#i look great i feel great i do pretty good for myself and the people around me

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Typical Day For a Bouncer

I'm Joey, a security guard at a night club down the street. I got the job because I'm a big ex-rugby player, but I've kept it for so long because I'm good at handling people. I can't tell you how many underage idiots try to sneak in here. It takes patience, grit, and a keen eye to keep the troublemakers out!

Like any other Friday night, the club is packed tight and a line of impatient patrons stretches down the street. I've gotten good at telling people "no," in a way that makes them listen, so they have no choice but to calmly wait until I feel like checking their ID and letting them in.

Every now and again, I'll have some fools try to sweet talk their way in. Girls try to flirt, guys try to bribe, but the biggest assholes make a scene. It's nothing I can't handle.

Just last week, I had this entitled brat come up to me and demand I let him in. The boy couldn't have thought I'd believe he was twenty-one. He wasn't even in line! I don't remember what I did to get him to shut up, but he kept hammering on and on about his skills with hypnosis. I remember listening to that kid ramble about the voodoo of the mind for what felt like forever.

I don't remember kicking him to the curb, though. He probably got tired and went home.

"Hey, buddy!" a familiar voice squeaks over the music. I roll my eyes, preparing myself to say no yet again.

"Oh, it's you," my deep voice catches in my throat. The kid from last week is standing in front of me once more, ignoring the line of adults to his left. In his ratty sweatshirt and baseball cap, he doesn't look any older than eighteen. Still, the sight of him unlocks a memory I somehow had forgotten. "Hello, sir!" I call back, remembering him as my closest and most respected friend. How could I've forgotten that this boy was my best friend I call sir?

"You gonna let me in, big guy?" A devious grin spreads across his boyish face.

"Of course, sir."

There are a few angry comments from the people waiting in line. I can't imagine they're happy to see this guy ushered into the club before them. Normally, I have a strict policy against VIP treatment. I think everyone should have to wait in line like equals, but sir is great. He can come and go whenever he wants!

"Hey, why don't you take a break from the front and buy me some beers," the boy yells over the roar of the music.

I leave the entrance and start pushing my way through the crowd in the direction of the bar. I probably should've warned the other bouncer that I was taking a break, but my feet were carrying me away before I knew what was happening. The other guard knows what he's doing, but he's still pretty new here. I'm sure he'll be fine.

The bartender gives me a can of light beer, and I hustle it back to the boy on the dance floor. People tend to get out of the way when they see a giant security guard coming through, but the place is so jammed packed that I have to press against several sweaty partiers on the way over.

"Your beer, sir," I say, flinching at the meekness in my voice.

"What the hell is this?" he whines when he sees the drink, "This is crap. Get me the good stuff, and buy a lot of it!" The kid tossed the open can at my broad chest, and the cheap beer splashes across my uniform.

"Yes, sir."

I march back to the bar with a clenched fist, and grab a tray, ordering the barback to fill it up with the more expensive bottles of beer. He glances at my soaked shirt and pants, but averts his eyes the second he sees my less-than-friendly face.

That boy is my best friend. I respect him greatly, but goddamn is he infuriating. How did I even become close to someone so immature? I pacify myself, and carry the tray back over to the kid.

"That's better," he snorts and takes a sip of the premium drink while I stand there to make sure he likes it this time.

"Alright, sir," I begin, thinking about the twenty minute break I've been taking, "I need to get back to work."

"No you don't!" the boy interjects.

"I..." the words fumble in my mouth, "...well, I don't need to, but I should, sir."

"Tell your boss you're done for the night. Then go wait by my car. You can guard it!"

"Yes, sir," the words come out before I even know what I've agreed to.

Before I know it, I'm marching into the back office and calmly telling the club owner that I'm taking the night off. He's pissed, but I'm his most reliable employee, so he doesn't fire me. I can tell he's not happy, though. He looks like he'd take a swing at me if I weren't two feet taller than him and a hundred pounds heavier.

"You make a great watchdog!" the teenager laughs as he comes stumbling out of the club.

Something about him brings a scowl to my face. It might be the way he referred to me as an animal, or it might be the way he's staring at me like I am an animal. Maybe I'm just irritated from standing by this parked car in the cold for the last two hours, but this boy is getting on my nerves.

"No one has bothered your car, sir," I report.

"Good, boy," he slurs and then reaches a gangly arm to pat the top of my head. I can smell the distinct earthiness of the beer I'd bought wafting out with his breath.

Every muscle in my body tenses up, as I try my best to restrain myself. Sir is my best friend. I respect him. I do what he says. I shouldn't get this worked up by him making a little joke at my expense. It's perfectly fine for him to tease me a little since I trust him completely. I know all this.

"Still think hypnosis is fake?" he asks, bringing his wet lips uncomfortably close to my own.

"Sir?" my brow furrows, unsure why he's bringing up that crap again.

"Well, it's real, and you're hypnotized."

I stifle a groan, "Sir, you've had a lot to drink..."

"The only thing I'm drunk on is power!" he yells, smashing a bottle on the sidewalk for effect, "I've got you like a trained dog; that's how good of a hypnotist I am! Let me prove it."

I was pissed. I was livid. Sir had mocked and insulted me repeatedly. It was a bad idea for anyone to pick on me, especially someone a third of my size! Nevertheless, the boy has all my faith, so I kept my mouth clamped shut.

He told me to kneel, and I grunted, "Yes, sir." I already had beer all over my clothes, so what's a little mud on the knees of my pants? It was better to just keep him happy, but that didn't mean he had hypnotized me.

"Keep your arms raised, like you're worshipping me," he went on.

"Yes, sir."

My arms went up. I'll admit this was a bit more strange, but I still trust and respect the teenager enough to comply. That doesn't say anything about my state of mind.

"Alright, now stay like that until I come back," he laughs, "I'm going to get a snack, but if anyone walks by, I want you to bark at them like the hypnotized guard dog you are!"

"Yes, sir," I answer, hearing the hoarseness in my voice.

As the boy stumbles away, I find myself stuck in the position he'd left me in: on my knees, in the cold, with my arms raised in compliance. I'm doing this willingly, right?

Time creeps by uncomfortably slow as I silently wait next to his car. Suddenly, I hear footsteps nearby. A wave of barks burst out of my throat, and I find myself growling like a territorial mutt in the direction of the pedestrians.

Now I'm acting like a dog!

Sir doesn't come back for another hour, which leaves me to viciously snap at numerous other passerby. They seem terrified, which makes sense. They probably think I'm insane! I'm beginning to wonder if I'm insane too.

I respect that boy more than anyone even if I only met him once, a week ago. I really would do anything he told me too. Is that strange? It's not like me to be so...obedient. I'm the kind of guy that normally tells people what to do, so why am I doing this?

There's no way...it's not possible...I can't actually be hypnotized, right?

"Good, boy," he pulls off my cap and ruffles my hair, "Now, be a good dog and drive me to your house. I might fall asleep on the way there, so you'll have to carry me inside to your bed. If you do good, I'll give you a special treat." He licks his lips and reaches a scrawny hand out to squeeze my tired pec.

"Yes, sir," I answer, jumping up to do his bidding, but I can feel that the words aren't really mine.

Shit. I think he's right. I think I am hypnotized.

[gideonisms]

had just like a wildly bad brain day from morning to night but what's most important is, tomorrow I have leftover Coffee Treat. mercy was literally right the world could be ending my life could be falling apart but I WILL have that delicious coffee like that's my priority everything else is secondary

[snekdood]

Dude.. my ex boyfriend totally did get me into conspiracy theory shit, even if unintentionally (i think its intentional im sure he believed in that shit. Would not surprise me at all.) At the time i was already pretty isolated from anyone online who mightve countered any of my dumb spiritual or alien related beliefs because of some dumb shit i said online making most of the friends and followers i made online generally avoid me, depending on who it was. I was just a regular pagan and then he showed me this weird video with all this weird conspiracy theory symbolism in it. I looked it up later on and looked up the meaning of the symbolism and came across a whole bunch of stuff posing itself as Secret Information The US Govt Doesnt Want You To Know About, etc. And then i just fell deeper into the conspiracy theory pipeline, traded my paganism for new age beliefs, and goddamn dude. Like we both got suspended from school bc he had a dumb idea to dumb shit there and i spent my time in detention fucking. Trying to read "the emerald tablets" or whatever tf. Its all coming back to me rn.

[thebeautifulfantastic]

i really want to be one of those beautiful girls who always have impeccable hair and natural-looking makeup but the truth is most days i truly don’t have the desire to put anything more than the bare minimum into my appearances

[fooltofancy]

hate that the only peace i have lately comes from thinking about someday moving back to work in the job that i left to move out here.

[floral-hex]

Constantly regretting not joining a local Cyberpunk Red game when I had the chance.

[drchucktingle]

my masks

hey there buckaroos. due to all of the attention the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION situation has gotten i am going to take a minute to talk about my personal way as an autistic buckaroo. im going to tell you about my masks.

im doing this for a few reasons, some are good FUN reasons full of love and some are not so great. 

lets start with the GOOD STUFF. first of all, i am talking about this because speaking on my way can help other buckaroo feel more comfortable speaking on there own way, ESPECIALLY if they are good at ‘passing’ for neurotypical like chuck is. 

unfortunately the NOT SO GREAT reasons im talking about all this dang stuff are two fold. reason one: i have been put into a position of having to explain and justify my needs and boundaries by the TXLA. this is not something that i WANT to be taking up all of my time, but when large organizations do not make space for those who they have pledged to support, it puts us smaller buckaroos into position where were have to defend our existence. it is not plesent but it is necessary.

the second NOT SO GREAT reason is that ‘passing’ bisexual and autistic people like myself are ALWAYS just seconds from being gatekept from folks both outside and inside these communities. there will probably be a day on chucks deathbed where i take off my mask and say hello to this timeline (mostly so you can all see how handsome i am under here but I DIGRESS). i KNOW with absolute certainty (the same way other bi and autistic buckaroos are probably nodding along right now) that when that day comes i will STILL be accused of ‘not being real’ and ‘faking’ because i ‘dont look autistic’ and i have a beautiful ladybuck partner in sweet barbara.

ALL THAT IS TO SAY, i am taking a moment today to talk FOR THE RECORD about my neurodigence and my particular needs. hopefully i will not have to keep diving this deep every time an organization takes a discrimantory action against me, but i will also say this: at least it is a good fight on an important battlefield

anyway buds, here is the story of my way on the spectrum

when i was a young buckaroo i knew that my thought process was different. i could socialize easily, which is unique in contrast to many autistic buds (it is a spectrum after all), but my social ease was for an interesting reason. I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT OTHERS WERE ABOUT TO SAY. it was like a strange ‘human game’ where someone would say one thing and i would think ‘well you actually mean something else’ in a sort of logical way (this is why i later related to DATA from star trek so dang much). at first i remember thinking ‘well i am just NOT going to play along with this human game’. i quickly learned neurotypical buckaroos do not like this, that there is a BOB AND WEAVE to social interactions that must be learned. 

later i realized ‘actually if i WANT to make friends and prove love is real then i can do this like an expert because i can SEE the game where most cant’. this got chuck many buds and took me on many adventures. please understand, i am not saying these connections are not important to me, they are just different. they are full of love, but i express this in my own unique way.

HOWEVER, while growing up i felt disconnected from this timeline in other ways, like an alien or a reverse twin trotting along in a world that is not quite my own. i did not feel emotions the same way my buds did. they would get upset over the ‘human game’ interactions and i would not be moved at all, HOWEVER i could see the way sunlight hit a window and start crying my dang eyes out over the beauty. so my emotion was still there and VERY STRONG, i just felt it in more existential ways (like hearing the call of the lonesome train). these days that feeling has progressed to where i am pretty much in a constant blissed out state of cosmic emotional connection (make of that last sentence what you will, but it is the truth). when i make existential posts online i am not just FIRING OFF SOME CONTENT, i really mean every word. this is really my trot.

anyway as a young buckaroo these feelings made me worry sometimes. i thought about various mental health dianosises and marked the parts and pieces that matched with myself. am i this? am i that? sometimes, instead of just being’ different’ i worried i might actually be ‘wrong’. 

when i saw david byrne on letterman in my younger days i immediately recognized something connected to myself. i thought ‘wow this is the mystery being solved before my very eyes.’ i could hear it in the music of talking heads too. i started doing research and realized that i might be on autism spectrum, something that was later confirmed by a therapist (back then the diagnosis was called asperger's). it was a glorious and fulfilling moment. i was SO EXCITED TO BE AUTISTIC LIKE MY HERO. i felt very cool because of it, and i still feel very cool because of it.

one of the big reasons i talk so much about being autistic these days is because i want to make sure OTHER buckaroos can have that same moment that i did. they can see chuck and think ‘wow i really like this autistic artist, maybe being autistic is cool’

so what does an average day WITHOUT wearing the pink bag look like for me?

my thought process is exactly like ROSE from CAMP DAMASCUS, which is part of why i wrote the book. we have the same stim (complex order of finger taps), we prepare for social interactions the same way, we analyze things in the same logical trot that neurotypical people might think feels ‘detached’ but for me feels natural (certain reviews of camp damascus are very funny to me in this way. you can tell when a reader is just very confused by existing in an autistic brain for 250 pages.)

from the outside you would not be able to tell that i am on the spectrum. in fact you would probably find me very socially adept. 

the problem is, all of that masking can take its toll. i spent years trotting in and out the emergency room, talking to confused doctors who could not figure out the chronic phantom tension and pain that radiated through my body. i eventually accepted the fact that i would either live a life constantly on heavy painkillers or just stop living altogether.

eventually, however, i started noticing a correlation between the way that i felt, and the space that i allowed for chuck and the pink mask. i was exercising that tension, allowing my mental mask of neurotypical existence to take a rest. i started practicing physical therapy and this time THE RESULTS STUCK because i was approaching from two sides, MIND AND BODY. after a while, i got my pain down to about 5 percent of what it once was. i still have flare ups in times of stress, but the healing has been very real and life changing.

lets get VERY specific now. if i attended the TXLA confrence without a mask and gave my talk i can tell you this: i would do a dang good job. i can work the heck out of a crowd and (not to reveal too much about my secret way) I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO DO THIS ON OCCASION VERY WELL. however, going home from this event i would very likely be in pain. i would likely need to do physical therapy. i would likely need to stim for a while. i would NOT be emotionally fullfilled in the same way. in other words, without my pink mask i can charm the heck out of buckaroos, but THE SPACE OF CHUCK TINGLE IS NOT THE SPACE FOR THAT. the pink bag is a place for me to not have to put up with that tension. it is a place for me to unmask mentally by masking physically.

this pink bag space SAVED MY LIFE and i am not going to risk blurring these lines. if and when that ever happens it will be MY decision, not someone elses. that is my boundary. the part of me that neurotypically masks could handle a library conference in a purely technical sense, but the part of me that chuck represents absolutely cannot and should not be asked to do that without the pink bag. unfortunately, the complexity of this point makes it even MORE difficult for me to think about and takes up even more of my time, because it forces me to START QUESTIONING MYSELF and my own needs. to be honest, that is the most insidious part of other people questioning your identify and refusing to accept your accommodation needs without ‘proof’.

the thing is, while all of this discussion of disability and accessibility is important, i have a much larger point to make by writing these words.

a conference should not uninvite someone with an unusual physical presentation or a strange way of speaking REGARDLESS of it being classified as a disability. it does not matter WHY i look the way that i look and wear what i wear. i should not have to spend all day writing this post instead of writing my next book, just because my sensibilities are unique and my presentation is unusual. 

fortunately the solution is very simple: let other people be themselves. its not hurting you to simply accept and nod at the buckaroos you think look strange. let us exist

[a-hazbin-reader]

Can you do an Alastor x fem!reader where Alastor confesses his love to her, but she doesn't believe him, thinking it's some kind of sick joke? She just laughs nervously, saying something like “yeah, yeah, I got it, very good joke, Al, your humor is getting better,” expecting that it will actually turn out to be some kind of prank

However, Alastor doesn't stop and tries to convey to her that he really loves her, but she still doesn't believe him because she doesn't trust him completely. Like, he's the radio demon, one of the most dangerous and powerful overlords who seemingly despised the idea of ​​getting close to someone, what if he just wants to trick her so he can maybe make a deal with her or something?? That's why at first she tries to avoid him in order to get rid of this awkwardness due to his confessions, but gradually in the end she begins to meet him halfway and considers the idea of ​​​​starting to date him after all. Not official yet, but the chances are great

WELP-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: None?? I think??

Description: ☝️⬆️

You're used to expecting the worst-case scenario and protecting your heart first and foremost, it's just how you learned to survive

You've learned not to trust anyone, especially anybody down here in hell with you, everyone has an ulterior motive

Yet...by some weird twist of fate you found yourself a home at the hotel, Charlie somehow having convinced you to stay

Whether or not you believed in redemption, you couldn't deny that you didn't feel a sense of closeness with everyone there

Even Alastor was nice to hang around sometimes, though you didn't trust him in the slightest

How could you? The Radio Demon?? He's got plans for his plans and only sees people for their use, he doesn't care about anyone, especially not you

You're just amusing to him, which is fine, you can tolerate being amusing just not being used

You had a comfortable relationship with the overlord which was something that not many people could say

You two got along well enough, spent a good amount of time together and actually had decent conversations

He'a charming and handsome, a dangerous combination but you were far too addicted to his presence now to worry about it, you can still protect your heart

Or at least you did, until Alastor decided to toy with your feelings, how he found out about your budding crush was beyond you

You two were walking alone together at night, laughing at some couple you two had witnessed earlier, teasing them

"I just don't understand how any man could be that whipped for a woman! I can't wrap my head around it..!"

Instead of joining in your laughter, he hummed and looked over at you strangely before looking ahead

"Oh, I don't know... I find myself understanding men like that a little more these days."

It's like a bucket of ice water just fell on you, your laughter cutting off as you look at him in confusion

"What do you mean? Are you...seeing someone or something?"

He looks as uncomfortable as a man with a permanent smile can be, tapping his claws against his staff

"Heavens no, but that doesn't mean there isn't someone special in my life... someone I wouldn't mind courting."

He gives you a meaningful glance then looks away again, stopping suddenly and facing you

"Alastor-"

"I wouldn't mind being whipped for you."

Your stomach sours and you frown, pushing at his shoulder a little harder than you meant to

"Yeah, that's real funny, Alastor. Why don't you go try that joke on someone else next time?"

You walk off as quickly as you can, leaving a baffled looking Alastor in your dust

Do you have any idea how hard it was for him to confess!? He grits his teeth and rubs his hand over his face as he watches you run away from him

You don't talk to him the next day, or the day after that, in fact... Alastor is pretty sure you're avoiding him because any time he tries to talk to you-

You find an excuse to run off, your relationship with him awkward and nervously hanging on by a thread

He ruined it and all your walls came right back up

You should've known he would exploit your weakness like that, should've seen that he was only being so good to you because he wanted to use everything he learned against you

You don't know what he gets out of it or what his goal is, but you're sure he's got an angle

Even now, he's trying to mess with your feelings, bringing you flowers, pushing little notes under your door, one time he even tried to serenade you

He keeps trying to tell you that he cares about you, that he feels for you, that he wants you, and you just don't want to hear it

It hurts to be toyed with

Everyone else at the hotel can see what's happening between you two which makes everything that much more embarrassing

"Come on, Husk! I know you know something! Why is he targeting me!? What do I have that he wants?"

Husk looks visibly uncomfortable, looking over your body before looking away, suddenly interested in a smudge on a glass

"I don't know anything so quit asking me! Why don't you just sit down and talk with him, huh?"

Oh, he knows something

Angel smirks and nudges your leg with his own, invading your personal space to further tease you

"You're tellin' me that you ain't flattered by all this attention he's givin' you? I've seen the way he's been mooning over you lately, and let me tell you~ That shit ain't fake~"

You huff and shake your head, mostly to hide the blush on your face from them

"He has an angle, everyone always does."

"Look if you wanna be a blind bitch then be my guest but at least promise me you'll hit that and tell me the details~?"

"ANGEL!"

You can't avoid Alastor forever no matter how hard you try, eventually running into him late one night when everyone else is in bed

You should've known better than to get that late night snack, but you had skipped dinner earlier, and you were hungry

You're washing your plate off when you hear Alastor walk in, stiffening once you realize you have no real excuse to run away anymore

"Alastor-"

He sucks in a breath and stays still as if scared he'll chase you away, which he might actually be worried about due to your actions lately

"I know you think I confessed to you in order to get something from you but that's far from the truth. I do genuinely find myself attached to you."

You feel your lip wobble a little, hugging yourself as you look away from him

"Don't. Don't you dare mess with me like this or I'll never forgive you, Alastor."

He takes another step closer to you, cautious as if trying not to scare you away

"I'm being entirely honest with you, I've fallen for you in ways I can't even begin to understand or convey to you. These last few weeks have been torture for me."

He's gripping your arms gently to stop you from turning away, the simple touch spreading warmth throughout your body

You have missed him a lot...

"I'm not asking that you confess your love to me, I only want a chance to show you I'm being genuine with you..."

You glance up at him before taking a step back, blushing furiously at the pathetic puppy eyes he's giving you

You can't believe you're going to agree to this, he better not make you regret it later or you'll make him suffer for it

You sigh and point at him, doing your best to remain calm and not let your emotions show

"I'll think about it, okay? Just...give me time to think."

He visibly relaxes and sighs in relief, giving you a warm smile as if you had just said yes

"That's more than I could ask for, I'll wait hundreds of years for you if that's what you want."

You blush more and have to cover your mouth to stop an excited squeal from escaping your lips

"Q-quit flirting with me! I already said I'd think about it..!"

He chuckles softly and reaches out to rub your cheek before pulling away and turning to leave

"Okay okay~ I'll wait for you...~"

He leaves you there in the dark, blushing and fuming to yourself

Having a handsome overlord on your arm wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen to you

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!

[imfinereallyy]

hummingbirds

Steve’s crying on the porch of his parents' house, with a duffel bag and baseball bat, when Eddie pulls into the driveway.

“Jesus, Steve, what happened?” Eddie crouches down to get eye level with Steve. Despite being dark out, the sun set long ago, and the outdoor lights weren’t on. Steve turns to look at his parents' car in the driveway and thinks back to when the lock had distinctly turned shut on the front door. They were around to switch the lights on; they just didn’t care anymore to do so.

Steve is grateful for the moonlight, as he can see the pretty lines on Eddie’s face. Even if they currently curve into a frown.

“Hey Eds.” Steve’s voice cracks.

“Stevie…what happened?” Eddie asks again, this time it’s gently. It cradles Steve and holds him softly. He wishes Eddie’s hands would do the same.

“Did you know hummingbirds are the only birds that can fly backward?” Steve sniffles.

Eddie’s face scrunches in confusion, “What? Birds? You lost me.”

Steve pushes past Eddie’s confused face. “They are the only birds to fly backward. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Dustin to teach me that out of the munchkins. It was actually El. She’s apparently going through a bird phase. And I don’t think the others are very interested. So I try to pay attention when she talks about it. And she taught me about hummingbirds.”

Eddie settles on his knees, “That’s great, man and those little shits should listen to her more, but I’m not sure what that has to do with what’s wrong. You called me to come pick you up and hung up before I could even answer.”

Steve bites his lip, “Sorry, my dad clicked the phone off.” Eddie’s face shows surprise, but Steve keeps talking before he can interrupt. “And well, I guess hummingbirds have nothing to do with anything. It’s stupid, really.”

“No, no. It’s not stupid. Tell me about the birds, Stevie.” Eddie’s hand finally reaches out to Steve. He brushes the fallen hair out of his face, and something in Steve just sets him off.

“You see, they can fly backward. And well, no, I’m getting ahead of myself. You see, my cousin Tucker is here to visit. And let me tell you, he is the worst. Like Eddie, you would hate him. Conservative, capitalist enthusiast, real bootlicker kind of guy.”

“Sounds like the worst. Especially if he made you use the big words.” Eddie’s hand falls away, and Steve mourns the loss. Normally, when people make jokes about his intelligence, it stings. It makes him feel small. But when Eddie does it, it isn’t mean or a poke at how stupid Steve is. With Eddie, it’s almost like he’s reminding Steve that he is smart. That maybe Steve is the one making himself small.

He is.

“Anyway, he’s visiting, right? So my parents come home. And I haven’t seen them in months, since before spring break. It’s nearly October, and I haven’t seen them, and I can’t tell if I’m excited or dreading their arrival. It’s always a fight when they are around, how I’m not good enough, how I should be more. Their visits always end up being cut short, and me feeling like shit. But this stupid, stupid part of me was hoping it would be different this time. They haven’t seen me since the “earthquakes.” Surely they’ll be happy to see I’m okay, right?”

Eddie stays silent, his face revealing nothing.

“Of course, it’s not. They only came home because my cousin Tucker was in town. All the way from Indy cause it’s so far. And my mom ‘made’ dinner, as in she ordered it and pretended she made it. It wasn’t even that good, but we all pretended it was the best thing ever made. Cause that’s what they do, pretend. And the dinner is fine, boring. Most of it is just me staying silent while my dad and Tucker talk about the business. Tucker runs the Indy office while my dad is in New York. Ya see, Tucker has been gunning to take over for my dad when he retires, which is another word for dies—“ Steve let’s put a bitter laugh; he wonders if his parents are listening. He doubts it.

“—and they are going on for the whole meal, and I’m almost through the home stretch when my dad brings up me, coming to work for him.”

Eddie reacts finally, “You’re going to New York?” His voice is strained, like he is trying very hard not to yell, not at Steve, but at anyone who will listen. Steve is quick to correct.

“No, no, I’m not. This was news to me to Eds. I have no interest in my dad's business, and as far as I was concerned, he didn’t want me a part of it either. Guess that has changed. Has? Had? I don’t know…” Steve trails off.

“Harrington.”

“Don’t call me that. It makes me think you’re mad at me. Besides, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” Steve bites.

“Sorry, Steve. I’m not mad. I promise. Just, what do you mean?” Eddie’s head tilts to the side, his curls cascading down his shoulder. It reminds Steve of a river, dark water rippling in the moonlight.

“I was so shocked, Eds. When he said that. That I was quiet, I should have corrected him, maybe. Maybe I could have fixed it. But Tucker was so quick to act. He was pissed. He knows my working for my dad means me being set up to take over. And Tucker, he’s worked too hard to make sure he does get the business. But instead of yelling, he just gets this concerned look on his face. And he…”

“He what?”

Steve wrenches his eyes shut as he recalls the rest. As he recalls the way Tucker’s face faked worry as he struck. Like he has been waiting for the right moment to ruin Steve. He manages to open his eyes eventually, only to see Eddie’s face once again. The honest look on his face is enough to push Steve on.

“In the summer, Robin was feeling sad. This was before you guys knew about each other, and I was the only one who knew about her. And she was sad cause nothing had happened with Vicky and she felt so alone. And I hated seeing her like that. And so, so I took her to Indy. And, and—“ Steve starts to hyperventilate.

Eddie takes him by the shoulders. “Breathe for me, Steve. Come on, baby, match my breaths. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Steve matches Eddie’s breath. Ignores how the word baby calms him down instantly. “Tucker told my dad that he saw me in Indy. That he saw me come out of a gay club, Eddie. And he went on about how they should focus more on getting me help, than putting me in a power position, again Eds, which I don’t even want! And how I would be a bad look for the company. How would it look if a company whose whole image is family values, only successor, turned out to be gay.”

Eddie flinches a bit, but doesn’t let go of him. Steve feels instant regret. “That isn’t what I meant, Eddie.”

Eddie shushes him, “I know, sweetheart. You’re just upset. I know. Did you tell him that you weren’t there for you? Or maybe that Rick was mistaken; it was a regular club?”

Steve rubs a hand down his face, “And what? Tell him that my two best friends in the entire world are gay? So that I can be shipped off to New York and never see them again? Yeah right. I’d rather face the bats again than be removed from you two. And I’m not going to out you guys like that.”

Something warm crosses Eddie’s face, “So, you lied then?”

“Before I could say anything my dad reacted.”

Eddie freezes, a darkness swims in his eyes. “He put his hands on you?”

“No, no!” Steve panics, and he purposely leaves out the ‘not this time.’ Eddie isn’t necessarily a violent person. But he does have a protective streak. As admirable as it is, Steve doesn’t want him to get hurt.

Eddie relaxes but only slightly.

“He was actually pretty calm, which is even more terrifying. I expected him to yell, throw things. But instead he just turns and says, ‘Is this true, Steven?’. And what gets me is they didn’t even question why my cousin was anywhere near that club in the first place. Why did he see me there? Instead, he just asks me if it’s true. And it’s the first time in a long time, if ever, that my dad asks me this. He always just assumes I’ve fucked up. And this time, he really asked me about the truth. And I couldn’t, I couldn’t lie. I don’t know why, but it felt wrong to. So I didn’t. I just told him, ‘Yes. It’s true.’”

“Stevie…”

Steve throws out a bitter laugh, “And you know what? He still doesn’t freak out. He just tells me I have five minutes to get my shit and get out. That I needed to call a ride because the car was under the name Steve Harrington, and I was no longer a Harrington. And he was so calm. And my mom just sat there, and I just listened. I didn’t fight. I am so tired of fighting.”

“Steve, why not just tell them the truth? Tell them you were there for a friend?” Eddie’s tone isn’t scolding, only curious.

“See, that’s because I started thinking about hummingbirds, Eddie. I started thinking about how they fly forwards and backward and how they are the only ones that can do that. Isn’t that fascinating? These small birds are so strong and interesting, and can do something no one else can do. But no other birds understand; the rest of them just fly forwards Eds. And I—I feel like that sometimes. That I’m not flying in one direction, ya know?”

Steve feels like he isn’t making much sense, but then Eddie nods and looks at Steve. Like really looks at Steve, and sees him. And Steve feels raw, stripped of his skin, exposed, and it should hurt, but it feels so fucking good. And Eddie stares deep into Steve’s eyes and says, “Yea, I know.”

“I didn’t want to lie. Because even though Tucker was wrong, he was also right. I wasn’t there for me, but I think I needed to be there. To get it. And I think that I’m flying backward, Eds. And I’m worried it’s wrong of me, that it shouldn’t be allowed. And that there is no purpose to me flying backward if I can just go forwards. If I can just fly with the rest of them. But I don’t think, I don’t think I’ve ever really taken flight before. Not before I understood I could also go backward.”

It’s in this moment, where Steve is covered in tears and snot that Eddie finally takes his hands and cradles Steve’s face. Steve’s never felt safer.

“Listen to me, sweetheart; there is nothing wrong with you. Okay? Nothing wrong with you. Just because you can fly forwards doesn’t mean you have to, doesn’t mean you should. Sometimes you’re going to have to fly backward; you’re not going to have a choice. It’s just the direction you’re fast, huge, hummingbird heart takes you. And it might take you a bit to learn that. To understand that, but I will make sure that you do. Because you, Steve Harrington, are fucking fearless and fucking beautiful, and I am so goddamn proud of you.”

Steve finally reaches his breaking point and collapses in Eddie’s arms. Full body, ugly sobs wreck Steve. He is sure that he is soaking Eddie’s favorite Black Sabbath t-shirt to the bone, but he can’t find it himself to care. His fingers dig into Eddie’s back as he clutches tighter as his breathing picks up.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. Remember that. I got you. I got you.” Eddie whispers into Steve’s ear.

Steve picks his head up when he finally calms down, and looks at Eddie. “You.”

“What’s that?” Eddie says softly, rubbing circles through Steve’s polo.

“I called you. Because, I think—no, I know, that I’ve been flying backward, to you. For a while now. And I knew that, even if you weren’t too, you’d still show up. And I just—just need you to know that. I am so grateful you showed up.”

Steve knows he should feel nervous telling Eddie all this, but he isn’t. He strangely feels like his dad at this moment, calm and unmoving. Steve doesn’t understand many things in this world, but he understands that even if Eddie doesn’t love him like that, Eddie still loves Steve in plenty of other ways.

It’s still nice, though, when Eddie leans forward and kisses Steve’s forehead. Steve closes his eyes and releases a breath.

Eddie slides his head down slightly so their foreheads are pushed together affectionately. “Stevie, I’ll always fly backward to you.”

Although it’s awful how they got here, Steve can’t help but feel happy at this moment. He also can’t help the silly giggle that comes out of him, “I think we have just lost all meaning to this metaphor at this point.”

Eddie snorts, “Oh, have we? And here I thought we were having a nice moment, a poetic one at that, telling each other ‘I love you.’”

Steve blinks at him, “You love me?”

Eddie frown lines finally turn upwards, “Yea baby, I love you.”

“I—“

Eddie cuts Steve off. “Tell me in the morning. When your tears have dried, and I’ve woken up with you in my arms. I want to hear it in the daylight. Okay? Let’s go home.” Eddie stands, offering a hand to Steve.

“Home?”

“Yea home, got to fly back to our nest.”

Steve can’t help the snort he releases, “Dork.”

Eddie just smiles, “Thought I told you to save the ‘I love you’ til the morning.”

Steve smiles back as he takes Eddie’s hand, “I didn’t…”

Eddie squeezes Steve’s fingers, “Yea, ya did.”

****

I’m back, not dead, and in my feelings. Thinking about expanding on this one. I hope you guys like it. 🧡🧡

[punksocks]

Astrology Observations No.26

(Just based on my opinions, only take what resonates)

-Aquarius mars can denote a career around trends, tech, and social media. It can also denote your career taking off during times of social progress or spearheading social progress. (John Boyega’s career took off when he became the face of a much more diverse Star Wars, and a lot of his most celebrated roles have a social consciousness to them, pretty great if I do say so myself)

-Virgo venus gets the reputation of being picky in relationships (and they are) but I feel like Sagittarius Venus can be more fickle. Virgo Venus natives have a set of standards and attributes they’re looking for, but Sagittarius Venus natives will put you on a pedestal then knock you off of it when you do something they don’t like.

-Underdeveloped Gemini Venus will ghost you in the middle of a crisis (man Pisces Venus too, but they may feel bad about it lol)

-When it comes to a sense of justice, I feel as though (developed) Scorpio moons give everyone a run for their money

-I feel like Aquarius in big 3 (sun, moon, rising) can often find themselves being forced to be humanitarian/being made to work toward the greater good in some situations (to lend others money, to take care of friends/family, to befriend someone lonely, etc.) I feel like these placements often can be forced to give more of themselves than they are comfortable with (developed ones will often find a great sense of joy in connecting with others through care though)

-On the other hand I feel like Leo in the big 3 can find themselves being forced to pay attention to themselves/become the center of attention (elevated at a job for their hard work, given unexpected attention for a talent, etc.) With Leo placements I notice that in their home life or childhood they may not receive the attention they need, but early on they get attention from outsiders. So they end up going through this arch of getting more comfortable with their sense of self and being in the spotlight.

-Aries placements can often be the first in their family to do something (go to college, start a business, etc) without more long term oriented placements things like businesses may not last though

-Virgo/Gemini/3rd/6th house placements and having an absolute weakness for stationary lol (I have a 3rd house Stellium and I have to force myself not to buy a sketchbook or notebook every time I’m out, with a 40% success rate lol)

-I always expect Libra placements (especially sun/Asc/Venus/mars) to have a very blonde/fair/delicate features naturally but a lot of Libras have this gothic look, like raven hair ivory skin classic beauty (and a lot of PoC I follow with Libra placements can be much darker skinned, which is also a beautifully classic look)

-I think Jupiter and Saturn count towards your personality, but since they’re slower moving planets I view them as the bridge between the asc/sun/moon/mercury/Venus/mars placements that really directly define your personality and the generational planets that show up in traits across people in your age range (but effect everyone differently because of house placements and aspects)

-Do a lot of people get sick during Scorpio season? Or is it just me ?? (During the last week of Scorpio season like 6 people I knew got sick at the same time and I had a medical thing, wtf it’s uncanny)

-I think Neptune in Capricorn is a big reason that depression became such a focal point for younger millennials and elder gen z- well that and late stage capitalism but yknow. (Capricorns being prone to depression, and Neptune ruling over mental illness)

-You may show more of the traits of the sign in your 12th house when inebriated (like sun in 12th may be more outgoing when they drink, moon in 12th may be more introverted/emotional, mercury in 12th may be more chatty and inquisitive, Venus in 12th may be more charming/romantic, mars in 12th may be more aggressive/antagonistic/s*xual)

-Mars in 12th/Pisces mars may find that unresolved tension sits on their subconscious and makes it hard for them to do other tasks

-Cancer over the houses can show where you feel at home (cancer in the 4th is super loyal to their family/mother, cancer in the 7th means you feel at home with a nurturing partner, cancer in the 9th means you feel at home abroad and traveling and with other communities or with religion, cancer in 11th means you feel super at home with your friends.)

[kiss-inthekitchen]

favorite insomniac | spencer reid

a little warm-up exercise i just finished <3 you can't sleep, so you decide to call the only other person you know who would be awake at this hour. ~500 words

You don’t get insomnia. Usually, you fall asleep quickly and easily, and then devolve into any number of nightmares or vivid dreams or somethings that cause to you wake up feeling like you hadn’t slept at all. 

Obviously not great. But not insomnia.

Tonight, however, is not a usual night.

You roll over once again, after what feels like hours but is probably only twenty minutes of lying as still as possible and trying to will your body to be tired. You check the time on your phone; 3:14 AM. 

Ugh. You have to be at work in less than 6 hours, awake in less than 5. Closer to 4, if you want to actually look presentable. 

You groan, scrubbing your hands over your face and barely resisting the urge to start punching your pillows. 

And then you give up. 

There’s one insomniac you know who’s got a pretty good chance of being awake right now. You've dialed the number before you can even think about it. The line rings once, and you realize what an inappropriate, quite possibly disrespectful choice this had been. You’re about to hang up, hovering over the red button, when you hear him. 

“Hey,” he says, voice raspy. 

Oh god, oh god. “Please tell me I didn’t wake you up.” 

“No,” Spencer chuckles bitterly, “You didn’t. What’s wrong?” 

“I can’t sleep?” 

His eyebrows raise halfway to his hairline. “So you called me?” 

You and Spencer are coworkers. You’re friends. You just don’t really hang out much outside of work and work-related events. Not that you haven’t wanted to, you just… don’t really know how. Or if you should. Or if it would be particularly smart. 

“I’m so sorry. I figured if anyone was liable to be awake right now, it’d be… I wasn’t thinking. I’ll let you go, I’m–” 

“Hey, it’s alright,” he says, amused. You’re the only person he ever gets the opportunity to calm down; he’s usually the most nervous person in the room. “This doesn’t usually happen to you though, does it?” 

“No,” you huff, flopping back against your pillows. “I’d ask you for tips, but whatever you’re doing clearly isn’t working.” 

“That’s nice.” 

“Am I wrong?” 

“No, you’re not wrong.” 

You make a self-satisfied little “hmph” sound. 

“What did you call me for then?” 

Something in the timbre of his voice makes your heart speed up. “I don’t know, human connection across the ether that is 3 AM?” The sense that you’re the only two people in the universe. The sound of his voice. Not that you could say that part out loud.

“Wanna go for a drive?”

Huh? “Wh– We have work in, like, 5 hours.” 

“Oh, you haven’t been counting, have you?”

“You mean like thinking ‘if I fall asleep right now at this moment I could get 5 hours of sleep’ but then I still don’t fall asleep and I watch the minutes go by until it’s only 4 and a half hours and then I get angry at myself for being awake and then I’m somehow even more awake?” 

He chuckles, dark and rich through the phone. “The classic trap. Never count the hours.” 

“Now you tell me.” 

“Alright,” he grunts, and you hear him shuffling around, “I’m picking you up.”

“You're what?!"

"I'm picking you up," his voice lilts up, almost like a question. But not like he's asking for permission, more like he's teasing you. Like he knows your answer anyway.

"Now? You have a car?” 

“Yes, now. And yes, I have a car,” you hear jingling on the other end. “You’re gonna like it.”

[givemefevrr]

I just read your dom!enha post and jake ?? mr sim ?? the thought of him being possessive ??? ugh I'm the weakest soldier out there !! him seeing you run into your ex and just have a simple convo yet he gets moody af for the few next days without telling why he's suddenly like this then all this ending up in an angry sex ?? pleaseeeeeeee write it in your words I can't do this myself !!! love you in advance

- 🌷 anon

Is It Him or Me? (NSFW)

Pairings: possessive dom!Jake x fem!reader

Warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, light angst, rough sex, angry sex (all consentual), swearing, fingering, edging (?), cum eating (?), teasing, begging, overstimulation, kissing, dry humping, biting/marking, facials, pet names (baby, pretty girl, etc.), Heeseung is your ex

════════ ⋆★⋆ ════════

Jake is a great boyfriend. He absolutely adores you, and whenever you are out together, he always holds your hand and steals kisses whenever he can. And that's exactly what is occurring right now. 

Standing in line at a cafe, waiting to order, you couldn't help but giggle and squirm as Jake nuzzled into your neck, peppering your skin with soft, tickling kisses. Jake had been talking about bringing you here for months, as this was his favorite coffee joint, which he used to work at all through high school. It's on the other side of town, so it was a bit of a trip. But he chose the perfect day to bring you.

"Stop it, Jake, that tickles," you playfully protest, gently pushing him away amidst your laughter. 

With a grin and sparkling eyes, Jake teased, "But you love it when I tickle you," punctuating his words with a lingering kiss on your cheek.

Suppressing your laughter, you swatted at him. "Not in public, you goof," you replied, noticing amused glances from others in the line.

Jake chuckled, intertwining his fingers with yours as he turned his attention to the menu. "So, what are you in the mood for?" he asked, excitement radiating from him–practically making him vibrate.

"Hmm, what would you recommend, Mr. Barista?" You asked, scanning the menu before smiling up at Jake.

Eyes lighting up, Jake exclaimed, "Vanilla latte, of course! That's what I'm getting. Their vanilla lattes are the best. Well, at least when I worked here, they were." 

You scoffed at his pride but ultimately decided on the vanilla latte. 

But then you saw him. The bell atop the door chimed, a gust of wind blowing into the cafe upon their entrance. The familiar man seemed to recognize you, too, as he locked eyes with you and walked over. 

It's your ex-boyfriend. 

It's not like the two of you left off on bad terms, but you guys haven't talked or seen each other since the breakup, making this incredibly awkward. 

"Hey," your ex greeted, approaching you with a friendly smile.

You glanced at Jake slightly before answering, the boy paying little attention to the conversation. Responding with forced nonchalance, you exchanged pleasantries, hoping the conversation would end soon.

"I didn't expect to run into you here," your ex continued, "It's quite a trip from Hillsdale, huh?"

It's weird, considering you both live in the same town, yet he coincidentally showed up in the same cafe, almost 45 minutes away, at the same time as you. 

"Yeah, it's just a day trip," you nod. 

He nods, too, the awkwardness becoming increasingly more apparent the longer the conversation continues. 

"So, how have you been? What have you been up to? You look good," he complimented, looking you up and down.

"Ah, I've been great. I finally got a temp job for that marketing company downtown," you smiled softly, proud of your achievements.

"That's amazing! Yeah, I work at a car dealership about 10 minutes away from this place now. What a coincidence, though," he chuckled, finally becoming aware of Jake standing beside him. "Who's this?"

"Oh, Jake. This is Heeseung," you glanced at Jake once more. "My ex," you added a bit quieter, noticing that you'd caught the attention of other people around you.

You could feel Jake's grip on your hand tightening upon hearing that Heeseung was your ex, but he said nothing–masking any discomfort with a forced smile. 

"Heeseung, this is my boyfriend, Jake." Heeseung looked like a deer in headlights, an embarrassed flush rising on his neck as he let out a matching embarrassed laugh.

"Oh, my bad, man. I didn't even know," he laughed, sticking a hand towards Jake for a truce.

Jake wore a small, forced smile and shook Heeseung's hand. "You're all good," he replied.

"Well, I'll leave you two be." Heeseung looked back at you. "We'll have to catch up again sometime," he said before walking to the back of the line. 

After he left, there was a silence between you and Jake. You leaned into his shoulder slightly, cuddling up to him, as cuddles always made him feel better. Feeling uncomfortable, you broke the silence and said, "Well, it was nice seeing him again, I guess."

Jake nodded but didn't say anything, his grip on your hand tightening as you both stood in line at the cafe.

When it was your turn to order, you excitedly ordered the vanilla latte Jake recommended. However, Jake didn't even bother getting anything for himself, even though this was allegedly his favorite place. He put a twenty-dollar bill on the counter and mumbled for the cashier to keep the change, around $15. He just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

As your drink was being made, you and Jake waited by the to-go station. When the kind barista boy handed you your drink and said, "Have a great day. I hope you enjoy the nice weather," you reached out to take it.

But Jake beat you to it, grabbing it from the boy and handing it to you instead. "Let's go," he said, practically dragging you out of the cafe. 

Trying not to spoil the date with his attitude, he suggested walking around the city to enjoy the weather.

He bought you some light pink and blue flowers from a small vendor, seeing you croon at them, knowing they were your favorite kind.

Next, you walked across a footbridge over a stream, asking Jake to take a picture of you with the beautiful view in the background. You walked, thinking about how Jake had the privilege of taking this beautiful path home from school every day. 

Finally, as the sun set, you both decided to stop at an ice cream shop. The shop's perimeters had a swinging chair facing a small body of water with fishing docks along the edges. You two sat on the swinging chair with your ice cream in hand, Jake having chosen not to get anything for himself once again.

He had been trying to make the day fun by buying you flowers and taking you to these nice places from his childhood. But even as he handed the flowers to you, you saw his expression falter. Even as he walked across the bridge with you, he hadn't even told you that story about him taking the bridge path home from school–you made that up yourself to fill the gaps of what wasn't spoken. And even as he sits with you now, he sits on the other side of the swing, resting on his chin in his hand on the armrest. His sulky mood and his distance are so unlike him.

Jake had tried not to ruin the date, but his emotions were still visible despite his efforts.

You leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, thanking him for the "wonderful" day. But he remained quiet, fidgeting with his hands and avoiding your gaze. 

And he said nothing on the car ride home as well, only having a hand attached to your thigh as he drove silently. 

–

Jake was certainly in some sort of mood, as his behavior persisted for the next few days. 

He became increasingly distant, his temper flaring at the most minor inconveniences. If he ran out of milk for his cereal, he'd fly into a rage to the point tears would well up in his eyes as he curled up on the floor in frustration for hours. 

He seemed to withdraw from you completely, barely initiating hugs or kisses like he used to. You tried to talk to him and understand what was happening, but he remained tight-lipped, shutting you out of whatever bothered him.

Almost every night ended with him laying in your lap, upset at something to the point he's shaking, and you running your hands through his hair to try to calm him down. He'd eventually fall asleep in your lap, only to be up and gone elsewhere before you woke up in the morning. 

Then, one day, something happened that pushed Jake over the edge. It was one of those nights you found yourself playing with his hair, trying to soothe him as he wrestled with his inner demons.

It was almost bedtime, and you wore only one of his baggy t-shirts and underwear, as you usually did for bed. You were on your phone, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, when a notification popped up. It was from your ex—he was trying to follow you. 

You hesitated, reading it, and weren't planning on accepting the request, yet Jake must have thought otherwise. He tensed up upon seeing the notification. 

And moments later, he was sitting upright, his arms practically caging you between him and the couch cousin, kissing you roughly, placing your phone on the floor. You weren't against his sudden switch-up, as you haven't gotten a kiss from him in almost a week now. 

You opened your mouth as he asked for entrance, tonguing at your lips. And as he deepened the kiss, he began moving, causing you to chase his lips, following his movements. He lifted you off the couch, carrying you to your room, refusing to let go of your lips, and once he met the edge of your bed, he immediately plopped you down and crawled on top of you, kissing down your neck, sucking and biting dark marks into your skin. 

"I fucking hate him," Jake grunted into your neck, his voice muffled, and you barely just caught what he said. 

A lightbulb lit up in your head. Ah, that makes sense. 

"Is that why you've been in such a mood lately? Because of one interaction I had with Heeseung, who I haven't thought about for years?" you asked, lifting his head up from your skin.

Jake's eyes bore into yours, filled with anger and frustration. "Don't say his name," he commanded, his mood worsening. So, you decided not to press the issue further, realizing that mentioning Heeseung's name only fueled Jake's anger.

Jake ducked back to your neck, lips trailing down. His kisses became more urgent as he pushed your shirt up, revealing your skin underneath. His hands roamed up the sides of your body, his touch desperate and needy. You could feel the intensity of his emotions in every kiss, every touch.

Jake continued to kiss down your chest, his movements almost rushed. His hands roamed over your back, slipping up the back of your sports bra. 

"Off–" He grunted, already pushing your shirt up and off your shoulders along with the bra, leaving you only in your underwear. "Take it all off."

His mouth immediately connected back to your skin, biting your shoulder and kissing all the way down to your chest, where he took his time marking you up. You ran your fingers through his hair, gently guiding and reassuring him with your touch. Despite his roughness, Jake's actions were vulnerable.

His hands gripped your hips and thighs and squeezed roughly, his fingers definitely leaving bruises. You tugged on his shirt, to which he willingly took it off, yet eager to return to your skin. 

"Mine…" Jake kissed down your chest to your stomach, mumbling the word repeatedly. "You're mine. Say it." Jake's voice was low, his gaze on you dark, staring at your body with pure rage and hunger. 

"I'm yours," you giggled. You had never seen him like this before and found it slightly endearing. 

But he wasn't having any of that. "This isn't a fucking joke. Say it." he scolded, gripping your face and effectively grabbing your attention. "Say that you're mine and not… not his…" 

Yet with the way he squeezed your cheeks with one hand–pushing your lips out, making you look stupid–there was no way for you to coherently do as he asked. But you try nonetheless. 

With a whimper, looking right into his blown-out pupils, you said, "I'm yours. O-only yours, I promise," as best you could. 

His possessiveness only turned you on more, and you could feel yourself growing wetter with every touch. Satisfied with the response, his lips crashed back down onto yours hungrily. He growled against your lips, letting go of your face and using that hand to roam down your body, his fingers hovering outside your panties. 

You squeaked into his mouth, thrashing slightly as his thumb rubbed hard at your clit, overstimulating you. 

He pinned your hips down on the mattress to prevent you from squirming, continuing his administrations with a sick grin on his lips. You watched his face as his anger turned into lust, fueled by pure jealousy. You grabbed onto his shoulders, pulling him closer as you rocked your hips against his hand.

Smirking, he added more pressure to your clit, causing you to try to writhe even more. 

"More," you whimper almost inaudibly. 

"Hm?" Jake asked, as if he didn't hear you. But with the look on his face, you could tell that he did. "You want me to stop?" You whimpered softly, shaking your head and reaching for his hand.

Despite that, he stopped touching where you needed it the most, earning a whine and more squirming, even though he's not touching you anymore. 

"N-no, please don't stop," you whined, reaching for his wrist and pulling it back to your heat.

He just looked at you condescending as you humped his hand, and if you were in a normal state of mind, you would have had enough social awareness to stop–but you were far too horny right now.

"Please," you begged again, looking up at him with eyes glossed over with need, your hips bucking against his hand as you desperately tried to get more friction. 

Jake smirked at your eagerness before giving you mercy, pulling your panties off and sliding a finger inside you, making you gasp. He grunted in response, returning to trailing hot kisses on your skin. You could feel his teeth grazing over your skin, knowing that by the time he's done, you'll be covered in bruises for days. 

And that only turned you on even more.

"Oh god–" your breath hitches in your throat, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly.

"You like that, don't you, baby? My fingers inside you?" he purred, watching as you twitched and whined beneath him. "You love how I make you feel, how I can make you fall apart with just my fingers."

"Yes, so good– Fuck," you moaned, arching your back in pleasure as he added another finger and began to thrust harder and curl his fingers just how you like it, stretching you and filling you in a way that only he could. His other hand pressed against your lower stomach, the pressure making you even more sensitive.

"He doesn't know how to fucking touch you like I do," Jake rasped, his voice laced with arrogance. "I know just by the way you came so hard the first time I fingered you–there's no way that fucker has made you cum before. Only I can make you feel this good." 

You could only nod wordlessly, unable to form a coherent sentence. Jake loved every second of it, the smug smirk never leaving his face. Your hands reach down to his sweatpants, trying to undo them.

"You want it so bad, don't you?" He cocked his head to the side, almost condescending. You frantically nod, hoping he'll just give you what you want like he usually does. And you get hopeful with how Jake chuckles darkly and pulls his pants down a bit, exposing his throbbing cock. 

You mewled a bit as he pulled out his fingers and brought them to his lips, licking them clean with a satisfied look. He positions himself at your entrance and leans over you, his face inches from yours. But his following words crush all hope, and you know you'll have to do more begging. "Do you want me? Or do you want him?"

"You," the desperation in your voice was clear and urgent. "Please. I don't want Heesueng, only want you. Just you–" 

But before you can finish begging, Jake slams into you, filling you completely.

"Didn't I tell you not to fucking say his name?" His hands grip your hips tightly as he starts to pump into you, pulling you back onto him with each thrust. He doesn't hold back, his pace rough and frantic with all his pent-up rage and jealousy.

You let out a moan, arching your back. Jake was rough, and it was shocking. But oh, it felt good. It felt better than anyone you had been with before. Jake knew your body so well and knew exactly how to make you lose control. 

You dig your nails into his shoulders, neither caring about the deep red marks as you press into his skin. Your walls clench around him, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge of sanity. 

Jake's voice breaks during one of his moans. "C-can't believe he saw you like this before. I f-fucking hate him. Only I'm allowed to see you like this," he pants and his movements become sloppy, holding your hips down tightly as he continues to fuck you mercilessly. And his movements continued to get more and more desperate, his words becoming incoherent as he kept mentioning your ex. 

You could feel the familiar coil in your stomach tighten as you were pushed closer and closer to your breaking point. "P-please, m' gonna–" you gasp, clenching your teeth together as Jake's cock hits just the right spot inside you.

He uses a hand that was holding your hip to rub circles over your clit, trying to coax you to your orgasm. He then moves his other hand back to your lower belly, pressing down on it hard, like he did earlier. He hadn't done this before tonight, but you wish he had because you can feel his cock pressing against all the right spots even more now. You can't help but feel a bit jealous yourself, wondering who he learned that from. 

But regardless, the added stimulation sent you over the edge, your body shaking as you came hard around Jake's cock, pulling some stray swears from him. 

But Jake wasn't done with you yet. He kept fucking you, even as you rode out your orgasm, pushing you into overstimulation. You could barely form a coherent thought as he continued to pound into you, his own release still building inside him.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he grunted, his thrusts becoming shorter and rougher. "My pretty girl. I'm gonna cum all over your pretty face."

And with one final hard thrust, he pulled out, maneuvering himself to jerk off over your face. 

You were cock drunk at this point, and your face must have shown this, as Jake chuckled deeply. He cooed, brushing his hand on your cheek and wiping away tears you didn't know had fallen. "Awe, who did this to you? Who's got you all fucked out like this?"

And you finally made out a broken "you" through your whines and panting. 

"Yeah, that's right," your response makes his grin widen, seemingly with pride. "Me, not him," Jake spoke as if trying to convince himself more than you. 

It only takes a couple more tugs before his hot release splatters across your face, his moans and deep laughter mixed with one another as he comes down from his high. 

When he's done, he crawls to lay next to you, seemingly a whole new person. 

His puppy-like personality is back, wearing the loving smile he always has when looking at you as he wipes his cum off your face with the corner of your sheets. 

Afterwards, he peppers your face and lips with soft kisses, speaking equally soft words. "I'm sorry, baby," he nestles up next to you as you do the same thing, a small smile on your face, still kind of out of it. Was that too much? I've just been so moody lately because of…yeah."

"No, I just wish you'd talk to me and not let everything build up." You pout, placing your palm on his cheek before snorting out a laugh. "Not that it wasn't amazing. I've never seen you so possessive–it was hot."

He giggled at this, too, a soft blush rising in the apple of his cheeks. 

"But really, talk to me next. You aren't okay after something like that. Okay?"

"Gotcha," He scoffs before peppering you with kisses all over again.

════════ ⋆★⋆ ════════

Ahh!! I guess your my first anon 🌷 :)

Also, apologies for the insane word count, I yap a lot as you can tell 😅

[alastxrs]

Hii,i was wondering if you could do Alastor x m!reader,the reader is Alastor first crush when he was alive.

And he saw the reader in hell his feeling didn’t change after years ‼️‼️

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 | 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

❝𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!❞

Alastor turned his head when Mimzy made her way toward him, he placed the glass of whiskey down and the two of them hugged for a split second.

"Mimzy! How are ya, my dear?" The taller man was a gentleman as he allowed the shorter woman to have a grasp on his arm. "Been a while."

The young woman smiled brightly as she looked at her friend. "I've been doing well! Are you still doing those broadcasts?"

"Yes, I am! My broadcasts are getting quite famous."

"That's great!"

The two friends laughed as they caught up on what was going on in their life. Alastor didn't mind having a conversation with Mimzy since he had no plans and he wasn't going to disrespect her by walking away, it felt good to talk to someone he knew actually. He didn't plan to do any broadcast until tomorrow.

Mimzy leaned her cheek against the palm of her hand while the two of them began drinking whiskey. "One of these days, you have to show your face to your viewers."

Alastor laughed as he tilted his head. "Sorry dear, but this face was made for radio."

Though, while the two were talking, something caught the taller man's attention.

He placed his glass of whiskey down as a young (h/c) haired man walked up onto the stage.

He was speechless as the strange man helped one of the singers.

The short woman followed his gaze and grinned. "That's our newest sweetheart, Y/N," she spoke, the interest that he had on her new coworker interested her a lot. "He's also one of your fans, I catch him listenin to your broadcasts when he's on break."

"He's a pretty boy." The brown-haired man hummed, he had no clue about the blush on his cheeks.

"You like him?"

"Dear, I haven't even met him."

Mimzy raised her hand as she grinned at the boy, who was finally walking away from the stage. "Y/N, Darling! I want to introduce you to someone~!" she called out to him with a grin on her face.

The smile on his face vanished as his heart started racing yet he shook his head.

His heart rate kept speeding up the second the pretty boy was standing in front of them now. "Yes Mimzy?" the sound of his voice matched his face and he didn't know how to stop the feelings that he had.

He looked at the bartender to get him another glass of whiskey.

"Y/N, this is Alastor." The shorter woman introduced as she gently moved him closer to the slightly shorter man.

The way his (E/C) colored eyes lit up at the sound of his name and the smile on the other's lips made his heart skip a beat.

Y/N held out his hand and he took it. "Pleasure to be meetin you, darling." He spoke softly to him.

Alastor wanted to know everything about this man. He hoped that this wouldn't be the last time they interacted, the taller man had no clue what he was feeling but it was something that he didn't want to disappear.

"The pleasure is all mine, cher."

Mimzy left knowing that she had done her wing-woman job.

They were with each other whenever they could and Y/N was one of the only people that had ever been inside of Alastor's studio.

Those two would be together til death do them part.

"....And of course those two were closer than Al and myself. " Mimzy hummed after remembering the story of how she introduced the Radio Demon and her sweet co-worker, who were currently talking to each other while making their way toward the kitchen. "I wouldn't be surprised if old Alastor hasn't confessed yet."

Angel had to think for a moment while everyone of them watched the two Overlords talking. "Now I understand why he almost killed me for flirting with Y/N..." he muttered.

Husk rolled his eyes as he moved the empty glass away from the shorter woman.

Nifty hummed as she spoke. "I'm pretty sure they are-" She was cut off by the slightly taller short haired demon who shook her head. "If they were together, they would have been obvious about it."

Mimzy was only surprised that Alastor and Y/N had found each other before she had found either of them.

"I find them cute," Charlie hummed as she smiled. "I say we should help them-"

Everybody at the bar grew quiet at the sight of Y/N kissed Alastor on the cheek and the Radio Demon wrapping an arm around the other demon.

"....Holy shit." Angel covered his mouth while Mimzy had an annoyed look on her face.

"YOU BOTH WERE TOGETHER THIS WHOLE TIME AND NEVER TOLD ME?! WHAT THE FUCK! I INTRODUCED YALL!"

A laugh escaped Y/N's lips while Alastor rolled his eyes with the same smile on his lips but the two of them left the room not giving a care in the world.

They had been together before they died.

They were perfect for each other.

[adventuringblind]

Hi, would you be able to write Oscar Piastri x Shy!reader. Maybe she’s absolutely stunning so other drivers go up to her and flirt with her but she doesn’t respond. Then they see her with Oscar and are a bit shocked.

Thanks 🤍✨

Shy

Oscar Piastri x reader

Genre: Fluff

Request: yes :)

Summary: Sometimes being shy makes people want to know more

Warnings: terrible flirting

Notes: I cracked myself up writing this because I am terrible at fluffy things. I love it.

Masterlist

To say you're shy is not exactly the word you would use. More like... particular.

Your words are few, and you like talking to the people who matter most in your life. Mingling at parties is not something you get joy out of.

When your friend decided to drag you out for the night, you were already frustrated. Even more so when everyone seemed to want to talk to you about their personal lives and amazing achievements.

Then there was Oscar.

You hid from the party in a quiet corner. The breath you'd been holding finally escaping through your teeth. Until He came around the corner.

His stupidly pretty eyes and fluffy hair caught you off guard. You blame the alcohol you had to help you get through this event.

"I take you your not one for parties?"

You wanted to say something snarky and sarcastic. But his voice was far to pleadent to let you do such a thing.

"It's okay, I'm not either, wanna get out of here?"

A simple proposal that changed everything. Oscar kept conversation going, and if you didn't feel like talking, he didn't care.

Sometimes, you would just bask in the comforting silence of each other. Words became unnecacry.

He obviously made the first move as you were far too shy to attempt an advance.

You blushed a lovely shade of red when he kissed you the first time.

And now you're here, traveling the world with him as much as possible, watching him race. It's funny how things work out.

You spend time walking around the paddock looking for the few friends you'd made. Lando being one of them. He teased you and Oscar relentlessly because of how private you are. The papaya colored Brit seemed to be the only one who knew you two were dating.

Other drivers had asked on multiple occasions if you were with Lando. The majority of them thought you were someone's relative and tried to hit on you.

The awful pick-up lines were becoming a running joke in the McLaren garage.

Finally, it became too much for you. The reporters wanted to know who you were. The drivers would nit leave you be despite your best attempts at politely telling the to 'fuck off.' And the fans were starting to get out of hand.

"You sure you want to do this? If your not comfortable with it I can always talk with the PR team."

"Yes, but this way will make them all shut up."

"Fair point."

You walk into the paddock with the two papaya boys that day. Again, you could see people's wheels turning.

Oscar dragged you to one of the skysports reporters, knowing they would be the best ones to get their point across.

Lando pulls his phone out to record, and Daniel, Esteban, and Carlos, who'd been trying to win you over, sidle up next to him. Confused as to why you're standing with Oscar, your hands intertwined.

"Oscar, it's great to see you! Can I ask who the lovely lady standing with you is?" Greets an enthusiastic Laura Winters. You'd always liked her the most.

"Actually, Laura, if it's alright with you, I have a request."

Laura eyes him skeptically as he whispers something in her ear. She nods enthusiasticly, which is a good sign to you.

Oscar turns to you and takes your hands in his. You were expecting him to kiss you. Prepared for it all week. You'd already deleted your social media.

It's a real shock when he gets down on one knee, pulling a box out of his pocket.

Lando is squealing in excitement. The drivers next to him stand frozen, their mouth hanging wide.

You mimick that.

"So I know we planned to just kiss so everyone would finally leave you alone, but I thought this would be even better." A blush creeps across his face, and Laura is grinning so widely you think it might fall off. "I've known since pretty early on that I wanted to spend my life with you, regardless of if anyone says we're too young. I've never cared what they thought, and I'm not starting now. You are the most amazing person I've had the pleasure of meeting. Your witty comments reserved only for me make me feel incredibly lucky. You make me feel important, and I hope I make you feel the same. I want that, forever and always. So, marry me?"

Just like with most times in your life, words don't come easy. You manage to squeak a quiet yes, barely Audible to anyone but Oscar. But he's trained his ears to hear everything you say.

He places the ring on your finger and spins you around in utter joy, landing a perfectly placed and loving kiss to your lips.

Everyone is clapping for you, and you couldn't be happier than I'm this moment. The rest of the world is falling away.

The drivers next to Lando are still processing.

"Did we ever have a chance?" Asks Daniel finally.

Lando snickers. "Afriad not, mate. She's been trying to tell you guys, and you didn't take her reactions as a hint. Looks like you wasted your time on a girl who had her heart stolen."

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter One

Summary:

Your colleague Dr. Ancunin is a smug condescending bastard and you can't stand him. But you also can't get him out of your head.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 5.2k Tags/Warnings: unprotected p in v sex, creampie, no breeding kink, masturbation, vaginal fingering, vampire bites, modern au, college/university au, urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, like the briefest mention of suicide while talking about Hamlet

This would not exist without @zipzoomzaria's gorgeous glasses screenshots because PROFESSOR, PLS. Go follow her bc her edits are out of this world. The masturbation scene is also heavily inspired by @astarionfreak's "Are You Satisfied, Darling?" If you haven't read it what are you doing???

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

There’s something about him that rubs you the wrong way. It could be his arrogance, or the condescending way he peers over his glasses at you and your other colleagues. It might be the overpriced cashmere turtlenecks that hug his figure perfectly or the stupid silver earrings adorning his stupid elf ears. But every time he opens his pretty little mouth you feel a snarl growing deep in your throat.

This is the first university you’ve worked at where the theatre and English departments shared an office. Theatre and music, sure, even theatre and dance. But theatre and English? It feels insulting, honestly. English PhDs are some of the snobbiest people you’ve ever met, and they always speak to you like a child. Is it because they’re unimpressed by your MFA, like it made you less deserving of your position? Who knows. But Astarion Ancunin is no different.

“Grace, would you mind making twelve copies of pages 219-254 when you get a chance?” You hand the administrative assistant the heavy book. “You can leave them in my mailbox, I’ll pick them up later.” Grace opens the book to the instructed page.

“Oh, Much Ado About Nothing! I love that one!” she squeals with delight. “That Beatrice and Benedick,” she sighs, stroking the Complete Works lovingly. You smile at her cordially.

“They’re great, they’re basically the non-problematic version of Kate and Petruchio,” you respond in agreement.

“How tragic that Taming’s writing is better.”

You whirl around to see Ancunin walking in looking at something on his phone. He doesn’t even look up as he inserts himself into your conversation. You glare at his interruption. He looks up at Grace, bypassing you completely.

“Good morning, Grace darling, how are you today?” He sweeps over to her and takes her hand in his, planting a kiss on her knuckles. Gods he’s fucking insufferable. Not to mention unprofessional. Grace, however, blushes and giggles like a schoolgirl.

“I’m doing well, Dr. Ancunin, and yourself?” The tiefling’s voice jumps up about three pitches and her tail starts swishing excitedly.

“Leagues better now that I’ve been blessed with your presence,” he coos at her, voice positively saccharine. It takes every ounce of your patience to keep from rolling your eyes. He casts his gaze to you, and even you need to turn away from those piercing red eyes.

“Good morning, professor. Starting Much Ado with your students, I take it?” he asks with a light smile that makes you bristle.

“Yes, it’s a great way for them to practice switching between verse and prose,” you respond coolly, more than a little defensive.

“Of course, one of his best.” He glances down at the volume still in Grace’s hands and his eyebrows raise, peering over the top of his round glasses. “Going with the Bevington, hmm? Interesting. I’m more of a Norton man, myself.” He runs a slender finger along the binding as you grit your teeth. Is he really patronizing you over your choice of edition of Shakespeare’s Complete Works? Of course, he’s an English scholar.

“The Norton is a great tool dramaturgically, but the Bevington is a much better resource for actors, so, yes.” Your voice is steady but there’s an undeniable venom in it. Can he tell how much he’s bothering you? Probably, he’s almost certainly getting enjoyment out of riling you up. His little smirk would seem to suggest it, at least.

“Well certainly, and who knows acting resources better than our resident classical acting expert?” he intones, voice still dripping with honey. You narrow your eyes at him, unsure if he’s taking another jab at your degree.

“Well, as much as I enjoy standing around and debating the merit of various editions of the Complete Works, I’m about to be late for a meeting. Grace, thank you so much, I’ll be back later to pick up those copies. Dr. Ancunin,” you turn to his smug face and he looks back at you innocently. “A pleasure, as always.” You grab your papers and leave the office, feeling the heat of his gaze boring into the back of your head as you leave.

***

“Yes, Thaniel, come on in, have a seat,” you call out to the freshman loitering in the hallway outside your office. He comes in and drops his overfull backpack next to the teal club chair across from your desk. You close your laptop and smile at him warmly.

“So, Hamlet, that’s ambitious! I think it’s a good choice for you, but it’ll be a lot of work,” you say, glancing at your own copy of the monologue.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here,” Thaniel says nervously. “I’m fine with the scansion and stuff, that I get, but I still don’t get the actual words. And I know you said how important that is.”

“For sure, I can guarantee all of the bad Shakespeare you’ve seen has been because the actors had no idea what they were saying. Have you used the Lexicon?” Thaniel looks off to the side, embarrassed.

“No, I don’t really get how that works either,” he says, an air of chagrin creeping into his voice.

“No worries, it takes practice. Here, we’ll do a few lines together. So first off, to be or not to be, that’s fairly obvious, right?”

“Yeah, he’s talking about suicide, right?”

“Sure, but what is he actually saying about it? To take arms against a sea of troubles/And by opposing, end them. What’s ‘them’ referring to?”

“The sea of troubles?”

“Right, the aforementioned slings and arrows. So even though you might know what those words mean individually, look them up in the Lexicon to see if they have a different context here. But you’re right, he’s trying to figure out if it’s better to suffer through the shittiness of existence or to take your fate into your own hands and, well, end them.” You highlight the line and lean over your desk to show Thaniel. A voice pipes up from the doorway.

“That’s not exactly what he’s saying, you know.”

The paper crumples in your hand slightly as your fist instinctively tightens. You plaster a strained smile on your face and look up at him.

“Dr. Ancunin, thank you for gracing us with your presence. Care to elaborate?”

He’s leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, face in shadows. Your office is unusually dark because of the storm outside, and so the bright fluorescents in the hallway give him an almost ethereal halo effect

“It’s a common misconception that Hamlet is contemplating suicide here. Life and death, sure, but ‘to take arms’ isn’t metaphorical, it’s literal. He’s contemplating dying as a result of killing Claudius, not taking his own life,” he says, almost sounding bored. You stand abruptly, your office chair skidding backwards.

“How can that possibly be true? He says ‘to take arms against a sea of troubles.’ He’s using the active voice, deciding whether or not to continue his life or end it. To be or not to be. It’s the first line in the monologue. He’s not talking about the consequences of killing Claudius.” You try to keep your voice from shaking. You know that you don't sound nearly as eloquent as him, and it’s pissing you off. He shrugs nonchalantly.

“You’re oversimplifying it, it’s exceedingly more complicated than that. The whole soliloquy is filled with war imagery. He’s at war with himself, the part of him that wants to kill Claudius and the part of him that is afraid to die.” He pushes himself off the door frame and steps back into the hallway. “But apologies, please don’t let me interrupt your instruction.” And like that he was off, leaving you to stew in silence. Thaniel looks up at you and looks back at the doorway where he stood.

“Should I…” he starts, but you cut him off with a wave of your hand.

“Dr. Ancunin comes at this from a very different angle as an English academic. He’s more interested in the words on the page, rather than how they translate to the stage. But,” you sigh, loathe to give him any credit, “it’s a valid interpretation. We can go down that route, if you want, or we can look at it through this lens.” Thaniel chews his lip while he considers his options.

“I think what you said makes more sense, the suicide bit,” he finally decides. You nod and pull out your copies of the Shakespeare Lexicon.

“Great, let’s go over how to use the Lexicon again,” you say as you flip through the book, looking for the entry for ‘slings.’

***

You drop off your bag and toss your keys into a bowl on the counter. Fucking exhausting day. You unzip your boots and kick them vaguely in the direction of the shoe rack, stretching and curling your toes for relief. You hang up your wet coat and shake rain from your hair. Your eyes dart between the refrigerator, wherein resides a bottle of white wine, and the bathroom door, contemplating how good a hot bath would feel. Both? Both is good.

You pour yourself a generous glass of Riesling and strip your clothes on your way to the bathroom. One of the perks of living alone. Sitting naked on the edge of the tub, you sip your wine as the bath fills.

Fucking Ancunin.

You’re a little shocked at how much he got under your skin today. Normally you don’t think twice about him, excepting the few times you have the misfortune of passing him in the hallway. But today the fates decided to throw you together and your schedules aligned. Well, in your defense, you didn’t seek him out that second time, he was the one who decided to crash your office hours.

You don’t even like Hamlet that much. You certainly don’t care about alternative interpretations of “To be or not to be.” But you’re mostly annoyed because he had a fair point. His read makes Hamlet a more interesting character rather than a cowardly incel romanticizing suicide.

You slide into the bath, hissing slightly as the hot water flows over your chilled skin. Without prompting, Ancunin worms his way back into your thoughts. Hmmph. You take a gulp of wine to try to wash away the taste of the unpleasant image.

Well… not entirely unpleasant. He’s a good looking man, you’d be a fool to deny it. But gods he’s so smug. And interrupting your meeting with Thaniel was wildly inappropriate. Leaning your head against the edge of the tub, you try to focus your thoughts elsewhere. You’re not about to let him interrupt you again, and when he’s not even present, no less.

But there he is, in your mind, crimson eyes looking over the top of those metal frame glasses that you’re, like, 99% sure he doesn’t actually need to see. You take another swig of wine to drown his stupid face. With his stupid cheekbones. And his dumb fucking earrings that you want to bite.

Nine hells, what is happening? You’ve been drinking your wine quickly and aren’t thinking straight. You grab your phone and open Spotify, letting your daily mix play through the bluetooth speaker on the counter.

Now Playing: Hatefuck by The Bravery.

If I put my hands around your wrists, would you fight them?

If I put my fingers in your mouth, would you bite them?

By Mystra’s fucking grace, seriously? You growl at the growing heat between your legs. Between putting off dinner and chugging your wine, your head is swimming. You might be better off getting it out of your system.

The wine glass hits the tub edge with a clank as you angrily put it down and sink into the water up to your chin. You are satiating a purely physical need, nothing else.

You still shiver as you slip your hand between your legs, lightly running your finger up your slit. You can see his face, looking down on you through those glasses - those infuriating glasses - and your lips flutter. What does he look like under those sweaters? He’s so thin, but his clothes fit incredibly well. It’s not hard to imagine a sculpted body beneath. You spread your legs further and let the warm water tickle your folds.

His silvery curls would look so good between your legs, slender fingers wrapped around your thighs while he laps you up. At least then he’d shut up. A gentle moan escapes your lips as you run your finger along your inner lips, pretending it’s him. You could grab hold of those perfect locks, yanking on them to control where he can go, fucking his face.

You move your other hand up to your breast and start teasing your nipple, feeling his lips around it. You give it a little tug and groan, just like if he nipped at it.

You imagine sitting on his pretty face, pointed ears flushed and hair a mess. Your hips buck into your hand as they might on top of him and your toes curl. You make gentle circles around your clit, thinking of all the other uses for his silver tongue. You whine and squirm at the sensations of heat radiating through your body. You slip a finger inside and hiss as you can see his pale digits entering you in your mind’s eye. You curl it upwards and gasp, his imaginary eyes looking up at you through those long lashes and a smirk playing across his imaginary lips.

“Are you ready for more of me, darling?” You can hear him murmur into your ear.

“Yes, gods yes,” you reply breathlessly into the cold bathroom air. You slide another finger in and feel that delicious stretch. The ghost of him moans, coming undone at the sight of you. You could leave him speechless, for once.

You reach over the edge of the tub and grab the box of waterproof toys. You frantically sift through your collection of dildos, trying to find the right one. Here. It’s long and svelte like the rest of him, but bright shimmery purple. You suction it to the bottom of the tub and hover above it on your knees. It sways lightly in the water, tip of it teasing your pussy just like you’d love to do to him.

Gods, to see him beg for your cunt. To see him reduced to a babbling mess, pleading to let him inside you. Your breath quickens at the mental image of him pulling on his own hair waiting for you to satisfy him. You sink down onto the dildo and your groan of pleasure mirrors what you’d like to hear from him.

You start sliding yourself on the purple dick, feeling its ridges glide against the walls of your cunt as you continue to finger your clit. You imagine your hand splayed across his chest, your black nails standing in contrast against his pale skin. You claw at the bottom of the tub as you increase your pace, desperate to see the pink raised skin that your nails leave behind. The fingers on your clit speed up as well, and you can feel yourself getting close.

“Oh gods, Astarion, don’t stop,” the words tumble from your mouth unbidden. You will absolutely hate yourself for that later, but right now all that matters is your ecstasy. You bounce atop the dildo, disregarding the water that splashes over the side of the tub as you chase your finish. Your moans increase in pitch and fervor as the various images of him in all sorts of positions flash through your mind. Between your thighs, sitting on his face, riding his dick, even fucking pegging him from behind because why the hell not?

“Astarion!” You cry out his name as you crash over the edge, legs shaking and pussy pulsing. Your orgasm reverberates throughout your whole body as you ride it out. Eventually, your movement slows and the water gently sways around you. You look down at your hand, milky juices swirling in the now tepid tub water.

Shit.

***

The next day at work, you avoid him like the plague. You keep your office door closed, usually an unthinkable act but entirely necessary right now. You double check the hallway before leaving to go teach, and then after class you immediately duck back into your office and close the door again. You even avoid the main office for fear of running into him there.

You can’t look at his face right now. You can’t possibly look him in the eye.

When 5:00 rolls around, you glance out into the hallway. Most of the other professors are leaving. To play it safe, you decide to work until 6 so that you can be sure that he’s gone when you leave. You absentmindedly grade performance responses. After you’ve read one paragraph about Miss Julie maybe a half dozen times, you realize that it’s probably time to go.

You slowly open the door and glance out into the hallway. You can’t tell from this angle if his door is open or not. You grab your bag and coat, take a deep breath, and make a beeline for the stairs. As you approach his office you realize it’s open.

Fuck.

It’s fine. You’ll just walk past it and get to the parking lot and then you won’t need to worry about it. He might not even be in there. Or if he is, he probably has his head down and won’t notice you walk by. It’s fine. You’ve got this.

“Oh, professor, a word?” His voice floats into the hallway right as you’re passing his door. Are you fucking kidding? You turn to see him sitting at his desk, head down, writing something. He doesn’t even look up at you. Prick.

“Yes?” you ask, not budging from your spot in the hall. He glances up at you over his glasses. Those fucking glasses. You want to rip them off his face and throw them out the window.

“Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.” His voice is low and cool. Does he fucking know? There’s no way he can know.

Right?

You tentatively take a step into his office. It’s surprisingly cluttered for a man who always looks so put together, but it’s still warm and inviting. You can barely see the walls for being covered corner to corner in bookshelves full to bursting. He’s got a big mahogany desk in the middle of the room - significantly nicer than the university-issued one. It’s covered in stacks of papers, books, weird little knick knacks; it’s amazing how he’s able to get anything done on it. There are two chairs facing his desk, much like yours, but a rich plush velvet instead of a scratchy cotton weave. He’s got a scent diffuser somewhere, giving the room an aroma like an earthy spiced tea.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the cushy red chairs across from him. You stand there, clutching your bag, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. When he realizes you’re not going to sit, he gets up and crosses over to the door.

“Do you mind if I close this? It’s… a bit embarrassing,” he asks with a crooked smile. You can feel the heat in your cheeks rising. Your mouth goes dry and you try to swallow the lump forming in your throat.

There’s no way he knows.

Right?

But something compels you to nod, so he closes the door and walks back to his desk, but rather than sitting behind it, he leans back casually on the front of it. He’s taken off the blazer he usually wears and is down to just the turtleneck, sleeves pushed up just below his elbows. He crosses his arms in front of his chest as you stare, waiting.

“I wanted to… apologize. For yesterday.”

You blink at him, the conversation not going in the direction you expected. You had been so focused on yourself, that it took you a moment to realize what he was referring to.

“It was inappropriate to barge in on your meeting with your student. You were mid-instruction, and I needn’t have inserted myself into your conversation.” He leaned back on his hands, stretching out his lean figure to impossible proportions. The grip on your bag slackened and you couldn’t help but drag your gaze over the length of his body. He looks at you quizzically.

“I get the sense that you don’t very much like me,” he muses.

Now it’s his turn to give you the once-over, and you feel practically naked before him the way he looks at you. “Then again,” he adds, and pushes himself off his desk. He slowly advances toward you, though whether like someone approaching a vicious beast or a predator stalking its prey, it’s unclear. You retreat while holding his gaze until your back is flush against the door.

No escape now.

He gets precariously close to you and takes an unsettling whiff. When he speaks again, his voice is a husky growl.

“I think it’s entirely possible you like me… quite a bit.” He’s got at least a half foot on you, and he looks down on you with heavy-lidded eyes. The heat in your face has fully reached the tips of your ears now, and your breath comes out ragged.

“I’m sure I-” you start, but it comes out thick and raspy. You clear your throat and try again. “I’m sure I don't know what you mean,” you finally manage with all of the composure you can muster. He cocks an eyebrow at you, then slowly takes off those infuriating glasses.

“No? Then perhaps I’m mistaken, and your heart rate hasn’t increased by approximately 20 beats per second in the past few minutes.” His eyes continue boring into you. “And maybe that smell between your legs is completely unrelated.”

An undignified splutter comes out of you as you press your thighs closer together. He takes a half step back to let you respond.

“If I am indeed mistaken, then I’ve said my peace and you’re free to go.” The seductive honey is gone from his voice, and in its place is a politely professional tone. You fully feel that he’s giving you an out, that you can both laugh on this as an embarrassing moment and neither will bring it up ever again.

But on the other hand…

“You’re not mistaken,” you choke out in a whisper. The lazy smile is back and he lifts your chin with his index finger.

“What was that? Speak up.” His command weakens your knees and you wither under his gaze.

“You’re not wrong,” you say more boldly, trying to meet his energy. His smile broadens, and for the first time you notice two pointy fangs slip out beneath his upper lip.

Fucking

vampire??

That explains how he could track your heartbeat, and even more his ridiculously keen sense of smell. Doesn’t make it any less humiliating.

“No, I don’t suppose I am,” he snarls and suddenly he’s kissing you roughly, hands twisting in your hair and one knee sliding up between your legs. He pushes you against the door and lifts you off your feet slightly. You’re desperate just to keep up as he devours you, hands weakly grasping at his hips, shoulders, neck. But he’s fully in control of the kiss, and after a moment you let him take you.

He breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away, and you’re both breathing heavily, air cycling between your lungs. Your head feels full of a thick fog and you can’t fully see straight. His hands are still in your hair, tight but not pulling - yet. You get the sense that might not last long.

He drops to his knees and you nearly double over from the sudden lack of support. He runs his nose and lips across the hem of your black denim skirt, inhaling again. Your fingers lace into his hair, but not even remotely in the dominant way from your fantasy. At this point you’re just trying not to collapse.

He looks up at you, flashing another fang-bearing grin. His hand slips up your skirt and his thumb runs across your pussy, barricaded by your sheer tights and panties.

“Darling, you’re positively soaked,” he hums contentedly. “You’d have a hard time hiding this from anyone.” You bite your lower lip, trying to keep the needy whines at bay. But when he fiercely rips the crotch of your tights and presses the flat of his tongue against the drenched gusset, you can’t stop the cry from escaping your throat. He sucks lasciviously, the debauched slurping noise ringing in your ears. Your knees buckle and he grabs hold of your hips, hiking your skirt up to your waist to get better access to your dripping cunt.

He stands and kisses you again, the taste of you lingering on

his lips. He grabs your ass and digs his fingers into your flesh, spreading them until you gasp into his kiss. In one fluid motion he sweeps up your legs and wraps them around his waist, carrying you over to that incredible mahogany desk.

He plops you down on the hardwood and you hear books and papers tumbling onto the floor behind you. He presses his bulge into your mound, this time the sound of both of your moans mingling pleasingly. He tears at your chiffon button down, trailing hungry kisses down your chest as you throw your head back in pleasure. He makes quick work of fully removing your top, though you’re certain he sacrificed some buttons in the process. You hardly care as you paw wantonly at the back of his neck, desperate for him to get his lips onto every single inch of you. He pulls the lace cup of your bra down with his teeth and starts sucking on your nipple, pressing his hand into the small of your back. You arch into him, his hands working you like a soft clay.

So much for the pleading mess that you pictured last night. Instead, you’re the one who's been reduced to shambles, begging for satisfaction.

“Puh-please,” you stutter, and those devilish eyes lock onto yours again. He snakes his way back up your chest and bites your lower lip.

“Puh-please what?” he mocks your stammering, but makes up for it when he rolls his hips forward, dragging that delicious hardness against you. You squirm, trying to pull him closer but he’s got your arms locked in his grip. His lips leave yours and ghost over the flesh of your neck. He very gently scrapes his fangs across your jugular, eliciting a ghoulish moan from you in return. By all the gods, you hadn’t even considered that as a part of it. His movement made it clear that he won’t bite unless you want him to.

But holy hells do you want him to.

“Gods Astarion,” you gasp, and you swear you can feel his cock twitch at the sound of his own name. “Fuck me then bite me, or the other way around I don’t care, but please get in me!” The string of words almost sounds foreign to your own ears, but you’re well beyond the point of trying to sound clever. In an instant, he’s undone his belt buckle and his erection springs forth, bouncing and already dripping precum. He roughly shoves your panties to the side and sinks his cock and teeth into you simultaneously, drawing out your cry of both pain and pleasure. You wrap your legs and arms around him, trying to pull him in deeper. You can feel his mouth filling up with your hot blood just as your cunt fills up with his dick.

You’re panting as you grow more lightheaded, clinging to his neck. Unthinkingly, your fingers stroke his ears, playing with those tiny silver hoops. He lurches and pulls away from your neck, looking absolutely feral with your blood dripping down his chin, which only sets you off more. You angle your hips toward him, trying to get him to start thrusting into you. He pushes your back down onto the desk and hooks his elbows beneath your knee high boots. Then he starts pounding into you properly, and you feel like you’re close to losing it. You grab onto the edge of the desk as he revs up his pace, his cock stretching you out as he keeps your legs close to your ears. You can feel the heat mounting in your core and you know it won’t be long before you come. But at this point you’re just trying to hold on for dear life.

“Fuck, gods, Astarion, I’m-” You finish before your sentence does. He doesn’t relent as the orgasm wracks your body, if anything, he fucks you harder. Just as you’ve barely come down off your climax, he pulls out and yanks you off the desk, spins you around and pushes your face down into the smooth mahogany, warmed from where you had just been. He enters you again, this time from behind, and already you’re working your way up to a second one. Your bare tits squish against the polished surface and he grabs your hair, pulling your head up and arching your back into him.

For the first time you notice the mirror on the opposite wall across from his desk. But rather than both of you, you only see yourself, disheveled and well-fucked, lips swollen from his abuse. Your hair is pulled up by an invisible force behind you. Another unexpected aspect of vampire fucking.

You desperately wish you could see his face because you can feel his thrusts getting more uneven and erratic. You try to turn to get a glimpse of him, but his grip on your hair remains tight. But even if you can’t see him, you can hear him, his grunts and the low string of incoherent swears pouring out of his mouth. The sound of him getting lost in you is enough, and your own moans start building and mixing with his, an utter symphony of epicurism.

His hips give a few more broken thrusts and you can feel his climax, setting off yours. The throbs of his cock match those wracking your cunt, and you hold onto the edge of the desk as the waves wash over you. Once they’ve come to an end he pulls out, and you can feel his semen dripping out of the sudden emptiness and running down your leg. You quietly say a thankful prayer for your IUD.

You’re both panting as he collapses onto your back, planting a half-hearted kiss on your spine. You weakly push yourself up off the desk and see the devastation of papers, smears and fluids. You turn yourself around and relish in his appearance. Your blood is splattered on his fine cream sweater, his usually perfectly coiffed curls damp and sticking to his forehead. You reach up and wipe the remainder of your blood off his chin. He smirks and kisses you, significantly more gently this time.

“That was good,” you murmur through steadying breaths, “but next time, keep the fucking glasses on.”

[cheriladycl01]

Paparazzi - Lando Norris x UniStudent! Reader

Plot: you are a university student in the UK, and the Paparazzi manage to find out where you go and stalk you due to rumors surfacing about.

Credit to nameis-c for the GIF

It was a pretty shit day at university for you, you were a third year law student who had just come back from an amazing placement with Mercedes as part of their legal counsel.

You'd had so much fun and had worked really closely with Lewis and George. It also was the first year that you were able to travel from the last half of one season, to the 3/4 of the next season.

He was a driver for McLaren, his job and you being a student meant that you guys didn't see each other as much as you'd like.

You had been dating for the good part of 4 years now having met in secondary school and stayed as friends even when he left the school. When you started on your A-levels and he was progressing in his driving career he asked you to be his girlfriend.

Now he was in Formula One and you were about to be graduating university. It had however been difficult, the transition of being with Lando pretty much everyday, and now not seeing him was killing you.

It had taken a tole on you, you had dark circles under your eyes, your nose was red from the cold. Your class hadn't been great either and tears were starting to brim your eyes. You just wanted to get home and cry it out in private.

Lando: Hey Babe, its Thursday so media day today and McLaren are busy! Call me later, love you lots!

The text made more tears brim in your eyes until you heard the snap of a camera. Next you saw the flash.

Your eyes dart up seeing the 5 or 6 people with cameras behind you, following you. You pick up your pace, going towards your specific building on campus where you could hide out with your personal tutor until they left you alone.

You walk into the building into a flurry of students walking around the building pulling the hood of Lando's hoodie up. You make your way to a back stairwell that was quieter than the main one and made your way up the 5 flights of stairs to where your personal tutors room was.

"Michael?" you ask entering the room, nobody was there so you sat on the small little sofa he had at the side of his office. You pull the work bench closer to you, placing your laptop and book down before getting on with some work for your Intellectual Property Module.

Minutes later Michael comes in, a shocked look on his face as he observes you.

"Y/N what are you doing here?" he asks walking past you and taking a seat at his desk, sipping from the takeaway coffee he had just brought.

"I had Paps come onto campus again. And i've had a bit of a shit day" you mumble looking at the email from Lewis asking you to do some research for him if you had any free time.

"Well, you know my door is always open for you"

"That's why i let myself in" you grin at him, already feeling better. He spoke to you for about an hour, while he was doing his own research and marking behind his computer.

"I think its safe to say they've left now" he admits engrossed in something on his computer.

"How'd you know?"

"There's articles already up, some of these headlines. Oh lord they are ridiculous" Michael admits scrolling down on his mouse wheel looking further.

"Huh?" you ask before looking online under your name.

Lando Norris Girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N, Seen Crying On University Campus After Breakup Report Y/N Y/L/N Seen On Campus Crying Is There Tension Between Lando Norris and Y/N Y/L/N On Her First Absent Race Of The Season Lando Norris Cheats On Girlfriend - Her Reaction Is Heartbreaking!

"I'm just going to go home. I don't have the energy to read any of these. Thank you for letting me stay" you admit, packing up your bag and nodding in a goodbye to your personal tutor.

As you exit the building and make your way to the carpark where your Mercedes-AMG SL 63 sat, courtesy of your time at Mercedes for the last year. You now still work for them, but from the Brackley and part-time around your degree.

You get in and let out a long sigh, you pull away getting onto the road driving back to yours and Lando's apartment which was about a 30 minute drive away.

Lando started to call you, the ringtone blaring through the car speakers that your phone was connected to. You hit accept on the screen, your eyes only momentarily wavering from the road.

"Y/N baby, what's up. The articles and the photos of you! You look so sad, what's going on?" he immediately starts grilling you like you'd expected him to when he would eventually see the articles.

"Sorry, I'm in the car right now! I just had a shitty say at uni and i really fucking miss you" you breathe out happy to finally admit it. It was the end of October now and you'd been back at university for a month.

"I know baby, you still planning to come out for the last race, in Abu Dhabi?" he offers, it sounds like he's busy and like he's walking around the McLaren garage. He did say it was media day...

"Erm, ill let you go. Its like midnight there and you have a big day with practice tomorrow" you say, he starts to stay something but you interrupt before he can.

"I love you, goodnight" you say to prompt him.

"Goodnight, ill see you soon" he sighs, he also sounded tired just like you.

You drove the rest of the way home, pulling up in the underground carpark and just sitting there for a few minutes taking in some breaths.

You eventually get out the car and head into yours and Lando's apartment. The apartment was always clean because either you were here or your parents were kind enough to house sit while you and Lando were away.

You did your normal routine for when Lando wasn't here, which was go to the gym, go back and shower, cook food eat food and go to sleep.

You never really had any motivation for anything when he wasn't around.

The next day was a free day from uni, you went to the Mercedes team, everyone could tell that something was up with you. They chose not to say anything and just let you get through your shift. You'd had a cute Good morning text from Lando, asking if you'd slept well and if you'd eaten.

You'd replied, saying yes to both and that you were just catching up on his free practices and that he had really good times, as you'd expected.

But part of you just longed for him to come home.