#and let's have fun and be friends forever. ok?

[cookieshipshowdown]

my good pal manyminded sent this blog to me so i must submit my favourite polyship for review: Whatever this is (mysticsugar is there too i just made this before the es update) (cacao is sitting to the side, romance repulsed style)

i can define the colors of the lines but honestly its more fun without context

OMORI PFP !!! Anyways

This is so intriguing to me just on principle of timekeeper being here. I want to say grey is either dislike or intrigue and I'm not sure which is funnier. Red is love/crush probably, black is The Nightmare Polycule, green is friends-

Wait are these just the ovenbreak colors. Hang on.

THIS IS POSSIBLY FUNNIER IF IT'S THE OVENBREAK RELATIONSHIPS COLORS. WE BALL (Yellow is admiration, I don't think purple or black exist on the chart so uhhh. Idk about those)

Oh wait I think the purple are soulmates/soulsharing fuckery. Ok

Also if it IS the ovenbreak colors. The Ancients not trusting each other is possibly the best part about this. They're fucked up <3

Starting top right and moving to bottom left!!

Eternal Sugar and Pitaya bonding over their shared love for Hollyberry. My OT3 forever. Sugarberry other half, no surprise there, happy that Pitaya is included on the chart and everything. Such an interesting guy, my Pitaya <3

Admiration and tension between GC and Sugar is kinda par for the course? Like think about it. Stasis hell for all your subjects. Wings. Desperately holding on to the people you care about and not letting them leave you (dying in GC's case, getting out of the paradise in ES's case). I should do a character analysis of GC sometime. Maybe.

Rivalry between The Girlies. I think it's friendly rivalry, like they looooove competing in things. It's enrichment. Let them blow up a house and then rebuild it. They all take turns making dinner and burn down a kitchen at least thrice a week.

Holly holding admiration for WL guys. Guys. Admiring her for not running away and facing her problems head on. Lily admiring Holly for not giving up and continuing to be loud and laughing despite The Horrors. "I wish I could be like you"-type beat from both of them. They think that the other handle their problems so so well. I'm insane. No one listen to me.

Silent Salt and White Lily. The sheer. AUUUGH I have over them. They aren't even out. This is so far into AU territory but I'm so far gone. The knight and their lady. They need to make charm bracelets for each other this is very important to me

LILY AND VANILLA. GUYS EVERYONE SHUT UP I NEED TO YAP ABOUT PURELILY. No it's not "childhood friends to lovers" no it's not "I'll always come back for you" no it's not "Thank you for being there when no one else was" IT'S NOT !! Pure Vanilla falling in love with the idea of Lily, finding out that she never really was who he thought she was. I think that that's why the fandom mischaracterizes her so often!!!! Because quite a bit of our information about WL up until the silver kingdom update was THROUGH PV. And PV does not understand her to the extent he thinks or says he does!! She shares the dream of peace for Earthbread! Of happiness for all cookies!! Pure Vanilla saw this beautiful, smart, amazing cookie in the library and holds her up in a pedestal in his mind because that is Who Lily Is to him. When Dark Enchantress rises, that pedestal shatters. Because the person in front of him is not his friend, is not the White Lily in his mind -- the Lily in his mind would not stoop so low as to rip Earthbread apart (but he can't understand, doesn't understand, how this has always been a part of her; just one that has never been brought to the surface in such a potent way before) and he CANNOT reconcile the two in his mind. When Lily wakes up in the Silver Kingdom update. Can you IMAGINE how PV feels. Overjoyed. This cookie that he admires, this perfect cookie who he's known all his life, is still alive. Never mind that he doesn't know her favorite color, favorite food. Never mind that Lily seems more withdrawn. You would think that he goes to comfort her, but GINGERBRAVE STEPS IN. It's GingerBrave and co. that invite her to join in the festivities. PV only comes up once GingerBrave has started to make her feel better. Can you IMAGINE how Lily feels, disoriented and seeing her friend after 50-odd years. Conflicted. She knows what Dark Enchantress has been up to, to some extent. She doesn't fully disagree with the reasonings -- just with the methods done to achieve DE's goals. She was always a part of Lily. WHEN SHE SAYS "OUR PATHS DO NOT ALIGN" GUYS. THE VISCERAL REACTION (/pos) THAT WENT THROUGH ME. White Lily sees what PV refuses to; if PV cannot pull himself out of his head and see her, REALLY see her, than their relationship cannot continue. That's all there is to it. She isn't perfect, and he needs to learn that.

ANYWAYS. Yikes I yapped. Silent Salt and PV holding admiration I want to say is Salt having respect for him. This guy has managed the stress on his shoulders so well. Predictions for Salt's arc incoming btw !! I feel like they, as the Virtue of Solidarity, had so much pressure to keep people together, to be there as a rock of support for people to bring their worries to. Always the comforter, never the comforted. That's why I think SilentLily works so well. Mutual agreement of worth. White "Just your presence is enough for me" Lily Cookie and Silent "You are always going to be enough for me" Salt Cookie. They cannot believe that they are worth anything if they aren't helping someone, so they believe it for each other. But THAT'S why I think Salt corrupted -- the stress of all that and never being able to tell anyone was too much for them. (Again with the too much. Bashes fist on the ground.)

Rivalry between Salt and Smilk because they have some sort of something going on. I feel like they're the embodiment of "I suffer so much every day and for what. girlish whimsy" "girl you have something more sinister going on" <- that. that is them in a nutshell. Am i making ANY SENSE or have I lost the plot. The knight and their jester. They keep koi fish in a pond to stare at for hours while talking about everything and nothing. Smilk was the closest Salt got to feeling like someone cared about them before they corrupted but then, well. Smilk stopped coming to their weekly chats. The silence was so, so loud. And then the tree happened, and now they're trying to figure out where they stand with each other now.

Tension between Timekeeper and Salt is the funniest outcome. Timekeeper on this chart in general is HYSTERICAL. She's such a bitch I love her.

OKAY NIGHTMARE POLYCULE (BLACK LINES) TIME.

TIMEMILK. MY GUILTY PLEASURE RAREPAIR. They hate each other sooooooo much guys. The worst fucking dynamic on the planet -- two annoying bitches who never shut up <3 They THRIVE on violence and shenanigans. Anyone within a 5-mile radius WILL feel a deep sense of dread until they've been formally pranked by the two. They both go to the bar and wail about how much they hate GingerBrave and co. because "FUCK THAT STUPID CRUMBLY BALD-LOOKING BLUE EYES WEIRDASS FUCKER". And then they take a shot, grimace, and call for another. The alcohol doesn't taste good, and it takes unholy levels of it for either of them to get drunk, but it's more for the experience of yelling about all the people you can't stand than anything.

SDVN I already yapped about so I'll spare you all. This time.

The DE/WL/PV triangle is such a hot mess. SUUUUUCH a hot mess. The HOTTEST mess.

Pure Vanilla and Dark Enchantress is such an interesting concept based on the above rant about PureLily. Here, there ARE no pretenses. He sees her for what she is; someone who found out a horrible truth, couldn't stand it, and dealt with it in the only way she knew how. She's done awful things, and really, he shouldn't even be trying to forgive or redeem her, and yet. Here he is, doing the same thing he did with smilk. And on DE's side, she sees someone who is only now just starting to understand her, and it frustrates her to no end. Who is he to have the right to get to know her? How dare he try to claim that her vessel is someone so weak? He had his chance, and he fumbled it. But Lily asked her to try, so try she will. LilyEnchant. Do I have the capacity to keep this small, because I fear if I get started, this will just turn into "Loaf yaps about WL and DE and character foils" instead of "polls about cookie ships!!" (like this isn't already happening. denial is wonderful, everyone.) I'll keep it small because this post is already big as-is. They, more than anyone else, more than any Beast or Ancient, understand each other on a fundamental level that is nigh impossible to achieve. This is what Smilk wanted, with PV. With TR. That's why the admiration for DE is there. Lily is so incredibly sorry for all that DE has gone through. DE sees it as pity for the longest time, and Lily always says that it's never been pity, and never will be. She knows herself, and she knows that she could never pity DE. Eventually, DE recognizes the empathy, the compassion, the love and self-loathing in equal measure. They both blame themselves for various things, and they both empathize with the other. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," they whisper to themselves when they think the other doesn't notice. "I'll be better. For you," they promise. They ignore the thoughts of killing the other, of taking back the life they once shared, of becoming just one being; either Lily, or Enchantress. There's room enough for both of them, and that space grows more and more with every day, every improvement. It's self-love on the most literal level, and they are happy to continue along this path.

Anyways. Those are! My thoughts! :3

[oldbutchdanielcraig]

ok guys the rpf server is up and running does anybody want to come in and join little old me to talk about old men kissing and the way celebrities have been getting raw and nasty since the beginning of time

[cathymee]

we're all wasting our time the earth should just explode soon <3

[apathyfairy]

i just finished watching hannah montana forever for the first time and it was so so bad like they were better off just ending it at season 3 no one needed to know what would happen when the world found out she was hannah

[midnite-c6]

thangyu with piercings….

HOOHHHH YEHAHECBTIEOWOSND FKRIORNEBWHRUF Ok yes!!! thanos already has an ear piercing so. that man has IT already pierced I SWEAR. havent posted a thanos namgyu threesome in awhile, here. 💓

|| nam-gyu tongue piercing & thanos dick piercing is real <3 || warnings: 18+, sex, fwb w/ nam-gyu & thanos, threesome

ˆつ⁠｡⁠☆ best friends with nam-gyu and su-bong since forever, you know all about their lil' secrets, debts, hookups, ambitions, favourites and whatnot. but now you know for sure their favourite thing to do is to fuck their lil' bestie dumb!

nsfw below!!-> ⊂⁠(⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠⊂⁠ ⁠)

"fucking hell, man. how long have we planned this?" su-bong sighed as he takes another hit off his vape. the smell of sweet vanila filling the air. you'd let out a soft groan from the warm smoke you felt in-between your thighs, nam-gyu, specially in-between them, blows a smoke cloud right onto your exposed cunt, "been wanting to fuck her since that one party." even if he was still quite far, every chuckle he does makes you shiver, the vibrations affecting you. nam-gyu shrugs, "seein' it now makes me want to do it all the time."

"d-do somethin' i feel so vulnerable in this position!" the two would laugh over you, but you were right. you were stripped naked, laying right infront of them while they smoke and stare right into you. you wouldn't be in this position if they hadn't practiced in conducting a strip poker where you would specifically lose!

su-bong would pat your head. "hmmmm, so eager to get fucked, huh? you want this more than us i bet." he was so annoying, but you were a good sport, always, whenever you lose, you'd do exactly what the punishment says. you could feel nam-gyu's breath hovering right about your cunt, its been a few minutes since they've been staring so yeah. you're eager for any sense of touch. he snickers, "your pussy clenched over nothing." he could see that?? you were more sensitive than you thought..

seems like nam-gyu was an angel, nudging the tip of his nose against your clit as he kisses the lips of your pussy, the sound you were about to make was muffled from su-bong's lips that tasted exactly like vanilla. "dude. c'mon, let me hear her." nam-gyu groans against you. su-bong rolls his eyes, "you get all the fun?" nam-gyu hummed, "finders keepers, plus, i want her to rate the sweet recommendation she gave me." the tip of his tongue taking a swift lick against your clit, the wet and cold metal ball contrasting from his warm tongue. "haah-! fuck!" oh. you forgot about that. why did you give him the approval of getting that piercing? you were even there with him when he got it! saying it'll pleasure the women he'll meet ten times more, he really took the advice, and it seems you've proved yourself right.

the flicks of his tongue gradually move faster, the hard metal piercing felt unfamiliar to your clit, you'd arch your back, not being able to keep still. "shitshitshit- slow, slow down!" boosting nam-gyu's ego to an all time high. though su-bong really seemed like he felt left out, "jeez, he's just lickin' your pussy, nothin' special sweetheart." he leans in to say, clearly nam-gyu heard, bring his two fingers to be shoved right inside your cunt. knuckles deep. why were they so competetive to eachother? you'd always scold su-bong for being such a sore loser to nam-gyu, but this was a different competition than any of the other games the three of you played. plus, you couldn't scold him now, too busy moaning nam-gyu's name out like a mantra.

"ugh, he doesn't deserve all that," su-bong, the man with no attention span, pushes nam-gyu away from your pussy, "you fucking jerk-" to immediately line his dick against your throbbing hole, that was slightly stretched from nam-gyu's fingers, "thanks for the prep, bro." but it still couldn't have prepared you into taking his dick. he was pierced down there?! "su-bong! gentle pleas-" he was and will never be described the word: "gentle". he pushes his dick all in one go, fully inside, his pelvis hitting yours. you'd let out a pained moan, it hurt so bad, and the pierced metal added more length to his already big dick. he didn't need allat. "that's it. daaamn. been dreaming of this pussy since college, shit." he groans out. starting to build a fast pace against your cunt. "mph- thought you were choosing not to talk about your sex life, now i can confirm you're still a virgin." didn't take any effort for him to stretch you out though.. "tight as fuck."

you weren't! your past boyfriends were just small-dicked. not your fault you're still tight! you couldn't say that tho, too busy moaning. :/

nam-gyu was annoyed, obviously, but he was used to su-bong's tactics, "just take it, yea?" he says, pulling out his dick right infront of your face as he jacks himself off, the tip touching your lips, but not pushing past it. to him, rubbing his pre-cum to mess up your pretty face was like art, a pretty painting.

shit, this is so embarassing, "fold your thighs, pleaaaseee.?" su-bong 'begs' like it wasn't an order. he particularly thrusts harder. "c'mon do it, it's not hard, woman." you do as he says, your hands hooking to the back of your knees so you were in a full on mating press. "ah.. good girl, you've always been a good friend." the position only helped him to be deeper and deeper. </3 the spongy spot inside you, getting absolutely fucked dumb, especially because of that stupid piercing on su-bong's dick, it's fucking you mindless. he slaps your thigh, "mmm, you're losin' consciousness, babe, don't want ya' sleeping from this performance."

now you're sure this is gonna replace game night, and maybe every other hangout, maybe every other night, ..no, actually, not other, maybe every night. i mean this new game seems fun, what kind of bestfriend are you if not to join them?

nam-gyu is a smoker, thanos is a vaper. ily guys sm i swear there r still sum good asks in my inbox that i will do, i promise 🙏🏻

[oh-no-its-bird]

Ok so, thinking about this post, specifically the "dumb au where the Uchiha just really like Kakashi for some reason (clan stuff??)" part, and it got me thinking;

AU where the Hatake's have a reputation for being "good luck charm" to the point where some clans view them as genuine symbols of prosperity, and marrying one / getting one to join your family in some way is supposed to bless you, your family, and your fields for as long as they remain yours

Maybe their white chakra specifically is actually some sort of good luck thing? Idk, but like, there's that abstract idea.

"The Hatake, with their steely hair and blessed white chakra said to bless any fortunate enough to see it"

Could totally mash this in with the Sexyman Sakumo agenda and say part of his insane popularity was bc of the rumors about how his bloodline limit is supposed to give fortune to any who might tie him down

Oooo what if after his mission gone wrong, the rumors and reputation twists and suddenly people are saying no, they got it opposite, the Hatake's bring bad luck

Then Sakumo offs himself and Kakashi suddenly has to live with the reputation of being a bad luck charm

Could be fun.

Anyways, rewinding:

Gonna think ab the warring states with this idea first.

So, half Hatake Tobirama, right? Senju Butsama marrying a Hatake woman would be such a power move for him,,,

Oh my god wait ok: Something about the Senju clan and their planty stuff, then marrying a Hatake woman said to bring prosperity to their "clan and crops" is so good.

And then she also goes and proves it right by popping out the first mokuton baby in forever

So fun !!

I like the idea that their luck is said to specifically be in their white chakra, so like. None of the Senju boys being born with white chakra and their dad being upset by it bc that means the luck wasn't passed down. But Tobirama, being an albino, looks pretty Hatake so maybe some of the charm passed onto him...?

(It hadn't, but there's some fun to be had in the belief that it had.)

Tobirama never marries in part because he has no interest in it, and in part because many of those who approached him only wanted him for his supposed 'Hatake Luck'

You could so easily turn this into sort of a parody to a blessed eyes au by rolling with Tobirama having the social flex of being a Hatake, a good luck charm in human form.

Skipping back ahead to Kohona back to Kakashi— umm supposed "bad luck" Hatake Kakashi (to the general population of Kohona) being fuckin pspsps'ed at by the older clans who know Hatake's are good luck and are so trying to get him to join their clan (and bring them luck)

He's an orphan now!!! That means he's free realestate!!! Pspsps cmere little boy come let the nice old clan people adopt you teehee <3

This was meant to be a funny silly lighthearted thing but I can see several ugly paths to take with that actually. Let's stick to lighthearted fun for now tho

Ummm Obito actually survives the rock fall bc of Kakashi's Hatake luck, pass it on. He so should have died but he didn't and it's bc of Kakashi taking him as his "best friend" and suddenly boom, luck.

Ooo maybe when they swap eyes, uh, yk, Kakashi's eye has a bit of white chakra in it and now it's in Obito.

So now Obito suddenly has this double conundrum of "physically has a Hatake's white chakra in him (in his eye, even, which is a culturally and spiritually significant body part to highlight)

And he's considered family by Kakashi, who Kakashi thinks of (and unknowingly sends good luck towards) every day,,,,

Obito's plans keep going so well even when he does a half assed job at them bc of the fucking Hatake blessing Kakashi unknowingly placed on him, pass it on

Alternativley: silly fluffy 'everythings good and nothing hurts' au that's just older Kakashi being aggressively pursued by people both bc hes hot and also the Hatake luck.

Mothers want to adopt him to get him into their clan and fathers want to fuc—

Sorry what was I saying?

Anyways

Good luck charm Kohona sexy man Sakumo and his son Kakashi who grows up into a good luck charm Kohona sexyman himself....

Hatake good luck charm au. Make it happen. I believe in us

[tan1shere]

omg yesss i clicked on the wrong account😭 but i love ur writing and would love to see ur take on smth like that! maybe smth based off of that one lyric from the weeknd “Wanna fuck a skinny model right before her runway show, And we did it on the floor, that's why she walkin' kind of funny” yk ? sorry for the mix up!

Your Secret

Billie Eilish x vs female reader !

A/n: you're completely ok love ! I hope you enjoy <3 - update I went into vs today and ugh I'm thinking of another similar fic 😩

Summary: It wasn't Vitorias secret anymore. It was yours.

Warnings: smut, use of the name daddy, dunno if there's anything else to report yall should know the deal by now !

Tags: @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @chrissv4mp @n0vabug @dollyvuu @dollarbils @sweetcherriexs @bilsdillldough @mystiquemm

Masterlist

Was it wrong? Possibly, but you couldn't care less. Whenever you had a show she was there watching, but you ofcourse had to have your fun before hand. She claimed you looked extra tasty in your outfit and needed to do unspeakable things to you. It was your secret. Nobody even knew you were together, nor suspected anything. They might've known you were friends but that's common in the celeb world. Everyone knew everyone.

You were about to go on in 15, but you feel hands on your waist in your dressing room. You knew it was her hands. "Hi." She spins you to face her. "Hey." - "you smell good." You breathe out, then in. Taking it in. "Yeah?" She says going to kiss your neck. "Bub-" She hums in response. "Not the neck we talked about this." But she wasn't playing. Not today. You'd always say to leave hickey's in spots you two could see, but considering the time she had, she gave 0 fucks today. She needed to ravish you and fast.

"Bills-" Ears were off. Not hearing a single thing coming out of your mouth. "P-please." You then moan as you feel her bite, her grip on your waist tightening. She was feral today. "Babe, I-" she turns you around, backing you up against a wall. Your heart picks up, what if someone came in. "You, we-" She pulls back. "You've never complained before when we do this?" Shes right you don't, but something seems more dangerous today. That and the fact your covered in purple and red splotches. Her body presses against yours more and you feel it. "Billie." She smirks. "What?" She knew what, but time was ticking and she needed to fuck you.

You stay silent. "I know you can feel it hm?" You swallow. Deciding to give in and let her do whatever she needs. When all of a sudden, you're laying on the carpet and her body is hovering above yours. Yet you can still feel it with how close she is. And it's driving you crazy. Your needs growing by the second, but you hear her belt jingle, as she unbuckles it. Everything was speedy, you probably had about 10 minutes left, maybe less. Her fingers move to the lingerie you were wearing, just moving it to the side as she gets the fake dick out.

You were glad there was a time limit, because she'd forever tease you, taking as much time as possible until you were a mess for her. But, she now realizes she could just snap her finger and you'd be on your knees, in a puddle. You feel the tip of it against your folds, her moving it to your entrance soon after. Hastily slipping in, and not surprisingly with ease. Her finger moves down to your pussy. "You're very wet, wonder why." She was too cocky for her own good. Her pace instantly harsh but you sure as hell didn't mind.

"Who got you wet huh?" Her face was so close to yours, moving her lips down to your cheek. Your neck. "Y-." But her hand grips your jaw. "The word I'm after starts with a completely different letter. You know this." You gulp, closing your eyes. "Daddy did.." You silently say, breathing heavily as she picks up speed. "Didn't quite catch that, what?" You open your eyes to look right at her. "Daddy, made me this wet." Her cockiness returns, smirking down at you. "Good girl, much better. And who's going to make this pretty angels legs shake?" You choke on your spit as she snaps her hips, harder.

Your head spins as you try get out the answer. "D-daddy." You stammered, feeling your release approaching. And within seconds you're leaking all over the fake cock. Breathing heavily as you come down from the high. She pulls out, earning a whine from you. She takes it off, going to grab some tissues to clean you up. Adjusting your outfit back the way it was. She gets you to stand, chuckling as you wobble. Giving your lips a sloppy kiss. "3 minutes, angel!" Someone calls, you swallow. Having no time to do all you needed to. Luckily there was only two hickeys.

Unluckily they were both in visible spots. Your heart still beating fast, you put the white wings on and go for the door. "Hey baby." Billie says, sprawled out on a couch in your dressing room. She had been watching you struggle to put the finishing touches on, very amused at her work. "Just remember who got you like that as you're walking out. All those eyes on you for the wrong reasons need to know who you belong to." She winks. You bite your lip. This was not going to be easy to do. Wasn't much of a secret anymore either.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 8

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.  WC: 5.5k TW: I will put them below the cut for those who want to avoid spoilers. This is more of an original character, there have been some descriptions of reader throughout the series. A/N: How can I make a note when I have words?! I'm just so grateful for how many people have fallen in love with this story this year. It's crazy to me that I posted my first fan pic on December 23rd 2023, expecting about 3 people to see it and waking up to 100's of notifications. 2024 has literally been whirlwind, I've made so many wonderful ladies here and have grown more and more confident in my writing abilities. Thank you @lotusbxtch for being my forever beta for this series (probably an unhealthy crutch, but so be it haha). Thank you @for-a-longlongtime for letting me bounce ideas off of you and giving me a new insight to how sweet girl or Joel would think. @mermaidgirl30, @alltheirdamn and @littlevenicebitch69, what would I do if I couldn't scream about this story with you?! Ok eww, I'm done being sappy. Enjoy! Dividers and headers by @saradika-graphics

My Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: use of sex toys (vibrator and butt plug)

You

When you walked into your small apartment on Sunday, Odette was wrapped up in a blanket watching TV. She looked you up and down with a knowing smirk. It was pretty obvious based on the way Joel’s sweats and hoodie hung off your body that you were with a man all weekend. So, after she agreed to keep it between the two of you, you told her absolutely everything. It was freeing to finally be able to discuss Joel with one of your friends. The two of you spent almost six hours going over every detail of the last few weeks, and after ordering pizza and splitting a bottle of rosé, you had all the validation you needed. He loves you. And you love him, too. 

As the weekend rolls into the week, you still have not come down from your happy, little Joel Miller-shaped cloud. There’s not a single doubt in your mind that he is it. You have never let your walls down with someone like you have with him. It was always easier to just do it on your own; you could always count on yourself.  For the first time in your life, you can confidently say that you’re ready to let that go. It’s time for you to let someone take care of you for once. When he texts you on Monday to make plans for the following day, you decide that you’re going to tell him how you feel.

When Tuesday finally comes around, you practically skip up to his house. You have a duffle bag of items in one hand: your outfit for this evening, make up, and a change of clothes in case you spend the night. Wearing his clothing home was fun and all, but you won’t be doing any sort of walks of shame again. Clasped tightly your other hand is your company-provided caddy full of cleaning supplies. Just as you’re about to place the supplies on the front step, the large front door opens.

“Hi, Freckles,” Joel's voice coats every inch of your skin in warm honey. He shines an absolutely knee-weakening smile down at you. As per his usual JMKink attire, he’s in perfectly fitted black dress pants, expensive looking black dress shoes, and a pressed, crisp white dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled to his elbows and your mouth waters at the way his bare forearms look.  

“Hi,” you beam up at him, not holding back your ear-to-ear grin as you glow under his attention. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here!”

“I have to leave soon, but I have something for you.” He steps out onto the front steps and grabs everything from you before you follow him inside. You change into the white keds that Jamie gave you on your first day at Maid Discreetly before heading towards where he’s standing in the kitchen. There are three boxes on the kitchen island; two small black ones and one white one that you recognize immediately. He pushes that one towards you first. 

“This is your new iPhone,” he says with a wink and you feel your cheeks flush.

“Thank you,” you say shyly.

He shakes his head, “No, thank you for not fighting me on this. That cracked screen...”

“I know,” you say, raising a hand to stop him. You deepen your voice, “It’s a hazard, sweet girl.”

He laughs like he did that night at the Shibari class, deep and from his gut; it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard and your heart swells at the possibility of getting to hear that laugh for the rest of your life. “Exactly. These other boxes…well, they’re for you, but also for me.”

You raise your eyebrows curiously as he slides the smaller of the two black boxes across the smooth marble of the island. His bottom lip slips between his teeth as you pull the top off of the first box. Sitting on a bed of white tissue paper is a small metal plug with a pink heart-shaped diamond on the end. 

“Mister Miller! Scandalous!” You gasp, feigning shock and surprise.

He laughs again as he asks, “Is that ok?”

“Very much so,” you respond with a smile before opening the next box, which is slightly bigger than the last. A black, U shaped piece of silicone sits in the box, along with a small plastic rectangle that looks similar to a key fob. “What’s this?”

“That, my sweet girl, is a remote vibrator. I was thinking that maybe you could wear both of those while you clean my house today. I can control that with the remote from a close distance or from my phone anywhere in the world.” 

Every hair on your body stands on end as your clit throbs in excitement. “Yes, I would really, really like to do that!”

“Good girl,” he says with a wink, holding a hand out to you. His fingers link with yours and just the slightest touch from him sends sparks up your wrist and straight to your racing heart. He grabs your new toys and leads you up the stairs. Your giggle is laced with arousal when you come to a stop in his enormous ensuite. After placing the toys on the counter he pulls you in, his free hand cupping the back of your neck before he slams his lips into yours. He kisses you hungrily, and you meet his energy, kissing him back as if you’re drunk with passion. His teeth nip your bottom lip as he pulls away. You’re so insanely, maddeningly in love with this man that you almost forget how to stand as he steps back.

“Take off your pants, sweet girl.”

You do as he says, eagerly unbuttoning your company issued black dress pants before sliding them down your legs. He stops you before you remove your thong, breathing out a heady ‘fuck’ before hooking his thumbs through the bright pink lacy waist band and sliding them down your legs. 

“Put your hands on the vanity and bend over for me,” he instructs with bated breath. He watches your reflection in the mirror, looking right into your soul as always, as you follow his instructions.  

You smile lovingly at him, clocking the way his throat works as he swallows hard at the sight of you bending at the waist, pushing your ass out for him. “Fuck, how did I get so lucky? All of this, just for me?”

“Just you, Joel,” you breathe, slipping your bottom lip between your teeth. 

He slides open a drawer and takes out two small bottles before turning on the water. He pops the top of one bottle, using the contents to wash both toys, then steps back behind you with the second bottle in and the plug in his hands. A warm laugh leaves your lips, “Always so prepared, Mister Miller.”

“With a pretty little thing like you in my life, I better be.” He clicks the top of the lube open as he continues, “Ready? I’ll go slow.”

“Mm-hm, I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” you coo, your body thrumming with the anticipation of his touch. 

“I know you will. No safeword right now, okay? Just say stop, and I will.” He spreads the lube around your tight ring of muscle with his thumb. Every muscle in your body goes slack under his attention and you sigh as your lashes flutter against your cheeks. “Good girl, just relax for me.”

After a few minutes of teasing you with the pad of his thumb he switches to the plug. The cold metal makes you jump. He reassures you by squeezing your hip as he murmurs, “You’re ok, baby.”

He swirls it gently at first, slowly applying more and more pressure before it slips in on its own and you whimper at the feeling. “Does that feel okay, sweet girl?”

“Mmm, yes,” you smile at his reflection in front of you. The amber glow of the LED lighting behind the mirror accentuates the honey flecks in his eyes. Everything about the way he’s looking at you feels overwhelming. It’s like when you first step foot into a hot tub on a cold winter's night. The sting of the swirling water is almost too hot as you sink further in. For a second you consider getting out, but then every single cell in your body adjusts and you can’t imagine not being wrapped in that heat.

“Now this one,” he says, holding up the black u-shaped vibrator. He adds a bit of lube and then guides your hips further back with one hand before kneeling. Your pussy clenches against nothing as you glance over your shoulder seeing him on his knees behind you. He practically whimpers, “God, Freckles, this pussy. She’s so gorgeous.”

A shy smile turns your lips upward. Joel starts to work the toy inside of you and you gasp out a moan. He moves the bulbous head of the toy back and forth until it slips in on its own accord, just like the plug did. Your breathing quickens at the pressure on your g-spot and clit; the toy isn’t even on yet and it already feels so good. Joel’s lips sponge against the globes of your ass, then your hip as he stands. “Are you ok, sweet girl?”

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you respond, your breath catching in your throat as you stand. 

“Good. Now put your clothes back on and get to work.”

Before you can bend to pick up your discarded clothing, he pulls you into his arms and brings his lips to yours. The kiss is so soft that it steals your breath, and you almost blurt your feelings for him right then and there. He keeps one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while the other snakes up your body until his large palm cups the side of your face. This kiss, compared to the one from earlier, is different in every way. Where that one was rough and passionate, this one is gentle and almost lazy; a content moan rumbles from his chest. Before pulling away, his warm tongue swipes sweetly across yours. 

 “See you later, honey,” he whispers, then kisses your forehead and walks away.

Honey, he called me honey. Everything about the last few seconds feels so goddamn domestic, and your potential life five years from now flashes through your mind. 

You're standing in this bathroom, getting ready to head to the law firm you work at. Joel, no longer just your dom but also now your new husband, puts a fresh latte on the counter for you, then helps you with the clasp of your necklace before kissing that sensitive spot behind your ear. ‘See you later, honey’.

The rev of Joel’s Jag pulling out of the garage snaps you out of your daydream. You get dressed and walk back downstairs while opening the Maid Discreetly app. To your surprise, cleaning Joel’s office isn’t the first task. Instead, you’ve been asked to wipe down the kitchen, then vacuum the main floor, stairs and upstairs rooms, and finish off by dusting his bedroom. All of it seems very doable in the next four hours, and just when you think you’ll probably be done early and have time to properly get ready for your night out, Mister Miller reminds you that he has the remote to a very distracting detonator. 

The first few times the vibrator comes on it’s subtle, just a light buzzing against your clit. It’s enjoyable, almost like a tickling massage, but after almost an hour and half of being gently teased at random you can feel your frustrations start to reach a boiling point.

You: Mister Miller, you’re torturing me Joel: Oh, sweet girl. We’ve only just begun. You: *pouts* Joel: That’s not going to get you what you want. Be a good girl and get back to work. I have a meeting. 

You check off the kitchen and main floor tasks and then move to the stairs. You decide to start at the top, sitting on the stair below it and scoot down to save your back. You’re also hoping that the pressure on the toy will make it strong enough that you can finally come. Joel turns the vibrator on again and you whine out in frustration when your plan fails. The slight hum against your clit stops and you mutter something about Joel being a sadistic bastard under your breath and continue your backwards ride down the stairs. As you reach the halfway point the vibrator comes to life at an intensity so strong that you drop the hose of the vacuum and dig your nails into the plush carpet of the stair tread. 

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, squeezeing your legs together as he brings you right to the edge. Your orgasm builds quickly, and just as it’s about to take you, the vibrations stop. 

Joel: You better not have come You: Please, Mister Miller. I was so close Joel: Not yet, babygirl  

Joel continues this throughout the afternoon. Every ten minutes or so, the black u-shaped torture device inside of you comes to life; always at different intensities and for varying times. 

Torture device might be a bit strong, the discarded box of feelings says from the back of your mind. We both know you’re enjoying it. You don’t know when she decided to come back, but at least she’s keeping you honest. 

It’s been about three hours by the time you get to your last task of the day. The vibrator buzzes gently as you grab a duster and head into Joel's bedroom. You bite back a smile seeing his bed, the white fluffy sheets neatly tucked in. You can’t help but run your fingers across the soft duvet, remembering how it felt against your skin, remembering how he felt above, behind, below and beside your naked body.

Joel: You doing ok? Do you need to use your safeword? You: I’m okay, Mister Miller. I REALLY need to come, but this is the best day I’ve ever had at work.

When 3:30pm hits, you’ve finished everything in the app, and are so wound up from being teased that you’re fighting from taking the vibrator out and making yourself come. Everytime the vibrator comes on, you break out in goosebumps, the hair on your body standing on end, but when he turns it off, your cheeks flush in frustration and a wave of heat rolls through you. You know Joel will take care of you when he gets home and sees how badly you need it. He talks a big game, but you see the way he folds when you beg. 

Joel: I’ll be home in about 40 minutes, Tommy won’t shut up about concrete. You: I need to come so badly, Mister Miller. I’m throbbing, please!  Joel: Soon. Just breathe, sweet girl. You can do this. 

You need to distract yourself, and you know Joel’s office usually gets pretty dusty, so even though it’s not on your list, you grab your cleaning supplies and slowly open the door. It’s as it usually is: small piles of papers on the desk and a few things out of place on the book shelf. You put the books back and dust the shelves, then run the duster over the blinds before cleaning the window.

Joel: Goddamn, he’s still going on about fucking concrete. How’s my baby doin? You: Horny, I’m trying to distract myself

The vibrator comes to life at the lowest setting. Once again, it’s not enough to make you come, just enough to tease and taunt. You could cry at the frustration of it. 

You: That’s not helping, Mister Miller Joel: What’s not? You: Hilarious. Please? Joel: Nope. I love watching you come, hearing the whiny little gasps you make, so not until later

You move towards the desk. Just as you reach to tidy the stack of papers, the vibrations against your clit hit at an intensity you haven’t felt yet today. You fall forward, gasping for breath, as the papers scatter to the floor. You’re about to fall into the pleasure, feel those waves of nirvana that you so desperately need when the vibrator turns off and you’re left with nothing. You bite back an agitated yell. 

Joel: See you in less than half an hour, sweet girl. You better not have come.  You: I didn’t. I promise. 

You’ve never read anything on Joel’s desk before, but you notice a familiar emblem on the first piece of paper you pick up. It’s a short, handwritten note, and as your eyes scan the few sentences, your heart leaps into your throat as your stomach simultaneously falls to the floor. You read through it once and then twice, trying to make sense of the information in front of you. After blinking hard a few times, you read it again. 

You feel like you’re being ripped in two. 

Joel, Thank you for your generous (and anonymous) donation to the law library. I’ll be sure to find her application and review it myself. See you at the club's anniversary party in a few weeks.

You flip the note over and back again, reading it through one last time. It’s not signed by anyone, just black ink on eggshell white, the University of Austin letterhead at the top. The letter and the room start to spin. You stumble towards his desk chair and breathe through the wave of nausea that hits you; your mind reels at what you’ve just learned. Anger, disbelief and sadness all push against your prefrontal cortex, fighting to be the winning emotion. You want it to be anger – anger is so much easier to deal with. Yelling and telling Joel to fuck off would make you feel so much better, but overwhelming sadness and disappointment ultimately become the victors. 

He doesn’t believe in me.

The realization feels like knives along your skin. Everything he said about how you could do it, or that you’d get in…that was all bullshit. He paid for you to get in, and then – and this is the part that hurts the most – he made you believe that you did it all on your own. Your lungs feel like they’re filled with glass as you force yourself to take slow, controlled breaths. 

He doesn’t believe in me.

Tears prickle behind your eyes but you force them back. You will not cry, not when you’ve been through this before and came out stronger. Your parents didn’t believe in you, and you proved them wrong, graduating early and making it on your own in Texas for the last four years.

I can prove Joel wrong, too.

You shut your eyes tight. You don’t need him; you don’t need anyone. But if that’s true, why does his sexy smirk flash behind your eyelids? The glass moves from your lungs to your veins; everything hurts, and you scold yourself for letting him get this intertwined in you. 

Never again, you tell yourself. Stick to your plan. Law school. Get in with a good firm, pass the bar and become partner; then worry about a love life. 

You walk to his bedroom, removing the toys and cleaning them off before changing into the black leggings and beige crew neck sweater you brought. You gather your hair into a claw clip and head downstairs. With your bag by the door and the letter still clutched in your hand you lean back against the kitchen island and wait for Joel. 

He doesn’t believe in me. 

Joel

The drive home feels like it takes forever; granted, Tommy talking about fucking concrete for almost an hour felt longer. At dinner tonight, he’s going to explain from the beginning. He prepares himself for the worst, for your anger or hurt. He won’t be able to live with himself if he’s hurt you, but anger he can deal with. He knows it’s selfish, but you yelling at him over this would make him feel better. 

Finally, he turns into his neighborhood. The sight of your slightly rusty SUV parked on the street spreads a familiar warmth from his heart to his toes. Mine, he thinks to himself as he pulls into his garage. He knows you’re going to be so tightly wound from all the teasing you endured today, and he plans to very slowly unwind you before you go for dinner. The way you fall apart for him is so beautiful, and after almost four hours of being brought to the edge over and over again, he can’t wait to have your writhing and shaking with a simple flick of his tongue against your clit. But first, he’s going to kiss every inch of your skin while occasionally clicking the vibrator on at its lowest setting. He almost trips over your bag as he comes into the house, and when his eyes meet yours, he knows something is wrong.  

“Baby?” His voice cracks in concern at the look on your face. He mentally runs through the rolodex of facial expressions he’s seen from you, and he hates that he can’t place this one; it’s not anger or sadness, and it most definitely is not excitement or curiosity. Your soft lips are turned down in the corners, arms crossed and eyes soft. “What’s wrong?”

Your arms uncross and you hold out the letter he should have shredded weeks ago.

His stomach does a free fall. Disappointment. The look on your face is disappointment, and that is so much worse than anger or sadness. 

Fuck. 

You

Joel walks towards you with slow, measured steps while carding a nervous hand through his curls. You force yourself to continue breathing, fighting against the tears that threaten to appear. He takes the letter from you and rips it in half; you drop your eyes, watching as the two halves of paper flutter to the ground and then slide away from each other along the marble. You shake your head at the symbolism of it, hugging your arms tightly against your body again.

“I thought you believed in me,” you say, trying not to sound as gutted as you feel. 

“I do, sweet girl,” he says, stepping so close that his black leather dress shoes line up with your socked feet. You look up as he continues, “I swear I do. You - you got in on your own. Please, just let me explain.”

His eyes line with tears and moments that you overlooked over the last few weeks playback like a movie. The first day in this kitchen he said he knew the dean of admissions. The flash of anger when you went to the Shibari night and his response of “all of them?” when you said you didn’t get in. The way he insisted you open the letters before the anniversary party. He knew, he fucking knew all along that at least one university would accept you. Dread settles in your stomach, turning the shards of glass under your skin to icicles. Berkeley.

“Did you pay off Berkeley, too?”

“I didn’t pay anyone off.” He’s calm but firm in his response, which just seems to piss you off more. 

You roll your eyes, gesturing to the ripped paper on the floor and scoff. “Did you pay off Berkeley, Joel?”

The two of you stare at each other for a few heartbeats, and you don’t back down as more tears gather along his bottom lash line. He shakes his head in defeat, burying his hands in his pockets and breathing slowly a few times before whispering, “No.”

“Why would you do this to me? This could have ruined my entire career.” You try to keep your voice calm, but how dare he stand in front of you holding back tears. 

“I’m sorry, sweet girl. I wasn’t - I just…I’m sorry,” he flounders.

“Why, Joel?” Your eyes dance along his face. You aren’t sure what justification you're looking for or hoping for. The dream of staying here died the moment you picked up that note, but you can’t go to California without knowing why he did it. 

He opens his mouth, shaking his head slightly and then closes his mouth. He takes a deep breath through his nose, blinking away the tears. “Because I don’t want to lose you, Freckles. I should have told you, I was going to tell you tonight. That donation isn’t the reason you got in…you did that on your own. I just…well, I just sped up the process. And I’m so sorry you found out like this.”

You scoff again. “I thought my consent was the most important thing to you.”

His eyes widened in shock. “It is, sweet girl.”

“I didn’t ask you to meddle in my life, Joel. And I certainly didn’t ask you to speed along the process. What happens if I become a Supreme Court judge and someone finds out that you bribed a university to get me?” He goes to speak, but you raise a hand to stop him and continue. “And don’t tell me that you didn’t bribe anyone, because that’s exactly how this looks and you know it. You wouldn’t be looking at me like a guilty puppy if you thought what you did was right.”

His hands come to cup your face. The warm coffee eyes that usually dance rhythmically around your face are replaced by shifting dark glass beads laced with fear and loss. The warmth you normally feel when he touches you is gone. His eyes flick to your lips and then back to your eyes before he speaks. 

“Freckles, I lov-”

Your still raised hand covers his mouth, clamping tightly to his face to stop him. 

“Please don’t,” you whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat and keeping your palm pressed to his soft lips. Your heart pounds behind your ribs in response to what he was about to confess. If he tells you what you so desperately wanted to hear just hours ago, you know you’ll crumble. You’ll let him take you up to his bedroom and apologize in a way that only he can. You’ll spend the night planning how you can do long distance while you’re in California. You’ll let him interfere with the plan…again.

“Don’t say that to me right now, I can’t hear that.”

He nods into your hand slowly, his eyes soften, and you try to memorize every bit of amber in his otherwise black brown eyes. This will be the last time he looks at you like this, and the realization seems to suck the air out of the room. You wish you could bottle up how it makes you feel when he looks at you like that; the way it comforts you and shuts off the narrated to do list in your mind that’s always growing in your mind. 

“Joel, if…if you feel that way, then you’ll let me go,” you tell him, voice just above a whisper. He lets out a shaky breath through his nose, the heat of it warming your hand. One of his hands leaves your face to wrap around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull your hand away or step back out of your grip. Instead, he runs his thumb in small circles along the soft, smooth skin there, and you swear you can feel the whorls of his thumb tattooing themself on you, trying desperately to stay with you forever. 

“You’ll understand why I have to go to Berkeley now,” you continue. “I have been working so hard for this. And for years, I have been doing it all on my own. I’m so close, Joel…so close to finishing what I started when I was, like, seven years old. So, please, I’m begging you…please do not finish that sentence.”

You drop your hand from his mouth, his grip going weak as he lets you slip out of his grasp. He looks small, almost deflated in front of you as he stumbles back a few steps. The silence between the two of you feels heavy. 

It’s over. Whatever this was, or could be, is over, and you both know it. 

When he finally speaks, it’s a sad whisper. “What about when you’re done?”

“A lot can change in three years, Joel,” you respond, mostly to extinguish the flicker of hope in your chest. It’s better for you to push him away now than to hope that he’ll be there when you graduate. No one has ever been there for you, and this is proving to be no different. You step around him and head to the front door, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek as the tears threaten to reappear while you get your shoes on. 

“Freckles, wait.”

You close your eyes, facing the door with your hand on the matte black knob. His dress shoes click on the shiny marble before his large hand comes to rest on the door beside your head. This is the exact position you were in after accidentally catching him in his office. You keep your eyes glued to the door and after a sniffle, a quiet clearing of his throat and a whispered, heartbreaking ‘fuck’, he continues. 

“I really am sorry,” he says, his voice hoarse. “This is not how I wanted this to go, but you know what you need and I respect your choice. These last few weeks have been so much more than I could have imagined, more than I deserve. You have brought me back, sweet girl. I know you probably don’t believe a word of what I’ve said tonight, and that’s ok, but with you, I felt that pull that I’ve been waiting for. I felt it the minute your cleaning caddy fell to the ground and I locked eyes with you. If you were anyone else, I would have let you run out of here and then had you fired. I chased you and I’ve been chasing you ever since, even though I know you are meant for more and that this could only ever be temporary for you. This was always going to be the end for me and a well-deserved, hard-earned beginning for you.”

He takes a shaky breath in and you open your eyes, but you don’t look back at him. “Regardless of all that, I meant what I said in my office that day. Starting this with you would be it for me. A lot can change for you in three years, and I want you to experience everything in California. But for me, it’s you. It will always be you.”

Your chest feels like it’s going to cave and your knees threaten to buckle. “I have to go, Joel,” you grit out, forcing your voice past the boulder that’s formed in your throat.

“I know, and I’m so proud of you, sweet girl,” he whispers, dropping his hand and stepping back. The heat of his broad body and leather-and-ash scent disappear from behind you, and it feels like you’ve been plunged into freezing, uncharted waters. 

You get in your car and drive, unsure of where your final destination will be. After driving around Austin for a while, you find yourself parking outside of the Maid Discreetly office. You take a minute, deciding what you are and aren’t going to tell your best friend before heading in. Jamie’s office is impeccable as always, not a single smudge on the glass desk as she types on her laptop, looking effortlessly perfect.  

“Hey, babe!” she says with a smile as you cross the threshold.

“How’s your dad doing with the California office?” you say, trying to act casual.

“Oh my god!” she practically shrieks as she jumps up from her chair. “Did you get into Berkeley?”

“That depends,” you say, raising one shoulder. “Does he have a job for me there?”

“Holy shit!” She runs around the desk and wraps you in her arms. How she can move like that in stilettos is beyond you.

“Careful, you’re gonna break an ankle,” you deadpan. The weight of what just happened with Joel almost dissipates. Jamie pulls back to look at you, her eyes scan your face and you feel exposed.

“Why aren’t you more excited? What’s wrong?”

Shit. 

A sob leaves your throat and you collapse into Jamie’s open arms. She pulls you into her office with one arm and closes her door with the other, then leads you to the couch along the far wall. As soon as she gets you seated, you manage to explain everything between sobs and very unattractive nose blowing.

This is supposed to be one of those exciting moments of your life. You did it: you got into the school you always dreamed of and you're moving to California; a place you always felt most at ease in. Yet, it’s all clouded over by having your heart wholly shattered by a man that you actually thought was going to be the love of your life. Someone who showed you he cared, showed you that he’d always be there. 

But it was all a lie. 

[moominsuki]

✎ᝰ BAKUGOU KATSUKI ; — 11:36 AM OR when you’re needy and he’s ready to help you. doesn’t mean he won’t have some of his own fun while doing it. (birthday special)

࿄ ! warnings - major nsfw. squirting. f!reader. kind of dubcon but not really. / note. hey… how y’all doing! i have no excuses this time lol. i also can’t promise i will be back! i couldn’t let this brew in my drafts forever, esp. on his birthday. but enjoy :} minors& blank blogs dni.

you: hey kats i miss you :(

you: katsuki? i need you

you sent those texts at around 11:36 am and it’s now almost an hour later, with katsuki being in a very important heroes’ meeting of some sort. now, katsuki never takes time or leave off of work only on the condition he’s practically spilling his guts onto the floor - and even so, he’d come in with his hands wrapped round his lower abdomen if he wasn’t chastised for showing up half dead.

this wasn’t out of the ordinary for you - you know, to text him all needy and sad. don’t get it all wrong, it makes katsuki’s heart clench to have to leave you to your lonesome when he’s busy and you’re not. he knows how you get when you get off your period and mixed when you’re also feeling poorly comes a combination of you feeling melancholic, sweet and also very needy. by the way, did he mention needy yet?

katsuki: what’s up with you? you ok?

his phone vibrates almost as fast as he tried to stuff it in his pocket and he inconspicuously looks down.

you: no… i need you :((

katsuki sighs looking at your texts, excusing himself from the meeting and giving what he’d consider sympathetic eyes to his friends before dialling up your number.

“you okay, princess?” katsuki frowns, “i know you ‘aven’t been feeling well these past few days but ‘m busy-”

“katsukiii,” you all but whine into the phone, mewling and he straightens up immediately at your voice, ears turning a cute shade of pink. oh. he knows this tone. he knows it all too well amongst the linen sheets of his bed.

“i know i shouldn’t be calling while you’re busy but, fuck, i need you, need you so much,” you gasp on the other side of the line, practically swimming in his bed, wearing only your cotton panties and a barely there tank top.

katsuki bites his fist, standing behind the conference room door, groaning quietly. “yeah?”

“mhmmm, i really do,” you simper, “you looked really good this morning an-and you smelt so good and… ‘m just really, really needy right now.”

katsuki should tell you to get a grip, dash some cold water on your face and put your fingers to good use but the way you’re moaning and whining across the phone is making all his blood cells rush from the rational parts of his body down to the irrational parts of his body.

“where r’you right now?”

“in your bed… just like how you left me,” you sigh, a pathetic and wanton lilt to your words. “all alone in this big and cold bed wishing my big, strong man would come home and give me what i deserve.”

your flushed face boyfriend all but snarls, teeth bared over the phone. “yeah? what d’you deserve, then, for interrupting me at work and and then begging me to come home and fuck you? cos that’s what you want, right? for me t’drop everythin’ and come running to you?”

“yup,” you hum, popping the ‘p’ and some rustling can be heard in the background. “well, ‘s your choice, really. i just… really need you, baby.”

you can hear katsuki’s deep breathing over the phone and you’re so certain you can hear the cogs in his skull turning, clicking as he mulls over this decision. he clears his throat, lamenting with a big sigh as if this is all one big inconvenience for him.

just at that moment, deku comes through the door.

“everything okay, kacch- dynamight? if you’re busy we can discuss this with you another time.”

“…‘m gonna have to head home for a little while… something’s come up. don’ wait up. i’ll be back as quick as i can.”

katsuki wants to bite you when he can make out the smile over your exhale through the receiver but you’re quick to hang up as deku reassures his friend in his naïveté, unknowing to the true purpose of his mid day return home.

when katsuki returns within 10 minutes since your call (usually it’s a 16 minute drive from the agency to home - pedal to the metal), you’re already on the couch, and your tank top does nothing to hide the hardness of your nipples and katsuki can see the shape of your cunt lips through your barely there panties.

no words are passed as you smile sweetly at your boyfriend, who kicks off his shoes and whose hands already at his belt as he stalks over to your seated body.

“how d’ya want it, huh?” you’re already moving back across the couch, legs spread.

“just fuck me please,” you whimper, “wan’ you to stretch me out with your cock.” you paw at his hips, at the waistline of his trousers that situate themselves in front of your face.

“you don’ want me to stretch you out first?” he muses, dropping down to his knees in front of your scantily clad pussy, thick fingers pressing on your covered clit and you hum, shaking your head.

“i can take it right now,” you gasp, and two fingers slip into your pants despite your protests at how you “don’t need to be prepped,” and that you “can take him right now.” alas, you shut up effective immediately when his fingers skim through your panties and straight to rubbing your hardened nub and you can’t find it in yourself to get annoyed when two digits slip inside you, curling up only for a mere second and jolting your body along with it.

katsuki pulls his dampened fingers out, effectively taking off your panties with him. “your decision. don’t get pissy with me later when it’s sore, because ‘m not gonna have it.”

you shake your head defiantly, utterances of “i won’t” and “just please fuck me,” meshing into a slurry of words.

he grabs your face to look at you. “you promise?”

you nod and he frowns, smushing your cheeks slightly. “you better speak up and fast, because i ain’t got all day, princess.”

“i promish! i promishh.” the words come out muffled against the grip of his hand. your boyfriend takes the answer anyhow, because he gets up from off his knees to impatiently throw off his blazer, then down his trousers and pants in one swoop.

there’s a smug look on your face and katsuki can tell you’re trying to hide a triumphant smile. he wants to wipe it off your face so badly.

“face down, ass up, pretty lady.”

you throw yourself around without a second to spare and katsuki stuffs a pillow under your hips, slapping your ass in the process. at any other time, you would’ve scolded him for leaving a print. instead you moan and arch your back, clenching cunt on display for his hungry eyes.

“fucking minx,” katsuki grumbles, settling behind you and letting the weight of his mostly hard cock tap against your pussy, delving between your puffy lips and rubbing against your hardened clit.

you try to be good, try not to say anything that might make him want to punish you but you’re growing restless at what feels like hours of torture (hours being mere seconds that is) and you sniffle out a weak “katsuki, please…”

his heart clenches at your tone and even when he’s trying to tease you, he can’t help but feed out the palm of your hand. he also can’t help that his dick pulsates in his grip at the pathetic tone of your voice.

“don’t rush me or i’ll leave you like this,” he grumbles, and you both know he wouldn’t dare, and you’re about to protest, turn your head to spit defiantly at him but it’s much too late for that. he sinks in, weighty and thick and it knocks the breath out of you. you practically face plant into the armrest of the couch and your teeth bites into the cashmere fabric.

there’s something about not being prepped before that makes this so much more intimate and sexy for the both of you, but the impending realisation that you will be sore tomorrow dawns on you as you feel the heft of his balls press on you. he’s right to the hilt and you’re full to the brim, gasping.

neither of you can get a word out edgeways or sideways - katsuki leans down to wrap a thick arm around your neck and though he can barely see your face, he can feel the salty tears dribbling down his forearm and he can most definitely hear the wordless cries coming from out your agape mouth.

“this is what you wanted,” he hisses, nose in your hair, his wide body trapping you to the couch, “don’t you fuckin’ complain later- fuckin’, shittt,” he groans, pulling back out slightly and getting sucked in by your silken walls. the living room has gotten 100 degrees hotter and he wants to blame you so badly, but you moan out his name wantonly, one hand around his own that’s slightly bruising against your neck and he’s putty.

“hurts so good,” you finally get out, toes curling when the tip of his cock hits against that honeyed spot. “jus’- jus’ like that,” you slur, legs shaking and thrashing when you feel katsuki’s hand slip between your bodies.

all he can focus on is how fast you got sloppy for him, the conjoining of your bodies, if only fleeting, is getting to him, if the clench of his balls has anything to say about it. his hand finds your throbbing pearl and a straying pointer fingers rubs on it firmly in broad, confident circles, and you choke, eyes crossing.

your body stiffens and you’re not even sure you’re speaking a coherent language at this point, but you garble out something along the lines of “i love you,” and “i can’t take it,” and a contradicting “like that, katsuki.”

behind you, he’s thrusting even harder and rubbing faster at your clit, pressing down with ferocity and you’re not even sure what you’re begging for anymore, the tension in your bladder rising. even in the midst of a second, impending orgasm do you turn and try to kiss him, which he gladly accepts, tongue delving into your mouth and he inevitably hunches, grunting and huffing, red faced and shooting ropes of thick cum inside of you.

that’s when your second one hits, and it’s even heavier than the last, sprays of liquid hitting your boyfriend’s lower abdomen and you squeal, hips gyrating and katsuki doesn’t slow until you’re basically limp, collapsed against the softness of his sofa.

he kisses your head, pulling out and you gasp at the exit. no words are shared as he brandishes a damp cloth from somewhere - he must’ve gotten up in your daze, you didn’t even know he had left from behind you at all, and it makes you sigh, cheeks resting against the armrest.

katsuki cleans you up in typical, sweetheart fashion, passing you a blanket and your clothes like he always does after a romp, and it’s only when he makes you sit up so you can eat a banana and drink a glass of cold, fresh water do you say something.

“so i take that you’re not going back into work?”

katsuki’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, and he looks away from you, pouting. you think he’s not going to say anything till he scoffs a short moment later, “…’s not like i had much to do today anyway… i’ll catch up with those idiots later.”

you don’t bite back your smile this time and he pulls you into his chest. “you better wipe that shit eating grin off ya face.”

“or what? you threatening me with a good time?” you giggle, wiggling your brows and he opens his mouth to bark back until you move your hips slightly and hiss.

“what was that?” he questions and you ignore him. he groans, swiping a hand across his face,“…y/n, i-”

“‘m not complaining!… but i would be lying if i said it’s not a little sore- hey!”

katsuki wraps you up in his arms, blanket strewn.

“what are you-”

“since ‘m taking the rest of the day off, might as well go clean up and have a bath… remind me to never listen to you again.”

“hey! it’s not my fault you’re such a brute,” you laugh as he kisses your face, walking up the stairs.

“not so hard!” you hiss in pain, “‘m sore!”

yeah. remind katsuki to never listen to you when you’re horny.

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © MOOMINSUKI 2024. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited

[husbandjoel]

don’t be tardy | tlou jesse

summary: jesse hates tardiness and you run late. you rub off on him and give him something to be late for.

pairing: jesse x fem!reader

word count: 2.2k

trigger warnings: lil bit of bad language, jesse is kinda mean but not really, kissing, brief smut but not in great detail. reader doesn’t really take things seriously lmao

a/n: if me posting jesse fics keeps him alive i won’t ever stop 😤 love my diva. this is super choppy and short so i don’t expect enjoyment from it!

gif credit: @pedgito

      7:00am.

        You opened your eyes briefly to look at the red lights flickering on your alarm clock. The sun seeped in from between the thin, makeshift curtains, and you smiled into the duvet that covered you from neck to toe. For once, you felt serene, tranquility found in the Commune of Jackson. Survival a distant memory.

        You could do this forever.

        "Fuck!" Your eyes shot open, body upright as you read over the time once more.

        You were late. So fucking late.

You jumped into your clothes, swearing as you crashed into your cabinet when your foot got stuck in the leg of your pants. No time to fix your appearance, you slipped out of the front door, the profanities continuing to string along with you on your way to Main Street.

Feet pounded against the ground, wet mud flicked up behind you, chest heavy from panic when you managed to reach Main Street from your home in record timing. The building that held the Patrol meetings just adjacent to where you had skidded round the bend. Brass knob within your reach, you huffed as you grabbed and twisted it.

Door creaked to alert the compact group, you bared teeth as you cringed, boots tip-toed as best as you could above the old floorboards. As presumed, the meeting for morning Patrol had already started without you.

Familiar faces, Ellie and Dina, sat in amongst the older patrolmen, both offering a wave when you ducked your head in an attempt to conceal your lateness to Jesse who stood, arms crossed his chest, his eyes tracking you like prey for the taking.

"You're late." You winced at his deep tone.

Mottled hands from forgetting your gloves in a hurry, dragged the closest chair toward you. A concoction of embarrassment and shame crossed your face as eyes turned to you when Jesse spoke. Backside hitting the plastic chair, you felt the need to press your hands together; as if you were about to pray for his forgiveness.

OK. It wasn't near enough as good as an impression you could've made on your first patrol. It took months of arguments, pushing yourself to the limit and extra credit earned through mundane tasks that landed you the spot in the Jackson Patrol. And, now, you were late for your first meeting.

You had hoped it was Tommy or Joel Miller in charge. They'd have let it slide. You liked those brothers.

Jesse was your friend, if you could call someone you slept with on the regular, that. You met him by association of being relatively close to Ellie and Dina. He was a serious guy, little humour in duty-related situations, but you thought he was nice enough to engage in conversation with. And in turn, he showed you how nice he could be with your legs wrapped around his neck.

It was an added bonus that he was fun to look at.

You had wished he kept that momentum going when he stared you down, expectant of an explanation as to why you had tiptoed into the Patrol meeting.

"I'm sorry." You mustered.

Jesse puffed out, “Yeah—Sorry doesn’t cut it when you’re on duty. Thankfully, for you, your partnered with me. Otherwise, you would’ve cost us another Patrol member. A dip in our numbers, could mean we miss vital intel coming head-on to Jackson.”

“Alrigh’, she was late by minutes.” Joel Miller piped up from behind, “Give her a break.”

You didn’t dare move to mouth a ‘thank you’ to Joel. Mentally noted, you would buy him a drink at the Tipsy Bison later if Jesse hadn’t thrown you in jail for your tardiness.

Chairs creaked as people shifted awkwardly. Joel Miller was softened in his older years, but nobody dare speak out against him, especially Jesse — as much as undermining him set his internal anger ablaze.

“We’ll talk after.” He said. Which meant, we’ll talk when Joel Miller can’t defend you.

As he turned, you leant into Ellie, “Yeesh. Men are so touchy in Jackson.”

The meeting didn’t last long, or as long as you had hoped to avoid Jesse’s wrath in private. Every individual had an area to map out and scan to ensure there were no immediate threats to your Commune. There had been an increased sighting of the Infected in every direction, and this shook the infrastructure of Jackson. So, everybody was on high alert, observant of the grounds outside the confines of the walls.

You stood with the rest of the group, Ellie patted your shoulder for added sympathy for what you were about to face. She left you alone, head bumped with Dina as they spoke amongst themselves as the group bottle-necked at the entrance to the building.

An escape may have sufficed until you saw him later, but, that would’ve earned you an immediate dismissal from the Patrol Team and, you had a point to prove that you were worth the slot taken from others to maintain the safety of Jackson, Wyoming, whatever it took.

As the team filtered out, Jesse approached you with a mean-mug. No special chit-chat.

"Consider this a warning." Jesse was mad. Not the type of mad that would linger, but he had been on your side to convince Maria Miller that you were a good fit for the patrolmen. He didn't like his ass being shown.

You gawked, "A warning? Jesse, I thought we were friends—" You stopped following him when he turned sharply.

"—You want dismissed on your first day? If we weren't friends, that's where you would be. Shovelling horse shit and grovelling." He looked you up and down, "But, we are friends. So, you get a warning. Two more and I can't help you. Take your wins."

"OK." You kind of wished Joel stuck around to back you up. You twiddled your thumbs, reprimanded like a child. “Does this warning extend to tonight?”

You meant about having sex.

Jesse scanned his surroundings to ensure no eavesdropper had heard your invitation. He lowered his voice to a mumble, “No. Get to the stables.”

—

"You get the Appaloosa." Jesse informed when you reached the stables with the rest of the group.

You stopped in your tracks with your jaw slacked. There is one thing aside from the Cordyceps Outbreak that you loathed entirely and it was the Appaloosa stallion with a biting problem. Hoof battered against the stable door, the stallion whinnied in frustration from being contained — you presumed it craved human flesh.

He bucked when sat upon, you once going over the reigns and heavily winded when Jesse was showing you the ropes on how to properly guide a horse. After you had landed in the wet mud, the horse bit your arm for good measure.

That moment forward you both found enemies in each other.

Jesse was being cruel.

You followed Jesse to his selected horse, a gentle brown mare that liked you for your apples.

Throat cleared, Jesse turned to look at you innocently as you returned it with a plead, "Please don't make me ride that fucking Zombie—" You pointed to the stallion, "He has anger issues and, he's impossible to control."

Jesse threw the saddle over the mare and shrugged before swiftly straddling the horse, large hand smacked against the mare's neck as it stood grazing upon the hay in her stable.

"It's exposure therapy for you." He retaliated as he kicked the stirrups, his horse following the guidance with ease. He passed you slowly, a smile crept upon his face, "Teaches you how to deal with touchy men in Jackson."

He left you fighting the horse to get the saddle on its back, which in turn made you late to the gate with a grimace.

You had, surprisingly, survived the Patrol on Zombie, the Appaloosa. It seemed that you had breached through the stallion’s walls and managed to bribe him with soft-mints you stole from Jesse’s pocket when he scoped the land for any sign of an influx of Infected. In return for a mint after a handful of minutes apart, Zombie didn’t buck you off, or attempt to bite you despite your hand close to his mouth for the taking.

You returned to the stables, Jesse had taken the reigns of your horse, his private punishment over with as he guided it back into its area to rest. He came back, dusting his hands of the hay, a smile widened on his face.

“He didn’t kick you off.”

You threw him a petulant look, “Yeah. I know that broke your heart, you mean bastard.” Saddle in hand, you threw it onto the table, “And to think I was going to wrap my mouth—”

“—Enough.” Jesse warned.

“Sorry. Work hours.” You sighed at your brain’s disobedience to filter your mouth. From your peripheral, you saw Jesse shake his head in an attempt to hide his humour. You changed the subject, “Are you going to Maria Miller to debrief about the thirty dead?”

Jesse nodded.

“Can I come?” And he laughed. A genuine laugh in your face. If you weren’t on the receiving end, you may have begun to laugh with him because it was contagious for such a brooding man.

“No. You can’t” His laughter still sweet on his tongue, palm to his chest, “That’s called favouritism and we don’t need an uprising just because you’re pretty. Plus, I need to get there on time. Something you don’t know the meaning of.”

You blinked, “I’ve been on time.”

He spoke your name, “You have never been good at time-keeping. I’m pretty sure, Joel is still waiting for you for that one woodwork training session you organised last week—” Fuck! You knew you forgot about something, “It’s OK. I’ll keep us right for future events.”

Arms folded, you perked at his slip-up.

“Oh? There’s an us, now?” Stomach flipped, “I thought there was no blurring the lines, Captain Jesse.”

He said nothing more. Simply pecked your lips and exited the stables to his debrief with Maria Miller, and Tommy; they came as a package deal.

You went to go make amends with Joel before heading to Jesse’s for the night.

—

Jesse's workout chair had seen many workouts. It was sturdy, rattled a little when he was focussed on building muscle on his shoulders but all-in-all it was a good chair.

The bolt rattled at the base of the chair from the vigorous movement it was enduring. You were seated against the pleather, back hitting it with force as Jesse held your legs up by your ankles. Your knuckles were white from gripping onto the slim chair, mouth agape as Jesse continued his endeavour.

You hadn't meant to start this. It was a mere coincidence that you and Jesse were feeling some type of way the morning after you stayed for the first time, and you only encouraged it a smidge before caution was thrown to the wind and now, you were naked in Jesse's home, getting plowed on his workout chair.

"Oh my god." You whined which only spurred Jesse more.

He took both your ankles in one large palm, the other dove between your legs and your head hit the headrest, lids heavy as sweat followed the curve of your back. Jesse smirked at the vision he had created, the confidence built like a skyscraper in him for causing you that type of reaction.

        "Yeah?" He asked rhetorically and you nodded obediently. He went to open his mouth to let pure filth leave his tongue, only to jump from fright from the four knocks to his front door. His hips stuttered, "Shit. Hello?"

        "Jesse?" Ellie's voice called through the door and the pair of you looked to each other in panic. "I can't believe I'm about to say this—But—You're fucking late for patrol."

        Pinched brows, Jesse slowed his thrusts and craned his neck to look at the clock on his bedside table.

        Holy shit. Jesse was late.

        "Fuck—Yeah. Give me a minute."

        He unsheathed himself from you, a finger pressed to his lips when Ellie tried the door handle — both of you grateful that it was locked. Jesse threw his shirt on haphazardly, frustration shown in his hand gestures as he stumbled around the room, his patrol clothes unprepared which, again, was out of character.

        You stood from the chair, feet tiptoed to the door to grab his boots to unlace for him. Eyes squeezed shut, you could hear Ellie muttering to herself as she stomped the snow on her boots against the concrete of the steps. Jesse met you halfway, fully clothed compared to your bareness, a 'thank you' mouthed your way when he took the boots from your hands.

        "Will you hurry the fuck up?" Ellie called.

        Jesse swore under his breath, "Ellie, have a little patience."

        You and Ellie managed to scoff at the same time. A playful pinch to your budded nipple as retaliation, you swatted at his hand before he pulled you in for a chaste kiss.

        "See you later." He mumbled into your mouth, his willpower almost folded from feeling the hotness of your bare skin.

        "Mhm." You whispered. Quiet enough that Ellie wouldn't hear, "You deserve the Appaloosa today."

[krirebr]

Lips Like Sugar 1

Pairing: sugar baby Ransom x late 40s female reader

Word Count: ~3.1k

Summary: Finally cut off by his mother and grandfather, Ransom has to find a new way to access the lifestyle he's accustomed to. He figures it won't be too hard to find some rich old lady willing to bankroll him in exchange for sex. You aren't exactly what he expected.

Warnings: sugar baby au, sex work, d/s relationship, power imbalance, explicit language—All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: This one's a little different for me, but I had so much fun writing it! I hope you enjoy it too. But don't worry, my trademarked angst isn't gone forever. 🤭

Huge thanks to @biteofcherry for talking through the initial idea with me and @bigtreefest for being a sounding board throughout the whole writing process.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Sixty days.

That’s what the certified letter said. The one he had to sign for. The one from Linda.

When she and Harlan had told him they were cutting him off, he’d rolled his eyes. What did that actually mean? He wouldn’t have access to his trust anymore? Whatever, that was fine. He had his checking account. He had his house. He had credit cards. The only thing he thought it really meant was that he wouldn’t have to see any of his asshole family ever again. He was coming out ahead, all things considered.

Except. He didn’t actually have much of anything, as it turned out. His parents were on his bank accounts and credit cards. The deed to the house was under Linda’s name. And she was fucking evicting him.

It was this panic, wrapping itself around his chest and squeezing, that he wasn’t used to. That he didn’t know what to do with. He’d gone out of his way, worked hard to make sure he never felt this way. To make sure his life was comfortable and easy. And now his asshole granddad and bitch mother had ruined all that. Now he had sixty days to find a place to live.

He needed to come up with a plan. He could do that. He was good at plans. But where to start? He couldn’t afford a place he’d actually be willing to live in on his own right now (he couldn’t afford a shitty place either, but he wasn’t going to dwell on that). His grandfather, during the announcement of Ransom’s new status, had suggested he get a job, but fuck that. Ransom knew, deep in his bones, that he wasn’t meant for work. And also, any job that wouldn’t make him want to shoot himself required relevant experience and degrees and all sorts of other things Ransom didn’t have. So getting a job was out.

He could sell his things but, as he’d been so rudely informed by this entire situation, he didn’t actually own much. The only thing of significant value that his name was actually on was his car. But he’d rather cut off his own arm than sell his vintage BMW. So he marked that down as an absolute last resort. 

He could see if he could stay with a friend until he got things figured out, but all of his friends were assholes and he already knew that none of them would say yes. Plus, all of his friends were assholes and he’d sell his own body before he asked any of them for a favor.

Actually…

Okay, that wasn’t a half-bad idea. He knew exactly how hot he was. He’d been very aware of that since he was a teenager. And if he sat down and actually thought about what his biggest skills were, it’d be fucking and talking. In that order. This could work.

But how to go about it? He wasn’t eager to go out and stand on a corner in barely anything at all hours. Same went for sitting in a hotel bar and hoping for the best. Plus, he didn’t like the uncertainty of all that. He needed a reliable, steady stream of income that would be there whenever he needed it.

And that’s when he remembered Andrea. 

His friend Chad had dated her for about six months. Well, “dated.” Everyone in their circle knew exactly what that arrangement was, even if Chad had never admitted it. Ransom pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text.

Hey, where did you meet Andrea?

The dick took two hours to respond.

Andrea? At the grocery store. Why???

 Ransom responded immediately with an eyeroll emoji and followed it with

Cut the shit, asshole. What was the app?

The three dots to show Chad was typing appeared and disappeared three separate times before Ransom finally got the truth.

SUGR

But watch out, bro. That shit was way more expensive than it was worth.

Ransom smiled. That was exactly what he was counting on. 

He didn’t bother correcting Chad about which side of this arrangement he was hoping to be on. He didn’t need the embarrassment of anyone knowing that mommy and (grand)daddy had finally cut him off. And if this worked the way he hoped it would, no one would ever need to know. 

The first setback was that he had to pass a background check before he could join the app. What a fucking hassle. And it took a whole week before he got the email telling him he could move forward with setting up a profile. He could physically feel the number of days he had to find another place to live ticking down. The constriction around his chest got tighter with each one. 

But in that week of waiting, he became even more convinced that this was a good idea. There had to be tons of old hags desperate enough to bankroll him in exchange for sex with a hot youngish thing. And he’d be able to suck it up and do what was needed if it meant his lifestyle wouldn’t have to change. Hell, that's what viagra was for.

The other thing he’d done while he waited was take about a hundred pictures of himself. He’d used all his best outfits—designer sweaters, skintight t-shirts, pants that hugged his ass. He did fifty pushups and then took a bunch shirtless so that he was sweaty and his abs popped. He had a few that were just of his junk in gray sweatpants. And then he threw in a couple straight up dick pics for good measure. He was ready.

But, ugh, there were so many forms to fill out first. He had to agree to all of the terms and conditions. The company reserves the right to blah blah blah. The company does not guarantee yada yada yada. Agree, agree, agree. 

There were forms that asked him to detail the expenses he wanted covered and another that wanted him to rate kinks based on his interest. These were both optional so he skipped them. Was he the only one who understood what was happening here? He'd do whatever she wanted that guaranteed him the most money. That was it.

Finally, he got to the point where he could build his actual profile. It automatically imported some of the biographical information he had to give to set up his account, which wasn’t ideal. Hugh D. 35, stared back at him. He normally hated his given name, but he didn’t hate the way it kind of seemed like Huge Dick here. He could work with that. But that 35. That– that felt old for this sort of thing. He tried to change it to 30, but it wasn’t editable. Well. That was fine, right? He was going after women. Weren’t they known for being less shallow than men? That was part of the whole thing, wasn’t it? Yeah. It’d be fine. It just meant he knew what he was doing in bed. That’s what mattered.

He moved on to pictures. They only let you add fifteen, so he combed through all the ones he’d taken and picked the fifteen best. He scrolled through the ones he’d chosen before he clicked save and nodded to himself. Yeah, this was good. He was hot as fuck.

He skipped through all of the useless essay questions. Who cared what his interests were or what he was offering?? His dick pics spoke for themselves. 

But he did put something in the headline area. Call me Ransom. >20k/month only

Perfect. Done. Save. Now he just needed to sit back and wait for the DMs to roll in.

The DMs did not roll in. It’d been forty-eight hours, and he’d gotten absolutely nothing. He couldn’t understand it. What was wrong with these women? He was offering himself up at a fucking steal.

He’d figured the onus was on the buyer to make the first move, but maybe he’d gotten the etiquette wrong. Maybe he needed to sell himself a little more aggressively. 

He went to the browse feature and set his filters for women with the biggest budgets. Then he sent a random ten of them a simple “hey”. Then he made himself close the app.

When he came back a few hours later, he was chagrined to find that he hadn’t gotten any responses. There must be something wrong. When he went to the chats to make sure he hadn't missed something, half of them weren't even there anymore, and he couldn't find the corresponding profiles either. He refreshed the notifications page. He restarted his phone. He uninstalled then reinstalled the app. Nothing made a difference.

Finally, as he was checking his settings, a message popped up.

Honey, what are you doing?

Yes! Finally! 

He clicked on the profile. Carolyn M., 55. Under what she was offering was rent, living expenses, and a negotiated allowance. Perfect. 

He wrote back

I'm looking at your pictures and touching myself. What are you doing?

The response was immediate. 

Oh my god, no. That's not what I meant.

He stared at her message, confused, but then she sent another. 

I'm going against all of my instincts to just block you, and I'm going to take pity on you instead. 

He was typing before he even fully processed what she'd said.

Excuse me??

This is not the way to get what you want.

What the fuck??

You’re obviously new to this, so let me explain something to you. Yes, these relationships are transactional, but most of us are looking for a genuine connection as well. No one who wants that is going to contact you based on your profile. 

Who the hell did she think she was? Ransom knew what he was doing. He’d never had any issues picking up women. He didn’t need help. He locked his phone with a scoff and threw it on the couch as he got up and moved to his bar. He deserved a drink after dealing with that bullshit. 

As he poured himself a glass of eighteen-year-old scotch, he paused. This bottle was $700. Who knows what everything in this bar totaled to? And this whole house. Fucking shit. He was down to forty-nine days. He didn’t have time to fuck around.

He took a large gulp of his drink and then picked his phone back up. He could do this. He could play the game. He could fake anything if it meant his life didn’t have to change.

Fine. How do I fix it?

Start by filling out the information. Be honest. Any prospective match will want to get a sense of who you are. Right now the only thing I can tell about you from your profile is how highly you think of your own dick.

This fucking bitch.

Okay, sure. What else?

You are demanding a lot of money without giving any details about how that money will be spent. Anyone who sees that will immediately feel taken advantage of. The best version of these relationships is an equal give and take. A lot of us are here because we enjoy taking care of someone. We don’t enjoy feeling like a faceless ATM. Give an actual, honest account of the expenses you would like covered.

God, this was annoying. But he had to keep his eye on the prize.

Anything else??

Put some actual effort into your first message to someone. Something you think you might have in common, something you liked about their profile, or a relevant fact about yourself. ‘Hey’ isn’t going to get you anywhere. And don't just jump into sexting immediately. 

Despite himself, he took a screenshot of the conversation. If it helped him get more money, it was worth it.

Alright. I’ll do it.

You know, it’s customary to say thank you when someone helps you out like this.

He rolled his eyes.

Thank you.

He hoped she could feel the sarcasm coming through the screen.

Well, look at that. Maybe you can be someone’s good boy after all.

The heat that rushed to his face at that– He didn’t know what that was. Annoyance probably. What else could it be?

He was about to send something snarky back when her status suddenly switched to offline. Goddamn bitch.

Ugh. It took so much effort to take things seriously. To act like he cared. This was exhausting. 

But he could do it if he kept the goal in mind: being the pampered pet of some rich old lady. Once he’d achieved that, all he’d ever have to do again was get it up for her once or twice a week, tops. He just had to get there.

So he poured himself another glass of whiskey and took a slow sip as he looked at the first section of his profile he’d previously left blank. The About Me header stared back at him as the cursor blinked. Come on. He could do this. What did these women want to hear?? He wished he could see other prospective babies’ profiles. Do some market research. 

He skipped down to the next section: Looking For. He’d already selected women with no age restrictions. Now he just had to get into the specifics. Ok, this he could do. Buttering people up was a skill he’d been honing his entire life.

A woman with life experience who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to go out and get it. Someone to share good times, good food, and good sex with. And yes, someone to spoil me rotten. 😉

That was cute, right? Yeah, these old bats would love that.

Ok, now it was on to what he offered. He remembered what Carolyn had said about not wanting to feel like an ATM. He needed to make it seem like he’s was bringing something to the table (more than just his dick, that is, which, honesly, should have been enough).

I’m offering companionship with plenty of intelligent conversation. I’ll keep you from being bored at any functions you may need to attend, and I’ll look great on your arm doing it.

That seemed good enough for now. He could change it up depending on what he found waiting for him out there. 

He switched to the form for expenses. For rent, he put approximately 10k a month (he’d looked around the Boston area for what was available and that seemed to be the going price for the sort of place he wanted) with a note that his lease was ending soon and he’d need a new place to stay. That was close enough to the truth and made him seem like more of a charity case, which would normally bother him, but right now was exactly what he wanted. He divided up the rest of his asking price across utilities, clothing, and other expenses.

On the kink list, he started by putting yes to everything, figuring that’d make him more expensive. But would that look weird? Desperate? Fake? He went back and randomly switched a few to maybe and a couple to no. Ok, that was done. 

He went back to his photos and removed the straight up dick pics. He left the sweatpants one, but moved it to the end. And he added a couple more of himself in sweaters that he knew made people drool.

There was only one thing left. This fucking About Me. Come on! Okay. Okay.

The only thing I love more than reading is getting to talk about what I’ve read. I’m well-educated, and I’m at a point in my life where I just want to be able to enjoy things with good company. I love trying new restaurants, and I know my way around a whiskey menu. And as for other realms of experience you might be curious about, let’s just say I know what I’m doing. 😏

Ugh. God. He hated this. The whole thing was so fucking corny. That had to be good enough right? The last thing he did was delete everything but Call me Ransom from his header. And then, without overthinking it, he hit save and immediately put down his phone.

Goddamnit, fucking Carolyn was fucking right. The whole thing made his blood boil. But now, finally, the messages were rolling in. Sort of. Moderately. But it was something.

He’d gone back and tweaked a few things based on the response he was getting, and each improvement seemed to have made a difference. He was starting to get the hang of this bullshit.

But, frustratingly, he hadn’t managed to hook a whale yet. He’d had some promising conversations, but none had ultimately gone anywhere. How exactly were these conversations supposed to move from “Hi, how are you?” to “What say we make this official and you bankroll my entire life? I promise I’ll lay the pipe real good.” The one time he’d tried that, it hadn’t gone over well.

But god, the days were running out.

He sat down with his phone, hoping to find something that would help him strategize, when a new message popped up at the top of the screen. 

God, you’re pretty.

Ransom stopped and stared at the message. 

He couldn’t remember ever being called pretty before. Handsome, sure. Gorgeous, hot, all the time. But pretty– Pretty felt different. And he couldn’t explain why.

He clicked through to the profile.

And there you were.

Don’t you want to be good for me? the line under your profile picture read. Ransom swallowed involuntarily as he kept reading.

You were forty-nine, had founded your own business (although you gave no clues as to what that was), and you were looking for someone to take care of. Glancing at what you were offering, Ransom surmised that what he needed wasn’t outside of your budget.

He moved on to your photos. He picked up a little more caginess there. There were no straight-on pictures of your face, but he spent several moments looking at a close-up of just your smirk, soft lines framing your mouth. Then, as he continued to swipe through the pictures, he stopped again at one that was just of the back of your legs clad in shiny, thigh-high boots, with some of the tallest stilettos he’d ever seen.  Something about that image made his breath catch in his throat.

He moved back to your message and stared at it again, his fingers drumming against his leg. After thinking about it for far too long, he fired off a short response.

I know.

Your reply was immediate.

Yeah, I bet you do.

Tag List is open!

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @steviebbboi @missaprilt23 @thiquefunlover63 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @stellar-solar-flare @alexakeyloveloki @kmc1989 @awkwardgiraffe726 @watermelontidewater @alicedopey @lokislady82 @sassybearfire

[sodaneko]

❥ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒? ↳ 𝐰/ 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐬𝐚, 𝐈𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐢, 𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢, 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐦𝐚, 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮, 𝐁𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨 & 𝐎𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚

a/n: reader is gn! back with my drabbles; i just love trying to convey a very specific mood or scene in 200 words or less, it's SO fun and challenging. i already have longer HQ fics drafted but those really help me getting a grasp of those chars (and i don't have to decide on only one boy because there's so many who have my whole heart heh). i hope you enjoy this boquet of sweets from me to you ♡ some additional thoughts at the end of this because apparently i have PLENTY ok bye

word count: 1.3k

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 scoffs softly. Of course he got you flowers. He would have bought everything inside the damn florist shop if you had enough space for it in your tiny apartment. This bouquet of wildflowers must do for now; it’s so huge, it makes you vanish behind it completely when he shoves it into your hands the second you open the door for him. He can hear you laugh in surprise and that is enough for him. A few minutes later you watch him from where he sat you down on the kitchen counter, rummaging around the cabinets and searching for a vessel that can serve as a vase because the ones you have are way too small for the size of this bouquet. Under his breath he mumbles something about how you stubbornly refuse to let him buy you a house already, one with endless fields of flowers surrounding it; then he wouldn’t have to waste his time searching for a vase big enough and could just kiss you in a sea of petals. You both know that it’s only a matter of time till that happens.

𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈 doesn’t fully remember when this tradition started. Years ago, it must have been in high school, when you were down with a cold and he brought you your favorite snacks and a bundle of flowers from the conbini after school. They were nothing special, wrapped in plastic and close to wilting soon, the price tag still on, but he can never forget the ways your eyes lit up when he put them down on your bedside table. Your voice had been so hoarse that day, you barely managed to get a Thank You out, and Iwaizumi didn’t know what else to say either, so he just sat on your bed and held your hand till you dozed off again shortly after, leaving him with all those buzzing feelings inside of his chest. How many flowers has he bought you ever since, week after week? It must have been hundreds. How many times has he kissed you somewhen between bouquet 84 and 931? Countless times. He won’t stop doing either of that in this lifetime.

𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈 is overthinking again. One finger rests on your doorbell, the other is nervously fidgeting with the wrapping paper. Should he have read more about the language of flowers before coming here? What if he accidentally picked some that actually say “let’s just be friends” or “I like you only mediocrely” and not “you’re the light and love of my life, and my heart has never been fuller ever since you claimed it as yours, please will you be mine forever–in this life and each one that comes after that, beloved”? His hand clenches around the bouquet and he’s one heartbeat away from turning around on the doorstep and walking back to the flower shop, when you open the door smiling, so bright that Akaashi thinks he must have walked into the burning sun. Your fingers brush over his when you reach for the flowers, and he doesn’t register the words coming out of his mouth at this moment, his mind clouded by the thought of what your future wedding bouquet will look like. He will do some research for that later tonight, after giving you a hundred kisses. 

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀 laughs quietly when he opens his mailbox in Animal Crossing. You sent him the Hello Kitty items, including the matching hat and dress for him to wear next time you stream together, paired with a sweet love note that he immediately saves to his favorites. Needless to say that he keeps all of them. Under the thick blanket you (wearing one of his sweaters) rub your cold feet against his, and giggle next to him when you unwrap the flowers he sent you in-game. Lying on top of both of you is your cat named Apple Pie, who purrs and makes biscuits, ensuring neither of you would be able to get up anytime soon. You mentioned once how you liked the in-game flowers better than real ones, because it made you sad to see cut flowers wilt and wither over time and the pixel ones would stay like this forever–just like the two of you, hopefully. Kenma leans down to press a kiss to the side of your neck and wonders briefly how he managed to get so lucky. If he had the magic power to freeze time, he would, but until he levels up he will keep you in his arms like this for a little longer. 

𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 is looking proud of himself when he puts your plate on the counter and nudges it towards you. The three onigiri on it are decorated with tiny edible flowers, and your loud complaints about how they’re too pretty to be eaten make him laugh. So are you, and yet he still gets to devour you night after night. You look so ravishing, taking photos of your food from every possible angle to post them on your food blog later, with your tongue poking out between your lips like it always does when you’re focused. Osamu thinks that out of every person in the whole world, he must be the luckiest of them all because only he gets to call you his. He doesn’t have it in him to tell you to hurry and eat up already, knowing there’s some things you just can’t rush–food, love. The latter he learned from you and your incredible patience, and how you molded his heart into the shape of you with time, with gentle hands and stolen kisses, till he was all yours, only yours. 

𝐁𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐎 nearly drops the flowers in fist when he fumbles for his keys, his sports bag almost sliding off his shoulders, one shoe untied. It’s messy, but he can’t wait to see you. You’re probably asleep by now, sprawled out on the couch with the remote still in your hand, re-playing his game on repeat. Seeing you cry earlier because you couldn’t go to watch him play in person broke his heart a little; he simply hates seeing you upset like this (and maybe it was also on him for telling you the leftovers in the fridge were probably still good to eat). He doesn’t flick the lights on, just walks straight over to the couch, a big hand brushing strands of hair out of your sleeping face. No feeling in the world can compare to you nuzzling your face into his palm and mumbling out his name drowsily. Bokuto drops the bundle of dandelions he picked on his way home into your nearly empty water glass on the table before carefully scooping you up in his arms, carrying you back to bed. For once he’ll be the big spoon tonight, making sure you sleep safe and sound. 

𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 insists on facetiming you, even if it’s 2AM for him and you’re still jetlagged, being back in Japan after visiting him in Argentina. By now you’ve found all the little notes he left in your luggage, hidden between your shirts, souvenirs and in your toiletry bag, but there’s still one surprise left now that you’re back home (even though home is when you’re with him, but whatever). You’re busy complaining about the horrid traffic and your shitty boss and Oikawa barely listens, mesmerized by your face and the sound of your voice, and thinking about the ring he’s gonna put on your finger soon. On his screen you look up when your doorbell rings and the camera gets a little shaky when you rise to your feet, opening the door to the delivery of a bouquet of your favorite flowers, so big you struggle to grab it with one hand. For a bit all Oikawa can see is blossoms in the brightest colors and can only hear your surprised laughter, along with some curses because how dare he be so sweet when he’s an ocean apart where you can’t kiss him right now. Soon, he’ll be there again soon.

❥ 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭…

i REALLY like old money Omi who just wants to spend all his money on you but also kinda enjoys the cramped little apartment you live in. it feels like a bit of a cave and he likes that there's only room for both of you in there

Hajime childhood friends to lovers trope my beloved. how long it must have took you both to sort out your feelings for each other, one boquet at a time

i think Akaashi would write the best love letters

Kenma bullies ugly villagers off his AC island and he's really good at terraforming and will help you out with your island (this is based on me being terrible at terraforming and giving up after ten minutes)

Osamu and you started off as enemies to lovers because you left a bad review about Onigiri Miya once and so he invited you over to prove you wrong, and you fell in love one bite at a time (i really wanna write a SMAU on this but idk if i can pull this off, so if someone wants to grab this idea let me know so i can kiss you)

LITTLE SPOON BOKUTO AGENDA 🗣️ listen just imagine snuggling against this broad back, kissing the back of his neck, his butt wiggling as he gets comfy...

Oikawa idk what to say. i love him dearly but he feels the hardest to write to me

[galactic-magick]

You should do a Severance fanfic where the readers innie is super shy and timid but their outie is very independent and has a bite to them! (Kind like reverse Helly ig?) Maybe it could be a Mark or Mr. Milchick x Reader! 🫶💕

Ok so I ended up doing both and did a blurb for both innie and outie reader for each. Enjoy!

Outie!Reader x Outie!Mark:

You’re a longtime friend of Mark and Devon, you grew up together and stayed close into adulthood. They’ve always liked how headstrong you are, you always speak your mind and are confident in everything you are and do. Even when you were kids, you’d stand up to bullies easily and no one would mess with you.

As adults, you and Mark both got severed around the same time. You had your reasons and you don’t let anyone make you feel bad for it. Lumon put you in different departments so it wouldn’t be a conflict of interest that you’re friends on the outside.

Mark often invites you along to get-togethers with Ricken’s friends, knowing you’ll call bullshit on things and make the event more bearable.

“Look, you guys are really going too deep into this no food dinner thing, can we please get some pizza? I’m starving!”

You and Mark usually have to have a few drinks together after any of those shit shows. You tend to bond over your problems in unhealthy ways, getting drunk and making fun of those pretentious lunatics. It’s a form of solace for you both, and Mark appreciates your spunk that always makes him laugh through the sadness.

Innie!Reader x Innie!Mark

You’re not supposed to talk with other departments. You’ve had that drilled into you since day one, and you’re too scared to break the rules.

But then you hear about your department head, Burt, conversing with someone from MDR. One day, you go with him to visit, and that’s when you meet Mark.

You’re very shy meeting new people. Heck, you’re still shy around your own O&D coworkers you’ve known for the last couple years. But Mark makes you feel at ease, like you’ve known each other forever. Could that be possible? Maybe you’re friends in the outside world, but you’ll probably never be allowed to know.

Your first wellness check is quite mind-boggling. Ms. Casey tells you about how your outie is a great friend and is very confident. Your outie is loud and funny and fiercely independent. You get some points off simply from asking, “Really?”

MDR includes you on their OTC mission, and you and Mark are shocked to see each other at Ricken’s book reading party.

“Mark?”

“Wait, we know each other? Out here?”

“I just saw Ms. Cobel here too! What is going on?”

You both tell Devon everything you know, and she laughs at the fact you’ve found each other as innies as well.

“Not even severance can keep you two apart, huh?”

Outie!Reader x Mr. Milchick

You were Seth’s strongest supporter when he landed a job at Lumon, but it soon takes a toll on your relationship.

It’s a very demanding job, with lots of after hours work and he’s always on-call. Most days he’s only home to sleep. You confront him about it several times, but he always just reiterates how important the work is.

There comes a point where you nearly leave him, knowing you’d thrive better alone than with someone who’s rarely around. But then Lumon offers the two of you a deal.

You get severed, and in return Seth can have more time off to be with you after work. It’s a strange deal, as you’re not sure what they gain from you being severed. But you’ve been wanting a new job anyway, so you figure it’s worth a try to save your relationship.

You do get what you want, and things start going back to how they were, besides the fact that you now aren’t conscious for half of your day. It’s kind of nice, that you don’t have to remember any of the hours you’re not with him.

You’re not one to just let yourself be told what to do, though, so you pry for answers from Seth about your severed life. He’s not allowed to tell you anything, and he definitely lies about the work you’re really doing, but he does say you’re different in there.

Innie!Reader x Mr. Milchick

Seth has never know you to hold back with anything. He has never known you to be soft spoken or timid in any capacity.

So imagine his shock when he meets your innie, free from all your usual traits.

You’re so shy at work, and honestly he finds it quite cute. You’re perfectly poised, follow the rules, get the rewards. It’s like you and Helly switched personalities, but he knows it’s still you at the core.

The hardest piece of it for him is not telling you he knows you on the outside. It’s so hard for him to see the love of his life in two different forms, and only one of them he can say he loves, only one of them he can touch. He misses you when you’re standing right in front of him.

[ghostgirl-22]

ok but imagine art and patrick at a frat party.. patrick’s already hyper aware of his bisexuality and feelings for art, arts still repressed as hell. theyre drunk, some guy starts flirting with patrick, art is clearly jealous but doesnt know what this feeling is (“am i homophobic? why do i care so much?” etc). patrick notices this and leans into it, starts flirting back w the guy, fucks him in the bathroom or w/e, finally explores his bisexuality. art feels CRAZY after this, finally notices hes so jealous and wanted to be this guy so bad.. crazy sexual tension ensues. idk if this is too specific but i see it so clearly….

I have been excited for this prompt forever. Idk if you’re still around the fandom anon after all this time 😭 but ily and this prompt <33 I didn’t do it justice but I had fun and so did my Colorado native heart.

CW: 18+ NSFW, never proofreading is the standard, Art is manipulative and kind of an asshole here but it’s just because he’s a fucking terror when he’s in love 😔

—-

It’s the middle of February and Patrick’s not in Palo Alto but he’s still at a Stanford event. “It’s this annual ski trip so many different frats and athletes go. Anyone who’s anyone will be there.” Art explains. “Tashi was supposed to go with me but you know… the girls won the final.” 

Patrick knows all about that. Tashi’s playing in Austrailia. Her family made it a whole trip and she’s got another Adidas photoshoot that’ll be showing exclusively over there. In pro tennis the American season is still on hiatus, he can’t really afford to call  Austrailia every night and he’s kinda bored so that’s how he ended up in Colorado for the weekend. 

He’s on the slopes with Art and his tennis friends in the daytime but that night Stanford takes over the lodge and there’s this epic pool party. The pools are heated, there’s two hot tubs. Tons of pizza in the lobby and drinks outside. There’s even a DJ it’s like a full on frat party in the mountains. Everyone’s staying in the resort, kids are making out, hooking up, trying to hide more elicit substances like weed and ecstasy from the so called “adult” chaperones. It makes Patrick kinda wish he would’ve enrolled.  

He’s lifting himself out of the pool, sitting up on the edge, half drunk when it happens. The cold air feels so nice on his heated skin. He thinks its an accident at first when this guy nudges his knee. Patrick smiles at him, just to show it’s no big deal. He grins back. He’s cute, pale blue eyes, dyed black hair, a lip ring. He’s skinny, a couple tattoos. He looks a little like the guy from Blink 182 Patrick touched himself for when that what’s my age again video came out. 

He knows it by now. What he only suspected when he was younger. That he’s bicurious. 

If getting weird feelings about Robin in that Batman and Robin cartoon when he was a kid wasn’t enough.  Then spending 6 years developing the most delicious masochistic crush on his roommate that culminated in a kiss he can’t stop thinking about definitely did the trick. Pretty boy is chewing on his lip ring, smiling up at Patrick and checking him out. And yeah, Patrick definitely likes boys. 

He’s had a little experience. Some kissing, heavy petting, dry humping another player  in the back of his jeep after a bad day on tour. Made him feel better. He hasn’t really told Tashi… he doesn’t think of it as cheating. It’s something he can’t really get from her anyway.  

“Dude, hurry, lets get some more drinks,” Art sits up next to him on the pools ledge, he’s all tipsy, wet and flushed. He looks so goddamn good right now. It's actually a cosmic joke.  Pretty boy frowns and Patrick shakes his head just the slightest bit, hoping he understands that there’s nothing going on between them. 

“Come on, man,” Art says as he gets to his feet. “I’m already cold.” They were in the middle of a game of pool volleyball. It’s enough like tennis that they’re kinda good at it. And Art’s been flirty with this tall girl, Porsha from the girls volleyball team all night. Which is probably why he’s actually in a hurry, to get a drink back to her.

Patrick figures maybe pretty boy wants a drink. They pad along the cold ground to the drinks table. It’s cold enough outside that nothing really has to be chilled, it’s nice and cold just sitting out on the table. As Patrick scoops up another beer, pretty boy approaches him. 

“Hey,” he smiles. 

Patrick smiles back. “You want one?” He holds up the can he was gonna bring over.  

“Thanks, but I’m actually straight edge.” 

“Oh,” Patrick says, not overly familiar with the term but he thinks it’s hot all the same. 

Pretty boy looks over Patrick’s body, still checking him out. “Are you a freshman? I feel like I’ve never seen you before?” 

“I don’t go here, my buddy Art does,” Patrick gestures. 

“Hey,” Art says lightly, and then looks back at Patrick. “Come on Pat it’s fucking cold.”

”Guess you gotta go Pat,” pretty boy smirks, stepping closer.  

“Patrick,” Patrick says, “he’s the only one that…yeah…” 

“Got it,” pretty boy reaches up to finger the small gold Star of David necklace Patrick’s grandfather gave him that Patrick usually forgets he’s wearing. 

“What’s your name?” Patrick asks. 

“Julian.” He rakes his hand down the front of Patrick’s chest. “your body’s kind of incredible.” 

“Okay… cool man,” Art is still lingering, and Patrick can’t believe he almost forgot about him. Art’s eyes are narrowed in Julians direction. “Aren’t you in the student government or something?” He demands.  

“Not by choice, I’m just a genius at math and my friend is VP so they made me assistant treasurer,”  his eyes haven’t left Patrick’s body. “You want to go inside for a little bit and you know… hang out?”

Patrick’s been kinda horny all night. He’s horny and curious and Julian is really fucking hot so he shrugs. “Yeah.” 

“What? Seriously?” Art asks.

“Look I’m getting tired man.” Patrick lies. “But you have fun, I’ll see you… tomorrow.” He glances at Julian and he grins.  

“You really think I have a shot with Porsha?” Art says, scratching his head.

“I dunno but you’ll have the room to yourself either way,” Patrick smirks.  

Art’s eyes go wide. He looks again at Julian like it’s just now dawning on him what’s happening.

“Uh…” he steps back and stumbles a bit bumping into someone else that steadies him as he comes up to the table and steals a couple beers before hurrying back to the hot tub. 

“Right, later man,” Patrick says, amused by the way Art seems to be glitching out. Patrick still can’t believe after all this time that Art doesn’t know… but whatever he’ll live. At least until tomorrow when they can talk about it.  Patrick starts walking over to grab his towel and his things. 

“Wait I’m— I’m tired too,” Art says, following him. Patrick raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t argue when Art decides to accompany them back to the lodge. Walking in between them. “Maybe we should go back to the room and call Tashi. It’s probably 12 in the afternoon there.” He says when they get inside. “Tashi’s his girlfriend by the way,” Art adds to Julian. He can be a total dick when he wants to be actually.  

“Tashi Duncan?” Julian asks. 

“Yeah… I mean… yes. She’s technically my girlfriend.” Patrick says, glaring at Art. He looks triumphant like he’s ready to see Patrick try and dig himself out of it. 

“Technically,” Julian smirks. “Why do all straight boys have technical girlfriends, and fiancées and wives.” 

 “I dunno… maybe I’m not technically straight,” Patrick says. 

Art makes a strangled sound which Patrick ignores. 

“I figured.” 

“How’d you know?” 

“I was watching you,” Julian says, glancing quickly at Art before looking back to Patrick. 

“Right,” Patrick mutters, feeling a bit pathetic about the fact that it’s this obvious to everyone but Art. 

“Yeah I’ll probably have to call her or something tomorrow… let her know I’m bisexual.” Patrick says, dryly. 

Art laughs. “No way, Pat. One kiss doesn’t make us fucking bisexual.” He’s gone quite red and he looks irritated. “We kissed a couple months ago by the way. Me and him.” He blurts to Julian. 

It’s not like Art to bring that up at all. Much less in front of another person unprovoked. Tashi would sooner bring it up just to watch him turn into a cherry, then Art just outright admitting it. If Patrick didn’t know better he’d call it jealousy. 

“I agree, Donaldson right? You’re a tennis player?”   

“Yeah and it’s…Art,” Art says, coolly. 

“Well that’s… a name. I guess you should thank god you’re pretty.” 

“I—I thank god all the time actually,” Art says, a silly counter for an unnecessary but amusing fight Art is trying to pick. 

“Well that’s great man, and he’s right… one kiss doesn’t necessarily make you bisexual… but you know… we can do more than kiss.” Julian places his palm on Patrick’s bare tummy. 

“Patrick that’s…that’s not a good idea! you’re gonna end up losing Tashi. I— I want to help you but I can’t if you’re gonna cheat on her. Just come back to the room with me. I won’t even tell her or anything.” He’s fucking jealous. God. Patrick wants to laugh. This is incredible.

“Okay fine, I’m coming. Can you take this?” He hands Art his wallet  which has been useless all night since everything was paid for by the student event association or whatever and his unopened can of beer. He keeps his phone, his room key and his towel. “I’ll be up there in five minutes.” 

Art lingers a little longer.

”dude go, I’m coming I promise.” 

It’s a promise he totally keeps. In the bedroom where they don’t even make it to the bed… he comes. Julian has lube and condoms in his backpack. They’re making out in the elevator, in the hallway. and before they’re two steps into Julian's bedroom he’s pressed up against Patrick. Teasing fingers inside. Rolling a condom on and slathering it in so much lube. pressing into Patrick, slowly at first. it feels so big and achy and intense. And then Patrick’s guiding it towards his prostate. The angle where he fingers himself sometimes when he wants to come so hard he blacks out. It’s even better with a fully hard dick inside. Better with Julian’s teasing words in his ear. 

“I know a yearner when I see one. You wish I was that silly little blonde twink so fucking bad, don’t you. Imagine him fucking you like this. Filling you up till you’re incoherent. Filling every hole you have. Fucking you so deep you can’t feel anything else but the thick hard ache of it.” 

“Mm fuck, yes,” Patrick can’t help it. It feels like he’s seeing god over and over. Every thrust, every word taking him to new heights. It’s barely any time at all before he’s unloading all over the bedroom door breathless and moaning. Then they’re making out again on the floor, Patrick crawling all over Julian before a second round and a third. His first time, and this is so hot. He feels so good he almost falls asleep in there but when he picks up his phone to glance at it there’s like 20 missed calls and text messages.

Oh Art is sick.

Patrick barely gathers himself together and makes his way back to their room. It’s almost 2 in the morning but Art is awake watching tv. He’s finished another 2 beers. His eyes are a little red. His cheeks, a little streaky. He’s still in his swim trunks and his hair is nearly dried, his curls all messy. god Patrick can feel the blood rushing immediately right back into his dick. 

Art glares at Patrick and then does a dramatic flop onto his pillow, turning his back to him. 

“Oh come on,” Patrick says, laughing. 

“What the fuck is so funny?” Art mutters. 

“You.” Patrick approaches his bed and knees into it. 

“You know you just cheated on the greatest girl ever right? Cheating on Tashi for some gay loser emo with a star tattoo.”

”It was a starfish, I saw it… up close…for like 2 hours,” Patrick smirks. 

“Well aren’t you fucking special. I’m sure your mom will be proud.” 

“Why? did you call her?” Patrick snorts as he collapses onto the bed next to him. He stops himself, as always, from rubbing Arts' ridiculously perky ass.

“I fucking should,” Art sits up and renews his glare. “What if he had an std? Then you bring it back to Tashi?”

”we used a condom. And i don’t remember you giving this much of a shit when I cheated on my high school girlfriends.” 

“It’s Tashi man, you would really fucking do this to her?” 

“And you’d really fucking cry about it?” Patrick reaches up, brushing a knuckle along his soft cheek. Art shoves him off. “You should be giddy that I couldn’t stop myself. I’m surprised you didn’t call her.” 

“I did,” Art mutters. 

“Ah. So you are still an asshole, I was worried.” 

“She doesn’t even fucking care man.” Art mutters defeated. “She basically said why am I telling her about it if you need a dick and she doesn’t have one. and while she’s in  Australia of all places."

Patrick chuckles for the way he and Tashi had a similar thought process and for Arts dumb jealous meddling not getting him the result he hoped for. 

“Your mom would be upset though,” Art says, he sounds hopeful. 

“God, Art. What is the big fucking deal? Why do you want someone to be mad at me because I fucked a guy? Are you homophobic or something?”

“What? What?! No.” He says quickly. “Im not fucking homophobic dude. I… you know my cousin is a lesbian and… and I could care less.” He’s turning red. “I’m not um… I’m definitely not a homophobe. That’s not fair.” 

”Well then, what is the real problem? Is it that I wanted to get fucked? Is it because I wanted to feel some hot boys’ hard dick in my ass fucking into me over and over?” He says explicitly just to watch Art squirm. And boy is he squirming. He can’t sit still, can’t look at Patrick. Hes got his hands shoved in his lap, between his crossed legs, his face all twisted up. 

“That’s… that’s…not my… you shouldn’t be… you shouldn’t be just…” he stammers out but he just can’t… finish.  

“Art? Come on, what is it?” Patrick prods, a little softer now. “Tell me. Is it Julian?” Giving him an out. 

Art nods his head, grasping at the new reason to tell Patrick why he shouldn’t. “Yes actually. I mean, you don’t know anything about him. He’s got all those tattoos for all you know he could be a… he could be violent or something. Plus I heard he's a loser… you wouldn’t know because you don’t go here but someone told me he sucks. I mean… he’s lame. And he’s not even that good looking or anything… you could at least find an athlete  or like someone on a sports team or—” 

Patrick rolls his eyes. “You’re fucking ridiculous. You know that, right?” He mutters sitting up and leaning in close. “How about next time… if you don’t want another boy to fuck me… you just fuck me yourself.”  

The way Art’s expression changes so quickly to one of exaggerated shock and incredulity is actually amusing. “W-what?” He says, his Adams Apple bobbing.

“You heard me, you little shit,” Patrick smirks, leaning in closer. Art’s little tongue flits across his bottom lip, his eyes dart down to Patrick’s mouth then back up again.

”I don’t… I’m not…” he stammers, but Patrick grips his chin and he’s immediately pliable. Let’s Patrick pull him closer, till he’s leaning in near Patrick’s open mouth. Art licks a hesitant stripe across Patrick’s lips and then the flood gates open. He’s kissing Patrick, open mouthed, heated wet tongue slipping in and out and all around. Everywhere as he moans. If Patrick was seeing god before he’s pretty sure he probably is god at this point for how fucking incredible this feels. 

Patrick reaches into his lap. He’s as hard as he can possibly be. Of course he is. All this drama and all he really had to say was don’t go with him, fuck me instead. The most ridiculous person Patrick knows.  

He’s up on his knees, grabbing at Patrick’s face, then his body. Kisses so wet and eager that Patrick feels dizzy. Patrick settles onto his back, on the pillow, let’s Art fall on top of him, arms on either side of Patrick’s body, hips between Patrick’s thighs, he starts grinding up against Patrick’s ass, against his cock and balls, humping him like he’s humping into a pillow.

“Mm you should fuck me,” Patrick hums into Arts mouth. “I wanna lose my virginity again.”  He grins. He’s still wet for how much lube Julian used to fuck him loose and slippery. God getting fucked by two different boys on the same night he first loses it for a boy. This’ll be a story for his grand kids. 

“Fuck,” Art whines loudly before kissing Patrick again. “You should have just fucking…never let that loser… he shouldn’t get to…” Art’s all shaky, there’s this bright light in his eyes. Like he’s worked himself up into a frenzy.  “I can fuck you so much better than him.”  He starts grabbing at Patrick’s swim trunks. Tugging them down.  

“I can fuck you better. Fuck him.” He breathes, as he grabs at Patrick’s dick with his shaky hands and swallows. Every touch between them feels electric, Patrick’s tingling all over, in a way he wasn’t earlier. It’s actually crazy. Art is holding his dick, he slaps it against Patrick’s tummy and bends over to lick at the length. His perfectly pink tongue licking heated stripes all up and down and along his balls. over and over again. Sloppy and messy and so wet. Spit everywhere. Just when Patrick thinks he’s gonna come by this alone. Art huffs, his heated breath ghosting along Patrick’s dick, along his upper thighs. “I can fuck you so much better.” 

He sits up on his knees again and pulls his own dick out. His pretty perfect dick. Been perfect ever since Patrick first saw it. It was even more perfect  the last time he saw it.  When they jerked it simultaneously the last month of high school. Talking about Tashi. Not mentioning the kiss but the memory of it vivid in Patrick’s mind as Art was breathing heavy and ragged right next to him making him come so much faster.       

“You can fuck me. I’m wet already, baby,” Patrick whispers. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t wait for you but I’m really fucking wet for you.” 

“Fuck you,” Art looks more determined now. His eyes filling with water and it’s probably so fucked up, but watching him tear up makes Patrick’s cock twitch, even more eager to come again.

Art pushes himself inside and god, Patrick feels his body light up. Energy nearly as overwhelming as the night they kissed with Tashi. He couldn’t really compare anything to what it feels like to fuck Tashi before now.  Art sniffling and teary eyed and fucking into his prostate. Slamming into it. Feels just as fucking good. 

“You’re fucking mine, he doesn’t get to have you ever again, fuck you your mine,” Art is flushed so pretty, the way he looked in the heated pool. “Mine,” Art keeps muttering as he thrusts his hips over and over and over again. Patrick is seeing stars, nearly blacking out for every punctuation of the word. 

“Fuck yes,” Patrick groans loudly as he’s getting close. “I’m all fucking yours baby. Fuck it all out of me. Make me yours forever.”

“Fuck Patrick I’m gonna—“ 

“Mm shit… come on… you can do more. Keep fucking me with that perfect dick, pretty boy. Fucking fill me up.”

”Patrick…” Art whines. “Oh Patrick…Patrick… oh fuck… I’m sorry….fuck nnngh…” 

Heated liquid is filling Patrick up, making him even more of a mess as Art collapses into his arms. “Oh fuck,” Art starts properly crying. “I couldn’t even fucking…” he groans as he slips out. 

God, Patrick wishes he wasn’t so fucking hard right now. All he can think about is Art’s soft red cheeks, wet eyes and clumped lashes, wet face, wet mouth. Wet all over and Patrick almost feels guilty for how badly he wants him to cry more. 

“It’s okay… shh… ‘t’s okay. I’m gonna get you hard again,” Patrick whispers. 

“Really?” art sniffles. 

“Mmhm, come on… it’s gonna be fucking easy.” Patrick says lightly. He kisses Art’s wet cheek, tasting salty tears on his lips. and Art turns into it… taking Patrick’s mouth again, between sniffles. It’s easy really. Art is so easy— when Patrick can get him to be honest with himself. Fucking dream come true. 

[kayhi808]

First Crush 16 - Happy Halloween

I know this is late but technically it's still Halloween in Hawaii. I hope everyone has fun tonight! 🥰

"Honey, you're going to need to stay still."

Abby is squirmy in the make up chair, "But N'asha, I soooo 'cited!" Raising her little fists up in the air, ready for Halloween to begin.

Stepping back with her hands on her hip, "Well, if you stuck to being a Widow, we don't have to do this part."

Sitting still as can be, "No tank you. I needs to be Diwctor Fuwy! I stay still." Natasha continues to glue down the skull cap to Abby's head.

You enter the room with Abby's utility belt stocked with snacks and her trench coat. "Ok I think...." You stop in your tracks to stare at your daughter. The cap has made her completely bald looking. You're still undecided on how to feel about her costume of choice. Once Abby sets her mind to something it's hard to convince her otherwise. You had drawn in her goatee earlier, so she was just about done. She's still wearing the Widow suit underneath the trench.

"Mama, lookit! I no more hairs!" Abby cackles as Natasha sets her down.

She skips over to you, "Yes, I can see that." You strap on her utility belt. "While we're out, you only eat the snacks in here. You cannot touch the candy you collect, ok? I'll need to check it first."

"Okies, Mama!"

You help her on with her trenchcoat and runs over to the mirror & she squeals. " Do you like it?"

She jumps up and down, "I loves it so much!" She runs over to hug Natasha "Tank you!"

"Have fun tonight," she places the final touch of the eye patch on. "Listen to your Mama."

******

Chloe, Mia and their mothers were going to meet up at the Tower before hitting the nearby neighborhoods with the girls. You dressed yourself up as a hobbit. Brown capris & vest with a white poet shirt, a green hooded cape and a walking stick. It was the same costume as last year. You had always thought the stick could double as a weapon if need be. Bucky scoffed at your idea. He said him and Sam would be joining you for protection. He refused to have you and Abby out and about on a crazy night like Halloween unprotected.

You let Abby make her entrance and you watched the looks on Bucky and Sam's faces. Speechless. Horrified. Abby did her little sashay around the room, stopping in front of Bucky, jumping up and down with her hands clasped. "Do yous loves it?!" She plays with the trench to make the bottom swish.

Bucky's mouth is open & closing like a fish out of water. He turns to Sam, "Don't look at me. She asked you."

"Wow! Abigail. Wow!" Bucky's eyes meet yours and you give him a smirk.

"This whole...look? It's going to be embedded in my brain FOREVER," Sam nods at Abby.

Abby claps her hands, "Tank you!!"

The horror hasn't left Bucky's eyes as you laugh, "We better head downstairs."

While on the elevator ride down, both Bucky and Sam try touching Abby's bald skull cap without her knowing. "Stop," you hiss at them.

The elevators open to the lobby and when the little girls see each other they all squeal and scream, running to hug each other. They are so cute! Chloe is dressed as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz and Mia is Ren from Star Wars. The 3 girls gush over the sparkly shoes, Mia's mini light saber and of course Abby's bald head. Quick introductions are made amongst the adults. Bucky had met their husbands at the father/daughter dance at the daycare so they were a little familiar with each other. And Sam is so personable, he makes everyone feel at ease.

They were about to head out when the glass door slide open and Nick Fury and Maria Hill walk in. All 3 little girls gasp. Eyes wide and mouths shaped as little "o". Just like the time before, very intimidating and frightening, trench coat flowing behind him, cutting a striking figure across the lobby.

Abby runs across the lobby, followed by her 2 best friends. "Diwector Fuwy!!" She hugs his leg, "Happy Hanoween!"

He frowns down at her, 'Who the hell are you supposed to be?!"

Chloe is afraid of his tone and Mia hold her hand. The parents quickly follow.

Abby covers her mouth and giggles. "I'm you!!" She does a little turn making sure her trench swishes out. She slides her hand in his. "You wikes it?"

"Just say you like it," Bucky says with a little growl in his voice.

You try to distract & gather everyone to head out.

Abby looks at her friends, "Him's my fwend. He's so smart and braves. Him's the big boss to my Mama, Bucky, Captain America, Black Widow, Fawcon, Iron Man, Green Man, Lightning Man, Arrow Man....all dem Avengers. He protects the whole world and even space!" Fury doesn't look as angry & gives her little hand a squeeze. "And keeps us safe." Poking her eyepatch, "So no one steals our eyeballs, right?" His frown is back in full force and her drops her hand. He takes out his money clip and drops some money into the girls bags. "Get the hell out of my lobby. Go get some ice cream or something."

Again the girls gasp and a chorus of "Tank you, Diwector Fuwy! Happy Hanoween!" They all giggle and wave like the mini fan club that they are now.

"Ok, let's get started." You all start heading out and you turn to Bucky, "I thought Steve would join us tonight."

Abby pipes up, "Uncle Steve is on important dates. He cannot."

Bucky narrows his eyes at Abby, "How do you know he's on an important date?"

Abby shrugs before running off to join her friends, "Him tells me tings."

@waywardhunter95 @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @buckitostan @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05 @ozwriterchick @crazyunsexycool @baw1066 @nommingonfood @jvanilly

[spiralsdrop]

This is a hypnosis story I've always loved. If anyone knows who the author is I would love to give them the credit they deserve for this.

“My friends and I were at a bar across town. It was dark, a little loud, underground, with dim red lights and drinks that cost too much. But there were lots of plush little booths and we managed to snag ourselves a corner, so we sat and got deep into drinking and chatting.

After an hour or so, there was a big commotion going on in one corner with people falling around laughing. Before we saw what was going on, everyone involved had stumbled away hooting and giggling. But my friend Rachel leads me over and there’s this young guy kind of holding court.

“What’s going on?” Rachel asks, over the music.

“Oh, I’m hypnotising people,” he says, casually, like people do that all the time.

“For real? You’re a hypnotist?”

“Yes I am,” he says.

Rachel thinks this is hysterical. I think it sounds ridiculous.

“We should dooooooo this!” she says, waving over the two other friends we’re out with.

“Should we?”

“We should! YOU should.”

“I don’t think so,” I say, but she’s already tugging on this guy’s arm… and pushing me towards him.

“Hypnotise Emma!”

“Yeah?”

“She REALLY wants to!”

He looks at me.

“Do you want to?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure I’m un-hypnotisable.”

“Well,” he says. “Wanna find out?”

“You can try,” I say. I’m smirking a little bit. Silly me.

“Well, OK then. Here, take a seat.”

Like I said, I thought it was ridiculous.

There are two small wooden chairs facing each other and I sit in one. I smooth down the short, tight little dress I’m wearing. He – neat grey t-shirt, jeans, a tattoo of swirling black lines, like a soundwave, on one arm, a mischievous sparkle in his deep brown eyes, like someone who’s just had a sinfully good idea – sits on the other one, pulls it closer so our knees are almost touching. I’m a little nervous… but determined not to let it show.

“OK,” he says. He takes my arms and places them on the arm of my chair, palms up. He holds my hands with his and gives them a reassuring squeeze.

“You OK?”

“I’m fine.”

“This is going to be fun, OK?”

“Well, if you say so.”

Three of my friends are now gathered watching us. I hear Rachel say “I bet she thinks she’s a chicken five minutes from now.”

He lets go of my hands and wraps his gently around my wrists, his thumb on each, like he’s taking my pulse. He starts talking to me low and urgently, looking into my eyes warmly.

“So what’s your name?”

“Emma.”

“Where are we?”

“A bar.”

“What colour are the lights here?”

“Red.”

“Only red?”

“Some white.”

“What’s your name again?”

“Emma.”

”OK, Emma. We’re good.”

His thumbs are tracing circles on my skin.

His questions became… rhetorical. Think of my feet on the floor. Were they heavy? Did it feel good to just rest them there? Doesn’t it feel warm? Isn’t the chair comfortable?

It did feel comfortable. It felt like the second when an elevator stops descending and you’re that little bit heavier. I felt warm like sinking into a fresh bath. He put his hand on my bare shoulder. It felt solid and good.

Didn’t I feel calm? Isn’t it nice? Try closing my eyes. Keep listening to his voice. Even raised over the music is voice, is like a heavy blanket on a lazy Sunday. His hand slides to rest under my hair, on the back of my neck. Weren’t my wrists relaxed? Like they could rest on the arms of the chair forever. His other hand taps out a rhythm on my knee. Calm like warm sunshine on my skin. The sounds around me drift off into a dull hubbub. This was more relaxing than I th…

…I open my eyes and time has jumped just a little. Maybe it’s a few seconds later – or a few minutes? Which was weird. But it can’t have been long. My friends were all still there. And I still felt good. Calm. Nice. The rest of the world feels a little muffled, like the air is thicker.

“All awake, Emma?”

I nod.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel… fine.”

“That’s good.”

He rested his fingertips on my wrists and… oh.

“How does that feel?”

For some reason, it felt SO good. It was like one of those feelings that ran all through your body, like the feeling I get when my neck is being kissed, or my nipples are teased, or having ‘good girl’ growled quietly in my ear.

“It feels good,” I murmured. I was still sort of sleepy.

His fingertips started running slowly up and down my wrists, from my up-turned palms to the crook of my elbow. It was like the sexiest teasing I’d ever felt. Tingles rushed up to my shoulders and through my chest. I could feel my nipples getting hard under my dress.

“Do you like the way it feels?”

I nodded. The tingling was spreading through my tummy and between my legs. I was calm and floaty and burningly turned on all at once. He pulled his hands away. I bit my lip in frustration.

“More?”

“Yeah.”

He picked up his chair and moved it. I felt him sit down behind me. He leaned in close and whispered “Close your eyes…” into my ear. I did what I was told.

The moment his hands touched my back I gasped like lightning ran down my spine to my crotch. Every tiny hair on my neck stood up in reaction to his touch.

“Fuck.”

Each stroke of my shoulder blades felt like being stroked… everywhere, all at once. My clit was getting harder and more sensitive with each rub. My underwear felt hot and wet. I could barely control my breathing.

His hands slid over my shoulders and teasingly over my upper arms. It was like ecstasy. Just the fabric of my underwear against my clit was delicious. I slid my ass against the wooden chair instinctively trying to find some friction or relief. As he blew gently on the back of my neck I leaned back and spread my legs in the confused hope of being touched. I fucking ached with pleasure.

“It’s such a strong feeling,” he murmured in my ear, “when you think about it.”

He pulled his hands away once again. My heart was thudding in my chest, my nipples were hard through the fabric of my dress which had ridden up from my accidental grinding against the seat. Even with my eyes closed, I looked like a hot mess but I was so turned on I was beyond caring. I was just glad the club was so dark.

He puts brought his chair around to my side and just in front, so it was perpendicular to me. He sits in, close.

“How are you feeling?”

I open my eyes. I’m dimly aware of the giggling of my friends, and the gaze of some other onlookers over me. I feel a wave of heat as my face reddens.

“Don’t worry about them,” he says. “Look at me.”

“This is crazy,” I mouthed.

”I told you it would be fun.”

I’m speechless.

“Keep going?”

I was nodding before I even thought about it.

He scoots in front of me a little more. “Put your leg on my lap, Emma.” I lift my bare leg and place it tentatively across his knees.

His hand rests on my knee and a jolt of pleasure hit me. It snakes up my thigh to my wet cunt and fizzles deep me, my hips twitching. To my embarrassment I let out a moan of pure pleasure.

His fingertips are stroking my skin in soft, little circles. My thighs are starting to shake. Laughter among the crowd sends me blushing. He shakes his head in their direction and then looks at me.

“Emma, look at me.”

His twinkling eyes lock mine.

“You’ve been doing really well. Don’t worry about them. Listen to my voice.”

I nod in breathless agreement. His fingertips start drumming slowly on top of my thigh, one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two three..

It feels like a fluttering feeling inside me and I scrunch my eyes closed in delight. I squirm in my seat, squeezing my thighs together tightly just for a hint of pressure on my clit.

“Emma, look at me.”

“You’ve been doing really well. I know it feels intense. It feels so strong…”

I’m trembling with each quickening tap. One-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three…

“It’s getting stronger and stronger, Emma. Like you can’t hold back.”

The drumming moves imperceptibly up my thigh, to the edge of my dress and it feels 100 times stronger. I’m arching my back. My hands grip the arm of the chair like they’re my bedsheets when I’m touching myself. I’m so close…

“Emma, listen to me.”

“Oh my god.”

“Emma, listen.”

“I’m… please… I…”

“Let go.”

With those two words the orgasm hits me like an explosion, my thighs clamping together, the contractions in my cunt are so strong I bend double in my chair.

“Let go.”

It feels like I’m being fucked hard and deep while I cum, my g-spot is spasming with pleasure. I cry out helplessly.

“Let go.”

His hand gripping my thigh sends another orgasm shivering through my clit and then bursting inside of me. I feel a hot flood of wetness soak through my panties as I involuntarily squirt a little.

“Let go.”

I slump back in the chair as my hips jolt into the air. I can hear my friends shrieking with laughter as they watch me orgasm uncontrollably. I try to hold back but I can’t stop cumming. Each squeeze of my thigh sends another wave of powerful juddering contractions through my pussy, makes me moan, twitch, gush, gasp, grind, shake, cum.

I’ve never cum for so long.

“OK, you. Come here.”

He takes my leg off his lap and comes in close to me. He wraps his hand on my neck and pulls me toward him, my forehead resting on my shoulder, exhausted and trembling. “Just relax,” he murmurs. “Listen to my voice…”

I sink back into a calm darkness.

A few moments later I wake up, sheepish and embarrassed… but even so, I can’t stop grinning. He strokes my wrist one last time – no unbearable pleasure, this time – and smiles. I tentatively stand up, and my legs are like jelly. Rebecca grabs me incredulously and says “OH. MY. GOD.”

“I. KNOW.”

I tell her I have to excuse myself to use the bathroom and shakily stumble in that direction. It’s busy with girls streaming in and out, but in the mirror, I see my face and chest are flushed pink. And my hair’s a mess.

I shut myself in the cool dark cubicle and slide off my panties, down my ankles and over my shoes and step out of them. They’re so drenched from my cum I throw them in the trash can. I instinctively reach between my legs and fuck, I’m still so wet and sensitive. I lean back against the cubicle door and let my fingertips find my slick, hard, throbbing clit. It feel so good to finally feel the touch my body had been craving.

Around me were the sounds of doors opening and closing, girls talking, water running, the throbbing music from next door and the hand-dryer blowing.

I was so hungry to feel full inside and I greedily pushed two fingers deep inside, sliding in deliciously easily. My knees buckled with satisfaction as I slowly, quietly fucked myself. Each time the hand dryer switched on, I pumped my fingers in and out hard and fast, the noise of the motor covering the sounds of my wetness, until it stopped and I had to wait for more agonising seconds.

When I couldn’t take it any more, with one last blast of the hand dryer, I frantically rubbed my clit, my other hand grabbing my tit, and then those commanding words “Let go… let go… let go…” suddenly reverberating in my head, until, my hand clamped over my mouth, I came for the second time that night, my legs buckling in shock, sliding down the cubicle door until I was sat on my heels, waves of pleasure still shuddering through my thighs.

I sat on the toilet for a few minutes and straightened myself out, until the red flush of orgasm had faded from my chest. Then I went back out to join my friends… embarrassed, sans underwear but oh-so-satisfied.

And when I’m alone, the words ‘let go…’ can still push me over the edge sometimes :)”

I would love to give proper credit to this author. If any of you know who wrote this please let me know so I can tag them and give them the credit they deserve.