#anyway. insert closing statements

[sturnsdarling]

I don't know how to forget you

matt and y/n have been best friends their whole life, but after a drunken kiss and a night of tangled limbs, everything is changing.

vibe check: smut throughout (pretty equal sex dynamic, softdombutneedy!matt / subbutdeviant!reader), fluff, (resolved) angst, childhood best friends to idiots to idiots in love, y/n is scared of love (aren't we all), soft!matt, depressed!matt/reader, soppy confessions of love

this is a long one, kids: 12k words.

A/N: I LOVE THEM!! anyways this whole thing is based on one of my favourite songs of all time so if you don't know then get to know. I had so much fun writing this so I hope you love it as much as I do. IDIOTS IN LOVE SUPREMACY🗣 also tysm for over 200 followers you guys are insane

moodboards for this fic

love and cigs, merc

You burst into the house back first, Matts hands clawing at your waist and his lips moving against yours in a clash of teeth and tongues, your arms draped over his shoulders as your hands desperately clung to his messy brown hair.

He kicked the door shut with his foot, one hand coming to your jaw to pull you into him deeper. You both clumsily walked towards his bedroom, Matt leading you backwards with closed eyes, just about missing the couch. Your hands left his hair and found the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head with vigour, breaking the kiss for a brief moment before crashing back into each other. Heavy breathing and small moans were the only sound in his house as he attempted to unbutton your shirt, not yet breaking the kiss and fumbling at the tiny circles that kept your body from him. He groaned into the kiss in frustration, biting your lip slightly before tearing your shirt open in one fowl rip. You chuckled into the kiss, Matt followed suit and your back hit the hard wood of his bedroom door, your arm frantically finding the door handle behind you.

When you finally gained entrance, still locked in an all consuming make out session with Matt, you slipped your hands between your bodies and began to untie the knot in his joggers, his whole body twitching at the sensation. Matt broke the kiss, panting, his forehead leaning on yours. 

“I thought you said we weren’t gonna do this anymore” He said through frantic breaths, his lips still brushing yours. 

“I know what I said” you muttered, finally undoing the bow that acted as the gatekeeper between your hand and his aching length, the swift insertion of your cold hand into his warm boxers acting as a mic drop to your statement as you pulled him into you once more. 

“So” Matt pulled away for a brief moment, missing the heat from your plump lips and kissing you before he spoke again, “what’re we doin” he panted. 

“Just shut up and kiss me, Matt” you shook your head, wrapping your hand round the back of his head, nearly giving him whiplash at the speed you pull his lips back to yours. 

One month earlier 

You and Matt had been seeing each other for about six months, it all started as an innocent drunken kiss at a birthday party, that same night ending with you underneath him on his satin sheets, getting pounded into at a rapid rate. You had both decided that, as two consenting adults (your exact words when you propositioned him the idea) you should start sleeping with each other on a regular basis. What was the harm right? The sex was good, you knew each other inside and out, having been friends for basically your whole lives, and you knew that no matter what happened, you’d always love each other unconditionally. 

At first it was amazing, the sex was obviously incredible and, outside of the bedroom, basically nothing changed. No one had even noticed a difference between you two, your dynamic already being touchy and somewhat flirty prior to your decision to hook up every so often.

Despite the occasional stolen glance and white knuckled night out from being forced to watch one another get hit on by random strangers at bars, it was honestly really normal, at least it felt that way.

Being with Matt was easy, he was kind and caring, being around him was like being with yourself, there was no bullshit and no expectations. You just, saw each other, truly and completely. 

As time went on, the sex became something more, it stopped being about simply acting on an urge and started being about the closeness. The intimacy of it all. You craved him, and he was addicted to you. He stopped flirting back with the girls that pushed themselves against him at bars, and you stopped entertaining the boys that bent over backwards to get your attention. Neither of you had noticed it at first but, no one was interesting anymore. No one understood you like the two of you did, no one even came close. No one could make you laugh like he did, and no one could bring him out of his own head like you could. No one knew your body like him, and vice versa, and soon enough, the sex started to change the way you saw each other. 

Instead of seeing Matt, your childhood best friend and the kid that accidentally broke your arm by landing on you at the bottom of a snowy hill when you were kids; you saw Matt, a lingering presence of safety in a crowed room and a blissful night of endless orgasms. Instead of seeing you, the fourth wheel in his little family and the girl that bullied him for being five foot nothing until he was sixteen, he saw you, a beaming ray of light in his life and the sexiest woman he’d ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. 

The shift didn’t seem to matter, as far as you were both aware, nothing had changed. That was until one night when you were hanging out with Matt as you always did:

You and Matt were half naked, tangled up in one another on his bed, watching gravity falls for the billionth time and enjoying each others company.

You were rested against his headboard, clad in his t-shirt and your underwear, and he was rested in-between your legs, his bare back comfortably wedged between your thighs as his long, plaid pyjama pant covered legs spread over the length of his bed. Matt turned his head to the side, peppering a small kiss on the side of your leg before shifting to lift himself up off his bed, the loss of his warm pressure against you almost painful. 

“m’gonna go get a drink, baby, y’want anything?” He said, standing up and hovering next to the bed. 

You shook your head, looking up at him, “I’m good, thank you”. 

“Okay” he leant down, the weight of his arms making the bed shift under you as he placed a tender kiss on your lips, your mouths slotting together effortlessly. 

He walked out the room and the door clicked shut. In your momentary solitude, the game changing realisation infiltrated your brain.

He just called you baby, and not when you were fucking, he called you baby like, like it was your name, like it was the easiest thing to call you in that moment, like it felt right to him so he did it, or even worse, that he didn’t even think about it, like that’s who you are to him.

A sudden wave of panic came over you, the events of the last however many months flashing through your brain. The longing looks, the small jealous comments that went over your head, the lingering touches when you were with your friends, his desperation for you after being apart for any longer than a couple days. All of it started to come together in your mind as one big puzzle of ‘holy fucking shit he has feelings for me, and not just I care about you as a friend but I also wanna fuck you feelings, real feelings’. That wasn’t the scary part though, the scary part was how effortless it felt, to you. How it all just made sense with him, how it was never weird or awkward, how you felt completely safe with him, how you felt genuinely and utterly, loved by him. 

Your rapid mind was interrupted by Matt walking back into the room. 

“Chris drank all the fuckin’ soda already, kids an addict I swear to god” he said, holding a glass of lemonade.

You chuckled slightly at his remark, your eyes fixated on your fingers as you picked and pulled at the skin of your thumb. Matt fell backwards onto the bed, half his weight on your legs. The pressure suddenly made you uncomfortable and, without really thinking about it, you pulled your legs from under him and tucked them under yourself. The movement made Matt turn up to look at you, finally noticing your weird demeanour. You never pulled away from him, if anything you did the opposite, especially when you were alone. Matts brows furrowed as he turned to lay on his stomach. 

“Hey, you okay?” He asked softly, rubbing a gentle finger on your leg.

You shifted under his touch again, which worried him, a lot. He shifted and raised himself up to sit in front of you. He hooked a finger under your chin and lifted your head up. 

“What’s the matter?” He questioned, his voice thick with concern. 

You shook your head, his baring blue eyes making you feel claustrophobic in your own skin.

“m’fine” you said, attempting to look away from him. 

Your energy was jarring, and Matt was utterly confused, what the fuck had happened in the maybe twenty-seconds he had been gone and why were you suddenly acting like you didn’t even want to look at him? 

“Y/n/n, I know when you’re lying, what’s wrong?” He said, trying to find your eyes again. 

You didn’t reply, only returned to picking at your thumbs. Matt simply stared at you, unable to understand why you were suddenly a tense and anxious ball of energy. 

After what felt like an eternity, you broke the silence, your voice coming out in a choked strain. 

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Matt” your eyes didn’t leave your skin. 

Those nine words hit matt like a bus, knocking the wind out of him as his mouth parted in a feeling he could only describe as agony. 

“Do what? As in, do this” he said, gesturing to himself and then to you. 

You finally raised your head to look at him, a deep sadness hiding behind your emotionless face. “I don’t think it's a good idea, it’s gone on for way longer than either of us expected, and—“ you huffed, “I just can’t do it anymore” you tore your gaze from him, incapable of the decency it took to look him in the eye as you tore his heart from his chest. 

“wh—“ Matt muttered, “where the fuck has this come from?” He shook his head, eyes squinting and brows scrunching together. 

You didn’t reply, only shifted in your own skin. Your aloofness was like sand paper against Matts skin, he barely recognised you. His mind raced with the endless mind boggling possibilities as to why you didn’t want to be with him anymore, but they all centred into one crippling thought. 

“Is there someone else?” He said, his voice dropping an octave. 

“No” you said immediately, the ‘there could never be anyone else’ staying tucked between your teeth as your head shot up to look at him. 

“So what is then? Did I— did I do something?” His tone faltered, coming out as almost apologetic. 

You shook your head, gnawing at the inside of your cheeks, “I just — you — I — ” you couldn’t find the words to make it make sense, because it didn’t, it didn’t make sense, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of the walls closing in around you. 

“Y/n/n” your name rolled off his tongue like honey, his head shifting on his shoulders towards you slightly, his brows still knit firmly together in confusion that looked a lot like sadness. 

“I have to go” you said, unable to look at him for a second longer in fear of bursting into tears. 

“Wait—” he said, reaching out for you as you climbed off the bed and picked up your jeans that were sprawled across the floor.  

“Matt, I have to go” you cut him off, picking up your things and hurrying out the door, not looking at him for even a split second. 

You shut the door behind you and he opened it almost immediately, following you out into his kitchen, watching as you raced down the stairs.

“Y/n” he called out your name, but your pace didn’t falter, and in a flash and a slam of his front door, you were gone. 

He stood at the top of the stairs, blinking at the closed door a head of him. 

On the sofa, Chris and Nick were staring at him, waiting for him to say something and sharing flitting glances back and forth with one another. 

“What the fuck was that about?” Chris said, breaking the deafening silence. 

“Is she okay?” Nick followed his brothers questioning. 

“I have no idea” Matt said, that simple fact being the only thing he did know. 

You threw yourself into your car, slamming the door shut. The sound rang through your ears and the silence that filled the vehicle after was enough to send you tumbling into your sadness. Tears brimmed at your eyes as heavy, fast pants rapidly escaped your nose, you felt awful, you had no idea what you were doing, why did you leave like that? Why didn’t you just talk to him, he’s your best friend, why didn’t you just say something? Anything? What would you even say? I think you’re in love with me and I’m terrified that I love you too? Being with you like this has been the best six months of my life? the thought of losing you makes me feel like I'm dying? Any attempt to try and put how you felt into words made you spiral, and after a pent up moment of burning holes into the black leather of your steering wheel, the flood gates opened. 

“Fuck!” you screamed, tears cascading down your face and you hit the wheel with the palm of your hands over and over again.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you were drowning in your own mind and had no way of coming to the surface. Your relentless mind was exhausting, and when your hands started to sting from your merciless slaps against the brittle leather, you clutched the wheel, resting your forehead against the material with closed eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with me” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head against the wheel. 

You pulled one hand off the wheel and turned the key in the exhaust, starting the car as you lifted your head, taking a deep, calming inhale.

You gripped the wheel once more, turning your head and looking to Matts house, all you wanted was to go back inside, tell him that you’re scared, absolutely fucking terrified of how you feel about him, but you didn't, instead, you clenched your jaw, ripped your gaze from the house and pulled out into the street. 

On your drive home through the nearly empty LA highways, your mind raced with the events of the last six months, the orange streetlights periodically illuminating your car. Your playlist blared through the speakers on full volume as your unsuccessful attempt to drown out the sound of your own thoughts was brought to fruition, ‘sex’ by eden started to play, the drums and claps filling your senses as the piano melody took your mind to the last six months. 

The longing looks;

You were wrapped in a fluffy towel, your wet hair cascading down your shoulders as you lazily rubbed moisturiser over your clean face in Matts bathroom mirror. The door clicked open, and Matt softly padded into the damp steamy room, cold air following him in. His presence didn’t disturb you, you continued to do your skincare routine as he came up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder and sneaking his long tattooed arms around your waist. Neither of you said anything, you didn’t even look at him. In that moment, his presence was simply an extension of your existence.

As you softly massaged a hydrating serum into your soft skin, Matt couldn’t help but stare at you in the reflection. He loved you like this, your most pure and natural self, skin still littered with drops of water from the shower and your hair forming loose curls as it dried messily over your shoulders.

He watched you intently from his perched position just beside the curve of your neck. He thought you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and he could never get tired of looking at you. His gaze was heavy on your face, and once you’d finished applying all of your products, you let your eyes flit to his in the mirror, finally locking eyes with him. His mouth instantly curling up into a smile when you shot him a small grin. 

“You’re so beautiful” he said, his eye contact never wavering. 

Your smile grew and you dropped your head slightly, shaking it with an embarrassed chuckle. 

Matt squeezed you tighter to gain your attention again, missing the piercing warmth your eyes gave him. He picked his head up slightly and began to pepper short pecks on your damp, vanilla scented skin. The pecks slowly turned to small open mouth kisses, the warmth of his tongue against your skin sending shivers up your spine and encouraging a pool of wetness to collect between your legs. You let your head hang to the side slightly as he moved his kisses up your neck, stopping as he reached just below your ear. You whined as he pulled away and he laughed slightly, moving his hands to your waist and turning you round to face him.

The base of your spine was pressed against the marble counter top and Matt stared down into you, his hands absentmindedly rubbing circles against the towel that covered you. He effortlessly lifted you up and placed you on the sink, his hands finding your jaw once you landed the short jump. 

“I mean it, y’know, I think you might be the prettiest girl in the entire universe” his thumbs pressing into your cheeks as his slender fingers wrapped around the nape of your neck. 

His eyes were baring into yours, flitting between the left and right as an uncontrollable smile engulfed your face as you batted your lashes at him, returning his stare with doe eyes that almost made his knees buckle. 

“That’s a pretty damning statement, Matthew, I’m not sure I can live up to that title” You quipped, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him against you, aching for friction as you throbbed at his words. 

“There’s no question about it, pretty girl, no one even comes close” he said, pushing his jogger clad, growing bulge against your desperate core and pulling your impossibly close to him. 

“Let me show you how beautiful you are” he said, just before pulling you into a wet and tender kiss.

You moaned against his lips as Matt ground his hips into yours, his fingers digging into the nape of your neck. He moved his kisses down your jaw, his tongue flat against the bone as he worked his way down your neck and along the top of the white towel that separated his mouth from his favourite part of you. A soft hand came up to the fold in the fabric and tugged at it, causing it to drop from your body and fall onto the cold marble beneath you. The sudden exposure made all the tiny hairs on your body stand on edge as Matt ogled your body, taking you in like it was the first time he was seeing you bare like that, not the hundredth.

"you're so fuckin' sexy" he uttered, shaking his head in disbelief at the sight of your still slightly wet skin glistening for him.

You rested back on the palms of your hands and spread your legs wider for him, giving him a full view of your pretty pussy that was already slick to the touch. A hungry grunt left his throat at the sight of you baring yourself to him, and without hesitation, Matt dropped to his knees and hooked your legs over his shoulders, pressing bruises into the soft, squishy skin.

You squealed slightly as he tugged at your thighs, bringing your throbbing core only centimetres away from his face. He licked his lips like an animal spotting its prey and leaned forward, pressing a soft and sloppy kiss onto your clit. your back arched into the pressure of his tongue against you as he started lapping at your soaked core, moaning at the taste of you on his lips. Your fingers raked through his hair and tugged at the root, pushing him further into you as your hips involuntarily bucked into his face, grinding against his mouth as he worked his tongue over your weeping pussy.

His hand snaked its way down your leg, his blunt fingernails scratching down your skin as he brought his digits to to just below his chin, rubbing small circles at your entrance with the tip of his long finger, teasing your walls as they clenched around nothing, desperate for him to give you what he knows you want.

"mhph, Matt, please" you whined with furrowed brows, hips slowly grinding against his face.

Matt looked up at you with smiling, prideful eyes, dipping his middle finger into your soaked hole just enough to elicit a broken moan from your throat. As your walls loosened their grip around his finger, he slipped his ring finger inside, pushing them both in to the knuckle as he sucked on your clit, eyes still baring up into you as your head hung loose on your neck.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, but his pace on your clit was fierce, as if he was attempting to suck the air from your lungs out from of your pussy.

Your high was fast approaching, and your whole body began to tense above him, your legs unintentionally closing shut around his head. Matt didn't care, he wanted you to close him in, keep him there for the rest of time so he could make you cum all over his face over and over again until you felt as if you could pass out from exhaustion.

His fingers began to curl up into that blissful sweet spot, your stomach tensed in response and he knew you were close to coming undone. He slurped and lapped at your folds, his tongue dipping between them to catch the very centre of your clit, toying with the nub as he relentlessly filled your walls with his long fingers.

"Oh, fuck, Matt" the pressure of his tongue against you was euphoric, and a wave of tingles covered every inch of your body.

Your walls were a vice around his fingers and, with a tantalising suck on your sensitive nub, you released warm cum all over his hand. You shook above him, your vision going blurry as he continued to devour you, bringing you to a white hot level of ecstasy that left you a blubbering, whimpering mess on the bathroom counter.

When your legs stopped tensing and hung lazily over his shoulders, Matt pulled his fingers from you, licking them clean just before placing a soft peck on your puffy clit. The feeling made you jolt and he chuckled, his warm breath acting as a soothing wind to your sensitive pussy.

Matt got to his feet, his hands instantly gripping at your thighs to wrap you around him once again. He kissed you like he was a man eating his last meal, the taste of yourself still heavy on his tongue as it pressed and pushed against yours.

"taste that, pretty girl? you're beautiful even down to the sweetness of your perfect pussy" He pulled away from you, to say just before biting down on your parted bottom lip

The small, jealous comments that went over your head;

You, the boys and a few of your mutual friends were in a bar somewhere in downtown LA. Your hands were pressed against the wood of the bar as you waited to be served, the crowds of people surrounding you making you somewhat invisible to the bartender who, famously served all the influencers first and annoyingly ignored anyone who didn’t have a brand deal or over a million followers. 

“Hey gorgeous” an unfamiliar voice disturbed your failed attempt to order a round for your table. 

You looked to the side, and were met with the glaring stare and bitten lip of yet another guy who wanted to buy you a drink and disappoint you sexually. 

“Hi” you said, turning your attention away from him just as fast as he caught it. 

“Can I just say, you’re the hottest chick in this whole bar” he rested a sweaty hand on your shoulder. 

You shrugged off his touch and looked back to him, “thanks” you said quickly, instantly skeeved out by the feeling of his hand on your skin. 

“Let me buy you a drink” he said in what seemed like his attempt at a seductive tone, bringing his hand back up to you and pushing your hair off your shoulder, letting it fall down your back. 

“I’m good, dude, I’m just trying to get a round for me and my friends” you shifted away from him. 

He edged closer to you, running his fingers down your arm and grasping at your hand, 

“I can get the round, I’ve got money like that, baby” 

The name made you feel physically sick, and before you could open your mouth to tell him to kindly fuck off, the comforting sound of Matts voice rang through your ears. 

“You good, y/n/n?” He said, coming up next to you and wrapping a tight hand around your waist, pulling you into him, his eyes never leaving the meathead trying to touch his girl.

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy said, instantly squaring up to Matt. 

“S’not important, dude, jus’ leave her alone, yeah?” He said, shifting slightly towards the guy, his hand never leaving your waist. 

“What are you, her boyfriend or something?” He laughed, pressing firm fingers into Matts shoulder. 

Matt chucked at the attempt to rile him up, pulling his arm from your waist and planting himself directly in front of the dickhead that just pushed his shoulder. 

Your hand pressed against his chest, bringing him back down to reality as he looked down into your soft, sparkle covered eyes. 

“Don’t” you said, applying a warm pressure to his sternum. 

His jaw clenched as his heart rate slowed, the feeling of your hand against his chest a soothing balm to the burning rage that had ignited in him. 

“Fuck off, dude, m’not interested in whatever you think you’re gonna get out of this” you said, pushing Matt behind you and giving the creep the dirtiest look you could muster up. 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “whatever, bitch, you’re ugly as fuck anyway” he said as he sulked away. 

“Oh, I’m gonna break his fuckin’ jaw” Matt said, attempting to slip out from behind you and follow the guy through the bar. 

“Matt” you said, grabbing his hand, “leave it” you said, pulling him back to you, catching his eye-line, “I’m fine, okay? He’s irrelevant”. 

He stood a few feet away from you with a clenched jaw, his hand still in yours as you glared at him. He rolled his eyes and returned to your side. 

“Kids just asking to get his shit rocked” he huffed, resting a protective hand on the base of your spine. 

“I'm sure someone will knock him out at some point” you said, a smirk forming on your face as you returned your attention to the bar tender. 

“I could have blinded him just for talking to you” he muttered, watching as the same guy sauntered over to other helpless victim. 

“Fuckin’ idiot thinks he has a chance in hell, tryna hold your hand and shit” he scoffed, “dickhead” Matt spat, finally tearing his eyes off the guy. 

You peered up at Matt and he met your gaze, a soft smile forming on his lips at the sight of you. You chuckled and shook your head, and just as you were about to tell him how sexy he is when he’s angry, you were interrupted by the bartender. 

“What can I get for you?”

The lingering touches when you were with your friends;

You were all hanging out at the boys’ house, watching films and talking about nothing, and everything. You were perched on the sofa, both of your legs tucked under yourself as you lazily scrolled on your phone. Matt was next to you, his legs in a wide man-spread as his back rested against the plush sofa cushions. His arm was rested against the back of the couch behind you, a comfortable warmth engulfing you just enough to not rouse any suspicion. 

His fingers absentmindedly traced he curve of your bare shoulder as he joked with Nate and Chris, all three of them laughing about something you weren’t listening to. 

“Y/n/n” Nick said from the kitchen, bringing your attention away from your phone, “can you come help me with this, I’m so fucking confused” he said, holding a cookie ingredient box in his hands, reading the back with furrowed brows. 

You looked over Matts shoulder towards the kitchen and let out a short chuckle, “Yeah, sure”. You shifted, and placed your feet on the floor, using Matts leg to help you up from your comfortable position on the sofa. 

The pressure of your hand against his leg went straight to his crotch, and as if on instinct, his hand met yours on his thigh for a moment as you pushed yourself up. You turned to look down at him over your shoulder as your hand slipped from under his, he looked at you like you were the only person in the room and you returned the favour, padding away from him and facing your attention towards Nick, who was standing, baffled in the kitchen over the instructions that ‘made no fucking sense’. 

His desperation for you after being apart for any longer than a couple days;

“Fuck, angel, I missed your pussy so fuckin’ much” Matt grunted into your neck as he pounded into you, slow and hard, sucking on the curve of your jaw and occasionally biting down on your soft skin. 

Your moaned at his words, legs wrapped tight around him with your feet locked at his waist, your hands clawed at his back as he stretched you out, the sensation of him relentlessly hammering into you completely overwhelming your senses. The weight of his body against yours was blissful, his warm skin pressed against yours as you kissed and sucked at his shoulder, desperate to feel every part of him against every part of you. His hands were pressing bruises into every inch of your skin, the feeling of you clenching around him sending him into ecstasy as he thrust in and out of your sopping pussy. 

“Y’so fuckin’ perfect, literally perfect, this pussy was made f’me, made jus’ f’me” he was rambling, desperate to let you know how much he had missed you. 

“Mphm, Matt, don’t stop, please, don’t stop” you whined as he hit that gummy spot deep inside you, his dick nestling perfectly inside your slick walls. 

“Keep saying my name like that, please baby, say it again f'me” He said, craning his neck up to look down at you, his eyes fluttery at the heavenly feeling of being completely surrounded by you. 

“Matt” you moaned, throwing your head back as he thrust deeper inside of you, the soft pressure of the top of his pelvis periodically pressing against your puffy clit. 

Matt groaned, dipping his head down to capture your neck in a tingling bite, just before soothing the sting with a warm and flat tongue. 

“Ugh, Matt” you whimpered, squeezing your legs tighter round him, your hands finding his sweaty curls. 

Matt near enough growled into your skin, picking up his pace as he hungrily fucked you with unwavering force into his bed. The sting of your fingers pulling his hair, coupled with the pulsating heat of your throbbing pussy sent him over the edge. With a loud grunt and stuttering hips, he came harder than he had in weeks, his vision going blurry as he nestled himself further into the crook of your neck, biting down on the fleshy meat of your shoulder. He slowed his pace completely, slowly fucking his cum into you until he felt paralysed by your warmth. 

“Jesus Christ” he uttered into your hair. 

You peppered kisses along his broad shoulder and up his neck, biting at his earlobe, earning an involuntary buck of his hips into your cum soaked hole. He begrudgingly pulled out of you, his soft dick hanging down between his legs as he fell down on top of you, his crushing body weight making you sink into the mattress. Your hands played with his hair as he caught his breath, head rested on your bare chest and hands rubbing at your boiling skin. 

“Take it you missed me then?” You muttered, enamoured with his tired and fucked out frame lazily pressed against you. 

He simply nodded against your skin, bringing a large hand up to palm the curve of your breast. “S’much” he said, just before taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking on it with vigour. 

You giggled at the sensation, shifting under him slightly as he pressed his already hardening dick against your thigh.

“Matt” You laughed, squirming under his touch. 

In one swift movement, he flipped you both over so that you were ontop of him, your wet pussy pressed against the base of his sticky cock. 

“Need more, princess, now, please” Matt said, a spread hand coming up your spine and he brought you down to him. His hand gripped the back of your neck as he kissed you like he was starved of your touch.

“m’never gonna get enough a’you” He moaned into the kiss, the feeling of your folds brushing up and down his stiff cock sending him into heavenly overstimulation. 

The final beat of the song brought you back to reality,

and before you realised it, you were back at your apartment, pulling into your parking lot and making your way up to your empty home. 

Your apartment was covered with Matt; a spare pair of his dirty, beat up airforces sat next to your messy array shoes by the front door, dried out flowers in jars were scattered around your whole apartment, all ones he had gotten you for birthdays or special achievements, or just because he saw them and thought of you. His jackets were hung up on your hooks, and his shirts were thrown lazily into your laundry baskets. Cards and notes were littered on your fridge and window sills, all just little messages he’d leave you throughout your entire friendship, even before you started sleeping together. 

You kicked off your shoes and padded over to the fridge to get some water, old photos and memories stared back at you. Your fingers wrapped around the handle of the door, but your arm didn’t budge, your attention was fixated on the array of photos stuck to the fridge. 

You had a photo of you and the boys when you were younger, your mum had found it when she was clearing out some old stuff and you simply had to steal it from her albums. There was another photo that Nick had taken at some party you don’t really remember and then there were two photos of you and Matt. One of them was a photo booth picture from some influencer thing he dragged you to, and the other was from your birthday last year. Just below the pictures, Matt had stuck a note under the floral magnet, you had no idea when he did it and honestly didn’t even notice it until that very moment. The note read, ‘hi, you’re pretty, have a nice day’ in what looked like his best attempt to have neat hand writing. 

You glanced over the photo from your birthday, it was just after you guys had started seeing each other, and the boys had decided celebrating your birthday away from LA was non negotiable, so you all went home to Boston and had a proper family birthday. It was perfect, and for that short week, everything in your life felt like it was finally falling into place. Tears began to prick at your puffy eyes once more as you stared at the picture, his strong arms wrapped around your shoulders, a cheesy grin spread across your face as he made one of his usual silly faces for the lens of Nicks camera. 

Your heart sunk in your chest, and for the first time since you met Matt all those years ago, you felt completely alone. You had done the one thing you were the most afraid of being done to you; you had walked out on him, without even stopping to tell him why. You had acted like everything you hated, and the shame you felt, coupled with a deep sadness and a looming feeling of heavy regret were all only exacerbated by the fact that, the only person you wanted to speak to about how you were feeling, was Matt. 

Back at his house, Matt was in his living room, sat across from his brothers, his elbows rested on his wide knees as his head hung on his neck, resting in his palms.

“You and y/n have been… fucking?” Chris said, fully spread across the sofa as he stared at Matt in bewilderment. 

“Don’t say it like that, Chris” Nick hit Chris on the chest, turning back to Matt and perching his head on his hand, looking at him with soft features that reassured Matt that he was listening, “carry on, Matt” he said. 

“It um— it started about six months ago, after Quens’ birthday party, d’you remember?” He said, brushing his hair out his face with a huff. 

“Oh, yeah, I remember that, you guys ended up kissing during that weird card game, right?” Nick said, recounting his hazy memories from the party. 

Matt nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, “We ended up sleeping together that night, I brought her back here and she snuck out in the morning before you guys woke up”

“You sneaky motherfucker, if this whole situation wasn’t depressing as fuck I’d be so proud of you dude.” Chris leant forward and grabbed Matts shoulder, shaking him slightly and beaming at him, trying to coax a smile out of him. 

A lazy smile creeped its way onto Matts face as Chris patted his back, that alone was enough to let him know that behind his sad eyes, Matt was still in there somewhere. 

“Wait, so, what happened? Why did she suddenly decide that she doesn’t want to see you anymore?” Nick pushed, just as confused as his younger brother. 

“I’ve got no fuckin’ idea, one minute we were fine, just chilling and watching gravity falls, and the next, she won’t even look at me” Matt sighed, his voice cracking as he spoke. He threw himself back onto the sofa and rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands, groaning and trying not to cry. 

Chris and Nick shared a worried look, furrowed brows and concerned eyes pouring into each other as they both returned their attention to Matt, who was still shifting in his skin, the most worked up they’ve seen him in, well, in six months actually.

“Hey, kid, it’s gonna be okay, okay?” Chris placed a comforting hand on Matts knee, squeezing it slightly, “we’ve known her for like literally forever, whatever it is, I’m sure she’ll figure it out and come back” 

“Yeah” Nick said, moving to sit on the other side of Matt, “maybe she’s just having a moment or something? You know how she gets sometimes” he reassured Matt with a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m just—she jus’—I just don’t understand” Matt shook his head, hands raking down his face as frustrated tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. 

“Hey” Chris said gently, his voice wavering at the sight of Matt nearly crying, “Its okay, bro, you’ll figure it out, and besides even if you never get to fuck her again, I’m sure you’ll always be best friends” 

“Chris” Nick said quietly through gritted teeth, his hand gently rubbing Matts shoulder as he shot Chris a glaring look. 

“What?” Chris replied, innocently, not understanding what he said wrong. 

Matts head rolled against the back of the sofa, he let out a small chuckle and shook his head, a groan slipping from his lips, “I don’t care if I never get to sleep with her again dude, I jus’—“ he sighed, “I think I’m in love with her” he closed his eyes and squeezed his back teeth together, clenching his jaw as a throttling wave of sadness came over him, “and now I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to tell her” 

In the month between you walking out and you both crashing back into each other,

you didn’t see Matt or the boys once. You completely isolated yourself, refusing to even think about what had happened. The night you came home, after hours of crying in the shower and wanting the world to swallow you hole, you decided that simply forgetting it ever happened was the best plan of action. If it never happened, then it didn’t need to matter. But it did happen, and it did matter and you became a shell of yourself, existing on auto pilot everyday. 

All you did was work and sleep, your social life becoming quickly non existent without the boys to coax you into actually leaving the house. You stopped replying to anyones messages in the first week, turning off all notifications and letting the little red bubble get longer and longer as the messages piled up in your phone. Everyday you managed to get yourself out of bed was a miracle, and if you showered and brushed your hair, it should have counted as an eighth wonder of the world. Your life had become an agonising picture coloured by shades of grey, all of the colour being stripped from your world when you slammed the door in your best friends face. 

You couldn’t understand why you couldn’t just call him, tell him that you were sorry, that you freaked out and acted like a fucking idiot, and that all you’ve ever wanted is for him to be around forever, in whatever shape that may take. You loved him, you had loved him since you were a child, but having sex with him, and being his in those fleeting moments of passion made you fall in love with him, and the thought of that made you feel like you were driving down the highway on the wrong side, cars flying towards you at a hundred miles per hour as someone blindfolded you and told you to keep driving. But not because of him, he was perfect. He was one of the only people in the world who you really trusted, who you knew you could always rely on no matter what and no questions asked. It was because of you, something inside of you felt broken, and you had no idea how to fix it. 

Matt wasn’t doing any better;

Unless he had to film or take a meeting, he barely left his room. He pushed away any attempt from his brothers to talk about you or what had happened since the night he told them about the two of you, not wanting to be reminded of the agonising feeling that had wedged itself between his ribs since the night you left.

His temper was shorter than ever, constantly snapping at one of the boys for tiny things and losing his shit every time a minor inconvenience happened. His parents got word of the fact that you two had stopped talking and tried to be there for him, your mum too, but he pushed everyone away. No one had the ability to crawl inside his brain and plant flowers in his weeds like you did, and he knew that, so he didn’t see the point in letting anyone even try.

After a certain point he stopped talking to everyone, only interacting with Chris or Nick when he really needed to and ignoring all the calls from Nate, his parents or Justin. He just wanted to be left alone, because at least then his reality would reflect how he felt. You had left a gaping hole in his life and slowly but surely, he was falling deeper and deeper into the dark abyss of that hole, letting the heavy sadness consume him with reluctant acceptance. 

Despite his temper and moping about, his brothers never stopped trying; 

A soft tap rattled his door, and a few seconds after, it creaked open, letting in a slither of light into his dark bedroom. 

“Matt? We’re gonna go get wing stop, d’you wanna come?” Chris said softly, peering his head through the crack in the door. 

Matt didn’t respond, he was tucked up to his neck in his duvet in his dark room, the only light in the room being that of his low brightness computer screen playing an array of depressing songs on loop and the light that Chris had welcomed in when he opened the door. 

“Matt, dude, you haven’t left your room in days, you gotta eat something” Chris sighed, his refusal to accept this new version of Matt apparent. 

Matt simply turned away from the door, turning his back to Chris in a silent ‘fuckin’ leave me alone’. Chris huffed, shaking his head and clicking the door shut. 

Nothing was working, and they had no idea if he was ever going to be okay again. Normally, he would mope about for a couple days and then be back to his usual silly, kind self. But this was different, he seemed completely void of anything that made Matt, Matt. 

Nick was fed up of his behaviour, and despite Chris’ constant battle with him over ‘just giving it time’, Nick knew, as his older brother and best friend, that it had all gone too far. So he took matters into his own hands.

That night, Nick got an uber to your apartment,

knowing it was your day off work and that you were almost definitely in the same position as Matt; not leaving your house or talking to anyone.  

The uber pulled up next to your apartment block and he got out the car, striding up the stairs to the entrance and relentlessly pounded against your front door. The sound made you jump in your skin, pulling your attention away from the last episode of season two of gravity falls, a show that hadn’t left your tv in weeks. When you didn’t answer the door to the first round of banging, it started again and you reluctantly pushed yourself off your sofa and walked over to the door as it vibrated on its hinges. 

“Okay, okay, m’coming, Jesus Chris” you groaned.  

When you opened the door, you were met with a face you hadn’t seen in weeks. 

“Nick?” Your face dropped in confusion.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, y/n/n” he started sounding off immediately, pushing himself into your apartment. 

“wha—“ you started to speak, but were immediately cut off. 

“In what universe is it okay to just go completely ghost on your best fucking friend? What the fuck were you thinking? Matt has been in a shit state since you ran out that night and I’m fuckin’ sick of it! He’s angry at everyone, he’s nearly gotten in actual fights with me and Chris about a thousand times and he’s even stopped talking to our parents. Our parents y/n.” Nicks face was nearly bright red with anger as he paced around your apartment. 

“Nick, I—“ you folded your arms over your chest, his words hitting you like bullets of reality. 

“No. I’m not finished.” He held his hand up to stop you speaking, “I don’t know what the fuck happened between the two of you, but you need to sort it out, because I can’t sit here and watch this all unfold anymore. I think what you fail to remember, is that despite the fact that you were fucking him, he was also supposed to be your best friend. We all were. When you walked out on him, you also walked out on me and Chris. You left us all high and dry without a single explanation and zero entrance back into your life to try and figure out what the fuck happened.” Nick finished his rant and took a deep inhale, his first real breath since he stepped foot in your apartment. 

The apartment was silent for a moment, you not knowing whether or not he was finished. “Can I speak now?”

“G’head” Nick replied, raising a hand, gesturing you to say your part. 

“I’m sorry that I walked out.” You said, it being the only thing you could think to say in that moment, “I didn’t know he was going through all of that” you said, averting your gaze to the floor. 

Nick chuckled in disbelief, “cut the shit, y/n/n” he said, “you know what he’s like, probably better than anyone. You know because you’re exactly the same, I mean, look at you, you look like shit” he said, not holding back, then again, when did he ever. 

You looked back up at him and couldn’t help but chuckle as his insult, “What are you talking about? M’fine” you shrugged. 

“Yeah sure you are, kid” Nick rolled his eyes, taking a few steps forward and lingering just in front of you. 

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, and honestly I don’t really care. But I do care about him, and I care about you, and I know that this is killing you as much as its killing him. so just stop being a fucking idiot and go tell him that you love him, because I’m tired of his stinking fuckin’ attitude and I miss you, I miss my best friend, we all do, Matt more than anyone” he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, his warm skin pulling a single brick from the dam that had all your crippling emotions stuffed behind it. 

Tears brimmed at your eyes and Nick sighed, bringing you into an all encompassing hug, holding your head against his chest as you sobbed into him. He held you like that for a while, letting you cry in his arms as he cooed and rubbed the back of your head in the gentle embrace you were wrapped in. When you finally stopped shaking, you pulled away from him, wiping your tears and looked up at him through wet lashes. 

“What if he hates me?” You sniffled, your voice still shaky. 

Nick shook his head with a breathy laugh out his nose, “I don’t think he could hate you even if he wanted to, you’re everything to him” 

You and Nick shared another hug before he said he had to go and meet everyone in the city, asking you if you wanted to come and not pressing when you shook your head no, telling him you just needed to be alone. He left and you were alone again, your mind now racing with everything he had said, his words giving you the reality check you needed.

Back at the boys' house,

Matt was padding around the kitchen, he had left his room about ten minutes after he heard the front door click shut and he knew he was alone. As he shuffled around in the cupboards looking for a bowl for his hundredth meal of instant noodles, the front door slammed shut, and a burning annoyance filled his entire body. Chris came bounding up the stairs, seemingly in a hurry, but stopped in his tracks at the sight of Matt, actually out of his bedroom. 

“Oh, you’re up, I jus’ came back ‘cause I forgot my wallet” he said, grabbing his wallet off the table. 

Matt didn’t respond, he didn’t even acknowledge Chris’ presence. 

Chris went to leave, rolling his eyes and not even attempting to bother trying anymore but, in true Chris fashion, he was determined to find his brother inside this strange ghost that had infiltrated his home. 

“Look, dude, I know you’re hurting, trust me I get it but, you can’t keep letting this bring you down forever. There has to be a point were you realise that this isn’t healthy” He sighed, walking back to stand next to the table. “I know you love her, and I know that this whole situation is killing you, but maybe if you jus —“ he sighed, “maybe if you jus fuckin’ speak to her then you can sort all of this out, she can come back and everything can be normal again, ‘cause, its hard as fuck seeing you like this man and, even though I don’t love her like you do, I miss her too, she’s been around forever and it feels like we're a table missing a fuckin’ leg or some shit so, jus’ speak to her. what’s the harm in just trying, y’know?” 

Matt, with his back still to Chris, shifted where he stood slightly, opening his mouth to reply but swallowed his words. 

Chris sighed and shook his head, turning on the balls of his feet and running down the stairs. The slam of the front door echoed through the house, and Matt was soon left with the deafening silence left by Chris’ absence.

His brothers words ran laps around his mind, he knew he was right, this couldn’t go on forever, and he should just speak to you, but how was he even supposed to begin to try? Was he supposed to just show up at your apartment, tell you how he was dying inside, how this past month had been the hardest of his entire life and that he had missed you every single second of every day that passed painstakingly slowly? Was he supposed to just show up at your home, grab you by the face and tell you that he loved you and that he never wanted to be without you ever again? As the rapid thoughts bounced like pinballs against the walls of his skull, he realised that, that was exactly what he was going to do. 

He slammed the cupboard door shut and strode over to the table, picking his keys up and near enough sprinting down the stairs, not even stopping to put shoes on as he pulled the front door open and stepped out in front of his house. 

As he stepped out into his front yard, his heart fell down into his stomach at the sight of your shadowy frame, standing just a few feet from his front door, arms crossed over your pyjama top clad chest. He was paralysed, he didn’t know if he was dreaming or, if somewhere between the kitchen and the door he fell over and cracked his head open.

“Y/n” he choked out, it being the only thing he could muster up in that moment. 

“Hi” you said in a small voice, a shy smile finding your lips at the sound of him saying your name. 

Matt couldn’t move, feeling as though the ground had grown hands that had wrapped themselves around his ankles. You made the first move, taking a step into the light, the orange street lamp illuminating your features. His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you, your beautiful face in his sights again after what felt like an eternity.

You walked closer to him, warmth radiated off him as he stared down at you with a slightly parted mouth. Neither of you spoke, you had no idea what to say, you just stared into each other for that long moment, the world shifting on its axis around you as suddenly, face to face like this, you felt like the only two people in the entire universe. Your eyes flitted between his, your lips periodically getting caught between your teeth as you tried to think of something, anything to say.

Matts eyes explored your face, as if he was memorising every inch of it incase it was the last time he was seeing you, incase this wasn’t real and he was asleep in his dark room. His gaze flitted to your plump lips and it sent a twinge up your spine, and without thinking, you latched your hands round the back of his head and pulled him down into you in a feverish, desperate kiss. He returned the kiss almost immediately, his hands slipping round your waist and pulling you into him in a frenzied attempt to feel you close to him again. 

You burst into the house back first, Matts hands clawing at your waist and his lips moving against yours in a clash of teeth and tongues, your arms draped over his shoulders as your hands desperately clung to his messy brown hair.

He kicked the door shut with his foot, one hand coming to your jaw to pull you into him deeper. You both clumsily walked towards his bedroom, Matt leading you backwards with closed eyes, just about missing the couch. Your hands left his hair and found the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head with vigour, breaking the kiss for a brief moment before crashing back into each other. Heavy breathing and small moans were the only sound in his house as he attempted to unbutton your shirt, not yet breaking the kiss and fumbling at the tiny circles that kept your body from him. He groaned into the kiss in frustration, biting your lip slightly before tearing your shirt open in one fowl rip. You chuckled into the kiss, Matt followed suit and your back hit the hard wood of his bedroom door, your arm frantically finding the door handle behind you.

When you finally gained entrance, still locked in an all consuming make out session with Matt, you slipped your hands between your bodies and began to untie the knot in his joggers, his whole body twitching at the sensation. Matt broke the kiss, panting, his forehead leaning on yours. 

“I thought you said we weren’t gonna do this anymore” He said through frantic breaths, his lips still brushing yours. 

“I know what I said” you muttered, finally undoing the bow that acted as the gatekeeper between your hand and his aching length, the swift insertion of your cold hand into his warm boxers acting as a mic drop to your statement as you pulled him into you once more. 

“So” Matt pulled away for a brief moment, missing the heat from your plump lips and kissing you before he spoke again, “what’re we doin” he panted. 

“Just shut up and kiss me, Matt” you shook your head, wrapping your hand round the back of his head, nearly giving him whiplash at the speed you pull his lips back to yours. 

He kissed you back hungrily, groaning into your mouth as he pushed you backwards onto his bed. You hit the bed with a small whimper as his mouth detached from yours, his tongue flattening against your neck, then your chest, then your stomach and then back up the way he came.

Your hands latched onto his curls as your back arched at the sensation of his mouth against you for the first time in what felt like forever. He moaned against your skin, grinding his hard cock into your desperate core, your clothes creating a frustrating amount of friction between the two of you.

He bucked his hips into yours, your legs tightening around his waist with every thrust. You were desperate, and he was starved of you. His large came to your open shirt and pushed it down over your shoulder, his perfect teeth clamping down on your soft skin. His mouth found the curve of your tit, pulling the lacy fabric of your bralette down to expose your hardened nipple to him. With one hand on your waist, and his mouth latched around your nipple, Matt groaned into your skin. Your head rolled back at the sensation of his warm tongue on you, your whole body felt like it was on fire as his touch became feverish.

"Matt, please, please, I need it, I need you" you whined, you weren't sure what you were begging for but the pleads spilled from your mouth almost on instinct.

Matt removed his mouth from you and tugged at your shirt, you shifted slightly to assist him as he threw it across the room. He palmed the flesh of your half exposed tits, growing frustrated at the sight of the baby blue lace of your bralette that kept him from seeing you completely. With one swift rip, he tore the flimsy fabric open at the seams, leaving it in scraps on his mattress. The vision of your heaving chest incited something animalistic in him and he instantly dove down, latching his mouth around you once more.

The moan that left your throat was guttural, your back arching off the bed as his hand slipped down between the two of you, skipping the teasing and heading straight for your throbbing clit. The tip of his middle finger found your nub instantly and without hesitation, he set an agonising pace, rubbing blissful circles over it as his tongue continued to work your nipple. He moved his hand down, swiping his ring and middle through your sopping wet folds. Your toes curled at the feeling and with that, Matt inserted his long fingers into your tight hole.

The feeling of you clenching around his fingers made his stomach tense, a deep, hungry moan leaving his mouth and vibrating around your tit. Your thighs clenched around his wrist, he brought his knee to yours and pushed your legs open with brute force, pinning you open for him as he made his way down your skin with wet and sloppy kisses. As he moved, he pulled down your pyjama bottoms and panties, the cold air peppering goosebumps all over your skin as he slowly exposed you to him.

You were completely bare, spread out on his bed. He got to his feet, knees resting on the edge of the bed as he gawked down at you, his chest heaving in anticipation at the sight of you like this for him, something he thought he'd never see again.

"are you sure y'wanna do this?" he said, removing his hands from you completely.

"Matt, you're the only thing I've ever been sure about in my entire life" you panted, sitting up, placing your hand on his chest and leaning up into him.

His fingers pressed against your core once more, attaching his lips to yours as you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck.

"I've missed you, so fuckin' much" Matt confessed into the kiss, pushing you further up the bed as he crawled between your open legs.

Your hands came to the waistband of his joggers and pushed them down with desperation, moaning into the messy kiss as he thrust his slender fingers in and out of you at a tormenting pace. You wrapped your hand around his cock and he bucked into your touch, chasing the feeling of you pumping him. He broke the kiss with a breathy whine, head dropping to the crook of your neck as he assisted you in lining his throbbing length up with your sopping hole. He pulled his fingers from you and rubbed small circles over your clit, you pressed his leaking tip against your hole.

Matt moaned your name, the feeling of your wet pussy so close to being around him making his vision go blurry.

His hand came to your face, pressing bruises into your cheek as he shifted you both to lay on your sides, facing each other. He moved his hand down, lifting your leg and hooked it over his waist, pulling you into him with such force that a short squeal left your lips. You continued pumping him, rubbing his tip through your folds, when you brushed him back over your hole, Matt bucked his hips, the sting of him stretching you out for a brief second inciting throaty moans from the both of you.

Once he had a taste, he was lost in it, and Matt pushed himself inside of you again, this time allowing himself to bottom out in your gummy, soaked walls. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, your forehead pressing against his as he breathed desperate moans into your open mouth.

"Jesus christ you feel so fuckin' good" Matt whined, thrusting into you with one hand tucked between your face and his pillow, and the other on your thigh, the pressure of his touch sure to leave bruises behind.

He was bottoming out completely as your pussy milked him, clenching around his hard cock, and you felt as if you could cum from the sensation of his touches alone. Your whole body was tingling, every inch of your skin on fire with pure bliss as he fucked up into you at a steady pace.

"Matt, go faster, please" You whimpered, clawing at the back of his neck, tugging at the messy curls that gathered there.

He didn't need to be told twice, with a low growl, Matt set a rapid pace, fucking into you like it was the last thing he would ever do. Your moans were pornographic, the sting of his skin slapping against yours, coupled with the blissful stretch of your pussy around his cock sending you into a deep state of euphoria.

Matt grunted repeatedly, moaning your name over and over again as he fucked into you desperately. His moans made your ears ring, you brought a hand down in between you both and collected some of the juices that leaked from your pussy onto his cock, moving your fingers up to rub rapid circles across your puffy clit.

Matt grunted at the sight, his grip on your skin turning to blunt nailed scratches as he hardened his thrusts, pounding into you relentlessly as you worked your clit.

"keep doing that, angel, keep doing that for me, you feel so fucking good clenching around me like this, jesus christ, you're so fucking sexy when you touch yourself for me" he was rambling, completely consumed by the sight of you, the feeling of you milking his cock bringing him closer and closer to his release.

"fuck, Matt, m'gonna cum, m'gonna cum" you cried out, tears pricking at your eyes as he fucked into you at a rapid pace. the sensation of his merciless grip on your skin coupled with the stimulation of your throbbing clit making you see stars.

"cum for me, angel, cum f'me, I'm right there with you, m'right there with you" his words were almost incoherent.

The sound of him telling you to cum was enough to send you tumbling down into ecstasy, and he was right behind you. The vice grip your clenching pussy had around his cock was incredible, and wet sounds of your cum releasing all over his length filled the air as his pace became sloppy, chasing his high as he stuttered inside of you.

"Fuck, Matt" you cried out, and the sound of you crying out his name sent him over the edge.

He released threads of ropy cum into your gaping hole, fucking his seed into you as his movements began to slow.

Your breathless pants filled the room as you both came down from your highs, foreheads pressed against each others, sharing oxygen as your leg remained wrapped around his waist. His hand caressed the side of your face, pushing your hair out the way to look at your pretty, fucked out face. 

When you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you and the feeling of his eyes baring into yours made your skin hot. 

“Hi” you smiled. 

“Hey” He cheesed back, rubbing small circles on your warm cheeks. 

After a brief moment of loving stares, reality set in, and you remembered the agonising events that led you to being here, tangled up with him like this. The dark circles around Matts eyes that mimicked your own broke your heart, and in that moment, you couldn't bare the thought of never being away from him ever again.

“I um—I’m really sorry, Matt.” Your smile dropped into a sincere, pleading expression. 

“You don’t have to apologise to me, y/n” Matt shook his head against the pillow. 

“No, I —“ you sat up, resting on your elbow to look down at him. His hand on your cheek didn’t falter and you pressed your head into his touch with closed eyes, “I do. I’m so fucking sorry, Matt. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I—I just freaked out because you called me baby and I —“ your rambling was cut off by his voice.

“Wait” he said, shifting to rest against his headboard, letting his hand drift down the soft skin of your arm, “all of this, was because I called you baby?” He asked through a short, baffled laugh. 

You nodded, some what embarrassed, sitting up completely in front of him, taking his large hand in yours and toying with the rings on his fingers. 

“But, I called you baby all the time” Matt chuckled, grasping your hand in his and gaining your attention back to his soft eyes. 

“I know, it just— it freaked me out because I think I realised in that moment that I was in love with you and, I just didn’t know how to handle that” you looked away from him again, the weight of your confession making your voice crack. 

Matts ears began to ring, “You’re in love with me?” He questioned, thinking his mind was playing tricks on him. 

You locked eyes with him again, he looked so soft, his kind eyes almost sparkling with happiness at your words, “yeah, I'm in love you, Matt” you nodded, “I am, and I — I tried to ignore it, I tried to push it down and forget about it but, I couldn’t, I don’t know how to forget you” 

Matt didn’t say anything, he felt as though all the words in the English language were ripped from his brain as you told him you loved him for the second time. He simply starred at you in awe, your hand firm in his grip. 

“Can you say something, please” you said, your eyes flitting away from his for a second before returning to their prior position. 

“Y/n/n, I— I’ve been in love with you since we were ten years old” the words spilled from his mouth, a wave of utter relief washing over him at the feeling of finally admitting a fact he’s known for half his life. 

“You have?” Your expression was pleading as your eyes widened at his confession. 

“I’ve loved you more and more everyday I’ve known you, I just didn’t realise it until that night when— when we kissed” He said, sitting up and lingering inches away from your face. He brought his hand back up to your face, “You don’t know how to forget me?” He chuckled, “I couldn’t ever forget you, even if I tried, even if I wanted to” his lips brushing over yours softly as you breathed into his parted mouth. 

You didn’t respond with words, instead, you pressed your lips against his with such force that it sent him back down to his satin pillow.

You were terrified, and completely enamoured by him. You loved him more than you'd ever thought possible and he loved you just the same. And despite the fact that the idea of being loved, truly loved, scared you beyond belief, you no longer felt like you were drowning. Because you knew that no matter what happened, Matt would always be there to dive into the rocky waters and pull you to the surface.

taglist: @sturniozalt @shaquilles-0atmeal @blahbel668 @sleepysturniolo @le4hsblog @prissyhs @mattslolita

[misted-dream]

🗝️ SURPRISE boyfriend!sungchan & fem!reader

content/warnings | MDNI smut, established relationship, profanity, handjob, blowjob, fdom/msub dynamics but nothing extreme, sungchan calls reader ‘miss,’ edging (??), overstimulation, lmk if i missed anything

word count | 1.7k

synopsis | you expected to work overtime tonight, and you even complained tirelessly to your boyfriend about it. so it comes as a lucky surprise when it turns out you get to come home earlier than expected to both you and sungchan.

Your shoulders finally slump in exasperation as you turn off the engine of your car. Parked in front of your drive, you lean over to the passenger seat to grab your bag, sliding it onto your forearm before getting out of your car.

You make your way to the porch, knowing every step even in the darkness thanks to your many late nights. As you insert your key into the keyhole, you feel the muscles in your neck ache—you’ll probably ask Sungchan to give you a massage later on.

The front door clicks open. Your boyfriend will no doubt be pleasantly surprised to see you back home this early after you've been texting him nonstop at work all day about how your supervisor "hates you."

You push against the weight of the door, stepping through into your house with a sense of it being eerily quiet. Usually, when you come home Sungchan is always there to greet you with a kiss. Not tonight, though.

The lights of the kitchen and living room are flicked off. Could he be asleep already?

You chuck your bag and your coat onto the couch carelessly, and you’re about collapse on top of your things if it wasn’t for the slightest whisper of your name that can be heard coming from the bedroom.

Relieved that your boyfriend is still awake, you turn on your heels, heading for the closed door that leads to your shared bedroom. Frankly, you can’t wait to bitch about all your coworkers to him. God knows they deserve it.

As you near the door, more faint murmurs can be heard, but nothing intelligible. Is he sleep talking? You’d never let Sungchan live it down if today’s the day you find out your boyfriend of 2 years sleep talks.

You slip your palm onto the cold, metal handle. Pushing the door open, the scene in front of you is way out of the ball park of anything you pictured.

Sitting on the edge of the bed facing you was your boyfriend. With his pants down, and his dick out. Hard. And it looks like he’s been at this for quite a while judging by his hair—stuck to his forehead slick with sweat.

Sungchan makes little effort to cover himself up, not that it does anything anyway. His eyes widen as if he’s a teenager caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Baby, you’re home early,” he manages between deep breaths in after a small gasp.

You don’t acknowledge the surprise in his voice or his statement, “Enjoying yourself?”

Sungchan looks down at himself, cheeks slightly flushed from both jerking himself off and the embarrassment from the fact that you caught him red-handed.

When he meets your eyes again, there’s a coyness in the smirk that he wears. “Not really. I can’t stop imagining your hands on me instead of mine.”

Without turning, you lean against the door to close it shut behind you. “Let’s see if I can help with that,” you walk over to your boyfriend on the edge of your bed with a hungry gaze.

You stand in front of him between his legs, pushing his hair back gently to reveal his forehead, glistening under the warm lights. Sungchan melts at your touch.

His eyes follow you as you kneel down in between him.

“How long have you been trying to cum, huh?” your voice flowing like honey.

“I don’t know,” Sungchan admits. He leans back, planting his palms on the bed. “Like, 20 minutes? 30?”

A genuine wave of surprise washes over you. You know Sungchan could last when he wanted to, but his face says that he wants nothing more than to bust one right now.

“So, what would you do if I…” you drawl, taking the base of his cock into your hands. You wrap your lips around the tip of it, swirling your tongue all over the top.

In a split second, Sungchan’s head is thrown back and his hips bucked upwards into your mouth. “Fuck, baby…” his breathing hitches. “I’m gonna fucking cum with just one fucking lick from you. Shit.”

“Don’t,” you spit sternly. “Not until I tell you to.”

You know this is mean. This man—your boyfriend—has been aching to cum for the past half an hour and thinking he’s finally found his release, it turns out you’re only prolonging his torture.

“But-” Sungchan begins to protest.

“Do you want me to make you cum or not?” The words that come out of your mouth sounding like an ultimatum.

Sungchan stares at you helplessly for a moment, before nodding his head, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

You run a finger up his cock starting at the base. Seeing him squirm at the lightest touch gives you an inexplicable feeling.

He purses his lips tightly, trying to ignore the fact that his dick is so hard that it hurts, badly. “Yes, miss,” his voice coming out hoarsely, but simultaneously more like a whimper than anything else.

“Good.” You wrap your fingers around Sungchan’s cock; so thick that your thumb barely meets your fingers when you do.

Using the pad of your thumb, you rub circles over the head. Sungchan shuts his eyes tight, a strained moan escaping him. You’ve barely started stroking him when his cock starts twitching.

“It’d be so easy for you to just cum all over my hands, wouldn’t it?” you tease—only semi-regretting the decision afterwards because you know Sungchan would eventually get even with you. But he can’t fault you for the fact that this is way more stress-relieving than bitching about your colleagues.

“Please,” he whispers, legs threatening to close. “Please, miss, let me cum.”

Hearing his pleas, you can’t help but feel a little bit bad for your boyfriend. But only a little.

Sungchan’s face is now fully flushed, his lips pink and pouty from biting down on them too hard.

“I know, baby, I know,” you coo with a combination of mock and genuine sympathy. “But you can take a little more, can’t you?”

Sungchan hesitantly nods his head, licking his lips as if that will distract him from your hands working up and down his dick.

“You’re so good for me,” you drone. Your eyes fixed on Sungchan and every little movement he makes. The bobbing of his Adam’s apple. The sweat dripping from his temple. The uneven breathing made visible by his chest. Every little thing drove you crazy.

His moans grow more and more desperate by the second, an occasional grunt reverberating in his throat. “I really can’t,” he pleads, “Miss, please. It hurts so bad.”

You slow the movement of your hand down until it comes to a complete halt.

“No, please don’t stop.” He drops his head back down, begging, imploring you with his eyes

“You said you can’t take it.” You say innocently.

“I can, I can.” Sungchan sucks in a deep breath. “I promise I can, but… I just need to cum. Please, don’t stop.”

He looks at you in the way he does when he needs to convince you of something. Only in this state, he has never looked more pathetic.

You put your hands back on him, stroking slowly and building up a rhythm along his moans. You continue to do so wordlessly, enjoying the filthy sounds your boyfriend is making just for you.

“You’re taking it so well,” you say through a smirk. Sungchan only hums in response. “I’m going to count you down, okay?”

Hearing this, Sungchan’s dick immediately starts twitching more than it already is.

“3-”

Before you even get to finish saying the first number, hot, thick ropes of cum spray from Sungchan’s cock. It covers your hands, his stomach, thighs, and a little on your face.

He gasps, “Fuck!” Back arched, hips thrusted into the air, he groans uncontrollably as his cum continues leaking. “Fuck,” he repeats breathily, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

Sungchan opens his eyes to see his cum dripping down the side of your chin. “Fuck, baby, I didn’t mean to-”

He reaches out with his hand but stops when he sees you wiping it with a finger and licking it off. His eyes flutter shut as if you’ve caused him to malfunction.

“Are you really going to-”

In the next moment, you’re scooping his cum with your fingers from your hands, his abs, his legs, and putting it all back on his shaft as if it was lube.

His reaction is so intense that he pushes his hips off of the bed with his hands. “I’m- That’s- I just came, it’s sensitive,” he chokes and whines.

Your response was a simple, “You didn’t let me finish counting,” before you deepthroat his cock way too abruptly. Your tongues swirls in every direction as you clean the cum off of your boyfriend’s dick, making sure to get every last bit.

“Y/N!” Sungchan’s practically crying your name now, his hands in your hair half-trying to pull you off but the other half not being able to ignore how good your mouth feels around him.

It takes less than a few minutes before Sungchan cums again, this time directly into your throat. Hot, thick liquid streaming down your oesophagus as his hand holds your head down. You hum as he does, not being able to emit any other sound with your nose down to the bottom of his torso.

Sungchan thrusts—voluntarily or not, you’re not sure—deeper into your throat, draining every last drop of cum into you.

When his cock finally stops twitching, you pull your lips back, swallowing hard.

Sungchan looks at you with half-lidded eyes and a glimmer of euphoria in them. “Are you okay?”

You wipe the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, giving him an easy nod. “Are you?” Throwing the question back at him.

He chuckles, “Are you kidding? That felt fucking crazy,” he sighs. “In a good way,” he quickly adds before pulling you up and closer to him. Sungchan sits you down on his knees before pressing a kiss on your lips. “I’ve never seen you like that before, though.”

You brush his hair behind his ears softly, “Don’t even mention it. Work was brutal.”

Sungchan flashes you one of his signature smiles. “Then, it’s only fair that I get to relax you now,” he mutters before kissing your cheek.

[aventoru]

photobooth

“look satoru! a photo booth!” you say as you drag your boyfriend towards the booth in the street.

you two are leisurely walking when you spotted a photo booth nearby. what better way to spend time with your cute boyfriend? you’ve always wanted both of you to take pretty pics, and now you’ve finally gotten the chance.

“are you that desperate to take pics with me? i mean, i know i’m hot but—" you smack gojo on his arm, which he dismisses with a laugh. “shush and go choose your accessories,” you scan the array of accessories displayed.

gojo begins skimming through as well, trying on various headbands, glasses, and even costumes. eventually, you two settle for a simpler yet cute style, sporting matching bunny headbands.

you enter the room, the pink background highlighting both your features. (should you be thankful it’s not grey, washing out gojo’s hair?) you both stand facing the machine, choosing the photo booth settings. you look through the frames and styles, opting for a simple vertical black frame with 4 pictures.

“right satoru,” you say as you insert the corresponding bills into the machine, “what poses should we do?”

“hmm,” he ponders, scrolling through pinterest for inspiration. after a few more seconds, he looks up, turning his phone screen for you to see. “something like this maybe?”

“yeah, i also found some more poses on pinterest,” you show him your findings as well.

you both nod, agreeing on the poses for the 8 pictures you were allowed to take. but your gut feeling tells you that gojo is spontaneous (and crazy) anyway, so there’s no point in planning beforehand. and unsurprisingly, you’re right.

the result is nowhere near what it looks like on pinterest.

the first one was…decent. you two choose the most basic pose: a peace sign. it’s simple enough, but with satoru, you never know. the next five pictures are cute as well. with you both executing a variety of cute couple poses, from making joined hearts to posing as spies.

for the seventh one, he decides to hug you from behind and put his chin on the top of your head (ugh tall people). he knows this level of intimacy is unplanned. but he’s sure you’ve gotten used to it by now considering how he’s all over you every time you both get the tiniest bit of privacy. and sure, you do return his affections, but it’s obvious who’s the more touchy one between you. and unsurprisingly, this time you stayed still as well, not moving even an inch from your spot. what he doesn’t know was that you have a surprise planned for him in the last frame.

you two are posing, your faces right next to each other, cheeks touching and eyes smiling. just at the last moment, you grab his face, turn, and kiss him on the cheek. looking at his reflection on the screen, you can see his eyes widen for a split second. yet his surprise quickly morphs into satisfaction as he closes his eyes and smiles contently, leaning into your touch. the camera successfully captures the sweet surprise you gave him.

two minutes later, you two exit the photo booth, printed pictures all sleeved up in your hands. “so, are you finally returning my affections?” he tries to act nonchalant. but you can see the obvious skip in his step. “no, i just did it for the cute couple aesthetic,” you shrug, trying to play it cool. “yeah sure, i believe you,” he dismisses your excuse with a smirk.

“no, you don’t understand,” you grab his collar and pull him down to eye level, “i would do anything for a good pic. so don’t get the wrong idea.”

gojo contemplates whether or not he should point out your reddened cheeks to contradict your statement. but he decides to keep quiet for now, there will be other times to embarrass you anyway.

[shockercoco]

Seduction by Deception

Feyd Rauth x reader x Lady Margot

Warnings - 18+, smut, threesome, somnophilia?- based from the movie, penetration

Word count - 2177

a/n - request: "passionate kissing and smut after putting his hand in the box, without killing Margot Thank you!" - i hope it's okay that i inserted reader in here too lol, also 10k likes is insane tysm! I hope you enjoy :)

“Why exactly are we here again?” you turn to your close friend Lady Margot who’s sitting in the chair next to you. The two of you were sitting in the Baron’s section, waiting for the fight to begin.  She playfully rolls her eyes at you with a shake of her head.

“I’ve told you a thousand times already, we’re here to preserve the Harkonnen bloodline through Feyd Rautha so the Kwisatz Harderach can be born in the future since the Atreides are no longer living. Reverend Mother sees him as a worthy prospect, and he will eventually become the Baron,” she explains.

“I get that, but why are we here? Couldn’t Reverend Mother do this herself?” you ask as you fan yourself.

“Because given what happened between Feyd and his mother, she didn’t think she would be successful since she is seen as a motherly figure.”

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head in confusion. “What happened between him and his mother?”

“He killed her,” she tells you, causing your eyes to widen.

“What do you mean he killed her,” you repeat, “What happened?”

“Who knows,” Lady Margot says as she throws her hands up. “Anyways, that is why we’re here.”

“And what if he kills us, did Reverend Mother think of that?” you ask. You shift in your seat as fear starts to seep into you as you think of what’s to come later tonight. There’s no way you’re going to let yourself go out like that.

“If that happens, at least we died for the cause,” she says. Your mouth falls open at her statement, causing Lady Margot to laugh. “Relax, I doubt that will happen since he’ll be under compulsion.”

“I don’t think this job requires two people, I'm pretty sure one of us would suffice. Preferably you.”

Lady Margot fake gasps. “Would you really leave me alone with him?” 

“Like you said, if anything were to happen to you, at least it was for the cause,” you joke. Lady Margot smiles at you.

Your conversation is interrupted by Feyd’s name being announced throughout the arena and the roar of the crowd. Maybe your head will explode from the noise, then you won't be forced to seduce a killer. When Feyd finally enters the arena, both you and Lady Margot raise your eyeglasses to get a better look at him. 

“Well, at least he’s not bad to look at,” you murmur, Lady Margot humming in agreement.

Later that night as you and Lady Margot walk the halls of the Harkonnen compound, the only thing going through your mind are flashbacks from today's fight. It’s obvious that Feyd enjoys what he does and has no remorse for any one that’s not himself. He was toying with those poor men in the arena and had a smirk on his face all throughout.

You see Lady Margot look at you out of the corner of your eye, causing you to turn and look at her. She raises an eyebrow, silently asking if you’re okay, and you give her a reassuring smile. 

“It should be late enough that Feyd is on his way to his room,” she says as she looks out at the fireworks exploding in the air outside. “Shall we get started?”

You give her a nod as the two of you begin the walk to the private side of the compound. The halls seem to get darker and darker the deeper the two of you go. There are two armed men guarding the entrance of one hallway, which leads you to guess it leads to Feyd’s quarters. The men give both you and Lady Margot a suspicious look as the two of you get closer, and right as one of them opens their mouth to say something, you compel them both to leave.

As the two of you turn a corner, you notice Feyd in the distance, strolling with his hands clasped behind his back. You give Lady Margot a look before hiding in the shadows as she starts walking closer to him.

Feyd, on the other hand, can sense that someone is following him, but he doesn’t know that you are somewhere hiding. With a tilt of his head, he stops walking and listens as Lady Margot gets closer to him. You watch from your hiding place, waiting until you’re needed.

Suddenly Feyd walks away and disappears, leaving both you and Lady Margot confused, only for him to step out from the shadows a moment later behind her. He places a blade against her neck, causing Lady Margot to tilt her head to display more of her skin to him.

“You’re following me,” he says into her ear. 

Lady Margot smirks as she responds, “I am? I hadn’t noticed.”

Feyd allows her to turn around to face him, his blade still at the ready. “How did you get past the guards?”

“What guards?” she innocently smiles up at him. She gives you a discrete hand gesture, signaling you to come out.

Before Feyd has a chance to say anything else, you begin to use the voice on him as you slowly walk towards the pair, sending shockwaves through his mind. Feyd closes his eyes as he winces and subconsciously lowers his blade. He shakes his head, trying to get the feeling in his head to disappear, but it’s no use. He bawls his hands into fists, hoping that the feeling of his nails digging into his skin will keep him grounded.

“I know all about you Bene Gesserit witches, stop this at once,” Feyd commands Lady Margot.

She furrows her brows in fake confusion, “I’m not doing anything to you.”

“Stop the lies woman, I had a dream about you last night. I’m almost certain I have never met you before this moment,” he says. His eyes are now closed as he tries to keep his mind in order, but it’s getting harder and harder for him by the second as you increase your power. The noise from the fireworks outside disorients him more.

Lady Margot turns and begins to walk away, causing Feyd’s feet to follow her without him knowing. “And how do you know that it was me who planted that dream inside of you? There are thousands of Bene Gesserit.”

She swiftly leads Feyd down another hallway and into a giant room with you skulking behind them at a distance. Feyd is hypnotized as he watches the sway of her cloak Once all three of you are inside the room, the door closes. Lady Margot sits down on the bed placed in the center of the room and removes her hood.

Feyd opens his eyes at the sound of the door closing. “I don’t recognize this place.”

“Because you are in the guest quarters, my lord Na-Baron,” says Lady Margot, softly.

Discombobulated, Feyd turns to look around the room to gather his surroundings, and that’s when he notices you standing by the door. “Who are you?”

“That does not matter at the moment, my lord,” you give him a smile as you step closer to the two of them.

Feyd looks between you and Lady Margot, utterly confused and unaware of what’s about to happen. The last thing he hears as his thoughts come to a stop and his mind becomes empty are the words ‘happy birthday’ being whispered into his mind by you. Both you and Lady Margot now have full control over his body as he stands there waiting orders.

“Come to me,” Lady Margot whispers. Feyd slowly moves over to her, his eyes revealing the vacantness in his skull. “Kneel.”

His body lowers to the floor in front of her place on the edge of the bed. 

Lady Margot produces a small box from the inside of her cloak, the gom jabbar. “Place your right hand into the box.”

Feyd obeys as his eyes don’t leave hers. Once his hand is fully inside, Lady Margot moves her unoccupied hand to hover a sharp pin by his neck. As she increases the power inside the box, Feyd’s jaw begins to tense and his eyes fall closed.

“I think…this is arousing him,” Lady Margot tells you, but it comes out like a question.

“Well, you heard what people say about him, he’s a sadistic masochist. I’d probably be more confused if this didn’t turn him on,” you point out.

“I suppose so, how interesting,” she gives you a smile of which you return. “No better time to get started than now.”

“I should be holding the box and you should be the one on the floor,” you joke, causing Lady Margot to laugh.

“Enjoy it while it lasts.”

You take your place beside the hallowed Feyd and begin to kiss the side of his neck, while Lady Margot begins to read his energy through the box. Feyd leans his head to the side to give you more room as you make his way down his jaw. You watch as his hips jerk from the sensations.

He really is enjoying this.

You move a hand and place it over his crotch, and when Feyd bucks his hips again, you take it as a sign to continue. His mouth falls open as you begin to palm him through the fabric of his pants.

When you stick your hand into his pants to wrap your hand around him, he lets out a moan. Lady Margot allows him to fall back into you.

You watch as Feyd’s eyes slowly open as Lady Margot finishes her reading and relinquishes some of her power on him. Suddenly, he turns his head and body to connect his lips with yours, which takes you by surprise at first. He places his hands onto your waist, pulling you closer to him and allowing you to place your hands onto the sides of his face for you to do the same. For a second, you forget that Lady Margot is still in your presence.

When you pull away to catch your breath, Feyd instantly tries to pull you back in, but you softly push him away by his chest with a smile as you stand up and join your friend on the bed. His eyes are filled with hunger as he watches your every move, darting his gaze between you and lady Margot. 

“He probably would’ve done this without having to compel him,” Lady Margot states. You give her a nod in agreement. “Undress for us.”

Feyd wastes no time as he stands up to obey Lady Margot orders, letting his robe fall to the ground along with his pants and undergarments. His toned chest is revealed to you, and you can’t help the attraction you start to feel towards this psychotic man.

“Join us,” you command, causing Feyd to situate himself between the both of you in bed.

Both you and Lady Margot also undress before laying back on the bed on either side of Feyd. She goes to kiss his neck as her hand travels south to wrap her hand around his cock, while you let Feyd pull your mouth towards his. You let your hand slowly drift around his torso as he moans into your mouth from Lady Margot’s hand. You don’t stop him when his tongue darts into your mouth and begins exploring. When Feyd finally deattaches his lips from yours, only taking a second to breathe before joining his lips with Lady Margot.

“Not a bad kisser,” Lady Margot tells you telepathically, and you can’t help but laugh.

When it appears that Feyd is getting antsy with just the kissing and the gentle handjob, Lady Margot takes it as a sign to do the needed action to seal Reverend Mother’s plan. The room fills up with Feyd’s and Lady Margot’s moans while he fills her up as she rides him. You feel arousal dip out of you at the scene unfolding in front of you, suddenly feeling the need to be touched. 

Feyd must’ve gotten the message because he uses a hand to give some attention to the aching bud between your legs. When Feyd pushes a finger inside of your soaked opening, a whimper falls out of your mouth causing Feyd to smirk.

For a moment, you feel a twinge of jealousy at the fact of Lady Margot getting to carry his child before quickly coming back to reality. There’s no way you would want to walk around pregnant.

The next day, when you and Lady Margot arrive back at your homeworld you are welcomed by an eager Reverend Mother.

“So?” Reverend Mother asks, waiting for one of you to answer.

“It was a success. I now carry his heir and the bloodline is secured, just as you requested,” Lady Margot answers.

“And can he be controlled?” 

This time, you speak up. “Easily. You will be pleased to know that he will be a worthy ruler. He loves pain and is sexually vulnerable.”

“Well then…It is done,” says Reverend Mother, before waving the both of you away with a motion of her hand.

Like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

[passionwillow]

Deacon comforting reader after a car accident.

Mixing this with another request I have!

Warnings: car accident, fluff and angst? I think

- Deacon is first on the scene. Before any other officers because, hello, you’re his baby. He took off without a word to anyone and broke every speed law on the way.

- He helped you out of the car as his eyes roamed over you, brows furrowed and eyes worried. “Baby, you alright? What happened?”

- It wasn’t a terrible accident, enough to shake you up and give you some nice bruises and cuts. You’d be sore as hell the next few days. But the blood in your face and clothes scared him.

- Deacon knew better than to insert himself once officers responded, so he just stayed with you while you were looked over and statements were taken.

- He called Hicks and was given the day off, so he took you home after, refusing to leave your side.

- He helped you get upstairs and strip down, the usual hungry gaze he had at your bare skin replaced with concern as he looked you over, checking for anymore injuries.

- He took you to the bathroom and started a hot shower, stripping down as well before helping you into the shower, hands feather light and soft.

- Deacon in a shower with you normally ended one way, but tonight he was so worried he just wanted to hold you.

- His hands never left you as he helped clean the cuts on your face, thumb running over each one as his brown eyes darkened, muttering about stupid people and dumb drivers.

- He grabbed your favorite loofa and body wash and worked on gently cleaning you, trying to be gentle over the sore spots and apologizing when you flinch.

- He knows your hair washing routine and knows it isn’t supposed to be done today, but he washes it anyway to try and help you relax. Fingers kneading and nails scratching at your scalp, smiling when he sees your shoulders slump.

- You try to return the favor and wash him, but he gently refuses and draws you closer, lips finding yours in the sweetest kiss.

- He helps you get out and dry off, towel around his waist as you brush your teeth with him and go through your night routine.

- He isn’t leaving the bed for anything tonight. He stays right up beside you, arms holding you close and lips in your hair as he lets you sleep.

[saman-tics]

When Sam Deats confirmed that Richter has indeed kissed girls, and Richter's own statement that he kissed a few, it got me thinking about his past relationships.

Even though Annette is special, according to Sam Deats, I wondered if this meant that Richter's never been in love before. This is especially cemented by his comment to Alucard about him having been in love himself.

Anyway, I thought of these other women before Annette and what happened to them that Richter never committed to them. Maybe it's because he lost someone close to him (his mother), that he refused to let people get too close to him in fear of losing them in a similar fashion. Especially since he's a Belmont, and that could complicate things as his enemies could target his loved ones.

I'm rambling, but I can't help but think about how this would go in a fanfic. My self-indulgent ass wishes there was a reader-insert.

[jhypeach]

[9:00pm]

pairing: haechan x fem reader warnings: angry and jealous sex, edging, orgasm denial, fem receiving, male receiving, blowjob, squirting, fingering, self-play, smut smut word count: 1k+ an: my first haechan fic OMG! i got so into him lately that it drives me crazy 😭 anyways enjoy my first fic for hyuck

It's been an hour since you returned to your shared apartment, and Haechan hasn't spoken to you. From the moment he asked you to go home and to the ride home. Now inside your shared apartment, he couldn't even spare you a glance. You get out of the bathroom to see your boyfriend resting his back on the headboard of your shared bed, reading something, or should you say, busying himself as the book is upside down.

"Baby, is something wrong?" You asked him, but he ignored you again and went inside the bathroom. You followed him inside as he was stripping off. You took off your robe and joined him. You hugged your boyfriend from the back, kissing his shoulder blades before placing your chin on his right shoulder. "Love," you said seductively as you run your hands on his upper body, down to his torso. Before you could even reach his shaft, he caught your wrist, "Do you think you deserve a good fuck tonight, y/n?" Haechan asked as he pulled you in front of him. Walking closer and closer to you, crashing your bareback on the cold tile of the wall.

"Don't I, baby?" You rebutted as you attempted to claim his lips. He moved his face sideways, making your lips land on his cheeks and his lips perfectly on your ears. "Not when some guy was eyeing you earlier." He licked the back of your ears, going to your jaw, "Making them see you in a view that is only mine, hmm?" he licked your jaw as he grabbed and pulled you closer by your left thigh. His shaft is actually nudging your entrance.

You moved closer to him to make it enter your pussy. "Not so easy, baby" he made your back face him, his hands trailing down to your core as his other hand wrapped your neck. You could feel his fingertips getting closer to your inner thigh. The could tip if it sent shivers to your body, making you whimper to his touch. "This is mine," he said as his fingers made circles above your entrance and clitoris, "Got it? All mine" he kissed your neck, leaving love marks on it and biting it.

Haechan inserted two fingers in your hole without warning. You inhaled sharply to the cold slender finger that entered your genitalia. "So tight," he said as he pumped his fingers inside you a few times before adding two more, "That's how big I am, right?" he asked as he licked your neck and shoulder blades. "Bigger, b-baby… ahh," he continued thrusting his fingers inside you as his hand around your neck tightened. "Haech.. ahh-im… clo-," He didn't even let you finish your statement when he pulled his fingers out of your hole.

"Not yet" He pulled you down, leveling your face on his dick. He stroked it for a while and put it closer to your lips. You partly opened your mouth, letting the tip of his cock circling on your lips. "Will you suck me good, y/n?" he asked with a sweet smile plastered on his face while holding his shaft very close to your mouth. You nod as you wrap your hands around his long, hard rock shaft. You kissed it a few times, then licked it as you massaged his balls too. Slowly, you slid it inside your mouth, bobbing your head and slowly getting the pace.

"Look at me, love," he said as Haechan grabbed your hair to make you look at him, "Should I move it?" he asked, caressing your cheeks and wiping your drool. "Hngh.., Hngh" was your only response as you grabbed his legs to pull him closer, and his dick deeper into your throat and swallowing on it.

His grip on your hair tightened as he thrust deep into your mouth, "You like deepthroats, don't you, baby?" he asked, catching his breath as he pounded hard in your mouth, "Hngh… Hngh". The vibrations of your response send shivers down his whole body, making him pound even harder. Tears are slowly forming in your eyes as his dick hits your uvula. "Fuck" his last remarks before he pulled you up and made you encircle your legs around his hips, aligning his tip in your entrance. "Move it," he commanded as he walked to the sink and stood in front of the mirror.

He kissed you hungrily, licking, sucking, biting, and nibbling your tongue and lips. Haechan made you lean your back on the wall, resting his right hand on the wall near your face while his other hand played with your nipples. You have your arms interlaced around his nape to hold your weight. He continued pounding inside you, rough and deep, as his kisses went down to your neck. "Look at us in the mirror, y/n." he said as he bit and left marks on your neck, "Ahh…ahh," you moaned as his shaft kept hitting your good spot.

You bit your lower lip as you felt another wave of orgasm nearing. "I'm close, ahh," you said, ruffling his hair to release some tension. He continued shoving his dick inside you at the same pace. Your legs are already shaking, wanting to release, "I'm coming, pl-please ahh." And he pulled out once again, "To the closet, in front of your full-length mirror," Haechan's last statement as he put you down.

As you reach the closet, you sit on the chair across from the full-length mirror. You spread your legs and saw how glistening your core was already. Wanting to release badly, you played with yourself with your fingers. You inserted two fingers and pumped them inside you, "ahh, ahh," you moaned as you clenched around your fingers. You were about to insert another finger when Haechan entered, and this very view put a smirk on his face. "Baby, no coming until I say so"

He knelt in front of you and licked your inner thigh. "Continue pumping," he said as his tongue reached your entrance. His tongue played with your clitoris, sucking and nibbling it with his lips. His hands slowly reached for your boobs and kneaded them. "Do you like your view?" he asked as his tongue entered your pussy. "Hngh" a whimper was the only answer you made, "Use your words, love" his tongue replaced your fingers that were thrusting inside you, "Yes… Hyuck, please," you begged as your legs quivered for another release. "Squirt on my mouth, love," he said, sucking your genitals.

Seconds later, you release for the first time of the night, "I said squirt, love," he said, still sucking your entrance and kneading your boobs, and so you did. Squirted in his mouth, catching your breath and huffing for air. "That's my girl," he said and stood up and kissed your lips. You can actually taste your cum in his mouth. "Come on, love. Let's clean you up," he said as he returned to the bathroom and kissed your temple. "You haven't released yet," you said as he walked you two inside the bathroom, "Later, I'll do it inside you"

"What was that for?" You asked Haechan while you two were relaxing in the tub. "Hmm?" he asked. "The sudden ignoring of my presence?" you added, rolling your eyes even if he can't see it. He let out a chuckle, pulled you closer to his chest, and gently kissed your shoulder blades, "I got annoyed by the number of guys eyeing my girl earlier." Now it was your turn to let out a chuckle, "Don't worry, baby. Your dick is still my favorite," you said and laughed with him.

[nabi-unveiled]

Catching Up: Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo (Ep 5)

Other Reacts: Ep 1 Ep 2 Ep 3 Ep 4

We left our leads on the cusp of a dinner with a foreboding vibe. Ju-yeong is an emotional mess. Do-hoe is a brick wall. Frenemy seems to be inserting himself into the situation. Note - I don't think Do-hoe and him are or have ever been "together" during the twelve years. I figure frenemy is still trying to shoot his shot though.

Anyways, let episode 5 begin!

I didn't catch it at the end of the last episode, but the colors of their clothes are very interesting. Ju-yeong in white, Hyeon-ho in black, and Do-hoe in grey. It's as if Do-hoe is literally between two worlds.

Ju-yeong is perceiving the formal speech as putting distance between them. He uses the phrase "just like before" which shows yet again that he's trying to recapture the past. That isn't going to work sunshine. None of you are the same now.

Hyeon-ho's remark indicates that they (him/Do-hoe) have moved on. They are now in the "adult" world. They use formal speech more often than casual - particularly in the business circles in which they float. However, there's condescension in this phrasing too. I just can't decide if it's intended or if I'm perceiving it that way because I don't trust him. I hold grudges.

Ju-yeong, I'm with you. Glare away. One, they are ignoring you. Two, this conversation displays a high level of familiarity with each other. Three, are they taking you to dinner with you wearing your taekwondo uniform? You know these men in their nice suits driving fancy cars aren't going to McDonald's. I highly doubt Ju-yeong is dressed for this occasion.

IT'S A QUESTION! And it's one that indicates that he still cares. I wish I had kept track of how many times Ju-yeong has said or pretended that the cold doesn't bother him in this show. We'd be at quite a few by now. But he isn't Elsa. The cold very much bothers him. The interesting thing is that the cold here is symbolic of Do-hoe (and Hyeon-ho) icing him out. They are creating the cold.

I stand by my earlier statements. This is not a warm, friendly atmosphere. They are setting Ju-yeong up to be a spectacle. And while I may not have been certain on Hyeon-ho's previous statement, this one here is DRIPPING with condescension. Based on Ju-yeong's facial expressions, he knows it too.

It's interesting that Do-hoe's friends are not from the top university. I'm guessing they got close through Hyeon-ho. It is apparent that Do-hoe is doing well at the tutoring center, but it's not architecture. That means Do-hoe's path diverted from his plans at some point.

It's at this point that Hyeon-ho IMMEDIATELY changes the conversation. There's something there. Something changed Do-hoe's path from architecture.

We have physical touch with the passing of the glass, and then this dick move here. He knows Ju-yeong is uncomfortable. He knows this is the equivalent of looking down on him. It feels more personally insulting knowing how Do-hoe feels about being looked down on.

(Meanwhile, there's a conversation about the Director's son getting into the architecture major in the background, and Do-hoe deflects. That's not a subtle coincidence at all 🙄.)

That said, I can't actually be mad at Do-hoe here. I should be, but I'm not. He's being a dick, but he needs Ju-yeong to go away. He didn't want to care when they were teens, but sunshine seeps into even the smallest of cracks. He doesn't want to care now. But sunshine seeps in. He knows he'll cave if Ju-yeong keeps showing up around him. Do-hoe NEEDS him to leave to keep his status quo, and if being a jerk will accomplish it - so be it. That said - this puts Ju-yeong in a TERRIBLE position to be tormented.

About $300 USD for a meal? Yeah, I'd be out. I felt bad about splurging $20 USD on a meal this past weekend. I know some people have that kind of cash though. Apparently Do-hoe is one of them. Academy teachers can make a lot in South Korea; however, I doubt it's enough to treat everyone to this type of meal on the regular and drive a BMW. It also seemed like he was fairly new to the academy. He has likely earned cash from somewhere else along the way. I just don't know where.

The actor playing Do-hoe uses a lot of micro-expressions like the subtle tightening of his jaw when Ju-yeong stands. I'm really enjoying his acting. With a character like this, you need someone who can convey a lot in the smallest of movements and expressions.

I appreciate that Ju-yeong says he will walk. Do-hoe may have a lot of the power currently, but that doesn't mean you have to put up with being treated poorly.

Hmm. I'm trying to figure out exactly why it's important to him. Is it the memories? Does he want to go back there to run it? Are there things to be resolved there? Something else? I don't have a good read on Ju-yeong's motivation here.

Woah. Do-hoe lashed out. Somebody got triggered, and it brought out a question. Little kid is a genius. There's so much this question tells you. Do-hoe's angry about Ju-yeong "interfering". It's not the first time he's used similar phrasing (stick to your own business, etc.). It's a trauma response first and foremost. But it also feels like there's more to it. I have thoughts, but I don't have strong enough evidence to back any of them up yet.

And we have a crack. Do-hoe invades Ju-yeong's space. It's charged, but it's not romantic. He taunts him with "do you still have feelings", and Ju-yeong responds as sunshine characters do. He basically says "yes". You see Do-hoe visibly crack before putting the wall back up.

OMG. This conversation is intense. The difference in their tones and body language, and the layers of meaning in every line of this conversation. I need popcorn....or ice cream. Seriously.

This is another shot through Ju-yeong's heart. I'm not sure how many more of these direct hits he can take. For someone who has held on so closely to those memories, to be told that Do-hoe hates them? 😭

Do-hoe says he's glad that Ju-yeong didn't say he "did it for Do-hoe's sake". If he did say that he'd "become a stranger" to Do-hoe. I still think Ju-yeong DID do it for his sake. Ju-yeong is obviously and understandably distressed. The thing is - Do-hoe's got teary eyes here too. (I have to slow down on screenshots. Eesh we're only 7 minutes in.)

This really feels like a Personal Weatherman type of exchange. What I mean is that Yoh is always saying the opposite of what he means in that series. You have to search for what he actually means and feels.

Do-hoe feels that way to me. In the previous episode, his "I don't understand you this time" was really "I don't understand myself this time". This "you'd become a stranger" feels like it's actually because Do-hoe wouldn't be able to handle that truth. Like he wouldn't be able to handle that Sunshine had been trying to protect him. That makes him weak if he needs protection. That makes him responsible for Sunshine's pain and beatings. (It doesn't - I'm saying from his viewpoint.)

I could be wrong, but it is beginning to feel like there's even more to this rejection of Ju-yeong than the fight or the knife scene. It's beginning to feel like Do-hoe doesn't like himself. He's successful. He's "free". But he doesn't want to think about the past. He doesn't want to think about who he was back then. A+ on the trauma characterization. Trauma doesn't disappear.

Ju-yeong is out in the cold AGAIN. And just like him, my mind is racing 100 mph. It feels like I'm missing something. 🤔🤔🤔 It's something to do with Do-hoe and why he's so adamantly pushing Ju-yeong away. The knife scene alone isn't enough 12 years later.

Is this just a regular junk drawer or is this a whole boatload of meds?He closes the drawers before Hyeon-ho enters. He who apparently KNOWS THE CODE. Are they living together? I'm not taking a screenshot, but the closing of the door there was great camerawork.

1 - She's not really his friend or she wouldn't be upset at him calling her after work. 2 - I forget that severance pay is a thing for some people. 3 - IT'S ABOUT TIME! Get angry. Start making moves. I'm seriously beginning to doubt my characterization of you as a Red Rascal. There's small bits of temper shining through, but I expect you to bring chaos to Do-hoe's life.

Hyeon-ho's dripping water on the floor, and apparently that's a big deal. Not sure why though. Is that a memory callback I'm forgetting?

Do-hoe seems to enjoy teaching, but there's a pill case on our genius boy's desk that got focused on too long. Are we dealing with a different type of abuse here? I've seen Extraordinary Attorney Woo (het drama) and did WAY too much research into Hagwons during The Midnight Romance (another het drama). Academic pressure is a THING.

HOLY CRAP! HE HEARD IT. HE KNEW JU-YEONG WAS GETTING BEAT ON EXAM DAY AND HE LEFT ANYWAYS. That's the information I was missing. I will 100% be going back to that scene in the previous episode to rewatch and see how it was edited. The truth was obviously obscured, but it will be fun to see if there were any hints I missed.

That said - we knew Do-hoe realized Ju-yeong was getting hit at least sometimes. Between the sparring match and the ankle showing during the chicken scene, Do-hoe knew. But to be aware on the day all of the shit went down. That adds a layer of bystander guilt.

This shot is interesting. It's his old self looking back. This reminds me of the school uniform shots we saw of Ju-yeong that I still haven't completely sorted. This one is pretty easy though - choices were made, and he doesn't like himself for them.

They are outside of the rooms. The doors are open. The wall is not between them in the same way as when they were teenagers, but the wall is still there. There's a clock on it. Taekwondo trophies behind Ju-yeong. A mirror with an obscured reflection behind Do-hoe. The framing and symbolism of this particular shot especially with the conversation about buying the gym is excellent. That could be a whole post in and of itself.

I'm glad Ju-yeong keeps pushing the issue. The only way to break walls down is to apply pressure.

DO-HOE IS THE ONE THAT CALLED THE POLICE?!? I'm trying to decide what to make of that. He's saying words, but I'm calling most of it as half-truths. Facts are that boy was SPRINTING after he finished his exams to get back to the gym.

Yep. He hates himself not Ju-yeong. The line that follows is "I can't be the person you want, nor is it what I want." What does he think Ju-yeong wants? That's the real question. He's back to begging him not to interfere and please treat him as a stranger.

Hmm. So did he not get into the architecture major? I'm calling B.S. on that. I think Ju-yeong just hasn't put it together yet that Do-hoe lied to him about failing the exam. I do think Do-hoe lied.

You know, yelling at each other is still a type of communication. I know some people probably don't like it, but I can appreciate it in these types of critical moments. At least it gets stuff out into the air.

Chapstick is back. It seems to come out at key times. It would be fun to collect those moments and look for a common thread.

I'm stuck on the fact that the math problem is on the back side of this note. It also creates something of a heart shape when unfolded. Plus it talks about food, and them going to Seoul together. 🥺🥺🥺

Do-hoe is crumbling. You can see it. PLUS THERE IS SNOW. It's a sign! But apparently, we're going to do a long flashback sequence to really hammer in the point that boy is crumbling.

AHHHHHHHHH! He caved! He caved! My only thought is....they either did A LOT more kissing that winter than we saw OR .... nope, that's all I got. Because, we KNOW that neither of them have likely been kissing other people in the past 12 years. This isn't the awkwardness we saw in the earlier episodes. Yes, they are adults now. But this? This is a familiarity and comfort with each other that comes with experience. (Assuming we have a director/screenwriter who knows what they are doing which...I trust Hwang Da Seul's track record.) I'm guessing the van saw a lot of business.

Crap. Do-hoe apparently had been momentarily overwhelmed. He hadn't processed what he was doing. It's written all over his face. But he's at least somewhat smiling as they talk about how they are not really going to Seoul together. They're driving separately. See...it's progress, but we're not there yet. We're back to the talking on the phone while traveling shots. Instability is still here I see. Interesting.

Frenemy, you are my enemy. Why are you camping out at Do-hoe's house? You had 12 years. Let's be honest. Your half-naked body getting out of the shower while dripping water just to make sure he saw you (yes, that's where I've landed on the water dripping)....it was an offer. He didn't take you up on it.

OOOOOH. He's made a decision. I like the sentiment "I'm not going back, but continuing...". BUT you can't ignore history. It has an ugly way of rearing its head. Feel free to continue from the moment you stopped though.

He's drawing HARD lines with frenemy right now. Mask is dropping. There's still a LOT of history here that we aren't privy too. Frenemy is shooting his shot.

AND HE MISSES (is rejected). The crowd goes wild. Me. The crowd is me. That said, is the mistake the bullying stuff from the past? I think there's probably more to it than that. Especially with that abrupt fade to black. But....I always think there's more to it than that.

This isn't a promising sign. If you were texting me, it wouldn't be unusual for me not to respond for a couple of hours (particularly not in the morning). However, this is a NEWLY rekindled relationship. Not texting and then going home instead of meeting up? This feels like Do-hoe is holding Ju-yeong at arm's length. It's distance.

I wish I could say I was surprised by the distance. I'm actually more surprised that he brought Ju-yeong home at all. Do-hoe will definitely be trying to establish a new status quo. The only question I have now is - what are his new rules of engagement?

Ju-yeong sleeps in his coat? Poor boy. Aww. The MP3 player is back. I probably should've predicted that one, but I didn't. The bad thing is, it means something to Ju-yeong. However, Do-hoe isn't likely to see it in the same light. That whole "continuing forward" means he still doesn't want to think about the past.

Frenemy, what you doing back here? I thought we had kicked your ass out. And there's the music cue for our cliffhanger angst to begin.

Do-hoe, what kind of games are we playing now? Can we at least clue Ju-yeong in on the rules? It's not fair to play a game without letting the other team know the rules.

[beatingdrumspouringwine]

The names of the Gods

I vaguely promised an essay on my thoughts on the names of the Gods about a week ago or so, and thus I shall deliver :)

A few months ago when I was scrolling on TikTok (as one does), I came across a video by @olympianbutch talking about invocations in traditional Hellenic Polytheist prayers. The whole video was good, so I'll link the video (for the invocation): [here], and you can watch it all for yourselves. (And you should watch the two videos before it, they were equally good and educational). In it, he explained why we start prayers by saying the Gods' names: "This is because the ancient Greeks believed that when you said a God's name, They went: [insert action of dramatically turning around here]." Now, this was definitely funny, but once the full implications of that statement sunk in, it permanently changed how I viewed my own praying (in a good way, of course, otherwise I wouldn't be writing this thing based off of the video).

Now, the idea that your speech can call a God to you is something incredibly amazing, incredibly beautiful, and incredibly powerful. It means that the very second you state Their name, They can see your whole situation, and respond accordingly. I think this is something good to keep in mind, especially as the influence of 2020 witchtok/pagantok fades out (I was deep in this back then, so I'm speaking from that perspective [at some point in the future I'm doing a ramble on this as well, and how it impacted my early worship + relationships with the Gods {no hate if you were there too, I think it lowkey sucked for all of us}]). I used to feel really nervous that I didn't have a Real Connection with the Gods because I wasn't constantly hearing Their voices in my head, or having some kind of miraculous encounter with Them on a daily basis, and I used to base a lot of the idea of a "successful prayer life" around those encounters. However, since hearing of the concept of the Gods seeing you when their names are called, I've found my worries about that trickling away. When I pray, whichever God I'm praying to is there, and I can simply revel in the knowledge that I am standing (or sitting, or kneeling) in the presence of the God(s). The Gods are ever-present to begin with, but by calling upon Them in prayer, I am able to be face-to-face with Them in a more meaningful way, even if it's not something immediately sensible.

Beyond my prayer life, I've also found myself a lot more thoughtful about when I say the Gods' names. For deities that I worship frequently like Hermes or Dionysos, I'll be a bit more lax. I'll call upon Them for little things, like seeing a little crystal phallus in a metaphysical shop, or praying for safe travels. For deities that I once worshiped closely, like Artemis, I'll call upon Her in praise of the beauty of nature, especially if it's getting Real Beautiful or Real Cool. And even for deities that I rarely worship except on feasts, like Zeus, I'll call upon Him in praise of good things that fall under His domain, as a "I know it was You doing this!" kind of thing.

Anyways, this ended up a bit more rambly than I initially intended it to be, but I hope that somewhere within this ADHD-addled writing there was something of substance that's useful to you in your practice :) The Gods are always there, something something, always good, something something, I love Them.

[sleepdeprived-idiotlol]

yours truly as an avatar of the spiral

close up and w/out text below cut as well as some character facts/rambles and how they became an avatar

it, like me is American!!! didn't replace Helen is just there. obsessed with monster. rlly likes spiders and is fond of the Web due to this. too fucking tall to fit through its own door (that door is normal sized its just a tall fucker), but has a more human-ish form (but everything just feels slightly off) the spirals on its skin shift and move, never staying the same day by day. they do this in the "human" form too.

will occasionally go into a fit of laughter that causes people's ears to bleed and give them a headache

bites people's shoulders if it likes them. this is a problem cuz their bite gives people the worst trips possible. it does not know it does this.

if stabed would ask to keep the knife

How they became an avatar of the spiral (writen as a statement):

(TW MAJOR INJURY. NOT GRAPHIC BUT THIS BITCH SHOULD HAVE DIED. and swearing)

*click*

statement of [insert irl name]

statement taken direct from subject, [some random date idfk]

statement begins

All right so I was walking late at night, right? just walking about, and I was crossing the street, and this car comes out of no where, real fast. I'm talking 60 miles per fuckin hour here, literally a mile a minute, right? and it hits me, like full speed. I go sprawling, I should have died honestly but here I am! bones aching but not broken, and definitely got some brain damage

*knocks on head*

alright so it gets a bit blurry here, like having just got hit by a car, and I'm somehow able to walk, and I'm dazed as FUCK, lookin for some sort of hospital or shit, and I see this door and its yellow. yellow door in a wall it definitely wasn't in before. and for some reason I go, "ah yes! there's a hospital!" even though it's not a fucking hospital. I'm pretty sure there wasn't even one near by. but like I'm dazed and delerios as FUCK right so I walk through this door, and I just start wandering about, walking like I'm drunk yeah? and so I'm just wandering. finally realised this isn't a fucking hospital but I don't really care at this point, my head hurts and I wander into this room and I see... wel I don't know what I saw!

what do you me-

shush archivist im talking! anyway I walk up to this i don't know what and next thing I know I'm back at the door! but I feel... off. I'm not dazed anymore but I do feel loopy, and definitely still concussed. and then I look at myself and I just... am now part of the spiral! I'm inhuman now! or we'll I was never really human to begin with- like physically yeah and I have the iq of one but other than that I've always been a red fox! but now I'm not even physically human. uhm... and that's about it!

that's it?

yup!

oh- OK then. statement ends

ooo hey tape recorder!

*sounds of shuffling, then running*

(Jon sounds far away) HEY! COME BACK HERE WITH THAT!!

ehehehhehe gotta catch me first archivist!

*a loud THUNK, then a chrash as if someone had fallen*

(a bit quite, as if the tape recorder has fallen and slid in the crash and is a bit further away)

do you realise people don't make tape recorders anymore? you can't just run off with them! and are you ok? you just ran right into a doorframe!

yes yes I'm fine this happens all the time! permanent state of concussion as you know! *giggling and some static can be heard*

I didn- oh alright. *Jon sighs* carful next time

(louder, as if Jon had picked up the recorder)

*sigh, sound of door closing* (a soft "goodbye archivist is heard in the background) recording ends

*click*

[ekrochford]

Maul x femreader NSFW self-insert fanfic (part 9/10... or 11?)

[Here we go friends, things are getting tense!]

Part 9

You wake up in your own bed. Sunlight, so hot and bright it bounces off the floor, lays in a solid line through the small window. You didn’t pull the shutters last night, but you can barely remember coming back to your room. You’re lucky you managed to close the door.

Wobbly, you clamber out of bed and notice that you’re naked. Your clothes are lying nearby—you’re almost sure that you put them back on to cross through the hall from Maul’s room to your own. Almost.

The first thing you do is stumble over and activate the door panel to check the lock. The display bleeps red; good, you locked your door behind you.

Red. You stare at it, feeling queasy.

Last night floods back, clips and blurs of images all at once. You would prefer to linger on the ones where your arms and ankles were bound, but wrangle your attention back. To the dream. No, not a dream. A Force vision.

You’re a little exhilarated at the thought, terror aside. It could be said that your little spark of psychometry is, technically, the ability to gain Force visions from objects, but you’ve never really counted it that way.

Is your Force sensitivity growing stronger? Should you contact the Temple?

You discard that thought immediately. You’re no youngling, and even if they did take you, what in the galaxy could you want such a change of life for? You already have the career you’ve dreamed of—since you were little, listening to the history of this and that relic in museums, you became curious about the origins of things. As you got older, you realized there was a whole universe of history to discover.

Why would you want to change all that, become the weakest of Jedi, when you were already on your way to being one of the top authorities on Pre-Republic civilizations?

So you weren’t going to run away to become a Jedi. That was one concern dismissed.

You wonder if you should contact the Temple anyway, not to join, but to see if anyone could give you some advice.

You pull on underwear and your camisole and retrieve your datapad from your pack. Service is patchy in the Outer Rim. Big cities—or city-planets like the Hutts’ Nar Shaddaa—typically had connection to the Core holonet that was nearly as reliable as Coruscant itself. Mos Eisley was no Nar Shaddaa.

After a long, long loading screen, search results for Force visions begin to populate. They aren’t very helpful, especially not in slow-motion. Several are skeezy ads for Force-psychics or other scams. Pass.

You navigate to the University archives digital access browser and enter your credentials. The loading screen returns, rotating, rotating, rotating…

When the home page finally appears, you open a filter-less search through the archives for ‘Force vision’. The result is to strain the tenuous connection until one single result loads every minute, clocking doggedly down the screen. Endless as the loading screen. You sigh.

You narrow the search. Surely the best information on the topic would come straight from a Jedi. You filter your results to peer-reviewed works submitted by Jedi Masters. Keywords Force vision.

There are still thousands. The archive holds the records of centuries, millennia of information. You organize the results by date, most recent first. This, too, requires a full minute to process. You wait impatiently.

You browse through the eventual list, moving farther into the past as you scroll. Many of these are controlled studies attempting to quantify the effectiveness of one stimuli or another on a subject’s ability to perceive Force visions. Most of their concluding statements summarize that manipulation of one’s Force sensitivity is quite irregular from one individual to the next; very few tried-and-true amplifiers exist. You certainly haven’t been meditating lately.

Out of the wealth of long and descriptive study titles, a strangely brief one meets your eye.

Premonitions from the Force.

You smile and click on it. If the title is any indication, the report should also be brief. Your eyes skim the author line: written by Jedi Master Elzar Mann, co-authored by Master Avar Kriss. Your smile widens as you read through. Throughout your career, you’ve co-written with a few fellow academics and you know a tug-of-war when you see it. Throughout the abstract, your trained eye can pick out where one of the authors wanted short and to-the-point, and the other insisted on proper form. You wonder which was which, and then realize you know; Elzar Mann likely asked his co-author Master Kriss to help put his ideas in scientific format, too impatient or inexperienced to do it himself.

The Force has a will of its own. This statement can only be supported by anecdotal evidence; at the present time, no method exists for the measurement of the Force and its sentience cannot be gaged. But it is a fact accepted among Jedi and among all Force users that the Force has a will and can act with its own purpose.

Jedi… and other Force users? That would be you, you suppose. The weaker Force users, and other cults, like the witches of Dathomir.

Maul was born on Dathomir, but he claimed that he wasn’t raised there. The red lightsaber in your vision hovers behind these thoughts. You brush it aside and continue reading.

In the interview with M. Torgan (M. J.T., Y. 456.15.88), she reports that her experiences with Force visions (premonitions) have often been vague but in time, come to be understood as relevant to current or approaching conflicts. This suggests that the greater Force is aware of events unfolding in the physical realm and seeks to influence these events to unknown ends.

It can be reasonably deduced, when compared to a body’s natural inclination to maintain homeostasis, that the Force, also, seeks to maintain a cosmic homeostasis. To that end, it can be tentatively hypothesized that Force premonitions are comparable to the actions of an endocrine system, that is, making slow and gradual change to maintain long-term homeostasis.

That whole paragraph had the cautious tone of a scholar reluctant to make sweeping generalizations. The next paragraph was decidedly less cautious, to your amusement.

Force visions, alarming as they can be, do not arrive lightly. There is every reason to consider the pattern of known Force visions associating with physical-world events as evidence that the Force is not only sentient, but able to decide which actions will produce future benefit.

You can hear the stubbornness in Mann’s writing, even while Kriss tries to soften his edges.

Your comm pings from your bag.

You jump and scramble to the edge of the bed to fish the comm out of your pack. There’s only one person who you’re expecting to hear from; you pull your tunic over your camisole to be decent.

“Professor!” Taq Norr’s birdlike Rishii features flicker into view. His beak doesn’t exactly lend itself to smiling, but his eyes crinkle at the sight of you.

“Well, well, my intrepid little spacefarer! Enjoying Tatooine?”

Too much, you think to yourself. “Enjoying the refresher. It might be half a rotation before I see another one.”

Professor laughs, and then grimaces.

“Ugh, well… All part of the dig life! I’m calling ahead to give you some work before we all arrive on the liner tomorrow. The big kits are coming with us, of course, but there are a number of supplies that we’ll need to secure in Mos Eisley—I’m transmitting a list to you, now, and transferring the needed credits from the fund into your University account. You still have the access code to utilize the department account, don’t you?”

You do… somewhere. The last site wrapped up almost a full standard year ago, and you’ve been moving through the Outer Rim on your savings ever since. The odds are better that you have it than not, so you nod to Professor. “I believe so.”

His feathers ruffle and smooth absently. “Good, good. We’re at a stop just now, once we jump to hyperspace I’m sure we’ll lose connection. The captain expects us to reach orbit late tomorrow. Collect what you can from the list, if there’s anything you cannot obtain, we’ll just have to request it shipped from the Mid…”

Both of you grimace. The extra shipping to an Outer Rim planet is not an expense either of you want.

“I’ll go over this place with a comb,” you promise. “Do you already have accommodations arranged for your arrival?”

“Yes, there’s an inn close to the center of town. It was a little bit more spendy, but I thought we could all use one last good shower before we head out into the wild.” Professor laughs. “Where are you staying? Hopefully not somewhere too seedy?”

You know exactly which inn the Professor meant—and you walked past it because of the price. Obviously, Professor sure knows you well enough to guess at that fact. You shrug. “It’s not the worst place I’ve stayed.”

He laughs again, nearly cooing. “We’ll be there with you tomorrow. Just don’t get into any trouble before then.”

“Me? Get into trouble?”

Professor shakes his head and severs the connection.

You turn to the datapad to review the list, and find your page still open to the work of Masters Mann and Kriss. Your eyes catch on the date in the citation, which is in an utterly unfamiliar format. You open another window to puzzle out what year this was written in.

Stars! This essay is nearly two hundred years old!

You minimize it and bring up Professor Taq Norr’s list. Two hundred years isn’t very old when it comes to artifacts dug out of the ground. But scientific papers?

---

You take an uneventful trip to the refresher. If you’re afraid at all of scrubbing the memory of last night off your skin, you needn’t worry; maybe it’s the low-water wash that just doesn’t seem to do the job, but the feeling of Maul’s fingers—and his everything else—only seems branded up and down your body by the time you pull your clothes on.

In your room, you pack your collection of dirty clothes in your travel bag. There’s somewhere to clean them in town, you’re sure of it. It’s just a matter of asking around; the locals wash their clothes somehow, someone’s got to know.

Your datapad with Professor’s list goes in your pocket, with your comm on the other side. Half of your credits are tucked into the breast pocket of your tunic, the other half are tucked into your boot. The University account chip is in the breast pocket, too, and you even hunted up the access code from your encrypted personnel file.

You feel ready to explore a dangerous, unknown backsand city.

The door unlocks with a tap of a key and grinds open; it clanks out of sight into the wall port.

And across the hall, Maul is leaning beside the opposite door.

You freeze in the doorway.

He’s fully dressed, and that should make it easier to stop thinking about him naked. It does not. If anything, today’s modesty makes it impossible to stop imagining…

“Good morning.” His arms are crossed over his chest. He’s got his smoke-curl smile on today as he leans there looking at you; his eyes haven’t dropped from your face, and you wonder if he’s having any trouble at all concentrating. Or if it’s just you.

“Morning.” You step out into the hall and let your door clonk shut behind you. The light from your window vanishes and the hall is plunged into gloom; some sunlight slants in from a high window in the wall, but it’s not much. Without fumbling or dropping your key card, you manage to lock the door behind you and even put the card away without looking like you have ten thumbs. It’s a win, considering the weight of Maul’s stare tracking your every move from his place across the floor.

“I wanted to check on you this morning. When you left last night you were… in quite a state.”

You vaguely remember pulling on your clothes for the trip back to your own room; you hope you hadn’t tried to put your pants on backwards or your boots on the wrong feet, but it was far too late to worry about it now.

“Never better.” You lean against the wall across from him and return his smile. “Thanks for the good night’s sleep.”

This actually earns a chuckle from him. “The pleasure was all mine. If you ever need help sleeping, you have only to ask.”

Sleeping? If he doesn’t stop looking at you like that, you’ll have trouble standing.

“Well…” How verbose, you harangue yourself. “I’ve—um—I’ve got some errands to run.” You wonder whether it’s wiser to say ‘goodbye’ or ‘see you later’. And Maul is standing there, arms crossed, smirking. Waiting. For the millionth time… can he read minds?

Neither of you move, although you think moving would help you get your errands done. Nevertheless, you stand there with the wall holding you up and Maul’s eyes pinning you in place. You can’t believe you’re up for more after he nearly filled out your death certificate last night. That doesn’t change the fact that you most certainly are.

He tilts his horned head, grinning. “Something else?”

This is not a safe game to play, but you grin back. “I was thinking that you hit just about every spot last night, but now, looking at it in hindsight, you may have missed one. Maybe two.”

Maul doesn’t move. For several ear-drumming heartbeats, he just looks at you, eyebrows raised. It’s disbelief, and surprise. He’s actually speechless with it. A tiny flutter of triumph hits, and you can’t keep a smirk off your face.

He grins again, wider now. Your triumph wilts as you watch him push off the wall and close the space between you with slow, casual steps. He unfolds his arms and smoothly moves his hands to clasp behind his back. It would be non-threatening in anyone else. In Maul, you can’t say for sure if there’s danger, but you know that if there’s anything you don’t feel, it’s non-threatened.

“My.” He stops with plenty of space between you; a respectful distance, even. He leans forward a little, closer to your ear, and lowers his voice. “You’re much less mouthy when you’re naked.”

He’s close enough to smell his skin, the dust and exhaust on his clothes. You take a deep breath through your nose, savoring it and knowing Maul catches your every move. You see his eyes wander down to your mouth before he puts his smug grin back in place.

You don’t blink and you don’t look away. You reach out to his belt and twist your fingers behind it. Not fast or rough. Plenty of time to see his startled intake of breath, feel the way his abdominal muscles tighten at your touch beneath the black layers. You tug him by the belt, and he lets his hips arch forward first, boots to follow, until he’s standing with both feet just outside of yours and his hip bones are pressed squarely against you.

All right. Maybe he’s a little too tall for the two of you to line up perfectly. Maybe you feel his groin at your belt line instead. You stand up straighter, still holding his eyes, still dragging him against you by the belt.

Maul presses one hand against the wall, leaning in. He lets out a low chuckle, and his other hand comes up to brush your jaw. “I’m amazed no one has put you under lock and key to keep you safe from yourself.”

You swallow and give a shaky smile. “Tried it once. Office work doesn’t suit me.”

Maul’s laugh is low and close on your ear. “As it happens, there’s a lock on my door. We could lock ourselves in and you could show me this spot that I missed—”

A comm pings from his tunic pocket.

Both of you look down in unison.

Maul’s mouth twists into a frown. “I must go.” And that’s that. Flirting is over; he’s pulled back and his boots are already pointed toward his room. You stand up quickly, working to look less disappointed than you feel.

“Alright, then.” You figure it must be important—very important, if your guesses about Maul’s career are even close to right. If his boss is a Hutt or a Pyke or some other criminal head, keeping their call waiting isn’t good for his health.

“Wait.”

You stop at the top of the stairs; even this early, there’s a clanking, clamoring racket from the cantina echoing up the stone stairwell. Maul has paused at his door.

“Tonight?” he asks with another grin, another stare that burns gold through the dark.

You smile and nod—no thought, no hesitation. You’re long past wondering whether you should.

Maul dips his chin and lets himself through his door with his key card.

You’re about to descend, but you think of Maul with his key card and suddenly, you can’t remember if you locked your door. You were a little distracted… All your journals and reference notes are in there, not to mention some of your dig kit. It’s only a few seconds to check.

You retrace your steps and tap the crusted old door panel with a finger. It blares red. Locked. You roll your eyes at yourself and turn back to the stairs.

You hear someone talking and go still. Listening. It’s from Maul’s room.

One of your feet turns toward the sound involuntarily. It’s not any voice that you’ve heard before. It has a peculiar rasp to it, a cloying cadence. Even through the flimsy doors, you can’t hear clearly, but…

“…Federation… the Jedi…”

Adrenaline gallops through your veins and clammy sweat breaks out over your face, your hands. You back away toward the stairs. That’s it—that’s the catastrophe signal. You reach the stairs and creep down, before Maul’s face can appear in the hall and catch you listening.

You rush through the tiny lobby, past the cantina doorway. It’s the feeling that’s always been absent when dealing with Maul. You’ve been waiting and waiting to feel this gut-punch intuition; it’s never led you astray. You don’t need to simply trust your gut this time. You aren’t stupid enough to think you can listen in on syndicate or cartel business and walk away, just because you and Maul have been having a good time.

You pull your UV glasses on and your hood up as you move out into the sunlight. Let Maul keep his livelihood to himself. As long as it meant you got to walk away with your life.

[If you like it, leave a tip!

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[luminousbeings-crudematter]

Alford Plea

PART 2 - Statement of Facts

PAIRING:  Chef! Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader 

WARNINGS: it’s nasty, it’s in the kitchen, Simon’s a dick, Reader’s a dick and this is some next level self-insertion. 18+ only.

4 part series + 1 "epilogue", all written, updates every Sat

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Epilogue

__

Alford Plea: A guilty plea containing a protestation of innocence.

or

Where you knew that fucking your boss could not possibly end well, but you did it anyway, because what else were you going to do?  Not fuck him?

__

NOW

Over the months you’ve worked for him, you’ve learnt that Simon Riley is precise and calculated.   Everything has a method and a reason with him, and his patience for mistakes is infinitesimal.  You know that, if he could, he would run his entire kitchen himself—the only reason he doesn’t is because he physically can’t.  It doesn’t stop him from expecting perfection from his staff anyway.  

So, it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest when, not even ten minutes into your shift, you realise he’s been there all along, he’s just been unnaturally quiet.  Of course, he’s there.  

You woke up at stupid o'clock that morning to hear him whistling in your shower and fell straight back asleep.  When you woke up again at a more decent time of the morning he was already gone, and you’d assumed that he’d just gone home.  

But, you realise with a quiet kind of horror dawning on you, you’re clearly an idiot for thinking that.  

Because of course he’s been here all along. Of course he got to work before you.  Simon Riley lives to spite you, even without actively trying to.  

You’re proud of your own personal growth though, when you murmur a quiet and respectful “Alright, Chef” to him and then don’t throw a saucepan at him when he doesn’t even acknowledge your presence.  

Luckily for you, the day seems to trudge along quietly, and as close to normal as it could be.  Normal enough, you suppose, even though your muscles ache and sing at having been exercised so thoroughly the previous night (and this morning), your head pounds from your hangover and your right eye twitches every time he’s in your vicinity.  

It’s strange—it’s not like you expected him to acknowledge what happened or say anything inappropriate to you while you’re working—but you feel like you’re wearing the knowledge of the previous night’s activities like a scarlet S on your chest, à la Hester Prynne, and at any moment now, someone’s going to call you out on it.

Deep into the lunch rush, however, Simon’s quiet, thoughtful disposition seems to leave the building because you hear him barking orders at the poor pastry chef.  Business as usual, then.   

So lost you are in your thoughts, that you don’t notice that the blonde roux you’re supposed to be focusing on right now is as black as coal, sitting pitifully at the bottom of the pan.  The pan that is emitting enough smoke to put a refinery to shame.  Shit.  

You grab the handle without thinking, intending to toss the smoking pan into the sink, and of course, as a natural consequence of holding a piping hot thing bare-handed, you burn yourself and yelp loudly in pain.   

Fuckin’ spectacular, you think to yourself, glancing up from your station quickly.  Not only are you going to have to start the roux again, you’ve created enough of a ruckus that you’ve got a glowering tank of a man striding towards you.

“S’a fuckin’ busy day.  Don’t need this shit, ya get me?”

You open your mouth to argue with him, but change your mind instantly.  “Yes, chef.  Sorry, chef,” you say demurely, and look down at your feet. 

As intended, the words and your pointed lack of defiance only seem to infuriate him.  When you look back up at him through your lashes, his teeth are grit, jaw locked and eyes tight with his irritation.  But he says nothing, choosing to walk away from you instead.

You run your burning hand under the cold water of the sink, and watch as the poor commis who’d decided to look at his phone for a second takes on the brunt of Simon’s ire.  You only allow yourself the briefest of grins before you rearrange your face into neutrality.

Well.

You try, anyway. 

“What the fuck was that?”  The voice is equally incredulous and horrified, coming from directly behind you, and you turn around to face its owner with the most innocent look on your face.  

“What, Soap?”   

“That!  Y’two didn’t fight?”  Soap is noticeably confused, and you can’t help but smile at the darling man in front of you.  Soap’s position in the kitchen as a porter and pot wash means that the man is everywhere, knows everything, is everyone’s best friend.  But you and Soap have something special.   “Why aren’t ye fightin?”

“It was my bad,” you inform him.  “Chef was right, busy day today and no distractions required.”

You turn back to your station and attempt to clear it.  Moments of silence pass between you two, but you know it’s hardly over.  Soap is nothing if not meticulously thorough.

You’ve got a new roux going, determined to have it be blonde, not black this time, but an accusatory finger almost stabs you in the eye.  “Y'got fucked last night!”

“Soap!”  Your voice is shrill and horrified, and you slap his arm but can’t help but smile.  “On the DL with that, please, we are at work!”

“I knew it!  Knew it!  Who was it? Wait, no’ the bartender?”   

“Fuckin’ hell,” you whisper and grab his arm, pulling him down to you, whispering in his ear.  “It wasn’t the bartender.  It wasn’t anyone you know, just let it go, alright?”

“Not alright,” Soap booms.  “Y’got some.  The boss got some.  Everyone’s gettin’ it but me!”  

“What do  you mean, the boss got some?”  The look of innocence on your face would put a cherub to shame.  “Simon went home with someone last night?”

Soap grins at you widely and waggles his brows, making him look like a Disney villain. “Saw him stumble into a taxi wit’ some woman with a ponytail inside, is all I saw.”  Soap laughs, tugging at the ends of your own hair lightly.  “Was a right mess.”

“Oh!” you say with feigned surprise.  Though it would be so much more appropriate to say ‘O’.

And like a slideshow that was ready to go behind your eyes, the images fill your brain—what Simon looked like above you and below you, and the sounds he made from behind you.  God, you had so much sex last night.

 “S’why he’s not beefin’ wit’ you,” Soap says, sagely.  “The dirty bastard got pussy last night.”  

You grin back.  “I think you’re absolutely right.”

____

THEN

He’s arranged your body in a position you didn’t think it could contort into anymore, but here you are.  

Your thighs spread as wide as they can go, Simon Riley standing between them watching you.  Or rather, watching where the two of you are joined. 

A light sheen of sweat clings to his chest and he’s breathing hard, eyes transfixed on where he thrusts into you, hard and unforgiving.  But then you both watch as your hand moves towards him, almost like it has a mind of its own, and sits on the centre of his chest, nails biting into his skin.  

The sight makes him thrust into you harder, hitting a particularly deep spot inside you, making you moan and clench around him involuntarily.  It makes his head fall back and he lets out the most filthy, most cum-hungry groan you’ve ever heard a man make, sounding almost like you’d hurt him. You want him to do it again.  

But you don’t get the opportunity to consider the matter further because, quick as a flash, he’s pulling out of you, rearranging you so that you’re spread out for him on the edge of  your bed, and dropping to his knees before you.

Simon Riley, on his knees for you, looking at your pussy like it’s the destination his pilgrimage was always going to lead him to.  And before you can say or do or think about anything, Simon puts his mouth on you.  

His tongue licks softly, so softly, over your clit, and it makes your back jolt and arch and twitch, the sensation making you feel like he’s shocking you every time his tongue makes contact with your flesh.  His mouth is too warm, a fucking furnace, and he makes a low humming sound as he tastes the two of you together.  You didn’t realise how wet you were, how much of a mess he’s made of you until now.  He lifts his head slightly, just enough to look at you, his mouth incessant between your legs, and though you’re tempted to lie back down, close your eyes and just enjoy it, you won’t.  You don’t know when this will happen again, if it’ll ever happen again, and you won’t— can’t —miss this for the world.

When he fully lifts his face away from your skin, it’s only so he can watch two thick fingers slide into you, while you writhe and plead for his mouth to return to your cunt.

“F-fuck.  You look…you look fucking good like this, sweet girl,” he murmurs quietly.  “Could–didn’t think how good you’d look, spread out fo’ me like this.”

His fingers start to move with incrementally increased urgency and, god, what is he doing to you right now?  He brings his face back up to yours, letting you kiss him, but even so, the speed of his fingers doesn’t change.  In fact, you’re so preoccupied with kissing him, your attention captured by the taste of yourself on his tongue, you don’t realise when a calloused thumb flicks your clit at the same time his fingers curl inside you until you jolt from the sudden sensation it brings.  Bright, liquid lightning saturates your spine as you feel yourself suddenly hurtling, your limbs and hips locked and more than ready for the chaos and bliss of your orgasm.

Except, Simon’s not willing to be left behind, and pulls himself away from you abruptly.  But you’re so fucked out, and so so close to that blissful end that you whine, grabbing at him, displaying completely unbecoming behaviour, and not giving a flying fuck.  It seems that neither does he, because he’s shushing you, pushing sweat-soaked strands of your hair away from your face before he’s pushing into you again, his hands gripping your  thighs hard, “fucking holy shitshitshit shit —” and keeps pushing into you until he’s buried to the hilt. 

“F-fucking perfect, you’re perfect, such a sweet little cunt , ” he groans, as he begins to thrust into you in earnest now, and you swear that if there’s a god above, that you’d never ask for anything, never want or beg or covet anything except the way his cock feels inside you right now—thick and hard and splitting you open around him.  He doesn’t stop—it feels like he goes on and on, his thrusts relentless as he all but impales you on his cock.  You feel like it could go on forever, that you’re going to go blind from the pleasure of it when you feel his rough fingers come up between the two of you to touch you where you’re throbbing and aching for him.  

“Fuck, come f'me, love, fuck wanna see you come on my cock.”  He’s breathless and you open your eyes to look at him for a second.  He’s beautiful, you realise.  Panting slightly, his knuckles white from where they’re gripping your thighs that wrap tight around his waist, and he seems unable to stop himself from glancing down at where his soaking cock disappears into your cunt.   It only takes the sight of him biting his lip for you to feel like you’re about to lose your mind.  “Shit, Si—shit, I’m gonna come, fuck, I–I–”

You only hear a gentle mmhmm of encouragement before searing hot pleasure flashes through your bloodstream, incinerating your nerves with wildfire.  Your pussy floods itself between your legs and even in the height of your own pleasure, you can hear him, can feel his grip tighten on you as your orgasm sets off his.  

Your name is on his lips like a groan and a prayer and a call for mercy, while he drags you through your pleasure, drowning you in it, only letting you resurface when you’ve been completely wrung out, completely exhausted. 

Fuck.

You’re so beyond fucked.

____

A/N: Sponsored by, friend of this blog, that particular circle of hell where Dante famously said the words “if i don’t write these words and get them out of my skull, they will literally bore a hole in my brain.”

[moe-broey]

Wait.

Holy shit...

Prototype Moe........ with the backwards hand 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I remember liking this pose SO MUCH TOO I was DEVASTATED when I realized. Wait. NOOO..... 💔💔💔

This is so crazy though like. That is fully just a different guy. But it is SO funny you can See the elements, here...

You see the golden bangles (only a Glimpse, in the first one, but they're there!). You see the funky gloves (little less funky, just standardly edgy now). The painted nails. The wings on the back of the outfit. The idea that Moe itself customized its clothing to its liking. The red ribbons tying off the shoes (I imagine Moe's are more like leather straps, though!). The orb and feather motifs (now stored entirely in the staff). Pretty sure this Moe had a ribbon tied in front, too! It definitely did, when wearing the robe. That has always been the case, even waaay back when I'd attempt to stick to canon (hooded "Kiran").

AND. AND. THE FANGS. Changing the fangs into angel fangs piercings was HUGE for Moe's development!! Goes CRAZY with the storytelling -- the way that Moe wants you to believe that it's sharper than it truly might be. The way Moe postures itself to be a Monster -- some sort of complex about otherness and having fangs and claws so scary no one dares touch you, no one dares to even come close. See also: autism.

Hm. Thinking about this actually. Because the monster complex/body mods runs in tandem with the transgender metaphor, too. "Still painfully human"...? Doesn't feel quite right in this context. Born human, without fangs, but somehow still Wrong. Othered for it, dehumanized. Was only able to "earn" humanity, through learning it and performing it (see: Mani). Was unable to keep performing it. Lean into the wrongness, subsequently othered and dehumanized, but Not This Time. This time, I reject the "humanity" that has rejected ME. MY choice, now.

Something something autistic masking and cisnormative gender expectations/norms/roles have done a number on poor Moe. Oh, poor thang! In my heart, it truly is just some Thang. The Thang has personhood, but I honestly cannot say it's "still human" as like. Any sort of validating statement. Low-key feels like when somebody tries to reassure you, by putting down other people who are Like You who you may even identify yourself closer with than the person doing the "reassuring" ("Oh, but you're not like THOSE [Insert Statement Here that only communicates that you've deemed me palatable enough to earn your "respect", and if I Didn't meet your threshold of palatability, you would ostracize me too. Also those are my friends, you asshole.]")

Anyways, WAY off topic, the BIGGEST REASON THIS PROTOTYPE MOE IS A FAKE ASS MOTHERFUCKER.

IT DOESN'T EVEN HAVE ITS HOOVES!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU BITCH‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: gore

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

shaha… nico makes me sad lmao

part forty-three

❝ IMPOSTER ❞

SATURDAY — SEPTEMBER 12 — 8:56PM

THE WORLD WAS MOVING WITHOUT BENTLEY, AND IT WAS THE MOST TERRIFYING THING HE’D EVER EXPERIENCED. 

He couldn’t move. He was pinned to the debris by the massive shard of metal that was protruding from his chest, and all of his pain meshed into one strange feeling of numbness. The only thought that was bouncing around in his head was the last statement he heard from Jason.

That Asten wasn’t breathing.

Asten wasn’t breathing.

Asten couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t. That wasn’t how this was supposed to end. None of this was supposed to end like this. The world could go on without Bentley Whittaker. Everything would be fine without Bentley Whittaker. But how could the earth keep spinning without Asten Evans?

He guessed he should’ve expected it. Nothing he does ever goes right. Only this time it went so, so wrong. Death wrong.

(Was Asten dead because of him?)

There was no one around him. No one that knew where he was except maybe Nico, who was unconscious. All he could really see were the tall buildings and night’s sky over his head, the end of the metal sticking out of him. He couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t really move.

He twitched his fingers on his right hand, which caused a jolt of pain that ran through his entire body and made him whine. 

Was there a point in calling for help if he already knew he was going to die?

His eyes began to water at the half-realization that he was literally living out his last moments alone in a pile of rubble. The thought helped him force his hand up a little more, up toward his pounding head. His muscles were trembling from the effort, and it hurt so bad to move anything… but he didn’t want to die. He didn’t. (But he was going to, he knew. What was one last streak of denial?)

He clicked his earpiece on, and was greeted by a low, constant, staticky hum.

“Help,” He muttered, his voice coming out strangely hoarse and soft. “Help.”

The static continued, melding with the low sounds of the remaining crackling fire and shifting rubble.

“I’m… dying,”

Static.

Bentley’s stinging eyes spilled over down his face, but he couldn’t really cry, it hurt too bad — all he could do was let his eyes water. “Help me. Please. Please, help me.”

Nothing. 

“I don’t… I don’t… I don’t want to die,” He muttered, sniffling lightly, staring at the sky. “I don’t want to die alone.”

Silence.

“Batman,” He tried, wincing when he sobbed a few times anyways. “B, please. I-I don’t want to die by myself. Please.”

The only response he got was a shift in the rubble beneath him, and the twinkle of the stars above him.

He coughed, which sent a ripping pain through his whole body that made him cry out in agony — and now there was blood on his face. Had he coughed up blood?

“Bruce... Bruce, please. Please. I-I want to go home,”

The static in the earpiece didn’t budge.

Bentley was going to die here, and alone.

He would’ve wiped the tears off of his face, but even the thought of moving produced agony, so he didn’t. “Bruce, please. Please, please, please… Dad, please.”

Silence.

(How was he supposed to come to terms with dying? How did people do this? How did Jason…? Damian?)

There was an oddly familiar whooshing sound, and Bentley could’ve swore he heard feet hit the ground not too far from him. If he had the willpower to move his head, he might’ve tried to look at whoever was there to mock him.

Not a second later came a shrill: “Oh my God! Oh my God no way! I did it!” 

The voice wasn’t one he knew, but it wasn’t not one he knew. It was a guy’s, and he didn’t recognize it. (But he kind of did?)

“Screw you, space-time! Barry’s gonna lose his mind when I tell him-“ There was a pause. “Oh, shit, right.”

There were footsteps that came oddly close to Bentley, but he only saw the figure they belonged to when it was practically looming over his head. It was a tall guy -- maybe Jason’s age, maybe Tim’s -- in a bright yellow, white, and red jumpsuit. The majority of it was yellow, with red and white stripes on the arms and legs, accentuating a large white lightning bolt in the center of the chest. The suit went all the way up to his head and stopped, sort of like Tim’s cowl but with the top cut out so his hair was showing. He also had a utility belt around his waist, with only one small, yellow pouch on it.

This guy looked just like Nico. 

Okay, so, yeah, Bentley was dying and probably hallucinating, but this guy had Nico’s eyes that looked so much like Dick’s. Not to mention that he had the same exact dirty-blonde mop on his head, dangling over the edges of the suit.

Bentley really was losing his mind.

“Hey… Hey there, bud,” The Adult Nico Imposter said, kneeling down next to him, his hands hovering unsurely over Bentley’s wound. His blue eyes very quickly turned misty and watery, getting bluer in that weird way only Dick’s and Nico’s did when they cried. “I never saw...”

Bentley’s half-hearted response was a soft, simple: “Huh?”

The Adult Nico Imposter rubbed his hand over his hair, exhaling heavily. “Okay. Okay. Hi. Hi, Bentley, uh, it’s me… Nico, but, uh… not yours. I’m Nico from the future, and I’ve just broken the space-time continuum to be here. So, here I am. God, great job explaining, you idiot,” He muttered to himself, his eyes still blown wide and staring at Bentley’s abdomen. “In the timestream I came from, you died tonight, and now I’m here to make sure you don’t, uh, like Barry did for me. But, uh, I’m not taking you to a new universe, just… yeah. Anyways. Can I pick you up?”

Bentley blinked. He was literally losing his mind.

Since speaking to a hallucination couldn’t really hurt anything, and he didn’t want to die alone (even if his company was blood-loss-generated), he nodded as much as he could force himself to.

With a nod and a deep breath, the Nico Imposter opened the little pouch on his belt and pulled an inhaler out, shaking it and puffing on it a few times with that telltale rattle-rattle-hiss-hiss.

And it was strange, because everything, down to the material of this guy’s suit to the pain caused by movement of the metal piece, Future Nico picking him up felt really… real.

“You’re… from… the future?” Bentley muttered, watching the buildings and stars move above him. Future Nico was really warm, and it felt nice. (Was it even real?)

“Yeah. But saving you is about to make a new one. I’ll have to go back to mine when I’m done here,” He explained lightly, sitting Bentley in his grasp, cupping his head with one hand. 

Bentley hummed. “Did Asten live?”

There was a moment of silence. Future Nico’s gaze fell to the ground, his eyes going distant for a moment.

“No. It was just me,” He replied, shaking his head. “I’m about to run. It might feel weird.”

Bentley said nothing, but closed his eyes and waited. Going super fast couldn’t feel much weirder than being impaled and then picked up by a guy from the future, could it? He was pretty sure his life had reached the maximum amount of weird. Either that or his hallucinations had?

There was a split second (or three) where Bentley couldn’t breathe, and it was really cold. It felt kind of like he was pinned down for a moment, like his whole body stopped moving and then started again.

When he opened his eyes, he was in a medical bed in the Batcave.

The only explanation Future Nico gave was a stammery: “Sorry, Mr. Pennyworth… yeah, hi, um… I’m Nico, but from the future, and I brought Bentley here so he can… Y’know! I… I’ve gotta run, I’ll be right back!”

There was a flash and a gust of wind, and the Future Nico was gone.

Bentley was surely losing his mind.

He was in the cave. (But was he really, if he was just hallucinating?) Barbara was now at the computer, and Bentley very vaguely saw Alfred toss an earpiece to her and abandon his spot at the massive screens to run into the medbay toward him.

“Oh, my dear boy…”

Bentley opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Alfred seemed so real. He touched Bentley’s arm and it felt real. He sounded real. There was no way he… that Future Nico was…?

Maybe Bentley really wouldn’t die?

(There surfaced that unhinged, deep, unmistakable hope and determination again that Bentley Whittaker was so famous for.)

Maybe he really wouldn’t die.

—

Okay. So the worst part about the entire situation at hand actually wasn’t that Bentley had a giant piece of metal protruding from his chest.

It was the fact that Alfred couldn’t get him unconscious enough to start surgery.

He typically had the opposite problem — his body seemed to love passing out at every opportunity, even at the worst times. But right now, Alfred had already administered nearly twice the typical amount of sedatives recommended. And while Bentley was pretty loopy, he just wasn’t going out of it. He’d had two small injections, and was now rocking an oxygen mask with an anesthetic pumping through it constantly to get him in a state where Alfred could help. And it still wasn’t working.

But, even worse than that, was the fact that he had to see Asten.

It wasn’t long (probably three minutes after Bentley arrived) before Future Nico (who had to actually exist because Alfred was talking to him?) zoomed back into view and laid Asten on the bed next to Bentley.

He was limp, and already extremely pale. Bentley wasn’t lucid enough to focus on whether his chest was rising or falling, but he didn’t guess it was, since Jason said it wasn’t. Asten looked… strange. Different from unconscious or sleeping. It was colder. Stranger.

Maybe three minutes (and more sedative) later, Future Nico swooshed back into the cave with Current Nico, who was still unconscious and bleeding at the nose, and put him on the other side of Bentley. But Future Nico was very persistent about Alfred not worrying about him, that he ended up being okay even in his own reality where no one came to his aid.

That was about the time the Batmobile came squealing into the cave, followed by bike after bike with different Wayne’s on them each time. After that, the cave turned into a mess of shouting and yelling and panicking and loud noises and chaos and Bentley still couldn't go to sleep. He couldn’t really comprehend what was going on, but he was awake, which was too awake for the operations he needed.

He didn’t really know what to focus on (or if he could focus) until Nightwing came into his view, over his head, peeling his domino mask off. He was crying — hard. Bentley couldn’t really talk through the oxygen mask (not that he could talk anyways.) but he was able to twitch his fingers and get Dick to grab his hand.

“You’re going to be okay, Babybird. You’re going to be just fine,”

A beat passed. 

“I love you,”

Bentley felt a pinch on his arm, likely meaning someone had injected him with something else.

He couldn’t seem to create any coherent thoughts. He liked that Dick was holding his hand. He was glad to be home, even if he died. At least he wasn’t dying alone.

He opened his mouth in an attempt to speak, but coughed instead, and the inside of his oxygen mask got splattered with something dangerously red.

Seeing that color seemed to spark a wave of panic, and he blinked away a new wave of tears that threatened to come.

“…Dad,” He managed to just barely rasp, coughing again, splattering more red on the mask. “Dad.”

Dick said something, he didn’t really hear it. Someone else said something. 

He managed to turn his head just far enough to see someone (he couldn’t tell who) put a defibrillator on Asten’s chest, and with a loud bang! he convulsed terrifyingly. 

After a moment, someone turned Bentley’s head away. Bruce’s face appeared in the empty space in his vision.

“Everything’s going to be okay, chum,” He said, putting on that same stupid reassuring smile that he loved to plaster on and keep there with his life, even in the worst situations. He touched Bentley’s forehead like he always did.

“You’re going to be okay. Just breathe. Rest,”

Bentley wasn’t going to die alone.

Bruce kept brushing his hair back, smiling all the while, and for the first time since he’d been home, Bentley relaxed enough to let the sedatives take him under.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere @beatyoutothatusernameloser

[dandorime]

First paragraph is for those unfamiliar with the game mechanics. Very mild spoiler warning for IEYTD3, below the cut. So the I Expect You To Die VR series from Schell Games has a function where if you move a food object close enough to your mouth, your character takes a bite out of it. The games even teach you how to do this by giving you sandwiches and pastries in various levels. You can "eat" pretty much any food object you find in a level, but you chomp right through it, regardless of what it is, so you're occasionally chowing down on unpeeled bananas. It works, though, and it adds to the development of your self-insert character by establishing that they can be an absolute goblin who eats everything not nailed down.

In the third installment of the game, there's a level where you have to manipulate a wad of chewed gum for puzzle-solving reasons. Practically EVERYONE who has streamed this game ends up getting the wad of chewed gum in their character's mouth at least once, and not one of them seemed to WANT to do it. Which makes me wonder... what is the hitbox of the chewed gum? It is conspicuously easy to trigger the "LOL NOW YOU ARE CHEWING THE GUM" event. I mean, they recorded sick wet chewy sounds to emphasize where the gum has gone once it vanishes from your screen, and they even had the voice actor for your handler record a statement of his disgust that only triggers when it happens.

Anyway, I think Schell designed that level to automatically put the gum in your mouth as soon as it got anywhere close to your field of vision. I think they did it for the lulz, and I think that's fucking awesome.

[reeddotcom]

[TCSM] Johnny x Reader P.2

➢ Normal on the Outside

summary: just like in the TCSM game, you've woken up in the sawyer household and need to survive against whatever odds come your way. escaping with your friends is deal, though you may or may not have gotten some help along the way. (gender neutral, self-insert)

warnings: blood, minor violence, suggested gore (but honestly nothing 2 cray oops)

a/n: second part whewwwwww!! pls enjoy

There's a distinct cleanliness to the linens underneath your hands as opposed to the rest of... well, everything that had established the house of horrors beyond the walls and foundation. They lacked the warmth of a body sleeping in it recently but there's no sign of blood or distress in the rosé flowers that pattern fabric squeezed between your palms. As such, you don't sensel any immediate danger within your circumstances or feel the need to pull out the bone scalpel that was tucked within one of your pockets; retrieved from the basement and yet to be used, much to your relief. Your body twists, turning to face Johnny as he towers over you with a looming ambiguity that's hard to discern from such hardened features. Did he always have blood on his face? 

It splattered downwards, trickling over the man's forehead and across gauntly cheeks until the same fluids amassed over his clothes, plastered against the sleeveless shirt that detailed his defined structure. The blood merely looked like oil stains glistening in the right light as he took another step forward. You should've closed your legs before another step was taken, as now you two are tangled; Johnny crouching down in front of you with a predacious haste that'd bring any and all of your movements to a pause. 

Even your breath hitches with how close you two are in that moment. You can see all of the older scars embedded into Johnny's skin, as well as the freshness of the blood that still samples crimson undertones; it's lack of runniness from how thin it spread across his features. Meeting with the hazel hues that are staring directly back at you comes eventually, if it wasn't for the man's voice catching your attention after extended silence. 

"If it's any consolation... their death was quick." 

Whose? He sees a change in your expression, regardless if it were fear, confusion, sadness. Garnering a reaction in general brings a smile back to the man's face, "Don't know her name. Orange hair, bumpkin-" Connie. Her face flickers in your mind, momentarily tuning out Johnny's words as various versions of her fate shuffle through your thoughts with the world's most violent deck of cards. Her maker could've been the very knife Johnny was holding, aimed lazily towards your stomach as his elbow rested over one knee, the other touched to the ground beside your thigh. He doesn't seem to have any intention to use it right now as his grip looks rather loose, but... whether or not that's a disappointment is yet to be determined. 

"Anyway, it was the only way that you and I..." You spoke too soon. As that thick accent draws out Johnny's words, the knife was brought up to touch right beneath your chin; a means of reassuring eye-contact had you been a bit nervous, "... Could be together." 

He says it so innocently, losing tension that creased between darkened eyebrows as the admission was made. "You see," But he doesn't give you much of a chance to respond, let alone digest such weighted statements. Everything about Johnny overwhelms all your senses with or without trying, "I watched your lil friend group as you guys came up in here. Yeah, watched you good.." The mix of smells weaved between you two left a bittersweet taste behind your lips. Bodily fluids, cheap cologne, pungency, "And y'know, my family- Grandpa​ mostly and.. well, you've heard my sister earlier too, I think-" Downstairs, she was the one that said Johnny's name, you assume, "They don't take kindly to surprise visits. I gotta agree with them, honestly."

The coldness of the knife slips out from beneath an angled chin, steadily turning over to press flat steel against your cheek, sharp-tip close to the corner of your mouth. Thankfully none of the leftover residue on the weapon touches any skin, "Unless.. they look like you."

Johnny's gaze descends far past your countenance, taking in what you can only assume are certain characteristics, maybe a distinctive part about you that's been commented on before, good or bad. Intentions were still unclear and assuming such animalistic tendencies were a compliment had the potential to be dangerous, "Yeah, you put up a fight. Don't remember?" Whatever was underneath your fingertips had been suddenly replaced with the distant feeling of a memory; a tingling that came with phantom movements, unable to attach to anywhere or anything. Before the basement, you were... in Leland's van. His tape-deck speakers were so shitty that the song's tune was hardly distinguishable, at least not over Ana's voice as she talked about the place you guys were going—here, where Maria was last seen, as you know now. Memories dribble in but the feeling of cool steel lifting from your face draws you back into reality; Johnny's eyes waiting for that focused look to return.

He points the knife towards where thoughts and feelings were swallowed down, at the bottom of your throat. "Friends put up a good fight too but I couldn't control what happened to 'em, not when I was so focused on you." The sharpened tip barely pricks the medial of your sternum. In terms of mixed signals, your nerves don't know which alarms to set off, "Pretty little thing. Grew fond of ya while tyin' you up, and now..." 

Even if the words didn't necessarily fit, there's a part of you that feels as if the praise is genuine with the way it rolls off southern tongue. Johnny was disarming you. And to say it worked was dependent on where the sudden spark of a flame was lighting inside of you. 

".. I get you all to myself." 

Under the current circumstances, the average individual would most likely experience fear, despair; feeling the warmth in their face as cheeks washed out into a ghostly pale. Johnny had a certain charm about him that swayed the apprehensions knotting in your stomach though, churning it in a way that was confusing, but comforting in a sense. He could read through all of it by the way your body never recoiled away from his. 

The two of you obviously shared something, whether that was a strange one-sided romance that this killer had decided for the both of you while you were unconscious or some fucked up version of Stockholm syndrome. There was also the chance you legitimately thought there was some goodness in the voice lulling you into a daze; clemency behind the gloved hand now reaching for your face, index behind the ear, thumb on your temple. Being starved of touch wasn't anything to be embarrassed about, and neither was potentially hooking up with the man whose muscles looked like they'd tear you apart had you asked nicely. Who knows, death was around every corner. Only you knew what you wanted. 

Johnny could only assume, taking the lack of resistance as an answer in itself and deciding to indulge in the needs that swelled beneath the surface. Some were more obvious than others had your eyes wandered, but as Johnny breaches what little distance was already between you two, eyes flickering shut, your body feels inclined to mirror the bizarre show of affection. What was one kiss? If it saved your life, c'est la vie. You could feel the knife retract with the closer you two got, allowing you one last deep breath before the very moment Johnny seemed eager for since the start. 

That is, until it's ruined. Not by you, but an ear-piercing scream that swallows the entire mood of the room; feminine-sounding, though you're able to discern that it isn't Julie or Ana. Johnny seems to be more put-off by it than anything, displaying as much in an obvious show of frustration—balled up fists and a scowl that dragged rugged features down. He quickly stands to his feet but doesn't say a word; the harsh gesture of an open-palm to your face saying what words couldn't. Be quiet. It could've been worse, so you comply. 

"I can only find four of their bodies,"​ The voice cried out. You're safe to assume this is Johnny's sister again from the sounds of it, "And I know that other rat is here, somewhere." 

"Relax- relax, relax," Another lower-toned voice responded, spiratic and less confident than the one before, "Johnny's probably on top of it. Haven't seen him in a while but-" 

The two of you share a look. 

"Johnny's useless. If Grandpa was still able then this would've been over by now." 

Whimpers from the softer voice trail after such crude words, painting a picture of a family dynamic here that you felt as if you had no business being a part of. Johnny was dragging you into it, but whether or not he'd get you out of it was another question all together. 

"Go cry somewhere else. I'm checking the house again, so move!" 

A door slams, shaking fixtures in the room with such intensity that you could feel the vibrations in your fingertips against the floor. You weren't safe, even now, with Johnny looking down at you with a sense of aggressive guardianship. Little was known about this man but he seemed to know you, and wanted something from you that was necessary to gratify a hunger. How insatiable his appetite was made you nervous. 

But also, curious. Best that you stay alive if you were looking to find out.