the button of my jeans. I nodded slowly as he began undoing them. My body now covered only by black lace underwear and bra.

"Mon Dieu" He whispered, still on his knees. "You're beautiful".

I carresed his chin with my hand as he stoop up slowly, without breaking eye contact.

"Now it's my turn" I said, as i took his sweater and the rest of his clothes off.

His skin soft and warm as we kept kissing deeply on his bed, the air so intoxicating as his touch. Wet kisses on my neck and collarbones. His hand slowly playing with the hem of my panties as i cursed under my breath.

"What's the problem, dear?" He whispered in my ear with a cheeky tone.

"Vincent, please"

"Give me words and i'll give you what you want" His fingers almost touching my aching flesh.

"Touch me, please" My words almost tripping.

He smiled and ran his fingers into me, playing with my clit as i left out a pathetic whimper.

"Merde, you're so fucking wet" He whispered to my ear as he kept touching every fold. He then slid two fingers into me, almost making me lose all reason.

"Oh, Vincent" I kept moaning his name, my core aching under his touch as i could feel his bulge growing against my leg.

"Yes, chérie?

"Please, fuck me." I begged to him, leaving all sense of shame behind. I needed him so badly, like i never needed anybody.

"I love it when you say my name like that" He said as he slid my panties down my legs and freed himself from his own underwear, his big length against my stomach as he pumped himself a few times.

He then stretched out an arm to reach the drawer of the nightstand from where he picked a condom. His firm body glistening as he put it on and then positioned himself between my legs, grabbing them firmly.

He sank into me slowly and i could feel every inch inside me, his head resting on the crook of my neck. He stayed still for a moment, feeling me warm against him.

" Putain. You feel so fucking good" He said as he began thrusting me, slowly picking up a pace.

My nails against his back as i could feel him so big inside me, my head buzzing as i heard the sinful sounds of his thrusts getting more wet and more sloppy.

"Fuck, Vincent" my moans getting more and more out of control. "Keep going, please".

He smiled and then bit my lower lip. "You're taking me so fucking well, baby"

Then he rolled me over the bed. My face now against the pillow as he began thrusting me from behind, hands grabbing my waist as he fucked me deeper and faster.

"You're being such a good girl. Just look at you"

I turned my face so i could see him while he kept fucking me, his silver strands of hair falling into his glistening forehead and his eyes dark and seductive. I started feeling pleasure waves getting bigger and bigger, my core aching for a release.

"Fuck, i really want to ride you" I whispered to him as i could, with half my face still resting on the pillow.

He smiled at me and slid himself out. I whimpered instinctively at sudden lack of contact.

"Go on, then. Show me how good you can fuck me" He said as he lied on the bed.

I climbed on top and sank into his length slowly, almost painfully slowly. My eyes pierced at his as i did it.

"Putain, tu vas me faire jouir" He moaned, almost cursing, under his breath.

My movements took a faster and faster pace as i felt closer to my orgasm. He grabbed firmly my breasts as i went up and down, playing with my sensitive nipples.

"Oh, God. Vincent, i'm gonna cum"

"Go on, chérie. Go on and cum all over me".

My body trembled as i felt closer and closer, i tried to close my eyes but he stopped me.

"No, no. Don't do that. Look at me, i want to see your pretty eyes"

Those words sending me even closer as i felt my orgasm reaching every part of my body, trying to keep my eyes opened. His eyes filled with magnetic lust.

"Fuck, Vincent" I moaned with the little energy i had left as he pushed himself one last time, cumming inside me.

"C'était tellement bon, chérie" He whispered into my ear as i lied on the bed besides him, totally surrendered by his words. I loved it when he'd speak to me in french.

He gently kissed me on the forehead as he put his arms around me. My head resting on his chest as we instantly fell asleep in the still warm bed.

next chapter soon