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anniebeemine · 1 month

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isn't that sweet?*- s.r. x fem!reader

i’m working late, 'cause i’m a singer

warnings: oral sex (fem. receiving), slight voyeurism

The studio was dimly lit, the soft glow of the mixing board casting long shadows against the walls. You stood in the recording booth, headphones snug against your ears, adjusting the mic one last time as you prepared to lay down another track. This album was different—more personal, more intimate than anything you’d ever done before. And that was because of him.

Spencer sat on the other side of the glass, his gaze fixed on you as you shifted from one foot to the other, finding your rhythm before the music began. He was seated next to your producer, who was quietly conversing with the sound engineer, but Spencer’s focus never wavered. His presence was constant, steady and comforting, as you prepared to pour your heart into the microphone.

This album was a reflection of your life over the past year—every song, every lyric, a piece of the story you shared with Spencer. From the first tentative dates where you both stumbled over your words, nervous and unsure, to the quiet nights spent curled up on the couch, watching old movies, your heads resting against each other. Those memories, those moments, were what fueled your creativity.

You’d written about the way his fingers intertwined with yours during a late-night walk, how he always made you feel like the only person in the world when he looked at you. The way his eyes would light up whenever he got lost in a ramble, explaining some obscure fact or statistic with a passion that made your heart swell.

And then there were the nights where the world outside ceased to exist—the ones where you’d stay tangled in bed long after the sun had risen, whispering secrets and sweet nothings, your bodies and souls completely intertwined. The songs that emerged from those moments were the most vulnerable, the ones that spoke of love in its rawest, most passionate form. They were the songs that made you blush when you sang them, knowing that each note and word was a reflection of the intimacy you shared with him.

As the instrumental intro played through your headphones, you closed your eyes, letting the music wash over you. The melody was soft, almost dreamy, and you knew it would resonate with Spencer. It was the same melody you had hummed absentmindedly during one of your many nights in, the sound lulling him to sleep as you played with his hair.

You started to sing, your voice soft and controlled, carrying the emotion of the lyrics. The song was about a specific night—a night where time seemed to slow, and every touch, every whisper, felt like it was magnified. You had written it as a lullaby of sorts, a tribute to the quiet, peaceful moments you’d shared, the ones that felt like a sanctuary from the world.

The song came to an end, and you let the last note linger in the air before you pulled the headphones off, stepping away from the mic. The room was silent for a moment, the weight of what you’d just recorded settling over everyone.

Your producer leaned forward, a look of approval on his face. “That was perfect. I think we’ve got it.”

You gave a small, relieved smile, but you didn’t move from where you stood. The producer and sound engineer began gathering their things, the producer casting a knowing glance between you and Spencer. “We’ll leave you to it, then. Just lock up when you’re done,” he said. “Goodnight.”

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving you and Spencer alone. The silence stretched on for a moment before Spencer pushed the button on the console to speak through the speakers into the booth.

“Is there something else you want to record?” he asked, his voice gentle but curious.

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the edge of the mic stand as you looked at him through the glass. “There is… but I’m really embarrassed to do it in front of other people,” you admitted, your voice just above a whisper, even though you knew he could hear you clearly.

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly. “Embarrassed? Why?”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “It’s… it’s a song I wrote. It’s about… well, about us. Specifically, about our… sex life.” You could feel your face heat up as you spoke, averting your eyes to the floor. “My producer suggested adding some… um, moans in the background, but it’s really awkward to do it in front of anyone else.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, but he quickly composed himself, understanding washing over his features. “So… you want me to stay and just press record and stop for you?”

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief at his understanding. “Yeah. I can’t do it with them here, but… I trust you. It’s just, every time I try, it either comes out flat or too breathy. I’m too in my head.”

Spencer’s lips quirked into a small smile, and he nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

He walked over to the console, settling into the chair that the sound engineer had vacated, his fingers hovering over the controls. You adjusted the mic, closing your eyes for a moment to collect yourself before you spoke again. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Spencer pressed the record button, and you began. The first few attempts were rough, your voice coming out boring and flat, lacking the emotion you wanted to convey. Each time, you stopped, shaking your head, frustration building as you couldn’t quite get it right. Spencer patiently stopped the recording each time, offering you encouraging smiles, but the tension was mounting. After a few more failed tries, you couldn’t help but let out a nervous giggle, breaking the tension in the room.

“This is so awkward,” you admitted, laughing softly as you looked at Spencer, who chuckled along with you.

“You’re overthinking it,” Spencer said, his voice warm and reassuring. “Just relax. I’ll even turn around.”

You nodded, appreciating his understanding, and tried again. But this time, the frustration only grew. The sounds were either too forced or completely flat, and each attempt left you feeling more and more tense. Finally, you let out a groan of frustration, stepping out of the booth to grab a bottle of water, trying to unwind.

Spencer watched you as you sipped the water, his eyes thoughtful. “I think I know a way to help you get authentic moans,” he said after a moment, his voice low and careful.

You blinked at him, trying to piece together what he was suggesting. At first, you were hesitant, not quite believing what he was implying. But the way he looked at you, his eyes full of that familiar warmth and affection, made it clear. He was serious.

“Spence…” you started, your voice trailing off as you considered it.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile. “There are no cameras in here,” he reminded you, his voice soft. “And I’ll be very, very quiet.”

You felt your heart race as his words hung in the air, a mix of nervous excitement bubbling up inside you. Before you could respond, Spencer leaned in, his lips gently brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The heat of his touch, the familiar taste of his lips, sent a shiver down your spine.

His kisses grew deeper, more insistent as he pressed closer, his hands finding their way to your waist. You could feel his breath against your skin as he began trailing kisses down your neck, his lips soft and deliberate. Each kiss left a trail of warmth in its wake, a persuasive argument in itself.

“Spence,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as he reached a particularly sensitive spot just below your ear. The sensation made your knees weak, and you found yourself leaning into him, craving more of his touch.

His hands moved up to cradle your face, tilting your head slightly to give him better access to your neck. “Just relax,” he murmured between kisses, his voice a low, soothing rumble that vibrated against your skin. “Let me help you.”

His lips continued their journey, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along your collarbone and up the side of your neck, sending waves of heat through your body. With each kiss, he was chipping away at your hesitation, replacing it with something far more potent: desire.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensation of his mouth on your skin, the warmth of his body pressed against yours. It was impossible to think about anything else, the world outside the booth fading away until it was just the two of you, wrapped up in this moment.

Finally, he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt. “How are you feeling?” he asked softly, his voice a tender caress.

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. The nervousness was still there, but it was tempered by the undeniable pull you felt toward him. “I think… I think I’m ready,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

Spencer smiled, his hands gently squeezing your waist in encouragement. “Good,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and reassurance. “I have an idea.”

You watched, curious, as he moved around the room, grabbing a few of the equipment boxes stacked nearby. He brought them into the recording booth, carefully setting them up beneath the microphone. You followed him inside, your heart racing as you tried to piece together what he was doing. It wasn’t until he started arranging the boxes like a makeshift seat that you began to realize his plan. Your eyes widened slightly as the realization dawned on you—he was setting up a throne for you, right beneath the microphone.

Your mouth went dry as you processed the implications, your body buzzing with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Spencer was always full of surprises, but this...this was something else entirely.

He caught your expression and gave you a small, reassuring smile. “Trust me,” he said, his voice low and soothing. With a practiced ease, he shrugged off his cardigan, folding it neatly before draping it over the makeshift seat. He looked at you, his gaze warm and steady, before gently guiding you to sit down.

You hesitated for a moment, the intimacy of the situation sending a flush of heat through you, ending right at your core. You clench around nothing. But the way Spencer looked at you, the quiet confidence in his eyes, made it impossible to resist. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto the makeshift throne, the softness of his cardigan cushioning you.

Spencer knelt in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he looked up at you. The sight of him there, gazing at you with such intensity, made your breath hitch. He gently parted your legs, his hands warm against your skin as he settled himself between your thighs.

“I want you to focus on the sensations,” he murmured, his voice like velvet. “Forget everything else. Just think about us.”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against your inner thigh. The warmth of his breath sent shivers down your spine, your entire body attuned to his every movement. You felt his fingers loop around the sides of your underwear, pulling them down.

“Aren’t you glad you wore a skirt?” He teased.

You nod, closing your eyes to hopefully forget the fact that you’re in your workplace and anyone could walk in at any moment. Spencer kissed your inner thigh, spreading your legs wider. You can feel the cool air run over you and your soaked core. His tongue traced a line along your folds. You gasped, writhing beneath him. Spencer wastes no time in using his hands, circling a finger around your entrance as his lips find your clit. He wraps his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking lightly.

You moan lowly, your fingers finding his hair to give him a harsh tug. He looks up at you, relishing in the way your eyes are screwed shut, little pants leaving your lips. He lets his fingers slide into your pussy, pumping slowly as he kitten licks at your clit.

“Fuck.”

He smiled against your cunt and you just know that he’s come up with some cocky comment that he’s dying to say. You finally open your eyes and almost cum at the dazed look in his eyes. The hand that was on your thigh came up to cup your breast, sliding his way under your shirt. Spencer’s eyebrows perk when he realizes you’re not wearing a bra.

You wink at him, a smug smile forming on your lips. He pushes his fingers deeper. The action makes your thighs flinch, closing in on him for a moment before you relax again. Spencer hums against you, his lips sucking generously at your clit before his tongue massaged it in teasing little circles.

Spencer continued his relentless, expert pace, every flick of his tongue and gentle suck driving you closer to the brink. The sound that escaped your lips was a soft moan, barely more than a whisper, but it filled the recording booth with a delicate echo that made Spencer smile against you.

As his tongue circled and teased, the moan grew into a breathier, more desperate sound. “Spence,” you panted, the word tumbling out in a ragged exhale. Your hands clutched at his hair, urging him on, your breath catching in your throat as he continued.

The next moan was louder, more drawn out, vibrating with the tension building inside you. It was a sound of pure need, of surrender, and Spencer relished every note of it. The intensity of what he was doing made you lose all sense of composure; your breaths came quicker, more shallow, and each exhale carried a gasp, a whimper, a plea.

“Please,” you gasped, your voice trembling as he pushed you further, his name falling from your lips again and again. Every moan, every pant was a symphony of rising desperation, a crescendo of need that you couldn’t hold back.

Your back arched involuntarily, pressing yourself closer to him, and the moans turned into broken cries, the kind that left your throat raw. “Spence, I—” You couldn’t even finish the sentence, the words lost in a strangled moan that was half sob, half ecstasy.

The sounds coming from you were almost primal now, a mixture of keening whimpers and breathless pants, each one more desperate than the last. You were close—so close—and it showed in every pant, every strained moan that escaped your trembling lips.

And Spencer kept going, his own breath coming in short, heated bursts as he listened to every sound you made, each one spurring him on, relishing the way he was drawing these noises from you. It was like music to his ears, a melody he never wanted to end, as your moans grew louder, more frantic, until you finally tumbled over the edge, your voice breaking in a long, shuddering cry of release.

Spencer sat back, a smug grin playing at the corners of his lips as he wiped his chin with the sleeve of his shirt. He started to rise, heading toward the control panel. “I’m going to hit record. I’ll be back in a second.”

You blinked, still catching your breath, and reached out to stop him. “Wait… you didn’t already record that?”

He turned to you, that same smug smile deepening. “Of course not,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes. “A good vocalist always warms up first.”

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re something else, Spencer Reid.”

He leaned in, his voice low and dripping with confidence. “Besides,” he added, his tone playfully serious, “I think this next take is going to be a hit.”

And he was right.

When you showed Spencer the plaque for the double platinum record, his eyes lit up with pride. “So,” he said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, “are you going to give me writing credit for this?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “I think we can keep that our little secret.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reidx reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #fanfic #spencer reid smut #thats that me espresso

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moominsuki · 1 year

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✎ᝰ BAKUGOU KATSUKI ; — anyone would be silly not to love you, katsuki.

࿄ ! warnings — f!reader, no warnings. so fluffy it’s sickeningly sweet.

katsuki knows that he’s a little difficult to deal with sometimes. to love is a different story altogether.

from a young age, he never really cared about what others thought about him. he wasn’t interested in friends, tolerated his family and he didn’t care for women at all. and at 16, he deemed this to be a perfect way to live.

well, now he was 22. who knew that loneliness would hit him in tumultuous spouts of self loathing and bitterness? not him, that’s for sure. he sees his friends getting into relationships and while he’s thankful that they always include him in things despite his brash attitude and sharp tongue, there’s an embittered taste on his tongue that lingers when he sees kirishima and his girlfriend.

katsuki doesn’t think he’s particularly unattractive either and women do approach him; unfortunately, they’re left sour by his mannerisms and deadpan tone of voice. at 18, he didn’t care that girls didn’t really understand him. but four years is a heck of a long time to change your view on things: things being love.

you tell him that anyone would be silly not to love him.

katsuki has known you since he was a stupid, brooding adolescent kid. he thinks it’s a blessing and a curse that you came into his life so forcefully, uprooting yourself and plopping your ass into the middle of it. he’d never tell you but sometimes when he’s on blind dates with the next girl that denki thinks is “the one,” all he can think about is you: especially when his forgettable date orders your favourite, barbecued duck noodle soup, to be exact and he remembers when you made that for him on his 18th birthday.

when you come over to his place to cook dinner and watch a film, you ask about his date and katsuki alludes to the failure of it and that she also “eats really noisily,” a pet peeve of the blond’s. you frown cutely, like you always do when he tells you about the flings that don’t go well.

“well, anyone would be silly not love you, katsuki,” you’d always say and it was routinely with the way he’d stand behind the kitchen island and you’d smile at him, eyes crinkled and shining, making a raspy breath hitch in his throat.

and when dinner was ready, you’d set out both your bowls of dumplings and duck and sometimes you’d put on a netflix show that you really like (katsuki thinks netflix sucks but for you, he’d watch paint dry); however, this time, you opt to just talking, catching up on your day and the plans for the week.

“y’know, blind dates aren’t all they’re cracked up to be anyway. statistically speaking, your soulmate is probably someone you’ve known all your life,” you say candidly, slurping noisily and katsuki watches you thoughtfully before scoffing, all bemused.

“i speak to maybe four women, including you and my ma. great odds,” and you giggle at that, making his heart jump while some soup dribbles down your chin.

“there’s someone out there for everyone, okay! and who are the other women besides me and your mom?” you raise a brow jokingly and katsuki lifts a hand to softly flick at your head.

“just coworkers. like i said, the odds ain’t great,” he grumbles and you rub at the spot on your head before resting your hand on top of his and lifting it back up to press it to your warm cheek.

“you have me! am i not enough woman for you?”

katsuki’s eyes soften and his thumb subconsciously rubs across your skin.

“plenty ‘nuff woman for me. don’t know who else could put up with me,” he says earnestly and both your eyes widen almost comically at the words that slipped out of his mouth.

he’s about to dejectedly pull his hand away when you slightly lean into his touch, “it’s like i said. anyone would be silly not to love you,” and you angle your face so your plump lips kiss into his thumb.

you decide not to comment on the reddening tips of his ears and the pink dusting across the golden specks of freckles on his cheekbones, to save him from the embarrassment.

maybe it’s the years from knowing katsuki that allows you to always say the 8 words: from seeing him transition from a brash, harsh, emotionally constipated 17 year old who was at least three inches shorter than you (he would vehemently deny the passing of time in which you would tower over him) to an almost 23 year old man, who picks you up from school most days, who’d wash your makeup off when you got too heavy handed with the liquor, who knows your order at the local chinese off by heart and who is now definitely almost a foot taller than you.

before katsuki washes up, he shyly asks you to stay the night - in his own roundabout way of being timid, which includes his heavy voice and a seldom amount of eye contact - and you normally do sometimes, with him sleeping on the couch while you take up his kingsize bed. your heart shakes a little in your chest but of course, you smile in reply and nod. you and him both know that this time, it’s different.

“we can stay in my bed… if you want,” mumbles the man gruffly and this time, you bite back a smile. dealing with katsuki meant that you didn’t like to fluster him at times where he was opening up to you, albeit in small, crumbly pieces.

you nod again and reply.

“of course.”

it’s 9:35pm on the dot when you both settle into the duvet of his huge bed and katsuki is kind of stiff, to say the least, and there’s a metaphorical wall between you two. you think he’s staring straight up to the ceiling, if his breathing pattern and the slight glow of his red eyes told you anything.

“is it okay if we cuddle?” you whisper, turning to your side to face him and you think you did something right because he breaks out of his self-doubting stupor and after a few moments, opens up his arms to your smaller body as a leg wraps around his waist and an arm drapes across his chest.

“you okay, katsuki?” you whisper again. “did i do something?” and he can hear the pout and the furrowed brow in your voice.

katsuki all but he wraps an arm around to pull you closer, “no. just go to sleep, dumbass.”

you pull yourself up and he panics a little but he can slightly make out the smug grin on playing on your lips and your bright eyes in the dark as you lean on his chest to be level with his face.

“i promise no one under the age of 45 goes to bed at half 9. you’re so lucky you have me,” and before he can ask what you mean on “having you,” you press your lips onto his and it’s ended before it even started. the taste of his mouthwash and your chapstick lingers and he’s stiff all over again.

“anyone would be silly not to love you, even if you act like an old man,” you sigh, bonking your head softly onto his and he inhales deeply, playing with the hem of his shirt draped on your body.

“don’ need anyone else to love me when i have you, right?”

he can see the smile that reaches your eyes, crinkles and all.

“you might be right about that,” you hum and katsuki leans up to nose around your jaw before locking lips with you properly.

katsuki knows that he’s a little difficult to deal with sometimes. to love is a different story altogether. but when you look at him like that: like he has the world on his fingertips, encased in ribbon and inscribed in lettering addressed just for you, he decides that he’ll never accept anything but the best.

even if he is a little bit of a grandpa. but you’d be silly not to love him.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x you #not proofread #i love friends to lovers my heart is bursting #lowkey ooc but who cares #✎𓂃stamped: (my hero academia)。°˖⌕#༝˚૮ .♡ katsuki.

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qveerthe0ry · 4 months

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Naked in Manhattan

Summary: Marcus has never slept with a man, Dieter's willing to remedy that - written for @romanarose Pride Event Week 3: Sex/kissing Word Count: 7,730 Pairing: (college aged) Marcus Pike x Dieter Bravo Rating: 18+ mdni Warnings: coming out, discussions of sexuality, brief mentions of homophobia, oral sex(m), (lots of) hickeys, frottage, cum eating, armpit stuff Betas: OBVIOUSLY @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar the loves of my life 💖A/N: I highly suggest listening to Naked in Manhattan by Chappell Roan before/while reading this. Totally got the vibes of this entire fic by listening to it on a walk one day

Dieter’s learned a lot in his five and a half years of college. Not really much about statistics or geology, but about people. He’s been around long enough to know that the sad little guy on his front porch steps, avoiding the party, and chain smoking cigarettes is having a rough go of it.

“Hey buddy,” Dieter says, quietly, as not to startle the slumped figure.

Marcus looks up at him through misty eyes and a cloud of stale Winston smoke.

“Hey.”

He’s not crying, but he’s definitely crying for help.

“You okay?”

Dieter takes a seat on the step below him.

“Yeah, fine. Just needed air.”

Marcus gestures with the cigarette in his hand, then huffs out a laugh at the irony.

“You’ve been getting drunk a lot lately.”

Maybe Dieter shouldn’t pry. It’s not unusual for his rented house to be filled with students coming and going at all hours of the day, between classes on weekdays or all day on the weekends. The cheap beer just shows up, as does the weed, and he doesn’t usually question it.

But he’s closer to Marcus. So he notices more. He usually only sees him here on weekends. During the week he’s commonly found in the library or the student union, books sprawled out in front of him. He’s driven, pre-law, and has a better head on his shoulders than most people he hangs with.

But Marcus has been at his place every night this week, either stumbling home in the wee hours of the morning or sleeping late on his couch or floor. It concerns Dieter in a way that surprises him.

Usually it’s none of his business.

“I haven’t had a sip,” Marcus tells him.

And his voice doesn’t have that sharp, defensive tone Dieter was expecting. It’s more defeated than anything.

“Yeah but what about last night?”

Marcus shrugs.

“And the night before? And every other night this week?”

“Just having fun,” Marcus mumbles through another drag of his cigarette.

Dieterlooks around at his empty porch.

“Are you?”

Then Marcus laughs. It bubbles up out of him in an almost terrifying way, and damn near immediately turns into sobs hidden behind his hands.

“Fuck, dude, are you tripping?”

Marcus shakes his head. Dieter didn’t think so. He’s strictly an alcohol guy, won’t even touch weed. Something about the FBI and polygraph tests. Dieter finds it charming if not a bit manic.

He keeps crying though, so hard he has to flick his cigarette out onto the dimly lit street so he can rub at his eyes.

Dieter’s not sure what to do. Normally he’d offer someone drugs, but that won’t work.

His hand hovers over Marcus’ shaking back for a few moments before he rests a heavy palm between his shoulder blades.

He can feel the way Marcus’ breath shudders out of him, and tells him to start taking slow breaths. When it works, Dieter’s kind of amazed at how great he is at damage control.

“That’s it man, just breathe.”

Marcus nods, finally removes his hands from his face. He’s always been pretty in a very preppy way, with his perfect hair and teeth and his little dimples. He looks even prettier now, as much as Dieter kicks himself for that thought. His face is red and wet and his brown eyes are wider than they’ve ever been before.

A few deep breaths in through his nose and out his mouth later, Marcus is sufficiently calm enough to speak.

“I’m sorry.”

Dieter waves him off.

“Don’t be. Looks like it felt good, I might have a cry later too.”

Marcus lets out a wet chuckle and shuts his eyes as one last salty little droplet brushes past his long eyelashes.

“Everything okay at home? You’re not failing a class, are you?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s stupid.”

“Girl problems?”

Marcus laughs again, and Dieter startles a little, afraid he’s going to start back up sobbing at any moment.

He doesn’t though. He’s quiet and avoiding Dieter’s gaze as he frantically gets another cigarette from his pack and lights it up.

Dieter thinks he’s hit the nail on the head until Marcus takes a long drag of his cigarette and exhales.

“I’m fucking gay.”

Dieter opens his mouth in shock, or understanding, or maybe to try and say something, but Marcus continues.

“This whole time I’ve been gay. I don’t even— I’ve had so many girlfriends. I think they’re just nice. I’ve never— I fucking hated sleeping with them. I thought it was because it was awkward, and we’re all inexperienced? It sucked, Dieter. And I thought all guys were curious about other guys, you know? They all talk about their dicks with each other, since middle school. I just thought— and then there’s this guy… in my intro to psych class. And he’s so nice and handsome and I just always want to hang out with him. And I didn’t know why. But I want to kiss him. And I never felt that way about any of my girlfriends. And now I realize I’ve just— I’ve just been gay this whole time.”

He’s out of breath when he quits talking, but he sucks down more of his cigarette anyway. Dieter isn’t quite sure what to say to him. Usually when someone comes out to him, it’s in a less… frantic manner, more proud than anything. But this poor freshman has been on a gay crisis bender all week and is more than a little traumatized by all of it, and it’s just different with Marcus.

“That’s um… Sounds like you’ve been going through a rough time with it.”

Marcus sniffles and nods.

“Been through all five or whatever stages of grief already. It’s been a long week.”

“Are you… Upset? That you’re gay?”

Marcus’ head lolls back to thump against the porch railing.

“No… I’m more upset that I didn't figure it out until now.”

“You’re still plenty young, Marcus. You’re what— nineteen?”

“Eighteen. Skipped a grade.”

Jesus. Dieter feels even worse now about thinking he’s pretty when he cries.

“See? You’re a spring chicken, dude. You figured it out plenty quick.”

“When did you know?”

Dieter chews on his lip, considers lying just for Marcus’ sake, but decides against it.

“I pretty much always knew, honestly. But I mean— I was weird anyway, you know? Never really fit in or felt I had to play a certain part or be a certain way. It just made sense. Also, my dad always said I was as queer as a three dollar bill so… that helped.”

Dieter steals the cigarette between Marcus’ fingers to take a drag himself.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Nothing to be sorry for, man,” Dieter tells him.

Marcus stares at where Dieter’s lips wrap around his cigarette for a bit too long, and Dieter hands it back, if only to try and stop whatever it is that’s bound to happen next.

But Marcus takes another drag himself, and his tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip, and Dieter has never been called strong-willed.

“What’s it like?”

“What?”

“To be with a guy? What’s it like?”

Dieter shrugs.

“Depends on the guy.”

Marcus sighs.

“Are you uh— how do you like… it?”

“Are you asking if I’m a top or a bottom?”

Marcus’s face flushes a cute color in the yellow of the porch lights.

“Both,” Dieter shrugs, “but I haven’t really done that with a lot of guys. Kind of a hassle, you know?”

Marcus nods, but then his brow quirks up in question.

“What do you mean? What do you— what do you do, then?”

Dieter chuckles.

“All kinds of things, babe.”

He watches Marcus’ breath catch, the little stutter of his chest.

“Would you show me?”

Dieter rolls his eyes to distract them both from the fact that he really, really wants to.

“C’mon, man. You don’t wanna fool around with me. I’m a loser. Go find a pretty finance boy to shack up with.”

Maybe he’s less weak-willed than he thought.

Marcus’ shoulders slump again, and christ, though, is he supposed to just let him leave like a kicked puppy?

“There’s no intro to psych guy.”

It’s quiet, mumbled around his cigarette, and his eyes won’t leave his feet.

“What?”

“It’s you, okay? You’re my— gay awakening, or whatever. Why do you think I’ve been here all week?”

Dieter’s heart is hammering against his chest at that admission. This was not how he figured his Friday night would go.

“Free beer?”

His joke doesn’t land. Marcus rolls his eyes.

“It’s not like… I’m not like in love with you or anything. I just… always wanna see you. And you’re— well, you know. You’re hot. And you’re really nice to everyone. And I get this… I feel so weird when I’m around you, like, nauseous. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Marcus flicks yet another cigarette to the curb and makes to get up, but before Dieter can think better of it, he grips him on the shoulder to keep him seated.

“That’s… actually really sweet, Marcus.”

He scoffs, hides his face in his hands, and it’s so cute Dieter can’t help but smile.

“Really— Usually people just want to fuck me, or use me for drugs.”

Marcus groans a little, mortified, and his hands run back to mess up his pristinely styled hair.

“Buddy, I’m serious. You’re a little charmer.”

Marcus looks up from his lap at that, scratching that neatly buzzed hair on the back of his neck, and his eyes are a little less embarrassed and a little more twinkly.

“You’re just saying that.”

Dieter shakes his head grinning.

“No, it’s cute. Being genuine is never a bad thing.”

And the thing is, Dieter’s not lying. It’s possibly the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to him. But he’s toeing a very very fine line here, with himself. Because Marcus is so pretty, and so smart, and he’s soft and kind and he’s real but he’s young.

And Dieter’s just a Super Super Senior, a total burnout, on his way to holding the world record for The Longest College Career. He’s 23 and he’s still undecided and he probably won’t even get a college degree after all is said and done.

But Marcus is looking at him with those big brown eyes, watching, calculating.

“I just— I feel like you wouldn’t judge me. If I did the wrong thing. You know?”

“I wouldn’t. Anyone who would isn’t worth your time.”

Marcus huffs. Maybe Dieter can still save this.

“Would you… tell me? What you’d do? What I should do?”

And just like that, Dieter is hopping right over that line with both feet.

“Kiss me.”

Marcus’ eyes grow even bigger.

“Like, right now? Here?”

“If you want to. That’s what I’d want you to do, to kiss me right here, like you couldn’t help yourself.”

And Dieter will be damned if he doesn’t do just that, surging forward to grab the sides of his face and press their lips together.

His lips are so soft, and his face is smooth, and he’s eager, a bit too much, but it only adds to that coincidental charm. Dieter’s left to catch up, as Marcus swipes his tongue along the seam of his mouth and groans.

Dieter pulls away. Marcus’ mouth gapes open, and his shoulders heave with his fast breaths.

“You’re so… scruffy.”

Dieter chuckles, wipes Marcus’ spit from his lips and straightens out his mustache.

“Not good?”

“No, god no, it’s really good.”

And then Marcus smashes their lips together again as a pathetic little sound escapes his throat. Dieter opens his mouth this time, lets Marcus slide his tongue around, a little violent, and this is all a bit too much for some front porch steps, isn’t it?

“Hey,” Dieter says softly, pulling away.

Marcus’ brows draw up in confusion.

“Sorry. I’m not a good kisser, am I?”

Dieter sighs, grabs one of Marcus’ hands on his face to link their fingers together.

“It’s not that,” he says.

He turns his face to kiss the center of Marcus’ palm and smiles when his breath hitches.

“You really wanna do this with me?”

Marcus is nodding before Dieter even finishes speaking.

“Only if you really want it, too.”

Dieter squeezes his hand.

“I do, really.”

Marcus smiles the sweetest little smile, and they both stand up, and Dieter doesn’t let his hand go.

There’s music on in the house, and it smells like weed, and a few people are playing Nintendo in the living room. They don’t pay any mind as Dieter pulls Marcus up to the second floor, down the hall, and into his dimly lit bedroom.

At least he’s kept it semi-tidy, he thinks, as Marcus looks around while he shuts and locks the door. His bed isn’t made. He’s sure Marcus makes his bed every morning before class. He hopes he doesn’t mind.

He seems like he’s too nervous to mind, a jittery little thing standing next to his bed. He’s fiddling with the hem of his shirt, staring holes into the stained carpet, when Dieter moves to stand in front of him.

“Are you nervous?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Dieter grabs both of his hands, and Marcus finally meets his gaze.

“It’s okay to be nervous. As long as it’s good nervous.”

He smiles and nods, but the worry in his brow is still there.

“We won’t do anything you don’t wanna do, okay?”

That seems to soothe him more.

“Can we kiss again?”

Dieter chuckles.

“Of course we can.”

Marcus tips over into him, landing at the side of his mouth but quickly correcting course. He licks, but Dieter keeps his mouth shut, goading him to calm down. And he does, slotting his lips around Dieter's bottom one, and everything else slips into place with a soft, satisfied noise from his own chest.

He lets go of Marcus’ sweaty hands to grab his hips instead, lithe and a little bony. He twitches at the touch, sighs, and presses his lips harder into Dieter’s. His hands search around frantically, jostling them both, until he finds the hem of Dieter’s sweatshirt and gets his hands underneath.

“Slow,” Dieter mumbles.

“Hm?”

“Not a race, Marcus. Take your time. Enjoy it.”

Marcus nods, but gapes at him, like he’s not quite sure what to do next.

“You wanna get comfy? Take your shoes off, sit down?”

Marcus nods again, but with a little direction, takes his shoes off and sits on the bed, criss-cross applesauce like the cutest fucking thing Dieter’s ever seen.

“I want this to be— I want you to have a good time, feel good. So tell me if you don’t feel good… or if there’s anything you wanna try. Communication is like, super sexy, right?”

Dieter sheds his shoes and his hoodie as he speaks, thinks he catches Marcus’ eyes staring at the spot between his signature pajama pants and his shirt where it rides up.

“Yeah… like, dirty talk?”

Dieter huffs out a laugh as he sits facing Marcus, crossing his legs, mirroring him to make him as comfortable as possible.

“Could be dirty talk, yeah. But just normal talk, too. It can be hot to talk about things like… how do you like to be touched? Where?”

Marcus clears his throat and scratches the back of his head with a puzzled look on his face.

“My— my dick?”

Dieter wants to laugh, but he can’t blame the guy. It sounds like the only experience he’s had so far is rushed fucks with high school sweethearts.

“Okay, yeah, that’s a good start. So, for me, I like being kissed. Everywhere. I like feeling lips on my jaw and my neck and especially my nipples. You can bite, too.”

Marcus’ eyebrows raise, his plush lips forming a circular shape that Dieter tries and fails not to focus on.

“Oh, yeah, okay. I— I like that too. I like when it’s… sloppy.”

Dieter hums, smiles, and nods.

“Anything else you like?”

He watches Marcus bite his bottom lip and trace shapes on the bedsheets between them.

“I don’t really know.”

“That’s okay. Maybe we can figure it out together, yeah?”

His long eyelashes flutter as he blinks real slow, and he smiles.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

Dieter does chuckle then.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m gonna have a lot of fun with you.”

Christ, Dieter thinks, if his face gets any more red he might burst into flames.

He kisses him, to save him from a fiery death. It’s a little awkward, with both of their legs crossed in front of them, but it’s easier to take their time like this.

Marcus keeps it slow, so Dieter can finally lead. He licks into his mouth to feel his hard palate, and the way he whimpers and shivers in response is so delicious that Dieter can’t help but to do it again and again.

He feels long fingers grip his thighs, soft at first, but squeezing harder when Marcus returns the favor and scrapes his tastebuds along Dieter’s sharp canines.

There’s twin sighs when Marcus pulls away, only a little, eyes still shut.

“You’re really fucking good at this,” he mumbles.

Dieter hums and pecks his lips again, soft and wet.

“Could kiss you all night.”

It’s true, even though there’s also a million other things he wants to do with Marcus. He tries to push those wants down by kissing him again, getting that plump bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling on it. The noise Marcus makes has his cock filling steadily with blood, and he knows it’s very obvious in his pajama pants, and he hopes Marcus doesn’t freak out.

Like he’s reading Dieter’s mind, Marcus’ hands slide so fucking slowly up his thighs. The movements are jerky, and he hesitates when just the tip of his finger brushes his cock. His inhale is audible, but his curious touch proceeds, just the lightest ghosting across his shaft.

But then he’s pulling away, and Dieter feels on edge, bracing himself for the worst.

“Can I touch it?”

Dieter exhales his relief.

“You can… Are you open to suggestions, though?”

Marcus nods, his slick mouth hanging open.

“You could get on top of me, let me feel how much you like this, too. Drag it out, make me really want it.”

He smirks as Marcus curses, closing his eyes and pressing his palm to the front of his jeans. But he nods, and uncrosses his legs, so Dieter does the same.

And then, he’s got a lapful of Marcus, and he’s staring up into his glassy, beautiful eyes.

“Like this?”

His hips shift, and his pert little ass grinds against Dieter’s cock while his own presses against his belly.

“Just like that. Is this still okay?”

Marcus doesn’t answer him, just devours his lips again as he rocks his hips and supplies them both with heady friction. His little whimpers are muffled, and his teeth are sinking into Dieter’s lip a little too hard, but in a way that makes his cock throb and pulse against the tight ass against it.

Dieter’s hands find those lithe hips again, this time under his shirt. His skin is scalding to the touch and so fucking smooth. He digs his thumbs into his hip bones, drags little circles into them that make his hips jolt and stutter.

Fuck. He likes this a lot. Maybe too much. He pulls himself away to reel it in a bit, maybe to check and make sure this is still alright—

“I’m so fucking hard,” Marcus breathes, “I’ve never felt like this.”

And as he speaks, he’s ripping his t-shirt over his head and flinging it elsewhere.

He’s gorgeous. A little scrawny but smooth, everywhere, just miles of tan skin that’s paler here where it gets no sun. Dieter wants to bite, and kiss, and suckle on every fucking inch of it.

For now, Dieter uses all of his brain power to mumble a distracted ‘me too,’ as his hands moved upward to splay across all that hairless skin.

Marcus’ stomach tenses and relaxes under his hands, and his chest heaves as Dieter cradles his ribs and brushes his thumbs over his nipples.

“Does this feel good?”

He circles them, flicks them a little bit, and wants to curl up and live in that little gasp Marcus makes.

“Yes.”

His head is leaning back between his shoulders, all raised and on-edge. That’s not what Dieter wants. He wants him relaxed, wants him all gooey and loose.

Slowly, gently, Dieter tips him over, a hand on the back of his head until it lands on the pillows. The look in his eyes gets a little squirrely, and his breath picks up, and his nails scrabble at Dieter’s bicep.

“Is this still okay?”

Marcus nods quickly, but he’s slower with the verbal response.

“I think so… just nervous.”

“Still good nervous?”

As if to prove it, he cants his hips up into Dieter and he’s rock hard against his thigh.

“Still good nervous.”

Dieter’s own prick throbs and twitches as he hums. He lowers himself even more over Marcus, finds his racing pulse point and plants a hot, wet kiss there.

“Can I kiss you here?” he whispers.

His chin brushes Dieter’s cheek when he nods, and Marcus relocates his hands to reach up the back of his shirt. His palms are sweaty and hot as Dieter trails a wet line of kisses down to his prominent collar bone.

His skin is so salty, and the heat from his body is making his cheap cologne smell even stronger, and Dieter feels high even though he hasn’t smoked in hours.

“How about here, Marcus?”

He looks up at the younger man as he hovers his mouth above one tiny, pebbled nipple. He watches as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and smiles and impish grin when Marcus nods again.

The groan he receives when he closes his mouth around it has him pressing his hips to the mattress for relief. One of Marcus’ hands finds Dieter’s hair and grips.

“Ah fuck.”

Just like that, the fingers loosen and leave his head and Dieter actually whines at the loss.

“Sorry!”

“No, no, that was a good fuck. Love getting my hair pulled.”

Dieter glances back up at Marcus and watches as his wheels turn.

“Oh… really?”

He chuckles as he places a sloppy kiss on his sternum, delighted at the way the muscles twitch under his lips.

“Mmmhmm.”

Marcus sighs as Dieter finds his other nipple.

“My ex-girlfriend hated it.”

Dieter nips at the hard bud in his mouth and smirks when Marcus’ hips jolt up.

“I like a little pain with my pleasure,” he explains.

“I— can you bite me again?”

Dieter curses and obliges immediately, sinking his teeth into the meat of his pec this time.

“God, I like that.”

He even earns another tug at his hair, and Dieter knows there’s gotta be a damp spot on the front of his pajamas.

“That’s so good, Marcus. Keep telling me what you like.”

Marcus squirms under him as he alternates a string of kisses and licks and bites down his torso. His nails scratch Dieter’s scalp in between tugging on his hair, and this is the most fun Dieter’s had in the bedroom in a long while.

Marcus has a tiny bit of hair below his belly button, and it’s so fucking cute and whispy when Dieter runs his tongue along the path. But before Dieter can get the fly of his jeans unfastened, Marcus holds a hand over his.

“Can I try on you now?”

Dieter’s gaze flickers up to his face, and he looks so sweet, pleading with his big puppy eyes.

“Yeah, yes, of course you can.”

Marcus smiles, and it’s sure, like he’s finally settled into this, and it makes Dieter’s apprehension fall away.

It also makes him that much more horny, hard as ever when he lies down with his head on the pillows. He reaches down to readjust and watches Marcus clock the movement with a heady look.

“This is good for you, too?”

His voice is breathy when he asks, when his hand slips under Dieter’s t-shirt.

“Marcus, I’m loving this. I feel like a sexy experiment. Poke and prod me, babe.”

And through all of this newness and anxiety and apprehension, Marcus laughs. It’s music to Dieter’s ears, watching his eyes light up as he chuckles.

“Take this off then,” he instructs through his laughter.

“Yes sir,” Dieter purrs, “bossing me around also does it for me. You’re a natural already.”

“Y-yeah? I don’t— I’ve never been like that.”

Dieter fumbles to back track at the way Marcus’ confidence falls away.

“It’s okay, that’s an advanced lesson. My bad. Just— Just do what you want with me. Explore. I’m all yours.”

He talks as he sheds his shirt, and when the damned thing finally pulls free, he feels a little scrutinized under Marcus’s wide eyes. And he kinda really likes it.

He settles back against the mattress, one arm above his head while the other reaches out to encourage Marcus to come closer. He does, only a little timid as his gaze rakes over every inch of his body.

He settles between Dieter’s spread legs, one hand dipping the mattress next to him while the other lands hesitantly on his flank. His warm, sweaty palm feels the skin there, draws upward toward his chest, but takes a completely unconventional detour to his armpit.

Dieter’s cock throbs. This is so fucking weird and so fucking hot.

Marcus’ jaw drops slack as his fingers card through all of his armpit hair, and it tickles a little bit, but mostly it just makes Dieter’s arousal grow heavy in his groin, burning.

Before Dieter can really assess what’s going on, or encourage him, or tell him how fucking hard he’s making him, Marcus leans down to capture his lips in his own.

Dieter groans and scrabbles to grip his waist, arching his hips for any relief and finding it against the front of Marcus’ jeans, a hard line wrapped in denim that twitches against his own. He moans, low and long, as he twirls the thick hair between his finger and thumb.

And then his hand is gone, and Dieter’s quite disappointed, but he can’t just say that, can he? He weighs the pros and cons of telling Marcus not to stop as the other man trails his lips down the patchy stubble on his jaw, and bites the sensitive skin on his neck.

Maybe he should tell him. That’s a good lesson, right? How to take feedback, good or bad. But ‘hey keep stroking my armpit hair’ is a bit startling, isn’t it?

He’s so distracted by the inner turmoil that he doesn’t realize the path Marcus’ has taken until hot breath ghosts that bit of fat between his tit and armpit and then he sniffs, and groans, and licks up all the hair while he presses his cock down into Dieter’s own and Jesus Fuck—

He quickly finds purchase in Marcus’ hair and curses, grinds his hips back up into him with what he hopes is encouraging words. But forgive him if his brain is a little bit completely scrambled.

Marcus bites just under his patch of armpit hair, burying his nose in it once more, and these primal sounds he makes are vibrating through Dieter’s chest. All he can do at this point is lie back and take it and succumb to the fact that this is definitely altering his brain chemistry for the rest of his life.

It all stops rather abruptly, though, and two hot hands grab Dieter’s hips hard, pushes them down into the mattress as Marcus arches away from him.

“I might— I might come.”

Dieter blinks his bleary eyes open to look at the panicked man, who’s squeezing his eyes shut and biting his lip.

“It’s okay if you do. You can have me all night.”

“Fuck— Shut up, Jesus Christ.”

Dieter huffs, scratches at his wet armpit, and patiently waits for Marcus to settle down. He could probably come that way too, to be honest, with that pretty boy’s tongue lapping at his underarm and their cocks grinding together.

Marcus’ eyelashes flutter open, and Dieter smiles at him softly, careful not to move or touch. He looks like a hair trigger, sweaty and panting already, with a really fucking hot damp patch soaking through the crotch of his jeans.

“Sorry. I think I’m good— wait, sorry, was that weird?”

Dieter allows himself to place one of his hands on Marcus’ own, where it’s still gripping tight to his hip bone.

“It was weird in the hottest way possible.”

Marcus shakes his head at himself and closes his eyes again.

“I’m dead serious. I didn’t know how sensitive I was there. You’re teaching me things. That’s super hot.”

Marcus sighs.

“It’s just… I like the hair. And your deodorant smells nice.”

He pries his eyes open, like he expects Dieter to be disgusted, but his confession only makes his cock jump very prominently in his pajamas.

“Doesn’t taste very good, though.”

And now Dieter is laughing, and tugging Marcus back down, mumbling ‘prove it’ and shoving his tongue into his offensively chemical-flavored mouth.

It’s okay though, he just licks and licks until the taste has dissipated and Marcus is letting go of the death grip on his sides. His mouth follows a much more predictable route, this time, and Dieter watches his every move as those pretty lips wrap around his nipples, one and then the other, until he’s biting and Dieter is whimpering and asking for more.

“You can leave marks. I like ‘em.”

Marcus curses against his sternum and obeys, so fucking obedient, suckling Dieter’s skin and rolling it between his teeth. Looking up at him, his eyes look so determined, all dark and heavy, especially when he pulls away to admire the bruise he’s left.

“More. Want to see you all over me in the morning.”

“Fuck, Dieter. How’d you get so good at— at talking like that?”

Dieter chuckles, then hisses when Marcus sucks the skin on his belly into the sharp edges of his teeth. He’s looking up with an expectant quirk of his brow.

“I just say what’s on my mind,” he answers.

Marcus hums, and Dieter places his hand on his jaw to feel it working, a third mark blooming bright red on his hip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks.

A fourth mark, this one deeper than the rest, right above the waistband of his pants, as Marcus thinks.

“I want your cock in my mouth.”

Said cock jerks wildly, disrupting the tent in his pajamas, and Marcus has the audacity to smirk. Dieter lets his thumb trace that wet, swollen bottom lip and doesn’t miss the little whine that Marcus tries to hide.

“Will you teach me?”

It’s now that Dieter realizes he’s created an absolute monster, with Marcus looking up at him all wide-eyed, batting those long eyelashes. He knows what he’s doing, and it just makes it all so much worse. Or better. Both, really.

He clears his throat to try to gather his bearings before he speaks.

“Yeah, I’ll teach you. Pull it out for me.”

Dieter watches as his breath hitches, and he eyes the tent in Dieter’s pants with an array of emotions washing over his features. There’s hesitation for sure, as he toys with his waistband. But he’s licking his lips, and taking a big deep breath as he tugs them down Dieter’s thighs.

And then he’s staring at his cock, swaying in the breeze, and Dieter thinks this would be much less intense if penises weren’t so offensive and in your face.

“Pretty,” Marcus mumbles, and it makes him giggle.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s— I like it.”

“Thank you. That’s very sweet.”

Marcus rolls his eyes but smiles.

“I can touch it?”

“Yeah, of course. Anything you want. Go at your own pace.”

Maybe it’s cliche, but as soon as Marcus’ hand wraps around his cock, Dieter is done for. Fuck, it feels so good, the way his movements are gentle and calculated, the way he’s being so attentive for his first time, exploratory. His free hand cradles Dieter’s sac, his thumb tracing the seam, and it’s alarming how close this is getting him. It’s so intimate, and genuine, and it’s so hot that he gets to be here for Marcus’ first time.

Marcus squeezes him tight and strokes, once, from base to tip. He thumbs at his frenulum, slippery with pre come, then lifts that to his lips. It’s like slow motion when he watches him poke his tongue out to taste, and he closes his eyes and hums.

“Better than the deodorant, for sure.”

And Dieter’s cock bobs as he laughs.

“That’s a relief.”

“I’ve never tasted my own before,” Marcus says.

“No?”

“Mm-mm. Seemed… gay.”

And he laughs at himself, but his face inches closer, and in an instant his tongue is flicking out to lap up more of it, straight from the source.

Dieter gasps at the contact, so sudden. His taste buds are rough against his slit, in a good way, and he has to cradle Marcus’ neck to reel himself in.

“That’s so good,” he whispers, “keep doing that.”

And he does, little kitten licks to the sensitive head of his cock, looking up at him from under those long eyelashes. Dieter groans and closes his eyes because if Marcus keeps looking at him like that, he will come before he can have any fun with him.

Then, in an instant, he’s completely enveloped by warmth and wetness, too fast, and he opens his eyes at the same time Marcus gags and coughs and pulls off of him.

“Jesus, Marcus, take it slow.”

He coughs more, with brow all furrowed and frustrated, and Dieter smooths his hair off of his forehead.

“Are you alright?”

Marcus clears his throat as he nods.

“Yeah, sorry, I can’t— I thought that would be easier.”

Dieter huffs, sits up a bit and leans on his elbow so he can see him better. His eyes are watery and not in a sexy way this time. He pets Marcus’ hair a bit, hoping to soothe him, but the redness doesn’t fade from his cheeks.

“You don’t have to take it all, that’s no fun, choking like that,” he says, “are you sure you’re okay? We can stop.”

“No! No— I don’t wanna stop. I’m just embarrassed.”

God, he’s so fucking sweet.

“Don’t be embarrassed. We’ve all been there. I threw up on the first dick I sucked.”

“Gross, dude.”

“I’m just saying, it could be way worse. Nothing to even be embarrassed about.”

Marcus sighs and hides his face in the crease of Dieter’s hip.

“Seriously, I’m still so hard I could shatter diamonds. You’re so fucking hot, it doesn’t matter if you choke a little.”

He feels Marcus’ teeth on the skin of his hip before he sees his jaw moving. He bites and sucks and it’s another beautiful piece of him he’ll get to take from this experience.

“That’s it. It’s all about the recovery. Fuck, Marcus, your mouth feels so good on me. Everywhere.”

Dieter lifts his hips up to encourage him to bite more, mark him up all over. He follows eagerly, until there’s little love bites scattered across the thin skin over his hip bone and his cock is weeping for attention.

Marcus looks up at him, finally, as he hovers just above his prick.

“Can I try again?”

Dieter hums and cards his fingers through his thick brown hair.

“Play until you win, babe.”

He’s much more careful, this time. He takes the head into his mouth and sucks, lets his tongue lather and swirl around it as his hand keeps his dick in place. He’s gorgeous, with his cheeks hollowed out and his eyes shut in concentration.

“Yeah, just like that, fucking perfect.”

Marcus whimpers around his cock, and drool is starting to leak from the corners of his mouth and drip down Dieter’s shaft.

“Move your hand a bit, jerk me off while you suck on it.”

He follows the direction so well, letting his hand draw up to meet his lips, then back down, over and over, and Dieter can feel his gut growing hot and tight. His tongue is working him relentlessly, and he’s never really had a partner use theirs so much, but the frantic swirling and flicking has his head spinning.

“You’re amazing,” Dieter breathes, “making me feel so good.”

At the encouragement, Marcus braves another inch of his cock. He starts to bob his head up and down, following his lips with his fist, and the breaths through his nose get heavier. Dieter babbles a bit, just encouraging words as Marcus works him dutifully, trying with all his might not to thrust up into his hot, sloppy mouth.

But then Marcus looks up at him with his pretty brown eyes and groans around the cock in his mouth and it’s too much.

“Fuck— fuck, Marcus, let me go.”

Marcus does, as quickly as he can, panting when his mouth is finally free.

“What’s wrong?”

Dieter huffs.

“Nothing, you’re perfect, gorgeous, beautiful. I just don’t wanna come yet.”

“Oh.”

The little cock drunk smile he gets is too cute, and Dieter tugs lightly on his hair to get him to crawl back up for a kiss. He tastes like pre-cum, and his nails bite into the heated skin of Marcus’ back for purchase.

“How are you feeling? Still gay?”

Marcus laughs against his lips.

“The gayest I’ve ever been.”

Dieter collapses back on the pillows to look up at him.

“Really though, are you still into this?”

Marcus nods, presses his hips into Dieter’s thigh to swipe away any last remaining doubt.

“Alright, next and final lesson. Get those tight little jeans off.”

He’s so quick to obey, and Dieter tries not to gawk at how much bigger that wet spot has grown just below his fly. He shakes himself out of it and gets his pajama pants completely off his legs.

Marcus is so fucking hot, jesus, Dieter feels like he’s pushing his luck having him here in his bed. So lean and long, and his cock is uncut and curves a bit to the left, and he’s still so hard.

“Get beside me, face me.”

And Marcus looks right at home like this, laid out in his bed, with his bicep bulging from propping his head up on his hand.

“What’s the lesson?”

Dieter smirks at the eagerness.

“I’m gonna jerk us off together.”

Marcus raises his brow.

“Like, at the same time?”

Dieter hums his affirmative, reaches a tentative hand out to cup Marcus’ pert little asscheek, and chuckles when he twitches.

“Don’t worry, we’ll save that for another time. If you want.”

“Shit, yeah, okay.”

And isn’t that gonna be fun? The thought makes Dieter’s cock throb and jerk and he shuffles to close the distance so their pricks line up together.

“Is this okay? Like this?”

He looks up from their cocks to watch Marcus’ jaw go slack.

“Oh god, ‘m not gonna last at all.”

Even as he says it, he’s wrapping his own hand around both of them and squeezing, groaning at the feeling and bucking his hips so they slide together.

“I don’t want you to last, I want you to feel good.”

Dieter lets his hand join the fun, covering what Marcus can’t, and his cock jumps in their combined hold when Marcus whines.

“I do, I— fuck, I really do.”

“Kiss me?”

He’s cut off by Marcus’ lips, all swollen and hot against his own. Marcus moans as soon as their tongues meet, and he starts shaking like a leaf. His hand squeezes harder around their pricks, works them faster, and Dieter can feel each and every twitch of his dripping cock.

He’s so frantic with it. His breathing whistles fast through his nose, panting into his mouth, and every other exhale is a desperate little noise. It only takes a few dozen strokes for Marcus to fall apart.

“Gonna come— I’m coming, Dieter—”

He gasps as it washes over him. Dieter feels his hot, sticky cum splash over his own hand and his cock and his stomach. Marcus hides his face in the crook of Dieter’s neck and bites as it courses through him. It sends a hot white spark down his spine, and what little filter he’d maintained throughout the night completely short-circuits.

“Shit, that’s it. So fucking good, coming all over me— Fuck, Marcus, you’re hot when you come. You feel so fucking good.”

Marcus whimpers through his aftershocks as Dieter fills his ears with whatever filth he can muster. When it’s too much, and Marcus has to slide his spent cock from their joined hands, he doesn’t let go of Dieter. He helps, with the slick aid of his cum, and Dieter topples over the edge with a growl and Marcus sucks another mark into his overheated skin.

It’s blinding, it’s his favorite orgasm he’s ever had for sure. Marcus gasps when the first streak of his spend shoots all over his smooth stomach.

“Fuck yes,” he sighs, exerted but intrigued as Dieter fucks their fists.

His cum mixes with the stains Marcus already left on his blanket, slowing to a trickle just as Marcus’ grasp loosens. Even when he’s empty, Dieter can still feel the orgasm buzzing through his body as he tries to regain his breath.

Marcus finally looks up from the scene of the crime and Dieter wants to take a picture of the fucked-out look on his face, his messy hair, his spit-slick lips and flushed face. But he can’t, so he kisses him instead, closing his eyes so maybe he can burn that image into his memory for eternity.

It’s lazy, so much slower and softer than the way Marcus kissed when he was all keyed up.

Shit.

Dieter’s in for it. He’s always had an addictive personality, and having Marcus in his bed has been stronger than any fucking drug he’s tried before.

He whimpers when Marcus pulls away, chasing his lips just for a moment before he reels himself back in.

He looks down at the mess he’s going to promptly ignore, thinks about how far away the bathroom closet is with all the towels. But then one slender finger is swiping through the cum puddle between them, and lifting to his face, and Dieter devours.

Marcus chuckles at the desperate noise Dieter makes as he swirls his tongue around to lick up every last drop.

“How do we taste together?”

Goddamn, Marcus is much more suave after an orgasm.

“Like we were made for each other.”

Christ, he needs to get himself together. His brain is just so fucking fuzzy and light.

Marcus doesn’t run for the hills, though. He giggles, and dips that same finger into their mess again. He brings it up to his own lips this time, sucking it inside his mouth and pulling it out clean.

There’s a slight grimace as he rolls it around in his mouth.

“Not as sweet as you were earlier.”

And Dieter laughs, brushes his two cleanest knuckles against the skin of Marcus’ hip.

“It’s an acquired taste.”

Marcus nods, and looks down between them, and some of that lightness in his features fizzles out.

“Hang on— here, use these.”

Dieter hands him his discarded pajama pants, and they use one leg each to tidy up their hands and stomachs and cocks. Then Dieter balls them up to swipe at his sticky blanket as best as he can. And it’s all so quiet, as their breathing has evened out, and fuck, what if Marcus has some crazy post-nut clarity after this… heavy situation?

He’s staring at the bedroom door when Dieter looks up to face him.

“Should I uh… go… now?”

Dieter sighs and finally gets his freshly wiped hand on Marcus’ skin, colder now where all the sweat has cooled.

“Personally, I would like it if you stayed. Cuddling after sex is… well, I like it a lot. Some people don’t… it’s okay if you don’t. Whatever you’re comfortable with. This was probably a lot for y—”

Marcus cuts off his rambling— thank god— by burrowing his face in Dieter’s chest and tangling their naked legs together. They both release two huge twin sighs, and Dieter’s instantly soothed by the weight against him, and the lithe fingers stroking his back.

Dieter can’t help it, he tucks his chin and plants a kiss to the crown of Marcus’ head. He drowns in the scent of sweat and cheap shampoo and feels so grounded for the first time in a very long time.

Marcus hums, and Dieter pulls him in tighter, swipes his palm over the curve of his tiny asscheek.

He clears his throat.

“I don’t have any plans tomorrow…”

Marcus lifts his head, and he looks so sleepy but so satisfied.

“So we can stay up all night? You can— could you show me more things?”

Dieter chuckles and kisses his lips to hide how relieved he feels.

“Was gonna see if you wanted to catch a movie or something. But I think I like your idea better.”

“Oh— a movie sounds good! I mean, it would be chill.”

Dieter huffs.

“Split the difference, we’ll watch a movie here while I eat your cute little ass?”

Dieter actually feels his limp cock twitch against his thigh, and tries to hold back a self-satisfied smirk.

“Yep. Yeah, let’s do that instead.”

Dieter kisses him, this time just because he can.

“Get some sleep first, okay? I’ll be right here.”

The look of comfort on Marcus’ face makes his chest burn and ache. His droopy eyelids close as he smiles, and his head drops to Dieter’s splayed out arm.

He just watches, for a little while. Lets himself count the deep, even breaths Marcus takes and feels them on the skin of his bicep.

His arm is gonna go numb in about two minutes tops, and he’ll cherish every pinprick until he drifts off.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #marcus pike x dieter bravo #OscarPedroPrideEvent2024

227 notes · View notes

linos-luna · 7 months

Note

Hiii

Could you write a one shot about johnny x yn, he is the tutor of yn, they have going on a lot of sexual tension the last sessions, and johnny was just craving oral sex…so he says “if you do this correctly i’ll go down on you, but if you are wrong, you suck me, deal?” She says yes…you decide which one happens first. If you could add a lot of praise from johnny to yn would be awesome.

Thanks

Hope u have time

This was fun. Sorry it took forever. Im still recovering from my injuries 😅

But I’m back now!

——————————————————————

Lessons ❣️

Johnny x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Oral (both receiving), SMUT, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names

—————————————————— 💚

There was always tension. He’s tutoring you in statistics but how could you concentrate when he was just so… hot. Likewise, Johnny also found himself very attracted to you. He couldn’t help toying with you. Little touches and sly comments during every lesson to drive you nuts. Although you act like it doesn’t bother you, it very much does.

Today was different. Something about your cute skirt and innocent confused expression when not fully understanding a concept. It drove him nuts. He wants you.

Johnny wants relief. He wants you to suck him off while he fucks your throat. He wants to feel you gag around his cock as he pulls on your hair. He wants to cum on your face watch your filthy expressions. He wants to see your eyes crossed and cock drunk. It was getting him hard just thinking about it. Surely, you wouldn’t mind.

“Johnny… Johnny!” You called out, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Oh! Sorry!” He chuckled.

“I finished.” You said with a smile as he stood behind you.

“Yeah? Do you think that you understand now…? Normal distribution charts can be difficult.”

“Maybe…” I said, blushing as he was very close to your neck. “Y-you’ll have to check.”

“Maybe?” He teased while rubbing your sides. “Have you not been paying attention?”

“W-well…” you felt yourself getting heated, just his light touch was getting you worked up. Was this on purpose? You weren’t sure and it was making your head spin.

“Well what?” Johnny asked while slowly running his one hand up your skirt. “Not paying attention…?”

“I-I… I pay attention…” I replied with a a deep breath, feeling the pads of his fingers touching your clothed cunt. You closed your eyes and let out some breathy moans.

“I don’t know about that, babygirl…” he smirked, moving his hand from your waist to your neck. “Looks like you’re thinking about something else…” he chuckled while holding your chin before sliding his fingers in your underwear.

You moaned at the feeling as he felt around your folds then rubbed your clit with his thumb.

“I think that your mind is somewhere else, huh?”

You whimpered at the feeling, finding it difficult to not throw your head back in pleasure. You bucked your hips to feel more friction.

“Do you like that baby?” He teased, whispering in your ear. “You want more right?”

“Mmhm-…” you managed to get out.

“Yes? More?”

“Yes Johnny…” you moaned.

“Just love being touched…” he teased. “Are you really that dirty? I thought you were innocent.”

“I-I-….” It was hard to get any words out. “J-Johnny—…. Please…”

“My sweet girl… let me check that paper for you first.” He smirked, knowing it was driving you nuts. “I’ll have to make some corrections… unless they’re all right?”

“Y-yes Johnny…”

The man smirk as he snaked his free hand from your waist to your breast, disregarding the bra that was in the way.

“How about I make you a deal?” He said while pinching your sensitive nipple. “I’m willing to help you out, babygirl…”

You only nodded, trying to focus on his words.

“I’ll check your work…” he started. "if you do this correctly i'll go down on you, but if you are wrong, you suck me, deal?"

“A-ah! Johnny!” You moaned out loud suddenly, feeling him pinch at your sensitive cunt.

“Got it?”

“Mmm… okay…” you replied in a shaky voice as he looked over your work.

While he checked your work, Johnny kept his hand in your panties, only rubbing your clit slightly as he used his other hand to trace down the paper. You whimpered, lightly bucking your hips against his fingers.

“Well darn…” he said in a teasing voice. “You got it wrong… your margin of error is off…”

“O-oh.”

“You know what that means, hm?” He said with a sly laugh.

“Y-yes, Johnny…” you nodded while getting to your knees. Johnny was surprised you were actually going to do it and quickly pulled down his pants and boxers.

You looked up at him with a giggle, slowly stroking him while staring him straight in the eyes.

“T-Teasing me?” Her groaned while looking back, finding you incredibly cute and innocent.

You smiled and started sucking on the tip, looking up at him with innocent eyes. You would suck the tip and pull back, watching as your spit connected to it.

“F-fuck…” he groaned while holding onto your hair.

You continued to rub his cock with your hands as you started taking more in your mouth. He was big and it was impossible to get him fully in without gagging. You kept going, bobbing your head while moaning, making the man lose his mind.

Drool ran down your chin as he bucked his hips before his grip on your hair tightened.

Johnny couldn’t handle your slow teasing and started thrusting his hips more, holding onto you as he fucked your throat. He threw his head back and let out some breathy moans.

His needy moans only turned you on more and you felt how soaked your underwear really was.

“Open.” He said sternly as you opened your mouth. “I wanna see it…”

You smirked and laid his hard cock on your tongue that stuck out of your mouth. You continue to rub it against your tongue until he released, his white substance dripping from your mouth to your chin, looking absolutely filthy.

“God…” he panted while pulling you up by the hair. “I haven’t even checked the other problem yet… don’t tease me, girl…”

After pulling you up, he pulled his boxers up and went back to checking your work as if nothing happened.

Johnny looked through the last problem, smirking when finished. “Well it seems that you got this one right, babygirl.”

“O-oh…. U-um…” you stuttered as he grabbed your waist, lifting you onto the desk.

“My good girl deserves her reward now, hm?”

You only blushed, feeling even hotter as he slowly lowered your pant and underwear.

Johnny put your legs over his shoulders and licked a stride across your wet cunt with no warning. You moaned a bit loud and quickly slapped your hand over your mouth, making the man chuckle.

“Why are you covering up, baby?” He teased. “I wanna hear everything…” the man groaned against your cunt, practically making you twitch as you roll your eyes back. It was hard to control yourself.

Perhaps you were already hot and aroused from earlier, or you were just horny when seeing him in general.

“F-fuck—… j-Johnny…” your moans were shaky and light as he ate you out with no mercy. The pleasure started becoming too much as his tongue touched your sensitive bud.

You could barely keep your eyes open at the intense pleasure and you found yourself whining.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He teased while he added some more teasing licks.

“Mmm… J-Johnny….” You moaned as your legs shook a bit. “I-I-…”

“You’re what, baby?”

“I-I have… I have to… c-c-…” you couldn’t get the words out through your desperate pants, but Johnny knew what you were trying to say. He smirked and pulled away, making you whine.

“Don’t cum yet, baby.” Johnny said while standing, now undoing his jeans. “I’ll give you something better…”

219 notes · View notes

thelovelyruin · 11 months

Text

𝖇𝖚𝖇𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖌𝖚𝖒 𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 : choso x fem reader

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓 : you wanted choso real bad, but did he want you too?

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 : (fem perspective of acquainted.) smut, porn with plot, vaginal sex, praise, teasing, fingering.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙 : 4.5K

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗 : inspired by lyrics from bubblegum bitch by marina and the diamonds.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 : hello lovelies, thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoy it; if so, follow me for more. au revoir!

18+ MDNI ADULT CONTENT

Got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll.

“But Maiiii!”

“Don’t even think about it. You know you’re gonna hurt his feelings.”

“I won’t, I promise! He’s real cute, I could never do that to him.”

“You mean weird? I’ve only seen him talk to Yuuji, and that’s saying something.”

“Well, maybe he just needs a girlfriend! Ya know, a woman’s touch.”

“Babe, the second you try to touch to him, he’s gonna cum on himself.”

“That’s not bad, right? That just means he likes me!”

Mai scoffed and walked towards class, you following behind a puppy. You were a pretty girl, for sure. Always wearin’ sparkly lipgloss, your hair was always in a cute style but always down, had to show off your hoop earrings! You usually wore a little locket necklace, which had a little pic of Choso in it, but that’s really creepy, right? It sat on top of a pink shirt that you made sure your tits always looked great in, just in case he was lookin’. Then your miniskirt gave a sneak peek of your ass and your winter boots you lovedddd to wear with leggings that you were hoping he was getting an eyeful of. It was tough when you were in class with him; you raised your hand to answer a question, hoping he’d perk up at the sight of your new manicure. Sometimes, you’d wear a perfume that smelled like cake; you could tell he liked it; he’d always stutter when he walked past you, conveniently moving your hair so the scent would fly in the air towards him. Then there was your skin, always wearing a nice lotion so your legs looked smooth as you crossed them over one another or stood before the seminar to answer a question on the board. You usually ask someone to pick something up for you and never touched a door either; you pretty much knew it was because every guy wanted to fuck you, so you ran them around like your puppies, and they’d run back to you with a lollipop or something like that, which you made sure to suck real sexy when Choso was around, in case he ever wanted to be the lollipop.

It's not like you wanted him to pay attention or anything.

Don't care if you think I'm dumb; I don't care at all.

“Hey, Choso! What’s up?”

He obviously hadn’t heard you, so you put your hands on his desk in the library and squished your tits together, leaning over a bit to look at him. A little cleavage was always effective, right?

“Hello, earth to Choso, you there?”

“Sorry, could you repeat that?”

You made sure to wear a really short skirt, which was totally cute, but every guy on campus was getting the wrong idea. You’d worn it to see Choso, which worked ‘cause he was looking at the little piece of your thong you’d left out for him to see. You just had to tease him a little.

“I said, “Hey, Choso! What’s up?””

“Oh, sorry. Not much, how about you?”

“Oh, nothin’; saw you were sittin’ alone and wanted to come say hi; that okay?”

That was such a shitty excuse. You really could’ve come up with something better, but it seemed to work anyway! He sat to the side of the seat, sitting his hand in the empty space.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Uh, wanna take a seat?”

“Sure! So, whatcha workin' on?”

“Oh, I’m just studying for the statistics exam.”

“That class is super hard! I feel like I’m not getting any of it.”

Fuck, was he catching on yet? You really couldn’t think of another reason why you two would be alone; you couldn’t even convince your professors to let you work with him on a project.

“I could, um, tutor you if you want.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

You perked up, hand touching his arms, tits bouncing as you shifted towards him in the seat. You were so excited you could barely keep it together, but you had to act totally fine in case he was onto you. Which really, you wanted him on you.

“Yeah, it’s no problem.”

“Perfect, when are you free?

“Uh, I’m free after classes; what about you?”

Fuck, you had a lot to do. When did you get so busy?

“Hmm, well, I have a sorority meeting at six tomorrow, so that probably won’t work, but then, ooo, I have cheer practice on Thursday, ugh, and I can’t forget Nobara’s party on Friday!”

“So, Wednesday?”

“Perfect! We’d just have to do it after my nail appointment at 3.”

He looked at your nails. Was there something wrong with them? Maybe you should’ve pulled this charade afterward.

“I think your nails are nice like that?”

You were blushing now, bringing a hand out before you two.

“Ya think so? I was thinking of changing the color. I’ve changed my mind since last week.”

You got a call from Mai! Damn, you wish she wasn’t still upset with you. Happily, you answered it.

“Hey babe, what's up?”

“Not gonna believe it! Nobara got this big-ass AirBnb for this weekend. It’s totes cute; gonna look at it for our meeting tomorrow. Anyways, I gotta go, going shopping; I’ll send pics!”

You felt super bad; You’d interrupted your and Choso’s conversation to talk about sorority stuff. Hopefully, you didn’t annoy him.

“Sorry about that! She had to tell me about this crazy thing one of our sisters did.”

“Sisters?”

“Yeah, like in our sorority, silly! Anyways, gotta blast, but I enjoyed our chat!”

You pulled a pen out of your purse along with a piece of gum; after unwrapping it and putting it in your mouth, you grabbed Choso’s hand, writing down your phone number.

“There ya go, put it in fast so it doesn’t wash off. Bye, cutie!”

With that, you walked away. He looked so cute, blushing all hard; hopefully, he texted you. You probably looked pretty dumb, but who cares? You were gonna spend some time with him, so your plans could get rollin’.

Candy bear, sweetie pie, wanna be adored.

“YOU GAVE HIM YOUR NUMBER?”

“Yes, but it’s because he’s tutoring me!”

“So, you and him, alone. “Studying”.”

“Yes, Mai. “Studying”.”

“Bullshit, you’re gonna fuck him!”

“Am not! I have some self-control, ya know.”

When you told Mai about the exchange earlier, she was convinced you were making a bad decision.

“So then, what if he wants to fuck you? What happens to that self-control?”

“It gets thrown out the window, and I let him fuck my brains out, duh.”

Mai looked you up and down, giving you that look. You scoffed and lay on your bed; damn, you would be doing your statistics work if you actually knew what you were doing. A ring came from your phone, practically jumping at it.

“Hey. It’s Choso.”

You jumped around your room, squealing. He had actually texted you! Not that you didn’t think he would, but he was always super standoffish so he might’ve wiped it off. But nonetheless, you texted him back.

“haiiii <3 wednesday still good? :3”

“Yeah, what time?”

“let’s do 5, kay?”

“Sounds good.”

“yay! See you then :p.”

When Wednesday came around, you were super nervous all day. Mai teased you for it, saying there was nothing to worry about; you guys were only “studying.” You had seen him in class, but today, you gave him a wink as you walked by, hoping he’d like it. Fuck, you were such a klutz! Smoothie all over your shirt; not like that was such a bad thing. It meant you could change into something cuter, something that would really catch his attention! It made you super late, though. You felt so bad, showing up 15 minutes late, but you sucked it up and knocked on his door anyway. Choso opened the door for you, but you were still panting. God, get it together!

“I'm so sorry! I spilled my smoothie on my other top, so I had to change, then I ran over as fast as I could! You’re not too mad at me, are you?”

“You’re fine; come in.”

“Ooo, thanks!”

You walked into the room, giving him a smile, then bent over to set your purse and books, hoping he was pervy enough to get a view. You’d stayed down there for a while, giving him enough time to get a good look, then you got up and turned around, and he was blushing! Maybe he’d seen your lacy pink thong. But you weren’t thinking about fucking him, right?

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“Uh, no…let’s get started.”

An hour passed, and you were shocked at your level of resolve. He was helping you this whole time, and all you could think about was the tent in his pants, wanting to take care of it. But you promised Mai you’d chill, so you did.

“All done! I think this is the best I’ve ever done! Thank you so so much!”

You wrapped your arms around him, bringing him in. You pulled back from him, still hugging him, as he looked down into your eyes. You let go and giggled, walking over to get on his bed, sitting back on your hands, legs slightly open as your chest poked out. Mai would probably be mad, but she’d have to understand, right? You just needed him, really bad.

“Hey, Choso?”

“Yeah?”

“I need your help with something.”

“What’s up?”

I'm the girl you'd die for.

As he approached you, you put your final fears to the side. You had full confidence he wanted you, and you were gonna act on it.

You opened your thighs to him, panty-clad pussy on full display.

Awe, he was so red! To be fair, you had just shown off your pussy to him, practically asking him to touch you there, and you were ready for it. You pulled him forward by his shirt, his face up to yours.

“That is, if you wanna.”

He dropped to his knees, positioning himself on the floor between your legs, both draped over his shoulders as he pulled you closer to him. You saw him get a good look at your thong; you knew you were soaked from being next to him for so long. He brought his hands up your legs; the feeling of his fingers made you shake all the way up to your hips, where he flipped your skirt up. He grabbed the edge of your panties, backing up to pull them down your legs. You opened up a little more for him, soaked pussy on full display, letting him spread your lips apart, precum dripping out of you. He was in shock, and it was so sexy. He looked like he was in love with just the sight of your pussy.

Choso brought his lips down to yours, lapping up all of your juices, then fucking his tongue into you. Damn, he felt so good! You started moaning his name and arching your back as you gripped his sheets. He brought his tongue to your clit, circling the bud slowly, and god it had you whimpering.

“Choso….”

You felt so fucking good. He brought his fingers up and slipped them inside you, making you groan loudly. You could tell this was probably his first time eating pussy, but when he curled his fingers, it felt soooo good and you just had to tell him!

“Fuck, right there, don’t stop!”

He pumped his fingers in and out of you as your body jerked, begging to cum. You were so blissed out, happy you were about to cum from his tongue. It came hard, fingers gripping his hair in a way so you could find some sort of stability. And fuck, as you came down, you rutted your pussy against his tongue, mouth still opened and eyes rolled back.He left you panting on his bed, half-naked, back still arched. As you began to come back to earth, you sat up on your hands again, pussy most likely staining the sheets, but it would be okay, right?

“Come here.”

You were serious now. You didn’t wanna be so harsh, but you were literally gonna die if you didn’t feel his dick inside you immediatley. You opened your legs so he could position himself between them, kissing him intensely now. He brought his hand up to your tits, groping them through the fabric of your shirt, pinching your nipple once he found it, you were getting so wet. He ruts his hips against yours, making you groan into his mouth. Fuck, he was so hot, you were gonna lose your-

I'll chew you up, and I'll spit you out.

Your phone fucking rang…and you knew it was Mai. With a pout, you walked over to his desk to grab your phone.You tried to act as normal as possible when you answered the phone, you couldn’t make it too obvious Choso just had a mouth full of pussy!

“Hey, hey!”

“Hey babe, emergency house meeting! Maki didn’t put in the order for the catering for rush next week, so everyone’s coming together to think of a back up. Need ya here, like yesterday!”

You were pouting now, tilting your head to the side as you talked to her.

“But Maiiii, I’m doing something super important!”

“Important, huh? Is that important thing fucking Choso? Either way, bring your ass over here before anyone gets suspicious.”

“Ugh, fine, but you owe me! See you in a bit.”

You hung up the phone and walked over to him, a sad look on your face as you wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your head into his chest.

“You gotta go?”

“Yeah, but I really don’t want to!”

“It’s fine. You should be ready for the test on Thursday.”

You bent over to pick up your purse and books again; hoping he’d really get a good look at you this time. You hadn’t put your panties back on, instead leaving them next to his bed for him to find later. You put your heels back on, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

“Bye, cutie!”

“Um, bye.”

It’s like you couldn’t get him out of your head; every time you tried to focus on the meeting, he was there. Before you laid down for bed, he texted you, letting you know you forgot them. Hmmmm, what should you say?

“oopsie :3 consider them a gift ;)”

'Cause that's what young love is all about.

So pull me closer…

“YOU DID WHAT?”

“Maiiii, please don’t be mad!”

“Let me get this straight, you fucked him?”

“No, yes, well, not exactly. I, you know…”

“Awe shit, you sucked his-”

“NO, MAI. Not that I wouldv’e been opposed to it.”

“So, what did you- Holy shit, he ate you out!”

You became flustered, you told her about your sexual encounters all the time, but it had been so long since you got any, plus she already thought Choso was weird.

“Yes, he ate me out.”

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”

“Mai, I’m sorry! Like don’t be mad at me though, it felt really good and technically that was only second base, right? Or third? Either way I didn’t fuck him, yet.”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s not like I don’t support you, but a guy like that? He probably came on himself.”

Now, you’d told Choso you were busy, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to see him again! You guys had seen each other around the halls; Thursday, you gave him a wink every time you saw him, and he’d return it with a blush and grin. But then, you realized he hadn’t texted you. Wouldn’t he wanna see you again? Especially if he enjoyed it as much as you think he did. You were nervous at this point. What if you were over-analyzing things? Just a quick fuck to get each other’s rocks off? Then, unfortunately, the thought came to mind that he probably just thought you were pretty and dumb, which hurt your feelings real bad. I mean, you couldn’t help it; spontaneous oral from the guy liked for months now. But, fuck, you missed him.

And kiss me hard!

The party could be heard down the street; it was pretty lit tbh, a large house with at least eight bedrooms, a pool and basketball court in the back, and balconies on almost every window. As you walked through the house, part of you wanted to find Choso and get a real answer as to why he had ghosted you. That was until a guy from your brother fraternity walked up to you.

You held a cup of punch, but what you were wearing was kinda flashy. You hadn’t bothered to wear a top, just your string bikini covering your tits, which to be fair, wasn’t doing a very good job of covering them up. Then there were your shorts; the underside of your ass on display, but when you and Mai picked them out, you bought ‘em just in case you saw him. You were leaning into the guy, trying to hear him over the speakers. He was kinda creepy. Obviously drunk as he tried to talk to you about some speed dating thing they were about to throw, and apparently you just needed to be there. You knew he was getting an eyeful; he couldn’t even make eye contact with you because he was too busy staring at your chest, which you wouldn’t be opposed to usually, but he wasn’t Choso, and tbh, he was the only one you wanted to look at you like that.

This dude made some shitty joke, you giggling to save face and not embarrass your sisters. That’s when you see Choso walking in your peripheral vision. OMG, he did come! But as happy as you were, he looked kinda pissed, or maybe you were trippin’? You gave him an awkward smile as you turned. That was until Choso grabbed your arm.

“Gonna borrow her right quick.”

What the fuck was he doing? Choso led you up the stairs as you rushed to keep up, spilling your drink a bit. He looked for an empty bedroom, walked you into it, and locked it behind him. What was his deal?

“Choso, what the actual fuck?”

“What are you doing, huh?”

“What am I doing? What am I doing? Motherfucker, what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you haven’t talked to me in days. Then you pull me in here, like I’m the bad guy or something, fuck, did eating me out mean anything to you?”

“Of course it did! I haven’t texted you because I wanted to give you space!”

“I could’ve made time for you! I don’t wanna hear your shitty excuses as to-”

I'm gonna pop your bubblegum heart.

Your sentence was cut short by Choso pulling you into a kiss. Some nerve he had, not talking to you for days, then coming up like he owned you or something. You were fucking mad at him, sure, but you wanted to fuck him more than anything. So, you let him lay you on the bed behind you, mouth coming to kiss you, even deeper this time. He pulled back to undo your top, allowing your tits free, ready to go to town.

“So, who the fuck was that?”

He brought his lips down to your nipple, sucking it as you moaned softly. He was totally killing the vibe.

“A friend, what are you, jealous?”

He sucked the other one, massaging your tits as you watched him. You knew he was, like why else would he be asking? That kinda made you feel good though, he was willing to put up a little fight for ya, huh?

“Depends.”

“On?”

Choso began to move his way down, sucking the skin of your stomach as he brought his hands down to hook into your shorts. He had them down to your ankles, pulling them off of you, you were so fucking excited, as pissed as he was, his mood was real cute.

“I’m your friend too, no?”

“Something like that.”

He undid the strings on your bikini, throwing them somewhere in the room. He brought his face down to you, kissing your inner thighs to tease you.

“You let all your friends eat your pussy?”

I'm Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips.

You couldn’t answer his question, body reacting to the kitten licks he was giving your clit. You really liked it when he fucked you with his tongue, and you were practically in love when he pressed his tongue harder on our bud. You missed the feeling of your pre-cum on his lips, but it was cut short when he pulled his face back, teasing you.

“Answer me, princess.”

“No, I don't.”

It’s like something woke up inside of him. His face was back on you, fucking his tongue into you as he pinned your hips down, watching you squirm from the pleasure. The pleasure you never wanted to stop.

Choso picked up the pace of his tongue, his fingers finding their way to your pussy, curling them as he sucked on your clit. One hand still on your hips to keep you still; it’s not like it really mattered though, ‘cause you came real hard. You bucked your hips into his touch, moaning his name as you let him suck you through your high. He pulled up to look at you, smirking as he started drinking your cum, thumb on your clit. You were on fucking fire, still recovering from before, and now he was bringing you up to his face. He pinned you down, devouring you instantly.

He’d brought his hands up to rub your nipples between his fingers while you fucked his face. You didn’t know where all this nerve came from, presumably because he’s made you cum twice now, the third one about to join. But you honestly didn’t give a fuck. If he had the balls to eat you as good as he was doing, you could care less. Because his tongue was just too damn distracting. You began to grind your pussy on his face, not even considering his ability to breathe; it’s not like he was concerned about it. You were moaning his name lover and over, he pulled them out of you more frequently as you felt your body giving in again.

“Choso, I’m, I, fuck!”

Hit me with your sweet love…

Fuck, he was so good. You couldn’t help but fall over as he kissed you, soft and sweet. With a careful hand, he brought your leg up, pulling it away from the other so he could get in between them. Your body was practically begging him, waitin’ so long for his touch. As he began removing his clothes, he continued this little conversation. It was really pissing you off.

“Hm, that doesn’t make sense then, does it?”

“You’re more than a friend, Choso.”

At this point, he’d taken everything but his boxers off, bringing his body back up to sit on top of yours. He kissed you as he fingered your pussy again, making you squirm under his touch, he was making you feel a lot of things you hadn’t really felt before, definitely more than your vibrator had done. He brought your cum out of your pussy, rubbing it over his dick as he looked down at you.

“More than a friend, huh?”

Choso kissed your neck as he slid his dick in, holding your hips as he rolled his into yours. He was painfully slow, pulling out to sink back in. Fuck, it was torture.

“Yes, Choso! Now fuck me, please!”

“No problem.”

He slammed his hips into yours, you couldn’t hlp but groan his name, making him grip you tightly as he fucked you, forehead meeting yours so he could look you in your eyes.

“When was the last time you got fucked?”

“Months ago.”

“So, you decided you just wanted me to eat your pussy one day?”

He began that slow pace again, what was he a fucking detective? You decided to just tell him the truth, hopefully then he’d shut the fuck up.

“No, I liked you for a while! Thought you didn’t like me ‘til I met you in the library!”

Guess that satisfied him, ‘cause he hit that sweet spot inside you as you moved your hips to meet his, hands brushing through his hair as he gave it to you right where you needed him. You pressed your tits against his chest as he fucked you into the bed, practically screaming his name every time he’d give you a hard thrust.

“I want you, princess.”

To be fair, you hadn’t really entertained any of the guys who wanted you; they’d just ogle you, but you wanted someone who’d claim you. Make you his. And Choso was doing it. He fucked you like no one had ever done before, sucking hickeys all over you that you were sure you didn’t have enough concealer to cover up. Then, there was the way he’d moan into your ear. Sometimes your name, but mostly baby, princess, beautiful. He was taking you higher and higher, and you didn’t wanna come down.

“Then, I’m yours.”

Steal me with a kiss.

That made him feral. He fucked you faster, keeping your hips still so he could fuck you how you needed it. Your body was practically begging to cum again, all but throwing yourself at him. Finally, you came, gripping his shoulders as you moaned his name into the room, eyes rolling back and mouth wide open as you came for the third time that night. You honestly didn’t know you had it in you; he was right behind you, gripping the headboard as he fucked you through his orgasm, whimpering your name as he fell to pieces inside you, your hands just falling to your side, too fucked out to move.

I'm gonna be your bubblegum bitch….

Choso fell beside you and looked over; you were pretty damn tired; he made you cum over and over again, like a song on repeat. He’d helped you put your clothes back on, carrying you down the stairs and out to his car, getting you in it and starting it.

“Ima take ya home, okay?”

You perked up a little, grabbing his arm and wrapping around it. No way you were going home! Why’d you wanna go back there when you could sleep with your boyfriend?

“Wanna go home with you!”

“Whatever ya want, princess.”

He gripped your thigh as he drove off, returning to his dorm. He carried you to his room, helping you get into one of his t-shirts, such a good guy, makin’ you feel all safe. Both of you in the bed, he pulled you into his chest as you got comfortable. You look up at him, smiling a bit as you yawn.

“Night, baby!”

You kissed him quickly and laid back down, drifting off to sleep.

Consider this mission complete ;)

I'm gonna be your bubblegum bitch!

♱ the song used in this story is bubblegum bitch by marina and the diamonds. 🖤

♱ masterlist.

♱ all fics playlist.

𝖆𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖓.

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bluekidchaos · 1 year

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Kinktober day 3 - Spencer Reid

for once keeping under 1k words woho! also i originally forgot i was doing the praise kink so i had to add that after i was already done lmao

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Prompt: Praise kink

Warnings: 18+, Sub!spence, praise, pet names (baby boy, bunny), cream pie, unprotected sex, season 3 spencer hair, the mommy kink snuck up on me i-

Words: 700

Can also be read on AO3!

Kinktober masterlist. Regular masterlist.

Being a BAU agent came with a heavy burden, you could see it in Spencer on rough days. He would slump together on the couch and just stare into space, you'd try and comfort him the best you could but sometimes he just needed some time.

You made sure to pamper him when he was home, cooking dinner together, cuddling, and sex. Really just anything you could do together. He craved intimacy and was highly touch-starved, you didn't mind though as touching him was your favorite thing.

You loved how you could get him so riled up with just a couple of words and small touches. Having him on top of you yet you were in charge, making him whimper from your praise.

He would be begging you to let him move once he was inside you. Head resting on your shoulder and barely holding himself up by his forearms. "Please, baby, god, please. Need to fuck you so bad."

Cooing at him and his desperation, "Hold on baby boy, let me just feel you for a second. You're so good for me, bunny." You raked your fingernails over his back and down his sides, leaving red marks in their path. Hearing him groan at the pain made your cunt clench in return. "So big and it's all mine."

Spencer tried to steady his breath, thinking of something else that wasn't his dick in your perfect pussy. He was going through any and all statistics he could remember at the moment in his head, anything to keep still and not just have his way with you.

"Okay, Spence. You can move now, but slow, baby." He whined into your neck as he finally could move his hips. Gently pulling out of you and pushing back in, Spencer was moaning right into your ear at the pleasure.

Your hand pushed away some of his hair that had fallen in his face, putting it behind his ear. "Th- thank you, mommy, God thank you for letting me fuck you." You could feel his hips speed up a little on their own volition and you tugged a few strands signaling to slow down again.

"Doing so good for me, baby. You're my good boy right?" He nodded quickly, keeping the pace slow. Languidly thrusting against you. You're planting kisses on his throat, sucking hickeys onto his collarbone.

"Do you wanna cum, bunny? Wanna fill mommy up like a good boy?" Fingers digging into his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. His gaze was hazy with pleasure and glassy from unshed tears. "Make mommy come first and you can come inside me."

Spencer's eyes widened and in a matter of seconds, he was thrusting into you at full speed. His hand snaking down to play with your clit. "Yes, thank you, I'll be good. I'll make you come."

His hand was making quick work at bringing you right to that delicious edge, feeling it become tighter and tighter in your stomach while he pounded into you like a wild beast. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, the angle making him hit that magical spot inside you every time.

You're moaning unrestrained into his ear, no doubt garnering noise complaints again, but you couldn't care less. "Spence, yes just like that! You fuck me so good, always so good. So big inside me." You're chanting his name like a prayer as he pinched your clit one last time before you fell over the edge, your end bringing his own.

Feeling you clench down on him hard and pulse around him. A strangled "Oh, shit, I-" before you feel him fill you up completely. He pumped into you a few more times before stilling and laying down on you, careful not to put all of his weight on you.

You could feel his seed trickle out of you, making a mess on the sheets under you. You stroked Spncer's hair and planted big wet kisses all over his face and neck, anywhere you could reach. "I love you so much, baby."

Spencer is smiling down at you, that big goofy smile that you loved so much. "I love you too, and thank you."

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #spencer reid #spender reid x reader #spencer reid smut

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thisapplepielife · 2 months

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Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Room 1015 - Gareth

1 Night, 4 Rooms Each is standalone, but takes place on the same hotel floor.

Eddie | Goodie | Gareth | Jeff | Steve (Bonus morning after!)

Gareth hears it on both sides, and tries to block out the sound. The last thing he wants to be thinking about is any of his bandmates, his friends, having sex while he's hopefully getting ready to do the same thing himself.

They really need to start booking rooms on different floors. But that would just make more work for Steve, so that's probably not gonna happen. They're on the bus most of the time these days, anyway. Hotels are for special days off, like tonight, because Di was coming in to meet him.

Sounds like they all made good use having rooms tonight. A clean sweep, a home run, the full monty. All of them coming home from the bar with company.

That almost never happens. It's more rare than, well, fuck, just about anything.

But, one-by-one, they left the bar. First Eddie, but that was with Steve, so that's hardly a surprise and should really be thrown out of all present and future statistics. It's skewing the data. A done deal.

A constant.

But then Jeff picked up a girl, then another girl kept circling the table, and Gareth couldn't exactly tell if she was trying to catch his eye, or Goodie's.

And it was Goodie she wanted to fuck, apparently.

Gareth wasn't interested anyway, but still. Way to make him feel like the last loser left behind. Goodie eventually struck up a conversation with her at the bar, and then he was gone, too.

And that left Gareth, all alone to pay the tab that the rest of them conveniently left for him. He didn't even drink tonight, not wanting to be sloshed when Di showed up, so having to pay the entire tab was really kind of fucked.

Now, he's on the bed in his own room, waiting. Somewhat patiently. This thing between them in still pretty new, and long distance, but hot and fucking heavy. Maybe he should check with the front desk again. Make sure she's not waiting. He left very specific instructions that she was to be given a key and let up.

When the door finally swings open, Di's standing there in a floral sundress that she immediately strips over her head, leaving her in her bra and panties, as soon as her suitcase hits the floor.

And he's lucky.

Very, very lucky.

She crawls up on the bed, and straddles his thighs. Pressing right down against him. He runs his hands all over her back, just wanting to touch her.

"I missed you," he says.

Her flight was delayed, and she missed the show. They were both disappointed about that, but she's here now.

"I missed you, too," Di says, rocking on his clothed dick. "I'm sorry I missed the show. I tried. Believe it or not, you can't just talk your way onto a plane with a sob story."

Gareth laughs. If anyone could, it'd be her, though.

He wishes she'd made it, but knows it was totally out of her control. If Steve couldn't make it happen, it was impossible. That much Gareth knows. There'll be other shows. A lifetime of them, maybe.

At least they'll have tomorrow, a day off, together. It's a travel day, so they'll have to get on the bus, but he's called dibs on the back bedroom. The only bit of privacy.

She feels good on him, and he knows they could both get off like this, have, they are that fucking horny for each other. He met his match in her, somehow. And he wants more, but has other plans first. He anchors himself, rolling them, flipping her onto her back. Settling between her thighs.

She laughs, touching his forehead, brushing his hair back. He yanks down her panties and breathes in the smell of her, as his tongue gets to work. He didn't need to drink tonight at the bar, he'll get drunk on her.

It's his favorite thing. Always has been, always will be.

Eating pussy. That's his gift. Well, and drumming. Equal talents, he's pretty sure.

He loves her.

He hasn't told her that, it's probably too soon. But he's loved her since the first night, he's quickly realizing. Love at first sight always seemed like such bullshit, even after he basically saw it happen with Eddie and Steve.

He still didn't believe.

Now, he thinks he just might.

His tongue licking upwards, then back down, delving inside her, getting her even wetter than she already is. Wanting to make her happy, wanting to make her come, over and over.

He circles her clit with the tip of his tongue, and her breathing changes. Raggedy, as she works towards an orgasm, thighs shaking around his ears.

She's quiet, though. Unlike whatever the fuck is happening in the room next door. Goodie ain't that good in bed. No way in hell.

He pushes it out of his mind, focusing only on Di. She makes a breathy noise and clenches around his ears, coming.

If he keeps it up, he might be about to stretch it into a second.

She cards her fingers through his hair, rubbing his scalp, "Gare. Now."

He's happy right where he is, but he comes up, reluctantly, and can smell her on his upper lip in a way that makes his dick throb as he reaches for a condom, rolling it down. He expects to slide on top of her, but she's climbing on his lap, guiding herself down onto his cock.

"Like that," she says, and he'll continue to do anything she wants, for as long as she'll let him. Forever, even.

Chest-to-chest, she's just rolling her hips, fucking him. He hugs her close, both hands on her back, his face buried in her neck.

She's perfect. He doesn't know how he existed before her, honestly. He knows he's got lots of shit, lots of baggage, and he's nowhere near perfect.

But he wants to keep her, keep them.

He really, really wants to love her.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

#corrodedcoffinfest #prompt twenty-three: up and coming #gareth stranger things #goodie (unnamed freak) stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #jeff stranger things #freak stranger things #corroded coffin fic #ccf day twenty-three: up and coming #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #thisapplepielife: short fic

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thecreaturecodex · 8 months

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Scalescribe

[I quite like the scalescribe, as I always appreciate it when aberrations aren't just tentacled horrors. Sometimes they're funny little guys. The caster bond/transcribe scroll is a neat mechanical effect that's in the PF2e original, but it really works best if the spellcaster goes out adventuring while the scalescribe stays behind and reads and writes. Which I think suits the scalescribes just fine.]

Scalescribe CR 3 N Aberration This strange creature resembles a snake with eight spindly arms, each ending in a delicate, human-like hand. It has five eyes arranged in a cross on its face, a fleshy hood growing over its face. Its jaws are wide, but nearly toothless. Its body is decorated with scraps of text, some single letters, others entire paragraphs in a dense hand.

Scalescribes are strange magical creatures that are obsessed with words and language. They tend to live in libraries, temples to gods of knowledge, and other places where there are lots of books. The words on their bodies are extracts from what they have read, and shift over the weeks as they encounter new writings. Scalescribes may be sought out as sages, or by spellcasters who want to use their abilities to manipulate magic writing.

A scalescribe would rather not fight if it can help it, and their bodies are not much suited for combat. Their most powerful attack is the ability to charge a written character with magical force and fire it like an arrow. They cannot do this at will, however, and usually bolster these attacks with spells cast from scrolls or jabbing with the quills they always carry. Such jabs deal little damage, but carry a creeping stain of magical ink. If they are targeted with a spell they haven’t seen before, or one that the scalescribe thinks might be tactically useful, they will attempt to copy it onto a temporary scroll so they can use it themselves.

This ability to copy and reuse spells is what makes scalescribes so valuable to spellcasters. If the scalescribe chooses, it can allow another creature to cast that spell, even crossing spell lists in order to do so. A scalescribe is most likely to use this ability if it judges the other creature “clever”, which it determines by playing word games and quizzing vocabulary. A creature that can teach a scalescribe a word it doesn’t know is likely to make a fast friend.

Scalescribe CR 3 XP 800 N Tiny aberration Init +3; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +11

Defense AC 17, touch 11, flat-footed 13 (+2 size, +3 Dex, +1 dodge, +1 natural) hp 27 (5d8+5) Fort +2, Ref +4, Will +8 Defensive Abilities lettered

Offense Speed 20 ft. Melee quill +8 (1d3-2/18-20 plus inkstain) Ranged morpheme glyph +8 (3d6 force) Space 2 ½ ft.; Reach 0 ft.

Spell-like Abilities CL 5th, concentration +6 At will—arcane mark, detect magic, read magic 3/day—comprehend languages (self only) 1/day—dispel magic, secret page

Statistics Str 6, Dex 17, Con 12, Int 19, Wis18, Cha 13 Base Atk +3; CMB +4; CMD 13 (cannot be tripped) Feats Dodge, Magical Aptitude, Scribe Scroll (B), Weapon Finesse Skills Climb +10,Craft (calligraphy) +8, Knowledge (arcana, history) +11, Linguistics +11, Perception +11, Sense Motive +11, Spellcraft +13, Stealth +18, Use Magic Device +7 Languages Aklo, Common, Draconic, 4 others SQ caster bond, intellectual, scroll use, transcribe spell

Ecology Environment urban Organization solitary or scriptorium (2-5) Treasure standard

Special Abilities Caster Bond (Su) A scalescribe can form a bond with any creature with spellcasting levels by performing a ritual that requires 1 hour of concentration, usually done while the other creature is preparing spells. A prepared caster can prepare the spell carried on that scalescribe’s transcribed scroll, and a spontaneous caster can treat that spell as if they knew it for that day. This can allow a caster to cast a spell that is not on their spell list, as long as it belongs to the same tradition of magic (arcane, divine or occult). This lasts for 24 hours, or until the scalescribe uses its transcribed scroll or transcribes a new scroll. If a prepared caster loses access to a spell in this way, the spell slots that had this spell become open. Inkstain (Su) A creature struck by a scalescribe’s quill takes 1d4 points of damage per round for the next 10 rounds. This can be removed by any healing spell with a successful DC 13 caster level check, or by any effect that removes or delays poison without a check. An erase spell removes the inkstain without a caster level check. This is a poison effect, and is an ability of the scalescribe, not the quill. Intellectual (Ex) A scalescribe treats all Knowledge checks and Linguistics as if they were class skills. Lettered (Ex) A scalescribe gains a +4 racial bonus on all saving throws against glyphs, symbol spells and spells and effects with the language descriptor. Morpheme Glyph (Su) As a standard action, a scalescribe can draw a magical syllable in the air and fire it at an opponent. Treat this as a ranged attack with a range of 40 feet and no range increment. A creature struck takes 3d6 points of force damage. A scalescribe can use this ability once every 1d4 rounds. Quill (Ex) A scalescribe treats any quill it carries as if it were a rapier it was proficient with. Scroll Use (Ex) A scalescribe can use spells from scrolls as if the spell was on its spell list. Transcribe Spell (Su) As an immediate action when targeted by a spell with verbal components, a scalescribe can attempt to copy down the spell into a variant scroll. The scalescribe must succeed a Spellcraft check (DC 15 + twice the spell’s level) to successfully copy the spell, and is still affected by the spell whether it succeeds or fails at this check. If it succeeds, the scalescribe creates a scroll of that spell that only it can use. A scalescribe can only have one transcribed scroll at a time.

#scalescribe #pathfinder 1e #pathfinder 2e #aberration

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umlewis · 2 months

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lewis hamilton, p3, is interviewed during the post-race press conference, hungary - july 21, 2024 (transcript under the cut)

Interviewer: "Lewis, coming to you. 200 podiums. What a score, what a trophy cabinet. Now, you've often said that you're not into statistics, but this surely means something?" Lewis: "The number doesn't, no. I mean, I just think about these two and how young these guys are. [laughs] They were in nappies when I started, so… [laughs] No, honestly, it just makes me think about the whole journey and all the great people I've had the chance to work with. I got signed by McLaren when I was thirteen, and so there was always so much love for that team and through the journey that we had where I had my first world championship, and then they went through a really difficult time. To see them back up there is really, really great. I'm really happy to… That's my old family, so really, really grateful to be up here with them. And then ultimately I think it was a tough race today, and I definitely didn't think I would be having 200 podiums, but… What have I done, like 340-something races, so not too bad a score. But I couldn't have done it without all those great people that I've worked with in both these teams." Interviewer: "Lewis, many congratulations. You've got to go to the stewards very shortly, so I'm gonna open this to the floor, and can we start with any questions to Lewis, please. Any questions for Lewis, before he heads to the stewards. Yup."

Journalist: "Sorry. Luke Smith from The Athletic. Lewis, could you talk through the touch with Max? He obviously made that move down the inside, you guys touched. He was on the radio saying about you were moving under braking. Could you talk through your side of it, please?" Lewis: "Yeah. [laughs] No, I think… I mean, from what I can remember, obviously we passed a backmarker, I got to the braking zone, then Max appeared, to overtake the car behind me, so I moved over to defend. I left enough room in the inside, but Max locked up and he was going a different trajectory to me. I was going towards, around the corner, and he came shooting across, so… It felt like a racing incident, and it's easy to make mistakes like that, and so I don't feel there should be any hostility. But, of course, from his side there always will be." Interviewer: "Alright. Any more for Lewis, please?" Norris: [unintelligible] Lewis: [laughs]

Journalist: "Hi. My name is Jannik Sauer. I work for a German news website called Watson. I was wondering, because you have this little fan laying next to you, especially after a hot race like today, there were some headlines in the past few days about the FIA planning to implement some sort of cooling for the cockpit and the drivers. So you are surprised, I see. Do you have any opinion on that?" Lewis: "Well, firstly, I didn't know that, and it's not needed. This is Formula 1. It's always been like this. It's tough in these conditions, and we're highly paid athletes, and you've got to train your ass off to make sure you can withstand the heat, ultimately. And it's tough-it's not easy, especially when you go to places like Qatar [laughs] and Singapore-but I don't think we need an AC unit in the car." Interviewer: "Thank you. Any more for Lewis? Yup, we can do one more."

Journalist: "Florian Niedermair, from Motorsport-magazin.com. About your race pace in general, did you expect before the race to be battling with Max, or was it a surprise for you, especially given the conditions?" Lewis: "No, I think out of pure pace, we weren't. Unfortunately we're still not, in hot conditions particularly… So you saw in Austria and here, we're not able to keep up with these guys. But in stint one I was really surprised to see that I was able to hold on to Max, and I wasn't even having to push too hard to stay around a second behind him, so I thought at that point that maybe I was in for a chance of at least fighting for that place. But then in the second stint it was a bit of a disaster. It didn't feel good [laughs] and the true pace of the car started to show, I think, on those tires. But we obviously got the undercut, and track position is clearly key on this track, and I think that really, ultimately made the difference." Interviewer: "Thank you, Lewis. Any more? Okay. Lewis, we'll let you go. Thank you very much."

#lewis hamilton #f1 #formula 1 #hungarian gp 2024 #fic ref #fic ref 2024 #hungary #hungary 2024 #hungary 2024 sunday #oscar piastri #lando norris #tw max

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shoshiwrites · 6 months

Note

my dear, I'd like to submit a Touches prompt: "#35 grabbing the other's hand to pull them back to them" for anyone who tickles your fancy. just need that sorta passion in my life 🥹

I just want to apologize for the fact that this actually is not entirely the prompt, but was 100% inspired by it — I owe you one ❤️ Bucky Egan/War correspondent OC, also on Ao3! Set a little bit after this prompt. Featuring Jo with some new mail and Bucky having some thoughts and feelings about that.

The Clarion starts running her picture with the new pieces.

She doesn’t hate it, but at the same time it doesn’t quite look like her, the posed portrait she’d sat for in London with her hair pinned back her uniform pressed. She’s more herself in the photos Kay takes, under the cloudy English skies. But she can’t argue with it either — a uniform means something official, and isn’t that what they’re working for? To be taken seriously, to get what the boys are given without having to fight tooth and nail for it, without jokes about lipstick or hair products or a million other things on top of it.

The problem with the picture now, though, is that everyone knows who she is. Not a celebrity, that idea is laughable, but named. Josephine R. Brandt, The Clarion’s Woman in England.

They’re like name-tags too, the adjectives used to describe her and her fellow reporters in bite-sized news items. Marian Brenner is always petite, and Kay is statuesque. Marjory Manning is titian-haired, which always gets a laugh considering Marjory makes no secret that it comes from a bottle. Jo is brunette, and pert. That word always makes Kay choke a little on her cigarette, peering at Jo and the dark circles under her eyes.

She’s spent the last few days amongst the women of the Clubmobile, sleeping in an extra bed dragged in and photographing, rather amateurly, their truck and living quarters. They were much more accommodating to her than they should have been, especially when Jo attempted to work the fryer in the name of journalistic exploration. Thankfully she was much better at cleaning, with no qualms about rolling up her sleeves.

Her hair still smells like grease as she sits in an empty mess hall, picking at one of her nails and ignoring the stack of letters beside her. Her photographs wouldn’t quite capture what she’d tried to in her writing: the smell of perfume and the lingering fryer grease, hair tonic and newsprint and cold evening air, the blankets and bedrolls and towels hanging, tables with books and magazines and framed photographs, small pots of rouge, rosaries, hair combs and extra socks. A sprig of chicory sitting in a drinking glass, the blue flowers starting to wilt at the edges.

A name. A picture. What she hadn’t been thinking about — fanmail.

It was ridiculous, the pile Kay had passed along to her in London and the one she was now patently ignoring next to her elbow. Next to a copy of the paper, a newer one with the picture.

She’d always gotten responses to her pieces back home, whether that meant someone arguing with her about a labor statistic she’d quoted or offering their own version of a recipe back when she’d been on the society pages. Now, overseas, with her name and her picture clear as day, it was like a switch had been flipped.

The only thing that she didn’t have to worry about was William.

The ring was sitting at the bottom of her trunk, buried under a sweater. Tatty had offered to run it over with the Clubmobile, but Jo got worried about the tires. Helen had suggested the fryer. A WAC with strawberry blonde hair voted for a storm drain. Biddick had plans that involved Corporal Lemmons and an unknown quantity of explosives. Douglass, inexplicably, had volunteered to make neat work of it on an upcoming mission. She had no idea how he’d even found out.

Well, she isn’t wearing it anymore, right?

“Thought I’d find you in here.”

She looks up to see Egan making his way through the doors.

“Someone looking for me?”

He glances behind him and smiles, like it’s obvious. “Yeah, me.”

Maybe she knows better by now than to ask what he’s ignoring to be here. Milk run earlier this afternoon. Not flying tomorrow.

Isn’t it time for beers and darts, right about now?

“Just answering some mail.” Actual mail, from home. Not the other stack.

Maybe fanmail is a generous term, she thinks. Most of it is opinions, loud, of where she should or shouldn’t be. Home. Doing war work instead if she had to do something. Some less savory suggestions. Being quiet.

“You’re a popular correspondent,” he says, sitting down across from her.

She snorts.

“I’m just seeing that there’s lot of letters here.”

“Astute observation, Major.” But she’s smiling.

“Friends back home?”

“Yeah. The rest is-” she gestures, almost sighing out the answer in a sudden yawn, the light outside the soft gold of early evening. “I don’t know. People have a lot to say.”

“They do, do they?”

“Sometimes I forget that I’m not just a disembodied voice, is all.”

He looks a little puzzled, but still amused. She throws the paper in front of him, and his eyes catch the column. He whistles. “Front page, huh.”

“They haven’t used a picture before.” She nods back at the stack of letters.

“Oh.” She can’t tell if he’s about to make a joke or not.

“Might just toss them,” she says. They’d be good for the paper pulp if nothing else.

He grabs one off the top, his expression clouding over as he reads.

“They write this kinda stuff to you?” he says after a minute. One of the ones that had ideas about where she should be, namely the writer’s bed. He tosses it down on the table.

She thinks of London, and Norwich, and Pittsburgh, and Philadelphia. “They say it, too.”

He exhales, the sour expression still on his face. Like a lemon. “Sure.”

“You didn’t get to the marriage proposals yet.”

“The what?”

“They’re in there, I promise. They’re nicer.” He laughs a little, just this side of bitter. She tries to look offended, tries to lighten the mood. “Maybe I ought to be insulted.”

“No, no, I just-”

“Just what?”

He’s tapping his foot a little, she can feel it under the table. Fidgeting.

“I just feel lucky, is all.” The question of it is clear on her face. Lucky, sure, to go through hell every day and make it back here, to the ground and the summer-faded English fields. “That you’re not just a picture to me.”

Oh.

Something feels caught in her throat; it takes what feels like too many seconds. “You’re awfully sweet.”

“I mean it.” She wishes she had a little crabapple to pick at, something to do with her hands. “Don’t think a picture could’ve kissed that good either-”

She tries to whack the back of her hand against his arm, but he pulls away — hey, too quick — before he leans forward again, pulls her face to his.

“Not here-” she says, a little too belatedly. He’s grinning, all wolfish. His hands are warm.

“Will you go dancing with me, then?”

A place where they can do this, she assumes, out of sight, or amongst a crowd. She says it because it feels like something she should say. “There’s something planned here for the weekend, right?”

He makes a gentle scoffing sound. “Nah, I don’t-”

“What?”

“I mean, sure, but. You know. Just be prepared for me to keep stealing you away, ok?”

“And how will that look?”Her stomach swoops, out of something like nervousness, the feel of him close to her again.

He looks, maybe, the most boyish she’s seen him. “Like I don’t like sharing.”

Like she makes that space for anyone else. That exception. “You can reserve a spot or two on your dance card for me,” she says, diplomacy betrayed by the half-waver of her voice.

He assents, not entirely satisfied, but doesn’t try for another kiss. Not here, at least. She feels a chill go through her then, when he pulls away from her, lets go.

#trying not to overthink things 2k24 #masters of the air oc #mota oc #rosies-riveters #thank you friend <3 #jo's tag #motaverse #shoshi writes #stop telling me amateurly isn't a word i'm saying it's a word

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mendessi · 1 year

Text

speak now | part five

pairing: fem!reader x pre-outbreak!joel

summary: joel saves you from the biggest mistake of your life

(this will end up being a multi-part story)

word count: 2.8k

warnings: smut probably, pre-outbreak, mentions of marriage, based off speak now by taylor swift, mentions of domestic abuse, joel is 26 & reader is 21, mentions of cheating, kind of slow burn, brief mention of death, angst, will add more as i think of them, not proofread

this chapter: kind of domestic joel at the very end

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

minors dni

"Do you have everything together?" Joel asked Tommy as he entered the hotel room.

"Yeah, all packed." He said.

"What time do you wanna head out tomorrow?"

Tommy hesitated and it came out as more of a question, "Two?"

"Two? We won't get to Austin til after midnight if we leave at two. I already told the Adler's we'd stay for dinner after getting Sarah." Joel almost raised his voice, but refrained. Tommy understood why he had been so touchy recently and gave him a pass because of it. He had lost you the only person he ever really loved.

"I asked around and she's getting married at two." Tommy told him, hoping Joel would pick up the rest.

"I'm not watching her get married." Joel finally snapped and then put his head in his hands muttering an apology to his brother.

"Not watch... Stop." Tommy said. "You can't let her get married to that man, Joel. Statistics don't lie and she will not survive that relationship."

"That's not my problem." The words stung coming off his tongue and it almost made him physically sick, "She doesn't love me and I don't love her. Just some summer fling."

"That's a lie and you know it." Tommy took a seat in the chair across from the bed. "Joel, you were like a love sick puppy following her around these last few weeks. Never in my life have I seen you so infatuated with somebody, let alone someone you just met."

"I know." Joel sighed. "I know. That's why it's hell, Tommy. Losing her to someone like him. It scares me thinkin what she'll go through. It makes my chest hurt like I can't breathe knowin that we'll be gone tomorrow and she'll just be stuck with him for the rest of her life. It fuckin hurts, Tommy."

"So don't let her get married tomorrow." Tommy told him.

"She doesn't want me." Joel shook his head and looked at the ground.

"I'm gonna tell you somethin, Joel." Tommy inhaled a short breath and then looked up at his devastated brother in front of him.

The next morning your annoying mother-in-law woke you up barely as the sun was rising, talking about how you had hair and makeup appointments to get to and that you needed to eat breakfast before doing so.

It felt like you were in your own personal hell being dragged around all morning by her. Barely touching your breakfast, the idea that you'd be married come this afternoon making you nauseous. If only this woman knew how horrible her son was.

People were in and out of your house all morning, people you didn't know. Everyone invited you didn't know because they were all his friends and family. You only had the friends you worked with and they were hardly friends, you certainly weren't close enough to invite them to your wedding.

The day was beautiful at least. You almost wished it had been storming so it would be called off all together and would deny your betrothal a bit longer. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and for the first time all summer, the temperatures weren't scorching hot. It was how you always imagined the day to be when you dreamed about your wedding.

Staring in the mirror, you found it easy to dissociate from the reality that was currently setting in. People touched your face and your hair and even your nails despite having them done just the day before. You thought of Joel and how he was probably halfway home to his daughter, leaving any thoughts and memories of you behind in Austin. Now you'd get to live with every single piece of himself that he left behind because you lived here.

"Are you not happy?" Your fiance's mother asked.

"I'm great." You forced your best smile and looked at her as she watched what the hair stylist was doing.

"He told me." She said to you.

"He told you?" Your heart sunk and you tried to hide any surprise you might've shown at the question.

"That you had another man in the house while he was away."

"Yes, I did." You didn't bother lying. Even if you did, she wouldn't believe you.

"Did you love him?" She asked.

"More than anyone I've loved before."

"I was in your position once." She said. "When I married his dad. I didn't want to but I did it because it was a woman's only way of survival back then: marrying into wealth. I loved somebody else but he couldn't give me what I needed."

You sat there speechless that she was opening up to you. Over the three years of you knowing her, you never talked so personally. It was refreshing to say the least than her regular nonsense about things that simply didn't matter to you.

"I'm sympathetic for you. I know what it's like to be in your position. I won't pretend my son is perfect but neither were we as parents so perhaps that's our own fault. Going through with something like this is quite frankly a woman's purpose in life. Doing things we don't want to for the sake of a man's ego." She said to you. "At least you look beautiful doing it."

Her words stung but a part of them felt slightly right. This was your place in the world.

"Did you ever see him again? The one you loved?" You found the courage to ask.

With a shake of her head and a sad smile she said, "No, but if she would've came through those altar doors I would've left with her in an instant."

Tears brimmed your eyes as you looked at yourself in the mirror, your mother-in-law zipping the back of your dress up. You felt hopeful that maybe the two of you would have a healthy relationship after today. There wasn't much you knew about maternal relationships, you didn't have one with your own mother so there was nothing to compare it to, but she seemed empathetic today.

With only five sons and no daughters, experiencing a wedding from her daughter-in-laws perspective was somewhat touching to the old woman. It's always different for mothers and daughters in weddings and in childbirth, there are just certain things to be shared between the two.

Your dress was beautiful, handed down to you from his mother, a gesture you didn't expect. It was simple and that was something you loved. The sleeves were sheer which was a nice touch considering the Texas heat and hung just off your shoulders. The neckline was modestly cut straight across and didn't reveal any cleavage but made your collarbones look nice. The dress flowed effortlessly to the ground, pooling ever so slightly at your feet and instead of white it was a soft cream color. Your hair was pulled into a simple bun, pieces left to frame your face.

You held back tears not wanting to ruin your freshly done make up and wished silently that your dad would be here to walk you down the aisle on what you presumed would be the best day of your life. This wasn't the best day like you imagined. You weren't marrying someone you loved and to be honest this day felt like the last one of your own.

"You look beautiful." His mother said placing her hands on your shoulders. "Come, it's almost time."

Your lead to where the rest of the bridal party is stood outside the altar doors and you hear the music start playing. It bothered you that even your wedding party was assigned by his mother, nobody you knew well. His cousins who were your bridesmaids for the day and his groomsmen who he chose all congratulated you upon your arrival and it made you wonder how his entire family seemed so sweet and he was so awful. But then again, he was sweet at first too.

The music didn't sound like music at all as pair by pair started walking down the aisle, moreso sounding like nails on a chalkboard. His mother snuck back inside to find her seat so it was just you and the wedding planner now who would cue you when to walk. You took multiple deep breaths, each one shakier than the last and stared down at your feet.

"Your turn." The planner said and her and her assistant pulled the large oak doors open to the beautiful altar before you filled with people you barely knew.

You found a steady pace to walk down the aisle falsely returning smiles to those who smiled at you, trying your best to look happy. You imagined your dad had his arm linked with yours and was walking next to you, steadying you from falling. You imagined it was somebody, anybody else standing at the end of the aisle waiting for you. You swallowed the lump in your throat, realizing about halfway down the aisle that you weren't breathing so you reminded yourself to do so.

Once you reached your annoyingly too old for you fiance, you handed your flowers to your maid of honor who you couldn't even remember the name of and took his hands in yours.

"You look ravishing." He said to you, squeezing your hands so hard your knuckles turned white. He had a gleam in his eye like he had won, having you exactly where he wanted you. Joel wasn't coming to the rescue. He had won the prize.

"Let's get this over with." You said quietly as everyone before you returned to sitting.

“This beautiful couple you know and love have invited us to share in this celebration as they affirm their love before us, pledge their faith to one another, and enter into the joys and privileges of marriage." The preacher started and you fought back the tears that were threatening to brim your eyes. You wouldn't let him see you hurt like this.

"If there is anyone present, who can show just cause why these two persons may not be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Your chest tightened as everyone's attention turned towards the sound of the church doors swinging open. Your head turned and it felt like every moment forward happened in slow motion.

Your eyes met Joel's down the aisle standing in the church door frame, looking like a literal angel with the way the sun hugged his figure. Like you always said before, Joel was the sun and he radiated warmth and safety and he was here. He was here to save you.

You looked back to your fiance who had a dumbfounded look spread across his face. Nobody wanted to say anything at all, not understanding who this man was that had just burst through the doors. Your eyes found your fiance's mother who was standing looking between you and Joel and you could've swore she had the tiniest hint of a smile on her lips.

Joel didn't even have to say anything, didn't even have to move for you to drop your fiance's hands. His eyes were hopeful that you'd come with him, he knew you'd come with him but there was still the ounce of doubt that what Tommy had said about your conversation wasn't true. You turned on your heel taking your first step down the stairs just for him to grab your wrist.

"Don't you fucking dare." He said under his breath.

"Now darling, don't cause a scene." You yanked your arm away from him and then picked up the fabric of your dress up just enough so it wouldn't drag as you took off sprinting down the aisle towards Joel, everyone in the audience collectively gasping.

A smile spread across his lips as he held his arms open for you, jumping into them and twirling you around once, pressing his lips to yours. He didn't pull away until you were on the ground and it felt like straight out of a fairytale for you. The moment young you would wait to see in a movie as a child. Joel was the prince and he had saved his princess.

"Let's get out of here." He said taking your hand in his.

Ignoring the screams of your ex fiance as you ran down the steps of the church hand in hand, laughing at how you nearly tripped down the stairs in your dress. This moment was everything to you both.

Joel pulled open the back door of the truck and you both climbed in, Tommy laughing loudly as he pulled off chaotically from the church parking lot.

"I love you. I fucking love you." You said cupping his cheeks and bringing his lips to yours, kissing him with every fiber of fiery passion coursing through your body.

His hands couldn't find one place on your body, just thankful that you were sat safely in front of him, "I love you, baby."

"Where are we going?" You asked through a laugh, as his lips pecked kisses all over your cheeks.

"Home. We're goin home."

ten years later | one year before outbreak day

You sat on the porch watching Sarah play with her younger sister, Savannah, who was born nine short months after you moved to Austin.

"Mom, did you see?!" Sarah laughed as she kicked the soccer ball right past Savannah.

"You gotta dive for it, Sav!" You laughed at the defeated look on her face.

Joel's truck pulled into the driveway and the girls immediately swarmed him and Tommy as soon as they got out of the truck. Tommy immediately began kicking the ball around with the girls, inevitably showing them who was boss. You stood up from the chair and stepped down the porch steps, holding your hands out towards him as he approached you.

"Hi, baby." He grinned down at you kissing you softly. "My shirt again?"

"It's all that fits." You pouted as his hands found their way to your swollen belly. "And barely." You noted how you only had a few buttons done and the rest of the shirt draped open exposing your pregnant belly.

"I love it. How is she?" He asked, brushing his thumb against your skin.

"Good. Any day now." You said standing on your toes to kiss him again. "We missed you."

"Our daughter's a real soccer star, huh?" He asked looking over as Sarah passed the ball around Tommy.

"Oh, she's going for the World Cup one day." You laughed and the two of you walked up to find a seat on the porch. Joel sat in the chair and you sat on his lip, leaning against his chest as his hands rubbed your belly gently.

Not a day passed that you weren't grateful for Joel and your small found family. Everyday reminding you that a found family is bit as beautiful as a born family.

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maybe ill continue this but post outbreak day

#joel miller x you #joel miller #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x fem!reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfic

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