#don't like that part of the ending either
headspace-hotel · 2 days
An attempt at summarizing the controversies that embroil mycorrhizal network research:
a bunch of scientists are miffed at how the media has taken "plants communicate and distribute nutrients through the mycorrhizal network" and run with it, finding the "mother tree" thing too anthropomorphizing and too presumptive about something very poorly understood
unfortunately all of the major models for understanding the mycorrhizal network are anthropomorphizing, even the more competition-centered ones...to the point that papers discuss whether the network is a "capitalist" or a "socialist" system
But, setting aside the question of whether trees can "intentionally" do something or be altruistic...how do we know the plant is the one in control? Are the trees "sending" nutrients or is the fungus taking the nutrients and sending them to other trees? Wait, how do we assign agency in a system like this at all? Isn't it unscientific to assume that any part of the system, fungus or plant, is consciously acting? Wait...are they actually separate organisms with their own interests, or is it more accurate to view all the members of a mycorrhizal network as one big super-organism? (Wait, is it anthropomorphizing to consider organisms as having interests? If yes, how do we describe what's happening using language?)
Basically, yes we have demonstrated and established that nutrients move from one plant to another plant in the mycorrhizal network, including from fully grown trees to saplings, plants in sunlight to shaded plants, and other things that are definitely fun to interpret as one plant "helping" the weaker plant. However, we don't actually know the intentions of plants, so for all we know, the fungus could be doing everything. Or it could be completely stupid to describe any of it as "one individual organism in the network Intentionally Does A Thing."
Big Problem: Although a shit ton of research is being done, most research in the mycorrhizal network is done on very simple networks of 1 or 2 plant species with a handful of selected fungal inoculants in otherwise sterile laboratory settings. These conditions do not reflect the natural world at all.
in fact, experimental conditions used to study mycorrhizal networks are mostly completely unlike anything that would ever exist...you know, Outside,
most of the research pertains to agriculture and there are many demonstrated benefits, and many farmers are ALREADY using methods to promote mycorrhizal networks, but my guess is that it's not as simple as matching crops up to fungal inoculants that help them for instant 20% yield increase, at least in Real Outdoor Soil with an existing microbiome and seed bank.
Roughly speaking, 50% of mycorrhizal associations benefit seedling establishment, and the remaining 50% are themselves split halfway between "no effect" and "negative effect." Doesn't this mean that the mycorrhizal network is not always chill and altruistic?
Well, those findings might mean absolutely nothing either way, since in a field-setting plant community, there are dozens if not hundreds of fungi species (the diversity and number of specialists increases in later-successional communities) that are part of the mycorrhizal network, and through them any given seedling might be linked to a thousand different plants.
Some researchers find it puzzling how so many mycorrhizal partnerships seem to have no effect. Maybe the effect only comes online in certain conditions?
Parasitism, mutualism and commensalism aren't fixed types of relationship, and two partners in the mycorrhizal network can and do switch between the three constantly. This is another problem: the experiments don't usually follow both partners in a plant-fungal pairing to the end of their natural lives, and it's been shown that a fungus can be mutualistic early in a plant's life and later on become more parasitic (for example). Or that a fungus can be beneficial in poor soil conditions and become parasitic in rich soil conditions.
But...is this really best understood as a situational switch between types of symbiosis, or can we judge it by the net effect on both partners throughout their life spans, or...my brain is breaking
Like, a fungus that mostly decreases the fitness of the host plant, BUT becomes very helpful in the presence of extreme drought...is it a parasite or mutualistic partner?
Some researchers lean toward a source-sink model where nutrients tend to flow toward plants that are most lacking and away from plants with most abundance. This is a rough approximation of something ridiculously complicated
Plants can and do select fungal partners to pair with and reject fungi that contribute fewer benefits.
Fungi also appear capable of selectively distributing resources based on the fitness of the host, or at least they did this one experiment where the fungus was connected to two different trees and researchers ripped all the leaves off one of the trees. This caused the fungus to divert its nutrient flow to the undamaged tree (throwing in its lot with the tree most likely to survive). However, we're not sure if this would happen in a forest or other natural plant community, since in the lab, the fungus was totally dependent on the two trees for survival and there were no other participants in the network. So basically, it's kinda like those behavior studies on captive wolves?
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genshin-impacted · 3 days
so close (yet so far)
[Alhaitham x Reader]
You ask Alhaitham to be friends with benefits with you. (The both of you overestimate your ability to not get your feelings involved.)
word count: 11k* (one-shot)
notes: heavily nsfw**, female reader; "you", inexperienced!reader, friends to fwb to lovers, unrequited to mutual pining, modern au (reader and alhaitham went to hs together), some profanity, brief body insecurity on reader's side
*split into three main parts: one part is Alhaitham's POV btw a speed demon possessed me to write this much (im kidding; my friend put brain worms in me)
**oral sex, brief descriptions of face fucking, 69, car sex, dirty talk, face sitting, thigh fucking
Dating apps vary in tone and quality, you find out firsthand. Certain ones call for one-night stands and hook ups and others are prone to less of them (but they will always be there). You don't feel like you can make genuine relationships with people without meeting them first, but you figure you should give it a chance at least before giving up.
You are close to doing so when you show up for a date, and he cancels last minute.
"Ugh, man..." You sigh, putting your phone away after seeing the apologetic text. You won't blame your date: it may as well be a real emergency, but if not, he is not beholden to you to show up, though it would have been nice on his end to let you know earlier.
Still, you are here, and you are hungry, so you step into the cafe in hopes of grabbing fresh pastries when a familiar face catches your eye. You almost don't believe it, considering how many years have passed since you've last seen him. But there is no mistaking the silvery hair and the nose still buried in a book; even the green headphones remain the same, a detail that makes you laugh a little when you approach him and hope he isn't too upset at the sudden reunion.
"Alhaitham," you say cheerily, waving at him in case his noise-canceling is on. "It's been a while!"
Alhaitham takes his eyes off his book to look at you, hands raised to take off his headphones. You grin when it seems that he is just as surprised to see you as you are. "It has," he agrees. "More than a few years." He takes a look at you. "You haven't changed a bit."
"How rude!" You say teasingly, "I've changed a little bit in the past few years. Maybe not in appearance, but still. Mind if I sit?"
Alhaitham moves over when you take a chair over to sit in front of him, and it feels like the two of you never left high school-- if not for the stark fact that Alhaitham has changed physically since then. His jaw is more defined, shoulders broader, probably even taller than he was back then. He's handsome, you think, though then again, he always has been.
Wistfully, you think about the years you've lost connection with him and wonder what he has been up to. You've always enjoyed his company, much to some of your other friends' chagrin, and that sentiment has not changed now when the two of you converse easily.
"So," Alhaitham says, "were you on a date with someone?"
You don't even bother asking how he knew, only sighing and waving a hand. "I was going to be. He canceled last minute so I was going to grab something and go." Alhaitham hums noncommittally, and you snort in laughter, reminded of his apathy towards relationships then and, you guess, now.
You remember the times Alhaitham turned down people in high school at a ridiculous rate. "Another one?" You remember someone saying jokingly, seeing Alhaitham simply toss a letter slipped into his locker.
"You won't respond at least?" You asked, sympathetic over the courage it took to confess.
"I don't know them," you recall him saying. "Why should I consider being in a relationship with them when we haven't even spoken to gauge our compatibility?"
Alhaitham ended up not accepting anyone's confessions. You don't remember him dating in high school or during university either in the times you've messaged him just to catch up. Not that you have a stellar record either, having dated only one person your whole life without it going very far. You can't say you haven't tried though.
"So you're not dating anyone?" You ask, taking a sip of your drink.
Alhaitham looks at you briefly; you can never tell what he's thinking. He eventually looks away and says, "No. I'm not interested in dating."
"At all?" You ask again, voice high in genuine disbelief. 'Still?' is the unspoken question. (What a shame, you can't help but think.) When Alhaitham gives a nonchalant shrug, you let yourself sit back, astonished. You think about your (lack of) experience, the fatigue from dating apps, and then look at Alhaitham.
You've always found him attractive; you can't deny this. You trust him as a friend and as a confidant, because in his own words-- what is the use of telling secrets? Alhaitham is as intelligent and rational as ever, something you have always admired in him, which is why you trust him with this question.
"Would you be down for a friends with benefits relationship then?"
Alhaitham raises his brow in question and pauses in thought before responding. "...In general?" He asks, "Or with you?"
You love the way Alhaitham needs no explanation.
"Both," you reply. "Serious inquiry."
Worst case scenario Alhaitham rejects the offer and the two of you move on from this conversation (hopefully). Best case scenario is him saying yes. Last thing you expect is to have Alhaitham look at you with an expression you’ve never seen on him: unadulterated shock. You laugh at his reaction despite the tension that could have been held between the two of you, and you start to wave off the entire ordeal when Alhaitham tells you "sure."
It's only Alhaitham, but you show up at his apartment with a nervous flutter in your heart. He opens the door soon after you knock, donned in a regular shirt and sweatpants. You feel your shoulders relax at the casualness of it all and thank him for his hospitality as you enter his home. It does not take much to strike a normal conversation with him, words between the two of you flowing like usual. You are given a tour of the apartment per request, briefly admiring the tiles of the bathroom floor before ending the route in his room. It is minimalistic aside from the usual amenities, and it feels so much like Alhaitham that you smile as he types something on his laptop before turning back to you.
"Is my room that amusing to you?" Alhaitham scoffs, closing his laptop.
"Yeah, it kind of is," you agree easily. "It's better than a man cave, I'll give you that. But the walls are as empty as the day you got this place probably."
"I'll be sure to let you know when inspiration hits for me to decorate," he says sardonically, making you giggle to yourself. "Did you want music?"
The sudden change in topic makes you tilt your head in confusion. "Music?" You echo. "Music for what?"
Without skipping a beat, a song starts playing on low volume, bass steady and clear in his speakers. Alhaitham stands tall then, his headphones off, you note vaguely. He seems a lot taller than you remember, but perhaps it is because he is usually conscious of the difference in height to stand at a distance, so you don't have to crane your neck. This time, when Alhaitham stands right in front of you, close enough to bump chests, you look up and realize it is the first time you've really looked into Alhaitham's eyes.
There are more colors than you thought.
You instinctively want to take a step back, but his hand holding your arm-- firmly, just enough to stop you, but not strong enough to keep you there if you wanted to leave-- keeps you underneath his gaze. You are normally so good at defusing the tension with a few well-placed words of humor, but you aren't quite sure this is a tension that you want to cut through.
Just like that, your heart is at your throat. Alhaitham truly is very handsome, you think, eyes looking at his long lashes, the curve of his nose, and his lips. You can't help but jump when Alhaitham leans down, face closest to yours as it has ever been. You feel ridiculous, being strung taut as a caught fishing line just from being close to Alhaitham. Your cheeks prickle with the speed in which it warms, and just when you begin to wonder what Alhaitham could possibly be waiting for before he kisses you, his lips are on yours.
Your eyes close almost immediately, arms reaching up to hold onto him and finding purchase around his neck as he pulls you close until the two of you are flushed against each other. How long has it been since you've been kissed, let alone been kissed like this? Lips separating from yours only enough to find new ways to kiss you again. You gasp when Alhaitham gently bites and pulls at your lower lips. Feeling emboldened by your reception, Alhaitham swoops in and meets his tongue with yours, and you melt in his embrace.
You are surprised to see that you could probably go on kissing Alhaitham forever if that was all you could do. You only vaguely realize how efficiently you've been breathing through your nose through it all when you separate from him, dazed, and hear him mutter "fuck" under his breath.
A rush of adrenaline. You were already aware that Alhaitham is a willing participant in this newly established situationship, but to hear him being as affected as you do numbers to your rapidly increasing arousal. It's only fun when the both of you are enjoying it, after all.
"Not bad from someone who hasn't smooched anyone in years, huh?" You begin to tease, rightfully earning yourself a dirty look from Alhaitham. His lips are still wet, you think, and heat curls up from your lower abdomen up. The room suddenly feels hot.
"Are we trying to rate every encounter now?" Alhaitham remarks dryly, only to make you laugh at the thought of it.
"Not if it's not at least a 7/10," you say breathlessly. You shake in laughter again when you see him roll his eyes before holding onto his hand and tugging him to the couch. "Here, sit. My neck is starting to get tired. Being shorter is a struggle, you know."
Alhaitham sighs but sits obediently where you take him. "What do you-" He snaps his mouth shut when you swing your legs over his lap and sit yourself on top of him. You quirk a smile at the rare sight of Alhaitham being stunned once again and wonder how easily it seems to have gotten to make him react like that.
His hand easily finds its place at your waist as you curl your hands into the hair at the nape. "Trying to make myself comfortable," you say slyly. "This is much better."
You close the distance and kiss him again. You're a quick learner, so you do what has been done to you: nipping at his lips, tugging and pulling, and licking into his mouth until it makes him as breathless as you are. Is this what it's like to have chemistry? You wonder, feeling Alhaitham's hands dip underneath your top to slide his hand across the expanse of your naked skin. You want him to touch you more.
Alhaitham must have the same ideas because he murmurs at you to take it off, and you raise your arms easily to let him do exactly that. His fingers waste no time in pressing into the softness of your breast, over the white cloth of your bra. He is quick to grow tired of the thin barrier though, pulling it down just so your breasts can pop out into full view. Your cheeks prick in embarrassment at how exposed you feel-- this is the first man to see you like this, after all-- and having Alhaitham look at you with intense focus does not help with it.
Alhaitham's hands are warm when they cup your breasts, gently squeezing them until your nipples perk against his long fingers. You gasp in pleasure when he pinches them and tugs. Your arms reach out and hold onto his shoulders for support. As though on cue, Alhaitham swoops down to capture one of your nubs in his mouth while his hand plays idly with the other. He swirls it with his tongue, leaving a trail of spit when he detaches himself from it to move onto the other one. You hum as your hands card through his hair.
Alhaitham's free hand unhooks your bra, leaving it to hang down your shoulders. You immediately tug it completely off, casting it carelessly elsewhere. He is quick to be on you again, encouraging you to wrap your arms around him as he sucks onto your tits. It feels rather uneven, the way you're half-dressed but he's still fully clothed. You can feel the way his muscles contract underneath your hands, fingers tracing along the exposed skin of his neck that is far from being enough for you.
Just as you decide to ask Alhaitham to return the favor and take his clothes off, your hands spasms in his hair when Alhaitham takes a nipple between his teeth and tugs, hard.
Oh fuck, you think, letting out a long, shaky breath just before Alhaitham does it again, his hands on your back as it arches at his touch. "Fuck," you say aloud this time, and you can feel the way Alhaitham's lips curve up in amusement, the bastard. "Hey, you take your clothes off too," you tell him, tugging up the hem of his shirt.
Alhaitham looks at you steadily. "Why?"
You stare back at him and sputter. "What do you mean 'why?'" You-" You scowl, feeling your cheeks warm as Alhaitham continues to look at you with a smirk. "You just want me to say it, don't you?"
"I'm not a mind reader," he says, lips curving up. "How would I know what you want if you don't tell me?"
"I want to see you," you say, cheeks prickling with an embarrassment that you push through. "I want to touch you too, you know." When Alhaitham smirks at you before sitting up from the couch to take his shirt off, you huff. "Ugh, this is why everyone keeps giving you side eyes," you say, your hands sliding over his open chest with a mild sense of reverence despite your words. You knew Alhaitham was toned to hell, and this is the first time you've been granted the chance to view it in all its glory, your hands brushing over his built abdomen, thumb brushing over his nipples.
Alhaitham jumps slightly when you do so, and you giggle, ignoring the narrowed look you get from him and the way he grips onto your hips just the slightest. You shift in your seat, only to feel Alhaitham's hold you still, face flushed despite the impartial expression on his face. "What, what's up-" You feel it then, the hardness underneath your thighs, and you know Alhaitham sees the realization dawn on you because his blush travels down his neck.
He's embarrassed, you think gleefully. After initiating the hottest make out session you've ever had and easily pulling taut your strings, Alhaitham is embarrassed that he's hard? If anything, he should be-- better be! And you're a little flattered, you tell him just as much teasingly, and you can't help but hug him when he scowls at you.
Ah, you feel your heart flutter, knowing the effect you have on the immovable Alhaitham. But he is far from it now, chest heaving under your palm, cock hard as you press down onto it despite his modest resistance. You won't say it to him out loud, knowing he wouldn't like it, but you think Alhaitham is adorable as he is now. (You imagine people would say you're the only one who would think that.)
You rock your hips, eyes not straying from Alhaitham's as he stubbornly meets your gaze. His thighs are tense underneath you as you line yourself up to press your pussy lips against his clothed cock. A skirt was a good choice, you think dreamily; it lets you grind on him with aching accuracy and lets Alhaitham slide his hands across your legs and reach behind to squeeze your ass. You hum again in appreciation, kissing Alhaitham again as he generously cups your behind, making you moan, which he easily swallows up.
"Take your pants off too," you say, sitting back onto his legs. Before he can ask, you press your palm down on his bulge and quip a smile at him. "I want to try sucking you off."
You tie up your hair up before kneeling down between Alhaitham's knees. His cock sits erect on his stomach, head flush with arousal. It should feel intimidating the way Alhaitham watches you, but you know Alhaitham, and you figure if there is anyone that you can be comfortable doing this with, it would be him.
"Tell me what to do," you say, hands softly trailing up and down his thighs. "I've never done this before."
"You've watched porn, haven't you?" Alhaitham replies dryly, making you roll your eyes good naturedly.
"It's not the same thing as doing, and you know it." You look over at the nearby table he has kindly set up for you in advance and take the bottle of lotion to pour some onto your hand. Alhaitham jolts slightly at the coldness of the lotion, hissing in a breath, though with the way you are steadily pumping his cock, you aren't quite certain the sound wasn't at least partially from pleasure. "Alhaitham," you begin, a whining lilt to your voice. "Come on. Teach me?"
"Alright, alright, fine," Alhaitham says, his hand covering his face. "Just- just stop for a second."
You let go of his cock, beaming up at him as he shifts so that he's sitting more comfortably. "Here," he says, almost boredly. He gestures for you to take him in hand again, and your heart skips when you feel his hand over yours, squeezing it as he guides it up and down again in a steady rhythm. "Tighten your grip like this. A little harder is fine. There are more nerve endings at the tip, but there's nothing wrong with covering the base as well." You can nod in acknowledgement, a lump in the back of your throat as you emulate exactly how Alhaitham has shown you.
Is this how he normally gets himself off? The same strength, the same motion-- maybe a little extra attention at the tip where it is more sensitive? You feel your face warm and hope it does not show as you watch Alhaitham's face for approval or for any signs of pleasure.
Alhaitham has always been intense despite his neutral face. But you know him well enough to recognize the minute changes that occur. The tense jaw, partially open mouth, half-lidded gaze is enough to light a fire in your stomach. But you wonder how he would look if he were completely drowned in pleasure, if you could be the one that makes him look like that.
You speak before you can lose the courage to. "Can I use my mouth?" You say, "I want to use my mouth."
Alhaitham's cock twitches in your hand.
"Then put it in your mouth then," Alhaitham says, "and avoid teeth. It hurts."
Obediently, you nod and sit up on your knees, puppy licking the tip to test the waters before opening your mouth to put it in. You had thought this when your hand could not completely wrap around his cock, but Alhaitham is big, enough to make your jaw ache when you try to fit more of his member in. You make a sound of discontent when the cock head hits the back of your throat and you aren't even halfway down. You let your tongue rest on the bottom of his cock, saliva pooling underneath with a mouth so full.
It doesn't fit, you think somewhat dejectedly. You swallow around his cock, making a discontented noise when you feel Alhaitham's thigh clench as he bucks up into your mouth. "Sorry," he says, and you tell him an incomprehensible 'it's okay' around his cock. His thigh tenses up again.
You tentatively raise your head, lips wrapped around his member for a moment before pulling yourself off, ready to ask for guidance when Alhaitham offers it to you. "You can use your hand to cover the rest of it," he says. "A wringing motion like this. It'll feel better if you suck while you're doing it too. Use lotion or spit if it's too dry."
You nod and follow his words step by step, swallowing his cock again and hollowing your cheeks. The other hand pumps his cock as you slowly bob your head up and down. You lift yourself up with a breath and let saliva spill from your lips to ease the motion, your eyes glancing up to meet Alhaitham's eyes.
You don't think he has taken his eyes off of you for even a second.
It's a little addicting to know that his attention is all yours. What does he like best about this whole situation, you muse. The fact that he's your first? The eager way in which you are trying to please him? Or is it the look of you drooling over his cock, getting off just from sucking it?
You hum in pleasure around his cock and he throws his head back, hips jilting up only slightly.
You pop yourself off of him again, hand pumping the entire expanse of his cock as you tilt your head to lick at his balls. "Fuck," Alhaitham mutters, hands clenched into the couch. You watch as his eyes flutter open before looking at you again, chest rising and falling. Not one to give neither you nor him reprieve, you are sucking him off again, and then off, and then on. It's a little fun watching him writhe, and you slowly begin to realize the power you seem to have over him.
You are so grateful to Alhaitham for saying 'yes.' The feeling of being wanted, of being desired, of being empowered is intoxicating. Watching Alhaitham fall apart before your eyes because of you is even more so.
He says your name, strained, "I'm close."
Alhaitham lets out an involuntary groan when you pop off again. "Does cum taste bad?" You ask. "It's a lot neater if I swallow, unless you want it somewhere else?" The thought of Alhaitham finishing on your chest or face is somewhat appealing, though you worry about the mess.
It doesn't seem like Alhaitham particularly cares, because he grits out, "Your choice." He muffles a grunt of pleasure that you wish you could hear at full volume. "Just-"
The key to success is consistency, you think. You bob your head up and down in tandem with your hand, licking the head and swirling your tongue around his shaft until Alhaitham lets out a strained, "I'm coming-"
Despite the warning, the warmth that spurts in your mouth is still surprising. You slow your pace as Alhaitham cums, all pretty gasps and grunts that makes your head spin as you take all he is giving and swallowing. It's a lot more than you think too, your hand daintily at your mouth as you swallow as though it were the last bite of a meal. You look at Alhaitham, skin glistening with sweat, breathing hard after his climax, eyes slightly wide as he watches you lick your lips.
Before you can ask for it, Alhaitham shifts just enough to reach for a towel-- he really is prepared for everything-- for you to wipe your hand with. You hear him let out a long breath before you return the towel to him for his own uses. You stand up, wincing at the marks on your knees from kneeling for so long before grinning at him.
"So, what's the verdict?" You ask jokingly, making him scoff and roll his eyes as you had predicted.
"I'm not answering that," he says. He stands up and picks his sweatpants from the ground to make himself more modest. "You can extrapolate for that type of answer yourself."
You expected as much, but you still pout and sigh. You sit on the couch next to him. "Aw, boo, well I guess I'll just give myself an 8/10 then." You stop when you feel Alhaitham's gaze on you, calculating. "What, what is it? Am I lowballing it or what-"
"I think it's your turn," Alhaitham says simply.
"Oh, uh..." You honestly didn't come to his house expecting anything, so this comes as a surprise to you. That and a few certain parts of you makes that bit of insecurity flare up the moment Alhaitham mentions reciprocation. "It's fine," you say, "we don't have to-" You snap your mouth shut when Alhaitham parts your legs to put his knees between, his hand lifting your chin so he can kiss you. You vaguely think about the fact that he can probably taste himself on your tongue.
"I insist," Alhaitham murmurs against your lips.
"What do you suggest then?" You stammer, and Alhaitham pushes himself off just enough to look at you directly.
"We could try fingering. See if that's to your taste and then move on." He gauges you carefully. "We could stop if you truly wanted to, but don't make that decision on my behalf."
"Well, we could try," you say, lowering your gaze, feeling your heart pick up in anticipation.
"Alright," Alhaitham replies softly. "You can stop me at any time."
This is why you trust Alhaitham. This is why you asked Alhaitham to do this with you, to-- for a lack of better, less dramatic phrases-- be your first. It was made as a casual request but Alhaitham knew to take it seriously for you anyways. You aren't sure how much he knows how his words make you feel at ease.
The sense of ease is immediately replaced with nervous anticipation when Alhaitham parts your legs, pooling your skirt at your stomach, and slips his hand underneath your panties. You hear him let out a sharp breath, and before you can ask what's wrong, he says, almost in awe, "You're so wet."
You understand Alhaitham's feelings earlier now when you had felt his bulge; your arousal on full blast is nothing short of mortifying even though the situation calls for it. You hadn't even noticed, so focused on the task at hand, but when Alhaitham pulls back with glistening lines of slick between his fingers, you don't doubt his observation.
"W-Well, you know," you mumble, your hand grasping onto his supporting arm. Your eyes flutter when Alhaitham cups your sex, fingers sliding a line down the middle. Your hand spasms when his thumb hits your clit on the way down, and Alhaitham does not miss it. "Wait, Alhaitham-" You squeal when he presses onto your clit, swirling around it with persistent pressure that makes it hard to say anything coherent. You wouldn't have wanted to tell him to stop anyways, but you have a feeling he just wanted to tease you.
"Sensitive?" He says almost smugly.
"Not usually no," you choke out, breathing out a sigh of relief when Alhaitham lets off.
"Interesting," he says, and it's only now you realize how quiet Alhaitham was before when you were on your knees. Now with him at the upper hand, he can speak all he wants, and you're the one left catching your breath. It really is different when it's someone else doing it. "I'm putting one in to start, okay?"
You nod, but when you feel the first intrusion prod in, you reach out to seek out Alhaitham for support. "Relax," he tells you. "Your muscles are too tense for anything."
"Sorry," you say, taking a deep breath. He pulls you closer, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder. You hot breath hits his neck when you turn to him. "Make sure you really lube that up, Haitham." You breathe again when his finger enters, and when it curls up onto the spongey part of your cunt, you feel it. It's nothing of import yet, but Alhaitham seems patient enough to build up to it.
One finger barely fits, but even with time, the second finger enters too. "You're tight," Alhaitham grunts, and you feel yourself redden as your only response. "I think you're stretched out. Any pain?" When you shake your head on his shoulders, you feel his fingers slowly pump in and out of you.
It picks up in pace and intensity, and then when he curves up this time- oh, you aren't sure you've ever felt this sensation before. Alhaitham's fingers are so much longer than yours, so it makes sense he can reach the places you can't, knuckles deep in you. Your breathing quickens and with it, Alhaitham's speed, his fingers pounding at that same spot over and over. You're at a daze, not any closer to a climax but not bored without pleasure. You aren't sure how long Alhaitham goes at it until he slows down, and the fog clears up.
"You okay?"
You hum, turning your head to face Alhaitham when he peers over to you. "Yeah," you mumble, "I feel good, just can't come from this."
You miss Alhaitham's warmth when he pulls away, fingers grasping at him. The haze that you feel quickly blows away when Alhaitham gets on his knees and pries your legs apart. "Whoa, um-"
"Most cannot finish with vaginal stimulation alone," Alhaitham says factually. "Hence, I'll be focusing my efforts on other areas."
"Yeah, I get that," you say, blinking with embarrassment. "It's just, um..."
Without your understanding, Alhaitham gives you a deeply unimpressed look. "Hair is a natural phenomenon. It doesn't matter to me in the slightest."
You would find it hard to believe, an insecure part of you convinced that it must be polite niceties. But this is Alhaitham, and he is never one for false platitudes and social norms with strangers or friends or you. When he says he does not care, you believe him.
"If you're sure," you tell him, and you let out a small squeak when he tugs your panties down, not even bothering to take it off completely before you feel his fingers pry your leaking lips apart. A lick up your clit has your legs closing on his head, but Alhaitham's hands easily pry you apart and keep you that way, your pussy open to be eaten.
You want to look away when Alhaitham's meets your eyes, and then his lips press to your folds and he begins to gorge himself on you.
It's impossible to keep your eyes open then when you're too distracted by how Alhaitham's tongue swirls around your clit, the muscle pressing into the bud of nerves with a dogged persistence. Even the noises you have kept to a minimum spill from your lips involuntarily. You can only breathe in hiccups, Alhaitham relentless in his pursuit of your climax as he sucks on your clit and begins to press his fingers against the zone of pleasure inside you as well.
'It feels good' sounds like an understatement at this point. You climb the precipice at an alarming speed, and you cannot help but grasp onto the hand keeping your thighs apart to ground yourself. It's almost overwhelming, but then you feel Alhaitham unfurl his grip onto your leg to grasp onto your hand.
It must be the endorphins, but you feel a warm ooze of affection for Alhaitham pool in your chest.
Logical, calm, and reasonable Alhaitham. Arrogant, antisocial, abrasive Alhaitham. Observant, considerate, and kind Alhaitham. You've known this man for so many years, and you are reminded in this instance that in all the times you have trusted him, he has never failed you once.
"Alhaitham-" You cry out. Your head feels hot as you curl your toes, your heels at his shoulders. When he hums in response, you feel the build up towards the beginning of the end. "I'm- I'm coming-"
You throw your head back, gasping in pleasure as your body jerks with waves of pleasure. Hazily, you feel Alhaitham lap at your hole at a slow but steady pace, his mouth never leaving you even as you buck against him.
Alhaitham only lets you go when your body slackens, legs limp in his arm as he gently sets it down in a comfortable position for you. You watch him, dazed, as he quietly grabs the towel to wipe his face and hands. He must see you look because he turns to you and offers you the towel too, though the mess between your legs is one of the last things you care about at the moment.
"C'mere," you say, arms reaching out for him. When he doesn't immediately come to you, you wave your hands insistently. "Plea-a-ase come here? I wanna cuddle."
A flicker of emotion comes and goes on Alhaitham's face before he replaces it with exasperation. "I didn't realize the benefits portion of friends with benefits included cuddles," he says, but he walks to you anyways, huffing in laughter at the small 'yay!' from you. Alhaitham settles in the space you moved over for him on the couch, and you immediately latch yourself onto him, head fitting easily at the crook of his neck. As his arms wrap around you, you heave a content sigh.
"You should have read the fine print, Alhaitham," you drawl, cheek pressed against his naked skin. "It was right there on page 562, 9th clause, addendum number four." You close your eyes, smiling at the sound of Alhaitham's little huff.
"Out of the two of us, I'm the one more likely to read a written agreement in full," he says. His voice reverberates in your ears, low and comforting.
You always thought he had a nice voice, reading out texts in class and reciting lines without effort. The two of you are a long way off from high school, but thinking back at the Alhaitham back then brings you good memories. It's even more so when you compare it to the Alhaitham now of whom reconnecting with was happenstance.
Alhaitham has changed a little in the years you have not seen him, with what you know now includes a fallout with Kaveh and an early college graduation. He's a little softer, you think, edges more blunt but still just as deadly when wielded with a sharp wit. It is to your comfort that most parts of him remain the same. A little smug, a little snark.
You're glad; you've always liked him just the way he is.
You feel his hand absently rub circles into your shoulders and feel as though that sentiment has only grown stronger.
"...You're hard again?" You ask after a moment, muffling your laughter into his skin when he clicks his tongue and shifts his legs so the offending body part in question is no longer touching you.
"A normal physical reaction," Alhaitham says, miffed.
You pause. "You want me to do it again?" You ask.
Alhaitham shifts so he can look down at you as you give him a grin, reaching down to grasp at his shaft and watching that moment when you catch him off guard, eyes fluttering in pleasure. Oh, yes, you think, heat pooling into your abdomen, you can certainly go for another round.
You tell him that you are tired of dating around with men you have no connection with, afraid to build intimacy when you are still inexperienced, and trust him enough to put up the offer to be friends with benefits. Alhaitham knows he is in love with you, but he says yes anyways. He does not make miscalculations often, but he acknowledges that he is only human, so he is prone to them occasionally. He thinks this decision to be friends with benefits with you may be one of them.
He has always had a hard time featuring his own feelings in the equation, surprisingly volatile in its unchanging affection for you even after all these years. (How long has it been since high school?) Anyone with a brain not controlled by their libido knows entering a purely sexual relationship with someone you’ve never quite stopped having feelings for is a recipe for disaster. But just maybe, being aware of that much will let Alhaitham avoid ruin.
It doesn't stop the way something in his chest twists painfully at the thought of holding you close even though you could not be more further away. After all, in initiating this relationship with him, you must have seen him as only a friend. You seem excited at the prospect of starting this type of relationship with him, and he is not one to deny you something if he believes it is something in his power to give.
On that note, he is surprised when he hears you have no experience being in a physical relationship with a man. Alhaitham does admit the idea of being your 'first' appeals to him, and because of that he thinks maybe he isn't so infallible to the whims of desire.
He's liked you for ages. He isn't sure even the best of men can refuse when the object of his affection asks him to treat them gently. (Or so he thinks. You may be more of his weak spot than he ever anticipated.)
You show up on his doorstep a week later, beaming at him when he lets you into his apartment. In the days leading up to this meeting, Alhaitham has prepped the environment with necessary amenities. You didn't specify what was to happen today, so he prepares everything to the lube to the condoms to the towels. Music, too, is something he did extensive research in, having learned that it can often set the mood.
Alhaitham isn't necessarily the most experienced person, but for the sake of knowing, he has slept with people and learned about his own preferences. He is more curious than he admits to finding out more about your preferences.
Still, when you look up at him doe-eyed and cheeks warm in anticipation, he is taken aback by the idea that he'll be the one to guide you today. He remembers when you were the one to direct him to class when he was lost as a transfer sophomore in high school. You were so assure of yourself, confident-- he never would have anticipated that you would have a shy side to you.
Perhaps that is what makes it all the more endearing, you all the more desirable, his chest searing with want as he closes the gap to finally feel your lips on his.
He really likes you, he's reminded, heart beating hard in his chest he thinks you might be able to hear it. And though you do not kiss him with the same feelings he holds for you, when you look up at him like that, he can almost imagine that you do.
Lips are one of the erogenous zones outside of sexual organs, filled with sensitive nerves that can sense even the slightest difference in temperature. The auditory sense is powerful too when it comes to stimulating the libido. It's why Alhaitham wants to devour you when he hears your small gasps as he pulls at your lips.
"Come sit," you murmur to him, and he can only acquiesce without a word. Good thing, because he would have been made speechless the way you boldly swing your legs over to sit on his lap. Alhaitham is acutely aware that his cock has begun to fill, straining against sweatpants that shows no effort to hide his arousal.
Your kisses sear his lips, your hands welcoming his to explore your body which he does with little hesitation. Alhaitham wants to see you in full, your breasts spilling out and nipples hard being irresistible that he cannot do anything but put his mouth to use again.
Your skin is smooth against his palm, your sounds of pleasure almost like music to his ears he almost wishes it weren't buffeted by the sensual base notes of a playlist he searched up last night. "I want to touch you too," you tell him breathlessly, and who is he to deny you that?
When you take a moment to admire his body, he takes this moment to look at you-- an overview, one might say. You are breathtaking in his perspective, lips slightly swollen, breasts bouncing when you adjust yourself. Alhaitham feels his cheeks warm when you innocuously grind yourself onto him (that damned skirt), and he only grows hotter when you do it again with purpose.
He should have known you would be able to flip the tables on him like that, inexperience be damned. You've always had a way to do that.
And then you are on your knees, hair up and ready to pleasure him, and he almost doesn't know what to do. Except he must-- you want him to guide you, to teach you how to make him feel good, and the way you easily do that forces him to do his best not to buck up into your touch. He must be more sensitive because it's you, or maybe you really are that fast of a learner, even when it comes to sucking cock.
Would you like dirty talk? He wonders, praise or degradation? You seem to like it a little rough, though you seem receptive to his gentleness too. Not that he can think it thoroughly with the way you are hallowing your cheeks, tongue swirling around his cock. Seeing you swallow his cum-- all of it-- is almost enough to revive his softening member, the way you look at him coyly an attractive look on your face.
He thinks the way your face contorts in pleasure is also an attractive look for him too. Alhaitham looks up from his position between your legs and watches you with hazy desire as you close your eyes, hand at your mouth to muffle your gasps. Alhaitham thinks of telling you to stop covering yourself, but he thinks that just this one time, his mouth has better things to do.
His name on your lips as you reach your high makes him close his eyes and hum in pleasure, tongue delving into you again as your slick gushes from your hole. Alhaitham is a man of pride, and watching your body slacken, spent on pleasure that he wrought from you makes his chest burn with satisfaction.
He wipes himself and sees you look up at him almost sleepily, and the satisfaction quickly morphs into gentle affection. He wants to kiss your forehead, clean you up himself and hold you. But is that too revealing? Too much emotion for a relationship like this? And Alhaitham is brought back to the reality that you are only his friends with benefits. (He is well aware of the concept of 'post-nut clarity' but finds it loathsome at the moment.)
Just as he begins to formulate words to wrap this scene in a pretty bow, you wave him over with an endearingly whining croon, and he comes to you without thinking otherwise. He is yours to hold-- always has been.
Alhaitham cannot control how you feel (would never want to), but he can control the way he will not fall apart even as you lay down with him, tracing shapes into his hand in a way he's never allowed himself to dream of. So close yet so far, he thinks, trying not to smile when you whinge at him at pushing you off the couch until you go to the bathroom. He'll take care of you as long as you'll have him.
You go over to Alhaitham's when you can. You try not to treat him like a booty call--though, as he has told you before, that is simply the nature of the relationship. But you are his friend before it comes with the benefits, so you try not to treat him any less. After all, you like spending time with Alhaitham, sex or not, though for some reason he seems almost bewildered when you come over his house and want to take him out for a taco truck you've been craving to eat.
"Isn't this what friends with benefits do?" You point out, biting into your taco. "Being friends with some extra stuff attached?"
Alhaitham looks at you for a moment. You take this time to squeeze some lemon onto his uneaten tacos for him.
"I suppose so," Alhaitham says noncommitally. "I was under the slightest impression you also wanted to use me for experimentation, considering your lack of experience. So you would want to take every opportunity we get to do something."
You scrunch your nose. "I don't like the word 'use.' It’s not like I talked to you and asked you this just for that reason." You frown, and the thought settles in you uncomfortably. "Please don't say that I'm using you. I'm not. I care about you," you say firmly. "I don't want you to feel that type of way, so if you do, we can stop being friends with benefits and just go back to-"
Alhaitham raises his hands in surrender. "No need," he says." I apologize. I wasn't being careful with my choice of words."
The discontent dissipates almost immediately with his words. You can't help but feel pleased. "And aren't you the one with a linguistics degree?" You tease, making him roll his eyes as he takes a bite of his food.
You imagine his eyes are rolled back again if he were to open them now on the ride back to his place as you give him a hand job. Only on the red lights, you vow; you wouldn't want to cause an accident on the road if he were to close his eyes while driving, though the unamused look he gives you has you biting the inside of your cheek to stop smiling.
The two of you end up parked at a neighborhood street when you unclip your seatbelt to finish him off with your mouth. You think his cum tastes a little better than before, and you tell him just as much when Alhaitham tucks himself back in. He only shrugs nonchalantly, but when you look into his fridge later after another session for refreshments you find freshly cut pineapple wrapped in a plate.
You wonder if you would taste better if you started eating them too.
And a month passes with the same routine: you ask if you can come over, the two of you go out to eat or go for an outing before inevitably ending up back at his place for some stress relief. You don't mean to do it every time you go to his place, but it ends up happening anyways. You ask if he wants to try something and then he says yes.
69-ing ends up being a lot more difficult than you anticipated, mainly because you keep getting distracted by things other than the pleasure itself. No matter how many times Alhaitham insists you're not too heavy, and no, you cannot break his neck (his confidence extends in all spheres), you can never get yourself comfortable.
And then there's the alignment issues. You may as well just take turns; it makes it easier for the both of you.
Some things he suggests too, such as face sitting. Alhaitham seems adamant on proving you wrong when he settles underneath you, your thighs on either side of his head as he serves as your seat until your legs are shaking in pleasure.
Alhaitham, you find out, is as good at dirty talk as you imagined. It's the linguistics degree in him, you always joke, but then you're always put in your place when he makes you beg for him to continue eating you out. He is smug as always after these sessions and you can only jab at him to no effect when you see it.
Leaving your jaw slack as he fucks your face, groaning about how good you're taking him, how good you look taking in his cock like you'd like nothing but to take his load down your throat- well. If it was possible for you to finish with just his words, you gladly would have. You are certainly close enough afterwards that Alhaitham only needs his hand on you for a minute before you're creaming onto his fingers, words murmured into your ears like soft feathers.
You voice does end up a little hoarse afterwards, throat sore, but Alhaitham is quick to bring you warm ginger tea to soothe it.
"Go to the bathroom," he tells you sternly. "I won't be responsible for any UTIs."
And when you come back from the bathroom, stark naked (you've instigated round two with this before by accident), your clothes are always ready and folded at the coach with Alhaitham in the kitchen getting you refreshments. It's times like these that make you forced to acknowledge the pink elephant in the room: the more you try not to think about it, the more you feel like Alhaitham would be a really great boyfriend.
Clearly, you overestimated your ability to not catch feelings for a long-time friend whom you trust and has told you straight up he is not interested in dating. You've put yourself in a bit of a sticky situation because you find yourself wanting to abide by the boundaries set by being friends with benefits, but also barely holding back from kissing Alhaitham on the cheek goodbye or asking if you can stay the night. Or taking him on real dates. Or holding his hand when you go out.
You think Alhaitham might not like the hassles that come along with being in a relationship. It's definitely got obligations that he may not be interested in fulfilling-- at least until he finds the right person. The fact he has not said a word to you about it only tells you that you are not that person. (Your heart hopes and yearns though, and you think it needs to shut up.)
Luckily or not, you end up being busy with work and family matters, so you don't get to see Alhaitham for a while. You still message him often, if only to talk about random things or complain about so-and-so. You think you should be more disciplined; perhaps the distance will keep your feelings at bay, but then the moment you find a reprieve in work you're immediately texting Alhaitham to meet up for coffee.
The feelings aren't going away, you think with mild exasperation when you find yourself nodding and hanging onto his every word as he talks about something stupid his coworker has done (and always does). All things come to an end, but you think you like to hang onto Alhaitham like this just a little while longer. Eventually you'll have to broach the dreaded but much needed subject of 'what are we?' but until then, you are more than content being with Alhaitham like this even if you wish you were officially together.
But you can't blame the way things have turned out. After all, if this never happened, would you ever have gotten close to Alhaitham like this?
You check the time on your watch and sigh. "Ugh, I promised I'd run errands for my mom so I gotta go," you say, standing up from the coffee table. You grab your empty cup and toss it in the trash. When you look at Alhaitham, he seems unsure. "Uh, what's up?"
"...I assumed we were going back to my place afterwards," he says carefully. "I thought that was why you called me."
"Oh, no," you say, mouth open with words at the tip of your tongue. You feel your heart rise to your throat as your cheeks grow hot at the honesty of your next words. "I just wanted to see you. Sorry. I should have said something."
"No, it's fine." Alhaitham pushes his seat back to stand too. "You did say we were friends first before the benefits."
You did say that, you remember, but now you can't help but wish the two of you were more than friends. You bite your tongue from blurting those words, but you end up staring at him for a moment too long to not be awkward. "Yeah," you end up saying, "I think I'll be able to see you again next week? I'm less busy, if that's okay?"
"Sure," he says, and you can't help but feel he is so far from you even though he is in arm's reach. "See you then."
It is settled in your heart and head (both in agreement this time) that your friends with benefits relationship with Alhaitham has an expiration date that is coming soon. You like Alhaitham too much to keep pretending that you don't, so it is only a matter of time you end up being just his friend again or begin something anew as a couple. The probability of Alhaitham also catching feelings for you the same time as you is basically zero, you think miserably, so you can only bite the bullet when the time comes.
"I think next time," you say after another session, "I want to have you fuck me."
You hear Alhaitham stop rummaging into his fridge to look at you. His face betrays no emotion and for a frustrating moment, you wish it did just so you can see if he is affected as you are. But this is Alhaitham, and you know better than to expect as much.
"Alright," Alhaitham says. "I can bring the lube and the condoms-"
"No condom," you find yourself saying, "I can take birth control." You look at him, gauging his reaction. "Is that okay with you?"
Alhaitham meets your gaze steadily. "If you are."
"You'll take responsibility, won't you?" You say with a light lilt to your voice, though you trust Alhaitham to take your words seriously. "I'll see you next week?"
He nods. "Next week."
The expiration date comes more quickly than you hoped. You shake your head and the negative thoughts away at his front door before you knock. You care for Alhaitham and you like him as more than a friend: these truths are unchanging for you now, so there is no point in despairing about what is not to be. Besides, you don't want your first time-- with someone, with Alhaitham-- to be marred with angst. You want to enjoy it with him to the last minute.
You ring his doorbell and hear his footsteps approach the front door, your heart beating fast in nervous anticipation.
Alhaitham looks normal, which is to say, as calm as ever when he lets you into his apartment. You put your bag down in your usual spot and amble to the kitchen take a sip of water. Alhaitham walks to his room first to wait for you, and with a deep breath in, you follow after him.
You are reminded of the first time you came over to his house, standing there as you wait for Alhaitham to make the first move. Alhaitham does the usual routine: putting the music on, setting out the equipment, and laying down the towel. He turns to you as you quietly watch him and bends down enough to press a kiss to your cheek.
You feel the tension melt away.
You raise your hand to brush his hair from his eyes before cupping his cheeks to bring him closer to kiss. They are gentle ones though still full of feeling, heat thrumming behind every touch and warm breath shared. "Alhaitham," you murmur, his hands sliding your shirt over your head and guiding you toward the couch.
It is almost rehearsed the way Alhaitham's fingers nimbly remove your bra, his knees between your legs as he helps you out of your bottoms. You sit waiting and watching as Alhaitham removes his own clothes--a personal show-- before he is back on top of you, leaving a trail of kisses along the same spots he knows can make you tremble.
And Alhaitham knows you quite well now, you think, beyond the bedroom. He knows how you take your coffee (not black), how you like to order your food (spicy), the way you can get carsick so he drives smoother, the nasty habit of staying up late so he messages you at 11 pm to tell you to sleep. You trust him so terribly much, and he knows you terribly well-- it is no wonder that you fall apart under his touch in no time at all.
"Alhaitham," you breathe out, holding onto his wrist before he overstimulates your clit. "I want you inside of me. Please?"
You let out a surprised gasp when Alhaitham turns you, so he is facing your front. Your heart is beating so loudly underneath your hands where you've rested them on your chest. You think maybe you would have cold feet but instead you are surer than ever that Alhaitham is someone you want to be your first. You gasp in pleasure when Alhaitham's cock clips onto your clit as he glides it forward and back along your sex. You don't think you've ever wanted someone as you wanted Alhaitham.
But you like to think you know Alhaitham well, now better than ever. So when you look up at him as a flicker of emotion flashes across his face, you can identify it. Alhaitham stays in that position between your legs, conflicted, and that is enough to ebb away the waves of desire to ask him if he's okay.
His expression freezes then, his grip on your legs tightening just a little before releasing them again. "What do you mean?" He asks, and you have half a mind to not laugh at the fact he thinks he can fool you.
"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," you say. "Not right now and maybe not ever if that's not something you want-"
"I-" Alhaitham snaps his mouth shut, lips twisting as he tries to say words that, for once, do not come easily to him. "That's not entirely true."
"What's not true?" You prompt.
"That this isn't something I want." Alhaitham looks steadily at you then. "Nothing could be more true."
"...Then how about you fuck something else?" You say, closing your legs and letting the plush of your thighs envelop his cock instead. Alhaitham swallows thickly, though his face is as impartial as ever (but you know better). "Pretend it's the real thing. For practice," you say coyly.
Alhaitham curses under his breath, closing his eyes at the sensation of his cock locked between your thighs.
You breathe out slowly, eyes mesmerized by the slant of his brows from concentration, mouths parted, and eyes closed in pleasure. You find that you don't mind this type of view at all, especially not for the finale. You watch every minute detail of Alhaitham chasing his bliss and ingrain it into your memory to keep.
You breathe out through your nose roughly when Alhaitham's cock hits your clit, his pace quickening as he slickens your thighs with a mix of your arousal and his. You moan at the thought of it, the sounds emanating from it a joint effort between your two bodies.
Alhaitham says your name then, making your heart skip a beat as your focus is back onto him. His eyes don't leave yours as he brings himself close to the climax. "Come for me, Haitham," you say, "come for me, baby."
Almost obediently, Alhaitham does as you say, cum staining your chest as though someone made your body a canvas. You watch him come back from his high, taking a finger to swipe some of it from your chest to taste. You smile at his coyly when you see Alhaitham watch you.
It's been fun, you think, as Alhaitham stands up to grab a towel to clean up. You sit up, combing a hand through your hair, working up the courage to say what needs to be said. You're jolted from your thoughts when you feel Alhaitham wipe a towel across your chest, cleaning up the mess the two of you made.
"Oh, thanks!" You say, laughing, "I almost forgot that was there."
"Your mind works in strange ways," Alhaitham says, and you think you are more compromised than you think when you hear the way his voice seems to dip lower, softer when he speaks to you. He pauses in his movement. "Sorry about earlier," he tells you. "Did you have another idea in mind?"
"It's fine, Haitham." You wave his concerns away. "And, um, sorta? It's nothing sexual actually, I just think I need to talk to you about something."
To his credit, Alhaitham only takes a moment to process your words. "Alright," he says. He takes a towel to wrap around your shoulders before putting his pants back on just for modesty. You watch him fondly as he sits next to you.
"I wanted to say thanks," you begin, "for doing this with me. I trust you to treat me right and you've never proven me wrong."
"No thanks needed," Alhaitham trails off, "is what I normally say but I don't mind a word of gratitude when it comes from you." He lets out a huff of laughter when you knock shoulders with him; yours is the only one that ends up a little sore.
"And I know we started this out as friends with benefits, but, um..." You breathe out. "I think... I've started to catch feelings for you." Not honest enough, you think, and add on, wincing, "A lot, actually. I like you as more than a friend." You turn away from him then, focusing on your hands as they fidget in your lap. "I don't think I can keep on doing this and pretend like I don't, so I think we should stop being friends with benefits."
You stammer, heart fluttering with anxiety, "A-And I know you said you didn't want to be in a relationship anyone, but I was wondering if you were interested in doing that with me...? If not, it's okay, I'm honestly really okay if we stayed as friends. I just wanted to be transparent with you because I think you deserve-"
"Why do you assume I wouldn't like you back?" Alhaitham cuts through. You turn to stare at him, and he meets your eyes and keeps them there. "I never said I didn't want to be in a relationship with anyone."
You stare. "What are you talking about? You're literally the one who told me you were never interested in dating."
"I'm not," Alhaitham says slowly. "I'm not interested in dating, but that doesn't mean I'm not open to being in a relationship with someone."
"Huh?" You blurt out. "But how are you supposed to be in a relationship with someone if you don't meet someone to date them first?"
Alhaitham is patient with you despite your growing frustration. It is so obvious he has connected the dots and is waiting for you to catch up. "I don't need to date," he says, "because I already met someone I'm interested in being with. I don't need to meet new people."
"Wait, what?" You gape. "Who?"
The face that Alhaitham gives you is by far the most unimpressed he has ever looked. You feel like punching it a little. You cross your arms, huffing.
"Give me hints or something," you say, clicking your tongue in annoyance. "Do I know them?"
"Very well," Alhaitham replies, sidling close to you that your arm can feel his body heat.
"Are they from our high school?"
"Really?" You gasp. "Well, we have your friends-"
"They are also your friends."
"-and my friends, which are yours..." You trail off, feeling your face warm and your heart rise to your throat. You can't be hopeful, you think. It is such a dangerous thing when you assume, but you think about who Alhaitham has befriended, who he is still friends with, and who he is closest to. The best answer you keep arriving to is yourself.
Is it too arrogant of you to think that it's you that Alhaitham wants to be with?
"No, it's not prideful to think it's you if it's true," Alhaitham says, and you wonder if you said it aloud. That thought is quickly discarded in favor of thinking over Alhaitham's words. Your heart feels fit to burst, lips wobbly without your permission. His eyes soften when he looks at you then, hand raising to cup your cheek.
"I like you," Alhaitham tells you. "I want to be more than friends."
"More than friends with benefits?" You can't help but ask, and you laugh through the sudden tears when Alhaitham scoffs before pressing his forehead against yours.
"Yeah, way more than that," he says quietly. He presses a gentle kiss to your temple. "I've always wanted more with you."
You sniffle, grinning. "Good thing I asked you then, huh?" You let put a shriek of laughter when Alhaitham pins you down, arms caging you in and making you feel nothing but safe. He looks at you then, eyes full of affection that you wonder how you could have ever missed that before.
"You want to retry from earlier?" Alhaitham asks, pulling your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles.
"I won't lie," you say, laughing when Alhaitham nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck. "That talk took a chunk of my energy. I kind of want to nap and cuddle. With you! Besides," you say, shifting so that Alhaitham can join you on the coach, the two of you as close as you can be, "we have all the time in the world to do new things together." You turn to look him in the eyes and hopes he sees how much you adore him in equal amounts.
"I can wait," you say, and Alhaitham leans to kiss you.
It is not the last time he does so.
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beansprean · 3 days
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Happy Mer-May!! Why not an extremely loosely interpreted Little Mermaid au? Starring Guillermo as a harbor seal who dreams of living in the deep, Wallace as an opportunistic mimic octopus, Colin as a parasitic lamprey, Laszlo as a lazy little snaggletooth, Nadja as a vicious sloane’s viperfish, and Nandor as a spiny black dragonfish. Deep sea fishes truly the vampires of the sea.
"Betcha down there
that they don't care
Bet they don't
mind a couple slaughters..."
(ID in alt and under cut)
ID: 1a. Underwater full body shot of mermaid Guillermo swimming past. He has the tail of a light brown harbor seal, webbed fingers, and small floppy ears that are held closed. He has a line of kelp tied around him like a bandolier and is looking around determinedly, brandishing a wooden stake in one hand. 1b. Full body of Guillermo lounging on his side on a flat rock above the water, one arm tucked under his head and the other held to his side like a flipper. He sighs forlornly. 1c. Full body of Guillermo on an algae-covered rock sticking above the ocean's surface, waves cresting around him as he lifts up his torso little-mermaid style and sings out "part of your world".
2. Full body of mermaids Colin, Laszlo, Nadja, and Nandor floating in a line, the ocean behind them very dark. Colin has the slick beige and cream tail of a lamprey, webbing beneath his arms, and gill pores dotted down each side of his torso and neck. He grins and wiggles his webbed fingers at the viewer in a wave. Behind him is a smaller shot of Colin with his mouth open, revealing multiple circular rows of sharp teeth around a sucking maw. Laszlo has the tail of a snaggletooth or stareater, his anterior side patterned in teal and black scales up to his chest, lighter teal scales dotting up his neck and shoulders, and brighter teal fins. He has a pair of gills on either side of his neck, sharp black claws on each webbed finger, and green bioluminescent spots running from wrists to tailfin on either side. He floats with a smug grin, arms crossed and back-to-back with his wife. Nadja has the tail of a Sloane's viperfish, her anterior side patterned in dull garnet and black scales up to her chest, lighter dull garnet scales dotting up her neck and shoulders, and brighter rose fins. Her fins and tail are similar to Laszlo's in style, but larger and longer with a posterior barbel. She has a pair of gills on either side of her neck, sharp red claws on each webbed finger, long fangs poking up from her lower jaw, and double lines of red bioluminescent spots running from wrists to tailfin on either side. She is grinning to show off her fangs, floating back to back with her husband. One of her webbed hands is raised to bare her claws, long black hair swirling in the water around her. Nandor has the tail of a black dragonfish, his anterior side patterned in dark blue and black speckling up to his chest, lighter blue scales dotting up his neck and shoulders, and black spines with translucent blue webbing over his shoulders and down either side of his long winding tail, ending in a small forked fin. He has a pair of gills on either side of his neck, sharp claws on each webbed finger, and gold bioluminescent spots running from wrists to tailfin on either side with double lines on his torso. he is floating nervously, looking around and twiddling his hands together.
3a. Mermaid Wallace, with the tentacles of a mimic octopus below the waist, floats underwater next to mermaid Guillermo. They are wearing a woven vest studded with shells and pearls, a black doppa hat with puka shells, a pearl necklace, a pendant with a claw, and several rings on unwebbed fingers. Their tentacles are relaxed, colored in the usual brick and cream stripes, and they have black claws and small horns above each eye. Wallace grins slyly as they wave their arms mysteriously and dangle a necklace in front of Guillermo’s face. It is a simple braided string with a snail shell on the end, which is glowing bright blue and burping out shiny bubbles. Guillermo, wearing a kelp bandolier with two stakes tied into it at his hip is staring at it with wide, fascinated eyes, one hand reaching up slowly for it. He says, “So…this will let me survive in the Trench?” Wallace replies, “Guaranteed.” 3b. Repeat. Wallace suddenly snatches the necklace back into their hand, cutting off the glow, their other hand planting itself on their hip. Their tentacles darken into black and bright crimson stripes and fan out threateningly in the water as they clarify, “For 72 hours only. And $350 cash.” Guillermo snatches his hands back to hold them protectively against his chest, head sinking into his shoulders in shock as he frowns back up at Wallace.
4a. Mermaid Guillermo and mermaid Laszlo float side by side in the deep, Guillermo wearing his kelp bandolier and Wallace’s magic snail shell necklace, which continues to burp out small glowing blue bubbles. Laszlo bares his fangs upwards and tosses up his hands as if to amplify his voice, shouting, “Fish!” Startled, Guillermo jerks back, one hand half-raising in a readied fist and the other clutching a stake behind his back. 4b. Repeat. With a poof of bubbles, Laszlo transforms into a brightly glowing dark teal snaggletooth fish with bulging eyes, a chin barbel, an unhingeable jaw full of long sharp teeth, and bioluminescent green spots down each side. He looks to be about four inches (or 10cm) long. Guillermo immediately relaxes, unimpressed, and drops his arms while staring at the tiny fish with a “you’ve got to be kidding me” expression. Fish Laszlo squeaks, “Not so tough now, eh??”
5a. Close up of mermaid Nandor in hunting mode, rushing left across the screen, his bioluminescent spots and glowing red eyes streaking light behind as he goes. He has one arm rushing forward as if to snatch whatever he’s chasing and the other held braced and ready at his shoulder, claws bared. He has spiny webbing like a bat’s wing underneath each arm, a spiny fin for an ear,and the webbed black spines at his shoulders have lengthened and spread out like an angry frilled lizard. His jaw has unhinged and gaped open, morphing and stretching his face into something monstrous and revealing dozens of long, sharp, thin teeth snarling and ready for the kill. 5b. Mermaid Guillermo floats nearby watching, eyes bulging out and face blushing bright red as he clutches the snail shell necklace in his laced fingers as if it were a rosary. He is fully into this. /end ID
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dreamsofmandalore · 20 hours
Beastly: Raider Era Joel Miller x Reader (Part 1)
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Summary: you live in a small commune protected by a strong force of raiders. Every season, your people pay tribute for their protection. After lapsing in payment, your abusive father offers you as a human sacrifice. What you don't expect is for the leader of the gang, Joel, to not be as much of a beastly man as first thought.
A Raider Era Joel fic, loosely inspired by Beauty & The Beast.
CWs: references to abuse (physical), implied fear of SA, canon typical violence, implied age gap, sexual references, coarse language, smut for later chapters. (List will update with chapters)
Chapter Word Count: 3k
Thanks to @gab-thelamb-onthemoon & @joelsgirl for being beta readers & allowing me to infodump about this idea, ILY
It’s amazing, how long it took society to peak, in comparison to how easily it fell apart. Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it sure burned in one. In a short fifteen years, since Cordyceps first spread globally, society has all but collapsed. 
Oh, sure, there are the QZs, where FEDRA rules with an iron fist. There are smaller settlements where people try to strive for a semblance of ‘normality’. 
But mostly? The world outside the military strict QZs has become lawless. It’s kill or be killed, serve or rule, protect or intimidate. 
Whereas some people have banded together for the greater good of humanity, for the continued survival of the species? Others have taken advantage of the new order of things, are only out for themselves and those they hold dear. 
Joel Miller falls into the latter category. 
Maybe once, before the outbreak, he had been a good man. Had had a strong moral compass, a good ethic. He’d been a family man, loved his daughter and his brother more than anything or anyone in the world. 
Then the world had gone to hell, taken his daughter from him, and something inside him had broken. It was as though a light had gone out inside him, turning his humanity off. 
Gone was the man who had made jokes and smiled easily. In his place was a man scarred and traumatised, who was capable of enormous acts of violence and brutality, who would survive at any and all cost, not for his sake, not really, but for his brother. The only family he had left. 
Joel had always been a natural leader, if somewhat reluctant. It had come easily to him, before the outbreak. He was always the damn union rep on site. Always the one people came to for advice, looked to for leadership. Not just Tommy, or colleagues he’d known for years either. He always ended up with an apprentice following him round like a chained puppy, asking questions, looking for guidance. 
Maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise at all that he had ended up the leader of this band of people, either. Some were misfits, those who were too anxious to try and venture to the nearest QZ and survive under FEDRA. Some were miscreants who preferred the more lawless lifestyle, who needed a leader so they didn’t venture into abject cruelty. Then there were those like him, who just wanted to survive. Keep going for whatever or whoever they had left. 
Joel didn’t necessarily want to live, but he was fucking good at it. 
Without his humanity, it made him a damn good leader. His group protected several small settlements, in exchange for supplies. Weapons. Whatever the fuck they wanted. 
It was a good deal… for his people. The infected didn’t venture this far out anymore, but the good people in those settlements didn’t need to know that, did they? Their living in fear was his bonus. It kept them in line, and it kept his people alive. 
Recently, one of the settlements fell to disease. Leaving just the one small community under his group’s thumb. The occupants aren’t particularly tough, or particularly smart, just ordinary people who have had the luck to survive behind moderately well constructed walls, the wits to bow to those stronger than them for protection. 
Only, their resources are running out, spread thin with the approaching winter…
Which is where you come in. 
You’re old enough to remember the world before. Maybe you hadn’t been an adult, so you hadn’t had to deal with things the older folks in your community grumble on occasion about missing - work, taxes (mostly something called a tax return), good liquor, supermarkets… 
But you do remember. 
You remember the world changing overnight. Remember years of struggling, clawing for survival, until this commune had finally put its walls up and hoped for the best. 
Then the infected had come, and you’d lost half your numbers. The raiders had taken advantage of the weakness in your people, taken out the infected… for a price. 
Now each quarter, your people paid ‘tribute’ to the group of men and women who kept the infected at bay. Really, it was a bribe to keep them from taking over your settlement. Every three months the same half dozen men would show up, fill their truck with supplies and weapons your people had gathered, desperately needed, and promise another three months protection for it. 
Nobody’s been attacked since the deal was struck. You guess that’s a good thing. Or there’s something they aren’t telling you. 
Your father is the closest thing to a mayor your community has. There aren’t enough of you to need a proper governing body beyond a handful of people, but somehow the task of leadership has fallen to him. Perhaps because nobody else wants to be labeled as the one who bows to the raiders. Or maybe it’s because the last mayor your town had was beaten to death by said raiders for non-compliance, and your father was the only one brave (stupid) enough to volunteer for the job after.
You aren’t stupid. You know a bribe for what it is. Only this quarter, you aren’t sure what the plan is. 
The crop yield has been relatively scarce this season. With winter approaching, the settlement doesn’t have much to offer. You’re not stupid, but you know it won’t be enough. 
Usually, you stay home when the raiders come for their tribute. Stay inside with the few children of the commune. 
This time is different. Your father is lacing his boots, throwing on his threadbare coat, when he springs it on you. 
“You’re coming too, this time. We need to show our numbers.” 
It doesn’t occur to you until you’re halfway to what passes as the town square that that’s the precise opposite of what your father usually says. That a show of strength is what got his predecessor killed. But you know better than to question him; he won’t shout at you, he’ll just be condescending, or more likely, won’t answer you at all.
You suppose your curiosity will have to wait, and hope he doesn’t get you all killed.
Joel usually sends half a dozen of his people to collect the tribute from the settlement they ‘protect’. It’s a thinly veiled intimidation, closer to extortion than anything else, but it keeps his people fed and lets them bully others, which some of his people need. 
But the last two seasons, their offerings have been slim at best, pissing the most restless of his people off. Joel has no issue with violence. No issue with killing people, or intimidation. But he also knows that starting a bloodbath in their supply settlement is a stupid idea, even if some of his men don’t. 
Which has led him to here. Two men sit in the truck, shoulder to shoulder. One sits in the tray, gripping the roof bar with one hand, a rifle dangling lazily from the other. 
Two others ride beside him, a little behind, in an arrow formation. It didn’t bother Owen to stay behind with the rest of the group. There’s better things he could be doing. If anyone was surprised at Joel deciding to go with them on this run? He hasn’t heard a word of it. 
If anything, they probably think it means he’s planning some sort of punishment for their friends in the settlement. Hell, if they don’t pay up? He’s not against it. 
It never ceases to amaze him just how pathetic these people are. He hasn’t visited the settlement personally in a year or so, but the occupants are still just as miserable. Just as downtrodden and fearful, hiding behind their shitty tin walls and the hope that his folks will protect them. It’s that fear that keeps his people fed, keeps these townspeople in line.
They don’t need to know that there are so few infected out here now, that Joel and his group are probably the biggest - if not only – threat remaining to them. Fear keeps them in line, and if they step out of line? Well, he and his gang aren’t above beating a reminder into them. It’s happened before.
The truck rolls to a stop behind him as they make their way to the centre of the settlement. He dismounts his horse, steps forward to greet the leader of the place. He’s met this man once before, the season after he took out the old mayor for trying to defy him. Beating a man to death isn’t pleasant to witness, but Joel had no problem with committing the act.
His replacement is a small, round man who always wears the same threadbare overcoat, the same twitchy air of nervousness around him, the same oily obedience.
How a man like that became what passes for mayor, Joel has no idea. He’s just as spineless as the rest, just as cowardly, eager to snivel and beg for protection, offering up whatever it takes to save his own skin. It’s a way to live, Joel supposes, but he would never stoop so low.
“Morris.” Joel greets the other man with a cold nod of his head, reaches out a gloved hand for him to shake. All formality. All pleasantries. As if the six men he’s brought with him aren’t capable of gunning down this entire settlement, if he so chooses. Hell, he could probably do it by himself. 
“I’m surprised to see you.” Morris admits as he steps forward from the small group of townsfolk. Joel’s gaze sweeps over them all; a few new faces, his eyes boring into each unfamiliar one. One bears a resemblance to the mayor. Interesting.
His gaze leaves the crowd, returns to the man in front of him.
“We need to have a little chat.”
“You don’t say a word. Nobody will benefit from your attempts at being a diplomat.” Your father cautions you as you reach the centre of town. It’s not a long walk. The settlement is barely big enough to call a commune, but still.
You don’t dignify him with an answer, just nod. There’s no point in trying to argue with him, try and prove that you’re an asset. He’s too set in his ways, too firm in the belief that women – especially young ones- should be seen and not heard.
So instead you keep your mouth shut, take your place. Watch the convoy come in. It’s different, being out on the street rather than peeking out a window when they roll in.
The usual truck, two men in the cab, one in the tray, slapping the roof to signal to stop. You’re not familiar enough with their faces, but you assume they’re the same men who come every quarter. Two men on horses, flanking a third.
It’s the third man who interests you, only slightly. Mostly because of the way your father tenses, the way some of the others shift nervously. You vaguely recognise this man; the leader of the group of raiders. The one who had no problem with violence, with getting rid of the old mayor when he didn’t want to play ball.
He’s older, maybe late forties, broad shouldered and has a sort of deadened glint to his dark eyes. Vaguely, you catch yourself wondering what he did, or what happened to him, to put that look in his gaze.
Those cold dark eyes take stock of the place, sweep across each member of your community. His gaze pauses on you, very briefly, flickers to your father then back, recognition. Then he looks away, back to your father.
“We need to have a little chat,” the unknown man says, “your quota has been low, Morris.”
Even in the cold, you can see your father start to sweat. He’s no great hero; his leadership perches precariously on his willingness to bow to whatever this gang of raiders wants. There’s no way of fighting them, and quite frankly? There are worse things out there.
“We’ve had a hard few seasons… Maybe we can make it up in spring?” Your father suggests, trying to sound complacent, apologetic. Mostly, it just sounds desperate.
You wonder if the leader of the gang thinks so, too.
“Now, Morris, you’re already short. Have been for the last two seasons. Maybe if we’d had this little chat earlier, I’d be more inclined to accept the request, but, well… winter’s on its way. It’s hard out there, and these walls you have are so flimsy… anything could happen.”
Your father’s face blanches, clearly aware he’s stepping on toes that shouldn’t be stepped on.
“We have… some supplies in reserve. You can take from there.”
It shouldn’t even surprise you, that he offers up the town’s emergency stockpile to save his own skin, probably thinking of his predecessor. It bothers you, though, makes your skin crawl to see the men from the gang open the barn where the supplies are kept, start hauling them into the back of the truck. Those supplies are for emergencies. For the children, the elderly, the sick. Maybe that’s why you open your mouth.
“Those supplies are for our elderly. Our children.”
The look your father gives you is piercing, promising violence, a sharp retribution later, but you don’t care.
“Excuse my daughter, Joel. She doesn’t understand the way things work, likes to talk when the men are talking.”
You expect the gang leader – Joel – to agree, to ignore you. Instead, he turns that depthless gaze onto you.
“What would you have me do, hm? We have a deal, you know that.” It’s unspoken what he’s implying – he has people relying on him, too.
You’re smart enough to know that it’s a rhetorical question.
“Besides.” Joel turns his attention to the truck, shakes his head. “Even with your stockpile, you’re short. Considerably so. Maybe we should stick around. See why your productivity is so low.”
The threat is implicit. Maybe it’s the threat. Maybe it’s anger at you for speaking out. Or maybe it’s the simple fact that your father is a piece of shit. Still, you don’t expect what happens next.
Joel doesn’t want to stick around this small town, with its cowed population and snivelling misogynist of a mayor. He’d rather take what they are owed and go, but they’re up short once again. Not by much, but it’s the principle of the matter. Of making sure Morris knows his place, knows that he and Joel are in no way equals.
He projects the very image of an alpha male, broad and cocky, one hand resting on the pistol at his hip. Casually threatening, and he knows Morris is thinking of the idiot before him. Maybe he should just shoot him, see whether someone smarter replaces him. Smarter and less irritating.
Maybe the other man can see how easily he’s contemplating his death.
“Wait. Wait. I have another offer.”
Joel raises an eyebrow.
“And what could you possibly have, Morris? As you’ve said, you’ve had a difficult harvest, you’ve had to break into your emergency supplies. What do you possibly have to trade to save your own skin?” He makes zero effort to hide his disgust.
“Her.” Morris jerks a shaky thumb to the younger woman beside him, the one who’s clearly his daughter, the one who spoke up.
Joel is so startled by the suggestion that he almost outright refuses.
“What?” It comes out blunter than he planned, as if he’s misheard. Because there’s no way that this idiot is offering up his own daughter as some sort of human sacrifice.
“Take her. I don’t care what you do with her, she’s a complete disappointment. Maybe you can teach her some manners, beat her into submission, God knows I’ve tried. Take her and give us immunity until next fall. Let us rebuild our crops.”
Joel looks past Morris to you, small and nondescript. Then again, everyone is small to him. You look like someone’s just pulled the ground out from under you. Shocked. Horrified. He knows then what you’re thinking, what you’re assuming will happen to you. But he also knows now what happens to you if he leaves you here.
Joel Miller may have lost his humanity, but he was a father once. And he can’t imagine ever, ever offering his own child up as a human sacrifice to save his own skin.
And suddenly, it doesn’t matter about making a quota. What matters is getting you as far away from this place as possible. Away from sharp words and balled fists. Because somewhere, somewhere, buried deep down, a portion of the man he once was is stirring.
“The end of next fall. A year.” Joel agrees, tries not to watch the way Morris shoves you forward to what could well be your doom.
You’re shaking. Can’t even form a protest, for all the good it would do.
Sacrifice. Tribute. Offering. As if you’re no more than another object to be traded. Your father doesn’t even flinch as Joel seizes your wrist, pulls you towards his horse.
“Get on.” His voice is low, but not menacing. If anything he sounds almost sorry. It has to be some sort of trap; you’re certain that when you’re back at their base camp, he’ll have no problem with cruelty, with putting his hands on you. Forcing you, if the mood takes him. Maybe it’s better to just do as he demands.
Shakily, you climb up onto the horse, sit awkward and uncomfortable, tensing when he swings himself up behind you, broad arms keeping you in place as he seizes the reins, gives a nod to his men, who finish loading up and pile back into the truck, onto their own horses.
He throws a final derisive look to your father. The man who sold you.
“One year, Morris. Better get your shit together.” Then he nudges the horse, and rides you both out of the only home you’ve known for years.
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golden-cherry · 1 day
deal - cl16 (5/?)
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader
Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.
Chapter Summary: Charles trying to help may be not really helping at all.
Warnings: fighting, Charles is stupid, Google translated French
Word Count: 3k
series masterlist
previous part
A/N: I wrote this wine drunk and at like 2am. I'm sorry in advance. Feedback is still appreciated. love y'all
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The last time you froze like you did at that exact moment was when you were about to cross the crosswalk and a car almost flattened you because the driver didn't see you. You were staring ahead, holding your breath. Your heart had skipped a few beats.
Only now there is no road in front of you, with moving cars and a bicyclist worrying and asking if everything is okay with you (you were just scared, everything was fine).
Now Charles is standing in front of you. With your phone to his ear. 
"Allô?" His green eyes gleam in the daylight streaming through the kitchen windows, resting on you as your heart skips a few beats before it starts to race. 
Your hand clings to the poor potato as if it were a buoy keeping you afloat. You can't take your eyes off your roommate. 
"C'est sa colocataire,“ Charles says. "Et à qui je parle?“ this is her roomate. and who am I talking to?
You feel yourself crushing the potato in your hand, but you can't manage to loosen your grip. It spills out from between your fingers and crumbles onto the countertop, but you can't think about cleaning it up right now. Your nerves are on edge, your head is empty. 
Charles speaks something into the phone, but you don't understand a word. His voice sounds as if through absorbent cotton, as if he were standing far away from you. You look at him, transfixed, as he holds your cell phone in his hand as if it were his own. 
He takes it from his ear and presses the red button before putting it back in the place from where he had taken it. This time it lies on the screen between the two of you on the kitchen counter. 
"'He shouldn't be bothering you anymore now,'" he says, reaching again for the knife lying next to the salmon. A gentle smile has formed on his face. 
Charles smiles. Why is he smiling? He has no reason to. None at all. 
Your petrification dissolves abruptly and you have to restrain yourself from throwing the mashed potato at his stupid head or pressing his face into the salmon.
How dare he just answer your phone? And especially when he calls? Who does he think he is anyway?
You didn't answer the phone for a reason. Never again did you want to exchange a word with him. At some point he would have already given up, wouldn't have tried to contact you anymore, and then he would have simply disappeared from your life.
But Charles took his call. Without knowing what the consequences would be. 
He calmly works on the salmon on the kitchen board in front of him, still a smile on his face, and he hums along to the music that started automatically after he ended the call. It's a quiet song.
The complete opposite of what's going on inside you right now. 
You'd love to grab Charles by the back of the head and slam his face into the wall, but of course you don't. You could also take the kitchen towel hanging on the side of the countertop and hit him with it, but you don't do that either. 
You could also yell at him. Tell him that he has no right to just answer your phone and interfere in your business. You could yell at him and try to somehow make him understand that this is a private matter and that you actually agreed that private things are private as long as the person doesn't want to talk about it. 
You could throw all that at him. But when you open your mouth, not a peep comes out. 
Would it be wise to yell at your roommate? The roommate who just stood up for you and made sure you got your already paid rent refunded? The one who lets you stay in his apartment for free without particularly asking much of you in return?
The way Charles smiles and hums the melody of the song, he actually believes that he just did the right thing. Does he always stand up for his friends like that? Or rather, does he always interfere in the affairs of others to make the situation better, only to make it worse with his actions? 
You breathe silently as your heart tries to return to its old rhythm. You carefully place the potato from your hand on the board in front of you and wipe off the remains with a kitchen towel. 
"Can you take over for a minute?" you try to say as casually as possible. Your voice croaks like an old door that hasn't been opened in ages, but Charles doesn't seem to register it. "I'll be right back."
As quickly as you can, yet as slowly as you can without seeming rushed, you disappear from the kitchen and search for the restroom, which is thankfully two doors down. You lock the door behind you and sit down on the toilet lid with trembling knees, then rest your head in your hands. 
And then the tears start to flow.
Never in your life have you been so overwhelmed. You've lost your job and are in the process of looking for a new one, only to find that there isn't one that suits you. Your boyfriend has dumped you, but he still won't leave you alone. And never in your life did you expect a roommate who, while sticking up for you, also interferes in your affairs as if you've known each other forever and as if he knows you so well that he knows what's good for you. 
How are you supposed to handle a situation like that?
There's nothing you can do about the job thing. Apparently no agency is looking for a photographer right now. You can only be glad that - thanks to Charles' efforts - you have enough money to keep your head above water for a while. 
You have a lot to thank your roommate for. 
First, you'll get your rent back. So you don't have to worry about money for the time being and you can look for a job that suits you and is not a last resort. 
Secondly, you do not have to pay rent in the future. According to him, the apartment is paid off and since he refuses to take your money, you can save money. Although you will still have to pay the running costs, you will share them and this would also remove another big financial burden. 
Charles has stood up for you even though you expected nothing of the sort. Especially not after the emotional state he displayed on the car ride. He had been so emotionless, so cold, but as soon as Joris had opened the door, he had been a changed man. Friendly and warm and kind. 
And then he just answers your phone. Invades your privacy without asking your permission. 
He clearly crossed a line, even if he didn't mean to or even realize it. He probably only meant well, after all, he realized how much the call upset you this morning and showed you his secret place as a result. As your friend, he probably just wants to make sure you're okay. And there is most likely no evil thought behind his action.
But the tears on your cheeks still don't subside. 
You wipe your eyes with the ball of your hand and thank all the gods that you didn't put on any mascara this morning. Your eyes are slightly red as you look at yourself in the mirror above the sink and splash some water on your face to cool your hot skin a bit. 
You decide against confronting Charles. After all, he only means well and he's already done so much for you in the space of half a day without you really knowing each other. And he expects nothing in return except your friendship. 
He has crossed the line. You decide to move the boundary line back a little. 
As you head back to the kitchen, Charles and Joris are setting the table. The potatoes are boiling in the pot, the salmon is in a casserole dish in the oven, and briefly you wonder how much time you spent in the bathroom. 
"Are you okay?" Charles' voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Judging by his expression, he's noticed your slightly reddened eyes, because he's raised an eyebrow and doesn't avert his gaze from you. 
You smile weakly at him. "It's all right."
The three of you sit down at the table and you almost feel sick because the two boys are devouring their food so fast. You've barely taken two bites of your salmon and chopped up a potato when they're already going back for seconds.
Joris talks about his phone call offering him a job, and Charles tells you about his plans to visit his family soon and spend the holidays with them. You hold back, preferring to listen to the two of them. After all, you don't have much to talk about either. 
Charles doesn't know you're unemployed, and you definitely wouldn't tell him that over lunch with your (former) landlord. And certainly not after you've just been crying in the bathroom. 
"What are you doing for Christmas anyway, Y/N?" Jori's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Two pairs of eyes rest on you, and you look nervously from one to the other. "Are you going to visit your family?"
You take a sip of your Coke to stall for time a la Joris, then poke at your food. "I'm, um. no. I'm staying home," you answer him, your gaze by now firmly fixed on the potatoes on your plate. The silence that surrounds you seems somehow tense, but unfortunately there's nothing you can do to change that.
"If you like, you're more than welcome to come with me to my family's house," Charles tries to lighten the situation, and even though the offer isn't meant seriously, you're very grateful for it. "My mom always makes way too much food anyway. One more or less person doesn't make a difference."
Joris drops his fork on his plate and crosses his arms in front of his chest in a huff. "And I thought I was the only one of your friends who got to spend Christmas with your family." You can tell by the twitching corners of his mouth that he's not serious. 
"You drank three bottles of wine last time and then threw up in the front yard," Charles laughs. 
Joris reaches for the serving tray lying next to his plate and crumples it up, only to throw it at his buddy's head. "Who put those bottles on me?"
Watching the two of them argue - lovingly - softens your heart. While you know Charles is incredibly nice, the way he treats his longtime friend - so appreciative, even though he just sublet his apartment - makes your heart beat a little faster. 
There's no way you'd risk losing your friendship with Charles by bringing up the phone call to him. 
An hour later, Joris closes the apartment door behind you, and with bellies full, you make your way to your car. Charles lets the key twirl on his index finger as he happily whistles a tune you don't recognize. 
He unlocks the car and after you get in, he turns to you. "What's wrong?"
Confused, you look at him. "What's supposed to be going on?"
Your roommate tilts his head. "You were crying in the bathroom. Why?"
You run a hand through your hair before reaching for your seatbelt. "It's already taken care of. It's all fine." You raise an eyebrow, and your gaze flickers briefly to the key in Charles' hand, indicating he can drive off. But he doesn't move a bit. 
"It's not fine, Y/N. Why were you crying?" He makes no move to look ahead. Instead, he turns his whole body toward you and pulls his right knee up onto the seat. 
"I'm fine. Seriously." You try to back up your words with a nod. "The situation has cleared up."
Your roommate doesn't believe a word you say. "So there is something bothering you after all. What's going on?"
Why won't he let up? You've assured him twice that everything is fine. Why does he keep insisting on an answer you clearly don't want to give him? 
You furrow your eyebrows. "Charles," your tone is sharp and no longer too friendly. Annoyed, you look at him. "It's all okay. Can we drop the subject now?"
You don't want to argue with him, at least you have no reason to. You have decided not to be angry with him about the phone call. Therefore, there is no reason why you should tell him about it. 
"Didn't we agree that we would communicate openly with each other? That I wouldn't have to ask five times what was going on with you before you explained what it was all about?"
You decided to push back the boundary line. It was your decision alone. But for him to use your deal against you now makes you want to burst with anger. 
How dare he?
"Didn't we also agree that private things are private as long as you don't want to talk about them?" You cross your arms in front of your chest. "In case you didn't catch it, I didn't take that call this morning, and if you didn't already figure it out, there were certainly reasons for it. After all, you won't have just brought me to your favorite place for no reason."
Charles opens his mouth to say something back, but you don't let him get a word in edgewise. "You've noticed that the phone call this morning and also just now got to me. So where did you get the idea to just answer my phone? What were you thinking?"
As you stare at him and exhale loudly, Charles takes this as his chance to answer you. "I wanted that guy to stop bothering you. Of course, I noticed how you were feeling about it. And I didn't want you to have to go through that again." He holds his hands in front of him, palms up. "Jeez, Y/N. I was worried about you. You looked like a frozen deer about to get hit by a car both times. I didn't even see you like that when I was suddenly standing in the apartment last night. You would have punched me there, but apparently this guy puts you out of order with just one phone call. And this isn't you."
"You don't even know who I am," you counter. "You've known me for what? Fifteen hours? And you think you know me so well that you assume the right to meddle in my affairs, even though you've noticed that I don't handle it very well myself? If I had wanted you to support me in this, I would have told you about it. But I didn't. And you interfered anyway!"
"Then why don't you say what's on your mind? That you didn't think it was right for me to just answer your phone? Why do I have to ask three times before you finally open your mouth?" Charles' voice has also changed to a shriek. His face is flushed and the vein on his neck is pumping. 
"Because everything is fine!" You rub your forehead with your palm in frustration. "Yeah, I think it sucks that you just butted in. But I also realize you didn't mean any harm and you were trying to help me. That's why I didn't bring it up. Because the issue is already over for me."
Charles clenches his jaw. "It's not over for me. You need to talk to me when something bothers you. When I make mistakes and cross boundaries. How else will I know I've done something wrong?"
"For the love of God, Charles, but that boundary was so clear that even a blind man could have seen it." You put your hands on your thighs. A sign that you're at the end of your rope. "I don't feel like arguing. Can't we just go home and put this behind us?"
Charles doesn't move a bit, but continues to stare at you. "No. We need to talk this out. Otherwise, this isn't going to work." With his index finger, he points to the space between the two of you. 
You exhale loudly and run your hand through your hair. Then you shake your head slightly. The hours you've known Charles have taken such a toll on you, especially mentally and emotionally, that you just want to crawl into your bed and put the day behind you. And the fact that your roommate is blocking the most pleasant way to get there right now - which is for you to drive home quickly in your car - makes you slump down further. 
You unbuckle your seatbelt and let it whiz back into place. Charles' eyes widen as you reach for the door handle. "I can't do this." You get out, still hearing Charles say your name before you turn and start walking. 
Maybe this whole thing wasn't such a good idea after all.
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holllandtrash · 1 day
6 to 1 lando and Charles finding each other after Charles took the grid penalty, awkwardly talking with y/n in the middle
bro this ended up being so much longer than i thought but i hope its okay also its not edited i just wrote it at work LOL
"Don't," you told Lando, hand going to his chest the second he stepped out of the car. His attention had already gone towards the entrance of the garage, but you were hoping your touch would remind him there were more important things at stake here.
"He ruined my lap!" Lando exclaimed after he pulled his helmet off."
"And now the FIA is investigating it so whatever you want to say, save it."
Lando didn't know that part. How could he when he had been in the car this whole time? Whereas you saw the incident when it occurred, Charles unintentionally getting in the way of Lando's flying lap. You understood why Lando was pissed, he had a right to be, but you both knew how important Monaco was for Charles.
He clenched his jaw, taking one more look at the pit lane, knowing Charles was somewhere down there. You trailed your hand upwards, pulling his face back to yours.
"Just go do media and if you're still angry after-"
"I'm not angry it's just annoying, is all," Lando scoffed. He pulled his face out of your grasp and you told yourself his actions weren't personal, he was just in a mood.
You could have let it go, had he not muttered one last thing under his breath.
"...thinks he can get away with this shit because he's from here, he's not the prince of motorsport-"
"Hey!" You snapped, your stare narrowing into an icy glare. Even a few McLaren mechanics turned to look at you with curiosity as you were never one to raise your voice at Lando, especially during a race weekend.
Lando's features only tightened more, it was clear he wasn't about to retract his statement, even if it was said in haste.
These types of moments during the races were rare. Usually, Lando and Charles got on pretty well. They respected each other and you split your time evenly between their garages. This weekend was the only time they argued over which garage you'd be in. In the end they agreed that Lando would have you for practices and Qualifying, but it was only right you were supporting Charles in the Ferrari garage at his home race.
Not like either of them asked for your opinion.
But this stupid tunnel incident was not one you had prepared for. In fact, you, along with many other people, were convinced that Lando wasn't going to get a lap in during Q3 after his brush with the barrier last session. His mechanics were magicians, apparently, and he managed to get out for a flying lap.
You texted Carlos' cousin when you heard about what happened in the tunnel, wanting to know if Ferrari was about to go up in flames. All he responses with was Xavi didn't tell Charles to move. The investigation notification came a minute later.
So yes, while Charles fucked up Lando's lap time, it wasn't his fault. And now there was a chance he was going to have to pay the price for it. The last thing you needed was your boyfriend making things worse.
Lando stood there, waiting for you to say something, waiting for you to tell him that you were on Charles' side but you just shook your head, warning him with your stare alone.
"Save. It." You repeated.
And then you left, knowing that Charles would appreciate your support much more than Lando would right now. You hung out in the Ferrari garage with Carlos for a bit when he returned from media before someone told you that Charles was chatting with Fred back in the motorhome, a closed door meeting presumably.
Clips of Lando's post-quali interview was circulating on twitter and you rolled his eyes at his suggestion to disqualify Charles. It was a joke, a painful one with maybe an ounce of truth behind it, but a joke nonetheless.
Which was a good sign. Maybe Lando had cooled off a bit. He must have if he was able to flash a faint smile for the cameras. You had seen the interviews after horrid sessions and this was not that.
An hour went by and still no one had heard anything. The two hour mark came and went and the only text you got was from Lando telling you he swiped some cheesecake from the hospitality lounge for you.
And then at the third hour, Charles stepped out of the office and came walking down the steps of the motorhome. The lines in his forehead and his lips pressed together tightly said it all.
"Three places," Charles sighed, he dropped to the couch across from you. At this point, most of the team had cleared out but you and Carlos had stayed. Charles dropped his elbows to his knees as his face fell to his hands. "Trois putains de lieux," Three fucking places.
"I'm so sorry," you said, because what else could you say? This was his home race and he qualified third. He still had a fighting chance being so close to the front but now it was ripped away.
"I just want to go home," Charles shook his head.
"Do you want me to call maman? I'm sure she's already made dinner-"
"Have you talked to Lando?" Charles cut you off, head snapping up.
Even Carlos looked at you. He too was curious, but didn't think to ask, assuming that it was probably the wrong time.
"Not since he got out of the car."
"He'll probably be celebrating in a minute," he muttered, staring past you and out the window towards the paddock. At the same time, your phone got the notification of F1's statement. Charles Leclerc takes 3-Place Grid Penalty.
"Your penalty doesn't help him at all," this was a thin line you walked on, playing devils advocate. "He's pissed yeah, but he's still stuck starting from tenth. And now you're starting sixth, no one wins."
"Max will," Carlos whispered, and then glanced between you and Charles, snapping his mouth shut. "I mean, he probably will. We all knew this."
Charles chose to ignore that comment, standing up and patting his teammate on the shoulder as he walked past, "Good luck tomorrow Carlos. I'm sure they'll give you the fighting chance strategy."
There was nothing you could do except follow him out in the paddock. He didn't want advice, he didn't want a pep talk, he wanted to go home and be angry about this because this situation had fallen so far out of his control.
The paddock had emptied for the most part at this point, a few stragglers here and there, but most drivers had gone into their debriefs and strategy planning meetings.
Most, not all.
Because just up ahead you spotted Lando walking in the same direction towards the gates. Charles shot you a look, silently telling you not to say anything or get his attention and you nodded, not wanting to stir the pot any more.
Lando probably would have just gone to his car and driven back to his flat.
But you both watched as he raised his phone up to his ear and it was only seconds later when the phone in your hand started ringing. You didn't need to look at the screen to know Lando was trying to get a hold of you.
Hearing your ringtone, Lando stopped walking and turned around. Eyes darting back and forth between you and Charles as you both approached him.
You stood between them, you had to. You didn't know if they were blaming the other or if they were going to fight or if Lando was still angry or what. There were too many variables and for everyones sake, you made sure to stand between them.
Lando shrugged sympathetically, but his words were anything but, "You don't slow down in the tunnel, mate. Everyone knows this."
"I didn't know you were behind me," Charles retorted, keeping the tone respectful.
"There are mirrors on the car."
"But not headlights."
"You don't slow down in the tunnel," Lando repeated with a sigh.
You could hear it in his voice, Lando did feel bad for Charles after seeing the harsh penalty, but he still had a right to hold a bit of a grudge.
Charles nodded, "I am sorry, Lando."
Shocked, you stared up at your brother, wondering if you had in fact heard him correctly. Charles was apologizing? For something he had no control over? Something that screwed him over?
Even Lando was susprised to hear it, taking a second for himself before responding.
"Yeah I'm sorry too," Lando nodded, reaching forward and patting the driver on the arm. "Three places is harsh."
"They should have fined the team," Charles shrugged.
"It's the Monaco curse, I guess."
You slapped the back of your hand against Lando's abdomen and even Charles rolled his eyes, hearing nothing but curse this and curse that, especially from Arthur who was now convinced it was in fact real.
"Curse or not, we both have our work cut out for us tomorrow," Charles said and the three of you started off walking again, still with you in the middle.
You stayed quiet as the drivers talked amongst yourselves but when Lando reached for your hand you looked up at him and smiled. You could breathe a little easier tonight knowing they wouldn't hold this incident against each other.
You approached Charles' Ferrari first and he unlocked the doors, nodding his head at Lando, "Are you coming to dinner?"
Lando looked at you, unsure how to answer because this was the first he had heard about dinner, "I don't-"
"You didn't invite him?" Charles asked you, brows pinched together. Every year, you spent the evening after qualifying at your maman's place for a good luck dinner, even if good luck never followed. Charles was still intent on going tonight, and was surprised to hear you didn't extend the invitation to Lando.
"I didn't know I could," you answered honestly.
"Come for dinner," Charles told Lando, no longer phrasing it as a question. He reached for the handle of the drivers side door and then pointed a finger at the Brit, "But don't even think about mentioning the curse."
You leaned into Lando's side as Charles said he'd see you in a bit and you waited until he drove off before your tilting your face upwards.
"Thank you," you said to him.
Lando kissed the top of your head, "What for?"
For saving whatever bullshit comment he really wanted to make. For not starting a fight in the middle of the paddock. For putting his own annoyances aside and seeing Charles as someone was also struggling.
"Just, thank you," you repeated. Because truthfully, there were a lot of reasons. Too many to list.
But most importantly, you were thankful to not be forced into choosing a side.
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billlydear · 1 day
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word count: 1965 // masterlist | inbox (please request ! ) | WIP list
summary: you're well accustomed to billy's smoking habits and his subsequent eating habits.
Contents/Warnings: afab!reader, smut (18+), cunnilingus, almost-somnophilia (discussed beforehand and consensual; basically she's given him permission beforehand to eat her out while she sleeps she just woke up before he could), weed smoking, accidental cigarette burns, mentions of being high
A/N: do you like how I got so busy with schoolwork that i had to drop off the face of this app and then when i finally came back i chose to write freehand instead of touching the requests in my inbox... me either <3 this is the start of my summer break, though, so i hope to get out a lot of content for you guys!!
reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)
Billy's an experienced smoker. He's building up an impressive tolerance to the stuff, but he gets his fix, and it makes his hands a little uncoordinated as he pries at the button on your shorts.
You'd meant to change before falling asleep in his bed, but for every puff he took of his joint, your eyes drooped lower and lower, until you finally fell asleep slumped back against his pillows.
You wake to his frustrated grunt, as well as the sting of something hot at your thigh. You hiss, leg tensing as you peer through the dim room at him, "Billy? Can I help you?"
"Can't get your fucking shorts off," He grunts, and you watch as the lit end of his joint tilts to your flesh again, leaving a burning ring in its wake. The second time you jolt away from it he realizes what's going on, yanking the blunt away from your skin.
"Shit," He ducks his head down to kiss the ash-covered red mark on your thigh, "Sorry, babe."
"I was sleeping," You whine, voice still thick with the stuff, "Can't you eat a bag of chips or something?"
"No," Billy mocks your pitiful tone, burying his face into your thigh and dotting kisses to the skin there, "You taste better."
Finally his fingers manage to pry the button hole of your shorts over the metal circle, and he rips your zipper down with enthusiasm you're not sure how his weed-riddled body possesses.
"You can sleep if you want to," He offers, but with the press of his slightly stubbly cheeks against your soft, raw inner thighs, you know you won't be able to.
"Oh-" Your thighs tense as Billy's lips press in a prim kiss to your slit, "Just- just go, Billy, I- I don't wanna sleep anymore!"
"Knew it," He chuckles, eyes hazy as he parts his lips, licking a thin, wet stripe just along the slit of your cunt, "I'll make it worth your time, angel. Just relax."
You unclench your thighs, and he nestles more comfortably between them. His large hands are thrown over your hips now, splayed wide under your ass as he tucks your thighs beneath his arms, locking you in place.
He's just barely keeping his joint from igniting the blanket with the way it's tucked between his fingers, because now most of his attention is on the pliant, fleshy globes of your ass. You reach down to take it from him just in case, and he hums in approval, nestling his face into your slit so that the sound vibrates through you.
"Billy!" You gasp, hips attempting to jerk upwards even though they're stopped by his strong grip, "C'mon, please- please just do something!"
"You smell so fucking good," He groans, pointedly ignoring your pleas. He seems to be burrowing into you instead of indulging himself, and you're sure you're slick enough now to wet his nose if he keeps pressing it into your cunt.
"Billy," You pant, reaching down with the hand that isn't holding his blunt. You grab hold of his curls, tugging hard, "Do something!"
He bites you. He sinks his teeth into the oversensitive, thin skin that creases your thigh and your cunt, nipping roughly at it as a searing pain erupts from the bite. You cry out, hand falling from his hair and joint nearly slipping out of your grip.
"Ow!" You cry, but your stomach kicks back up with butterflies as he drags his tongue over the bite mark in a long, wet, thick, soothing stripe, "Ah, Billy, that- that hurt!"
"Don't order me around," He drawls, tongue back in his mouth as he presses his nose into the stinging bite mark, "I'll eat you out when I eat you out."
And, of course, eat you out he does. You should have known his dramatics were only that, the snap of his teeth were a show of authority, not of reluctance. He indulges in the wet smear of slick that's threatening to seep out from between the lips of your warm cunt, finally sticking his tongue out to slide between them in a stroke that only makes you wetter.
You're in the middle of taking a drag from his blunt when he finally makes his move, and you nearly bite the thing in half. You choke on the smoke, chest stuttering and lungs heaving to get oxygen back when it seems there's none left. Billy's hungry tonight, the more weed he smokes, the more intense his cravings are, and tonight he seems to be out of his mind.
Once he starts, he can't stop. He dives in, jaw nearly unhinged as he tries fitting it around your entire cunt. His tongue is messy and eager as it laps through your folds, licking up wetness that gushes out of you due to his ministrations. You can feel him trying to control himself, trying to drag his tongue through your cunt in methodical swirls, but eventually his rational brain loses out, and instinct takes over.
He laps at your cunt wet and messy, dragging his tongue in a slimy trail up from just above your ass to the hood of your clit. He pays special interest to the sensitive bud, lips sealing around it as he sucks and licks at you. His hands, still kneading greedily at your ass, change targets as he flicks his tongue over your clit one last time. He pries your thighs even further apart, like there's more of your cunt that you're hiding from him. He doesn't find any, of course, but he takes what he can get, groaning as he dives his tongue back into your pussy.
He's more than vocal, his hot breath coming in pants that signal he's getting out of breath. How he's managed to suffocate himself in your cunt, you have no clue, but you like how desperate it makes him.
He's making out with your pussy so well that you feel an orgasm already creeping up on you, brought on by the haziness of your former sleep and by how many grunts and groans he's pumping into you. He eats like he hasn't in years, like he doesn't get high and ravage you every night.
"Billy," You whimper, the bump of his nose against your clit ramping up the flow of pleasure below your stomach, "Billy I- I might- I think I'm gonna cum soon!"
"Do it," He pants, burrowing his face impossibly further into your cunt, practically sucking your orgasm out of you, "Go, baby, cum on my tongue. Give it to me, 'wanna- nngh," His voice tampers out into a gruff groan as your cunt begins to clench around his tongue, "Wanna taste you."
"Come on," He coaxes, purring into your cunt and egging on your impending release, "Come on, angel, lemme have it."
"I'm- I'm gonna cum!" You insist, reaching down with your free hand to lock them in his curls once more. This time, however, he doesn't reprimand you for your tugging, and you relish having something steady to hold on to as Billy licks your orgasm out of you.
The second you spasm around him, the moment your thighs start to shake and clench around Billy's head, he's letting a steady flow of moans seep into your pussy. It only makes things more intense, and as pleasure bleeds through your veins, Billy sucks it out of you.
"Fuck yeah," He groans, gruff and ragged into your cunt. He's panting, chest heaving as he devours you, "More, baby, c'mon, keep going."
His thick, rough thumb comes up to rub your clit, pressured circles around and around the bud that nearly make you black out. Billy's nothing if not an intense lover, and you think he may be trying to crawl inside of your cunt to suck you dry from the inside the way that he's mashing his face into you.
"Okay," You pant, heaving and shaky as you come down from your high. Billy's not easing up, tongue still laving through your pussy like there's more to take.
"Okay, Billy, okay!" You yelp, flinching in sensitive shock when he tries suckling desperately at your clit again. It's all too much, you're afraid you might pass out if he keeps going, not that you wouldn't have a good time.
"More," He groans, chasing you up the bed when you scramble into a sitting position and back against the headboard. He crawls onto the bed after you, already prying at your knees that you've bent together.
"Please, babe," He begs, voice thick with rasp, "Please, 'just want a little more, I- I'll go slow or something, I promise."
"I can't," You pant, gripping his cheeks and tugging him into a kiss instead. He's happy for the substitute, and you taste your own release on his tongue as he resumes licking sloppily into you.
"Here," You have to pry him away from your face, his lips chasing after yours, spit trailing down his glistening chin. You hand over his blunt, and he takes it from you eagerly to fill his lungs with smoke.
"More," He insists, keeping the joint held between his two fingers as he reaches for your face this time, leading another kiss. He steals the breath from your lungs, replacing it with thick smoke that makes your eyes water. He's too busy sucking your tongue to notice, his own trailing along its underside and sending shivers down your spine.
The squelching sound that accompanies his kiss is almost more filthy than how it had sounded when he was eating you out, and though your cunt is still on fire, you feel something building below your belly again.
He's making the same sounds into your mouth as he was into your cunt, grunting and groaning and huffing and panting as he devours you. It's only when he's nearly blue in the face does he let up, breaking away to pant open-mouthed against the corner of your lips. He knocks his forehead against your temple, lips mouthing lazily at your jaw while he catches his breath.
"Jesus, Billy." You breathe, lungs now empty of both smoke and oxygen as you heave, "You're- oh," He presses a wet kiss to your jaw, "You're really going tonight."
"I'm hungry," He drawls, voice lazy and gruff with both exhaustion and smoke, "But I'm-" He breaks off to yawn, nose scrunching, "-Tired, too."
"I can tell," You laugh weakly, no power in you to do so heartier, "Come on, baby, put out the light and let's go to sleep."
"Mhm," He groans, snuffing out his blunt and stashing it god knows where, too lazy to do anything with it, "You gotta- you gotta pee or something."
"Yeah,' I'll pee," You promise him, slightly touched that even smoked out of his mind, he's concerned for your post-orgasm hygiene. You excuse yourself while he wrestles with the blankets on the bed, and when you get back, he's snoring against his- no, your pillow.
"Billy," You scoff fondly, slipping a hand under his head to try and scoot it off of your pillow. He's limp now, and you're easily able to reroute him to his own side of the bed. When you slide in beside him the bed dips, and he rolls with the incline, body heavy with sleep as it presses against you.
"C'mere," You scoff, wiping away drool that's beading at the corner of his mouth as he snores, "Goodnight, Billy, love you."
You know he can't hear you, you know he won't say it back. But it feels wrong sleeping without saying it, so you nestle into him under the covers, and when you press a kiss to his throat, you feel his heart beat.
You know he loves you, too.
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sussusamogus47 · 2 days
I just wanted to call to attention the board games in the final puzzle room, bc I haven't really seen anyone talk about them all that much.
I genuinely can't tell if they were all deliberately chosen for what they are, or if instead it was a case of what the set designers (of Genloss, not Showfall) could get their hands on, but the relative obscurity/odd choice of games makes me think that for the most part it was deliberate.
Lemme explain, starting with the most interesting one first.
Game One: My 2 Homes
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This game is most notable because it's the one boardgame that Ranboo actually calls out by name, and one of two (if i remember right) that they ever interact with. What's clever though is how it could easily be written off -- Jerma asks the three of them for examples of things in the room, and he provides one. End of story right?
But consider first that the mind control over them has been getting stronger and stronger, and the past few rooms we've been seeing them become more NPC-like, interacting with things less and less, taking less of an interest in other things.
What makes it more interesting in my opinion though, is the fact that the game is meant to help children "communicate and process their feelings about divorce".
What does this mean though?
Well, looking at the verb definitions of divorce, there's two ways it can be taken:
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You could make an argument for the first definition, sure. But just look at that second definition. Separate or dissociate something from something else. Aka Ranboo and reality.
Suddenly Ranboo's calling out of the game looks more like a call for help. To use the game for its intended purpose and say "I'm still here, please help me. I don't want this to continue."
I could be stretching here. But the subtly of it is really good, and imo wouldn't be out of place.
Game Two: Maul of America
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The pun in this one is actually what made me notice the oddity of some of the choices of these board games. For those who mightn't know, the Mall of America is one of the largest malls in the United States.
The premise of this game is simple: You're in a mall during the zombie apocalypse, and have to fight your way out. One player controls all of the zombies, and each other player controls themselves, obviously.
The parallels here alone are honestly astounding lol
But wait, there's more!! Upon rewatching this entire section, I believe this is the only other board game that Ranboo ever interacts with. Even more interestingly, I believe this might be the only game in the room that has its pieces outside of the box and partially set up.
For reference:
Here's an image of the board + some of the pieces, courtesy of boardgamegeek.com
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And here's the closest, best shot I could get of the board:
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Notice the standing pieces, the flipped over ones, and their positions relative to one another. Red is flipped, blue and orange are standing up. One zombie is standing, the rest are flipped. Blue is by red, and orange is by a zombie.
Now I'm sure you know, but for Dramatic Effect ™ I'd like to point out the primary colours of each person's outfit in this room:
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So then, Ranboo, Sneeg, and Austin are obviously intended to be the players here, with either Showfall (or the founder) controlling the zombies. Sneeg's blue token is likely closer to Ran's red one to indicate that they know each other, which supports some of the other theories around that.
But then why's Ranboo's token flipped? And what's with the zombie?
Well this is where we pull into Speculation Station, because I'm honestly not too sure. I'd like to say that the flipped token indicates Ranboo's mind controlled state, but then why isn't Sneeg's flipped too? After all, we all saw him get forcefully controlled by the Showfall Crew. My only other guess is that it hints at the ending, where somehow Austin and Sneeg survive and escape Showfall where Ranboo doesn't, but I feel like that's shaky at best so idrk.
Similar problems occur with the zombie, too. You could say it's Ranboo being mind controlled by the zombie player, but then Sneeg should have one too if that's the case. It can't really be Jerma bc he's well, dead by this point. It could maybe be the camera operator? But we also see the rats behind the curtain so wouldn't they have one too?
I really don't know honestly. But I've been going on about this one for a while lol so I should probably move on.
Game Three: Anti-Monopoly
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This one is basically what it says on the tin: Anti-Monopoly, or a trust busting game where players have to go around dismantling large corporations. Depending on the size of the company, (oligopoly, trust, or monopoly) you need one to three tokens respectively to take them down.
I'd imagine that Showfall is a pretty large corporation, so my guess is that the symbolism here is meant to be Hetch's (or even Ranboo's) intention to dismantle the company. If the former, it could maybe mean that Hetch isn't here to actually help Ranboo, but is instead using him for in order to dismantle Showfall, which would be a twist for sure.
Game Four: Twister Moves
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This seems like a version of Twister with maybe a musical chair-esque aspect to it. Someone plays as the DJ and plays music, and calls out moves to the other players.
If I had to guess, this is meant to symbolize Showfall's control over people, and how they tell them what to do.
Miscellaneous Games
These ones I don't really have much (or anything) for, honestly. I'm mostly putting them here in case anyone has any ideas, or in case they're somehow relevant.
I also have to stop adding images unfortunately bc I've hit the app's limit :(
Battleground: Crossbows and Catapults
Interestingly enough I had this as a kid lol. Used to play with just the lil plastic castles and guys a lot, not really playing the game. Anyway, the premise is you use the rubber-band powered disc launchers on top of the castles to knock down the other team's guys. Apparently hitting their flag gets you bonus lives or something, so maybe that's relevant?
Star Wars 100 Piece Puzzle (1996)
I.. actually really doubt this one's relevant. It seems a bit too mainstream for it to be, and it's also a puzzle. The date could maybe be relevant? Piece count? Or somehow the characters on it (Luke, Leia, Vader) are, but I just can't think of anything that'd work here, so my best guess is it's a red herring.
Classico (??)
I literally couldn't find anything on this one that matched the box, so I'm at a total loss.
Closing Remarks
Well, I hope that was all comprehendable :D I spent the past two hours or so putting it all together, and honestly in the process of doing so found wayy more to it than I initially thought.
And with that, I bid you adieu!
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rip-us-xoxo · 3 days
Rafe Cameron NSFW Alphabet
Here's my NSFW alphabet for Rafe Cameron! Make sure to give me your ideas and requests! I hope you like this!
Rip-us-xoxo's 100 Followers Alphabet Celebration!
A - Aftercare (what they're like after sex)
The moment Rafe is done with you, he'll find your clothes that are scattered all over the floor. He always searches for his boxer briefs first, letting you collect your thoughts in peace. When he finds your underwear and shirt, he hands them to you, flashing you his signature smirk. He'll then leave the room to get water for the two of you. No words are really spoken, his smile says it all. Then, depending on the day, he'll either sit next to you while you two rehydrate, or he'll have you stand on the balcony with him and talk while drinking your water.
B - Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and yours)
I feel like Rafe is a waist type of guy. For example, he loves grabbing onto your waist when he pulls you in for a kiss. Or, when you two are at a party, he'll stand there with his arm around your waist. He used to wrap his arms around girls' shoulders at parties, but that was when he was high or drunk out of his mind. Putting his arm around your waist truly shows that you're his.
C - Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
I feel like he always ends up cumming on your stomach. I mean, he would obviously love to cum inside of you because what guy doesn't want to cum inside you? But, if you two aren't ready for kids yet, he's not taking any chances. Cumming on your stomach is the easiest for the position you guys are in.
D - Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory). a dirty secret of theirs)
Rafe loves finger fucking you with the family ring on and not washing it off. You love it when he finger fucks you with his ring on, but what you don't know is that you are always on that said ring. He doesn't do anything weird with it afterward, but it's his own way of always having you with him. Also, when he shakes people's hands, he just chuckles to himself, remembering your most recent night together.
E - Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)
Rafe is experienced enough. But, since he's always in his head, he's always thinking of things he wants to do to you, which makes the sex all the more better and exciting.
F - Favorite position (this goes without saying)
He loves when you lay on the bed with your hips over the edge while he stands at the foot of the bed and fucks you. He loves to hold your waist too. He grips your sides while the thrusts into you, giving him more control, which he loves.
G - Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
At first, he'll be serious but smiley with you. At first, he couldn't look you in the eyes without chuckling. But as you two get closer and closer in your relationship, he'll become more serious, always asking you who's in charge to make sure he'll always have control over something.
H - Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Rafe keeps himself very well-groomed. He doesn't want anyone to mistake him for a pogue.
I - Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
He's very romantic in front of people and behind the bedroom door. He loves being close to you at all times. He'll hold you by your waste and grab your hand, kissing your knuckles. But, in the bedroom, he loves kissing from your stomach to your lips. There are times though when he won't be as romantic with you and he'll talk about himself a lot, which can kill the mood at times.
J - Jack off (masturbatiom headcanon)
I don't think Rafe is too into masturbating when he has the real thing next to him at all times. But, I can see Rafe masturbating in the shower to the thought of you.
Maybe you two got into an argument and you can't even look at him because you're so mad. But, you just so happened to wear a little sun dress that turned him on so much to the point that he couldn't ignore the bulge in his pants. So, he angrily tells you he's taking a shower and proceeds to mumble your name while imagining fucking you in your little sun dress on the beach.
K - Kink (one or more of their kinks)
I don't think Rafe really has any kinks until later in the relationship. At first, he just loves being in control. Then, it turns into a dom and sub kink, not a daddy kink, but the thought of you submitting to him always puts a smile on his face. But, I feel like later on, as you two talk about having a family, he develops a breeding kink. The thought of him having his own family to flaunt around and spoil is something he can't get out of his mind until he finally gets you pregnant.
L - Location (favorite places to do the do)
Rafe loves fucking you in the master bedroom with the curtains to the balcony open. It reminds him of everything that is his. Even though he has the curtains open, it's still private because it's his property and he can do what he wants, or who he wants, on it.
M - Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Any time you want to make him horny after he has a meeting, you just make yourself look pretty and wait for him. The moment he walks in the door, you treat him really well, like fixing him a drink and making him dinner. This usually elicits the reaction of, "What did I do to deserve this, hm?". Then, when you say, "It just must be so hard being the man of the family and you always take such good care of me, I just wanted to return the favor," you have him instantly. His pants will tighten right away and you two are in the bedroom before he even finishes his meal.
N - No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)
Being a sub. The thought of him fully submitting to you weirds him out. He needs to be in control at all times. He might let you be on top at times, but he's always in control.
O - Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He loves getting head on the balcony (he can do what he wants on his property, remember?). But he loves giving head even more. He's good at it too. He loves taking care of you; making sure you're comfortable and then giving you a night of pleasure.
P - Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)
I feel like he keeps a slower pace but rams into you with every thrust.
Q - Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Rafe likes having quickies at parties sometimes because the applause he gets from his friends always boosts his ego. But, he prefers to have sex formally on his bed
R - Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)
He likes taking risks. He's always thinking of new things to do with you. Sometimes he'll give into things that you think of, but only if it's something that lets him be in control.
S - Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
In my head, Rafe can go for awhile, like 3-4 rounds? He would start off the night slow but then get faster and rougher as the night goes on.
T - Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
I feel like Rafe doesn't really like toys since it's not him giving you the pleasure but I feel like he'd buy you one when he finds out he has to go away for a business trip.
U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)
He loves to tease you, he always has his signature smirk on while you're whining.
V - Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He pants, he doesn't moan, he just pants.
W - Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
This is very specific, but I feel like Rafe is the type to look up when he fucks. He'll look you in the eyes, but as he gets more and more tired, he'll look up while slightly sticking his tongue out, focusing on keeping it together for your pleasure.
X - X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)
Rafe gives me 5-inch thick dick vibes.
Perfect, in other words.
Y - Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
I feel like he has a super high sex drive like I said 3-4 rounds. But like long rounds.
Z - Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Rafe doesn't fall asleep easily. He'll sit up against the headboard while you lay in his lap, thinking about everything going on. He'll stare at the ceiling while caressing your hair. Every once in a while, he'll look at you and smile, remembering that no matter what he did wrong, he did one thing right in his life.
Rip-us-xoxo's 100 Followers Alphabet Celebration!
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jess-the-vampire · 12 hours
Out of curiosity, what’s your take on what would’ve happened if Caleb won the knife fight and ended up killing Philip instead?
i've seen multiple different takes on the idea, and it's def something that depends on your interpretation of caleb as a character.
cause while we know some things about him, caleb, in a lot of ways, is extremely moldable as a character. It kinda makes a lot of the arguments about what caleb did, would do, and probably did, a lot more pointless to even have because outside of a few stuff because we have very little grasp on him and his personality.
Like it's hard to claim anyone's view on him is "Wrong" because no one really truly knows who caleb was, they can only rely on what they are given and try to fill in the blanks.
For me, i interpret caleb as a lot more morally conflicted, some people think he would flat out disown philip and beat down on him had he lived, but i think caleb would've felt more like he failed his own brother.
He had been responsible for him, he had lied to him, and he is well aware philip grew up under prejudiced and dangerous conditions. So i think even in a situation where philip tried to do what he did, and failed, caleb would see philip's behavior as a failing of his own part and probably his death too.
Like this is still his baby brother after all, he was responsible for raising him and putting him on a good path and instead it led him to meet this fate.
Whether you interpret philip's response as thinking his brother was bewitched or as a response to believing his brother flat out abandoned him....either response could make caleb feel philip's death was a failure on his part as a brother.
that he wasn't there for his brother as he should of been, that he neglected him and drove him down this path that led to him dying, that his choice to be selfish in leaving lost him someone important.
and may affect how he parents in the future too, given how his own brother turned out, might make him question if he'd even be a good parent.
these are elements that are even in my arofam au but yeah, i am of the mind had caleb lived, he'd see philip as a lot more of a failure of his own part rather then showcasing a ton of anger towards him.
and it would affect him throughout the rest of his life.
some people think caleb should share nothing but hatred towards philip, but given caleb's role in philip's life to protect and guide him, something he seems to have made the choice to stop doing for himself....i feel he would look back on philip's reaction as a fault on himself for making that choice and failing to do that for him rather then completely blame philip.
he'd question philip a bit, but have a harder time being as angry as people think he should be.
whether you think he should or not, i certainly think he'd FEEL that way, rather then show intense hatred for philip reacting to the situation within how he was taught.
Some people are of the mindset caleb did try or had tried to help philip and philip didn't take it, but there's just nothing to really say that for sure within the show itself. And truth be told, i still don't think it would stop caleb from thinking he could of done more.
Going through life conflicted because he feels terrible and sad and angry, and not sure how much he aims at philip or himself.
i think he'd still visit his grave often despite it.
Again, caleb is a lot like an oc for the most part, so people are gonna have different outlooks on his personality, but i personally see him coming out scarred emotionally and dealing with a lot of internal guilt as a response.
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demonslayedher · 1 day
Low-Key Married AU fluff
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Kochou said that I was disliked, so I asked her if she disliked me too. For someone so quick to have a smiling response to everything, she struggled to reply. She was the one who proposed marriage and swayed me, so I had thought that meant she had feelings for me. There would be no other way to read it. However, with as unbothered as she is by my absence, I have to wonder.
It’s been ten days since I had last contact with her. I went home to the Butterfly Mansion, but she had just departed for a mission, so I didn’t stay long so as not to trouble the girls. It may still be a few days before I can return again, but it’s always likely she’ll be busy. She’s incredible in that way, taking on all the care of our injured Corp members in addition to her Pillar missions. It must be in her personality to keep adding to what keeps her busy, like taking me in as though I looked like I needed the care. Although the times we’ve spent together have been nice, I don’t require it. My duties call for me to always be ready for battle, and I’ve always kept my heart steady.
So has she. We are Pillars first, and no amount of affection can sway us—whether an abundance or a lack.
I’m not bothered by lacking something I didn’t deserve in the first place.
Last night again, I was too late to prevent a family from being slaughtered. There were no survivors this time, aside from the eldest child who was still ravenous with a recent transformation. Having to chase him down and keep him from harming anyone else kept me off the trail of the progenitor of demons, who had to have been close by. For centuries, he’s evaded us this way over and over, sacrificing entire families to throw us off his trail. If I were to chide myself over every failure, I would have lost the ability to do anything ages ago. Each time, the anger is something I carry with me, to push myself harder the next time, and the next. Any extent more that I can push myself may be the difference to someone’s survival, no one can afford to lose their life over any of my own lost confidence.
Each time it's a crow I think I recognize, my stomach drops. My mind is already playing the words I dread to hear, as though trying to protect my mind once I someday hear them.
"Kochou Shinobu has died."
Even if I hear them, I'm a Pillar first. That was what we promised each other. I'll always do as I must.
The crow says nothing as it delivers a letter.
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YES, YES, I KNOW, THIS FANDOM HAS TURNED ME INTO SHIPPER TRASH. For this pairing, it was more specifically my own joke AU which later bit me in the back and made me start really, really enjoying GiyuShino (which, for the record, I do not consider canon). Was throwing ideas back and forth with @reicchel again the other day and so here we are with ship content!
Part of the reason I love the Low-Key Married AU (in which it's mostly canon as usual, except that Shinobu and Giyuu have been married for over a year or so, and it's not a secret but they make such little deal about it that many people don't even know they're married) is that it's a frame through which to see every interaction and either make it really, really funny, or very, very, sad. Everything was supposed to be funny, but it keeps hurting, hahaha... aaahhhh.
For instance, in a regular romcom situation, it should be funny that Kanzaburo doesn't deliver all of Giyuu's letters. Knowing these two, who might had started this whole "well, we'll be a couple when we have time" thing by actively writing regular letters, this could had simply given the impression that the other person wasn't writing as much, so they both naturally decreased frequency to match. It's a little lonely, but neither one is going to push the other for more attention.
No!! I refuse to let this post end with angst! Time for omake!!!
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honeygrahambitch · 6 hours
In order to be a cannibal you need to have a certain life philosophy. You don't just eat people. You are either like Hobbs, who didn't want to let any part go to waste and performed cannibalism as a way of honoring the bodies or you do it like Hannibal who considered his victims rude and wanted to dominate them. Cause eating someone is a nice way of showing off your power.
We never really see Will disagreeing with cannibalism or really addressing it(my chaotic neutral boy). His philosophy is somewhere close to Hannibal's, eating the rude and the worst individuals makes him feel powerful but also righteous.
I also find it interesting that eating Will would have happened for a whole different reason that had more to do with Hannibal's childhood trauma and his inability to regulate his pain and emotions than with rudeness really.
He ended up eating his sister, someone he had loved more than anything in the world and as a result he had become a different person. As Bedelia suggests, he resents that somewhere in his mind palace. Will is the other person who changed him and who he also loved to the moon and back. So the solution was to eat him as well.
By twotl, Hannibal has had a lot of time to figure out that he can accept change if it's done by Will's hands just like Will finally accepts his own becoming which happened thanks to Hannibal up to a point. They both realize that maybe loving the other won't destroy them. And they know that even if it will, it would be the most sublime way to die
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tbh you're losing me just made me feel sorry for both but also very empathetic toward joe. and this is coming from someone whose last relationship ended a lot like this and someone who was taylor in that relationship. back then i was just so hurt but over time i learned i also played a part in it ending and did things i shouldn't have. it sucks but truth is that they just weren't suited for each other anymore. and ik people will try and make this about how joe sucks and couldn't put in the effort but it's so much more complicated than that. from the lyrics taylor did what i did in my relationship and didn't really communicate. she sent signals, and kept waiting for him to see was "dying" and then was upset when he didn't see and didn't do anything to stop it. but at the same time this means joe actually didn't know she was hurting. he didn't notice and she didn't tell him and if at one point she did it ended up being a "i don't understand / i know you don't " type of conversation and if he just doesn't understand then there's not much to be done even if he wanted to do something. he can't pretend to understand to please her. seems like he genuinely thought they were okay where they were (maybe even because of taylor's people pleasing tendencies) and she just couldn't take it anymore and he didn't understand what was wrong or why she felt that way. i think that first break up news said everything it had to say. they worked when they were in a bubble but not outside of it. joe never really knew her and thought they were okay the way they were and taylor couldn't see a future together. again it sucks because it seems their very foundation is what tore them apart. taylor Trying all the time while pretending that's not the case and joe not wanting anything for her other than to just be together. the difference is back then he saw through her and they were able to make it work through miscommunication but apparently not anymore. and this could be for so many reasons. maybe his own anxiety/depression got in the way, maybe they both just changed and grew apart. maybe he did grow tired of some of her antics when he's a lot more chill and just didn't understand why she had to try so hard all the time and wanted everyone to do the same. i'm not trying to say taylor is hard to love bc that's not true at all but we all know how much she wants someone to choose her and look only at her and we have proof of the ways she'd make sure to get that (telling you to leave me just to try and scare you / im a mirroball / picking fights in afterglow and the great war).... maybe it got tiring and he just stopped keeping an eye out for The Signs and didn't even realize it... i don't thing either of them are the bad guy here. that said i hate how everyone is already like "she was there for him through everything and he couldn't even be there for her" when we know he WAS there for her a lot in the past. plus yeah "ik my pain is an imposition" hurts but we also have taylor saying "is it insensitive to say get your shit together so i can love you" and "if I would have known how sharp the pieces were you'd crumble into i might have let them lay".... like neither of them is perfect. just feels like they were both thought the other one would change and eventually be okay with things happening *their way* and ofc that just didn't happen. there was no cure.
Thank you so much for sending this thoughtful message, anon! The bottom line is really what you said: their foundation killed then. What worked so well in 2016-2017, what helped Taylor save herself, what made her think that he was the one… that was the same thing that tore them apart in the end.
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neuroprincess · 1 day
August - Larissa Weems/Female Reader - Part Two
Larissa Weems/Female Reader
Summary: After knowing about August's existence, Larissa tries to get closer to the teenager and making it work can be difficult when both are socially awkward.
Classification: Fluff
Warnings: OC (original character)
Word count: +2700
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four (soon)
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The teenager takes a bite of apple as she stares at the courtyard distractedly, the social groups are dispersed, gathered together talking about random things, mostly about Rave'N Ball which soon became the main topic. Everyone seems excited describing their party clothes bought especially for the day and who they would bring, she knows she should be excited about the same things or at least pretend so she could socialize with them, but she isn't and can't, the only promising thing about the ball is the food and dancing. She loves to dance, since childhood it seems to be the best way to express herself, more than words anyway. At the age of four she started ballet classes and continued performing until 13 when she had a growth spurt, being too tall and with an inadequate bone structure to continue being a dancer, August used her abilities as much as she could to continue dancing and in the end had to let go when mom found out, disapproving. Y/N understood the motivations, it was the girl's first individual interest and something she had devoted herself to for years, this didn't negate the fact that using shapeshifting is a type of cheating and this consumed a lot of her daily energy to continue with the farce. Besides, where they were living was not very kind to any outcast and unsafe for someone like the teenager, in the end they had to resort to the most radical alternative, sending her to Nevermore. Learning things that she, as a mom and normie, could never teach.
August takes one last bite before discarding the rest of the fruit in the trashcan next to the bench she is sitting on, as turning around she notices the presence of the principal almost next to her, standing looking at some vague point pretending to be analyzing the students, except for her as if barely acknowledging her presence. The girl waves a hand in greeting to get her attention and succeeds, they exchange a quick smile and nod, looking back to the courtyard. It's awkward, none of them like this atmosphere and at the same time they don't make the first move towards a real conversation.
"I... I heard that you haven't been using your abilities for two days now." the blonde begins running over the first few words before continuing "How do you feel about that?"
"It's boring, I confess my life seemed easier. And some people just won't stop staring at me."
"Well, you're pretty and tall, you draw attention from boys and girls." Larissa tries to hit back with positive points and winks to her "Anyone interesting?"
She notices how the girl unconsciously stares at a specific group and looks away blushing, redness taking over cheeks and ears. August just whispers "No." and stares at her confused, she thinks that somehow it's not normal for the principal to ask questions like that. But this is a new world which she is still learning the rules.
"Right... have you already been introduced to your classmates?"
"Not exactly, that blonde werewolf talked to me the first day and told me who was who, after that we never talked again." the teenager shrugs shoulders about the fact, she had met a few students who either seemed intimidated or didn't even bother to introduce themselves properly "And that's okay, I'm trying things on my own."
"I understand." neither of them knows what to say anymore, remaining in a silence for minutes that isn't uncomfortable despite the growing anxiety in the pit of their stomachs. She knows August is talking about Enid and it's her group that she has unintentionally stared at. The girl stands up slowly when she notices some students are already gathering for class "Your uniform looks very... short."
Larissa notices that when the teenager stands, they are 6 inches apart, the uniform set with the skirt, which should be just past her knees, looks too small for her size, like it shrunk in the dryer or something. The sweater is tucked tighter against the body instead of being comfortably loose around her, the shoes look slightly uncomfortable, and the skirt that should be below the knee reaches her knees.
"Oh, that! I guess I spent so much time changing my form that I didn't even realize I had another growth spurt, I just forgot to warn Mama. I could take care of it with my own hands, but shapeshifting is out of our deal." the girl straightened the clothes on her body trying to make them conform to the uniform as best as she could, feeling embarrassed by the situation "I think I can handle 5 days until I can use my abilities again." she whispers the last part for only the two to hear.
"Why don't you tell your mother? I'm sure soon you will stop growing and be able to wear only a size of clothes." "Because that's how it happened to me" the blonde mentally adds, in her school days she had to change the size of her clothes and shoes three times. Growing pains as a teenager, her mother always told her on the way to the mall to buy more clothes. Victoria Weems is as tall as her daughter and apparently the girl inherited that from them, even if Y/N's genes allow her to be a little shorter than the two older Weems "I'm sure she'll buy."
"I'm sure too and that's exactly the point." she says simply, her tone making it clear that she doesn't want to continue the topic, then puts the backpack on shoulders "I have to go, botany class now."
"Right! August, think carefully about the ball, it's not mandatory, but it's a great experience and you have a week to prepare." the principal blinks as the girl walks past her, in response she just gets a shy smile.
Larissa smiles back and as soon as the teenager disappears from her vision she turns to the group of students where Enid is, Wednesday with her, Xavier a short distance away from them, Bianca, Divina and Yoko are nearby talking to the duo, the new student doesn't seem interested keeping the same expression as always, which sends a shiver down her spine when directed at her as Addams realizes the tall woman is staring. The blonde immediately turns to go back to her office, pretending this moment didn't happen, even being a teenager she gives her some chills, not that she is scary but yes her actions, she doesn't know what to expect from her.
On the way through the halls Lara August doesn't leave her mind. First, as principal for many years and past hundreds of students, she didn't believe August would follow through on the deal so easily, the next day the fountain was completely clean and more than before, once again Larissa found herself looking for her, this time knowing who to look for and not found her. What made her upset was the possibility that the girl had gone back to using the abilities to hide from her, a possibility soon denied by Thornhill who had the girl as a helper most part of the day and claimed she saw her go straight to the dormitory. Second, she learned more about her supposed daughter, August sleeps in Ophelia Hall sharing a room with a psychic outcast, the academic curriculum is focused on history and literature, she tried fencing and left when Bianca beat her in 10 seconds, after being rejected by the yearbook she is still looking for an extracurricular activity. And last and not least, that the teenager loves hot chocolate, or should at least like it a lot, because Larissa has seen her drink many cups of hot chocolate with whipped cream this morning for breakfast.
And something struck her as she analyzed the short conversation they had at the break, the group that Lara stared at was precisely Enid's... with Wednesday. It couldn't be possible, she wished there wasn't the slightest chance that the blonde was liking the other girl. Not only would it be ironic considering her own past with Morticia, it would also be Y/N's ruin and maybe August's, because as far as anyone can tell the two are complete opposites. Perhaps, with some hope, her possible love interest could be any of the other girls or even Xavier.
"I wonder if this is how parents feel or act when their children are having a crush on someone."
The day is already over for the Nevermore students, most of them have finished dinner, going to their respective dormitories or gathering in common rooms to study for exams the next day. August doesn't feel the need to spend her evening like this after having dedicated all her free hours to it, she sees how desperate everyone is about some difficult subjects and wonders if she should approach them for help, giving up the idea when they find the answer by themselves or with the help of Bianca, who majestically walks around the tables helping their classmates with small things as if she has all the content memorized in her brilliant mind and making a point of showing how intelligent she is. The shapeshifter tries to be discreet as she stares at their interactions, knowing she is failing in this as her eyes can't leave her until the other notices, Bianca frowns as their gazes meet. August turns face quickly and places her hands on cheeks knowing she must be blushing, this is how it works, when in her normal form the pale skin gives way with annoying ease. It's not like she knows how to hide reactions and emotions either, another part of her socially maladjusted personality.
"Hey, white head!" the siren calls out approaching her, laughing when she notices how the girl stiffens at the desk, dropping the book she was reading and slowly turns to look, confusion in her eyes wondering if it was she who was called "Yes, you. Are you having a hard time too?"
"Yeah, no, I mean no. I've been studying all day." she stutters, trying to look anywhere but Barclay's intimidating eyes.
"I see. So do you have a problem with me?" the question is direct and sincere, too direct for the blonde's conversational standards.
"No, never, I'm... I'm sorry." the two stare at each other for a few seconds that seem tense and that atmosphere is cut off by the queen bee's loud laugh, August not sure how to feel about this reaction, even more confused.
"You were staring at me."
"I didn't even realize. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." she swallows dryly and finally gets up the courage to look her in the eyes, feeling legs getting weak and maybe pressure dropping along with it, if she wasn't sitting up she would probably fall to knees on the floor.
"It's all right. Well, if that's it..." Bianca says casually ready to go to another table to offer help.
"Bianca! Actually..." the shapeshifter takes a deep breath trying to gather courage to continue "I need help, not with the exams. I'm terrible at fencing, you know that, you're the one who made me kiss the ground a month ago." the two laugh for different reasons remembering of her first fencing lesson "Could you give me some lessons or some help? Please."
"Sure! Maybe after the ball, you have the potential for a good opponent, Lara."
"Thank you..."
As soon as the siren gives back August gets up gathering her belongings and tries to leave the common room as discreetly as possible, a difficult task when she messes with the strap of the backpack attached to the chair and quick steps that make the shoes resonate on the floor. "She knows my name! She knows my fucking name!" is the only thing the blonde can think of while running to her dorm, avoiding curious and even judging glances at the big smile on her lips. When she enters the bedroom she seems to be walking on clouds and suddenly feels silly for acting this way just because Bianca Barclay knows her name, maybe it's no big deal, she is a brilliant student with a great memory, or maybe it's too much because after all she is the queen bee while August is another teen without any highlight and who would never draw her attention. August sighs and walks to her side of the room throwing the backpack on the bed, that's when she notices a perfectly wrapped red package on top of the blankets, she stares at it confused, for a moment believes that maybe it's a gift for her roommate and they got the sides confused, but there is a note with her full name written in cursive handwriting.
The package is opened with care, the ribbons undo the lace to reveal a complete uniform set, from blazer to shoes, what makes her happiest is the skirt in the right size looking perfectly cut for her slim and tall body. She looks at herself in the mirror with the skirt clinging to the body, loving how it looks, she would no longer have to adjust every time she sits down or stands up and that is a great relief. All the items are folded up again to be stored and only then August notices something at the bottom of the package, she pulls out a small thick black book with gold details, Good Omens by Neil Gaiman. Next to it a note attached written "It's one of my favorite books, maybe you'll like it too. Good read, August." and immediately she knows who gave her the package. Principal Weems. The only person in the academy who knows how she likes to be called and uses the name. No matter how stubborn and proud she is felt good to earn it from her, almost hugged for someone other than her mom caring about her.
Another morning begins with Larissa comfortably working on her laptop, it's one of the rare occasions when it's calm, especially with the recent events in Jericho and Nevermore, of course, over the question of a certain student's motherhood. Momentarily the tension was lifted from her shoulders and she felt good, relaxing against the chair. Eyes closed thinking of good times, both past and present. She remembers clearly the day she met Y/N, ten years younger, cheerful and spirited, always friendly when she served her a cup of tea. Their first kiss in front of Larissa's apartment, her former home when only a teacher. They barely had a first date before falling into each other's arms, drunk on love... and wine. She sighs remembering those nights on weekends when they bought bottles to accompany home-cooked dinners and it always ended in the same thing. She can remember the young woman's face in vivid details, it's surreal.
And she comes to the realization that there is one more thing to take care of, to finally talk to Y/N, two days earlier all the courage she had gathered to make that call crumbled as soon she heard her voice on the other side of the phone. She hung up without saying anything, hoping that the other woman would think it was a wrong call or just someone making a prank. When there was no return call she knew she was safe and initiated a plan, not very complex, but still important and difficult to approach the teenager. If was any other child she knows it would be easier, but every time she is around August can't stop thinking that this girl is her daughter, even if there isn't a DNA test to prove it yet, imagining how she must have been as a kid, about who she is, what she likes or dislikes, the guilt eating her up inside every second she spends next to her.
"August, what..." she whispers startled when the girl opens the office doors unceremoniously, she is red and disheveled hair evidencing that she ran all the way there "I see you are wearing the..."
"I thought we had an deal, Principal Weems!" she almost shouts interrupting the older woman, to the surprise of both of them "I tried to behave, to fulfill our deal, I'm not even using my abilities. And you betrayed me! I feel dumb for trusting an adult."
"What are you talking about, Lara August?" Larissa doesn't know if she is confused or angry at the teenager's attitude, her tone of voice expresses that.
"You weren't supposed to call my mom and you called her."
"I didn't..."
"She's here!"
"Yeah, shit!"
"Watch your mouth, young lady!"
taglist: @opheliauniverse @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @scarr0713 @missdowling @dvrkhcld @heidss @loudchaoscoffee @xvyzxx
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endgameinthenorth · 4 hours
Tom and Shiv business relationship moving forward imo, with marriage being part of that front. Shiv doesn't like to admit defeat and Tom needs a beard. That weak hand touching despite Shiv voting Tom through was like next level dead bedroom.
Tom and Greg bathroom scene I was shaking. I honest to god thought we'd get some angry Judas kiss. Matsson even called Greg Judas for God's sake.
The should have gone there, but like with Kendall and Stewy, they talk around it. Stewy says he's into weird sex and Kendall says Stewy kisses guys on molly and then Shiv's look?! All in one scene?!?! Excuse me while I scream!! The general audience? It's all words, forgotten without being explicitly seen on screen.
I have a lot of thoughts on how things should have properly played out, Tom and Greg have been one of the most endeared and talked about potential will they/won't they queer coded relationships in, maybe, almost ever... as representation in a show that isn't just about gay people and that aren't explicitly queer from near the get go, it would have been amazing. But we don't get nice things.
The ending for tomgreg?
Tom always knew Greg was a piece of shit. Despite their charged punch out in the bathroom he still wants him.
Tom claimed Greg as an "item" he wanted. That is just. I do love it, but it's subtle. As stated earlier he may need to "castrate" his pay, but he will be able to keep him. That was very important to Tom. I'm disappointed again at the callbacks to Nero's castration of Sporus but it's never explicitly stated, would have been so easy for either of them to actually draw the connection again by calling the other Nero/Sporus at the end of the series but the wider audience will simply never make the connection.
I want the next level CEO Tom and Greg fics, and more of Matsson calling them both sexy.
The show maybe could just continue without Kendall and Roman and I'd be fine, almost felt it set up with the old guard discussion on the moves to come...
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sungies-dilemma · 2 days
ミ★ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ★彡 || hwang h.j & lee f.x
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ミ★ saturn: hyunjin desperately needs inspiration for a painting that's due in his visual arts class. he has to paint the subject on a large canvas using nude colors. the problem is that he can't seem to find a model, he's asked everyone he knows, and it turns out that not everyone wants to sit naked in a uncomfortable pose for hours on end. not even his hyung, chan. well, there's always that really, really attractive boy in his creative writing class, hyunjin has spoke to him a handful of times, he would consider them to be close. hyunjin also knows the boy is a mutual friend of felix's. it wouldn't hurt to ask right?
ミ★ the stars: kang y/n, hwang hyunjin, lee felix, chan and changbin are only mentioned once, johnny from nct is also mentioned
ミ★ jupiter: threesome, sex on a large canvas, smut, oral (all characters receiving), unprotected sex, (wrap it up yall), nudity, paint in places it really should not be (none of it will be inside of anyone, of course), hyunlix are both whipped for y/n, college au, mentions of alcohol and weed, author says cock too many times to be considered normal, reader is called little doll a few times
ミ★ moon count: ~5.8K words (i got carried away again..)
ミ★ requested?: yep, thank you to @belladonna6-6-6 for the idea !!
ミ★ binnie's thoughts: when i got this request dm'd to me i just couldn't resist... hyunlix is just so sexy and i know they'd be the perfect boyfs … enjoy this filthy threesome !!
ミ★ constellation's disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO way represents the stray kids members as people. this is just for fun, so don't take it to heart. just enjoy!
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Hyunjin doesn’t know who to ask at this point. He’s asked every single person he knows (which is a lot of people, he’s quite popular on campus, mind you), and every last one of them either flat out said no or they had something to do that day. As he contemplates bribing one of his friends with food, he hears his roommate enter their shared dorm. Felix lets out a heavy sigh as he kicks off his shoes, placing them neatly on the shoe rack they built together during their second year. 
Felix is a great roommate, he knows not to touch Hyunjin’s expensive art supplies, and he always asks for permission before entering Hyunjin’s room or his art studio. He also makes the most delicious brownies and cookies Hyunjin has ever had the privilege of tasting. Felix likes his personal space, but he also is fun to talk to. The two of them like to curl up together on their super comfy couch, a weighted blanket draped over their laps as they share a large bowl of sickly-salty popcorn, a stupid and trashy reality show playing on their large television. They both know not to watch ahead of the other, because it’s their thing, you can’t just break the roommate code like that. It’s just part of the rules. 
“Hyun, what’s got you so upset? I can just smell the disappointment radiating from you.” Felix calls out, bending down to open their mini-fridge, the poor thing littered with stupid stickers of Pokemon and other random things. Hyunjin sighs again, this time louder as he throws his head back against the armrest, a soft thump coming from the impact. Hyunjin lifts his head up with a pout, his hand coming up to rub the dull throb residing on the back of his head. Felix lets out a chuckle, standing fully with a can of soda in his hand. Felix makes his way to the couch, tapping Hyunjin’s long, slim legs, a gesture telling the male to lift them up. Hyunjin lifts his legs, allowing Felix to sit where they previously were. Hyunjin lays his legs down on Felix’s lap, liking the way the younger male rubs little shapes on his skin. 
Felix’s hands are always warm, even after holding a cold soda or a cold beer in his grip. Hyunjin likes to feel the blonde’s hands dancing across his bare skin, soft, supple skin stroking him in all the right places. Of course they’ve hooked up. They’re both healthy young adults who have needs, needs that can’t be ignored for too long. Oftentimes, Felix will waltz his way into Hyunjin’s room and crawl under Hyunjin’s soft blankets. Hyunjin is a light sleeper, so any movement in his bed causes him to stir, his eyes squinting to adjust to the darkness of his bedroom. Felix doesn’t have to say anything, Hyunjin already knows the poor boy had a nightmare and needs a distraction. Well, Hyunjin’s idea of a distraction is filling the male full of his throbbing cock until tears are streaming down Felix’s freckled cheeks. 
“I can’t seem to find a model for my visual arts class. I’ve asked literally everyone. Not a single person said yes! Even Chan hyung said no!” Hyunjin whines, his hands covering his eyes as his lips contort in a pout. “And you know Chan hyung loves to be naked at all times of the day, so why would he say no?”
“Maybe because he doesn’t want to sit in a single pose for so many hours?” Felix asks, taking a sip of his soda, his eyes on Hyunjin. “Besides, you didn’t ask everyone. You didn’t ask me.” 
“I can’t paint the same person if I’ve already painted them once. I painted you for my final exam last semester, remember?” Hyunjin says, uncovering his eyes to look at Felix as he speaks. He had gotten a near-perfect score on that painting, and it currently sits in the school’s very own art gallery. 
Felix hums, remembering having to sit on the grass of the school’s garden, yellow flowers of all kinds surrounding him. He had a good time, except for when a bee decided to land on a flower that was next to his shoulder. Hyunjin’s wide eyes totally gave it away that there was something creeping beside Felix and soon enough, Felix was darting out of the patch of flowers. 
“So, I don’t know who to ask at this point. I could always paint myself, but then I would have to take pictures of myself and choose the one that’s best. That would take too long, so my best choice is to just paint someone else.” Hyunjin sighs, grabbing his phone to go through his contacts for the millionth time that day, hoping that he missed someone. 
“Wait, I might know someone who can help. I think you know him, he’s in your creative writing class.” Felix says, and Hyunjin is lost. He doesn’t talk to a lot of people in his creative writing class, most of the people around him donning headphones of various brands and kinds. Now that he thinks about it, there is one person he does talk to and has had plenty of nice conversations with. 
Kang Y/N, a rather quiet individual with a soft smile that happens to match his overall vibe. He’s a nice guy, always jumping to help anyone who needs it, whether that be studying or helping get rid of a nasty hangover. He just draws people in, the type of person you can’t bring yourself to hate. Only because he would probably just apologize for upsetting you enough to hate him. 
“Oh, yeah? Who is it, I’m so desperate at this point, Lix. I will literally paint Professor Shindong, it’s that serious.” Hyunjin says, trying to fight the shiver that creeps up his body as he imagines his professor naked. 
Felix lets out a loud snort, coughing as he covers his mouth and nose, fizzy liquid seeping in between his fingers. Through his coughing fit, his body thrashes with giggles and cackles alike. Why would Hyunjin put that cursed image in his head? Might as well add that to his list of nightmares. 
Felix finally calms down, wiping his wet hand on Hyunjin’s bare leg, causing the black haired male to playfully kick him in the side. “Let's not even go there. No, I’m talking about Y/N. You know, the same guy who gave Johnny a lapdance at his party?” 
How could anyone forget that night? It was truly… something. Everyone was drunk off their asses, some people stripping out of their clothes, some others dancing on tables. Bodies grinding against one another as the music courses through their drunken veins. Hyunjin and Felix had been there to experience the entire thing, even if the two were also very intoxicated. A game of truth of dare had broken out, and everyone resorted back to their middle-school selves, giggling as they grabbed their friends to join in on the circle of other party-goers. Hyunjin was dragged into the circle with Felix, the two of them stumbling as they fell on top of each other, eliciting laughs from everyone around them. They played the game, doing any dare that was thrown at them. The game got interesting when you were asked to give the birthday boy a special lap dance in celebration. You agreed with a nonchalant shrug, influenced by alcohol and weed, quickly made your way to Johnny, who was sitting on the couch, holding a conversation with his fellow hockey player teammates.
You just swung your legs over Johnny’s lap, the bigger male’s eyes widening as he welcomed the newfound weight on his lap. You rolled your hips in circles, your arms wrapped loosely around Johnny’s neck, feeling his growing length under your ass. 
Everyone stopped to look at the two of you, some people gasping while others cheered you on. Someone even threw a ten dollar bill at you. Once you felt that Johnny’s lap dance went on long enough, you peeled yourself off of him, going back to join the circle, a sultry sway of your hips as you walked. The night ended with Felix and Hyunjin stumbling into their dorm room, the both of them passing out as soon as the door shut behind them.
“Oh, god,” Hyunjin starts his face lighting up as he remembers the night. “It was Y/N who gave Johnny a lap dance! You would never expect that from him, but to be fair, he was drunk.” 
Felix nodded as he took in Hyunjin’s words. “Why don’t you ask him to be your model? You know who he is, so he isn’t a total stranger.” 
Hyunjin thought about it for a second. Felix had a point, you really weren’t a stranger to him, you shared a class together. You both often helped each other with writing assignments that had you stumped, and whenever you would see each other outside of class you always offered a smile and a wave to Hyunjin. Every single time you flash that pretty smile at him, Hyunjin can see the lights of heaven calling to him from above. 
“I’m convinced and desperate. Do you have his number?”
It isn’t often that you sit on a wooden stool, all of your clothes discarded as you look off to your right, looking out of the window, a solemn look on your delicate features. Actually, this is the first time you have ever done anything like this. Curse you and your need to please people when they ask you for a favor. Your left leg is crossed over your lower half, covering up your soft length. The window casts a soft yellowy-orange glow all over your naked body. You were testing out a few poses while you waited for Hyunjin to return with his mixed paint.
(Of course you have done some questionable things during your time in college, the most memorable one being that time you gave Johnny, the captain of the school’s hockey team, a lap dance at his birthday party last year. You were absolutely hammered that night, and Johnny never held that against you. The two of you still laugh about it to this day.)
Hyunjin stands in amazement as he stares as you pose so prettily on his wooden stool just a few short steps in front of his XXX-Large canvas. He knows he should probably start painting before he gets caught staring at you, but he simply can’t help it. He was surprised when you agreed to be his model, and he was even more surprised when you still agreed to be his model when he failed to mention that you had to be nude. He assumes it's because you’re the type who can’t find it in yourself to say no to anyone. He was shocked when you replied to his text pretty quickly, agreeing to model for him, asking for other details. 
Hyunjin shakes his head to remind himself that he has work to do and gets his paint, quickly mixing the colors he needs. Then, a lightbulb goes off in his head. He takes a look at his mixed paint tins, examining the colors. His eyes are darting back and forth, looking at the paint and your skin. He chews on his bottom lip before he picks up a deep brown color that’s almost black. 
“Hey, Y/N?” he calls to you softly, his cheeks heating up when you turn your head to look at him, a soft ‘hm?’ coming from you, your eyes wide and curious to hear what he has to say. 
“Is it okay if I place a hand mark on your thigh? I think it’ll look good for the theme of the painting,” Hyunjin asks softly, his head tilting to the side as he waits for your approval or disapproval. 
“Hyunjin, I’m simply your model, a lifeless doll for you to move and shape to fit your vision. If you feel that a hand print is what will set you apart from the others, then go ahead.”
Hyunjin could listen to you speak forever. You have such a way with words, it’s easy for him to get lost in the words you speak. Hyunjin might not survive for long if you keep buttering him up with the words you say to him and the way you say them. 
“Of course, I think the pose you were in was perfect as it was. So, if you could pose like that again, that would be perfect.” He says, covering his hand in a deep brown paint that he mixed up just a few minutes ago. 
Hyunjin’s hand is shaky as he walks over to you, his eyes scanning the naked expanse of your soft, milky skin. He counts the blemishes of your skin, noticing that you have beauty marks of various sizes and colors littering your skin. He makes a mental note to include those very marks in his painting. Hyunjin stands in front of you, his mind swimming with thoughts of you, and how truly honored he is to see you in such a soft light, naked and looking as beautiful as ever. He lifts his shaky hand and carefully places it on your bare thigh, not missing the way your leg jolts at the contact. 
“I didn’t expect it to be cold,” you let out a chuckle, relaxing once you get past the initial chill of the paint. You feel the warmth of Hyunjin’s hand on your thigh, and your cheeks and ears warm up, finally coming to terms that you are indeed naked in front of your crush. You crushed on Hyunjin from afar, deciding to just adore him from a distance, your friends attempting to hype you up to get you to actually speak to the male. That is until he spoke to you for the first time in class, his eyebrows furrowed, his expression telling you that he didn’t quite understand the assignment. You mentally squealed as you explained the assignment in a way he could understand. From then on, the two of you would have a conversation every day in class, giving each other ideas. 
“Sorry about that, I hoped my hand would warm it up enough so that it wouldn’t be so cold,” Hyunjin explains, removing his hand from your thigh, already missing the way your soft skin feels under his touch. “How about we get started? Just pose how you were a second ago, and keep that same expression on your face.”
As Hyunjin adds the final touches to his painting, you are in the bathroom, washing the paint off your leg. You hope the painting looks exactly how he wants it to, otherwise this would have been a waste of time. Well, not exactly a waste, you and Hyunjin had an amazing conversation as he painted you, the two of you learning more about each other to pass the time. You learned that Hyunjin has a pet at home who he loves dearly, and that he loves to paint vases with flowers in them. You also learned that he is pretty close friends with your cousin, Changbin. 
Hyunjin also learned a few things about you, the most shocking thing being how you are somehow related to Changbin. You had told him many stories of your childhood with Changbin and how big of a crybaby he was back then. Hyunjin wonders how someone like Changbin, extremely muscular and dedicated to working out, could be such a crybaby as a young kid. You and Changbin are so different, you being on the quieter side, with a soft voice and a soft face to match, while Changbin is a walking tornado siren, his voice distinct and commanding. Hyunjin also learned that you major in English literature, and that you want to become a writer one day. He smiled at the way you lit up as you spoke about writing and how it makes you feel, your eyes shining under the lights of his art studio. 
He hears you step out of the bathroom, and he feels your warmth behind him, your hand placed gently on his shoulder, his skin burning under his sweater where your hand lies. 
A soft gasp leaves your lips as you stare at the painting. It’s truly breathtaking, you’ve never seen yourself look so… soft and ethereal. No picture could ever capture you the way Hyunjin did. Hyunjin captured your solemn expression perfectly, adding sparkling tears falling down your cheeks. He painted every single detail of your body, every blemish and scar. He even included the splotchy birthmark on your right hip and the small bunny tattoo on the inner part of your arm. The handprint on your thigh is what catches your attention next, Hyunjin made it look smeared, wrapping around the meat of your thigh, tying the painting together perfectly.
“Oh my gosh, Hyunjin..” You start, and Hyunjin swivels his head around to look at you, a soft red on his cheeks as he just smiles cheekily at you. “This is amazing! How do you do it?” You comment your eyes not leaving the painting for a second.
“Well, when your model is as pretty as you are, you find motivation to make sure you capture that beauty perfectly.” 
You gawk as you finally look at Hyunjin, your jaw dropped open slightly. He thinks you’re pretty? You can’t help the way your heart beats heavily in your chest that you can feel it reverberating in your ears. You watch as Hyunjin stands up, his taller frame looming over you. Hyunjin doesn’t miss the way his wine red silk robe hangs on your frame, the material falling off your shoulders. You look up at him with wide eyes, face warm and lips slightly parted. Hyunjin brings a hand up to cup your cheek, his eyes searching yours for any discomfort or rejection. When he doesn’t find any, he slowly leans in close to you, and you meet him in the middle, your parted lips connecting with his as you both close your eyes. 
Your lips mold together easily, the two of you quickly adding your tongues to the mix. Hyunjin’s tongue fights with yours, saliva gathering at the corners of your mouth as a soft whimper spills from you, your legs feeling weak from the feeling of Hyunjin’s lips on yours. Hyunjin pulls away from you for a second, chuckling as you chase his lips for more kisses. 
“Patience, little doll, we wouldn’t want your pretty portrait to get ruined, right?” He says, taking the painting to dry in another area of the room where it won’t get ruined. As he’s placing the finished painting aside, his eyes land on a blank canvas that’s the same size as the one he just placed down to dry. He grabs the blank canvas, placing it on the floor as you stare in confusion. 
“Hyunjin, what are you doing with that? You aren’t starting another piece, are you?” You question, your head tilted to the side as you watch Hyunjin retrieve two mid sized buckets of paint. One bucket has dried and crusty paint coating the rim, the color a pastel blue that reminds you of the hydrangeas that your grandmother grew. The other bucket looks like it’s maybe a soft pink color. As you get close to look at the name on the metal bucket, you see that it reads ‘dusty rose.’ You had never heard of such a color, you wondered if it was dark or light. You may not know everything under the sun about colors, but the required art classes you took during your school years have taught you plenty. 
Hyunjin uses a flat tool to pop both lids of the paint buckets open, then he looks at you with a faux-innocent smile on his pretty face. There’s something swimming in his dark brown eyes, you can see it. “I want to make a masterpiece with you, little doll.”
Your breath catches in your throat as you catch on to what he means. He can’t really be serious, can he? This is something right out of a raunchy movie about a girl having a dom-sub relationship with a rich CEO that she works for. 
“Wait, you want us to– have sex on that canvas?” You question him, your voice small and quiet as you chew on your lip waiting for Hyunjin to reply to your question. 
“Only if you're comfortable, I won’t do anything that could make you uncomfortable. If you would much rather us fuck on my bed, that’s fine by me.” Hyunjin says with a smile, his eyes searching your face for any sign of uncomfortableness, but he’s only seeing a bit of uncertainty and a large amount of lust. That’s a good sign to him, you’re still in the mood to fool around with him, you just need a little bit of a push. 
“I– I mean, it could be interesting..” You say, trailing off as you have an internal battle with yourself. Did you really want to have sex with Hyunjin on top of a canvas, the two of you covered in paint as you roll around making shapes with your bodies? You would be stupid to say no to something like that.
“I need a real answer, cutie. Yes, or no.” Hyunjin says, now standing in front of you as he lifts your chin up with his fingers, making you look up at him. You gulp as you stare at him, trying to find your voice.
“Yes, Hyunjin.”
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You find yourself covered in pastel blue paint, Hyunjin using his hands to rub the paint all over your naked body as he kisses you with fervor. Hyunjin stands before you, his body rid of all clothes, his lean body on display for your eyes. You think he looks like a god. The once orange light of the room, now darker as the night creeps in, dances across his body, turning his sepia colored skin a few shades darker. The sun is slowly sinking away to sleep, allowing the calmness of the night to take over.   
Hyunjin pulls away from the kiss and grabs the bucket of dusty rose paint, and prompts you to cover him in the paint as he did for you just a few minutes ago. And you obey, dipping your hands into the chilly paint, and you lightly shake off any excess that drips down your fingers. You bring your hands up to coat Hyunjin’s soft skin that reminds you of those tasty shortbread cookies you receive during the holidays. Your soft hands rub up and down his slim body, your mind racing as you wonder how you ended up here. The intense lust overrides all, taking over any doubts you may have had. 
Hyunjin locks his lips with yours again, his eyes closing as he hums into your mouth. You swallow any noise that leaves him, your fingers gripping his supple flesh as you dip your hands in the paint one last time. A sly smile crosses your face as you bring both hands around Hyunjin, lightly slapping your hands on his ass. His body jumps a little, not expecting such an action from you. He feels your hands grip his ass, a cute but evil laugh bubbling in your chest. 
“So it’s like that, huh?” Hyunjin questions, cocking one of his perfect eyebrows. He stares down at you as you nod. 
Hyunjin just shakes his head as he guides you to lay down on the canvas, his body hovering over your own body. Hyunjin trails kisses form your lips all the way to your neck, leaving a light sheen of saliva in their wake. You tangle your hands in Hyunjin’s long, black hair and you untie the hair tie that’s keeping his hair contained and out of his face. The hair falls gracefully, framing Hyunjin’s face perfectly. You feel goosebump litter your skin as his hair tickles your cheeks. 
As you keep kissing Hyunjin, his body laid on top of your skin, sticky from the paint, his body is keeping your legs spread. He’s rocking his body upwards, his soft abs rubbing against your growing length, causing you to moan softly into his parted mouth. His tongue is licking into your mouth, tasting the sweet pastries you ate before you arrived at his dorm. The taste is intoxicating to him, he just can’t stop kissing you. He loves how soft your lips are against his, and how they faintly taste like mint. You can feel the desperation in the way he kisses and touches you, the way his hands roam your body, the paint mixing together, creating a marble-like effect. 
“I could kiss you all damn day,” Hyunjin pants out when he finally pulls away to allow you both to catch your breath. Your body is buzzing with excitement, the feeling of Hyunjin’s creamy and soft skin rubbing against your hard length causes a pulsing thrill to course through your veins. Hyunjin can feel the precome leaking from your tip as it coats his body, giving him a nice glide as he continues to rub all on you. 
The sound of a door opening shakes both of you out of your dazed and lustful trances. You both turn your attention to the door wide eyed as the person pokes their head into the room. Your body immediately heats up as your eyes land on a mop of blonde hair. Blonde hair that belongs to your gaming partner, Felix. If you weren’t so clouded with high desire and lust, you would be embarrassed. But the fact that you’ve been caught under Hyunjin’s naked body makes your veins tingle. 
Felix’s soft brown eyes flick back and forth between you and Hyunjin, his eyebrows furrowed and a slight frown settling on his freckled face. You’re a little confused, why does he look like a kicked puppy? Is he upset that you and Hyunjin are engaging in such an intimate state of affairs? You want to cradle his face and kiss his frown away. 
“Oh no, Y/N. We forgot to include poor Lixie. What kind of friends are we?” Hyunjin says as he looks at Felix. Hyunjin waves Felix over, gesturing for the blonde to join in. Felix walks into the art studio, his eyes falling on your body. He takes in the way your legs are spread open, the pastel blue paint coating your skin, with small amounts of dusty rose paint mixed in. He so desperately wants to join you and Hyunjin, and he’s almost positive that you want him to join in as well.
As Felix stands there, not entirely sure what to do, you speak up. “Hyunjin, is Lixie going to be joining us?” You ask. 
“We have to make it up to him somehow, don’t you think?” Hyunjin says, and you nod in agreement. Felix’s face warms up, his cheeks and ears turning a soft red color as his heart pounds heavily in his chest. “Come on, Lixie. Get undressed and join us.”
Felix wastes absolutely no time in ridding himself of his clothes. Once he’s fully nude, he kneels down beside your head, his length hanging heavily between his legs. You examine his naked skin, noticing that his freckles don’t stop at his cheeks. You notice the light scattering of freckles on his thighs and stomach and you want to kiss every single freckle. 
Hyunjin helps you sit up, and he stands up. “Why don’t you make it up to him, Y/N. Give him plenty of kisses to show how sorry you are for leaving him out. I’ll be back in just a sec.” Hyunjin says as he goes to get some more paint for Felix. 
You turn your body and look deep into Felix’s eyes. You notice flecks of light brown in his eyes. His pupils are blown wide as he looks from your eyes to your lips and back again. You both lean in at the same time, meeting in the middle as your lips connect. Kissing Felix is very different from Hyunjin. Felix’s lips aren’t as soft as Hyunjin’s, and the chapped skin rubs against your own lips in just the right way. Fe;ix slides his tongue inside your mouth as his hands find their place on your hips, rubbing little circles on the flesh there. You hum into his mouth as you scoot closer to him, and you find yourself on top of him as he pushes your hips to grind your hard cocks together. 
Hyunjin watches you both make out for a while until he’s setting a paint bucket down, causing you to break your kiss with Felix, but not once letting up on the grinding. 
“Y/N, why don’t you cover Lixie in some paint? We wouldn’t want to leave him out of this masterpiece, would we?”
After you all are messy and covered in paint, you find yourself on your back as Hyunjin is buried deep inside you, his hips moving at the pace of a snail. Felix is hovering over your head, his cock buried inside your wet, warm mouth. Hyunjin and Felix are kissing messily above you, drops of their mixed saliva falling on your body. You’re whining, the sound slightly muffled by Felix’s cock being forced down your throat. It burns a little, but not in a bad way. You were no stranger to giving blowjobs, but you’ve never taken one that was the size of Felix. He was huge, to be frank. His cock is thick too, you wonder how someone as slim as him could live with such a monster cock. His cock stretches your throat nicely, it makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. 
“Look, Lixie. Our little doll’s eyes are rolling to the back of his head. I guess we’re doing a good job of stuffing his holes.” Hyunjin teases and you can hear Felix chuckle as he thrusts into your mouth, and you can feel his short wiry pubic hair touch your chin. You let out a choked noise when he does, spit falling from the corners of your mouth. 
“I guess so, Hyun. I have an idea, though.” Felix says, pulling out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting between your bottom lip and the tip of his cock. He sits back on his heels as he watches Hyunjin stop the slow thrusts of his hips. “Let’s see who can make our little doll cum the fastest, yeah?” Felix says, knowing Hyunjin can’t resist a little competition. 
“That’s a perfect idea, Lixie. Why don’t I go first since I’m already inside him?” Hyunjin says. Felix agrees as he grabs his phone to keep track of the time. He sits down by your head again and he starts the time. 
Once Hyunjin gets the go-ahead, he starts to slam into you at a brutal pace, causing you to arch your back off the canvas. You let out a high-pitched whine as you feel his hands grab onto your left leg, placing the limb over his shoulder so he can pound into your tight heat much deeper. You cry out, Hyunjin’s name falling from your lips as your body bounces from the force of his thrusts. 
Hyunjin grunts continuously as he loses himself in the pleasure. His dark hair is sticking to his forehead and his neck as the small art studio quickly heats up. He can feel the sweat dripping down his body, little drops falling from his nose and into his mouth. He brings his hand to wrap around your angry length, stroking it fast and matching the pace of his hips rocking into you. It doesn’t take long for you to cry out, long and loud, as you spill all over Hyunjin’s hand, the milky white liquid splashing onto your chest. Your body shakes with pleasure as you feel Hyunjin paint your inner walls white with his release. He pumps himself inside you a few more times before he pulls out, watching as the white liquid drips out of your hole. 
“Four minutes and twenty-two seconds, Hyun.” Felix says turning his phone to Hynnjin to prove that he isn’t lying. 
“Huh, not half bad. Think you can do better, Lixie?’ Hyunjin says. There’s a teasing lightness to his voice, and Felix tuts, handing the older male his phone. 
“Tch, of course I can do better. Just watch me.” Felix says as he crawls over to you. He helps you get on your hands and knees. You let him move you, your mind still reeling from the way Hyunjin just railed you like it was nothing. 
As you hold yourself up as best as you can, you feel Felix’s length slide its way into you. You feel full, a soft whimper falling from your lips. Hyunjin starts the clock, and Felix is fully inside you, his tip kissing your prostate without him even having to try. He lets you adjust for a few short seconds until he’s absolutely slamming into you. He hits your prostate dead on, and you can already feel that tight coil in your gut beginning to unravel. You let out a string of curses as Felix abuses your hole, your cock dripping in between your legs. You can’t hold it anymore at this point, and you feel yourself gushing all over the canvas below you. You cry out, tears falling down your cheeks as overstimulation takes over your body. You feel your arms giving out as they wobble. Hyunjin, acting fast, makes sure you don’t fall flat on your face as he slides under your upper body, allowing you to fall into his lap. Your ass is still up in the air, your hips held tightly in Felix’s hands. He thrusts a few more times and he finds himself spilling into you, his cum mixing with Hyunjin’s. He pulls out of you, using his thumb to push any cum that attempts to drip out of you. 
“Well, looks like you win, Lixie. Three minutes and seven seconds.” Hyunjin says. There’s a pout on his face, not really liking the idea of losing. He’ll have to get over it, because the only thing he’s worried about right now is making sure he and Felix didn’t break you. He strokes your hair as you lay on his lap, breathing heavily, your body twitching every few seconds as you come down from such an intense high. 
“We should really clean up. The paint is drying and getting crusty.” Felix says, picking at the soft purple paint that’s drying on his skin. Hyunjin nods, and a smirk creeps onto his face. 
“Round two in the shower?”
Oh good lord. Someone please help you. 
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