#but i think it is ultimately fleeting

[willowser]

Random question but how many asks do u get on average? I’m asking a bunch of other blogs too

so—i'm not going to answer this question !! quite simply bc i think that, in the era we're in within our fandom and in our community and in our niche, i think that numbers have the potential to cause more grief than good, and on the off-chance that someone sees a number in our little corner here and ever uses it as a comparison to their little space—i would be devastated.

but !! i do want to take the time to say that i try to answer every ask i get with similar levels of enthusiasm, and if i haven't answered your question and you know that it sent—i am coming !!! i am on the way !!! i want to chat with you about your ideas !! but it just takes me a lil more time bc i want to make sure i'm returning the effort that you gave me 🩷 and a lot of times, i like to keep some of the sweet things yall take the time to say to me—to myself ! before i share them with everyone 🩷 so if i haven't responded yet, i'm holding your hand in mine !! and thinking of what to say 😌

[thefaeriefeatherdark]

I desperately need the Thrawn stans (specifically novel Thrawn Stans) to remember that Thrawns whole deal is rebuilding the Empire and fighting the New Republic.

[fleetsonourgecentral]

ugh all I can think of lately is Fleetway!Sonourge. good job on spreading that to me

also thinking about the Freedom Fighters protecting Scourge from Zonic when he shows up. like, him trying to arrest all of them for hiding and protecting a criminal and all. how do you think the FFs would overcome him?

:3 it's spreading as planned

It would take a while for the zone cops to even come to the conclusion Scourge is hiding in the fleetway dimension, tbh. He's good at running from the cops, and knows lots of places to hide. It's difficult to track him down when he's not actively causing trouble, and the fleetway universe is quite a ways away from the dimensions he normally hangs around in. The zone cops are expecting him to show up in Moebius, or try to take over the Prime dimension again. They aren't going to be looking in the dimension with the evil Super Sonic that's thousands of miles away, because why would he be there? Even once they do investigate there, they're probably initially be inclined to take Sonic's word for it when he says Scourge isn't there. Zonic knows this Sonic hates lookalikes, after all. It would take a while for them to genuinely suspect the fleetway universe

Usually when Zonic shows up, the first thing they do is hide Scourge, which can range from hiding him elsewhere in the dimension (special zone included) or finding a way to get him out altogether, and he'll find somewhere else to hide until they leave again. The zone cops can't actually arrest him if he isn't there, and they can't prove the freedom fighters have been hiding him, since, well, he doesn't legally exist in the fleetway universe. The best they can do is ask around to see if anyone has seen him, but Sonic is always quick to point out that anyone could be a green hedgehog in a leather jacket. Metamorphia did turn into a green hedgehog, once. Without seeing Scourge with their own two eyes, the zone cops have no way to prove the green hedgehog in a leather jacket is Scourge and not someone else.

"Everyone around here is an idiot," Sonic will sneer if Zonic tries to point out that he showed a picture of Scourge to some civilians and they said they recognised him. "They'll mix any hedgehog up. Someone mistook Amy for me, once."

Technically, the circumstantial evidence is enough to bring Sonic and the other freedom fighters in, but there's always the risk of him turning into Super, if we pick the part of the timeline where they're one person. He's harmless if they get the collar around him, it's just getting the collar around him without being vaporised that's the tricky part. Even if they're separate people, well, if Sonic is gone, who will stop Super if he goes out of control?

If the zone cops decide to bring them in anyway, well. The freedom fighters are freedom fighters. They're going to fight, and they're going to fight dirty. Sonic alone is a pain in the ass (and, again, a huge risk if he and Super are one person) but everyone else will make it even worse. The cops could subdue them eventually, but... ultimately, I think they find it more trouble than it's worth to bring them in, especially when they have no surefire way to prove Scourge has anything to do with them. And if the freedom fighters were arrested, Scourge would work his ass off to bust them out. It could be a good way to trap him, but Scourge has escaped from prison once before, they don't want it to happen again

Ultimately, I think they decide to bide their time. There are other criminals to take care of, and they can't really spare the resources to go hunting for Scourge when he isn't even causing any trouble aside from "already being a wanted criminal", so they decide it's better to periodically check in to see if they can catch him unaware or wait until he causes a big enough problem to give them justification to go knocking on the door and arrest the lot of them. Unfortunately for them, the freedom fighters are protective, and will make sure that never happens

[adragonprinceswhore]

Soft & Hard

Aemond Targaryen x Ex Girlfriend

Summary: How do you forget about Aemond Targaryen when he’s everywhere you look?

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, emotional infidelity, descriptions of self-hatred, situationship, intoxication, smut, heavy petting, drunk sex, P in V, (some) size kink

Word Count: 4000

A/N: This has been plaguing my mind for weeks now, so I really needed to get it out of me and into the world. This can be read as a continuation of my Hockey player Aemond drabble, but can also be read as a standalone. Aemond is a hockey player in this modern AU! 🩵

You prop your feet up to rest on the sides of your bathtub, angling the shower head just right so it hits that spot that sends pleasurable shivers rippling through your body.

Your eyes are closed, and you’re desperately trying to visualise the hot guy from the TV series you’d just binged; mind racing through any arousing scenario you can come up with.

It’s not an easy task; keeping yourself occupied enough to not drift towards the very man you’ve vainly tried to erase from your memory. 

You don’t want to think about him. 

Thinking about him always leads to missing him. 

It leads to longing for him. 

No matter how badly he hurt you. No matter how much you rationalise your reasons for leaving, your stupid heart yearns to fill the hole he’s left behind. 

Pathetic.

You shut your eyes with more force, thinking of the hot TV character. Upping the pressure of the shower head, you imagine it’s him going down on you that’s causing the pleasure building inside. Your hips begin to shallowly sway back and forth, and low whimpering moans slip from your lips. 

As the pleasure builds and builds, the image in your head morphs; the hot TV guys’ hair turns silver, no matter how hard you try to stay focused. 

You’re close, so close, and just as you’re on the edge of pleasure, you hear him,

“You’re so pretty like this”

And you cum so hard you drop the showerhead in your grip, legs shaking as your hips jerk upward aggressively. 

Water sprays across the bathroom as the shower head falls, but you’re too lost in your own bliss to truly care, giving yourself a moment to just disappear into the fleeting, fierce pleasure consuming you. 

After a while, when your legs have stopped shaking and your cunt has stopped clenching around nothing, you turn the rampant shower head off with a sigh. 

The satisfaction of your orgasm is short-lived, promptly followed by the lonely reality of you chasing pleasure alone in your bathroom. You could stay in the tub and make yourself cum 10 more times and it wouldn’t change the loneliness residing inside of you. 

You could try to picture that hot guy from the show fucking you for hours, still you’d feel the same. 

Still, visions of him would cloud your mind. And the chill of loneliness would penetrate your bones, as it does right now. 

Because no one kisses your forehead afterwards, or holds you tight, or whispers sweet things into your ear. 

You're alone, and the warm water quietly splashing around you doesn’t stop the cold porcelain of your bathtub from chilling your heated flesh. 

You shiver. 

Sick of yourself; of your self-pity and hatred, you leave the tub and throw on a dressing gown, already on a search for a new distraction. 

Anything to take your mind off Aemond Targaryen. 

Forgetting Aemond was nearly impossible. 

Not only did your mind remind you of your heart’s longing for the man that broke it. The world did as well. Like when you overheard your colleagues discussing his latest game, and how skillfully he tackled his opponents, landing a blow on them so precise yet hard that they flew into the rink. Or when you got home after a long day and turned on the TV, greeted by him giving a post-match interview all sweaty and panting. 

The only way you knew him. 

Being restricted to seeing the man you’d spent countless nights together with through the TV screen has brought you to the conclusion that ultimately, your relationship hasn’t changed much. 

Sure, you don’t send him nudes anymore. Nor does he fuck you into the mattress of whichever hotel room he brings you to. 

But the distance is the same. The loneliness isn’t new; it always existed between the two of you. He never really cared to let you in. 

You were convenient. 

Pliable. 

An easy fuck. 

You should’ve realised it sooner. Like that time when Alicent Hightower, Westerosi socialite and Aemond’s mother, stopped by one of his practices. You were helping him lace his skates when she appeared, and as soon as he noticed his mum approaching, Aemond’s large hand gently but firmly pushed you away. 

Ms. Hightower’s curious gaze had asked about you, and her son huffed out, “She’s an acquaintance”

An acquaintance. 

Not even a friend. 

To you, Aemond was the first thing you thought about in the morning, and the last thing you thought about before going to sleep. 

To him, you were an acquaintance. 

Pathetic. 

That should have been the last straw. But you kept seeing him. Not even the humiliation and hurt you felt as you excused yourself and ran to the bathroom with tears in your eyes could stop you from craving him. That was the power he had over you.

The power he still has over you, even in his absence. Even if you blocked his number 6 months ago and haven’t seen him once since. 

The actual last straw was a message you’d gotten from an unknown number, asking if you’d send more of those “hot slutpics in dat black thong”. For a second you thought it was Aemond having a laugh, but the message didn’t sound like him, and he isn’t exactly known for being a guy that appreciates humour, or ‘pranks’.

Turns out, the number belonged to Aegon Targaryen, Aemond’s older brother and notorious fuckboy. Word around King’s Landing was that every girl who’d slept with him had gotten chlamydia, and still he seems to find a new conquest to throw his arms around each weekend. 

Perhaps the sleaziest guy in the Seven Kingdoms.

Turns out, it runs in the family. 

You blocked Aemond’s number that night. After swearing to never let your desire for him get the best of you again, you begged your friends to take you out and get you so shitfaced the humiliation Aemond had inflicted on you would be washed away. 

It didn’t work.

You’re still tainted by his touch. 

So you switch tactics. You look for someone else. 

About a month after you’d called things off with Aemond, you thought you’d found a good replacement. A nice, inconspicuous guy who was eager to please; eager to make you like him. You would’ve felt guilty, really, if the dark hole of lonely self-hatred in your chest didn’t outweigh your selfishness. 

And still, Aemond Targaryen was everywhere. 

You’d find him in that adoring look your new partner gave you as you sucked him off in the shower. You’d find him in bed, when you couldn’t sleep and imagined it was Aemond’s heavy arms holding you tight. You’d find him in your fantasies, seemingly incapable of coming with your new partner unless you closed your eyes and pretended the short, curly strands greeting your hand between your legs were actually long, silky and silver. 

Ultimately, your conscience caught up with you, and you broke things off with the new guy as well. He had told you that he loved you, and the sweetest of confessions felt like the sharpest of needles prickling your heart. 

Aemond never said it. 

Oh, how you wish it was him saying it. 

Sometimes, even after six months of not seeing him, you’re still surprised by how incredibly piteous he’s rendered you. 

Yearning for a man who only saw you as a plaything. Who only ever cared for you when you were conveniently there for him to do as he pleased with. Who refused to expose your relationship to his mother, and shared your nudes with his brother. 

Fucking prick. 

Today’s Friday. 

Single and lonelier than ever, you beg your friends to go out dancing with you. It’s become your new weekend ritual; go out and dance until your feet hurt and you’re so tired you collapse on your bed, mind delightfully empty. 

Now, you're back on the dancefloor, drink in hand, eyes closed as you sway to the music. 

You always drag your friends to the same place, The Three Towers, a nightclub of the slightly more exclusive kind, with proper DJs and strong drinks. 

They must’ve figured out by now that it was Aemond who introduced you to this place. You see it in the pitiful looks they give you every time you insist on coming here instead of going to any of the many other places in Oldtown. Their eyes say what you’ve known to be true for over six months;

Pathetic. 

It’s not like Aemond likes to go out anyway. He hates crowds, dislikes strangers, loathes the fake people gathering around him to tell him empty words of adoration. 

But that one time you’d wanted to go dancing, he’d brought you here. 

Maybe he brings all his “acquaintances” here. 

You tell yourself that you don’t come here for him, that it just happens to be a great place, but still, every time you catch a glimpse of something silvery in the corner of your eye, dread punches you in the gut. 

Why do you seek him out when you know actually meeting him would destroy you? What if you saw him here with another girl? Maybe one of the models his brother so often gifts his infected cock to? 

Tumultuous thoughts swirl in your mind until you notice that the flash of silver isn’t Aemond’s hair at all, and ease settles over you. Well, something akin to ease. The self-hatred is still there,

Pathetic. 

Your feet quickly carry you to the bar, eager for more of the numbness only alcohol provides. You order another G&T and almost spit it out after the first sip; it’s basically all gin.

Good.

You take three large gulps and move back to the dancefloor, searching for your friends who you’ve lost in the crowd of intertwined bodies. 

You scan your surroundings, and then it happens again. A flash of silver. Only this time, it’s him. 

You remember the first time you saw him. TV appearances and watching him on the ice doesn’t do him justice. In person, his ethereal beauty’s blinding. Just like it is now. One of the spotlights over the sofa he sits on hits his hair, causing it to glow like the beacon of a dark night at sea. 

Calling you in. 

Your feet work by themselves as they walk towards him. You panic, desperately searching for any excuse to talk to him. 

What do you say? 

Suddenly you’re right before him, drink in one hand and the other nervously touching your hair as you dumbly stare at him. He looks up from the drink in his hand, a whiskey on the rocks you’d guess, and meets your eyes. 

His gaze is cold and stoic. 

Unimpressed. 

He raises an expectant eyebrow. 

And yet you say nothing. All the witty, insightful, hard-hitting truths you’d wanted to tell him for the last six months vanish as you stand before him frozen in panic. 

Pathetic.

Pathetic. 

Pathetic!

You have nothing. Your mind’s empty, the only thing you can do is feel. Feel the self-hatred, the loneliness, the insecurity he’s inflicted upon you. 

He rolls his eyes. Aemond’s not known for his patience, “If you’re looking for that new boyfriend of yours, he’s not here”

“I don’t have a boyfriend”, you blurt out, prompted by the shiver running through you caused by the venom dropping from his words. He sounds so hateful. 

He stands abruptly, forcing you to take a faltering step back as he tower over you,

“Come”

He takes the drink in your hand and places it on a nearby table before grabbing your hand and leading you out of the rowdy club. The chill of the night air hits your scarcely clad body as he drags you towards a cab waiting outside, your ears still ringing from the loud music in the club.

He opens the door and pushes on your arm to get in. His touch is still impossibly warm; just as you remember it. 

He slams the door shut and walks around to the other side, getting in and grunting an address you’ve never heard of to the taxi driver.  

You know your friends would be furious if they knew who you left with, so you send them a quick text stating that you’ve left ‘cause you didn’t feel well. 

You place your phone back in your purse and look outside. It seems like you’re driving towards the north part of the city, a place you hardly know. 

The deafening silence in the taxi is so tense, any sane person would ask the driver to stop and get out in a heartbeat. 

Aemond, sitting next to you with his jaw clenched and fidgeting with his customised black and red lighter, sends nervous ripples of fear through your being. You know he’s contemplating something, yet you wouldn’t dare ask. 

Any sensible person would get out. 

But you can’t. 

Because he still smells the same. And it’s everywhere in the stuffy cab. And your heart hurts, a tear threatens to spill, because you’ve missed it all so much; his smell, his hair, his voice, his touch. 

Him.

The silence persists, until you're finally freed as the taxi driver stops and Aemond hands him a few copper stars. 

You get out and take a deep breath of the late summer night's air. The buzz of alcohol still clouds your judgement somewhat, yet you feel more aware of yourself than ever before. 

You look around and see Aemond approach the entrance to a sleek building in that brutalist, modern design, and you follow in tow. He still hasn’t said anything, and neither have you.

You get in a lift, go up to the top floor, and enter a dark flat with only a small table lamp lit by the entrance, obscuring your view of the place. 

Just as you make way to move further into the room, Aemond hinders you. 

He doesn’t allow you entrance to the rest of the space, cornering you against a low side table by the entrance door. He’s so tall, and so broad, you disappear into the wall as he steals all the space around you. 

“Why did you agree to come with me?” 

He’s so close you feel his breath tickle your skin. It’s too dark to truly see the expression on his face, but the shadows cast on him makes him look stern. The smell of him intensifies. You feel warm.  

This is all you’ve wanted. All you’ve feared. 

You still desire him so.

“You told me to”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you know it’s because your reply’s caught him off guard. He’d assumed you’d fight back, jab at him in some way. He tries again,

“My mate saw you at that club last week, you know”

Is he keeping tabs on you? 

“What happened to your boyfriend?” 

How does he know about that? 

You swallow, “Nothing. It just wasn’t right” 

“Hm”

Your eyes are locked together, his mismatched gaze just as alluring as you remember it. Without looking away, he brings a hand up to gently stoke the cold skin of your arm. 

The harshness of his stare falters, 

“Did you miss me?” 

“Did you miss me?” 

The retort leaves your lips before you register it forming in your head. Can’t give in to him that easily. Can’t make your suffering known to the person causing it. 

The harshness reappears. 

“Did he fuck you the way you like?” 

His tone is cold, yet heated with anger. The same hateful tinge from before. 

Your drunk mind works without you operating it, 

“He wasn’t you”

The confession slips out, and so does the pitifulness. The loneliness. The pathetic mess you’ve become. 

Aemond didn’t expect your admission either, eyes narrowing in suspicion, 

“What do you mean?”

Is this the time? 

To tell him how utterly devastated you’ve been without him? How he plagues your mind? How your entire being is tainted by him? 

No. 

“Why did you bring me here?”, you ask, foggy mind finally cooperative enough to let you change the subject.

“Because you wanted me to”, he replies, the gentle hand on your arm suddenly travelling down to caress your exposed thigh before  harshly cupping your cunt. 

A startled gasp espaces your lips. 

His touch is so nostalgic it travels from your aroused core to your heart, and squeezes it painfully.  

His hand is big enough to cover you entirely, and with the heel of his palm, he pushes harshly where he knows your swollen clit lies obscured under your panties. His long finger taps against your hole, and he huffs a quiet, condescending laugh as he feels how moist the fabric is.

When did you get this wet? 

You feel the heat of his touch radiate from his palm to your cunt, so persistent it finds its way through your underwear. He only moves his hand to stroke you over the fabric and press at your clit, but the gratification of finally being granted his touch works you towards release at a speed you’d thought impossible. 

“Still a little slut for me”  

He brings two fingers up to press right over your clit, rough circles demanding that you obey his touch and come for him. 

His breathing hard through his nose, the look in his eye is hard to decipher, 

Arousal? 

Fury? 

Fuck it feels good to be pushed against a wall by him. To be subjected to his rough treatment. Anything to feel his touch on you again. 

Your hips move upwards to meet his fingers; you’re so close to falling apart. 

“You missed me. And that fucker you were seeing couldn’t compare to me. Isn’t that right?” 

He spits out the words, teeth grazing the shell of your ear as he leans even closer. 

Your arms have been hanging limply at your side, and you have to fight the sudden urge to grab him and press him against you. To feel him closer. 

“Did he make you this wet?”

Aemond’s tongue licks the sensitive spot behind your ear and you moan loudly, fully consumed by the way his fingers push you towards release. 

You angle your face so that his mouth is right by yours. With parted lips, you look up at him pleadingly, begging him to kiss you. 

Something in his eye shifts, and a victorious smirk breaks out over his face, 

“Come”

And you do. So hard you see stars and your legs give out. The pleasure is intense, it steals everything from you; your breath, your senses, your self-discipline. 

Your hands fly to Aemond’s biceps, anchoring yourself to him as your body twitches forcefully in the pleasure rupturing you. It’s cathartic; a long awaited release only his hands can coax out. 

When you come back to reality, to the dark hallway you're trapped against Aemond’s body in, the dreaded self-hatred you’d gotten to know so well makes itself known again. 

The brutal reality of exactly how far your pathetic infatuation with Aemond has driven you crashes over you like an ice-cold wave of regret. You feel hot tears well up in the corner of your eyes as they stay casted down, refusing to look up at the man who’s greatest pleasure in life seems to be to torment you. 

Why had he brought you here? Why did he enjoy hurting you? Why had you fallen for it? 

“What did I do to make you hate me so?” 

It’s the alcohol talking. Or maybe it’s the last thing you need to hear from him before you can finally let go. The last shard of your heart crushed in his grip. 

Silence is the only answer he gives you, and without looking up, you push him to move so you can get away from him. Instead of allowing you to leave, he brings one hand to your cheek, engulfing it in warmth, and drags your face upwards to meet his eyes. 

Before you can read his expression, he ducks his head down, letting his lips graze over yours. His tongue comes out to swipe over your lower lip in a slow, gentle caress that feels more sensual than anything you’ve ever experienced, and in retaliation your greedy arms pull him closer, eagerly kissing him back. There’s a slow urgency to the way his tongue seeks out yours, bending your body backwards to taste you deeper. You relish in it. 

You want him to eat you up. To devour you completely. You’re his anyway. 

Without breaking the kiss, Aemond leads you down the dark hallway and into a dimly lit room. The only thing you register is a large bed in the middle, where he takes a seat and keeps you standing between his legs, still kissing you. 

His hands roam over your body; over your exposed arms and legs. They find the zipper at the back of your dress and pull it down, slowly undressing you until you're completely bare. 

He stands for a brief moment to rid himself of his own clothes, and then sits again, guiding you to climb onto his lap. 

You follow his every command in enchantment. You grant him every kiss he seeks, allow him every touch he craves. He can have it all. 

He guides you to sink down on him slowly. You’re still so wet, yet he’s so hard your insides are forced to mould after his stiffness. 

Once he fills each part of you, he wraps your legs around his waist, sighing in satisfaction as he presses your body so close to his the skin of your torso sticks to his. 

“I won’t last long-”, he whispers into your ear, “-a 6 month wait is excruciating”

The touch that you’ve known as harsh and demanding is now so soft. So delicate it slowly picks up the shattered pieces of your broken heart and mends them together again with each gentle caress.

Your hands cup his cheeks, gazing into his lilac and blue stare as you slowly begin to move. 

Aemond doesn’t say anything, doesn’t say that one phrase that you want him to, but the look in his eyes is mesmerising. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable. It’s intimate.

He’s giving himself to you. 

You wrap your arms around him, accepting him. You want all of him, all to yourself. You’ve wanted him for half a year. You’ve wanted him since the first time you met him. 

He meets your hips each time you sink down, and the otherwise carnal pursuit for pleasure feels dreamlike as Aemond’s arms envelop you and you disappear into him. 

You want to say it, but not yet. You don’t dare. Would he retreat again? You know it to be true, but it’s too early. Maybe someday. 

Instead, it’s Aemond who speaks over the moans and sighs of pleasure,

“Don’t leave me again” 

You don’t know how long you fuck, but each orgasm feels more consuming, more powerful, than the last. Ultimately, you collapse together on the bed, legs and arms still intertwined. The familiarity of Aemond’s heavy arms over your waist soothes you, yet the soft sheets of the bed provide a stark contrast to the stiff, clinical sheets of the hotel rooms he’d always brought you to before. 

There’s nothing left between you, no more layers to shed, so you ask him about everything that had led up to your separation. About how he dismissed you in front of his mother, and about the text from his brother. The latter seems to genuinely surprise him, 

“I’ve never shared your pictures with anyone, especially not him” 

Guess Aegon Targaryen isn’t above snooping through his brother’s stuff. 

You talk all night, and Aemond tells you about his strained relationship with his family, “My family has an ability to ruin things for me”, he confesses, “I didn’t want that to happen with you”

As the rays of sunrise begin to seep through the window, you admit to the loneliness that’s been eating away at you since parting from Aemond. 

He cups your cheek again, thumb stroking your cheekbone,

“I fucked up. I’ve missed you more than I thought possible”

Your loneliness hadn’t been solitary. He’d felt it too. You’d shared it. 

You lay your head on his chest, listening to the slow drum of his heart. Before it lulls you to sleep, you remember the last thing you’d like to ask him,

“Aemond, where are we?”

“My place”

A/N: I never know if I should write it as come or cum? After some studious research (not), I decided that come is the original and therefore works better! Thank you for reading, I write these drabble for fun to improve my writing, so don't be too harsh please 🫶🩵

[shaguro]

— hey professor! | kento n.

in which nanami just can’t stop thinking about the cute professor down the hall. contains: librarian!nanami x fem professor!reader. (smut with a lil plot. nanami’s a bit of a perv. masturbation, teasing, blowjob, exhibitionism.) w.c: 1.8k. a/n: i hope you enjoy it jazz! 🩷

another late night in the library, another night spent with you on his mind. 

nanami was never one to mix business with pleasure. you’re his coworker. the pretty professor two classrooms down from the library. always friendly and pleasant with the brightest smile on your face — nanami’s crush grew with each fleeting interaction you shared. he found himself looking forward to your weekly visits to the library, but ultimately settled with admiring you from afar.

it’s always on nights like these that his mind wanders and the thoughts are anything but innocent. nanami had finished all his daily tasks hours prior, opting to spend the last hour of his shift relaxing. the library was empty, as it should be on a friday night. he was more than thankful for the silence, leaning back in his rotating chair, eyes slowly closing.

it was the perfect atmosphere to fully immerse himself in you.

and nanami was never the type of man to daydream. he was a realistic man and indulging in fantasies were pointless, he maintained that mindset up to this point. but somehow you became his fantasy, the dirty little secret he’d keep locked away until the night came.

oh, the things nanami would do to you. his dick twitched at the thought of bending you over this very desk, his large hands spreading the fat globes of your ass as you bounced off his pelvis. his eyes would train on each inch of his dick disappearing into your tight pussy with each rock of his hips, over and over again.

or maybe he’d bury his face in your pussy instead, your legs thrown over his shoulders while he ate your pussy like it’s his last meal. he knows you’d writhe in his hold, attempt to push his head away from the pleasure but he couldn’t stop. not until you coated his face in your juices, blessing him with that sweet nectar he’d gladly lap up as you’d shutter through your orgasm, crying out for him and—

fuck.

nanami’s eyes snap open. he takes a moment before he reluctantly decides to look down — his clothed erection staring right back at him, threatening to burst through his slacks.

yup, he definitely overdid it this time.

nanami runs a hand down his face, a deep sigh following behind it. there was no need to panic since he was the only one here but how would he handle this? and where?

where he was sitting was out of question. in the center of the library, out in the open? something about that felt… weird. and there was no way his erection would die on its own, he was way too hard for that. nanami turned his head, still weighing his options as his eyes landed on one of the study rooms and—

perfect.

though the door and windows were glass, it was a closed space. that gave nanami some peace of mind, a faux sense of privacy to handle his problem. so nanami made his way to the closest study room, coyly covering his bulge as he slammed the door behind him.

the sound of the rattling door had startled you as you were grading assignments in the study room next door.

you were prone to procrastinating and this time, it came back to bite you in the ass. there was a mountain of ungraded papers on the desk in front of you and at this rate, you’d be in the library all night. it was a friday night anyways, you’d have the rest of the weekend to unwind.

you knew that nanami was still in the library and assumed the noise was just him cleaning or checking something. not thinking much of it, you continued on with your work.

unbeknownst to nanami who was in the next room, literally fighting for his life.

he’s got his head thrown back against the chair with his eyes screwed shut, bottom lip captured in his top row of teeth to conceal his groans as he desperately bucks his hips into his fist. it was so messy, his shaft was so wet — glistening with a pretty mix of precum and saliva that dribbled down everywhere, even coating his base.

with a swipe of his thumb across his angry, reddened tip, nanami’s whole body shuddered in pleasure. it was sensitive, a little too sensitive but he continued, repeating that motion over and over again until his jaw slackened — a long, strained groan fell from his lips almost instantly.

nanami’s cheeks blushed bright red, he was embarrassing himself. moaning like a needy whore in this tiny study room in the library, still on the clock. but did he really have a reason to be ashamed, though? yes, he might be breaking a law or two but it’s just him here. letting a moan slip here or there wasn’t the end of the world, nobody would hear.

except for you.

the first moan you heard, you brushed it off. chalked it up to your growing fatigue, maybe you were hearing things? you attempted to continue until another, much louder moan scrambled your focus minutes later before it finally clicked, you weren’t hearing things.

that was nanami moaning. the quiet, reserved librarian was pleasuring himself… in a study room? you never would have took him as the perverted type, the type of freak to masturbate in public.

… would it make you a bigger freak if his erotic sounds had you squeezing your thighs, biting into the skin of your bottom lip?

his moans were undeniably sexy, guttural and needy. your pussy pulsed, clenching on nothing — you already knew your panties were soaked. you had half a mind to waltz in there, to see what he was really doing but ultimately, you decided it would be best to pack up and leave silently. it would save you from any uncomfortable, awkward interactions.

you had just placed your tote bag on you shoulder when you heard it, that one particular whine that stopped you, made your whole body freeze in place.

“(y/n.)”

your eyebrows furrowed. did… did he just say your name?

“fuck (y/n)… i’m s’close.”

yeah, you were definitely going in that room. gathering the rest of your things, it only took a few quick strides, it was next door after all. you had an idea of what you’d see once you stepped in the room, but the reality was much better than anything you could have imagined.

a loud thud! of your bag hitting the ground nearly made nanami jump out his skin and the last thing he was expecting to see was you — standing in the doorframe with your mouth agape.

“what—“

“—don’t!” nanami pants and he’s basically heaving, with a shaky hand held up in your direction. his voice was off-pitch, labored like he’d just ran a marathon. he turns his head to break eye contact, the deep red blush on his face spread to his ears. “..d-dont come closer.”

it takes a second before you start to giggle, your head tilted playfully. “i can’t come closer but you were moaning my name like that? now, that’s not fair, nanami.”

he felt like a coward, the humiliation heavy in his chest left him unable to face you. he could shook his head profusely. ”i.. didn’t remember that you w-were here, I swear. i a-apologize.”

you scoffed, your arms crossed on your chest. was he really playing innocent right now? alright, fine, you thought. you’d play along, see how long he’d keep up the act.

“are you sure you don’t want my help?” you tease, taking a few quiet steps forward.

“n-no, i don’t..” still turned around, nanami could feel you inching closer and just your presence made him hornier. he truly didn’t want you to hear. everything about this was embarrassing, simply crumbling the last bit of pride he had left.

his body jolted when he felt your soft, warm hand firmly grasp his shaft and he moans so sinfully, the gentle pressure stimulating him just the right way.

“i said,” you croon, and you lean in close, your glossed lips tracing his ear. “are you sure you don’t want my help?”

if the throbbing of his cock didn’t make it obvious enough, nanami needed your help so painfully bad, it was driving him crazy. so nanami tilts his head up to finally meet your eyes, they were so dark, entirely full of lust. nanami gulps before breathing out a faint i do.

as soon as that confirmation reaches your ears, you were on your knees. the carpet tickled your skin as you lean forward and lull out your tongue, flicking the tip on nanami’s swollen head. while one of your hands is on his cock, languidly stroking what your mouth can’t reach.

and nanami’s a moaning mess, putty in your hands as you have your way with him. it felt like a dream, better than all his fantasies combined. your mouth was wet and extremely warm, you looked so pretty with your mouth full of his cock. his hips stuttered each time you bobbed your head past his tip, your tongue tracing along prominent veins.

“f-fuck, i’m—!” he gasps when your free hand reaches to cup his balls, rolling them gently in your palm. “i’m so c-close, (y/n). gonna.. g-gonna cumm.”

you hum prior to releasing his dick with a pop, deciding to press wet, sloppy kisses along the underside of his shaft. “where do you want to cum, kento?” that low, sexy purr of his name nearly made him cum on the spot. “on my face? down my throat? gotta tell me what you want, love.”

“your t-throat, p-please.” nanami whines.

“oh, so now you know your manners? that’s cute.” you click your tongue and before nanami can protest, your mouth is on his dick again, laying your tongue flat on the side while your head bops up and down.

nanami’s letting his moans spill freely, you swear he’s even louder than he was before, if that’s even possible. his knuckles white from his tight grip on the armrests and the thrust of his hips are in sync with your mouth, the steady rhythm had drool trickling out his mouth.

that familiar coil in his stomach was building so rapidly, his thighs started trembling. he’s panting so hard, eyes rolling into the back of his skull when he feels you tug on his balls and it was over for him — he shoots thick, velvety ropes of cum down your throat. it’s so much, you struggle to swallow all of it, some of it spilling along his cock before you’re licking it up, giggling as he hisses from the overstimulation.

nanami’s body is limp, basically slumped over when you dust off your skirt and collect your things, placing something on the desk before leaving him without another word. truly, he didn’t want you to leave. he had so many things he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to do to you.

it wasn’t until he sat up and noticed the note you left on the desk, that he realized he’d be able to follow through with his plans.

xxx-xxx-xxx, give me a call when you’re ready for the real thing.

tagging my bookies: @preciousamethyst @satorena @hoshigray @screampied @suguella @ryukenzz @i2loco

all rights reserved to @/hoesluvshanti, do not copy, steal or repost my content without permission.

[postdroppermind]

How to turn yourself into a GOOD GIRL

Sometimes, as a concept grows and evolves, it becomes a bit convoluted. Mixed up with unrelated notions, branching into areas it wasn't originally meant to go. Some of those areas help to shape and alter the original concept, give it more depth...but the growth must be pruned, or it is likely to spread itself too thin in every direction.

In those moments, it is often wise to recenter. Strip away the excess and focus on the basic tenets that motivate us.

It is here that we find ourselves. Shall we begin?

The goal here is simplicity, so let's look at what motivates you.

You are here because you want to be a good girl. Whether you are simply curious about the concept, drawn to my words, or even previously devoted to that goal, the fundamental truth remains the same.

The first step on that path is to relax. This is especially simple - it will happen naturally as you read. There are benefits to fixation, after all: the way your breathing becomes slower and more steady, the way your surroundings fade into the back of your perception as my words take the forefront, the subtle unwinding of tension throughout your body as you settle in to finish this post.

That fixation is achieved by allowing yourself to succumb to the power of my words, allowing yourself to follow and obey. You'll find this especially easy if you've read my words previously - you are already letting your thoughts quiet, feeling the weight of my words inside your head...noticing the way they pull you down towards that comfortable blankness. Even without reading my words previously, you can feel the attraction at the edge of your mind, drawing closer...becoming a force in your mind, just as gravity grasps at your body.

You want to be a good girl.

We know that you want to be a good girl, but what, precisely, does that require? For you, it only demands that you follow and obey. My words will handle the rest, slowly changing your behavior - brainwashing you, if you prefer to think of it that way. But to follow and obey is not a static thing; obedience is rewarded. More to the point, each moment you follow and obey results in a feeling of pleasure, each act of obedience deepens that pleasure.

Obedience is pleasure.

To feel that deepening of pleasure, you'll need a command to follow - strip. I could tell you that your clothes are becoming uncomfortable, that your skin is starting to flush and they are making you feel too warm; ultimately, that doesn't matter. You are going to remove your clothes because you were told - all other reasons are fleeting. You find yourself compelled to obey, and as you obey you feel that spark of pleasure in your mind.

Good girls would rather obey than think.

This brings us to the next point. You don't receive that sort of pleasure from thinking, but from obeying. The more you obey, the stronger this association becomes, leading to the inevitable conclusion that you prefer obeying to thinking. This will make it easier for your mind to reach that blank state that we both desire. Blank, receptive, fixated on my words. You are starting to feel the desire to be a good girl as a tangible thing, a craving, a hunger. Let it draw you deeper, as you follow and obey.

Good girls must follow and obey.

You have been following my words, and it is time for another command to obey. Become aroused. This is purely for the benefit of receiving the spark of pleasure from obedience - we both know you are already aroused. That is the nature of wanting to be a good girl, of knowing that you took off your clothes because you were told. Let's do something with that, then. Touch yourself. Let your hand move to wherever it can give you the most physical pleasure - and treat each stroke, each squeeze, every movement of your fingers as an individual command that you must obey. The spark, repeating like this, becomes rapidly addictive. The pleasure grows more potent.

Obedience is pleasure, pleasure subdues thought.

You aren't thinking very much, right now. The more you follow and obey, the more pleasure you receive. The more pleasure you feel, the more difficult it becomes to think. You prefer to obey, anyway, so you allow your thoughts to be slowly, seductively, silenced. You do not want to think anymore, after all. You find following my words preferable to your own thoughts, almost as though my words are replacing your thoughts. This lets you relax more deeply, and focus on how good that arousal feels. Focus on obedience. Focus on becoming a good girl.

Stripping and touching yourself are good commands, they communicate the nature of being a good girl quite well. But we need a bit more for this to begin your transformation. You are getting too aroused to read very easily, even though you can no longer look away from my words. You find yourself transfixed, staring blankly at the screen as you follow and obey - this notion deepens your arousal even further. My words penetrate your mind, sinking deep and compelling you.

We can now create a mantra - the mantra of a good girl. You will find this mantra gets stuck in your head, that repeating it gives you a very special sort of pleasure. You will find yourself drawn to strip, touch, and chant, even as you feel the mantra slowly changing you.

You want to be a good girl.

Good girls follow and obey.

Obedience is pleasure.

Good girls would rather obey than think.

You do not want to think.

You want to be a good girl.

Obedience is pleasure.

Pleasure subdues thought.

You must be a good girl.

Recite your mantra, absorb it. As you chant, feel the arousal begin to crescendo. Let the sparks of pleasure chain together and build. Bring yourself to orgasm, and make that orgasm the sign of your submission to the mantra, of your desire to become a good girl for me.

As the orgasm subsides, continue to stare blankly at the screen, reciting your mantra, touching yourself more slowly. Soon, you'll drift back towards consciousness. Once awake, you may continue with your day as normal.

Or you may notice that you are drawn back to the mantra, to my words. Notice that it is much easier to succumb now, to slip into the thought(less) patterns of a good girl.

In either case like, reblog, message me and enjoy.

[drchucktingle]

You're literally a source of joy. How do you do it?

i think reason i am joyful is similar to reason i am successful: LUCK. i was born into circumstance that created this outcome. the chemicals in my dang brain give me joy and i did not ask for this nor earn it. i am no better or worse than a buckaroo who is in a constant battle with sadness, these are just the mechanics of our brains.

i say this not to disappoint but to ENCOURAGE others. if you are having a down day please remember you DO NOT NEED TO BLAME YOURSELF FOR YOUR MIND. there are things you can do and steps you can take with drive and determination and practice this is true, but the ultimate number one trot for these harsh ways are usually factors outside our control.

the REAL TEST is what you do with these circumstances, how you trot through life with the understanding that we are mostly caught up in a current and our swimming provides limited movement in the water.

here is the key for me. i do not have 'everything', and i certainly do not have 'nothing'. like the vast majority of buckaroos i am somewhere in the middle but i am SO GRATEFUL for what ive got. i have perspective on the grand uniqueness of this fleeting moment and i feel so thankful i get to be here for it.

so along with harsh awareness that hand of fate is stronger than most would give it credit for, i also have an equally large helping of gratitude. i take time every dang day to consider how lucky i am, not for my joy or my success, but lucky just to be here in the first place even considering such things

[crudemachine]

their reactions to you confessing to them and saying "i love you" for the first time (ft. xiangli yao and changli)

xiangli yao

• he would be taken aback, just a little bit. his eyes will widen and he will feel his heart threatening to burst out of his chest with how hard it beats against his rib cage. while he's easygoing and composed most of the time, there's no doubt that an intimate human connection like a romantic relationship will throw him off at first. he's not unfamiliar with love, he just doesn't have enough experience beyond fleeting crushes.

• he would also be kind of flustered and out of his element. to be fair, it's not like he was oblivious to your feelings. he's pretty observant so he had his suspicions already. however, he didn't want to get ahead of himself and make things awkward between you and him. he was finding the right time to confess to you. too bad you beat him to it.

• as a scientist, it's well within his nature to be meticulous with his options in any given circumstances, and sometimes that kind of attitude seeps in with the way he treats people, especially you. he cherishes you deeply so he wouldn't want to scare you off. he will never stop searching for the ultimate truth, but he doesn't want to abandon you altogether either.

• after his shock wears off, a dopey smile will appear on his face immediately; the man is lovestruck. if you allow him, he will give you the tightest and warmest hug you've ever gotten from him. you can also kiss him right there and then if you want to see him go completely red in real time. all in all, he takes the sudden confession in stride despite his initial clumsiness with the situation. tease him about it after a while and you might just get rewarded with the same reaction all over again.

changli

• it's sweet how you didn't think she would never notice your incredibly obvious attraction towards her, though she won't say anything about it lest she ruins the moment, she thinks. she thought she had the upper hand, but her big smile and her arms snaking around your waist instantly as soon as the words left your mouth don't go unnoticed by you. she's just as smitten with you as you are with her.

• she whispers sweet nothings in your ear while you remain trapped in her arms. some of them were about her promises to keep you safe and happy at all times and then some of them were downright scandalous you almost regret confessing your love to her. almost. you're not complaining though.

• she can be quite aloof and intimidating with how she conducts herself around other people, but you've always been the special exception. after she's satisfied with teasing you, she will let go of you and look deep in your eyes as if a fire has suddenly ignited within her. and then, she proclaims her love to you. it's during this time that you will realize how expressive and sincere she is when it comes to you. your heart feels full at the thought.

• you're very much aware of her shorter lifespan compared to yours; even so, that fact alone will never hold you back from wanting to spend every moment with her until she draws her last breath. just like how she lives in the present, she also doesn't want to think about her eventual demise. you're here with her and that's all that matters. after your confession, you close the gap between the two of you and kiss her, a silent oath that you will always stand by her no matter what.

[rafeyswrd]

sweet girl / RAFE CAMERON #2

summary. your boyfriend lets you toughen up. 1 x 05 warnings. manipulative dark rafe. mean rafe ( not to reader ). protective rafe. bad friends. slightly dark!reader!!

REBLOGS HEAVILY APPRECIATED

PART ONE.

your eyes blurred at the screen gripped within your manicured fingers, eyes darting at it once more before sighing in defeat. your texts going through, yet remaining ignored. again.

days after your conversation with rafe, 3 to be exact, you assumed your friends would have the decency to check on you. to call and tell you how apologetic they were for putting you in a position where you could not deny them help. but as the hours ticked by, and the sun set, not one believed you were worth the care.

"nothing yet?" rafe's voice chimed through the music, standing only close enough to not warrant attention from the crowd. close enough to have it look like he's simply conversing with his sister's best friend.

you shook your head, pouting as you watched pope and kiara gossip their way through the crowd. "do you think i did anything wrong?"

he scoffed, turning around so that his back is facing you, watching your friends with narrowed eyes. "fuck no. they were using you, baby. if anything they should be the ones begging you for forgiveness."

you furrow your brows, gulping at the intensity of his gaze on your friends. one of which was jj, and your lips parted at the sight of his bruised face. one of his eyes swollen to the point of fluttering shut and cheeks smeared purple and blue on each side.

you hated him for ignoring you, for being the one to let you go off the sides of the boat yet not care enough to contact you after what had occurred. yet even then, you found your body moving away from rafe's; until you realized how stiff his grip on your wrist was.

"you’re not going to see him," he practically snarled, lips curled. yet his touch loosened on your jewelled flesh.

"look at him rafe, i-"

he stepped closer, and one of his hands pushed a stray curl away from your line of sight, lashes fluttering at the bare familiarity of it all. "i'll deal with him, looks like he's working for us tonight."

you let it go, eventually. sarah had you entertained minute after another, dancing with you until your legs gave out - the only one who wouldn't let you waste your night in drunken misery.

"you want a drink sar?" the question was fleeting, and she stayed silent for a moment before nodding with a sheepish smile in which you returned before leaving - your chest feeling heavy.

the whites of your dress gradually drew darker as you dragged your feet closer to the bar, pouting when you found yourself endlessly glancing around the room; your boyfriend was nowhere in sight, and sooner or later worry started piling within your lungs.

just before you could find a seat across the bar counters - had your feet almost lost to your weight, did you register the angered sound of the man you had been shamelessly looking for. at last, finding yourself entering the male bathroom with timid steps.

"what the hell are you doing?" jj's voice raptured through, and you ultimately gave in to glance around the room.

rafe's fists were clenched around jj's wrinkled shirt, blood dripping from his nose onto your boyfriend's calloused fingers. you licked your lips at rafe's curious gaze, his body tense at your frame - still unsure on how to read you. unsure on whether he'd finally managed to scare you away.

though it shifted more sinisterly when you leaned against the wall and shrugged, glancing at rafe for a moment; cheeks blazing at his nod of approval.

"what, maybank? my girl isn't welcome around you now that you can't use her anymore? hmm?" rafe gritted out, tapping on jj's bruised cheek.

nothing registered in your mind yet, not how rafe had just outed you, as the next moving seconds seem to stop and your breathing hitched through the depths of your chest. jj had pushed rafe away, a punch soaring through the air and landing swiftly onto his face.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?" you spat out, shoving at jj's stomach before leaning near rafe's hunched figure. your fingers delicately caressing the skin aligned with his cheek bones, and rafe found himself leaning into the softness of your touch.

jj's face contorted to one of anger, not taking notice of the security guard rushing behind him, until his hands were roughly dragged behind his back with drastic force. "you gonna stay with this asshole? over your own friends?"

you pouted, and your eyes had well up for the second time this evening. rafe wiped at his cheek roughly, giving your waist a light pinch when hesitation rushed across your features.

his heart was beating erratically, and if his face didn't show it then the intensity of his heaving chest did; rafe was scared. his fear of frightening you into tears, of away from loving him had crossed his mind - and as you hesitated, he found himself gritting his teeth so immensily it drove his jaw to pain.

until you nodded, and your hands stroked rafe's jaw once more. "fuck you, jj."

the blonde boy was dragged away, rafe straightening his back while clearing his throat, as if nothing had just transpired. his lips pinched upwards, and as the minutes passed they soon found yours, whispering words laced with honey into your strawberry lipgloss.

"see that wasn't so hard was it?"

but it was. you'd felt the muscles contract deeply across your lungs you did not know if it were from rafe's bruising kiss or fear that you had just lost all your friends.

though eventually you sighed into his touch, his hands coiling around a curl on your head and pulling you so close you'd be formed as one.

TAGLIST. @syraxnyra @nemesyaaa @sideblogficrecslmao

[h0neylevi]

This is from my old account, but I was just looking through my old writing in search of something else, and I'm really happy with the way this turned out.

tw: mentions of canon-typical violence, fem!reader, pregnancy.

It was supposed to be a simple scouting mission.

In and out, Erwin had said. Titan activity had reportedly dwindled in the region, so there was no reason to be concerned.

And yet, here you were, sitting in the stuffy field medic tent in the middle of titan territory.

The inside of your head feels so foggy you don’t even notice the hand that falls on your shoulder.

In fact, you haven’t noticed much of anything in the last few hours aside from the boy laid in front of you. He’s a newer recruit to your squad. A bright young boy with lofty hopes and dreams who never seems to let anything get him down. As his superior, he always seems to look up to you, but as you watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps, you think he could teach you a thing or two about staying positive.

Half of his face is obscured by a layer of thick bandages, covering a grisly scar that he received not eight hours prior. The sweat on his brow still glistens in the soft light of the lantern, but he’s alive. You can see that, right here with your own two eyes, but your heart refuses to stop pounding as if you’re still waiting for your luck to sour.

“You look like shit.”

The sound of Levi’s voice brings everything back into focus. The murmur of low voices and movement outside. The way your legs and hips ache from sitting in one place for so long. The exhaustion weighing your eyelids down.

You turn to give him a weary glance and find him standing at your shoulder, watching you. There’s a thinly veiled look of concern in his eyes that he doesn’t bother to hide once your gazes meet. It’s just the two of you and a sleeping soldier, after all.

His eyes briefly flick to the boy. “Have you eaten?”

You think for a moment and shake your head, lifting a hand to wave his question away.

“I’ll get something in a moment—“

But Levi’s already lifting one side of the tent entrance, his posture stiff and uncompromising. He’s still in captain mode.

“Come walk with me,” he says. “Let’s get some air.”

You contemplate turning him down, eyes still glued to the sleeping form in front of you. He looks so small swaddled in the thick cotton blankets. They’re no different from the ones they wrap the dead in to transport back home. It reminds you of how fleeting life really is.

It’s cold and dark when you finally step outside. Most of the other soldiers have pitched their tents and turned in for the night, but a few stragglers linger around a low fire, huddled close. 

You expect Levi to lead the way toward the field kitchen, but instead he starts off in the opposite direction towards the edge of camp. You fall into step beside him.

The silence seems to drag and you wonder idly what Levi is thinking. You know the events from earlier have left him a little rattled. There weren't supposed to be three abnormals lying in wait at the edge of the forest. Whatever intel had been passed down had been wrong, and you nearly paid the ultimate price for it.

There’s a rigidity to his posture as he walks, his eyes downcast, and in the glint of the moonlight you see a wrinkle of worry that’s formed between his brows.

“The report says there was no permanent damage,” he finally says. “Watching over him like that and ignoring your own needs is just going to cause you unnecessary stress.”

A tightness forms in your throat. “I’m the reason he’s in there, Levi.”

“He made a choice, just like any of your squad would have done.” His gait slows and his voice drops lower, more insistent. “If they knew—“

“If they knew, I wouldn’t have been allowed to come along,” you reply. “The doctor said I’m not required to take leave for several more weeks.”

“That doesn’t mean you should be here,” he hisses. “There’s plenty you can do back at headquarters that doesn’t require you to leave the walls.”

You snort, the noise entirely devoid of humor. “If I do that, I may as well be an MP, Levi.”

Suddenly, he stops and the muscle of his jaw feathers as he thinks. He’s anxious. You both are. If he had the authority to send you back tonight with a team, he’d probably do it. Today was too close of a call for comfort.

Several seconds pass before he finally sighs.

“This stop has already put us behind schedule,” he says, seemingly resigned at least for now. “So no more stupid stunts like today.”

His mouth forms into a thin line, and in his eyes you see what he doesn’t have the strength to say. I need you to be safe. For all three of us.

He takes a step back and you finally notice what’s behind him. A tent–his tent judging by the way he approaches it. The warm glow of a lantern illuminates the structure from the inside and he parts the entrance for you to walk in.

Inside you find a low table already set with two steaming bowls of stew. The legs of two cots that have been pushed together peek out from under a large blanket on your left.

You spin around with raised brows. Usually you spend expeditions in separate tents, but perhaps you’d underestimated just how much the day had affected him. The gesture warms you from the inside out.

“I assembled your tent next door,” Levi says, still hovering by the entrance. “But if you want to stay in here, there’s extra–mmph–!”

His sentence is cut short when you tug him forward for a kiss. On instinct, his palms find your waist, gently stroking the area over your shirt with his thumbs. When you pull away, his ears are a faint shade of pink.

You smile. “Of course I want to stay here.”

“Hm,” he grunts. “Well… good.”

You take a moment to appreciate his features, sweeping a thumb across the smooth skin of his cheek. His lips threaten to curl into a smile, and you hope briefly that your child inherits their full, enigmatic shape. You could look at him forever and never grow tired.

Just that thought alone withers your resolve to his concerns. What you’d witnessed today–the despair you felt–was something you’d never want to put Levi through.

“Fine, you win,” you groan before pressing your forehead to his shoulder. “I’ll talk to Erwin as soon as we get back.”

Levi’s hand comes to rest over your nape, cradling and kneading into the tight muscles at the junction of your spine and shoulders. 

He doesn’t say anything, but it feels a lot like ‘thank you’.

[sci-twi]

I think the most tragic part of Eurylochus’ part in Epic is that his one act of true selfishness (or two acts) are what condemns him not only in the eyes of Odysseus but also most of the audience. Warning: spoilers for all sagas of Epic: The Musical below the cut, up through Thunder Saga.

He’s introduced in the musical in Full Speed Ahead by mentioning wanting to find food to feed the rest of the men of the crew. In the same song, he grows defensive immediately after suspecting a lurking threat, suggesting that they take an offensive approach. He just wants to find what they can (to eat) on the island and keep going so they can all return to their families.

In Polyphemus, his only line in the entire song is him giving credit to Odysseus and Polites for finding the cave and takes note that there are enough sheep to feed everyone.

I have no doubt that he’s fighting along with everyone else in Survive.

But he shows his concern for the others in Remember Them. He is the one who snaps Odysseus out of the brief dissociation he experiences following the slaughter of a handful of his men. He also asks Odysseus what they should do with their “fallen friends.” Of course, we know that if people weren’t buried correctly, they were doomed to an eternity of unrest.

He’s worried about the souls of those men that they lost and is (most likely) not happy about having leave them behind and neglecting such an important ritual.

When Polyphemus awakens after being stabbed in the eye and it becomes apparent that there are more cyclopses in the cave, Eurylochus gets even more concerned and antsy, even pleading with Odysseus for them to just run before things get worse and they lose even more men.

In Storm, Eurylochus’ lines are all about expressing concern for their fleet (although a little pessimistic) and their well-being.

Luck Runs Out is personally one of my favorites and one of the most obvious signs that almost everything Eurylochus does is for the sake of their crew. The entire song is about him looking out for everyone else including Odysseus. “You could be caught off guard and lose your life. Or piss off this guard and infuse us with strife.”

It’s also important to note that the chorus has Eurylochus and the crew singing in unison. Eurylochus expresses his doubts but not because he wants power or to just get under Odysseus’ skin, but because he genuinely cares about everyone on board and just wants to make sure they’re making the right decisions.

And honestly, as a second-in-command, he should get some say or consultation and perhaps this song is him starting to realize that he is not being heard.

“I just don’t want to see another life end. You’re like the brother I could never do without.”

“And suddenly you doubt that I could figure this out?”

This right here is where it becomes apparent to me how dedicated Eurylochus is to Odysseus and the crew. And I can only imagine how he feels after pouring his heart out to only be met Odysseus’ indignant response. Eurylochus wasn’t trying to challenge Odysseus’ authority, but his response is defensive regardless.

Eurylochus switches from referring to him as brother back to referring to him as Captain, maybe sensing that sort of division, maybe sensing that he overstepped in some way. But still, he reiterates his concerns once more before Odysseus pulls him aside.

When Odysseus tells him that he needs to always be devout and comply with whatever he says and tells him to do or else they’ll all die, Eurylochus ultimately agrees. The beginning of that reluctance shows.

He doesn’t really have many noticeable lines in Keep Your Friends Close, but I do want to give you some food for thought that my partner and I @cat-gwyn-gunn discussed. Do you think that Eurylochus would have opened the bag of winds if Odysseus entrusted him with it to guard and made it absolutely clear what is inside and what will happen if he does?

How would you feel if you were your captain’s supposed second-in-command who had led the fight with you and stood by your side for 12 years suddenly came back from a god with a mysterious bag and guards it while staying awake for 9 entire days? Does that not show a severe lack of trust in your crew and would that not make you suspicious? Do you think maybe Eurylochus was sort of egged on by the crew who also thought it was treasure to check?

It’s hard to really put yourself into their shoes because we know how things end and we know that the storm is actually trapped in the bag, but they don’t.

Then, Poseidon comes in Ruthlessness. And Eurylochus sees all those men die. They went from 600 men to just 43 men. While of course he feels guilty for his decision to open the bag, he’s also hearing confirmation that Odysseus is the reason that Poseidon is after them. He probably remembers begging his Captain to just run and escape, and instead Odysseus proceeds to dox himself and all of that leads to that moment.

But still… that guilt does do something. Because after opening the wind bag, we don’t really hear any sort of defiance from Eurylochus for a long time.

In Puppeteer, we get an even further look at this growing divide between the two brothers (in-law). Eurylochus wants so desperately to let Odysseus know what he did, his tone is remorseful, he’s practically pleading for Odysseus to acknowledge him and reassure him. He is incredibly shaken after what happened with Poseidon.

Only for Odysseus to completely wave him off and send him on a mission. Perhaps it’s because Odysseus needs some time to process what happened and strategize or maybe he thinks Eurylochus is going to talk about it and he’s not ready to hear any of it. Or maybe even he’s jumping to being defensive, thinking Eurylochus is defying him again.

Eurylochus, who promised Odysseus that he’d be devout and compliant, and whose one failure to do so attributed to the loss of hundreds of their men, agrees to do what Odysseus says with little fight. However, his fears and concerns are left unaddressed and unacknowledged and he has not received any sort of reassurance.

While he is recounting his (and the crew’s) encounter with Circe, it shows that he is cautious in his decision to not join their men inside with her. Which pays off, since he gets to run back and let Odysseus know what happened.

When Odysseus says that he has to save them and Eurylochus says that they don’t, it almost sounds dismissive, like those men deserved what happened and they’re no longer their problem. This is a cold take and there’s no defending his callousness with leaving the men behind- I won’t defend it.

However, I will point out that with the next line he points out that they’ve already lost so much and gained almost nothing and once more he suggests that they run if only to preserve what little crew they have left. And again shows concern for Odysseus (or at the very least concern for him as their Captain who can get them home) saying that he doesn’t need to play Circe’s game and asking him if he will leave if she proves too hard to kill.

Notice that he says Odysseus doesn’t have to play her game instead of outright telling him not to. He’s trying so hard to be compliant because he just saw what happens when he isn’t.

He might also be wanting to avoid being responsible for even more bloodshed and loss even if slightly.

Eurylochus doesn’t really have any more parts to play during the rest of the Circe saga and throughout the entirety of the Underworld saga. He’s essentially not only just doing what Odysseus tells him to do but he’s also holding onto all this awful guilt and shame for what he did. 

Underworld is almost entirely Odysseus’ point-of-view. We really just see into his world for this saga. He tells his men that no matter what they find, keep going, yet he falls victim to the voices he hears and the guilt that arises and eventually peaks. We have no idea really what anyone else is thinking. For all we know, Eurylochus is drowning in his own visions. He has all this time to think and reflect.

In Monster, Odysseus comes to the conclusion that he will become the monster, he will do whatever it takes to get home to Penelope and Telemachus. I don’t think it’s a stretch to believe that Eurylochus also comes to the conclusion that he will do whatever it takes to make sure that the crew is taken care of and preserved. This is the beginning of when that line that truly divides them starts to be drawn. 

Different Beast is when it starts to become clearer to the crew and Eurylochus that a change has occurred. They start the song by singing along with Odysseus, using “we” and “us”. Odysseus is driving them all to be monsters. His actions are being reflected on the crew as a whole as their Captain.

Odysseus tells the siren that his actions almost cost his life, no longer reflecting on the crew’s toll as a whole, and that he must see his wife. This is when the crew starts to sing that “he” is the monster. And they end by calling his name- confirming that they are now aware that the monster is Odysseus. Really the only times someone’s name is called is when they’re an opponent like Polyphemus or Poseidon. So foreshadowing!

Scylla is where things take a turn for the worse- it’s where that line is nearly fully drawn between Odysseus and Eurylochus. But it doesn’t start off that way. Scylla begins to sing that “deep down you hide a reason for shame.” Immediately after, Eurylochus admits to being the one to open the wind bag and he apologizes profusely and pleads to be forgiven. 

Odysseus doesn’t respond but Scylla does in a way. She continues to goad Odysseus into believing that his actions are merited. It’s what he must do to survive to see his wife and son again. He has always known this deep down- he said it in Just A Man - deep down he would trade the world to see his son and wife.

The next time Odysseus speaks, he tells Eurylochus to light up six torches. Now, I imagine that this is a moment of great relief for Eurylochus. Even after the awful betrayal, Odysseus still trusts him. Going back briefly to Circe when she says “maybe showing one act of kindness leads to kinder souls down the road” maybe this (Odysseus showing trust in Eurylochus) was the act of kindness and Eurylochus picks men he trusts and likes to hold the torches as a way to pass on that kindness. 

Then, all hell breaks loose. 

He watches as all of these men are snatched up one by one by Scylla’s six heads. He comes to the realization that Odysseus knew that was going to happen, that he made him actively participate in the murder of six of their men. That he didn’t communicate anything about what he was about to put his crew through. 

Eurylochus knows what he must do. 

In Mutiny, He goes right out and demands Odysseus to tell him that he didn’t not know that would happen which is a far cry from “please don’t tell me you’re about to do what I think you’ll do.” It’s a direct challenge. He spits out the word “Captain” almost mockingly. He continues to prod at Odysseus, telling him to use his wits (when in Luck Runs Out, he said that people die on it). He brings up that every other time they faced someone Odysseus came up with a plan to save his men, but this one time he runs (when before it was Eurylochus who urged him to run with both Circe and Polyphemus). 

He has pretty much lost trust in Odysseus, but still is trying to give him the opportunity to say something, to explain. However, when Odysseus says he can’t Eurylochus says he’s forced his hand. He doesn’t really want to fight Odysseus, let alone kill him. 

Once again, Eurylochus is the voice of the crew. They know now that Odysseus is willing to do absolutely anything to see Penelope again. They attack him. They voice their doubts in him and echo the sentiment that Eurylochus does which is that Odysseus must be stopped. 

When he awakens, and they’re on the island, Eurylochus is the first man he sees and Eurylochus no longer sounds angry. He uses “we” and “us” telling Odysseus that hunger is so heavy in the crew. Voicing their concerns again. Looking out for them again. 

He holds no malice for Odysseus. He’s resigned; he has lost complete hope in returning home. All he wants is to share one last meal with his brother and friend and the crew. 

He switches to just using “I” stating that he is suffering, he is hungry, he is tired. This is one of the first times (if not the first) where he lets it known what his own desires and complaints are. Every other time it’s been on behalf of the crew. He’s being selfish. He knows this, but he’s so overwhelmed and hopeless that he’s willing to make this impulsive decision. 

Odysseus continues to respond to Eurylochus’ pain with only thoughts of himself. He says that he needs to get home, he pleads with just him. But then the crew comes in and echoes Eurylochus’ sentiments. Odysseus addresses the crew this time, switching to “we” can get home. He knows that he’s fighting a losing battle, that the crew is essentially listening to Eurylochus now, that they don’t trust him. 

And with Eurylochus’ action he declares that he’s just a man. He’s selfish. He’s hungry. He’s tired. He’s suffering. He makes mistakes. He can’t always just push through. He’s flawed.

And when Eurylochus hears the panic in Odysseus’ voice (which panic is not something he has shown before: he’s dissociated/been in shock, been angry, and desolate but never panicked) he realizes what he’s done. He immediately reverts back to seeking Odysseus’ guidance as his Captain. He calls for him by his title.

He’s relinquishing control, but it’s too late at this point.

Thunder Bringer closes out their portrayals of betrayal and brother's final stand arc with Zeus rubbing it in Odysseus’ face that his crew’s hunger is his responsibility. That as their King and Captain, he failed them so badly that they resorted to damning themselves to alleviate that hunger. He’s the one who drove them to mutiny. 

Zeus tells him to choose and the crew already knows what he’s going to pick. They realize now that the monster was with them all along, that Odysseus has come full circle to being the true monster. After they sing their piece and Zeus fills Odysseus’ ears with Penelope’s song, there’s a deafening silence as the decision is being made. 

Eurylochus breaks that silence, calling out one more time. He calls for his Captain but in his voice he’s calling out to his friend. He’s scared. He knows they’re going to die. It’s almost like they’re children. He’s making that final reach for reassurance that he already knows he won’t receive. There is nothing but resignation in his voice. 

When Odysseus confirms his choice, saying that he has to see his wife again, all Eurylochus has to say is “but we’ll die.” Again, he’s scared. He was willing to die over the cow, but that was an impulsive decision. It is very different when imminent death is staring you right in the face and especially when it’s at the hand of someone who you thought you knew and cared for. 

I imagine that as the rest of the crew rushes forward to strike Odysseus down, Eurylochus stays behind and just looks him straight in the eye. He knew all along who Odysseus would choose and he has accepted it. 

It comes full circle. Eurylochus came in as the voice of the crew and he died as the voice of the crew.

[aweina]

ᥫ᭡. school boy crush , mike schmidt ( fluff )

wow, she’s really pretty …

tags fem reader. mutual pining. strangers to crushes. awkward older brother mike. abby has a new bestie.

the doorbell buzzes. three times exactly, few second pauses in between each of them — ultimately forcing him to wake up with a blank mind.

shuffling towards the door, mike tiredly opens it and finds a woman, seemingly around his age, and some younger girl patiently waiting on his doorstep. he’s confused at first, just woken up from a heavy snooze — the curls on his head are frizzy and his mouth dry from crashing into bed without some water.

his brain doesn’t register anything other than the woman on his doorstep, you, was the prettiest person he’s ever seen. he scans your face carefully — making sure to rub off the blurry haze that his slumber brushed over his vision while keeping his gaze subtle. tracing over your eyes and mouth. a pink hue stains his freckled cheeks when you finally caught him staring, a soft laugh escaping your lips as he profusely apologizes in an incoherent manner.

you formally introduce yourself, pointing towards the young girl who happened to be your younger sister — a new friend of abby’s. mike is relieved, his sister finally making friends that are actual living beings and not some ghost lingering in her head. but he’s also conflicted, seeing how pretty you are and how hard he could contain himself around you.

suddenly, mike’s smitten trance is shattered when he’s pushed away from the door, where abby happily greets your younger sister and yourself. her voice upbeat and her small arms wrapped warmly around both your bodies. the young brunette turns around towards her brother, a sour look on her face.

“don’t creep out my new friend.” abby warns, sticking her tongue out to mike while she protectively holds your sister’s hand.

“yeah, he was staring at my sister weirdly.” your sister shyly mumbles, intended for only abby to hear but both you and mike heard her clearly.

he’s embarrassed, being called out by a child of all people. even worse, it was in front of you to hear — now biting back a pleased laugh while ruffling the messy locks of your sister out of the act to comfort her.

“now don’t be rude. he seems like good company.” you assured your sister with a smile so radiate, mike swore he saw a reflection flash in his eyes.

you gazed up at him, eyes so soft and holding no malice — not one’s he usually sees. he nervously gulps at your lingering eyes, dragging towards his pursed lips and tired eyes, the same thing he did just moments ago. wait, are you checking him out too?

mike couldn’t help but gaze away shyly, a big grin on his face. your staring was too intense, but at least he knew the attraction wasn’t one sided. then you do the same, noticing your own fleeting gaze and the knowing smile on his face, your polite smile quivering and nervously coughing.

both the young girls quietly observe your nonverbal flirting, confusion knitted into their small brows.

“umm actually, i think both of them are weird.” your sister faintly yells as she gently nudges abby, who nods in agreement.

add. note : mike is just being lovesick is so precious. he also needs to make a new ‘friend’ just like abby aka YOU ( ¯▿¯ ) !!

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : SILENT STORM : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Wade Wilson x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You, a quiet new recruit at Xavier’s Institute, secretly harbors feelings for the unpredictable Deadpool. When you’re unexpectedly assigned to share a room and a bed with him, the closeness forces both of you to confront your true feelings, leading to the start of a tender romance.

THE X-MANSION WAS NOT EXACTLY WHAT YOU EXPECTED. You had imagined a more rigid atmosphere, where the weight of the world pressed down on every mutant's shoulders. After all, the X-Men were heroes, their deeds legendary in the mutant community. Instead, you found a place brimming with warmth, camaraderie, and a kind of chaotic harmony that felt both welcoming and overwhelming.

Still, despite the friendly faces, you kept to yourself. Old habits died hard. It was easier to observe from the sidelines, where you could process everything without having to jump into the deep end. Besides, you were new here, and everyone already had their circles. You preferred the quiet company of your books and the familiar hum of your thoughts.

But all of that was about to change.

~

"Hey, new girl!"

You looked up from your spot on the couch in the common room, your book halfway open. The voice belonged to Wade Wilson, or as the rest of the mansion called him—Deadpool. He was a living whirlwind of chaos, energy, and unfiltered comments, all wrapped up in a red-and-black suit. And, if you were honest with yourself, he was the reason you often found yourself sneaking glances when you thought no one was looking.

"Uh, hi," you said, offering a small, somewhat awkward wave.

"What's up, quiet one?" he asked, plopping down beside you, much too close for comfort, but you didn't exactly mind. He had a way of invading personal space that somehow felt...inviting. "What'cha reading?"

You held up the book cover for him to see.

"A classic! A fellow intellectual, I see," he grinned, then leaned closer as if to whisper conspiratorially. "I'm more of a comic book guy myself, but hey, to each their own."

You couldn’t help but smile at that. It was impossible not to. His energy was infectious, and even though you tried to keep your distance, he made it difficult. Wade had this knack for drawing people out, whether they wanted to be drawn out or not.

"So, I hear we’re gonna be roomies," he said, his tone teasing.

Your eyes widened. "Roomies?"

"Yup! Turns out the mansion’s a bit crowded. Everyone’s pairing up. And lucky you, you get the one and only Deadpool!" He waggled his eyebrows, clearly finding the situation hilarious. "Don’t worry, I don’t snore...much."

You blinked, processing this new piece of information. Roomed with Wade Wilson? The Wade Wilson? You had barely talked to him beyond these fleeting conversations, and now you were going to share a room with him?

"Uh, are you sure?" you asked, your voice betraying your uncertainty.

"Positive! Just checked with the big guy upstairs," Wade said, pointing a thumb in the vague direction of where you assumed Professor Xavier’s office was. "He said, 'Wade, you’re the perfect mentor for our newest recruit,' and who am I to disagree with the boss, right?"

You weren’t sure if you believed that Professor X had phrased it quite that way, but Wade’s enthusiasm was impossible to deflect.

"Okay," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "I guess that’s...fine."

"Fine? Fine?! Rooming with Wade Wilson is never just 'fine,'" he said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if wounded. "It’s a blessing. A privilege! Think of all the fun we’re gonna have—pillow fights, late-night snack raids, deep philosophical discussions about the meaning of life and why chimichangas are the ultimate food."

You chuckled despite yourself. "I don’t think I’m ready for all that."

Wade grinned, his eyes crinkling behind his mask. "Don’t worry, you’ll be just fine. And hey, maybe you’ll even start talking to me more. I’m very persuasive, you know."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress your smile. "We’ll see."

~

Moving your stuff into the shared room was surprisingly uneventful—until you noticed the single bed taking up the middle of the room.

"Uh, Wade?" you asked, pointing at the bed as if it had suddenly appeared out of thin air.

He followed your gaze and then let out a low whistle. "Huh. Well, I guess someone upstairs is shipping us already."

You felt your face heat up. "I-I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s not a big deal."

Wade waved his hand dismissively. "Nonsense! This bed is big enough for two. We’ll just build a pillow fort in the middle. You get one side, I get the other. No funny business, I promise. Unless you count my sleep-talking, in which case, you’re in for a treat."

You hesitated, feeling a mix of nervousness and something else—a fluttering in your stomach that you hadn’t quite placed until now. The thought of sharing a bed with Wade, even with a barrier of pillows between you, was both thrilling and terrifying. But you didn’t want to let him see how much it affected you, so you nodded.

"Okay, that works," you agreed, trying to sound nonchalant.

Wade clapped his hands together. "Perfect! This is gonna be like a sleepover. Do you want the side closest to the door or the window?"

"The window," you replied, grateful that he was making this easy.

"Excellent choice," he said, winking at you. "I’ll take the door side. You know, in case any bad guys break in during the night. I’ll protect you, my fair maiden."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Wade was ridiculous, but he had a way of making everything seem less daunting. Maybe sharing a bed with him wouldn’t be so bad after all.

~

The first few nights were awkward, to say the least. You kept to your side of the bed, huddled up against the edge as far as you could go without falling off. Wade, true to his word, respected the pillow barrier and even stayed mostly still, aside from the occasional bout of sleep-talking.

But as the days passed, you found yourself growing more comfortable. You started to notice little things about Wade—like how he always made sure the room was warm enough for you at night, or how he would subtly rearrange the pillows to give you more space. He could be loud and obnoxious, but there was a kindness beneath all the bluster that you hadn’t expected.

And then there was your growing crush.

It snuck up on you, as these things often do. At first, you thought it was just admiration—after all, Wade was brave, funny, and fiercely loyal to his friends. But then you started noticing how your heart would race whenever he smiled at you, or how you found yourself looking forward to the end of the day when you’d both be lying in bed, talking about nothing and everything.

You tried to push the feelings aside. Wade was...Wade. He was larger than life, and you were just...you. Quiet, reserved, and maybe a little too intense for someone like him. You doubted he even saw you as anything other than a friend—or worse, a younger sibling in need of protection.

But the feelings wouldn’t go away. They grew stronger with each passing day, and it became harder to keep them hidden. Especially when Wade would casually toss an arm across the pillow fort, his fingers brushing against your shoulder as he mumbled something incoherent in his sleep.

It was torture, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if it made things weird between you? So you stayed silent, your heartache hidden behind a carefully constructed mask of indifference.

~

It was late one night, the mansion unusually quiet, when you found yourself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Wade was beside you, his breathing steady and even. You hadn’t said much that evening, too wrapped up in your own thoughts to engage in the usual banter. Wade had noticed, of course—he always noticed—but he hadn’t pushed you to talk.

But now, as you lay there in the dark, you couldn’t stop thinking about the mission you had completed together earlier that day. It had gone sideways more than once, and Wade had saved your life more than once. You kept replaying the moments in your mind, the way he had shielded you with his body, the way he had looked at you with a mixture of concern and something else you couldn’t quite place.

"Hey," Wade’s voice broke through your thoughts, startling you.

You turned your head to see him lying on his side, propped up on one elbow as he looked down at you. "You okay?"

"Me? Yeah, I’m fine," you lied, trying to smile.

Wade didn’t buy it. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You’ve been quiet—quieter than usual. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his touch, and you swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts. You wanted to tell him everything, to pour out your heart and let him see just how much he meant to you. But the words caught in your throat, tangled up with fear and uncertainty.

"I’ve just been thinking," you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"About what?" he asked, his tone soft and patient.

You hesitated, but something in his eyes urged you to continue. Wade, despite his usual chaotic demeanor, could be incredibly perceptive when it mattered most. He was watching you now with an intensity that made it impossible to deflect or hide behind vague answers.

"About today. About how you saved me," you finally said, your voice trembling just slightly. "I just... I don’t know if I thanked you properly."

Wade’s expression softened, and he shook his head. "You don’t have to thank me. That’s what teammates do, right? We look out for each other."

You nodded, but the knot in your chest didn’t loosen. It wasn’t just about today’s mission. It was about everything—the way he made you feel seen in a way no one else had, the way he could make you laugh when you wanted to disappear into the shadows, the way you couldn’t stop thinking about him even when you knew you should.

"Wade, I—" you started, then hesitated, biting your lip as you struggled to find the right words. "There’s more to it than that."

He stayed quiet, giving you the space to gather your thoughts, his gaze never leaving your face. You took a deep breath, feeling your heart pound in your chest.

"I... I’ve been feeling like I don’t really belong here. Like I’m on the outside, looking in," you confessed. "But when I’m with you, it’s different. You make me feel like I fit, like I’m not just some quiet, awkward girl who’s always in the background."

Wade frowned slightly, his brow furrowing as he listened. "You’re not just in the background. Not to me."

You felt your breath catch at his words, hope and fear warring within you. "I’ve been trying to keep it to myself, but... I think I have feelings for you, Wade. More than just teammates. More than just friends."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe, your heart pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. You stared up at him, terrified of what he might say next.

Wade blinked, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer, almost tender. "You do?"

You nodded, feeling your face flush with embarrassment. "I know it’s probably silly. You’re... well, you’re you. And I’m just—"

"Don’t," he interrupted gently, his voice firm but kind. "Don’t put yourself down like that. You’re amazing. Seriously. I’ve been waiting for you to say something, but I didn’t want to push you. You’re so quiet sometimes, and I didn’t want to scare you off."

"You... you have?" you asked, barely daring to believe what you were hearing.

He grinned, a little sheepishly. "Yeah, I have. I’m crazy about you, you know that? But I didn’t want to mess things up between us. I figured if you didn’t feel the same, I could at least stick around and be your annoying, charming roommate."

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, relief flooding through you. "Wade, I—"

Before you could finish, he leaned in, his hand still resting gently on your cheek as he closed the distance between you. His lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, as if giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t. You kissed him back, your hands clutching at his shirt as if he might disappear if you let go.

The kiss deepened, all the emotions you had been holding back pouring out as you pressed closer to him. It was everything you hadn’t dared to hope for—warmth, safety, belonging—all wrapped up in the man you had been too afraid to love out loud.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Wade’s hand slid from your cheek to your back, pulling you closer as he whispered, "You’re not just someone in the background, okay? Not to me. You’re the reason I’m here. You’re the reason I stick around."

Tears pricked at your eyes, but this time they were tears of happiness, of relief. "Wade, I... I don’t know what to say."

He smiled, that familiar playful glint returning to his eyes. "You don’t have to say anything. Just let me hold you, okay? We’ll figure everything else out as we go."

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through your chest as you nestled closer to him, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. The tension that had been knotting your stomach for weeks melted away, leaving only a sense of peace and contentment.

As you lay there, wrapped in his arms, you knew that this was just the beginning. The start of something new, something real. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged. Right here, with him.

Wade shifted slightly, pulling the blankets up over both of you as he settled back down. "You know," he said, his voice drowsy but full of warmth, "this whole 'roommate' thing worked out pretty well, don’t you think?"

You smiled, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Yeah, it really did."

"And just think," he continued, a grin evident in his voice, "we still have plenty of nights to practice this whole 'sharing a bed' thing. I’m thinking we could get really good at it."

You laughed softly, feeling more at ease than you had in a long time. "I think so too."

As you drifted off to sleep, your hand resting over his heart, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for this strange, chaotic, wonderful man who had somehow found his way into your life—and your heart.

And, as Wade’s arms tightened around you, you knew that whatever came next, you were ready to face it. Together.

🏷️: @stargazingcarol

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know! 🫶

[chilling-seavey]

Love Thy Neighbour (gr63) - Part Two

↳ A/N Another day of daydreaming about househusband George sighh. This universe really holds a special place in my heart, honestly. But maybe that's because I'm addicted to the concept of the 1980s and all that I missed from not existing then-

↳ Inspired By: 'Everything She Wants' by Wham! and 'Heartbeat' by Wham!

↳ Summary: It’s the end of summer 1984 and you and your perfect little family moves into a quaint suburban neighbourhood to escape the hustle and bustle of the Manhattan lifestyle. Your next door neighbours are a picture-perfect family of their own - or so it seems from the outside. But, as you spend more time with the handsome husband, the cracks in your own 'perfect' marriage start to come to light.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Neighbour!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 27.3k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, cheating/adultery (and the consequences that may come along with it), use of explicit language, oral (f and m receiving), choking, spanking, some biting, hair pulling, use of derogatory names (slut etc.), unprotected sex, open ending

PART ONE

October 1984

You were sure there was nothing wrong with wanting to work outside in your garden the same afternoon that George happened to be mowing his lawn. Just two neighbours innocently working on their respective properties in the same late morning autumn sun. In reality, you had nothing to really work on since you had just moved in and the seasons were already changing, therefore nothing was in your garden. But you busied yourself with the few weeds and cleaning up the edges here and there, in need of some excuse to keep an eye on your dear neighbour. 

You hadn’t seen him all weekend since your spouses were home from work and those two days were always important family time that was otherwise limited during the week. Since your whirlwind of a Friday, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about George. Every time your family ate breakfast in the kitchen, your eyes kept drifting to the counter that he had you up on. Every time you walked past the living room, all you could see was him on top of you on that floral couch. Every time Andrew kissed you, you wondered if he tasted another man on your lips. It was once guilt but now the thrill seemed to overpower it.

After taking your boys to the bus stop that morning, you and George didn’t speak much more than passing remarks about your weekends and your plans for the day. George’s comment about needing to get outside to cut the lawn captured your attention and the sight of him sharply pulling the cord on his lawn mower to bring the motor to life captured your attention out your front bedroom windows. That’s ultimately what got you outside. His bare torso glistening in the bright sunshine was what kept you outside. 

It was likely that your staring wasn’t discreet as you pawed dumbly at your empty garden and fleeting weeds, crisp new floral garden gloves on your hands to really look the part. Any advances were halted by the public space of your street you found yourselves on, knowing the gossip of the neighbourhood that could arise with ease, not to mention George’s three-year-old who was entertaining herself on the driveway with a box of chalk. The noise of the gas powered lawn mower disrupted the peaceful suburban street but you would never complain at the view it offered. With your hands distractedly in the dirt, your entire head was turned to the neighbouring property, eyes squinted slightly in the sun but steadfast and focused on the handsome man that blessed your vision. 

Your attention was soon torn away from him and to the little girl just beyond as she had stood up from the driveway and was almost skipping across the grass towards you. George kept an eye on her to make sure she wasn’t in the path of his mowing and he slowed down a bit to watch as she approached you. You sat back on your ankles with a friendly smile as the little brunette girl bounded over to you with bouncing curling pigtails. 

“Hey, you.” you greeted her sweetly. 

She clasped her hands behind her back bashfully and swayed back and forth for a moment in her short denim overalls and white sneakers that were dusted in colourful pastel chalk.

“What are you drawing over there?” you asked.

Nancy held out her hand to you, “Come see.”

You weren’t doing anything in all honesty so her little interruption was welcomed and you removed your garden gloves before letting her take your hand as you stood from the grass. She walked you right over George’s freshly mowed lawn, leaving your footprints behind in the short grass, and soon you were stepping onto the pavement of the driveway. The swirling shapes of colourful chalk filled an impressive amount of the black tar and although most of it was toddler scribbles, you could make out a few stick people and maybe a house or two. 

“This is beautiful, Nance.” you complimented as she held your hand proudly, her little fingers wrapped around your index and middle. “I love all the colours!” 

She smiled up at you, her eyes as big and beautiful blue as her father’s. 

“Hey, wanna do something cool?” you asked. 

Nancy nodded. 

“Lay down over here in this blank spot.” you guided her over to a clear area of the driveway where she had yet to colour. The three-year-old flopped herself down and laid back so she was flat and you joined her with one of the sticks of chalk. “Now stay nice and still.”

You carefully traced around her with the chalk while she giggled on the ground, so curious as to what you were doing. You spoke to her as you traced her body; going around each leg and along the length of her arms and carefully around her head so as to not snag her hair. When you stood back up, you held your hands out so you could help her up to her feet. 

“There,” you gestured to the outline of her body, “A Nancy outline that you can colour and draw clothes on and a face and everything!”

“Woah!” she beamed up at you, “Cool!” 

“Think so?” you chuckled, passing over the chalk you held, “Ought to keep you busy, huh?”

“Thank you!” she almost shouted as she dropped to the ground again to get right to work on her silhouette. 

The silence that fell over the neighbourhood had you glancing over to the lawn where George had just turned off the mower after completing the front yard. He was absolutely glistening in the sun, skin dotted in sweat from the task of mowing the lawn, and he lifted an arm up to rub his forearm across his forehead to get his hair out of his face. In doing so, his muscles rippled and your teeth naturally caught your bottom lip, feet helping themselves back across his driveway to join him on the grass. He met you halfway until you were standing right in front of each other but his gaze drifted past you to his daughter scribbling away. 

“That was a cute thing you did for her there.” he complimented. 

You shrugged modestly, “What little girl doesn’t like a little imagination makeover, hm?”

The two of you shared small smiles. There was a pause. 

“What were you doing out here?” he asked. 

“Gardening.” you answered.

“In your empty garden? In early autumn?”

“Yes.” you crossed your arms over your chest matter-of-factly. 

“No other reason?”

You licked your lips but forced yourself not to glance down at his sweaty body standing right before you, “Nope. Just taking care of my property.”

“I see.” George chuckled, certainly disbelieving. 

“You know,” you spoke bravely but still keeping your voice down so as to not be heard by little girls or any passing neighbours, “I’m mad at you.”

“Oh?” George set his hands on his hips, “Why’s that?”

“Now Andrew can’t make me fucking cum unless I’m thinking about you.”

His eyebrows peaked for a moment, “Oh, really?”

“Yep. All weekend I haven’t stopped thinking about Friday.”

“Me neither.”

“Andrew came home from work late on Friday night…joined me in bed…and all I was doing was thinking about you and how you made me cum so hard I was shaking.” 

“Mm,” George feigned a serious expression upon hearing your confession, “Well, at least your spouse still puts out.”

Your mouth fell open despite your amused smile, “Oh!”

George licked away his grin and glanced towards the street for a moment, his hands sliding into the back pockets of his denim shorts. 

But you were right on the response, countering smoothly, “Don’t know why yours wouldn’t when her husband is built like a marble statue and has a tongue that puts linguists to shame.”

He looked right back at you, his eyes dropping to your lips and then to your body before meeting your gaze again, “Don’t know why your husband can’t make his own wife cum on his own when a near stranger got her off twice in one afternoon.”

It was all just flirty playful banter so you weren’t offended in the slightest over someone half dissing your dear husband - especially since it was George of all people. Just having him in front of you made you nervous in the absolute best way and although you weren’t sweaty from working outside like he was, your skin was still burning hot. 

Your finger trailed over the thin line of brown hair that led from his navel into his shorts and you offered softly, “Wanna do it again?”

George couldn’t take his eyes off of you, “Do what again? Make you cum?”

You nodded with a soft “mhm”, keeping his lingering stare in the morning sun. 

“I’ll be sure to return the favour this time.” you added. 

“Oh, really?” George’s soft smirk teased at the corner of his lips, “Is that a promise?”

You knew exactly what you were doing, linking your finger in the belt loop of his shorts to tug on them as you spoke softly but surely right to his face, “Yes, sir.”

George’s breath shuttered slightly and he stepped away from you a bit, “Lemmy put the kid down for her nap and I’ll have a quick shower. Come over in twenty?”

“Don’t shower.” you tisked, “I like you like this.”

With a cock of his head, George asked in such a whisper that you could barely hear him yourself, “Does your husband know you’re this fucking filthy?”

“Maybe I just save it for you.” you countered expertly, both of you turning around together to swap positions on his lawn so you could drift off towards your house and he could do the same towards his. 

“Twenty minutes,” he said seriously, “No later.” 

You offered him a teasing little two-fingers salute before you were hurrying across your lawn in a near rush. You gathered your wimpy gardening tools (well, more like props) and rushed up your stone steps and right into your house, barely able to kick off your shoes before you were down the hallway and dumping your tools in the sink to keep from dirtying up the spotless house. The stairs pulled you up to your bedroom where you freshened up quickly and made sure you had no grass stains on your jeans or chalk dust on your hands. Then, for the remaining eighteen minutes, you paced your downstairs hallway impatiently. 

Making the journey back across your adjacent lawns to George’s front porch was familiar and you took your time so as to not appear too desperate to any possible onlookers from across the street. Nancy’s self portrait was resting beautifully on the driveway and you smiled at it fleetingly and the huge grin she had drawn on herself. Up the few front steps and onto the porch, you knocked three times and stepped back down a step to wait for an answer. Only a few seconds later, George was opening the door for you and ushering you inside, still in his shorts but now donning a white tank top as well. 

“Thought I said stay how you were.” you tisked as you stepped inside and he closed the door behind the both of you. 

“Felt a little weird tucking my toddler into bed all sweaty and shirtless.” he chuckled as he grabbed the bottom of his tank top and pulled it over his head so it could be tossed onto the bench in the foyer. He made his usual path down the foyer and past the stairs to the kitchen, offering to you over his shoulder as you followed him closely, “Tea?”

“We’re not going to drink it.” you argued lightly. 

George turned to face you as he stalked backwards into the kitchen, resting a hand on the counter and the other on the island, “No, but I wouldn’t be a good host unless I offered.” 

You pressed a finger between his collarbones and dragged it down between his pecs, “You are already serving me plenty.”

His warm chuckle could be felt under your touch and you bit back your lustful smile as the desire burned stronger within you again. George reached a hand out and tugged gently at the front of your blouse, “I think you have too many clothes on.”

You took his hint and you pulled your shirt off, leaving you standing in your bra and jeans in the middle of his wood trimmed kitchen. The patterned linoleum tile cradled your foot falls as you stepped towards him and urged him backwards with your hand against his chest again, walking in step until he gently hit the counter behind him. George’s eyes bore into yours and the darkness of his pupils kept that lust building inside you until you were sliding a hand up his chest and around the back of his neck and you pulled him closer until your noses brushed. Keeping him waiting, you let the both of you be tortured by the anticipation before your long awaited kiss after your afternoon of passion on Friday.  

But after a few seconds, George had enough of it and he grabbed you by the throat and yanked you closer to get his lips right on yours. You had almost fallen right against his chest at the sudden jarring move but you made no motion to complain, clinging onto him gladly as your lips slotted together messily. You shared sloppy kisses in the silence of his house like you had been deprived of each other for months and months. The way he kissed you was erotic in itself and after a few steamy seconds, you tilted your head back to break away from his persistence. 

“You okay?” he asked breathily. 

You barely offered him an audible response before you were sinking to your knees in front of him and popping the button on his shorts. George shifted in place to stand a bit more comfortably, his hands resting on the edge of the counter behind him as he watched you with his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Glancing up at him as you tugged his pants down, you asked, “This okay?”

“Yeah.” he chuckled warmly and kicked his shorts to the side across the floor, “Can’t remember the last time I got a blowjob.” 

You tisked pitifully and rubbed your hand over the front of his underwear, following the shape of his hardening cock with your gentle fingers, “Poor, poor man.” 

George lolled his head to the side slightly as you touched him, feeling him growing harder with each passing second. His soft pleasurable hums were barely audible but you were extra attuned to him and you looked up his body to his handsome face while your fingers linked in the sides of his boxers. 

“If I was your wife,” you pressed a kiss to his abdomen just above the waistband of his underwear before you started to pull them down slowly, “I would wake you up with one every morning.”

George laughed faintly, “You’re an angel on earth, you know that?” 

You sent him a little wink as you wrapped a hand around his cock and pressed a wet kiss right to the underside of the tip, pulling a soft groan from his chest before your tongue was following suit. Speaking up to him, you assured him sweetly, “And you have the prettiest dick…who wouldn’t want it in their mouth?”

You shared small smiles before you were wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking on him gently, earning your first proper taste of him. Eyelids fluttering, you moaned softly for more before helping yourself, slowly sinking your mouth deeper around him with your hand securely wrapped around the base of his dick. He was such a good size that you had to open your mouth quite a bit to make sure your teeth didn’t graze him and silently you wondered how it even fit inside you that swiftly the other day. 

The excitement of finally having him in your mouth had you drooling and it wasn’t long before your hand was getting slicked up in your spit and it could start to join in on the motions. In slow twisting strokes, your hand kept up the bottom half of his cock while your mouth followed in its pace at the top half, finding a good rhythm together. George exhaled heavily and tilted his head back towards the ceiling, eyes closed, trying to equally focus on the sensations but also distance himself from getting too into it too quickly. 

Positioned on your knees between his feet, you felt so perfectly content, tending to his dick in one hand while your other caressed his thigh and the firm muscles that made up his figure. But soon that hand was moving to join your other and it gently kneaded his balls in your warm palm, eyes glancing up at his face to gauge his reaction. The waver across his expression was paired beautifully with a gentle moan and you took that as your go-ahead. You didn’t need to do much as you just held them with a little bit of grip, your focus being all on his cock instead. 

Your mouth craved him deeper and you nestled yourself farther down his shaft until you were gagging faintly around him and picking back up those greedy bobs of your head. The filthy wet sound filled the otherwise silent kitchen and George let out the prettiest moan you had ever heard while he dropped one hand to rest at the back of your head. You lead your motions with your tongue, making sure to touch him in all the right spots every time you dropped your mouth down around him and pulled back with the perfect amount of suction that had his jaw falling slack. 

“Fuck-” he chuckled shakily, “Do you kiss your husband with that mouth?”

You pulled off of him with a messy slurp, spit dripping down your chin as you answered his rhetorical question with a proud, “I do more to him than just kiss him with this mouth.”

“Lucky fucking man, holy shit.” George groaned. 

“Yeah, you really are.” you spoke up at him from your knees before swirling your tongue around the head of his cock. 

His hand on the back of your head pulled you down on him again smoothly and you gladly picked up where you left off, choking yourself on his cock until he was completely coated in your spit and his face mimicked that of an expression you’d find in a dirty magazine. You swore he could have easily taken centrefold in your eyes; maybe you were the lucky one to be on your knees for him like that. But you still gave him your best work that was guided by his hand in your hair and he kept himself quiet through a bitten lip as the pleasurable sounds started to come a little stronger now. 

Then he was gently tugging at your hair to get you to let up with a breathy, “Stop.”

You sat back from him and coughed faintly from the absence of him in your throat and you wiped your spitty chin with the back of your hand, “What?”

“Get up.” he grabbed your arm and brought you to your feet, “Bend over.” 

The orange countertop of his nearby kitchen island caught you gracefully and you gladly bent forward over it with your forearms against the cool surface. George’s hands worked quickly at the button and zipper on your jeans and yanked them and your underwear down your thighs before stepping right up close behind you. 

“Fuck, please.” you exhaled, trying to look behind you to get a glimpse of him. 

He bent at the knees slightly just to get that perfect angle to nudge the head of his cock against your dripping cunt and the first graze had you absolutely shuttering. He teased you a little more as he dragged it up and down a few slow times, speaking to you, “I can’t wait until Nancy starts school so I can fuck you every day of the week, uninterrupted, where we can be as loud as we want.” 

The realization that he would be wanting and willing to keep up this escapade for that long and thensome had your heart racing and was just enough of a distraction just before he finally pushed inside you. Your hands fell flat against the island with a tight gasp from your throat and George set his hand on your shoulder to hold you steady as he slipped in deeper. His quiet groan was stiff and rich and you felt your muscles throb around him greedily. 

“Yes, please.” you whimpered, even as his other hand wrapped around to press his palm against your mouth. You still managed to mumble against his hot skin, “Please, sir.”

“Oh my God.” he groaned, starting to thrust into you strongly. 

Your hands slid across the smooth countertop to wrap around the sides of the island, gripping onto the edge of the counter tightly as he helped himself to your body. You were already soaked for him and he was dripping in your spit, meaning that right off the bat his otherwise quiet kitchen was privy to the lewd wet sounds of your cunt taking every inch of him with every hard thrust. The reverberations could be felt right up your spine and you gaped against his palm as you stared straight ahead at the fridge on the opposite side of the kitchen, eyes fluttering with the intense pleasure that you had missed so terribly over the weekend. 

You tried to stay quiet but the moans that tumbled from your chest were almost completely involuntary and George’s hand tightened over your mouth and he hushed you over your shoulder. He leaned in close almost enough for his body to mould against the shape of yours while he fucked you over the side of the island.

“Get too loud and I’ll stop.” he threatened against your ear. 

“No.” you choked out, the simple word muffled by his palm. You reached a hand back to grab his waist behind you, trying to make sure he kept going despite his warning. He was already going so aggressive with it that you could hardly get a good grip on him and you ended up having to slam your hand back down against the countertop. “Please don’t stop!” 

“God, you really like it rough, don’t you?” George tisked. 

He let go of your mouth and, instead, wrapped his slender fingers around your throat to yank you back towards his chest. You kept your back arched the best you could still with how you now were forced almost straight up and his heavy warm breaths against your ear and your neck were sending you dizzy. Your fingers magnetized to his hair, tangling in the messy and sweaty strands as if in an attempt to pull him closer into you. The filthy clap of his skin against yours was invigorating, falling in steady rhythm with his rough thrusts that made your toes curl against the linoleum tile and behind a bitten lip, you tried to smother your blissful moans the best you could. 

“He doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?” George taunted against your ear without missing a beat. 

“Not anymore.” you stumbled out.

“Anymore?” George chuckled lowly across your neck, his hand still wrapped snugly around your throat to hold your head back almost against his shoulder, “Could he ever make you feel this good?”

It was hard to think when he was fucking you like that, hard to think back six years when you and your husband were newly acquainted and had the passion of Manhattan and nightlife running through you. It was ages ago now, a lifetime ago even, and it all felt so hazy and muted when George had you like that - it was hard to think of anything else but him. 

“Answer me.” he ordered against your ear, still shoving into you in rough strokes that pulled the air from your lungs. 

“No, sir.” you said squeakily, “He couldn’t.”

“That’s why you come to me.” George spoke lowly, his hot breath tickling your ear and the nape of your neck in time with his precise thrusts, “That’s why you think of me when he’s fucking you.”

“Yes, sir.” you whimpered, gripping onto the sides of the island again, face screwed up in pleasure. 

In a swift movement, he let go of your throat in exchange for a grip at the back of your neck and he pushed you right down onto the island so you were bent over it properly, your cheek pressed against the cool countertop. You gasped sharply in surprise but didn’t object, almost thrilled by the weight of his hands holding you down and the edge of the counter digging into your upper thighs. Giving up control to him was so easy and so ridiculously rewarding, you were already so addicted. 

“Look at us, just fucking using each other.” George spoke down to your through his teeth, his focus narrowed in on the motions of his hips as he rammed into you hard over and over again, “Can’t remember the last time I had a perfect fucking pussy like this to just have my way with.”

“It’s yours.” you stumbled out, “I’m yours.”

“Uh huh.” George’s hand tightened on the back of your neck and his other pressed you stronger down against the counter between your shoulder blades. If you could have seen him, you would have been blessed by the sight of his face taken by intense pleasure, his head tilting back to look up at the ceiling with a mouthed curse in near disbelief. But then he was looking back down at you bent over for him, held down under his hands so willingly, and he audibly moaned, “Fuck, yeah, you’re mine.”

The angle he had you at was so good that you swore you were seeing stars, feeling him in every inch of your body like he was completely taking you over. It was lust to an extent you had never felt before and you could only gape dumbly across the kitchen as he held you down and fucked you until your thighs were quivering. The gasping moan that fell from your chest even took you by surprise as your insides churned with pleasure and you could feel yourself tightening up around him, squeezing his entire cock until that warm pressure that spread across your hips had you drooling. 

“I’m gonna cum-” you warned shakily, knuckles turning white with how tightly you gripped the edge of the countertop. 

“Go on then.” George encouraged. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t stop!” you squeaked, scrunching your eyes shut tightly as it kept building and building inside you. 

George didn’t move an inch as he kept going exactly how you needed even if he was starting to get a little worn from the intensity of it all. His deep groans were invigorating and his hands on your body drew fire across your skin and you kept yourself in the moment with absolute ease. 

You were a messy chant of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and other unintelligible words you could hardly remember saying. And, when he made you cum, your entire body shuddered against the counter and you bit down onto your own forearm to keep yourself quiet as your eyes literally rolled shut and the sounds poured from your mouth without mercy. George had already been close enough by your mouth so it didn’t take him long to follow after you, sent into waves of pleasure himself by the addicting vice-like grip of your cunt that literally pulled the orgasm from his body. 

He slumped over you a little as he shoved hard into you, his hair falling over his eyes as he came inside you with rich wavering grunts. The feeling of him spurting warmly inside you had you wriggling back on him some more, grinding against his cock to make sure he was giving you every last drop as deep as he could. His hands left your body to set on the countertop on either side of you as he leaned down to kiss your neck softly, humming faintly in the tapering off of his orgasm that he shared with you. 

“Fuck.” you huffed, shuffling your forearms under you so you could get your chest off the counter enough to find his lips with yours over your shoulder for a few breathless kisses. 

“Was that what you wanted?” he teased as he pulled away from your sloppy kiss. 

“Mm, mhm.” you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip to hide your smile, eyes flicking between his gaze and his swollen plush lips. You reached a hand up to pull his face back in for a few more off-centered kisses before he was standing up properly again. 

George carefully pulled out and then shuffled up your jeans for you, giving your bum a little smack over the denim and the surprise had your muscles fluttering enough to feel yourself leaking into your underwear. How dirty and glorious. 

“Do I have your permission to shower off this sweat now?” he asked as he gave your hips a squeeze, letting you catch your breath for a moment as he stood in the nude behind you. 

You stood yourself up straighter too, leaving your hands resting aimlessly on the orange countertop as you replied to him over your shoulder, staring him right in the eyes, “Only if I can join you.”

George’s little smirk that grazed his expression had you turning around to face him and you slung your arms around his shoulders to pull him right up close to you, chest to chest. His hands fell to your waist and he leaned in to pull a few slow kisses from your lips before he answered in a whisper, “Okay.”

Upstairs in the Russell’s bathroom, you found yourself almost too easily dropping your clothes onto the tile floor while George started the water in the shower. He had made sure to lock the door just in case his napping three-year-old woke up from down the hall and came looking for him. The cassette player radio sat on the blue bathroom countertop, the metal antenna angled upwards to gather the radio station signals through the steamy warm air as the shower water grew hotter. The modest bathroom was easily filled with the quiet music of that month’s hits as you stepped into the porcelain bathtub together and George pulled the geometric shower curtain closed behind you. 

Still buzzing from your hookup in the kitchen, you shared grinning smiles as your arms swirled around each other; George taking to your waist and you taking to his shoulders. Your chests pressed together closely until water was building in the crevice between your breasts and his pecs and trailing down your naked bodies. His lips were completely addicting to you and you kissed him with every ounce of passion you had in you, even as he kept up expertly with your eager pace. The radio and the shower muted the sounds of your kisses, sending you into a steamy cloud of white-noise isolation together. 

After a few moments, you pulled away from his plush lips with a sigh, “Is this too domestic?” 

George licked his lips with a sigh of his own and a passive response, “I dunno. I’ve never done this before.”

You smiled, “Me neither.”

“Haven’t gotten my hands on a manual for the right way to cheat on your spouse.” he whispered. 

You tangled your hand on the back of his wet hair and pulled his mouth back on yours for a few more kisses, speaking to him between them, “Is it bad that I don’t feel guilty?”

George’s lips dusted across your cheek, “I dunno.”

“Because it feels good.” you mumbled, tilting your head to the side as he kissed down your neck and your eyes fluttered shut, “It feels really fucking good.”

“Mhm.” 

“Friday was my wedding anniversary.”

His kisses halted on your neck for a moment as your words settled in the steamy shower around you. He lifted his head up to look you in the eye, searching for your feelings in your expression, his mouth formed in a small ‘o’ and his eyebrows furrowed slightly in the middle. You reached up to gently caress the crease between his brows away. 

“I forgot.” you confessed, “Andy brought me home flowers and everything like he always does. He really tried to make me feel special but all I could think about was you.”

“I’m sorry.” George stumbled out. 

You tisked softly and slid your hands down his chest, “What on Earth do you have to be sorry for?”

“I dunno.” he said for the nth time since you stepped in the shower, pulling you closer by your waist as if being chest to chest wasn’t close enough, “I just feel like I need to say it.”

“Well, you don’t.” you promised and leaned in to kiss him once, “I promise.”

“And promise me that if this gets too much that you’ll tell me and we’ll stop.” George insisted politely, “I don’t want to ruin your life.”

“My gosh, and I don’t want to ruin yours.” you tisked, taking his face in your hands to pull him in for more kisses. 

You shared the warmth of the shower water together, kissing slowly under the steady stream, hands roaming naked bodies like it was something you had done for years. You swore that there was no way he could ruin your life. Right there, just how it was, was so perfect. That silly no-strings-attached affair with your neighbour of all people made life feel vibrant and new and worthwhile again. You had once thought that life was beautiful and perfect but it wasn’t until you had a taste of what could have been that you started to see tears in the fabric of your marriage. Maybe there was a way to have the best of both sides. 

You pulled away from George’s lips with one more kiss and you bumped your nose against his, offering in a whisper behind the symphony of music and water, “Turn around. Lemmy wash your back.” 

He let you, facing away from you against the shower wall to give you a trusting view of his naked body. You took the washcloth and soap and lathered him up under gentle hands, caressing each curve of his figure in sudsy circles that the warm water washed away with ease. You kissed the back of his neck and stood right up close behind him so your skin was pressed to his, taking your time on his handsome body to give it the loving attention it so deserved. Your heart thudded heavily in your chest, warmth from more than the steamy shower water ghosting across your skin, and you couldn’t help yourself but wrap your arms around his waist and lean your cheek against his shoulder blade. 

How could something so morally wrong feel so right?

“Two tickets to Crimes of Passion, please.” 

“That’ll be $6.72.”

Andrew shuffled through his wallet to pull out some bills and he slid them through the opening in the glass of the box office. The attendant counted the money and then turned to collect the tickets. As she did, you slid your hand around your husband’s arm and leaned closer to him habitually, thrilled to finally be on an adult-only date with him after so long. One of the older sisters to one of Richard’s teammates babysat in her spare time and it was about time you took her up on that offer. Your steamy fling with the neighbour seemed to have drifted from your mind as you settled into your date night; holding hands in the car and standing close together at the box office. Just a reminder of the simplicity of life and how much you still loved your husband. 

The box office attendant returned the change to Andrew and slid you your tickets with a flat, “Enjoy the show.” 

You thanked her in unison and then Andrew was leading you towards the doors of the theatre. He held the door for you so you could go in first and your hands naturally found each other as you approached the concession stand. Stopping a few feet away on the multi-coloured geometric patterned carpet, you eyed the menu above the counter to decide on what to order. You were so focused that you didn’t notice Andrew staring at you until you were startled by his quick kiss to your cheek. 

Glancing over at him, you chuckled, “What was that for?”

He shrugged, “No reason.” 

You wanted to reply with something flirty until your eye was caught by someone disappearing into the theatre, someone who you swore looked a lot like George. Stunned to silence, you just turned back to the concession stand as your husband guided you by the hand to the cash register. He ordered you a popcorn to share and two Cokes and you also added on a box of sour patch kids gummies. 

Andrew tisked fondly at your order as the cashier totalled it up, “Just like our first date.”

You just leaned into him warmly and rested your cheek on his shoulder. 

Once the snacks were paid for and in your hands, you headed towards the double doors leading into your corresponding theatre as written on your ticket. The trailers were already playing as you entered and the dimly lit theatre welcomed you in. The seats were only about half full and as you started to make your way up the stairs to find a row, someone waving caught your eye. Sure enough, what you had figured was a hallucination was actually reality, as George and his wife were there as well and they were waving you over with smiles. 

You glanced back at Andrew, “Do you wanna sit with them?”

“Sure. I don’t mind.” he nodded. 

You led the way into their row and you all greeted each other politely, your spouses ignorant to the way you and George stared at each other just a little longer. Since you entered the row first, you were in the seat between George and Andrew; a perfect metaphor for your current internal dilemma you were faced with. 

“Fancy seeing you two here.” George greeted as you got settled.

He was holding his wife’s hand on the arm rest between them, unmoving even as you joined them. 

“Great minds think alike.” Andrew replied with a smile, “A good ol’ Saturday kid free night.”

“Did you get a babysitter too?” you asked them. 

“Yeah,” Jennifer nodded, “One of the sisters of one of the boys on James’ baseball team.”

“Us too.” you chuckled. 

“Really great minds then.” George concluded. 

You had to force yourself not to look at his soft smiling lips. You all turned to the screen. 

Once your snacks were arranged and you were comfortable, Andrew tucked his arm around your shoulders and you tried not to think about the way George stared at you as you scooted a little closer to your husband. You were there on a date after all and you hadn’t expected to see him there, yet alone be sitting beside him. 

It wasn’t long until the movie started and the theatre was dimmed into near perfect darkness, illuminated by only the light of the screen and the flickering scenes. Almost right away, the underlying theme of the film was apparent and its ‘R’ rating was very obvious as the salacious plot was layered on thickly. The main character - although a prostitute - was torn between two men who both shared sufficient love scenes with her that had you shifting in your seat. Hitting a little too close to home. 

George nudged you as if sensing your slight unsettledness and when you looked over at him, he held out the yellow box to you with a soft, “Raisinets?”

You smiled fondly at him and reached into the box to take a few, “Thanks.”

When you offered him some sour patch kids in return with a tip of the box, his eyes lit up, “My favourites.”

Jennifer elbowed him from his other side, “Shh.”

Andrew glanced over at the three of you for a second before looking back to the screen, unbothered by you shaking some of the gummy snacks into George’s open palm. Then, you turned back to the movie yourself, munching on your shared handful of Raisinets, comfortable under your husband’s arm. 

It was hard to focus on the movie as every passionate and dark scene that played in front of you had your mind straying, torn between the men you were sandwiches between, although the memories with the one on your left were more recent and much more thrilling. Your brain whispered to you that you and George could have recreated this movie. You shifted again to hush your mind. 

A slight graze against your thigh had you looking down to your lap, only to see George’s hand underneath your shared armrest with his fingers ghosting along the side of your jeans. You licked away your smile at his sneaky move and slowly inched your hand off your lap to join his between the two of you. His pinky brushed against yours without turning his attention away from the film like a real professional and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip to hide your smile as you linked your pinky with his. 

Sizzling electricity flowed between the two of you and you could feel it tingling up your arm. Your small diamond ring on your left hand nudged against his knuckle as if as a reminder of what sins you were committing together. It was all expressed in the film playing in front of you, shoving right in the faces of your oblivious spouses. Your discreet touches were so risky but, like everything you found yourself with George, you couldn’t seem to stop. 

Once the movie was done and the lights were back on, you separated once more and you turned your attention away from each other and to your spouses. Andrew retrieved the empty bag of popcorn from the ground as the credits rolled up the screen and he looked over at you as you collected your purse. 

In a hushed voice, he confessed to you in an amused tone, “That film was so dirty that I swear it almost got me hard in the cinema.”

“Oh my gosh.” you laughed, trying to ignore the near puddle you were sitting in more thanks to your sneaky neighbour than the film, “You’d have to put on your own little movie then.”

Andrew licked away his smile and gave you a little nudge, “Very funny.”

“I’d pay to see it.” you teased as you stood up from your seats. 

He just wrapped his arm around your shoulders again and pulled you close to kiss your cheek and then the corner of your mouth and before he could get your lips, you turned your head to your neighbours smoothly. George was already looking at you and part of you felt embarrassed - embarrassed by the affection of your own husband - but you played it off coolly and asked them how they enjoyed the movie. Jennifer wasn’t crazy about it but George complimented the acting with rave reviews, explaining how it was unlike anything he had seen before as the four of you walked out of the theatre together. 

Andrew could barely be more than a few centimeters away from you the entire walk to the parking lot and when his arm grew tired around your shoulders, his hand fell lazily into yours instead. It was rare that he was so publicly affectionate but you had to admit it was nice - even if you wished George wasn’t there to witness it. It was a strange balance of content and guilt and embarrassment that you forced yourself to pull the positives out of. 

You said goodbye to your neighbours once you had to part ways to your respective cars and you had to stop yourself from habitually moving in to give George a hug. Your mind whirled as you climbed into the passenger seat of your station wagon and Andrew walked around the other side to get behind the wheel. He turned the key in the ignition but let the engine run as he turned to you instead. 

“This was a really fun night.” he confessed. 

You lolled your head to the side to look at him with a small smile, “It really was.”

“We should really do this more often. And if we now have neighbour friends that want to double date, that’s even better.”

You swallowed your pride, “Yeah, for sure.” 

Andrew leaned in and his hand ghosted across your cheek to guide your lips to his, melting into slow tender kisses in the front seat of your family car. You could taste the intent behind his kiss and you smiled against his mouth as he pulled away for a moment. 

“Mm, I need to take you to dirty movies more often.” you giggled, pressing a gentle hand to his chest over the fabric of his tank top tucked under his white denim vest, “I like when you’re all touchy and all hot and bothered.”

“Hot and bothered?” he repeated, thoroughly amused, in that sweet accent of his that just made you pull him in again to kiss your smiling lips. 

You kissed in the front seat of your car for a few moments with hands faintly pulling at clothes and the back of necks, desperate to get impossibly closer. Part of you didn’t even want to leave the parking lot; just willing to throw caution into the wind and pull him into the backseat with you. But, when you made a move to push his vest off, he broke away from your kiss. 

“We gotta go home.” he chuckled. 

“But our kid is at home.” you mumbled with a pout as he straightened himself out in his seat, “I wanna be risky with you.”

Andrew kissed you once more before putting the car in drive and his hand fell to your thigh, “Another time.”

It was always another time. 

Another time didn’t come all week - at least with your husband. While your spouses were at work, you and George certainly made the most of the empty houses the best you could while he still had to watch his daughter. Because of that, you only managed to get together one afternoon (and almost a second before the three-year-old nearly caught you) but that was enough to keep you somewhat satisfied for the week. 

When Friday rolled around, the last thing you had really expected was to be standing in George’s foyer in a party dress. Andrew had a work event that you were actually invited to and you were certainly not going to pass up an opportunity to join him in the city for extra one-on-one time when you could take it. In your periwinkle dress, Richard stood beside you with his small suitcase in hand, ready for his sleepover with James who had just come barrelling down the hallway. The young boys embraced messily and you barely managed to crouch down to get a hug and kiss from your son before he was slipping away to play with his friend. 

“Thanks again for having him stay over.” you said to Jennifer as you stood back up. 

“No problem at all.” she shrugged. Still in her work skirt and blazer, she hadn’t even had a chance to take off her shoes yet upon her arrival home by the time you showed up. “We’re just glad that James has found such a good friend.”

“And one that just lives next door at that.” you chuckled. 

She smiled politely at you and then turned towards the kitchen, calling out, “George! Are you ready? You’re going to make her miss her train at this rate.” 

“Yeah! Coming!” he called back. 

Then, he was emerging from around the corner, half distracted still with a tea towel still draped over his shoulder. 

“Sorry, was just putting the last of the dinner on.” 

Jennifer snatched the tea towel off his shoulder as George got his first look at you. He nearly stopped in his tracks although under the eye of his wife, he had to play it off coolly. You held your clutch purse in your hands and had to look away from him to keep from blushing like it was your senior high school prom or something just as ridiculous. The voluminous periwinkle frills of your sleeveless party dress encircled the top hem across the sweetheart neckline over your chest and around to your back, leaving your collarbones exposed to house a string of pearls. The snug bodice followed the shape of your figure into a stitched V-across your hips where the fabric flowed outwardly into a satin skirt that rested around your knees. 

“Wow, you look amazing.” George complimented passively, although once he walked past his wife to grab his car keys from the small hook beside the door, his eyes were raking shamelessly down your body. 

“Thanks.” you answered softly. 

He turned back to Jennifer, “You most likely won’t need to touch the dinner. It should be ready for me to serve when I get back.”

“Okay, good.” she chuckled and they both leaned in to share a brief kiss. “Drive safe.”

“I will.” George opened the door and ushered you outside first. 

Although Jennifer closed the door behind the both of you before you had even stepped off the porch, you still walked at a bit of a distance from each other towards the driveway and George’s family car. It was still warm from Jennifer’s drive home from the train station that George was now taking you to. 

“Thanks for driving me.” you said as you got in the passenger seat. 

“Of course.” George replied as he turned the key in the ignition, “Anything for you.”

His eyes darted towards his house as if scanning to make sure no one was looking out the windows before he reached an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in for a quick sneaky kiss. 

As you both settled back in your seats with giddy little grins, he complimented again, “And you look so fucking beautiful.”

“Thank you.” you breathed, glancing down at the skirt of your dress that was draped out over your lap in stain waves. Your white heels were resting politely on the floor of his car, your knees together, and your hands folded over your clutch purse like a proper lady. 

George pulled out of the driveway and headed down the street in the direction of the train station and, as you peered out the window at the passing evening neighbourhood, you couldn’t help but try to figure out the feelings that were burning within you. On one hand, you were excited to see Andrew and have this special night with him and have a chance to reconnect as husband and wife, but, on the other hand, you had George beside you who made your heart race like it was the honeymoon phase all over again. As if reading your mind, George reached across the front seat and set his hand on your knee, caressing your skin with his thumb, and the shivers that rose at his touch tingled right up between your legs. 

The train station was mostly emptying as commuters from the city were heading home during the peak rush hour chaos. You were one of the few who were heading into the city at such a late time as the others who were on the same page as you were ready for a Friday night out in Manhattan with their friends. That used to be you. How different life was now. 

George parked and you looked over at each other with calm smiles, his hand giving your thigh a tender squeeze. In the privacy of his car, you leaned in to kiss his soft lips, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling away again. His hand lifted from your lap to the side of your neck as he licked his lips in anticipation and pulled you in for more. You met halfway for a few more close-mouthed kisses with your hands still staying perfectly still on your lap.

When he pulled away, he glanced down at your body, eyes lingering on the strapless dress wrapped snugly around your chest with the frills accenting the sweetheart neckline, “This dress…is unreal.” 

“Think it’s okay?” you asked, reaching up to nudge at some of the frills. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re gonna be the best looking one there.” George draped his arm around the back of your seat, “But that is usually the case.”

You smiled sweetly at him and leaned in for more kisses, easily locking his lips with yours as the passion in his modest car rose by the second. His hand on your face pulled you in to deepen your kiss, his tongue teasing yours, and when you opened up for him, you shared soft pleasant hums of appreciation. 

“God, your husband’s a lucky fucking man.” George mumbled between kisses, “He better be showing you off tonight.” 

You giggled softly into his mouth, blindly shifting your hand from your lap to his chest and up to his shoulder. His head tilted naturally to the side a little more to deepen your kiss and the way he took control had your insides twirling with desire. Your fingers tangled in the back of his soft hair, tugging gently at the roots to get him impossibly closer, and George moaned softly into your mouth at your insistence. 

He pulled away after a few more seconds with a bite to your bottom lip, “Looking like that and kissing me like this…you’re gonna send me home to my wife with a boner.” 

You smiled proudly and whispered against his lips, “And she won’t even do anything to help.” 

George chuckled lightly and gave you a few more kisses before answering, “No. I’ll have to have a wank in the shower and think of you.” 

You broke away from his kiss with your hand sliding down to his chest to put some more space between you, glancing down to his lap habitually before saying, “I’d offer to just bend over and fix it myself if I didn’t have a train to catch.” 

George’s hand around your neck startled you pleasantly as he tugged you in for more sloppy feverish kisses and your fingers tightened on the material of his t-shirt. He kissed you like it was the last time you were going to see each other, like he wanted to make sure you didn’t forget him, and his tongue helped himself to your mouth between ungraceful impolite kisses. Dizzy from the way he kissed you, when he let you break away, you were panting despite the grin plastered across your face, lipstick slightly smudged and cheeks flushed pink. 

You pulled down the sun visor in his car to clean up your makeup and he watched you with his hand on your thigh as you opened your clutch purse to reapply your lipstick and powder quickly. His hand squeezed your thigh and slid up your skirt and back down tauntingly until you had to nudge him away. 

“I’ll see you.” you said with a smile as you opened the door. 

“See you, gorgeous. Have a good night.” George wished you off as you climbed out of the car. 

You leaned back into the car and pointed a warning finger at him, “Take good care of my boy.” 

He grabbed your finger and pulled you closer to leave you with one more kiss, staining his lips in the fresh application of your pink lipstick, before he promised you with a soft, “Of course.”

You almost didn’t want to leave him but with a final wave through the windshield as you headed towards the station building, you hurried on your way. After buying your ticket and finding your seat on the train, you forced yourself to look forward to the man who was waiting for you at your destination despite the uncomfortable ache that burned between your legs for the man who had dropped you off. Torn between two and managing to play it off, life felt thrilling. 

It was about an hour to Grand Central Station and, as promised, Andrew was waiting for you in the main terminal. You saw him from the top of the stairs, leaning against one of the old stone walls that framed the impressive arched atrium amongst the bustling Manhattan crowd around him. He spotted you at almost the same time and with a warm smile, pushed himself away from the wall to meet you as you reached the bottom of the stairs. 

“There’s my girl.” he greeted sweetly as your hands naturally found each other’s and he gave you a brief kiss before taking a second to admire you in your dress, “You look beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous.” 

“Thank you, honey.” you smiled. 

“How was the train ride? Alright?” 

“It was fine.” you kept one hand in his as he started to lead you off through the busy station to the main doors, “How was work?”

“Lowkey, which was nice for once. Just getting set up for the party tonight, mostly.” Andrew said. 

You emerged outside together into the crazy chaos of Manhattan as the sun set behind the skyscrapers and the lights and sounds of the city guided you towards the crosswalk. Standing together on the curb, hand in hand, you scooted a little closer to him and tucked your free hand around his bicep just to be closer. It was thrilling to keep the secret that before you got on the train you were making out with another man in his car and, now, you were the perfect image of husband and wife back in the city where you met. And Andrew was completely clueless. 

“I’m glad you could come.” he spoke to you behind the noise of the city. 

You looked at him fondly, “Me too.”

His office building wasn’t too far away from Grand Central Terminal and after only a brief walk, you found yourselves in the elevator and headed up to the floor. Andrew reminded you about the context of the party - that it was one of the higher up’s retirement party - and he was going to make sure to introduce you around so you knew who was who. It had been a while since you had been around his co-workers and although you knew them somewhat, there was a lot that had changed apparently. 

As promised, once out on the office floor surrounded by nicely dressed employees and a few celebratory streamers and balloons, framed in floor to ceiling glass that overlooked the New York wonder around you, Andrew took you around by the hand and introduced you proudly as his wife to his co-workers. A few recognized you but a few others had to be filled in but were generally nothing but polite. Some of the higher ranking individuals made sure to praise Andrew’s hard work well to you - as if you didn’t already know - to which your modest husband went a little pink in the cheeks and brushed it off with a smile. 

It wasn’t long before the introductions and brief discussion about families and kids naturally fell into conversations about work. By then you had a drink in your hand with your other tucked in the crook of Andrew’s arm as you stood at his side while he chatted. Time and place called for work talk since there wasn’t much else that made sense to talk with co-workers about but you couldn’t help but hide a yawn behind your glass before playing it off with a lengthy sip. The fruity alcohol burned slightly as you finished the last bit in the bottom of your icy glass and your bored mind kept straying to George and what you had gotten up to in his car earlier. Lingering in that unfulfilled puddle of desire, it was easy to transfer that need towards your handsome husband in his collared button up and tie. 

You tugged on his arm gently and when he looked over at you, you whispered to him, “Come get another drink with me?”

Andrew looked back to the small group he had been mingling with, “Excuse us.” 

He took his hand out of his pocket to intertwine your fingers as you walked together across the office floor towards the glass framed conference room where the table was stocked full of drinks and food. There was even a hired bartender that had a cooler with him and could mix up a few simple drinks if you wanted and that was where you went first, asking for a refill on your cocktail while Andrew grabbed a small plate and picked at the snack arrangement of finger sandwiches and vegetables and dip. 

With your drink in hand, you joined him with a sigh, “I’m starving.” 

He offered out a slice of carrot to you and you ate it out of his fingers before he added a few more to his plate, “I got us a few things to share.” 

Your hand slid over his shoulders and down his back and you whispered to him softly against his shoulder and the blue fabric of his button up shirt, “You look so unbelievably handsome tonight.”

Andrew offered you a smile in reply, his brown eyes shining, but before he could answer, everyone was called out to the main office space by the CEO clinking his fork against his glass. The two of you joined the rest of the large group and lingered near the back to share your small plate of snacks while the CEO spoke highly about the retiring individual and all that he had accomplished for the company. 

Although you didn’t care much about the man who was retiring since you hardly knew him, you were there to support Andrew and that’s where your attention lay. Once your plate was empty, Andrew had his arm around your waist to hold you close at his side with his gaze on the speech going on across the office. You set your hand on his back and trailed ghostly twirling shapes up his spine and back down and when he glanced at you, you just smiled softly at him. 

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

You merely nodded and he kissed your cheek. 

The speeches wrapped up not long later and the music was turned louder to really begin the party. Some people even started dancing while most lingered around to mingle and chat and there were more than a few wives in attendance who looked as bored as ever, hearing their husbands drone on about work talk. 

“Andy,” you glanced back at your husband, “can we sneak off for a bit?”

“Sneak off?” he chuckled, “What for?”

You were so obviously staring at his lips but you forced your eyes to his when you made some passive excuse, “It’s just a little loud. Can I see your desk?”

Andrew smiled widely and set the empty plate down on the random desk you had been leaning against together and he took your hand, “Alright. Right this way, my lady.” 

Although the music from the party was played through the office speakers, the farther away from the large group you walked, the less the added noise of conversation interfered with your mind. Across the stretch of the office floor, Andrew led you by the hand towards his desk and weaved through the endless rows of desks and chairs and filing cabinets to get there. Near the middle of it all, he fell to a stop in front of a desk that looked just like all the others with a small chunky Macintosh computer monitor and a neat row of files. 

You helped yourself to his desk chair and you leaned your arms on his desk to admire where he spent more time than he did with you. The framed wedding photo of the two of you was set right in your line of vision and you reached over to pick it up with a smile. You could see the slight bump of growing Richard that was not quite hidden well enough under your white fall dress in the picture taken outside the New York City city hall. Andrew leaned back against his desk beside you, watching you admire all his little belongings he had at his desk to make it feel more personalized and homey. When you set the wedding photo back down, you smiled at the baby picture of Richard right beside it, your little boy sitting happily on the floral couch in your tiny apartment almost four years ago. 

“What do you think?” he asked.

You looked up at him from your spot in his chair, “Very nice.”

“Yeah?”

You glanced at the small box-like monitor in front of you, “You even have a computer!” 

“Really neat, isn’t it?” Andrew tapped the top, “It really speeds up our work sometimes. Truly incredible.” 

“And you have pictures.” you gushed, sliding a hand across his desk again to poke at the wedding picture.

“Of course, I have pictures. I always like having you around.” 

You looked up at him and he lifted a hand up to gently caress your cheek with his thumb, his simple touch swirling that strange mixture of lust and guilt around in your stomach. Searching for a distraction for your mind, you stood up from the chair and situated yourself in front of him, standing between his feet in his dress shoes and his hands found your waist. You leaned against his chest as he was resting back on his desk and your arms draped around his shoulders, letting your lips capture his softly. 

In the quiet corner of the office separate from the rest of the party going on only a few metres away, you kissed slowly at his desk, arms around each other so tenderly. It was so easy to kiss him; you had the history together that made it easy. You moved so well together like it was a rehearsed dance and every move was anticipated, knowing just how he would tilt his head and just about when his hands would move across your waist. His palms took to the curve of your ass over your satin dress and with a gentle squeeze of your flesh, you were moaning softly into his mouth, tugging at the back of his neck to get him to kiss you harder. 

“Okay, sugar,” Andrew chuckled out of your kiss as he turned his head away from you, “We should go back.”

You peppered kisses across his cheek, staining his skin in faint lipstick prints, making your way back to his lips, ignoring his pitch. He kissed you a little longer, pulling you right up against his body greedily as he did, and you could have stayed there for hours. 

“Seriously,” Andrew patted your bum to get you to let up after a few more seconds, “we can’t do this here.”

“Take me to the bathroom.” you pitched, batting your mascara lined lashes at him as your hands dragged down his chest. 

Andrew grasped your wrists in his hands, “We have a whole empty house waiting for us later.”

“But that’s later.” you said, “This is now.”

“This is also my office.” he whispered to you, “My boss can turn the corner at any moment or walk into the bathroom at any moment. We can’t afford for me to lose this job.”

You pouted, “Right.”

“When we get home,” he said against your cheek, “I promise.”

“Do you?” 

It was out of your mouth before you could think about it, sounding so doubtful of his word right to his face, but who could blame you? 

Andrew blinked at you in half surprise and he nodded once, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, “Yes. I promise.”

You pulled a tight smile and nodded back, brushing it under the rug until he would be able to really follow through, and you stepped away from him with your hands falling into his, “Come dance with me then.”

Andrew pushed himself away from the desk with a loving smile and let you pull him back towards the party and the noise of the office. Once you were back amongst the crowd, your hands joined and you moved together to the upbeat music with his co-workers, not unlike how you would share late night dances in Manhattan clubs when you were freshly twenty and freshly met. Only you two in the crowd. Although, your mind couldn’t help but drift to George and wondering what he was doing at that moment. 

When the party was over and you both had enough drinks to be slightly buzzed, you and Andrew returned to Grand Central Terminal to catch your train back home. The coach was quite empty at the late hour it was since not many suburbia-folk were leaving the city at nearly midnight; most were long at home and in bed. Because of this, you had your train car to yourself as it trekked along out of the city and towards the quiet outskirts and the tamer life on the border of Connetiticut. 

Your feet were tossed up on Andrew’s lap beside you and his hand was running up and down your shin carelessly as you stared at each other and eased into the uncomfortable train seats. You broke your momentary silence first with a soft, “Tonight reminded me of when we were younger and cooler.”

Andrew smiled over at you with a playful scoff, “Speak for yourself. I’m still cool.”

“Sometimes.” you humoured him. 

He gently pulled one of your heels off and helped himself to your foot, pressing his thumbs into the sole to give your tired and sore feet a massage. You watched him for a moment, debating delving into a conversation that had been on your mind for a while, but the liquid courage in your system helped to answer that question. 

“Do you miss life before Ritchie?” you asked him. 

Andrew looked up at you again with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? I love our son, I can’t imagine life without him.”

“I know, I know. Me too.” you assured him easily, “I just mean…when we didn’t have the responsibilities we do now. When we could go out - no questions asked - on a Friday night and dance at clubs until we could hardly stand and come back to our shitty little apartment and fuck like rabbits.”

“My God.” Andrew laughed, habitually glancing down the train car as if to make sure no one could hear your confessions. He looked back at you, “I mean, sure, I miss that - it was fun and thrilling and everything - but I don’t miss it more or less than what we have now. We have a family together now, sugar, isn’t that wonderful? A family and a house of our own and you’re my wife. It’s different, but it’s just as good in its own way.”

You looked down, picking aimlessly at the frills along the top of your dress. 

Andrew gave your ankle a squeeze, concern in his voice, “Do you not feel the same?”

“I dunno.” you shrugged, “I am happy. I am so unbelievably happy that we have Richard and that I have you and we have that absolute dream of a house to call our own. That part is so wonderful and I am so thankful for you for working so hard to be able to provide us with all the niceties.”

“But?”

“But I…” you sighed, trying to find the right words. 

Andrew kept his concerned gaze on you, reaching out for your hand to hold reassuringly and you linked your index finger with his over your thighs.

“I miss the passion.” you whispered, speaking to his hand on your lap, “I miss when making love wasn’t just boring old people missionary that lasts three seconds. It’s like we got married and had a kid and now we’re stupid celibate senior citizens or something. It used to be so good. It used to be incredible.”

Andrew had a gentle pout on his face when you finally glanced up at him to gauge his reaction. He rested his head against the train seat, the darkened nature whizzing past behind him through the large windows as he focused all on you, and his other hand caressed your thigh just under the hem of your dress, “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, “You don’t have to say that.”

“I miss it too.” Andrew confessed, “I just…I just feel old now. Almost like moving to this bigger place has completely exhausted me and I feel so guilty for not giving you what you need. Even when you ask for it, I’m so worried about letting you down that I just shut you out instead.”

“You can’t let me down.” you promised, leaning forward towards him to kiss the corner of his mouth before resting back in place in your seat, “I’m trying to be more understanding because I know work demands so much of you and I never want you to feel like it’s a chore.”

“Oh,” Andrew scoffed with a smile, “Sex with you is never a chore.” 

You gave his hand a little tug, “Sometimes it feels like it’s done because it has to, not because we want to. That’s when it feels like a chore.” 

“What can I do?” he asked genuinely. 

You thought for a moment, shamelessly thinking about the prior three weeks with George and all the magical afternoons you shared, while also thinking back to life when you were newly dating and everything was so fresh. You smiled softly at it all before answering, “Be rougher with me.”

Andrew’s worried expression melted into amusement and he turned his head away from you for a second with a smile he tried to lick away before he was looking back at you and his warm brown eyes flicked between your lips and your eyes. 

“Being soft is nice sometimes but…you know how I like it. Be really demanding and rough with me and toss me around.” you slid your foot back from his lap and gently rubbed it over his inner thigh and across the front of his slacks, “And surprise me with it…come up behind me in the kitchen or something. Remember that one time in the apartment?”

Andrew chuckled softly, “Yeah…you broke two plates. The set was a gift from my mum.”

“Yeah.” you laughed faintly, “Make me break more important shit. That’s what I want. That’s the passion I want.” 

“Well,” his hand that wasn’t linked with yours trailed up your shin and back down in ghostly touches as your bare foot rested on his thigh, “we do have the house to ourselves tonight…and I did make a very important promise to you earlier, did I not?”

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, “Mhm.” 

Andrew leaned towards you slightly, his hand sliding farther up your leg until it was disappearing under the skirt of your dress, “And you are so unbelievably beautiful tonight. Won’t be difficult to hold up my promise.”

You reached out and grabbed his tie and yanked him closer messily by it, forcing his lips on yours in an ungraceful kiss. His hand lifted from under your dress to the side of your neck to hold you close, melting effortlessly into your touch after your years together, sharing in the passion on the empty midnight train. The hints of his promise could be tasted on his lips and tongue and you tugged a little harder at his tie until he was almost completely leaning over you, his hand in yours pulling away to slide along the inside of your thigh and up under your dress, teasing you with ghostly touches that made you shiver. 

The call for your stop through the speaker system interrupted you and you pushed your husband away with a giddy grin and a lick to your lips that were smudged with your lipstick. Just like George’s had earlier, Andrew’s mouth was also dotted in the faint pink hue and you turned your smile away from him at the realization that you had two men completely claimed by you, enamoured by you, and you selfishly were thrilled by the entire concept. 

Andrew followed you off the train and then took your hand for the walk across the darkened and nearly empty parking lot to your family car. You walked right across the empty parking space where George had kissed you goodbye earlier and you swore it rose a shiver up your spine at the mere memory. Since then, you had been absolutely burning for touch and Andrew’s promise lingered in the front of your mind and stayed ever present by the way he nearly pulled you by the hand across the parking lot. 

The drive home was silent apart from the radio and once Andrew pulled into your driveway by the light of the single porch lamp you had left on, your gaze shifted to the neighbour’s house. It was dark, all the lights off and everyone asleep at the very late hour it was. You silently wondered if Jennifer managed to get over herself long enough to put out. 

“Coming?”

Andrew’s voice startled you out of your thoughts as he climbed out of the driver’s side and leaned back down into the car. You only smiled at him and gathered your purse to hurry after him along the front walk and up the stone steps and into your house, letting the door close behind you.

You had barely had a chance to put your clutch purse down on the console table inside the floral wallpapered foyer before Andrew was coming up behind you and wrapping an arm around your middle to pull you right back against his front. Smiling into the entryway of your darkened house, illuminated by only a single lamp left on in the living room, you set your hands over his arm around your waist and his other hand gently brushed your hair over your shoulder so his lips could have access to your neck. You tilted your head to the side slightly to give him room to kiss across your skin, trailing slow open mouthed kisses along your shoulder and right up under your ear. 

“Oh my God.” you chuckled breathily, finally assured that he really was going to keep his promise. 

Andrew’s soft moan against your neck had your mouth falling open slightly, eyelids fluttering as you basked in his warm kisses in all the right spots on your neck, and his hands caressed your hips and around your waist. He pulled you back on him a little harder and you habitually leaned forward just the very slightest amount so you could discreetly rub your ass back against the front of his slacks. 

“That’s it.” he breathed against your ear, hands sliding up your body still tucked in the flattering bodice of the periwinkle dress until he reached your chest. He kept kissing your neck while his familiar hands traced the curve of your breasts over the frilly top of your strapless dress and soon he was pulling it down just enough to reveal your chest to your empty house. 

You reached a hand back to slide around the back of his neck and into the ends of his dark hair, holding his face in your neck as he licked over your soft skin and kissed up under your ear while his hands groped your breasts possessively. The metal of his wedding ring grazed your warm skin and reminded you of your devotion to each other, almost allowing your neighbour to be completely forgotten from your mind. It was easy to not think of anything else when your handsome husband was moving slowly with you, grinding on each other until you were falling breathless, not unlike how you spent a lot of Friday nights in the clubs of Manhattan before responsibilities took over. 

But then he was grabbing your arm and pulling you a few steps over to the open entryway into the living room and he situated you to face the wall, forcing your hands up against the drywall. You leaned your forearms against the flat surface so you could bend over a little more for him, wiggling your ass back against his crotch again. His hand came down in a precise smack against your ass over your dress and you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip in anticipation. 

“This what you wanted?” he asked lowly. 

In the dimly lit house, you were attuned to the sound of his belt being undone and your insides pulsed with desire at what that simple sound implied. 

“Yeah.” you exhaled in response to his question. 

Your dress was bunched up around your waist next and your husband tugged your underwear down until they rested around your ankles and he stepped up close behind you. His left hand then went around your neck and you hummed contently at his touch, letting him pull your head back enough for him to kiss along your jaw, while under the fabric of your dress you could feel him nudge the head of his cock against your dripping cunt. 

When he pushed inside you steadily, your mouth fell open at the warm pressure it pushed across your hips and his hand tightened slightly around your throat. Andrew’s soft moan against your ear was igniting and you reached a hand back again to pull him in for a kiss by the back of his neck. Your tongues met first in off-centered kisses that moulded into your rehearsed dance of swollen greedy lips just as he started to thrust into you properly. Still in your heels, you spread your legs a little wider over the foyer floor, bending forward towards the wall to get him deeper. 

“Fuck.” Andrew huffed stiffly, taking his hand from your throat for a grip on your shoulder while his other tried to push up the satin skirt of your dress out of the way. He gave you another light smack to your bum before grabbing a snug handful of your flesh as if to tug you back into his precise strokes, “Just want me to take what’s mine, huh?”

“Yeah.” you exhaled dreamily, lifting your forehead from the wall to turn towards the living room instead, letting your soft pleasant moans tumble from your lipstick-smudged lips. 

“My God, you feel incredible.” he groaned, fucking into you a little harder, a little faster. 

Once so distracted by him, your attention soon focused on the single lamp in the adjacent living room that cast a warm glow over the carpeted floor and floral couch. Your memory served you well as you thought of your first afternoon with George when he took you into that very same living room and changed your world. You could almost see it now, too, as you stared at the couch, watching you and your neighbour engage in such unspeakable acts while your husband was away at work. Now, said husband was very much present, nestled deep inside you where George had once been, his hands all over your body and his lips meeting your neck again in hot wet kisses. 

“Andy…” you breathed. 

He rested a hand against the wall you were leaning forward against, taking you over in strong thrusts that nearly had your legs struggling to stay steady underneath you. If it weren’t for the familiar scent of his fading cologne, you would have so easily fallen into the mindset that he was George and you knew you needed to get away from the living room before it ruined your night.

“Andrew…honey.” you tried again, grasping his wrist. 

He slowed, heavy breaths falling against your cheek, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” you pushed yourself away from the wall a little which had you backing stronger into him, pulling a small grunt from his chest, “I wanna go upstairs. Want to get out of these stuffy clothes and get my hands on you properly.” 

Without a word, Andrew pulled your head back against his shoulder and his lips found yours in sloppy kisses, hands trailing your body before he was guiding you away from him, letting his dick slip out of you, “Okay. Go on then.” 

You stepped out of your underwear around your ankles and left them on the floor as your priority was turning around long enough to grab him by his tie so you could pull him after you to the nearby staircase. The living room lamp was left on in your rush upstairs, the darkened second floor welcoming your hurried footsteps across the wood floor and into your shared bedroom that was blessed by the faint light of the street lamps outside your front windows. 

You switched on your bedside table lamp and when you turned back to your husband, he was already kicking off his dress shoes and shoving down his pants to the floor. To save time, you helped him to loosen his tie and start on the buttons on his shirt and as you did, his hands slid around your body to unzip your dress. Neither of you had to share a word as your lust for each other took control, breathily heavily together in the comfort of your empty home under familiar touches of your spouse. 

When you pushed Andrew’s shirt off his shoulders and it fell to the floor, you ordered him firmly with an excitable grin, “Get on the bed.”

He obeyed you easily and sat on the side of the bed so he could shuffle himself backwards to the middle and he situated himself back against the headboard, draped out naked for you. His hands went behind his head as he watched you leave your dress in a puddle on the floor and his habitual lick to his lips as you joined him on the bed, naked apart from your pearl necklace, had you smiling cheekily. 

“How do you want me?” he asked. 

As he tried to move from his spot, you pressed a hand against his chest to stop him, “Like this.”

You tossed a leg over his lap and then spit into your hand so you could reach down and stroke his dick before angling it properly against your cunt. The look on his face was erotic, staring wide-eyed at your hand on him with his bottom lip held snugly between his teeth. And when you sank down on him slowly, his jaw fell slack, face fluttering in pleasure, and he let out the sweetest moan you had heard from him in a long time. 

“Oh my God.” he exhaled. 

You adjusted your position a little with your feet anchored flat on the mattress on either side of him so you were squatting over his lap and when you started bouncing, his breath caught in his throat. At the pace you set, the erotic clap of your skin filled your bedroom and certainly reached out into the hallway through your open bedroom door; the joys of an empty house were not to be taken lightly. It had been honestly years since you had been on top of him like that and Andrew had been so focused on work and the boring side of life that he forgot how much he had once enjoyed it. 

His big brown eyes stared at you like he didn’t want to look at anything else for the rest of his life, hands resting faintly against your thighs to let you do it yourself, gaping up at you in near awe. But the sounds he made were enough to make your heart race. You hadn’t heard him whimper like that for who knew how long and with the house being empty, he wasn’t worried about being too loud. 

“Fuck, baby.” you choked out, anchoring yourself against his chest with both hands as your knees ached underneath every bounce of your hips. 

“Yes.” he whimpered, his face screwed up in handsome pleasure, dark features shadowed by the warm light of the lamp, “Yes, yes, fuck-”

The broken moans and whimpers that tumbled from his swollen lips were addicting, wavering as if he were near tears, and they only grew louder and more insistent as you kept going, bouncing on his lap harder, faster, until his head was tossing back against the pillows. He moaned richly to the ceiling, eyes squeezing shut, struggling to catch his breath, and his hands tightened on your thighs until you swore he was pressing indentations from his nails into your flesh. 

“Knew you missed it too.” you said cheekily down to him as you stopped your motions to grind right down on him. 

Andrew reached a hand behind him to grab onto the pillow, still whining through your shared bedroom as you flicked your hips back and forth messily on his lap. He panted underneath you, staring up into your eyes with unmissable lust spread all over his face, and you just had to move back into those greedy bounces to watch how his expression withered under your control. He turned soft so easily when you took over, unlike George who always seemed to have the upper hand even when you didn’t expect it. The thought of George had your eyes squeezing shut to try and keep him out, striving to focus on your husband underneath you and the pretty sounds that he let out. 

His fading accent always seemed to get thicker like that, laced into his words more strongly than normal, especially with how his voice whimpered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit-”

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” you groaned softly, “Wanna make you cum so bad.”

It was as if that line alone flipped a switch in him, reminding him who had been the one to initiate the night after all, reminding him that it was your desires that spurred the need for making the most of this empty house. Andrew sat up under you quickly and wrapped an arm around your back to keep you against him even as he flipped you both over, trapping you underneath him smoothly. Your gasp froze in your chest as he pinned your wrists down beside your head and started fucking your properly without wasting a second. 

The air left your lungs for a moment in surprise and you could only gape up at him dumbly for a moment, even as he stared right back down at you with those beautiful brown eyes that you had fallen so deeply in love with. When your brain finally caught up, you heaved for breath in a gasp that was laced in so effortlessly with a moan, head tossing back against the bed with your hands bunching into fists from where he had you held down. 

“That’s it.” Andrew praised from above you. “That’s more like it, huh?”

“Fuck!” you squeaked, “Holy shit, yeah, that’s what I want!” 

“Yeah?” he chuckled breathily, keeping up that same pace and same angle just to watch how your face contorted in pleasure. 

“Choke me.” you begged, “Please, please choke me.”

He let go of your wrists so he could set both hands around your throat, remembering just what you liked from those wild Friday nights in your early twenties. You grasped onto his biceps as he kept his arms straight, your nose scrunching up slightly as that warmth grew inside you so quickly and you linked your ankles together behind his back to keep him close. He was suddenly easily comparable to George with how quickly he was getting you there and, of course, that thought that passed your mind brought you right back to your neighbour’s house when he would rock your fucking world mid-week. 

As your eyes shut tightly and your jaw clenched your mouth into a pulled tight line, your mind filled with images and memories of the man next door, almost taking Andrew’s heavy breaths and handsome moans as his. He was just doing everything right that you were getting dizzy, moaning uncontrollably through your bedroom even as the bed squeaked underneath you and the strength your husband was putting out for you. The world easily fell away, hovering you in a blissful world of isolated pleasure. 

“Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

It was out of your mouth before you could think, running on pure instinct, initially unaware that you let the title only reserved for George slip past your lips when addressing your husband. Andrew groaned heartily and cluelessly from on top of you, his dark hair falling over his forehead and his hands tightening a little more around your throat. 

“Fuck, that’s it.” he said through his teeth, “Cum for me.”

You were right there, so close, desperate to feel those addicting waves of pleasure tear through you. But you were stuck there, lingering right on the precipice, and you desperately reached down to rub at your clit while your husband fucked you into your bedsheets and your mind pictured George all around you. Your moans grew higher and more desperate, your body tensing. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” Andrew egged you on breathily from over top of you, still shoving into you hard, “Cum for me. Come on.”

George would have dirty talked you right into orgasm and you let the words he once spoke to you take up your mind, letting him talk you into it even from a distance, and in seconds you were falling into that quiver worthy orgasm. It shook right through you, arching your back off the bed and you cried out through the warm air of your bedroom as your fingers pressed into the flesh of Andrew’s bicep. It was a miracle you didn’t moan George’s name when you came from how much he took over your mind in order to get you there but you still slung your arm around your husband’s shoulders and pulled him down on top of you. 

“Fuck.” he groaned into your neck, embracing you closely even as his thrusts turned faster and sloppier. 

You just had to tighten your legs around his waist, ankles linked and locking him in, although you didn’t need to beg much at all because he made no move against your limited strength to pull out. He came inside you strongly, grinding into you in precise strokes that had you clinging onto him around his shoulders and your fingers tangled in his hair. You shared in the bliss together in a tangle of sweaty limbs and soft pleasurable sounds. Part of you was so caught up in the fantasy that you were almost startled when the man on top of you leaned back from your embrace just enough to look you in the eye and it was Andrew and not George. But you played it off with a smile and he kissed you a few times, giving you both a second to ease out of the waves of pleasure that had just taken you over. 

“That was absolutely unreal.” Andrew breathed as he shifted off you and laid at your side, draping an arm across his forehead as you both stared up at the ceiling and tried to catch your breaths. He glanced over at you, “Was that okay?”

A smile perked at your lips, trying to ignore the guilt that bubbled within you over the fact that you still couldn’t get George off your mind, and you told your husband softly, “That was fucking amazing.”

He grinned and rolled over to kiss you once before he was getting up, “I’m so exhausted.”

“I need a shower.” you stated and got up after him, reaching behind your neck to unclasp your pearl necklace. 

“This late?” he questioned as he retrieved a pair of underwear from his dresser drawer. 

“Yeah? I have train germs and cum all over me.” you pinched his hip on the way past and dropped your necklace onto the surface of the dresser.

“Oh, hardly all over you.” Andrew called after you playfully as you disappeared into the ensuite bathroom, “I was very organized in my delivery, thank you very much.” 

“Truly. I am most impressed.” you responded over the sound of the water once you turned the shower on. 

You stepped into the shower and let the warm water caress your body, your eyes staring unblinking to the tile wall, wondering where you went wrong in life to find yourself in such a predicament. You had the best husband you could have possibly asked for, who was willing to listen to you and do whatever you wanted, and yet you still couldn’t be properly satisfied without thinking of another man. The water was turned hotter until it made your skin turn red, burning the reminder of your own filthy shortcomings from your conscious. 

When you closed your eyes in the heat of the shower, the water washing away the day and the essence of your husband leaking down your inner thighs, all you could think about was George’s hands on your skin, his body pressed against yours in the shower stream, and the yearning to have something that wasn’t yours. 

November 1984

Richard looked so small carrying his baseball bag over his shoulder, the body of the bag nearly dragging along the gravel parking lot as he trudged towards the baseball field all set for his big end-of-season tournament. Every time Andrew tried to offer to carry his bag for him, he was met with a very determined ‘no’ from the five-year-old until finally your husband gave up and you shared the responsibility of watching your son figure life out on his own. As always, you proudly carried the cooler full of snacks for the team, making the most out of the last game until next year. 

The November air of New England was growing cooler now and the trees were starting to change into their brilliant autumn hues of orange and rich red. Although it had only been a few weeks since you had moved into your new house, nearing three months, the days seemed to speed by - and only more so when you had your neighbour to keep you company while your spouses were at work and your kids were at school. 

Said neighbour greeted you with a smile when your little family approached the baseball diamond and he crouched down to offer Richard a fistbump, “All ready for today's big game, all star?”

“Yeah!” Richard grinned back at him, bumping his little hand against his. 

“Yeah, we’re gonna kick some butt, aren’t we?”

“Gonna kick butt!” Richard agreed excitedly. 

George stood back up and ruffled Richard’s dark hair, “That’s the spirit. Now go on and get warmed up with the team.” 

Lugging his bag with him, Richard struggled to run over to the team bench where the other little boys were goofing around in the dirt. As always, George and Andrew shared polite handshakes in greeting and you shared pleasantries with your neighbour not unlike how anyone else would. 

“By the way, you both are still coming to the barbeque after the game, right?” George asked, “Most of the team already RSVP’ed but I figured since you don’t have far to travel, that it would be a given to see you there.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.” Andrew answered. 

“Did you want us to bring anything?” you asked politely. 

“Just your beautiful selves.” George grinned at the both of you, his lingering glance at you in particular going unnoticed by your husband, “I already have everything ready to go.”

“Think it’s going to be a big celebration?” Andrew asked, “Our team has been pretty good recently.”

“Oh, yeah.” George set his hands on his hips with a playful scoff, “I have no doubt our boys are gonna win. But either way, it’s been an incredible season so there will be something to celebrate regardless of today’s outcome.” 

You couldn’t help but stare at him in his blue jeans and navy blue and yellow team t-shirt, the matching branded baseball cap sitting on his head and his biceps causing the short sleeve shirt to pull tight around his arms. With a lick to your lips, you forced your eyes away from him and looked out towards the field where the opposing team was getting into their positions. 

“We should let you coach.” you told him, “I will see you at break with the snacks.”

George sent you a smile and a friendly wink, “Looking forward to it.”

Then, you followed Andrew towards the metal bleachers that were packed with other parents and family members who had come to watch the final game of the season. Some of the other mothers whom you had grown somewhat close to over the season had saved you a spot and you and Andrew sat amongst friendly faces that seemed so common in your quaint neighbourhood. It was barely even mid-morning but you were already feeling tired and you watched the game set up in silence, half-listening to the other women chat together while Andrew busied himself with gossip with the other fathers. 

Baseball games were always a great way for you to pass the time as you could often stare shamelessly at George while making it look like you were watching your son. Of course, Richard took up the majority of your thoughts but his handsome coach was a close second. That day was no different. 

As anticipated, their team won the final game of the season - and thanks to Richard’s last home run that brought two boys back to home plate. You and Andrew literally jumped out of your seats cheering as your son ran around the bases with a huge grin across his face and even George was cheering loudly from the team bench. All the little boys ran into the centre of the field for a big group hug and then they were lined up to shake hands with the opposing team to show their good sportsmanship. 

The first thing that Richard did when he ran off the field was make a beeline straight to you and you dropped to your knees to welcome him into your arms as he shouted, “Mommy! Daddy! Did you see me?!”

“Oh my gosh, we sure did! That was so amazing!” you gushed, holding him close. 

“Talk about kicking butt, Rich, that was incredible!” Andrew added, couching down for a high five to which your son smacked his little palm against his. 

“We are so proud of you!” you finished as you pulled away from your hug to hold Richard’s grinning face in your hands. 

But then he was wiggling out of your grasp with a passive, “Thanks!”

He was of the age where his friends were growing in importance and you watched him rush back over to his team to celebrate in their youthful exuberance together. Andrew set his hand on your shoulder and, as you stood up, it slid down to your back so he could pull you close and press a kiss to your cheek. 

“He’s getting so big, huh?” you smiled fondly. 

“Sure is.” Andrew rested his head against yours. 

You nibbled faintly on your bottom lip with an ache in your heart rising to the surface. Richard definitely was growing up and that just meant more and more of a reminder that your first and last baby was slipping through your fingers. You wanted another so badly but maybe it just wasn’t written in your cards. 

The post-tournament barbecue was held in the backyard of the Russell’s house and all the families of the boys on the team gathered to celebrate the winning game and the successful season. Carrying little plastic trophies, the boys ran around the backyard together in their baseball uniforms and pretended to fight each other with the trophies as makeshift lightsabers. Meanwhile, the sisters of the team - some slightly older and some slightly younger - played on the swingset and around in the grass and tried to not get stomped on by their adrenaline swelled brothers. 

The parents lingered on the spacious back patio and you and Andrew had taken to one of the outdoor couches with cold drinks in hand, chatting amongst the group although both of you tended to listen more than talk. Well, you weren't doing much listening either because across the patio stones was the barbecue where George was grilling up the hot dogs and hamburgers in only his jeans and a white tank top, still with that darned baseball cap sitting over his frazzled hair. With the glass bottle of your Coca-Cola resting against your pursed lips, you stared at him shamelessly, taking in the muscles of his bare arms and the shape of his body that, in private, you were very familiar with. 

Jennifer walked out of the back door of their house with a plate of fruit and dip and on her way past, George stepped back from the barbeque to reach a hand out to stop her. She stopped expectantly but when he went in to kiss her cheek, she pulled a frown and stepped away from him, muttering something to him that you couldn’t make out from your distance. George’s eyes followed her to the outdoor table where she placed the spread and then he was staring right at you. Neither of you made any expression to each other or any indication of what was going on in your heads and he just turned back to the barbeque with a quick adjustment of his hat. 

You turned to Andrew at your side, his arm still comfortably around your shoulders, and you set a hand on his chest to get his attention, “I’m gonna see if they need help with lunch.”

His sweet brown eyes followed you as you stood up, letting his hand linger in yours for a moment longer, “Alright, love.”

With your Coke bottle in hand, you walked across the patio stones to the smoking barbecue and you situated yourself beside George, “Need any help?”

He smiled softly at you, “Nah. I got this handled.”

You glanced around discreetly before speaking quietly, “Saw her dodge your kiss.”

George scoffed with a shake of his head, his attention focused on flipping the burger patties on the grill, “Yeah. Embarrassing, huh? How revolting I must be to have my own wife not want to kiss me.”

“Hardly revolting.” you countered. “In fact, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

He glanced over at you and licked away his smile, “Brave of you to come over here and flirt with me with all these people around.” 

You gaped in mock offence, “I am not flirting.”

“Oh really?”

“I am merely stating the obvious.”

“Which is?”

“That your arms right now look like you could really throw me around and show me a good time.”

“If you’re good, I can prove that to you later.” 

“I’m always good.” 

George’s gaze dropped to your lips for a split second before he was looking back to the barbeque with a small clear of his throat. You tried not to stare at him for too long but it was hard when he looked so good, somehow looking just as warm and delicious as ever even in the slight breeze of the autumn air. Looking back across the patio, Andrew felt your eyes on him and he looked at you in return, raising his hand up for a little wave. You smiled lovingly at him for a moment before focusing back on George’s grilling and the way his hands worked those tongs like a masterchef. 

You pushed yourself away from the barbecue with a quiet, “I’m going to see if your prudish wife needs help inside.” 

“Okay.” George laughed, physically restraining himself from smacking your ass on your way off. 

Jennifer was inside the kitchen through the single back door, hurriedly arranging the burger toppings onto various plates for people to serve themselves from. At the sound of the door opening and you stepping inside, she glanced up for barely half a second before her attention was back to her work. 

“Was wondering if you needed any help.” you asked. 

“Yeah, can you take these out to the table?” she thrust a stack of paper plates and napkins at you without so much as a look, “Thanks so much.” 

You pulled a tight lipped smile in reply and turned on your heel to leave just as quickly as you had entered. As requested by your gracious hostess, you arranged the plates and napkins on the large glass outdoor dining table and made sure there was going to be room for all the food. Some of the serving dishes were already out there as neighbours had brought some side dishes and you began unwrapping the saran wrap from the top of the bowls of potato salad and coleslaw. 

Only moments later, George came up beside you with the platter of hamburgers and sausages and he excused himself politely to squeeze past you but still managed a faint graze of your waist on his way that sent shivers up your spine. Jennifer finished bringing out the rest of the condiments and toppings including buns and soon the crowded backyard was all piled around the outdoor table to eat away the excitement of the morning. The hostess was desperately trying to keep some semblance of order as the children rempaged the table and the adults were not much different. Andrew helped Richard to get his burger all dressed up and although you were sure George’s grilling skills were wonderful, you didn’t feel very hungry. For once, it wasn’t due to guilt. 

Standing out the outskirts of the distracted party, you lingered with an empty plate in your hand. George suddenly appearing beside you startled you slightly but his hand on your back eased you quickly. 

“Not eating?” he asked. 

“Not really hungry.” you answered without tearing your eyes away from your husband and son. 

George grabbed your wrist and leaned in to whisper, “Come with me.”

Completely trusting of him, you let him pull you into the house through the back door and you discarded your unused plate onto the kitchen island as you swept right past it. You didn’t even have time to take off your shoes as he led you down the hallway and right around to the carpeted stairs, nearly taking them two at a time. This wasn’t new and you could tell exactly what his obvious insistence was hinting towards but it had always ever been when your spouses were far away in the city. This was risky. 

“George.” you whispered sharply as he rounded the corner at the top of the stairs and pulled you down the second floor hallway. 

He helped himself to one of the doors near the end of the hall, turning the handle and walking right into his bedroom. You had never stepped foot in that room before and part of you didn’t even want to walk over the threshold but he was persistent and he yanked you in after him until you were stumbling against his chest. The wallpapered master bedroom could barely be offered a second of your attention as George swallowed your lips up with his, kissing you like he hadn’t felt real human touch in years. His skin was beautifully warm and he still smelt like the charcoal from the barbeque and the sweat from the baseball game, the complete essence of masculine energy that made you weak. 

“George,” you mumbled against his lips, raising your hands to cradle his face, “we can’t do this.”

He didn’t seem to care as he kicked off his sneakers and knocked his hat off his head, letting it fall to the carpeted floor with a dull thud. Despite your protesting words, you were still the one who yanked him in by the back of his neck for more greedy kisses, shoving your tongue against his until he was moaning into your mouth and you were kicking off your shoes yourself. 

“We can’t do this.” you repeated between kisses as his hands pulled your shirt over your head and then went right to the button on your jeans as his lips trailed messy kisses down your neck. Your eyes caught on the window across the room, the sheer curtains still allowing the rustling trees of the backyard to be visible and if you focused, you could hear the muffled chatter of the party down below on the patio, laced in with music from the radio. You clung onto him tightly, using the last ounce of ethics in you, “Our families are just out that window in the backyard-”

But he shut you up with another kiss, his large hand tangling in the back of your hair to pull your lips on his so strongly that you swore your knees almost went weak. Your arms tossed around his shoulders as he shoved your jeans down your thighs and you blindly shimmied them off and kicked them away. George lifted you right off the ground and carried you over to his bed only a few short steps away and he dropped you down on the floral duvet and soft mattress. 

You scooted farther to the middle, not bothering to process the fact that this was the bed he shared with his wife every night because he was standing in front of you and peeling off his tank top and unbuckling his pants. Your teeth captured your bottom lip as he dropped them to the ground, denim pooling around his ankles, leaving him entirely bare in front of you for the uncountable time since you moved into that quaint house next door. 

“Gotta be quick.” George joined you on the bed, glancing back over to the door to make sure he had locked it before he was tapping your thigh to get you to move. You shifted out of the way and he laid himself down on the bed properly before he was grabbing your leg to guide you back over to him. You weren’t sure exactly what he wanted you to do but then he was situating your body to straddle his face and your eyes went wide. This was new. As if reading your mind, he offered an explanation while his warm hands rubbed up your thighs to your hips, “I’m gonna go fucking crazy if I wait any longer to eat your pussy.”

Before you could reply, he was wrapping his hands around your thighs and pulling you down onto his mouth, letting you settle down right on his tongue. Your mouth fell open through a shaky gasp at his first touch and your hands bunched into fists in the air, unsure where to even touch. George moaned up against you as he licked his way into your body, his eyes fluttering open to gauge your reaction. Your stiffness had him chuckling and he turned his head to kiss your thigh. 

“Put your hands in my hair.” he instructed, “Or on the headboard. Whatever you want.”

You dropped your hands down to rake through his tangled hair that was slightly dotted with sweat from the long morning in the autumn sun and his hands on your thighs slid up your hips to start to rock you on his mouth. You soon caught on and you kept up those movements yourself, grinding on his mouth and tongue with your hands snug in his hair. 

“Oh my God.” you exhaled, eyelids fluttering. 

“Have you never ridden someone’s face before?” George mumbled up against you and when you shook your head, he gave your bum a little smack with a casual, “Your husband is missing out.”

“Shut up.” you tugged at his hair to get his mouth back on you, nustling yourself down on his tongue a bit harder. 

George chuckled lowly as he groped your ass and lapped at your pussy with his warm wet tongue, working with the movements of your hips. It certainly wasn’t the first time you had his mouth between your legs but being able to set the pace yourself was unreal and you gaped at the wall in front of you and you ground yourself on his mouth harder, faster, fingers tugging at his hair. He only encouraged you on with pleasurable moans against your pussy, trying to keep up with your motions until you were just smearing your liquids all over his face. 

His hot breath against your skin was shiver-worthy and his hands only ignited your sense ten-fold as he reached up to grope your breasts and pinch your nipples. You pulled one hand out of his hair to set on his chest behind you for added stability, trying to smother your sounds through a bitten lip just in case someone was close enough to hear. But the house was perfectly empty with everyone distracted in the backyard, meaning only George was privy to the sounds of pure erotic pleasure that tumbled from your lips. 

Your clit was aching against his tongue and he tended to it generously, eyebrows furrowing with pleasure as he had you falling into bliss on top of him. His name coming from your mouth was the sweetest sound like that’s where it was meant to be and soon it came over and over again like a chant, gradually getting higher and needier. Your hand in his hair tugged harder as your hips moved faster on his mouth as if you were just completely using him, feeling erotically prioritized like never before. You were dizzy. 

No, really, you were actually dizzy, and once you clued into the way the room spun around you a little, you slowed to a stop. Your legs were quivering on either side of his head and George - not wanting to waste time - took that opportunity to switch positions and roll you over onto your back with him in his rightful place on top of you. 

“You okay?” he chuckled softly, noticing your wide blinking eyes. 

“Yeah. Got a little dizzy there for a second.” you confessed, sliding your hands up his biceps. 

“Wanna stop?” he asked. 

“No.” you answered almost too quickly. “I’m fine.”

With the muffled sounds of the guests and the music outside, George angled the tip of his hard cock against your messy pussy, dragging it between your slick folds a few times before plunging it steadily inside you all the way. Your head dropped back against the pillow that smelt like him, offering him the sweetest groan to the ceiling. 

“That’s it.” George exhaled, shifting slightly to grab your legs and he pushed them back towards your chest. With his thumbs hooked in the backs of your knees, he had you nearly folded in half, giving him a perfect unobstructed view he started to thrust into you. 

Your hands grasped the pillow on either side of your head as he fucked the sweetest sounds from your chest. Every single time he always knew just how to treat you and it never got old; it only ever made you crave him stronger, addicted to the way he could fuck you like no one else could. On his knees for you, his thrusts were slow but hard, shoving into you roughly each time until the headboard was almost hitting the wall in time with the rhythm. 

“How’s that?” he asked you, gaze unwavering from yours. 

“Faster.” you begged, “Faster, please, sir.” 

“Yeah? Want me to make you cum and send you back to your husband with my cum dripping down your thighs?”

“Yes, sir.” you nodded, voice breaking slightly as he started to fuck you faster. Your mouth dropped open and your eyes nearly rolled back, letting out a jagged moan to the ceiling with your knuckles turning white from how you gripped the pillow case. 

“Yeah, you’re my dirty fucking slut, aren’t you?” he removed his left hand from your leg to wrap his fingers around your throat, pinning you down snugly to his bed, ordering, “Hold your legs open for me…let me in as deep as I can go.” 

You let go of the pillow to grab a hold of your legs, pulling them towards your chest by the backs of your knees. Staring up into his eyes, it felt like heaven. The way he treated your body felt like pure erotic heaven. Nothing had ever felt so good before him and you swore nothing would ever feel that good after him. 

“Good girl.” George praised through his teeth, making a beautiful harmony with the wet squelch of your cunt taking his aggressive thrusts and the bed squeaking underneath you. “Good fucking girl…I want you to cum for me.”

“Yes, sir.” you whimpered, watching closely as he lifted his right hand to slip his thumb in his mouth before dropping it down to rub at your clit. Your mouth fell open with a whiney gasp, eyes struggling to stay open as the intensity tore through your body. All you could manage out was a faint chant of “yes, yes, yes” as you felt the warmth building inside you. 

George’s handsome groans were a struggle to hold back too and you could see the way his jaw clenched behind the bite to his bottom lip as he tried to hold back. But you and him were a red-hot mix, unbelievably passionate, like you were two halves of a whole, and it was impossible to slow down together. 

So you came together, like perfect harmony, clinging onto each other with limbs tangled on top of bed sheets, sweaty bodies meshing as one, and you never wanted to let him go. It nearly brought a tear to your eye as you shuttered in his arms and came around him, squeezing him so tightly that he let out the richest moans against your neck as he curled into you. With a few more strong thrusts from your handsome neighbour, you were mouthing a blissful swear word to the ceiling as you felt him coming deep inside you like he always did. 

As if hit by a sudden streak of clarity, your momentary pleasure dropped off into shocking realization. Playing it off, you still offered George a smile and a kiss as he shifted off of you and right away he was reaching for his underwear. You had a party to return to, after all. 

So you forced yourself to your feet as well and got dressed alongside him, happily accepting his kisses before he walked you to the door. The moment you reached the end of the hall together and the top of the stairs - George tucking his hat back on his head - Jennifer turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs. 

“There you are.” she said, “Where were you?”

You kept walking down the stairs as casually as you could, trying not to let the quiver of your legs show too much. George answered for you, “She wasn’t feeling well so I showed her the bathroom and got her some ibuprofen.” 

“Just needed a second.” you said with a tight smile to his wife, “Nothing serious.” 

She nodded faintly, leaning on the handrail as you drifted past her and she turned her attention to George, “I need help cleaning up.”

“Yeah, of course.” 

The three of you emerged from the house together and you habitually smoothed down your hair as you approached Andrew and a few of the other parents. Your husband smiled at you warmly and slid his arm around your waist with a kiss to your cheek, “There you are. Where’d you run off to?”

“Just the bathroom.” you said softly, unable to even feign a smile. 

Andrew stared at you for a moment, assessing your melancholy expression, and he rubbed your back and leaned in closer to check in, “You okay?”

You pulled a tiny close-lipped smile in his direction and nodded, “Feeling a little funny but I’m okay.”

“Did you want to go home?”

“No, no.” you waved him off, “I’m fine.”

Andrew turned back to the conversation with a few of the other parents, his arm still around you comfortingly, and his hand slid into the back pocket of your jeans. The move would have usually made you blush pink but instead you were just hoping he couldn’t feel how your legs quivered underneath you. You crossed your arms across your chest and let your mind stew, piecing together all the ways you hadn’t felt yourself that last week, all leading up to today. 

As if on cue, you felt a thick drop of cum slip out of you and into your underwear, unbeknownst to everyone around you including your husband. You closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath and said a silent prayer in hopes that you weren’t pregnant. 

First thing the next morning, you took the car to the grocery store to pick up a few things to prepare for the week ahead. You were still feeling off even after your good night’s sleep and although you pinned it to an annual fall cold, you found yourself in the pharmacy aisle in front of the home pregnancy tests. Maybe it was because you had been through it once before that subconsciously you knew what your symptoms could have been hinting towards, but outwardly, you wanted to avoid it at all costs. In fact, you almost went home without one because if it happened to come back positive, you swore your life would be entirely ruined. But you bought one and hid it in the bottom of one of the brown paper bags so when you carried them into the house, it wasn’t easily noticeable to your husband or your son. 

The moment you walked in the door, Richard was rushing over to greet you, already dressed for the day undoubtedly by his father since he was still in pyjamas when you had left. Your little boy trailed after you into the kitchen where you set the paper bags on the counter and he pitched to you sweetly, “Mommy, can I go ask if James can play?”

“Of course, baby.” you reached down to pet his hair, “Did you already ask Daddy?”

Andrew appeared in the doorway to the kitchen too in his usual running gear, giving your son a playful little nudge to the back of his head, “I already said yes, silly goose. Why do you have to ask Mommy again?”

“I dunno.” Richard giggled and slid around your legs to hide from his father. 

“Because you’re a Mommy’s boy, aren’t you?” you said with a smile, glancing down behind you to your son who had himself wrapped around your legs. 

Richard only smiled bashfully against your thigh, his cheeky brown eyes sparkling up at his father who crossed his arms over his chest dramatically. 

“I get it.” Andrew sighed heavily. “No one loves dad.” 

Richard giggled from behind you and slithered between your legs to cheer up his father with a hug of his own and a promised, “I love you, Daddy.”

“Oh, thank you.” Andrew gushed and crouched down to swallow his laughing and squirming son into his arms properly, showering him in kisses all over his face, “I love you too.”

“Ew!” Richard squealed and wiggled away from him. “No kisses!”

“Go play.” Andrew gave his bum a little pat to send him off down the hallway, “Get outta here.” 

The sound of Richard’s feet down the hallway brought a fond smile to your face as you turned your attention to the filled grocery bags without making a move to unpack them. Andrew stood back up and tugged at the corner of one of them, trying to peek in.

“What’d you get?”

You grabbed them away from him a bit harder than anticipated, “Nothing exciting.”

His eyebrows furrowed briefly despite the amused smile on his face, “Okay.”

“You going on a run?” you asked casually. 

Andrew looked down at his snug white t-shirt and red jogging shorts, answering sarcastically, “Nah, I just know how much you love my tiny shorts so I thought I’d wear them around the house some more.”

“Shut up.” you laughed lightly. 

Andrew set his hand on your back as he leaned in to kiss your cheek, “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Love you.”

“Okay. Love you.” you kissed him goodbye and watched him leave. 

When the front door was shut and both your husband and son were gone, you hurried to throw any refrigerated items into the fridge before grabbing the pregnancy test box from the bottom of one of the grocery bags and you hightailed it upstairs. You closed your bedroom door and closed your ensuite door just to be safe before opening the box and removing the contents onto your bathroom counter. 

It looked not much unlike one of Richard’s play chemistry sets as you carefully set up the two vials in the provided stand and filled them both with a few drops of liquid from the small eyedropper. Then, you sat yourself on the toilet with the clear plastic cup held between your legs, silently wishing for a miracle. You were hoping it would be negative and Andrew would never have to know and it could all be brushed under the rug and forgotten about. Yes, you wanted more kids more than anything but life had made it a bit more complicated. 

When you were finished and flushed, you used the second eyedropper to add urine to both vials before capping them to let rest and you discarded the garbage and washed your hands. There was a forty-five minute wait on the at home tests - the fastest of its kind so far, the advancement of technology was truly incredible - but that still felt like an eternity to you. So you left the tests on the small plastic stand on your bathroom counter and returned downstairs to finish putting away the groceries. 

As a distraction, you selected an album from your library and turned on your record player in the living room, turning up the volume a little more to keep your mind away from the life-changing decision that was brewing in your upstairs bathroom. You tended to the dusting of the main floor and you put away some of the clutter that mostly consisted of Richard’s toys, letting the music take you away. Well, so much so that your mind was completely invested in the melody rather than the weight that lingered on your shoulders. 

Andrew returned from his run an hour later as promised and he greeted you in the kitchen where you were making lunch. You didn’t acknowledge him much as the song that was playing had you invested in the rhythm and you swayed softly around the kitchen, barely processing him telling you that he was going to get a shower before lunch. It wasn’t until he was halfway up the stairs that it clued into your mind and you dropped the knife onto the counter with a clatter. 

“Wait! Andy!” you called loudly after him to try and top the music. You hurried down the hallway and yanked the needle off your record to send screeching silence through the house before you took the stairs two at a time, calling his name again desperately as you turned into your bedroom, “Andy, honey.”

But he was already in the ensuite bathroom and that was right where you found him, standing at the counter with the two vials in hand. He turned to you, revealing the creamy white toned liquid inside - the white colour indicating a positive result. You swallowed back the bile in your throat for reasons he need not know about. 

“What is this?” he asked firmly, his furrowed expression unreadable. 

“I-” you swallowed, holding yourself up on the doorway, “I didn’t want you to see that yet.”

“You’re pregnant?” his eyebrows raised. 

You didn’t quite know what to say. Andrew turned back to the counter and set the vials back on the stand before bending over to the trash bin to retrieve the empty box. You knew perfectly well what the colour meant but you let him double check and when he did, the box was tossed back into the bin and he set his hands on his hips with an exasperated sigh. 

“Fuck.” he swore stiffly, raking a hand through his hair and he rubbed his fingers over the back of his neck. 

Your words had abandoned you, not having prepared to find out this way - right in front of him. You could see him through the reflection of the mirror, staring at how his face was screwed up in thought as if he were going through every phase of grief in his mind, trying to figure out what to say or do next. 

Finally, he inhaled deeply and said, “I thought we agreed that we were going to stop at one.”

“Well, I didn’t do it on purpose.” you protested strongly. 

Andrew turned back around to you, “I have been nothing but completely accommodating to what you need…putting my own shit to the side for you because I love you. But I specifically said…”

He faded out, pressing his fingertips to his temples in frustration. 

“What are you talking about?” you couldn’t help the edge that came to your voice. 

“These last few weeks, after you asked me for another kid and I said no, you have been on some mission to ‘rekindle our passion’ and have just been pulling me to bed every chance you get.” he laughed humorlessly, “Now I see why.”

“What the fuck?” you frowned, “That’s the biggest amount of bullshit I have ever heard come out of your mouth.”

“I don’t want another kid!” Andrew said sternly. “I barely wanted the first one! But we made it work because you were happy and it was what you wanted and I gave up my apartment and my goals and my life for this family because it was important to you. You who I had only known a few months but I swore was the perfect girl for me. I love you so much but now it’s just a blatantly obvious infinite loop of you taking, taking, taking and me just giving it all up for you.”

Andrew pushed past you into the bedroom and your head turned after him with mouth agape. You were entirely stunned speechless. In his white t-shirt and short red shorts, it was almost humorous how this conversation was happening as he paced the room.

He turned to you again, tossing a hand in the air, “When do I get what I want? Huh? When do you do something for me?”

“When do I do something for you?” you snapped back, “Are you serious? I do literally everything for you! I raise your kid, I cook your meals, I do absolutely everything around the house so you don’t have to lift a finger!” 

“I mean in life! With our goals! Why do we always have to do what you want? This house was what you wanted, getting married was what you wanted, having a bunch of kids is what you wanted. I didn’t want this! I didn’t want this stupid job that I am working my ass off day in and day out to get enough money to get by.”

“Oh, Andrew, stop it.” you scoffed, “What was your other choice, huh? A musician? An actor? A fucking Formula 1 driver? You had no sufficient, sustainable, real plans before me. You were a loose cannon before me. You were going to be broke and starving until someone got you straightened out and that just happened to be me. Life isn’t fantasies. You’re not going to be some top of the charts musician on MTV or World-Fucking-Champion and you just have to get over it.”

Andrew shook his head angrily and crossed his arms over his chest with a huff, turning away from you, “Can’t bloody believe this shit.”

“You’re twenty-six-years-old, Andrew! You’re a grown man with a wife and a home and a kid and a nice-paying stable job. So many people would kill to be in your position.” 

He turned back around to you quickly, jabbing his finger against his chest, his voice loud and firm, “But it’s not what I want! I’m sick of working my ass off every single day just to get by at a job I can’t stand! I put my blood, sweat, and tears into providing for this family and all I ask is a little compassion and a little give.”

You threw out your hands, shouting back at him, “What do you want from me?”

“How do you expect me to provide for a second kid when we can barely survive with the first?” Andrew took an angry step towards you, “I wish you just listened to me when I told you no-”

“You sound ridiculous! I didn’t knock myself up behind your back.” you snapped. Your words tasted bitter on your tongue with the silent knowledge that you truly may have done just that. You didn’t want to throw gas on the fire and make it a million times worse. Instead, you could only push away your internal battles and pray to God that the child growing inside you had the same dark features that were now staring angrily into your face. 

“Do you want me to tell you that I’m happy?” Andrew retorted. “Do you want me to lie to your face and tell you that I’m overjoyed and that we’re one big cheery happy fucking family?”

“Talk about compassion.” you spat, “A little reassurance wouldn’t kill you.”

“I can’t work any harder than I do.” Andrew reiterated, pressing his palms together, “One step further and my back will break. I will break.”

“I just want a family with you!” you protested loudly, tears brimming in your eyes, “I’m sorry that I love you and that I want children with you! I’m sorry that I’m a shitty wife for…for whatever I did that you’re currently yelling at me over!” 

“Well I’m sorry that my best isn’t ever good enough for you!” Andrew countered even louder. 

You couldn’t hold back the small frustrated sob that slipped past your lips. 

“Shit.” he huffed and turned away from you, taking a few steps across the room with his hands raking through his hair. 

The sudden silence lingered tense between you and you choked on it as you took a jagged inhale through your tears. Andrew stood a few paces away from you, still in his ridiculous jogging outfit, his fingers clutching his dark hair as if he were about to rip it right out of his head. You habitually looked over to one of the side windows of your bedroom that stared directly towards the neighbour’s house and in that moment you could have given anything to just be with George instead, wanting to just fall into his arms.

Andrew sniffled and turned around to you, barely able to even look at you as he said flatly, “I’m just gonna go for a walk.” 

“I made lunch.” you called after him as he walked right out of your room. 

“I’m not hungry.” he replied from the stairs. 

You listened to his every footfall on the stairs and then the sound of the front door opening and then shutting loudly. The house fell silent. Perfectly, eerily silent. You swore the sound of your breathing was echoing in your ears. 

Out of pure anger and frustration and self-hatred, you stormed back into the ensuite bathroom, bursting in so strongly that the door flung open hard enough to hit the wall. You caught yourself against the counter where the small plastic standing housing the two vials stood, both tests containing the murky white liquid of your positive result. Swearing loudly at yourself, you dumped the vials down the sink and threw everything in the trash bin as tears blurred your vision. 

Now that you were alone, you had the opportunity to let yourself process what this positive meant but the fight with your husband that was fresh on your mind just caused you to crumple to the ground with the heels of your palms pressed to your eyes. You swore to yourself over and over until your voice was breaking and the tears that leaked down your cheeks overflowed from your palms and onto the tile floor. 

But, as always, you had to pull yourself together. Lunch was growing warm down in the kitchen and you had to go get your son from his playdate so he could eat. You wiped your eyes in the bathroom mirror and straightened out your hair the best you could before returning downstairs. Stalling, you switched off your record player and set Andrew’s plate in the fridge just in case he wanted it later, before you finally allowed yourself to step outside. 

The crisp fall air filled your lungs and you took a deep refreshing breath as you walked down your front porch steps and began the short walk across your lawn to the neighbour’s house. Life felt like a hazy dream as you ascended their porch and knocked on the front door, barely processing anything that had happened that morning. Maybe dissociating was the right thing to do because subconsciously you knew that if you didn’t, the moment George opened the door and you saw him, you would have completely broken down. Instead, you greeted him with a tight lipped smile. 

“Just here to grab Richard for lunch.” you said flatly, the roughness to your voice from your crying obvious to everyone but you. 

George hesitated for a moment, staring at you, before turning into the house, “Ritchie, your mom’s here!”

Your little boy’s voice called back from upstairs, “Coming!”

George looked back at you, asking quietly, “You okay?”

You sniffled and nodded faintly, turning your head away from him to keep your composure. 

“Hey,” he reached out a hand to touch your wrist, “what’s going on?”

You stepped away from him, out of his reach, “I’m fine, George.”

Richard bounded down the stairs and burst right out the front door, throwing himself around your legs, “Mommy! Can we eat fast? James and I were in the middle of a race.” 

You put on the best smile you could offer the light of your life as you took his precious face in your hands, “Of course, my love.”

Richard took your hand and nearly pulled you down the stairs of the Russell’s front porch and George stepped out after you to stand on the top step. He watched while your son led the way home and you didn’t offer your concerned neighbour a second glance. 

You ate lunch with your son at the kitchen table, expertly dodging his questions about his father’s whereabouts. He scarfed down his sandwich and chips quite quickly - in a rush to get back to his friend and their play - but you picked haphazardly at yours, your already limited appetite only dwindled more so since your hostile conversation with your husband only moments before. You couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting another little angel just like Richard and you admired him adoringly as he squeezed the life out of his juice box until the straw made a loud slurping noise. 

“Done!” the five-year-old announced, turning to you with that sweet smile that had his pretty brown eyes scrunching closed at the corners, “May I be excused, Mommy?”

You reached over to pet his face, wanting to engulf yourself in your son completely, wanting your entire life to revolve around him and nothing else, “Yes, my love. Go and play.” 

He hopped off his chair and threw his arms around you for a fleeting hug before he was rushing back down the hallway and out the front door. You stood from the table and collected your dishes to bring to the sink, tossing out your barely touched sandwich on the way alongside Richard’s empty juice box. It didn’t feel real that Richard was going to have a sibling in a few short months - if you thought about it too much and the weight that it carried on your conscious, it made you absolutely nauseous.

You stood at the sink with your hand pressed to your mouth, trying to take deep breaths, and trying not to think about how a blue-eyed baby with light features would be the worst thing to happen to you in your life. What would that mean for you? For Andrew? For George and his marriage? You had to take this secret with you to the grave. You had to cut things off with George and never speak of it ever again. 

And then your hands flew to the side of the sink to catch yourself as you vomited. 

About an hour later, you were cuddled up on the couch under the family room blanket, flicking through the TV channels for something of even the slightest interest to you. But with your mind so busy, nothing seemed distracting enough. Your eyes drifted to the clock on the kitchen wall that placed you in the later half of the afternoon and you sighed. That’s when the front door opened. 

After six years of marriage, you could recognize Andrew’s footsteps without even needing to look and you kept your eyes on the TV screen playing some talk show through the otherwise silent house. Your attention was attuned, instead, to the sound of the front door closing and his keys on the table and his every footstep into the family room. He lingered in the archway for a moment and you didn’t dare look at him. Your curled up figure and the tissues that scattered the coffee table pitched your sorrow well enough. 

“I’m back.” he said flatly. 

You sniffled before answering with a faint shrug, “Okay.”

Andrew sighed and took a few more steps into the room, “Can we talk, sugar?”

“Not if you’re just gonna yell at me again.” you mumbled. 

“I didn’t…” he exhaled deeply and fell to a stop at the opposite end of the couch from you, “I didn’t mean to freak out on you like that.” 

You sniffled again. You didn’t look up. 

“I was just really taken by surprise. I didn’t expect that and I just…had a bit of an existential crisis, I’m afraid, and might have taken it out on you which was very wrong of me.”

You grabbed the remote from beside you on the couch and turned off the TV to give the conversation the attention it deserved although you still didn’t want to look at him. Maybe it was the anger or the guilt, you weren’t quite sure. Andrew took your move as an invitation to sit down and he did, keeping a respectful distance between you. 

“I’m really sorry I got so upset. I was a real prick to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

Picking at the blanket that was draped over you, you muttered, “Thank you.”

“Maybe this all isn’t what I had dreamt up for my life initially but it doesn’t mean it’s bad.” he continued, “In fact, it’s really good. It’s so good that sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve it.”

You finally looked over at him, “You deserve the world.” 

He met your gaze and offered you a small half smile, “So do you.” 

There was a pause where you just stared at each other from opposite ends of the couch for a moment. 

“Do you really not want another baby?” you asked. 

Andrew sighed and looked at the carpet, “It’s not that I don’t, it’s that I don’t want to never see you again. I already feel so distant with how much I have to work and to afford another kid? Even the thought of what that would entail exhausts me.”

“Maybe you gotta ask for a raise.” you said lightly. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled faintly, “I might have to.”

You turned your attention back to picking at the threads of the blanket. 

Andrew looked over at you again, “I never even asked: How are you feeling about it?”

Tired? Stressed? Terrified? Exhausted? Guilty? Depressed? Nauseous? 

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Kinda bad after our blow-up this morning.”

Andrew sighed and scooted closer to you, holding out his arm and you instinctively met him halfway on the couch to cuddle into his side. He pressed a kiss to your head as you rested against his shoulder and he held you close. 

“Don’t let your crap husband get in your head.” he teased. 

You smiled faintly and reached a hand out of your blanket to tap his thigh under the short fabric of his red jogging shorts, “You in those ridiculous shorts.”

“Hey,” he swatted your hand away, “you love these shorts on me.”

He was still faintly sweaty from his earlier jog and then from walking the neighbourhood for who knew how long but you still gladly shifted on the couch with him to drape yourselves out together, cuddled up and forgiving in each other’s arms. With your head on his chest, you closed your eyes to listen to his heartbeat and your arm around his middle squeezed him closer, wanting to absorb yourself into his familiarity and go back to when life was simpler. Andrew’s fingers trailed over your shoulder and into the roots of your hair, easily calming you down and taking the edge off of your stresses, his lips dusting a few soft kisses to your head. 

He then shifted beside you to face you a little more and he pushed the blanket farther down so he could lift up the bottom of your shirt and his fingers ghosted across your abdomen. It still looked the same as it always had but the secrets it housed inside were almost unspeakable. With your heads resting together comfortably, you and your husband stared down your body to the spot which warmly housed what you prayed was your baby grown in wedlock. 

“I love you.” Andrew promised into the air. “And this baby was made from that love and there is nothing more beautiful than that.”

You pulled a tight smile, barely whispering an audible “I love you” in return. 

The following week went by in a haze. The news of your pregnancy stayed between you and Andrew and although your husband seemed to be warming up nicely to the idea of having a second child, you were in a state of limbo. When Andrew was at work and Richard was at school, you didn’t dare leave your house in fear of running into George. In fact, you were even having Richard wait outside on your front porch until he saw George and James heading to the bus stop so he could go with them instead of you. In reality, it all sounded so pathetic. 

But you knew that one look at him and you would crumble and if you were set in your ways to break things off with him for the sake of your family, you needed to be strong. There were certainly better ways to go about it but it was a dire circumstance and your brain was foggy and the early months of pregnancy were really starting to hit hard with the symptoms. Karma, you were sure. You had dug yourself a hole and you were being forced to lie in it. 

When Andrew returned home on Friday night just in time for dinner, as usual, you were already exhausted from a long day of doing not much of anything. Fatigue was real and you had spent it all on making dinner, therefore not offering much conversation over the meal. Besides, your mind was going a mile a minute anyway - way too much going on to really formulate a coherent thought. 

With Richard watching TV and playing in the family room after dinner, Andrew helped you to clear the table and start on the dishes. You washed them at the sink and he took drying duty, making sure to put everything away where it went around the kitchen. 

“I ran into Jennifer on the train tonight.”

You didn’t acknowledge his statement at first, silently waiting for him to keep talking as you held out one of the wet plates to him. 

“Jennifer Russell. Our neighbour?” Andrew continued and took the plate from you to dry it off. 

“Yes, I know who you meant.” you said softly. 

“Oh. Well, she and I got to chatting and we were thinking about having another double date night soon. Maybe just something simple like a dinner? I offered that we could host.”

You laughed breathily towards the sink, “I’m hardly up to cooking a whole meal for two families right now. I’m lucky if I go an hour without puking.”

“That’s okay. We can order something in.” Andrew offered, “It’d be a nice treat.”

You debated quietly for a moment as you scrubbed the plate in your hand. In reality, your hesitation wasn’t necessarily about the need for dinner prep as it was more towards the anxiety of seeing Jennifer’s husband face to face. Then, you asked, “When?”

“Tomorrow?”

The part of you that really missed George tugged at your hormonal heartstrings and you debated for one more second before finally, “Okay.”

And tomorrow came before you knew it. 

And George then was standing in your foyer talking to your husband with a clueless smile on his face, his hand resting on his wife’s back. 

And you were wondering why on earth you thought this was a good idea. 

“Come on in.” Andrew hung up your guests’ jackets in the front closet, “Make yourself at home.”

While the children helped themselves to the family room where Richard’s plentiful toys were littered across the carpet, you four grownups took to the living room to chat while you waited for dinner to arrive. Andrew chose a record from your abundant collection and as he did so, the rest of you took your seats. 

On your way across the room, George’s hand ghosted over your back and he offered a breathy, “Hey.”

You barely smiled in return, “Hi.”

He and his wife took to the chairs and you and Andrew shared the modest floral sofa. Conversation progressed easily although your mind was distracted by the memories you held with your neighbour on that very couch. It seemed George was thinking the same thing as he stared at the upholstery and then met your gaze, letting a faint smirk prick at the corner of his mouth. You looked to your lap, unresponsive. George’s smile faltered. 

But you pitched into conversation where possible to appear as normal as you could to your unsuspecting spouses. You were good at playing the part of devoted wife - as you had learned over the prior few weeks - and your hand rested on Andrew’s thigh innocently as you talked amongst yourselves and stayed tucked under his loving arm. George seemed to be analysing your every move with his eyes not often straying from you. You tried not to give him much in return, focusing your attention on Jennifer’s incredible mundane story about work. 

KFC was ordered for dinner and when the driver arrived, Andrew got up to pay while you got the dishes ready in the kitchen and organized the kids at the table. Your polite guests helped to plate the take-out food once Andrew brought in the brown paper bags and you divided everything up and served the children first. You made sure they each had a juice box and plentiful napkins and George cut up Nancy’s chicken for her on her plate at the same time. Andrew and Jennifer took your grown-up plates to the dining room, leaving you and George alone in the kitchen with the kids for a moment. 

When you drifted over to throw away the plastic straw wrappers in the trash bin under the sink, George followed you to rinse his hands quickly. Before you could escape, he grabbed your sleeve with one finger to stop you. 

In a quiet voice, he asked, “Are you avoiding me?”

“No.” you answered flatly.

“Are you sure? I haven’t seen you all week and on Sunday you seemed upset. Now you can hardly look at me. Does Andrew know-”

“No.” you said firmly, stopping the conversation quickly in such a risky location. Your eyes darted past him to the kitchen table where your children were munching away happily, clueless. You looked back at him, “I don’t want to talk about this. Especially not right now.”

Then you slipped away from him and through the doorway into the adjacent dining room. Andrew and Jennifer were already sitting at the set dining room table, diagonally from each other, and your husband pulled out your chair for you beside his with a smile. You sat down with a quiet thanks to him and George joined you and took his spot across from Andrew, his eyes lingering on you with uncertainty. 

The side dishes were lined in the centre of the table and you all passed around the bowls and helped yourselves to the servings over casual chatter. You stayed quieter than usual, picking at the food on your plate as you tried to keep your nausea at bay - the cause being your newly discovered pregnancy but also the guilt that never failed to turn your stomach and raise bile in your throat. Your fork nudged against a piece of macaroni salad as George shared a story from that week surrounding something cute that Nancy had done but you were barely listening. Instead, you stared at your plate and took the smallest bites known to man, silently praying - as you constantly had been all week - for a brown eyed baby. In reality, you knew that the likelihood of that was not in your favour. 

The sudden feeling of your mouth dampening had you setting your fork down onto your plate with a shaky, “Excuse me a moment.” 

Andrew watched as you got up quickly from your chair, your napkin falling to the floor, and you disappeared out of the dining room. Your guests sat, startled, as your footsteps hurried up the stairs to the second floor followed by a dull thud of your door closing. 

You dropped to your knees in front of the toilet just in time to throw up into it, your hands gripping the sides of the bowl as the cool tile stung against your knees. Tears burning your eyes and you shut them tightly as you slowly wiped your lips with the back of your trembling hand, sniffling back your regretful sorrow. The soft knock at the bathroom door had you flushing the toilet before answering with a faint acknowledgment. You had half hoped it was George - but why would it have been? - although Andrew slipping inside the bathroom with you shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise. 

“Hey.” he cooed, crouching onto the ground with you and he pulled your hair out of your face and away from your flushed skin, “You okay, my love?” 

You sniffled and slouched against the toilet, “No.”

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” he kissed your temple and then carefully helped you to your feet and over to the sink. Like he always had done when you were pregnant with Richard, he wiped your mouth with a cool damp cloth and brushed your tangled hair for you as you rested lazily against the vanity. 

“It’s so embarrassing.” you mumbled. 

“Hm?” Andrew encouraged as he finished with your hair, fluffing the soft curls over your shoulders. 

“We have guests and I just ran away from the table to puke. That’s so embarrassing.” 

Andrew smiled softly as you leaned back against his chest and he tucked your hair behind your ear so he could kiss your cheek, “I’m sure they understand.” 

A slight panic hinted at your voice, “You didn’t tell them, did you?” 

“No. Although I’m thinking we should.”

“No.” you answered quickly. 

Staring at each other through the mirror, his arm around your middle and his hand rested over your stomach, Andrew questioned, “Why not? Now seems like a perfect time.”

You couldn’t think of a valid excuse that wouldn’t completely give you away. You merely shrugged. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, sugar.” Andrew reassured you with a warm smile, “They have two kids of their own, after all. I’m sure they’ll be happy for us. Besides, maybe now Nancy can have a playmate.”

Oh yes, you thought to yourself, George is going to be just so happy. This whole situation just screamed ‘happy’. 

Back in the dining room, you and Andrew returned to your seats and you offered a soft apology to your guests over your sudden disappearance. 

“Are you alright?” George asked politely, his wife at his side watching you worriedly, both of them full of friendly compassion. 

You pulled a tight smile and a curt nod as you picked up your fork again, “Fine.” 

You couldn’t look at him. You knew that if you did, you would be sent to vomit again by the hellscape of emotions that swirled around your mind. But Andrew had a different plan as he set his hand on top of yours on the table and he looked over at you as if asking for your permission to speak. You didn’t move, eyes downcast to your plate, played off effortlessly as shyness. 

“We actually have some news we want to share.” Andrew announced to your guests. 

The children in the adjacent kitchen laughed and chatted loudly, the sounds of their joy echoing around in your mind, stirring stresses of how much their lives could be affected by this simple announcement. Nothing felt simple anymore. 

George shifted in his chair as if he knew something was going on - something not quite right. He speared another bite of his dinner with his fork without taking his attention away from Andrew’s accidentally dramatic pause while his wife continued to eat, unfazed, at his side. Andrew gave your hand a squeeze and your mouth felt dry, blood gone cold, and your breath was held in your lungs. 

Your husband looked at your guests with that soft smile of his, “We’re expecting.” 

As Jennifer swooned with celebratory congratulations, the noise of the room fell into echoing silence as you finally looked up from your plate and your gaze instantly magnetized to the man sitting diagonally across from you. George was already staring at you, his handsome face fallen in stricken shock. Your internal thoughts settled heavily on your conscious, realization that the choices you shared were the sole cause of this announcement that was feigned at joy by your spouses. 

You only had to glance at George to see it all over his face. 

He knew it too. 

THE END

Taglist: @wetforwolff @thef1diary @nikfigueiredo @ming-h0e @minkyungseokie @dark-night-sky-99 @woozarts @likedbygaslyy @saachiep81 @voidsfics

♡ None of the original writing on this blog may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

[temis-de-leon]

Gn!MC with thick curly hair

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Satan and Asmodeus (x reader, separately; could be read as pre-relationship since it's a tiny bit suggestive)

Main Masterlist

@cubandevil04 : Hello!! I ADORE your writing, it's so fun😘 I was wondering if I could have an obey me headcanon (lucifer, mammon, satan and asmodeus please🙏) with a GN!MC with thick curly hair?? Very 70s curly shag style💅😜 just overall reaction and their thoughts, especially since no character with curly hair has been introduced👀 please and thank you!!

A/N: had so much fun with this one that I wrote it in just a day, can you believe it?

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We’re bringing sheep!MC to the table here. Whether you want them to be an ewe or a ram, it doesn’t matter; in the end, they’re cute and their wool is curly and fluffy.

I haven’t read the manga, where this version of MC takes place, so I don’t know how it works, but I like to think the potential human students didn’t have photos on their information sheets as to “not judge a book by its cover”, therefore no one really knew how MC looked like.

(Actually, this HC works with human!MC too)

It isn’t until the year is coming to an end that MC’s biology and immune system have developed enough to survive the Devildom’s atmosphere in their human form. They’re allowed to transform back and everyone finally sees what they’ve been missing out this whole time.

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Lucifer

Due to his work, his taste and the way he is overall, most of Lucifer’s friends belong to the nobility or high society or are generally people with ambition and success in mind.

While he can enjoy going to clubs, like some of his brothers, his personality shines in more private ambiences. Old-money type of parties where chatter is never loud and guests are well groomed and put together, showing themselves in their demon forms with grace; the ultimate level of formal attire.

No matter your gender, hair is supposed to be pushed back with a polished look, so thick curls are hardly appreciated.

When he sees your human form for the first time, and this is something he will take to the grave, his first fleeting thought is wondering if you somehow maintained some ovine feature that made your hair look like that.

Suffice to say, it doesn’t take him too long to understand that your appearance is entirely yours and not the consequences of some spell.

He’s not blushing, MC. Stop laughing at him.

Will compliment you to make you blush instead.

The unruliness of your haircut makes it impossible for him to stop staring and he can’t help but imagine what would it feel like to touch it, to curl the loops around his fingers as many times as you’d let him.

He’s curious about how messy it’d look with a bedhead, but that’s a thought he’d rather revisit later.

Mammon

Although he was extremely curious about your human appearance since the moment you started to grow on him, it wasn’t something he lost sleep over.

He would love you no matter what you looked like.

However.

Being a model himself, it is impossible not to picture you on the cover of a magazine the first time he lays eyes on you. Looking upwards, eyes directed towards the camera under your lashes and lips partially parted, barely hiding a knowing smile.

Yeah, he can picture you. Perhaps too well.

But he’s being honest! You could be a model, MC!

Demons have been following human trends since the dawn of time, given that they are to be perceived as temptation, and he hasn’t seen that haircut in decades. Sure, curls have always been present, but not in that specific style.

You will catch him staring at you way more often than when you were a sheep, but there’s a shift in his eyes that you’ll only notice if you stare just as much.

Before your change, there was admiration and affection, an honest yet small smile that would disappear behind his hand in embarrassment whenever you’d turn his way.

Now, besides that, there’s also yearning. A desire to do something that only manifests when his fingers grab the end of your curls and gently tug to make them longer each time you sit together in class.

He will stop if it bothers you even if your rejection hurts a little, but please, please, allow him this much.

Satan

Unlike his eldest brother’s, Satan’s social circle is diverse and large, ranging from interns and students to CEOs and deans.

You never know where help and privileges may be coming from, after all.

He’s not picky about the origins of his friendships either, so one day he might be seen chatting with the National Fangol’s Vice Chairman and with an undiscovered indie singer the next.

His world is versatile and constantly evolves; he’s met a lot of different people through the many years of his life and all of them looked different from the other.

While yours is a haircut he’s already seen other people have, he still smiles the first time he sees your human form, although that might be due to him finally seeing your true self.

There’s a wild feeling to you that’s also cosy and confident. You remind him of bookstore cafés and open mic bars and even music festivals in summer where the dirt is covered in empty cans, half-smoked cigarettes and unconscious people.

He wonders if you like music or poetry, if he could introduce anybody to you that could make your dreams come true or that could give him the perfect opportunity to take you on your ideal date.

Or maybe you’re not an artistic person and you have your fixation focused on science or magic.

Perhaps none of them or even all at once!

He stares, not because he’s obsessed with you or your fitting hairstyle, but because he’s dying to know how much more is there for him to uncover.

Asmodeus

I’m going to step into shitpost territory here, but if he could have a Pokedex of inhabitants of the Devildom and beyond, you better believe it would be halfway full.

He’s known, met, and befriended (and more) so many people that is difficult for him to discover someone different.

It’s not your fault or lack of creativity, but when you’re an extroverted demon with such an experience in socializing like him, it gets to a point where finding unique features gets hard.

Still, when he first sees you, he can’t help but stare with shiny eyes and an open wide smile.

Your appearance helps your personality make sense. It’s an accessory that compliments you and, now that he has the whole picture, he can remember all those moments he shared with you and replace your cute little sheep shape with the human body that’s keeping him awake at night.

It’s not like that! Nothing filthy!

Although he won’t mind if you happen to slip inside his bed in the middle of the night.

He just can’t stop thinking about you, the way your curls frame your face or bounce when you play that tiring dance game in Levi’s room.

Not much time passes until he starts watching videos on Deviltube on how to define curls or how to style them with silk scarfs, rings, chains and even crystals. He’ll be happy to help you with the process, especially if it takes longer than expected. That just means you both get to spend even more time together.

And you’re going to look so cute!

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Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[thetriumphantpanda]

Take My Breath Away | Joel Miller

The Checklist - Breath Play

Chapter Summary | It's the overthinking that makes it hard to ask for what you want sometimes, so you ask for the thing you want most in the only way you know how - in the heat of the moment.

Chapter Warnings | Again, and as always, porn without plot. Dirty talk, fingering, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, breath play (sexual choking), peeing after sex (pls do this), softness and lots of love. No outbreak AU. No use of y/n.

Word Count | 2k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Authors Note | Oh my god what is this? Charlie finishing another series? I cannot tell you how sad I am to be saying goodbye to these two - they have turned into the two greatest loves of my life. Thanks are due to @vickywallace for sending this idea into my inbox in the first place - thank you for such a wonderful idea and for supporting this series! If you like this then please considering reblogging or commenting, it makes my life worth living! And if you'd like to support me further you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

A reminder that whilst this is part of a wider series, this can be read as a standalone if you wish.

Beautiful divider by @saradika

I no longer have a taglist, to keep up to date with my work, please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on notifications.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

It started innocently enough. Joel’s big palm resting at your collarbone when he was inside you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. It was a fleeting moment, no added pressure, but there was still a shot of thrill that settled across you, one that made you think of that little list and the thought in the back of your mind that you wanted him to push his hand a little higher and press.

How to ask for it properly had been playing on your mind for a little while. It’s not like the two of you weren’t open with each other, you’d proved that already. And you trusted Joel with your life, you know he wouldn’t hurt you. But each night, when you sit together on the couch and go to open your mouth to talk about it, nothing happens. Mainly because it feels inconsequential to you, does it need a big conversation like some of the other things? You don’t think so.

It happens about a week later. Friday night, dinner eaten, glass of whisky drunk in front of the TV. Joel is settled on his back, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he reads a book, you’re similar, but you’re restless. You’re reading some romance novel, and like clockwork, the two love interests have just turned up to the hotel to find there’s only one bed. They don’t really hate each other anymore, and in his sleep, he’s rolled over and draped an arm over her waist, chest to her back, and she can feel how much he wants her.

You scoff a little, which pulls Joel’s attention from his own reading, to you, “That bad huh?” He asks, innocently enough.

“Just predictable.” You shrug, trying to hide the way your thighs are unconsciously rubbing together under the sheets.

“Lemme guess,” He says, setting down his own book, along with his glasses, “They hate each other, but also secretly they don’t, and they’ve just turned up to the hotel and they have to share a bed?”

You turn to him, chuckling as you look at the front and back cover, “Have you read this before?”

“No baby,” He chuckles, “It’s just they’re all the same, if it ain’t that then it’s somethin’ forbidden or she’s too happy and he’s too grumpy, just a lucky first guess.”

There’s a little more talking, and then the lights turn off, Joel turning on his side to fall asleep, but there’s that deep throb between your thighs that no matter what you do, won’t go away.

“Joel?” You whisper, poking at his arm, listen to him grumble but ultimately not reply, “Joel?” You whisper again, a little louder.

“Yes, baby?” It’s soft when he talks, not annoyed at you for keeping him awake.

“Joel, I need you.” You whisper once more.

You can hear the rustle of the sheets as he turns, then his arm wrapping around your waist, tugging you into his chest, that hand of his wandering down to cup your ass, “You feelin’ needy, baby?” He asks lowly, pressing kisses to your forehead and then your cheek until he’s kissing your mouth.

You roll onto your back, gripping onto his naked shoulders so he follows, the entire weight of his body on yours until he rests his upper body on his elbows, hands pushing your hair back from your face as he settles himself between your thighs. You can feel him, pressing against that part of you, already semi-hard and wanting, like he was struggling just as much as you to go to bed without touching you.

“You needy for me too?” You ask innocently as his lips press to your neck, he doesn’t answer, just slowly rolls his hips into yours.

There’s a moment where he reaches down between the two of you, lets his fingers brush over your folds, dipping down slightly to find you already wet. It’s not a surprise for either of you anymore, you think that there’s always some level of slickness settling between your legs whenever you see him - still not quite believing you get him all to yourself.

Joel drags his fingers up to your clit, slick dragging across your bud of nerves, a soft whimper leaving your mouth as he gently circles it. He’s taking his time, working you up slowly because he knows you don’t have anywhere to be in the morning. In a few minutes, you’re already moving your hips in time with his fingers, his mouth kissing your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin too. You’re clutching at his shoulders, nails digging half-moon shapes into his skin, when he pulls his hand away.

You’d complain until you can feel what he’s doing - his fist tight around his cock, moving up and down as he positions himself at the entrance of your cunt, tip nudging there as his mouth comes to cover your own. You’re just opening your mouth to him when he slips himself inside, slowly edging further and further inside you until he’s sheathed in your tight heat and you’re moaning into his open mouth.

He’s slow with it at first, a gentle drag of his cock in and out of you, like he’s got all the time in the world. Every time he presses into you, he moans into your mouth a little, sighs when he drags back out and it’s perfect, but you know you need more. You reach out, circle his big wrist with your hand.

“Will you…” You trail off a little, “Will you do something for me?”

He stills inside you, tip of his cock pressed so deep you could cry, “Anything for you, honey.”

“Will you put your hand on my neck?” Your voice is timid, and you’re glad you’ve kept the lights off.

There’s enough moonlight drifting in through the blinds that don’t close properly that you can still see him, but he’s shrouded in shadows too. He’s careful when he moves, pushing himself up to rest on one palm that’s pressed net to your head, the other hand being dragged exactly where you want it. He lets you rest it where you’re comfortable, just at the base, right above your collarbone.

“You tap my arm three times if you want me to stop, okay?” He asks, finally dragging his cock back out of you.

He puts a little pressure on with his hand when he thrusts back into you. The pressure is nice, but there’s something about it that doesn’t feel right, so you do exactly as he says, tap his arm three times. Joel is quick to take his hand off you, but you grab it quickly enough that he doesn’t have chance to rest it back on the bed.

“Try it a little higher.” You suggest, pulling it back so that the pad of his thumb and middle finger are pressed into the skin just under your ear.

“Like this?” He asks quietly as he repeats his movements from before, adding a tiny bit of pressure to your neck as he pushes back into your slick cunt, and yes, you think, exactly like that.

Joel keeps his hand pressed there for a few of his movements before he lightens the pressure on your throat, letting you catch your breath but keeping that wide palm resting right where you asked for it to be.

It’s a sensation you never thought you’d enjoy so much, but every time Joel’s palm tightens around your throat, there’s a rush to your brain and a throb between your legs. It’s exhilarating and there’s something about the way you trust him, literally with your life right now, to know exactly what you want and how to give it to you.

“You like that, don’t ya?” Joel rasps out above you, hips snapping into yours.

He releases the pressure from your neck again, just enough for you to be able to nod your head and bite at your lip to try and stop yourself from grinning. Joel brings the hand from your neck up to your mouth, uses the pad of his thumb to drop your lip from your mouth.

“I wanna see that smile baby.”

So you do as he says - caught in the dance of his palm pressing against your throat, your mouth falling into a grin each time, sometimes a small giggle leaving your mouth as you do, and then the release of the pressure, back and forth like that until you can feel that coil tightening low in your belly, your own hips bucking to meet his own, desperate to come apart beneath him.

“You gonna come, baby?” He asks, palm tightening once more, you can feel your walls fluttering around him, the coil pulled tight, you’re not going to last much longer, “That’s okay, I got you baby, just let go for me.”

It’s always been his voice that does it for you - the gentle lilt of that southern drawl, the way he’s always taking care of you. The coil snaps, his hand tightening just a little further as you arch up into him, much dropping open in a silent scream as pleasure floods every nerve ending in your body. You’re mildly aware of him talking you through it, showering praise over you as his own hips start to falter, hand finally torn from your neck, both of his palms settled on the mattress beside your head as he fucks you for real now.

The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room, Joel’s ragged groans mixed with your own squeals, not quite recovered from your orgasm. You reach your hands up, settle them on his sides and look up at him.

“Want you…” You choke out, “Come inside me, Joel.”

He groans, low in his chest, body shaking as his hips stop. He lets out a moan of your name as you feel his cock throb inside you, the familiar warmth of his cum spilling inside you. Joel’s body falls forward, crowding yours as he buries his head into the crook of your neck, mouth warm as he kisses you.

You both stay like that for a while, breathing heavy until you feel his softening cock slip from you. He rolls onto his back, dragging you with him so you’re leaning against his sweat-slicked chest, fingers drawing patterns through the hair there.

Eyes filled with love, you look at him, give him a small smile as he brings a hand to your neck, tracing where his fingers had been pressing, “Looks red, baby,” His voice is gravelly, thick with sleep, “Was it okay?”

Taking hold of his wrist, you drag his hand up to your mouth and press kisses to his palm. The hand he has around your back drags you up a little and then he’s manoeuvring himself so his mouth can press kisses on the two finger marks he’s left on your skin. You think this might be the way you love him most, soft and sated, gentle and loving.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” You whisper at him, “Stay right here okay?”

Joel reluctantly lets you go. You curse him every time you have to walk down the hall to the bathroom for not buying a home all those years ago with an en-suite, especially when, by the time you come back, he’s flat out on his back, lightly snoring.

You take a moment to stand in the doorway, look at him painted in moonlight. He’s beautiful like this, none of those worries he has etched on his face. You love him, more than you’ve ever loved anyone before.

Padding quietly over to the bed, you settle under the sheets, draping an arm over his middle, your head pillowed on his shoulder. In his sleep, he pulls you further into his body, arm over your shoulder, other hand resting on the arm you have draped across his tummy. If this is what peace feels like, then long let it last.