#i have all day to do whatever the fuck i want

[taasgirl]

somethin' stupid - oscar piastri

summary: carlos sainz's sister, y/n, owns a bakery in barcelona, and during the spanish gp, she begins to see a certain face a little more

a/n: there is no face claim so imagine y/n as you wish!

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, and 16, 287 others ynbakery Make sure you head into the bakery before the Grand Prix this weekend (don't worry, I will NOT be selling whatever Carlos is making)!

carlossainz55 Plenty of people will want the pancakes I made 😡

landonorris Don't worry Carlos I will try some ynbakery landnorris Get a room you two

carlossainz55 Best bakery in Spain!!

user52 aww carlos is so supportive

lilymhe barca weekend + y/n's pastries = heaven

ynbakery LILY I LOVE YOU

user91 i may not have tickets to the gp, but i do have 3 euros to spend on y/n's famous muffins

user67 I'm so ready for all the drivers to be at the bakery HAHA

liked by ynsainz, oscarpiastri, and 82, 932 others lilymhe the fia need to make barca the only circuit all year round purely because of y/n's pastries tagged: alexalbon, ynsainz, ynbakery

ynsainz you are welcome at my bakery whenever you wish

alex_albon If you haven't had that croissant, you haven't lived

georgerussell63 Real

user28 Y/N'S BAKERY!! PLEASE SOMEONE GET THE GRID IN THERE

user63 IF OSCAR WENT HE WOULD LITERALLY BECOME OSCAR PASTRY LMAOOO

user59 lily and alex are so cute i cant

liked by oscarpiastri, lilymhe, and 33, 209 others ynsainz slide 3 trigger warning tagged: carlossainz55

landonorris HAHAHA

carlossainz55 hermana...

ynsainz sorry king I had to do it

oscarpiastri Will the bakery be open all weekend?

ynsainz yes all days except for sunday!!

user74 y/n you are so beautiful

lilymhe Such a pretty girl 💜 liked by ynsainz

view oscarpiastri's story...

tagged: ynbakery

liked by ynsainz, charles_leclerc, and 3, 726, 198 others scuderiaferrari Raceday pancakes?

ynsainz SOMEONE STOP CARLOS FROM THIS PANCAKE BUSINESS I CANNOT DO IT ANYMORE

user87 i'm crying 😭😭

charles_leclerc I think we should leave the cooking to y/n

ynsainz I agree thank you

landonorris I've never seen someone look worse in an apron and chefs hat @ carlossainz55

user22 what is carlos' obssesion with pancakes...

user98 RACEDAY PANCAKES?? GET THEM IN THE FUCKING CAR

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, and 44, 827 others ynsainz race day bitchesss 😎 #idratherbeatmybakery

oscarpiastri I'd rather be at your bakery too

lilymhe excuse me oscar but i was just abt to comment this

user55 y/n clutching up with the charlos pics

user60 sorry but umm oscar??

scuderiaferrari End of race pancakes?

ynsainz STOP NO. NO MORE FUCKING PANCAKES

liked by mclaren, landonorris, and 2, 198, 277 others oscarpiastri Barcelona recap ft. a non-edible y/n croissant

mclaren 🧡

ynsainz hope you enjoyed the gift!!

user87 Y/N GOT OSCAR A JELLYCAT

user52 wake up babe, oscar piastri is making moves on his enemy's sister

carlossainz55 ...

user98 IM SCREAMING

user53 official y/n bakery verdict?

oscarpiastri Really really delicious

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and 11, 727 others ynbakery Aaaaaand we're back open! First twenty people in store receive a free muffin from our new range!

oscarpiastri Yummm

ynbakery oh hey pastry boy 🥐

landonorris Oh we'll be stopping by then

user61 we?

lilymhe breakfast, lunch, dinner, and my snack are now sorted for the day (please never close again)

ynbakery I think we need an honorary lily cookie...

view oscarpiastri's story...

tagged: ynbakery

liked by charles_leclerc, ynsainz, and 4, 982, 129 others carlossainz55 Proud to be back at home, we go again 👊

scuderiaferrari 🏎️💨 liked by carlossainz55

oscarpiastri Great race brother

user50 we really got oscar complimenting carlos before gta 6

landonorris Sexyyy

user81 Carlos Sainz the man that you are

user93 thoughts on y/n and oscar 😏

carlossainz55 No thoughts.

view ynsainz's story...

tagged: oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, alex_albon, and 17, 823 others ynbakery For everyone asking if I can get Carlos to bake some things for the shop... NOOOOOO he only makes pancakes 😢

carlossainz55 They are good pancakes y/n

ynbakery yeah okay.

landonorris Don't let him anywhere near any machinery, you're whole place would be shut down

ynbakery HAHA carlossainz55 Says the man who won't eat fish

liked by lilymhe, ynsainz, and 2, 822, 376 others oscarpiastri My girlfriend is a baker so does that mean I should change my username to oscarpastry? tagged: ynsainz

ynsainz yes i think it does

oscarpiastri Good to know

user44 Y/N AND OSCAR MATCHING JELLYCATS??

carlossainz55 @ ynsainz Are you making pancakes without me

oscarpiastri Don't worry we followed your recipe 🤣 ynsainz oscarpiastri OSCAR DON'T EXPOSE ME

user92 GIRLFRIEND AHHHHHHH

landonorris I am praying for your well being now that carlos is technically your brother in law

oscarpiastri Thanks mate

please let me know if you liked this, i know it's been a while since i last posted! reqs are open!!

[rosesaints]

hello i saw ur yuuta piece and loved how u write !! could u write smth similar perhaps for megumi 🤧🤧 he needs more love .. 🍀

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟcollege student!megumi fushiguro hc dump

pairing: megumi fushiguro x f!reader warnings: 18+ mdni, mix of sfw and nsfw content under the cut, a very obscenely american depiction of college, just me pouring my heart out to the most perfect underrated college bf ever. wc: 1300

college student!megumi fushiguro who enrolls in university as a biology major, minoring in english on the pre-veterinarian track, carefully selecting his college after agonizing over whether or not he wanted to be a writer or a vet, ultimately choosing the latter after an impressive tour of a research lab with leaders on the field who eagerly and enthusiastically answer every single one of his questions, no matter how miniscule or thorough. goes home with a stupid grin on his face that yuuji won't stop taking pictures of—"yuuji, would you chill the fuck out? it was just a college tour."

college student!megumi fushiguro goes home and quickly accepts his offer, orders two sweaters from the university's online tour, visits tsumiki at the hospital and tells her all about where he plans to go for the next four years.

college student!megumi fushiguro who has a very, very eventful freshman year—

he takes public transport around campus, has an old, beaten up pair of headphones that he probably got from thrifting, listens to beach house, cocteau twins, the neighbourhood, cigarettes after sex, sometimes songs that nobara and yuuji have recommended to him in the groupchat. acts like the brooding, silent type, until you accidentally knock into him during a nasty bump on the road, and he very quickly loses his composure and helps you out, beats himself up afterwards for not getting your name

finds you later at his biology lab, pleasantly surprised and trying to force down any visible signs of excitement when you get paired together for the rest of the semester. lets you take his phone without any fuss to type your number down, keeps the heart you've left besides your name and texts you that night to make plans to go on a date work on the lab report due that week

mentions you offhandedly during the debrief dinner he has at least a couple times a week with yuuji and nobara, frowns when they freeze and look at each other in that skitterish, excited way that they do when they're in on something together. "megumi, you never, ever talk about girls!"

he finds every excuse to see you outside of class. "damn, i guess we're gonna have to work on the report later, i'll see you at 6?" or "i think we need to talk about the objectives over some lunch at this new sushi place in town, anyway—"

you go along with it because it's so painfully obvious, but you don't have the heart to break whatever cool guy, aloof persona he's kind of determined to uphold (megumi, please, for the love of god, just learn how to ask someone out on a date)

he works hard to find new places he thinks you'll like and at some point, you guys just stop working on reports altogether and just start having fun around campus

sends you game pigeon texts throughout the day, lets you win at 8ball, but never, ever backs down from word hunt. he will score 30k points over you and not break a sweat.

rolls up his lab coat once in class and your brain short-circuits, man has an insane sleeper build, grabs your microscope slides for you and easily returns your microscope for you. "you okay?" "yup! completely and totally fine!"

i cannot stress enough how oblivious he is, though. you guys go to parties together, he grabs your drinks for you, holds your waist when someone gets too rowdy, and leave together. somehow, this man still thinks you don't reciprocate his feelings.

he wants to confess, he does, but there's all these logistics and things he has to plan for, has to do it in just the right way, at the right place, wracks his head at night trying to think of a way to just tell you. yuuji calls him fucking stupid one night and for once, he agrees.

gets too busy fussing and concerning over what he would do when the time comes, doesn't even stop and consider the fact that you might just beat him to it!

"'gumi," he literally has his head on your lap while he's doing an assigned reading for class, and it's probably one of the most peaceful days he's had in a while, but the way you smile and say his name makes his heart skip a beat. "wanna go out with me?"

man, it's like the floodgates open after that. he gets so much more direct and confident—"we're gonna go volunteer at that animal shelter this weekend," and "i'm picking you up for dinner, is chinese okay?"

not the type for public displays of affection, but makes sure you're in his orbit all the time, somehow. glances across the lab when your professor blunders in the middle of the lecture, a hand on the small of your back while he maneuvers you through the street, places his hand above yours on the train while you're holding onto the pole

takes photos of you all the time, has a collection of different cameras, makes yuuji take photos of you and him on nights out with the disposable camera, photos of you looking absolutely adorable on the digital camera, and dumb, funny photos of you that you hate but he loves

nights spent at his dorm watching trashy reality shows (he acts like he doesn't give a shit but gasps louder than you whenever someone gets slapped), studying for your next exam only to end up making out on the floor, cooking ramen noodles just to end up making out on his twin bed, getting ready together and making out when he hoists you up to the counter and knocks all his (and your) shit over. "gumi, i still have toothpaste in my mouth—" "hm, i like mint."

loves loves loves to kiss you. will have hours-long make out sessions in his dorm or yours, will keep going even if your roommate walks in, doesn't even register their presence—too focused on whatever flavor of lip gloss you've got on or that cute top you're wearing that day

his second favorite thing to do is to leave marks in places only he can see. doesn't mean to do that, he swears, but you can see a ghost of a smile when he helps readjust the straps of your dress to hide a blooming hickey on your shoulder.

has this dumbstruck look on his face when you have sex for the first time, gasps and grips your ass with a strength that you were only vaguely aware of when you sink down on his length for the first time, low groans and narrowed eyes. "god, i think you're gonna kill me."

slowly ends up being the one to control the pace, bouncing you up and down on his dick for his own pleasure, even as you're squealing and scratching his back and deliriously trying to thrust back, only to be overpowered

could eat you out for hours, but also loooooves receiving head, loves the way your eyes shimmer when you take him deeper into your throat, the gagging, lewd noises that you make and the way you look up at him, asking if that was good. "that was fucking amazing. 10/10, no notes."

remember how he takes photos of you all the time? he has some polaroids of you in some.... scandalous positions hidden in his drawer that he likes to... use in times of desperation

doesn't initiate a whole lot at the beginning because he's still in the "learning phase," but once he gets you to cum within two minutes, it brings out his competitive spirit. "wonder how many more times you can cum again... think you got another two in you?"

basically living together by the end of the year, because he sleeps better when you're near and his whole dorm is littered with mementos that remind him of you. has that coffee blend you love in his kitchen cabinet, your toothbrush on the other side of his, and when he comes back from lecture to see your smiling face hanging upside down from his futon, thinks he might just want to spend the rest of his life with you.

© ROSESAINTS ! — do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own. requests are OPEN .ᐟ

[sirianasims]

Psssst! Hey! Yes, you! We need to talk about clubs:

Using the Clubs for Immersive Gameplay

Of all the systems that Sims 4 has, the club feature is probably one of my favourites (Restaurants are a close second, but they're not why we're here today!) Clubs are one of the easiest ways to increase your immersion when you play and make the random townies that show up on community lots just a tiny bit less random.

The Basics

Often, people are mostly concerned with the groups their active sims are in. You might already have a club to keep track of your sims' closest friends, study group, or baby daddies, we don't judge here.

Clubs are also a great way to automate what you want your sim to be doing with less micromanaging, but for immersion, we're actually more interested in clubs for the sims you don't (or rarely) play.

WTF are the neighbours doing?

Most of the pre-made clubs are kinda meh. I prefer to add my own so I can make my community lots just a bit more lively and make sure people's activities make just a tiny bit of sense because the autonomy in this game is not great. These are just for inspiration based on clubs I often add to my own game:

A group of teens who meet at the retail clothing store to try on clothes and gossip about Nancy's nose job or whatever.

A local bowling league (complete with uniforms) who meet and bowl - just don't fuck with The Jesus.

An HOA of Karens who meet at the park to clean, raise property values, and be mean to people.

Geeks and gamers who meet at the local arcade to awkwardly flirt over pizza.

Comedians who meet at the local comedy club - you can even use the club doors to make a VIP backroom only for the performers.

Sports teams - such as a basket team who meets at a local basket court, or a swim team who meets at the local pool (you can even give them tiny matching speedos!)

Scouts! The scout feature is cute but it's a rabbit hole, boo! But you can make a Scouts club, complete with uniforms, and have them show up in parks where they can do various activities and work on their badges. Add a teen or two to supervise the younglings, their parents will be so proud, aww.

A sorority or fraternity in university who meet up at the local bar in matching varsity jackets to make all the other students feel inferior.

A group of old ladies who meet at the park to knit or cross-stitch and brag about the accomplishments of their descendants.

A "business" club, usually CEOs, lawyers and such, who meet in fancy bars to hold important business meetings and probably commit white-collar crimes, so predictable.

If you have a sim with an office/work from home job and you'd like to pretend they actually go to work, you can make an office building and a group of "coworkers" who'll show up to drink coffee, chat, and work on computers next to them in the office. It'll even simulate rotating desk assignments for an instant capitalist hellscape!

The possibilities are endless, and I find the club feature really useful to add little interesting scenarios to the background of my gameplay.

Thanks to SQOTD for inspiring this!

📩 Simblr question of the day: according to you, what are the most underutilized gameplay features in the sims games you played, dlc included? - @simblr-question-of-the-day

[wardenparker]

Woo hoo! Way to go on the 2.5k followers! You deserve it

I would like to request Joel Miller w/ “put me down”

Pre-outbreak Joel Miller 1,642 words. "Put me down." Co-written with @absurdthirst

Reader has been drinking. Established relationship. Jealousy.

Joel rolls his eyes, wondering again what the hell is in the air tonight. He’s glad Sarah has already gone to bed, although she would probably be snickering at the scene. “Babe, maybe you should slow down.” He grunts swiping the beer bottle that he had been nursing and tossing it into the trash.

“Baby, it’s game day,” you protest with a giggle, even though you know he’s probably right. You made your sangria much stronger than usual and you’ve had more than a few cups while hanging out with his friends.

“Yeah it is.” You’re having fun, which is something that he would normally never deny you. Although it seems like you’ve gotten a little….boisterous in the last half hour. “How about we get a sandwich?” He suggests, thinking the bread would be good to help counteract the wine sloshing around in your stomach.

"But we have so many snacks!" The remnants of a chip and veggies and dip plate, the garnishes from a pile of wings, and the last two cookies from the batch Tommy baked are all out on the counter around you, but none of it constitutes actual eating.

He snorts, shaking his head at your wild flailing as you gesture around the counter and miss when you go to grab a chip. “Yep, sandwich.” He grunts to himself, turning around to grab the loaf of bread off the counter. “Or a wrap?”

"Can you be my wrap?" Alright, so you might be a bit tipsy. If the intense giggling from your silly joke is any indication. That doesn't mean you don't want to take advantage of the fact that you're the only two people in the kitchen right now to snuggle up with your boyfriend.

That makes him laugh, rolling his eyes at your antics and he turns to press his lips to your forehead. “You’re drunk.” He accuses fondly.

"Not totally," you protest, pouting at him as deeply as possible.

“Totally.” Joel laughs, leaning in and squashing your lips between his fingers playfully until you pull back. “Eat a wrap then you can have a glass of water.”

"And a kiss." Tacking that onto the end with a grin, you pull your arms around him so he can't pull away to do anything – let alone make a wrap or get a glass of water.

“And a kiss.” If you hadn’t almost started a fight, your possessiveness might be cute. Amusing even. But you had almost been ready to throw hands and he didn’t need the cops showing up here tonight.

"Oh-kay." The pleasant buzzing in your head and the fact that that bitch Larry Anderson had brought with him isn't in here to eye fuck Joel, combine to put you in a very amenable mood.

“Good.” He pecks your lips and reaches behind you to open the fridge. “Ham, or…ham?” He asks, the fridge slightly bare, but in his defense, he had been buying for the party and not wraps.

You hum, pretending to think really really hard, and realize you've forgotten the question while you were screwing up your face into comical expressions. "Ummm...wine?"

“Jesus.” Joel rolls his eyes and moves to the cabinet beside the fridge. “Water now.” He orders, tone a little sharper than before. He doesn’t want you with a bitch of a hangover tomorrow.

"Don't be mad." A pout overtakes your face immediately, but you lean against the kitchen counter and prepare to take whatever Joel dishes out. Even tipsy you know you probably overdid it earlier. It's not your fault that girl wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

“I’m not.” He grabs a plastic cup, not even trusting you with a glass one at this point. “I just want you to be well hydrated.”

"Well..." The best you can do is shrug, but you're still pouting. "You sound mad."

“And I always look like an asshole.” Joel reminds you with a small chuckle. “So….?”

"I had to be mean to her." He pulls one of Sarah's plastic cups out of the cupboard and moves back to the fridge to fill it with cold, filtered water. "She was looking at you like you were a piece of meat, baby."

“Doesn’t matter.” He reminds with, turning around to hand the cup to you with a smirk. “I’m yours.”

Joel always takes care of you, and you know that even after two too many glasses of sangria, so you take the water cup dutifully. "I knowww. You're my piece of meat. But she wasn't respecting that and that's not okay."

“You don’t need to worry.” He promises softly, moving back to the fridge. “She doesn’t have anything on you.”

"I trust you," you clarify, dutifully sipping the water that he's gotten for you. Joel's loyalty has never been in question. Not when you were friends, not when you crossed the line into dating, and not now that you're living with him and Sarah. But the sangria had made you feisty and that was that.

“Good.” He chuckles as he slaps together some ham and a thick slice of that Muenster cheese you insist is better than Kraft. “Because you are the one sleeping in my bed, hogging the covers.”

"I keep telling youuuu." The singsong in your voice is interrupted by another drink of water. "We need a king-sized blanket. A big blanket. For us two hogs."

“I just will shiver every night.” He teases, folding the wrap up like a letter and handing it to you to eat. It wasn’t pretty, but he never claimed to be a good cook.

"But we could be warm snuggly burritos!" You insist, which is always the argument you give for why you should get an extra-large blanket for the queen sized bed you share, but this time you take a dramatic bite of the wrap he's made for you to punctuate your point.

“You would just steal all of those covers too.” He reminds you, leaning back against the counter as he eat watches you eat.

Giggling, you hold up one finger, crushing your wrap into an accordioned lump in the process. "One snuggly burrito."

“You might be a little cute when you’re this drunk.” Joel huffs, folding his arms over his chest.

"Baby..." Trying very hard to make your face serious fails spectacularly, and you end up giggling again. "I'm always cute. You said so."

“I did, didn’t I?” He huffs. “Finish eating and we’ll go back out to the party.” He bribes.

“Okayyyyyy.” It doesn’t stop you from leaning into his side though, and Joel lets you snuggle him without protest or question.

You eat the wrap quickly, making Joel think that one of your problems might be that you haven’t eaten today. When you reach for the veggies and dip, he encourages you to eat some of it too, not wanting you to have just the wrap on your stomach. Not having realized you were hungry in the first place, you’ve now eaten an entire meal standing in the kitchen and the pout you give Joel afterward intensifies. “Now I’m sleepy…” you huff, indignant at yourself for daring to be tired during a house party. Even a small one.

He chuckles quietly and pushes off the counter to walk over to where you had drifted away from him. Grazing off the table. Smirking, he bends down and scoops you up, about to carry you upstairs.

The squawk you let out could raise the dead, but he laughs so it ends up in half-hearted huffing and puffing as he carries you up the backstairs. “Put me doooowwwn! I can walk!” Not that you actually want him to, of course. Being manhandled by Joel is a privilege.

He smacks your ass, laughing again when you squeal. “No.” He tells you, continuing to climb the stairs. “You’ll go back out into the living room and fight that girl.”

“She put her tits in your face!” You groan, not bothering to fight as more stairs pass under Joel’s feet. He’s far stronger than you anyway. “Only my tits go in your face.”

You’re possessive when you’re drunk and it’s kind of hot. “I like your tits in my face.” He hums, grabbing your ass this time instead of slapping it. “That’s why I stood up. So she couldn’t do that.”

“And I like your little pancake ass,” you giggle, smacking his ass as he goes. Slinging you over his shoulder was a tactical error on Joel’s part.

“Hey.” Joel’s step falters and he snorts as you start to giggle. “Payback, huh?”

“Yep!” Another bright giggle breaks through as he hits the top step.

“You need to go to bed.” He huffs, shaking his head.

He carries you into the bedroom, only setting you down again when it can be directly on the bed. Before he can step away, though, you reach up to snag the edge of Joel's t-shirt and give him a soft smile. "I love you, baby."

“I love you too.” He promises, leaning back down to kiss you softly. “Lay down, I’ll get you some aspirin and water.”

"Then cuddles?" When you're tipsy – or drunk – it's not hard to turn almost any expression into wide, pleading eyes. In this case, it's the wide and pleading eyes that you know Joel just can't resist.

Joel sighs softly, knowing you are feeling a little vulnerable and he nods. “Fuck ‘em.” He decides. “Tommy can keep their asses in line.” He tells you as he brings the bottle of Advil and the cup of water from the bathroom.

“Cuddles!” Maybe it’s simple of you, but ending any night in Joel’s arms is all you want. All you’ve wanted for years now. The day you went from friends to lovers was a gift, and that gift is just as precious to you now as it was then.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

[livwritesstuff]

this one is in honor of the 2-year anniversary of st4 (literally last week but my life is a whole whirlwind atm)

It occurs to Eddie one night as he’s putting his and Steve’s daughter to bed that it’s been twenty years since everything in Hawkins, Indiana went to shit (for him, anyway).

Not down to the day, obviously, but it’s mid-March of 2006 and, honestly, mid-March is the only calendrical detail he ever really retained (too preoccupied with the whole on the run thing to be paying attention to the date, which he thinks is fair enough).

It’s kinda crazy, when he thinks about it, because he really didn’t see himself coming out of those god-awful days alive to tell the tale. Here he is though, twenty years later, alive and truly well.

Steve beats him to bed that night (probably because he’d called dibs on their youngest, Robbie, that night, leaving Eddie to wrangle Moe – the difficult one of the pair when it came to bedtimes because, frankly, her ability to argue her way into extra stories is getting a little frightening), already sitting under the covers with a magazine by the time Eddie retires to their room.

Their room.

That’s one of those things Eddie wouldn’t have believed if he’d heard about it while he was bleeding out in the Upside Down twenty years ago. 

The Steve of it all really is the most improbable – that’s Eddie’s opinion anyway.

Surviving a swarm of hungry bat demons? No problem.

Bagging (i.e. marrying the fuck out of) Steve Harrington? Totally out of the question.

Here he is though, defying all the odds.

“You know what I realized?” Eddie asks as he climbs into bed beside Steve.

“Hmm,” Steve replies, not looking away from his magazine. His glasses are slipping a little as he reads, and Eddie reaches out to nudge them back up the bridge of his nose. The gesture has Steve raising his head to look at him.

“What’d you realize?” Steve asks.

“It’s been twenty years since all that shit in Hawkins.”

Steve’s gaze slides off somewhere behind Eddie for a moment.

“Shit, you’re right,” he says, “Crazy.”

“That’s what I said,” Eddie grins. Steve isn’t matching his expression though. Rather, he’s looking at him somewhat pensively, dark brown eyes roaming over his face.

“Hey,” Eddie says, because he gets it. They can make all the jokes they want about how wild that time was, but it doesn’t ever take away the horrible things they'd seen, the horrible things they'd been asked to do.

Eddie’s glad he survived and all, but people don’t always talk about how the after of surviving isn’t necessarily a walk in the park either.

He runs a hand through Steve’s hair, grazes the tips of his fingers over the barely-raised scars on his neck left behind from whatever went down at the Creel House in the Upside Down, “I love you, Steve.”

“Love you too,” Steve replies, gripping a hand tight around Eddie's thigh, "So much."

"So fucking much. Sucks we had to go through all that shit to get here, but...I'm glad we're here."

And Steve only nods as he wraps an arm around Eddie's shoulders to pull him in close.

"Yeah," he eventually says, pressing a firm kiss against the side of Eddie's head, "I'm glad we're here too."

[artdcnaldson]

Has reader ever just had a "i have to get out" moment in the changeover universe?

Like art is trying to talk to her after sex and shes just staring at the wall re thinking her decisions.

They are very toxic and i know the reader has feelings for them so i think art would have been very smothering ir clingy if reader made any atempts at going out with another circle of friends and distancing herself

(im sorry i over analyse many situations 😭)

Anon… i love u <3 I love this messy main character bc i too would throw away my scruples for this man.

Rating: M

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Toxic situationship, manipulation kinda, mild angst

Summary: You say something you shouldn’t. It messes up the fucked up equilibrium that you and Art had found in whatever you could call the relationship you had together.

FEBRUARY 2007

For Valentine’s Day, you got Art a teddy bear and a box of chocolates. He got you nothing. He wasn’t your boyfriend, so you didn’t know why you were upset about it, but you were. It stung like a fresh wound, one you could never just let be.

The two of you fucked, because that’s what you always did. The feeling of his mouth on yours, warm and tasting of mint, almost made you forgive him for not getting you anything. He called you beautiful, let his hands trace your body reverently, made you cum once, twice before he pulled you into his lap and let you sink onto him.

His forehead was against yours, breath coming in pants as you rode him, bodies pressed so close it almost felt like making love. Maybe that’s why you said it— the words tumbling out like a prayer.

I love you, Art.

He was tense, for a moment, brows furrowed slightly, before he kissed you and laid you onto your back. He pulled another orgasm from an impossible place within you, one you didn’t know existed. He came, messy on your thighs, and rolled over onto his back.

It was quiet, and you felt so far away from him. Your fingers brushed against his hand, testing, but he pulled them away and stood to redress. It was so quiet that you could hear blood pumping in your ears, like an ocean.

”You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” was what he finally said.

Your lip wobbled, just slightly. And then tears pooled on your lashline. “Sorry,” you said weakly.

“It’s fine.” But you had a sinking suspicion that you’d really fucked up. He handed you a towel, and you cleaned yourself up as best as you could while fighting frustrated tears.

”Are you leaving?” You asked. He was standing in between yours and your roommate’s bed, like he hadn’t quite decided yet. You pulled on a tee shirt and underwear and gave him a pathetic, pleading expression. ”Don’t leave, please. I didn’t mean it. We can watch a movie.”

He acquiesced, and let you cling to his side pathetically after you pulled out a portable DVD player. You split a pair of headphones and watched The Royal Tenenbaums.

Halfway through the movie, clarity hit like a lightning strike. Or maybe it was more like a sinking feeling of dread— of being neck deep in quicksand before you realize you should be crawling out.

You couldn’t keep doing this. Because Art was a dream, really. Handsome, and talented, and smarter than you’d expected him to be. And he was so sweet, when he didn’t realize that he should’ve been discouraging your affection. Or maybe he liked it, but only when it was quiet and he didn’t have to acknowledge that what he was doing was wrong.

Maybe it wasn’t wrong and it was all your own fault for wanting someone who made it clear they weren’t emotionally available. Maybe you were pressuring him into something he didn’t want and it was all unfair to him too.

It didn’t matter. It was fucking killing you.

When the movie ended, he stretched and said he’d see you in class. You nodded, smiling the sad smile of a dog unknowingly being left at the pound.

Once the sadness faded, it was replaced with a molten resentment, an anger at him and yourself over your time being wasted. He still sat next to you in class, sneaking peeks of your notes, but you ignored him as best as you could. Days passed, then a week. You started to feel human again.

A couple weekends later, you ignored the text he sent asking for you to join him at a mixer the tennis team was planning on crashing. You ignored the follow up too.

You wound up at a party on the opposite end of campus with a few girls from the service org you were in. You flirted with a new guy, felt like maybe you were worth more than a casual fuck buddy.

So the sight of him sitting at your door when you finally stumbled home was the last thing you wanted to see. All sad, slumped against your door.

He scrambled to stand, expression filled with longing. “Don’t be mad at me,” he pleaded. “I missed you so fucking bad these past few weeks. Felt like I was going crazy.”

Your heart skipped, and hammered against your ribs. You wanted to reach out and kiss that sad, longing expression off his face. You wanted to tell him to leave. It was all very confusing.

“Don’t say that, Art, please,” you said weakly, lips turning down into a frown. You tried to sidestep him, to get the keys into the door, but he pulled you against his chest.

He smelled so nice— like cologne and cinnamon gum. You gave a pathetic sigh at the warmth of him, wrapped all around you. “I missed you,” he repeated. “It’s like a part of me has been missing. I wanted to talk to you so badly, to kiss you, to watch boring movies with you.”

Annoyance and longing bubbled hot in the pit of your stomach, you had to force yourself to push him away. “You just missed having a cheerleader you could fuck whenever you felt like it.”

He frowned. “That’s not true.”

”What’s my major? What’s my favorite place on campus?” He swallowed hard, exhaling sharply through his nose. “What’s my favorite movie?”

“How would I know that?” He asked, resignation flat on his features.

You rolled your eyes. “Because I tell you about it all the time. Because I’ve taken you there. Because I made you watch it. Twice.” You finally got into your room. When you didn’t slam the door, you realized that you were aching for him to follow. You wanted him to be near you, even if you were seething.

When you turned to face him, you hated that even though you were incredibly mad, you still wanted him to just prove you wrong. To convince you that you were being crazy and he was innocent and the only problem was you being a weirdo about your feelings.

God, he was so pretty. And he looked so sad.

“I’ll try to be better,” he said. “I’ll take you on dates, and buy you flowers, and give you what you deserve.”

But you’ll never be his girlfriend. You knew it, deep down. Even as you caved and gave a sweet, sad little nod. He was across the room, holding you against his chest as you felt annoying tears slipping down your cheeks. Tears of relief, of frustration, of resignation.

“I’m not Tashi,” you said when he pressed his lips to the crown of your skull. It was annoying that he had the power to quell all of your uncomfortable emotions with a single romantic gesture. He pulled back and met your gaze, and you softened. “I know she’s always been your first pick, and I don’t blame you, but I’m not ever going to be her, if that’s what you’re waiting on.”

Something passed over his expression, briefly. “I know you’re not.” It was more of a lament than it was an attempt at comfort. “I’m not waiting on anything.”

His lips trailed down, along your jaw, at the corner of your mouth. He pulled back, looking at you expectantly. Are you going to let me?

Your lips parted softly as you kissed him with lips that tasted wet and salty. It was chaste, and sweet. He pulled back and ran his thumb along your cheekbone. “Let me hold you until you fall asleep? Please?”

It was hard to stay mad at Art Donaldson, even when you knew you really should.

Thank you for reading! If you have any requests in the Changeover universe, or otherwise send me an ask :)

[hannieehaee]

overstimulating sub!dokeyom pls its been on my mind all day 😵‍💫

18+ / mdi

content: sub!seokmin, softdom!reader, afab reader, established relationship implied, smut, handjob, mentions of penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 806

a/n: thank u for requesting i love sub!dk</3

masterlist

"that's- oh, fuck, that's so good, oh ..."

"yeah? want me to keep going?", you murmured against his ear, taking in the full-body shudder you felt seokmin go under.

"y-yes, please don't stop," he leaned further into you, larger body somehow melting into your own despite his larger size.

with your arms and legs wrapped around the boy, he leaned back into your chest, whimpering any time your hand would go a little extra hard on the hard cock it was currently holding.

it had been about an hour since the boy first sat against you as you toyed with his dick, hands occasionally going up to pull at his sensitive nipples all while your lips suckled at his neck and kissed at his ears. seokmin had become a mess only five minutes into your touches.

everything began with the pretty boy coming home entirely too exhausted from a long day at work (followed by the gym since he'd always been a gym rat at heart), falling straight into bed without much more than a quick hello and a kiss to you. not having any of it, you decided to help your boyfriend out by giving helping him with his skincare and offering a massage.

the idea of the massage had died off the moment you decided to help him out of his clothes, becoming entirely too enticed by how pretty he looked completely bare and far too pliant to your touch due to his exhaustion. getting him to sit up against you as you felt him up was far too easy. getting his cock hard had been even less of a difficulty, as the boy was simply too easy to rile up.

after a few suggestive touches, he began begging for you completely unprompted. not one to ever resist touching him, you played with him in the softest way you could, knowing that such soft touches would quickly drive him into delirium.

now he sat against you, soft breaths leaving his mouth accompanied by the occasional whimpers for more. he was more sensitive than usual, leading to a chorus of cries filling the room as you loved on him.

"want more ... fuck, n-not enough, please ...", he eventually came to whimper after a while of touches with no real gratification attached.

"more? what do you want, pretty? want my hand off your cock? hmm?"

"n-no! just- just ... more, oh- oh, fuck," he let his head fall back against your shoulder the moment your thumb began rubbing at his sensitive tip all while your other hand pinched roughly at his nipple.

"this? you want me to make you cum, minnie?", you murmured into his ear.

"y-your p-pussy. feels so good, b-but need your pussy, fuck, please," he pleaded, wiggling against you petulantly.

his body was clearly fighting against the pleasure from your fist around him and the sheer need to feel your cunt wrapped around him.

there was a mean part of your brain that decided to ignore his inner turmoil, however. making him cum pathetically into your fist as he begged for pussy just sounded too appealing for you to pass up. this thought made your hand speed up, meanly toying at him whilst your other hand grabbed at his balls to add to the stimulations.

the poor boy was unable to contain himself properly, moaning and groaning as his orgasm began to approach.

"b-baby, n-no, fuck. d-don't stop, oh, fuck, please ..."

"no? but i thought you wanted my cunt?," you taunted him, hands not stopping its movements.

mindlessly, he began shaking his head with a pout on his lips, "want it, i swear! want your pretty cunt, b-baby, just- just, please ... need to cum s-so bad," seokmin whimpered breathlessly.

"then cum for me, baby. cum and i'll give you whatever you want, pretty," you kissed at his neck as you reassured him, giving him the greenlight to finally let go.

"t-thank you. thank you, fuck. thank y-oh! fuck ..."

throughout his orgasm, you continued playing with his cock, drinking in the broken gasps he kept hiccuping out. you touched and felt him up up until he began begging you to stop. that mean part of your brain insisted on you to keep going until he cried for you, but you knew how exhausted he was, so you saved that thought for later.

once his orgasm finally subsided, he fell against you, murmuring nonsensical words gratitude and breathing out the in relaxation.

you gave him no time to settle into you before making your way out of the bed, gesturing at him to get up by tugging at his hand.

"c'mon, baby. let me draw you a bath so you can relax a little more."

"will i- can you-"

"yes, baby. i'll keep my promise. you can have my cunt if you're good," you chuckled at his stammering.

[alvojake]

PARK SUNGHOON HARD THOUGHT

「warnings」 : 18+ MINORS DNI!!

「notes」 : this is dedicated to @pockettwinzz. I hope that you enjoy this small Hoon hard thought that conspired from your mental crisis. I may or may not have gotten a tad carried away.... whoops.

alright, so imagine this..... you and sunghoon are in the middle of a heated make-out session in your shared bedroom, and clothes are sprawled all around the room haphazardly. neither of you cares, though, too worried about the feeling of each other warm skin against the other. sunghoon had his hands underneath your underwear, squeezing the flesh of your ass, eliciting a small moan from your lips, giving him the chance to slip his tongue inside yours. you so easily became lost in his taste that your mind was starting to get foggy. the only thoughts occupying it were your boyfriend and how good he felt against you.

sunghoon chuckled against your open mouth as you rocked your hips against his, seeking any kind of friction you could. he let you seek out your pleasure for a few moments, relishing in the sound of your soft whimpers. then his grip on your back end tightened, halting your movements and causing you to pout.

"are you that desperate already, princess?" he leaned forward, leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw until he reached your ear. "I haven't even done anything yet."

"hoon..." you whined again, trying your best to fight against his tight hold, but it was pointless; he was far too strong.

"you gotta use your words, baby; what do you want?" he asked as his lips left, searing kisses down the side of your neck, causing your eyes to flutter at the sensation. when you didn't answer him, he pulled away to take in your already fuck-out expression, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

realizing that he had stopped, you allowed your eyes to open, meeting his hooded gaze. the intensity of his gaze was enough to leave goosebumps all over your skin and heat pooling in the pit of your stomach. you once again tried to move against his hold, but just like all of your previous attempts, it ended in failure.

the smirk then fell from sunghoon's lips, and his grip got unbelievably tighter. it was tight enough that you were sure that bruises in the shape of his fingers would be embedded in your skin the next day, but the pain only made your desperation grow.

"I said use your words, princess; only good girls get what they want, right?" he growled, his upper lip pulling back just far enough to reveal his pointed canines that you love so much.

you let out a pathetic cry when his hand came down, landing a harsh smack on your ass cheek. tears started to pool on your waterline as you looked at your boyfriend with a pleading expression, an expression that sunghoon would kill to see every day. then the words started to tumble from your lips.

"hoonie, please just fuck me. I'll be good, just fuck me, I want your cock so bad." the pleas fell from your lips like a testimony, and sunghoon couldn't help but smirk once more, satisfied with your answer.

"then don't let me stop you. take whatever it is you want, babydoll." his tone was teasing as he leaned back slightly, taking in your perplexed expression.

then within seconds, your needy eyes had come back, and you were scooting down your boyfriend's legs, far enough to pull his boxers down, allowing his hard cock to spring free. your mouth started to water at the sight of the angry red tip, watching the little beads of precum dribbling down the side before getting caught on the vines.

however, your need to have your pussy filled rather than your mouth was much much stronger. so you stood on your knees before moving your underwear to the side, far too gone to bother taking them off. sunghoon watched as you slowly sank yourself down onto his dick until he was fully trapped inside of your heat, biting the inside of this cheek to keep from groaning at how tightly you were squeezing him.

"fuck hoonie...." you whined out, hands gripping his biceps to try and stabilize yourself.

sunghoon then sat up straighter, causing him to push even further into you, which in turn caused a loud moan to fall from your parted lips. his hands then found your hips as you started to rock yourself against him, eyes rolling back at the feeling of his cock rubbing your velvet walls just right. so much so that your ability to think straight was completely thrown out the window, carried away by the wind.

"oh, is my poor baby already fucked stupid?" he chuckled as he latched his lips onto your collarbone, sucking deep purple marks along your skin, listening to all of your little noises. "don't worry, princess, I'll take care of you."

then within a blink of an eye, he had your back pressed against the mattress, hand pinned above your head as he pounded into your needy hole without an ounce of mercy. not stopping until he was completely drained dry and you were on the verge of passing out, stars dancing across your vision when your nth orgasm hit just as sunghoon finished.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[bagerfluff]

i love casper!! Can i request jealous casper because he met reader's ex or someone very close and felt insecure and stuff! Maybe drama with the ex still in love with reader and gets casper all heated up by saying things like "i can make him feel so good. Bet you can't compete. He moans so loud with me and he cums inside me sooo much."

Reader has no idea why casper is suddenly down/anxious and irritated

An: Hi, I hope you like this and have a good day/night/after noon. Don't forget to drink water :)

Jealous Of The Ex

Sub/Bottom Casper x Top/Dom Male Reader

Prompt - Jealous

Warnings - Fingering, unprotected sex, anal sex, praise, nicknames

I also want it noted while that there is smut it is not the main part of this fic, I recommend you read all of it. But if you want to get straight to the smut but go past the caution tape.

“For the last time, stop calling me!”

You yelled into your phone. You pulled your phone away from your ear and ended the call. You groaned and placed your phone on your desk, ignoring the beeps.

“Everything okay sunshine?” Casper asked, he doesn’t think he’s seen you so angry. He’s been listening to you yell into your phone for the past hour.

“It’s just my ex, they won't leave me alone. I think they still like me”, you said. You walked over to your bed and flopped on it. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.

Meanwhile Casper was thinking, he knew you had an ex, just not that they were like this. Casper felt angry at them, you obviously didn’t like them anymore, plus, they were making you stressed.

Casper heard your phone beep. Casper walked over to it, the screen lit up and Casper read the message. “Come on baby, I know you still love me”, it read, making Casper’s blood boil.

Casper turned the phone off, placing its screen down on the table. How dare they think you still like them, you loved Casper now, right? I mean, you said that you dated your ex for a few years before breaking up.

You’ve only known Casper for several months now. What if? Casper shook his head, no, he was being paranoid. Casper walked over to your bed and layed down next to you.

“It’s fine, they’ll stop”, Casper said. You sighed, “yeah you're right”, you said, turning your head to smile at Casper. Casper smiled back, yeah, you loved him.

Not your ex.

Casper heard a knock at the door.

Which confused him, you were still at work and you didn’t tell Casper that anyone would be coming. Casper placed his book down and walked to the door.

“Yes”, Casper said as he opened it. “Yeah, is Y/n here?” The person asked, peeking behind Casper. “Do you know him?” Casper asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yes, I’m his partner, but who are you?” The person asked. Casper felt hands grip his arms tighter. So this was your ex, Casper could see what you dumped them.

Just hearing them speak made Casper want to punch them in their face. Plus, they were lying. Casper was your boyfriend, you were his and he was yours.

“No, I’m his boyfriend, now listen”, Casper said quietly, but angry.

“You’re just a ex who can’t get over him, I’m the one Y/n fucked last night, not you. I’m the one that got him moaning over me. I’m the one that made him cum inside me, you’re just an asshole”, Casper said through gritted teeth

The ex stared at Casper with wide eyes, “fine dude, whatever”, they turned on their heels and walked away. Casper slammed the door shut with a grunt.

Casper leaned against the door, who did they think they were. Who did they think they were? Casper did have to admit, they did look good.

You had dated them for years, you liked them, you fucked them. What if? What if they convinced you to go back with them? What if? Casper heard the door open.

Casper fell back but you caught him, “Whoa, you good Casp?” You asked, pushing him back up onto his feet. Casper furrowed his brows, walking away from you.

“You okay Casper?” You asked while taking off your shoes and jacket. Casper mumbled stuff to himself as you followed him. Casper turned around and sat on your bed, arms crossed and pout on his face.

“What's wrong?” You asked, worry evident on your face as you sat next to him. Casper turned his head away from you, he wasn’t mad anymore. He was more jealous.

You were the most important thing to Casper, he loved you more than anything. The thought of losing you scared Casper more than anything.

Casper hated it, Casper did all of this for you.

He ran away from everything he knew for you and then he might lose you. “Are you okay?” You asked Casper, noticing tears slowly running down his face. “I’m fine”, Casper said.

You turned to face Casper, “what happened?” You asked, grabbing Casper’s face in your hand and turning his face towards you. Casper stared at you before looking away and glaring.

“You’re ex visited, made me jealous”, Casper said. You sighed, “I’ll get a straining reorder on them I swear”, you mumbled. “But, you don’t have to be jealous. I love you, not them”, you said with a smile.

Casper calmed down, “yeah, I guess”, Casper said, though he was still a little jealous. Casper was a bit jealous about something else, about how you fucked them.

He knew you dated them before, but how they looked when Casper brought up the fucking. Casper was jealous of that. “You okay, you still look angry”, you said.

You glanced down, noticed a boner in Casper’s pants.

“Oh, that’s what you're still jealous about”, you said with a smirk. Casper looked towards you, just to see you smirking. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll show you just how good you make me feel”, you pushed Casper onto his back.

You took off your shirt and opened your bedside draw, taking out a bottle of lube. Casper moved back on the bed, the smirk on his face matching your own.

You looked at Casper before nodding your head to his pants. Casper quickly removed his pants and boxes, revealing his half hard dick. You lifted one of Casper’s legs and lined up a lubed finger to his hole.

“Hmmm, yes”, Casper groaned as you slowly started to finger him. “You’re my boyfriend, my perfect fuck toy”, you said while adding another finger.

Casper moaned at the praise. You added another finger and sped up, your dick getting harder hearing Casper moan. Once you thought Casper was prepared enough you let his leg fall.

You grabbed the bottle of lube and squeezed some into your hand. “Look at this love, you made me feel like this”, you said. Casper leaned up on his arms, staring at your erect dick.

You didn’t remove your pants, just took your dick out. You didn’t have the patience to wait. Casper moaned and watched as you slid your dick into his hole.

“Ahhah~”, Casper moaned as you started moving slowly. “Do you feel me honey? Nobody can make me feel like this”, you said. Casper moaned again, “F-faster~, m-more~”, Casper groaned.

“As you wish”, you said before doing exactly what Casper wanted.

“Nnggee~, hmhmh~”, Casper moaned  as you sped up. You groaned and leaned down, trapping Casper’s head between your hands. “You heard me pretty boy, you do this”, you groaned into Casper's ear.

Casper moaned and bucked his hips forward. You moaned and sped when you felt Casper tighten around you. “C-cumming~”, Casper moaned as he came on his and your stomachs.

You groaned and leaned back up, thrusting faster as you chased your orgasm. “Ahaha~”, Casper moaned as you came inside of him. You pulled out and smiled at the sight of cum dripping out of Casper’s ass.

You leaned back down and kissed Casper on the forehead. “I love you, not anyone else”, you said. Casper smiled, wrapping his arms around your neck to pull you closer to him. “I love you too, more than anything”, Casper said.

You were his, and he was yours.

[superblysubpar]

thank you so much for requesting @retrosabers soooooooooooooo...idk what this is. but it turned into a makeup sex, kind of angry with steve, to I guess, the beginnings of the "How Sweet It Is AU" for me?? - you could just read this as stand alone smut, but please read the warnings below if you're unfamiliar with that AU and don't want a pretty big surprise at the end!

2,119 words

warnings: mentions of wearing Steve's boxers, SMUT (piv intercourse - creampie, angry/makeup sex & all the language and actions that may go with it - some kingish steve vocabulary if you will)| pregnant reader announcement - see How Sweet It Is AU warnings for more | my blog is 18+

Late Summer, Early Fall, 1986

Your fingers slip from his neck and shoulders, sweat slicked tan skin there making the bright red of the scratches you made brighter. Angrier. 

They match the mood -  the deep lines between his brows, the pout of your lips, the brutal punch of his thrust inside of you, the clench of your jaw so you don’t do something satisfying like scream his name or fuck, say sorry. 

Neither of you can remember what started it now. You said something bratty, he said something even more so. Sharp tones and stressful weeks. Cupboards and drawers with volume and slams worthy of a battle of the bands. Silent tooth brushing while glaring at one another in the mirror sessions, and purposeful, childish things, like making only enough coffee for one cup each morning.  

Not that you had even wanted any today. 

The sun was brutal, the AC was busted, and Steve had found you lying on the hard kitchen floor, practically naked, and sipping something out of a blue, glass mason jar that was sweating more than you. 

He’d swallowed at the sight of your stomach and arms fully on display, the curve of lace over your chest, his boxers rolled over your thighs too high to be decent if you stood. Perhaps Steve could have taken the gesture of you wearing next to nothing as a white flag, but all he could think about was how hot he was, how tight the tie was around his neck, and how he was mad at you for a reason he didn’t even remember. 

Steve stepped over to the thermostat and without opening your eyes you called, “No difference.”

“When’s the last time you checked?” He grumbled under his breath, tapping at it with a roll of his eyes. “No difference.”

“Right,” you propped up on your elbows, glaring at him as you snapped, “Like I just said.”

He looked right at you for what felt like the first time in years, when really it had only been a day or two. But the sight of eyes that were honey turned hard, though just as sticky as they lingered on your own, had something in your chest warming. 

Steve glanced down at your body again as he yanked at his tie, throwing it on the counter before taking on his naturally annoyed position of hands on his hips. His fingers flexed against them while his head tilted in a way that exposed his throat more, made it easy to follow his swallow or the bead of sweat curving down his jaw. It made you want to curse whatever god created this man, and that was before he opened his mouth with a tone bitchy enough to match his pose. 

“Can you put a shirt on?”

The bite of his question made your eyes narrow, made you stick out your peachy, lace covered chest more just to spite him. His gaze returned to yours, challenging, fire burning between you both making his gaze molten - pure lava that was sure to consume you before you even had the thought of running from it. 

You stood as he harshly unbuttoned the white button down he was dressed in, revealing dark chest hair and the gold chain nestled there, both threatening to make you fold first, but you couldn’t. Wouldn’t. 

His finger’s movements slowed as they worked at the cuffs when you set your glass on the counter. As you took a step closer, then another, you both refused to break eye contact until your chests were almost touching and your chin tipped up at him in your own challenge back. 

“Make me.”

The space between your lips buzzed, his cupid’s bow mocking you, the heave of your chest doing the same to him.  

Maybe you tilted higher first, maybe he bent lower, but your lips crashed into each other - literally. 

Teeth against plush bottom lips and noses bumping, hands gripping at each other like you’re about to push the other off, yet you both only get closer. 

Steve pants into your mouth, his fingers dig into the skin just below your ribs as he pushes you in a direction clumsily, till your back is hitting the counter and you can feel how hard he already is as he pulls your hips against his own. 

You don’t give him the satisfaction of making any noise when his thumb brushes over a hard nipple through lace, or when his tongue meets yours. He doesn’t give you any either when you pull a little hard at the hair at the back of his head and roll your hips. 

Neither of you say a word or let your faces show any sign that this is all exactly what you want, what you need when he pushes at the boxers and lets them fall to the floor as he lifts you onto the counter or when you pull and push at his belt and dress slacks enough to free his length. 

Steve slips up a little when you wrap your hand around him, his head thrown back and teeth digging into his lip, fists forming against the counter next to your thighs with each slow tug. 

“What’s the matter Steve?” Faux pouting lips form the coy question while your hand pumps faster. You smirk when Steve lets loose a shaky exhale on your next words. “You wanna tell me how good it feels? How turned on you are right now? How sor-“

You inhale sharply when his thumbs spread you and a low rumble leaves his lips, too close to your ear, “Oh babe…me? I think if anyone here is turned on it’s-fuck.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass and pushing him closer so his tip hits your entrance, your hand glides it through your folds dripping around him already, teasing at your clit then back down. 

“Speaking of fuck-oh.”

Your brows knit together, lips clamp shut as he slides into you slowly. His chest is heaving, white button down open so you could scrape you nails down the gray tank top revealed to you now, but you don’t. Your eyelashes are fluttering, fingers slipping against the counter and back arching so he could go deeper. 

He doesn’t. 

Steve keeps his thrusts shallow and slow, only giving you just enough to make you angry. Your cheeks grow hot, spine tingling, tongue pushing against your teeth with every glide in, silently willing, begging, him to go deeper. 

Your clit throbs, heels dig into him, but Steve stands firm, watching you closely, waiting till you look up at him. 

One damp strand of brown hair falls over his forehead, while eyes soften towards you again. Sweat rolls down his temple, each pulse of his steady heartbeat making his cologne sharper, mint and cedar distracting you, placating you. When you grip at his shoulders, finally touching him again, he exhales as his name leaves you in a whisper. 

“Steve,” your fingers grip the collar of his button down, “More.”

As your hands slip, nails curling into his chest, Steve finally gives you more. 

Then he stops.

Pressed against you, he inhales slow and steady, watching you. His arms flex around yours as his palms press to the cool counter, ignoring how thrilled he is to feel you fluttering around him fully now. 

He grins, finally, when a whine bubbles out of your throat at the lack of movement. He can’t help himself, raising his pitch and mocking your words earlier, “What’s the matter? Wanna tell me how good it feels? Wanna tell me you’re sor-“

“I said more,” you gasp around the words, rolling your hips until his hands fly to them and hold them in place. 

Steve looks at you seriously, black lust filled pupils taken over his gaze, and his tongue slides over his bottom lip before he speaks, like he’s debating his words. 

“I did give you more. Want something else? Gonna have to be specific babe. Maybe use a word that starts with ‘P’ and ends with leas-“

“Fucking, fuck me, Harrington!” You grip the cotton tank between your fingers, voice hot and body hotter and only getting more so when he throws his head back in a laugh. A laugh which only makes you clench around him more and spurring him on. 

“Harrington?! Did you just call me Harrington and then tell me to fuck you?!” He grins wider, his perfect smile on display, like he just can’t help himself. 

“Would you prefer King Ste-ohmygod!”

Steve pulls out and thrusts into you hard, his forehead furrowed as his mouth searches for yours. You meet him in a kiss that starts with another gasp as he sets a brutal pace. Your fingers slip around his neck and he lays over you so your back is against the counter. His hands drag you to the edge still, so his hips can meet yours over and over again as his tongue works at the seam of your lips once more.

He slows his kiss down, sucking on your bottom lip and pulling, breath exhaled against your cheek through his nose as your back arches and your nails leave their marks. Steve keeps thrusting, coarse hair hitting your clit that only aches for more when he releases your mouth. Lips kiss bitten and parting in shock when he speaks down to you with a deep and hoarse gravel, chest heaving as his nails scratch down your thigh. 

“Am I fucking you good enough, honey?” He pushes at your legs, bending them up and towards your chest so you do cry out as he somehow gets more inside of you, “Feel that? Feel how deep I am?”

He rolls his hips, a thumb pressed to your clit and you break, the lava creeping closer. 

Steve groans when you gasp a yes, a more. 

He thrusts faster, hands skating over your body, pulling and tugging you closer to him, lips brushing against your jaw then your neck as he speaks. 

“Wanna come for me baby? Feels like you do, this pussy’s just crying around me.”

You gasp at the filth coming out of him, hating that it only makes him slip inside of you easier, faster. 

Steve lets your legs fall, guiding one around his hip and the other pressed next to your head, his torso rising so his gaze can stay on where your bodies meet with an intensity you haven’t quite seen before. He looks like an older version of a Steve you met a long time ago. 

Realizing now, his pants aren’t even down, his shirt only just unbuttoned, chain glistening in damp chest hair. His forearm veins and shoulders flex with determination you used to see on a court, jaw pulsing, and his brow sweating, but no longer furrowed - like he knows he’s won. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, tongue between his lips as his thumb swipes over your clit in a large figure eight and you jolt. His hand reflexively pushes your shoulder down, while he keeps working on the swollen nerves in time with his thrusts. 

Each pass, each thrust, is a clock counting down drowning out a crowd for him, knowing if he just keeps going, he’ll make it. For you, it’s lava gaining ground, inches from your demise, the heat licking at your body now enough for you to cry out his name just like an adoring fan. 

Steve grunts, brow furrowed again so he can focus on what he’s trying to say. 

“Oh, it’s first name basis again, yeah? Did that good of a job? An-another slut satisfied with their fuck from Harrington?”

You cry out a yes, literally, your orgasm breaking over you in multiple releases. You clench around him, thighs tightening on his hips and Steve’s rhythm stutters as you take everything he gives you. The rush of every pent up emotion makes it’s way over your lash lines. Angry tears, sad tears, relieved tears. Maybe delirious as you start laughing, fingers swiping at them and Steve’s head whips up. 

He slips out of you with a wince, his fingers catching the tears and his forehead furrowed with worry now, “Baby, babe. Hey, hey, hey, what’s-I’m sorry, that was too far, I thought you-“

“Steve,” you hiccup, fingers catching his, eyes doing the same to worried and back to warm honey irises. 

He waits, thumbs soothing over yours only pausing when you speak again. The scratches on his neck and shoulders pink now, less angry - sorry. They match the pink lips that part, the cheeks that stand out behind tear tracks. They still match the mood. 

Softer. 

Sweeter. 

Just like the words leaving your lips. 

“I’m pregnant.”

[londonfog-chan]

I Will Not Keep My Mouth Shut About this High School Romance Between Eddie Munson x Reader (Headcanons)

Why lord? Why are we not talking about this?

I’ve dated metalhead guys in the past, and believe in me when I say these fuckers move fast.

Eddie is no exception to this rule. He loves hard and quickly, especially if you’re into the same things he’s into as well.

I’m talking balls to the wall insanity like: the day won’t even be over and he’ll have already asked you out, kissed you, offered you weed, and secretly be planning the names of the four kids he wants with you.

Mans is delulu as fuck for you.

As much as he has his passions there’s just something about the fact that you actually gave the town freak unconditional love that makes him desperate. Corroded Coffin, Hellfire Club, he’d pick you over them any day if it meant he got to keep you.

Guarantee, you’ll already have gone all the way before the weekend is up of that first week of the relationship.

Cherry boy cherry boy cherry boy.

But he knows what he’s doing. It will have been awkward but the best part is now “Rainbow in the Dark” makes you feel all hot under the collar and “Shame on the Night” makes you laugh and reminds you of the awkward panic cleaning up after.

The epitome of live fast die young. He will throw his life away if you ask him to, so make sure you use your powers wisely.

At some point Eddie will ask you to run away with him. He doesn’t give a shit where, so long as it’s with you.

Shared interests are probably how the two of you met in the first place, especially if you’re like me and unable to beat the weird kid allegations. You drifted towards his club because you for whatever reason were an outcast too.

Eddie would probably crush on those who are conventionally pretty, popular, the epitome of the 80’s beauty standards. That’s just human nature. But with you… it’s so much more different.

You’re like his nerdy fantasies come to life, like the princesses he writes about in his campaigns that are a mix of dark, dangerous, able to hold their own and fight for him and with him. Think of if you will a sexy bombshell rotoscoped into those old metal music videos. Facing the world wearing only red lipstick and a cocksure expression.

He would get along so well with someone who wasn’t afraid to let their wild side show, or to express it. But at the same time if you’re more shy and reserved, he is determined to help you come out of that shell and be the best possible version of yourself.

It’s impossible not to match his excitable energy, it’s just so goddamn contagious. It might scare you how far you’re willing to go for Eddie and how quickly you might find yourself changing. Because believe me, you will change, and it will be for the better.

Eddie will always be your number one hype man.

He will literally be so excited about everything you do because it’s you! The person he loves more than anyone in this whole entire world.

Eddie will literally put up with so much for you. Even if you guys fight he will struggle to maintain his composure because he does not want to fuck this beautiful thing up.

Drives himself up the wall with anxiety about it too. But that’s the thing about Eddie’s dynamic with you: is that he will do what it takes to keep his fucking cool around you.

Your fights are infrequent but can get explosive if there are unsaid insecurities. So to avoid this: keep honest with him. About everything. Don’t lie to him, because as fast as he fell for you, lying is the quickest way to break his trust and send him packing.

One of his flaws in the relationship is that his insecurity that this will all go away will make him all that more prepared to leave if you have a massive blow up fight.

Like he’s already preplanned his exit strategy and everything.

But the longer you’re together, the more comfortable he gets and eventually he settles down from jumping the gun into taking things one day at a time.

He’s a fucking keeper. And all I’m gonna say is you better start training with swinging a blunt weapon because once you have him, you’re going to be right there in the Upside Down fucking up some monsters keeping them away from your man.

[getosbigballsack]

Here's another one for the random thoughts

Possessive Yandere Roommate Gojo x Delulu Reader Chan. 

The next day came by quickly, and Gojo decided that it was a perfect day for him to gather the rest of the things that he may need for the night. The night before, he overheard your conversation with your boyfriend Nanami, promising the young fellow your virginity, but Gojo, no. He wasn’t having that.

It’s been too long now, too long he allowed you to roam free while he patiently waited for you to come to him, but instead you decided that it was right for you to flaunt your relationship with Nanami. He is about to teach you a long-awaited lesson. A lesson that you won’t ever forget. 

When he got to your shared apartment, the one he shared with both you and Geto (his best friend), he saw you standing around the kitchen island, laughing and talking away with Geto who currently had a leg injury, he never really told how he ended up with a leg injury. Maybe it's from playing volleyball.“What are you both talking about?” Gojo asked as he dropped the bags on the floor and rested his back against the door. 

“Hey Toru,” you chirped as you quickly rushed over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. “Where did you go?”

“I went to do a little shopping,” he answered.

“Without me? What did you buy?” you asked him as you pulled away from him and bent down to take a peek inside the bag, but he was quick to rest his foot on top of the bag, blocking your view to see whatever it was inside the bag. “Satoru?”

“What were you talking about with Suguru?” he asked, that tone that rumbled in the back of his throat and his blue eyes that were staring down at you intensely had you shiver in your slippers. 

“We were talking about Nanami?” You answered as you slowly stood up and backed away from him. 

Gojo pushed himself from the door a bit and began to walk towards you, like a predator following its prey. 

“Satoru?” Geto called out to him while removing himself from behind the counter. 

“Shut up, Suguru. I was talking to Y/N, not you," Gojo yelled. "What about Nanami?" 

You swallowed, "Satoru, I don't like the way you're speaking to me right now." He chuckled, his pace quickened, and once he was before you, he roughly gripped your arms and tugged you towards his chest. "Satoru?"

"Answer my question Y/N." 

You huffed, "Suguru was just telling me that I need to use protection later when I meet up with Nanami. I asked if he had any that I could bring with me, and he said no, but you might have, so I was waiting to ask you when you came back." 

"So you were gonna ask me to give you a condom so that you can use it to fuck Nanami?" He asked through clenched teeth, his grip on your arms got a bit tighter to the point where you could see your flesh spilling over the other side. 

"Satoru, you're hurting me," you whined as you tried to pull your arm away from his. 

"Satoru…" 

"Shut the fuck up!" He yelled over at Geto before pulling you close to his chest. "How dare you?" He questioned as he used his other hand to cup your cheeks together and squeezed them tightly. "After all these years I allowed you to roam free and do as you wish while I patiently waited for you to come to me and finally tell me that you wanna be with me." 

"Satoru…" 

"But instead, you want me to give you a condom so that you can give away what's mine?" 

You managed to get out of his grip by doing a little twisting and turning, and when you did, you quickly ran behind Geto, hoping that he would prevent Gojo from coming closer to you. After all, Geto's injured so Gojo wouldn't hurt him, right? 

"Y/N, get back here. I'm not done talking to you," Gojo shouted.

“No!” 

“No? What do you mean, no?" He questioned, fingers clenching and unclenching as he grew closer to you. "Y/N, I won't say it again, come to me." 

"No!" You answered firmly as you stared into his blue eyes that grew red each second that passed and the next thing you know Gojo snapped, his fist clenching tightly as he slowly made his way over to you. His eyes twitch slightly with every step he takes towards you.

“Y/N, I think you should run,” Geto whispered, and not even a moment later, you were already running up the stairs, quickly shutting yourself inside your bedroom.

You started panicking, your feet and hands having minds of their own, moving quickly over to your closet, grabbing the nearest bag you could reach along with a few pieces of clothes. Why on earth is Satoru behaving like this? You wanted answers, only answer that he could provide but with your six sense going off like crazy, the only thing you could think of was to get the fuck up out of this house and away from Gojo Satoru himself. 

Somehow, you felt as though your life's in danger, and best believe it is.

Meanwhile, downstairs, his blood red eyes narrowed at Geto. “Why do you keep interfering?” Gojo huffed at him. “Why the fuck do you keep interfering with OUR relationship. You stopped me not once, not twice but three times and look at you now all fucked up with a broken leg. You haven't learnt your lesson huh. Looks like I need to break the other one.” 

Geto was sweating bullets. At this point he was stressed the fuck out over Gojo Satoru's obsession with you. He knew Gojo loved you for a very long time. He knew about the many nights he had to witness Gojo’s perverted acts, masturbating with the panties he stole from your dirty laundry basket. 

He knew about all your dates, the ones that Gojo supposingly took care of if they rejected you or even if they didn't. All the busted lips and bruises on their face, broken limbs, and many much more. He knew because he had to be the one cleaning about after Gojo with one quick call. 

Its not like Geto was afraid of Gojo or anything, as a matter of fact they both had the same master who taught them a few fighting styles here and there. He just knew how deeply dark and sadistic Gojo’s obsessed ran for you. He knew that if Gojo had to murder to ensure that you never leave his side then he would. 

He often wondered how Gojo allowed you to date Nanami for as long as he did without interfering. Well, he did try. The day after you and Nanami agreed to have sex. Gojo overheard the conversation. Hence the reason Geto now has a broken leg. He tussled with Gojo for a bit, successfully stopping the deranged white hair man from entering your room to do something that he may never be able to take back. 

But it seems as though today might be the day that Gojo is gonna do something that he'll honestly regret. So though he was unable to move about due to the clutches that he has under his arm. He still moved forward, ready to argue with Gojo Satoru, but only got cut short when he felt the pressure of Gojo's hand around his neck. 

The clutches fell from beneath his arms, his hands grabbing onto Gojo’s hands to pull them away but with the pressure Gojo had on his neck, it wasn't long before Geto felt his head getting light. “Gojo don't… do this…” 

Gojo is long gone, the only thought running through his head is to knock Geto out before turning his attention towards you. He was tired of waiting, tired of everyone getting in his way. 

“Go…jo don't… don't do this." Geto cried through his choked sobs, eyes fluttering, and he lost strength in his hand. No longer able to fight, his knees buckled beneath, and the next thing you know, Geto was lying unconscious on the floor.

“Stay out of my fucking way,” Gojo hissed before hurriedly running up the stairs and banging on your bedroom door. He twisted and turned the knob, kicking and screaming at the door, “Open the fucking door, Y/N.” 

Scared and cowering in the corner of your room, you managed to yell, “No… leave me alone.”

He kept banging at the door, “I said open the fucking door. I'm not done talking to you. FUCK! WHY ARE YOU BEING SO FUCKING STUBBORN. OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR Y/N. Open it, open it… OPEN IT!” 

You screamed and dropped the bag you had in your lap on the floor, dragged your knees up to your chest, and watched as Gojo continued his assault on the door. The only thing that is protecting you from him. 

“Y/N I'm not going to ask you again. Open the door. Don't let me get in here on my own… So open up, I promise I won't hurt you,” a lie he dug up from the pits of hell. “Right so come out, angel. Yeah open the fucking door.” 

You should have heed his warnings and just opened the door when he asked you to. But instead, you answered, “No.” 

“Ha… OK, I see. You wanna be stubborn… OK haha… have it your way.” 

Then he left, quickly running down the stairs and towards the front door to pick up the bag of “goodies” he supposedly bought this morning. He pulled out a white rag, a packet of gloves and a bottle of chloroform. 

“Have it your fucking way,” he mumbled as he tore open the packet, put on the gloves, popped open the chloroform and drowned the rag in its pungent smell. He could hear you shuffling across as he made his way back up the stairs. Since you refuse to be a good girl and open the door when he asks, he's just gonna have to open it himself. So head towards his room to pick up the spare to your room that he had lying lazily on the dresser then he went back to your room door. 

“Last chance to open up the door Y/N,” he said as he quietly shoved the key into the door. “Don't be stubborn Y/N, come on open the fucking door.”

“No,” you answered. You heard him chuckle, then the sound of the locks to your door being open, and in came Gojo Satoru himself, smiling with the keys dangling from his fingers.

You began screaming, quickly scrambling to your feet to find some way out of the room. You made a run for it, hopping on your bed to jump behind and run out the door, but you knew you were at a disadvantage. 

He was so fast, too fast, even when he grabbed you by the arm, yanking you off with a bed with just one harsh tug. “Satoru… No No, please,” you plead as you struggle to get out of his grasp.

He ignored you by wrapping around neck and pulled you back against his body, your head resting on his shoulder. “This is all your fault,” he whispered as you continued to struggle in his hold. “You should've opened the fucking door when I asked you too.”

You began screaming, only for him to finally shut you up by pressing the chloroform rag against your nose. Your eyes widen in fear, you're now scratching his arms, kicking your feet, hoping for some kind of freedom, but Gojo was just too strong for you. 

“Sa… Satoru please…”

“Breath,” he whispered while pressing the cloth even more onto your nose. “Be a good girl for me… like you should have been from the very beginning and breath for me… yes yes that it's… breath slowly now,” he praised the moment he felt your body slowly becoming limp in his arms.

Tears ran down your face, eyes looking up to see the blue eyes of your best friend that once loved now staring down at you with pure sadistic pleasure.

“That's right… breath,” he said to you while watching as your eyes fluttered slowly. As you continued to inhale the drug, you could feel your hands going limped first, then your legs. Your head started to feel hazy, and your eyes were heavy. You knew what was coming, so you had no choice but to inhale the toxic smell, and within a minute, you're lying unconscious in his arms.

“I love you… I love you so much, Y/N.”

He smiled, watching your unconscious body, his mind thinking of ways to use you, punish you, and love you with everything he's got. But not yet, not here. He needed to clean up and get out. So he did so. He rested you on your bed to rush downstairs to pick up his best friend and laid him on the sofa. 

“You should have stayed out if my fucking way,” he remarked as he stared down at Geto once last time before stripping away his gloves and tossed them in the bag he had at the front door, along with the rag he used on you. He made sure that no evidence was there before leaving the apartment to go toss the bags in the car. 

He then came back for you, gently lifting you in his arms and taking you outside and towards his car. Then he went back for the bag you initially ‘packed’ when you foolishly decided that it was best to get away from him along with a few pieces of clothes of his own. Then he left but not without leaving a note for Geto and Nanami that read; Don't come looking for us. 

Your relationship with Gojo will never be the same again.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

what people think pro ship means: dangerous people who want to harm children in real life and/or think taboo subjects in real life are justified

what pro ship actually is about: the belief that people are allowed to enjoy fictional thing however they want, as long as it's fictional and no one in real life gets harmed or harassed in any way, and as long as they tag their trigger warnings properly.

most pro ship folks I've come across are just "hey, you like this fucked up thing that is fictional? okay, cool. you do you, man. I myself don't even like this thing that you like, but hey, it's not real. and I trust that you know the difference between fiction and reality, so you do you. if it ever gets too much for me, I will just block or mute you and move on with my life, but that doesn't mean I think you're a horrible person in real life because of the fictional thing you like, it just means I'd rather not see or engage with this thing that can make me uncomfortable. I still want you to have fun doing what you love, and I still think you're cool as fuck. love and respect, dude"

meanwhile most anti ship I've seen are like "omg you like this fictional thing where fictional children are harmed??! Red Flag Red Flag. put this gross piece of shit behind bars immediately!!!"

and I'm just ????? I don't normally engage in fandom wars, but I think, as long as you don't harass anyone in real life and as long as no one in real life is in danger or is harmed, how you enjoy fictional things is none of my business. and I'm not gonna make any "call out post" where I encourage my followers to harass you because you like fucked up fictional things that I personally don't like or believe is wrong either.

I mean, from personal experience, I was exposed against my will to thing I didn't want to see from anti's screenshot of fanart or fanfic where they encourage their followers to harass this person whose fanart or fanfic, that was screenshot and spread by them, was originally tagged properly with all the trigger warnings so that people who didn't want to see it wouldn't get exposed to it. until anti screenshot it and flaunted it around in the name of being morally superior while also, at the same time, advocated for the witch hunt against someone who just wanted to mind their own business. so... the irony. lol

fandoms used to be more peaceful before Fandom Police starts their witch hunting, but it's a good thing we can just block these people and keep on enjoying our blorbos however we want to enjoy them.

and I'll always encourage every artist to write whatever they want, draw whatever they want. don't let people who think they're "morally superior" tell you you can't make art this way or that way. my best advice would be to block and ignore and keep on creating what you want. they may be loud, but at the end of the day they're just noises and they're not worth your attention x

[icallhimjoey]

More!!! More!!!! More bookstore!joe! MORE!!!!!!!!!! we've seen his erratic behaviour when he visits the store after not having been able to come in for a while, but what about the visit before he knows he's not going to be able to come in for a while?

omg im so here for the bookstore!joe requests, but the "i already miss you even though youre still here" somehow turned into whatever this is... idk why i went where i went, my apologies, and tw for vomit Wordcount: 3K

---

Lost Moments To Keep

You hadn't stopped staring at Joe with the biggest eyes. You seemed confused and weirdly mesmerised. Your eyes tunneled a little, vision darker around the edges.

"That's Joe." Anne just said, and then your eyes moved to give her the same wild look.

"And I'm Anne. We like me, a lot. We don't like Joe. You've got temporary loss of normal brain function, look, Google says." Anne held her phone to your face, too close for anything to register.

"You're not helping, Anne." Joe scolded through clenched teeth.

"Wha–"

Joe was on the phone to someone, and... you knew who that was. You knew who that was. What the fuck. What was Joe Quinn doing in your bookstore?

And why were you on the floor, exactly? Your left elbow hurt, but the back of your head much worse.

"Yea, she's awake. She hasn't lost consciousness at all." Joe said to whoever was on the other side of the line. "Confused, though. Brain's all scrambled."

"Do you feel dizzy? Google says you might feel dizzy."

"I... what day is it?"

"Oh my God, she's asking what day it is." Anne said, turning to Joe like she was blaming him for what you'd asked. In Anne's terms, she was panicking. Anyone who didn't know her, though, would think she was being exceptionally calm given she'd just witnessed her boss lift a box of books that tipped her over backwards.

Your head hurt.

And you did feel dizzy. And nauseous too, a little.

It made sense that you had fallen, but it was strange to not remember and to have two strangers fret over you in your own business.

Your eyes darted from the worried face of famous actor Joe Quinn who was stood by your feet, to the wildly uninterested face of a younger girl who sat next to you with her legs crossed as she scrolled on her phone.

"Any vision disturbance? Are you more sensitive to light than you'd usually be, do you think?" Anne asked, seemingly going down a list she'd found online.

"Okay, thanks. We'll make sure she doesn't move until you get here." Joe looked at you as he said goodbye and hung up. That looked like your phone.

"Her mum's on her way."

Why was he using your phone?

"Any mental fogginess?" Anne continued, ignoring Joe and additionally ignoring you, entirely unfussed that you weren't answering any of her questions.

"Hey," Joe softly said, catching your attention as he stepped closer and leant an elbow on the counter as he bent down a little. He smiled warmly at you when he asked, "How are you feeling?"

Joe Quinn.

Joseph Quinn.

What was he doing in your bookstore?

And who the fuck was Anne?

Your eyes moved from one to the other until you saw black spots and the pain behind your eyes grew. Your ears were ringing when you softly said, "I'm... I'm gonna throw up."

Joe almost hadn't gone in today. He almost hadn't, because he didn't really have any time to waste. But, Jesus, he was glad he was there.

God, imagine if he hadn't been.

When Joe had woken up that morning, he thought he was likely going actually insane. He was flying out for work the next day, and instead of preparing, of packing, of seeing family and friends before he'd be off for a while - instead of all that, he showed up on the bookstore's doorstep at 10 am sharp. Right when Anne unlocked and opened the door. Just because that was where he wanted to be. He kind of already missed the store, even though he was right there.

Anticipatory nostalgia; Joe could feel it in his bones.

Instead of stepping aside and letting him in, she gave him a deadpan tired stare and waited for him to take the A-frame from her hands to put outside on the pavement.

Joe happily helped out. Said, "Good morning, sunshine!" all chipper and laughed when Anne looked like she had to try really hard not to vomit.

He'd called a good morning into the store, got a faint "Morning!" in reply from the backroom where you were making yourself a coffee, and found his ledge... empty.

Anne saw him look at the spot where he usually left the books that he was reading. You'd granted him that small little surface area of the store so you wouldn't have to keep putting his books back on the shelves, and so Joe wouldn't have to go looking for those same books again the next time he'd come in. A win win little ledge of excuses for Joe to return to your store. A real privilege, Joe thought.

Except he'd left books there.

He knew he did.

Where had they gone?

"I tidied." Anne said unsentimentally and challengingly looked at Joe over her mug as she took a sip of hot coffee.

She loved being a little shit and inconveniencing Joe wherever and whenever she could. Tidying the store was part of her job, and Joe knew if he was to complain, she'd have the upper hand, because what was he even really doing? The store wasn't a library, no matter how much he had starting treating it like one.

So instead, Joe used her inconvenient power move as an excuse to take his time to browse the whole store and took care to be in the exact wrong spot at the exact wrong time.

You secretly smiled every time you heard Anne sigh with frustration and heard her mutter, "Move!" under her breath before using a shoulder to push him aside. Every single time, Joe pretended he was totally oblivious. Would go, "Oh! Sorry! Was I in the way?" all innocently, but you could see how his mouth was fighting to keep his own smile hidden.

It took maybe forty minutes for Joe to have built up a little stack of books on the small sidetable next to your granddad's armchair in the window, and then Joe sat and read undisturbed for an hour and a half.

You loved it when Joe was in.

Just sat there.

Reading.

Absolutely engrossed in his own little world.

The faint feeling of envy was always overshadowed by the joy of being allowed to unashamedly stare at him from the counter, leant on both elbows.

You'd brought him a coffee after those 90 minutes of silent reading, and he'd given you a quick wink and a smile as a thank you.

Customers filtered in and out, and you went from moments of it just being Joe in the store to having eight people needing your attention simultaneously. It was both busy and not, and the switches in energy had left you in a weird spot mentally.

You hadn't realised you'd fully skipped lunch.

You'd seen Joe dart out for some pastries, and you'd ordered Anne to get her ass into the back to go and eat something, but you never followed up on your "I'll take my lunch after."

It was why, in a moment of quiet, you'd picked up a box of books from behind the counter that had sort of been in the way the whole morning, you been unsuccessfull.

Maybe you'd gotten up too fast.

Or maybe the box was just too heavy.

The entire thing had taken you down quicker than you'd been able to get it off the floor. It didn't help that the box was open. The reflex of your body became about making sure none of the books would tip out and hit you in the face, when the reflex should've been about cushioning your fall.

You shot no arms out.

You didn't drop the box.

You just... fell.

The weight of the box pushed the air straight from your lungs and left you gasping.

The back of your head had hit the wooden floorboards so hard, you immediately saw stars.

After impact, for a short moment, it was pin-drop silent. Anne froze, pausing for a moment, listening. She was waiting for you to go "I'm all right!", but that never came.

Joe was ripped from his book at the sound of the fall, but was confused. One moment you'd been there, and then now, you were gone.

When a soft wincing gasp was heard from where you were hidden form his view, he was on his feet in an instant, rounding the counter and finding you there on the floor, box of books heavy on your stomach, eyes completely glazed over as you rapidly blinked up at the ceiling in an attempt to erase the fuzzy bits in your vision.

"Oh my G– Anne!" Joe was quick to remove the box and the books that were tumbling out. "Breathe. Careful, don't move, just focus on breathing." Joe advised as he watched you struggle.

"What dropped?" Anne asked, getting closer now and trying to find the source of the whack.

"She did."

"I know she did, but what was that–"

"That was her." Joe tried to make eye-contact. "Hey, just breathe, all right? Are you hurt?"

The eye-contact failed, as did answering Joe's question.

You hadn't even properly heard him it felt like.

Anne and Joe shared a look, for a moment both unsure of what to do. Who was going to take the lead on this? Joe didn't work there, but Anne was a literal teenager.

Before they could even think of discussing a game plan, you incoherently asked through a constricted panicked voice if anyone had thought of the fire escape. They both turned to look at you, both faces frowning in confusion.

"Huh?"

"What was that?"

Joe and Anne spoke at the same time.

"I think I forgot. Are the bugs gone?" you winced as you moved a hand to where your head hurt, and Joe was quick in deciding he was going to have to be the one to call the shots on this. He'd clearly chosen to spend all day at the bookstore for a reason, so it seemed.

It took a little while for you to return to normal.

You babbled through some more disjointed chat whilst Joe carefully checked with his fingers if your head was bleeding. It wasn't, which was good. But you did wince in pain as he slowly felt around in your hair before you tried to sit up and take your shoes off.

Anne had to fight you back down onto the floor and sternly told you to relax whilst Joe slid his folded jacket underneath your head.

When your consciousness returned into the room, you were met by a girl sat by your side who was scrolling through concussion symptoms, and a guy stood up by your feet, talking to someone on the phone.

"What's going on?" You'd asked, and Anne had just casually said, "You fell."

Joe'd called your mum on your phone. Anne knew the code. Joe told himself he'd give her a stern talk about normal-people things like privacy later. Priorities lied elsewhere right now.

And then you'd thrown up into the box of books that had taken you down earlier.

Served it right, Joe thought.

Joe'd held your hair through it, and kept brushing back little pieces that kept falling into your face. His touches were so tender and gentle but they still hurt, and you were absolutely mortified. So fucking embarrassed. There was a fucking celebrity in the store and you were vomming into a box of books that, halfway through, got swapped for an empty bucket.

It smelled awful, and it probably was the most unattractive thing in the world.

You felt like the most unattractive thing in the world.

"Sorry you had to see that." you croaked when Anne handed you a glass of water to rinse your mouth.

"We think you're concussed."

Somehow, that made perfect sense.

"You took quite the tumble. The back of your head must be hurting."

You moved to sit with your back against a cupboard door, careful to not lean your head back too far, and Joe decided to stay put next to you. Keep an eye on you. Hold your hair back in case you weren't quite done throwing up yet.

Meanwhile, Anne had moved into the backroom and did her best in trying to save whatever books she could from where you'd thrown up over them.

"Do you have any pain anywhere else?"

You paused a second to focus on the feelings inside of your body, and then moved an arm to touch the opposite elbow.

"Your elbow? Are you bleeding?" Joe used a soft hand to move your arm so he could have a look. "Does it hurt a lot?" No broken skin. Joe hoped that maybe the blow he'd heard had been your elbow, and not your actual skull.

"Stop asking her a million questions!" Anne shouted from the back, like she hadn't been doing the exact same thing before.

"You'd tell me if you weren't okay, wouldn't you?" Joe's voice remained soft and warm for you. All kind and gentle.

For a moment, you just looked at him.

"Hi," he smiled, and he saw how you were trying to puzzle the situation together. "I'm Joe."

"I know who you are."

"Oh, that's great!" Joe exclaimed.

"Were you... did you happen to just be in here to buy books, or..."

Oh.

Not so great.

You knew who he was, but you didn't know who he was.

"Um, no, not really. I actually come in here a lot. I um... you let me hog one of the armchairs where I read books."

"You do?"

"Yea, it's awfully rude of me." Joe smiled. "But I'm lucky. You're very cool about it."

Joe could feel his chest swell at the faintest hint of a smile coming from you.

"He's your boyfriend." Anne bluntly interrupted as she stepped back into the storefront, and before you could even begin to process that wild bit of information, she added, "But not really. The two of you are... you're really weird about it."

It sounded like a weird joke, and you looked between the both of them to figure out what the punchline was, because you didn't get it.

Joe just smiled when you looked at him.

"She hates it."

"I do." Anne confirmed, walking across the store to move the sign on the door to 'closed'. Your mum was going to come by and pick you up to get your head checked and there was no way Anne wasn't going to go with.

Joe craned his head to watch Anne as she went to fetch the A-frame out front and then leant close and whispered, "We kind of like that she hates it."

That made you smile into your lap.

"Have you um..." you started, suddenly frowning. "Do you have a plaster for me?"

Joe's concern immediately grew again. He wasn't quite back where he was twenty minutes ago, when you'd laid right where he was sitting now, unable to catch your breath properly, but his eyes bulged like he was just as worried anyway.

"Why? Are you bleeding? Where?"

"I've not finished my homework."

"You've not..." Joe tried to make sense of something nonsensical before he realised he'd lost you again.

Joe wondered if he could let someone know he wasn't going to be able to leave the city tomorrow. Let alone the fucking country. The prospect of leaving you like this for a few weeks and having to actually do a job seemed impossible.

How was he not going to be thinking about you all the time?

To be fair, his life was already like that, a little.

But especially now; after all this, no one could expect him to not constantly worry if you were all right, could they?

"I don't think I've got any plasters for you, sorry."

"Oh," you seemed disappointed, but only for a second. "You bought Blindness from me."

There you were. Back again. God, he really did already miss you, even though you were right there.

"I did."

"You hadn't... you'd not read it, but you'd seen the film."

"I had."

"I remember."

"Read it in one day."

You'd likely be fine.

People got concussions all the time, didn't they?

"Sorry, I'm all over the place."

"You're not actually," Joe smiled. "You're right here."

Joe was going to leave the country tomorrow, and you'd stay with your mum until you'd be one hundred per cent again. You would keep the store closed, so there was no use in him hanging around anyway. And then, when you'd be all better, he'd pop back in on a random Tuesday morning without any warning, and then he could tell you all about today. You'd likely not remember a thing of it, all of it a lost moment to you, but one that he'd get to keep. Get to cherish. Get to share with you later.

"My head hurts..." you suddenly said like you'd only just realised it.

"Yea, you fell." Joe could go through this loop again, he didn't mind.

"I did?"

"Hmm, we think you're concussed. Your mum is coming to pick you up, have you checked out by a doctor to double check and make sure you're okay."

"We?"

Joe saw how you went to reach for the back of your head again, but before your fingers could disappear into your hair, the bell above the door chimed and Anne said, "No sign of her yet."

"That's Anne." Joe calmly explained, and then reached to grab hold of your hand, protecting you from touching your painful bits again. He'd make sure to hold it until your mum arrived.

Joe saw your eyes grow wide as you recognised him again, and smiled.

"And I'm Joe."

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[raina-at]

Pride

Omg, you guys, it's the last one! Where did the month go!

A huge, huge thank you to @calaisreno for keeping is going the entire month, and a huge thank you to all of you for reading and writing and gushing and commenting and crying and making this more fun than it had any right to be. I'll miss this!

I did a Pride ficlet last year as a bonus ficlet because I missed two days. I had a lot of ideas for this year's, and maybe I'll post some of them as bonus ficlets through June, but for now, I say goodbye to May with John and Rosie.

--------

"Dad."

"Hmm?"

"Dad!"

John puts down the newspaper. Apparently this is a serious discussion. "Yes, love?"

Rosie throws herself into Sherlock's chair and contorts herself into a pretzel-like shape that can't be comfortable. "I'm...um..." It's apparent she doesn't quite know how to phrase her issue, because she's unnaturally hesitant. Sherlock's influence has made her shockingly blunt, while John's influence has made her shockingly foul-mouthed. Arguing with her is a joy. But now, very untypically, she looks confused and a bit lost.

"Ro, whatever it is, you can tell me," John says, leaning forward, a bit worried now.

"It's..." She sighs, looks down at her hands. "It's a bit personal?"

"Oh my god you're pregnant!" John blurts out, his momentary fear overriding his usually good brain-mouth-filter.

"Dad, what the actual fuck! I'm not fucking pregnant!" Rosie rolls her eyes so hard John wonders if she sprained something. "You know I'm on birth control. You went with me to get my first prescription, for fuck's sake."

"Accidents happen, my dear," John says, gesturing at his lovely daughter, who, light of his life, and joy of his world as she may be, was also very much an unplanned pregnancy.

"Fair enough," Rosie admits, deflating a bit. "Still."

"It wasn't a completely unreasonable assumption. You have a boyfriend, you're twenty, I'm assuming you're having sex."

"Please, dad!" Rosie exclaims, the tips of her ears turning red. "I really don't want to talk about my sex life."

"You think I do?"

Rosie makes a very Sherlock-like  'never mind all that nonsense now' gesture. "Anyway," she says, giving John a glare that tells him to shut up until she's finished. "It's actually kind of about Mark."

John nods, to let her know he's listening, but carefully and deliberately keeps his mouth shut, even as he's thinking, If he hurt you, I'll kill him so fucking dead so quickly he'll never know what hit him.

"It's... you know... he's... well, he's a boy," Rosie finally gets out.

John blinks a few times. Waits a bit. When it's clear Rosie won't be any more forthcoming about the issue, he dares to ask, "And?"

She looks down at her hands, studying them with unwarranted fascination. "I'm..." She sighs. "When did you know you were bisexual?"

John exhales audibly. Now he knows what this is about. In a family of mostly queer people, Rosie seems to have assumed she'd be some kind of queer as well. And if anyone knows how complicated identity can be, especially if it's weighed down by expectation, it's John. "Um. Quite honestly, I'm not sure I am."

Rosie looks up, surprised. "I mean. Mum. And Paps. Um. You know..." she makes a 'please fill in the gaps yourself' gesture.

"Look," John says, leaning forward and taking his daughter's hands. "I personally think labels are vastly overrated. If a word, or a label, or a phrase, helps you to better understand yourself, that's great. Use that label as long as it serves you, and if it doesn't anymore, use another one. As for me, I was raised in an environment where being different was bad. What kind of different you were exactly was completely beside the point. And I saw first-hand how the world treated your aunt, so I thought, best not think about it. I wasn't that attracted to men, it wasn't difficult to ignore. Until I met Paps, and you know how difficult he is to ignore."

Rosie grins. "Oh, yeah. So Paps made you bi?"

"No, you know it doesn't work like that. He made me... " John answers, smiling fondly at the memory. "Well, quite simply, he made me fall in love. He was—still is, of course—the most intriguing, gorgeous, infuriating, exasperating, fascinating person I've ever met, and I fell in love with him so hard, and so fast. But I wasn't ready, and he wasn't ready, and it took us years to get our acts together. And part of that was that we both couldn't accept a fundamental truth: The heart wants what the heart wants. Fighting against it only brings misery and destruction." He squeezes Rosie's hands. "So. Do you love Mark?"

She nods, her eyes shining with the truth of it.

"Is he good to you? Good for you?"

She nods again.

"Then who the fuck cares about anything else?"

Rosie's silent for a bit, apparently mulling over his words, still holding on to his hands. "So," she finally says, looking up from her joint hands with a smile. "You'll love me even if I'm straight?"

"Well, love, I suppose I can overlook this glaring character flaw. Also, you might meet a stunning lesbian when you're forty and she'll rock your entire world and turn everything you thought you knew about yourself upside down. And I want you to remember," he says, leaning in a bit more, looking deeply into her eyes, "I'm fine with everything, as long as you give me some grandkids first."

Rosie laughs and pushes him away. "Fuck off."

John gets up and makes his way to the kitchen. "So, sexual identity crisis over? You want to have some tea now?"

"Of course I want tea. But what you're saying, if I understand you correctly, is not to assume I'm straight just because I fell in love with a man?"

"I'm saying," John says, flicking the kettle on, "is that it doesn't matter, love. Gay, straight, pan, bi, ace, all these labels are useful if they help you understand yourself. But if you feel boxed in by a label, don't use it. Use another one. Use none at all. Let nothing ever keep you from knowing and understanding your own heart. That's the only thing that matters. I might be bi, who knows. The important thing is that I love Sherlock with all my heart, and that I made a commitment to him. Everything else is just noise."

Rosie is quiet for a bit, looking thoughtfully at the fire crackling cherrily in the hearth of 221B. "You're getting soft in your old age, Dad," she finally says, with a grateful smile.

John hands her a mug, drops a kiss on her head. "Love you too, dear," he says, smiling into her hair.

----

Don't forget that I'm collecting these ficlets here on AO3, and don't forget to check out the wonderful collection of May prompt ficlets as well. I know I'm already looking forward to reading all of them again.

Tags under the cut as usual.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @jrow @peanitbear @jolieblack @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee @dapetty @salmonsown

[barbiewritesstuff]

Filthy COD squad fucktoy thoughts

@ravensmadreads / @feedthemadness-sweetie

This was written in 10 min. I've never played or seen much COD before but she's dragged me into this and then told me to post this here.

SMUT. MDNI.

----

Imagine being the squad's little fucktoy.

It starts with Ghost. Just a quick fuck when you need to but Gaz walks in and instead of stopping like you expected, Ghost tells him that either he joins or he fucks off and closes the door.

He joins.

After that Gaz takes you whenever sometimes with Ghost, sometimes by himself. Soap's next. Gaz mentions him and Ghost are using you for stress relief and one day he has a real bad day and bends you over the nearest surface and fucks you til you can't talk.

Except you can scream. And Price hears it. He thinks you're hurt, that something bad's happening but then he hears the moans, and the way you chant Soap's name and he gets jealous. He offhandedly mentions something about what he heard to the other guys, trying to fish for information, and they all look at each other weirdly, like they're hiding something. And you do the same when he asks you. Price feels kind of offended, he knows he's being kept out of something but he doesn't know what

Price opens the door with more force than he needs to. He's pissed. He's fuming. He's been pushed to the side on this for much too long.

He's hurt. Actually.

Gaz, Soap, Ghost and you are his squad. His family. And there's something going on that you're not letting him be a part of.

He sees the glances the boys throw at each other when he asks about you and Soap. And then, a week later, when you're holed up somewhere south of Porter Canal in a place where shit absolutely should not have gone south, he catches a glimpse of Gaz fucking you raw, fingers rubbing frantic circles on your clit.

He figures it out then, and it's somehow worse now he knows you're letting everyone have a go but him. It feels more personal. What about him doesn't do it for you?

He knows he's a good looking man. He's older, yes, but it doesn't bother him, and it's never bothered anyone else before. He's a high ranking officer, which proves he's trustworthy, responsible and a born leader, all things he's always been led to believe makes him a good choice for a mate.

And he always thought you liked him. You squirm when he flirts, you blush when he touches you... you masturbate in the shower when you think he can't hear, softly moaning his name. His first name.

It's not fair.

It's so unfair that when you land back at base, he calls you to his office, determined that if you won't give him what he wants, he'll just have to fucking take it.

---

He bottoms out into you, filling you to the brim. It's almost painful, the way he stretches you out and fucks you without letting you adjust.

"Letting everyone else have a go at you?" He grunts, "Singling me out?"

"Why's that?" He asks, pulling your hair back by the pigtail, "C'mon, love."

"I didn't --" you start, sentence cut in half by a loud, pornographic moan.

"Tell me."

"Rank," you spit out between screams. He's too deep and not enough. It hurts but not enough. He's everything and you want more, "Captain," you add, trying to make a coherent sentence with whatever words thoughts bump into your brain like a dvd pause screen.

Price scoffs, "Thought your captain wouldn't want you, pet?"

"Couldn't."

"Let me make something clear," he growls, "I decide what I can and can't do. I can, and I will, fuck you."

He slams into you.

"I will fuck you until I damn well decide I've caught up with the boys," he says, "And then I will keep going."

You don't respond, you're too far gone. There's only Price in the world now, jjst the feel of his cock hitting your g-spot over and over again. You've lost count of how many time you've soaked his cock with your come but you're sure it must be in the double digits now. And there's another one building up, slowly and differently, it feels stronger and there's a brand new pressure that travels down from your pussy until eventually, Price pulls out and you squirt, soaking his trousers in the process.

He chuckles, half in disbelief and half in mockery, "Any of the boys make you do this?"

"Never," you manage to say, "Only you."

"Make sure they know," he groans, turning you around on the desk by your hair so he can look you in the eyes, "Next time they fuck you. You tell them Price made you squirt."

"Yessir," you slur.

"Good girl," he says.

Price slinks down on his office chair, still holding your ponytail with a firm hand, and guides you down to kneel in front of him. You obey, eyes glued to his cock, slick with your juices.

"Clean me up, pet."

You don't react, his voice taking a second to reach whatever's left of your brain.

"I said clean me up," he orders, "You made the mess. You lick it clean."

He pulls your hair, practically forcing your mouth on his dick and finally you kick into gear, sucking, licking and nibling on and around his cock. He turns more vocal, allowing himself to moan every now and then when the back of your throat hits his tip.

There's a knock on the door and you still, Price's hand pushing you up and down his member at the same speed.

"Come in," he orders, making no attempt at hiding you, or disguising what's happening. Like he knows who's behind the door.

Ghost walks in, soft footed as always.

"You wanted to see me Captain?"

"No," Price says, "Wanted you to see her. My pet now. But I'll be nice... I'll let you share her still."

Ghost stays silent for a beat, the sound of you slobbering on Price's cock filling the silence in the room.

And then, quietly and filled with jealousy, Ghost replies, "Thank you, Captain."

"Make sure my property returns to me," Price says