#at least i actually finished (reading) a book today

[skiesofrosie]

sometimes, it's hard to be good

pairing: joe liebgott x reader

genre: fluff, conversations about life

a/n: horrendously self-indulgent, but i hope you enjoy.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“I don’t think I’m a very good person,” you blurt.

“The fuck?” Joe says, confused.

It weighs on your shoulders like a stack of bricks, a truth that sends your mind into a frenzy. Joe noticed it a few days earlier, the way you started to cook, and wash the dishes, despite the half and half system you both have. The letters you sent to check-in on old acquaintances, despite them having never bothered with you. Your choice of books, a sudden affinity for self-help that you shove into your most hidden shelves.

“Are you having a fuckin’ identity crisis or somethin’?” Joe stopped you, just as you were about to take care of both his and your laundry for the third time that week. “Or do I pick up the chores too slowly, ‘cause I can do better.”

“No! No!” You said, a little flustered, then laughed to cover it up. “I’m just doin’ it all ‘cause I care about you.”

He kissed your forehead then, a little unsure. Truth be told, the overcompensation stems from the lack of doing enough–or at least, feeling like it. Joe is your other half, and he picks up well on his half too. If you cook, he will clean. If you do laundry once, he’ll take care of it next (even if he tends to mix the whites and the colors). But the insecurity seeps into your head like poison, the misbelief now running through your blood, and it makes you shoulder more than you actually can.

You slowed down too, because you realized the need to feel like a good person is inherently selfish. To really be good comes from the choices you make, and sometimes, the greater good requires you to be the villain.

Right now though, that’s all mixed up in your head, which means you feel like a piece of shit.

“Where’d ya get that idea?” He asks, now setting Dick Tracy down to pay you full attention. “Is someone tellin’ ya that shit? ‘Cause I’ll kill a–”

“It’s me,” you interject, shaking your head as you slap your book to your chest. “That's what I think.”

Curiosity washes over, as he furrows his eyebrows together and stares at you as if you’re dumb. The both of you are sitting on your balcony, the sun shining streaks of light across his face, and you wonder if you’re worthy of a man as strong and beautiful as him. 

The summer today is glorious, a little sweat trickling down your temples, but better than the way your nose freezes in the winter. Joe and you have made this a routine every Sunday, afternoons spent outside in each other’s company, to catch up on some reading. Your little apartment faces the San Francisco life, and even if the stench of running gas is discomforting, it’s still home. For Joe, it’s homeostasis; a reminder that the war is now behind him, and the domesticity you both have always dreamed of, is now real.

Today though, in the pits of your overthinking, you’re hardly reading the words as you scan the pages.

“Hey,” he gently probes. “What’s goin’ on up there?”

His fingers are creeping towards yours fiddling with each other on your lap.

“I,” you start, but find it difficult to reason. When his hand slips into yours, squeezing it in encouragement, you continue, but not without a sigh. “I found a photo from when we were in high school, and…I realized how many of them I don’t talk to anymore. Friends that have drifted apart, friends that I’ve cut off, or they’ve cut me off. It got me thinking, really thinking, about all the decisions I’ve made, all the people I’ve loved and lost, all the mistakes I’ve made and it all crashed down on me like I hit a brick wall head-on with your cab.”

You stop mid-thought, paying a good look at him listening intently to you, eyes a twinge downcast.

“It made me think that maybe I’m not doing enough, or I’m doing nothing right. That I’ve been selfish, and I have this urge to uproot my entire life and start afresh,” you finish.

He looks into the distance, fingers still entwined with yours as he collates the rush of thoughts. It makes his heart ache to know that you feel this way, because to him, the world owes you for your kindness. But he admires the way you know when it’s time to abandon your good and patience, because it fails to be returned.

“Joe?” He hears you call.

He speaks. “If that’s your logic, than all of us are fuckin’ shitheads.”

You gawk at his response, sputtering, “what do you mean?”

“Sweetheart,” he says, then turns to you unflinchingly. “I spent three years shooting Krauts just ‘cause I could. I did what I was told, convinced myself that I’d be doing the world a favor. Those were actual fuckin’ choices I made, and now I have to live with ‘em in my head.”

“But,” you say, “those people were shooting at you Joe.”

“Not all of ‘em,” he says, shaking his head. “Not all of ‘em.”

A silence falls over you both. It never occurred to you how difficult it is to actually be good–to make the right decision all the time. Even the sun, with its daylight to the skies, streaming into people’s homes to wake them up for another day, blinds you if you look at it for too long. It burns when you get too close, blazes ‘til there’s a drought.

We are all made up of imperfections, after all.

“We fuck up,” Joe adds, quietly. “Hell, we fuck up with each other too, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you smile, “you caused all my whites to go pink last week.”

“Hey,” he lets go of your hand to smack you. “I bought ya your favorite cookies at Betty’s to make up for it!”

You can’t help the laugh that breaks loose of you, despite the heaviness in your chest. In an infinite list, one of the reasons you love him is his ability to pull you out of your own mind, and make you laugh ‘til tears pool in your eyes. 

“Seriously though, we ain’t bad people just ‘cause we fuck up. We’re shitheads if we don’t try to do better,” he says, his hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in circles. He throws his other hand up, the comic falling onto the ground. “I try everyday to be a better fuckin’ person, but I slip up. You will too. But at least ya try, you know?”

You know he’s right. Like the chocolate cookies he bought for you to make good on the clothes he ruined; like the moments you apologize to each other in petty fights, and figure out a way to make things better–even if you falter, all there is to it, is taking the next step. So even if you still worry, you can at least do that. And what better than to have Joe Liebgott by your side, a man who will never speak anything less than the truth.

“Baby steps, right?” You nod.

He nods, standing up, walking to you and pulling you to your feet. He slips his arms around your waist, as you cross yours behind his neck, pecking you once, twice, and you’re about to make out with him on your balcony–

‘Til a blaring honk from the road makes you jump apart.

“Fuck!” He yells at the road, and you wince, but with amusement. “I’m tryna get some, okay!”

This time you swat at his shoulder, as he guffaws, starts leaving kisses on your neck. You melt into him.

Baby steps, definitely.

“Oh and sweetheart,” he breathes against your skin, and you hum. “You’re the best fuckin’ person I know on this planet.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

@she-wolf09231982 a little snippet of Joe :D

[worthyking]

accidentally read too far in my little women reread and now oh im miserable

[fearlessjournalism]

im so mad that I didn’t catch the beginner’s guide/pale fire comparison it’s completely accurate and it should have been meeeee

[niennanir]

Listen to your elders

So last week I posted abut the importance of downloading your fic. And then three days later AO3 went down for 24 hours. No one was more weirded out by this than I was. But while y’all were acting like the library at Alexandria was on fire I was reading my download fic and editing chapter eight of Buck, Rogers, and the 21st Century. And also thinking about what I could do to be helpful when the crisis was actually over.

So first off, I’m going to repeat that if you’re going to bookmark a fic, you really need to also download the fic and back it up in a safe place. I just do it automatically now and it’s a good habit to get into.

But let’s talk about some other scenarios. Last October I lost power for over a week after hurricane Ian. Apart from not having internet or A/C I did find plenty to do, I collect books so I had plenty to read, but maybe, unlike me, your favorite comfort reads aren’t sitting on a bookshelf. So let’s do something about that, shall we?

In olden times many long years ago around 1995 we printed off a lot of fic. It was mostly SOP to print a fic you planned to reread and stick it in a three ring binder. And that’s totally valid today too, but you can also make a very nice paperback with a minimum amount of skill and materials.

Let’s start with the download; Go to Ao3 and select your fic, we’ll be working with one of mine. This method works best with one shots, long fic tends to need a more complicated approach. Get yourself an HTML download

Open up the HTML download and select all then copy paste into any word processor. Set the page to landscape and two columns, then change the font to something you find easy to read, this is your book, no judgement. This is all you have to do for layout but I like to play a little bit. I move all the meta, summary, notes to the end and pick out a fun font for the title: 

No time like the present to do a quick proofread. Congratulations, you’ve just created your first typeset. On to the fun part.

Now you’re going to need some materials:  8.5x11in paper ruler one sheet of 12x12 medium card stock (60-80lb) scissors pencil pen or fine tip marker sheet of wax paper white glue two binder clips 2 heavy books or 1 brick butter knife

You’ll also need a printer, if you’re in the US there is almost a 100% chance your local library has a printer you can use if you don’t have your own. None of these materials are expensive and you can literally use cheap copy paper and Elmers glue.

Print your text block, one page per side. Fold the first page in half so that the blank side is inside and the printed side out:

use the butter knife to crease the edge. Repeat on all the sheets. When you’ve finished, stack them up with the raw edge on the left and the folded edge on the right. I used standard copy paper, because you’re only printing on one side there’s no bleed to worry about. Take the text block and line everything up. Use the binder clips to hold the raw edge in place.

Wrap the text block in the wax paper so that the raw edge and binder clips are facing out. I’m going to use my home built book press but you don’t need one, a brick or a couple of books or anything else heavy will work fine.

Once the text block is anchored down, take off he binder clips and get out the glue.

You can use a brush but you don’t need one, smear some glue on that raw edge.

Go make a margarita, watch The Mandalorian, call your mother. Don’t come back for at least an hour

In an hour smear some more glue on there and shift your brick forward so that the whole book is covered. This keeps the paper from warping. While glue part 2 is drying we’ll do the cover. Get out your 12x12 cardstock

Mark the cardstock off at 8.5 inches and cut it. Measure in 5.5 inches from the left and put in a score line with the butter knife (the back edge not the sharp edge)

Carefully fold the score line, this is your front cover. You have some options for the cover title, you can use a cutting machine like a cricut if you have one, you can print out a title on the computer and use carbon paper to transfer the text to the cardstock. I was in a mood so I just freehanded that beoch. Pencil first then in pen.

Take your text block out from under your brick. Line it up against the score mark and mark the second score on the other side of the spine

Fold the score and glue the textblock into the cover at the spine. Once the glue dries up mark the back cover with the pencil and then trim the back cover to fit with your scissors.

Voila:

I’m going to put this baby on the shelf next to the Silmarillion.

The whole process, not counting drying time, took less than an hour.

If you want to make a book of a longer fic, I recommend Renegade Publishing, they have a ton of resources for fan-binders. 

[discotitsposts]

meant to be

Spencer trying and failing to flirt with you because you are oblivious to his attempts.

spencer reid x reader

i picture this as later seasons spencer maybe sometime around 12-14?

some mature themes mentions of sex at the end so 18+

writing this because i saw something about people who are bad at flirting and that’s literally me. (i hope ppl get the reference w the nickname)

Spencer had tried every day to get your attention romantically. It didn’t work. Nothing did. You were so oblivious to all of his flirting attempts. He figured maybe you had trouble understanding so he worked harder to make you think of him as more than a friend. He tried everything his genius brain could come up with.

He even made up a nickname for you, Bean, because you always had a coffee in your hand, and because he was taller than you.

Today you were getting coffee with him as usual. At your favorite coffee shop and library. You didn’t work at the BAU so you would eventually have to go to your own job so Spencer decided to try again.

Since you lived in the same building, neighbors in the same hall, he picked you up every morning. Drove you to get coffee and you each picked a book for each other and then he drove you to work.

He knocks on your door awaiting anxiously. You come out in your outfit, just a t shirt and jeans. you didn’t have a dress code at your job, you were an author and usually went into a nice office that the publishing company provided to write since you had a hard time focusing in your apartment. Too many distractions.

In Spencer’s car you make small talk as he tries to think of a way to flirt with you. Normally he’d call Morgan but his son was a toddler now so he was busy. He gets so lost in his head he doesn’t realize he just ran a stop sign on accident and almost hit someone.

He hears you yell “Spencer what the fuck!” and slams the brakes. The other car honks and his heart is pounding in his brain. He pulls to the side of the road and stops.

“Spencer. Breathe. It’s ok.” You worry tracing your face at the sight of his extremely fast breathing and you rub his back reassuringly.

“Holy shit.” He barely chokes out. His face is beet red and he looks like he’s about to have a panic attack.

“Switch.” You tell him. He looks at you and feels comforted immediately by your face. “Let’s go, switch.” You get out of the car and switch sides.

‘So much for flirting’ he thinks. Then it hits him. When he picks your book for the day, he’ll give you a romantic story. Something that says ‘I really like you but I’m an idiot so I don’t know how to tell you but i’m not actually an idiot because im technically a genius but my fucked up life has ruined romance for me but i’d love to try it with you if you are okay with that.’

When you take over driving you don’t talk. You just focus on the road. You had even turned the music off. He hopes you’re not upset with him. That thought quickly dissipates when you pull into the parking lot and your face is beaming. You both race to the entrance and he gets there first and opens the door for you. You stick your tongue out at him and he smirks.

You order your usual drinks and he gets himself a breakfast bagel and you get a croissant. He puts the food at a table and you both get up to grab each other a book. You had yours picked since last night, The Godfather. It’s only a little over 400 pages so he’ll probably finish it by lunch time but at least it will be fun for him since it will make him think of you. At least you hope it does.

You have a habit of making funny commentary during movie nights. When you watched ‘The Godfather’ trilogy with Spencer he had laughed so hard he cried.

Meanwhile Spencer is searching rows of books looking for the right one. He moves to poetry but nothing feels right. He feels slightly frustrated so he moves back to classics and picks ‘A Little Princess’ instead. A favorite of yours you had read in elementary school. Not romantic but shows he knows you well.

When he makes his way back to the register to check the book out, you’re already seated munching your croissant. He makes his way to you and hides the book behind his back. You discreetly pull yours out of your bag and hide it the same way.

“1,2,3!” You both count at the same time and then reveal your books. Spencer cracks up when he sees the book you had picked. He had read this before but he enjoyed it because it reminded him of you. You both eat and finish your coffees. You look at each other.

“More?” Spencer asks.

“Obviously.” You answer. You both stand up and order more coffee.

Back in Spencer’s car you open the book and start reading. He’s about to put the key in the ignition when sudden confidence hits him. He doesn’t know if it’s the caffeine but he doesn’t care. He should kiss you right now. He stares at you until you look up.

“You’re going to be late for work if you don’t start that engine up soon Mr. Chauffeur.” You tease him.

He leans closer and puckers his lips slightly. He’s so filled with lust he just can’t wait anymore.

You look at him strangely. Was he trying to kiss you right now? Probably not. Truth was you were always so filled with doubt whenever you liked someone. Especially Spencer. He was just too handsome and sweet and perfect.

He leans in even closer to you and tilts his head. You, however, had gone back to your book and weren’t even looking at him.

“Does this make you uncomfortable” Spencer leans in closer. He closes his eyes and you lean down to reach for something from your bag. He doesn’t feel your soft lips on his and thinks he may have missed your face. He opens his eyes.

“Everything does. I have anxiety Spencer. All the time anywhere day and night. ” You reply while eating a yogurt you had found in your tote.

Spencer pulls away and smacks his forehead. He starts the car and drops you at your work and drives to the BAU feeling defeated. What would it take for you to realize how bad he wants you.

That night he decides to drop by your apartment. You had gotten a ride home from work by a friend tonight. He opens his door and walks the short distance to yours.

When his hand knocks on your door he feels nervous. You open the door and greet him.

“Hi!” You cheer.

“Hey, I was gonna order a pizza. You want?” He lies. He actually wasn’t the biggest fan of pizza. He didn’t eat it too often but it was your favorite food so why not.

“That would be great. I’m starving.” You clutch your belly dramatically. Which makes Spencer laugh.

He picks up the phone, “What would you like on the pizza m’lady.”

You tap your chin and think. “Sausage.” You reply. Spencer thinks of a way to flirt. Kind of.

“How much sausage would you like?” He asks smirking.

“Uhh, 5? I don’t know dude. The normal amount that goes on a pizza?” You answer sarcastically, going to your dvd rack to pick a movie. Spencer sighs. He calls and places the order and helps you pick a movie.

“How about ‘How To Be A Serial Killer?’ That’s a good one. I love Matthew Gray Gubler in this one so much.” You fan girl a little.

“Who the fuck is Matthew Gray Gubler? Also, no, not with my line of work. I need a break from that.” Spencer asks with a hint of jealousy in his voice. You clasp your hand over your heart dramatically.

“Ok, fine. how about a Disney Classic? Sleeping Beauty is my favorite.” You ask. Spencer nods. You put the movie on and grab two root beers from your fridge. Spencer thanks you when you hand him one and you lay a big fluffy blanket over you both. Not far into the movie the pizza arrives and you cheers Spencer with your pizza slice.

After you both eat and are full the movie is still on. You’re starting to feel sleepier by the second. Spencer offers you to lay with him and you take him up on it. He’s basically a giant teddy bear. He’s so warm and comfortable.

“I’ve got a real life sleeping beauty right here.” He whispers to you. You smile with your eyes closed. Too sleepy to open. He gets out from under you, to your dismay. He cleans up the trash from eating. He even washes some dishes you had left sitting. When he comes back, you’re still half awake. He sees you sneak an eye open to look at him and your smile after.

“It seems there’s a fair maiden who has fallen asleep. However can we wake her? What if she sleeps for a hundred years?!” He exclaims. You start giggling softly. He leans closer to observe you.

“I don’t believe it! She’s laughing in her sleep! Must be quite a funny dream. Wonder what it is. Only one way to find out.” He gently leans down and kisses your lips softly. This action puts you in shock and you’re blushing. He starts to pull away because doubts fill his mind. You grab his hair and pull him back in.

You both pull back and he starts to ask you,

“Were you ok with that?”

You cut him off, “Yes.” Then you rip your shirt off. Spencer’s in shock. He follows your lead and starts undressing. He picks you up and carries you to your bedroom. The kiss you’re sharing is deepening by the second.

“Fuck why is it so hot in here.” You complain.

“I can think of a few reasons.” Spencer had been kissing you on your neck sucking the skin softly. He lays you back on the bed. He makes you comfortable. He goes down on you and then fucks you like you’ve never been fucked before.

The next morning you woke up naked next to him flashes of last night replaying. You couldn’t believe it. Spencer was so passionate! You didn’t even imagine he liked you like that.

He groans next to you and turns over. You get up and put on some coffee. When you come back into the bedroom he’s awake and looking for you.

“Hey, coffee’s ready.” You lean over and kiss him. He groans too tired to give an answer. He pulls you into the bed and holds you longer.

With him, this felt so easy and realistic.

Then you realize something.

This was meant to be.

the end ♡

to anyone who read this far: hope u enjoyed reading!! please let me know if u enjoyed! xoxo

[romeosharpae]

“FOUR MONTHS”

theodore nott x reader

(Yes after one year I'm back with toxic Theodore Nott). You don't have to read part one..

Warnings; Possessive behavior, manipulation, toxic relationships, mentions of obsession, mature sex scenes, unprotected sex, rough sex, swearing, smoking, degradation (Not a lot), theodore nott × female feader, toxic! theodore nott

parts: 1,

There was something in the air this morning, a soothing feeling that made you a little more peppy. So as you skipped to the great hall, books clutched tightly to your chest, a small smile couldn’t help but to be on your lips.

It was the winter — your favorite season, so perhaps that was the reason for your sudden happiness this morning. You’d even wore a little grin through transfiguration, your least favorite class at Hogwarts.

But you were a happy girl generally, nice to everyone who crossed your path. You helped little first years avoid experiencing the wrath of Draco Malfoy. You also helped professors (For sure not Mcgonagal) help clean up after compliance lessons.

That’s just who you are.

“You look pretty today,” Is what Hermione Granger, your best friend, greets you with as you took a seat aside her. No you weren’t a Gryffindor — but you often found yourself sitting at the orange and red more than your own.

“Yeah, I like what you’ve done to your hair.” Harry Potter lowly added in with a sly smile, and you simply reflected it. Ron Weasley, who was aside Hermione let out a little snort in response to his best friend’s attempt to flirt.

Harry Potter – the boy who lived, the boy who everyone without any sort of spite or jealousy in their body adores. Sometimes you even found yourself admiring him — considering him as a form of replacement from your last fling.

“Thank you both,” You giggled,

“Well, I’m happy that your happy, Y/L/N” Hermione declared with a smile, “You see how much happier you are now? Compared to when you allowed that psycho to contr--"

And just like that, there was a damper in your happy mood.

Hermione always made extremely bold comments about your previous unhealthy relationship with Theodore Nott; Which is probably why he hated the fact you two were friends, not because she was a muggle. Truthfully, she’s the one that hyped you up to end things with him — but as you more think of it, she forced you too.

Because despite everything the tall raging brunette put you through, you still found your self right underneath him with a dizzy smile. But that hasn’t happened in four months, not since the day he dragged you out of the party. Shivers roll down your spin as you remember the events that happened that day,

You’ve got fourth months with his touch, without his complications.

And despite missing Theodore some nights, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a breath of fresh air. Like the air didn’t feel lighter without him breathing down your neck about showing any other male besides him attention – without him declaring that despite his lack of commit now, you’ll be baring his children later.

You recall how hearing those words made you feel months ago — Well, it did make you finish, but that’s completely besides the point — it finally made you realize that Theodore Not didn’t actually love you.

And neither did he want anyone else too.

Not because he loved you, but because had a unhinged obsession for you. The more you thought of it, the more you realized how clear Theo’s behavior displayed fixation.

How did you not realize it back in first year when he got seriously angry with Blaise Zabini for trying to be your friend?

It makes your stomach twist to think that you and Theodore's friendship was build off of an obsession – one that clearly grew worse as the years progressed.

"You alright over there, Y/L/N?" Ron questioned reluctantly,

You pulled yourself out of your thoughts, turning to him with a small awkward smile across your lips, "Yes I'm fine, just got a little distracted, that's all."

"You always seem to suddenly get distracted when I bring up Nott." Hermione mumble, rolling her eyes. Because you're always telling me to leave him.

Is what you wanted to say, but instead you settle for a simple shrug.

You were sitting criss-cross on an knitted blanket in front of the black lake, skimming over the newest daily prophet in your hands. The full moon reflected softly against the lake water, making you awe.

Everytime a full moon lit the sky your found yourself out here, enjoying the peace. And no one knew about it — you weren't a prefect and your house leader would kill you if they found out you were out here past hours.

Well, you thought no one knew about your secret adventures to the black lake.

It was not until the loud familiar scent of smoke filled your nostrils that you understood that someone was here also. And with the heavy cologne that mixed with it, you didn't have to look back to know who it was.

"Leave. Me. Alone" You growled sternly, ignoring the thudding in your heart.

Of course you'd still hang with Blaise and Pasny every now and then. But when Theo walked in you immediately flee, knowing that being around him would result with him being inside of you in moments.

And your sure he knew that, which is exactly why the brunette is here. "So you don't think I've done that enough for the past four fucking months, Y/N?"

Venom dripped from Theodore's voice, and had you not been so used to Theodore being upset with the stuff you do — The coldness of his tone would have made you scared enough to jump away from him.

Your head snapped back in his direction, generally you were a nice happy girl. But during the times you weren't so sweet, it was Theodore Nott who got that wrath.

Who brought out that side of you.

"No, No." Theo's jaw clenched at your harsh words, lips parting slightly to allow smoke to slip past them. "Because I want you to leave me alone for the rest of my life."

"Did Granger help you come up with that?" Theodore snickered. There wasn't a actual thought in your brain when you rolled your daily prophet and launched it in his direction. He kissed it teeth when the parchment landed softly on his cheek.

The brunette takes another hit short of his cigarette, not giving your outburst a reaction. You stand up to your feet, preparing to collect your stuff and go back on school grounds.

He threw the cigarette on the ground, approaching you. You take a step back, not wanting to feel his touch — the touch that you have been craving for four months.

“Why does everyone get the sweet little Y/N except for me?" He cooed, eyebrows raising.

"What did I do to deserve this nasty side of you Y/L/N, huh?" Everything. "Did I not fuck you good enough last time?"

"You know it is not about that!" You defensively shouted out. Tears began pricking at the corner of your eyes, processing that the only thing you are to him is a fuck. "--You know that it's never been about that!"

You had like Theodore since third year, immediately awed with the matured boy that he became over the summer. And Theo knew your feelings for him — in fact, you told Theo about your feelings right before you had sex for the first time — he just didn't care.

He stared down at you, beautiful eyes glistening underneath the moon light. For a moment you swear you see pity flash in his eyes.. or maybe regret?

It makes you frown — You didn't want Theodore to pity you. It made you feel weak, always finding yourself with him when your in your weakness moments. Because despite his blunt toxic behavior, before your separation, Theodore always is there when you fail a test you study hard for or had complications with your family – He's the shoulder that you lean on, and the root of your problems.

“I miss you"

Something about those words fueled your feelings more, anger bubbling higher. "No you don't Theodore, you miss having me wrapped around your finger."

That regret.. or pity fades away quickly, replaced with anger in seconds.

“Do you even know how many girls I have wrapped around my finger, Y/N?" His mean tone makes you let a small sob. "How many girls wish upon stars that I had the feelings for them that I do you?!" Theodore takes this moment to grab your chin, yanking you closer to him before you got a chance to stop him. He hovers over you, fingers digging into the flesh of your skin. Blue eyes looking down at you like your prey he's prepared to fight for.

“You don't really care about me!"

"Shut up." He growled.

His mouth attacks yours in a feral manner, making you gasp loudly. The faint taste of his chapstick spreads is in your mouth,

And being that naive girl you are, you welcomed his lips eagerly. The hairs of your skin stood up fully, mind becoming foggy while Theodore desperately slides his tongue into your mouth. It makes you sob out louder, tears slipping from your eyes.

Hermione would be so mad if she knew how easily you allowed him in — The lack of fight that you put up with Theo. But you tried, you really did for four entire months..

You really tried your best too stay away from the boy that you loved so deeply.

“I--T--" Is what you choked out moments before Theodore hand slides to the back of your throat, making the kiss much deeper and tongue sloppier. Your noses were smushed against each other — there was nothing you could make out but his scent.

You didn't exactly get to register when it happened or how it happened. But someway, probably with magic, you ended underneath Theodore on your blanket.

Without wasting another second Theodore hooks his finger into the waist band of your shorts and underwear. "Why is things always so complicated with you?"

His words were harsh and the glare on his beautifully structured pale face makes you cry out even harder. The pad of his thumb catches one of your tears when it falls,

“Y/N Why can't you understand that this is perfect?" He wondered bluntly. His eyes look down at your exposed area, "That this is where you should be, with me."

“No--No I shouldn't--" You shouted, Theo grabbed your legs and spread them as far as they could go. "-- Your no good for me"

That makes the brunette scoff defensively – surely thinking that Hermione fed you that. But you knew it was true – If you stuck beside Theodore, you'd be mental by thirty.

A loud gasp fell from your lips when Theo pushed himself into you without any warning. Theirs something in your body that became at ease with the familiar stretch,

As if it been begging for it.

Not giving you a chance to prepare yourself, Theodore bottomed out in you. He groaned loudly as you flutter against him, practically welcoming him in you.

Theo begins snapping his hips forward at a pace that makes your eyes squeeze shut. You wish that you could hate him,

"Yeah, but that doesn't matter.." He finally responded to your comment. The loose curls of his hair brushed against your forehead as Theo leaned down, lips grazing softly against yours. A high pitched whimper left your lips at every thrust he gave you, an hot pain spreading inside in your lower half. Yet you couldn't stop your hips from jumping up, begging for more. “I'm good right now, aren't I?" He mocked,

His tongue invaded your mouth, like he's attempting to swallow your face whole. You kissed back instantly, tongue lapping over his as you both moaned.

Some moments you wished to know what Theodore was thinking when the two of you were together — and other times you didn't, not actually wanting to be right about his lack of love towards you.

His mouth left yours, spit following suit. Instead he began sucking on the skin of your new and chest, leaving bruises. "Mine." Theo growled, squeezing your breast.

You just shook your head frantically at his possessive words, not being able to form a literal disagreement. You weren't Theodore’s.. and unfortunately he wasn't yours.

He squeezed you harder, thrust forming a harsher pace as well, knocking the wind out your chest and making you gasp.

Tears slipped from your eyes from the pleasure, and your fingers began scratching against his arms. If your mind hadn't been so fogged out, you'd be embarrassed from how fast your release caught up.

“Say you won't leave again..." Theo spoke words were stone cold and you tried ignoring them — knowing that you planned on going back into hiding from him.

His cold hand snakes up around your neck, giving it a tight squeeze that makes you squeal. Your sure he notices that your avoiding his request and perhaps that's why his hips began to move at a slower pace – But you really had not expected him to completely stop,

The was absolutely no way he was going to leave you on edge like that. As your eyes flew open you sobbed out, Theodore wore a plain expression. His light eyes were already looking directly into yours,

You attempted to take matters into your own hands by beginning to slip up his length. But Theodore, who clearly wasn't having none of it, pushed you away by your stomach, pulling out of you completely now.

"Say it, Y/N!" He slightly shook you, "Or I swear I'll leave you like this-- Say it--"

"I--I'm not gonna leave!" The words left unexpectedly from your lips. And you really wish you could say you only said it to get your release but that wouldn’t be true. “..Ever again"

Theodore smiled widely at your words, pressing his face against your neck. And you both let out a loud sigh of comfort when he slid back inside of you,

You don't even know how you lasted four months without him.

Part three>>>

[popponn]

so what if itoshi rin happens to stop by a cafe during a downpour, expecting it to be just another dingy cafe in the basement with a drink he doesn't even enjoy. fully prepared to book it out the moment the rain stops, rin doesn't pay attention at first to the person who goes up to the stage and sits, carrying a guitar.

but then, he hears your voice at the first pluck of string and he may have fallen in love a bit at the first melody.

of course, it doesn't hit him immediately at first. it begins with him sitting in silence until you finish the last song. then it's him visiting every time he could for two weeks straight. then it's him remembering that you play every wednesday and weekend, noon and evening. then it's you recognizing him after one show and then it's him learning your name as you do his.

and if his team and big brother wonder why he grows calmer and plays many untitled recordings—given by you, made by you—he will probably punch them out of panic. but, at least he owes them for making him realize that it's a crush, actually.

(or, rin falls in love with you, your song, and more.)

#1

"...that's...you like someone...?" isagi speaks as if he is an incarnation of some demented fish. the moron even gapes like one.

rin tries his best not to reflexively throw the water bottle at hand. he would, if it isn't for a series of loud "the fuck"s and "no way"s that resound through the locker room. there is also a "bitch pay up! rinrin is in love, see?!" that suspiciously sounds like the blonde roach's voice, but honestly rin's biggest concern is his brother—who freezes like a statue and goes wide-eyed with a grace of a dying clam.

from the corner of his eyes, sae truly looks like he gets a heart attack and turns out rin still loves him enough to worry. but if the hunch that says that shitty brother is considering either giving pieces of advice or bees-and-birds talk there and then is right—rin is murdering him along with hiori yo who looks way too amused for his own good.

in the end, rin does end up throwing that bottle to isagi's face. rin revels in his pained squawk.

"i don't!" rin shouts, ignoring the creeping heat on his cheeks. for some reason he feels like he is lying but for now, he better socks sae in the face because that motherfucker looks like he is ready to speak.

#2

you sit on the rough surface of the cement stairs. as you take your guitar out of its case, a train of thought walks through your mind. a few months ago, the thought of having someone to sit here with you, enjoying the sunset while you play is a bit too farfetched.

but then rin—the guy who keeps appearing at the cafe every time you play, the guy who is cool, the good-looking guy, the guy who always listens every time you speak or play—just enters your life.

rin sits one step below your feet and looks at you so attentively that it makes you feel special. as you adjust the instrument in your hand, you wonder if it's wrong for you to fall simply because of that.

it probably is—a part of you say. but, you know that part too was the one who made you doubt yourself weeks ago, before rin shuts it up with a simple admittance of his preference to your songs.

so, like a fool, you smile—lovesick, too honest, too obviously, "hey, have i ever played a love song for you?"

rin hums, filling in the silence as he seems to try to remember something. shifting his weight to lean on his elbow, he offers you a confident answer, "few times, in the cafe."

"but never in our solo shows, right?" you place your fingers on the strings. the word 'our' comfortably resting in your sentence.

you notice how rin's eyes soften and never have you ever wished that you didn't read things wrongly this much. "yeah," rin says, the orange of the sunset decorating his face in a way that makes you realize how pretty aquamarine suits him.

"then," you hope you will have courage, one day. "that shall be our song today."

notes: this hellsite ate this so out of spite i remade everything. also out of love because rinnie is babey. but yeah—rin who falls in love with musician you. the thought of a grumpy guy who listens to acoustic ballad played by his favorite person and cooking down immediately is cute to me. so here you have it, kinda post canon, kinda no plot just coming of age vibe kinda slice of life vibe. plus the thought of chance meeting in a cafe stage is cute. yeah i just think this idea is cute and i got bored in the train. this thing is a few weeks old actually, but. yeah. anyway another blurbs for now ❤ maybe i really should make masterlist for these stuffs 🐒 after the trip myb. but yeah, honestly rin feels soft for me since long ago. esp on the inside. and the thoughts of him getting "special" "only for him" stuffs feels good after all the "sae replacement" stuffs he went thru in canon. i think he is the type who will make you feel special because he really is all in for you. okay yeah my head kinda dizzy maybe i will add something more later. shout out to ms. lau/fey and mbak yu/ra yuni/ta for the songs that play in my head, it makes it better.

[siddhigirls]

your favourite girl

pairing: cillian!teacher x afab!reader

preface: mr murphy was your english teacher and he loved you, a little too much, but you were a little trouble maker

warnings: age gap, teacher x student relationship, light smut:)

mr. murphys class was your least favourite. you hated it because all he did was just pick on you the entire class, its like he actually did hate you. and not only that his class makes you want to fall asleep. all he did was read some books in those stupid glasses he wears. you walked into last period immediately having no patience for his cheeky attitude, he sat at his desk with his blue button up shirt, his sleeves rolled up showing his slightly veined arms, his hair in a certain way that shows off his jawline, his piercing blue eyes looking directly at you. “alright pull out your books, today you guys should start your essays, but before you start i’ll explain the assignment once again for some of you guys who weren’t there” looking directly at you, you scoffed already having no patience today.

he explained the assignment but all you did was just play on your phone, mr murphy forced you to sit in the front for some reason but it really got on your nerves. you barely heard any of the instructions but it won’t matter cause you’ll ask one of your classmates. “y/n pay attention.” he says in a bossy tone, you rolled your eyes and continued scrolling on instagram, “okay detention after school till 4:30. and we will have a long talk about your attitude” he said walking up taking your phone away from your hands. “give it back. and i won’t stay im busy after school” everyone’s now looking at both of you guys arguing, your blood is boiling but you couldn’t do anything about it. “too bad you’ll miss out on your plans, you’re wasting my time now im wasting yours.” he said and then continuing on whatever he was saying. minutes pass by and the class is silent, you’re doing your work not even looking at him. while the class was working mr murphy was looking through your phone, curious to your private life. he was looking at your texts and came across you and your boyfriends texts.

he was snooping okay, he was looking at the texts between you guys which made him a bit jealous. he scrolled until he saw the texts between you guys last night, he came across to a rather scandalous photo of you, you in a bra and panties, he scrolled up a little more to see a thumbnail video of you taking off your underwear showing off your throbbing wet clit. he immediately turned off your phone feeling guilty of what he just did, but god did it turn him on. he hated the thought of you wanting to fuck another man though, you were his and only his.

class came to an end and you went to mr murphys desk to take your phone back. “can i have my phone back mr murphy” you pleaded, all you wanted to do is just go home and relieve yourself. “no y/n. sit, let’s talk.” he said sternly, but when he looked up at you all he saw was your cleavage in his face which caught him off guard. you sat down in a chair right in front of the white board, he shut the door as he laid back on the board in your sight. “so y/n what’s with the attitude today? i want us to have a good student teacher relationship, believe it or not i actually like you” a little too much he thought to himself, you let out an airy laugh, “you don’t like me.”

your response caught him aback. “why do you think that” he said getting closer to you, now looking down at you. “you always just pick—“ you paused looking up at his piercing blue eyes, his dick was right in front of your face, you’ve never looked at him like this before, fuck he looks so good.

“are you gonna finish the sentence?” he said, slowly getting closer to your face, the tension was so thick. full of hatred and anger, with a thick sexual tension as well. “you just always…” you said getting up getting in his face. now you’re looking up at him, your heart pounding, your pussy quickly getting wet.

“we shouldn’t do this mr. murphy.” you said yet you put your arms around his neck and he places his hands on your waist tugging and hugging it. “but i can’t stop thinking about you..” you admitted getting closer to his face, feeling his icy breath on your lips. your lips lightly touching each other. his hands travelling down your short skirt and sitting you on the desk. “you say the word baby i’ll do whatever you want me to do” he says kissing your neck, “we can’t tell anyone about this my boyfriend will kill me” you said looking into his beautiful eyes and down to his full lips. “and i’ll get fired but fuck you’re just so beautiful. i can’t stop thinking about you riding me. you’re all i think about. i’ll prove to you how little your lame boyfriend will mean to you after this.” he says rubbing his big hands on your thigh. you leaned in closing the gap between you guys immediately swapping saliva, he pulls you closer to his body and you feel how hard he is which turns you on a lot more.

“fuck me mr murphy”

that’s all you had to say. he ripped your black leggings for more access. aggressively kissing your lips and your neck, “we can’t be loud now. don’t fucking make a noise” he said lowly in your ear. let’s just say you guys had a really good time.

!a/n!

if you guys want more comment or privately message me!!

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (05/10)

The Challenge

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: new sensations envelop you when you are with Aemond, especially when you learn more details about his relationship with Alys and an unexpected news fills you with nerves.

word count: 6.6k

previous part • series masterlist

new chapter finally!

probably won't be as exciting as the other chapters, however...there is something here going on and I want you guys to figure it out in the comments and we'll see if you are catching what I am👀

the next chapter will be full of drama, believe me, so expect it to come very soon as I'm focusing on finishing writing this story without making new ones and considering I have no more fics pending, just this one🤗

now yes beautiful people, enjoy!

warnings: cursing, language, mentions of cheating.

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff @bluerskiees @urmomsgirlfriend1 @toodlesxcuddles @rosie-posie08 @iloveallmyboys @bellaisasleep @deliaseastar @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @dixie-elocin @lilostif16 @wickedfrsgrl @a-beaverhausen @a-beaverhausen

The sound of birds in the distance reaches your ears.

Today the sky is cloudy, with no chance of rain, the temperature is pleasant and you are thankful that there are no intense sun rays burning your skin when you are outdoors.

You find yourself immersed in your physics homework, sitting on the bleachers of the sports field, where you can only hear the sound of the birds and also faintly the sound of the soccer team training.

You sit in tranquility, undisturbed and unobserved by anyone, when suddenly the sound of footsteps stepping on the metal bleachers pulls you out of your concentration.

You look up and see Aemond approaching, a small smile on his face. You return his greeting with a shy smile and make a small space beside you for him to take a seat.

Aemond plops down nonchalantly next to you, letting out a sigh, then curiously observes what you're doing on your lap.

"What are you doing?"

You deliberately ignore his question and instead, take a loose leaf you had tucked away among your folder, pick it up and hold it out to him, with a gentle yet expectant look.

Aemond takes it and frowns, reading what you've written on it, only getting more confused.

'Pride and Prejudice' by Jane Austen.

'Romeo and Juliet' by William Shakespeare.

"And what is this?"

"Have you already forgotten my conditions of the contract?" you tell him amused, "For every party I go with you to, you have to read one of my favorite books or watch one of my favorite movies or shows," you remind him, "So now, you have to pick one of these two of my favorite books."

Aemond rolls his eye with amusement.

"And why exactly do I have to pick one of these two? Don't they seem... repetitive and so usual?"

"That's what people always say, obviously they know these books by the title and their authors, but how many people actually read these books?" you look at him with your tone full of expectation, "I'm sure you haven't read either of them."

He shrugs indifferently, with his nonchalant air.

"So? There are movies," he says confused, "I haven't seen them either, but I know how they both end. In the end they both get married," he points to the title of 'Pride and Prejudice', "And here they both die together and their families stop being rivals," he points to 'Romeo and Juliet'.

You let out a small chuckle at his witty response, but you are not intimidated.

"Yes but there are a lot of things that in the movies they don't show, so... what will be your choice, Mr. Aemond?"

He lets out a laugh.

"Well, we'll see how this 'Romeo and Juliet' is," he decides.

"Perfect."

And when he least expects it, from your backpack you take the book, handing it to him with your clear satisfaction and he still confused but amused examines the book in his hands.

"Good, then give me the other one at once, because there's a new party on Saturday," he tells you, completely grabbing your attention.

You open your eyes wide and stare at him in disbelief and surprise.

"What? So soon?" you ask with clear irritation and disappointment in your look and tone.

"Why are you so disappointed? After all you come out on top too since I'm going to read two of your shitty boring books," he says as he raises them slightly in the air.

"My books aren't shitty and they aren't boring!" you exclaim indignantly giving him a gentle tap on the shoulder, "And it's okay, I just didn't think it would be so soon."

"We'll just go for a little while. Then we can both go get some dinner and I'll drop you off at your house early. Sound good?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

And as soon as you say that, you also hand him the second book with a good forced look, making Aemond laugh and take that book too.

"As much as I like seeing you with a wrinkled nose, take it off or it's going to stay that way," he says amused, crinkling it between his fingers briefly, making you laugh and you immediately move his hand away from your face.

Then he says goodbye to you, before getting up and heading off to his next class. And also not before telling you that he'll see you at lunch.

And as you watch him walk away, you tell yourself that these little interactions are part of pretending, since after all, the guys on the soccer team can see them clearly from this distance.

However, that slight fear returns to yourself that things may get more complicated than you expect.

Fortunately, the rest of the week goes smoothly, the teachers seem to be in a good mood and the homework is not heavy.

And you clearly continue to pretend along with Aemond.

Both he and you continue to act as usual, he is attentive and affectionate when you are together in full view of everyone at school. His gestures and looks full of complicity make you feel special, but at the same time remind you that it's all part of a game.

You also keep your word with Helaena, taking time to sit together for lunch at break time and occasionally Alysanne joins in as well, where you gradually start telling her about Cregan.

Until the day of the party arrives.

You tell your dad that you're going to a birthday celebration for a class friend, nothing big and everything quiet.

Then you opt for a pair of black pants, low-heeled ankle boots, a strappy blouse in a vibrant shade of cherry and a jacket to complement the outfit. And once you look in the mirror, you feel ready, although the nerves begin to settle in your stomach.

And of course, Aemond arrives promptly at your house.

His relaxed expression and smile greet you before you even get into the car. And driving to the party, the atmosphere is comfortable and calm.

And when you both arrive at the house where the party is, it's not a big, loud party like the previous one. But the atmosphere is full of energy, there is music, people dancing, drinks and cigarettes.

And you together with Aemond follow the same procedure to pretend to be a couple in love.

This time, you both decide to be more present with Aemond's friends. You sit between Trevor and Aemond, who immediately puts an arm around your shoulders, pulling you towards him, starting to make conversation with his friends.

And as always, he makes sure you're always included, just like during lunch in the cafeteria.

And while everyone is talking, the guys and Aemond make you laugh, feeling more and more comfortable with them. And as the night goes on, you realize how natural it feels to be next to Aemond, as if you fit perfectly into his world, at least for tonight.

When he at your side looks at you attentively and with some curiosity.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you nod nonchalantly, "Why?"

"Just asking," he shrugs, then lifts his hand and tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, "Can I get you something to drink?"

You shake your head.

"I don't want to drink beer or anything like that."

"Then a soda? Or water?"

You let out a small laugh.

"Okay, soda's fine."

"Alright. I'll be back soon," he says then leaves a soft kiss on your forehead and gets up to head towards the kitchen.

He leaves for a moment and you are left talking to his friends, who are a lot of fun and in fact, because of them and Aemond, you begin to understand lacrosse as such, since that's all they talk about, besides their nonsense.

And also about some of the girls they like.

And also in that small moment that Aemond leaves, as you briefly observe the party around you, you see Alys with her group of friends in another corner.

You just casually watch them, you don't plan to give them any attention, but just as your eyes watch Alys, she watches you back.

And you are struck by how she says something to her friends with a smirk of superiority without taking her eyes off you and then everyone in her group watches you and laughs too.

You snort as you look away, as if you really care.

Aemond returns with your soda and only a glass of beer for himself, resuming conversation with both you and his friends, having a good time together.

Time passes and you feel the need to go to the bathroom, so you leave your now empty glass on the small table in the center.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," you announce, catching his attention, starting to stretch a bit to get up.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asks you thoughtfully, "I mean, wait for you outside."

"No need, don't worry. I'll be back soon," you assure him, standing up.

"Okay," he nods at you with a small smile.

With a nod, you walk away towards the second floor bathroom, where you'll mostly take a moment to recharge your batteries before heading back to the party.

Luckily the bathroom is empty and you do everything you need to do without pressure.

Then you take a deep breath, allow yourself a brief moment of calm before returning to the party, wash your hands and mentally go over how you should behave around Aemond in front of everyone.

As you exit the bathroom, just down the hall, you notice Alys' presence in the area near the stairs.

You think about just ignoring her and walking past her, but when her eyes watch you, as if she is waiting for you, a mischievous smile curves her lips and she turns fully towards you, giving you her full attention.

"What do we have here," she mutters sarcastically, moving towards you while holding a red plastic cup in her hand.

You watch her completely unconcerned and walk past her, as you don't plan on dealing with her right now or ever.

"How does it feel to be Aemond's new pet?" she asks with a mocking laugh, planting herself in front of you, stopping your steps, "Or did you just think you could replace me so easily?"

Your heart begins to pound in your chest, but you stand your ground, reminding yourself that you will not let his words affect you, as his expression is filled with disdain.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you reply calmly, trying not to give her the pleasure of seeing you affected by her comments.

She glares at you, before a sly smile spreads across her face.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says with false sympathy, "I really thought you knew."

You frown.

"He's always done this, ever since we started dating," she says, "When we'd break up, he'd date the first girl in front of him as a pathetic attempt to replace me and make me jealous, so you're not the first and won't be the last, sweetie," she tells you with a fake pout, feigning pity for you.

You fix your gaze on Alys, feeling a mixture of anger and frustration coursing through your body. Who does she think she is to talk to you like that?

"I don't need your false sympathy," you reply with determination, your voice resonating louder than you expected, "What Aemond and I have has nothing to do with you."

Alys rolls her eyes in exasperation, as if your words are irrelevant to her.

"Oh, please," she replies dismissively, "Don't lie to yourself. He's always been like that, he's just looking to distract himself and you're just the last in line," she points out to you irrelevantly, "When we broke up, he was crying like a baby for me, begging me to get back together."

Your heart clenches at her words, with a surge of emotions surging through your chest.

For a moment, doubt takes hold of you.

Did Aemond really do that? Was he so affected by their breakup?

You tell yourself that maybe if he hadn't, he would never have asked you to do this. But this was mostly so that Alys would stop making a fool of him at school by cheating on him, not to get his attention and make her jealous... right?

"I'm not surprised you don't know," she continues to tell you dismissively, "But do you really think he loves you? Please," she snorts derisively, "He'll dump you in a few weeks when I give him the slightest hope because he's still crazy about me," she says superiorly, "Look at you and look at me. I know what he's into and that's definitely not you, especially you."

You try to ignore the stinging pain and keep your composure, clenching your jaw.

"I don't care what happened between you," you reply bravely, even if your voice shakes a little, "Ours is different."

She lets out a mocking laugh.

"Oh you poor little thing, you're so naive."

"If that's all, thank you so much for that vital information for my life," you tell her just as mockingly, walking past her, determined to leave her behind.

But just as you pass by her side, Alys moves along with you and purposefully slams your shoulder and arm with brutality, causing the beer in her hand to spill in a dull motion onto your chest and clothes.

The cold, sticky liquid slides down your blouse and pants, leaving you drenched and shocked by the suddenness of the moment.

You feel the liquid soak through your clothes and a shiver runs down your back. And you look down, watching in disbelief as the drink spreads through your clothes.

Then you look back at Alys, who has a mocking, amused look on her face.

"Oh, gosh, how clumsy of me," Alys scoffs, her tone of voice full of fake concern, "I'm really sorry, it was an accident."

You take a deep breath to contain your frustration, but her words spark a small spark of anger inside you. How can she be so brazen?

"An accident?" you repeat, disbelief in your voice as you stare at her with a frown.

Alys just smiles mischievously, enjoying your discomfort and what she just did to you.

"Enjoy the party, honey. But first, maybe you should clean yourself up," she says before turning away, leaving you soaking wet and clearly feeling very proud.

You don't even know what to do, feeling this way leaves you paralyzed for a moment, until you finally make your way back to the bathroom.

At the sink you further wet your clothes with water, which looks worse, but at least you won't stink of beer.

Drops of beer also splashed into your hair, so you wipe that off as well, feeling the humiliation wash over you and you don't even know exactly why.

But you do.

You look down at your ruined booties too, soaked from the front with beer and water.

The skin on your chest and collarbone feels chuckling from the beer, so you wipe it off too, when suddenly, there's a knock on the door.

"One moment!" you exclaim grumpily, still cleaning yourself.

"Y/N?"

You hear Aemond's worried voice outside.

"Fuck," you curse in a whisper.

"Are you okay?"

You bite the inside of your cheek and let out a long breath, already having the idea that you won't be able to hide this from him.

You were only supposed to come to the bathroom and you've already been late, of course he must have sensed something was wrong and come looking for you.

You leave the wet towel in the sink and open the door, where Aemond instantly notices you and opens his eye wide, seeing your clothes and some of your soaked hair.

"What happened?" he asks worriedly, moving quickly towards you, examining you.

You struggle to keep your composure, but can't, a bad mood overcomes you and you make your displeasure clear.

"Alys threw her drink on me," you finally say, stepping aside to let him go into the bathroom with you, reaching back for the damp towel to clean your skin.

Surprise crosses your face before it morphs into an expression of restrained fury and disbelief.

"What?"

You hiss, looking in the mirror at yourself as you wipe your sticky skin.

"Did she say something to you?" he asks, his voice serious but full of concern.

You let out a gesture of disbelief.

"She said things many things," you say seriously, not watching him for a moment, trying to dry your hair with the towel.

Aemond frowns, clearly annoyed.

He walks over to you and takes the towel from your hands, stopping your attempt to dry your hair. His gaze meets yours through the mirror, searching for answers.

"What things did dhe say?"

You sigh, feeling the weight of the situation on your shoulders.

"It doesn't matter, she just said bullshit," you reply evasively, looking away.

Aemond watches your face, urgently wanting you to look him in the eye, but you don't, you avoid his gaze and are obviously annoyed with the situation, which he doesn't blame you for.

He's annoyed too, because he knew he should have been near you to protect you if Alys is in the same place as the two of you.

He sighs in frustration, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, watching your soaked clothes and how you continue to clean yourself.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs sincerely, his voice full of regret, "You shouldn't have gone through this. She's totally out of her mind."

You remain silent for a moment, fighting the emotions that threaten to overwhelm you. As he looks at you with anguish and regret for not protecting you from Alys' comments and actions.

"It's not your fault," you finally say in a serious voice, still not looking at him, then set the damp towel down on the sink and inhale softly, "Can you take me home?"

Aemond nods, feeling guilty.

"Sure," he murmurs, "But first... you can put on my jacket," he says as he starts to take it off, "I'll be waiting outside."

He takes it off and gently hands it to you, his hand brushing against yours with a gesture of tenderness.

"Thanks," you murmur.

He exits the bathroom, closes the door and you remove your blouse and soaked jacket, leaving your bra down and immediately wrap his jacket around you, zipping it up almost to your throat.

With your clothes in your hands, you walk out of the bathroom and Aemond watches you silently, attentive and concerned, with a sadness and frustration in his eye that he can't hide.

He hates your distance.

A few moments ago the two of you were having a good time and now that Alys has done this... he hates that you are apart from him.

You both return to the party and Aemond doesn't even say goodbye to his friends, thinking he'll text them later, grabbing your shoulder and walking out of the house with you.

Together, you walk to his car in silence, where he doesn't dare to say a single word to you and you don't really want to talk either.

And all the way to your house, that nagging feeling doesn't leave your system.

But is it specifically because Alys spilled her drink on you or is it the interesting information she shared with you about Aemond?

You don't.

But you do.

Aemond tried to talk to you about what happened but you wouldn't let him.

You feel it's something you shouldn't make a big deal about. After all, he and you are not really 'dating'. So before he dropped you off at your house, you just reassured him that everything was fine and nothing more.

Now it's your father who drops you off at school on this day and you head towards your locker, immersed for a moment in thought.

You carelessly take your backpack off your shoulders to open it at the same time you open your locker, but as you do so, a polaroid falls to the floor.

You frown and bend down to pick it up, confused, since it's not yours.

And as you look at it, your heart begins to beat too hard in your chest as you see a picture of Aemond and Alys as if at a school dance or a party, both of them hugging.

But that's not what catches your attention, what does is seeing how there's is a picture of your face overlaid over where Alys' face should be, indicating just that, her replacement, a second place or temporary substitute.

But the thing about you and Aemond is not real.

So... why are you so affected by something you know isn't real?

It's a question that haunts your mind as you struggle to maintain your composure, beginning to tremble and feel your breathing heavy.

You swallow hard and press your lips together, when just then, you hear it...the giggles.

You raise your gaze and in the distance, you see Alys with her friends watching in your direction and laughing, clearly mocking you.

Although your relationship with Aemond is fake, the pain you feel at this moment is real.

And before you can react, Aemond's voice is suddenly heard.

"Hey, I was—

You turn your head towards him instantly and your eyes meet his, but his words hang in the air the moment he sees what you hold in your hands.

His soft expression slowly transforms from confusion to fury as he sees the picture. His whole face hardens completely and he purses his lips.

And sure enough, it's a matter of him realizing what's happening, as he hears Alys and her friends' laughter and looks in their direction, hardening his gaze even more.

"Aemond—

You try to speak but he instantly walks over to where Alys is standing without saying a word to you, taking the picture from your hands.

Your heart beats harder, opening your eyes wide and you want to walk towards him, to stop him, but somehow, you are paralyzed and you don't know exactly why.

Tension begins to feel in the air and you feel like your heart will burst out of your chest at any moment.

Aemond arrives in front of Alys with a determined look, his jaw tense and his fists clenched at his side. Instead of shouting, however, his voice is firm and controlled.

"From now on, I don't ever want to see you keep bothering my girlfriend with your fucking little girl pranks again, do you understand me?" he says angrily to then throw the photo at her.

The photo hits her face lightly and Alys looks up at him, surprised by the sudden intensity of his voice and his movements.

Instead of showing fear, however, her face hardens with an expression of disdain and disbelief.

"Oh, look who thinks he's the hero," she replies with her cynical smile, trying to hide her discomfort behind her façade of superiority, "I didn't know you had to protect your little girlfriend, Aemond. And come on, we were just joking."

Aemond clenches his fists, his jaw tense with frustration. But he continues to maintain his composure, his eye fixed on hers with determination.

"Oh yeah? You were just joking?" he repeats, "And the party thing on Saturday was a fucking joke too?"

Her face tenses slightly at the mention of the party, her smile fading momentarily before her regains his composure.

"That was an accident—

"Yeah, right. Everything to you is an accident, something you didn't meant to do, something that got out of hand. How could I not know about that, right? It's always the same fucking story with you."

She purses her lips.

"Who the fuck do you think you are to talk to me like that—

"Leave me and my girlfriend alone," he tells her slowly and clearly, "I'm not going to tell you again and I don't want to know that you're doing your shitty jokes again," he warns her, making it clear with his tone that he's not willing to tolerate her childish games anymore.

Alys recoils slightly at the annoyance and determination in his voice, her confidence waning slightly.

And before she can say anything else, Aemond turns and walks back along with you.

The students around you are still fully attentive to the confrontation, shocked and delighted by the drama, while you watch Aemond in awe of the way he has defended you.

"Come on," he murmurs to you in a softer, gentler way, closing your locker door and taking your hand, leading you with him away from the watchful eyes.

After what happened, he takes you with him to a nearby empty classroom and once inside, he gently closes the door behind him and turns to look at you, his expression attentive and full of concern.

He doesn't say anything right away and you just bite the inside of your cheek and lower your gaze, not knowing exactly what to say or what to do.

Until he exhales deeply, releasing the tension built up in his shoulders.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice soft and comforting as he watches you intently.

You nod slightly, though your hands still tremble slightly.

"I'm fine," you reply, trying to sound unconcerned.

He sighs, tearing his gaze away from yours for a moment.

"I'm so sorry. I-I didn't... I didn't expect something like this to happen. And she..." he runs a hand across his forehead in frustration, "It's not fair for you to be dealing with this."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Aemond," you tell him softly and sincerely, "But thank you for standing up for me."

He sighs.

"And you don't have to thank me, Y/N. It was the least I could do. But I promise you this is the last time something like this happens."

"You can't control what Alys does or doesn't do."

He exhales again.

"I know, but we never agreed that you would go through these bad times in the contract."

"Hey," you take a step towards him, your gaze soft as you see the frustration and worry on his face, starting to get upset, "Aemond," you call his name in a calm manner, "It's okay. I'm fine. Yes, the party thing and today was difficult but..." you shrug, "I'm fine. It's nothing I can't handle."

Still the worry doesn't leave his face.

"Are you sure? At the party you were upset and I don't blame you, but I don't want this to affect between us. You were distant and now...

His words float in the air and you try to place a small, comforting smile in his direction, though it appears more of a grimace.

"We're fine," you assure him softly.

His gaze reflects a mixture of relief, watching you without another word, then briefly glancing around.

And then an idea seems to cross his mind and he watches you again, attentive.

"What do you say we skip this first class?"

"What?" you immediately inquire.

"I know you don't like skipping classes but just one missed class isn't going to hurt you."

You frown.

"And what do you want to do?"

He shrugs.

"Just talk."

You bite your lower lip, hesitant.

But it's only enough to see the look on Aemond's face and his posture, utterly determined and solely waiting for you, that you finally let out a resigned sigh and nod.

Soon the two of you are sitting in the bleachers, with almost no one around, just the cheerleading squad training in the corner of the huge soccer and lacrosse field.

The atmosphere is quiet and you like that, just like the last time you were here and he chose the book of 'Romeo and Juliet' to read.

And once both of you are silent, just looking around and feeling each other's presence, Aemond decides to speak.

"What did Alys say to you at that party?"

He dares in asking, his gaze searching yours with a mixture of curiosity and concern, while you remain silent for a moment, not expecting that he would try to bring up the subject again.

And inevitably Alys' words echo in your mind, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

And you don't understand why.

You don't understand why you feel this unpleasant sensation when you remember her words.

"Well, she wasn't very nice..." you're silent for a moment, "Actually she wasn't at all but..." you lick your lips and avert your gaze from him, focusing on the lacrosse field, "She called me... your new pet, a new pathetic attempt to replace her."

He frowns, his gaze hardening as he hears your words, incredulous and annoyed. And he doesn't need to say anything, his face speaks for itself.

"She said you did that all the time when you both broke up... you know," you clear your throat, "Going out with other girls to make her jealous so she'd come back to you. That I was just a distraction and that pretty soon you'd drop me the moment she gave you the slightest hope of getting back together."

His lips tighten into a line, closing his eye for a moment and shaking his head, still intent on your words. And you prepare to say the next thing more softly and tactfully.

"She also said that you cried to her and begged her to come back this last time you both broke up."

He snorts, more incredulous than ever.

"Of course she said that."

And before he can speak further, you feel the need to clarify your behavior a bit.

"I always acted with her as if we were a real couple," you clarify, "I wasn't bothered by what she said," what a fucking lie, "What bothered me was her talking to me that way and throwing her drink on me."

"No, no, it's okay, I understand that," he assures you instantly, in a soft voice, "But everything she said to you is not true."

You watch him with your parted lips, slightly surprised and beginning to feel your heart knot.

"It isn't?"

"No," he says more firmly, incredulous, "It's true that I begged her to get back together, but that was a while ago, practically in the beginning of our relationship when it was fun for her to break up and come back," he explains to you, serious and honest with his words, "I was crazy about her, I even grew to love her and gave her all of me. But I was just a fucking child experiencing his first love... and that wasn't enough for her."

His confession takes your breath away for a moment, revealing a vulnerability you didn't expect, watching his serious and frustrated face clearly from what happened at the party and an hour ago at your locker.

You have no idea what to say, not wanting to minimize his feelings from that time nor now by saying the wrong thing.

"It's also not true that I was dating other girls to make her jealous to get her to come back to me, I-I..." he shakes his head, "I've never been like that. And you're certainly no distraction or... my new pet," he says with distaste.

You let out a long breath.

"I'm sorry," you say softly, "She said it in a way that made me believe her. I don't know what I was thinking," you say sincerely, "And I'm also sorry she made you feel that way," you mumble, feeling a lump in your throat.

"Don't worry, it's okay," he says softly, with a bitter little smile and his gaze lowered.

He shakes his head regretfully, as if he's remembering a past he'd rather forget and you feel guilty.

"It's just..." he starts to say, "Why would I want to go back to her if she cheated on me?" he asks incredulously, "She was the one who cried and begged to get back together this last time. And you know why? Because I found her fucking that guy in her car after she told me she was feeling sick and didn't feel like seeing me or going out with me."

Fuck.

His words echo in your mind, bringing with them a wave of sadness and empathy, definitely not expecting to hear that.

You never knew how it was that Alys cheated on Aemond, it only began to be said that it was with a college guy, but it was never said under what circumstances exactly she cheated on him.

You feel a sharp pang in your chest and suddenly feel outraged at what he had to endure, that she betrayed his trust in that horrible way.

How could she do that to him?

You don't have a heart made of stone to put a person through that.

You feel grateful that he shared this with you. It just shows you the level of trust you both have built. And you take a moment before you speak, trying to find the right words.

And the first thing you do is raise your hand and place it on top of his.

"I'm so sorry," you say softly, sincerely, "I'm so sorry you went through that. You didn't deserve it."

"You don't have to apologize, Y/N," he replies gently, accepting your touch, "None of it was your fault."

Then he sighs and you realize there's a weight to his words, a pain he's carried with him for some time.

"It's just... "he continues speaking, his voice heavy with mixed emotions, "Even if this thing between the two of us was real, why do this? Why tell these lies and want to hurt you with her cruel words and actions? Why won't she let me move on?"

You press your lips together and your heart clenches as you listen to his anguish.

"Maybe she's still in love with you," you mutter, trying to find a reason, "In her own twisted way."

He shakes his head, incredulous.

"This isn't love. It wasn't before and it isn't now. She just wants to have me eating out of the palm of her hand, like always."

His words are blunt and make you feel even more helpless about the situation.

And there's really nothing you can do, you can only be here for him, listen to him, support him in whatever he needs and be... his friend, like you've really been all this time, putting aside your facade of a girlfriend in love.

Right?

He lets out another sigh, this time heavier than the previous ones, and then leans against the metal of the bleachers behind you, leaning back.

You think he will let go of your hand, but he pulls you along with him, both of you close, shoulder to shoulder, both of you suddenly falling silent, saying nothing more, just staring at the horizon.

Until he speaks again.

"I don't want to think about it anymore," he says as he watches you and you look back at him almost instantly, feeling his thumb gently caress the back of your hand, sending a kind of electricity through your body.

And you propose the first thing that comes to mind.

"Do you want to listen to music until the next class starts?" you say in a soft voice and he nods immediately.

You take your headphones from your backpack, your phone and settle back down next to him, handing him an earphone and then you play your Spotify playlist with the songs you keep listening to lately.

You don't even know if he also likes the same style of music as you, but he doesn't complain or say anything to you the moment you start playing The 1997, Harry Styles, The Weeknd, Chase Atlantic, Cigarettes After Sex and Lana del Rey.

Until he closes his eyes and suddenly uses you as a pillow, dropping his head on your shoulder, immediately this catching your attention and feeling a strange sensation in your lower stomach.

Despite being surprised and feeling confused for a moment, you do absolutely nothing to push him away and after a moment of hesitation, you slowly drop your head on top of his as well.

He doesn't open his eye or say anything to you, he just settles in better and then you both get very still, continuing to listen to music.

And you can't help but wonder; are the two of you even pretending now?

You honestly don't know.

"We have a problem."

That's the first thing Aemond says to you on a Tuesday morning when he stops by to drive you to school.

Immediately this catches your attention and you look at him slightly concerned, closing the passenger seat door to the side of you and watch him completely attentively.

"What's wrong?"

"My mom knows about you."

Shit.

Your whole body tenses and you watch him with your eyes wide open in surprise.

"And of course, she wants to meet you."

Oh shit.

"B-but...

You try to speak, not finding the right words watching him confused, not understanding anything and Aemond helps you with that as soon as he sees your completely disbelieving and surprised face.

"Aegon told her," he lets you know, "The fucking cunt talked out of turn and before he knew it, I'd already told her everything."

Oh God.

"And what did she tell you?" you ask, feeling a knot in your stomach.

"She wants you to go to dinner Friday night."

He tells you in a soft voice and looking just as worried as you do, still trying to convey calm.

"I told her I'd talk to you about it, but..." he lets out a resigned sigh, "I know her. And she won't leave me alone until she meets you. She's really nice, I swear, she's the sweetest person and... I know we agreed not to involve families but I had nothing to do with this."

Your mind is spinning as you finish processing the information, feeling an unexpected uneasiness and anxiety.

The mere thought of meeting Aemond's mom already makes you feel nauseous from the same nerves. However, you empathize with him, as this wasn't something he planned and it was by third parties who think he and you are actually dating.

But still, you feel incredibly nervous and the day hasn't even come close.

"I get it," you mumble, trying to hide your nervousness, licking your lips, then looking at him hesitantly, "You want me to?"

Aemond averts his gaze from you, running a hand over his face, not knowing exactly what to say to you, as you wait for his thoughtful response.

Until he lets out a long breath and moves a little closer towards you, placing his hand on top of yours.

"I know this is a lot to ask, especially after we agreed not to do this," he tells you softly, "And my mother is insistent, I do want you to meet her, but... if you don't want to do it, it's totally fine with me," he assures you, "The least I want to do is pressure you into doing something you're not comfortable with."

His words comfort you a little, but you still feel the nervousness wash over you, as well as feel a slight pang of guilt.

You bite your lower lip, struggling with your own emotions and thoughts.

"It's just that I feel remorseful that I'm going to meet her and she's going to meet me when this isn't real," you say in a sad, worried tone.

"I know," he says with compression, holding his hand tighter with yours, "Me too but you won't have to do this again. I'll take care of it, I promise."

You let out a long breath you too, lowering your gaze to the clasped hands in your lap as you feel Aemond's attentive and concerned gaze on you.

"All right," you finally reply, "If it's important to you and your mother, I'll handle it."

"Are you sure? You can tell me no and I'll understand."

"No, don't worry," you assure him, "I will."

He smiles softly at you with gratitude, but also with a hint of concern in his eye.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it."

And despite your own misgivings, you return the small smile.

"It's okay, really. I just... need a little time to think."

Aemond nods, understanding.

"Sure."

general taglist:

[vivwritesfics]

Lupins Lady

Ugh I wanna write some poly marauders stuff so baaaad

Word count: 1k

Summary: before Y/N, everybody was scared of the Marauders. But the terrorising stopped the the pranks became harmless. All thanks to Lupins Lady.

Inspired by a tiktok that I can't find now

Everybody knew of the Marauders and the mischief they got up to. Well, they knew of James and Sirius, and occasionally Peter. At first people couldn’t understand how they got along so well with Remus Lupin. But back then, people couldn’t understand the Remus Lupin was actually the brains behind the entire operation.

It was easy to tell when a prank was orchestrated by James and Sirius or by Remus. And, recently, they were all James and Sirius. Silly things like swapping around books in the library or holding Snapes things above his head. Without Remus, James and Sirius looked like downright bullies.

But Remus was rather preoccupied. At least, that was how the other boys saw it. What else were they supposed to think when every time they walked into the common room (after nine at night) he was sat in the arm chair, sleeping in front of the fire. But that wasn’t all. Dressed in one of his sweaters Y/N L/N would be sleeping against his chest.

The couple hadn’t told anybody they were together, but they didn’t have to. One day Remus just appeared by her side and he didn’t left it, seemingly. The PDA wasn’t packed on, but they weren’t shy about it. Sat cuddled up together for breakfast, when the boys would be trying to make plans. Completing homework together that seemed to be Remus either correcting hers or just doing it himself.

Even at her young age Y/N L/N thought she’d found her life partner in Remus Lupin. He was kind and sweet and caring and oh so so handsome. He was the full package, wrapped up in a scruffy little bow.

Of course, she didn’t know about his furry little problem, but that was a story for another day.

On this particular night, just as every night, the boys strolled into the common room, dripping with confidence. They hadn’t even pulled a prank, but three girls had just sent him that flirty wave and batted their eyelashes at him. And Lily had actually looked at James today!

But the fourth member of their party was nowhere to be seen.

Instead of joining them in their escapades around Hogwarts, Remus was sat in front of the fire, his girl on his lap, bundled up in his sweater. The moment she climbed onto him and planted a kiss on his cheek he knew they were both going to sleep there, at least until he woke up with his back hurting and moved her to his bed with him.

“Whatcha reading?” She asked, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. Remus hummed and held out the cover for her to see. Once she’d made the noise of approval he’d been waiting for, his arms snaked around her and he held the book open, this time reading out loud.

This had become routine now. And by the time the other Marauders had arrived, they’d both be asleep. It was sickeningly sweet, every other Gryffindor would tell you that much, but they couldn’t stop the ‘aww’s from escaping each time it happened.

Before they fell asleep, Remus and Y/N would get through at least one chapter of whatever book he was reading. She kept him out of trouble, at least that’s what the boys said. Before Y/N he was their leader. He was the one to threaten the younger kids when they caught the boys doing something they shouldn’t have.

James was standing in front of the stairs leading to the dormitories, Sirius in front of the portrait hole. Only first years were gathered in the common room, sat around the fireplace. In front of the fireplace was Remus, the Marauders map sticking out of his back pocket.

It was the start of his and Y/N’s relationship. She was sitting in the armchair in the common room, waiting for them to finish up. After Remus was done with the first years he had promised her a picnic in front of the fireplace made up of food he and the boys had taken from the kitchens.

“This is a lesson I like to call ‘so you caught James and Sirius doing something they shouldn’t have’,” Remus said to the first years. He casually pulled his wand out of his pocket and tapped it against his head. “Anybody who can tell me what they saw wins a prize.”

Y/N hated to admit it, but this side of Remus was a mixture of scary and hot. She looked up from her book to watch the whole endeavor.

“What do we win?” Asked a brave first year.

Sirius stepped forward slightly from the portrait hole. “Ever heard of Obliviate?” He asked with a smirk. A few of the first years started trembling.

That was when Y/N finally stepped in. She put down her book, walked over to Remus and kissed his cheek. “Okay, Rem,” she whispered as he wrapped his arm around her. “I think they get it. As long as they don’t squeal they get to keep their memories, right?”

“That’s right, Sweetheart,” he said and kissed the top of her head. After that he dismissed the first years, not before James and Remus gave them a good scare.

That was the last time the boys got to scare the first years with Remus. He was still their leader, just spent most of his time with Y/N instead. He still made time for the boys, but that time was spent thinking of Y/N.

In truth, by keeping Remus out of trouble, she was keeping all of the Marauders out of trouble. Their schemes became less and less.

Before Y/N everybody was scared of the Marauders. If it wasn’t for her Lily would never have given James a chance. But that was a story for another day.

[bcyhoods]

lovefool — “you’re welcome to stay, if you want” w eddie!!

librarian!reader is always calling my name so i needed to do something before i combusted | 1.1k fem!reader

Eddie’s got his feet propped up on the study table and his chair teetering on its hind legs. The dull sound of his rings tapping the hardcover in his hands fills the immediate space. Despite the fact that he’s actually read this particular horror novel at least thrice before, today it only serves as bookworm-ish guise.

The boy aimlessly flicks through the pages, eyes reflexively leaping over entire paragraphs to peak over at the reception desk. With each glance, he feels his heart start racing, his stomach starts flipping. And it has nothing to do with Stephen King, everything to do with you.

You’re sitting behind the polished wood with a pair of deep auburn-colored reading glasses perched on the bridge of your nose. Every so often, they slide down and prompt you to scrunch the muscles in your face and wiggle them back up. Whenever you ultimately give up and push them back into place with your finger, Eddie smiles to himself.

The pair of you have spoken quite a handful of times, but it only took Eddie seconds within that first interaction to be smitten. You’d worn a pretty color on your lips, an even prettier smile behind it. Your eyes lit up upon seeing the tower of Tolkien novels he’d placed in front of you to check out, then you’d complimented his taste, then his hair. Then as if to seal the deal, you reached underneath the desk to retrieve a flimsy bookmark with a map of Middle Earth and placed it on top of the stack.

Now, he’s proud to be a frequent library-goer. Admittedly he feels a little silly about it, at first. But the flash of recognition that crosses your face before you wave at him makes him forget.

You float through the building, burning hot under his watchful eye, shutting off yellow desk lamps and bidding farewell to patrons with a sweet smile. The closer you get to him, the more the familiar aroma of cigarettes and his cologne seem to engulf you. It’s your turn now to have your heart beat erratically in your chest.

“Hi, Eddie.” Your saccharine voice cuts through the silence and has him immediately closing his book. He gazes up at you, big brown eyes boring right into yours. Like he knows you’re about to swat his feet, he grins and kicks his legs down onto the floor.

“Hey,” he sighs out.

“Carrie’s that good, huh? ”

Eddie’s head twists in confusion. It’s like your presence sent him face first into a stupor, and now he’s racking his brain trying to figure out what you were asking. Only when you smirk and point at him does he realize you’re talking about the book. The book that’s in his hand, that he was meant to be reading this whole time.

“Oh! Yeah, Carrie,” he confirms with a gummy smile as he waves the novel up, “What can I say? The lady calls to me. You finished it yet?”

You wince at the question. A few weeks ago you’d each recommended each other a book, per Eddie’s suggestion. He’d read your recommendation within the week, returning it with a broad smile that made you feel giddy. It’s taken you a little longer. He sees it all over your face and gasps.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t read it, yet? You’re really hurting my feelings here, sweetheart.”

The nickname makes your heart catch in your throat and stumble on your words for a second. “It’s—I just…I started it! I promise. I just haven’t had time to read the whole thing,” you explain through a shy smile.

Eddie chuckles at your suddenly bashful demeanor before an idea pops into his mind. Even thinking about it makes him blush. He doesn’t give himself much time to dwell on the idea of your rejection before he’s blurting it out.

“I can read it to you.”

You watch him, surveying his expression to find any hint that he’s joking. But he’s got a doe-eyed look on his face. He’s dragging one of his rings across the curve of his lips with uncertainty.

“You’d…? You’re kidding,” you decide matter-of-factly.

He vigorously shakes his head, hair flying in every direction as he throws his hand over his chest. A bright smile shines across his face. “Cross my heart. I’ve been told I got a shot in the audiobook industry. Might even hear me on one of those little cassettes in the future.”

The boy is lying through his teeth. It’s rare that someone indulged in a positive conversation with him, let alone complimented his voice. Though, it makes you huff out a laugh, maybe a little too loud for a library setting and he swears his heart is about to break out of his rib cage.

You nod at him rather emphatically and agree, “Must be your charisma.” Your hand drops to pick at the chipped wood of the table and your gaze drops with it to hide from him.

“Hey, your words.” He tosses his hands up in the air, smugness tugging at the corners of his mouth. He clears his throat before asking, “What do you say? Think it’d be good practice for me to have a live audience.”

He looks so genuine, a soft expression taking over rough features. His leg bounces under the table with anticipation. His fingers move to where yours are, and he hesitantly reaches his pinky to your own. It’s just a tap, but it sends a tingle up your entire arm and has you reciprocating the touch.

He’s making it so hard for you to say no. You glance up at the clock on the nearby wall and frown. “Well, right now I’m kinda supposed to tell you that the library closes in a few minutes.”

Eddie spares a glance behind you and realizes that he’s the last person on this floor, maybe the entire building.

“Oh. Yeah, well…some other time.” His shoulders sink just slightly before he’s standing upright and smiling at you. “I’ll get out of your hair, m’lady.” He bends at the waist to bow at you, waving his arms theatrically.

You’re smiling at him again, something warm and entirely too sweet. As he turns to the exit, you feel something tug at your chest. Like he’s taking a piece of you with him. It has you calling out before you’re able to stop yourself.

“Eddie?”

He twists back and hums.

“You’re welcome to stay, if you want. I mean I’d love to take you up on the offer, if you don’t mind following me around while I reshelve some returns?” A nervous laugh falls from your mouth as you hitch your thumb towards the non-fiction shelves. Eddie spots your other hand still picking at the chipped wood.

He beams at you with flushed cheeks and a puffed chest.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[bloatedandalone04]

In The Way I Need You | Part 5

Series Masterlist

➪in which you spend the night with the beresfords, and once joey is asleep, you discover that your crush on clay may not be entirely one-sided.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 7.5k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Hi! I’m so sorry I’m late, the traffic was so bad today, the taxi driver gave me dirty looks the whole ride here,” you say as you quickly enter Clay’s house. You had an overnight bag thrown over your shoulder and he didn’t know why the sight made him so happy, but he was smiling when you added, “I got this for Joey. I saw he didn’t have it in his growing collection.”

You lift your hand and reveal the book Oh, the Places You’ll Go! by Doctor Seuss. Clay’s smile grew at that as he took it from you. “You didn’t need to get him anything,” he said, still grateful for it nonetheless.

“I know,” you say with a shy smile as you shrug off your jacket. “I wanted to.”

Clay takes your jacket from you as he says, “Thank you. He’ll love it,” he hangs it up on a hook before guiding you upstairs. “Actually, he’ll probably want you to read it to him instead of me.”

You shake your head as you ascend the stairs. “I don’t think that’s true. You’re his best friend, after all,”

“I think you’re underestimating how attached that kid has grown to you,” Clay laughs as you both enter the living room. “I tried reading to him earlier and he said I don’t read as good as his babysitter does.” 

You gasp and laugh, too. “He did not,” 

“He did,” was all he was able to say before Joey finally caught sight of you.

“Y/n!” He said, excitement lacing his voice as he slid off the couch and ran over to you. He mispronounces your name again, but you adored the way he said it so you don’t bother correcting him. “Hi!”

You grin at him and drop your bag in order to pick him up. “Hi, buddy,”

Joey looks between you and his dad and he knew he was probably wondering why you were here when it wasn’t a school day. “Remember I told you Y/n was going to stay with us while grandma is away?” Joey nods and he continues. “She’ll be here all night and is going to get you ready for school tomorrow.”

His eyes light up as he hugs you. “All night?” He asked, his excitement to have you here for multiple days at a time radiating from his little body. 

“All night,” you confirm, looking over at Clay as Joey hugs you again. 

-

“I went out this morning and got you your diet coke,” Clay announced as he leaned back in his chair at the dining room table. He was wearing more casual clothing, casual being a white tee and khakis, and to see him not wear a suit or tie for the first time since meeting him had you feeling a bit lightheaded. “The shelves on the fridge door are all yours.”

You smile at him as you finish your pasta. “Thank you,” you say as you also lean back. “You didn’t have to do that, though. I’d be happy to just bring something with me whenever I’m here.”

Clay shook his head as he looked over at Joey, who was sitting beside him. “You take care of this guy while I’m at work, and I know how hard that can be. It’s the least I can do,” he joked and the messy smile his son gave him had your own growing. 

“All done,” he says as he pushes away his plate. “Can I go play now?” 

Clay nods and helps him down from the chair, watching as he runs around the table and out of the room. He shakes his head as you laugh quietly and stand up, collecting the dishes as you do so. “Oh, you don’t have to clean up, you’re a guest,” he tried to take them from you but you dodge his hand with a playful grin. 

“I don’t mind,” you say as you carry them into the kitchen. “You bought me my diet coke, after all. It’s the least I can do.”

Clay laughed as he followed you. “As fun as it is, you got to stop thinking you owe me something after I do the bare minimum for you,” 

You set the plates and forks down into the sink and turn to him. “I could say the same thing to you,” you tease with a raised brow and he turns away after realizing you made a good point. “That’s what I thought.”

You face the sink again and turn the water on, feeling him still looming behind you. 

Glancing back at him, you offer, “How about I wash and you dry? It’ll get done quicker that way,”

“Sure,” he says as he walks over to you. “But on one condition.”

You look up at him as he stands right next to you. He was so close you could smell his cologne and the scent made you feel the smallest bit dizzy. “What is it?” You ask after a few seconds, finally able to find your voice again after zoning out a bit. 

He leans in and takes a plate from you. You hadn’t been this close to him since the night you thought you were being given the chance to kiss him, but then got the message quickly when he pulled away before anything happened. He wasn’t pulling away now, though, and you felt lightheaded again. “You watch a kids movie with Joey and I,” he requested and you laughed, turning back to the sink as you washed another plate.

“You’re pushing your luck with that one,” you joked back as he laughed under his breath and set the dry plate aside before taking another one from you.

Half an hour later you were sitting beside Clay on the couch watching The Lion King. Joey was perched on his lap as he stared up at the screen with his big blue eyes as if it was the coolest movie he had ever seen. You supposed it was. It’s one of your favorites, as well, so you were quite happy with the selection. 

 Of course you cried when Mufasa died, and while Clay held back his laughs, Joey reached out and took your hand in his much smaller one, and you cried a bit harder at that because how a four year old could be this sweet was beyond your comprehension. 

Popcorn was scattered around the carpet as the movie ended and the credits rolled. Joey had fallen asleep during the last few scenes, and had migrated half his body onto your lap. “God, Clay, your kid is cute,” you say quietly as you run your fingers gently through Joey’s light hair.

Clay smiled over at you, running his hand up and down his son’s back. “He gets it from his mom,” 

You lean over so your lips are close to the side of his head, your hand moving down to cover Joey’s ear. “Bullshit,” you whisper, grinning at the laugh that escapes Clay. “He’s a spitting image of his dad.”

His face flushed a bit and he had to look away, instead focusing his attention on Joey. “You’re sweet,” he said to you as he picked him up, careful not to wake him. You blushed a bit as you watched him stand up. “I’m going to go put him to bed. Are you down for another movie? Preferably one not made for four year olds? Or are you too tired?”

Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms. “The Lion King is not for four year olds,” you defend your comfort movie, getting another laugh out of Clay. “And you’re the parent here, old man. Are you sure you’re not too tired?”

Clay shook his head, tightening his hold on Joey as he walked away from the couch. “Old man, huh?”

“The oldest,” you say as he glances back at you.

“Just pick another movie,”

He headed upstairs while you browsed through his movie collection, noting that even though he is still in his twenties, he had the film taste of a dad in the eighties. 

Star Wars Episode VI, Legends of the Fall, Braveheart, The Outsiders, Uncle Buck, Ghostbusters.

Jesus Christ. 

You grab The Outsiders and sit back down on the couch, picking through the kernels in the bowl as you wait for Clay to return. 

-

“Want me to make some more?” Clay asked once he came back downstairs and entered the living room. 

You hold the bowl out to him with a sheepish smile. “Since you’re offering,”

He takes it from you and walks into the kitchen, making sure to grab you a diet coke once the bowl is full again. Clay hands you the can before sitting next to you, much closer than before, and sets the bowl on his lap. “What’d you pick?” He asked just as the long opening credits of The Outsiders appeared on the screen. 

“It’s one of my favorites,” you smile your pretty smile at him and steal a few pieces of popcorn, setting the diet coke aside. 

“Yeah?” He hummed as he gathered a couple pieces in his own hand. “Have you read the book?”

You give him an unimpressed look and answer as you chew, “Of course I’ve read the book,” 

The way you said it made it sound like that was the most obvious answer in the world, and Clay laughed as he tilted his head back to drop the popcorn into his mouth. He could feel your eyes on him the whole time, and when he looked at you and caught you staring, his smile grew at the way your face flushed. 

You were so cute, and this was beginning to feel like a date rather than two adults hanging out on a professional level. 

Would it really be so bad? Maybe it was time for Clay to forget about Sam and how she left both him and Joey and never looked back. Maybe it was time for him to move on and close that chapter of his life. Really, how bad could it be?

You look away and stare at the screen just as the drawn out credits finally wrap up, and Clay knew he should be focusing on the movie, but how could he when his mind was consumed with thoughts of you? 

Halfway through the movie, the popcorn was eaten and you had moved a bit closer to him. Your hand was inches from his thigh as you gazed at the TV, your index finger tracing random shapes on the cushion. 

Clay could not focus on anything other than the fact that he wanted to take your hand in his and how he wanted to be holding you right now. 

God, was he always like this? Was he always this desperate for affection and touch? Had he really gone that long without it? 

He felt a bit pathetic as he tore his eyes off your hand and tried to pay attention to the movie. Sitting through The Lion King was a lot easier as he had Joey there to break the tension, but now that Clay is alone with you, he felt a bit on edge. 

He was so close to you, he could smell your sweet perfume and hear every breath you took. 

Maybe he was imagining it, but Clay was sure you were slowly moving even closer to him. The amount of will-power he had to use to not take you into his arms in that second was insane. Maybe he is stronger than he thought. 

As casually as he could, Clay lifted his arm and draped it across the back of the couch, and he knew he wasn’t imagining the small smile that formed on your lips as he did so. 

His attention was completely off the movie at this point, and it seemed like yours was slipping away from it as well as you boldly inched even closer to him until your back was pressed against his side, and your arm was draped over his lap. He laughed as he asked, “Are you comfortable?”

He knew you were smiling as you said, “Very,”

And you stayed like that for the rest of the movie. The back of your head was resting against his chest as the end credits began rolling and now he was wishing that the movie went on for a bit longer so he could sit with you like this for a few more minutes. 

He could smell the coconut scented conditioner you used and he knew he could easily become addicted to it, like he was beginning to become addicted to your vanilla perfume. 

A few seconds pass before you sit up but stay close to him, and when you turned your head and looked up at him, he didn’t move away. He didn’t give you the wrong idea like he did last time. He wouldn’t.

Your eyes stay fixated on his as you lean in a bit, and Clay was powerless to stop his hand from moving to gently caress the side of your head. “I’m not the only one feeling this,” he murmured. “Please, tell me I’m not the only one feeling this.”

This should feel wrong. You were just here to look after his kid, not satisfy his need for affection and his desire to be wanted.

But as you shook your head and gave him a small, barely-there smile, he didn’t care about anything else. 

It didn’t feel wrong at all, so why should he put a stop to it?

“You’re not,” you say back, just as quietly, reaching up and placing a gentle but firm hand on the side of his neck. “I feel it, too.”

Clay’s breath hitched in his throat as you brushed your nose against his, your lips not quite touching yet but still making his head spin just a bit. 

“Since the first day,” you added and the amount of happiness that filled him was too much to describe. He hadn’t been imagining all of this, the spark he felt was there for you, too. All the times he caught himself feeling guilty for pining over you weren’t in vain. 

“We shouldn’t,” he regretfully said, giving you an out. He was the older one out of the two of you, and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel pressured into doing or saying anything you didn’t really want to. 

A smile formed on your lips. “We really shouldn’t,” you agreed before you were both closing the distance and connecting your lips. 

It was a light pressure at first, with both you and Clay testing each other and seeing if you had crossed a line. When he moved closer to you and kissed you a bit harder, you didn’t stop him and instead returned the kiss with a sense of need he had never felt before, not even with his own wife. 

It didn’t feel rushed with you. Didn’t feel forced. 

After pressing another chaste kiss to his lips, you pull away. Slowly, your eyes open and meet his own, and you both wear matching, dumb grins. “Sorry,” Clay whispered and you shook your head.

“Sorry,” you repeated as you stood up. “It’s late, I should go to bed.”

He nodded, sitting up and taking your hand in his. You share a knowing look as his thumb traces various shapes onto the back of your hand, and he knew that you both wanted to do that again, but were trying to have some self control. 

With a final squeeze, he lets you go and watches as you turn and head towards the stairs, glancing back at him once before you were out of his sight. 

-

You ended up tossing and turning all night long and probably got no more than a couple hours of sleep. 

Your body was on fire and full of energy after the kiss you shared with Clay on his living room couch, and you couldn’t shut your mind off if you tried.

Since the day you talked to him on the sidewalk not too long ago, you’ve wanted him. Bad. And he all but confirmed he wanted you, too, how were you supposed to sleep after that?

The next morning you were up before the sun began to seep into the guest room. If you could even call this a guest room. It was massive, much like how Lilith’s master bedroom is, and you found yourself not wanting to return back to your small apartment once she came back home. 

You dress yourself in jeans and a tank top before leaving the room, pinning back your messy hair as you poked your head into Joey’s room. He was awake and looking up at the stickers that were stuck to the ceiling, his fingers playing with the hem of his sheets. Then he was looking over at you and smiling. “Hi, buddy,” you greet him as you enter his room. 

“Y/n,” he said back and you grinned at the fact that he was already getting better at pronouncing your name. “Where is my dad?”

His dad. Your boss. The very man you kissed last night.

You picked him up when he lifted his arms. “I think he’s still sleeping,” you answer, holding him against your side as you walk over to his dresser. “Want me to help you get ready for school?” 

He nodded and you were able to grab his shirt and pants with one hand before setting him down onto the carpet and helping him get dressed. After that you take him downstairs and sit him at the table before heading into the kitchen and looking for something for him to eat. 

When you spot the strawberries and cream, you look over at the toddler and give him a smile. “Joey, do you want some strawberries?” You asked and watched as he lit up and nodded a few times. 

You slice them up into smaller pieces and place them into a bowl before adding the cream and setting it down in front of him. Joey’s blue eyes widen before he takes the spoon from you and goes to town on the bowl.

Laughing, you make two more bowls of it, keeping an eye on Joey from your place in the kitchen. Your back was pressed against the counter as Clay walked in, and the small smirk he wore once he saw you left you feeling reassured that last night was definitely not a mistake. 

He wasn’t dressed yet, his body being covered by a sinful pair of grey sweats and a white tee. It felt so casual, so normal, to get to see him during the early hours of the morning before he changed into more presentable clothing and completely woke up.

You stay still and watch as he leans down and presses a kiss to the top of Joey’s head before he is making his way over to you. Keeping the bowl pressed to your chest, you pause your chewing when he stands a few inches away from you, his hands at his sides and a teasing glint in his eyes. “Hi,”

“Hi,” he says back, leaning in and gently bumping your nose with his own, and the simple action had your heart beating loudly in your chest. It didn’t go further than that as he pulled away but stayed close to you. “You have a good sleep?”

“Oh, the best,” you answer, swallowing after as you turn and grab the other bowl. “I made you breakfast.”

Clay looks down at the bowl before taking it from you with a boyish grin on his lips. “You made me breakfast?”

Nodding, you watch as he takes a strawberry between his teeth before promptly looking away as you feel heat rush to your face. 

God, he is hot. 

What are you doing? You should not be this turned on when you’re supposed to be getting his kid ready for school. 

Setting your bowl down, you avoid eye contact with Clay as you move around him, still feeling his gaze on you by the time you’ve made your way to Joey. “Do you need me to take Joey to school?” 

Clay leans against the counter as he eats, the open concept of both the kitchen and dining room giving him the perfect view of you and his kid. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” you answer, smoothing out Joey’s hair.

“Great, you can ride with Rick,” he says as he places the bowl in the sink. 

You furrow your brows, taking the spoon and bowl from Joey when he handed them to you. “How will you get to work?” You asked as you made your way back into the kitchen. 

“Would it sound too privileged to say that I have more than one driver?” He asked with a grin as he stayed still, making you have to reach around him to place the bowl in the sink.

“Yes,” you say as you stand up straight. “Extremely privileged.”

Clay laughed under his breath, crossing his arms. “I’ll take a cab,” he answered your question from before, and his words were surprising. 

“You’re gonna take a cab?” 

Clay, too, stood up straight. “Why is that so surprising to you?” He asked, smirking a bit afterwards. 

You glance back at Joey, who was distracted by the coloring book you placed on the table last night, as you step closer to Clay. “I don’t know,” you mumble, looking back at him. “I don’t know why I keep assuming you’re some stuck up rich guy who wouldn’t be caught dead in a car that isn’t one of his own. You’re different, Clay.”

His smirk turns into a soft grin as he drops his arms, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him. “Different how?”

Your face heats up a bit as you shrug, placing your hands flat on his chest. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears as you say, “You’re nice,” you pathetically answer, not being able to fight off the nervous smile that takes over your lips. 

“Nice?” He smirks again, bunching up your tank top in his hands. “That’s it?”

You shrug again, unsure of what the boundaries are at the moment. “You’re not stuck up, you’re polite, you walk me to the door every time I go to leave,”

“That’s the bare minimum,” he brushed off his own actions, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear. “You’re pretty.”

Blushing heavily, you break eye contact and look back at Joey. “I should get him to school,”

You go to pull away but he gently wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling you back to him. “Did I overstep with that one?”

He looked so genuine and a bit worried, further proving that he is more than just a decent guy. He is sweet and kind and can become so lost inside his own head when he thinks he messed up. He’s perfect, and that scares you. “No,” you shake your head, lacing your fingers together in hopes to reassure him. “You just….you make me feel things. Good things, I promise.”

Clay’s thumb traced random shapes onto the back of your hand before he nodded, loosening his grip on you. “Okay,” he gave your hand a final squeeze before he pulled away completely and walked over to J oey. He hugged him quickly and kissed the top of his head, glancing over at you as he headed towards the door. “See you later, pretty girl.”

Your face flushed for the tenth time since you woke up and you had to take a second to compose yourself, listening to Clay’s footsteps fade up the stairs. You clear your throat, smiling over at the four year old who was oblivious to the flirting that had just taken place in the kitchen. 

-

“Morning, Mr. Beresford,” Clay was greeted as he entered the floor that held his office. “Coffee?”

“No, thank you,” he answered, smiling at the man before walking past him and down the hall. He passed multiple offices, the walls being made of glass and not providing much privacy. That was his mothers idea, not his, and he stands by the fact that he doesn’t care to see into his employees workspaces to ensure they’re not slacking off, but she did. 

When Clay made it to his own office, these walls not being see-through, he closed the door and tossed his bag onto his desk. He stands behind it, pulling at the tie around his neck that he still wasn’t able to tie on his own. Sam always tied it for him, but now that she was gone he had to do it himself, and he did a really bang up job of it today. It looked awful, and he knew he needed to learn how to properly tie one soon. 

He looked out the window and at the city of New York, a small smile tugging at his lips. His friend, Jack, would tell him that he owned half this city, as if he wasn’t aware of that fact. For some reason Jack liked to do Clay’s bragging for him, seeing as he wasn’t one to brag much to begin with. Well, he wasn’t much of a bragger before Joey was born, now Clay proudly shows off just how amazing his kid is. 

He even bragged about him to you during your first conversation. 

The memory of that made Clay laugh as he sat down behind the desk, throwing off his tie as he reached for his phone. 

Joey’s Sitter: Just got back from dropping Joey off at school. Props to Rick for getting us there on time. You should give him a raise. 

Clay laughed again, reaching over with his free hand to turn on his computer as he typed out a reply to you. 

I’ll think about it. What are you up to now? Any plans for the day?

He sets his phone down as he enters the password for his computer. Almost instantly he was met with countless emails, the topics ranging from meetings to updates on his placement on the transplant list. 

The whole thing stressed him out, much like how it did back when he was just eighteen years old and thrown into the CEO lifestyle, and he looked back at his phone, where a text from you calmed him down a bit.

Joey’s Sitter: Not a thing planned…I was actually going to ask if I could tidy up your mansion, I mean your house. I didn’t get to clean the dishes before taking Joey to school, so I’ll start there. 

You reminded him a bit of Jack, but instead of bragging about his possessions, you teased him about it. It was a nice change, and something you had been doing since the day he met you. 

Unsurprisingly, his mind went back to Sam and how he so blindly missed all the signs she gave that showed she was just after his money. She never brought her wallet with her whenever the two of them went out, and then proceeded to fill her arms with things that Clay would end up buying for her. She claimed she forgot to bring her money, and that she appreciated his generosity, and that was that. 

She also failed to remember that she is a mother and is required to pay child support payments since she was the one to walk out, but he hasn’t seen a single cent from her since she left. Not that he’d accept anything from her, anyway.

You were so different from her. Yeah, you are six years younger than her, but you are far more mature than she ever was. 

Clay hadn’t even called her in days as he was too preoccupied sorting his life out. It was about time he did that, and he was proud of himself for not leaving her yet another pointless voicemail in almost a week.

Please, feel free, but don’t feel obligated. 

He replied to you before clicking on the first email, which was just a request for a meeting with both him and his mom. 

Joey’s Sitter: Cleaning is like therapy to me, Clay. I’m happy to do it. I noticed you’re a bit behind on laundry. Permission to do that, too?

Clay felt a bit embarrassed about that one. His mom was usually the one who is on top of the laundry, and she’s only been gone a couple days and it was already starting to pile up. 

Go for it.

He sent that then realized he will have to pay you for it. 

Oh, God, he’s supposed to be paying you right now since you’re looking after his kid. 

Fuck.

How is he supposed to pay you after kissing you last night and flirting with you this morning? You’d probably feel so cheap and used if he were to hand you the money you rightfully earned for babysitting Joey and getting him ready for school, but he couldn’t not pay you, either. He is your only source of income, as far as he knew, and he was quickly reminded of all the warnings he gave himself about pursuing something with you.

He knew he should’ve kept things professional, but he really didn’t want to. He’s held off on giving himself to someone in the way he did with Sam for too long, he was ready to get back to the dating scene. But with his son’s babysitter? That was a complicated one. 

Joey’s Sitter: I’m gonna have to go into your room to put your laundry away, is that okay?

That’s alright, just ignore the mess. Please. I’m working on it.

He typed out and sent his reply to you without thinking much of it, his overworked brain feeling like it had been sent into overdrive already. Clay had stressed himself out by thinking about you and what you and he currently are and how he should end things before they got too far, but as he looked down and read your text,

Joey’s Sitter: I won’t tell anyone that you’re just like any other twenty something year old guy who has questionable cleaning habits. Maybe. 

he suddenly didn’t care much about the quiet voice that was telling him to stop pursuing whatever it was that is between him and you. 

-

You balance the basket in your left hand as you use your right one to open Clay’s bedroom door. You knew you would feel like you were intruding had you not asked him beforehand, and his concerns about his supposedly messy room had you curious to see if it was as bad as he says it is.

It really wasn’t. 

The door swings open and the only thing that caught your attention was the fact that his bed wasn’t made. Sure, there were a few pieces of clothes strewn around the room and the drawers of his dresser were half open, but it was nowhere near as bad as you thought it’d be. 

You also found his boyish messiness attractive, and you were convinced that you would soon find everything about Clay attractive. And you weren’t even gonna mention the fact that his room smelled exactly like his cologne and how you felt a bit lightheaded as you took a step forward. 

Setting the basket on the bed, you walk over to the dresser and pull open the first drawer. Soon enough the basket was empty and as you picked it back up, you debated on whether or not you would be overstepping if you were to make his bed. 

You kissed last night and almost did again a few hours ago, so you were sure you were past that point, and you also didn’t want to keep texting him while he was at work just to ask. 

So, you put all the clothing that was around the room in the basket and quickly made his bed. On your way to the door, you pass his desk and see a picture of him and Joey in what looked like a hospital room. Joey couldn’t have been older than a few days, and Clay looked a bit younger than he did now. He was holding Joey close to his chest, his hand looking even bigger as it caressed the back of his son’s head. 

The framed picture had your heart swelling, as did the small grin Clay wore. 

How did you get this lucky to have them both in your life? Sure, it wasn’t anything long-term right now, but it didn’t matter. Joey had already stolen your heart, and Clay wasn’t very far behind. 

You look away and head towards the door, closing it quietly behind you despite you being the only person in the house. You kind of wanted to explore his room a bit more, but held off and hoped that he could give you a proper tour of it one day.

After setting the laundry basket down on top of the washing machine, you leave the room and make your way towards the guest room. The view from the window was amazing, and even better at night. You were too giddy to pay much attention to it last night, after kissing the guy you’ve been crushing hard on since the day you met him. 

You sit down on the queen sized bed, the soft, dark teal comforter inviting you to lay back. You do, your head settling against the pillow as you look off to the right and at the tall buildings that make up New York. 

You were pining over Clay, hard, and you got the smallest indication that he was feeling the same last night. But you have no idea if he is serious about you. Maybe he just thinks you’re an easy lay. God, that would probably crush you if he thinks that. 

Even though you were nearing the young age of twenty one, you quickly found yourself loving the domestic lifestyle most people don’t get to experience until their late twenties or early thirties. 

Really, you shouldn’t want to become a mother at your age, not when you haven’t even figured out what you want to do with your life, but getting the chance to see both Joey and Clay every single day felt like a dream. You wanted it, you wanted Clay to be serious about you, and you wanted Joey to feel safe and comfortable around you all the time. 

Had you told yourself back when you first moved to New York that you would be wishing you were part of this small family, you would’ve laughed. You didn’t even have a good relationship with your own family, hence why you’re living by yourself in a massive city, so you didn’t have much experience with a normal-functioning family like the Beresfords. 

Well, maybe they weren’t normal; they have loads of money, high paying jobs, and you were sure they owned multiple buildings and properties in the area. Still, Clay treated you like just another person. He wasn’t the typical stuck up rich guy who looks down on others just because he is wealthy, and that alone had you falling for him on the first day you met him.

Would he ever see you in that way? Could he? 

You turn over and hold a spare pillow to your chest, wondering what was going to come from this as you waited for the hours to pass until you had to go get Joey. 

You woke up to the sound of your phone going off a few hours later, and you smiled when you saw who had texted you. 

Clay Beresford: Won’t be home until later tonight. I’ll have my phone on me the whole time so if you need something, just call.

You sit up, tossing the pillow aside as you rub your eyes with your free hand, using your other to text him back.

No worries. Have a good night, Mr. Businessman. 

Sometimes you worried that you were being too forward with him, but he never seemed to mind it, which is why you keep doing it. It felt normal to tease each other back and forth over text, and now that you were progressing to teasing each other in real life, it only added fuel to the fire building within you. 

You got up from the bed after realizing that it was nearing three in the afternoon and you had to leave to pick up Joey. Well, Rick is picking up Joey, you’re just there for the ride until you return back to Clay’s home. 

When you do arrive back home, you give Joey a piggyback ride up the stairs and sit down on the couch with him. He crawls onto your lap as you set his schoolbag down and rummage through the new sheets that were in it. 

You pull out a piece of paper that had today’s date written on it and your eyes widen a bit at the scene on it. In the middle of the page was a small figure that had ‘ME’ written above it in messy writing, and to the left of that figure was a bigger one, this one being labeled ‘DADDY’. It was obviously a drawing of Clay and Joey that he had done today at school, but what was a bit surprising was the third figure.

On Joey’s right side was another person with your hair color and something that resembled the outfit you wore yesterday, which was a simple black tee and jeans. Above it was the word ‘SITTER’. You bite down harshly on your lip before asking, “Joey, did you draw this today?”

You knew the answer, but wanted to hear him say it anyway. “Yeah,” he confirmed what you already knew. “It’s me, daddy and you. See.” He pointed to each figure and you realized that both you and Clay are holding Joey’s hands. 

Your eyes burned a bit as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. “You’re sweet,” you tell him what you’ve been calling him since the first day you babysat him. “You’re so sweet, buddy. I love it.” You take the drawing from him and further inspect it. He even got your eye color right, and that had you blinking quickly as you set him aside on the cushion before standing up. 

Joey looked up at you, his big blue eyes a copy of his dad’s. “I’m hungry,”

You laugh, ruffling his hair a bit. “Okay, we can have an early dinner tonight. Daddy won’t be home until later,” you say as you begin to walk towards the doorway. Once you are in the kitchen, you immediately put the drawing on the fridge after looking at it for a good two minutes. 

Joey wasn’t aware of just how fucking cute he is, you’re sure of it. And seeing yourself, although in a drawing, with the two of them had your mind mixed up in a frenzy. 

You wanted this everyday, you wanted both of them. 

And, when Clay returns home later, you weren’t sure if you would be able to keep your hands off him. 

-

Clay shuts the door behind him before practically bolting up the stairs, his bag slipping from his shoulder and landing on the floor once he reached the top. 

He wasn’t sure why, but he missed Joey a lot today, and he also found himself missing you. He had gotten a taste of you last night and now he is beginning to think he will never get enough. 

He also wanted to talk to you about it and get an idea of where you’re at and what you’re thinking about in relation to what you and he did last night, but he wasn’t sure how to bring it up. 

Bringing his left hand up, Clay reads the time on his watch and sees that it’s nearing Joey’s bedtime. As if on cue, you walk out of the living room with a half asleep Joey in your arms and an unreadable expression on your face. “Hey,” he says, his mood lifting considerably at the sight of the two of you. 

“Hi,” you say back, pausing in the doorway. “We were just heading to bed. Did you want to take it from here?”

Joey lifted his head from your shoulder and smiled at Clay, and his heart melted at the sight. “Okay,” he agreed and took his son from you, stopping just in front of the second staircase. “I’ll meet you in the living room?”

You just nod and enter the room again, leaving Clay to hurry up the stairs. After tucking Joey in, he gives him a kiss on the forehead before leaving the room and shutting the door quietly behind him. 

He takes the stairs two at a time on the way down and shrugs off his jacket, leaving him in just his white button up and dress pants. He never bothered putting his tie back on after taking it off as soon as he got to his office. 

Once he entered the living room and saw you waiting patiently for him on the couch, Clay made it over to you in three strides. He sat next to you, his hands aching to reach out and touch you in any way you’d allow as he stared at your pretty eyes. “We should talk about-” but he wasn’t able to finish that sentence as you leaned in and placed your hands on his shoulders, your mouths meeting in a firm kiss. 

And just like that, any and all thoughts left Clay’s head as his hands reached up and caressed either side of your face. His lips meshed against yours like they did last night, but with a lot more urgency. 

Your hands were a bit frantic as they gripped his shirt before pushing against his chest. Clay moved to lie back on the couch as you climbed on top of him, your fingers tangling in his hair once you were straddling his waist. “Is this okay?” You asked breathlessly, your eyes revealing your genuine concern, and he knew you were asking if his heart could take this much excitement at once. 

You were far too nice and your carefulness was something that was lacking in his last relationship. He never felt this cared for before from someone other than his mother, and he was kissing you again before he knew it. 

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” he answered when he felt that you weren’t kissing him back, and when you smiled at his words, you gently traced your thumb along his jaw before kissing him again. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you say in between kisses, but show no signs of stopping. And he really didn’t want you to. 

His hands grip your waist tightly and pull your body right against his own. “We shouldn’t,” he agreed and you pulled away with a big grin on your face that he was sure matched his own. 

You blush a bit and he notes that he’s quite good at getting you to do that without really trying to. “I’m really glad we agree on that,” you mumble before giving him a final chaste kiss. His hands slide down your jean covered thighs as you sit up and bunch up his shirt in your fingers. “Can we have another movie night?” 

Clay nods instantly, and he was sure he would say yes to anything you asked him right now. He felt like he was on cloud nine, with the prettiest woman he had ever seen sitting on top of him like he was your throne. You had kissed him again. You wanted this as much as he did. 

You smile at him before getting up and walking towards his DVD collection. “What do you want to watch?”

“I don’t care,” and he really didn’t. He wasn’t paying much attention to the movie you put in the DVD player as he opened his arms and gestured for you to lay with him.

You do so with a blush coating your face, pressing your back to his chest as you settle against him. Clay wraps his arms around you and laces your fingers together as he tries to calm his racing heart. 

He couldn’t believe you had this much of an affect on him, but here you are, tucked protectively in his arms as you stared up at the screen. 

Clay couldn’t remember the last time he felt this content, this carefree. All the stress he had felt throughout the day and all the questions he had planned on asking you were dissolving by the second, and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep. 

It was clear that you did, too, because the next time Clay opened his eyes, he was staring at the menu screen of the movie before his gaze drifted further to the right, where he meets the cold stare of his mother, who did not look pleased to see you and him wrapped up in each other’s arms at all.

[bloompompom]

Playthings

One Shot

Pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader

Summary: okay, maybe you could admit you were a little sexually frustrated after a long semester, but it wasn’t your fault that you accidentally walked into the wrong room. and you’d only take some of the blame after you shamelessly came crawling back for more.

Word Count: ~6.8k

Content: explicit sexual content, explicit language, caught masturbating, casual sex, rough sex, dirty talk, porn watching, face fucking, some degradation and objectification, praise kink, quiet sex, panties as a gag, mentions of spit

all that to say, reader discretion advised. this is just a porno. if you were looking for plot, we don’t know her here

It started out normal, just like you had anticipated. Why wouldn’t it be normal? After all, it was just a regular, old Tuesday afternoon. The only thing that made it any more remarkable was that you didn’t have class today. Your professor was gracious enough—in her words, not yours—to cancel today’s session.

Her email included a not-so-gentle reminder, in bold lettering, that your presentations were due on Thursday. She hoped you’d all be smart enough to use this ‘found time’ to make any last-minute adjustments.

You would have much preferred to be dumb, at least by her standards, and squeeze in a nap, just like the rest of your classmates. But, no. You had to use this time to scramble to the finish line because just maybe you thought you had another week before it was due.

You weren’t entirely at fault, though. You were absolutely swamped with school with the end of the semester drawing near. It wasn’t just you, either. The other members of your group—four of you in total—were scraping the bottom of their reserves to try and finish this presentation. You all had other classes that called for more of your limited time and energy—you know, ones that actually pertained to your majors, none of which had anything to do with literature.

Who would have guessed that an introduction—extra emphasis on that word—to fiction class could be so much work? So much for your supposedly guaranteed easy A. It was a general elective, damn it! It served no other purpose than to tick that little box next to your degree requirement. Yes, I have three literature credits, and I read the books to prove it.

Well, half-read. Skimming, to put it nicely. Sorry, Wuthering Heights, for the bastardized synopsis that you were about to present.

All of which was to say, that was how you found yourself here, huddled together on this Tuesday afternoon, noses buried deep into your respective laptops, as you tried to put together a halfway decent presentation.

It was a warm day. You could tell even from inside. It was the kind of day where the sun clung to your body like a sheet, begging you to stay just a little longer to enjoy the afterglow. You wanted to listen, but you were forced to take turns lounging in front of the fan, stuttering as it only pretended to cool the room.

Your patience grew thinner by the minute, with every cramp and crack of your fingers and bead of sweat that threatened to drip down your back.

This semester, though almost over, was starting to feel like one of those classic scenes you’d find in horror movies. You know the scene: when the protagonist gets trapped in a closet-sized room that slowly fills with water. It was sort of like that, in which this dumb literature class had you gasping for your final breaths of air. And to top it all off, you had another group book report due. How old were you again?

“Sasha!”

You heard Jean hiss just across from you, interrupting the furious sound of clicking keyboards. You turned to look at him, past the coffee table that was decorated with empty energy drink cans and loose chips.

Sasha poked her head up from her laptop, looking innocent as Jean continued, “All your slides say, ‘Weathering Heights.’ Did you even read the book?”

“No, I didn’t! You know that!” she defended, sounding only slightly panicked.

You could see her edits as she made them, your eyes following across the screen. She corrected her slides to ‘Wuthered Heights,’ and you swore you could see the steam pouring from Jean’s ears. The only thing Sasha knew about any of your assigned readings was what she could find on Wikipedia—maybe less than that.

To your other side, Armin let out a lengthy sigh. “Let’s leave the editing to those that read the book. Okay, Sasha?” She looked defeated, even when he kept his voice soft, so he chipped in again. “Maybe you can… get us more snacks?”

That seemed to cheer her up enough. She offered him a salute and an, “On it, boss,” as she skittered off to the kitchen.

You had been sitting on the floor, criss-cross applesauce, for the last two hours, and your legs were starting to feel every minute of it. You extended them, one at a time, and listened to the embarrassingly-loud pop of your knees.

On that note, you planted your palms into the rug, pushing yourself to your feet as you asked Armin where to find the bathroom. He pointed you in the right direction, just down the hallway. With each step, you felt the stretch of your legs, and from behind, you heard Jean yelling again.

“You’re seriously ordering pizza?”

Even though you had only met them this semester, it was easy to guess he was scolding Sasha again. It was nothing more than happenstance that you sat next to them that day, the trio that seemed to know each other outside of class. When you were instructed to find groups of four, you were roped in with them in the chaos that was partnering up, always comparable to flocking birds.

You did well enough on that assignment, even with Sasha barely skating by, so you figured you might as well work on the next project together. They were the sort of people you could laugh—loud and hard—with, which probably explained why you were fussing over this presentation now, less than forty-eight hours before its due date.

First door on your right. That’s what Armin said, right?

No, that wasn’t what he said, actually. And you learned your mistake the hard way, too, immediately after opening the door.

Context clues alone, it was easy to guess that you didn’t walk into the bathroom. Of course, you didn’t walk into the bathroom. That would have been too easy, wouldn’t it? No, you walked into Armin’s roommate's room. You didn’t even know he had a roommate, let alone one you could walk in on, phone in one hand, his thing in the other. It didn't feel right to say it if you weren't supposed to see it.

“Oh my God, I’m—” You were so flustered you didn’t even utter the word ‘sorry’ before slamming the door shut again, which was probably for the best.

Your heart was pounding—you felt it echoing hard in your throat—when you looked just across the hall. The door was open and, lo and behold, it was the bathroom.Empty and dark.

You hid inside it, your back pressed against the door. You were mortified—hot with it, too. The apartment was already balmy with sticky spring air, leaving you flushed in all the wrong places as you debated running from the apartment, never to return.

You still had to pee, so you did that, spinning through every emotion all the while—like one of those ridiculously-large gameshow wheels you had to spin with both hands. Tick, tick, tick… tick. Suddenly, you were berating yourself. First door on the left. You’re such an idiot! Spin again. Tick, tick, tick… tick. The wheel stopped, and you shifted the blame. Shouldn’t he have known Armin had company over?

You stayed put on the toilet like there weren’t people waiting on you back in the living room. You were still thinking about him. That guy across the hall. What else were you supposed to think about? It wasn’t like you could go back out there as if it were still some regular, old Tuesday.

For obvious reasons, you didn’t see much of him. The image in your head was more like a photograph captured by a shaky hand. He was a blur of brown hair. White on top, black bottoms, cut in half by a tanned midsection that you only caught a glimpse of—right before he grabbed his blanket and you retreated to the bathroom.

If you thought hard enough—and embarrassingly, you did—you could see it again. See him again, with his hand wrapped around himself.

It was so wrong to think of him, a stranger, like that. There was a burning pit in your stomach when you thought of the indecency of it, fantasizing about someone in their most vulnerable state, without their permission.

You couldn’t help it, though. Just like how you couldn’t help the way your thighs clenched together the longer you thought about it.

The image you created in your mind was much lewder than what you had actually witnessed. While you couldn’t even pick his face out of a line-up, you still imagined his lips, how he’d bite into them as he pumped his cock through his climax. Toned legs, revealed by his pants that he had only tugged to his knees because, in the heat of it, he couldn’t be bothered to take them off fully.

You wiped again because you were getting shamefully wetter with every passing second. Then, for some insane reason, you felt the urge to apologize to him. Surely, that was the only solution to make this less awkward; you had yourself fully convinced of it for a split second.

You still didn’t know what came over you, but you pocketed your underwear before pulling your shorts back up. They almost didn’t fit, what with how small your shorts were, but you made it work.

You washed your hands, thinking that, admittedly, this wasn’t one of your brightest ideas. Your cotton shorts would unavoidably slip to the side if you were to return to your spot on the rug. But if this went the way you were hoping it would, you wanted to be thoughtful enough to grant easy access.

Then, if he needed a helping hand—pun intended—you would slip him your underwear, as if that were any less shameless than saying the words, ‘I would like you to fuck me now. If you’re interested, of course.’

It was in that same split second that you knocked on the door. The one just across the hall. The first door on the right. His door.

You wouldn’t call yourself naive, even in the slightest. You knew that by knocking on his door, you were risking the chance of something happening. What exactly, you weren’t sure, but you didn’t just have your panties shoved into your pocket for no good reason.

Your confidence started to wane, and it was quickly replaced by a sinking feeling. The timing was rather unfortunate, wasn’t it? It was as if the sound of your knuckles against the wood dragged you back to reality.

The door opened before you could even think of something to say. You should have had it planned out more, considering you spent the last five minutes contemplating your existence on the toilet. You were immediately consumed with how weird this was—how weird you had made it, just by showing your face again.

You found him a bit dazzling, looking up at him gave you the same feeling as when you stared into a bright light for too long. You blinked just the same, too, as if he had you seeing stars. Or you were going to pass out from humiliation.

It wasn’t like you were meeting under normal circumstances. You didn’t casually run into him at a bar, though you would have much preferred spilling your drink on him to whatever this was. You were only reminded of what happened when you noted that his cheeks were still stained pink. Whether it was from embarrassment or something else—like the telling blush of arousal—you weren’t sure.

All the same, he reduced you to nothing more than a moony teenage girl. You were fixed on his eyes. Green, but you were unable to distinguish the shade because you were lost in him again—the version of him you created in your head. You wanted to see if that version truly existed; how he’d look when he came from your touch instead of his own.

Your voice was mangled and lost in your throat. Like an opossum, it was just as if you had summoned him only to play dead at his feet. You tried not to crumble—swallowing your saliva that ran thick—even when he stuck his head out into the hallway, looking around as if he were on an episode of Punk’d.

He asked, “Is this some kind of joke?” to no one in particular, but he spoke like he really wanted to ask, ‘Where the fuck did this chick come from?’

“No, no!” you tried to assure him with the frantic wave of your hands. The flightiness in your voice only made you more nervous because now he knew you were nervous. You found just enough sense to introduce yourself, slowing your voice as you explained, “I’m working on a project with Armin.”

You could see it in his eyes, the fleeting second that it clicked for him. It didn’t last long, though. His brows were quick to furrow again because that still didn’t explain why you were here. Why you had just walked in on him—

“Can I come in?” you asked. You were looking for any sliver of reassurance in his answer. Something to help you decide whether or not you were going to hand him your panties.

This all sounded so absurd, didn’t it? Like something out of a bad porno—probably no different than the one you caught him watching.

He didn’t look sold on the idea, still eyeing you like this was all part of an elaborate prank. Even so, you could tell that, at the very least, his curiosity was piqued. He eventually stepped aside, holding the door open for you, like he had no other choice but to entertain the idea.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” you said as you made your way inside. You heard him close the door behind you, and you tried not to infer any meaning from it. He walked past you, placing himself between you and the bed. “For earlier.”

“Okay.”

There was a prickle of awkwardness. You felt yourself shrinking when you muttered, “And for this, I guess.”

You couldn’t read his expression. It was like he wanted you to get out but also… not? He looked at you the way one would look at an abstract painting. Like he was trying to get you, as if you were open to his interpretation.

Then again, you did just show up at his door, practically begging for more after stealing only a glimpse at his cock. He probably found you desperate and, right now, you weren’t above admitting that you were.

He looked at you like he was still trying to figure you out, as if it were possible from just a single look. His eyes didn’t carry the same boredom they did when he first opened the door, and the pink sheen on his cheeks had disappeared, too, telling you embarrassment must have been its cause.

He surely didn’t look embarrassed anymore. He sat on the corner of his bed, one leg bent at the knee and resting beside him, and the other hanging off the side. It was like you were sharpening the image you had in your head the longer you looked at him. You could see now that he was dressed in a white tee—covering his midsection this time—and a pair of black basketball shorts. His brunette hair was messily tied back in a way that had you wondering if it was ever neat to begin with.

Something about the sight didn’t sit right with you, even if all the parts you wanted to see were covered and forbidden. It was the sort of look that was too intimate to be shared between strangers, and more like something that had to wait for a second date, at least.

But you weren’t sure why you were thinking like that in the first place.

Much to your dismay, you were still fidgeting. It made you sound even more squirrely as you said, “That’s it, I guess.”

You didn’t need to say it. You could have just excused yourself after your flimsy apology. But you were still interested—and only because you knew he was still interested. It was apparent to you because, from this angle, you could see he was still hard. There was no way he was wearing any boxers.

And just as poorly as he tried to hide it, you failed to hide the way you let your eyes linger there. It was hard—no pun intended this time—not to. There was a lot going through your head, but the most blaring sign, flashing in big lights, told you this was about to become the best mistake you had ever made.

It was only confirmed when he said, “I don’t know if you are.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t look very sorry to me.” His eyes, now darkened, looked you up and down, only once, like he was sizing you up. “How about you come here and show me just how sorry you really are.”

There was a newfound gravel to his voice. You could feel it in your chest, thumping just around your racing heart. It lured you to him.

He talked like he knew how to fuck, and you really, really needed a good fuck—as if it could unburden you from a semester’s worth of stress. Where else were you going to find such a sinfully hot guy, hard and already riled up, like he was put here just to (fingers crossed) fuck you senselessly into his mattress.

You thought of the underwear that was still in your pocket. Before you could decide what to do with it, he beat you to it, like he knew it was there all along. He gave you a smile, one that said he had only let you think you were in control.

'How silly of you,' was what it sounded like when he said, “That’s what I thought.”

He balled the dainty fabric in his hand before tossing it aside. He seemed much more interested in you—taking you by the hips and pulling you onto his lap. He was strong. You could tell just by the way he held onto you, like he could bend and break you if he pleased.

The strength in his hands alone was enough for you to brush off the cockiness in his voice. But even more, you felt how badly he wanted this—perhaps even more than you did—in his touch, like fire underneath his fingertips. Not that it surprised you, of course. He was the one fisting his cock not even ten minutes ago.

But now, it was like you had dropped straight from heaven and right into his lap, quite literally. And as you lowered yourself onto him, the heat between your legs pressed up against his cock, you caught the beautiful groan he let slip.

You ground against him helplessly, letting yourself feel every inch of him through his shorts. His hands, resting on the tops of your thighs, dug into the plush of them as he dragged you over him. It was enough to pull a whine from you—even louder once he placed a hand on your back, flattening against it to pull you into him. You collided, his mouth on your neck. He made quick work of the delicate skin like he knew exactly where you liked to be kissed and where he should bite.

He didn’t shush you, but it lurked in your mind that his friends were just on the other side of his bedroom wall. But he didn’t seem to care, even with all your whimpers as he continued kissing your neck. He stayed there for a long time before ever kissing your mouth. Not that you could complain. You were lost in the delirious feeling of his lips, hot and wet, trailing down the side of your throat, dipping down to the spot near your collarbone that had you squirming already.

You wanted your shorts off, but you knew it would be difficult from this position. He knew it, too, which was why he told you, “Stand up,” between his nibbles at your ear lobe.

You did as you were told and stood just between his legs. His hands smoothed over your hips, taking your shirt along with him. He was at eye level with your bare stomach, leaving kisses there. One at a time, he replaced his hands with yours, having you hold your shirt up for him. You watched as he slowly inched off your shorts, kissing everywhere—your stomach, your hip bones, your thighs—but the place you needed him most. When you felt your shorts at your ankles, he pulled you right back onto his lap, like he thought you belonged there.

The only thing separating you was his thin basketball shorts. You wanted to undress him next, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry, with his fingertips tickling up your thighs. He only stopped to slip a teasing finger along the crease. You giggled at it, and it was the first time he heard your laugh. The sound was swallowed up by him, the unexpected plush of his lips now on yours. You liked them better here—on your mouth.

He kissed with just as much passion as you imagined, with his hand—the one that wasn’t tickling between your legs—cupping your jaw. He held you close, his tongue brushing past your lips to meet yours. You were really lost in him now, your hips aimlessly searching for his fingers—for anything.

You separated an inch, just for him to whisper to you, “I want you to get yourself off on my fingers first.” He tilted his chin down with unspoken gentleness. In the same cadence one would use to ask for permission, he asked, “Can you do that for me?”

He waited for you to nod, looking more like a bobblehead because if he didn’t touch you soon you might die. He rubbed your clit with languid circles, watching how you twitched when he grazed over a certain spot. When he quickened his touch, you collapsed your weight into his chest. It left you in the prime position to bite down on his shoulder, just to stifle your moans, as he dipped a finger inside you.

Already, there was a bubble, as hot as an iron, brewing low in your stomach. You rolled your hips in rhythm with the pumping of his fingers—now a second one inside you—with the heel of his palm adding pressure perfectly against your clit.

You tossed your head back when you came, another cry escaping past your lips. It was loud enough that he finally reacted to it, silencing it only by shoving something soft into your mouth. When you opened your eyes again, you recognized the black fabric of your underwear.

You were still riding out your orgasm—drool soaking through your panties—or else you would have taken them from your mouth. Instead, you kept your hands occupied by digging the blunt of your nails into his arms, looking for any sense of stability before you went limp in his arms.

“You gotta be quieter than that if you want to come again,” he told you. You only acknowledged it with another needy whimper.

He held you upright in his lap before laying you on the mattress beside him, like you were nothing more than a plaything. But you were fine with that. You wanted to be his plaything, just for now.

You went to take the underwear from your mouth, but he stopped you just before with his hand around your wrist.

“Promise you’ll be quiet for me?” he asked, his voice dulcet. You nodded, again like a bobblehead, and he took the panties from your mouth. He let his thumb caress over your cheek as he said, “Good.”

He tugged his shirt over his head. You ogled at what you could before he crawled over you, placing a hand on either side of your head to hold himself up.

His eyes were heavy-lidded with desire, following yours as you trailed your hand down the length of his body. You let them dawdle over his toned stomach before palming over his cock, which you hoped to see again very soon. You felt him twitch from just your hand alone, and it had you wondering how sensitive he’d be to your tongue.

When your fingers met the waistband of his shorts, you began shimming lower so you could take him into your mouth. He stopped you just short of freeing his length. You looked up at him, big-eyed and curiously, because what guy could possibly turn down a blow job?

He was back on his feet, towering over you as he stood at the side of the bed. He was quick to find his phone, and when he unlocked it, you heard the muffled sounds of whatever porn he had been watching.

You propped yourself onto your elbows to see whatever it was he wanted to show you. He took your interest as an okay to show you the screen. On it was a woman, stretched on her back, with her head dangling from the bed. There was a man fucking her throat, garbling her wanton moans as he fingered her.

“I want you to do it for me just like this,” he told you before throwing his phone aside. It was useless to him now; he had the real thing. His hands found you again, the warmth of your stomach. His fingers slipped higher underneath your shirt. “Think you can handle that?”

You were beyond turned on by the thought of him stroking himself to this video earlier. Now, here you were—once again, straight out of heaven—like you were made just to fulfill his fantasies. But, God, the thought of him ruining you had you aching.

You answered him by stripping from your shirt. Your bra next, undoing its clasp and tossing it aside, all in one swift motion. You would gift him with the lovely sight—your body in its entirety—as you sucked him off.

But before that, he wanted you. Just a little taste.

He leaned over you, kissing between your breasts and everywhere else that he could. You felt the heat of his breath on your nipple, just before he took it into his mouth. His tongue was hot as he flicked at it, sucking until he had your back arching, with mewls spilling from your lips.

He kept you there, only for a moment, and only long enough that he could leave his mark on you. When he was finally satisfied with the number of love bites he had decorated you with, he rolled you around until you mimicked the woman in the video, your mouth gaping for him and everything. You even lolled your tongue out, eager to please a man you had just met—more importantly, a man that just made you come and planned to do so again very soon.

One of his hands was at your face, his fingers gently caressing the soft skin beneath your chin. He ran his thumb over your tongue, letting you give it a coquettish lick. He used his other hand to yank down his shorts, all the way off this time.

You were right when you guessed he wasn't wearing boxers. His cock sprung out, nearly slapping his abdomen, before he took it in his hands. He pumped himself twice, and when he lined himself up with your mouth, you wondered if it was the angle or if you were truly going to struggle to take him fully.

He ran the tip over your lips. You wetted them for him, making it easy for him to slip into your mouth. He groaned at the feeling—even sharper when you hollowed your cheeks around him, and that was only the head. He was just as sensitive as you had hoped.

You could feel his restraint when he pushed deeper into your throat, like he was painfully aware of the fact that you were completely at his mercy. You encouraged him, offering a few moans with every thrust. He used the first few as a test, like he wanted to make sure you could really take it, then he pulled out of your mouth with a conspicuous popping sound. There was even a cliche string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“Fuck—that’s so hot,” he muttered, his voice so raspy that it was almost missing. It was the first break in his composure, along with the shudder he let rip through his body.

You met his eyes again, staring up at him as you patiently wait for him to give you more. He rewarded your obediency by ramming his cock back into your mouth, gaining speed with every rock of his hips. It only took a couple more before you felt him at the back of your throat.

“I knew you could—ah—do it for me, pretty girl.” His voice was encouraging, like you could hear the swell of his heart. It was sweeter than any sonnet, having you melt even as he fucked your face until you felt tears pool at the corners of your eyes.

It was clear he was loving it, with how his hands went heavy as he slid them down your stomach. How his abs went tight every time you gagged on his cock. Even from upside down, with loose hairs casting over his lidded eyes, you still found him beautiful.

What a strange thing to say, considering he continued to brutalize your swollen mouth. All the same, he had you rubbing your legs together as if you were in heat, but it only left your thighs sticky with your slick.

He leaned over you, helping you out by reaching between your legs in search of your clit again. You heard him curse again, just under his breath. Whether it was from your cries—suffocated by his cock—or just how wet you were for him, you weren’t sure. The only thing you knew was that if he kept this up, you were bound to come undone again any second.

He must have felt it, too, because all at once, he pulled out from your mouth. It left you coughing like you suddenly remembered how to breathe again. Still, you mourned the loss of his fingers.

He caught the pout on your lips. It shouldn’t have made him smile, but it did, even as he teased, “Such a needy one, aren’t you?” He ran his fingers over your mouth like he could wipe away the frown. “You’re far too precious to suffocate.”

You whined at that, and you would have found it embarrassing if you weren’t so desperate, practically begging him to fuck you—now—with the kittenish way you rolled around until you were on your back.

Your eyes followed his hand as it reached into the drawer of his nightstand. He retrieved a condom and tore open its package, his attention never leaving you once. He looked pleased by it—your eagerness—how you spread your thighs only to keep him caged between, with your legs draped over the side of the bed. The smile at the corner of his lips still hadn’t faded.

You could only watch him, mesmerized as he rolled the condom over his length—impressive enough that you felt proud to have had all of it down your throat just a moment ago.

He knew you were there to give him exactly what he wanted. And when he cajoled you with, “Hold them for me—like this,” he knew you’d listen.

He lifted each of your thighs and pressed them into your chest. With your knees nearing your shoulders, you knew what to do next. You wrapped your hands around the backs of your legs and held them in place for him.

“That’s it,” he cooed, taking you by the waist and setting you farther back onto the bed. “Look how pretty.”

He walked his hands up either side of you until crawled onto the bed, hovering just above you with his weight shifted back to his knees. He guided himself to your entrance with one hand, letting the tip of the condom slip between you, teasing your clit just enough to have you pull in a harsh breath through your nose.

“So fucking pretty—” He pushed himself inside you. There was little resistance, like you had turned to putty and were somehow able to mold yourself to take him perfectly. Your head pressed deeper into the mattress, with him kissing up the expanse of your leg, just above your ankle. “—and all for me.”

You felt him flush against you, his pelvis grinding against your clit in just the right way. You fought the urge to lock your legs around him to keep him there, your voice nothing more than a whisper when you begged, “Fuck—don’t stop.”

He took you then. Madly, recklessly, agonizingly—whatever you wanted to call it—it was a frenzied mess of limbs and lips, sweat and sheets, flesh and groans. It was all of the best parts of being tangled up in someone. You wanted him, every bit of him, to taste and to touch, as if he wasn’t already as close to you as humanly possible.

He groaned in your ear, his breath fanning the side of your face. Like he could read your thoughts, he told you, “I want to feel you.” He dragged his cock from you, slowly, then punctuated his next statement with the snap of his hips, forcing you even higher onto the bed. “I want to fuck you raw.”

The words alone were enough to have you teetering over the edge again, but you were practically a babbling mess at the sound of his voice—all strangled as he nearly begged for it. The only thing you could manage now was a breathless chant of please, please, please.

After the third one, he looked at you more seriously. You found it cute, how his brows hung pensively over his eyes. It was much more boyish and suited his face more. “Birth control?”

You still didn’t have enough oxygen in your lungs to form anything more than, “The pill.”

“Clean?” he asked next. He sat back on his knees, waiting until you nodded. “Me too.”

Only then did he roll off of you. He moved to sit on the bed with his back to the headboard. Even after all that, his arms were still steady as he lifted you. In one swoop, you were back on his lap—so effortlessly that he had you believing you belonged there now, too.

With your arms wrapped around his neck, you pulled him to your chest because you missed having his lips there. He didn’t fight it, letting his tongue and lips and teeth explore every inch of you, his face smushed in your tits.

You let him continue long enough for him to ditch the condom. You reached down, stroking him a few times with your hand. He reacted to it—what a gift it was that there was nothing separating you again—with a hard inhale just through his nose.

You held him at the base to guide his cock inside you. As leisurely as one would stroll through the park—as if you had all the time in the world to stop and smell the roses, wait for every groan that bubbled at the back of his throat—you sank onto his cock. It gave way for another break in his cool composure.

You watched it as it happened—the very look, right as it skipped across his irises. It was followed by a breathless sound, one that lived somewhere between a chuckle and gasp, that slipped past his slack-jaw smile.

You couldn’t help but smile, too, thinking he looked drunk off the feeling—even more once you sat high again only to crash back onto him. Then again, and again. Quicker and quicker, until you were bouncing on his cock with your hands flattened against the headboard for support.

He reached a different angle in this position, deeper, and it had you almost trembling above him. He let you continue to use him, anyway you wanted, admiring where he disappeared inside you.

As if you weren’t the one controlling your fingers, you let your hand slip between your legs to aid your release. You felt all your blood rush to your face, flooding you with sweltering heat, and it became a challenge to keep your hips from sputtering.

Your only focus was on your high—like you had become dumb to anything else—and it was quickly approaching. Your shaky breaths melted into choked sobs just as he pushed two fingers, index and middle, into your mouth.

He pressed down on your tongue. “You don’t want them to hear you like this, do you?”

You looked at him, eyes wide and dedicated only to him, as you sucked his fingers instinctively. He smirked at you when he said, “Pathetic, little thing.”

You came again. Your orgasm crashed over you, with every muscle shaking and tensing before you could barely even hold yourself up anymore.

His finger left your mouth. They were wet, dribbling spit along your cheek, as he held your face in his hand. He turned you to look at him when he said, “What do you say?”

Almost like you had said it a million times before, you didn’t hesitate to murmur, “T-thank you.”

He hummed, “You’re such a good toy.”

He sunk down into the bed, his head now on the pillows. He grabbed your hips with bruising force, just before you could fall pliant over him. As if to say, ‘Now it’s my turn,’ he held you still while he fucked up into you, his feet planted firmly into the mattress.

He couldn’t stop your sounds this time. They spilled freely from you, even as you bit your lip so hard you must have drawn blood, still sensitive from your orgasm as he pounded into you. It nearly had you seeing stars, like you were blind from the pleasure of letting him have you.

He was close, you could hear it in his erratic breaths just before he grunted, “You gonna let me come in you? Shit—you want me to fill you up?”

“Yes—” you whined.

“Yes, what?”

“I want you to come in me—please!”

He didn’t let up. His thrusts were still just as unrelenting as he looked up at you sardonically. “You wanna go back out there with my come dripping from you?”

All you could too was give him a slurred, ‘hmmph!’

“So dirty. You’re gonna make a mess of yourself.” He snapped his hips a few times like he could bury even deeper into you. It brought out a certain gruff in his voice as he told you, “Don’t think that I’m giving back those panties.”

It took just one more buck of his hips, hitting just the right spot, for him to nearly knock out your last breath. You collapsed onto him, your bodies sticky with sweat, as you nestled your face into the crook of his shoulder. You were within perfect earshot of listening to his sharp grunts as he came.

His last few thrusts were languid. Long and slow strokes like he wanted to draw out the feeling. You couldn’t even open your eyes, let alone hold onto a single coherent thought, before you whispered, “Thank you.”

The thought of you thanking him for his come pulled another groan from him. You felt his cock jolt inside you. If he hadn’t just given you everything he had, you were sure he’d be hard again.

You didn’t know where your clothes were, and you couldn’t be bothered to care. You laid beside him, each of you on your backs, with chests as heavy as anvils as you gathered your tattered breaths.

You looked over at him, and he was already looking back at you. It was a moment of stillness. His eyes weren’t as dark as they once were—sort of like he was a different person. You couldn’t help but think he looked perfect like that.

He sounded different, too. Almost embarrassed. You heard it in the hint of a chuckle he offered, just at the end, when he asked, “What did you say your name was again?” You gave him your name, and he repeated it once to himself. “Got it. I’ll remember that for next time.”

“Next time?”

“You think I’m gonna fuck you like that then just let walk out of my life? No fucking way.” That smile was back—the big one he showed you when you learned he liked when you sat on his cock slowly.

You laughed a little, mirroring some of his bashfulness, as reality started to sink in. You finally confessed, “I don’t think I caught your name.”

“It’s Eren.”

[dyns33]

A Silly Dream

Another idiots in love with Morpheus and female reader.

"… What did you just say ?"

Sometimes Y/N forgot that Dream of the Endless wasn't human, and therefore didn't think like a human. He had great difficulty communicating and understanding that there were things he shouldn't say or do if he didn't want to hurt people.

The problem was that even when she remembered that, she also remembered that he was an old being, so normally experienced and wise, the prince of stories and words, who yet kept behaving like a selfish, spoiled child who never learned from his mistakes.

"I just said I couldn't stay long for our meeting."

"No, after that. And, what 'meeting' ? We didn't have an meeting, it was you who came to my place."

"As with Hob Gabling every hundred years, I meet with you once a year, for you to give me your impression of the new dreams and nightmares, and in exchange I let you read an unfinished book from my library. But I am very busy and it will be difficult for me to stay more than an hour today."

He was really telling her that for all this time, more than a hundred years, their relationship was not at all friendly, but hardly professional, a simple obligation, which annoyed him but that he had the kindness to fill in each time ? Oh, Y/N felt really honored at that moment.

"… You're a jerk."

"I beg your pardon ?" wondered Morpheus, visibly very offended.

"I said you're a jerk. It's because of the kiss, right ? It's your way of telling me that I shouldn't have, and that I'm very lucky that you keep coming to see me instead of punishing me ?"

"You know I have to come see you."

"You're a real jerk. Go away, since you're so busy."

His face still impassive, Morpheus stared at her for a long time, as if he still didn't know what he should do, before standing up without saying anything and leaving.

The kiss had been stupid, Y/N agreed to admit it.

It had happened two years ago now, when she had just finished her review of the last nightmare he had created, and Dream was trying to explain to her why she was wrong in her reasoning.

It could have happened much sooner, because her heart had been beating for him and only for him for decades already, but before that day, she had always known how to keep her feelings buried deep inside her.

But this time, without her being able to explain why, while she admired his eyes deep as the ocean, his skin pale as the moon, listening to his lulling voice, Y/N had not thought, and she had kissed him.

Dream of the endless went silent. He had looked at her as if she had just stabbed him, and of course he had left without listening to her excuses, not finishing his sentence, but leaving her a book, because he had only one word.

She had strange dreams after that, where she was in a labyrinth, then in a castle, then in corridors, and always she had the feeling that she was looking for something without really knowing what.

Sometimes she saw Dream, sometimes a cat, and she began to follow him, never being able to catch up with him.

The following year he came back, they didn't talk about what happened, and everything seemed to be back to normal.

It hurt to think that all of this was actually just an obligation for him. Y/N had met Hob several times. She knew that Morpheus was really bad with people, since it had taken him more than half a millennium to admit he had a friend, but she had also heard of his lovers, and so she knew that he was not incapable of feelings.

There had been the secret hope then that he liked her, at least a little. It was over now.

The next year, when he showed up on her doorstep with a book, Y/N wondered if he was more mean than stupid, or the other way around.

"I thought I told you to leave. I know you're terribly busy."

"The competition is indeed quite exhausting, but everyone else has given up for the day."

"Oh, you have a moment for me in your schedule ? Too kind. No, wait, we have a meeting, I forgot. Well, I'm busy. Goodbye."

"You do not want…"

"Bye." she repeated, closing the door in his face without taking the book.

It was the first time she hadn't taken the book. If he wanted to, Dream could have appeared in her apartment, or in her dreams, to scold her and throw the book at her, but he didn't.

Y/N didn't know if she was happy or disappointed.

Meanwhile, the bizarre dreams continued.

This time, she was in the gardens of his castle, in the Dreaming. She knew it, because she had already been there. It was because of this stuff that she felt she was more than an obligation.

There were a lot of people in the gardens, some looking human, some not, and they were all looking for something.

Tired, Y/N decided that this time she didn't feel like running, and she sat down on a bench. A wing sound told her that a little spy had decided to join her.

"They all look ridiculous, don't you think ?"

"I don't know who they are or what they do, but I guess."

"They participate in the competition, of course." Matthew said with a desperate tone. "It's been so long now, what's it been, four years ? Five ? I don't know. Some like you have a point, others are starting to despair a bit. I wish they all despair and stop. The boss is tired."

"… What do you mean by 'I have a point' ?"

"The rules are simple, one kiss, one point. Two kisses, two points. Three kisses, the hand of the Master of dreams. None of them asked for his consent, wicked ones. Neither do you, I'm a bit disappointed, young lady. You're the least bad, but still. He was hurt, that was not good manners."

"Matthew… Matthew, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

The raven looked at her like she was stupid. Then he realized she must be really stupid.

"No… That can't be true ! You two are really the same. Two idiots, you deserve each other ! Idiots ! He was hurt, but happy ! He was waiting for the other kisses during your little dates in the Waking !"

"You're talking about our more or less professional and obligatory meetings that he doesn't have time to go to ?"

"What ? What do you mean by… He said something stupid, right ? Of course he said something stupid. You do stupid things, he says stupid things, when you could just kiss. God damn it ! He was grumpy last year, and sad this year, because he thinks you don't want to compete anymore. But you don't know there's a competition ! And you don't want to see him anymore, not because you don't like him, but because you think he doesn't like you ! Boss ! Boss, you really kill me sometimes !"

Y/N woke up not sure if she had dreamed or not. Of course, she had dreamed, and all dreams were real, but she didn't know if she had talked to Matthew, or if she had dreamed that she was talking to Matthew, which was not the same thing.

In one case, she could continue to hope stupidly. In the other, she was just plain stupid.

She got her answer when she came home from work one evening and found Morpheus on her couch. He looked smaller and more fragile than usual. Tired, as his raven said.

"I thought we already had our meeting this year." she said taking out her jacket, not knowing what she should do, or what he was going to do.

"We didn't. You were busy."

"Ah, yes. That's right. Tea ?"

"No, thank you."

Usually things were very simple. They greeted each other, talked quickly about the past year, then Y/N talked about her dreams and nightmares, saying why she liked them or not.

This time, they said nothing, sitting next to each other. Of course, he had brought a book, placed between them. She didn't know if she should talk about those weird dreams.

It was a new surprise when he spoke first.

"You're near my sister's realm lately."

"Which one ?"

"Despair."

"Oh. How is she ?"

"What do you think ?"

"I don't know, you are not really dreamy yourself. I mean, you are, just when you are not talking. The talking you is a real nightmare. But I meant, how is she, as in is she alright ?"

"I must say that I don't know."

"You should call her to ask, she's your sister. Except if she's a bad sister. I guess it's not my business. How are you ?"

"You never kissed me again. Why ?"

He was back, the child with his big deep eyes, his innocent look and his dangerous words. How could he say such important things without the slightest hesitation ?

Y/N found the courage to meet his gaze after taking a deep breath.

"I don't know. Maybe because you have to come see me, and you clearly didn't like the first time I kissed you."

"I appreciated that. I would have fully appreciated it under other circumstances, but at that moment I thought you were acting like the others, in order to win the competition."

Matthew wasn't wrong, they were both a bit stupid, and mostly unlucky. All of this was mainly a problem of bad timing, and communication. If Y/N had acted sooner, and if Morpheus had known how to talk, there would never have been any problems.

"Following your entry into the competition, I am obliged to join you, in order to give you a chance to steal two more kisses from me, under the same conditions as the first. All the others who succeeded having it done in the Dreaming, I do not have to meet them elsewhere."

"… So you've been obliged for two years. But before too, since you impose one meeting per year."

"I told you, I'm very busy. I wanted to make sure I can see you at least once, as much as possible, so it seemed safer to set a specific date."

Damn, he was a jerk. A lovely jerk, a sweet idiot, a pleasant fool.

"And so… You want to kiss me ?"

"I'm not allowed to give kisses, you have to take them. It's the rule."

"I don't like that rule. I didn't kiss you for that, I should have asked your permission, and I'm not going to do it again, that's wrong."

"So you don't want to kiss me." he whispered, looking disappointed.

"I don't wish to force you. I won't steal another kiss."

"You could ask me."

"And would that change anything ?"

"I can't give kisses, but I can give you permission."

During their little conversation, Matthew had been very clear, clear as he always was and much more than his boss who gave him a headache. Silently, for three years, Morpheus had been patiently waiting for Y/N to kiss him again, silently giving her his consent.

He had been too proud or too stupid to understand that he had to verbalize such things.

"Morpheus, I love you very much and I don't care about this competition, can I kiss you ?"

"You can." he sighed with relief and what looked like a smile.

This kiss was much nicer than the first. Probably because it had been desired for more than two years now. Y/N would have liked it to last forever.

"And… For the third one ? Do I have to wait until next year ?" she asked nervously, keeping her hands on his shoulders, thinking he would leave as soon as she let go.

"You can take as many kisses as you want, my love. You can take everything you want."

"Dream… My Dream…"

It was difficult to know what happened in the Dreaming at this moment. No doubt that Lucienne and Matthew announced to the other participants that they could leave because they had lost. Then the wedding planning began.

Y/N hadn't thought about marriage. She had only thought about Morpheus, silly Morpheus, and all the love she had for him. They would need to discuss all of this. But right now, she was too busy kissing him again and again, and him not devouring her with his endless passion.

"I'm glad it's you." he whispered against her lips. "I have to go now. We'll see each other tonight, I'll wait for you."

Being a man of his word, he left a book on the sofa before disappearing. A love story with a happy ending, maybe because he knew they would be fine, or just because he hoped they would.

Y/N read it before going to sleep to join her future kingdom, and her stupid prince of dreams.

[rentsturner]

Obsessed - A.T. drabble

professor!Alex Turner x reader (but its so subtle, it could be any Alex x reader pairing)

warnings: cockwarming, oral sex (m receiving), pet names, praising, teensy bit of facefucking, fluff at the end, soft dom Alex, sub reader (ish)

a/n: @ohladymoon gave me motivation to finish this and helped when I was stuck so thank you <3. Its mostly smut - enjoy

Your books and notes are sprawled out across the table, laptop open on a lecture, your back aching as you hunched over the screen. Actually, it isn’t just your back that is aching. Your head feels like it's in a clamp, your hands are cramping from gripping your pen so tightly, and your eyes are throbbing. You don’t know how long you’ve been studying for, just that you’ve been sitting at Alex’s dining table since 11am, and it’s now dark outside. 

You're not alone at least. Alex is sitting at the other end of the table, reading glasses on as he slowly marks essays, occasionally bringing the end of his pen up to his lips to nibble on it while he’s thinking. His hair is soft and fluffy, not having bothered to put any gel in it when he knew he was just going to be spending the day working with you. 

You haven’t spoken for a few hours, just the odd ‘yes, please’ or ‘no, thank you’ when Alex offers to make you a cup of tea. 

‘Maybe you should take a break, darling.’ Alex breaks the silence. You look up from your notes to see him gazing across the table at yours, leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. He looks serious.

‘No, this will only take me another hour or so, it’s fine.’ You’re determined to finish your work, despite the ache behind your eyes.

‘You’ve rewatched the last ten minutes of that lecture about 4 times. It’s driving me crazy, and I imagine you’re not feeling great either.’ He chuckles. ‘Come on, tell me you really don’t want a break.’ 

You sigh. He’s right. The words on the notepad in front of you are merging into one scribbled blur and every word the lecturer says is just going in one ear and out the other. You aren’t getting any meaningful work done. Maybe you should take a break. To be honest, what you really want right now is to cuddle up with Alex on the sofa. 

‘Can we go lie down then? Please?’

‘Sorry, baby, got to finish marking these. Should be another half an hour.’ Alex goes back to looking at his papers, and your heart aches a little bit. You haven’t touched him for hours, and, for the two of you, that’s a long time to go without. You and Alex are usually very clingy, making up for having to hide your relationship in class by always being with each other behind closed doors. You’re practically attached at the hip. You had sat away from Alex today to try to minimise distractions while working, but now you’re desperate to hold him again.

‘But, Al, I wanna be with you.’ You pout, knowing that it’s Alex’s weakness. You just want his attention.

‘Aw, you feeling needy, baby?’ Alex raises a brow, teasing you.

You huff, not talking back because if you do, Alex will probably call you a brat and you’ll be much less likely to get what you want. But you won’t give up completely. It’s a fine line.

‘Just wanna be close to you.’ 

Alex puts his pen down, thinking for a few moments before turning his gaze back to you. He has a little glint in his eye, and you can tell he’s got an idea brewing.

‘Want to keep me warm then?’ 

You nod eagerly, knowing what Alex means straight away. You’ve done this before, when you were feeling especially needy but Alex was in a zoom meeting. 

‘Alright, baby, grab a cushion then, yeah?’ 

You smile and close your laptop, pushing your notes into a semblance of a pile, before going and getting your favourite cushion from the sofa. You shuffle back over to Alex, who’s pushed his chair back from the table to make room for you. You drop the cushion under the table and sink down, making yourself comfortable. 

Alex shuffles himself forward so he can still reach his essays easily, his legs now bracketing you on either side. It’s comfortably dark under the table, the dim light easing the pain in your eyes. You feel sleepy already.

‘Alright, behave now, ok? Don’t distract me.’ Alex looks down at you, his eyes stern, stroking your hair gently with one large hand. He reaches down to your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. ‘You ready?’

You nod eagerly, but Alex tuts and shakes his head.

‘Use your words, baby.’

‘Yes, Al. Please.’ 

He nods and smiles, stroking your hair once more before moving his hands to his belt, unbuckling it. He unzips his trousers, his hands moving far too slowly for your liking. 

Finally, he pulls his cock out, pumping it a few times. It’s still soft, but that doesn’t mean that your mouth isn’t watering at the sight of it. 

You look up at Alex, making eye contact with him to silently ask permission. He smiles, and you dip your head, suckling on his tip before slowly taking all of him into your mouth, or as much as you can fit anyway. Even soft, Alex’s cock is an impressive size. 

You hum around him as you feel him pressing hot and heavy on your tongue. His smell and taste is all encompassing and so familiar. You can’t help but bob your head and little, swirling your tongue teasingly around him. You can feel Alex’s cock beginning to stiffen, forcing your mouth to open a little wider around his girth. 

Alex pats your head gently. 

‘Alright, settle down. Let me finish these papers, you relax, baby.’ 

You do as you’re told, relaxing your jaw to take more of him into your mouth, then resting your head on Alex’s thigh, feeling his muscle tense a little under your cheek. He’s warm and solid, the fabric of his trousers silky on your skin.

Your eyes start to fall closed, the feeling of Alex slowly throbbing in your mouth making you feel warm and safe. You love the way this position makes you feel, kneeling quietly between Alex’s legs. You just love being so close to him, and really, you can’t get closer than this. Every few minutes, Alex’s hand dips down to card his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp. You can feel your headache fading away, the tiredness you’ve been holding at bay for the past few hours finally catching up with you. You close your eyes.

- * - * -

You wake up to Alex tugging your hair, his breath coming hard and fast as he looks down at you with blown out eyes. 

“Fuck, baby.”

You slowly come back to reality, feeling the drool dripping down your chin and onto your knees as Alex’s now very hard cock stretches your mouth open. You taste the salty tang of his pre-cum at the back of your tongue, his length hot and throbbing in your mouth. You widen your eyes up at Alex, who’s breathing heavily as his hands card through your hair, essays obviously abandoned.

“Have a good nap, baby?” He manages to huff out, and you nod as much as the grip he has on your hair will allow.

“Yeah, well you really seemed to like teasing me in your sleep. Fuck.” his hips buck slightly, pushing his cock further into your throat and you try not to gag, swallowing tightly around his tip instead. He groans lowly, throwing his head back to look at the ceiling.

“Think you need to finish what you started, princess, hm?” Alex looks back down to you, his eyes black, pupils blown, a few wrinkles on his forehead as his eyebrows knit together in a slight frown. A few strands of his fluffy hair fall gracefully over his forehead, before he pushes them back quickly with one trembling hand. 

You nod again, before getting to work. The sounds echoing round the room are obscene, suckling and slobbering as you bob your head up and down Alex’s length, hollowing your lips as best you can around his girth. You feel him twitch in your mouth, an accompanying moan slipping out of Alex’s mouth. His grip tightens on your hair, pulling you down further on his cock while his hips begin to grind against your face. Your nose is pressed into his pubes, and you feel yourself growing lightheaded but the sensation of Alex’s wet, hot cock sliding in and out of your lips, hitting the back of your throat is practically heavenly. 

You pull yourself off his length and Alex’s hand on your hair loosened, recognising that you need some air. You wipe the drool dripping down your chin with your hand and then use it to pump his cock, your hand gliding softly over his velvety skin. You dip your head to take his balls in your mouth and Alex gasps as you flick your tongue over them, sucking each one in turn before pulling off with a pop.

Alex heaves in a breath, panting. “Gonna come, baby, need to come in your mouth.” 

You nod eagerly, kitten licking his tip, then relaxing your jaw to take him down your throat again. You barely even need to bob your head before a string of expletives work their way out of Alex’s mouth, a hand on either side of your head as his hips stutter. You feel his seed before you taste it, coating the back of your throat like a balm. You swallow it down eagerly, feeling his cock twitch and throb as he releases his load. 

You keep him in your mouth, licking and suckling softly as he softens slowly. His hands are still trembling, stroking your hair gently as he comes down from what must have been a rather good orgasm. 

“Fuck…” He sighs, his hand coming to grip your chin gently and push you off him. He tucks himself back into his trousers, motioning for you to sit on his lap. Your legs are stiff from kneeling for so long, but as soon as you're settled on his thighs, his fingers begin kneading your muscles, working out the tension and knots that have built up. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, feeling his pulse still hammering in his neck. 

“So good, baby,” Alex croons, burying his face in your hair. “So good for me, such a good girl.”

You smile at his praises, bringing your hand to his so your fingers can intertwine, breathing in his scent, the smell of sweat and sex mixing with his cologne. 

“Can we cuddle now, Al?” 

“Course, baby. Want me to carry you to bed?”

thanks for reading hope yous enjoyed :)

[norwegiankafka]

Hiii can I request Owen ( windbreaker) childhood friends to lovers fic please??? 🥹

Little Things [Owen Knight, Fluff]

Synopsis: What if he actually fell for the person that has been there, all along?

a/n 𖦹 finally! I never write for the childhood best friend to lovers prompt, but I'm trying my best. I hope you liked it. Not beta-ed (too long lmfao). Hope anon like it! :3

tw & cw ✰ cursing.

It's so Owen, calling late at night. Like he didn't give a fuck whether you are sleeping or not. A habit of his, exists since you and him were a teenager.

"What the fuck do you want in the fucking middle of the night, Mr. Knight?" You snapped right when you hit the accept button.

"Whoa, chill. I just arrived today and the first thing you did is to curse me? Poor me,"

"Ugh, fine. Tell me what happened," You sigh exasperatedly. Just, please.

"Shelly and Jay kissed in front of me. Like- I don't even know what to say. I'm shocked. Did Shelly really love that guy? I don't know what she sees in him, for real."

"And I don't know what's worth in you for Shelly to see. Oi, get over her. Why bother winning her heart back when you already know who has her heart? You just love hurting your own feelings, just say it at this point, you know that?"

"Your words burns like hell. I always tell you I have a promise with Shelly when I was a kid-"

"This promise, that promise," You cut his words. "That thing happened when you were a kid. It's nothing serious. Get over it. I'm tired of you venting about a girl who doesn't even think about you. I had class in 6. You're free to vent after that."

Just like that, you hang up your call.

—

He, started to wait for your reply. Normally, he checks his phone ever so slightly when he's bored or Shelly isn't around to bug. He often forgots where he puts the phone. Without him realizing things, he checks his phone more often. Waits for that messaging app icon to appear on his phone. Waiting for your name to pop up on his screen. He pulls his phone under his desk when he's in class, turned them on to check whether you replied or not. Will 100% turn them off again when there is no reply or chat from you, or will 100% reply at the same second you sent the text. An Exhibit.

A lot of things reminds him of you. In a lot of occasion, but he always tries to brush it off. He saw an ice cream that you said you wanna try, but never had the time. He tried the ice cream, just to taste whether it tastes good or not. So he can tell you later. (Or maybe ask you for an ice cream date, but best friends didn't do that.) Hey. At least if back in England they didn't have this exact flavor so you (and him) can try it out too, he had a reason to text you later. Two exhibits.

A lot of things reminds him of you. When both of you were kids, you eat ice creams a lot. Cold and flu were no stranger to you and Owen. But among all ice creams that you ever tried, Peppermint Cherry. It's a weird flavor, however. Tastes cool and minty but also sweet at the same time. He genuinely thought you're weird and your tastebuds is broken. Who the hell thought this was a delicious flavor? An atrocity made of different shit put together. All that thought end once he walked around stores in Seoul.

There's varieties of chocomint flavored food. Hey, it's not gonna hurt to try few, right? (Cue: He tried all of them. He didn't like it. He had the reason to annoy you by saying chocomint tastes like shit.)

He hates reading. It bore him a whole lot when teachers tell students to read. He hates reading in english, so do Korean. (He barely understands everything). One day, he walked past a bookstore, with a book on sale that day. He feels oddly familiar with the cover, even if he hates reading. He remembers that it's the book that you literally worshipped and said that it's so good he should consider read it too. Without any second thoughts, the book is on the counter and ready to be taken home. He finished the book in a week (pretty fast for a person who hates reading, lol), and silently weeping for the main character. He admits, it's a good book. Three exhibits.

He bikes a lot by himself. It's usually in the afternoon, around the time sun is starting to set. He likes that time a lot, the wind is warm but not too hot, and still feels breezy. After going around for an hour, he sat by the nearest river. Doing nothing, just watching until the sun fully set and it's time for him to go home.

When Owen and you were a kid, you liked to play outside. Doing lots of things. Biking, hide and seek, things. When the sun starts to set, you will sit wherever, as long as you can watch the sunset. A familiar feeling and habit, with him. Four exhibits.

Without him realizing, he's falling in love. All of the things you did together. All the time you were together as kids. All the time you grew up together, going to the same school. He fell in love with the you that has been there all along while he chase for Shelly.

—

Knock knock.

Someone knocked on the door. What kinds of people come so fuckin late at night? You opened the door.

Owen is standing. His eyes bore to the hallways, as if he avoids your gaze. He clears his throat awkwardly.

"Promise you're not gonna be awkward with me?" is the first sentence out of his mouth. He avoids your gaze, looking somewhere else. He took a deep breath before starting the next sentence. "It's you. It has always been you," He stares deeply into your eyes. He felt nervous, but he, for sure, is sure about his feelings. Right now. Is he scared? Maybe yes. He is. But he never felt so certain in life.

"Huh?" You hum confusedly. Who the hell isn't when your best friend come to your doorway and saying weird shit at late nights.

"I.. like you. Like, a lot,"

Your gaze softens after you're realizing he's trying to confess. Fuck. So all these years were not in vain? All of these years you watched him falling for Shelly, but it turned out he fell for you? Really? God must be joking.

"Me too," You break the silence between the two of you. "I like you, too. Since a long time ago," your breath hitched.

Owen loves you. He always do.

You're the reason he kept a random rock in his bedroom because it looks like a heart (and you're the one who gave it). The reason he wears a particular color because you told him it emphasizes his eye color. The reason he listens to a particular indie band, because you told him their lyrics is poetic as hell. (He hates bands, but who cares).

You're the reason for so many little things in his life, that he didn't think about much, but makes his life worth living. You.

"C-can we.. kiss?" For the first time in your life, you see Owen stuttered. His cheeks and ears heat up, painting the pale skin with faint tint of pink.

You chuckled softly, "Sure."

His long, pale hands cradled your head softly. As if it was the most frail thing. Without any rush, without any urge, he pulls himself closer to you. He tilts his head to the side slightly, adjusting his position before putting his lips on yours.

He settles his lips on yours, slowly and softly sucking on your lower lips. Owen tastes like the americano he drank before biking. Bitter and slightly sweet from the candy he finished before knocking on your door. You, on the other hand, tastes like mint. Tastes like the toothpaste you used before opening the door. The cool and minty scent lingers in your mouth.

The kiss is not good. It isn't like how people potrayed them in movies or novels—but it's perfect and special. Because you shared them with Owen.

Both of you pulled back after few seconds, looking at each other in love and adoration while the moon shines through. You smiled softly, patting his shoulder. "It's late. Go home, okay?"

Owen nods. "Sure do," He gives a light peck in your right cheek. "I'll text you when I got home. Good night." Owen ruffles your hair softly, as he puts on his helmet.

Owen smiles to himself all the way home. He is sure and certain about his own feelings this time, and he's right.