#hope this is alright ! if i need to change or adjust anything at all please lmk !

[spidrboots]

the struggling starlet wasn't entirely sure when the shift happened ; when he went from "anthony" to "angel dust". he wished he could remember exactly when it occured -- wished it was important enough to recall, to hold in his head as this monumental occasion that, once he really got big, could be passed down to his adoring fans as the brilliant underdog story that so many craved to see themselves through. in actuality, it probably happened between alleys, in the dimly lit room of shady bars & clubs while he snorted & smoked & placed any tab or pill on his tongue that he could find. he could snort PCP better than all the suckers in those dives. maybe it didn't matter how or when it happened, exactly. the origin didn't mean much. it would still be a name that everyone recognized, preening over, wishing they were him. angel dust: the drag superstar. angel dust: hell's best dancer. angel dust: someone who was better than back alley blowjobs & cheap liquor.

it wasn't like he ever felt close to the name 'anthony', anyway. it was the americanized version of the name his mother gave him ( antonio, he can almost hear her whisper if he shuts his eyes & concentrates ). given to him when his family emigrated to the states. his mother didn't come with them. he doesn't remember much of it, being a young boy at the time. just flashes of activity, suits rustling with movement. suitcases filled with more guns than clothes. a long boat ride. it seems so far away now, the life he took advantage of. for all of its hardships, it had to have been better than the life angel dust now found himself in. he supposed that was the whole point, though. this bein' hell, and all.

the night had started out so well for him. he had managed to book a gig ; it was something small, but it was his. he got to sing & dance on stage. most of the patrons either whooped & hollered at him for all of the wrong reasons or were more interested in their drinks, but the attention on him was a thrill nonetheless. it was a high that didn't come with as much of a price. he performed & it felt damn good. another chance to really get his name out there. it was happening, he could feel it. just . . . slowly. very, very slowly. he had considered doing more mob work. he liked the violence & the deals, & it was something he excelled in. but hell was a hard place to navigate, especially when you die before the rest of your mafia family.

it was after he attempted to leave the bar that shit got nasty. it all happened so quick, too. one moment there's a man he vaguely recognizes from one of his hookups that barely paid enough to go towards his rent, visibly drunk & belligerent. the next, he finds himself surrounded. the man was angry for reasons angel couldn't even begin to comprehend through the slurred speech, & it turned out his friends were angry, too. or perhaps they just got their kicks from ganging up on someone who was outnumbered. angel is on the ground behind the bar before he could even understand what was happening. he tastes blood & his vision swims. he's fighting back with all of his limbs, but he's overpowered, and while he had the height, these men had the weight. he can't recall a time he had been beaten this bad. he distantly hopes he loses consciousness. no, upon consideration, perhaps that would be worse. he couldn't know what they would do to his body until after the fact.

the sound of another body entering the fray is lost on him. he coughs, spits a mixture of saliva & blood across his teeth. if he could just grip his fists & bare it, maybe it would all be over soon.

@e-m-p-error . / plotted first meeting starter .

[winxanity-ii]

LIKE WHAT YOU SEE?

ship: fashion designer!gojo x fem!model!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (fem. receiving hand-job/fingering; overstimualtion; p in v ; creampie, wrap before you tap kiddos) word count: 6.6k (i'm gagged cuz i swear it wasn't that many words as i was typing 😭😭💀) A/N: Hey, bubbly-bear! just wanted to let you know i've moved from my my alt account to my main one, so i'm posting your request here…

Request:Hello! I had a lil gojo x reader idea but if you aren’t vibing with it please dont feel like you have to write it, or change it how you see fit! BUT I feel like Guess (ft. Billie E.) By Charlie xcx is so Gojo coded and I would love to see a fic based off of it if possible :)

p.s. mwaaaaahhhhh, thx you so much for being my first request, hope i did you justice 😩✨

This line from the song just stood out to me and i just had to write it:

I wanna try it, bite it, lick it, spit it Pull it to the side and get all up in it Kiss it, ride it, can I fit it?

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

"Turn your head like that—yes, perfect! Raise your chin a little more. Hold it!" The head photographer's voice cut through the organized chaos, every word precise and demanding. "Lighting! Can we adjust the back light, it's catching too much glare!" Another barked command as assistants scurried to fix the harsh spotlight casting an overexposed halo on you. "Makeup! Fix the lipstick; it's smudged." The pace had been relentless, as it always was on set. The camera had clicked, capturing each second of your endurance, but all you could focus on was the way your body ached.

Your feet, crammed into designer heels, screamed for relief, and your back burned from holding poses longer than it felt natural. You shifted your weight slightly, hoping no one noticed as the clicks of the camera went on like rapid fire.

"Alright, people, ten-minute break!" Finally, the head photographer clapped his hands, giving everyone the much-needed signal to stop.

A bell rang faintly in the background, and your shoulders slumped as you let out a groan.

You dropped the strained pose you had been holding for what felt like an eternity. You rolled your neck, feeling the tension snap and release in your joints.

The lights dimmed slightly as Nobara and Yuji sauntered over from the swimwear shoot, and you couldn't help but notice how their outfits screamed for attention—both in completely different ways.

Nobara was in a skimpy two-piece swimsuit, the top barely enough to cover her small bust, accentuating her slim waist. The delicate straps dug into her skin as she pulled at them, clearly annoyed, though the outfit highlighted her toned frame with every step she took.

The bottom piece clung to her hips, just barely covering enough to maintain some modesty, with high-cut sides that emphasized her long legs.

Despite the discomfort written across her face, Nobara moved with confidence, her slender figure not going unnoticed by the photographers still milling around.

She scrunched her nose. "This swimsuit is killing me," she muttered, fingers fidgeting with the ties around her waist. "Honestly, whose idea was it to make swimwear this uncomfortable?"

Yuji, in contrast, had an air of ease about him, rocking a pair of matching swim trunks that coordinated with Nobara's outfit—an intentional design that somehow made their shoot feel like a playful, couples-themed editorial.

His bare chest gleamed under the studio lights, each of his perfectly sculpted abs on display as though carved by a sculptor. His body was toned yet muscular, the kind of physique that didn’t need fancy clothes to stand out.

With sun-kissed skin and that infectious grin, Yuji could have made wearing anything look effortless.

"C'mon, Nobara, we don't have that much longer. Besides, you look great," Yuji said, his voice lighthearted as always.

Nobara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, says the guy who could wear a trash bag and still smile like it's no big deal."

You let out a quiet chuckle as Yuji gave you a wink before being called away to review some of the shots. He shot you a playful smile over his shoulder as he walked off, his broad back flexing slightly under the pressure of moving around in the hot lights.

"Ugh, I swear, if Yuji keeps this up, I'm going to barf," Nobara muttered, shaking her head as she sidled up next to you, arms crossed over her chest.

The two of you made your way toward the refreshments table, where the scattered models and assistants buzzed like bees around a honey pot.

You could feel the material of your own outfit shift as you moved, the delicate knitted vest you wore slightly hugging your upper body. It was all part of the 'clean girl' aesthetic your stylist had chosen for you—a knitted cream-colored vest over a crisp white blouse, paired with a pleated schoolgirl skirt that swayed with every step.

It was simple, yet chic, the kind of outfit that made you feel both elegant and casual at the same time.

Yet, despite its light, airy look, the long hours standing in the heels were starting to make your feet scream. The snug fit of the vest only heightened the strain on your tired muscles, adding to the sense of exhaustion.

Nobara leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming as if she was about to share the juiciest tidbit of gossip she had yet. "So, did you hear about Kaori and that photographer? Apparently, they got caught in one of the back dressing rooms."

You raised a brow, barely hiding your amusement. "Kaori? The one who's been eyeing everyone since day one?."

"Oh, and you didn't hear this from me," Nobara continued, lowering her voice even more, "but Sumi told me that Yuji's been getting cozy with that new model, Megumi. You know, the quiet one? Well, they—"

You groaned, cutting her off. "Don't you ever get tired of knowing all the messy things?"

Nobara rolled her eyes dramatically, her lips curling into a smirk. "Never~" she said, before nodding toward the side entrance. Her voice took on a mischievous edge as she added, "Just like I know you never get tired of denying that your new stylist wants to fuck you."

You practically choked, your eyes widening as the words hit you. "W-What?" you sputtered, your face heating up. You let out a shaky laugh, then coughed, trying to gather yourself. "Stop saying that…"

Nobara's smirk only grew wider, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Oh, come on. The man practically undresses you with his eyes every time he's around. You can't tell me you don't notice the way he looks at you. The man's got designs on more than just your clothes, babe."

The heat in your cheeks deepened, and you averted your gaze, unsure how to respond.

It was hard to deny that your stylist's hands lingered just a bit too long during fittings, or that his gaze seemed a little too intense when he adjusted the fabrics on your body.

The clean, tailored looks he designed for you always felt more intimate than the pieces he created for other models. But surely, it was just part of his meticulous nature, right?

"I-It's just professional," you stammered, glancing down at the drink in your hand, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the growing knot in your stomach. "He's focused on the designs, Nobara. That's it."

Nobara snorted, giving you a knowing look. "Yeah, okay. If by ‘designs’ you mean figuring out how to get under your clothes, then sure. But I mean, I'm not complaining. If I were in your shoes, I'd fuck him."

Before you could respond, a shadow fell over you both, and you didn't need to look up to know who it was. You felt his presence before you saw him.

There, leaning casually against the side of the refreshment table, was Gojo Satoru, the man in question.

His signature smirk played on his lips as those piercing, ice-blue eyes of his scanned over you over his shades, and you could practically feel the heat of his gaze as it lingered on your skirt.

"Ladies," Satoru drawled, his voice smooth and dripping with charm. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything too scandalous?"

Nobara raised an eyebrow, giving you a teasing look before stepping back. "Oh no, nothing at all. We were just talking about your... designs," she said with a sly grin before stepping back. "Guess, I'll leave you two to it," she teased, nudging you as she walked away.

And just like that, you were left alone with him, heart racing as you met his eyes. His grin only widened, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

"So..." Satoru murmured, his voice low and teasing as he leaned in slightly. "Anything you'd like to confess?"

Your throat went dry, and you could only shake your head, praying that he hadn't overheard Nobara's playful remarks.

But judging by the gleam in his eyes, you had a feeling he probably had.

Your heart raced as you tried to compose yourself, swallowing back the nerves rising in your throat. You forced a smile, though it felt shaky at best. "I don't have anything to confess," you said, attempting to keep your voice light. "Is there anything you need help with?"

Satoru's smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming as he straightened up, his hands casually slipping into the pockets of his perfectly tailored trousers. "As a matter of fact," he drawled, "you could help me with something."

You blinked, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. Before you could ask what he meant, two of Satoru's assistants appeared at his side, as if on cue, each one wearing the kind of professionalism that didn't quite mask the urgency in their steps.

Without explanation, they began to gently but firmly usher you toward the changing quarters.

"W-Wait—what's going on?" you stammered, glancing over your shoulder at Satoru, who followed behind leisurely, his long strides giving him an air of complete control. "Why am I changing? I thought my shoot was almost over?"

"Oh, nothing much," Satoru sing-songed, his lips pulling into a mischievous grin. "I just had a chat with the higher-ups about pushing up the date for a few of our theme releases. Ya'know, rearranging which models get which looks."

Your confusion only deepened, and you blinked owlishly, trying to make sense of his words as you were guided toward a small room at the end of the hallway. "But—what does that have to do with—"

You trailed off as you stepped into the changing room and saw the mannequin sitting in the center. It was draped in an outfit that made your breath catch in your throat. A short leather miniskirt, sleek and shimmering, paired with a crop bodycon top that clung to the mannequin’s torso like a second skin

The entire ensemble was a bold combination of black and silver, with metallic bangles adorning the arms and a choker embedded with silver and black accents.

But what truly caught your attention was the soft sheen of baby blue that ran through the outfit—a shade that was eerily similar to the blue of Satoru's eyes.

You stared at the outfit for a moment, taking in the platform boots that completed the look, their towering heels intimidating yet alluring. The whole ensemble screamed nightlife, clubbing, a world of flashing lights and pulsing music.

It was striking, to say the least.

The assistants wasted no time, setting down various items on a nearby table while preparing the room for your quick change. But you stood frozen, blinking again as realization slowly dawned.

Satoru leaned against the doorframe, watching you with an almost lazy amusement.

"You're joking," you muttered, half in disbelief.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

You glanced back at the mannequin, the black and silver catching the light in a way that made the outfit seem even more eye-catching.

The baby blue accents shimmered faintly, bringing your thoughts right back to Satoru, his confident smirk and those eyes that seemed to follow your every move.

The outfit looked like it had been designed for you—and only you.

The assistants were already moving around, gesturing for you to start changing, but your mind was still reeling. "You... moved up the schedule?"

"Had a feeling this look was perfect for you," Satoru said casually, pushing off the doorframe and walking further into the room. "Wanted to see it on you sooner rather than later."

You bit your lip, nerves fluttering in your chest as you stared at the mannequin once more.

The way Satoru's gaze lingered on you sent a shiver down your spine.

It was as if this entire thing had been orchestrated just for his amusement, his design, his vision.

The assistants handed you the top, a fitted crop that shimmered in the light, the baby blue accents standing out against the metallic silver.

You reluctantly grabbed it from them as they moved off to remove the other pieces from the mannequin.

The room felt warmer all of a sudden, like the air had thickened, and you couldn’t shake the tension prickling at the back of your neck.

You lifted your gaze only to find Satoru already staring at you, his eyes locked on yours in a way that made your breath hitch. You cleared your throat, your voice shaky as you tried to break the spell. "Shouldn't you leave? I need to change."

Instead of moving, his lips curved into that trademark smirk that always made your stomach flip. "I'll have to stay and oversee things. You know, just to make sure nothing goes wrong. I can swoop in and fix anything if needed."

Your face burned, heat rushing to your cheeks as his words lingered in the air.

You weren't naïve. You'd worked with dozens of stylists before, all of them meticulous, always staying to make sure the fit was perfect. But none of them ever made your skin tingle the way Satoru did.

None of them ever watched you like they were imagining a thousand different things beneath the clothes. And none of them ever made you feel like you were burning alive from the inside out with just a look.

Heart pounding, you turned away, hoping to escape his gaze. You began undressing, slipping out of your current outfit.

Each movement felt amplified, like you could feel the air around you, charged with tension. You reached behind yourself, trying to steady your breathing as you fumbled with the zipper.

You could practically feel his eyes on you, mapping out your body, lingering on every curve as if he could see right through the fabric.

Your skin prickled, the sensation of his gaze making it hard to even think straight. Every breath felt labored, every second stretched too long.

As you reached behind to unclip your bralette, your fingers trembling slightly, you felt a pair of hands cover yours—large, warm, and deliberate.

The shock froze you in place, your breath catching in your throat.

"Allow me to help you with that…" His voice was low, velvety, and it sent a shiver down your spine as he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear.

The world narrowed to that moment, the heat of his presence overwhelming your senses. His fingers gently brushed against yours as he unhooked your bralette, the touch feather-light but filled with an unspoken promise.

You couldn't move, couldn't breathe, the room suddenly too small, too hot, with Satoru towering behind you, his hands so close, too close.

Every nerve in your body screamed in protest, but your heart betrayed you, hammering in your chest as a low pulse of desire curled through your veins.

His hands slid away as he stepped back, giving you room, but the mark of his touch lingered long after he'd let go.

It left you breathless, the space between you charged with something dangerous, something unspoken that hung heavy in the air.

Satoru's smirk never wavered, his eyes still locked onto yours in the reflection of the mirror. "There..." he murmured, his voice smooth as silk. "...All done."

You stuttered out a soft, breathless, "Thank you," barely able to get the words out before Satoru turned on his heel. His presence seemed to consume the room, but as he barked an order to one of his assistants, the pressure finally lifted.

"Adjust the lighting for the next setup! And I want the backdrop changed in five minutes!" Satoru's voice rang out, sharp and authoritative. With one last glance over his shoulder at you, he strode away, leaving the room in a whirlwind of activity.

As soon as he was gone, it felt like you could finally breathe again. The air in the room cooled, the weight of his lingering presence fading, though not entirely.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you pulled the leather skirt up over your hips, the fabric snug against your skin. Satoru's assistant helped you with the bodycon top, tugging it into place, adjusting the hem and smoothing out the fabric as it clung to your curves.

The outfit was bold—almost too bold—but it fit like a second skin, highlighting every line of your body in the way only Satoru's designs could.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of camera clicks, flashing lights, and endless posing. Hours slipped by, the sun gradually lowering as the shoot continued, stretching longer than expected.

Nanami Kento, the photographer overseeing everything, was a perfectionist. His no-nonsense attitude left no room for error, and his eye for detail was unmatched.

He had insisted on waiting for the natural dusk light, arguing that it would complement the metallic sheen of your outfit and bring out the best in the overall composition.

You had worked with Kento before. His bluntness and unwavering pursuit of perfection made him a tough taskmaster, but he was one of the best in the industry.

Shoots paired with him always led to increased success. His images captured not just the clothes, but the mood, the essence of the model wearing them.

He and Satoru were at the top of their game right now, the dynamic power duo behind many successful campaigns, and you couldn't deny how they both pushed you further than anyone else ever had.

"…And… that's a wrap!" Kento's voice finally cut through the endless camera clicks, sharp and definitive. The faint ring of a bell followed, signaling the end of the shoot.

You exhaled a long, relieved breath, feeling the weight of the day lift off your shoulders.

The shoot had taken the remainder of the day, from midday to the last golden rays of dusk.

The combination of Satoru's exacting demands—making you pose in just the right way to show off the outfit—and Kento's insistence on perfect lighting meant you'd spent hours standing, twisting, and holding uncomfortable poses.

The tightness in your back and shoulders made it clear how long you had been at it. Your feet ached in the platform boots, and your muscles screamed for rest.

As the assistants began to pack away the equipment, the space slowly emptied out. The other models and staff had long since finished their own shoots and left, leaving only you and a skeleton crew behind.

The studio, once alive with chaos, was now eerily quiet, the low hum of final tasks being completed the only sound in the background.

You peeled yourself away from the set and made your way back to the dressing room, feeling the tightness of the leather skirt with every step.

The corridors were deserted now, with most of the team having wrapped up hours ago. The silence was almost jarring after the noise and flurry of the day.

You were exhausted, every muscle in your body protesting as you moved.

Finally, you reached your dressing room, the door creaking slightly as you pushed it open. The sight of the empty space—the vanity mirror now bare, clothes and shoes scattered—was a welcome relief.

The day had been long, but now you could unwind.

As you closed the door behind you, the quiet settled over you like a blanket, offering you the peace you desperately needed.

You stumbled into the room, barely keeping yourself upright as exhaustion weighed down your limbs. Practically dead on your feet, you began peeling off the clothes that had felt glued to your body for the last several hours.

The crop top slipped off first, falling to the floor with a soft thud.

You didn't care where it landed as you walked over to the couch in the center of the room, facing a large squared mirror. Each step felt like a weight being lifted from your sore muscles.

A cool draft brushed against your bare torso, making you shiver slightly as it passed over the sheen of sweat from the long day. Your fingers worked at the accessories next, unfastening the bangles around your wrists and dropping them carelessly.

The metal clanked against the floor, loud in the otherwise quiet space. You massaged your sore wrists, the cool air soothing the raw skin where the jewelry had pressed tight against you.

Your fingers then moved to the choker at your neck, tugging it free and letting it fall beside the rest, relieved to feel the soft touch of air against your throat.

Your mind began to drift, wandering somewhere far away from the chaos of the day. You thought about what you'd do when you got home.

Maybe snack on those yogurt bites you found at the grocery store earlier that week. Or maybe you can finally binge-watch that series you'd been meaning to catch up on.

The thought made you feel a little lighter.

Hell, you can even spend tomorrow doing absolutely nothing, you have nothing booked!

You were right in the middle of imagining your lazy day ahead, fingers working the clasp of your bralette, when the door creaked open behind you.

"Hey! I'm—" Your arms instinctively rose to catch your slipping bra before it could fall completely. Your heart raced, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

You looked up at the large mirror in front of you, eyes wide, only to lock gazes with Satoru, lounging casually against the doorway as if he had all the time in the world.

"—undressing," you finished, your voice dropping to a shaky whisper.

Satoru's lips curved into a faint smirk, his gaze shameless as it raked over your disheveled appearance. He tilted his head slightly, looking over his shades at the scattered accessories and top on the floor. "You know," he said, his voice light with a playful edge, "you really shouldn't leave my designs lying around like that. It's almost disrespectful."

For a moment, you thought he'd bend down to pick up the items—his creations, after all. But instead, he strolled right past them, making his way toward you.

Your breath hitched, your body freezing in place as his steps closed the distance between you.

Satoru's eyes, usually filled with playful mischief, were darker now, more intense as they followed the lines of your form.

He moved with the kind of confidence that left no room for doubt. And as he reached your side, standing just behind you, his presence loomed, filling the small space with the heat of his gaze.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the cool draft that had once been a relief now doing little to cool the flush rising across your skin.

Satoru stepped even closer, the heat radiating from him making the cool draft on your bare skin feel like a distant memory. His presence was overwhelming, filling the small room until all you could focus on was the warmth seeping from him and the way his gaze lingered on your reflection in the mirror.

"You know," he began, his voice soft, almost idle, "a lot of my best designs… they're not the ones I spend weeks perfecting." His words drifted through the air like a secret. He raised a hand, his fingertips brushing lightly against the faint indents the choker had left on your neck. The touch was barely there, yet it sent a shiver running down your spine. "No… the ones that really stand out," he continued, "are the ones that light up in my mind every time you fall into my vision."

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as he leaned in closer, his chest now just inches from your back.

The heat from his body wrapped around you like a second skin, and you watched him through the mirror, mesmerized by the intensity in his eyes as he spoke.

His hand, warm and deliberate, trailed slowly down your arm, his fingers brushing your skin with a tenderness that felt both comforting and dangerous.

"You're my muse," he said, almost as if speaking to himself, lost in the thought. "Every second I spend watching you, seeing you wear my designs, it's nothing but inspiration." His hand continued to drift lower, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist before sliding back up, pulling you just slightly, coaxing your body into his.

Your breath grew heavier, chest rising and falling with each shallow inhale as you were drawn back against him, the solid warmth of his chest pressing into your bare back.

Your gaze flickered to the mirror, watching the scene unfold before you—his hand resting lightly on your waist, his eyes tracing the outline of your form as if committing every curve, every inch of you, to memory.

You could feel his breath, warm and steady, fanning against your ear, and it made your head spin, your thoughts running wild.

"Every touch," he murmured, his lips brushing just above your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Every glance…" His voice dropped, becoming something darker, heavier. "I can't stop thinking about how perfectly you fit into my designs. Like you were made for them—or maybe… they were made for you."

His hand trailed down your arm, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, and you watched him in the mirror, breath hitching in your throat. Then, his lips ghosted over your ear again, the warmth of his breath making you tremble as he purred, "But you know… I keep thinking about something else…"

Your eyes widened slightly, and you felt him shift closer, his chest now flush against your back. The air between you crackled with tension, thick and almost suffocating, and yet you couldn't pull away—you didn't want to.

His hands pressed against your waist as he lowered his voice to something almost sinful. "…How perfectly you'll fit around me."

The words slipped from his lips, dripping with raw, undeniable desire, every word reverberating through your skin, hitting you like a tidal wave. Your breath stilled in your lungs, heat coursing through your body as your mind raced.

Wait a minute—what's… b-but—

His arms tightened around you as his mouth hovered near your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me you feel it too," he groaned, his voice low, growling with need as his fingers dug into your hips. "Tell me you want it… just as badly as I do."

Finally, your mouth seemed to catch up with your thoughts. "S-Satoru—"

Your voice once again falls away as Satoru's arms tightened around you, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. You felt his chest rise and fall rapidly, pressing into your back, his grip around your waist possessive, firm.

Then, in a voice so raw, so desperate it sent a shiver down your spine, he whispered, "Can I... have you?"

The words tumbled from his lips in a near whimper, laden with a hunger that bordered on pleading. His breath hitched, his forehead brushing against the back of your neck as if even he was losing control of the space between you.

Your heart hammered in your chest, your mind trying to process everything, yet failing to hold onto any coherent thought. His words, the way they sounded so needy, left you breathless.

You watched him in the mirror, his reflection almost ghostly in the low light of the room. His eyes were half-lidded, clouded with lust as they lingered on your form, and his lips, parted slightly, looked dangerously close to speaking something sinful, something that would push you over the edge.

The room was silent except for his panting breaths in your ear. You could feel his need in the way his arms wrapped around you, in the way his fingers pressed just a little too tightly into your skin.

"Say yes..." he breathed, his voice low and pleading, his lips now trailing down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of heat with every soft, almost teasing touch. "Please... just say yes."

Your breath caught in your throat, your body frozen in place as your mind blocking out everything else but Satoru.

The sound of him, the feel of him, the way his voice came out in that almost whimpering tone—it consumed you, leaving no room for anything else but him.

Finally, a breathless, barely audible "yes" escaped your lips, the word trembling from your mouth like a whimper, your resolve crumbling under the intensity of the moment.

It was as if a switch had been flipped in Satoru. His wicked smirk grew, a gleam in his eyes as he dipped his head lower, pressing a soft kiss to your neck before dragging his tongue in a slow, deliberate stripe up your skin.

The heat of his breath against your neck sent shivers racing down your spine, making your entire body tense.

"Good girl~" he purred softly into your ear, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Before you could even catch your breath, he pulled you down onto the couch, his movements fluid and effortless. You landed in his lap, your back pressed firmly against his chest, legs bent and pulled up on either side of him, facing the mirror.

our thighs immediately began to burn from the stretch, the leather skirt you wore sliding up all the way, exposing the lace underwear beneath—the same light blue that matched the bralette you'd worn earlier.

The delicate fabric contrasted sharply with the heat of the moment, and your face flushed in embarrassment as your eyes caught the sight of a small wet patch there.

Your heart raced as you tried instinctively to close your legs, but before you could, he gently tapped your thighs with his fingers, his smirk never faltering. "Aht aht," he scolded lightly, his tone playful but firm, making it clear that he was in control.

His arms slid under your legs, lifting them slightly and pulling them farther apart.

The stretch made you gasp, thighs burning as he forced you all the way back against his chest, your body now fully reclined into him.

His grip was strong but not painful, holding you in place as his breath ghosted over the side of your face.

In the mirror, you saw it all—your legs spread wide, your flushed face, and Satoru's darkened gaze fixed on you, his expression one of total control. His was voice, low and teasing, rumbling against your ear. "Look at you... perfect," he murmured, holding you tightly against him, his arms securing you in place, his presence overwhelming.

The reflection showed more than just your vulnerability—it was the power he had over you, and the way he reveled in every second of it.

Satoru's left hand slowly trailed down your body, his touch feather-light at first, but purposeful. The cool air kissed your skin as his fingers slid beneath the waistband of your underwear, his hand pressing firmly against your most sensitive spot without pulling the fabric to the side.

The sensation made your breath hitch, and your entire body tensed as his fingers began to move, rubbing slow, deliberate circles along your slit, teasing and drawing out every bit of tension you’d been holding inside.

His fingers trailed gently up and down, gliding over your skin as if he were mapping you out, testing your every reaction. He found your clit with ease, rubbing small, teasing circles that sent jolts of heat through you, the slow rhythm making it impossible to think straight.

Your thighs twitched, the stretch around him making the sensation even more intense. The heat of embarrassment flooded through you as your body reacted, and when you turned your face away, unable to watch the reflection of what he was doing to you.

Satoru clicked his tongue softly in disapproval. "Uh-uh," he murmured, his voice dark with command. "Eyes on the mirror. Watch what I do to you."

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as your gaze reluctantly shifted back to the mirror.

His hand kept moving, the slow rhythm intensifying, the way he touched you sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. His reflection was smug, pleased, as he watched you fight to keep your eyes open and focused on what he was doing.

It was an order, and disobeying felt impossible.

When his finger slipped inside you, your body jolted slightly, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. His movements were slow, deliberate, each stroke inside you making it harder to think.

One became two, both pumping in and out of your clenching heat with a slow, deep rhythm. He kept his other arm wrapped securely around your waist, holding you in place against his chest as he worked his fingers deeper.

His breath was hot against your ear as his grip on your body tightened, his voice a low groan as he spoke. "You know what I can't wait to do?" His words sent a new rush of heat through you, and he chuckled softly at your reaction. "I can't wait to taste you... spend hours learning every inch of my muse's body. Watching you come undone again and again and again."

The promise in his voice made your mind reel, the intensity of his touch and his words leaving you breathless, your chest heaving as your pulse raced.

A particularly well-angled thrust had your back arching, a breathy moan slipping free. "That's it..." he praised, curling his fingers so they can brush against your G-spot again. "You're so wet for me... So responsive."

His thumb joined the fray, rubbing firmer circles over your clit that had your hips rolling mindlessly to meet his touch. He worked you higher and higher, stoking the flames of your pleasure until you were teetering right on the edge.

And still, he demanded you watch. Compelled you to observe the wanton display you made, his dark gaze devouring you from over your shoulder.

"Come for me," Satoru growled against your lips, his fingers pumping furiously now. "Let go. Now."

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and whiting out your vision. You shook and shuddered in his hold, a cry of ecstasy torn from your throat as he wrung every last bit of pleasure from your spasming body.

Satoru swallowed the sound with his mouth, kissing you deeply as he continued his ministrations.

Only when you collapsed bonelessly against him did Satoru still his hand, drawing his glistening fingers from your depths. He brought them to his mouth, maintaining eye contact through the mirror as he licked them clean with a shameless moan.

"Delicious~" he purred, voice rough with satisfaction. "My perfect muse."

You felt weightless, the tension from the day—hell, the whole week—melting into nothingness as the lingering echoes of your orgasm left you in a daze. Your body felt loose, relaxed, like all the stress had finally evaporated, and for a moment, you simply existed, floating in the aftermath.

Then, you felt your thighs shift wider, and a small, confused sound escaped you before you even realized it.

Satoru's low chuckle filled the quiet room, dark and amused. "You didn’t think that was it, did you?" His voice dripped with mischief as his hands moved to adjust you in his lap. He shifted beneath you, pulling his pants down slightly as he repositioned you, pulling you higher onto his lap.

The movement pressed you closer to him, allowing you to fully feel him underneath you, hard and insistent. His hand returned to your underwear, the long digits returning to rub away at you.

The sudden pressure made your back arch instinctively, a small whimper escaping your lips from the mix of sensation—equal parts pleasure and the discomfort of being played with beyond your limit.

"Silly girl," he tutted softly into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. His hand returned to your waist, the grip firm yet tender, as he tugged your underwear to the side, filling you in one stroke.

You both froze for different reasons—your legs trembled as you felt the stretch, trying to stay tethered because he had to be the biggest you'd ever had, while Satoru groaned, overwhelmed by the tightness that enveloped him.

"F-Fuck," he groaned, his head falling back against the couch, eyes fluttering closed.

You let out a broken whimper, arms growing weak and giving out beneath you. You collapsed slightly forward, your forehead resting against his thighs as you tried to adjust, to find some relief from the pressure.

Satoru growled softly at the sight, his hands gripping your waist with more purpose. He pulled you fully down onto him, your hips flush against his.

"S-Satoru..." you moaned, your voice shaking, tears welling in your eyes as the sensation became overwhelming.

His hips jerked forward in short, deliberate movements, and your body responded, helpless to the rhythm he set. "T-that's right, baby, say my name..." he groaned, his voice thick with need as his hands guided you, pulling you back down with each upward thrust.

He lifted his hips to speed up the movements. You could only cling to his thighs, breathless and powerless against the force of his desire.

Satoru kept going, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer, filthy words laced with desire. His grip on your waist was tight, almost bruising, as he held you firmly in place.

The sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room—wet, slick noises and the rhythmic squelching with every movement.

The intensity of the moment wrapped around you, heightening every sensation, your body overwhelmed by the pressure building inside you.

Your second orgasm was approaching too quickly, the wave of pleasure rising fast, almost too much to handle. Desperation washed over you, and you tried to scoot forward, to slow things down, but Satoru's response was immediate—he went faster, his thrusts growing erratic.

You let out a choked cry, begging for him to slow down, but he only groaned in response, his pace relentless.

The sensation was overwhelming, and then it hit you, like you were thrown over the edge. Your eyes fluttered closed as the blinding pleasure rocked your entire frame.

Your body shook, every nerve alight as the intensity consumed you. You could hear Satoru cursing under his breath as you trembled in his arms, your body a quivering mess in the aftermath.

And then you felt it—the heat of him filling you, spreading through your lower body in a rush of warmth. Satoru let out a long, drawn-out groan, pressing himself flush against you as he reached his climax. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving as he stayed close, savoring the feeling.

Before you could catch your breath or say anything, Satoru moved again. He pulled you back slightly, and you gasped, the sudden movement sending a mix of pain and pleasure shooting through you.

His hands snaked under your thighs, lifting you carefully from his lap. He groaned softly as he watched his release spilling from you, leaking out as he admired the sight.

Satoru gave a low whistle, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "What a sight to see," he hummed, his voice thick with amusement. One of his hands trailed down to your entrance, his thumb gently grazing over the sensitive skin.

He played with your sticky entrance, his fingers teasing, before pressing back to plug up the fallen release. Your thighs twitched in response, a shiver running through you at the sudden sensation.

You called out his name for what felt like the third time, your voice weak but pleading. "Satoru..."

He let out a tired but satisfied chuckle, his hand pulling away as he finally relented. "Fine, fine," he murmured, lifting you effortlessly in his arms. He settled you down on his lap again, this time pulling you close to his chest, cradling you as his arms wrapped securely around you.

The warmth of his body pressed against yours, his breathing slowing as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

The night grew quiet, the tension fading into a comfortable stillness, but even as you relaxed against him, your mind wandered.

As the night went on, you couldn't help but think: Nobara was fucking right.

A/N: lolol, sorry for the influx of smut guys, promise this won't be like an everyday thinjg.... 👀 anyways, hope this was up to your standards and wasn't too bad bubbly-bear, i tried my best to make it work to the song...😭

[aswefindourwayback]

Tastes Like Heaven

Authors note: i wanted to put out another fic so this is one i originally wrote for another fandom. i’ve changed it a bit to match spencer. i hope you guys like it! feedback is always appreciated.

wc: 1685

warnings: dick sucking

It had been a long day at the BAU for Spencer. He’s been working on the latest case everyday for the past few weeks. Every day, he wouldn’t get home until 3 am and would leave for the offices early in the mornings.

You had fallen asleep on the couch, waiting for him so you could go to bed together. Once you heard the click of the front door unlocking, you sat up and watched as your boyfriend walked into the living area. He looked exhausted, all you wanted to do was pull him into you and hold him as he got some much needed rest.

“Hi, darling. How was work today?” you asked him as he walked over and plopped himself on the couch next to you.

“It was alright. Morgan was getting on my nerves though. He can’t make up his mind sometimes. He also swapped the containers for the sugar and salt so my coffee was salty.”

He goes to run his hands down his face.

Fuck

You can see the way he’s craning his neck back. The veins in his hands and arms are protruding his skin a bit. He lets out a little breath that sounds like a bit of a groan.

“Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?” you ask.

He grabs your hips and moves you to sit atop his lap. He wraps his arms around your hips and back, pulling you close as he nestles his face into your neck, breathing in the scent that is you.

“Just stay right here, please,” he says.

“Alright. I’ll stay.”

You two sit there for ages, just holding each other in the comfortable silence.

But you slowly become uncomfortable from the fact that you’ve had his growing erection slowly poking your ass through his jeans.

You slowly pull back to look at his face. He looks up at you with a tired look, but right underneath, you can see the hunger in his eyes.

You leaned in to give him a quick peck, to see if you were reading him right. And you were. He holds you to him by grabbing the side of your face and desperately kissing you. Your wet kisses filled the silence of the room. You moved to adjust yourself on his lap, lightly grazing his clothed crotch, making him shudder as you moved against him. His breath quivered as he arched his back, trying to gain more friction.

He moved his hand to grab the back of your neck, pulling on your hair, causing you to suck in a sharp breath. Spencer took this opportunity to stick his tongue into your mouth, slightly sucking on your tongue.

The hand that isn’t holding you against him moves down to your upper thigh where he writes something with his finger

‘mine’

You swear you could cum right there. But you don’t.

Spencer moves to take off your shirt and as soon as it’s off, he realizes you weren’t wearing anything else underneath it but a pair of thin, sheer panties.

“Oh fuck.” he whispered.

He goes to pull your panties to the side but you have other plans.

“Wait baby. Let me take care of you. You’ve had a long week. Do you wanna be a good boy for me and let me do all the work?”

“I’ll be good, promise.” he says shaking his head up and down.

“I’ll take good care of you, promise.”

You move off his lap and kneel down infront of him, not before he took a pillow from the couch and dropped it on the floor for your knees.

“Don’t want my girl in pain now, do I?” he cheekily smirks at you.

You slowly and lightly trail a hand up his leg, teasingly going up his inner thigh before palming him through his pants. He lets out a groan as he rolls his head back, letting you see his exposed neck. Oh how you wish you could lick a trail up it.

You tauntingly moved to unbutton his pants, slowly pulling the zipper down before helping him pull them off completely.

You pressed soft kisses on the insides of his thighs, watching as he restrained himself from taking over and fucking you mercilessly.

You rested your head against his thigh as you reached to pull the waistband of his boxers down. As you did, his hardened cock sprung up. It was red and already beading with precum.

“Oh my, this looks painful, darling.” you say as you blow a breath of air on his tip, causing him to slightly thrust his hips up into nothing.

“Let me help you out a bit.”

You lightly wrap your hand around the tip and circle your wrist a bit, he’s gripping the couch cushions, his hands turning white as he tries not to lose it.

You run your hand up and down his cock twice before squeezing his tip then letting go.

Spencer is starting to feel light headed from the teasing he’s had to endure, biting his lip to suppress some of the sounds his throat has been coiling.

You take his cock in one hand and lick a long strip along the side of his cock, eliciting a jaw dropping moan from Spencer. The most gorgeous scene is displayed in front of you right now and you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, trying to gain some friction. But this isn’t about you, it’s about the beautiful specimen of a man before you.

You kiss the tip of him before wrapping your lips around it and gently sucking on it. Spencer’s body shudders as he quickly moves his hand to grab your hair and pull on it. His eyes are closed but that’s not what you want.

“Don’t close your eyes, baby. Look at me.” you condescend him.

Now, you take him in your mouth, slowly taking him in. He’s too big for your mouth though so you wrap your hand around the rest of him. Spencer’s grip on your hair becomes tighter and you can feel how hard he’s resisting the urge to use you as a fuck toy and thrusting into your mouth.

You start bobbing your head up and down him, gradually going faster. Your hand matches the pace of your mouth.

The only sounds in the room are his moans and the wet sounds coming from your mouth as you suck him off.

You push yourself to try and fit him all in your mouth but it’s proving to be difficult. You push yourself until it’s hard to breathe. But you do it, you push down and reach his base, causing him to thrust up into your throat. You gag as he does so and let go of him and sit back on your knees as you try to regain your breath.

“I'm so sorry, darling. It was an accident, didn’t mean to.” he sits forward, massaging the back of your neck. You can see the sorrow all over his face, it really was an accident. But you didn’t mind it, you really enjoyed it actually.

There’s spit all over your face and tears are running down your face. Your hairs a mess but you’re still the most beautiful person in the world to him, even with how fucked out you look.

“That was hot.” was all you said before you pushed him back onto the couch and wrapped your hand around the base of his cock. You stroked him a few times before taking him into your mouth again and hollowing your cheeks.

You watch as his stomach muscles flex under the thin material of his shirt, trying not to roll his hips up. You can see how he’s struggling to breathe, he's panting and looking down at you with love and lust filled eyes.

You take this chance to gently wrap your free hand around his balls and twist them around a bit.

This new sensation makes Spencer rolls his head back against the back of the couch, his jaw dropping as he cries out for more.

“Baby, please don’t stop doing that. That’s so- ahh fuck, so fucking good.” he says.

You continue to play around with his balls as you bob up and down his cock. He’s getting close, you can feel it, with the way he’s twitching against your tongue.

You bob up and down him faster, slurping around his dick and letting out moans. The vibration drives him crazy. He’s a whimpering mess, he’s given up on restraining himself and is now thrusting up into your mouth, pushing so far that you’re gagging with every thrust. You can feel all your drool dripping down your chin and neck as he holds your head in place. Your lips are numb from having them wrapped around him for so long.

“Fuck baby, made for me. You were m-made for me, fuck, taking me so well in that pretty little mouth. Look better with my cock down your throat. Shit- My beautiful girl. Can I come in your mouth?” he asks so politely, as if he hasn’t been thrusting into your mouth, making you choke and gag.

You try and tell him you want him to come in your mouth but it comes out as a gargled mess, but he gets the message.

With a few more thrusts, he's spilling down your throat, keeping you pressed against the base of his cock as he empties into your mouth. His breathing is erratic as he lets you go.

You pull back and stick your tongue out to show him all that he gave you. He moves closer to you and grabs your chin between his fingers.

“Be a good girl and swallow for me.” he whispers in your ear.

You shiver from his warm breath and demanding tone of voice.

You do as he says, opening your mouth to show him that you had swallowed all of him. He grabs you by the neck and kisses you, tasting the reminiscence of him that still coats your mouth.

“You taste like heaven.”

[atinylittlepain]

Hi! I hope you’re well! I have a Joel request please!Reader collects keychains from the different states/places she travels. She’s a bit introverted, and she and joel are both quiet and don’t talk too much, nut she’s a good listener. After a close call with a clicker, reader feels like a burden to joel. Joel reassures her that she’s not but she’s still not sure. Joel gives her a keychain that he finds during their travel & it’s a happy ending. Also can there be an age gap lol

Hope this isn’t too much, but please feel free to make any changes/adjustments :)

Thank you!

sweet anon, this idea is so lovely - i hope i've done it justice <3

Pieces of Our Path - A Joel Miller Story

Joel Miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

warnings | 18+ canon-typical violence, angst, joel is a ding dong, and then fluff bc it's good for your cholesterol :)

.........................

“I’ll be right back. Wanna go check in that gas station.” “Tell me this ain’t what I think it’s for.” All she can do is smile as a blush creeps up her neck because it is exactly what he thinks it’s for. Joel huffs at her expression.

“I-I haven’t found one for Wyoming yet. Think I oughta get one since we’re living here now and all.” She knows it’s silly, frivolous, maybe even downright stupid, but she’s been collecting them for so long now, finding one for nearly every state they’ve crossed through, that she needs her collection to be complete. 

Joel had often given her an exasperated look when she’d show him a new one she had found, never asking why she held onto all those keychains. They don’t talk much, and she supposes that’s why they’ve worked so well together, managing to get Ellie across the country, and when that went sideways, limping back to Tommy’s place, where they find themselves living now. It’s the first time they’ve been settled anywhere together, ever, and they’ve both been working out their stir-craziness with patrol shifts and scavenging trips. 

“Just make it quick, alright? I’ll cover the outside. You holler if you need me.” She nods at his gruff words, already hustling over to the crumbling gas station and shouldering her way in through the rusted door. It’s dark inside, slants of light pock-marking the mossy tiles and shelves. Her fingers flex around the handle of her knife as she creeps further into the store, moving toward what used to be a checkout counter. After so long on the road, she knows where to look for these things. Joel had once joked that the keychains seemed to find her more than she found them. Sure enough, there’s a few scattered over the floor, but before she can get a better look at them, she’s startled by a loud screech coming from behind her.

It happens so quick, all she can do is let out a yelp as she gets slammed to the ground by an infected, all clawing hands and gnashing teeth as she struggles to keep it at bay. Her knife had skittered out of her hand at the impact, and as she tries to push the creature away with little success, fear starts to creep up her spine that this might be it. Just as suddenly as it attacked her, the creature stiffens before slumping down on top of her, but its body is quickly shoved off of her to reveal Joel standing over her, knife in hand. There’s a frantic look in his eyes that she’s never seen before as he kneels down between her legs and helps her sit up. The rough palms of his hands scurry all over her, checking her neck, her arms, her legs for bites. His face slackens just slightly when he finds no evidence of infection, cupping her face in his palms.

“Are you hurt?” She takes a steadying breath as his eyes hold her in place, her hands wrapped over his forearms.

“I’m ok. Joel, I’m so–” He doesn’t let her finish that sentence.

“C’mon, we need to get out of here.” He helps haul her up on unsteady feet. She feels her stomach drop when she glances back at the mottled body of the clicker, quick to hustle out of the gas station and back onto the road. Joel doesn’t say anything more, an unspoken agreement that they need to head back to Jackson. But she can see the way his hands clench around the strap of his rifle until his knuckles turn white, the hard set of his jaw as he walks alongside her. It doesn’t take a genius to see that Joel Miller is angry, and she knows it’s all her fault.

She spends the whole hike back cursing herself in her mind. She had put herself in danger, and in turn had put Joel in danger, for such a stupid, useless thing. Harsh thoughts are quick to burrow into her head, namely that Joel would be so much better off with someone smarter, more careful, someone older, as his… she’s not even sure what she is to him. They’ve been traveling together for so long now, but she’s hesitant to think of them as anything, even if they do end up tangled in the same bed most nights, something they excused as a simple human need for closeness, nothing more. She supposes that they’ve been a quiet comfort to each other, but not anymore, not now that she’s failed him. 

Anxiety rages on in her mind, and Joel’s icy silence does nothing to assuage it. Even when they get back to Jackson, he won’t so much as look at her, trudging straight to the bar. She lets out a heavy sigh and keeps her head down as she shuffles off in the opposite direction toward their house.

It’s quiet when she gets home, and she figures Ellie must be out on her own shift still. She goes straight to her room, the room she has been spending so little time in, Joel usually coaxing her into his bed because they both sleep better with each other near. She had stashed the other keychains in a crumpled shoebox she found in the closet, and would often get it out to thumb through the evidence of her wanderings. Normally, it was a comfort to her, being able to trace her past in these plastic relics, but now, looking in the box, all she feels is sick to her stomach. She shoves the box back into the closet, slamming the door shut and swallowing hard around the thick heat building in her throat.

A wave of exhaustion passes over her, the adrenaline from her close encounter finally wearing off, and it’s all she can do to collapse onto her bed in a tight curl as the first tears start to fall.

..,

She wakes with a start, light hands shaking her shoulder, and as she squints her eyes open, she finds Ellie hovering over her, a furrowed look of worry across her face. She lets out a ragged sigh as she sits up, Ellie leaning back on the bed.

“Are you alright?” She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, bloodshot and tired from crying, but she nods at Ellie’s question.

“I’m fine, kid. Just tired, that’s all.” Ellie clearly doesn’t buy that, eyebrows shooting up at her.

“You sure about that? Saw the old man down at the bar, and you and I both know he only goes there when he’s really pissed.” She huffs, shaking her head and wishing Ellie didn’t know her and Joel so well.

“We had a bad shift. I, um, did something stupid.” Silence settles over them after she finishes murmuring her answer, but Ellie is quick to break it.

“Whatever it was, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. You want me to go talk to him? I can knock a little sense into his head.” She rests her hand on Ellie’s knee and offers her a small smile.

“That’s alright, kid. Um, it was pretty bad. We’re both ok– but, yeah– it was bad. Joel’s right to be angry at me.” Ellie settles down, pressing her lips into a thin line as she nods.

“Well,  I’m glad you’re alright at least. Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do?” Her smile broadens at the girl’s words. Ellie had been and continues to be a bright spot in her world, and she muses briefly that if not for her, she would have already packed up and skipped town this afternoon, something she thinks would certainly be welcomed by Joel.

“No, I’ll be ok, kid, but thank you. Think I’m just gonna lay low tonight.” The girl bites her lip, clearly not convinced by her words, but she still nods.

“Um, ok. Well, in that case, is it alright if I go to movie night tonight?” 

“Is Dina gonna be there?” Ellie’s grin is contagious, and she laughs lightly at the girl’s flushed reaction.

“It’s alright kid, you should go. Just be safe, huh?” Ellie surprises her just a little with her quick hug before she gets up off the bed, digging her hands into her jean pockets.

“I’m glad you’re alright. And, Joel’s just– emotionally constipated, you know? I’m sure he’s not really mad at you, he’s just acting like it. But he’ll calm down. He likes you too much to be such an asshole to you for long.” That makes her really laugh, and the feeling is a relief, a weight off her chest, if even just briefly.

“Thanks for that, kid. You should go, they’re gonna start the movie soon I bet.” Ellie offers her one more smile before leaving. She slumps back in bed the moment she hears the front door close.

…

It’s much later when she’s woken up again by much harsher hands jostling her. It’s completely dark in her room, and she groans as she fumbles to switch on the lamp on her nightstand. She certainly wasn’t expecting to see a clearly drunk Joel Miller hovering over her. 

“Why’re you in here?” His words are thick and slurred, his southern accent tugging low in his throat to the point she can just make out what he’s saying. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes watery and wavering as he looks at her. She’s never seen him this drunk before.

“I-I was getting some sleep. Joel, how much have you ha–” She’s cut off as he slumps over her where he had been sitting on the edge of the bed, his cheek smushing into her collarbone and the mussed waves of his hair grazing her chin. His words are even more slurred as he speaks now, hot breaths fanning over her throat.

“Y’never sleep in here. Wan’ you with me. Should always be with me.” He hiccups at the end of his words, jolting her in his heavy hold as he lets out a long sigh. She’s never seen him like this and has to swallow the shock sitting in her throat as he continues to mumble to her.

“Scared me so bad today. Don– don’t do that again. Need– need you– I need you.” It’s breaking her heart, listening to him say these things– things she had often imagined hearing him say to her– but only because he’s drunk enough to not give a shit. She huffs, tamping down her sadness and instead letting anger simmer in its place. She presses hard on his shoulders to sit him back up as he grumbles at the movement, his head slumping back on his neck to look at her as she stands up.

“Where you going, pretty? Jus’ stay with me.” He practically whines out the last word, and she’s heard enough. She dips under his one arm to hoist him up off the bed, stumbling a bit as he leans most of his weight on her.

“C’mon, Joel. I’m gonna get you to bed.” He huffs as they start to shuffle down the hallway to his room.

“Will you stay with me, darlin? Ple– please.” Now she knows he must be drunk off his head, because in all her time knowing him, she has never once heard Joel Miller say the word please until tonight. She grits her teeth, hauling them both through the doorway to his bedroom.

“I’ll stay with you, alright? Just– just sit down.” She gracelessly plops him on the side of the bed, a hard “oof” leaving his mouth as he sits down. She moves over to his bathroom to get him a glass of water, having swatted away his grabby hands with a murmured “be right back.” 

By the time she comes back into the bedroom, she finds Joel slumped back on the bed, his legs dangling off the edge as he snores lightly. She sighs, setting down the glass before moving over to him and taking off his boots. He mumbles nonsense as she swings his legs up onto the bed, folding the comforter over to cover him up as best she can. 

She doesn’t stay.

…

It’s late the next morning when she finally goes downstairs. It had been a fitful night of sleep, and she had gone back to Joel’s room a few times to check on him, finding him still passed out each time. She stops by his door on the way downstairs and sees that he’s no longer in bed. Padding into the kitchen, she finds coffee brewed, but no sign of him or Ellie. She figures Ellie spent the night with Dina, but is still left wondering where Joel could be. As she shuffles through the house, she finally catches a glimpse of him in the living room window, sitting on the porch out back. She has to take a steadying breath before she steps outside.

He doesn’t say anything as she sits down next to him, neither of them glancing each other’s way. 

“How’s your head?” He scoffs, still not looking at her as she glances at him.

“About how you’d expect. Suppose I deserve it though.” She doesn’t say anything to that, keeping her eyes focused on her fidgeting hands in her lap. It feels like there’s cotton in her mouth, she keeps trying to say something else, but gets stuck before she can even get the first word out. Luckily, Joel breaks the silence again.

“Need to apologize. Acted a fucking fool last night and you shouldn’t have had to deal with that.” She swallows thickly before responding, her voice an uncertain murmur.

“I-it’s alright. I’m sorry too– for yesterday.” He finally looks at her, brow furrowed.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Yes I do. You wouldn’t have had a reason to drink so much if I hadn’t fucked up so badly yesterday. I understand. I’d be angry too.” His face slackens at her words and she can barely meet his unwavering gaze.

“What’re you talking about? I wasn’t angry– I was fucking terrified. Seeing you– I just– I couldn’t– fuck, the thought of something happening to you– I was shaken. And I handled it like an idiot, and I’m sorry.”

“Maybe you’d be better off without me then.” A heavy silence falls, but Joel quickly breaks it with a scoff.

“Don’t say shit like that.”

“I mean it.” “Well don’t. I wouldn’t be better off without you, goddamn it. I’d fall apart if I lost you.” Sober, this is the most he’s ever said about how he feels for her, and it makes her heart race in her chest.

She’s been keeping her eyes on her lap, but is forced to look at him as he turns her face toward him with a broad palm along the arc of her jaw. His eyes are soft, searching, and it’s all she can do to let out a sigh of his name.

“I can’t lose you, darlin. Pfft, better off without you. I’d be hopeless without you, huh?” She gathers up whatever courage she has in her, bringing her hand to the arc of his neck to coax him closer as she leans in. It’s a fluttering little thing of a kiss, her lips barely brushing his before she’s jerking away, but Joel steadies her with his hand still cupping her cheek, thumb brushing just under her eye.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ha–” he surges forward and this kiss is certain in what it demands, what it means. She all but melts under his touch, mind hazy when he pulls away and presses his forehead to hers.

“I’m old– and no good for you– but fuck, I’m selfish, darlin. And I need you. Tell me you’ll stay with me, please.” There it is again, that rare word. She smiles.

“I-I need you too, Joel. I’ll stay. I’ll always stay with you.” He presses another kiss to her lips, both of them grinning into it before sitting back as he wraps his arm around her shoulders to tug her into his side.

“I, um, I have something for you.” She cranes her neck to look at him with a furrowed expression. He huffs as he digs into the front pocket of his jeans, holding his palm out flat in front of her. When she sees what he’s holding, she lets out a spluttering laugh. It’s a keychain, in the shape of Wyoming.

“When did you–”

“I picked it up as we were getting out of there. Figured it shouldn’t be for nothing, right?” She laughs again, shaking her head at the smug grin on his face. 

She lays her palm over his, tangling their fingers together with the keychain pressed between their hands. They smile like idiots at each other. She knows that wherever the next keychain comes from, she can count on Joel Miller being there with her.

[bellaxoxooo]

waking up next to chris 🌅

warnings: none just fluff 🤗

(using my name bc i hate using y/n, ok enjoy!!)

last night was absolutely exhausting. bella was out with the triplets all day, filming, going out to eat, running errands nothing things 20 year olds have to do.

bella and chris ended the night in bed together watching the notebook. chris was never a fan of romance movies, but for his girlfriend he would do anything for her. if she told him to jump off a bridge, he probably would.

chris was the first to wake up. he slowly rolled around in bed, not letting his eyes open so hopefully he’d be able to fall back asleep and let the tiredness take over his body but he couldn’t so he slowly opened his eyes. the sunlight shined through his curtains, his eyes slowly getting adjusted to the light. he picked up his phone, it was 2:37pm. “damn.” chris whispered to himself, not belive they left until the afternoon. he put his phone down and laid back down, looking at his girlfriend who was laying next to him peacefully sleeping in one of his fresh love hoodies and a pair of plaid sleep pants. to him, she looked absolutely stunning. even if she wasn’t ready for the day, just woken up, she was still stunning in his eyes and no one would change his mind.

he watched her beauty taking in how peaceful she looked as she slept. chris slowly closed his eyes again hoping he’d fall back asleep but a few moments later he heard and felt bella moving around and stretching. he slowly opened his eyes again to see her finally awake. “good morning pretty girl.” he smiled at her. “goodmorning pretty boy.” she said in a low and a bit of a raspy voice since she just woke up.

chris loved when he called him pretty boy. he only let her call him that, no one else. no one else needed to call him that.

they laid in bed in a comfortable silence, taking in each other’s presence. a small knock was heard on the door. “come in.” chris said in a raspy voice. nick slowly opened the door. “goodmorning sleepy heads! do you guys want any sausage?” he asked. he looks like he also jsut woke up. “yes please.” bella said perking up. “please, i’m starving.” chris groaned. “alright it’ll be done in like 5 minutes, come out whenever.” nick said before closing the door. chris and bella stretched one more time before they both got up out of bed. chris stood in front of bella, taking in her beauty once more. he smiled and fixed a stand of her hair that was messed up. bella smiled up at him. he kissed her forehead, “alright, let’s go out there yeah?” chris smiled. bella nodded her head and they headed out into the kitchen where nick was at the stove cooking sausage and matt was laying his head on the table.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Silver Lining 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

Part of the Silverfox AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You lose yourself in the trance of your work. Just like you used to in the office. You have a way of blocking out the entire world when it's just you and words. You have your fingers curled into your lower lip as you reread what you hope it the last version.

You have one leg crossed over the other, jittering as you scroll. A sudden squeeze on your shoulder makes you jump and you clap your hand over your mouth to catch your scream. You swivel in the chair to face the disturbance.

Bucky looks amused as he steps back, dragging his hand away, "sorry," his voice is low and gritty as he tries to upset the quiet, "I called your name."

"S-sorry," you nearly hiccup, "I was f-focused."

"Seems like it," he hugs an armful of books, "almost done?"

"Y-yeah, the doc-- sh-should be up-da-dated."

He dips his chin and his eyes narrow just a bit, "you alright?"

"Ye-yes, you d-don't ne-need to w-wor-r-ry," your voice cracks as you check that all the changes are saved and log out of your account.

"Just.... checking," he murmurs. "I just know..." he clears his throat and shifts the book in his arm, "when you're worked up, you tend to.... never mind."

"St-st-stutter," you click out of the session and the PC returns to the login page, "I kn-know."

"I wasn't meaning it as anything."

"It i-is what it i-is," you shrug and stand to pull on your coat then gather your purse and your zip up folder.

"I really hope you're not upset."

"D-do you?" You counter, "you d-don't have to p-pretend."

"I'm not," he frowns, "look, I know I was a bit of a prick before but I'm tryna make up for it."

"S-sure," you say dully, "i-it r-really is f-fine. Let's get th-this done."

He's silent as his nostrils flare. He looks around then looks at you, taking in your purse and your lilac leather folio.

"So... what happened to the computer?"

You look away, "y-yeah, it--it fell," you sniff, "I-I'll get s-something else."

"Explains a lot."

"Wh-what?"

"Why you're at the library. I get a very homebody type sense from you."

"Y-you d-do?"

"I'm the same way," he says, "I'm not a fan of the general public."

"F-figured," you agree.

He tilts his head, "I deserve that."

You don't reply. That's that. You're both socially inept.

"Ready to go? You wanna look around first?" He asks, sweeping back a grey swoop of hair as he it falls forward.

You shake your head. You're really not feeling well. You don't know if it's the lack of sleep or the dregs of your flashbacks, you just feel so off. Like something really bad is going to happen.

He gestures you ahead of him as he pivots on his heel. You take the lead and head for the front doors. He follows not far behind. He must've already checked out as the censors doing chime at his passing. Outside, you stop short, realising you don't know where you're headed next.

He collides with you from behind, grunting as his hand briefly clutches your side. He apologise and sidles away. The contact makes your face burn against the bitter chill.

"Parked over this way," He points ahead of himself.

You walk beside him and turn off into the lot. There aren't many cars and you wait for him to get in before you claim the passenger's side. He starts the motor and adjusts the heat, asking if you're cold but getting only a shrug in return. Your mind is far off and hard to rein in.

Before you know it, the car is moving. It isn't until the tires crunch of snow and he turns into a driveway that you fully process what's going on. You agreed to go to his place but why would you do that? Why didn't you ask yourself that earlier. Oh gosh, you need sleep. You need to get your head straight.

This is exactly why you're in therapy. It's why you're trying to change. You want to stop being that person who just lets things happen to them.

He turns off the engine and you just sit staring through the windshield. You want to go home but not really. Your family doesn't want you around to stain their perfect image. You're clearly better off with this man who can only tolerate you professionally.

“You okay?” He asks yet again.

“Yep, all g-good,” you shake it off. “Y-you said you h-had a re-re-recording set-up?”

“Sure, yeah, been working on it a while now but with the script coming together, I finally got my ass in gear and got the last few pieces,” he explains.

“Must h-have been ex-expensive.”

“Eh, I budgeted,” he pulls the handle on his door, “no use staying out in this cold.”

He gets out and you do the same. You trail him up the shoveled walk, glistening with a thin layer of sparse snow newly fallen. The house is pretty nice. It's not too dissimilar to your parents but there are no bright Christmas lights or ridiculous inflatable decorations on the lawn.

He unlocks the front door and holds it open, ushering you in first. You're mindful not to step off the mat as you bend to unlace your boots. He steps in close and slips out of his own bulky boots. He stands first as you balance your purse and folio in one arm.

“Want me to take all that?” He offers.

You shake your head and straight, “g-got it.”

“Right well, you want something to warm up first?” He unzips his jacket, “I have some tea or coffee.”

“No, th-thanks,” you unbutton your coat, shrugging off one sleeve at a time. He takes it from you and hangs it with his own.

“Okay, I suppose I should show you around,” he sighs, taking out his phone as a soft buzz vibrates the case. “Not this guy again.”

He ignores the call and slides his phone into his back pocket, “the studio is in the basement. Best place to soundproof–”

He stops as you hear a car outside. He brushes by you in the entryway and pulls back the curtain over the window set into the door. You huffs again.

“Can't take a hint.”

“I c-can g-go. C-come back later.”

“Nah, it's fine,” he dismisses you as he opens the door, “go home. I'm busy.”

“Ah, come on, Buck, you're gonna ditch me out in the cold,” the voice wafts back on the crisp air as treads mulch in the snow. The timbre makes your heart knot, you swear it's familiar.

“I can and I will,” Bucky avows as he starts to close the door.

“Wait, wait,” the footfalls pick up and a large hand catches the door, “I'm here on business–”

“I told you, Steve…”

The name plummets in your chest. No, no, it can't be. It can't be him. It's a coincidence. The peek of a rolex under his jacket sleeve is just a coincidence, the voice is not the same, just familiar.

“Just hear me out, okay? You're gonna love this project,” the man bulls his way through the door, getting a grunt from Bucky in return. “I'll even pay you this time–”

The man's voice halts as he senses your presence, your dumbfounded gaze, the whole word zeroing in as your ears ring. It is him. It can't be. This has to be a dream. He only comes in your nightmares.

He looks at you and you know. He's real.

[nohoney]

okay this kind of like a crack post but this dialogue is based between me and my ex that i would use to sometimes get my way lol

“katsuki, please can i-“

“no, how many times do i have to tell you? we have enough of your damn stuffed animals!” your boyfriend gestures to the macrame net that holds all your precious babies up for display in the living room that you made him install, “i already bought you those limited edition cat ghosts you wanted! and just how many more rilakkuma bears do you need?!”

you’re holding up the screen of your phone towards him but katsuki keeps on turning his back so that he won’t see it and so that he won’t see that cute look you always give when you want something really bad. “but this a special edition sakura one! look how cute and soft and pink it is!” you whine to your boyfriend. you know he’ll give in to you; he always does!

god you were always a sucker for anything cute and pink, whether it be dinner plates or ballpoint pens or another damn stuffed animal. this time katsuki remains strong in his conviction, plopping himself on the armchair and picks up his gaming controller so that he can continue from his last saved game file. “i said no and you’re not changing my mind.”

alright… you didn’t want to have to use this.

“wow… i let you cum on my face yesterday and you won’t buy me a teddy bear?”

katsuki’s controller fumbles in his hand and his eyes are comically wide in surprise. “what the fuck? you sucked me off until i came all over your face!”

“uh you asked me yesterday while we were fucking, ‘where do you want daddy to cum, baby?’” you deepen your voice to briefly imitate your boyfriend before going back to your regular voice, “i told you to cum in me but you went around and said, ‘suck me off until i cum’ and i did it because i love you even though i don’t like getting cumshots on my face but you do.”

“you have got to be kidding me! are you really using that against me? to get your damn bear?!” katsuki is nothing short of flabbergasted.

you don’t back down despite how you want to laugh. “i’m just saying it’s a little unpleasant for me sometimes. you know that when it gets in your eye, your lil swimmers don’t know the difference that it’s not an egg they’re trying to knock up and they actually still treat the eyeball as if it’s-“

“alright! i’ll get you your damn bear!”

two weeks later, you’re holding your new purchase in your arms while katsuki holds you. the three of you (yes you count the bear too) are streaming a comedy that just came out recently that kirishima recommended. katsuki adjusts his arms around you and briefly bumps his hand against the new bear. “you don’t get to use that same reason again to get what you want, i hope you know that.”

“don’t let it get in my eye and i won’t have to.”

[bedoballoons]

(idk why i always ask for fics like im ordering something off a mcdonald’s drive thru menu) hi!! can i get uhhh headcannons of ayato, alhaitham, diluc, and scara (separately) w a reader that has traumatic flashbacks while watching scary movies? i know it’s very specific and niche, so feel free to ignore this request

💌- anon

Pffff, please that's to funny. I hope you don't think I ignored this, I'm just slow! I actually love this idea so I hope you enjoy and thank you so much for your request!!

─⊰💕𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤💕⊰─

{༻~Brings back all the memories~༺}

CW: GN! Reader who has trauma, angst to fluff! Slight cursing!

Character talking is tilted

(Includes: Diluc, Alhaitham, Ayato, and Scaramouche!)

𑁍༄Diluc:

Why...why did it feel like you couldn't breath anymore? Everything was fine...you were just watching a movie, just sitting on the sofa with Diluc...when did it change? When...when did you end up here? In the very place that gave you nightmares, that traumatized you..it was impossible....right?

No...no it had to be impossible

This wasn't real. It couldn't be...anything but this. Anything but that feeling of your tears running down your face till you'd used them all, anything but the sting in your throat from the pleas and cries for help...anything but back here!

"Are you okay?"

You blinked rapidly, air flowing back into your lungs when you saw the movie had been paused...it wasn't real. It. Wasn't. Real. "Y-yeah, just...can we watch something else I'm sorry I-"

"There's no need to apologise. How about we watch something happier, you can move in closer to me too. I'll calm you down the best I can."

𑁍༄Alhaitham:

You covered your ears, hoping to drown out the sounds, to not relive the things you'd experienced, but it was like you couldn't do anything. You were tapped in your past self...ready to experience every horrible thing again and again, "Help! H-help! Someone?!? Anyone?!?" But there was still no one...just like before...just like every other time.

Your hands started to shake, your stomach churning, no. No. Please, not again. Where was Alhaitham, where was the life you'd built to never think about this version of you again?? "H-hello..please...someone, just help..I need help.." You leaned your head back against the dirty wall behind you and rocked back and forth, quietly begging for help.

"It's alright, I turned off the movie. I'm here."

You let go of your ears at the familiar sound of Alhaithams voice and it was like your eyes had adjusted back to normal...his hand firm on your arm, pulling you back to reality. "I...I was back-"

"I know...lets not talk about it anymore alright? I'll make you a cup of tea and we can read a book together instead. Honestly we should have done that in the first place, literatures much better then any recording and this is only proving that...will you be alright?"

𑁍༄Ayato:

You were struggling, struggling to keep yourself sane after what had just happened..one moment you're with Ayato, laughing about how silly one of the characters in the movie was and now...now you were terrified. Now you were running, legs burning, breathing tossed aside to make room for short gasps for air and strangled screams. You were in hell...like you'd never left.

Your heart was racing, beating like it was about to explode...you just have to get away, you just have to go further. Please, you begged your body to catch with your mind, to just run faster but you could tell you were slowing down...you just didn't have the energy left. "No! Fuck!" You shouted as you fell to the ground, had you tripped? Had you used up all your stamina...did it matter? You couldn't get back up either way, all you could do was sit there trying to breath..

"It's alright my dear, come here."

"Ayato?" You closed your eyes tightly and then, you were back in front of the TV, Ayatos arms tight around you, the movie shut off and tears running down your cheeks. "I thought it was real...I w-was so scared."

"It wasn't real, you're safe and sound with me and that's how it's going to stay. I won't let anything like that happen to you ever again, I promise."

𑁍༄Scaramouche:

You stared out the window, feeling the cold chill your bones...this had to be just a memory and yet it was so real, you could even see your breath in the freezing air. Had your life with him been just another dream? Had you never actually gotten to live those happy moments. You clutched your stomach, feeling so upset you could puke...

Everything you'd tried to forget, every smell, every feeling, every single terrifying moment, had been brought back, just for you to experience it again.

"Hey, you alright?"

You looked away from the screen, pulled out of your flashback so harshly your head was spinning...when had the movie turned into your past? "I...um yeah. I'm fine, sorry."

"Are you sure, cause you're crying and shivering like you've just seen the scariest thing in your life.."

"..."

"Come here you idiot, next time we are watching kid shows or something. I don't care how annoying they are."

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day!~*⁠.⁠✧

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Long Ride p.2

A/n: Sorry for being so inactive lately, I went on a trip and then when I got back my dog ate my Wi-Fi and I couldn't post. I have been writing a bit so expect a few more posts soon, until then someone asked for a part two of this so I did the best I could. Glad to be posting again :'3 Warnings: Smut, car sex, unprotected sex, age gap, oral (m receiving), I think that's it but if you think I forgot anything please let me know :3

Link to part 1

You kept driving. The oldies station, though Slash would complain about the whole music industry to you if you called it that to his face, was playing on the radio in the background.

More boring buildings passed and your insides ached, craving something to stuff you nice and full once more.

You reached to undo Slash’s jeans but he slapped your hand away. “What are you doing?” He asked in a stern tone. “I just fucked you, how much dick do you need?” He sounded much angrier than he was, he was just as needy as you were, maybe even a little more since he didn’t get to finish.

“Why don’t you get to finish?” You asked in a soft voice. Slash let out an annoyed sigh and took a turn. After some more driving you saw the same colourful buildings you were used to.

Slash turned into a semi-packed parking lot and took out his phone to make a call. “Hey, sorry for the short notice,” he started in that sweet voice he uses with anyone he’s not totally comfortable with, interviewers and the likes, “I was just hoping you wouldn’t mind meeting me at a different place? I can’t make it to that restaurant right now, I’m sorry.” He explained. You listened intently to him as he spoke on the phone.

He soon hung up and turned to you, his demeaner changing completely. “So, we’re going to go in there,” he points to the sleazy restaurant/bar that was definitely a strip club at some point in its long life, “we’re gonna get a table and you’re going to get under it and suck me off, alright?” You bit your lip and nodded.

You both got out of the car and made your way to the building, a small hop in your step. Slash shook his head at you but you knew he loved it just as much as you did.

There was a short line of people already waiting but the host brought you both in quickly and sat you at a VIP table near the back. “You used to come here a lot?” You asked as you got in the booth with Slash.

“Where do you think I got this idea?” He pointed out as he took the menu’s from the waiter. His phone chimed and he checked it. “He’s almost here.” He said and gave a small pat to your thigh, signalling for you to get under the table.

With the direction Slash was sitting and the table cloth you could barely tell there was someone under the table, it was something you had to be looking for and surely no one would be. The place was dimly lit, Slash had his signiture top hat and glasses on, it was pretty much impossible for anyone to see what he was really thinking so pulling this off would be easy.

The man Slash had to meet with arrived and they got to talking. You already had him down your throat, trying not to move too much. You didn’t want to move and make him make noise. You thought you couldn’t take any chances, yet Slash still prompted you to move.

He cleared his throat and gave your cheek a small pat as he adjusted in his seat, making it easier for you to take him all down your throat. You pulled back a bit, leaving just the tip in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around him, starting to bob your head up and down his length.

You could feel Slash was close, the way he pulsed in your throat made you gag and all you could do was hope the man wouldn’t pay any attention to it. You took Slash’s balls in your hand, massaging them the way you know he likes. He tried to push your hand away but couldn’t bring himself to.

Looking up at him from your place between his thighs you could see he was covering his mouth with one ring clad hand. You could just barely see under his glasses, his eyes fluttered open and shut, starting to roll to the back of his head.

Clink.

Your heart stopped.

“Oh, I’m so clumsy.” The man said with a soft chuckle as he reached for the fork he dropped.

“No, no, uh, let me- let me get it for you.” Slash stumbled and reached for the silverware on the ground. He lightly kicked you and you quickly got the fork and gave it to him.

“Ah, Slash, ever the charmer.” The man joked, Slash chuckled in response as if he wasn’t twitching to watch you swallow his seed.

The dinner didn’t last much longer, the man got up and left you two alone. Slash still hadn’t finished, the fork caught the both of you off guard and had your minds full. Needless to say Slash was eager to get you out of there.

As you walked back to the car you could hear Slash breathing heavy in your ear and he was holding you tightly to his side as his legs were shaking a bit. You loved seeing this side of him, the side that was a little more on the submissive end, the side that nuzzled your neck and couldn’t say anything but praise.

The backseat was your choice, the both of you quickly freeing yourselves of your clothes. Slash cock once again sprung free of its confines, of course he wanted to see your tits more than anything and got your shirt off as well. Soon both of your clothes, underwear and all, were in a small pile on the floor.

You straddled Slash’s lap, his strong arms wrapped tightly around you and his face was shoved in the crook of your neck, just as you had expected him to do once he got a hold of you.

You were moving in sync to reach your high’s, savoring the feeling of rubbing against each other in all the right places. “Hah~ Fuck- so pretty, keep doing that, ngh~ feels-feels so good.” Slash mumbled, not even having the energy to try and hide his moans anymore, of course you didn’t either and the car filled with a sweet melody as you got closer and closer to the edge, that familiar warmth building in your gut.

“Fuck- daddy, daddy, ‘m gonna cum.” You whimpered in his ear.

“Good girl, cum for me, cum for me, please-” The little bit of a dominant mask he still had was fading faster, just the thought of what was to come was enough for you to finish around him. Your head fell back but Slash caught it and pulled you closer to him, helplessly rutting up into you, chasing his own release. “Fuck- please, please, need to cum, ‘m so close.” He mumbled, starting to ramble on.

Now it was your time to hold him. Still coming down you held his head to your neck. Your legs shook and your insides ached yet you still managed to work your hips with his. “Go on then, cum for mommy.” You said with a soft, tired smile. Slash let out a loud moan, bucking into you a few more times as his cum spilled into you.

You stayed there for several moments, breaths heavy and minds running wild. When Slash finally got his composure back he pulled away from you, though still holding you close. “Did you call yourself mommy?” He asked, his voice silky and sweet like honey.

You shrugged and curled up in his arms. “You were the one begging, I thought it was only fair.” He chuckled, adjusting the way you both were sitting to be more comfortable in the small backseat.

[mrprettywhenhecries]

don't waste your time (on me) [g.t]

01. | Please, Deputy?

Gator Tillman ✘ Win Lewis (OC)

⇾ w.c. 1.6k words ⇾ warning(s). canon x oc pairing, f!oc, oral (m!receiving), face fucking, dubcon/coercion (somewhat, if you squint), pervy!gator, inexperienced virgin!gator ⇾ a/n: Gator's got me in a chokehold, so here we go and I've got plenty more ideas where this came from.

Win gets caught speeding.  One more ticket and her license is suspended, and she can’t have that.  When she offers to do anything to get out of getting a ticket, the good Deputy takes her up on her offer.

[ masterlist • win bio ]

“Shit shit shit,” Win hissed under her breath as blue and reds appeared in her rearview mirror.  By the time she’d flown past the sheriff’s car parked at the corner, she knew it was too late.  “Fuck!” she growled, smacking her hand on the steering wheel as she reluctantly slowed and pulled off the road.  She’d already had three tickets in the past six months, with this one her license would be good as suspended.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she reached in her glove compartment for her registration and insurance card, waiting for the telltale crunch of boots on gravel, signaling the officer’s approach.  

“Goin’ a little fast there, ey Lewis?”

Win winced at the familiar voice.  Of course it had to be Gator Tillman.

“Deputy,” she greeted flatly, staring straight ahead, already holding out her license to him.

“How fast you think you were going there?” he repeated, plucking the card from her fingers, and Win shrugged noncommittally.

“Dunno, maybe sixty, sixty five,” she lied, knowing full well it was far more than that.

“Try close on eighty,” Gator snorted, turning his head and spitting on the ground before leaning against the side of her Chevelle with one arm.  “I’m afraid I’m gunna need to see your registration and proof of insurance,” he prompted, not sounding very sorry at all. “Really?” Win sighed, finally turning to look at him.  “C’mon, Gator, can’t you just let this one slide?  Please?  I can’t afford to lose my license,” she pleaded, her voice cracking.

“I dunno…” Gator mused, peering at her from under the bill of his Stark County Sheriff cap with those big brown eyes of his.  “Seems like you haven’t learned your lesson yet, missy.  I’m just doin’ my job, you know?” he drawled, his lips curling into a smirk.

“C’mon, Gator, don’t make me beg,” Win whined, scowling at the smug look on his face before taking a deep breath, hating how low she was about to stoop.  “Isn’t there anything I can do to change your mind?” she asked pointedly, hoping this was an offer a little perv like him wouldn’t be able to pass up.

Gator wet his lips, the gears turning as he stared at her, her words sinking in.

“Anything?” he asked, a hopeful look flickering in his eyes.  “Just for the record, what exactly are you offerin’, Winnie?”

Win rolled her eyes, ignoring the overly familiar nickname and the way it sounded on his lips.  “Do I gotta spell it out for you, Deputy?  I’ll suck your cock if you forget how fast I was goin',” she huffed impatiently.

“Really?” Gator yelped, hastily clearing his throat and straightening, adjusting his camo cargo pants against the growing bulge beneath the fabric.  “I mean, alright, since you insisted,” he said, rubbing his nose and shrugging, trying not to appear too eager.

“You’re clean, right?” Win asked, looking him up and down doubtfully as she pushed her door open and stepped out onto the pavement.

“Whaddaya mean?  I showered this mornin’,” he answered with a frown, lifting an arm and discreetly smelling himself.

Win rolled her eyes, stepping closer.  “I mean, you don’t have any STI’s or anything like that, right?”

“Oh!  Uh, no,” Gator exclaimed, nervously adjusting his ball cap, as if unsure what exactly to do with his gloved hands.

“You sure?” Win pressed, suspicious of the way he dodged her gaze.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he muttered defensively.  “I’ve never, uh–” his words trailed off as a dark flush rose up his neck.

“Never fucked anyone?” Win snorted and his expression darkened.

“You gunna suck my dick or not?” Gator snapped, palming himself impatiently.

Win glanced toward his cruiser.  “Yeah, just– your dash cam’s not on, right?  I don’t want footage of this floating around,” she murmured and Gator followed her gaze.

“It’s off,” he assured her, a little too quickly.  “I swear,” he insisted when she looked doubtful.  “C’mon, would I lie to you?” he asked, spreading his hands and offering her a lopsided grin that made her pulse quicken traitorously and heat rise to her face, her own body betraying her.

“Probably,” she muttered, but didn’t argue further, pushing him back against the side of her car and holding his gaze as she lowered herself to her knees before him.

“Oh fuck–” Gator breathed, his voice hoarse, and he quickly fumbled at his belt, easing his pants down enough to free his throbbing cock from his boxers.  

When it sprung free, Win unconsciously licked her lips, admiring him discreetly, his mushroom head a pretty pink, pre cum already glistening at his slit.  Closing her eyes, she wrapped a hand around his base, steadying herself as she opened her mouth, her tongue swiping a long slow stripe up the bottom of his length before swirling agilely around his pulsing head.

Gator let out a whimper that melted to a loud groan as his head fell back, resting against the top of the car behind him with a soft thunk, his mouth falling open.  One of his hands slipped behind Win’s head, his gloved fingers tangling in her hair. 

“Shit, your mouth feels so good,” he breathed, his hips bucking involuntarily as she swallowed more of him, gagging as he hit the back of her throat suddenly, her nose buried in his dark thatch of hair at his base.

“Sorry,” he grunted, fighting to still himself as Win’s head began to bob, picking up pace.

“Oh shitshitshit, goddamn baby, your mouth feels so good,” he repeated, Win’s saliva rolling down her chin and his balls.  “God, you’re so good at this,” he hissed, his grip on her head tightening, hips jerking forward again.

Win breathed through her nose, humming in response, her body flushing hotly at his praise despite the disgust that followed.  Opening her jaw wider, she gave in to letting him fuck her face, letting him use her for his pleasure.

The sounds he made were almost sinful and Win squeezed his thigh with her other hand, fighting not to touch herself to relieve the aching heat building between her own thighs and pooling in her panties.

“Shit, I’m close,” Gator whined breathlessly, his cock swelling in her throat.  “Gunna cum all over your pretty mouth, Winnie.  You’re such a good little slut for me,” he babbled, growing more confident as his thrusts turned sloppy.

Tears pricked the corners of Win’s eyes, catching in her lashes as her jaw began to ache and Gator hissed sharply as her teeth grazed him, but he was already cumming, shooting white ropes down her throat, flooding her mouth with his salty essence, a guttural string of curses leaving his lips as he emptied himself, his eyes practically rolling back in his head.

Finally stilling, his cock going soft, the Deputy fought to catch his breath, watching greedily as Win pulled back, some of his seed rolling down her chin and glistening on her pink lips.

“Wait—“ he said, grabbing her by the chin to hold her in place.  “Open,” he instructed, wanting to see the mess he’d made and Win obeyed, opening her mouth for him before swallowing, her eyes flicking up to his.

“Good girl,” he murmured, releasing her, and Win quickly wiped her chin with the back of her hand before getting unsteadily to her feet, Gator tucking himself back into his boxers and zipping up his pants.

“Careful,” he said, reaching out to steady her and noticing the tears glistening in her lashes.  “You okay?” he asked, suddenly worried he’d hurt her.

“Never better,” Win huffed, her voice dripping sarcasm, but she didn’t pull away from him, trying to ignore the heat pulsing between her legs and the intrusive thought that accompanied it—wondering how pretty Gator’d look between her thighs, those big brown eyes looking up at her eagerly as he made her cum on his mouth.

He probably wouldn’t even be able to find my clit, she reminded herself.  So why was the idea of her helping him learn so appealing?

“You sure you’re good, Win?  Your face is really red,” he pointed out.  “Need me to escort you home, make sure you get there alright?”

Gator’s words pulled her from her thoughts and she cleared her throat, swallowing sorely.

“I’m sure,” she replied quickly and he finally released her arm.  “Wouldn’t be in this predicament if not for you,” she muttered, though she found it strangely sweet of him to offer.

Gator nodded, adjusting his cap.  “Right then, guess I’ll be seein’ ya,” he murmured.  “Oh—your license,” he remembered, handing it back to her. “Night, Lewis,” he said, looping his thumbs in his belt as he ambled back to his cruiser.

“Yeah, night Deputy,” Win murmured, watching him walk away before shaking herself and pulling her car door open.  She had to get home to take care of something, her panties practically soaked through, though the last thing she wanted was for Gator to know that, to know the effect he’d had on her.

“Oh, and take it easy on the road, ey?  Would hate to have to pull you over again,” Gator called, a shit eating grin pulling at his lips.

Win rolled her eyes, sticking her hand out the window to flip him off before driving away.

Back in his cruiser, Gator watched her peel out, chuckling to himself before opening the laptop mounted to his console.  Biting his lip, he checked the dash cam recording, heat flooding him afresh as he watched her get to her knees.  Saving the video, he made a copy, backing it up on a thumb drive he slipped into his pocket before deleting the footage from record and pulling back out onto the road, his stomach growling loudly.  After that, he really needed a snack.

⇾ taglist. @b1tchy3lf @heartbreak-sandwich

[aphroditeslover11]

Exam Shenanigans

Oppie x Reader

Summary: Oppie helps you through a tough exam.

A/N: My first time writing anything so please be kind. Lloyd is totally fictional, as is Oppenheimer in this as he is mainly based on Cillian Murphy’s portrayal. If you like it please feel free to get in touch.

It was just a regular evening, Robert had been working at the university as usual and had just got back to his house in Shasta road, hoping that he’d just be able to have a quiet evening in, maybe get on with a bit more of his current paper or discuss the new book that you’d been reading together. Instead he walked through the door to darkness. The house seemed empty until he reached the living room where he found you, single light on in the corner and hunched over, seemingly heaving.

“Y/N, are you alright darling?” he asked, switching on another light before making his way over to you. It soon became clear that you had been crying, leaning over a book that you had been trying to read through your tears.

“I’m fine Robert, nothing that you need to worry about.” Not satisfied with your response he adjusted the cushions of the sofa, sitting down beside you. He wasn’t always the most sensitive to the emotions of others, but he could at least tell when you were lying to him.

“Love, you’ve been crying, something must be wrong.” He noticed then that you were moving to hide the book down the side of the sofa. “Was your novel sad, unhappy ending?” he pushed a little further. You just shook your head at him, still silent, as if speaking would set you off again. “What is it you’re reading anyway?” With that he gently reached across you, taking the book from your grasp and noticing your brief reluctance to release it. As soon as he saw the title he understood why you were crying: ‘A Comprehensive History Of The Late Western Empire’, a history textbook.

As soon as you knew that he had seen it you started to explain. “My professor set a surprise exam on the Roman Empire and I don’t know anything about it. We were meant to be doing the French Revolution when I took the course, but he changed his mind on units last minute. ”

“I’m sure we can sort it out, you don’t need to be so upset love. Who’s your professor? Maybe I could pull some strings and get you transferred.” he said taking you into his arms, the reassurance driving any tears away. You were a student at Berkeley, having met Robert through friends at a social event and quickly falling for him. After a period of dating your accommodation had fallen through and he had insisted that you move in with him. It was fast, but you stayed over half the time anyway, so it made sense.

“Lloyd, but I don’t want to transfer, he already doesn’t like me and I don’t want it to look like I’m giving up.”

“Lloyd wouldn’t do anything for me anyway, hates my guts, that’s probably why he’s difficult with you.” Although Robert loved it at Berkeley and was friends with half of the faculty, he didn’t get on so well with the other half, who openly hated anyone with his kind of politics.

“Well then, there’s only one other solution, we’ll have to work through it together.”

“Robert, I love you, but the exam’s in a week and I have no idea what’s going on, all the people in that book have the same bloody name. What do you know about the Roman Empire anyway? You’re a physicist.” The man chuckled slightly at that remark, lightly stroking your hair to relieve your angst.

“You happen to be very lucky, because one of the classes that I took when I was at Harvard was history, and I happen to have read all 3,000 pages of Edward Gibbon’s ‘Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire’. I might just be able to remember a thing or two.” Robert really was unbelievable sometimes, you just had to hope that he had the knowledge to face the challenge as well as the cockiness, though he usually did.

The next week was spent with your head in and out of books. Robert would borrow books from the Berkeley library whilst he was at work, bringing them home to you. He spoke to a friend who worked in the history department who gave you some pointers on what to focus on. By the end of the week you weren’t perfect, but you knew a lot more about Rome than you used to, thanks at least partly to Oppie’s efforts. He drove you in on the day of the exam, smiling at you softly as you went through some last minute notes from the papers sat in your lap. He delivered a chaste kiss to your lips, offering reassuring words as you left the car, ready to face the music.

~

Five days later you came into Robert’s office at the university, interrupting him grading papers, but he would always drop everything for you. He looked up to see you waving an envelope in your hand.

“We got the grades back today, but I couldn’t bring myself to it open without you.” He extended an arm to you, scooting his chair back so that you could situate yourself in his lap.

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” he asked once you had yourself settled, handing you a letter opener. Nervously, you took the proffered tool, ripping across the top of the envelope in one swift motion. Pulling out the piece of paper, your eyes immediately went to the letter written at the top of the page. A.

You immediately jumped from Robert’s lap, squealing in happiness. He was reserved as ever, though his face broke into a wide smile once he saw the piece of paper that you had dropped in your excitement. He stood up to join you in celebration, pulling you into his arms before planting a firm kiss to your lips.

“I’m so proud of you love, I knew that you could do it.”

“Not without you Rob, you’ve been a godsend this past week.”

“Have a little more faith in yourself love. But forgetting everything else, what do you say to going out to celebrate? Maybe grab dinner and have a couple of drinks?”

“That sounds wonderful Robert,” you replied, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

[69misato69]

🍭I have arrived. Listen to me very carefully Venus. We got one shot at this. I need you to focus on me. Ajax and Zhongli are dating and they fuck live on stream every Friday. Write this shit down. You are not writing it down. I can see.

Good boy. Now then, fucking on stream was it? Yes. Cam boy show and a wholesome audience. I need them both transgender.

Zhongli isn't there, business meeting or something. I'm not sure, make it up. I trust you.

Ajax announces that he will be alone for the stream and chat is doing their best to keep him entertained. He misses Zhongli after all.

Halfway through the stream, Zhongli joins chat with a cheeky "Without me?"

He is supposed to be busy, so it doesn't cross Ajax's mind that he would be watching. Nevertheless, he is. After he joins it's a whole another form of - putting on a show -

Do not ask me any follow-up questions. Delete this is you refuse. I have a feeling that you won't.

Yours forever and always, my friend. Godspeed.

hi anon you are... insane i love you so very much. ur the only person i have ever seen that is more off the rails than i am. i hope you enjoy this <3

masterlist ✦ archive of our own ✦ twitter

camboys childe and zhongli, zl is unable to participate in their weekly show bc he is out of town so he comes up with another solution. (2k)

c: implied top zl x bottom childe, transmasc childe with top surgery and no bottom surgery, sex toys, overstimulation, voyeurism and exhibitionism

minors DNI please. enjoy !

Childe looks around the room to make sure everything is neat and tidy. It’s silent except for the computer’s fan humming softly. Awfully quiet without Zhongli. 

He hooks the cable to a larger screen and adjusts the camera. The lobby is already almost full, as it always is at least ten minutes before their weekly show. 

Childe clears his throat and takes a deep breath before starting the stream.

“Hi, everyone!” 

ajaxfucker69: hi jaxxx

mrincognitomode: HELLOOO

Chat floods with greetings. The forced smile on Childe’s face soon transforms into a genuine one upon reading the kind wishes, “Ah, good to see you all.”

rickastleyofficial: where lili :( 

The comment causes his eyes to lose their sparkle again. 

“So, right... About that, I have to tell you guys something.” he averts his gaze. 

hydroslime: NO OH MY GOD NO

thisismeta: DONT SAY IT OMG

ajaxfucker69: there is no fuckng way 

Dozens of comments speculate about their break up, already jumping to conclusions and expressing how devastated they are that Childe realizes how he should have probably led on differently.  

“No, no of course not.” he shakes his hands in the air, “It’s just that he had to leave for a trip right after last week’s stream. He was supposed to be coming back today but… Well, some family stuff. It’s a bit complicated. In short, I’m alone today.”

rickastleyofficial: GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK DAMN

zhonglikisser: thank god but everything is ok right? 

“Yes, everything is fine. But it was so last minute that we had no way of announcing it. We can wrap this up and do a longer one next week, maybe. What do you think?” Childe ruffles the back of his hair. He is visibly anxious about gathering all their audience and having to explain the sudden change of plans, but no one seems to mind.  

mrincognitomode: no no hehe go ahead

simphour: fuck yourself (affectionately. i will watch <3)

Childe laughs at the remark, “Alright. No objections? I can’t really do anything that we planned on my own, though. We’ll save those for next week.”

rickastleyofficial: pls just strip and finger urself im so hungry

“How can I say no to such a kind offer?” Childe tosses his shirt aside and slides the underwear off his legs. He pads his back with a pillow and leans on it, facing the camera sideways so that his full body is on display. The light bounces off his strong arms and legs, circles around his soft belly as a soothing breeze hits him between his thighs. 

Childe turns to read the bottom part of the screen, complying with every request. He parts one leg to the side as the other stays bent, hands teasing his own nipples until they’re hardened and sensitive to the touch. 

Soft moans that drive everyone insane and leave them begging for more. He chuckles and slips one hand between his thighs. A rare occurrence where everyone stops typing, only to resume as soon as Childe begins to slide two fingers up and down between his folds. 

He sighs blissfully, secretly sore from viciously fucking himself the whole week. He tries his best to go slow, to work out his aching cunt as it gets wetter with each passing second. 

zhonglikisser: do u miss him ajax ;(

“Oh boy, do I?” Childe hisses as he brushes against his clit, “A week’s just too long.” 

He circles around the sensitive bundle, pressuring every nerve ending to the point that he can’t catch his breath. 

“Fuck—” Childe sighs. He grows weak, legs twitching, voice shaking and hole quivering for more. 

ajaxfucker69: ur so handsome ill cry 

tartalitruther: BIG BOYY 

thisisalsometa: we r here dont worry ajax </3

Childe has a hard time figuring out why, but it’s much better when people are watching. It overwhelms him with pleasure knowing how so many people are drooling behind their screens, eyeing him up and down and swooning over him. 

Silent worship. 

Even better when Zhongli watches him when he’s not allowed to touch. He takes his time slowly working himself out and laughing as Zhongli crumbles. 

He grips his thighs and grunts with every flick of Childe’s wrist until he’s allowed to press his husband against the mattress and slam into him. 

Until they’re both covered in sweat and Childe’s hips are bruised from his grasp and Zhongli’s back is marked with his nails.

Childe occasionally glances at the screen but it gets harder and harder the more he melts into the sheets. The room closes twenty minutes in, so the sound of a new guest is usually never heard after that. Naturally, his eyes widen upon hearing it. 

A small crown symbol that signifies a creator’s account.

Zhongli: Good evening, everyone.

“Huh?” his hand stops moving. 

ajaxfucker69: HUSBAND CAMEO

ilyzhongli: yall get in formation

rickastleyofficial: hi zhongliii (twirls hair) 

“Zhongli? You—came?” Childe can’t believe his eyes. 

Zhongli: Not yet. You first.

godsgayestsoldier: LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO

bitchless: I CANT FUCJING BREATHE 

rickastleyofficial: goofy ahh

Childe can’t help but laugh. Zhongli is supposed to be busy all week in a house full of his relatives, having excruciatingly long dinners every night that exhaust him into oblivion. It’s only when he’s with family that Childe gets to witness typos in his good night messages. 

Zhongli: Why don’t you spread your legs and show us? I feel like I’m not getting my money’s worth. 

ajaxfucker69: ur so right 

rickastleyofficial: pussy reveal RIGHT NOWWW 

Childe’s heart races, he shakily gets up and sits in front of the camera, spreading his legs. He’s embarrassingly wet now that Zhongli is here. He shifts forward as the chat goes berserk and slides his hand down again. 

Zhongli: Beautiful. 

God, he’s doing it on purpose. 

Childe can’t see his face or hear his voice but it’s so easy to trick himself into thinking that it’s Zhongli touching him. He digs deep with two of his fingers, curling them up against his sweet spot and whimpering at his own touch. 

Tears pool around his eyes as he bites down on his bottom lip. So sensitive and needy, he fights the urge to beg Zhongli to come back and lay him down. To kiss him all over and bury his head between Childe’s legs. 

It drives him insane to think about how Zhongli would be watching him. Is he alone, stroking his cock as he watches Childe — or is he at the family function with headphones on? 

It would be so wrong, with all those people around and his husband moaning in his ear.

Childe hopes it’s that one. He hopes Zhongli is hard under the table, fighting for his life and about to lose his mind. 

Before he realizes he’s already clenching around his own fingers, releasing with a low moan. 

ilyzhongli: TOY TOY TOY

zhonglikisser: the pink oneeee <3333 pls ajax

Childe collapses forward with a grin, “Tsk. So merciless today.” 

He reaches for the drawer with shaky legs, taking out a small vibrator with a remote controller. He settles back down as the chat bubbles over with excitement. 

Childe looks down, holding the device against his clit and turning it on. A squeak escapes his lips at the sensation. 

“Why don’t I take some questions from the audience, and if you like my answers I’ll change the frequency?” he proposes and slides it inside. His walls tighten with the low vibrations caressing his insides. 

rickastleyofficial: be honest did u fap to zhongli pics this week

“No.” a slightly twisted smile takes over Childe’s lips, “I did it to some voice messages, though.” 

Zhongli: Oh?

“While wearing his clothes, maybe. Who knows?” 

rexlapis: id be dying right about now

evenmoremetanow: this is true love everyone shut up

rickastleyofficial: put one on. right fking now 

Childe scrapes himself off the bed, “Well, of course.”

He makes his way to their wardrobe with trembling legs, picking out a soft, light-brown, collared shirt. 

He lays on his side and rests his cheek on his palm, “Might get it a bit dirty though, is that alright Zhongli?”

Zhongli: Paint it white. 

ajaxfucker69: u heard the man 

Childe giggles at the thought, “Ah, I’ve entertained enough requests, don’t I deserve a bit more?”

Zhongli: Agreed. Turn it all the way up.

He’s delighted to see Zhongli grow more invested by each passing minute. Sure, it’s impossible to hear it but his gentle yet demanding orders ring in Childe’s ears. He obliges happily, lower body twitching with the impact. 

“Tell me, chat. If you had a boyfriend this pretty—hah—would you leave him all alone like this?”

ilyzhongli: nooo

mrincognitomode: nuh uh

Childe squirms and aimlessly grips at the sheets. 

“That’s what I—ah—I thought.” 

With every incoming wave he grinds down on the mattress, so full yet hollow at the same time. It has to be Zhongli bending him over, ramming into his wall and filling him up until Childe is sobbing on his cock. 

“Zhongli…” he whimpers desperately without even noticing. 

Begs and pleas spill from his lips for him to return, to have him whatever way he wants to as he unravels and humps the mattress with the vibrator stuffed deep inside.  

Childe on their bed, using their toys in Zhongli’s clothes, moaning for him. 

There is no way he isn’t going insane. 

Childe can’t hold a position anymore, writhing in front of the camera with glossy eyes that make it impossible to read the screen. 

He cums again while gasping for air, drooling all over the collar and staining the skirt of his shirt. The fabric is pressed in between his thighs, soaking up the wetness of his dripping cunt. 

Childe rubs his eyes occasionally to skim the chat, but no one seems to have any intention to stop him. He lets out an unhinged laugh and rests on his back. 

The shirt folds to the other side, exposing his body.

It would be so cruel to rob everyone of the sight, to deprive Zhongli of the waist he loves holding and kissing up at. 

Childe’s back arches, hips pulsating with every orgasm as he tugs at his own hair and teases his nipples. 

He presses his thighs together, turning the vibrations even more violent. His senses are going numb. The computer’s fan, he can’t hear anymore through his clogged ears. Whenever he tries to direct his gaze to the screen, his pupils roll back with pleasure so intense it feels like Childe is going to rip in half. 

Face covered in his own spit and chest glistening with sweat, he palms over his cunt to find it drenched. He leaks all over Zhongli’s shirt, pathetic and so beautiful that no one can even spare half a second to blink. 

Tears stream down Childe’s face as he has no choice but to reach for the remote while shaking through another orgasm. 

Warmth overtakes him. He relaxes onto the bed with a long exhale and closes his eyes—

“My god.”

nomoremeta: u did so well <3

ajaxfucker69: ajax mwahhh  

Childe gains composure and finally opens his eyes to a clearer scene, replying to all comments breathily and bidding everyone farewell. The count on the upper right hand of the screen gradually goes down, until there’s one person left. 

One person that just won’t leave. 

Zhongli: The prettiest. 

“Show’s over, sir. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave the premises.” Childe says playfully. 

Zhongli: Just a few more minutes. 

Childe rolls up into a ball towards the camera and hugs his legs. 

“Zhongli…”

“My love.” he types, already weakened with Childe’s soft, tired voice. 

“I miss you…” he whines. 

There is nothing Zhongli wants more than to hold him in a loving embrace, to revel in his scent with fingers carding through his soft, ginger locks until the morning. 

“I miss you too. So much. Two days, and I’m there. Okay?” he types out with one hand, the other soiled with his own cum, dribbling onto the bed. His hand still hovers, leaving light strokes along his spent cock. Zhongli gazes at the screen affectionately. 

“Did you like it?”

Zhongli: I did. Exquisite as always.

Zhongli: Why don’t I return the favor with a private show?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One Night🌙15 [Finale]

Masterlist

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, pregnancy, depression, manipulation,  c-section, post-partum depression.

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 18+.

Summary: One night changes your entire life.

Note: Thanks all for your patience. Hard to believe this started with a writing challenge.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!​

I ask humbly and graciously for your likes and feedback. Please leave a reblog as well as it helps lots :D

All you could hear was your own breath. Your chest rose and fell heavily as the machines beeped beside you, a dull pain underlying the tingling numbness in your back. Your body was heavy as if you can’t move, your head fuzzy and full. Your eyelids hung half-closed across your vision as a figure appeared before you.

You focused on inhaling and exhaling as a shiver crawled up to your shoulders, shaking you painfully. The machine beeped in a mimic of your heartbeat, growing faster as you blinked up at the nurse. You groaned as agony slowly seeped around your pelvis. You looked down, your stomach slouched and loose.

“What…” you croaked and grabbed her hand as she tried to adjust the oximeter on your finger.

“Shhh, your baby’s health, she’s in the NICU right now. You can see her soon.”

You shuddered and let her go, your hand dropping down beside the rail. The dry, sterile smell of the hospital parched your tongue and throat. You shook your head.

“Too early…” you murmured.

“She was a bit early but we got her out alright,” the nurse explained, “miss, please, don’t move too much. You’ll tug on the incision.”

“Huh?” You closed your eyes and raised your hand shakily to your forehead.

The car ride, frantic and furious with Andy’s voice, the wracking of your stomach and back as you cradled your middle and whined. The parking lot, crisp and frigid as he carried you across the dark tarmac. The white hospital walls and the voices all around, speaking as if you weren’t there as they rolled you a bouncing bed. Glowing orbs above as he held your hand, a mask and cap making you forget who he was.

“The baby… I… don’t remember.”

“You had a cesarean, miss. We had to get her out as fast as possible.”

“Why… where is she?”

“I told you, she’s in the NICU. Once she’s cleared, we can bring her up to you.”

“But—” you croaked.

“Your husband is getting you water,” she said as she wrote on your chart and hung it from the foot of your bed, “you have to stay hydrated. You’ll be getting some advil once the epidural wears off.”

“Oh…” your head lolled to one side, “okay.”

You were too confused to argue, too weak to keep talking. The baby was safe and all was as it was. You were stuck under Andy’s thumb as he twisted it down on you. Your hand slipped back to your side and you shut your eyes.

The nurse left and you sat in the silence. It was over. Your daughter, his daughter, was alive and healthy. You just had to survive this. Had to get through and bide your time. The thoughts made you dizzy. You couldn’t do anything right now, you had sacrificed your body for his baby.

The door opened again and you groaned as you peeked at Andy from beneath drooping eyelids. He had a large styrofoam cup with a straw. He smiled and came around the bed, offering the cup.

“Andy,” you sneered.

“You’re awake,” he ignored your disdain, “the nurse said you’d need lots of water. You were a bit out of it so–”

You clenched your jaw and glared up at him. He must’ve been acting like the gallant husband, the dependable hubby, the saviour. Did he tell them what happened? That he goaded you into labour? Of course not, he only showed his real face to you.

When you didn’t reach for the cup, he put it down on the metal tray and wheeled it closer to your bed. You flared your nostrils and turned to stare at the orange door. You tried to shift and your stomach pulled tightly as you whimpered.

“You shouldn’t move too much,” he touched your shoulder, “you gotta take it easy, sweetheart.”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you shrugged him off and winced again.

He sighed, “not here. Not now.”

“Yeah, when you say it, it’s the law. When I do–”

“Do you even care that she’s alive? Our daughter?” He stepped closer to the bed and gripped the rail.

Your eyes welled as you set your jaw. You furrowed your brow at the door as his gaze hung on you. A heat seared up the back of your neck and across your chest. You gulped and let the anger surge.

“No,” you said at last.

He let go of the rail and hit it with his fist. He backed up as he shook his hand and paced around the cramped space at the end of the bed. He snarled as he stopped and pivoted to face you.

“You don’t mean it.”

“Andy,” you deflate against the pillows, “I don’t care about anything. Not you. Not that thing they cut out of me. Not even myself. I’d be better off if I’d died on that table.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. You always have to be so dramatic. You can’t help yourself,” his hand clamped around his hip as his other hand sliced flat through the air, “you fucked around throughout this whole pregnancy and now that you’re facing the consequences, you’re sitting here feeling sorry for yourself. It isn’t about you. You have a child. You’re a mother and you sure as shit aren’t going to fuck this up.”

You rolled your eyes and let your head loll to the side. You coughed and it tore through your pelvis. You reached over and took the cup, slurping long and deep before putting it back. You folded your arms and grumbled.

“I don’t want to see her.”

“Don’t fucking do this–”

“Andy, you knew from the beginning I didn’t want this. Not you, not her.”

“You don’t get a fucking choice.”

“Fuck you,” you laughed darkly, “what do you want from me? You fucking dick. You have tortured me for six months. You have ruined my life and my body. What do you want? What?!”

You were left breathless from your outburst and the monitor began to beep erratically. You snorted and waved your hand indifferently. You looked over as the numbers on the machine.

“With any luck, I’ll be joining Laurie soon–”

“Don’t you say that! You have no right to say that,” he snarled and he grabbed the bottom of the bed and jerked it. You cried out as the movement jolted you painfully, “all I’ve given up and you mock me for it. You don’t appreciate what I’ve done for you. You don’t know what it’s like to lose your whole family—”

The door opened behind him and he choked back his words. He exhaled and the tension fell from his face as he turned to greet the nurse. He stepped back and gave half a wave. He stood by the wall as the nurse went to the machine then neared you.

“Miss, I’m going to have the doctor come check in, okay? Your heartbeat’s very irregular.”

“Alright, fine,” you uttered dully, “thanks.”

“He’ll be here shortly but you have to try to stay calm. Don’t try to move,” she scribbled again on your chart, “sir,” she looked at Andy, “try to distract her, okay? Keep her still.”

You could have laughed but you don’t. You scowled as the nurse left, entirely unaware of the cause and effect of this man. You huffed and pushed your head up to stare at the ceiling.

“If you keep this up,” Andy slowly came forward and stopped at your bedside. He grabbed your chin and turned your head as he leaned over you and growled, “you will know exactly what it’s like to lose everything.”

“I already have,” you spat back at him.

“Have you?” His nose almost touched yours as he loomed over you.

You searched his deep oceanic eyes as he squeezed your jaw cruelly, “you…”

“Your parents might be a couple of yokels, but they mean something to you. My daughter will have us, she won’t miss her grandparents.”

“Andy–”

“I care a lot less for them than I did Laurie. Think about that.”

He stood and released you. You shuddered and touched your jaw. He took the remote as he sat on the stiff chair and flipped on the television mounted in the corner. You closed your hand and let your fist rest on your chest. Your parents might not be the best people but they didn’t deserve to pay for your mistakes. Not anymore.

🌙

After several days in hospital, you were discharged with a bottle of painkillers and your daughter. She’d spent three days in NICU, three days in which Andy would go and stare at her through the window and come back with tears in his eyes. 

When at last she was wheeled into your room, you let him hold her as you rested. You only touched her to feed her and the sensation of her greedy sucking revolted you. And her weight only added to the pain in your pelvis. She was small but a burden still.

He called her Abigail. She was tiny but she looked like him. She had his eyes and that serious expression. She cried but not for long. Angry yowls rather than anguished wails. As if she was unhappy with this world, disappointed by her new life. You didn’t blame her.

You pushed open the car door but hesitated to climb out. Andy worked at unhook the car seat from the back before he came around. He helped you out, not a word between you as he marched you up to the front door. The grey Massachussets sky set a suitably dour pallor around you.

Inside, you sunk into the couch as Andy put the seat on the coffee table and undid the straps. He carefully took out Abigail and cradled her in his arm as he stroked her face with his other hand. He doted on her in wonder as you sat grimacing with your hand over your stomach.

“I should pump,” you said as your breasts throbbed.

“You should feed her,” he tutted as he turned to you, “come on, Abby, go to mama.”

He bent to place her in your arms and you kept your eyes down. You couldn’t look at him. You accepted the child and held her against your side as you lifted your shirt and unhooked your nursing bra. You angled her until she latched and sighed as the tension leaked out with your milk.

Andy tucked his hands in his pockets as he stood by the armrest, watching as you fed the baby.

“See, you’re good at this.”

“No, my body’s doing what it’s supposed to.”

“She likes you. Look. The way she’s watching you.”

You peeked down and met the glassy blue eyes, intense as she suckled loudly. She watched you in turn. It made your stomach wrench.

“She probably can’t see me. Their vision is very good early on.”

He rested his hand on the cushion above your shoulder, “how do you know that?”

You shook your head, “I read the books. I’m not as stupid as you think.”

“I never said that–”

“You’re still not my dad,” you retorted, “hers, yes, not mine.”

“Oh, I know,” he walked in front of you and lowered himself next to you, “you really want to do this again?”

You gazed dully ahead. You watched the dark television screen blankly. His hand rested on your thigh and he squeezed. You nodded. The sam argument, over and over. It would drive you crazy sooner than later.

“I got it, Andy,” you uttered, “I remember everything you said. Everything.”

“No, only the bad things,” he slid his arm over your shoulder and nestled close, cupping Abigail’s head as he admired her, “but there are good things, if you let them in.”

“It’s too much,” you pushed your elbow into his side, “you’re crowding me. It hurts.”

He snarled but didn’t pull away. He bent his arm, his hand petting your hair in tandem with the baby’s. You went rigid and focused on feeding her.

“I’ll be home for a few weeks to help. Doctor says you need to take it easy and I don’t want to miss this. Not again,” he cooed at the baby between words, “with Jacob, I was still working my way up in the office, but now… I don’t have to worry about all that.”

You didn’t respond. There was nothing you could say that wouldn’t bring his ire. If you tried to pretend to be interested, he’d accuse you of lying. If you lied, he’d know it. There was no winning with Andy Barber and you’d learned that the hard way.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” He hummed, “I always wanted a daughter.” He turned and pecked your cheek, “she looks like you.”

You tensed and swallowed. Your eyes burned with frustrated tears and you flicked them away quickly with your lashes. You forced a smile and dipped your chin down. You brought your hand up to Abigail’s head as your cheek twitched dangerously. You could fall apart then and there.

“No,” you whispered hoarsely, “she looks like you.”

You quivered as the helplessness plucked at you along with the neediness of the baby’s latch. You lifted your head and looked around. Andy dropped his arm and his hand gripped your shoulder.

“Yeah, you think?”

You ground your teeth and cleared your throat, “yeah,” you eked out, “she does.”

“See, you can be a good mommy,” he squeezed your shoulder, “you just have to try.”

You turned to him and his eyes met yours. You wanted to tell him to shut up. You wanted to tell him you’re not a good mommy and you will never be. That you will not be what he’s made you. But none of that is true and lying to him only made him worse.

“I am trying,” you murmured.

“I know,” he traced his hand up your neck and along your chin, “keep trying.”

A sheet of ice encased you, spreading from his touch and across your chest, trickling down your spine and coursing through your veins. The finality of the moment, of this place, a suburban prison of his making. A sentence worth than death.

He rubbed his thumb along your chin and pulled you closer. You didn’t resist, you couldn’t. His kiss drained you just as the lips around your tit did. The woman you once were, that you could’ve been, was dead. 

Your only purpose was them. To bend for their needs until you snapped. And you would.

One day.

[bumblekastclips]

KYLE CROUSE: Alright, here's a question from StephCube! "I hope Whisper expands her circle of friends. I think Cream and Sonic could also be good friends with her. How do you imagine those dynamics? Would she have tea with Cream and her mother? Would she and Sonic be coordinated in battle and maybe eat some chili dogs on the way home?"

IAN FLYNN: She's friends with Sonic! It's just, Sonic understands that she doesn't like to pal around as much as his other friends. Like, everyone else, y'know, "let's go on an adventure! Let's hang out! Let's have loud, happy, boisterous times!" And Whisper, not so much. She likes her private time, she likes time away. And he respects that, and he gives her space. KYLE: That's one thing I like about this Sonic, is like... he's, like, very empathetic. He's surprisingly understanding about, y'know, letting people be who they need to be without, y'know, forcing them to do anything that they don't wanna do. IAN: Well, that's the thing, is like... Sonic is supposed to be cool. KYLE: Right. IAN: That's, like, one of his key defining traits. And what 'cool' is has changed a lot from the nineties. KYLE: Yes. IAN: So, in this day and age, 'cool' is someone who is, y'know, witty and powerful and strong, but also compassionate and caring without necessarily being all sobby about it. KYLE: Right. IAN: Y'know, he doesn't have to be- he's not gonna be gentle about things, but he will be respectful and aware of it. Um... and I- I kinda assume that Whisper knows that within that circle of friends, she's in a safe place. So she wouldn't necessarily seek out the companionship, but if Cream ran over with a crumpet and asked her for tea, she would have a hard time saying "no." KYLE: Mhm, mhm. IAN: She wouldn't necessarily be comfortable sitting out in the garden with no cover and so many obvious sniper points, and distraction by the absolutely delicious biscuits that-- "Vanilla, how do you make these? I'm getting distracted!" KYLE: [chuckling] Yeah, I like it. She's letting her guard down once in awhile, and it freaks her out! IAN: Mhm, mhm! KYLE: But, you know... maybe she eventually learns to adjust. Maybe. [sigh] Whisper's so good.

-----

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Please remember that nothing that is said on BumbleKast is canon! It's just some guys and their opinions occasionally spitballing ideas. If you don't like an answer, you don't have to take it as Word of God or anything like that. It's all just for fun!

[fromasgardandback]

Trust Building // Loki Laufeyson Headcanon

masterlist | oneshots

alright so we all know Loki doesn’t trust anyone and it is not healthy for him

we're going to change that because baby boy needs to heal properly

I lead Loki into my room and closed the door behind me. Loki smirked getting on the bed while I rolled my eyes

“That is not what we’re doing. We’re going to fix the problems in our lives.” I said sitting next to him.

“My love, c’mon. Why are we doing this?” Loki whined.

“Because you need this. You don’t trust anyone but me, and while that’s nice, you still hold back. So, we’re doing this.” I said.

“I don’t need to trust anyone, but you.” Loki said.

“It’s not healthy. I know from experience that it’s not. I understand that you don’t want to trust anyone and that’s okay. You don’t have to trust anyone you don’t want to, but how you’re emotionally and mentally going about it is not good for you. Let me help.” I said holding his hand.

we sat there and talked for hours upon hours about our lives. the deepest darkest secrets of our hearts that no one has ever known

Loki tried hard, but a few tears fell down his face as I gently wiped his cheeks. he hated showing his emotions, he was taught that it was a weak flaw

I told him the secrets of my life in that I had a hard time making and keeping people in my life. that’s something he can agree with

we shared how hard it is to be looked at as one type of person when you were at your lowest and hurting, but now you’re changed. that doesn’t matter when everyone sees how you first were

“Odin never told me he loved me. He would say he loved his sons, but to me personally I never heard those words. My mother always tried to tell me he did, but we both know he didn’t. Odin isn’t capable of loving anyone or anything besides his “rightful duty as a god and king”. How selfish of him and he tells me he saved me. I would’ve rather died on that cold hill top than be taken by that hateful man just to become this.” Loki spat out pacing the room.

I walked up to him while gently placing my hands on his back, turning him towards me. “Please don’t say that. If he didn’t save you I would’ve never met you. I don’t know where I’d be without you, you saved me. Loki you saved me. I was so close to calling it quits on everything and everyone. I was so close to just falling and finally being free. You saw me and saved me, so for that I thank Odin. For the pain he caused, I hope he’s hurting in Valhalla. But you my love, I am thankful, grateful, and blessed to have you.”

Loki leaned down kissing my gently. he held my face in his hands as I wrapped my arms around him tighter

we talked some more before ordering food, putting on a movie and cuddling in bed.

“What happens now, my love?” Loki looked up.

“It’s going to take some time to adjust to this new mentality. Trust me, I had to as well. But I’m right here and I’m not leaving.” I said holding him close.

Loki hummed laying his head on my chest and wrapping his arms around me closer

I love my Loki more than anything and I will continue to heal with him

[puffpasstea]

Random blurb idea - could you please do a blurb maybe where Matilda travels to surprise harry on tour, and maybe has her text notifs off bc of travel so harry is upset/concerned bc she’s not responding to his messages? Like a mix of angst and smut?

Sorry if you hate this and its nothing like you wanted.

Warnings: angst, smut, (brief) mentions of mental illness.

---

"I'm sorry, okay? but to be fair, I never said I'd come for sure. I only said I'd try." I adjusted the phone in my hand.

"I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to. I can practically feel you brooding all the way over here."

"'M not brooding. Know better than to expect you to just drive out cuz I happen to be playin' a show nearby. Even though we haven't seen each other in months."

"But you're not brooding or anything, right?"

"Right."

"I have to work, Harry! Not all of us can just change our plans on a whim and expect the whole world to accommodate our schedules, you know. Some of us have real jobs. Plus, you know I get anxious about this kind of thing. I'm not a professional rockstar-"

"No, you have a real job."

"C'mon, you know I didn't mean it like that."

"'S alright. I have to go, anyway. Sound check starts in a bit."

"Talk soon?"

"Bye, Matilda."

***

The wheels of my carry-on squeaked gratingly as I pulled it across the airport. I couldn't believe I was actually going through with this. I felt foolish. Like some love-struck teenager sneaking out of her bedroom at night for a boy who doesn't even know her name. Except I'm an adult. And Harry- well, it's complicated. But my therapist did say that I needed to start getting out of my comfort zone and doing things that I wouldn't normally do. Something about practice making things easier, or whatever. I've certainly never done this before. Granted I've arrived way too early for a domestic flight, and I'm sure I've overpacked for this weekend trip. Hopefully, the look on Harry's face will be worth it though.

A knot formed in my stomach every time I thought about how I spoke to him on the phone the other night. All he wanted was a chance for us to finally see each other again, but the thought made me feel threatened somehow. Like I'd admit to being attached to him if I were willing to come all this way. Of course, I could've been nice about it, or at least avoided implying that his job was less real than mine. All I can do now is hope that he doesn't still remember all that.

***

My fingers were shaky against the screen of my phone as I selected the "airplane mode" and plugged in my headphones. Perhaps getting four shots of espresso in my crappy airport coffee wasn't the sanest decision, or maybe the trembling was simply nerves, either way, I needed a distraction. Launching the music streaming app, I went for the "downloads" tab, and played "Matilda" as the pilot announced our take-off.

***

I ran across the airport, my squeaky luggage in hand until I reached the crowded escalator, regretfully bumping into the person in front of me before reaching a halt.

"E-excuse me, sorry." I whispered, but the man didn't seem to care. I peered beyond him at the long line of people. Damn was this thing crowded. I needed it to move faster. I needed to use the restroom. Airplane bathrooms gave me the creeps. And drinking soda with my stale complementary pretzels on the flight was a huge mistake with a bladder like mine.

hurry, hurry, hurry. I tapped my foot against my carry-on, impatiently, and earned a side-eye from the person in front of me.

"Again, sorry, sir."

***

I stared at my reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror. Gross airplane smell isn't exactly the scent I want Harry to associate with me. I took out my TSA-approved, mini-toiletries and began damage control. Freshening up, re-applying make-up, and spraying some perfume might help counteract the post-flight aroma and general vibe.

I promised myself that if this ends up going badly, my therapist is going to have to pay me next week.

The shorter the distance between Harry and I, the louder my heartbeat felt. It was practically in my eardrums by now. I hated keeping secrets from him, but I've also never surprised anyone before. If I was being honest, there was a tinge of excitement and anticipation about this, underneath all the self-loathing and embarrassment. No matter what happens next, I should be proud of myself for trying, right? I should...

***

At the arrivals gate, I deselected the "airplane mode" to access the internet and put in Harry's hotel address. The second that my phone caught signal again, my notifications were blowing up. It took me a minute to get over the vibrations and buzzing, and when the flood had died down, I look at my screen, blinking intensely.

Harry Styles, 12 Messages

Harry Styles, 16 Missed Calls

Harry Styles, Voicemail

Holy shit! What had I done? I worried that he'd been trying to reach me to let me know how much he hates me; how he's glad I never ended up coming out to see him after all. What if this whole thing was a mistake?

My brain froze. I hastily scrolled through his messages, too paralyzed by anxiety to process the words on the screen. Vaguely, I caught sight of "Apologize" "Just missed you" and "worried you hate me" across all 16 messages.

jumping in the cab, I relished in his voice messages and listened to them repeatedly it with a stupidly wide grin blasted on my face the whole time.

"Please don't ignore my messages. It's one thing to do that when we're within driving distance and I can just bang on your door and call your bluff, but I kind of hate when I can't do anything about it now."

"I'm really worried, and I know it's manipulative of me to say this, but, I really don't want to go onstage knowing that you're mad at me."

"okay, I'm starting to think that you do want to upset me. Don't be like this. I just missed you. Can ya blame me? The show was hell in case you care to know. I mean, I couldn't not sing Matilda now, could I? You know what I thought about the entire time I was singing it, though? Remember the one time you decided we should go to your place instead of mine, after filming? You made us dinner and I fucked you against the couch? left a nice bruise on your neck. Some of my best work, I must say. Have you been with anyone...you know, since... It's not like you can't be. Why stay celibate. I'm not your boyfriend or anything. I could be. But you don't want that, so... anyway, they're knocking on my door. Bye."

What a giant idiot.

*

It was a little past midnight by the time that my cab pulled up to the lobby of the hotel Harry and his band were staying in. I gave the receptionist the fake name he usually uses for reservations like this and they eyed me from head to toe a few times before finally confessing his room number. It was a large penthouse-sized space on their top floor. No doubt booked specifically with all his gear, luggage, and concert items in mind. During the elevator ride to the summit, it occurred to me that he might have brought someone back with him for the night. Or maybe gone out. He'd told me some stories, from the beginning of his performing career, when he'd go to afterparties, and after-afterparties and pick up women and smoke and drink and do things that I could only imagine. But, he's also told me that he has since turned in the opposite direction, opting instead, for a very structured routine on tour. He'd found that performing the very next day with a raging hangover and on very little sleep made his stage presence shaky and lackluster, and he felt it was his responsibility to always give every performance his full capacity. So, it was very likely that he'd be getting ready to go to sleep soon, but what if tonight is the exception? what if he'd decided, on a whim, to go back to his old ways, just this once?

how would I feel if I were to find his lips attached to someone else's neck right now? And before I could wait around to make up my mind about it, I found myself knocking on Harry's door.

the door creaked open, and, I could swear I saw the wheels turning in his head.

"If you must know, no. I haven't been with anyone else since being with you. Not that it's any of your business."

He went from barely looking at me through droopy eyes, clutching the middle of his bathrobe, trying to keep his chest covered to looking as if he'd seen a ghost, to grabbing the cross on his necklace, kissing it, and looking up at the ceiling.

"Thank you Jesus. God, thank you, thank you!!"

I frowned. "I didn't know you were religiou- ahhhh"

He grabbed me by my shirt collar, dragging me into the room and shutting the door behind us.

"Aren't you gonna- ask- why I'm here..." I attempted to remain cool and collected as Harry busied himself with separating me from my luggage, shoving me up against the wall and kissing everywhere his lips landed.

"Don't care" he whispered in between leaving a trail of kissing down the side of my jaw and neck. "Just care that you're here."

"H-harry, wait. I just got off a plane, there's like airplane germs all over me." I swallowed my giggles, feeling tickled by the stubble he appears to be growing.

Harry used, looking up at me through his lashes.

"Fine" He relented, his arms still around my waist, squeezing gently, as if to verify that I was really here. "You can take a shower. There's a very nice bathroom here."

"That'd be nice." I leaned in, kissing his cheek, and enjoying the blush it caused.

Harry's fingers danced down my body and took hold of my hand. "Let me give you a little tour."

"Ooo fancy!" I scanned his residence enviously, until my eyes landed on his massive, and unmade bed. "You were sleeping?"

"Not exactly....was about to. But that doesn't matter now. Cuz I've got company!" he turned around to face me, his hands cradling my face, his sparkling green eyes looking directly into mine. "are you really here or is this the dream I'm having after going to bed thinkin' about you and worrying that I haven't heard from you? Is my subconscious just makin' this up? if so, I don't ever wanna wake up."

My heart melted in my chest. I didn't know what to say, so I simply kissed his lips, causing his eyes to flutter shut and his feet to momentarily lose balance before he held onto me to steady himself.

"Ca-can I...join you in the shower?" he asked, looking down at his feet.

"Seriously, Harry? shower sex? do you know how impractical that is?"

"N-no! not shower sex." He looked at me, briefly, before sheepishly looking down at the floor again, his arms finding their place around my waist. "N-not that I don't wanna fuck you. Just-- uhh...I just wanna hold you. If that's okay? You can say no! I can just wait."

I was glad Harry wasn't looking at me because I'm sure my face would've given me away instantly. I grabbed onto the sleeve of his robe, leading him to the bathroom. "Fine. You can come." I could feel his excited gaze on the back of my head.

***

"Food'll be here in 40 minutes." Harry placed the hotel phone back in its place.

I nodded, my eyes on the tv.

"So..." He stood by the side on the bed, towering over my scarcely covered body. My hair was still damp and he insisted I wear his t shirt even though I'd packed my own pajamas. "How long are you here for?" he spoke as he crawled onto the bed, situating himself squarely in between my legs.

"just- for the- uhh- the \ weekend" I stuttered as Harry's hands slipped under the fabric of my clothes and found my breasts, his thumb and index fingers lightly running over my nipples.

"Mustn't waste time, then" he kissed a line of wet, open mouth kisses from my belly button, reaching the band of my underwear. "May I?"

"Yes. God, yes." My breath quickened. Harry's soft voice asking for permission always got me even when we were sleeping together every other night. Tonight, it downright melted me. "P-please." I mewled, instantly embarrassed.

"Eager, are we?" the grin was obvious in his voice.

"Yes!"

"Yes, what?"

My heart fluttered in my chest, skipping a beat. "Yes, sir." I corrected.

"hmm.." Satisfied, Harry hooked his fingers through the band of my underwear, slowly, teasingly, dragging it down my legs. "That's my good girl."