#because like... a lot of these things are on the record as being his choices

[littlestsnicket]

time of contempt!yenralt is geralt not trusting yennefer and being too scared of upsetting her to say it and sleeping with her anyway and the way netflix!geralt is different, that would never work.

i don't think the writers aren't fighting yennefer's arc in season 2 nearly as much as they are fighting this other version of geralt. and well... i wish some nuances of character interaction had gone a bit differently in season 2, but the thing that irritates me more than anything else in adaptations is when changes are made and the production backs off on them rather than following through. so whatever. i'm more interested to see what they do than anything else.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 7

in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader sleep together for the first time

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: loss of virginity, oral f/m receiving, so much praise, pain during sex, unprotected sex, cr**mp**, bit of overstim, soft dom spence, if u don't like that freak shit (love and intimacy) this is not for u, spencer is a nerd, they're both nerds actually and that factors in heavily, you may get more from this part by FIRST reading how they met in this bonus chapter a/n: thank you all for being patient, ilysm, this was the most laborious thing i've ever done for no reason and also this part changed so many times and is not what i expected it to be so pls go in with tempered expectations and keep in mind that this story is more about the characters and their specific relationship dynamic than just being porn. i truly have no idea how you guys will react to this but i sincerely hope you love it and them like i do<3 also it's twice as long as the other parts so feedback would be very very appreciated! again i love u all and enjoy the penultimate part!

Spencer’s lips are on yours, and you weren’t expecting it—hell, you weren’t expecting him to be in your apartment. After all, he’d wished you goodnight and walked out only a moment ago.

“Spencer—wh—” 

But he’s insistent with his lips, kissing you bruisingly over and over like there’s nectar on your tongue and he’s parched for you. Still, he has enough decency to not completely ignore you, exhaling a quick excuse over your flushed lips. 

“I missed you.”

This time, though, you dodge his hungry kiss. Part of you thinks, as he watches you, eyes alight and breathing heavily, that he sort of likes your playing hard to get. It’s not something you do very often, admittedly. 

“We’ve been apart for like, maybe a minute.”

“I didn’t even make it to the parking lot.”

Your face heats.  

“Well you can’t just—you can’t just walk in like that! And I thought you said we weren’t supposed to mix fighting with pleasure.”

“Then start locking your door. And I thought you said we weren’t fighting.”

You roll your eyes in response, though your heart is still pittering in your chest. 

At least his hands move to your arms, stroking up and down relatively chastely—although he has this way of making everything seem intimate. Especially when paired with those amber eyes of his—glowing like a candlelight beacon in the window guiding you home. He speaks in low, appeasing tones and darts his tongue over his lips. 

“I originally said it’s a bad idea for couples to sleep together after an argument. But you know—makeup sex is ubiquitous across culture and time because it works. Anger and arousal trigger a lot of the same hormones, specifically norepinephrine which is involved in feelings of longing and—”

“Spencer.”

“You know what else?” He mutters in a way that feels dangerous. “It tends to feel better than regular sex.”

That earns a shaky exhale from you. Whether from irritation or arousal is anyone’s guess—probably a combination of both. 

“So you came back to fuck me?”

It’s probably evident to Spencer from your choice of language that this already isn’t going exactly as he’d planned. He doesn’t answer right away—just regards you, gaze bouncing between your two eyes like he’s trying to calculate your level of anger. 

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You push him away and move to walk down the hall. 

“Maybe your window of opportunity has passed.”

A warm hand wraps around your wrist in the dark of the hallway and he pulls you back until you’re falling against something tall and warm and lean. The smell of polished amber and sandalwood overwhelms your senses. 

“What’s wrong, angel? What happened in the minute I was gone to change your mind?” His voice is scratchy like a favorite record. It’s the voice he could hold you captive with. The one you have a very difficult time saying no to. 

“I don’t know,” you mutter, unintentionally leaning back against him. “What happened to change yours?”

His response comes pressed against your ear, half-lost in your hair. 

“You’re upset that I changed my mind. I thought you wanted this, honey.”

“I do,” you admit, letting your head fall back against his shoulder and bringing his arm to wrap around you. “And if you hadn’t walked out earlier I would’ve done it. But… I’m tired of us doing everything on your timeline. You just… you expect me to be amenable to what you want, constantly.” His nose and lips press into your shoulder. 

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I’ve been begging you to sleep with me for I don’t even know how long. And you keep changing your mind, and I feel like you’re being really confusing about it. Obviously you don’t have to sleep with me, you never did, but I just feel kind of… jerked around. And you did it again tonight.”

A beat of silence. 

“I understand your frustration,” he appeases, securing both his arms around you. You cling weakly to his wrist, to his warmth, like he’s a tether in a storm. “Would you prefer to wait until you initiate it?”

“No. Yes! I don’t know,” you huff, disentangling yourself from his arms and continuing toward your bedroom. “Now I’m annoyed at you again.”

He follows you right through the door. 

“Just tell me what to do! I don’t want to be annoying.”

“I can’t. I’m being unreasonable.” You flick on your adjoining bathroom light and examine yourself in the mirror. Yeesh. The eye makeup situation is abysmal after all the crying that has taken place over the course of the evening. 

“So choose to be reasonable and tell me what you want from me. I’ll give it to you.”

You frown at your reflection, pushing your hair back and rubbing at some excess mascara. 

“No, you’re not understanding me. I’m not choosing to be unreasonable. My thought process regarding the situation is inherently unreasonable and there’s nothing I can do about it because it’s just the way I feel.”

“The feeling being that I’ve been too domineering over how our sexual relationship has unfolded?”

Spencer watches you in the bathroom mirror, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed as you tip some makeup remover onto a reusable cotton pad. You try not to check him out as you nod, but it’s impossible—with his sleeves rolled up to show defined forearms cradled in capable hands, and his hair all messy. 

When he pushes off the wall you freeze, unsure of his next move—until he’s gently spinning you around and taking the bottle and cloth from your hands. 

“Maybe it would help,” he begins, soft as he focuses on the new task, carefully bringing the round to your right eye so he can remove the bleeding mascara. You allow your eyes to flutter shut. “If I remind you why I’ve been so hesitant.”

“Because you hate giving me joy.”

He laughs, nothing more than one huff from his nose. 

“You’re spoiled and we both know it.”

Point taken, as he gently wipes your makeup away for you. Your silence is his cue to continue. 

“Everything I said about worrying that you would regret choosing me is true. It was especially true when I thought you felt lukewarm toward me. And all of that confusing stuff I said in the phone is true too—having sex for the first time is incredibly intimate and weird and sometimes scary. If you’re not 100% sure about your partner, or if you think your feelings are unrequited, it’s hard to be completely comfortable in such a vulnerable situation and your likelihood of getting hurt or having regrets skyrockets. I know that from experience. I wanted better for you than what I got. Still, I know it was wrong to project my feelings about the significance of sex onto you. In that regard, you’re right. I was being domineering, and I guess… I guess to an extent I’m still deflecting. I shouldn’t be trying to pretend like it’s about you when in reality I mostly just didn’t want to get hurt again. I didn’t want to go through that again, and that’s okay, but I shouldn’t have made you feel like it was something you could have changed.”

You try to process that. 

“Go through what?” You whisper hoarsely. Something about having him at such close range while he takes such care with you feels whisper-y. 

“Sleeping with someone who didn’t love me back.”

Your reply is small. 

“Oh. Right.”

How could anyone not love him back?

Spencer’s reply is simple and kind, without a hint of, obviously you dumb bitch—which is pretty much what you’re thinking to yourself. 

“Does that make sense, lovely? Do you understand why I wanted to wait?”

He lets you ponder for a while in comfortable-enough silence as he finishes removing your eye makeup with a characteristically gentle hand. When you open your eyes, he looks genuinely content, screwing the lid back on the bottle as if he’s got an eternity to wait for your answer. 

“Yeah. That part makes sense. But why did you seem so… I don’t know, like, wishy-washy about it?”

Spencer’s eyes dart up to meet yours, brows slightly raised. Then a small laugh bubbles up from somewhere inside him. 

“Because I’m obsessed with you. I thought about you like that constantly. I still do.”

Your breath catches at the casual admission. 

“Oh.”

Spencer hums, setting the bottle down before tenderly thumbing away some excess mascara that he must have missed from under your eye. 

“You didn’t think it was easy for me, did you?”

“Well… kind of,” you admit, tracking his eyes until they meet yours. 

“Not sleeping with you has been among the hardest things I’ve ever done. Especially when you started begging me. That first time, when I picked you up from Penelope’s and you asked me why we hadn’t had sex yet…”

He trails off, still rubbing at your cheek as he loses himself in thought. 

Eventually, you grow impatient, prompting, “what?”

“It’s not a nice thought.”

“Well, you have to tell me now,” you insist. 

He half smiles, thumb straying to your lips. 

“It was just… you had no idea what you were talking about, and you were ready to throw a tantrum in my living room until I gave you what you thought you wanted. Part of me was imagining bending you over the couch right then, since you thought you were so ready.”

It feels like someone has snipped the pulley that keeps your stomach in place. 

“Spencer,” you splutter, convinced your cheek is tangibly heating under his touch as your head reels at the revelation that he could have such a deeply dirty and mildly sinister mind. 

“I told you it wasn’t nice.”

You swallow. 

“Is that… is that still what you want?”

His brows flicker again and he tucks hair behind your ear. 

“To bend you over my couch? No.”

Your face warms even more and you turn to leave the bathroom, sick of his teasing. 

“Okay, goodni—”

“Hold on.” Spencer catches you by your waist and pulls you back into him for the second time tonight. A dangerous smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “I know what you meant. And no, I don’t want to bend you over my couch.” He laughs, slipping a hand under your shirt to rub your back. “You know what I want. I’m more interested in learning what you want.”

“I want…” Your eyes dance between his, and your heart flutters against the confines of your chest as you realize what you’ve wanted for so long is finally yours for the taking. “I want to stop talking about it.”

His expression neutralizes and you know it’s probably intentional to stop whatever feelings you assume him to be having color your decision. 

“Oh?”

“I just think we’ve talked about it enough.”

Before he can say another word, or ask you another question, you kiss him with such passion there’s no way he can doubt how much you want this. 

Only a moment passes before he allows himself to lean into it, cupping your face between reverent hands and taking control of the pace of the kiss, slowing it down until you can hardly breathe. Your little noise of want has him quickening the process, pressing against you until you’re walking backward out of the bathroom. It’s like the first crack in a dam. After that, everything becomes inevitable. 

Your knees hit the back of the bed and you sit down hard on the mattress, smiling up at him. You skim the front of his thighs with your palms as he smooths your hair.

Spencer groans, leaning down and kissing you til you’re on your back. 

“Don’t make that face.”

An affronted huff from you breaks the kiss up and he pulls back to study your expression. 

“What do you mean don’t make that face? I was just smiling at you.”

“I know you were. And you have such a pretty smile it makes me feel guilty about… defiling you.”

Your brows flicker up and your mouth drops open with an affronted scoff.

“Watch yourself. I’ll defile you.”

“You already have,” he admits with a half-laugh as he kisses you again. “My mind was never this dirty before we met.”

“Hm. Tell me you like my smile.”

He pauses and then chuckles dryly against your mouth. 

“I love your smile. You’re gorgeous. Any more demands?”

Pleased, you shake your head and pull him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“Not currently.”

“Really?” he murmurs, trailing kisses over your cheek and down your jaw, “I’d do just about anything you asked me right now. You don’t want to take advantage of that?”

The sensation of his lips just below your ear threatens all rational thought in your brain, but you manage a reply with only a slight delay and a hint of a waver coloring your tone. 

“I shouldn’t have to demand things. You should just know to do them.”

His kisses drag lower, warm and unhurried and you’re trying not to let your hyper-sensitivity from going a week completely untouched show—but you doubt he misses the way your breath catches, or the barely audible squeaks, or the arch of your back or the tightening grip on his shirt. 

“Well, for future reference—” he nips at a sensitive spot and you gasp quietly, even as you tilt your head to offer him more access. More room to bite, if he so chooses. “—I happen to enjoy it when you make demands of me. Especially when those demands entail letting me call you pretty.”

“I’ve never not let you call me pretty before,” you huff. It’s a touchy subject, and Spencer can probably sense your hackles rising, but he has you right where he wants you and so he pushes anyway. 

“No. But you never believe me. We’ve had this conversation. You always act like I’m walking you to the gallows when I compliment you.” 

It’s hard to make a defense when he’s leaning his weight onto one arm so he can unbutton your jeans, when he’s looking down at you with sparkling onyx and scorched-earth eyes like you’re something to be consumed. But not violently, no—ardently. Like fruit heavy on the vine. Like you’re a religious rite to the devout and deluded. A sacrament.

But it’s not a blind passion. Spencer knows you; every inch of you and every loose thread on your soul begging to be pulled. He knows you and he still wants you like this. To be perfectly honest, you’d never thought you’d feel comfortable handing yourself over to someone like this—vulnerable and all your layers of armor shed. Never in your life would you have thought you could trust a person so implicitly that you’d hand them a knife and show them exactly where to press, that you’d say, I know once you open me and you see me you’ll not want to change a thing.

You adore him. Cosmically. Enormously. In every dimension. He’s lodged so deep in your heart you have no choice but to love him eternally. 

It’s deep in the midst of all these very profound revelations that you realize Spencer has stalled with your zipper undone. His hand has strayed to your hip, to sweetly push your shirt up and trace love letters into warmed and downy skin with his thumb. 

“I just wish you could see yourself how I see you,” he says softly, the weight of the truth a strain on his vocal cords. 

Sometimes, he is so kind it’s like a punch to your stomach. You’ve never been quite as kind as him. And nobody’s ever been as kind to you as he is. You’ve done nothing to deserve his kindness, but you know he needs a place for it, and you’re here with open arms. 

He studies you a moment longer, swallowing as his eyes trail over your face and lower. You want to reach out and brush strands of caramel hair out of his face, but he seems to be thinking so hard you’re hesitant to distract him. 

“I’ve never told you this, because I know you’d just shoot it down, but… you are genuinely the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met in my life.”

Something twinges in the depths of your stomach—the darker shades who live there and exist solely to whisper not enough not enough not enough to you every minute of every day. 

But they’re simply not a match for the softness you find when you do reach out for his hair, or the way he looks at you. Spencer loosely wraps his fingers around your wrist—not a cuff, but an affectionate hold. 

“Do you believe me?”

There’s so much earnest hope in his voice it almost jars you. He so badly wants you to understand how feels about you—he’s been trying to tell you for months and all you know how to do is refute his praise and insist on your worthlessness. 

Ever since Spencer, you don’t see the faces on magazine covers or in superhero movies, no matter how mathematically flawless they are. Nobody gets close to being as beautiful as he is in your eyes. He’s in an entirely different echelon, and despite how you feel about yourself, you have to accept that he might feel the same about you. 

“I do,” you say, equally soft, and 100% honest. You believe that he believes it, and that’s enough. It’s all that matters. 

The shallow knit of his brow loosens. His lips ease into a suggestion of a smile. But it’s most visible in his eyes—the way smoldering coals reignite, melting the amber glass of his irises until they’re molten. 

The way he kisses you then, you’d think you’d lassoed the moon and pulled it down from the sky for him. But apparently all it takes to make him incandescently, contagiously happy, is to accept a compliment.

There’s a renewed sense of urgency on his breath as he kisses you deeply and quick enough your heart is racing. It only goes faster when he remembers his previous task and begins tugging your jeans down, but he doesn’t even bother to pull them past your knees before his hand is creeping up your thigh. Goosebumps race each other across your body as you try to remember what it feels like—what he feels like. But you can’t, even as his thumb fans over your inner thigh and pushes it open, gently encouraging you to give him more access to you. 

“You’re not wasting any time,” you breathe against him while he traces the edge of your underwear.

“Do you want me to slow down?”

Judging by the way the tips of his fingers only barely shy away from the fabric, he really wants the answer to be no. But you know in his searching gaze that he’d never push you. 

“No, it’s fine. As long as we… don’t go this fast the whole time.”

“We won’t.” The hasty words are of lower priority than the next kiss he plants to your swollen lips. “We won’t. I just missed you so much.”

“Yeah?” You giggle airily as he drags his fingers over your clit through the material, trying to ignore the way it makes your head spin. 

“Yes. Yeah.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, so… desperate for you, as he drops his lips to your neck and presses barely-there kisses everywhere he knows you’re sensitive. Just the feeling of his breath against your skin has you shivering. His hand between your legs only brushes your most nerve-dense spot, but a few touches in and you’re already wound up, like if Spencer doesn’t give you more soon you’ll burst. And not in the good way. 

When he finally commits to actually kissing your neck, you squeak, warmth emanating from that spot just below your jaw all the way to your toes. The frantic energy of earlier is slowly melting away, and he loses focus with his hand, as it begins straying wider, stroking your hip, your inner thigh, your stomach. It’s like your nerve endings are on overdrive, delivering twice as much feedback to your brain as they normally would. Each touch feels like he’s conducting electricity over your body, like you’re a plasma ball. He’d probably like that analogy—you, a core of alternating voltage, and him, the conductor, tracing a path and giving all those electrons an easy release. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d tell Spencer you found a way to work Nikola Tesla into your mutual sex life, and he’d probably propose on the spot. 

But that electricity is building fast—even more so when he drags his lips down just above your collarbone. Your breath hitches, simultaneously trying to crane your neck to give him more room, and curl into him so as to escape the stimulation. Finally he pulls away, and losing the softness of his mouth while the air feels so cold against the places he’d kissed almost hurts. 

“You’re a mess,” he chuckles affectionately, raising his hand to brush hair away from your face before stroking the heated high point of your cheek. “What am I going to do with you?”

It’s teasing, but so low and gentle and honeyed it swirls your stomach. 

“Whatever you want,” you admit quietly. It’s a shy confession more than it is a salacious flirtation because he already has you. And you want nothing more than for him to act on that in any way he so pleases. Whatever he does, it will be careful, and kind, and because he loves you. You know that no matter how he takes you apart—he’ll put you back together again. 

“I don’t know if I can. You’re all jumpy.”

God, he has the prettiest smile—even when it’s twisted with sarcasm and a thin veneer of guilt, like he knows he shouldn’t be teasing and just can’t help himself. 

“I’m not,” you defend, face heating further. “I’m not nervous. I don’t know what it is.”

That sticky sweet tone is back, pooling in his eyes and dripping all over you like nectar as he languidly looks you over. 

“I didn’t say you were nervous. Just a little bit jumpy.”

It’s not accusatory—he’s simply stating a fact. Easy, gentle, designed to soothe. 

You shrug helplessly and chew on your lip, unsure of how he wants you to respond. It’s definitely true that excited as you are, you’re slightly on edge. You feel taut as a string on a guitar, tense and waiting to be yanked at any second. 

His expression is serene, and his thoughts inscrutable as he continues lavishing you with his eyes, down to where he’s lying over you and back up. His lips part, but he doesn’t speak for a moment as he formulates his words. 

“Can we try something? There’s this tantric exercise that might help you relax.”

Your brows draw earnestly and you nod up at him, not requiring any convincing even though you have no idea what he’s talking about. 

Spencer directs you to sit up, and you do—kicking your jeans all the way off so you can sit criss-cross with your hands braced on your ankles. 

He’s next to you on the bed, at a slight angle, one of your knees in his lap. You blink at him. 

“Now what?”

“Now you give me one of your hands,” he says, tone tinted with a hint of an amused smile, as if your impatience is funny to him. Of course it probably is. 

Frowning only a little, you unlock your left arm and hold it out for him, watching curiously as he takes your one hand between his and flips it palm-up. 

“Did you know,” Spencer begins, voice low and confidential, “that the fingertips are the second most sensitive part of the human body?”

“What’s the first?”

“Lips,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on your hand where he’s brushing the tips of your fingers light enough it almost tickles. “They’re both incredibly important for keeping you alive, which is why they’re one and two. But you’ll be particularly sensitive anywhere you’re vulnerable.” His words are trailing off as he brushes his thumb over your palm and to the delicate skin of your wrist. “Like here.”

His knuckles skim up your forearm, to the crook of your elbow. 

“And especially here.”

You’re fascinated as he traces back down the length of your arm and over your inner-wrist, feather light. Then up once more, with the blunted edges of his nails, and your breath catches. You’ve never noticed how sensitive such an innocuous part of your body could be, but it has your stomach flipping—more so when he looses a breathy laugh. “You know, some people are actually able to reach orgasm just by light stimulation to this area.”

Your response is just as airy—you don’t recognize your voice when it comes out like that, hanging in the pitch black between you. 

“Really?” 

An affirmative hum from him, as he lifts your hand and places an intentional kiss over your pulse at the bend of your wrist. Your chest aches and heat is pooling in your stomach as his gently trails them up the delicate skin of your arm. Maybe you should be embarrassed by the reaction you’re having—after all, it’s just your arm. But he treats every part of you like it warrants love and attention and intimacy. Even the parts you typically ignore. Certainly parts you never considered to be sexually or romantically relevant. It’s dizzying. It’s like magic. 

“Arms up,” Spencer finally directs, just as sweetly as he’s doing everything else, and helps you tug your shirt over your head. Every brush of fabric, every seam against your skin registers more than it normally would. Everything is heightened, and despite your state of undress you’re still warm. “Your neck is really sensitive, too. It’s the most commonly acknowledged erogenous zone.”

Erogenous zone. Of course this all comes back to biology. 

“Tilt your head for me, honey.”

Utterly entranced and useless to not abide by him, you do so. Spencer brushes your hair over your shoulder, and if the slip of it down your back weren’t enough, the graze of his fingertips against the nape of your neck has you shivering. 

The warmth of him at your throat feels completely brand new, despite having already had his lips there only minutes before. But now they ghost over your skin with a kind of novelty, and your own lips part in silent pleasure, head lolling to allow him greater access.

“Lie back.”

Without hesitation (but perhaps a bit sluggishly in your stupor) you obey, sliding down until you’re propped up only by pillows once more. Spencer takes his place propped above you once more, thighs slotted with yours as he quickly picks up where he left off. 

The sweet kisses are perfect and feel so much better than you’d ever thought to notice before—but at the same time your core aches and there’s that pressure building again that’s starting to get to you. 

“Spencer,” you try, and it comes out hoarse but you don’t care at all. “More.”

“You want me to leave marks?” 

And the offer is so tempting you’ll wait a few more minutes to ask for what you really need, nodding semi-frantically and ‘mhm’-ing desperately. 

As he gently latches onto a spot that will require concealer later but feels fantastic for now, one of his hands slips down your side, just barely letting his nails skim, and your back actually arches. It’s a shocking amount of stimulation for being nowhere near any sexual hotspots. That tiny caught breath dissolves as his fingers continue down just as lightly over your hip and thigh. Your muscles tense as you chase and run away from the feeling. It’s ridiculous.

There’s no point in trying to keep your eyes open now—they grow heavy and you let them fall shut as he sucks another love bite to your throat. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it? It’s kind of weird.” He says, voicing your thoughts as he eventually decides the mark will be sufficiently dark. 

“Yeah,” you agree, lacking all eloquence as he caresses every sensitive place you didn’t know you had and your hips writhe minutely in a little desperate dance of your own creation. 

“Most people aren’t aware of the potential of the erogenous zones that aren’t actual sex organs. They don’t pay attention to them. You know what else is an interesting function of erotic stimulation to areas that aren’t directly involved in reproduction?”

“Hm,” you hum as his hand skims to your back. You lean into it and he promptly undoes your bra with a single hand—a skill you’re not even sure you have. 

“It releases not quite as much oxytocin as an orgasm but more than sexual pleasure alone. So you’re less tense before sex than you usually would be, and you’re primed to build more trust and feel more connected with your partner during.”

God, he’s a nerd. And it’s so, so hot. 

You roll over on your back again and look up at him through half-lidded eyes. The corner of his mouth flickers as he takes in your expression, before trailing downward, following the path his fingertips make over your skin as they tug the straps over your shoulders. Trying to stop him, to be shy, would be a pointless venture. He’s seen you like this and you want him to see you again. 

A shaky exhale of his own brings a little smile to your face as he pulls your bra away and observes the newly bared skin with a hunger that you can feel. 

“I missed you,” he murmurs, eyes cast pointedly down and thumb brushing over the side of your right breast. 

“You mentioned.”

“I’m not allowed to say it again?” He teases, leaning down to kiss you soft. Your lips curve against his. 

“You can say it as many times as you want.”

Spencer hums, finally thumbing over your breast’s sensitive peak. It sends a chill down your back and seeing as you’re already worked up to the point of near insanity, the pleasure from such a simple touch is much stronger than it would be otherwise. 

“Good. Because I missed you a lot.”

After that, he doesn’t waste much time—only toying with your flesh for another minute as he kisses you before his hand is skimming down your abdomen and dipping below the waistband of your underwear. 

“Please,” you whisper, tilting your hips toward him when he doesn’t move to touch you anymore. 

“Please what?”

“Spencer, don’t.”

He smiles at this, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as his hand travels lower. Fingers slip between wet folds and he begins making the lightest of circles over your clit. 

“You’ve probably been waiting long enough, huh? I should be nicer.”

Your answer is a breathy almost-whine as you seek more friction against his hand. 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pressing down harder. The sensation sends sparks down to your toes and you attempt to clamp your legs shut around his wrist. “These need to stay open,” Spencer chuckles, “or else I can’t help you.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” The words are a sweet sing-song against your cheek as he kisses you there, before hooking his fingers into the fabric of your underwear and pulling down. You try to help wiggle out of them as best you can, gasping when he tosses them away and immediately returns his hand between your legs. He dips his head down, tongue lathing over your breast, and teases you with the tip of one finger circling around your entrance. 

“I need—”

“Shh. Let me worry about it.”

With that, he’s dipping his ring and middle fingers just barely inside of you to the first knuckle, then back out, before pushing a bit deeper, and repeating the cycle until they’re as far as they’ll go. When he slowly starts fucking you with them, still mouthing sweetly at your breast, you’re ready to melt. 

The room is quiet except for your breathy mewls, the lewd, wet sound of his fingers inside of you, and the blood rushing in your ears. Soon your breast pops from between his lips and he finds somewhere else to leave his mark. Spencer is turning you into a work of art, with his fingers, with his mouth. You don’t mind at all. You’d let him sign his name, if he could—but you doubt he’d let you get his name tattooed. 

Soon you stop fighting the perpetual tug of your lids down and let them flutter shut, loosing a freer moan as he brushes over that sweet spot inside you. Even when he’d told you how to find it over the phone, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like this—maddening enough to have your hips twisting again and that hot bed of coals in your tummy sparking. 

“Spencer,” you warn, leg twitching as he stokes the fire beyond the point where you can passively enjoy it. Either he’s got to slow down or he’s got to let you burn all the way up. You practically jump when you feel his tongue flick over your clit—you hadn’t even been aware of his shifting positions. Maybe you’re more out of it than you’d previously thought. Your eyes shoot open and he does it again. “Oh, fuck.”

The words are simple, quiet, and apparently that’s not enough. Before you can even process the sensation of the tip of his tongue on you he’s latching onto your clit, suckling in a way that has your vision momentarily going out. You cry out and kick involuntarily, hips jumping up, but he captures your leg and presses you down into the mattress so no matter how much you squirm and squeak you can’t get away. 

“Fuckfuckfuck, Spencer I wa—ah—sn’t ready—oh my god.”

He remembers his fingers deep inside you and begins rutting them and you hiss, inhaling sharply through your teeth before letting it all out in a tremulous moan. The orgasm is building up so quickly it almost feels like an attack on your poor body as you try to process it all to no avail. Every sound you make is a vulnerable mess of pleasure and pain, a clear fear of surrendering to something inevitable. Of course, it doesn’t really hurt at all. As usual, he’s blindsided you. Found you unprepared. You rake your fingers through Spencer’s hair, continuing on with your shaky moans that sound half-worried. 

“Oh, please.” Really, you’re just pleading to be put out of your misery. It’s in moments like this, as the black is creeping in around the edges of your vision and your thoughts become threads in the tangle of an existence knotting in on itself with no discernible end or beginning in your mind until everything is completely abstract, that you’re reminded why the French refer to orgasm as the little death.  

Your fingers lace tight enough in the wilds of his hair to pull, and he groans against you, and those vibrations are your undoing. You succumb to the dark momentarily but he continues a loving assault of gentle kisses to your clit—careful enough so as to be inoffensive even after the euphoria abates and you’re hypersensitive, still relishing soft strands of hair between your knuckles. 

You’re breathing hard as you blink your vision back, looking down at him as he looks up at you from his place between your legs and rubs the top of your thigh.

“I wasn’t ready,” you pant, lips flashing into a tired smile that doesn’t hold a candle to his own livelier one. 

“Took it like a champ.”

If you weren’t already so warm his sarcastic comment would inspire more heat in the apples of your cheeks. 

“Dr. Spencer Reid using sports idioms?” You smile as he climbs back up your body. 

“It’s unreasonably sexy that you said idiom and not simile.” He kisses you, grin mirroring yours, and you don’t complain about the slick still on his lips. “And look at that. Not afraid to kiss me when I taste like you anymore.”

“I remember what you said,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, glowing amber pools in the low light. The words echo in your head from the first time he’d gone down on you and you’d been hesitant to taste yourself. 

One day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.

“So do I,” he points out needlessly. “Eerily prophetic, hm?”

“I think you just like going down on me,” you laugh. 

Without the light on, his smile is just as brilliant as usual.  

“You might be right about that.”

Another interlude of quiet begins, but you don’t mind it. Taking this slow, as desperate as you’ve been for it, feels nice. Easy. Waves of burning need ebb and flow, but for now, it feels nice to be bathed in his candlelight gaze, know you’re loved, and nothing else. 

“What next?” You whisper after a long moment, lifting your hand to trace the line of his jaw. He leans into it slightly, lips brushing your palm. 

“That’s up to you, angel. What’s going to make you feel most comfortable?” 

Your bottom lip rolls between your teeth as you think and he tracks the movement, corner of his mouth twitching fondly. 

“It might help if you weren’t fully clothed.”

“I think we could probably do something about that.”

He pecks the tip of your nose playfully and then he’s pushing off the bed. Your brow wrinkles as you follow suit only partially, sitting up with your legs folded under you and pulling the sheets over your body to combat the chill and the vulnerability of being completely naked. 

“Oh, my god. You had your shoes on that whole time?”

“I got distracted,” Spencer defends, almost tripping over himself in his hurry to slip the loafers off. 

You clutch the sheet to your chest, watching the adorable way he pushes his hair out of his face as he rushes. He’s so clearly excited—it shows in the flush of his cheek and his even worse than usual coordination. 

“But on my bed?”

“I’m sorry,” he says without seeming very apologetic, leaning down to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger and pressing his lips to yours. “I’ll pay to have your comforter dry cleaned. I’ll buy you a new one. I don’t care.”

“How chivalrous.”

“I am,” he insists against your lips, shaped by what is surely a boyish smirk. 

Unsurprisingly, you get lost in the kiss, dropping the sheet to hang onto his shoulders. Spencer takes advantage of the once-more revealed skin, rubbing your thigh with slow passes in a way that has you all lit up again already. It doesn’t help that his tie is skimming right over the recess between your folded thighs as he leans over your seated form, kissing you deeper as the moments pass. 

“You’re distracting me now,” you scold, but your voice is quiet and smiley as your noses brush. 

“Do you want to help me with my clothes?”

You nod, heart hatching like a cocoon and already slipping a finger into the knot of his tie so you can tug perhaps not gently enough. He chuckles, bracing himself with his fists on either side of your lap as you pull and yank until the fabric comes loose and you slip it from around his neck, flinging it blindly for dramatic effect. Then he slowly draws back to his full height, until you’re about eye-level with his chest. His gaze fixes on you, feverish and intent as he finds the buckle of his belt without looking. The slide of leather on leather, the jingle of the metal has the hairs on the back of your neck rising and you fight a chill as he pins you with his stare—feeling rather powerless as he towers over you, still essentially fully clothed while you’re completely naked. 

You probably shouldn’t be as thrilled by it as you are. 

Spencer tosses the belt on the floor and watches on, utterly charmed as you rise to your knees. His hands find your waist, steadying you as you begin unbuttoning his shirt with slow, careful fingers. 

“See?” You murmur bashfully. “Helping.”

His voice is equally as soft. 

“Very helpful. Thank you.”

The tension in the quiet room gets to be too much and you have to focus hard on the task at hand, failing to bite back a twisty smile. For once, he keeps his stupid perfect mouth shut and lets you push the fabric of his open shirt from his shoulders in humid silence. 

Your fingers skate down his torso and you watch the muscles tense. You wonder if he notices the way he pulls you slightly closer or if it’s subconscious as you both track the path of your hands. 

“Your button is on the wrong side,” you note, voice wavering slightly, once your fingers stall at the waistband of his pants.

Spencer chuckles. You feel silly. 

“Men and women’s clothing tend to have the buttons on different sides, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence, before the words come pouring out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m still a little bit nervous, I think.”

“That’s okay,” Spencer assures you, hands gliding up and down the soft lines of your waist. “It’s okay that you’re nervous. But I’m going to take really good care of you, okay?”

You nod, not looking away from the exposed skin of his torso. 

“And if at any point you need to take a break or stop, you’ll tell me.”

“I will, but… I don’t need to stop right now.”

“Then you can go as slow as you want.”

You swallow and take a moment to gather yourself before continuing on undoing his pants. With his assistance, you pull them down, and with them his boxers tug an inch or two lower, exposing a subtle v-shape before it disappears beneath the waistband. The fabric is obviously tented. A ball of nervous anticipation spins faster in your stomach, drawing all the heat in your body down between your legs. He’s pretty everywhere. You’d nearly forgotten. 

Spencer’s stomach tenses under your light touch as you drag your fingers down, down, just to the waistband. It’s then that you look up at him for permission to continue, and find his eyes already on you, heated and intense. 

“Go ahead, honey.”

Again you find yourself quite excited to touch him, but you start cautiously, simply letting your hand fall over the shape of him through the fabric. Even that has his chest rising and falling at a slightly quickened rate, and one of his hands finds your unoccupied one, twining them together. That small gesture inspires you to bolden your explorations, becoming more insistent in the way you palm at him. He feels big, which is a concern of yours. But you try not to let that intimidate you.  

Already he’s quite hard, you suspect from going down on you earlier (which is flattering as much as it embarrasses you) and your fingers graze a small wet patch of fabric. You fixate on the shaky little breath he releases as you push down his boxers with new fervor, and his cock springs up. 

He’s still perfect. 

You smear beads of precum down his tip, and he sighs, letting his head fall against yours as you both watch. A few coquettish pumps and he’s humming, kissing your face and dragging his lips down your neck where he makes a home for himself. Apparently the sight of your hand wrapped around him had been too much to bear. 

“So good. Missed this.”

“It’s just my hand,” you whisper, a little insecure that he’s maybe playing it up for your benefit. 

“It’s you.”

His voice is so breathy, you sort of have to believe him. 

“Can I…?”

Too nervous to voice what you really mean, you trail off, but it apparently doesn’t matter to Spencer. He lifts his head like he’s in a stupor but you’ve said something urgent. 

“Anything you want. You can do whatever you want.”

“Okay. Um…”

You let go of his hand (and his dick). Spencer automatically rotates to accommodate you as you end up on your knees on the wooden floor in front of him. 

“This is what you want?” He breathes, already pushing his fingers through your hair and gathering it back as you look up at him and nod. 

Very quickly you have him back in your hand, trying to remember what you learned from the few times you’ve done this. You start perhaps a bit softer, less eager to prove yourself than you have in the past—simply dragging him over your tongue before enveloping his tip in your mouth, and releasing with a pop. Despite being overtly, explicitly, and undeniably sexual, there’s something almost chaste about the way you handle him. It’s a (dirty) expression of love, and you think he understands that as he rubs at your cheek affectionately. 

Eventually, however, you get too excited, and you take him into your mouth in earnest, bobbing your head slowly and seeing how much of him you can take without gagging. 

Spencer makes the prettiest noises—they’re breathy, and not ostentatious, but he’s got such a nice speaking voice it’s like his gasps are bars in a song. You whine around him, wriggling your hips in a rather pathetic display, and then all too quickly he’s tugging your hair so you can’t keep him in your mouth. 

“What?” You ask, closer to pouting than you’d care to admit and voice slightly hoarse. “You said I could do anything I want.”

“Not if you’re that good at it. Come here.”

He helps you up and catches you in a deep, messy kiss before you’ve fully regained your footing, swaying against him, but he holds you fast, pulling away slow like strings of honey trail between your mouths. 

Spencer’s eyes are fixed on yours, lips parted in a sort of wonder before he glances down to your own mouth, wiping the shine from your bottom lip. Any moment you’re expecting him to say something, to tell you you’re beautiful or perfect or that he’s in love with you—but instead he just meets your eyes again, that same wonder-struck look on his pretty face. A tiny, breathy laugh forces itself from his chest like you’re a genuine miracle. 

You feel so observed—seen in a way you’ve never been seen, looked at closer than anyone has ever looked at you before. And he still looks at you like you’re the human embodiment of love, the closest mortal manifestation of the divine, Galatea come down from her marble pedestal. The way he looks at you has your heart pounding and your breathing hastened. Adoration has never been something so physical, so tangible, ever before in your life. Your blood hums at the frequency of his electromagnetic field—an energetic aura that surrounds each person and can be detected from several feet away, as he’d explained it to you. It originates from the heart and if you spend enough time close to  someone, syncs up the beating of your most vital organ with theirs until it’s a perfect match. Maybe that’s why, almost as quickly as your heart had begun to pound, it slows again, and you feel any reservation flush from your body like a fever. 

“Okay,” you breathe, cataloguing every angle and curve of his face to store with all the rest, all the moments that feel important. Of course, you’ll never remember them like he does yours. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try your hardest. 

“Okay?” Spencer asks. He understands the confirmation for what it is, and searches for signs of hesitation on your face while rubbing reassuring circles into your hip. You nod resolutely. 

As he lays you down on your bed, it feels like you’re entering some kind of altered state. Everything is muted and glowing with a watercolor aura in the dark and you really only care about the man on top of you and the way moonlight dances on his skin and the way he smells like smoky amber and rain. He makes sure the pillows are fluffed under you, before sweeping your hair from beneath your shoulders into a corona around your head. All the while his eyes are so soft on you, just like his hands, and his lips when he leans down to touch them to yours. 

One of said hands finds its way to your jaw, trailing down over your neck and collarbone, before settling over your breast where he swipes a thumb over your nipple, lightly, slowly, several times. 

Once again you’re struck with the odd feeling, even with his hand on you like this, that the situation isn’t sexual in the way you’d anticipated. It’s not pornographic, or even very dirty. Everything Spencer does, even as his hand sneaks down between your legs, he does because he loves you. 

“One more like this,” he mutters against your jaw after a moment. 

“Why?”

Your impatience yields a smile you can only feel against your skin. 

“Just want you relaxed and feeling good. That’s all.”

When you assent, his fingers are already slowly pushing inside you. 

It seems you’ve entered some sort of time warp as well, because you reach a gentle peak in what feels like record time, aided by his easy murmurings and saccharine praise.

“Perfect. That was perfect,” Spencer says with a kiss to your shoulder as he slides his fingers from you and you feel yourself literally dripping onto the sheets. “Can I ask you something before we get carried away?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sweet and compliant as pleasure dulls your inhibitions for the second time tonight and your head lolls into the pillows. 

“Baby,” he croons, voice soft as worn paper as your lids flutter and lashes brush febrile cheeks, thumbing over the heated skin. “Need you a little more alert, sweet girl.”

“’M trying,” you whine, though it’s half self-effacing laugh. Spencer chuckles too as you shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to reinvigorate yourself. “Okay. Go.”

“Well… we don’t have any protection.” Before you can groan, loudly, he hurries on. “And that’s… I’m okay with that, if it’s what you still want. I trust you. But there will come… a moment of reckoning. And I need to know where I should… reckon. So you don’t end up surprised.”

Now you’re really laughing—a giggly mess beneath him as your arms loop over his shoulders. 

“Stop it,” he whines, pressing his nose to your cheek as you turn your head in an effort to not snort at your boyfriend to his face. “That was for your benefit, you know. You get squeamish.”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t take you seriously when you refer to it as reckoning.”

“Fine. I’ll rephrase. When I come, you essentially have two options. Inside, or on your stomach. Tell me where you want it.”

Your breath catches and your stomach does that tripping-over-itself thing again. 

“Um…”

Another fond half laugh, at your expense, is pressed against your skin. It’s enough to prompt you into answering—he doesn’t have to say anything to make his point about your being squeamish. 

“Inside,” you mutter, shy as you attempt to bring him closer so he won’t be able to look at you quite so closely. You wonder if he’s remembering the conversation you’d had over the phone last week—before he’d accidentally kind of broken up with you—about this very subject. You certainly are. 

“Okay. I want you to have everything that you want.” A few kisses to your neck later, between nips, he speaks again. “Just need to hear that you want this one more time.”

“I want this,” you repeat, obedient and honest, plain and simple. “Now, please.”

Spencer responds by first kissing you, firm and loving. It soothes you, and he punctuates it with a kiss to your cheek, before he’s reaching down and guiding himself between your legs. You feel surprisingly calm, more overcome with love and the light pleasure rolling down your back as he drags himself over your clit than you are by nerves. Still, you pointedly hold his gaze, not looking down in case you psych yourself out. He slots himself in place, tip resting against your entrance. 

“Remember, if you need to stop at any point—”

“I remember,” you cut him off hurriedly. 

Okay. So perhaps you’re still slightly nervous. 

He watches you, sympathetic though you’re not sure what for. 

“I need you as relaxed as possible, okay? I want this to be easy on you.”

You take a moment, scanning your whole body for tense muscles. When you feel sufficiently relaxed, you offer Spencer a small nod, and at that, he begins pushing into you ever so slightly. 

At first, it just feels foreign. He’s going so slowly, so carefully, you’re not sure he’s moving at all—until he finds resistance and the odd full feeling changes to a hint of burning stretch. Your hips jump and your breath catches, and Spencer stops immediately, relieving the pressure with a tiny shift in position. 

“It’s gonna hurt,” you realize, eyes darting between his like he might be able to tell you otherwise. You’d always been aware of the possibility, but you were holding out hope that you’d be one of those people who didn’t experience any pain their first time. 

“Just for a minute. Then it’ll feel good, angel.”

You swallow and nod. At the end of the day, you trust him completely. You trust him enough to let him hurt you. 

“Super deep breaths for me.”

He watches intently as you follow his directions, taking several deep breaths in succession, before he begins pushing into you once more. The pressure builds and builds until he pushes past that point of resistance, and it’s like he’s breaking you in two. 

“Ah,” you gasp, abs twisting as your body tries to escape the sensation without any input from you. 

“I know. I know, baby, that was the hardest part. Breathe.”

He drops his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles with light pressure to distract from the pain.

You nod, lips pressed together tight as the deep ache muddles your brain. It’s an insistent pressure against something does not seem to want to budge. It burns and stretches and is laced with sour, flirtatious pleasure so that you can hardly tell what it is you’re feeling. Mostly, you’re dizzy and hot.

“Relax, just like that,” he strains, looking down. “My good girl. We’re almost there, baby.”

Cries spill unbidden from your mouth and your eyes shut as he continues to open you up deeper, until finally, finally, his hips settle into the cradle of yours. 

Spencer sighs a curse under his breath, so quiet you don’t think it was meant for you. 

He’s inside of you. It’s bizarre. 

You whimper, and he snaps out of whatever revery he’d been in. 

“You okay? How does that feel?”

You take a shuddering breath, closing your eyes and trying to clear your head to no avail—your thoughts are like TV static. 

“I’m good. I need… I need a minute.”

“You can have as much time as you need. It’s a lot, huh?”

“Yeah,” you admit, voice small and weak. 

“I bet,” he agrees, peppering soft kisses all over your face. “But you’re doing so well. Proud of you, brave girl. You’re doing so well and we’re gonna make sure it feels good soon, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

“Will you please kiss me again?” you whisper, and Spencer’s brow knits with concern. 

“Of course, angel. Of course I’ll kiss you,” he says, and makes good on his promise with his lips on yours. It sweetens the ache. “I’ll do whatever you want. You can have anything. You’re so perfect.”

He kisses you again, just as lovingly, and soft, like you’re delicate. All the praise is only contributing to your lightheadedness, but you don’t mind at all. It feels good. 

“You can… you can move.”

“Okay. We’ll go really slow, yeah?”

He waits for your nod before his hips are pulling back and you arch at the odd sensation. When he pushes back in, eyes carefully locked on yours the whole time, you keen slightly, frowning and brain shorting out as it tries and fails to process this new feeling. 

“Uh-huh. You’re okay, I promise.”

At first it doesn’t feel good. It mostly hurts. But slowly, the pain begins to abate as you acclimate to having him inside of you, and he’s careful the whole time. 

“Spence?” 

“Hm?”

He sounds concentrated on the task at hand—you’re entranced by the sight of him above you, the parted lips, the unkempt hair over the brow furrowed in pleasure and focus. But he’s never too busy for you. 

“Does it… um—” you pause to hold back a whine—“what does it feel like for you?”

At this, he slows even further and chuckles—it’s a strained, slightly breathy sound. 

“For me?”

“Mhm.”

“You feel perfect, baby. You feel so fucking good.”

The slight fry in Spencer’s voice as he curses, which is a rare event in and of itself, flips your stomach, turns you on immensely. The idea that you’re giving him pleasure too—it’s almost overwhelming. That’s when it starts feeling good. 

“Oh—” you squeak, jaw dropping and bucking your hips inadvertently as the first bolt of true pleasure shocks deep in your core. He hums. 

“Yeah, is that it, sweet girl?”

But you can’t answer for a long moment. Your brain is melting as your legs lock around him. 

“Mm—it’s—it feels…”

“I know it does,” Spencer murmurs.

You whine and press your face into the curve of his shoulder as each thrust gently rocks your body. As the pace picks up bit by bit, you feel yourself clenching hard around him. His hips stutter and he hisses. 

“Ah. Can’t do that, lovely.”

“What? Did I hurt you?”

He laughs breathily. 

“No, you didn’t hurt me. You almost pushed me out. You have to relax.”

“Sorry,” you whisper. “’M trying.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. I know you’re trying, baby, you’re being so good for me.”

Your nails skim his back—a small expression of a much larger desperation. Once he’s sure you’re relaxed around him, begins going faster. 

Your gasps and soft moans come more often now as he finds a steady rhythm and it feels so different when he’s actually fucking you. It feels like he’s everywhere. Every time your hips meet you feel the sweet shock of it in your teeth, your toes, the back of your neck. In the best way, you feel consumed by him. It’s not at all like you’d imagined, and it’s perfect. 

“Wait, Spencer,” you breathe, struggling to form the words. Immediately he stops again, lifting his head from your shoulder to examine your face. 

“What is it?”

He sounds just as wrecked as you feel, panting and strained and it feels good to hear. 

“I wanna watch.”

For a moment his eyes dart between yours like he’s trying to determine what you really mean—but you said exactly what you meant. Then he laughs, a huff of air from his nose as he presses his head to yours and gives you a quick kiss.

Your toes curl as he readjusts his position, holding himself a little higher and resting your heads together so you can both look between your bodies. 

“There,” he murmurs as he slowly begins to withdraw again. “Like that?”

But you can’t answer, because you’re too busy whimpering at the sight of him pushing into you. The feeling seems to increase tenfold as you watch it happen. Distantly you wonder how the fuck it fits. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Like that.”

Spencer takes this as a blessing to find a pace again, slower now as he seems to be just as enthralled by the sight as you are. 

“Give me your leg,” he rasps after a few moments like that, and you don’t know what he means exactly but you lift your right leg slightly only for him to press his hand to the back of your knee and push toward your chest, effectively opening you up and giving him more range of motion. It also enables him to fuck you even deeper. Again he slows, apparently savoring the feel of you yielding around him all the way down to the hilt. 

Black spots dance in your eyes as he settles at your deepest point—not pain, necessarily, just overwhelming sensation. Your jaw drops and you choke out a moan as he presses into recesses you didn’t know you had, as he shows you a part that you might have gone the rest of your life without knowing existed. He stops there, like that. Everything stops there, like that. If the cars on the road below ceased to drive, if the airplanes froze in the sky, you’d not be the least bit surprised. Somehow, you’ve unlocked a small eternity. There’s no sound but your joint heavy breathing and your heart pounding in your ears. The words just come bubbling up out of you in a little whine. 

“I love you.”

Spencer’s breath pauses for a moment before he’s letting it all out at once, brushing his lips up the ridge of your nose before they settle on your forehead in what seems like a permanent kiss. A few breaths in, you allow your eyes to flutter shut. Your heart rate slows down a touch, and you settle into the moment, never having been quite so content as you are like this—never having felt quite so adored and safe. 

“I love you,” he finally echoes, voice rasping, lips still pressed to your skin, still breathing against your hair. When he starts to move again, drawing back ever so slowly, you hiss softly. He raises his head from yours, and you look away from where he’s pulling out, meeting his eyes just in time for him to push back in, just as deep. They shine in the mostly-dark room and you moan unabashedly. It’s a high-pitched, sweet thing, nothing that will have the neighbors complaining—but so clearly true, from the depths of your soul, an expression of everything you’re feeling—not just the pleasure. 

Although that’s good, too, as Spencer shapes you to him again and again, the head of his cock kissing places nobody’s ever been and places you hope nobody else will ever venture to. This is all you need. Him. 

“Jesus,” Spencer groans, eyes fixed on your face as he fucks you slowly. But you can’t bring yourself to talk, too new to this kind of pleasure to find it anything other than mind-boggling and world altering. Your lips are still parted, allowing each sound to pass without filter. “Listen to you, beautiful.”

When he stops again, just to look down and marvel at you, you’re conflicted. On the one hand, you can taste the pleasure on the back of your tongue and he keeps taking it away when it’s so close. But on the other—you’re just as overwhelmed as he said you’d be. Your body has never had to process this kind of sensory information before, and you’re exhausted, but it’s so good. 

“Spencer,” you manage. He looks up, pupils blown and eyes lidded where they’d normally be wide. “Please don’t stop.”

He swallows, spurred into action again as soon as you say it. 

“Good?”

You nod and whine again as he picks up the pace bit by bit, remembering to push your leg back once more so he can get as deep as you need him. 

“So good,” you exhale at the top pitch of your voice. Your brows pinch and you release a fuller moan as Spencer finds a speed that’s fast enough to constantly feel good no matter where he is. You’re gasping for breath, back arching—and he finds a new angle, catching against the spot inside you that renders all those years of human evolution that gave you sentience and intelligence a waste. He chuckles airily at your series of series of affronted moans and halted gasps. 

“Right there? That's a good spot, isn’t it?”

“Oh, go—fuck, fuck!”

It feels so good it almost hurts, and your eyes are stinging to prove it. Your legs clamp tighter around him and you realize there’s a very lewd wet sound and you can’t believe that’s you. 

“Spencer, you’re—oh my god, I love you,” you whine, and it sounds like you’re pleading for your life. At this makes his own sound of pleasure, and hastens his messy circles on your clit as if in reward. 

But it’s too much all combined. 

Your hand claps to your mouth to obscure the loud, licentious moan that comes out—but Spencer immediately moves his hand from between your legs to grab your wrist and pin it gently to the bed, intertwining your fingers. 

“Don’t do that. Let me hear.”

You nod, and he lets go of your hand to return his fingers to your clit. If possible you get wetter around his cock—you can feel yourself gushing. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whine as if pained. 

“Yeah? Gonna finally let me feel you cumming, angel?”

He has a filthy mouth when he wants to. The words hit like high voltage to your core and the very pit of your stomach. You can’t even respond beyond a desperate sob. 

“Show me, baby. I’m right here. Let go.”

You cum around his cock with a broken cry and it’s like a purge of every drop of angst you’d felt over the past week or so—hell, it’s a purge of all the insecurities that had bubbled to the surface since you started dating him. None of it matters anymore. How could it matter when you have him? When you have this?

The orgasm washes you out like a tidal wave, taking everything with it. It’s strong, and it’s so good, so intense, your body is overwrought with sensation and it’s too much even though it’s perfect. Your brain is drawing a blank as it tries to react to the feeling, and it’s like every button on the damn panel has been hit. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” Spencer grits, and you feel it in the way he adjusts his position, shifting as he grips at the edge of the mattress for leverage and the thrusts become messier, needier. You gasp as his other hand tangles in your hair, turning your head to ghost your lips over his forearm. It’s not entirely surprising when his own lips find your shoulder—but the feeling of him finding his release just as his teeth sink into your skin does come as quite a shock. It doesn’t hurt, and you’re sure there’s no skin broken, but it’s an undeniable fact that he has grounded himself in the throes of passion by biting down on you.

Inside you, he feels hot. Searing, almost, as his spend tries to fill space that doesn’t exist. There is absolutely no room for anything else inside of you. Stars dance in your eyes at the overstimulation, but long after he’s finished he’s still fucking into you—albeit much slower and with far less technique. Spencer moans like a two bit whore, like he’s reached pain to a point of ecstasy, and to you it’s as good, as special as the singing of the planets. If he’s as sensitive as you are now, it’s no small feat for him to keep going on like this. It’s a testament to how much he doesn’t want it to be over. The pleasure is carrying him away, but you’re beginning to feel how soft you must be and how if he continues on like this you may bruise like an overripe peach. 

“Spencer,” you manage, skating your hand up and down his back in what you hope are soothing lines. “Baby.”

He whines as his lips detach from your shoulder, but his hips finally slow to a stop, nestled inside you. 

“Jesus, fuck, I'm sorry,” he breathes, opting now to bury his face in your neck (with significantly less biting this time).

You’re still reeling, toes still curled, still struggling to breathe as your head spins and spins and spins. His chest pushes against yours with every heaving breath, hot and heavy on your skin, and that’s the only sign he’s still alive until his hand eventually reanimates in your hair, scratching your head tenderly. 

For a span of minutes, you stay like that—silent, twined together like caducean serpents. His weight on top of you is perfect. This, the lack of differentiation between your body and his, is perfect. You don’t know where he ends and you begin and you don’t need to. It’s a blissful moment. 

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice is hoarse when he finally speaks, lifting his head to look at you with flushed cheeks and messy hair and sparkly eyes. 

“Hi.”

He smiles. 

“You’re so pretty.”

“You too,” you murmur, moving your hand from his back and pressing your thumb into the hollow of his cheek. His eyes map the curves of your face as he pushes your surely askew hair back. 

“How do you feel?”

It takes you a moment to seriously consider his question, scanning your body for any undue pains, but for the moment, you find none, beyond a dull aching throb that you can manage. 

“Good. Tired.”

You wince at the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. Spencer hums sympathetically and presses a sticky kiss to your lips which makes it a little better, though you can’t ignore how uncomfortable all the previously pleasant wetness has become between your legs. 

“Here—stay here, I’ll get a wash cloth and—”

“It’s fine,” you insist, holding on even as he tries to roll off of you. “I just need… will you stay here for a little bit?”

“Of course,” he promises, now pressed close to your side and propped up on an elbow, “whatever you want.”

You lavish in his gaze, warm like a spotlight, as he strokes your cheek and plays with your hair. Very quickly you’re lulled into a doze, eyes fluttering shut. Minutes stretch. You feel drunk on waking dreams, and perfectly at peace. Safe. 

“Angel girl,” he christens you fondly. More than anything, it’s an observation, so lovely it sinks into your skin like a balm, soothing every tired muscle and little mark he’d made. Even half-asleep, it makes you smile. 

“You’re an angel,” you slur, reaching blindly for him, and he chuckles, catching your wrist and helpfully settling your hand on his cheek. 

“I thought you were asleep.”

You hum, “mm-mm,” looking up at him with just as much adoration as he has for you. Those cuddle hormones must be kicking in because soon you’re attempting to pull him back on top of you. He doesn’t quite comply, probably for fear of crushing you—rather he settles next to you, gathering you in his arms. 

Silence blankets the two of you, but it’s not unpleasant as you just watch each other with barely-there smiles curling your mouths. This kind of intimacy still manages to give you butterflies, even after everything else you’ve done. This kind of satisfaction, reverie in the sound of each other’s blood flowing and lungs filling. Setting aside words because you don’t need conversation as a pretense for wanting to be around each other anymore. You don’t need an excuse to look at him like this. You don’t need words any more than you need clothes. It’s enough to just be. 

“I love you,” he says, a soft reminder, and entirely redundant with the way he’d already been looking at you, touching you. 

“I know. I love you too.”

The smile flickers brighter on his face. 

“And thank you.”

Your eyes narrow minutely as you consider what he could possibly be thanking you for. 

“For what?”

“For loving me. And trusting me. It’s…” your heart squeezes as you realizes tears are pooling in his eyes. He takes a moment and clears his throat. It’s incredibly endearing. “It means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.”

You look down, thumbing at the sheets where you’ve hoisted them over your bodies. 

“You do realize how lame we are if we have sex and both immediately start crying, right?”

At this he laughs loudly but not loud enough to pop the little bubble you’re in, and you look up just in time to catch the brilliance of his smile, the way it changes his whole face and he becomes superhuman in his beauty, the lines that form by his eyes and the way they narrow and crystalline tears bead his lashes like precious gems. 

“Don’t cry,” he requests gently, hypocritically as your own eyes sting. The way his smile fades is like the sun setting. Gorgeous, like everything else he does. “You’ve cried so much, honey. Please don’t cry.”

You sniffle, gathering yourself. 

“I’m not. That would be pathetic.”

Spender leans forward to kiss you tenderly a few more times. Ordinarily you’d worry about coming across as clingy when you hold onto him so closely and so insistently like this, but for now you don’t care. Neither does he, it seems, as he seems unable to get you close enough. Eventually, you end up curled against him, head tucked under his chin and dozing on and off as he traces shapes into your skin. 

“What are you writing?” You mumble some time later, cheek smushed against his shoulder. He only responds with a soft hm, like he was lost deep in thought. You clarify, “it feels like you were writing something.”

“She Walks in Beauty.”

Your lips pull into a sleepy smile. 

“The Lord Byron poem?”

The first time you’d met Spencer, he’d inadvertently caused your painstakingly annotated copy of Lord Byron’s works to go flying all over a cafe, and then kindly helped clean up the pages and reorder them for you in record time. Among the poems had been She Walks in Beauty. 

“Yeah. I was trying to figure out when exactly I fell in love with you, and as someone who is deeply skeptical about love at first sight, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I keep coming back to our first conversation. I mean, I believe in genetic compatibility, and how that contributes to attraction and what we think of as chemistry, but—”

“Wait, what about our first conversation did it?” Your cheeks ache from smiling as you speak. “As I recall I was being a bitch and I was covered in coffee.”

He laughs dreamily, still tracing letters over the small of your back. You wonder what part of the poem he’s at now. 

“Yeah, mean to me and covered in coffee is pretty much exactly my type. But I think it was actually the annotations on that copy of Lord Byron’s works. They were so insightful, and personal, I—it kind of took my breath away, and I know I shouldn’t have read them all but I couldn’t stop. You were compelling, and charming, and funny and wildly intelligent and beautiful and… and I didn’t stand a chance.”

Everything aches. It’s a good ache. Despite being seconds from tearing up all over again, you snort. He never told you about that first day.

“You thought me writing ‘sister fucker’ in all caps every time he mentioned Augusta was charming?”

“Oh, obscenely so. But now that I’m looking back, I feel like… I feel like I can’t remember not being in love with you. I mean, I remember when I realized I was, and that was later. But it was like I met you, and then I was just… waiting for you to catch up.”

You grab his hand and interlace your fingers, watching the way the ambient nighttime light from the window and the bathroom dips them half in color. 

“We were pretty much on the same page. I was debating courthouse versus small intimate ceremony as soon as you left.”

You watch him watching your joined hands, features soft and relaxed, fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly as he speaks. 

“Definitely small intimate ceremony. I have too many friends who would kill me if they weren’t invited to the wedding.”

You giggle and pretend the thought doesn’t give you butterflies. You imagine a ring on your finger, the one he’s got between his own. Marriage had never been something you’d considered. Not when you had no reason to. It seemed like something for other people. But maybe one day, it will be for you, too. 

“Did you know Lord Byron had a daughter who is regarded by many as the first computer programmer? She wrote the first algorithm for a theoretical machine that was so complex it couldn’t be built with the technology available at the time. It was called an Analytical Engine.”

He sounds almost wistful as he gives you the utterly unprompted, but still welcome, abridged version of her life. The description is ringing a bell—but you can’t quite place her, sleepy as you are.  

“What was her name?”

“Ada Lovelace. She was exceptionally gifted. The odds of parent and child being so extraordinary in their respective fields are incalculable, but from a purely theoretical perspective, negligible. I mean, they’re both massive historical figureheads. That’s extremely uncommon.”

You adore it when he goes off on these tangents—the passion that stains his voice, the ardor that grips him until he has no choice but to tell you exactly what’s got him so excited. You could listen to him talk for hours. It means he’s here with you, and he wants you to love what he loves. 

Since he met you, that’s all Spencer has wanted—for you to love what he loves. 

You want the same. 

“Pretty name,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut. “Tell me more.” 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you please do some headcanons of Stanley being fake married to Fords’ assistant. They had to put up this charade for 30 years to convince people he was Stanford and “Mr. And Mrs. Mystery would bring in way more business!” Dipper and Mabel see her as a mother figure and Mabel likes to plan out their dates because she firmly believes they don’t go on ENOUGH of them. While they’re both on one of these said dates they realize “wait…do I actually like you??” (Slow burn is indeed 30 years slowwwww)

This is so fucking long oh my fucking god-I’m actually going to have to make a part two or something. This is just too long.

Part two here

When you and Ford first arrived at Gravity Falls a lot of people were under the impression that you were a married couple, where they got that preposterous idea form neither of you had single clue but as hard as you and Ford tried to disprove their claims, insisting they you were just platonic partners and nothing more.

It only seemed to give them more reason to assume that there was something more going on between you both. So in the end you both elected to ignore it as Gravity Falls was a small unknown, sleepy town that wasn’t on any recorded map that you chalked it down to them needing something to gossip about to spare them of how boring their lives were. But you and Ford knew others wise and saw Gravity Falls as a treasure trove of information regarding the mysterious and the unknown, it was the main reasons you started this partnership to begin with after all.

But things were quick to fall apart just as it seemed you were getting closer to what you knew was the truth as Ford made a deal with a triangular demon known as Bill, easily swayed by his tricks and even more so by his constant repetition that Ford should ‘trust no one’ not even you, his assistant. Naturally it caused a rift between the two of you as you were sick and tired of having to try and reassure Ford- who was slowly succumbing to paranoia- that you weren’t in any way shape or threat to his research. Even bringing up how you both spend hours on end documenting mushrooms, fungi and others of a similar vein when you both first moved to Gravity Falls.

However this tactic didn’t work in your favour unfortunately as one thing lead to another and you were left helpless as you watched Ford get pulled into the portal that his brother -Stanley- had accidentally pushed him into during their squabble, watching as it seemingly closed forever.

You wanted to be mad at Stanley, you really did but the man had just lost his brother, his twin brother seemingly forever due to his own actions. So instead you eased off of him and offered to help him with reopening the portal in order to get Ford back, while also giving a triangle demon a piece of your mind for taking advantage of your overachiever of a friend. Ford being lost seeing forever hurt you just as badly as it hurt Stanley and you would do anything and everything if it meant seeing your friend again.

That and probably scold him for ever thinking that a deal with demon would ever go down well without some sort of hidden agenda, for if a deal sounds too good to be true then it might as well be. Something you’ve learned from Stan, whom you leaned was an expert conman who conned people for a living in order to get by. You didn’t necessarily saw it as a good thing to do, living off of the nativity of people and their gullible natures, but you didn’t have much of a choice when Stan assumed the identity of his twin and even has the audacity to lean into the town’s assumptions of you and Ford being married.

‘But we’re not married!’ You spat, letting go of Stan’s hand when you got home after a trip into town, all that effort you and Ford tried in order for people to stop assuming your relationship was ruined in one fell swoop, was this town really that desperate that they’d deeply get involved in someone’s life like?

(Yes the answer was yes)

‘I know that and you know that, but they don’t have to know that. Think about all the money we could make off of this! They’d be eating out of the palm of our hands!’ Stan replied with a smile while you could only scoff, not understanding how this was Ford’s twin brother when the two were only alike in the physical sense rather then anything else.

‘Is that all you see this as? An opportunity to capitalise on their naivety? Their gullibility and for what? A quick buck?’ You argued back as you sat yourself down at the table in the kitchen and rested your head in your hands. ‘They’ll catch on eventually.’ You added sombrely as Stan could only watch you and feel a slight pan in his chest at seeing you upset and at a loss, completely the opposite of the person you were when standing next to Ford.

‘Listen toots, I know this isn’t how you expected things to go-‘

‘You think?’ You shot back, glaring at him as he held up his hands.

‘-but there’s no other option for us other then to keep the charade up until we can reopen that stupid portal and get my brother back.’ Stan then tested the waters by planing his hand atop of your own, felling you flinch slightly at the contact before relaxing when you felt his thumb rub your knuckles comfortingly. ‘But until then we’ve got to see this through until the end and hey maybe you’ll come to like me one day!’ He then adds with a smile but you couldn’t help but scoff.

‘Yeah right, the day I come to enjoy your company Stanley Pines is the day I enter an early grave.’ You replied but there was no malice in your voice like there was before and in that moment it felt like things were okay, even if it was brief but it was enough for you to want to take Stanley up on his word and see it through to the end.

Flash forward 30 years and you and Stanley were still going strong with the whole ‘fake marriage’ thing and to Stan’s credit a business ran by a married couple did work wonders on the paying public, most of whom would find more intrigue about how you two met more so then about the fake attractions that Stan tried to have them believe as things that once existed.

‘A unicorn made out of corn? Really Stan?’ You’d whisper to him as you forced a smile while clinging onto his arm while the dumb tourists took their pictures of the supposed unicorn made out of corn. ‘That has to be your worst one yet.’

‘Trust the process sweetheart, trust the process and watch as these idiots throw their money at the first ‘weird’ thing they see. They never stop to question its credibility and that’s what we bank on most.’ Stan replied before pressing a kiss to your forehead, something he always did to keep the facade alive and fresh, along with pulling you into his side by your waist and gloating about you and all your academic achievements to anyone with ears.

You hated how much he seemingly remembered about you that almost had you rethinking everything you know about this man. But then you stop to constantly reminded yourself that Stan only remembered these parts about you because he needed material to keep your story consistent and without any falling potholes, the man knew how to cover his bases that was for sure, and yet that didn’t stop you from feeling seen whenever Stan bragged about how smart his spouse was.

That’s the one thing that you mentally thanked him for. He didn’t make you play into stereotypes or change anything remotely about yourself to fit his narrative, he let you be the smart and intelligent spouse while he played the man who was happy to snag you before anyone else could and had been riding the high ever since. It was…sweet in a way that you couldn’t describe.

When Mabel and Dipper came to Gravity Falls they were naturally skeptical on whether they should stay with you and Stan, but soon enough did they warm up to you when you could match Dipper in terms of intelligence and treated Mabel with nothing but kindness and encouragement of her creativity. That and the fact that you could sway Stan into letting them do whatever by placing your hand on his bicep and bating your eyes at him.

‘Let the kids have fun, you were quite the troublemaker when you were their age.’ You told him as you played devils advocate for the kids going to the movies and Stan sighed before reluctantly agreeing to your terms.

‘Fine, fine.’ He says before pointing at you. ‘You owe me for this though honey.’

You smiled as you kissed his cheek. ‘And how can I do that?’ You asked.

‘How about you both go on a date!’ Mabel exclaimed from across the table as she pulls out a blindingly glittery and sparkly binder that had written across the front: Mabel’s date plans for Grunkle Stan and great aunt/Grunkle/ y/n.

‘How long have you had that sweetheart?’ You asked her, a little frightened to know the answer as you knew Mabel was emotionally intelligent when it came to these sorts of things.

‘Since I’ve noticed that you and Grunkle Stan don’t go on dates.’ She replies as her brows furrowed while she flicked through the pages of her binder for the perfect date for the pair of you.

‘We’re married honey, we don’t need to go on dates. Being together 24/7 is like a date all in itself.’ Stanley replied as he could feel your hand gripping his bicep tighten, wanting nothing more than to soothe that overworked mind of yours as he placed his hand over the top of yours and squeezed, shooing you a reassuring smile.

‘Not good enough!’ Mabel cried as she pointed at the pair of you. ‘I can see the love in your eyes, that love is so hard to come by nowadays and just because you’re married doesn’t mean you stop going on dates!’

‘When was the last time you did go on a date?’ Dipper asked this time as his eyes darted from you to his Grunkle as you both mentally swore to yourselves. You and Stan have never been on a date, sure you’ve both been through town together but you never actually went anywhere that would be considered a date. After all your marriage was just for show and tell and not the real thing, despite how much you’ve grown to like how he held you at night or looked at you as though you hung the stars in the sky.

‘A long time kiddo.’ Stan told him. ‘And it was the date where I realised that I wanted to be with them for the rest of my life.’ He adds, his eyes softening when the looked at you, making you smile in response as you moved your hand to squeezed his.

‘Awwww!’ Mabel cooed as she watched you and her Grunkle look at each other so tenderly. it was obvious to her that you meant a lot to her Grunkle Stan and he meant a lot to you too that she couldn’t help but hope to find a love like yours one day herself. ‘Which is why I think you should both go on a date tonight! Right Dipper?’

Mabel punches dipper in the shoulder. ‘Yeah you both defiantly should go on a date.’ He agrees as he rubs his shoulder.

You and Stan looked at one another and knew that there was no getting out of this one, but you were both kind of excited for it at the same time, after all what was going to happen? You both actually realise you like each other after all this time? Preposterous.

[harlowhockeystick]

LUNCH ⎯ C. Berzatto

carmen interviews a new girl for the recent waitressing job at the bear, and she's been the recent reason for his journal entries the past two weeks.

carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: sexual themes (18+ MDNI), cuss words, carmen being super whipped but also kind of a perv, reader is kind of a ditz but so am i, reader has tats because i do too, reader also doesnt have much dialogue bc it's mostly from his pov.

word count: 1k

a/n: not really based off any specific episode or season in the series. i just love carmy so much <3

"Chef i need you to take over for at least an hour, i got an interview in 10." Carmen instructed Sydney, walking into the office as the kitchen staff began to prepare for open. The staff- mainly Sydney, Richie, and Carmen desperately needed a waiter in house. With how busy the restaurant was beginning to get they needed more than Nat out there.

"Are you gonna hire her?" Sydney asked; Carmen had briefed her about the applicant a day prior. He sat down, refreshing himself on the resume before meeting with her.

"Well she's the only applicant so far, so I don't really think I have a choice chef," before he could finish his thought he heard the chime of the entrance door. Glancing down at the time it read 10:51.

Early, off to a good start, he said to himself quietly. He gave one puff of cologne on his neck to try and musk the smell of kitchen before going out into the front of house to start the interview. Carmen forgot how to breathe for just a few seconds when he saw her- easily the most beautiful person he's seen walk in his restaurant.

"Um- Hi I'm Carmen Berzatto, the owner, you must be Y/N?" He introduces through a deep breath and a shaky hand that he extends. She takes it with a smile, following his lead. The soft taps of her high top converse against the tile floor, the flow of her skirt twirling as she turns in front of him slightly. It's exhilarating.

"Can I get you something to drink before we start? Water, a soda, coffee?" He offers, standing tall next to the table side. She grins and shakes her head denying his offer, her sweet sounding voice making butterflies flutter around in his stomach. That hasn't happened in a while.

They make small talk for a little while, Carmen asking pre-thought out ice breakers before getting to the real questions. But if he's honest with himself he isn't even listening to her answers. He's too focused on the way her lips move and how she purses her lips when she thinks about an answer.

He's taken great notice of the tattoos she has on her arms, in similar places to his own, all black outlined like his too. one is written in french, he assumes, right above her wrist on her arm. One is two small birds on the inside of her forearm. He wants to pause the interview just to talk about what they all mean to her. Partially because he wants to hear her voice for the rest of his life. He wants to press record on his phone and listen to her talk about whatever she wants to, her voice is that angelic.

"Can I ask you what the tattoo on your hand means?" she asked and he thought he was going to faint because she grabbed ahold of his hand gently to get a better look at it. She giggled when she got a better look at the artwork.

"It's to remind me to be careful when I chop vegetables, essentially," Carmen explained with a chuckle. "What does the one on your wrist mean?"

"Terre à terre, down to earth. I dont want to stray too far from who I was raised to be, so that's a reminder. I also have a couple more in french- my grandmother was french so I have a lot of french things in my life." She pulls up the sleeve of her shirt to reveal another tattoo, "étoile filante, shooting star. The first time I saw a shooting star was on my sixteenth birthday, my worst birthday actually."

He reminded himself to close his mouth because he knew he was about to start drooling, hearing the way her silky voice sounded even better in a foreign language.

He breezed through the interview, Natalie insisting that even though there are no other applicants and she'll probably get the job, do it the right way. "I'll give you a call by the end of the week, Y/N. It was a pleasure having you today." He shows her out of the restaurant, walking her to her car for safety, of course."

When Carmen got back inside, before he got to joining the team in prepping for the lunch crowd he pulled out his journal that he started to carry with him. It was full of various things: different dinner ideas to try out on the menu for a special, addresses, phone numbers, and other journal entries. he's made a habit of journal three times a week and he has a feeling he's going to be doing it a lot more with Y/N joining the team.

-

I could eat that girl for lunch. She smelled sweet like fuckin brownies or something, rich and delicious. Her tattoos, her gold necklaces, her smile, her skirt. I feel like a perv but god i know her skin would be so soft, and she'd have the best blind reactions to recipes, and i bet she'd taste good too. I'm closing the applications, this Y/N chick is gonna be the death of me.

-

"Hi Y/N, this is Carmen from The Bear, how're you?" he couldn't even wait a full 24 hours before he hired her. Embarrassing. "I just wanted to call and let you know that we're offering you the job if you are still interested." He bit the cap of his pen with a grin hearing her cheer and laugh on the other side of the phone. "Yea- yeah that's great, listen could you start Monday? I'll get you trained n'all that."

Carmen ends the phone call and moves some papers around on his desk, printing the papers for Y/N and putting them in her folder. He couldn’t stop grinning like a kid from hearing her excited voice over the phone.

Instantly he’s thinking of a million things to write in his journal about her. But he doesn’t have time, he needs to prep the special for tonights dinner service before anything else. Carmen will be thinking of her, however. Thinking of how soft her hands must be, or how sweet her chapstick tastes. He'll think of how it'll be nice to have her around, not just the help but to have someone with a softer tone around the place, too.

He thinks about Y/N while making glaze, mixing everything together to get that perfect spicy honey taste, he's imagining how her face lights up when she laughs. He doesn't even really know her yet but he's already making up what a first date would be like. He'd take her out for coffee, go see a movie, then go for a walk. But not too late, though. Even if she might be a night owl it's still inappropriate to keep a girl out past ten, at least that's what he read in some magazine a long time ago.

"Chef you ready to prep the team for tonight?" Sydney asked, interrupting his thoughts. He stumbled, dropping the spoon into the bowl and biting his tongue.

"Fuck- yeah, yeah I am."

-

"'M gonna go over the menu with you, if m'goin too fast then stop me." He pulls up a chair and tucks his hair behind his ears. Setting the laminated piece of paper in front of her, explaining each dish to her in firm detail. Carmen watches as her french tip acrylic nails trace along the menu, guiding along the words that he says from memory.

She's impressed, shocked even that he came up with this himself. She jokes that she can't cook and it gains a laugh from him.

"I'll teach you a few things, if ya want." He didn't mean for it to come out sounding like he was hitting on her...but secretly he was. Since when was he that slick with words?

-

I can't stop thinking about her. She's on my mind all the fuckin' time. She smelled really good, must have been her shampoo. I would love to just sit with her there, not sexually. Just be. I bet she's really calm and chill. I'd love to get ready with her in the mornings, again not sexually. To spend time, to laugh, to talk. I could eat that girl for lunch.

-

When Carmen walks into the front he catches Y/N taking pictures in the mirror by the entrance. He chuckles, watching her pose and smile. She turns around and gasps, cheeks getting darker when she realizes she's gotten caught.

"Sorry, the mirror is just so aesthetic."

"That? Um, okay? Guess we have different opinions of what aesthetic is." Carmen guides her to the back counter, teaching her how to count inventory of everything.

He feels out of place- no, he feels gross when he watches her bend down. He sees a peek of white lace stick out from the band of her jeans and he knows he shouldn't stare, but he can't help his mind from wandering. He wanders about what other types of underwear she might have, if she has any special ones, what they'd feel like wrapped-

"Carmen!" Sydney snaps him out of his daydream. "Sorry to interrupt, but you have a phone call from the AC guy." He's pulled away, for the better, but he knows he's going to write about this as soon as he gets the chance.

-

I'm interested in more than just being her boss. I could eat her alive, i'd let her take a seat on me wherever she wants for however long she wants. She'd taste like....like sweet watermelons on a sunny summer day. Yeah, something like that. She can't be real can she? I don't know how long I can keep acting professional. I just know she'd be the one for me.

・。♡.・゜✭・.・✫・゜✭・。. ♡・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜♡・。

feedback | masterlist

[zarnzarn]

i see all these comments talking about this after the new episode, but. i would like to state for the record that stolitz isn't. toxic.

first off, the concept of a toxic and a healthy relationship are such... vague terms. when you're online, drenched in language and tight moral boundaries, trying to put a nuanced story like helluva boss's into boxes is easy to attempt and impossible to do.

a toxic relationship is one where one or both parties is maliciously affecting the other. I'm talking fetid, nasty, rude interactions where there is more hurt than love. they're unhappy more often than not when they're with their partner, there's no respect or give from the other side.

stolitz is nothing like that.

Stolas actively cares about Blitz and actually has no fear or hesitation in ADMITTING IT OUT LOUD TO OZZIE. he has been calling, texting, commenting, laughing and finding ways to spend time with Blitz. he's throwing everything he has to the wind, finding the courage to move forward with the divorce, putting everything he has into trying to keep him. he's been alone in a palace since he was born, on medication, with such less people dear to him that he remembered the circus boy who spent a day with him DECADES ago- so when blitz comes into his life and brings back in laughter and color and sex, he's holding on with everything he's got.

and blitz does care!!! he cares a LOT, the whole series we see him falling in love with stolas through SHOW NOT TELL (his expressions, his choices, his fear, his lashing out) and utterly unable to process that stolas cares about him too when talking to fizz; almost a desperate kind of denial-

cause yknow. the first time he tried to confess something to someone he really liked, he accidentally killed half the people he knew and ruined the lives of the rest?

thats gonna leave just a teensy impact on the will to express your emotions in the future, methinks.

even before that, he clearly felt like on some level that he was unworthy and he's said twice that he despises himself for the accident even though it wasn't actually his fault. being self aware doesn't stop the emotions from emotioning.

he keeps insisting its only sex so urgently to anyone who doesn't ask because he can't even imagine it being anything else. he's both disappointed and relieved when he repeats that stolas sees him as a novelty, because what else can it be?

(there's a whole other spiel of how brave both Stolas and Blitz have to be to say it out loud even when asmodeus can't afford to, considering how publically and completely beaten down both were at the club.)

(there's also another whole spiel about how frustrating it has been for ME to see all these comments over time with such bad takes based on like,, 20 min worth of info of a show that takes months to release an ep. like godDAMN have some patience?? let the story UNFOLD MAYBE? IT WAS ALWAYS GOING TO HAVE AN EXPLANATION WHY WOULD YOU CRITICIZE THINGS THAT ARENT EVEN FINISHED ESPECIALLY AN INDIE ANIMATION- i digress)

mind you, this has NOTHING to do with abuse. an abusive relationship is one where one is actively harming the other with full awareness. Stella is an abuser and their marriage is abusive.

and stolitz isn't that; it isn't even unhealthy or toxic. it's a consensual, transactional fuckbuddy relationship that slid into something more for both of them.

but!!!!! one of the main reasons for the problems that everyone looks over is-

they're in a BDSM relationship.

I can't possibly delve into dynamics without making this a 10k research paper BUT even though we've gotten only hints and costumes and dialogue- they're very clearly and undeniably in a BDSM contract. Behind the scenes of this crazy show is a whole different story, of these two delving into the most hardcore kinks out there- knifeplay, painplay, bondage.

if you've gotten into the community, if you've read a couple dozen particularly good fics by authors who know what they're talking about, hell; even if your only experience is fifty shades or 365 or whatever- you gotta know that BDSM scenes are crazy fucking emotionally heavy. there's so much that has gone down between them during their full moons that helluva can't get into!!

but you know how in so many of these popular medias and fics, the dom in the relationship is also like,, the billionaire/mafia heir/prince, etc, the one with financial and physical power? this isnt that. it has been very clearly stated that stolas is subbing, blitz is domming.

now take a moment and think about how much that fucks up the dynamics.

in stolas' eyes, blitz is a confident, dangerous individual who's an old friend and cherished memory of his, who he's trusted wholly with his safety during sex and he's lucky to have; and he has been in an abusive arranged marriage for the past eighteen Years, he's probably not going to be pushing his luck with his dom that much in the first place. plus, blitz is never cowed by him during their conversations- think back to the first phone call right after he stole the book, completely unafraid.

and for blitz, it's someone trusting him again- but it's also a royal- a blue blood who's nearly untouchable and so much more powerful- who couldn't possibly like a piece of shit like him, apart from the sex he gets out of it. he only flirts once he gets some sort of cue from Stolas; he's desperately trying to view this as only a Goetia trying to get his rocks off, despite all the evidence to the contrary, because anything else is unfathomable to him, no matter how clearly Stolas shows it, because of the ptsd.

both of them thinks the other has the power. both of them aren't expecting the other to keep shut if something's bothering them.

and there's so much conflicting messages from the other too!

stolas calls him a plaything when trying to intimidate the humans; stolas cups his face gently and asks if he's alright

blitz asks him on a date and tells him to get better soon; blitz yells that it's only sex and doesn't reply to his messages

ya see?

bring it to fizzozzie for a second now; even though they do look all good on surface, you can still see fizz's trauma and doubt in all their interactions, they're still forced to keep the relationship secret. do you see his face when Ozzie says in hyperbole that he's never leaving the house again, or when someone accuses him of being a pampered house pet or when he got sexualized in the 7th ep? whatever happened in the interim between the accident with mammon, it fucked him UP. even though oz seems to be well aware of this when he tells him not to apologise and in their general interactions, fizz still visibly has trouble separating plaything/commodity from healthy relationship.

shout the fuck out to Ozzie btw, man knows whats UP. rooting for these two so much omg.

i forgot where I was going with this point, I'll edit it when i remember. but yeah! lovely fucking relationship, but damn what angst filled issues.

anyway, to sum up- stolitz is not a toxic relationship. the relationship is stuck sludging through misunderstandings and careless microaggressions and trauma responses, but it's not unhealthy or toxic because of the simple reason that most of the current hurt comes from... a misunderstanding. stolas didn't realise blitz would need reassurance about what they were and blitz didn't see stolas as someone who could get hurt.

unecessarily calling it toxic, even online, is more impactful than people think too. almost all spindlehorse ARE on all social medias; so MANY YouTube animators i know have found jobs there; they see your words, especially since a lot don't tag posts with "anti hb" correctly to keep them out of the main tag. there are Very few queer medias made BY queer people that haven't gone through heavy corporate revisions- helluva boss is practically a historical landmark in its success. it's very very very fucking easy to forget that not ten years ago some of the only queer videos on YouTube were butter lover (one kiss at the end post credits), dirty paws and welcome to hell (subtext).

the amount of "critical talk" helluva boss gets for what it is is very unprecedented. it's a beautiful show. can't wait for the next episode.

[toji-sweetheart]

𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 | 𝐭. 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

synopsis: After a messy breakup, you require a new job which leads you to work for the biggest porn site in the industry but little did you know that it would lead to the one thing you didn't want.

wc: 8.4k

tags: 18+ ONLY content + explicit smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + repost + porn star au + Toji stalks you and is very possessive and in love with you he's sick with it + you x other character + fingering + you get horny a lot + roleplay + spitting + Toji man handles you + consensual recording + praising + unprotected sex + sending nudes to Toji + sexting + phone/video sex + talks about sex work + blowjob + pussy eating + brief pussy job + breeding + lots of kissin' + snow balling + sensual sex + 69 position + hand job + teasing + nipple play

an: for kinktober '23 | PLEASE do NOT use coconut oil as lube! this is written for fictitious purposes only!! also pls forgive me because I couldn't find much information on how to become a porn star so I made things up dfht and I had to bring back one of my favorite pieces that I worked really really hard on!

You looked down at the boxes by your feet with a frown while your dad kept pulling them from your trunk with irritated huffs.

“He couldn’t even help you? What a real piece of work. I knew that guy was not a good man.” He muttered picking up a bag with a grunt with you not wanting to correct him on the situation, you didn’t want him helping or coming over to your new place even though he offered.

With no choice, you followed after him holding a box to take in your new apartment after moving out and breaking up with Toji, and naturally, your father couldn’t stand to see his daughter so hurt over a man way older than you.

Not only did he break your heart but kicked you out and left you to fend for yourself, and no matter even if you did tell him, it was your decision, he would still blame him, he’s never liked the raven-haired man since you brought him over to dinner three years ago. 

There was no way you could sleep in the same bed without Toji. He etched himself deep inside you to the point that there were no takebacks, not that you’d want that anyway. You looked around your new barren living room trying to focus your thoughts on something positive like how should you decorate? 

“Will you be okay here by yourself? You weren’t any better off with him, but you know you’re welcome to come back home any time.” Your dad spoke in a soft tone but uttered him with such disgust you could almost taste it in the back of your throat. 

You looked over at him with a soft reassuring smile. “Yes Dad, don’t worry and I know but being twenty-seven and having to move back in with your parents is a little embarrassing thanks for the offer though.”

He stayed and helped as long as you allowed before pushing him out of the door telling him that you’ll lock the doors and windows. Two hours later you found yourself alone laying on your bare mattress on your phone scrolling through it, too tired from earlier to move. 

Your thumb stopped on a post that should’ve been deleted a long time ago on the account you shared with him, a video of you and Toji in bed naked and sweaty in the prone bone position, the audio was on and you could hear his hips slapping your ass with each harsh thrust. 

Instantly you reported the video and debated on texting him feeling an ache grow between your legs, anger bubbling like roiling water in your lower belly as you jabbed at the screen with a finger feeling your head throb with a headache that loomed like a heavy shadow pressing down. 

“Hello sweetheart,” his voice came over the other side in a purr when he answered, the video playing in your head while you chewed on your bottom lip as Toji waited for you to respond while he lounged on the couch, his hand stuck down his pants resting against his boxers listening to your rapid breathing, he cleared his throat and getting your attention.

You sighed and sat up putting him on speakerphone to begin making your bed in order to release some sort of tension. “You need to delete that video of us right now, I reported it immediately! We agreed on everything else going on the account but that one! Why now?”

He listened to you talk while spreading his legs wider wishing you were here instead. “I didn’t mean to upload it. Was scrollin’ through my gallery, the video popped up and I couldn’t resist not watching us. Did you watch it? You can’t tell me you don’t miss that.” Toji replied knowing he has you flustered and aroused thinking about him. 

Thankfully he couldn’t see you, your legs clenched together to relieve the throbbing that made your pussy weep like a maple tree; sticky and sweet oozing from between your pussylips creating a mess in your panties. “Stop! You’re a pervert, don’t do it again, we’re broken up.” You hissed and hung up with a huff. 

Your head rang like a bell causing a migraine to split at the base of your skull, you pushed past the pain and did everything in a haste trying your best not to think about him and his sinful traps to lure you back. It was a very messy breakup, to say the least. He was far too possessive and jealous and he didn't want to let you go so easily. 

Some part of you knew he was always going to be the one who you’d forever talk about no matter what even though he acted the way he did but it was a love story that ended early leaving you with no happy ending. 

After you trudged through your nightly routine you curled into the middle of the bed listening to your neighbor's thump around next door, the sound only made your head hurt worse until it felt like your skull was going to combust. 

Two hours later you managed to fall asleep in a light slumber, your blankets tangled up as you tossed and turned around on the mattress. It’s been two weeks since you’ve slept with Toji and it’s been rough after being with him for so long. 

Four years, two of them living together. Now you felt sad and empty trying to cauterize the gaping wound in your heart but knew it was for the best, too much arguing and not enough communication. There were a lot of physical aspects though to the relationship that weren’t so easily forgotten. 

Your dreams dipped in and out until you finally fully succumbed to a deep sleep, your brain played the memory of you and him earlier. From the beginning of the day of your first year anniversary all the way to the hotel room when night fell bringing out the predator of Toji who devoured you whole leaving nothing to spit out when he was done with you, that night he took your soul and melded it with his in a way that could never be undone. 

A moan slipped free from your lips as it progressed further until your body jerked you awake from a sudden boom on your bedroom wall shaking anything that was on it. You wanted to be mad but also thanked whoever it was that woke you up even though it was very early. 

Dreaming about your ex and having a wet dream is not something you want to relive and hauled yourself out of bed to start the day even though it was well before anyone woke up but it gave you time to check things out on your laptop before starting the day. 

Immediately you pulled up your email while waiting for a new job to write back when you saw a forwarded message from Toji titled Someone else likes your pretty pussy. With furrowed eyebrows, you opened the email and read it feeling your jaw drop to your chest. 

Dear sweetbites21. 

We came across a slew of your videos and we have to say we are impressed with the way you look on camera, then it came to our attention that there was a separation. If you're interested we’d love to have you on set, give us a call soon. 

It was from the biggest porn website that had the best reputation and content, your eyes followed the words all the way down to Toji’s message with a snort. He was clearly jealous that they just wanted you and not him like some package deal. 

You copied and pasted the number down and saved it in your phone intent on calling them later. To pass the time you spent the better part of your day unpacking and cleaning your apartment until everything was done before you rested. 

Every part of your body ached and again you found yourself wishing Toji was here to massage your muscles then you remembered the email and quickly grabbed your phone to rid yourself of those thoughts. 

When you dialed the number you sat back on the couch and tucked your legs under you waiting for someone to answer feeling your palms sweat. “Hello. This is Yui with Sex Simplified. How may I direct your call?” A voice soft and sweet spoke on the other side when the phone clicked. 

“Hi, I just got an email last night about someone…” You broke off feeling a lump form in your throat thinking about Toji knowing he helped get you here, you gave her your name and information along with the username then listened to her type fast and quickly. 

You waited a few minutes and looked down at your cushion rubbing along the material with your thumb. “I’m going to transfer you to our manager, have a good day.” Yui then switched the lines making the phone ring again for a minute. 

“This is Aina.” It was clearly another female this time, she sounded older and warmer welcoming you. “Yes, hi, I just spoke to Yui. My ex sent me an email you sent to our couple account email.” You told her getting directly to the point. 

She hummed softly and turned her computer on typing in the background. “You’re part of sweetbites21, right?  I’ve watched a few videos and I really am impressed, you’re perfect for the camera with the way you work your body.” 

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling your face flush with warmth at the praise. “Thank you so much, that means a lot and I am yes, we got that name the night for the very first video we uploaded with food play and we left bites all over each other.” The last part wasn’t necessary but just in case you explained it anyway. 

Aina snorted a little and finished typing. “Your ex has a monster cock that would get views for sure, but we’re interested in only female leads right now so would you like to set up an interview with us?” She asked leaning back in her seat hoping you’d say yes knowing how much money you would be bringing in and she also knew that their star male case lead would love you. 

The way she said monster cock made you burn with a mixture of things, longing to feel him inside you and jealously because she’s seen it, but so have other people and for a long time he was yours and you knew he was madly in love with you and had no eyes for anyone else. 

“Sure! I’ve never done anything like this before though.” You replied hesitantly, this was different than just recording you and Toji, this was the big league and you’d be filmed with someone else, not your ex who knows your body inside and out. This would be a huge break for you, however. 

“That’s what they always say, and I know you haven’t, just homemade videos with Monster Cock. Next Thursday can you be here around eight pm? We’ll conduct an interview then if everything goes well then you’ll meet our male lead, everyone loves him and you will too.” 

You blinked at how sure Aina was sure of herself and found yourself nodding even though she couldn’t see it. “Uh, yeah I assume you’ll send me the location and stuff via email?” You asked feeling your stomach roll and your shoulders hike already even though it was a week away now. 

Tuesday evening you found yourself in the aisle of the grocery store under lights that flickered, something that reminded you of a horror movie. Even though you knew it wouldn’t happen you still waited for the zombie apocalypse to start when you heard a throat clear from behind followed by a memorizing voice. “I just need to grab those mini cakes if you don’t mind.” 

You turned around and looked at the person - no, it was more like a God. Tall and lanky with snow-white hair that framed a very pretty face with eyes that looked like water from the bluest glaciers, so bright and vibrant which only ended up distracting you from actually moving out of the stranger's way. “S-sorry, I was just lost in thought.” You explained with a sheepish smile. 

The man hummed with a knowing smile as he reached out with one long slender arm grabbing two cakes of different flavors, the scent of clean laundry along with the faintest hint of vanilla wafted off him invading your nostrils. He smelled heavenly. Your eyes almost fluttered shut and your mouth began to water at the sight of him and how good he looked in his shirt that molded to him so perfectly and how soft his hair looked even under the lights. You wanted him. 

You wondered why you were acting like a dog in heat wanting to all but hump the man's leg knowing who he is or what his name is, you just know that he’s intimidating and you like that. It’s been a month since you’ve been single and felt the touch of a human is what you chalked up the rush of hormones to be, all you wanted was to be loved and caressed again. 

He definitely has the fingers and hands for it, lewd thoughts popped into your head of him fingering you in your car before folding you in half. “Do you want a picture or something?” The man teased as he watched you eye fuck him right in the middle of the store like a desperate stay-at-home wife who was bored and lonely at home wanting to be ravaged by someone. 

“Sorry.” You stammered and gripped your basket turning on your heel to walk away from him and the strange meeting, the feelings never dissipated even when you got out of the store after buying a few random items in haste before you ran into him again knowing you’d stare at him. 

The cool air made your skin break out in a wave of goosebumps as you walked to your car under the dark sky with a heavy sigh. Even with how beautiful it looked outside, the weight of everything has hollowed you out into nothing but a husk of your former self. The blue-eyed man was a loop that played in your head on the drive home followed by Toji who had a sixth sense. 

You looked down at your phone seeing his name and number glaring back at you when you pulled into the parking lot weighing your options on what to do, however, curiosity got the best of you. “Hello?” You answered and got out of your car grabbing your bags then made your way upstairs with quickened steps to the front door. 

“Heard you got the job working for SS, I’m not surprised. I told you we shoulda sent a video into them when we were together, you’re really going to let some other guy fuck you? I look forward to watching your new videos to see how you fake an orgasm for some cash.” He deadpanned clearly annoyed with the turn of events. 

Even though he couldn’t see you, you rolled your eyes and pushed the door open stepping inside to take your shoes off. “What I do is none of your concern anymore so don’t question what I’m doing. Is there anything else you need before I hang up?” You asked with an attitude. 

Toji chuckled making you shiver for a different reason now. “Have a good night princess, I’ll see you soon.” He declared giving you a warning before he hung up leaving you stunned as you stared down at your phone frustrated after the conversation. A hot bath was needed to douse this feeling that welled inside your core, a mix of burning rage and a need to be fucked hard. 

When you sank into the bubbly water you held your phone scrolling through the videos of you and him, your pussy throbbed desperate to get filled, with a lust-riddled brain full of nothing but wanting to get off you FaceTimed Toji angling the camera to face your soapy tits making sure your nipples were covered. 

His face popped up in the small box in the corner confused at first then you watched as his lips pulled back in a grin seeing you naked and wet making you want to lean in and kiss his scar. “That sure didn’t take long. Now look at ya calling me all desperate.” He crooned and followed your hands that moved away from your breasts hearing him grunt seeing your perky nipples. 

You should feel embarrassed and you are a little but not enough to stop you as he teased watching feeling his cock throb hot and heavy wanting to feel your soft skin under his hands, knowing how he’d give anything to be there right now. “Make me cum Toji…please, I want to so bad.” 

“Touch my pretty pussy for me since I can’t, spread yourself nice and open.” He commanded in a dark growl before cocking his head with a smirk. “Actually, why don’t you be a good girl and rinse off then get into bed so I can see you better?” You listened to him and ended in bed a minute later naked and mostly dried off, patches of water still stuck to the parts you didn’t get. 

When you got comfortable you spread your legs and angled your phone between them making sure he got a good view. “Aw look, she’s crying for me, I bet she just wants to be sucked and fucked. Poor thing, now swirl your finger around your clit.” Instantly you parted your pussylips and used your middle finger to rub the swollen bud with a soft whine arching for more. 

Your eyes fluttered shut and didn’t get to see Toji pulling his dick free spitting down on his open palm before wrapping his fingers around the base and jerking himself off to you thrusting two digits inside your soaked pussy and moaning his name so prettily and broken. “So wet ‘f me.” 

He watched you with low eyes. “I’m coming over, we’ll give our fans one more video. What do you say, princess? Want to sit on my cock?” His question pushed you over the edge thinking about him splitting you open around him, your cunt gushing around your fingers instead. 

You pulled your fingers out slowly when you came down a little huffing. “You are not coming over here. I can’t let that happen, this was a private moment between us, don’t ruin it. I can���t believe I’m doing this, but thank you for helping me out. Have a good night.” He chuckled before you hung up and shut your phone off for the night letting sleep take over and giving you a break from the stress even for a brief moment. 

Thursday evening two hours before eight you stood in the shower scrubbing each inch of your body unsure what was going to happen, was it going to be an interview before having to show off your skills? Either way, you wanted to be prepared and brushed your teeth once you got out of the tub and dried off to get dressed. 

It was a dress that was suggestive but still modest. You’ve seen the casting couch videos before and picked out your outfit based on that, the company didn’t seem like that type though so you also kept it on the classy side. Once you checked everything over you got ready for the car outside. Aina said they’d send someone to come and pick you up at your apartment. 

True to their word a very sleek vehicle pulled up and an older gentleman got out to open the back door before he ushered you in then he got back in the driver's side and took off. The drive over to the studio was filled with the soft songs from the radio that kept you company until you arrived, just like when he picked you up he opened the door again, this time helping you out. 

Following the directions from the email you read again before getting picked up you walked inside the all-glass building, the windows so dark you couldn’t see the lights on inside which added fuel to the fire you felt growing inside. “Here we go.” You muttered and pushed the doors open to an all-modern waiting room, it was a subtle blend of yellows oranges, and reds. 

You didn’t feel as nervous anymore when you greeted the handsome male behind the desk in the middle of the room, he was warm like the room. “Hi, you want to take the elevator up to floor three. Room 204. Have a good evening.” With that, he handed you a key card and sent you on the way down the hall to the set of elevators. You stepped in the first one and went to the third floor. 

When you stepped into the hallway it was quiet as you read the door numbers feeling your stomach flip until you reached the correct one and knocked before using the key card to step inside, the same color scheme as downstairs, this time it was a small lounge with low lights and pulsing music, this time you were greeted by a very beautiful woman who wore a black leather corset and thigh-high boots, in her hand she held a whip with the same material as her outfit. 

“Hello, sorry you caught me during a shoot, but I’m ready if you are, and it’s finally nice to meet you.” She spoke as she faced you, her hair cascading like a waterfall. This was Aina? 

 “Yeah, you look….” You trailed off and felt your face flush as you sat on the couch she pointed to with a knowing grin, it threw you off guard a little to be her in her presence, her breasts all but spilled out of the tight top that pushed them together. “It’s nice to meet you too.” You ended up saying not sure what to say as she sat across from you crossing her legs with a laugh. 

She sat her whip next to her and leaned back. “So to start off with we do STD screenings on everyone, and at least ask if you can give us your past partners if applicable. I know you were with Monster Cock for a while if I remember correctly? We also have papers for you to fill out and sign if you want us to hire you.” Aina spoke, her cherry-red lips looked glossy. 

Anytime she says that you can’t help but feel a stirring between your legs. “I’m fine with that and yeah, I was with him for four years and it was only him.” You replied shifting your weight and looked at her with a soft smile and a nod. She mirrored your smile and grabbed the clipboard with a pen attached to the side of the table that separated you two and handed it over. 

You filled in the basic information at first then flipped the page reading the questions about your kinds, hard and soft limits. Aina watched until you were finished thirty minutes later, your wrist ached from writing for so long. “Good girl, you’re the perfect applicant and would fit in well with Gojo.” She said with a grin and put her hand in the air doing a come hither motion. 

A second later the door in the corner opened to reveal the man you stared at Tuesday, he looked different in this setting, a predatory smile showing off white pearly teeth. “Hi -” He stopped when he saw you, your eyes wide as sauces as you stared at him again with an open gaping mouth. “You two know each other already?” Aina asked interrupting the staring contest. 

“No, we just saw each other the other night for the first time…this is my new coworker?” You asked, your own voice sounded foreign. Talk about a small world, but you didn’t think it could actually be this small. Gojo sat down next to Aina confirming your answer, his long legs spread wide open and instantly you could envision yourself between them, his cock in your mouth. 

She smiled and nodded patting his knee. “Yes, and he is going to have to finish the interview, I have to finish something up. I’ll get a hold of you soon, thank you so much for coming out.” Aina told you with a wink before she disappeared through the door Gojo came out of leaving you two alone, the only sound in the room came from the clock in the corner with a plant and a painting. 

You shifted again in your seat and looked at him. “So how does this work? I filled the paperwork out and she said we’d be perfect together…” Your voice trailed off as you played with your fingers in your lap feeling naked as he stared at you intently, his head cocked to the side. Those blue eyes of his scanned your entire being from your feet to your eyes with a grin. “You’re hired.” 

“Okay, now what?” You asked again feeling your skin heat up as he leaned in, the smell of vanilla whirled around you like a cashmere sweater, after being with Toji you’d think you wouldn’t be so high-strung to be around someone so cocky and carefree but you were. His smile reminded you of someone who won the lottery. “We can get something to eat if you want?” 

You didn’t expect him to ask that. “I ate already, thanks though. Can I read up on what you like and stuff before I dip?” His white brows raised at the first part of your sentence before they dipped then furrowed at the end, he nodded anyway then stood up and walked to the door again leaving you alone for a moment to collect your thoughts. 

A few minutes later he emerged with a file stuffed with papers that he handed to you once he got close enough. “Aina will get a hold of you for everything else, and if you want you can stay and we can talk instead of reading each other's files, don’t you think in person is better?” He asked sitting back down on the couch manspreading while letting his long arms hang over the couch holding your gaze as you squeezed the papers tightly. 

His stare made you want to crawl out of your skin, it was heavy and he was intent on making you squirm a little. “I do yes, I assume I can get a ride back home then?” You countered getting a nod before setting his file back on the coffee table and leaning back to cross your legs. 

“What made you want to get into this type of work?” Gojo asked, his interest piqued. A fleeting memory of how it all started flashed behind your eyes when you closed them for a moment, it felt like so long ago when it did and now here you ended up; employed at a very secure job. 

You started to undo the straps of your high heels when he leaned in to do it for you instead, his long slender fingers hooked under the thin leather brushing against your skin adding to the raging fire that built between you two. He opened his mouth when your phone rang, piercing the sexual tension like a sharp knife, you jerked back at the sudden sound and snatched it. 

Toji’s contact information glowed against the darkened room. A taunting reminder that you couldn’t get any peace with him around, even though you two were broken up. “I’m so sorry, I need to answer or it will not stop ringing.” You told Gojo and picked your phone up to answer it. 

“Why not just shut your phone off? It’s not like you have to answer it, mhm?” He questioned pausing your movements to actually hit the green button. It was the truth, that’s all you had to do and ignore him, but why did you want to do the opposite and answer his every beck and call? 

You pressed the ignore button and shut your phone off setting it back on the table before you were in Gojo’s lap, each thigh on either side of his straddling him, your arms wrapped around his neck pressing yourself into him, your mouth found his in a deep kiss. He was the first one to part your lips massaging his tongue with yours, his hands traveled down to your ass slowly. 

With your dress bunched around your hips Aina stepped inside the room with Toji who looked irritated and a little smug knowing he ruined the moment between you two. “Oh my God! What are you doing here?” You huffed and scrambled off Gojo’s lap and glared at your ex-boyfriend. 

“Didn’t I say I’d see you, princess?” He asked with a smirk now as the other two bodies in the room migrated to the door again wanting to give you two alone time after an awkward moment, the room was tense and full of simmering anger as you and Toji looked at each other when the door clicked close. You grabbed your shoes and sat on the couch putting them on ignoring him until he was sitting next to you, his hands on your waist. 

Green eyes melted into yours, a silent conversation passing between you two as he fisted the soft fabric of your dress. You wanted to give in to the magnetic pull so bad, let him kiss you, and eventually fuck you on the couch until you’re a screaming mess. “Toji…you just ruined my interview.” You scolded him with a scoff as you pushed him back and pulled away. 

“I know, that was the whole point. I don’t know why you keep running when you know I’m going to catch you. Do you think I’m going to let you go so easily, princess, and let you do this? I love you.” He replied with a slight grin as he took hold of your wrist pulling out all the stops, his lips connected to the back of your hand with slow sensual kisses holding your gaze intensely. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked away from him and jerked your hand away from his hold. It wasn’t a lie, he does love you, the problem was he loves you too much and it sounds crazy when you don’t want to be with someone like that but it was a pressure you couldn’t handle anymore, all the questions and the smothering was the final straw. 

Toji let his hand rest on the small of your back waiting for a response. “You need to go, I’m serious. I can’t believe you followed me here! This is getting ridiculous I hope you know that.” You muttered and turned your head to feel his fingers curl around your jaw in a gentle hold. 

“Say it one more time and I’ll really go, but don’t expect me to answer your next phone call when you want to cum so bad.” He answered darkly and let go then moved you off his lap and stood looking down at you with an unreadable expression gracing his handsome face, his eyes clouded with a profound sadness waiting again for you to tell him it was finally over even though it tore you apart as well to let him go. 

You curled into yourself and looked away from him still afraid to meet his look. “Go.” It was all that could be mustered feeling unshed tears sting your eyes. He stared at you for a moment longer then finally left leaving you totally alone until Aina came back in to comfort you and balm the waterworks you let loose sobbing against her shoulder with fat rivers streaming down your face. 

A little after two weeks the whole embarrassing ordeal of your interview and makeout session was ruined by Toji you didn’t hear from him, no text or call giving you the reality of what it’s like not to have him in your life, something you didn’t quite like, the hole inside your chest only grew deeper and wider. It was a Friday night you stood in the kitchen and rubbed your face as you sighed and read the email from Aina. 

The meetup for the first shoot was tomorrow night, a cliche roleplay video between a masseur and his lonely housewife of a client wanting to feel the touch of a man so bad she’s willing to cheat on her husband for an orgasm. Having Gojo’s fingers like that on you wasn’t bad, and thankfully he’s been talking to you via texting and sometimes FaceTime calls during the last few weeks to see how you’ve been doing and to make you more comfortable around him. 

You felt like you and he were meant to be friends nothing more and having sex with Gojo seemed strange in a way, and you knew that you pushed Toji away but his failing to see what he was doing was wrong is something that couldn’t be ignored. It was pathetic almost how much you missed your ex-boyfriend, however, you couldn’t give in to the weakness and his charms. 

Twenty-four hours later you found yourself on the massage table naked with a towel covering you, the scene was practiced for at least two hours before any shooting began. It was time to actually do it. “This is the fourth time you’ve visited me, Miss. Aki. Did you pull something again?” Gojo asked when he stepped onto the set with a bottle of oil in his hands and a grin. 

He was supposed to be clueless and let you come onto him and take what you wanted. “I did yes in yoga class I think it was, it’s sore and I can’t spread my legs.” You replied with a fake pout looking at him, your eyes heavily rimmed with mascara and lips a clear glitter and glossy. Gojo came closer to the side of the table and rested one hand on your forearm with a reassuring look. 

It was hard not to really think about the many cameras facing you two as you smiled at him and ran your hand up his bare arm. “Thank you,” You told him sultry and watched as he poured a generous amount of the warmed coconut oil into his palms rubbing them together before beginning on your upper left thigh, his hands gliding against your slick flesh pushing the towel. 

Your heart lurched at being touched like this, in your lower belly you felt a pull the more Gojo continued and moved to your right leg, his hands coming incredibly close to your bare pussy that begged to be touched. He made small conversation, mentally reading the script in his head. “Do you charge extra for more?” You asked holding his wrist and guided it to between your legs. 

Gojo couldn’t help the surprise that took over his features just at how soaked you really were, the tips of his fingers collected your wetness and found your clit rubbing it slowly. He leaned down to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses on your bare chest until he finally reached your nipple drawing the bud into his warm mouth, his hips languidly and mindlessly humping the table. 

You arched your back forcing more of your tit into his mouth when he slid two fingers inside your drenched pussy at the same time you curled your fingers into his hair pulling him closer, the feeling of him inside you hitting all the right spots made your head spin. “Don’t stop!” It wasn’t fake the way you begged and moaned for Satoru to keep going until you came around his fingers. 

He abided and kissed his way down to the valley between your breasts over the soft hills of your stomach until he reached your clit, his tongue swirled against it, and the sweet coconut exploded on his tastebuds from the oil that was used for your massage that Satoru continued with his free hand until your ass cheek was in his large open palm. “Toji!” You moaned rolling your hips. 

Everyone stopped and the director called cut. Satoru froze with a frown and pulled his fingers out leaving you to feel empty. “Oh - I am so sorry!” When your brain caught up with what you mumbled, you looked flustered and apologetic, it was a total slip of the tongue that was embarrassing and it ruined the entire mood for the video. 

The white-haired man turned away for a second before he sat on the edge knowing aftercare is important and drew circles on your hip. You were still high from your orgasm as you huffed angry at yourself for even thinking about him. “I really am sorry, I have no idea why I even said that - ” He interrupted you with a head shake as he pulled his hand away and looked at you. 

“Because you still love him, it’s clear you do to anyone who has seen you two together, and he feels the same about you. I think maybe you two should do a video, there is a lot more chemistry.” Satoru murmured and looked back at Aina who stood perched on the edge and came forward when he got up and she took his place with a sympathetic look on her face. 

She pulled you against her once the towel covered your body again. “What do you want to do?” It was a question you didn’t have an answer to. Would Toji come if she called him? It was true what he said, but couldn’t stomach the fact that he seemed to be the one for you and the same goes for you as well, it was an unmistakable love that couldn’t be denied no matter what. 

An hour later Aina had you dressed in something comfortable after a shower and curled up on the couch in the room you first met her in. “I got him to agree to come in, are you sure you’re ready to face him and do a video?” She asked again and plopped down next to you with a heavy sigh waiting for Toji to show up. 

“Maybe not a video, I don’t know yet but I do want to talk to him alone first then if it ends up like that then yes, however, I think it will.” You spoke the truth, makeup sex was like a prayer in your relationship that fixed whatever bump appeared in the relationship. She nodded and opened her mouth to speak when the door swung open and Toji walked in leaving the door open for Aina in a silent way to tell her to leave, his presence demanded attention, at least from you anyway. 

You sat up and looked at him before bidding your new friend and boss goodbye and watched as she left leaving you and him alone. “Thanks for coming, I didn’t think you would but I'm really glad you did.” You murmured first breaking the tense silence and watched as he crossed the room to sit next to you in two strides, reminding you of the last time you both saw each other. 

His smell was all-potent male; a warm blend of tobacco and whiskey that made your pussy clench and throb, you wanted to lean and nuzzle your face in his shirt. “I love you too, and when we were filming I moaned your name when I came, and he was only fingering me…we would have better luck doing this together, you’re the one for me, I don’t want anyone but you anyway.” You whispered looking at him feeling your stomach curl as he stayed silent for a few minutes. 

Toji hummed at your admittance and leaned in until his lips brushed against yours then you were yanked into his lap, his mouth was onto yours in a claim and possessive kiss. “I hate that another man touched you like that and made your cute cunt cry out, I think we need to rectify that, huh?” He asked and kissed your jaw and neck leaving love bites behind, a mark of him. 

“I don’t know why you kept running away when I’m always going to find you sweetheart, it was pointless. I missed you.” He almost growled as Toji nuzzled his face into your neck, his hands becoming greedy and exploring your body pulling your shirt up to knead his fingers into your hips before he pulled away to tug the fabric off and toss it to the floor leaving you topless. 

You climbed off his lap and went to the corner turning the camera on and making sure it was facing the couch and shed the rest of your clothes on the way leaving a trail of discarded fabric before you got back on his lap finding solace in his cradle from being away for so long. 

With no bra on he focused on your peaked nipples that ached to be sucked on and pinched, one large hand came up and cupped one breast. “It was absurd to think I could, mhm?” You shot back with a grin as you threaded your fingers through his soft raven hair kissing him again, your tongue swirled with his until a bridge of spit connected your lips when you pulled away from him. 

His lips curled into a smile letting his hands continue to grope and feel up your body until you sat naked in his lap. “Get naked too, don’t let me be the only one here.” You told him with a pout and tugged on his soft gray shirt that hugged his muscular body. He chuckled, reached behind him, and pulled it off in one fluid motion. “You do the rest for me, princess,” Toji said with a smirk. 

You were quick and got on your knees and tugged off his sweatpants and boxers until he was naked before sitting up more to wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, the flesh warm and silky as you jerked your hand up and down using the pre-cum as a lube before you leaned in and sucked on the swollen head with a groan looking up at him before taking more of him in your mouth. 

Toji rested one hand on your head and followed the movement as you bobbed up and down letting the spit that gathered in the back of your throat to cover his throbbing dick until you gagged around him, your pussy fluttered wanting attention which he knew. “Sit that pretty pussy on my face and you can continue to suck my cock, sound good princess?” He asked huskily. 

“Yes, I missed doing that so much, only you can make me feel this good.” You praised and watched as he settled on his back before he helped you get situated, your thighs straddling his face at this advantageous point he could see the clear sticky stringy slick bridged from your pussylips creating a mess that he wanted to clean up, his tongue sucked on your clit once you sat fully down on his face. 

His hands massaged your ass as you went back down on him, the fat mushroom tip of his cock hit the back of your throat while your hips rolled against his face chasing your own high, it was lewd; the wet sounds of you sucking his cock like you were slurping a thick milkshake and him he acted like this was the last time he was going to be able to get anything to eat ever again. 

You’ve never felt so wet between your legs like this as you gripped his thighs intent on making him cum, your hand came down to cup his sack rolling it in your hand gently while fucking his face with no shame feeling the ball of pleasure tighten in your lower belly as he made out with your pussy slowly with tender kisses and licks spreading you open while bucking his hips up. 

Toji moaned against your wet cunt growing closer to his orgasm when you sucked his head and let go of one of your ass cheeks to hold your head down excited to feel your throat tighten around him like this again, this time he’s the lust-riddled one filling the back of your mouth with his warm cum. He tapped your ass and pulled away. “Don’t swallow just yet, cum for me.” 

He sat you back down on his face, his tongue swirled against your clit again as you struggled to keep his load that mixed with spit and trickled from the corner of your mouth, a moan threatened to slip free but you kept down and creamed on his tongue with a grunt experiencing the best orgasm you’ve ever had, your body went limp making it easy for Toji to tuck you into his lap. 

His hand held your cheeks and squeezed them watching his thick cum oozed from your swollen and shiny lips. “Such a pretty sight, so cute, you still taste like a delicacy.” Toji pushed into your mouth with his thumb and watched as you sucked on it before pulling away to kiss him transferring his own release into his mouth, it was vulgar the way he swallowed it all no issue. 

When you pulled away completely it was easy to melt into his warm naked embrace before you attempted to sit on his knees and rub the length of his leaky cock between the lips of your sticky pussy, his finger followed along the smooth ridge of himself gathering your slick lubing his cock up letting the tip catch on your soft hole. “This will always be my pussy, ya know that? I can’t believe you thought that guy could make you feel this good, huh? Nod if you know what I’m saying. Don’t tell me you’re already tapped out.” He chuckled and pinched your cheeks. 

Toji nodded your head for you with a dark grin as he glided his cock in the seam of your cunt before he used his strength to manhandle you on your back spreading your legs obscenely wide which in turn parted your pretty pussylips coated with a beautiful shine of tangled slick. “‘S sexy, you’re fucking perfect for me.” He groaned and cupped your entire heat in his palm with a grin. 

He was sure the camera caught the angle of him having you spread out open on the couch, his arms keeping you pinned down knowing exactly what it was you craved the most; and he was the only one who could grant you the mercy of coming again until there you were laid spent. 

You looked up at him with a flushed face and glassy eyes, there was no way for you to go with his arm pressed against the back of your knees keeping you spread out open for him. “Nowhere to run, take my cock like you were meant to.” He muttered drunk on the need to feel you sucking him in even though there you murmured he was too big when Toji pushed past the soft muscle of your cunt slowly until he was bottomed out making sure you felt each ridge and vein of him. 

The both of you let out a collective gasp of pleasure as Toji moved his hips back and forth in a steady rhythm. His thrusts were slow and methodical showing you just how much he missed you, each roll of his hips brought you closer to the edge, with the way he positioned himself he considered himself one of the luckiest men ever to be able to see you take him so well. 

Toji pushed one of your legs further back pressing it against your ear almost as he planted one foot on the floor and slowed his pace savoring the feeling of how your pussy felt wrapped around him. He bent at the waist and leaned down to kiss you again, his tongue playing with yours in a passionate makeout session, his hot breath panting against your flushed skin. 

With him on top, it was impossible not to feel so full of him and at this angle, the tip of his cock hit the right spot with each thrust while his pelvis rubbed against your clit. “I love the way you look under me, so vulnerable and cute.” His lips left a trail of hot kisses down your neck and you felt your heart flutter. You moaned in pleasure as your body trembled in anticipation. 

His mouth found yours again in another sensual kiss feeling your orgasm erupt. Your cunt pulsated around him trying to milk him for everything he has. “Toji! Feels so good!” You moaned with a slack jaw, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he drug you up and down the length of his cock, his hand brushed away your hair in a caring and gentle manner. 

“I know princess, you’re milking me ‘s good, should fuck a baby into you, would ya like that?” He grunted giving you some reprieve when he tossed your leg over his shoulder letting it dangle as he fucked you through your high, the idea of your belly swollen and round with his baby made Toji feral, his cock throbbed deep inside you as he stopped his movements pinching your cheeks again with another chuckle. 

Your eyes fluttered open as you stared at him with lust-blown pupils. He nodded your head then shook it side to side. “Did you understand me?” He asked repeating himself anyway before you got the chance to respond. You nodded your head of your own volition wanting it as well, it was something that you’d thought about before and you both have discussed marriage too. 

He grunted deep in his throat grinding himself against you, his orgasm hit him hard as he emptied himself inside your wet soft pussy until it leaked out around him despite him keeping you plugged up. Toji turned his head and pressed feather-light kisses to your ankle. “I really missed my princess, come home with me?” He asked and looked down at you. 

Your heart shuddered in your chest as you reached out to link your fingers with his. “I will stay the night with you, but I think I’m going to stay at my apartment, show me how serious you are first then we’ll go from there.” You told him, and even though he would like if you did move back in he agreed and made a vow to change his ways if that meant you’d come back to him fully. 

feedback such as comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, those kind words mean a lot and encourage me to do more writing ♡

[fairlyang]

Easy money I 🕷️

in which your roomie needs your help for a shoot

w/c: 3.1K

pairing: pornstaroomie!miguel x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. tension, recording, groping, fingering, squirting

notes: all my readers loved this series and might’ve been peer pressured for a part 3 but I’m kinda excited to write it :D gonna post this rn and maybe part 2 tmrw, finish up all my part 3’s soon hopefully

part two

I heard a knock on my door so I lowered my music from my airpods. "Come in!" I yell and turn to look at my laptop.

I hear the door open and Miguel clears his throat, I turn around to look at him and raise an eyebrow, "what's up?"

"I need something from you...." He says and takes a step inside.

"Like what?" I ask and he takes another step forward.

"You're gonna have to hear me out alright?" He says and I narrow my eyes at him.

"Okay..." I say and take my airpods off leaving them on my desk before turning back to look at him, giving him my full attention.

"I need you to step in for tonight's shoot..." he says and I burst out laughing.

"Are you fucking joking?" I say and shake my head. Is this man serious?

"I need your help Y/n..." he says nearing the edge of my bed and I groan.

"Why me?"

"The girl I was gonna shoot with canceled on me last minute and all the girls I usually shoot with are unavailable." He explains and I blink.

"Andddd you are already here...." He adds and i scoff.

"Not really sure I'd wanna expose myself like that Miguel." I say and stand up, walking over to my bed and plop down on it.

He sighs and sits on the edge of it and looks at me with pleading eyes. "Please? For me?"

"And the camera would hide your face, so unless you have any noticeable tattoos on your lower body then I think you'd be in the clear." He says and I bite my lip. Well there lies the problem...

I blink looking at him in silence making him scoff as he widens his eyes slightly then his lips tug into a smirk. "Where do you have it?" he asks and I feel my face heat up.

"Uh that one spot that's like lower, inner hip..." I say quietly and turn my gaze to my window.

There was really no reason for me to be acting like this- but that tattoo wasn't exactly somewhere that most people in my life know.... So maybe... just maybe...

"No face?" I ask and he nods.

"You know I don't even show my face-" he says with a small smile.

"I know but I don't know if it's different for the girls you record with." I say and shrug.

"It depends on them mainly, I'm not gonna force anyone I work with to show their face if they don't want to." He says softly and I nod slowly.

"And you wanna do this like right now?" I ask and he nods again.

"Jesus-" I mutter and run a hand over my hair.

"Up to you but you know I have a lot of loyal subscribers and make decent money off this..." he says and I chuckle.

"Because the girls love your voice and body." I say and he smirks making me regret my choice of words. And queue to him being obnoxious about it...

"I-"

"Think so huh?" he teases in a cocky tone making me groan.

"Fuck off." I say and grab a random stuffed animal from my bed and throw it at his face.

He laughs and holds it, it was so small compared to his hands. Oh god-

I mean of fucking course I've noticed how fine he is- it was the first thing I noticed when I was interviewing people to be my roommate, he was the hottest man that came in needing a place to stay.

I didn't just decide on him because he was hot but because he seemed chill and not like someone that would murder me in my sleep.

But I never made a move on him, neither did he. We've just always had some type of tension that neither of us ever paid attention to... I guess until now..

"So what exactly did you plan to shoot?" I ask and let out a sigh.

He grins and scoots closer now sitting by my legs as they were stretched out. "I was thinking fingering."

I nod and bite my lip, "hmm.."

"Up to you I won't force you but just think of the fact that you'd be getting paid to get fingered." He says and I snicker.

Sounds like easy money...

And I'd get an orgasm out of it...

"50% of whatever the video makes will go to you." He says and I bite my lip.

"You're really laying it on thick there Miguel... you that desperate?" I tease and he playfully rolls his eyes.

"Yeah actually, so just let me know within the next hour before I just decide to do a solo vid." He says and stands up.

I sigh and nod, "I'll... think about it...." He smirks and gives me a wink before opening the door and walking out, closing it behind him.

I sigh and lay down on my bed, should I?

I mean there's no denying the fact that I always listen in when he has someone over to record... or even checked out a few of his videos on pornhub...

maybe even possibly masturbated to a few of his audios... or the ones where he fucks himself with a fleshlight...

Letting out those incredible moans for everyone's very own pleasure, how selfless.

But he wanted to record for onlyfans which was for the ones who specifically pay to view his content, which apparently was a lot and the thought alone was a little nerve wrecking.

What if someone I've been with before recognized my tattoo and tells people I know? I'd be fucking done for and I'd just die on the spot of pure embarrassment.

But the money- how could I say no to that kind of money? Especially when seeing the views just his previews on pornhub get-

I'd be so fucking stupid to pass this opportunity...

Fuck it.

I get up from my bed and walk to my door quickly opening it before stepping out onto the hallway. I then do the walk of shame and walk to Miguel's room.

I made my mind up a little too fast god I'm not gonna hear the end of this from him-

I step in front of his door and knock twice before hearing a laugh. I groan and cross my arms across my chest, patiently waiting for him.

He opens the door with a wide smile but before I could even say a word my eyes trailed down his chest then to his abdomen. A small happy trail going down caught my eye as a pair of grey sweatpants hugged his hips perfectly.

God he looked so good...

Wait- how the fuck did he change so fast?

"Did you just assume I was going to say yes?" I ask, quickly looking up at him.

He shrugs and opens his door wide, motioning for me to step inside. I roll my eyes but walk in nonetheless, seeing that he was indeed very desperate for this. And apparently eager.

"I knew it'd be something hard for you to say no to." He says and shrugs, closing the door behind him.

"And I had an idea for more anonymity..." he says and walks past me.

He walks over to his desk and picks up two masks, robber masks. "We could put these on." He says and throws me a pink one.

I catch it and look down at it, cute.

"Just casually had these huh?" I mutter and play with it between my fingertips.

It only had three holes, obviously for the eyes and mouth. It honestly didn't shock me too much that he had these especially considering he didn't make content showing his face at all.

"Alright ready?"

"Where are we doing this? Should I change? Should I put makeup on-"

"Calm down-" he says and laughs, shaking his head at my sudden worries.

"We're doing this in my bathroom, I already set the camera and lights up." He explains and I nod.

"As for your clothes if you want I can give you one of my shirts and you can just leave your panties on." He says looking me up and down.

I wearing a SZA shirt with Cookie Monster pajama pants.... Yeah I definitely could've changed but maybe got a tiny bit excited..

He walked over to his dresser and picked the first one of top and then tossed it over to me. I caught it and unfold it to reveal a Nirvana tee. I shrug and walk over to his bathroom with him right on my tail.

I walk in then stop and quickly turn around to point a finger at him, "you're waiting- you can wait a few more minutes there O'Hara." He chuckles and backs up letting me close the door.

I quickly take off my tee shirt and put the one he gave me on. I leave my shirt on the sink then I slip out of my pj pants and realize it wasn't a big deal if he watched because he was going to see it all right now anyway.....

I look in the mirror and take a deep breath, I was really going to do this.... We were really going to do this...

I then take notice of the ring light and tripod that were right in front me. This was getting so real so fast and it was making me more nervous than I expected.

I breathe in then breathe out. I do it a couple more times and feel some nerves leave my body but some still lingering around.

I turn around and walk towards the door, I open it wide and Miguel stands up from his bed and walks over. "Finally." He teased and I chuckle.

"My bad." I mutter, turning back around and walk to the sink, leaning against it as Miguel walks in.

"You're good, don't worry it'll be fine." He reassured and gives me a small smile.

He walks over to his tripod and sets his phone on it and goes to the camera. He turns to me and motions for me to stand in front of the camera. I nod and do so, leaning against the seat with my nerves growing every second.

"Alright we're gonna start, if you need me to stop at any given moment just tap my thigh or anywhere twice okay?" He says and I nod.

"Audibly please?" He says and I chuckle.

"Yes I understand."

"Okay good." He says and throws me the pink robber mask.

I move all my hair to my back then slip it on. I fix the holes to align to my mouth and eyes then see Miguel doing the same. "This'll be fun." He mutters with a slight smirk on his face then he presses the button to record.

He walks over to me and gently puts his hands on my cheeks then leans in. I lean up and he leans down removing the last amount of space between us and crashes his lips onto mine. I kiss back and put a hand to his jaw and the other on his neck.

I then feel his hands slide down my body, at first staying at my waist, gripping my skin softly through the shirt until his hands go lower and his fingertips are playing with the hem of his shirt, near my ass.

He slid his tongue in my mouth and continues toying w his shirt, bringing it up slowly as our tongues fight for dominance but I stood no chance. Suddenly I feel a hard smack against my ass making me moan in his mouth.

He smiles and pulls away just to go down and start leaving open mouthed kisses on my neck. I sigh and tilt my head to the side as he slightly moves the mask to leave a mark where he wanted. He sucked on my skin then licked it softly before leaving a kiss on it.

I smile and grab his head, making sure he stayed in place as he kept playing with the skirt. He pulls away again and this time bringing the hem of the shirt up, slowly. He turns me around slowly so my behind is what the camera will see and lifts the shirt completely over my ass.

Another smack.

Then to the other cheek.

Another smack on each one, definitely already making them red and it seemed like he wanted to keep going because of the noises that were leaving his mouth. Such delicious groans.

He keeps pulling it up, exposing my entire bare back to the camera but my tits to him. He quickly brings it up and over my head, throwing it on the floor then quickly cups my tits and squeezes.

I gasp when he pinches both nipples then quickly turns me around so my ass was on his already hard bulge. His hands continue squeezing and I felt purely at bliss, heaven on earth even.

I lay my head back against his chest which makes him lean down and leave a kiss on my neck then suck gently on the skin as his hands continued kneading my tits.

His right hand then lets go of my boob and slowly trails down my stomach, as if easing me in, making me feel comfortable first. I grab on to his left arm and try to stand still, I already felt like I was going to go crazy and maybe fall over.

My fucking roommate was doing this- and he had such a good hand for these things so this was gonna be perfect.

His hand goes between my legs, gently rubbing my pussy through my panties. I spread my legs to help him out when he starts rubbing circles on my clit. I moan and buck my hips forward, already wanting more.

And he gives me just that, he starts going faster and I could feel my wetness seeping through the fabric of my little panties. "Miguel-"

He hums then rubs along my slit, my arousal already able to soak his fingers. How embarrassing.

He then removed his fingers making me whine until he pulls my panties down and lets them slide off my legs. I step out of them and kick them farther out, out of shot.

I spread my legs again and he doesn't hesitate to immediately start rubbing my clit again, not caring to ease me in anymore. He moans into my ear and dips his fingers on to my folds, my wetness enveloping them as he teases my hole making me grip harder onto his arm.

He moved that arm to grip on to my waist while I still held on to it for dear life. I couldn't trust myself to stand I knew I'd just end up falling and he was a big boy, he could handle me.

He then slid a finger in, slow at first until he slammed it in without warning. I gasped and clung on to his arm. He then started pumping in and out, deep and slow.

He started going faster, hitting deeper now until he fully stopped and added a second finger in. He started moving again, going faster and harder, making me a moaning mess as I looked down to watch in awe.

"Look how easy you're taking me baby." He murmurs in my ear and I couldn't help the whimper that came out of me.

"Feels so good-" I moan and he hums, pumping them even faster.

I felt myself clench against his fingers and listen to how fucking soaked I am, he barely even touched me..

"Rub your clit for me." He whispers and I nod, immediately bringing my right hand down to rub my clit in fast circles.

I moan out for him and he coos dirty little nothings into my ear as he starts curling his fingers up and hitting that sweet spot every time.

I was starting to feel my orgasm creep in already which had me shocked but then realized who was the one doing this to me...

"Fuck- Miguel-" I moan and lay my head back against him, he leans down to kiss my cheek oh so sweetly.

He then brings his open hand and starts pinching my left nipple, I felt my legs shake as he continued and I was slowly down because I was feeling so fucking close.

"Don't stop baby, be a good girl and keep rubbing that clit until you cum for me sweet girl." He murmurs and I whimper, clenching against his fingers as I rub my clit faster feeling that knot in my stomach about to burst.

"Miguel please- so cl-"

I dig my nails into his arms making him groan but he didn't say to stop. I felt my eyes growing hazier by the second and my thighs were trembling more and more by the second.

Suddenly I see white, I cry out and feel my climax crash and take over my body. I closed my eyes and almost fell to my knees, had Miguel strong arm not held me. My legs were trembling and Miguel's fingers were still inside, slowly fucking me through my orgasm.

I held onto him for dear life and start to calm my breathing down as I open my eyes, then quickly widening in pure shock, I had squirted all over the place.

I gasp and move my hand away from my clit, I stood silent, still in Miguel's arms in pure embarrassment. Squirting always felt so embarrassing, especially now because I didn't even mean to-

"That was probably the most perfect shoot I've done thus far." Miguel says making me scoff.

"I'm being so serious." He says finally taking his fingers out of me slowly and brings it up to his lips.

I tilt my head and look up, watching as he sucks on his fingers covered in my juices. Holy fuck.

I blink watching him as if in a trance, then he looks me directly in my eyes making me subconsciously squeeze my thighs together.

He takes them out with a plop and gives me a wide grin, "sorry but we have to do that again in the future...."

I laugh and look down embarrassed, I shrug and straighten up, "I guess we'll have to see if the people liked it..."

"I'm sure they will." He says and laughs.

"Let's get ya cleaned up then maybe we can watch a movie, if you'd like." He suggests and I look up at him and nod.

"That'd be perfect."

[kaivenom]

How the Peaky Blinders' boys dance with you

Masterlist

(All of the dances mentioned are real popular dances from the 20's, there are videos from youtube with original records if you want to check how they are)

Tommy Shelby

He doesn't ussually dance, he prefers to see you dancing and be on the corner of the room, just observing totally stunned.

The only time when he dances with you is when he needs to move around the place without raising suspicions or when you insist on it and later make him feel bad about leaving you on the dance floor.

His favourite thing to dance with you and probably the only thing is Fox-trot.

He always demands the band to change to jazz so you both could dance to the smooth and graceful rythm.

He dances slow and always looking everyone, checking that nobody does anything stupid while he is enjoying time with his partner, so everytime you need to remind him to look at you.

You can almost confirm he likes the music by the way his body swings next to yours, his fingers conecting with yours while his other hand travel firmly to your back.

John Shelby

He is a natural party person, he likes to be around and drink with everyone, but mostly he likes to dance.

And what better partner to dance that his partner itself, he always drags you to the dance floor for hours.

With all that energy and craziness his perfect dance for you both is Charleston, obviously.

The movements he does are the perfect definition of the dance, exuberant and wild.

You sometimes have trouble keeping his pace but it's always fun... and exhausting.

When he sense you are starting to feel tired, he goes to get a drink or accompanies you to take some air.

But don't be fooled, he probably drags you to the dance floor again later, at least he tries to dance things more slow.

You probably need another day without the kids to recover from the dance night.

Arthur Shelby

He is not good at dancing, he doesn't have sense of rythm so you both can't dance anything classified.

So, you go to simple dances like the Shimmy, with that you reassure him that he won't fool himself in front of other, which means a lot to him.

So, the Shimmy became your safe choice and make him want to go with you to dance.

When he tries new dance moves, everyone thinks that he is making new charleston move or that he is is drunk, usually the second one.

But at the end maybe it's not all dancing but it's surely very funny.

Michael Gray

He likes to make a show, he likes to show you off to everyone who has eyes.

Making it sensual and provocative is his passion so Tango is a must everytime you go out.

His body pressing against yours, his hands traveling to places very innapropiate to the society.

He always tells you to show your attributes to the him, which means the room, and that means to do move your legs and entangle it around him.

He also uses the dancing to assert dominance towards you and some times make you desire him.

Finn Shelby

He isn't very good at dancing but obviously not as bad as his older brother.

When the charleston stopped being trendy, he discovered the Black Bottom, just a little before everyone does.

So, when he starts dancing it in the pubs you were amazed, it was the perfect dance to hide his disorganized moves, but you were incredible stunned by it and rapidly asked him to show you.

In a couple of night out you both were the star couple of dancing but the dance was still new and nobody else did it.

A couple of months later and the Black Bottom was a trend, not thanks to both of you but now you don't need to ask for the music ... cause it's already playing whan you enter the pub.

It's funny and stimulating, probably because of both of you being really clumsy while moving.

[cheriladycl01]

Back in my Day - Fernando Alonso x AustralianOlympicBoxing! Reader

Plot: Becoming a full time paddock WAG after pregnancy and a bad boxing injury and how you wouldn’t change anything in your life!

“Do you ever miss it?” He asks as he joins you in the motor home after just going fastest in FP2. He starts to pull you into a little sweaty hug, which you don’t mind as your used to it with you both being athletes.

“Miss what?” You ask walking round cleaning up after your guys son and daughter who were currently out getting ice cream with the mechanics.

“The adrenaline of a fight, the way the gloves feel, the smell of the ring?” He asks with a distant look in his eyes.

“Of course I do, sometimes I wish I could go back just to see if I’ve still got it. But there’s more important things in my life now than boxing and … I’ve made my country proud. I want to focus on everything I missed out on when I was younger. I want to see the world with you and our kids and I want to be a present mum you know, not of fighting in a boxing ring every week” you sigh, squatting while looking up at him, half cleaning half giving him your attention.

A loud sigh comes from his as he sets himself on the sofa.

“Why what’s got you thinking about this” you ask, standing up and taking a seat next to him with a pat on his thigh.

“I just … sometimes I think back to the incident with you and how worried I was seeing you that injured. I mean … I thought you died in that ring and I know it can’t be easy to watch me in the car and I’m just thinking maybe … maybe it’s time I think about retiring?” He asks almost quietly like he’s afraid to admit what he truly had been thinking.

“Fernando it wouldn’t surprise me if your 60 and racing and scaring the living daylights out of me” you laugh looking over him.

“I’m being serious, I’ve seen how … attentive you are with the kids … and me and I think it’s time I want that life too. I’ve been playing a F1 playboy for far to long. I want to come home, wherever that is as long as I’m with you, you are my home” he smiles and tears fill your eyes.

“Fernando I love you” you kiss him.

“How do you deal with not having it in your life anymore?” He asks into your neck, making it come out a bit muffled.

“Well I have a lot of other stuff that I focus on. And I still do it, I teach it in a gym to kids and I do training in our gym so it’s not fully gone. And the feeling of winning and improving after a loss is something that is more nostalgic than anything. I don’t miss it necessarily, but it’s nice to look back on and think of what I did. Winning gold twice and silver once!” You smile, looking up in a thoughtful way.

“Hmmmmm that sounds, kind of peaceful” he offers and you laugh a little.

“Yeah I guess you could say it is. But Fernando, racing is a part of you, like boxing IS a part of me. It never really leaves you, no matter whether that’s because you continue until you physically can’t and break the record for oldest racing driver, or you own a karting track in Spain and train the next generation … or you become a manager for our son who no doubt will be a world champion with the way he looks up to you or even doing a Nico Rosberg and become a journalist… but baby, the world of F1 will never ever leave you” you assure your husband.

“You’ve made me even more confused on my deduction now” he sighs laughing and rubbing a hand over his face.

“Well whatever that decision is, I’ll be here for you” you smile.

“You know, I remember that one time, I think it was the 2012 Olympics in London, before the accident when you were so convinced you weren’t going to get gold and then you just all of a sudden had this ambition in your eyes … what was that” he asks.

“You, honesty. Your pep talk” you smile kissing his cheek.

“What do you think I should do?” He asks looking at you with the face of a lost puppy.

“That’s not a choice I can make for you my love” you smile at him patting his head leaving him to his thoughts while you go to find the kids.

Fernando stays with his own thoughts for a little before he saunters out to go find you.

As he rounds a corner he sees you messing about with the kids and Lance and it’s a sight to behold. One he can’t help but think he misses far to often.

But was he truly ready to give up his career.

“Papa” your daughter cries running over to her father the 6 year old not knowing much better than to rush off into the busy paddock lane to get to her father.

“Hello beautiful” he smiles as he picks her up, nuzzling her nose with his doing an Eskimo Kiss that they had done since she was just a baby.

Once his son came up to him, offering him an ice cream, that was starting to melt a little and starting to tell him how amazing he raced today his choice was clearer than ever.

Family came first.

y/user

Liked by fernandoalo_oficial and astonmartinf1

y/user: Life Recently. Love my kids, guess the husband is okay 👍🏼

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astonmartinf1: MOTHER 👏🏼

fan1: omg I want her life so bad

fernandoalo_oficial: my gorgeous wife! I will ignore the caption!

-> y/user: you know I joke 🥰

fan2: her and Fernando bantering makes my life

lancestroll: when will I get to see the kids again!

-> y/user: next race my first son 🤣🫶🏼

-> fan3: Y/N and Fernandos first child Lance Alonso

hater1: gold digger

-> y/user: more like gold medalist … 🥇

Instagram Story Caption:

Back at it mate 🫶🏼 🇦🇺

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[zephyrtheoctopie]

Heart of the Memverse, Veins of Order.

TASK M4NAGER!

(…name is a wip. Read its lore below the cut.)

Task M4nager came about from the ambitions of two differing entities. The conquest for Order and an unchanging world, coupled with the need for validation, the want to be acknowledged for SOMETHING by both their peers and their lovers.

But Four got a lot more than what he was bargaining for, that’s for sure.

Task M4nager is, in essence, the worst parts of Ramiel combined with the personality of Order merged to make one being. A scorned and slighted dictator, rejected by everyone.

But it wasn’t always like this.

TM was originally created by Marina as a sort of automated admin panel, able to keep the Memverse up and running without the constant need for organic oversight. TM was in charge of almost everything from the nodes, to the Spire, to even the things that spawn within and so on.

It also acted as a security system, preventing malicious viruses from entering and damaging the code. And it was *supposed* to prevent the exact circumstances that resulted in Order’s manifestation.

But it didn’t do that, did it? This failure in logic resulted in TM completely crashing and becoming basically inoperable.

You would think this would be a good thing for Order, but no actually. Despite its overriding of the system, TM was still above it in the hierarchy. And if TM hasn’t operated in a while, the Memverse’s code will start to rot and tear itself apart. The solution to this plight? The consciousness of a living being. With that, there would be no error since TM is now, well, alive.

The MV however, wasn’t open to the public yet. So Order couldn’t just pluck a random sanatized octo or something for it. But there was….a few beta testers.

Eight/Hephaeus, Acht, Pearl and…

Ramiel. Agent 4.

Out of all the potential choices, Ramiel was the most mentally malleable. See, over the past few months, he had been feeling more and more overshadowed. I mean, how could he not? Artemisa, Hephaeus, and Neo 3 had all basically saved the entire world at one point in their lives. What had Ram even done compared to that? Save a stupid glorified catfish? Hell, he didn’t even save Callie, MARIE was the one to shoot those shades off and bring her to her senses. He felt so….inadequate compared to everyone else. And it ate away at his ego, badly.

Because the MV kept tabs on its users mental states at all times, Order knew this all.

One day while Ram was finishing up recording his combat data for use in the Parallel Canons, Order came to him with a proposition.

That if he joined its cause, he would have everything he ever wanted. Recognition…

Ramiel, not in the best mental headspace, and not really knowing what he was getting himself into exactly, took it up on its offer.

Ram proceeded to have his little squid soul ripped from his physical body and transported into the Memverse, where it was planted into TM.

And thus, Task M4nager was born.

That’s about it.

Thanks if you actually took the time to read all this!

[01zfan]

dragon teeth | l. sh

singer!sohee x bartender!reader | 13.8k words

sohee installment of my rock the house seriez. Dragon Teeth makes music that sounds like the album Welcome Interstate Managers by Fountains of Wayne and this fic is heavily inspired by the song Hackensack on that album! hope you guys enjoy!

contains: semi public sex (in a car in an empty parking lot late at night), protected sex, fwb, biting and mentions of cannibalism (NOT LITERALLY), unhappy ending

Sohee unfortunately always had a dream for his life that was bigger than himself. When he turned one and he had his doljabi ceremony he crawled right past the graduation cap, the piggy bank, and ruler to go straight for the microphone. His mom described the party going completely silent. In a room full of doctors and lawyers Sohee grabbed the plastic toy microphone and refused to let go. In the pictures from that day his parents had completely straight faces while holding a smiling Sohee that was gumming on the plastic head of the toy.

Sohees’ family thought he would grow out of his dreams of becoming a singer. They thought that as he grew older and he realized how tough the world truly was he would choose a job that kept a roof over his head and food on the table. He swore that was the reason why his parents moved to a place that was simultaneously in the middle of nowhere but so close to the big city. Sohee believed that they thought that the mundane suburbs and the frigid winters would take away his voice. But he taught himself to tune the instrument in his throat and project his voice through the falling snow and sing through the cold that bit the back of his throat. Sohee did well in school despite not caring for anything outside of singing. He did it as a sign of respect to his parents and to show them that he was fully capable of excelling academically, he just didn’t want to do it. 

When he learned to drive sophomore year of highschool, the first thing Sohee did was get a job at a record store. The record store was at the midpoint between his house and the city. He worked there during the weekends, sitting at the cash register as he did his homework and watched the people coming in and out. The record store was where he met the two other members of his band. Seunghan was the only regular that never bought anything, he only constantly browsed and examined the same records Sohee had in his home. Sohee eventually started a conversation with him, sharing a rhetorical finally made a choice? when Seunghan bought his first vinyl. After playful banter they hit it off, and then a week later came Wonbin.

Wonbin was the one who technically started the band. He came into the record store asking if he could put up a flyer. LOOKING FOR VOCALIST AND BASS GUITAR was typed in the most punk-esque font available with Wonbin’s number as a detachable tab at the bottom. Sohee told Wonbin he knew a guy and the rest was history. The three of them discovered together that they had had an affinity for music and plans beyond their boring hometown (except Wonbin, because he was actually born and raised in the city).

By the time sophomore year was coming to an end Sohee, Wonbin, and Seunghan had a band and they would meet after Sohee’s shifts to practice. 

Being in such a close proximity to music made Sohee believe that he was working towards his goal of becoming a musician. But when his lemon broke down on the freeway and his parents refused to go out of their way to take him to work Sohee was forced to quit. 

He no longer had a job and nothing to remind him what he was working towards. the first weekend he spent at the family dinner table was shrouded in a tense silence. Sohee stared at his plate of jjambbong, wishing that he lived in a place where there were more options than hot stew to try and beat the cold. Despite his inner turmoil, Sohee’s families dishware hit their bowls all the same, dinner did not stop for his pity party. The only acknowledgement Sohee got of his struggle was his Dad clearing his throat from the spice before looking to his son.

“If you’re looking for a job, the new guy stopped showing up a week ago.” Sohee’s dad took another sip of his soup while Sohee clutched his hand tighter around his spoon. “His job needs to be filled.” He said.

Despite having being extremely weak, only weighing 140 pounds when soaking wet with shoes on, and being a blue collar workers worse nightmare, Sohee thought he had the upper hand in the situation. He never once thought for a second his Father was offering him a stable job out of pity. Sohee only ignored the offer, telling himself I’ll take my talents somewhere else. That night he rang Seunghan and Wonbin on his Nokia 7650 and told them they have to get serious about the band. At the top of Sohee’s mental list was making a demo, then right under that was finding an agent and selling a million records then selling out shows. When Wonbin yelled into the receiver With what money? Sohee added getting gigs to the top of the list.

That’s what led Sohee to the stage. Except the stage wasn’t a sold out show at Madison Square Garden, it wasn’t the Apollo Theater or Radio City Music Hall, it wasn’t even the standing room at Irving Plaza. Sohee, Seunghan, and Wonbin were on the small wooden stage performing to the usual Friday night crowd at his local dive bar. 

The three yellow lights that shined on him and his bandmates were blinding. In the beginning when they didn’t know what to do about the lights and they were still nervous about performing in front of others, Wonbin and Seunghan would be so blinded by the light that they would play the wrong notes. They eventually learned to play with their eyes closed, or to move around the stage so the lights beamed on their shoulders instead of their eyes. Sohee however refused to back down to the light, he learned that he had to point his eyes downward and furrow his brows to alleviate the brightness. 

The view of the men in their business suits wasn’t much better than the light blinding him. The way they sat in their leaning bar stools with backs facing the band was almost abysmal. The trio still fought hard for the attention of grown men who couldn’t care less, even if there was less than five feet of space separating them from the wooden stage they performed on. They sang songs to try and get the most amount of tips. Pop was last week, which only earned chump change and boos from the contractors with dirty and rough hands. The week before that was RnB, which only a few seemed to enjoy. What always earned the band the most money was performing sad dreary songs that matched the mood of the bar. Sohee sang the lyrics to an old sad rock song while looking at the exposed asscracks of the swaying drunk men in front of him. 

God this was depressing. 

Sohee didn’t know why he always found himself at this dingy bar. There were plenty of other bars in his hometown, ones filled with young adults that wanted to have a good time instead of middle aged men that hated their lives and were stingy with their pocket change. Sohee’s bandmates knew it too. Each week Wonbin would groan and Seunghan would roll his eyes before saying that place, again? All three of them knew that they’d be better off trying to raise funds for studio time by working for Sohee’s dad. But the hours were even worse than this and they had no skill or the means to do good when it came to manual labor. 

“What other choice do we have?” Sohee would always reason.

(They had plenty of other choices; all three of them knew it.)

But Sohee ignored the shortcomings of the bar for the most part. He told himself there was some sort of midwest-on-the-east-coast charm that no other place had. Because of his hometowns proximity to the big city there was always a sort of disingenuous aura that circled many places the younger crowd frequented. Bars wanted to be like the city without being in the city, and it always seemed pitiful. Also the chance of running into someone they graduated with made all three of them feel physically ill. The important thing was that Dragon Teeth prided itself on being authentic, and there was nothing more authentic than the dive bar off the highway in a rural town that smelled like smoke and served the working class. 

Sohee always told himself he’d miss the bar when he eventually made it big. Maybe he’d reference it in a song or talk about it on a podcast in twenty years or mention it in his autobiography. He’d talk about the perpetually broken jukebox that only played Neon Moon by Brooks & Dunn, the squeaky seats that all leaned to the side, and the pretty bartender that he sang songs for.

You and Sohee came up side by side throughout public school. In a small town, you ended up going to school with the same people your whole life. the people you sat by in kindergarten you would end up seeing at your graduation, with both parties pretending like they didn’t grow up parallel to eachother. So Sohee knew of you, but he didn’t necessarily know you. He knew the basics, like your anime phase in fifth grade, and the indie rock band phase in seventh grade. He knew that you went through a terrible breakup your freshman year, but not as bad as the falling out with your friend group junior year. Sohee knew that you took messy notes but had tidy handwriting and you always had your phone within arms reach.

Sohee told himself he would finally speak to you senior year when you were assigned to the same table first period, because who the hell gives seating assignments to seniors? the proximity he had to you was nothing less than fate. 

Sohee remembered showing up to class early the next day waiting for you to come through the door. He shifted in his plastic red seat a million times expecting to see you trudge through the open door. But when the bell rang and the teacher started doing role call to a half empty classroom Sohee suddenly realized that no senior who had a car would come to a meaningless first period class.

Because of your absence permanent absence in class, Sohee only saw you in passing—another benefit about going to a small public school—until graduation. But there was no way he was going to talk to you and stop the flow of traffic in the double space hallway. What he wanted with you either had to be through a painfully awkward interaction in class that would be interrupted by the teacher or nothing at all. So he let bygones be bygones, he let you pass by him on your way to the classes you actually attended and before he knew it, he had graduated. Sohee saw you with your family for the first time, and he found out through a senior ceremony that you had the same plan he did after graduation—absolutely nothing.

But unlike you, Sohee told himself that he was keeping his big plans a secret. Only him and the other members of Dragon Teeth knew that they planned on becoming a famous indie band that was going to sell out arenas and sell a bajillion records. The only thing that was stopping them was their lack of a demo tape, a record label, and an actual band name (Dragon Teeth was just a stand in, but Sohee was working hard to change the minds of Seunghan and Wonbin). 

Sohee ended up at the dive bar because his band needed the extra funds. Just when the temperature started dropping and the reality of studio cost time started setting in, they remembered that they needed money to run a band.

In the beginning they performed at any bar that would take them. The trio would play whatever songs to get the most amount of money, even if it came at the cost of their musicality. They sacrificed being seen as serious musicians to take song requests, no matter how ridiculous. They jumped from place to place, collectively agreeing that they were becoming skeeved out from the band they were becoming. 

The three of them would’ve never thought that they’d find authenticity at the rundown dive bar off the highway. Initially the three of them thought the place was abandoned. No signage on the bar indicated sign of life other than the flashing WE’RE OPEN sign. 

“Can’t be worse than The Goalpost.” Wonbin said hopefully.

Sohee and Seunghan nodded while leaving Wonbin’s car. They had a plethora of terrible experience at The Goalpost. The three of them frequented the bar due to the amount of tips they would receive, but it always came with a price. There was a time when a girl threw up in Wonbin’s guitar case right as they were done for the night and there were several instances of drunk college students stealing Sohee’s microphone acting like it was karaoke night. The most recent event—and the one that drove them away from The Goalpost entirely—was the random bar fight  over two rival colleges that ended with the police being called and Seunghan getting punched in the face. They silently recalled suddenly being caught in the middle of people screaming while they sang We Are The Champions. Sohee remembered pressing a piece of raw meat to Seunghan’s face thinking it would cure his incoming black eye as they got closer and closer to the bar. The rotting wood of the steps slightly gave underneath their feet, the only thing that willed them forward was remembering the bar owner of The Goalpost trying to take a portion of their earnings.

“Can’t be worse than The Goalpost.” Seunghan echoed.

Wonbin nodded and reached forward towards the door. Immediately when he applied pressure to the rusty handle of the door it leaned so far forward it almost broke off it’s hinges. Wonbin yelped and pulled even harder on instinct, forcing Sohee and Seunghan to quickly press their hands to the chipping wood to keep it anchored to the wall. For a moment the three of them were caught in limbo, with Wonbin pulling on the door while Sohee and Seunghan pushed.

“Just let it lean!” An annoyed voice yelled from inside the bar.

When quiet laughter followed and they realized they made fools of themselves, the three of them took their hands timidly away from the door. They flinched in unison when it started leaning further and further to the ground, but it came to a slow creaking stop with just enough space for the three of them to slink through. The three of them inched past the door, all of them terrified the door was going to give in and close on them.

From outside, it was easy to tell that the bar wasn’t very well lit. Besides the flickering WE’RE OPEN sign and a dim blue light that could be seen through the window there was nothing that could be seen from the outside. But being inside the bar was significantly worse. Anything past his mid-calf was swallowed by darkness. The only indication that they were even stepping on the ground was the slight stick underneath the soles of his shoes. The primary lighting was from the purple and blue hues of the jukebox and the illumination from the ancient tiny television that seemed to be on a permanent rerun of sports. There was a communal remote for the television, sitting atop the bar in front of the limited and extremely vintage six dispenser tap machine (there were plastic bags covering the two taps in the middle, so it was really four). 

Even in the dark, everything looked like it creaked or was sticky or both. There was no stage, there were barely people occupying the barstools and chairs. Patrons were coming and going, all of them passed Sohee and his two confused bandmates as they gravitated towards their seats. Everyone seemed to know where they were going, drifting towards their unofficial assigned seats as they looked towards the television.  They seemed alarmingly content in the stuffy atmosphere of the bar. No one paid attention to the band outside of their run-in with the door. As if nothing happened everyone went back to nursing their beers and sitting around in complete silence.

“This is actually much worse than The Goalpost.” Wonbin said outloud. No one turned in their seats, Sohee swears he even heard someone make a sound of agreement.

“Lucky’s is going to open soon,” Sohee started turning towards the still open door. “if we hurry we might be able to perform there for the night.” He said.

Seunghan and Wonbin nodded, casting one more glance at the dark bar before turning following behind their leader. 

Sohee was so close to escaping. Later that week Sohee would be told by Anton that Lucky’s was packed and there was a large party of people looking for a band to play Taylor Swift. Anton told Sohee that they were throwing money around like it was a strip club while they did karaoke on their open tabs. That night at Lucky’s would’ve bought them studio time three times over, but right as they were about to push through the leaning door you came from the cramped back of house with beer glasses in your hands.

“Is that Lee Sohee?” You said.

Sohee turned around slowly, seeing that his bandmates were already frozen. Sohee was the last of his band to see you in the flesh, standing behind the bar looking at him. You set the beer glasses on the wooden bar in front of you, and for the first time that night he had the attention of everyone in the bar. He was a deer caught in the headlights and you were behind the car, mouth agape before turning into a smile.

“What brings you here?” You continued.

Like a spotlight had shined directly on him, Sohee was at a loss for words. Everyone in the bar still had their eyes on him, even Wonbin and Seunghan turned to look at him. He was blessed that in the darkness of the bar no one could see the red on the tip of his nose or his ears. All anyone saw was Sohee sheepishly look towards his two bandmates before clearing his throat.

“We perform at bars—”

“Our jukebox literally broke last night!” Sohee watched you put your hands on the bar and lean forward towards him. For a moment he’s taken back to first period, how he missed having you beside him all year. “And here you three are the next day—almost like it’s fate.” You said smiling.

You said it’s fate—how could Sohee possibly go anywhere else? 

His bands permanent residence started that night. The Goalpost and Lucky’s didn’t stand a chance when he saw your eyes light up. When you nodded quickly after Sohee offered to add ambience to the bar—despite Wonbin and Seunghans’ clear faces of shock—he knew they would be spending as much time as they could there.

Sohee went from barely seeing you to having you partially at his disposal seven nights a week. He never brought up that he knew so much about you, but he was on the receiving end of your care. Sohee watched you offer free drinks for a year to whoever built a stage for his band to perform on. Within the week the wooden stage was erected and even had enough room and spacing to account for the instruments and cords on the rare occasion Wonbin brought out his electric guitar. 

Sohee wondered if you were keeping your big life plans a secret like he was. One night when it wasn’t busy and you didn’t have to run around to tend to your customers, he leaned over the bar one night and got extra close to you to feign closeness and privacy when he asked you about your plans. You truly seemed taken aback by his question, only giving him a shrug as you pulled on the Brotherton IPA tap. 

”I’m not too sure.” You said while avoiding eye contact. “I haven’t thought about it too much.”

In the awkward silence Sohee realized the rest of his conversation was contingent on your answer. He was grasping at nothing, the moment to talk to you was fleeting as the beer glass was almost filled to the top.

“My band is going to do really well.” He spoke quickly trying to fill in the gap. When you looked up at him from the tap he only doubled down. “We are gonna sell a bunch of records and sell out shows.” Sohee said.

“Oh really?” You asked with amusement. 

Sohee averted his eyes down to the beer glass as you pushed the creaky tap back up to it’s original position. He felt a strong sense of pride having your full attention, you only gave the person who ordered the beer a simple head nod as you stayed focused on him. 

Maybe he was partially at fault for your non-answers. He didn’t know whether to believe your lack of plans or not, but he never had the chance to ask you what you were saving all your money for because he had the tendency to ramble off about his band in your presence. It was especially hard to find the time to pry about your personal life when he only got the chance to see you alone in the confines of your car before proceeding to do what you always did on nights you worked and he sang for you.

Nights when you would close the bar and Sohee would perform—which was almost every night—had almost become a routine. After you gave Sohee the signal for last call his band would perform one final song. After Seunghan or Wonbin thwarted Sohee’s attempt to say the band’s name (tonight it was Wonbin. He cleared his throat obnoxiously into the microphone so feedback was over Sohee saying This was Dragon Teeth) the band would pack up their things and get ready to go. The band would work around the microphone stands and the wires onstage to pack up their instruments while the stragglers left the bar. Occasionally they would get more tips on their way out. Crumpled dollar bills would find their way into Wonbin’s guitar case or placed on Sohee’s hands by sweaty palms. Sohee would replay the gruff keep up the good work kid as he handed the tip money to Wonbin for safe keeping. Only after you turned the lights on would the final person sway out of the bar and bid his drunk final regards. 

Each time the regular lights went up Sohee would have to squint his eyes in an effort to adjust. He’d always be shocked about how abysmal the place looked when everything lit up. The dark brown finish of the bar had countless scratches and water stains from people who didn’t use coasters, the tables were all different colors and uneven on one side at the very least, and every single piece of wall decoration had a yellow tint from age. You were the only redeeming thing in the place and Sohee more often than not found himself looking at you instead of packing his things up. By the time his bandmates were leaving the bar he was only halfway done, instead focused on watching you wipe off the bar counter and tabletops. When Seunghan and Wonbin were making their way to the exit, Sohee was watching your focused face count the tills.

“Sohee.” 

He was never sure if it was Wonbin or Seunghan calling his name, he would just look to them with their instrument cases in hands and defeated looks on their faces as they flicked their heads through the door.

“You coming or what?” Seunghan asked.

All the way to the car, Sohee would act like he would be joining them. But when they made it to Wonbin’s beat up 2000 Honda Accord, Sohee would always have an excuse lined up. Sohee would look his friends dead in the face and lie saying I forgot my mic pack, She’s going to give us our tips,or I forgot to ask her if we are good for tomorrow. Anything to avoid telling his bandmates She’s going to give me a ride home because we have sex in her car every night, remember? 

Without fail, Wonbin and Seunghan would only shrug before loading up in the silver car and heading home. Sohee didn’t know if they thought there was something going on and even if it never got in the way of the bands activities he still felt guilty for it. He was the de facto leader of Dragon Teeth due to him being the main vocalist and the one who was essentially in charge of getting the gigs. Sohee often wondered while waiting for you to finish closing if he would be kicked out of the band in the instance Wonbin and Seunghan found out about you two. They had no reason to give Sohee the boot, but when Sohee felt extra guilty he would always help them load their things into Wonbin’s trunk and make plans for the band the next day.

“Let’s meet at Wonbin’s house around noon and finish writing that song.” Sohee said after slamming the trunk closed.

“I work at the cafe tomorrow.” Wonbin rubbed his eyes with both of his hands before finishing the rest of his sentence. “Not off ‘till one.” He said.

Seunghan was already in the passenger seat leaning it back to take a nap. Sohee nodded before changing the plans to start at three, earning a tired yes from his bandmates. Wonbin got up from leaning against the side of his car car to go inside. The old thing came to life right next to Sohee and he acted like he was considering getting inside. Sohee felt his heart begin to race in its cage, as he watched Wonbin roll down the window and raise his eyebrows at him.

“What are you doing?” Wonbin asked.

His bandmates voice was already deep from exhaustion and annoyance. Sohee knew better than to push his buttons so he gave up the theatrics quickly. He ignored the hammering in his chest to lean down o eye level with Wonbin as his fingers anxiously tapped on the window. He saw that Seunghan’s head was already lulled to the side as he snored loudly.

“I’m gonna stay behind. She closed later than usual so i’m a li—”

“Alright.” Wonbin interrupted Sohee before he could give a half-assed reason why. “Text me when you get home.” He said.

Before Sohee could even reply, he watched Wonbin’s window back up as he was looked behind him to back out of the parking space. Sohee backed away from the car waved goodbye before Wonbin turned out of the parking lot and left completely.

When Wonbin’s taillights were out of sight, Sohee was completely still for a moment. He looked at your lonely car in its secluded parking space then back to the bar. There was fleeting thought in his mind that he should’ve gone home with his bandmates. But he was shamefully uninterested in sitting in silence with Wonbin and Seunghan when he could be sitting in silence with you. So Sohee kicked the rocks underneath his feet and stuffed his already cold hands into the pockets of his hoodie as he started carefully calculating how long it would take you to finish closing the bar.

Sohee eventually meandered underneath the only functioning lamp post in the basically empty parking lot. He knew that after the sun went down the temperature was going to drop, but it seemed to be getting even colder as he stood outside. He prayed for some sort of warmth underneath the flickering light in the parking lot. His jacket pockets provided little to no relief, and the quick vaporized puffs of air did nothing to warm his body. He tried jumped up and down and moving in place, but any warmth brought to his limbs vanished almost instantly. He looked around to the staff exit before cutting his eyes to the three other lamp posts that had burnt out bulbs and offered no illumination in the dead of night. Sohee walked around the concrete base of the singular working lamp post, he wrapped his hand around the cold metal circumference of the lamppost and spun in a circle like a child. He kicked tiny rocks and checked the time on his tiny phone screen—How long did it take to close down a bar anyway?

When the lamp post he stood under started flickering, Sohee felt himself finally start to get nervous. He thought about the odds of being mugged in this dimly lit parking lot. The chances were slim, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. Maybe a drunk and disorderly businessman was lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity to attack. Maybe there was someone sketchy coming off the highway looking for the perfect victim. Sohee looked around suspiciously, waiting for a culprit to pop out from behind a tree trunk or come out from underneath your car. A shiver ran through his body before he pulled his hoodie up over his head, trying to make himself seem bulkier and scarier than he actually was. Sohee took his hands from his pockets to check his phone again.

After he saw only a minute had passed he stuffed his phone back into his pocket and blew warm air into his hands again. When the lamp post flickered again he looked up, praying silently it wouldn’t go out leaving him in complete darkness. Sohee’s eyes also focused on the bugs circling the light and he wondered if the insects were thinking the same thing. They circled the light like it was a life source, a phenomenon that was a scientific mystery—Did they think the light was leading them the way? Were they following the warmth? Were they blinded? Were they looking for an escape?

“Am I a bug?” Sohee wondered out loud.

“What?” 

Sohee turned around at the sound of your voice. Of course he missed you coming out and didn’t hear your feet dragging on the pavement and of course he embarrassed himself in front of you.

“What did you just say?” You repeated. 

When you were in front of Sohee, he noticed that your eyes didn’t tilt upwards to pay attention to the flickering lightbulb. He figured you were used to things breaking and not working so much to the point that it didn’t even register you two were about to be left in complete darkness. You only continued looking at him, with your hip cocked to the side and your head tilted the same way. For the first time in his life, Sohee wished that the lightbulb would suddenly go out. Something about being in complete darkness in the cold was more comforting than being underneath your scrutinizing stare. But was it really scrutiny if you seemed so happy to see him? You looked at him with wonder, but Sohee still felt intimidated as he started rubbing his suddenly not-so-cold hands together. The lamp post seemed to be intimidated too, because the light that was going to burn out any second started shining steadily, maybe even brighter than before. A shiver ran through Sohee’s body as your face was fully lit for him and he remembered he was cold. You did a once over of him, staying on the pulled drawstrings of his hoodie.

“Nothing.” Sohee shook his head when he remembered he was supposed to answer your question. “Just thinking out loud.” He said.

Sohee was able to see your head cocked to the side in confusion only for a moment longer before you walked past him towards your car. He followed after you, looking down at your work crocs that dragged on the paved parking lot and kicked up rocks. He was surprised he didn’t hear you trudge towards him. The work day seemed to weigh down heavily on your entirely body. He watched your shoulders sag as he went to the passenger side and when he looked at you over the top of the car he could see the shadow of forming eye bags. You ruffled in your purse, moving around things that didn’t need to be in there in search of your keys. If it was any of Sohee’s friends, he would’ve started impatiently pulling at the handle in annoyance and complaining about waiting in the cold. But with you he only bounced on his feet to try and stay warm and looked at you.

He didn’t complain nearly as much as he should’ve while around you. The worst part was that he knew had plenty to complain about. 

Both of you got into the car at the same time. You closed your door first and manually put the lock down. Sohee closed his door afterwards and pressed the automatic button on the door. He shuffled in his seat, trying to become comfortable and force his body to warm up as he rubbed his hands together. while you sorted out your things, Sohee stole glances at you trying not to make his looks obvious. Anytime your head would even tilt towards his general direction he would blow hot air into his hands, trying to cover up what he was really doing. 

Sohee watched you put your water bottle in the cupholder before moving your bag towards the feet space of the passenger side. The two of you had done this enough that you made a routine, you didn’t have to tell Sohee excuse me anymore. He knew that your bag wasn’t going in the backseat because it would be occupied soon, and that your bags temporary residency was the space beside his feet. He moved his feet more than he had to without saying a word, and you slipped your purse in space he made for you.

“Thanks.” You said.

Sohee hummed while turning on the light in the front center of your car. The yellow glow filled the space of your dads old 2003 Forester. You often said it was the best thing he’s done for you as a father, arguably the only thing. The car was a shade of deep green except for the gray scrape in its side from when your Mom got in a fight with a shopping cart and lost, but it ran well and had an insane amount of space in the back row of seats. You seemed to like it too, despite it being completely different from the cars girls your age drove. You often referred to the car as your baby and didn’t take kindly to messes. Sohee (as far as he knew—he didn’t know how many men you drove around and he didn’t want to know) was the only person, besides you, that was allowed to eat and drink inside of the vehicle. 

Sohee was also the only person (once again, he hoped) you let fuck you in the backseat. 

He could already see it in your eyes, no longer low from sleep but something arguably far more tiring. From the overhead light Sohee could already see the shine on the glassy surface of your eye. They did quick looks of his whole body, darting from his neck to his hands that were clasped tightly together. 

Even if Sohee felt the same excitement that was written clearly on your entire person, he still leaned against the passenger side door when you put your elbows on the center console to come closer to him. Anytime you rocked slightly closer Sohee felt excitement and panic shoot up his spine at the same time, causing his hair to stand on end.

This was the part of the routine when Sohee would look shyly away from you and fail to hide his smile. An exhale from you would fill the air of your car and then stillness would overtake it. He imagined in this moment you let your tiring day that you compartmentalized come to the surface just so you could kiss and fuck it away. After that, Sohee would still be looking down where his seat and the center console met while he listened to you move around in your thick jacket to compensate for the sudden heat that came across your body. Sohee would wonder to himself what was in the crack of his seat and the center console, wondering if the plastic Casio watch he stole from his sister was still somewhere deep in there. Sometimes he swore he could hear the short beep from a new hour when your car was too silent. Maybe he was imagining things, because you never reacted to the sound. 

When your hand reached across the center console of your car Sohee had to silently remind himself why he hated this town and his life so much. He drew in a deep breath when you pinched at the sleeve of his thin hoodie in a shy and silent command for him to come closer to you.

This town is nothing.

Sohee turned in the passenger seat and planted his hands on the center console. You turned fully in your seat, pressing against your steering wheel to avoid honking the horn.

It’s so disconnected from the arts.

You both slowly started leaning forward. Sohee could feel you hold the fabric of his hoodie a little tighter. Your fingers pressed into his wrist as you lightly pulled him towards you. 

There’s nothing to do here.

Sohee could see his shadow casted on your face as you two invaded eachothers space more and more. He could see the overhead light of your car swimming in your eyes. He imagined how you two looked from the outside, one of the two sources of light in this parking lot. He wondered if anyone off the highway could see you two, if they wondered what was going on inside of a car at this time of night. Sohee’s hand went from the center console to hold your face. You leaned into his palm as your other hand gripped his shoulder.

I hate it here.

Sohee watched you lick your lips and part them slightly. He did the same and waited for impact like you were an asteroid falling from the sky. Sohee was a Quetzalcoatlus, flying freely in the sky not knowing that he was about to die. 

He heard the deep muffled beep in the back of his mind before he opened his partially closed eyes. Sohee suddenly felt the urge to remind himself what he was doing this all for as he pulled away from you slightly.

“How’d I sing today?” Sohee asked.

His attempt to calm the racing thoughts in his mind pulled you from the moment. Sohee felt sick relief at your rapid blinking as you tried registering his question. Seeing the gears turn in your mind gave Sohee enough time to think clearly and stop his heart from jumping out of its cage. His eyes snapped to the dimly lit backseat of your car as you licked your lips again.

“You did amazing.” Your voice was somehow already hoarse as you reached forward and gently pulled at the top of his zipper. “You know you’re my favorite singer.” You said.

This town isn’t all that bad. The winters were manageable and heavy snow storms are one of the few wonders left in the world. There are decent shopping malls and a brewery that has a good scene. There was a cute two bedroom apartment that was also only an hour from Midtown Manhattan, and an hour and fifteen minutes away from the cheapest recording studio in New York (which was upstate in the opposite direction, but that’s besides the point). 

You looked to Sohee’s face one last time before fully focusing on his hoodie. Sohee looked down to your hands that were barely peaking past the sleeve of your oversized jacket as you slowly started unzipping him.

This small town was a hidden gem in America. They sometimes filmed Hallmark movies here. Maybe if I talked to the right people I could land a job making the soundtrack, or at the very least help the person who makes it.

You pulled Sohee’s zipper half way down before you started reaching for your own jacket. The sound of multiple buttons unclasping at once made Sohee realize he had a job to do. He  started working himself out of his own jacket, a rushed hand pulling his zipper down the rest of the way. You were somehow faster, your jacket was off your arms and behind your body by the time Sohee finally took his hoodie off. He was fumbling with his brown leather belt as smiled and kissed his forehead before clearing the center console to head to the backseat.

He couldn’t get the belt off of him no matter how hard he tried. He swore something was holding his belt together, like a tiny invisible elf was holding on the metal that was in the first hole of his held. Sohee always fumbled in moments like these, when he needed his hands the most they seemed to fail him. For a moment he was transported to an embarrassing moment at his sixth grade talent show where he fumbled while trying to play the piano. When he heard the sound of your pants being pulled off your body he got even more impatient. After letting out a deep breath he went to his shirt quickly, pulling his graphic tee off with one hand and throwing it into the drivers seat. His hands went back to the belt after, and the sound of the buckle finally coming loose filled the car with a clanking metal sound.

“Sohee.” He looked behind him to see you reach forward to put your bra in the drivers seat on top of the Star Wars logo printed to his shirt. “Please hurry.” You whined. 

Sohee had his jeans at his ankles in seconds. He pulled his legs out the same time he was clambering over the center console to follow you. When he was situated on the side opposite of you he regained some of his composure back. He patiently pulled his leg out the rest of the way and tossed his jeans diagonally to lay on top of your bra. He reacted to the sound of his belt buckle knocking your window but you did not. Your eyebrow only twitched slightly as you leaned back against the window, and Sohee’s attention was pulled to you entirely. He looked at your perked nipples poke through the material of your tight shirt and the way it rode up to reveal the tiny bow at the top of your panties.

Sohee settled into the door on the opposite side from you. He developed the habit of following your every move, leading to tension that was so thick you could cut it with a knife. He was unmoving, like you were going to pounce any second and you would pinch the fabric of the clothes you still wore. Sohee wondered if it was a nervous habit of yours, if you weren’t always sure he actually wanted you and you were playing with the hem of your tight shirt to distract yourself from your thoughts. Admittedly moments of silence like this when before you two would fuck in your car was entirely too intimate for casual fuck buddies. When you stared at Sohee and he stared back he got the insane urge to tell you that he knows you, and that he wanted to ell you if you ever bothered to come to your first period class senior year. 

(He also wanted to tell you that lately he started hearing you voice in every song about love and every romance movie. He actually had to do a double take when watching Romance & Cigarettes in Wonbin’s apartment because for a split second he thought you were an extra beside Christopher Walken on the busy streets of Queens, New York. He also swore he heard your voice as one of the little sea turtles when he saw Finding Nemo in theaters with his sisters. This was surprisingly harder to disprove because he couldn’t see your face.

He also wanted to tell you that he would spend an eternity just staring at you underneath the dim light of your car before kissing you in the dead of winter, even if it came at the cost of his career. But Sohee knew somethings, especially that thing was better left unsaid. You would unfortunately just have to suffer through short moments of insecurity so Sohee could keep his sanity. 

Yes, he knew it was selfish, but what rockstar isn’t?)

The overhead light made you look like a dream in front of Sohee, and he hated the shadows in the car for obstructing his vision. When you moved in your nipples poking through your shirt turned to shadows, and he could barely see the way your thighs pressed together. He wanted to see you clearly, he wanted to touch you so badly that he had to remind himself of the other things he wanted in his life.

You started scooting towards Sohee’s side of the car and he had to remind himself he wouldn’t be here in a years time. When you placed your hand on his thigh opposite of your body he told himself that he wanted a Grammy. When you started rubbing the soft skin of his inner thigh everything else left his mind, his mental vision board slipped through his fingers like sand.

You kissed his bare shoulders once and Sohee sighed to lean his head against the back row of seats. He lifted the arm that was in between your two bodies and wrapped it around your shoulder to pull you closer to him. You burrowed deeper into Sohee’s side as your lips travelled from his shoulder to his cheek neck. For a moment you stayed there, your lips found its home where his neck and shoulders met. Sohee felt your hot breath fan the area before your lips poked past your cheek and wet the area. Sohee panic response was fully alert, he bent his neck to the side as a reflex when he felt your teeth press into his skin. With a laugh you showed him mercy, and started trailing your lips up the side of his neck. He puckered his lips and kissed the air the same time you would kiss his bare skin. He already seemed lost, he had to close his eyes to remember who he wanted to become. Focusing on anything but you was embarrassing but it was something Sohee had to do to keep the noises he wanted to make at bay. 

His other hand went to your thigh as he tried maneuvering you to come on top of him. You ignored his obvious advances—to ironically distract himself from you with your body—instead moving your hand painfully slow to rest on top of the bulge in his boxers. You let your hand settle deeper on Sohee’s clothed dick, and like a reflex Sohee’s hand on your shoulder tightened its grip.

“Holy shit.” He breathed.

Usually when you two would mess around in your car after your shift, it was one or the other. Either Sohee would get a handjob that was embarrassingly wet and almost humiliating while you were completely clothed and he was completely naked, or you would ride him while you kept only your shirt on and let the seat back so Sohee could pathetically look up at you. So when you stayed in your shirt, and the backseat of your car stayed upright, Sohee foolishly thought he was only going to feel your walls clamp around him tonight. But he felt your hand tighten its grip around the clothed tip of his dick before you worked through the fly of his boxers. Sohee’s hand that cradled your face twitched and his lips faltered when he felt your hand around his dick.

“What are you doing?” He whimpered and bucked his hips just from your hand wrapping around the base of his dick.

Your eyes were already wet a blown out from want when you started slowly jerking him off. Sohee regretfully kept his eyes on you, waiting for an answer as to why you were torturing him. The routine you two made was important, but you were abandoning it just to revel in his pathetic whines and twitching hips. Sohee moved his gaze down to your glossy bottom lip that smirked before being caught between your teeth.

“Feeling sentimental.” You squeezed your hand around his tip and Sohee shook his head from the torture that hurt so good. “You mind if we have a little more fun than usual tonight?” You asked breathlessly

Fun. You had the habit of calling whatever this was in the backseat of your car fun. You confused him the first time you said it to him. He sat in the passenger seat while you eyed him up and down, you were alot more obvious with your attraction than you were now. You brought him in close before asking Do you want to have some fun, you were alot bolder than too. But Sohee gave you grace, he figured saying fun was the perfect middle ground between the casual hookup and the intimacy he (hoped) you reserved only for eachother. But having fun to Sohee was writing music and singing. Having fun was imagining the future and thinking about the track list for his bands debut album. Watching your hand jump underneath the fabric of his boxers was anything but fun. Watching your chest move in your tight shirt and feeling your lips press hasty kisses to his face wasn’t fun. 

He believed this was attempted murder and you were going to kill him.

“What’s wrong?” Your hold on his dick loosened and against his will, once again, Sohee whined and rutted into your hand. “I thought you liked it when I did this.” You said.

You held your head up from resting against Sohee’s shoulder to look him in the eyes. They were large and filled with worry, and Sohee felt his dick jump in his boxers and his heart lurch forward.

He really needs to start keeping track of how many times you tried to kill him.

“No baby, I like it alot.” Honestly Sohee liked it too much—he believed he could get off from you just squeezing the root of his dick and whining in his ear and looking at him. His hips lifted on their own accord again and Sohee had to lean back against the seat to focus on breathing. “Keep going, it feels so good.” He begged.

Sohee drove his point home by reaching his hand that wasn’t holding onto your shoulder for dear life to press into your clothed heat. Instantly he felt your hips preen towards him, so abruptly that you scooted down the seat. You faltered between your kisses to let out a shaky sigh, and Sohee had to open his eyes to stare at the ceiling of your car. He pressed deeper to draw more sound out of you, and you squeezed your hand around his dick to make him squirm more. 

Eventually the teasing became too much and you gave up trying to kiss all together. You just settled further into Sohee’s side as your hands became more rushed. Sohee’s head lulled against your backseat while you seeped through the thin material of your panties. The deeper and deeper his fingers pressed into you the higher your voice and sounds became. When Sohee finally brought the hand that was gripping your shoulders down to your waist to pull your panties to the side. He wasted to time sticking his fingers into your cunt, but hearing your sudden desperate sounds made Sohee’s fingers became erratic. He was being pulled thinner and you jumbled his brain to such an effect that he couldn’t decide between scissoring his fingers inside of you or trying to hit a spot particularly deep. He started doing both in a foggy lust-filled panic, but even when he thought you were on the verge of stopping him and kicking him out of your car he started feeling your drool leak to his bare chest.

“Oh my God.” You mumbled.

Sohee looked down to see your eyes were squeezed shut. Feeling your hips push into his hand was one thing, but seeing it with his own two eyes was an entirely different beast. You were chasing after something Sohee was giving to you when he wasn’t entirely sure himself what he was doing. He only watched you, hoping to etch the scene into his mind forever. Your walls clenched around his fingers, and Sohee felt more precum leak from his tip onto your already sticky hand.

“Oh my God.” He echoed.

He was convinced you were going to kill him. You were going to kill his dreams and aspirations of making it in New York. Sohee was going to end up becoming the manager at the record store he used to work, or end up working for his father. Sohee would end up disbanding Dragon Teeth and using his portion of the earnings for a deposit on an apartment with you. You were going to take away his voice, the naive glint in his eye, and the God complex the same way his Father did to his Mother. 

“I’m close, Sohee. So close.” You started speeding up your hand and Sohee’s own sounds started slipping past his lips. It was almost disgusting hearing the pathetic sounds bounce off the walls of your Dad’s old car. “Are you?” You asked pitifully.

Instead of answering, Sohee used the last of his crumbling strength to bring his hand that was still holding your panties to the side underneath your chin. He lifted your gaze, and the yellow light of your car bathed your face in a warm glow. The light reflected off of your clammy skin as you looked to him with so much want and desperation. For a moment Sohees’ impeding orgasm was banished to the outer realm of his mind as he took in your furrowed eyebrows and glassy eyes.

Arguably it was more disturbing how he would let you take it all away from him. No amount of awards won or sold-out shows could amount to the transparency in your eyes during moments like these. Everything out on the surface, just for him. He wanted to eat you alive and he wanted you to do the same thing to him, and then he wanted to make a song about it.  

Sohee caught your lips on his, pressing deep into your pout like you always did with him. You somehow tasted like the dingy bar, like the warm air and the stale taste of the aging snacks you neatly set out every night. Sohee wanted to see if he could taste the nearly metallic tap water on your tongue so he pushed deeper. When his tongue broke past your lips your whole body froze. He could tell you weren’t used to him taking the lead, but he was also feeling something in the air tonight. You got used to it and accepted him quickly, the same way everyone who lives here gets used to change.

“Right there, Sohee.” You whimpered against his lips and held onto his shoulder a little tighter, pulling him into you.

He was already dead, and he couldn’t care less. He wanted to be buried in your backyard, or maybe underneath your bed. He wouldn’t mind the smell, he hoped it would be the same for you.

Maybe if he was lucky his future child would become a rockstar. During their future acceptance speech for an award they would thank you two, getting teary eyed as they talked about the sacrifice his parents made. Then the camera would cut to you and Sohee, sitting side by side. Your faces would be all wrinkly and your eyes would be dead from working sleepless nights and worrying if your artistic child would make anything of their lives, but you two would be holding hands the same way you were clutching his his now.

After Sohee pulled away, he saw the drool coat your lips and the single line that dribbled down your face. He pressed his fingers against your walls and your whole body started reacting. You pulled Sohee at an angle into you so quickly that his forehead was pressed into the seat beside your head while you started breathing heavily. He wasn’t used to the manhandling from you, or the sudden display of strength but something in him enjoyed feeling your arm wrap around his waist and clutch his shoulder so easily. You completely gave up giving him a handjob, but he didn’t care. He needed to see you finish. So he let you pull him even more as he tried fingering you from the awkward angle. Now it was Sohee’s breath that was fanning the crook of your neck as he tried craning his head to see your face contort in pleasure. Your hand that suddenly pressed into the back of his head kept him there, and Sohee wished he could’ve told you he needed to see your face. But your moans were louder than any voice he could muster, and the way your walls were clenching around his fingers told him he was running out of time. As a consolation prize Sohee licked your neck before pressing his teeth into the wet patch of your skin and biting down. 

Sohee felt your back arch until your chest pressed against his. He pressed back into you, restricting your movement and keeping you in place as he continued working his fingers in and out of you. The slick noises filled the car and Sohee didn’t stop, even when his wrist started screaming at him to do so. He just kept plunging fingers back into your heat as a new wave of you coated his fingers and your legs started shaking. 

Despicably Sohee silently hoped he would draw blood from your neck, maybe if he ripped out a big enough piece of flesh he would kill you before you could kill him. But your hand that was holding his head in place threaded through his hair to pull him away. He hissed from the pain and the pinpricks of his strands being pulled out but he stayed there, just biting and sucking your skin until your other hand started pushing at his shoulder.

“Too much, too much.” You said weakly.

Sohee let his canines press into the pulse of your neck one last time before he pulled away. He kept his fingers inside of you, pumping slowly just to finally see the final twitches rack through your body. His eyes focused on the imprint of his teeth in your neck, he counted each tooth over and over again, focusing on his canines that dug particularly deep. He felt pride blossom in his chest, physical proof of real pain to distract him from the constant pangs he felt in his heart. But something in him tore when one of your hands went to his wrist to pull him from your cunt while the other ran a hand over his bite mark. Sohee looked at your large eyes in astonishment as you ran your fingers over the indents in the crook of your neck.

“Your dragon teeth almost broke the skin.” You said, still running your hand over the indent. 

Sohee watched your finger stay on the imprint his canines left behind. Sohee felt the aching in his pants again as he licked his lips.

“Sorry.” Sohee apologized while fully getting off of your body. You could do the same to me. Maybe even worse. Just rip my flesh right off the bone next time you get a chance.

He went back to his side of the car as he watched you try and gather your bearings. He looked outside the window, already seeing the fog form on the inside. The cars speeding by on the highway was only a blur, and he imagined himself in one of those cars leaving the town. 

He was still looking out the window when he heard you moving out of your shirt, and just as he looked to you again Sohee saw your chest become free in your dimly lit car. He couldn’t take his eyes off, each time was like the first without fail. He reached across the space to grab you in both of his hands, the flesh spilling out between his fingers. He was caught in your web again, mindlessly kneading and pressing down to try and pull noises from you. He pulled on your stiff nipples, another harsh display of the power imbalance he tried to make right. But when you only moaned from the tug and climbed on top of his lap, you took back the power just as easy. 

The worst part was that he didn’t even know if you knew the power you had over him. You controlled everything in his life when you were in his sights. He swore you controlled the temperature in your car that suddenly raised tenfold and the light that shined perfectly behind your head like the sun. He was blinded worse than he ever was in his life looking up at you. When your hand caressed his cheek he drew in a sharp breath, already feeling the lurch in his heart as you smiled down at him.

“Can I ride you?” You asked even though you both already knew the answer. 

Sohee gave the illusion of a choice by nodding his head and pointing towards the center console. You smiled and reached towards the floor of your car, bringing the foil packet of a condom in his line of sight. 

“You know I never forget.” You said.

Sohee nodded again, swallowing his nerves to try and wet his dry throat. When you backed up on his lap and pulled at the waistband of his boxers Sohee lifted his hips to push them down to his ankles. His dick sprung straight up, red and angry from your accidental edging. Sohee looked from his dick to your mocking pout as you pinched his cheek.

“Sorry I didn’t make you cum earlier.” You said, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Sohee didn’t know how you considered this to be fun as his dick twitched. The overheard light caught the precum leaking from his tip, glistening as you continued to coo at him. Sohee hid in the crook of his elbow with the other hand gripping the skin of your waist. He can do alot of things. He can transition from his chest voice to his head voice seamlessly, he can memorize the lyrics of any song in under a hour, but what he absolutely can not do is watch you put the condom on his dick. He doesn’t know what it is, but the mere thought of it has him pulsing in your hand as your align the bottom of the condom with his dick.

“Look at me Sohee.” You cooed and Sohee pulsed in your hand again.

Sohee shook his head as he felt the latex hug the tip of his dick. Between your hand and the condom he felt the rubber ring, waiting to be pushed down the rest of his length.

“I wanna see you do it.” You said it weakly, the previous teasing tone in your voice completely gone.

Only when you pulled your hands away did Sohee take his arm away from his eyes. He regretted it immediately seeing your completely blown out eyes watch him eagerly. You looked like you were going to bite him any second, you licked your lips like you were getting ready to. Your hungry eyes focused on his veiny hands as he gripped the base of his veiny dick. Just like when he was getting his pants off Sohee’s hands just didn’t seem to be cooperating. The lubricated latex slipped right out of his fingers, and he didn’t apply enough force to roll the rest of the condom down his dick. You didn’t help, you only watched him with amusement as you started running your hands over his body. 

The more gentle you were running your hands everywhere the more impatient Sohee got. When you grazed your fingers over his chest slowly, Sohee clenched his hand around his dick pretending it was you. When you ran your hand down his shoulders he shook his head slightly, feeling something akin to electricity prickle his skin. 

You were teasing him, playing mind games to keep him in the back of your car forever. Maybe this was the night you were really going to kill him. Sohee thought about how he told his bandmates that he was going to be with you tomorrow. He hoped Wonbin would be able to lead the cops straight to this parking lot. They’d bust you right in the middle of your shift while you served IPA’s on tap to businessmen who hated their lives and—

“Sohee.”

He blinked rapidly looking at you, not even noticing you had replaced his hand with your own. You hovered directly over his dick, the same look of worry written across your face from earlier.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, not sure what for. 

Regardless he said the right thing, the look on your face turned back to the insatiable hunger you always had after closing down your bar.

“It’s okay.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Can I—“

Rob me of all my ambitions? Keep me in this town forever? Kill me? 

“Yes.” Sohee said, moving his other hand to your hip. 

He held your waist with all his might, digging his fingers into your skin until he felt the bone. Your desperation was reflected in the way you held onto his shoulder for dear life, digging your fingernails in until they left indents. Maybe if he was lucky, you’d break the skin. 

You definitely had the chance of drawing blood when you first sank down on his dick. For a moment you were so tight Sohee’s tip prodded your entrance, but when his hand rubbed your lower stomach you relaxed. You took all of him with ease just like you always did. He fit inside of you like a puzzle piece, and your body shivered above his when his dick somehow reached even deeper.

You whined and tipped your head backwards, rotating your hips to feel him in that part of your stomach. Sohee watched the show and used one hand to guide you in a circular motion while the other continued to press into your lower stomach. Your eyes were already screwed shut and you were gasping for air like you were already feeling your second impeding orgasm. There were times you’d have Sohee in the backseat of your car purely for stress relief. During those nights—which was most nights—Sohee could barely form a sentence while you bounced on his dick saying whatever came to your mind. The first time Sohee saw you like that, he had to write a song about it. Ironically, it was the song he’d be working on tomorrow at Wonbins’. So Sohee tried to pay extra close attention to your hips, and the way your body would momentarily freeze when something felt particularly good. He hoped that you would tell him he was your favorite singer, the confession coming out rushed through your swollen lips.

Tonight was different. There wasn’t a sense of fervor in your hips as you chased after an orgasm. Everything was intentional, everything was slow. The way you gasped quietly before loosening your grip on Sohee’s shoulder while your other hand caressed his cheek. You seemed to try so hard to keep your eyes open, as if you were trying to memorize everything about him. When you bent down to kiss Sohee again you didn’t push your tongue past his lips. You continued to give him breathy chaste kisses while grinding your hips against his.

When Sohee saw your eyebrows cinch in frustration, he pressed deep into his seeat to create a small amount of space before driving his hips up into yours. Even if the thrust was small you reacted fully, twitching and bring your chest to rest against his. 

Maybe you really were feeling sentimental. 

Sohee pulled away from your lips to see you open your eyes. He saw that they were glassy like always, but the whites of your eyes looked like they were starting to turn red. Sohee told himself it was because you were tired as he flicked his hips up the same way again. Sohee gasped when you clenched around him the same time you whimpered hopelessly. He maintained eye contact with you and did it a third time. He had to let out a shaky breath of his own when you hung your head from the stimulation.

“Sohee.” You whimpered quietly.

He didn’t say anything back. He would’ve told you about the two bedroom apartment that allowed pets down the street if he said anything else. He only fucked up into you again and closed his eyes in bliss. 

Sohee felt your body collapse against his. Your bare chest pressed deeply into his as he started grinding his hips up into yours. You were no help anymore, you were already a puddle of whines and whimpers and the same breathless declarations of his name. 

Your hand that caressed Sohee’s cheek traveled to the nape of his neck to thread through his dampening strands of hair. You pulled experimentally just like you did every night as if Sohee would react any differently. Each time he would hiss and tilt his head towards the slight pain. Your breath fanned the newly exposed part of his neck, the same place where he bit you. He felt your hesitation, only a timid lick as you burrowed deeper into the crook.

“Do it.” Sohee whispered as he started lifting you by your hips to and bringing you down with the same force.

Bite me. Eat me whole. I won’t have to worry about failing if I can blame my death on you. The greatest musicians die young anyway’s right?

When you still held back, Sohee found a new strength inside of him. He was able to lift your completely off his length, bringing you down the same time he drove his hips up. He was fucking up into you and fucking you down on him at the same time. He heard you hiss from the stimulation as your hand dug into the seat cushion beside his head to steady yourself. Your skin slapping against his filled your car and he could feel it rocking from the movement. He imagined your bared teeth in the crook of his neck, so close to the vein that gave him life. Sohee’s brought his hand across your back to hold you tight against him and pushed your head closer to his neck. He could practically feel the blood pulsing where your teeth would go.

“Do it.” He lamented.

You only hesitated for a second before digging your teeth into his skin. Sohee swore he could feel each individual tooth leaving its indent on your skin. The pain made his adrenaline skyrocket, and Sohee fucked into you with a strength and speed that was new to the both of you. You held on for the ride, and eventually you started finding some of your own strength back. You were bouncing on his dick without the guidance of his hands, and you pulled away from his neck to press your forehead against his.

“Are you close?” You asked, trying so hard to hold on.

“So close.” Sohee answered.

From the tone in his voice you clamped around his dick again. A sigh racked through his body, and the terrible thought of taking off his condom flashed through his mind. His hand went from the back of your neck to your shoulder, holding you close like you were going to break.

“Let’s do it together.” You said quickly.

You planted your feet on the seat and started bouncing. Sohee went from controlling the tempo entirely to being completely at your mercy. He still gripped your hip and clutched your shoulder to feign dominance, but he was moaning pitifully as you continued working him.

“Touch me there, Sohee.” You said.

Sohee wordlessly moved the hand that was on your shoulder to your clit, hoping that’s what you meant by there. The way your pace faltered let him know he was most likely right, but he needed your confirmation. He looked up from his fingers that worked your swollen bud to your eyes. Sweat lined your face, and Sohee swore he saw tears forming in the corners of your eyes. He pressed deeper, and saw you sniffle before catching your lip between your teeth.

“Here?” He asked, eyes wide as he followed your every move.

“Right there.” You answered immediately and screwed your eyes shut. “I’m gonna cum.” You moaned.

Sohee nodded, and let the orgasm he was staving off come to the forefront of his mind. Already he felt like he was ready to explode, he just needed to see you do it first.

“Me too.” He whimpered back as his fingers worked your clit.

Within seconds your hips stilled and your moan reverberated through the car. If you were like him, he was sure your cries would’ve cracked the window. But you only continued to sob out broken declarations of Sohee’s name, and within seconds he followed suit. He taut balls twitched against your ass, and he felt the familiar spill into his condom. If he closed his eyes and focused hard enough there was nothing separating the two of you, and he felt a new wave of cum spurt from his tip. 

He started shivering from the relief, a breathy laugh as he felt the stimulation of your walls still spasming around him. You pressed  a million kisses around his face, and Sohee’s entire body went so limp in your backseat that his lower back cracked. He continued to feel everything, inspiration for a new song and newfound love for his city and the current state of his life. he brought your tired sweaty body close to his and kept you there. 

He matched the rise of his chest to the fall of yours, then matched your breathing completely. You two had become one, laying in the backseat of your car as the flickering lamp posts light finally went out.

After everything, the nothingness always seemed comforting. everything seemed warm. Sohee rubbed his hand up and down the expanse of your back that was already becoming cold again.

“Come with me to the studio next week.” Sohee said.

He spoke to the review mirror that showed him a clear view of the back of your head. As if you knew he wouldn’t have the funds, Sohee watched your closed eyes open quickly as you stared at the side of his face. 

When you pulled away from Sohee’s body he wiped some of the sweat from your forehead. He went to the apple of your cheek, squeezing slightly as you got up from his lap. He worked the filled condom off his dick as you leaned forward past the center console to grab your clothes. You put your bra on and looked back at him briefly before you facing your clothes again.

“Can’t.” You said quietly.

“It’ll be before your shift.” Sohee reasoned

“i’m moving tomorrow.” You said even quieter

Sohee sat up from his seat. The rare life update from you piqued his interest and the way you didn’t face him made Sohee try to maneuver to look at you.

“To the new apartment buildings downtown?” He asked.

You scoffed and shook your head. Sohee shifted forward in his seat again to pull his boxers back up his legs.

“I’m moving to California.” You answered.

Sohee paused, and the elastic from his waistband snapped against his skin. He tilted his head to the side, still trying to figure out why you wouldn’t look at him. In the silence you worked your panties back up your legs and your shirt was resting in your lap by the time Sohee found his voice again.

“What’s in California?” He asked.

Finally you faced away from your clothes to look at Sohee. 

“I don’t know, everything?” You pulled your shirt back over your head and Sohee was still completely still, only in his boxers. “Stores that are open past nine, the arts, other people my age.” You continued.

“I mean, what are you going to do out there?” Sohee asked.

He still didn’t move, even when you put his clothes onto his lap so he could change.

“Well the bartender that works here in the mornings, she wants to pursue acting. She asked me if I wanted to move and I just thought to myself if I don’t do it now it may never happen.” You seemed happy, smiling ear to ear as you thought about your journey that was starting tomorrow. “Her Dad said he’d spot us first month’s rent, and I already found a bar close to our place that’s hiring.” You said.

You somehow did something worse than killing him. In a days time, you would only be a shadow, a figment of Sohee’s imagination. He for some reason felt like the world was crashing down around him while you looked the happiest he’s ever seen you. When he remained unmoving, he saw your eyebrows stitch together as you looked at him carefully.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” You asked.

I just stabbed you in the heart, aren’t you happy? Look, I can even twist the knife too.

Sohee shook his head and put his graphic tee on. He could feel you becoming apprehensive, and he felt himself becoming frustrated for no reason.

“I thought you’d be the type to stay here forever.” Sohee said.

Your eyebrows raised and your head cocked to the side as Sohee’s words sunk in. He could tell you remembered the few times he would refer to people who stayed in their hometowns their whole lives as an insult before you started pulling your pants up your legs.

“I actually take offense to that.” You said.

Sohee started pulling his own pants up, shaking his head to try and make envy leave his body.

“I just think it’s weird you’re moving across the country to become a bartender.” Sohee reasoned. “You’ll be in California not to be a singer or an actress, but a bartender?”

He knew he messed up when you paused buttoning your jeans. You turned to face him completely, your skin still clammy from sweat.

“What’s so wrong with that?” You scoffed before climbing over the center console to the drivers seat. “Everyone has to start somewhere.” 

Sohee followed after you, going into the passengers seat as you dug around in your purse for the keys. He knew he didn’t have the right to speak, but none of this felt fair. He thought that you had the same inner struggle he was having every night he came to see you. But you were fine—in fact you were more than fine—because you were getting out, something Sohee failed to do.

“Couldn’t you just do that here? And save your money?” He asked.

“I’ve been doing it here for awhile. I’ve saved up more money than you think.” Your car came to life when you put the keys in the ignition, but afterwards you turned to Sohee with indignation written across your face. “Sohee I didn’t even know you knew my name until we had sex for the first time. And now here you are telling me how I should live my life?” You said.

Everything was so unfair. He knew more about you than he knew about himself. He wanted to know more, the time you two spent together suddenly felt so short. If he knew you were going to kill him anyway he would’ve dug a little deeper. 

“Did you just expected me to stay in this town and fuck you every night until you left?” You looked to him from your side of the seat, and when he didn’t respond you shook your head. 

“Just until I get enough money for the studio.”

Sohee didn’t know if he was talking about studio time or the studio apartment that he would get if you two didn’t want to move in together right away. Everything in his mind was becoming jumbled, only set clear by your confused voice.

“Then what?” You asked.

Then we both give up our dreams together and settle in life. We get that apartment and we have a child, then we grow old to resent eachother because we held ourselves back just to be comfortable. But maybe our child would become rich and famous and we’d live the rest of our days in luxury.

When Sohee said nothing back to you, he watched you give up. You let out a sigh and your shoulders sagged, and you pulled out of the parking spot and drove on the underpass to Sohee’s house. He thought about Dragon Teeth and how you’d be living in California while he lived in New York pursuing his dream. He thought about the off chance of him staying in this boring town with the hopes that you’d eventually find your way back to the dingy dive bar you worked at nearly every day. Maybe he’d be waiting there for you, or maybe he’d write a song about it, and when you listened on the radio you’d know it’d be just for you.

He wanted to let you know about his plan when you stopped in front of his house but the words couldn’t come out. You still gave him a smile, muttering about how you’d miss him and think about him everyday. Sohee felt the knife turn in his heart as he said the same, already writing the lyrics in his mind to deal with the pain.

[survivalove]

one thing that annoys me is people reading yangchen’s books and acting like she should be this bloodthirsty assassin.

the point of yangchen’s character isn’t that she revels in violence. it’s that she would forsake her cultural beliefs for the sake of the world if she saw it necessary. and she did.

and the air nomads punished her for it.

because they were still a living and thriving culture that could hold their own accountable.

while the rest of the world held her in high regard for her efforts, even in death, there were those from her culture that wouldn’t let her deeds go unpunished on the permanent record.

aang doesn’t have that.

he can do whatever he wants and the rest of the world wouldn’t care. no one will ever hold him accountable for his cultural missteps so he has to. that’s why it’s important to aang to hold himself to his beliefs. to keep his people and culture alive.

do you ever watch celebrities talk about being famous? how they know they have legions of fans that will praise them no matter what? and how terrifying that is to them? how important family is to them? because those are the people that keep them grounded. do you line what that feels like? to be inherently famous and have no one left in your family to keep you grounded? to be a human that’s only ever seen as a god?

no, you don’t. i don’t. but that is the life aang lives.

it’s why people who complain about the finale are annoying. it’s why people using yangchen to downplay his choice is also annoying. and it’s why people acting like yangchen had nothing to lose are extremely annoying. because her choices cost her a lot. and it hurt her. because she loved her people too.

[dead-boys-club]

†  my idol : hawks.

❥ scenario: hawks and his idol s/o. ❥ no triggers; not rated. ❥ i don't have any beta readers - you get what you get. ❥ requested!

❥ be thankful i don't write nsfw c: + idk if someone's gonna get all offended over this, so i'll say now, there's a lot of fan slander in this lol talking about crazy fans, stalker fans, etc.

✧*̥˚ hc type things *̥˚✧

can i just start with this would actually be one of the cutest pairings for him?

let me start off with saying that he is absolutely going to be your number one fan. he's going to be so proud of your achievements as an idol. his schedule as a hero would make it difficult but he'd do his best to attend events and concerts, anything he could squeeze through. he'd be offering quite a good amount of public praise, making sure you knew he supported you along every step of the way. at no point would he be embarrassed or ashamed - he's doing everything he can not to be in the air with his lightstick, let's be real.

there is one thing he may have trouble navigating and helping you to navigate: balance. keigo is used to an overly busy life but the moment he sees your schedule, he's realizing it's never actually been that bad. he's immediately going to be asking if you're even taking care of yourself - if you know anything about kpop idol lifestyles, you'll know the concern is very much warranted - but he's going to be worried. however, he would respect it and your choice to pursue such a lifestyle, doing his best to help with making sure you're okay, helping with the pressures of fame and whatnot. his biggest concern, outside of your health, is going to be the privacy of your relationship. with both of you being so well known, the last thing he wants is your personal life to be put on a chopping block and make things even more difficult.

keigo often makes the comments of 'if i can' or 'possibly' when you ask if he'll be at an event but he does his best to show up and surprise you. even if he can't stay, he's there long enough to bring flowers or a small gift, reminding you that even if he's not there, he's still cheering you on. amidst busy schedules, he would do his best - even if it just meant sending a feather your way.

if anything, keigo is considerably patient. he can't exactly get mad at your busy schedule when his own isn't all that empty. you would both have to work with accommodations. and he'd totally have some silly, flirty comment about sneaking around. you'd have a moderate amount of quality time together, even if it meant him dragging you out of a window in the early hours. willingly, ofc.

he would be very, very protective when it comes to your privacy and personal space. fame attracts unwanted attention and he knows that; he doesn't want you to face something because of it. and, if i'm honest, i don't think many people would be too stupid to mess with you - the last thing they'd want to face is him being pissed off. he would definitely use his influence to aid in the overwhelming media and fans that don't know boundaries.

✧*̥˚ little things *̥˚✧

❥ spiderman kisses: not exactly the same but it's something he does when he's in a hurry and you're not supposed to be out. the first time he did it, he almost hit his head on the balcony railing. he honestly didn't expect kissing someone upside down to be so challenging.

❥ voicemails: god, you both have so many voicemails saved from each other. you've sent plenty to him of song snippets and sitting in the corner of the recording studio. he generally sends little rambles while flying, telling about his day and random things he's thought of. plus, always asking how you are, checking in on you.

❥ feathers: it's a cliche in writing for hawks but, i can't deny it's fitting. he's going to have a feather on you when you're within range for it to matter. it's how he makes sure you're doing okay.

❥ little notes: hawks likes to leave little notes for you when you part. hidden within your bag, between your clothes, etc. he generally knows your schedule but his own can be unpredictable. so, when you'll be away for a little while, he likes to leave you things you can read and have with you.

❥ keepsake boxes: about a year into being together, while out on a little break, you came across a section of little wooden boxes at a shop. it was a date night that you both sat and decorated them together, keeping all the notes, trinkets, stubs, etc in.

✧*̥˚ small scenario *̥˚✧

keigo landed at the venues back entrance the moment the door opened, his wings fluttering a bit when his feet touched the ground. the moment you popped out and smiled brightly, he couldn't help but pull you into his arms, squeezing softly before you could even speak.

'hey, pretty bird,' you greeted, voice full of excitement.

'hey, superstar.' keigo cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 'ready for a much needed break from the spotlight?'

all it took was a nod for him to scoop you up into his and lift up into the night sky. you were used to it, just holding onto him and closing your eyes, letting your mind rest from the rush of performing, just wanting to be normal for a while.

the flight didn't last too long and soon enough, you were carefully being set down on a secluded rooftop. out of habit, you left his side to approach the edge, looking over the city with bright eyes, sparkling even more in the moonlight.

taking a deep breath, you stretched your arms up. 'this is so amazing, it's so pretty up here,' you sighed, turning on your heel to look towards him. 'you know.. does it make me sound bad to say i like that i can gloat about private stargazing sessions with the number two hero?'

keigo let out a soft laugh as he spread out the plush blanket, shrugging. 'would it make me sound bad to say the same thing about you?' he asked, gesturing you over. 'thought it'd be a nice change from the usual post show routines. less people.'

as both of you settled on the blanket, lying side by side, you enjoyed the distant, dulled hum of the city. it was a nice change from being crammed into a van or just going home to rest, both of you needed something nice every now and then.

the blond spoke first, head turning to look at you. 'how was the show? anything memorable happen?'

you shrugged, not taking your gaze away from the stars. 'just the usual. overzealous fans wanting attention, the offhanded comment during the meet.. i'm pretty sure one of them is convinced we're going to get married? which, i can't complain.. i used to sit and think that about heroes and idols and stuff when i'm was younger but still.'

laughing, his eyes lit up with amusement. 'sounds like you're handling fame pretty well. i've dealt with my fair share of -- is it wrong to call fans 'crazies'? mine just usually come with the whole 'save me from the villain' request when there's.. no real villain.'

'nah, i don't consider the ones who act like that real fans.. i think real fans respect boundaries, don't you think?' you responded, a hand raising up to reach for the sky, fingers wiggling. 'i'm sure dealing with supervillains is a lot more fun than dealing with autograph requests. i wouldn't trade you though, i enjoy what i do.'

'fair, yeah.' keigo sighed, reaching up to collect your hand. 'we both have our ways of brightening people's days. even if it means dealing with a couple of weirdos.'

silence fell over the rooftop for a moment, enjoying each other's company under the beauty of the night sky.

'i was thinking,' he began, gingerly playing with your fingers, 'we should do this more often. escape the chaos, find quiet moments like this.'

finally, you turned your head to look at him, leaning close enough to bump your noses together. 'that would be nice.. sounds like a dream to relax and spend time together without a million eyes on us.'

'so, what do you say? more rooftop dates?'

you smiled, squeezing his hand. 'as long as you keep flying us up to spots like this, i'm one hundred percent in.'

with that, you closed your eyes and he looked back towards the sky, just enjoying the time before you were putting on the news as missing and he was unavailable. the conversation drifted around from playful jokes and confessions, little flirty comments and sweet thoughts. it didn't last forever but anything was better than nothing.

[dev-solovey]

Reading up on the history of American Idiot (album) and realizing exactly how revolutionary it was and I just have to yell about it for a hot second

So, before they started working on American Idiot, the band was having problems and they were thinking they were going to break up. But for a couple of reasons, they switched directions, most notably because they all felt strongly about the Iraq War and how it was manufactured by greed and warmongering from the Bush administration, which was amplified by the news media. I read a quote from Billie Joe Armstrong where he talked about how the news media was becoming "more of a reality show" than it was news, and he couldn't have been more right. In fact, that problem got worse, and now we're living in an era of rampant misinformation where everything is politicized to a point where just supporting human rights for marginalized people is considered controversial. The song American Idiot came out in 2004, and when Donald Trump first visited the UK at the beginning of his presidency, it was the top played song on every UK radio station, 12 years after it was released. Most things would be culturally irrelevant at that point.

When creating the album American Idiot, a lot of thought went into it - they had a very specific message in mind, and their goal was to send that message to youth. This is because they realized at some point that their fanbase was a bunch of teenagers, and even though they hadn't necessarily intended it that way, they suddenly had a platform with the youth of America and they decided they ought to do something good with it. The drummer, Tré Cool, said something along the lines of "I've never really liked the idea of preaching to kids, but I realized we don't really have a choice at this point." And I love that so much because like, so many people who get rich and famous just become completely out of touch, and when they get a platform, it's very easy to exploit that platform, influence them with terrible ideas, or encourage them to act in terrible ways for self-serving reasons (ex: JK Rowling, Andrew Tate, Dream, Logan Paul, Onision, etc etc). Green Day refused to allow themselves to get to that point. They know the platform they had gave them power and they made an active choice early on to be responsible with it. And a lot of that moral code comes from the fact that they came up in the DIY punk scene in Oakland, which held its members to a very high standard of ethics, a code that they still follow even after they were disowned by that scene when they signed on with a major record label in 1994.

The song American Idiot has a message of "this mass media hysteria is manufactured bullshit, don't fall for it," and it is not subtle about that message. It punches you right in the face. I remember being 12 years old and listening to it and thinking, "yeah, I don't want to be an American idiot." And now, at the age of 28, I am a staunch leftist who is firmly against the atrocities the US government commits, and I feel strongly about stopping misinformation. So I can say with absolute certainty that they succeeded.

I also get like, really upset when people say that American Idiot is the album where they sold out, because that's objectively not true, both for the reasons I've provided above, and also because of the song Wake Me Up When September Ends. Not a lot of people know the story behind this song, but it's actually a song that Billie Joe wrote about the experience of his dad dying of cancer when he was 10 years old. The story, as he tells it, is that when he came home from school, his mom gave him the news, and being (understandably!) upset, started crying, ran to his room and slammed the door. When she knocked on the door to try and talk to him, he shouted "wake me up when September ends!!" in response. It took him decades to be able to write this song, and it shows because it's the perfect grief song, having been played at benefits for 9/11, hurricane Katrina, and so on. The first time I heard that song it reduced me to tears, because you can hear the intense sadness in it. A "sellout" would never write a song like that!! (Side note: maybe stop tweeting at Green Day to wake up every October 1st, it's super tone deaf given the subject matter,,,)

Anyway, I think I'm done being autistic about Green Day (that's a lie, they'll forever be my special interest), so TL;DR:

Thank you, Green Day, for creating a generation of leftists who aren't about the bullshit

[obsessedwithlute]

If The Hazbin Hotel Characters Worked At A School

Charlie- You might think Charlie would be the principal but NO! Charlie is the therapist! She tries to get everyone into her office for a session by the end of the year- including the teachers! Vaggie- Vaggie would teach mainstream math. Her favorite thing about teaching math is giving people extra homework when they disrupt her class. (A lot of people leave with extra homework. One time Angel Dust walked in on her in the middle of a test, and she made him do a homework sheet).

Angel Dust- He is a substitute. He's actually qualified to teach computer science, but he doesn't. It's his best kept secret why he doesn't.

Husk- He teaches Italian. He's not properly fluent in Italian and only got the job because Lucifer lost a gamble to him and Husk said he'd let him keep his money if he did "one tiny favor". Angel Dust likes to lurk outside Husk's classroom when he gets the chance, and the second Husk mispronounces a word, Angel will stick his head in, correct him and then dart back out. Husk pretends to hate it but he actually finds it really hot. (Angel Dust was also actually the one who TAUGHT Husk Italian).

Lucifer- Lucifer is the principal. He doesn't really care what most of his employees do, including stalking the Italian teacher, cruel and unusual punishment during guitar lessons, or fucking in the janitor's closet. As long as "most of his employees" doesn't include Alastor.

Alastor- Alastor actually teaches health, or sex ed, or whatever you call it. He went to college and got a degree and didn't do it "The Husk Way" all so he could do two things: 1. Properly represent queer people, especially trans people, during the class because he knows, as a trans person, that it's really hard not to feel undermined during the class. 2. Make jokes about being an asexual person teaching sex ed (I'm not asexual/aromantic but it just seems like the kind of thing Alastor would do- especially considering how he reacts to Angel badly propositioning him). If you make a queerphobic comment in Alastor's class, you're dead. Possibly literally. Alastor never actually adheres to the curriculum, and Lucifer keeps trying to break into his class and catch him but somehow Al is always two steps ahead. When Lucifer is not at school, Alastor takes his whole class down to the kitchens and has them make jambalaya for the whole period. If you can't eat jambalaya, Alastor has a whole closet full of alternative ingredients for you but EVERYONE IS EATING SOME FORM OF JAMBALAYA OR EVERYONE HAS TO FIX ALASTOR'S VINTAGE RADIOS DURING DETENTION FOR A MONTH.

Lute- She teaches biology and is that one teacher who everyone either loves or hates. She runs the GSA and has weekly meetings and she's also the teacher who becomes your replacement mom if your real mom sucks. (This also applies to the teachers, she's also basically Angel Dust's mother by now). If you make a queerphobic comment in her class, she will stalk for exactly two weeks after you say it, slowly recording every single discriminatory thing you say. Then she will make you stay after school hours and reads off her entire list. Then she assigns you detention for two weeks and makes you write a 5-page essay on whatever chapter of Queer Ducks her heart desires in size 8 Arial font during the few precious hours of the day you don't have detention.

Adam- He teaches the jazz band, and if you play guitar, you get double lessons. Twice a month, Adam conducts tests randomly. You have to get up and play a song of his choice- no sheet music allowed. If you mess up even once, Adam gets to smack your guitar with a rock and you get to pay for the damages. (Lucifer knows, doesn't care, and makes rubber duck voodoo dolls all day long.)

Cherri- She teaches gym and if a student isn't running fast enough, she throws basketballs at them. Not hard to HIT them, but just enough to give them some motivation.

Sir Pentious- He doesn't work at this school. He works at a preschool in a different town. But since it's only a half-day, as soon as he gets the chance, he leaves and goes to stare longingly at Cherri while she somehow manages not to get fired. Everyone is just used to him being there, and he's fine with that.

[jolapeno]

voicemails

frankie morales x f!reader

do we drabble on sundays? is this what we do? well, anyway, here’s some soft sunday fluff. no warnings: except fluff and sweetness and lovely softness. dedicated to @msjarvis who didn't ask for this but I’m giving anyway.

JUST THINKING ABOUT HOW THE TWO OF YOU BEGIN LEAVING VOICE NOTES FOR ONE ANOTHER. It started one time when life took one of you away from the other—the bed you share and the walls you laugh inside of are lonely without the pair of you together. Because it all feels vaster, quieter.

Then it became a thing. A make-do measure, a thing both of you grew to need first thing in the morning and last thing at night. A habit. A tradition. The day not beginning or ending without it.

It quickly becomes a comfort, a thing that brings the both of you joy, happiness—in the same way the scent of your shampoo does for him and how when he’s alone he leans closer to your pillow because it lingers and he consumes as much of it as he can to trick himself he’s not lay in bed alone.

Your voice in the morning makes up for the fact your mug isn’t left on the side or in the sink, all used. Because he hates it when he wakes and finds it in the cupboard, where he put it last night, it rumbling through him and making his chest clench.

There’s a list of things he misses when you’re not home, and if he begins, he isn’t sure he’ll ever stop.

Frankie supposes you’ll have your own list. An itinerary of things you miss about him when he’s out of town. Sometimes you share them, let them slip out and mumble them down the phone when you’re pacing, unsure what to do when he’s not home. It makes his heart squeeze in his chest, all tight, especially when he hears you doing mundane things he usually gets to watch you do, like cook or make a drink.

It’s why he likes the voice notes. Likes being a part of your day even if he’s not there. Has the chance to listen to them on his drive or when he’s brushing his teeth—pretending, even in hotel rooms—that you’re closer than you are. Staring at your contact photo as you say those three words, I miss you.

The voice notes range in topic. Sometimes they’re about your day, about the fucker you work with that he’d love to break the nose off; sometimes they’re a ramble about your breakfast, interspersed with a minor rant about something. Odd times they’re about dinner, hearing you move things in the refrigerator before you confess you’ll order and leave him leftovers.

He has his favourites, a handful of ones he’ll listen to on days where he needs more sunshine. One is the day you tripped, again, over his toolbox. An odd choice, he knows. It beginning all high-pitched, voice tinged in venom and anger:

“Francisco Morales, if you leave your toolbox in the hallway one more time—“

Then it was doused in sweetness, absolute honey, and it wasa exhilarating to fucking listen to.

“—Oh, you washed up. Oh, baby. Well, shit—Frankie, I love you okay? Just put your damn tools away.”

But the one he has saved is one where you’ve tired, exhausted—brain having kept you awake and every noise in the house doing something to make the shadows seem more dangerous than they were. You’re babbling, eyes likely closed, voice just reeling off the things your brain is thinking—no filter, no barrier between thought and tongue.

“—and baby, even though I’ve been sleeping in your clothes, I miss you. ‘Cause you make me happy—so happy, you know that? You have to. Tell you a lot. The bed does feel super weird without you. It’s really cold, and big—like too big. I turned the thermostat up, I know, I know, I’ll turn it down. Oh, and baby, I saw sprinkles moonwalk again on the fence. I did try to record it—but, you know me, I’m clumsy, chipped my phone. Don’t be mad. Please. I know you won’t cause you’re good, kind, nice—god you makemehappy. So tired. Justwanttosleep, you know?—“

He remembers driving back through the night the following day—slipping in, quiet as a mouse. Old training came in handy as he slid out of his boots and cautiously placed his keys.

Frankie managed to miss the floorboard he needs to fix, the one that usually gives him away—and even remembered to not use the light in the bathroom. His last test had been the bed, somehow managing to get in with precision, even roll you closer without waking you.

It’s worth it, all the time away—the voice notes in between—for the life he’s able to build with you and the look he wakes to in the morning.

A thing he thinks each time.

Because you look at him like he solved every problem wrong in your world; you look at him like he makes the impossible, possible.

And, after all he’s been through, he’d been sure that ship had more than sailed. That his chance had gone, faded, slipped through his fingers like water or dust.

But here you are. Your voice filling his ear in real time, whispering a good morning, if he had a safe drive—and he’s full of gratitude all over again. As he is every time he gets to hear your voice—in person or through the phone.

an: sometimes, voice notes are just the best, right? I also love voice mails, and all voice related things.