#now he averages around 4k

[sophegg]

okay but tubbo breaking his all time sub record from his first subbathon in 2022 when he was riding off of covid numbers in 2024 with literally a FIFTH of the average viewers he had back then is actually crazy. we really have grown up in the last three years huh. we’ve all got jobs now to fund the tubbatbon

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be. 

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant. 

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace. 

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you. 

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?” 

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry 

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read. 

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once. 

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now. 

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time. 

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door. 

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie. 

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches. 

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door. 

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes. 

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

[storiesforallfandoms]

the hotel room ~ jschlatt

word count: 2341

request?: no

description: in which they stay in a $4k hotel room, so of course they have to put it to good use

pairing: jschlatt x female!reader

warnings: swearing, rpf, smut (fingering, oral m receiving, praising, unprotected p in v, lil bit of rough sex, multiple orgasms), yet another $4k hotel room fic

masterlist (one, two, three)

"You spent how much?!"

Schlatt merely smirked as he got out of the car he had rented for your Japan trip. You turned back to the huge hotel that stood before you. The look of it alone made you feel extremely poor, and now knowing how much he had paid for it made you feel unworthy of even being on the premises.

He opened the car door and nodded for you to get out. "Come on, we gotta see this fucker."

You followed him into the hotel, with Trevo following behind both of you with the camera in his hand. When you had asked him if he was staying in the same hotel on the ride over, he started laughing. Now you knew why that was his reaction.

The room was huge. Basically big enough to be an apartment. Which made sense because it was the price of rent for an average apartment in New York. Honestly, classifying this as a "room" felt like an understatement. You were almost afraid to touch anything because of how expensive it all felt.

Schlatt and Trevor filmed around the room ("Now it's a tax write off," Schlatt had joked) while you sat on the bed. Even though the room was so expensive it was intimidating, you had to admit it was the comfiest bed you'd ever laid on. Even better than your and Schlatt's shared bed back home. You had also noticed the bathroom, which had a huge walk in shower and a jacuzzi bath tub in the shower, and you were beyond excited to get to use it.

The video concluded with Schlatt showing Trevor the terrace. You followed them outside upon Schlatt's request to see the beautiful view. You were tucked against his side as Trevor shut off the camera. His hand was idly running up and down your arm, so that plus the welcoming heat from his body was starting to lull you to sleep. You had had a long day of travel and you wanted nothing more than to get a hot shower then slip under the covers of that super comfy bed.

"I'm gonna shower," you mumble sheepishly.

"Okay babe," Schlatt said, kissing the top of your head. "I'm gonna finish my beer with Trevor. I'll kick him out if you go to bed before he leaves."

You chuckled. "You don't have to do that, but if he is gone by the time I get out, then I'll see you tomorrow Trevor."

You shut the bathroom door then turned to the shower. You were expecting it to be extremely hard to operate, but you were surprised that it was a very simple, single shower handle. You turned it to nearly as hot as it could go and undressed. You closed the shower door and stepped under the hot water, signing in relief as the hot water hit your body. You washed your hair, letting yourself enjoy the water as you washed up.

The hot water steamed up the shower door enough that you didn't see the bathroom door opening and someone slipping in. You didn't hear the clothes hitting the floor either. When the shower door opened, you yelped. Schlatt chuckled as he slipped in behind you.

"Is Trevor gone already?" you asked.

"Yeah, he also wanted to get back to his hotel and go to bed." He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against his chest. You tried not to notice his hard length pressing against your back. "Jesus, this shower is nice."

"It better be for $4000 a night," you said, leaning into his arms.

"You're not gonna let that go, are you?" he said with a laugh.

"Of course not! That's, like, the price of rent!"

You words were cut off by a gasp as Schlatt cupped your breasts. His fingers rolled one of your nipples between them as his lips lowered to your neck. You moaned as he nipped at the sensitive skin of your neck. It was getting harder to ignore the hard cock pressing against you.

"Have you washed yet?" he whispered in your ear.

"W-What? N-No."

You nearly whimpered as Schlatt pulled away, leaving you missing his body against yours. You watched as he picked up your body wash and squirted some onto his hand. He lathered up both hands and stood behind you again. His soapy hands cupped your breasts again, lathering them up in the sweet scented soap. One hand stayed massaging your breast while the other started moving down. It skimmed your stomach, moving in slow circles to keep lathering the body wash. He ran his soapy hand over one inner thigh, then over the other. Despite the hot water still running over you both, you were shivering with anticipating.

Two fingers ran through your folds before applying pressure to your clit. You moaned as Schlatt started rubbing agonizingly slow circles against your clit. His lips found their way to your neck again, kissing and biting you, undoubtably leaving marks. Your body jolted involuntarily and pressed your ass further against Schlatt. He groaned, his cock twitching against you.

"I think," he said, his mouth right next to your ear, "I should be very thorough in cleaning you."

And with that, he slipped a finger into you. You cried out in pleasure as he slowly fucked you with his finger. The palm of his hand pressed against your clit, picking up where his fingers had left off. You were quite literally putty in his hands. The hand on your breast moved to wrap around your middle, holding you up as your legs began to tremble.

"You gonna cum for me baby?" he asked. "I can feel you tightening around my finger. If I give you another one, will you cum for me?" You nodded, but he grabbed your chin and turned your head to look at him. "Use your words, toots."

"Yes!" you cried. "Yes, Jay. I'll cum for you!"

He smiled and slipped a second finger into you. It didn't take long for him to coax an orgasm out of you. You trembled in his arms, your walls spasming around his fingers. The sounds of your moans echoed off the bathroom walls. Schlatt whispered praises into your ear as you came down from your high. You whimpered as he pulled his fingers from you. He held his hand under the water, which had started going cold, to rinse your juices from them.

Schlatt reached past you to turn off the water. You turned to face him, almost immediately noticing he was still hard. You reached down to stoke his cock. He grunted as your hand touched his member. You pumped him a few times before moving to kneel, but Schlatt stopped you.

"Not here," he said, breathless. "Wouldn't want you to hurt those pretty knees on the tile floor."

He led you back into the room and sat you on the comfortable bed. Schlatt stood before you, stroking his cock as he looked down at you in admiration. He ran his free hand through your hair.

"Open."

You did as he commanded, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. He smirked at you. "Good girl."

He smacked his cock against your tongue before slowly pushing it into your mouth. You wrapped your lips around him, keeping your tongue on the underside of his cock. He moaned as you took him as deep as you could go. You looked up at him, his head thrown back in pleasure, beads of water from the shower still dripping down your body. You felt yourself becoming wet (or rather wetter) between your legs at the sight alone.

He was slow and gentle as he fucked your mouth. He didn't want to accidentally gag you or hurt your jaw (it had happened before and he still felt immensely guilty for it). He wanted to savor the feeling of your warm, wet mouth wrapped around him, and the sight your beautiful eyes looking up at him. But god, he'd be lying if he said he didn't just wanna fuck your face until drool was running down your chin and he was shooting his load deep into your throat. You were so beautiful and perfect, and he just loved when he got to ruin you because you were his and his alone.

When the feeling of your mouth around him became too much, he pulled himself from you and said, "Up on the bed on all fours."

You wasted no time in doing what he said, a small smile on your face as you did. He chuckled to himself at your excitement as he climbed up onto the bed behind you. He put a hand between your shoulders, guiding you down onto the bed until your face was buried in the pillows and your ass was in the air, presented to him.

"The bed isn't against anything, so I can go as hard as I want without worrying about the headboard," he said, running his cock through your folds in a teasing way. "If I go too hard, you'll tell me, right?"

"Yes sir," you said, your words muffled by the bed sheets.

"What's the safe word, princess? I need to hear it before we start."

"P-Pineapples. Fuck, please fuck me, Jay. Please."

"Who am I to say no when you're beggin' all pretty for me?"

He pushed himself into you, filling you completely with one thrust. You cried out, muffling your noises with the sheets below you. As he started thrusting at a brutal pace, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head up from the bed.

"Don't you dare try to muffle those pretty noises," he growled. "I wanna hear how good I'm makin' you feel."

You had no intentions of holding back your noises, mainly because you didn't think you'd be able to. He had you so cock drunk that all you could focus on was the feeling of his cock abusing your g-spot. You gave him exactly what he wanted, your moans filling the room and mixing with the sound of his skin slapping against yours. Once you were able to focus on anything else, you had to admit you were impressed with how little the bed was moving even with Schlatt's roughest thrusts.

He let go of your hair, allowing your head to fall back onto the bed, to grab your hips with both hands. His fingers dug into the fleshy parts, definitely leaving more marks on you. Not that either of you minded. You loved when Schlatt marked you up. You wore the hickies that he gave you with pride, letting everyone know who you belonged to. With this new grip, though, he was able to pound into you harder, which you didn't think would've been possible. You cried out as you felt the familiar pressure building in your lower stomach again.

"Are you gonna cum again?" he asked. "Gonna cum all over this cock like a good girl, babe?"

"Y-Yes!" you cried. "Yes I'm gonna cum again. F-Fuck, it f-feels so g-good."

"That's it, baby, cum all over my cock. I'll give you want you want then, I promise."

He didn't have to do or say much else to get you to cum again. You were already on the edge of your orgasm, and you weren't sure you'd be able to stop yourself even if you tried. You gripped the sheets so tight in your hands that you could almost feel your nails digging into your palms through the fabric. You screamed Schlatt's name as your orgasm ripped through you, hitting you harder than your last one had.

Schlatt wasn't too far behind you, his thrusts growing sloppy and his cock twitching inside of you. He reached for your arms, pulling you up so that you were pressed against him once again. You turned your head to meet his lips as he thrusted into you one final time, spilling himself completely inside of you. He held you close, his body trembling from his own release. His hands wandered to and part of your body he could touch, until he finally settled on wrapping one arm around your waist and the other across your chest. He was whispering praises into your ear again as you both came down from your high.

Eventually, when he started to soften, he gently lowered you back onto the bed then pulled himself from you. You rolled onto your back, watching him as he disappeared back into the bathroom and came out with a wash cloth for you.

"I hope they don't charge for us using the fuckin' towels and cloths," he said as he passed you the warm cloth.

You giggled. "You already spent $4000, what's another couple dollars to clean up after sex?"

"I'll tell you one thing, this is the nicest fuckin' room I've ever had sex in. Nothing else will ever compare."

"You're right. We may as well just stop having sex once we leave this room."

He gave you a look. "Okay, I didn't say that."

You giggled again as he got into bed with you. He pulled you into his arms and pulled the covers up over the both of you. Your body immediately relaxed into his side, and into the most comfortable mattress you've ever laid on in your life.

It was silent for a moment, and you were starting to fall asleep, when Schlatt suddenly woke you by exclaiming, "There's a fuckin' button to close the blinds!"

You opened your eyes to watch Schlatt click a button next to the bed, and suddenly the large, black out blinds started to slowly draw shut on their own.

"Jesus, I fuckin' hate rich people," Schlatt muttered.

"And yet you're the one who booked this room."

"Okay, we've been over that. Time to move on."

You playfully stuck your tongue out at him before mumbling, "Goodnight, Jay."

"Goodnight, babe." He kissed the top of your head. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

[pedgito]

how about steddie dick measuring contest but reader is the judge? if it leads to smut that’s okay but i know you’ll make it good regardless lol

author’s note: the premise is there i promise, i just used this as an excuse to write threesome smut because it started out as a funny idea and then my brain just melted at the thought of it

cw: 18+ (minors dni), heavy voyeurism, threesomes, unrequited crushes (steddie), established relationships with reader, unprotected sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), mentioned virgin!eddie, steve is overly confident, eddie is a sweetheart, if i missed anything lmk

word count: 4k

It started after Steve and Eddie found out that you had been sleeping with both of them—there was never any exclusivity in your relationship, and the sex with Eddie had started innocently, taking his virginity from him on his graduation night.

Every time with Eddie was something new. He was eager to try things, learn, and it made for some of the more enjoyable sex you’ve ever had. He only lacked slightly in skill, still fumbling around most of the time and getting upset when he couldn’t make you come as easily as he’d hoped.

For Steve, it was after a long-drawn out conversation about how he couldn’t find the right women, the sex was lacking, and he just wanted something—it didn’t even have to be something either of you committed to fully, as long as you two were having fun with it. Steve still went on dates every now and then, had the occasional hookup, but he always ended up back at your place most weekends using the opportunity to vent about his hardships in trying to find a partner—most of it fell on deaf ears, because as much as Steve was a great partner, he also talked about himself way too much.

He was full of himself, to be blunt—which is why this had started the conversation you were being forced to listen to currently, both of them settled on either side of the couch. You were smushed in the center, feet propped up on the table in Eddie’s living room, hands covering your face as you rested your head against the back of the couch and let out an audible groan.

“Okay but,” Eddie begins, another tumultuous conversation that was bound to go one forever if you didn’t put an end to it, “you’ve seen both of our dicks, you be the judge.”

Steve had found a pair of your underwear on Eddie’s floor a couple weeks prior, because of course he knew they were yours. He held them up accusingly, both you and Eddie sharing an awkward glance.

You really had no choice but to come clean. Thankfully, they both took it well—actually, they didn’t have any problem with it, and that’s what you couldn’t wrap your brain around. Not at first, at least.

“It’s okay,” Steve comforts, squeezing your shoulder, “be honest, Eddie can take it.”

You always hung out as a group now, never separately—and you couldn’t ignore the obvious tension that has festered. Truthfully, it felt like an attack on you. They talked about you when you weren’t around, you knew that much, having walked in on them in the middle of a particularly heated conversation about what made you come the quickest. Eddie knew it was oral, but Steve swore you faked it half the time just so he’d skip to the sex, always gawking about how good his dick felt—how big it was.

And obviously, it had boosted his ego through the fucking roof.

“Oh, fuck you.” Eddie insults lightly, leaning in to whisper against your ear, “Come on, sweetheart—let him have it.”

“Oh my god, who cares?” You ask redundantly, exasperated at the topic and almost shouting it out. “The average is—what, five? I’m pretty confident you’re both over that so what does it matter?”

“No way Munson is packing over five.” Steve nags, pointing lazily at the long haired, wide eyed boy at your side. Eddie rolls his eyes, scoffing at the comment.

“We get it, King Steve’s got a big dick.” Eddie mocks, throwing his hands up.

You snort at the nickname, “Don’t call him that.” You tell Eddie, watching as Steve’s face falls slightly. “See—he’s too confident.”

“Why are you avoiding the question then?” Steve counters, growing increasingly irritated. It’s not directed toward you, or at Eddie even, he just wants to get to the bottom of it.

“Why are you so worried that I might say it’s Eddie?” You tease, hearing Eddie howl a laugh behind you.

“Is it?” Eddie asks after he regains his composure, “I don’t even care at this point, I just need to rub it in Steve’s face.”

“Fuck this,” Steve says in a clipped tone, “Whip it out, Munson.”

“Excuse you?” Eddie asks in a subtle shock, eyes follow Steve as he stands from the couch. “Take me to fuckin’ dinner first, Steve.”

“I need to pee.” You say quickly, making a weak excuse to escape to the bathroom.

Steve holds up his hand, “No, no—you have to judge.”

You stare up at him with comically wide eyes, growling slightly under your breath when he doesn’t relent, sinking back down on the couch.

“Fine.” You agree, “Hurry up.”

Eddie flicks his gaze between you and Steve before finally settling on you, “Do you—are we actually entertaining this?”

“To be fair, I really don’t know.”

It was the honest truth.

Steve fiddles with his pants as Eddie moves a little slower, more hesitant to expose himself. Steve grew up in sports, he was used to changing in front of other guys, nudity around other’s wasn’t foreign to him—Eddie was obviously less willing, having grown up under constant scrutiny and bullying there was valid reasoning on why he didn’t want to. You gave him a look, touching his wrist as he reached for his belt.

“Steve, I don’t think this is a good idea.” You tell him as he lingers behind you, eyes still locked on Eddie as you turn to him, but something in Eddie’s face changes, a subtle smirk growing.

“Gotta shut him up somehow, right?” Eddie asks.

And they’re both on the edge of shoving their pants down, gaze noticeably locked on one another before you’re panicking, arms thrown up in an attempt to halt whatever was about to commence.

“Wait, fuck—“ You sigh loudly, slumping as they both look at you, “this isn’t fair.”

The silence is telling, both boys completely at your command.

It’s almost impossible not to have fun with this, especially if they weren’t about to let up over the whole ordeal.

“I mean—Steve is definitely a shower,” You admit, “but I don’t think it’s fair unless both of you are—“

“Hard?” Eddie finishes for you, and Steve catches on immediately, that mischievous grin matches yours.

“If you wanted a kiss so bad all you had to do was ask, sweetheart.” Steve replies with that puff in his chest, always so sure of himself.

You giggle softly, tongue poking at the inside of your cheek as you lean away from Steve’s reach, looking over at Eddie and back at him.

“Not me, Steve.” You reply sickeningly sweet, eye flicking up knowingly toward Eddie, bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

You weren’t oblivious to the interest that Steve tried so desperately to hide any time he was around Eddie—the teasing, the lingering looks, the constant need to piss him off just to keep him talking. Eddie was just as bad, constantly feeding into whatever game Steve was playing at. They had been friends before, somewhat—but whatever this had become, it brought you all closer. Though, it wasn’t your fault that they were so inherently stubborn and avoiding the fact that they, for a lack of better words, wanted to fuck each other.

And maybe that was a strong way to put it, but they almost seemed scared—scared that it would make you feel a certain way. They were both always so careful with your feelings, two of your closest friends, but your annoyance was at it’s peak and you really couldn’t take it any longer.

“Each other.” You say simply, wagging your finger between the two. “But, of course, drop the pants first.”

“That’s not funny.” Steve retorts.

Eddie shrugs, “I mean, I don’t care.”

You shrug at Steve, pointing at Eddie. “You heard him—get to smoochin’, Steve.”

Eddie laughs at Steve’s shy hesitation, yanking gently at the open hem of his pants, fingers grazing his half-hard cock.

“Come on, big boy,” Eddie teases, smirk pulling at his features, “all talk and no game—seriously?”

That’s what does Steve in, never one to back down from a challenge. He cradles Eddie’s head the same way he does yours, fingers disappearing into his long curls as he pushes toward him, slotting his top lip between Eddie’s, sucking at his bottom gingerly.

It’s just a taste—something to entice Eddie, but it doesn’t take much. He pulls back with a breath, locking eyes with him for a brief moment before diving in fully, tongue splitting Eddie’s mouth open without hesitation, hands idly working at his jeans to shove them down, underwear following as he steps out of them in a fumble, the fabric getting caught at his feet. Eddie takes a little longer, belt snapping in the air as he yanks it from the loops and strips himself too.

“Shirts too?” Steve asks, not directed at any particular person, but you answer seeing as how Eddie is so clearly distracted by Steve’s lips, his neck, the soft pattern of freckles that trace his face.

“Yeah, yeah—“ Your own breath is caught in your throat, despite how good you are at keeping your composure.

This was definitely meant as a joke, maybe a quick peck or two before you’d put an end to their misery—but that wasn’t the case at all.

You felt like you were intruding, but your body was frozen in place and part of you forget the entire cause of this, glancing down at their slowly hardening cocks, shirts being simultaneously ripped over their heads before they fell right back into, Eddie’s hands squeezing along the side of Steve’s neck as he kissed him, letting out the soft sated noises he makes when he’s enjoying himself, eyes closed shut.

Steve’s hand grazes carefully over his own cock, his fingers barely grazing the head of Eddie’s as he squeezes at the base, bringing his fingers up to drag over the tip, openly groaning into Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie chuckles, biting playfully at Steve’s lip, emitting a strained grunt from his chest—and then he’s speaking to you, startling you out of the trance you’ve fallen into, watching two of your best friend’s going after each other so eagerly.

“What’s the verdict, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, pulling away slightly to look at you. He sees the gape in your mouth, the glaze over your eyes and he can’t help it, “Oh shit—you’re into this, aren’t you?”

Steve turns his attention too, “Is that even a question? Look at her.”

“Someone had to force you two to stop ignoring what was obviously there,” You defend, “—I’m not gonna choose, by the way.”

“Oh, come on.” Steve complains, pulling away from Eddie briefly—he’s so unashamed in his nudity that he turns to you, “seriously—what’s it gonna take?”

You shrug stubbornly.

Steve glances over at Eddie, whose pupils are blown to hell with arousal.

“Your bed big enough for three, Munson?” Steve asks, sending you a vivacious smile that makes you blush, shrinking away from him slightly. “We’re gonna settle this.”

“Uh, yeah—should be.” Eddie nods, “But if we’re about to settle who’s better in bed, that’s a given.”

It was definitely not a given—because as much as you’d like to go for one or the other, they were making it impossible.

“Is this too much?” Eddie asks, shifting between your legs as he stretches your thighs open. Steve’s settled behind you, propping you up slightly as he tilts your head up, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation toward this.

“I feel like I should be asking you two that question,” You admit, smiling softly as Steve tugs at your bottom lip with his thumb, smiling down at you, “this is my fault.”

“You good with this, Harrington?” Eddie asks idly, kissing at the inside of your thigh before nipping at the skin, causing you to squirm, gasping involuntarily.

Steve nods, making an affirming noise.

“You think you can handle both of us?” Steve asks endearingly, though it’s edged with something else

“At the same time?” You ask incredulously, “No fuckin’ way—“

Eddie’s tongue slides through the center of your cunt, biting gently at your folds. “I don’t think that’s what he means.”

“Good to know it’s on your mind though,” Steve comments, “maybe we’ll try that next time.”

Eddie pulls away briefly, laughing into the apex of your thigh. Steve’s fingers trailing down your bare chest, over the pudge of your stomach until his fingers reach your clit, rubbing slow circles until he can feel your breath starting to quicken. Eddie dives back in soon after, his tongue dipping into your entrance, lapping up the thick juices, sounding shamefully wet already. His nose nudges Steve’s finger, the pressure it applies is fucking sinful, causing you to moan openly, a hand wrapping around Steve’s bicep for support. His eyes never leave your face, so when your eyes go searching, he’s right there waiting.

“So, here’s the plan,” Steve explains—and considering he’s a lot more experienced than both of you, it makes sense, “Eddie’s gonna fuck you first, then me—then you’ll have to make your decision, alright?”

“No promises.” You mumble, before Steve’s nudging your face back up again, eyes darkening.

“You will.” Steve decides, “Trust me.”

Eddie moves up, leaning back on his thighs as he rustles around in his drawer for the spare box of condoms—because in hindsight, there was no way he could’ve prepared for this. So, of course, he’s all out.

“Hey—it’s fine,” You assure him, hand pulling his face toward you, “I trust you—considering I’ve been on birth control for the past year I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

“You always make me wear condoms.” Steve grumbles from above, earning a light shove from you.

“Well, Eddie isn’t going around fucking other girls.” You tell him lightly—it doesn’t come off as catty, more matter of fact. Eddie laughs, closing the drawer.

“So, one point me,” Eddie says, pointing toward himself, before shoving a giant goose egg at Steve, “Harrington, zero.”

The conversation dies rather quickly as Eddie settles back down, nudging the head of his cock at your entrance, teasingly pressing it along your clit, sliding up through your folds in an effort to drive you mad—it always does, his face lighting up every time. Steve’s not watching you anymore either, eyes lingering toward Eddie, roaming the expanse of his body, his face. He’s never watched another man fuck before, despite his confidence. Steve’s had a threesomes before, though very few and far between, never like this. His sexuality wasn’t something he always openly discussed, no one ever questioned it either. And truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he even knew what it was. But, he was attracted to you—and Eddie.

Eddie pushes in slowly, face scrunching up in concentration as it always does—it’s almost like Steve wasn’t even there to him, his mouth coming down to latch onto your neck, kiss you gently, savor the sweet taste of your skin. Sex with Eddie is always slower, more sensual, and maybe you could enjoy it if Steve wasn’t snickering above you so flippantly.

“Dude,” Eddie complains, thrusts slowing as he glances up at Steve briefly before glancing down at you helplessly, “either get busy or get out.”

“Actually,” You pipe up, looking at Steve, “talk to him, Steve—god knows you never shut up when we’re fucking.”

Steve snorts softly, peering up at Eddie from underneath his lashes, smiling dangerously.

“It’s nice, yeah?” Steve inquires, eyebrows jutting up slightly in question, nodding toward you. “Probably the best you’ve had.”

Eddie laughs weakly, his thrusts increasing slightly as he pulls at your thighs, hooking them around his hips more securely. He was gawking up at Steve, leaving you to watch the show with baited breath, eyes squeezing shit every now and then when Eddie hit that particular spot inside of you.

“It’s the only,” Eddie admits, “but it’s fuckin’ perfect. Pussy’s fuckin’ perfect.”

And he’s never been a savant with words, but damn if that doesn’t send an immediate jolt of heat to your core, moaning brokenly.

“You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” Steve asks you, breaking his connection with Eddie briefly to glance down, “I’m not even kissing him and it’s driving you crazy.”

You nod dumbly, Steve’s attention flicking back toward Eddie.

“Tell me how she feels.”

Eddie scoffs lightly at that. Eddie’s always talkative during sex, but not in the same way Steve is—Steve is always about praise and making you blush after every other word, while Eddie has no ability to keep his burgeoning thoughts inside, telling you something annoying about his day or his favorite song that week; it’s all very mundane but it’s Eddie.

“Tight, fuck—“ He sighs, gripping your hip harshly as he moved his hips into you faster, face scrunching up slightly as he glared at Steve, who’s smirk hasn’t faded at all, “god, warm too. So fuckin’ warm and soft—“

You whimper desperately, finger squeezing into Steve’s forearm as Eddie thrusts into you, shoving you up Steve’s chest slightly, their own faces nudging together from the close proximity they were in.

Steve nods knowingly, his lips grazing Eddie’s plush ones, pulling back slightly when Eddie leans forward. “It’s not fair to her,” Steve says in a hushed tone, but you quickly respond with a shake of your head.

“Fuck, please,” You beg, “it’s so hot.”

They both laugh at that, forcing you to giggle despite how close you were to your own orgasm. Eddie presses his lips against Steve’s this time, initiating the kiss as he moves against you, fingers gripping you impossibly tighter as Steve’s tongue traces his bottom lip before slipping inside.

It’s messy, all spit and battling tongues as Eddie's hand struggles against the mattress to keep him upright, limbs shaking from execution and the coiling heat in his stomach, grunting into Steve’s open mouth.

“Gonna come,” Eddie whines, “fuck, I’m gonna come—“

“Come inside her.” He tells him.

It does Eddie in immediately, losing his rhythm. Steve’s quick, sneaky in his motions as his hand ghosts over your clit—the attention was never lacking, it’s the one thing you appreciated the most about him. Your orgasm hits you quick, fleeting, eyes connecting with Eddie briefly as he spills inside you, fingers digging into your thigh hard enough to leave bruises. Surely they would, but you couldn’t be bothered to care.

Steve rubs your arms comfortingly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as you come back down, head spinning slightly.

“Still with us?” He asks softly, rubbing his thumb along the side of your cheek until you connect eyes with him, offering him a small nod. He grins, “Good, my turn.”

Eddie moves slowly, still reeling from the intensity of it all, feeling floaty as he moves to settle behind you. Steve sits up as he takes Eddie’s place in front of you, leaning back on his heels as he lifts you up into his lap, forcing a small gasp from your chest. His fingers find your cunt, rubbing through the mix of your slick and Eddie’s as he pushes it back up inside of you where it starts to spill out.

“Good girl,” He chides, “I need you to keep it all in until we’re finished.”

Steve grips the base of his cock, pushing inside you slowly as Eddie pulls your hair aside, mouthing at the line on your shoulder, your neck, lazy and gentle kisses to remind you that he’s still there.

“Oh fuck,” Steve groans, “s’not fair—you’ve been letting Munson here fuck you without a condom and deprived me of this—“

“Stipulations, Steve.” You sigh, face scrunching up as he lifts you slightly, wrapping your legs around his hips until you have no choice but to throw over the control to him.

“Can’t help that you're a whore, Harrington.” Eddie chuckles, eyes connecting briefly as removes his lips from your skin, “—tell ‘em, sweetheart. Tell Steve how fuckin’ amazing it feels to have me inside you.”

You nod in agreement, a jerky motion of your head as Steve rams into you harshly, pulling a strained whimper from your lips, adjusting your arms around his neck for purchase. Eddie pushes in impossibly closer—Steve buries his face against the other side that Eddie isn’t occupying, leaving a faint bruise in the skin before pulling away, surprisingly met with Eddie’s lips.

“So good.” You mumble, voice barely above a whisper, words failing to reach you, gasping sharply at the feeling of Eddie’s fingers pressing against your clit, still reeling from the previous orgasm. You could feel it though, that deep seated ache in your belly that was lingering there, waiting. Eddie’s other hand is pulling at Steve’s neck, tongue forcing itself past his lips and devouring him on the spot—if there was one thing about Eddie, he could take your breath away with a kiss, which was evident in the way Steve could barely keep up, having seemingly met his match with Eddie.

“Fuck, it’s too—sensitive, I’m gonna—“ You moan devastingly loud, both of them breaking briefly to attend to you—not that they weren’t already doing so, but they’re lips are puffy and red from kissing each other and they can barely keep their eyes for one another.

You’ve created a monster—but, it was a necessary evil. They had been walking around each other for weeks, tiptoeing around the topic, becoming more and more territorial over you to rile the other one up, it was only a matter of time.

“Fuck, yeah—just like that, baby.” It’s the only nickname that Steve calls you that makes your stomach flutter, his voice softer than normal. Eddie leans in too, fingers still rubbing persistently at your clit as he breaths over your ear, murmuring a soft—

“Look at him,” Eddie comments quietly, “he’s a mess.”

And he was—for a brief second, you didn’t even recognize him. Steve was normally so well managed and put together that the helpless look on his face was completely unfamiliar. His head fell back lazily, pumping into you a finally few times before he’s coming with a soft grunt, letting Eddie work you through your second orgasm—it’s overwhelming, almost too much, feeling your nails dig into the skin of Eddie’s thigh as you curse out a string of obscenities, chest heaving as you came down.

Eddie groans slightly, falling back on his mattress as you follow into a fit of laughter, neither of you able to calm yourself until Steve is settling by your side, staring you both down with a comical look of disbelief.

“So, do you have your answer now?” Eddie interjects beside how valiantly you’ve tried to avoid the topic. “Or, do we need to go again?”

And there’s only one real way out of it.

“Yeah,” You nod, “Me.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit.” Steve quickly recovers, flipping down beside you both, shuffling his pants back on lazily, while you and Eddie couldn’t be bothered. “That’s such a cop out.”

“Are you disagreeing with me?” You press further, the lilt in your voice coming off as a warning.

Eddie laughs softly behind you, “Don’t do it, Steve. You’ll regret it.”

And for once in his life, he doesn’t have a comeback.

“Okay, but back to the original question—“

“It’s Steve.” You admit, earning a dramatic gasp from Eddie, hand clutched over his chest. “Look, you two made me choose, you can’t be mad—“

“You could always try it out for yourself, Munson—if you have doubts.” Steve teases, leaning over you slightly to peer at Eddie, eyes raking his body.

“Mmm, but don’t get your ego up,” You warn him, waving a careful finger at him before pointing at Eddie, “Eddie’s technique is—“

“Are you saying I can’t fuck?” Steve huffs out a laugh, “After that?”

“Eddie’s just—eager.” You smile knowingly, watching as Eddie blushes a deep red, his hand covering himself indecently, the blood rushing to his cock again. “Like, really eager.”

Steve grins menacingly, “Clearly.”

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[da-floof]

A note about Dogdays height for writing reference. (Image spoilers)

So this lovely person called Val (@fitsz_gaming) on Twitter (I’m not calling it fucking x) showed off an image of porting the chapter 3 models they had done.

Now there’s something I want to point out here for the inevitable (but VERY WELCOME) Fanfiction about the player saving Dogday.

He’s HUGE

Because we only see part of his body along with the fact he’s on the floor lower then us-if gives off the illusion that he’s one of the smaller Bigger bodies, maybe around 5-6 foot.

However look at the above height comparison

Now look at this selection of screenshots I took from an out of bounds video by babyZone on YouTube. (POPPY PLAYTIME CHAPTER 3-ALL SECRETS 4K) if you are interested in the video.

First off-Catnap showing just how tall he is compared to your average doorway-which are normally 6’7” in America.

If you watch any gameplay of the home sweet home part he is LITERALLY BRUSHING THE CEILING.

Then our grabpack hand on the jump pad-the grab packs hands are a little big bigger then the average humans from promotional material.

Then here’s Dogdays!

Our hand print is about the size of the thumb on the illustration, Dogdays is about the size of the palm and roughly half the fingers.

You are NOT ‘slinging the injured dog over your shoulder and making a beeline for the nearest exit’

You are getting FORKLIFT certified, getting said forklift INTO PLAYCARE and carrying that massive fucker out a steady speed while ensuring all OSHA standards are met while doing so.

He is a true BIGGER BODY.

And that’s WITHOUT legs.

EDIT: 07/02:Just want to say I made THIS as a thankyou for all the love I got on this post

[sitp-recs]

do you have any recs for drarry + workplace romance?

I definitely do, one of my favourite tropes! This list is strongly focused on office romance and as you can see it got a bit out of hand so I’m gonna link two additional rec lists that might interest you: sports AU and Quidditch fics. Enjoy!!!

Measure My Lordship With Thine Vulgar Aye by @starquestingfordrarry (M, 1k)

Draco buys some Muggle magnets for the office.

Coded Office Missives by carpemermaid (E, 2.5k)

They had an arrangement. Malfoy would send a coded memo when he needed Harry. He knew to tell his secretary to hold his appointments, and lock the door after he arrived. It was a game they started when they were just starting their careers at the Ministry; it’s something they’ve kept up all this time.

The Keepers by RenVeree (T, 3.6k)

In the Rare Books Department of the Ministry of Magic, Draco tends to unique texts and, on occasion, a certain Unspeakable.

Graffiti and Insomnia by SilentAuror (M, 4k)

Harry can't seem to sleep these days. Perhaps it's the boredom of his office job, but all that changes with a bit of graffiti in the office bathroom one day.

Never Gonna Give You Up by InnerLilith (E, 5k)

Five times Harry rickrolls Draco and one time Draco gets him back.

Like This and Like This (Dreams of Lace) by @primavera-cerezos (E, 6k)

Harry gets an accidental peek. He can’t think of anything else.

Say the words / then stay around by Teatrolley (NR, 6k)

They’ve been together for a while when Harry decides that he wants to try the Auror Office again. What he doesn’t consider is the effects the work might have on the two of them. But, then again, maybe those effects don’t have to be all bad?

Interdepartmental Memos by GoldenTruth813, Henndra (E, 6k)

What do you get when GoldenTruth813 plays Harry and Henndra is Draco? An epistolary fic of course!

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Malfoy is like an itch under Harry's skin on an average day. It's even worse when they're trapped in a lift.

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Aurors Malfoy and Potter have to work a case on Beltane. It would be simple if everything wasn't so damn distracting.... For those of you who are wondering, yes, I've tried to cram in as many h/d clichés as possible. But hopefully the story works as a story, too. It's not crack!fic by a long shot but it is a bit tongue-in-cheek.

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It takes Harry a while to work out that every month, almost like clockwork, Draco is given an assignment in the field that takes him out of their shared office for days on end. After each assignment, Draco returns looking so bloody exhausted that Harry gears up to file a complaint with their boss.

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When this season's purple courgettes are woefully thin, Draco Malfoy thinks it amounts to small beans. Next thing he knows, the Department of Standards is over-run with leeks, Brussels sprouts all sorts of legislative difficulties, and somebody appears to have put a roquette under Harry Potter.

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Tales From the Special Branch series by Femme (E, WIP)

When Gawain Robards asks him to form Special Branch seven-four-alpha, Harry Potter knows they'll have to work outside the confines of the law--even though they are the law.

[a-killer-obsession]

PITCHING TENTS ⛺️

Kid Pirates x AFAB Reader Modern AU Campground Series

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

It wasn't something you'd ever admit to those who knew you, they all made the reasonable assumption that you went camping to spend time alone. At first, that had been the case, but you'd quickly come to learn that other single men your age were doing the same thing, and you found yourself loving the thrill of a romp with a stranger.

Masterlist || AO3 || Part One

PART 4/6 - GODDESS (Heat)

CW: sex with a stranger, afab reader, drug use, public sex, semi-public sex, outdoor sex, face sitting, p in v sex, body worship, roleplay, foot fetish, squirting, cumshot, mutual masturbation

WC: 4k

Taglist: @nocturnalrorobin @bbnbhm

The rest of your neighbours pulled into the carpark as you happened to making your way down the shop ramp, bag of ice in hand. Killer, behind the steering wheel of the noisy vehicle, noticed you immediately and pulled up beside the ramp with a shit eating grin on his face. You waited for him to roll down the window to talk.

“What's a pretty little thing like you doing out here on your own?” He joked, playing like he'd never met you.

“Getting ice for your friend's dead body,” you laughed back, feigning a cruel smile and holding up the bag of ice, “poor Kid couldn't handle me”

“Damn, you got him to shut up?” Killer snorted, “Hop in, we'll give you a ride back to your tent”

The passenger on your side in the back, Heat you now knew he was called, shuffled over so you could jump in the door closest to you. You had to almost throw yourself in with how tall the truck was, but you managed.

“Heat, Wire, this is [y/n],” Killer introduced you quickly before pulling up next to the gate to swipe his access card.

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled sweetly, sitting the bag of ice on the floor between you and Heat.

“Hey, do you come to this site often?” Heat asked, “I was wondering if there was anywhere for a bonfire you knew of”

“Oh, yeah absolutely,” you replied, “there's a field near the hiking trail that has a somewhat permanent burned out patch where the teens like to set a bonfire around New Year's. You gotta watch for the sheep if there's any in the field but the farmer doesn't seem to care about bonfires. You planning on lighting one up tonight?”

“Yeah, did you want to join us?” he asked, a little shyly. It wasn't hard to notice the way he was eyeing your exposed thighs in your slightly hiked up short dress, and you made no move to pull your dress down.

“Absolutely, Kid owes me a beer,” you smiled knowingly in the mirror at Killer.

“Oh does he now?” Killer smirked back, clearly catching your meaning.

“Met him in the pool,” you explained, mostly for the benefit of the other two, “kept the poor lonely man company since you lot left him here”

“The poor baby,” Killer snorted, noting the fresh marks on your neck and chest through the rear view mirror.

Heat grabbed the bag of ice for you as Killer parked in their spot, carrying it over to your own site without even having to be asked, what a gentleman. “Where you want this?” He asked as he followed you. You unzipped the tent door and opened the cooler for him.

“Just in here, thanks for carrying it,” you smiled, sitting on the edge of your tall blow up mattress. Heat spilt some of the ice as he noticed the large dildo sitting casually on the covers, right where you'd left it after pleasuring yourself before heading to grab ice. You knew full well it was there, and made no attempt to hide it, curious as to how he would react. Flustered, was the answer you got.

“Fuck, sorry,” he stuttered, kicking the dropped ice out the tent door before it could melt. The small room wasn't quite tall enough for him to stand, but it was pretty close, a damn lot taller than his own shitty tent. An average height man would no doubt fit easily in here, but he was absolutely taller than average. “I should get back,” he scratched his head, awkwardly standing sort of bent over in the first chamber of the tent.

“You don't have to,” you purred, opening your legs just enough for him to get a flash of your lace panties, “but if you have to, let the others know it's about a ten minute walk to the field, come grab me when you're ready to head out later”

“Okay, yeah, no problem,” he coughed, fleeing with a vibrant blush on his face that made you giggle at his bashfulness.

You weren't surprised when Killer presented you with a plate of barbecued meats and deli salads before you even had a chance to make your own dinner. A thanks for ‘keeping Kid company’ he said as he left the plate with you. A few hours later and the blue mop of hair belonging to Heat appeared at one of your mesh windows, having been inside your tent to watch some more trashy tv on your laptop.

“We're gonna head out soon if you're ready?” He asked awkwardly, trying not to look in the window in case you were… doing something.

“Thanks Heat baby,” you cooed back, closing your laptop and grabbing a small backpack you'd filled with the essentials, aka snacks, a small blanket, condoms, and a bluetooth speaker, in case they didn't have one.

“We have plenty of booze in our cooler if you just want to drink what we have,” he suggested as you zipped your tent shut behind you.

“That'd be fantastic,” you hooked your arm around his and could already see the pink blooming on his face. “Shall I lead the way?”

The other three boys collected their things, Killer carrying a large cooler, Kid and Wire carrying bags of store bought firewood, and Heat grabbing a backpack and slinging it over his other shoulder before letting you lead him away. You led the boys out past the camp store, now closed, locked up and abandoned for the night, through past a old wooden sign marking the start of the hiking trail. The first ten minutes of the trail was actually just regular grazing fields, and Heat being a gentleman helped you over the wooden stiles that allowed for easy passage over the wire farm fences. You almost lost your footing on the uneven ground a few times, the grass full of small holes from the cattle and sheep that were occasionally rotated through the fields. As you approached the edge of the forest you veered off to the side, leading the small convoy to a decently sized circle of rocks in the middle of a secluded field, the middle of the rocks filled with ash and the remnants of old fires. Around the rocks were several small wooden benches that someone had added a few years ago, you weren't sure if that was the farmer's or camp owner's doing but it seemed they had some sort of agreement regarding the bonfire field. The boys dumped their things around the ring and set about starting the fire, the daylight quickly fading as the sun disappeared behind nearby mountains on the other side of the valley that the campgrounds were sitting in.

“Nice quiet spot,” Killer noted.

“Yeah, teens like it cos nobody gives a shit if they underage drink out here,” you explained, “this time of the year nobody comes out here though”

“And you said there's a hiking trail nearby?” Wire asked. You wondered if it was the first time you'd heard the tall man speak.

“Yeah, we passed the sign for it on the way in but its not well known since you gotta be in the camp carpark to see the sign, only locals and avid hikers with guidebooks come out here.” You pointed to the thin dirt trail that disappeared at the edge of the forest, “real trail starts just over there. It's about a three hour hike from start to end,” you looked at his long legs, “maybe one and a half for you,” you smiled at him, “and ends on the other side of the camp, through a few more fields. Then you just gotta make a ten minute walk back up the road to get back to camp. I prefer to just get to the summit and come back the way I came though, there's a lot of trucks on that road that couldn't care less about hikers, and no real path, just grassy shoulders.”

“Noted,” he mumbled, sticking his hands in the pocket of his hoodie as he sat. He looked a little ridiculous on the short bench given his height. In fact, they all looked a little funny. Apart from the bench you were forcing Heat to share with you, your arm still linked with his, the others had all opted to claim their own bench each. Just as well, you weren't sure these handmade benches could handle more than one of them at a time. Big boys. Big… big… boys, you smirked to yourself. “I'll probably check it out tomorrow, if the weather is good,” the hooded man continued.

“I was planning on heading up myself,” you replied, “you want company?”

“No,” he replied sternly. You rolled your eyes, grumpy man. You had a feeling you wouldn't be climbing that particular tree this holiday. No matter, you had Kid and Killer, and Heat was looking promising.

Hours passed and among good company you'd managed to get a good buzz on. The fire was roaring, but the last of the wood had just been thrown on. Wire, being the grump he was, had already excused himself and headed back half an hour ago to head to bed. You felt like you hadn't learned anything additional about the man, who had spent most of the time sitting quietly while everyone else talked.

At some point you'd managed to cheese your way into Heat's lap, sharing a joint with him while he stroked your bare thigh. His hands were so very warm, they left goosebumps whenever they moved and exposed your thigh to the cool evening air. One of your hands was buried in this hair, scratching the back of his head, you swore you heard a small whine from him when you first did it.

“Come on Kid, these two have more than enough company,” Killer laughed, a little wobbly on his feet from drinking as he stood.

“What, but I wanna see her tits again,” Kid complained.

“Again?” Heat blinked. You snorted a laugh at the whole situation.

“Kid, if I show you my tits will you leave?” You offered. Kid pondered for a moment, his shaved brows furrowed in drunken thought.

“Only if I can give em a grab,” he decided. Killer rolled his eyes and groaned.

“Alright, deal,” you stood and pulled your dress over your head, and Heat made a surprised little gasp as your tits fell loose from the fabric, having not worn a bra. “You don't mind, do you Heat?” You purred, making yourself comfortable in his lap again, this time with your back to his chest. He'd been half hard underneath you all evening but now he was twitching to life. You encouraged him to wrap his arms around your waist, mostly because you were cold now without your dress and he was so very warm.

Kid smirked and raced over, taking one of your tits in his hand enthusiastically and groping you. You were certain he would have stayed there forever if Killer didn't drag him away by the ear with a disgruntled “come on big guy, let Heat have a chance”, but not before taking a cheeky grab for himself. You got up just for a second to turn in Heat's lap as the others finally left, not that you wouldn't have gladly fucked Heat in front of them anyway.

“Finally I have you all to myself,” you smirked, rolling your hips against him. He let out a shaky rasp and grabbed your ass, fondling the soft fleah and leaning back a little as you grinded against him.

“Are you… are you sure you want me?” He asked nervously, not meeting your eye as his confidence suddenly faltered. “You wouldn't rather go with them?”

“And miss riding this pretty face?” You cooed, running your fingertip over his fascinating facial scars, “you will let me ride it, won't you pretty boy?”

“Yes! Of course,” he replied enthusiastically, his confidence reignited. “Please”

“I love your enthusiasm,” you purred, your lips so close to his he could feel your breath against them, “but I wanna get a taste of you first, before you taste like me”

He groaned and squeezed your ass as your lips crashed against his, his tongue greedily hunting for yours immediately. The groves on his scarred lips felt nice against yours, an interesting new texture, and his tongue was strong and hot against yours, saliva and moans exchanged as you rolled against him. He let you dominate the kiss, a refreshing take for you. Nine times out of ten, when offered a willing hot wet hole, the strangers you pulled liked to dominate you, and you had no problem with that. You loved the rough fucks they gave you and the dirty degrading things they called you while they filled you. But once in a while came along a rare gem like Heat, soft and sweet and ripe to take a juicy bite from, an opportunity to flex your more dominant side.

“You're so cute,” you mumbled against his neck as you broke the kiss to nip and suck at his tattooed neck, tracing the inked maroon thorns with your tongue, “so unbelievably sexy as well, I think I'd like to ride that pretty face now though”

Heat made a soft moan and swivelled on the bench so his legs were either side of it, pulling you with him. He laid back and you took the opportunity to properly grind yourself against his erection now that he was flat. You could feel the wet patch in your panties as you rubbed against what felt like yet another massive cock, what luck you were having. He admired the way your breasts bounced slightly with every movement, he wanted to suck on them so badly but he'd be patient for now, he knew he'd get the opportunity later. You stepped off him for a moment to remove your panties, leaving you entirely naked in the field. Heat thought you looked like a goddess as you straddled back over him, the orange light of the fire making your skin glow like you yourself were a deity made of fire, your hair shiny and wild in the firelight like it was set a flame.

He watched with hungry fascination as you sat on his chest, your pussy within eyeline, glistening in the flickering light as you spread yourself for him with your index and ring finger while your middle finger ran circles on your clit. His hands travelled up your sides, making you shiver, till they found your breasts and grasped them, his thumbs flicking over your pert nipples, making you buck slightly.

He stuck out his tongue for you, begging for you to ride it, wide and hot and wet, and you smiled fondly as you accepted his invitation, lowering yourself onto his face with a moan. His hands moved to your thighs, wrapping around them and holding you down tight as he lapped at your pussy, bullying his thick tongue inside you. One hand reached around to play with your clit, and you leaned back with your hands on his strong thighs as you savoured his mouth on you.

“Ohh that feels so good pretty boy,” you moaned, one hand burying itself in his hair “good boy Heat, good boy”

He whimpered against you and doubled his efforts, your hips rolling and rutting against his tongue and nose on their own accord till you shook and came on his face with a short spurt of fluid. He nosed your clit as he used his tongue to clean you, moaning as the aftershocks of your orgasm rocked through your body. You shuffled off his face to sit on his midriff, leaning down to kiss him and tasting yourself on his lips, still wet with your release.

“Fuck,” you said with a shakey voice as you sat back up, “and here I was intent on riding that dick too, but you made me cum so damn hard my legs are jelly”

He gave you a proud grin as he sat up, moving you down to his groin with strong hands like you weighed no more than a bag of grapes. He pushed your hair out of the way to kiss your neck, running his tongue up it and tugging on your earlobe with gentle teeth. “Let me take care of you then, goddess,” he mumbled against your neck.

“Goddess? I like that,” you purred.

“I'm gonna,” he kissed down your chest, “worship,” kiss, “every,” kiss, “part of you.” You moaned as he took your breast in his mouth, running his tongue over your nipple and sucking on the malleable flesh before letting it go with a pop and moving to the other, his groans vibrating against your skin as you eagerly grinded against his clothed erection, leaving a wet spot on the front of his pants. God you wanted him so fucking bad.

“There's a blanket in my bag Heat,” you moaned as your hands threaded through his hair. Never before had you ever felt so intimate with a stranger, but the way Heat touched you and laid soft kisses over your chest and neck made you feel like you were with a long time lover. “Lay me down and make love to me”

“Whatever you want, my goddess,” he groaned against your bare skin. You slid off his lap and grabbed your bag, handing him the blanket. He laid it over the grass and offered you his hand, and he helped you lay on the blanket, the fire still lighting you in a warm orange that made his dick twitch at your beauty. So smooth and soft in the firelight, bare to him like you'd emerged from the fire itself just to sate your lust with him, a humble devotee, blessing him with your mere presence.

You watched with hungry eyes as he removed his clothes piece by piece, devouring him with your eyes as more and more of his muscular body was revealed to you, a hand between your spread legs to touch yourself as you watched him. The firelight made small glints on the underside of his large cock as he stood in front of you stroking it, the two of you getting off on watching each other get off, and you bit your lip as you realised he was pierced and the glints were the light catching on the metal ball bearings. His cock was somehow longer than Killer's, wider towards the end, a set of three piercings like a ladder up the underside.

Enjoying the goddess roleplay he was setting, you leaned into it, slipping off your sandals, the only items you still wore, and lifting a foot to point it towards him. “Come worship me, come show your goddess how devoted you are”

He stepped closer and took your ankle in his hand, running his tongue up the sole of your foot, making you squirm at the tickling sensation. He groaned as he took your big toe in his mouth, sucking on it and watching you with a dark look in his eyes that made you unbearably wet. It was quickly clear to you that Heat enjoyed feet, you often found that men were more willing to let themselves go to their kinks when it was with a stranger, and you were happy to indulge even if it wasn't really your thing. Your other foot lifted and pressed against his cock, pushing it up against his abdomen so you were stroking him with the sole of your foot. He whined against and bucked against your foot, the piercings feeling strange and pleasant against your sole. Desperate to feel your wet heat on his aching cock, he kissed up your ankle, lowering himself to the blanket like a man kneeling at your altar as he kissed all the way up your calf and thigh. He stopped for a moment to enjoy your pussy, already craving that taste again like a man addicted, before you pulled on his hair with a whine, needy to have him inside you.

He took the hint and quickly fumbled around in his discarded pants, kneeling between your legs while you stroked him languidly and he searched his pockets. He pulled a condom from them and threw the pants aside. You let him go so he could put the condom on, and you spread wide for him as he lowered himself over you, his tip pressing against your entrance.

“Come worship me, Heat,” you moaned, your eyes locked with his as his brows furrowed and he sunk inside you. “Oh fuck, yes~”

His hands and mouth drifted over your body as he started to thrust into you, kissing and touching whatever he could reach, the pull of your walls on his cock driving him insane with lust. He leaned back and tucked his hands under your ass, forcing it upwards, the new angle making you whine as he supported you above the ground effortlessly while still fucking you hard at a rapidly increasing pace.

“You're so beautiful goddess,” he whined, “so fucking beautiful”

“I want your cum, worshipper,” you moaned, “show me how much you love your goddess, make me cream on your cock and paint me with your sacrifice”

He let out a throaty groan as his thrusts became irregular and desperate, fucking into you with everything he had. You reached down and rubbed your clit furiously, crying out as your orgasm crashed through you and you squirted, the hot liquid splashing against Heat's abdomen and dripping down his thighs, glistening in the firelight and soaking into the blanket beneath you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pulled out and tore off the condom, raising himself slightly to jerk himself off over your stomach, “I'm cumming goddess, fuck, accept my sacrifice please”

Long ropes of cum shot out over you, spraying over your breasts and neck with wet splats as he threw back his head and let out a carnal groan, one of his hands gripping your thigh for support. He crumbled on himself as he finished, his hand still wrapped around his softening cock, panting hard. When he finally came back to earth enough to admire his work, you ran two fingers up your stomach and swiped the cum, sucking it off your fingers with a satisfied hum.

“Such a good boy for me Heat,” you purred, “come lay with me, your goddess is pleased”

Heat collapsed on the blanket next to you, uncaring that you were covered in cum as he draped an arm over you and pulled you close. The two of you laid there for a while longer till you began to shiver, and Heat made quick work using his shirt to clean you up, only bothering to put his pants back on while you redressed yourself. He snuffed out the fire and carried your bag for you as he led you back to the campgrounds hand in hand. He was prepared to go back to his tent alone, but you insisted he stay with you, so the two of you curled up in your bed and you fell asleep with his warm chest against your back, his leg trapped between your thighs, and your fingers intertwined over your chest.

[NEXT PART]

[legacygirlingreen]

Drenched in Magic // Sebastian Sallow x MC One shot

A/N: this was a wonderful colab with @darch7995 ! I simply wrote the story for her idea and HERE is the audio she did! Seriously check out her page sometime bc her audios are INCREDIBLE

All screenshot is by @silverxstardust - she’s got great work as well!

Warnings: nudity, skinny dipping, kissing, flirting, etc

Word count: 4k

The burning in her thighs was almost distracting from her current plight. Almost. Not only had Sebastian sallow drug her from the warmth of the castle right before dinner for a brief treasure hunt in the highlands, but he’d gotten more than either of them bargained for when they’d stumbled upon a camp of dark wizards. Unfortunately, one of Rookwood’s men recognized her as the one who’d lead to their boss's demise, quickly alerting others in the camp to her and the slytherins presence, and thus the unforgivables being hurled around them had started.

Sebastian, wanting to make good on his promise to never cast one again, immediately took off running, pushing her ahead of him to do the same. And they had continued running at top speed, using whatever spells could come to mind to protect them as many of the wizards turned into various animagus forms, running beside them as vile creatures like dark mongrels.

She was thankful for the massive amounts of walking, stair climbing and often running required by the average hogwarts student - the castle was large and avoiding detentions meant frequently breaking out into a sprint in the corridors. Slowly but surely Sebastian was able to pause every now and again, firing confringo and various spells at the opponents, reducing the number of wizards chasing them with time.

“Glacius!” Sebastian shouted as he hurled the spell out over his shoulder before carefully pulling her body into his. She initially went to protest his move as he pulled her along, seeing no point for him wrenching her into his side, but as the lime green ball of light flew past her body, the place she’d previously been standing, she realized why he had done so.

Having no time to focus on that, she turned around, seeing the enemy frozen in place by Sebastian, and deciding that given the man had attempted to use Avada Kadavra on her, then she was justified in using extreme force…

“Diffindo!” She shouted, turning back around to the difficult to see path in front of them as they continued to run. Pushing ahead of Sebastian, who was slowly starting to waiver with his pace, yet she could still feel him on her heels as they ran.

“Have I ever told you that I really like those trousers ? Like really like them” Sebastian said as they pressed on.

“We are running for our lives, and all you can focus on is my wardrobe Sallow? I never knew you were such an observer of fabrics. Perhaps you should fill that open position at Gladrags now that Mr. Hill’s assistant eloped!” She retorted, annoyed he could find time to flirt with her despite their situation.

“Hard pass. It’s less about the trousers, and more about what’s in them that I find so appealing” he responded and she didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking.

“Perhaps wait until we are no longer in danger to make comments on my-“ she coughed and although hilariously timed it was mostly from the exertion to her lungs. “Assets?” He asked mischievously, accentuating the former part of the word.

It was at that exact moment she felt a firm smack against the same area she could feel his eyes staring despite running in the nearly pitch Black Forest.

Quickly tossing a side eye over her shoulder as they ran she frowned, realizing that even when their lives were at stake, he was still going to behave like a pig. Figures. Before she could even open her mouth to question him further he responded cheekily.

“I believe it’s called multitasking darling, you should try it someti- Incarcerous!” He shouted, and she heard the thud of yet another body drop to the ground as she turned to see a man tied to the ground. Feeling Sebastian’s hand grabbing at hers, she didn’t question when he thrust his non-dominant hand into her own and began to yard her along.

“Multitasking?” She whispered under her breath rhetorically but Sebastian only chuckled at her stunned reaction.

“Multitasking. Like saving your ass, while also staring at or ” Sebastian trailed off, once again reaching down and this time grabbing a firm handful of her bottom as she yelped, not expecting him to have done something so untoward with their lives on the line.

“What in Merlin's name?!” She cried out, and just as she went to yell at him for his behavior, she saw movement out of the corner of her eyes shouting “Bombarda!” Watching how the witch who’d meant to attack them, flew back against a tree with a sickening smack.

“Now what did that witch do to you to deserve such excessive force darling? Could it be you’re reacting this way because you’re riled up?” He teased her, deciding they should make a stand against the few wizards closing in on them. Sebastian knew that deep down if angered enough or truly threatened, the girl would unleash unforeseen magic that would reduce enemies to shreds.

“Riled up? Riled up?! Why on earth would I be riled up Sallow?!” She asked him frustrated at his behavior while the exhaustion burned in her lungs. She was so angry at the boy for continually making passes at her then backing away. He was such a horrendous flirt in private yet when questioned by Ominis, Poppy or any of their other classmates he seemed less than interested in her. The constant confusion grew more and more frustrating to her, as with time, she’d come to really like the boy.

He was tall - much taller than he had been in 5th year - and had only grown more handsome as he’d aged. His wild brown hair had only gotten more unruly. His smile, still charming and full of light. His shoulders, more broad and his frame filled out with more muscles than she’d have expected. Gone was every trace of baby fat, however still the boyish appearance she grew to love had remained somehow. I’m his dimples, in his eyes and in his playfulness. Sebastian sallow was by far the most handsome man she’d laid eyes on.

Giving her that charming Sallow smile he lightly pulled her body behind his own as he cast protego and a red beam from the bushes beside them cast off his forcefield as she gasp. She needed to stop allowing herself to become distracted during dangerous scenarios, as he was capable of flirting and fighting apparently but she couldn’t hold her own when he was standing so close.

Trying to separate from him once more, he pulled her against his body tighter, casting her a warning gaze downward as he continued the onslaught of teasing by saying “not yet princess” just before another beam bounced off his forcefield.

It frustrated her that he continued to harass her. It frustrated her that he was so damn good at fighting while also riling her up. It frustrated her to know that he was so calm under pressure all the while she was dying within his hold. She was frustrated he held her that way and still he refused to make a move unless under life or death scenarios. It frustrated her the way his thumb stroked against the skin of her thigh gently…

As soon as he deflected the charm, he dropped the protego. And she’d had enough between him and the dark wizards after them both. Feeling the electricity so frequently in her veins charging the air, she decided that now was as good a time as any to let it go. Pointing her want to the sky, she saw the remaining three enemies closing in, pulling down a lightning bolt from the heavens as she reduced the last three of their enemies to ash.

“Wow. It still amazes me how incredible you look when you pull that magic out of thin air. A thing of dreams truly” he said as he continued to hold her against him by the hand he’d moved from her thigh to her waist, and cast down a sly grin with a small wink.

At that she huffed, pushing him away and brushing herself off. She ran a hand through her disheveled hair, realizing that her braid had mostly come undone and recognized soon she’d likely have to redo it. Finally able to catch her breath she walked forward, seeing that one of the fallen wizards had dropped a small coin purse ahead of her, and just as she reached down to grab it she heard Sebastian call out for her.

“MC look out!” She didn’t have much time to react before he hurled himself towards her, tackling her into some bushes as a loud whooshing sound and an animalistic growl filled the air.

“Falling hard for me now aren’t you MC?” He asked with a chuckle as he held her cradled against his chest , ignoring the fact that a River troll had already spotted and charged at them.

Rolling off of him and onto her back, she quickly picked herself up and moved out of the way. Unfortunately Sebastian moved the other direction, as the troll moved between them, cornering her back against its den. Continuing to swing its large staff at her, she continued to dodge and deflect while whatever spells Sebastian hurled seemed to do little damage to it.

Concentrating, she used her ancient magic, spurring herself past the beast and landing herself next to Sebastian, at least she attempted to do so, but miscalculated the distance, crashing into him and sending them both flying backwards. As they did so, she could feel his arms once again snaking around her to cushion her fall.

Immediately all she could feel was warmth. Sticky, warmth and the most foul odor she’d ever smelt. Troll boogies.

“Oh that’s downright foul… and here I was having a good hair day” Sebastian chided out before he rolled out of the barreling troll's way.

As the beast reached its staff up to swing at her, she lifted her wand, using ancient magic once more and catching its weapon mid air, flinging it back into the trolls face, disrupting it before once again calling down the lightning to finally defeat it.

Looking over she saw Sebastian staring up at her from the ground with a smirk on his face.

“Don’t.” She warned him as she examined the absolutely filthy state they found themselves in. Covered in dirt, sweat, blood and now troll boogies.

“What?” He asked feigning innocence as she rolled her eyes

“You know what.” Her tone was threatening but Sebastian hardly seemed to mind as he continued to mess with her.

“You know, I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to look sexy while covered in troll boogies but here you are, proov-“ Sebastian was interrupted by a loud howl.

“You have got to be kidding me!” She replied, annoyed at the now incoming mongrels. Deciding she was done fighting for the time being she reached a hand out to Sebastian, and with him distracted she decided to use her newly acquired skills in apparition to get as far away as she could with a location she knew well in her mind…

“Wha-“ Sebastian looked slightly green at the sudden transportation but quickly regained composure before adding “if you wanted me alone darling all you had to do was say so”

Instead of reacting, she simply swatted him away, heading out from the entrance of the cave. Hoping to leave before Sebastian asked too many questions, she knew that the small borough of bainburgh was nearby, and there they could access the floo flame to get home.

“What is this place?” Sebastian asked, seeing the large carving of the graphorn above them, and she sighed seeing he had firmly planted himself at the entrance to the last keeper trial - the one she had gone in only a few years before.

“This is the entrance to the last keeper trial. I uh, had to tame a graphorn and it opened the door” she exclaimed casually as she continued to hope that he would shuffle away and drop the conversation.

“You what? There’s, but you, how?” He asked, still in shock at what she had told him. She simply shrugged asking “can we leave” while gesturing to the mouth of the gorge as he gave in and followed her.

“Why did you never tell me?” Sebastian asked softly.

“It happened around the same time as the catacomb. You were grieving. I didn’t want to bother you with all the keeper stuff. Then Fig- we don’t need to talk about it.” She explained and he relented, knowing that she often bottled up her emotions, as he did.

“Where are we heading?” Sebastian asked, allowing a change in subject.

“Bainburgh is not a far walk from here, we can take the floo -“ she started but he interrupted.

“It’s past curfew so the floo is shut off to the castle. That and I uh… dropped my bag of powder back when I knocked you to the ground” he exclaimed sheepishly.

“Wonderful. I just want to get these troll boogies off me.” She said rolling her eyes as they came to the beginnings of the forge, seeing jobberknols flying overhead before landing above a waterfall.

Sebastian seemed to have noticed the small pool of water at the base of the cliff as well bc he looked to her, wiggling his eyebrows as he pulled her towards the water.

“Well then Princess, your wish is my command. I’ll have those boogies off you in no time” he exclaimed as he marched the pair of them over to the water's edge.

“Sebastian that water is likely freezing, besides I can assure you, the extent of the grime I want off my body goes much further than what you can see” she nearly whined out, desperately wishing she’d stayed at the castle. She would’ve been bathed and in her night dressing, long asleep if he hadn’t convinced her. But one look into those puppy dog eyes and she'd been a goner.

“Warming charms exist for a reason. And as for the rest… I won’t look if you don’t” he teased, dropping her hand to start working off his plaid school jacket and starting to unbutton his waist coast.

“You can’t be serious” she deadpanned

“Deadly. Besides I heard that once dried, troll boogies are nearly impossible to get off your skin and hair-“ she started to explain and the fear alone of being caked in the vile substance was enough to have her started to undo the latches on her corset style vest.

“Fine. But I’m serious Sallow, no peaking” she warned and he turned out. As he did so, she faced the waters edge, knowing he’d given her the privacy of going into the cool water first. Slowly she removed layer after layer until she was bare, undoing the already messy braid, before wading into the cool water until it covered her from the neck down. In the moonlight she realized how difficult it would be for him to actually see anything, a comfort that allowed her to call to him.

“Alright, I’m facing the wall if you want to come in now” she exclaimed and she had anticipated him to slowly walk into the water as she had, but at the final piece of fabric she heard hit the ground, she soon was sprayed with the large splash his body made as he dived into the water.

Coming up for air he chuckled, expertly swimming towards her, while maintaining a respectable distance as she felt the cool water against her nipples.

“Damn, forgot the warming charm” he reminded her and she sighed realizing they’d be cold until they got out.

“I can go get my wand if you promise not to look-“ she tried to reason but he only swam closer, stopping just shy of her before standing up. While she was covered almost entirely, the tops of his shoulders and chest came into view. Seeing the patch of hair covering the center of his chest her words faltered on her tongue.

“See something you like darling?” He asked at her fish out of water expression.

“I - I’ll get my wand. Excuse me” she went to move but he reached forward, grabbing a shoulder to stop her, keeping his body at a slight distance.

“You know there’s other ways to keep warm right” he teased and she’d finally had enough.

“Would you stop it sallow!” She demanded with a frustrating sigh, pulling free of his grasp as she ducked completely underneath the water to rinse the last of the grime from her hair before breaking the surface.

“Stop what?” He asked, and if he hadn't moved closer while she was under the water, she wouldn’t have been able to see his genuine confusion, not just the fake innocence he loved to tease her with.

“Stop flirting with me when you have no intention of actually following through with anything” she warned and he quirked an eyebrow at her, continuing to close in on her as she moved back.

“What do you mean ‘no intention of following through’?” He asked, quoting her and she shrugged.

“I know you only flirt with me for fun or to see me get frustrated. It’s all some game to you, I know it’s not real” she replied somewhat sadly as she stilled her movements, sinking into the water some more, leaning her head back to see the stars as she felt the cool highland air nip her nose.

“That’s quite a bold assumption to make.” He replied, somewhat defensively but also slightly upset that she would assume something so poorly of him.

“Is it? You never have made a genuine attempt at courting me. Only making obscene comments every now and again or teasing me just to see me blush, then laughing at how red my face gets. How could I not assume it’s some game to you?” She replied, not looking at him as she continued to stare at the stars while soaking in the water.

“Have you perhaps considered that I am just bad at expressing my emotions. That it’s easier to make lighthearted jokes at the things that scare me” he asked her and she pulled her head back up, water drops sliding down her face and neck as she pushed all her hair back.

“I scare you?” She asked confused.

“MC, you terrify the shit out of me” he exclaimed with a distant look in his eye and for once she decided that perhaps she should be the one to tease him instead. Moving closer to him, she stopped just shy of his body, pushing him down so he was covered more by water and level with her.

“You said that troll boogies are hard to remove once they dry” she claimed, pointing to his hair which he has still yet to properly scrub.

“I mostly said that to get you naked.” He admitted bluntly

“Well you got me naked and now I’m offering to make sure all the grime is out of your hair. Can you just shut up and let me help you” she replied and he could only bring himself to nod as she moved behind him, and he dipped his head back as she had previously.

She brought her chilled fingers up to his soaked locks, feeling how silky his hair felt when wet and separating the strands from the sticky substance they had both fallen into earlier. Eventually she worked his hair until she was certain it would be salvageable with a real bath. Noticing the serene expression he wore as he had closed his eyes she commented “you really like having people touching your hair, don’t you”

“Only if by ‘people’ you mean the most beautiful witch I know then yes, I do enjoy it” he replied, looking at her before he pulled his head back free from the water and turned his body to her.

“Do you have an off switch somewhere I’m not aware of?”

“I do, but I’m not quite sure you want to put your hand on my cock and -“

“Sebastian!” She interrupted as he chuckled.

“Sorry, you sort of walked into that one” he gave her a toothy grin before noticing her mild shaking. In the brief amount of time they’d been in the water she was already cold.

“Here I can see you are freezing” he said holding out a hand and she shook her head.

“You think I’m just going to let you feel me up because I’m cold?” She asked and he shook his head with a curious grin.

“I didn’t realize that was on the table, perhaps that’s a better idea than what I had in mind-“ he teased only to feel her smack the exposed skin of his back.

“Feisty. I was going to try wandless magic but I wanted you to be behind me in case we have another confringo style disaster. As lovely as you are, I’d hate to see you without those eyebrows that are so often furrowed at me” he explained and she realized he was simply moving his body in front of hers and she accepted his hand, trying to ignore the way her thigh brushed against his leg as she moved around him in the water. Even the briefest skin to skin contact sent shivers up her spine.

Carefully using wandless magic he was able to slightly raise the temperature of the water around them until it was no longer freezing but it was still by no means pleasant.

“There, don’t want to get too crazy and turn us into a caldron but that’s an improvement… are you feeling alright?” He asked her sudden concern and if she had to guess it was over her distant expression which has resulted from the brief touch under the water.

“Never better.” She said bluntly as she looked at the way the moonlight reflected off his dark eyes or his soaked brown hair clung to his forehead instead of the fringe’s usual place of being pushed off his face.

“Are you sure?” He continued to step towards her with concern.

“Positive” she replied, stepping back, only to find herself up against a rock in the water as he kept coming forward. eventually planting himself directly in front of her, to the point she could feel the occasional brush of his legs against hers as the water lapped around them and the most from the waterfall fell around them.

As Sebastian looked at her with her flushed cheeks, she looked down embarrassed to have been caught in this position with him, but as she did so she realized that the faintest outline of her breasts would be visible through the surface of the water. Looking up at him, she saw his vision trained on exactly what she’d noticed.

She couldn’t find it in herself to reply as his eyes snapped back to her own. Instead she let him take the lead, pushing his hand out and planting himself against the rock behind her as he scooted closer.

“Are you as scared of me, as I am of you MC, because I gotta tell you: dark wizards, mongrel and trolls don’t scare me, but this terrifies me” he admitted while looking at her through downcast eyelids. She didn’t say a word, only flickering her gaze down to his lips as he continued to press his body closer. Bringing a hand up she laid it on his chest , but didn’t push him away, simply holding it there. Underneath her palm she could feel his heart pounding. The feeling of his heartbeat and the nervous shakiness in his breath told her he wasn’t lying.

Finally finding the last bit of courage she pressed off the rock and slowly brought an arm up to loop around his neck, her body floating in the water as she gently tread. At first he seemed surprised but quickly wrapped an arm around her bare waist, feeling her soft skin with the other.

“Positively terrified Sallow… are you too frightened to kiss me or..?” She teased and he leaned in pausing only briefly as he hovered his mouth over hers to ask

“You know there’s no going back to the way things were before if we do this?” He asked and she nodded, tipping her face up and closing the gap to answer his question.

He groaned at the feeling of her lips on his and the gentle way she clung to his body for support as he could stand in the water while she was too short. Hoisting her up slightly, he moved a hand down to grope her curves under the water's surface as they kissed.

Breaking away he remarked “Merlin you’re so beautiful” he said sincerely as he rested his forehead on hers.

She giggled at his compliment, kissing his nose before responding “easy for you to say when you’ve already gotten me naked and we haven’t even been on a proper date”

“You don’t think slaying trolls isn’t a wonderful date actively?”

“Certainly not traditional”

“Have either of us ever been traditional?”

“No I suppose not” she replied once again chuckling.

“Come here, how often do we find ourselves truly alone… I’m not wasting a second of tasting those sweet lips of yours” he demanded, pulling her close as they kissed under the moonlight, entranced in the pool together

[eywaseclipse]

The Songs of Freedom Chapter 3: Sarentu

Characters: Sarentu OC named Kirani, Nor, Teylan, Ri’nela, So’lek, Priya, Tani, mentions of Jake Sully, the RDA and eventually Eetu

Synopsis: Several weeks go by since your rescue from TAP as you learn more about your clan, and adapt to your new life, but as time goes on you can’t help deny the tension between you and So’lek

Warnings: None, mainly angst and self doubt, mentions of past child abuse, swearing

Word Count: 4k

The days once consumed with immeasurable guilt and fear seem to fade away onto the horizon of Kinglor Forest, as you reach new milestones in this new phase of your survival. Adapting to a new routine at Resistance HQ has taken some time but find you yourself distracted; off battling your demons as if too afraid of slowing down so that it might be enough for them to finally catch up to you once and for all. 

Today, Tani has offered to teach you and the others how to properly weave traditional Na’vi garments and to truly embrace being Na’vi. You stand in front of the bathroom mirror scanning your body with careful eyes. You noticed that you’ve filled out since your arrival 2 weeks ago but still look weaker than the average Na’vi rebel around here.

You sigh and adjust your poorly braided hair tossing them behind your shoulders and head out of your room, seeing Ri’nela exit out of her own smiling to her warmly. “Good morning.” She takes her arm and wraps it around yours out of comfort, when you hear the creak of doors and watch Teylan and Nor walking down the hallway with So’lek closely behind them. Your stomach does flips staring at his tall willowy figure strutting down the corridor so effortlessly. You look at the way his strong thighs flex with every step, his arms swinging with confidence, and that he has gone without his kevlar vest today. You admire his long torso, looking at his stomach riddled with scars and ripcord muscles, up to his pecs and strong jawline.

Quickly adverting your gaze, you awkwardly wiggle your toes as if to convince yourself you weren’t just ogling at the warrior up and down. “Good, you’re up. We will head to the mess hall and meet Tani after.” So’lek’s voice echos through the hallway. You feel your cheeks heat up with blush spreading to the tips of your ears before you can muster the courage to respond. “So’lek said there’s some sort of celebration tonight” Teylan chirps in excitedly.

You all chat amongst yourselves as So’lek explains that the cause of celebration tonight is due to another human base being blown sky high. Sandwiched in-between Nor and So’lek, you all comfortably sit and eat your breakfast with Tani now present at the table. 

“Alright shall we?” Tani smiles excitedly watching as the group of you follow suit. You look as So’lek stands unmoving, “are you not joining?” You ask curiously. “Duty calls” He simply replies with a slight smirk on his face, suddenly feeling the warmth from the palm of his hand gently press against the small of your back. You turn to him with a confused expression, no doubt obvious on your face, before he nudges you into the direction of the group.

Before you can even process the small gesture, Ri’nela begins firing off a slew of questions on bead making and garment crafting to Tani feeling like static run rampant in your brain. You enter what looks like a small cozy room tucked away in the corner of the space illuminated by the warm glow of string lights. Several large artisan rugs are laid out across the floor with a comfortable looking couch with more pillows in the corner. You smell the dust that’s collected in the room mixed with the fresh scent of new plants scattered in pots all around the space. 

“Take a seat and I’ll show you how to make a loincloth.” She instructs. You see Teylan and Ri’nela excitedly sit eager to learn, as Nor appears unusually stoic. You say nothing and sit down on the plush rug, each being handed a leathery textured material. 

“You are Sarentu. Your clan was renowned for their incredible diplomacy, storytelling, and bringing peace amongst the other clans. They were incredible at everything they did, valuing knowledge and spreading tales amongst Pandora traveling through the forest.” The way Tani spoke so highly of your clan, makes your heart clench with sadness. If it weren’t for TAP and John Mercer, you wouldn’t need a stranger to explain your own culture to you right now.

“We will help you remember who you are, and it starts by dressing Na’vi.” Tani smiles holding out several beaded arm bands. “Here, for each of you.” She smiles warmly, as you all reach for the beads. You hold yours more closely, examining the small river rocks woven intricately into twine. “It’s beautiful thank you.” Ri’nela graciously replies. 

You spend the rest of the afternoon learning how to properly weave together a basic necklace and loincloth made out of the materials found in the forest; like crushed Ar’lek seeds with their red hue that create a colorful paste to mix with water for colored material. Or the many variations from flora and fauna that provide stylish accessories like the yomioang chalice plant.

You look down to your crafted necklaces and loincloths made from some of the vines of the jungle and feathers Tani helped string into your hair and sigh. Suddenly, a loud cough erupts, causing your head to whip right up to the source. A stern looking So’lek peers in the doorway as you to blink several times. “How are things?” He booms. You all watch as he approaches and squats down close by, inspecting your work. “Hm.” He grunts out. “They learn fast.” Tani says fondly. “Come, I will take you to learn something more useful; weapons training.” He says with a playful tone in his voice. You hear Tani scoff and roll her eyes. “They are not ready for that yet.” But So’lek shakes his head. “They can walk? They can fight. We do not have the luxury of time.” He just replies curtly.

There’s an awkward tension hanging in the air as they go back and forth, but with a final sigh from Tani she concedes, “Fine. If you must.” Waving her hand at him. “Kìyevame” She smiles at you all. “What does that mean? Nor asks  “See you soon.” She winks playfully. You all understand basic Na’vi thanks to Alma teaching you in secret, but only at a conversational level. “Don’t worry you have plenty of time to learn the catch phrases and sayings” So’lek rolls his eyes. 

You exchange a look with Ri’nela, and stand up to follow So’lek together with Teylan and Nor grabbing your things. “W-what kind of weapons training are we learning?” Teylan asks nervously walking beside So’lek trying to keep the same pace. He laughs, and turns to you. “You’re not. The celebration is starting soon and I thought you all could use some real form of entertainment.” Offering you a small smile.

You look at him in confusion, “So you lied?” Nor accuses. “You deserve a night of fun. Go get changed and meet me in the main wing.” So’lek begins walking away before any of you can respond just standing in the hallway hands full of your new crafted garments staring wide eyed. “What the fuck.” You whisper to yourself. 

You enter your room staring at your new clothes laid out on the bed. You know how to string a loincloth onto your body thanks to Tani explaining and demonstrating what it would look like, but you’ve never done this before. You remember a time when Mercer yelled at you just for putting several beads in your hair as a child. Slowly getting out of your basic shirt and sweatpants and fold them gently, you reach for the newly crafted green leather loincloth out of dried Clouded Lily leaves. 

You try your best to string the newly woven beads around your chest as Tani demonstrated, still not used to the idea of showing so much skin. You wrap your bracelets and armbands around your wrists and arms, gently adjusting everything as you stare at this stranger looking back at you in the mirror by your bedside table. Your eyes scan your body, littered with your ugly puckered scars showing far too much of your azure color than you’re comfortable with. But this, this is the way. The Na’vi reject vanity and are open and carefree. It’s your culture to embrace your body as a gift instead of a burden. The time to start embracing this side of yourself now.

With a deep conflicted sigh you step out into the hallway and knock on Ri’nela’s door. With a soft creak it opens slowly, revealing her own newly crafted outfit. “Wow.” You both admire each other’s work. “I feel a breeze” You chuckle awkwardly waving your hand to your barely covered nipples and butt cheeks hanging out. “It is the way yeah? Might as well dress as Sarentu.” She smiles playfully. You see Teylan and Nor emerge out of their own rooms, looking at Nor’s handcrafted chest plate and intricately made headpiece. 

Teylan on the other hand opted for a ratty tank top and tool belt he most definitely found in the lost and found bin you saw in the living room earlier. “We certainly look more Na’vi.” You smile at Nor. You notice a newfound confidence in your steps, as if your body subconscious notices the change as well. Your eyes now scan a lively living room where some of the humans have gathered around with other Na’vi. This part of the wing is warm, inviting; decorated with string lights, colorful handmade beads hanging off the ceiling, plants, artisan rugs and more. Your eyes circle in on a large table with various foods and drinks sitting there like a feast of royal caliber.

So’lek waves you all over to a small group, as he scans your body up and down with emotions you can’t quite decipher yet. A rush of heat spreads to your cheeks once more, biting the inside of your lip feeling more exposed than ever. “You look much better” So’lek softly declares leaning close to your ear.

Your eyes widen in disbelief, blinking several times for good measure. “Um.. thanks.” You cough out. You hear Nor snicker and cover his mouth to prevent another snort from coming out. “Come. Tonight we celebrate another victorious ambush. We have plenty of food and refreshments.” A handsome Na’vi approaches and claps So’lek on the back. “I’m Eetu, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” He sends a harmless wink your way, just as So’lek scoffs loudly and rolls his eyes.

“Must you be here?” He grumbles with irritation. You just stare at the handsome man, a little bit younger than So’lek, but a few years older than you. You’re enamored by his beautiful vibrant eyes, taking in his features like the slew of scars he has scattered across his lips, forehead and cheeks. You hear Ri’nela giggle watching her cheeks flush with a magenta hue. “Are you from So’lek’s clan too?” She curiously inquires. 

Nor and Teylan watch with puzzling stares, as Eetu smiles wide “No. I am from the Aranahe clan. I have an allegiance to this wondrous resistance here. You… why you bear the sigil of the Sarentu?” He points to the mark under your eyes. “Yes. We are Sarentu..” Nor puffs out his chest. You almost choke out a laugh, but stifle it as best you can watching this pissing match between the male Na’vi. “They are here to learn the ways of Navi. This is their new home.” So’lek steps in and stands in between you and Eetu.

“Oh of course of course..” Eetu raises his hands in the air and winks again but this time at Ri’nela. The balls of this man. “If you’re done, we can celebrate.” So’lek jabs at Eetu, with irritation clearly visible on his face. “Oh yes you must try fermented Yovo fruit juice! It’s the best.” Eetu happily grabs Ri’nela by the hand and waves you all over to the table. 

Just as you’re stepping to follow suit, So’lek takes your hand gently. Looking up in surprise, you turn and face him, “Stay away from that one. He is nothing but trouble, he’s only interested in fooling around.” He speaks in a low tone, his voice sounds different and gravelly. 

“Fooling around?” You ask in confusion. Did he mean..? “Surely you know what that is?” He raises a skeptical brow at you. You swallow hard and try to act as coy as possible. “You refer to the pleasures of the flesh..?” You reply awkwardly.

He only shakes his head and laughs, “Yes… You could say that. Come.” He brings his hand to the small of your back, gingerly pushing you forward to where the others now hold wooden bowls filled with this mysterious liquid. “Kirani! You’ve got to try this it’s so good!” Teylan laughs. It’s clear everyone is loosening up and enjoying themselves, so you take a wooden bowl and scoop it into a larger one as the beautiful purple liquid sloshes into the bowl. So’lek joins you grabbing his own and softly clinks his to yours. “Drink it slowly. It’s meant to be savored. It is strong.” He explains, as he brings his own drink up to his lips.

You raise the bowl to your mouth and take a tentative sip, the tangy sweet flavor immediately bursting onto your tongue causing it to warm your throat on its way down. “Whoah..” You gasp and smile at Ri’nela who enjoys her own. “Come and sit guys!” Priya suddenly pipes in. You smile and sit down on a layer of plush mats and pillows as the group forms into a circle. 

You carefully watch as So’lek sits across from you, attentive eyes locking in on your movements causes your tail to lash madly behind you. “I am soooo happy right now.” Teylan squishes himself next to you. “Teylan how much of that have you been drinking?” You giggle. “Ummm I’m not sure I think this is my third bowl.” You nudge his shoulder playfully and shake your head, “You know that has alcohol in it right? It’s fermented.” Your noses scrunches in amusement. 

“OH? Oops. No wonder it’s so good.” He slurps on more juice and you all laugh together enjoying the night’s provisions which include some smoked hexapede meat and roasted vegetables. The seasoning practically erupts with spices onto your tongue, with nothing like you’ve ever tasted before at TAP. You relish in several helpings, as the Yovo juice takes its effects. Feeling a languid warmth cascade over your body, you lean into Teylan a bit more listening to Eetu tell stories of his clan. 

“You know what we should play though?” He wiggles his brows suggestively, “Spin the bottle!” He smiles mischievously with his canines gleaming in the dim warm light, watching So’lek almost sneer in his direction. “Spin the bottle?” Ri’nela squeaks curiously. Eetu chuckles, “It’s a game! You take a bottle and spin it around in the circle and whoever it lands on, the person who spun it, has to kiss them.” He smirks.

Nor looks at Eetu with both intrigue and slight disgust, “that’s what you call a game?” But it doesn’t seem to even remotely phase this strange Na’vi, he just rises to the table and grabs whatever glassware he can find and sits back down. “Yup!” The group began to dissipate over the last few hours only leaving you, Ri’nela, Teylan, Nor, So’lek and Eetu. You squirm amongst yourself feeling the effects of the alcohol envelope you in a cozy blanket of drunken serenity.

Much to your surprise So’lek makes no effort to get up and leave, in fact, his eyes meet yours briefly and then quickly advert back to the commotion. “Okay who spins first?” Eetu wiggles the bottle in the air. “Well it’s your game, just do it.” Nor rebukes sarcastically. You all laugh and watch as Eetu smugly spins this glass bottle in the middle of the small group as it twirls around, slowing down and stopping on Teylan. Your eyes widen in amusement watching Eetu’s reaction as well. “Well well well. Shall we pucker up?’ Eetu laughs out. Teylan is much drunker than the rest of you, and clumsily leans forward closing his eyes and puckering his lips out dramatically, just as Eetu leans in for a comedic peck on the lips.

You burst out into fits of laughter, watching as Teylan and Eetu stumble awkwardly kissing in a quick smooch, to the point where your belly hurts. Teylan finds it almost as entertaining as Eetu with a shade of blush forming on his cheeks. “Wow Teylan who knew you had that much game!” You hunch over laughing with Ri’nela next to you. “Fine, then you spin next.” Teylan grabs the bottle and shoves it into your hand in a feeble attempt to conceal his embarrassment. You just shake your head and smile “Fine fine.” 

You bring the bottle to a fast spin, watching it move intently, as it slows down once more. When it finally stops, you look up to the direction it points in; right at So’lek. Oh no.You feel a slight panic looking up to watch his reaction, but he remains as stoic as ever. “This is ridiculous.” He scoffs out promptly. You watch as he avoids eye contact staring at his own feet, feeling your stomach flutter with dread. “Well if you don’t kiss her, I will.” Eetu happily interjects.

So’lek’s head immediately snaps up, his jealous eyes burning into the young Aranahe warrior. You nervously watch as So’lek practically twitches with anger, holding onto his composure with a thread, as his tail lashes behind him hysterically. But he says nothing. With flared nostrils he takes another sip of his drink and scoffs lowly, “As if I would care, go ahead kiss her.” 

All it takes are the words of cruel rejection to light a fire under your ass, and grab the back of Eetu’s neck and pull him in for a passionate kiss. With a muffled yelp he immediately kisses you back slipping his tongue into your mouth for good measure. The kiss feels sloppy and heated, as you feel your body tingle from the tips of your ears to the very end of your toes. Either from the copious amounts of alcohol you’ve consumed tonight or the rush of adrenaline, you feel a strange sensation shoot straight between your legs.

The drowned out cheering and yipping from the others, falls deaf on your ears when you suddenly feel a strong yank from your body. Your eyes snap open to see a furious So’lek rip Eetu off of you as he falls onto the floor with a loud thud. “Do.Not.Touch.Her.” A low growl escapes his mouth, watching in complete disbelief as your brain slowly catches up to what your eyes witness. “So’lek!” You shove him harshly. Completely unfazed, he ignores you watching Eetu staggering to rise up. “It’s all in good fun So’lek. You did not wish to kiss her? So I did. What is the matter?” He chuckles but he’s nervous. 

The size difference between the two Na’vi is now abundantly clear, Eetu would be foolish to challenge So’lek, despite this game starting out as just light fun. “Guys calm down! No fighting!” Teylan feebly attempts to diffuse the situation but gets shunned as a result. “You do not touch her.” So’lek repeats once more with his finger poking at Eetu’s chest. The way the two men talk about you as if you’re not there causes backflips in your stomach, “Do not speak about me as if I am not here asshole!” You grunt loudly pushing So’lek out of the way. You’ve had enough humiliation for one night as you race to the dark hallway corridors.

You hear So’lek call out your name behind you, causing you to run faster in hopes of drowning out his voice all together. You rush to your door, and slam it shut with your heart pounding loudly through your throat. What the fuck just happened? You throw yourself onto your bed, with a fuzzy brain trying to make sense of the last hour of the evening when the loud creak of your door opens. “What the?” You sit up awkwardly watching as the brooding man storms into your room, meeting him halfway as you scramble to your feet.

You stare at him quizzically trying to figure out why he’d be here out of all places after his rejection just minutes ago. “What the fuck are you doing here!?” You spit out angrily. A few moments pass, and he sighs awkwardly taking a small step forward. “Why do you hate me?” You whisper softly. This causes his eyes meet yours, almost like studying your features close up inspecting your reaction. “I do not hate you. Why would you think that?” You scoff at his question.

“Are you kidding me? Ever since I arrived you’ve done nothing but give me cold stares and grunts for answers. Getting you to speak is like yanking out teeth. Not to mention all you seem to care about is the impending war with the humans. I mean you look at me as if I carry some disease!” You try your best to remain calm but your voice cracks under its harsh whisper, causing So’lek to wince. 

“I am sorry. But you do not make it easy for me.” He huffs in frustration. Both your tails lash out from behind, hearing your heart thump fast in your chest. A small glint in his eyes and you may think that just maybe, he’s actually listening to you. He reaches out to touch your shoulder, as you quickly reject him, causing him to wince, knowing it’s well deserved.

“Shut up.” You stand your ground, despite the swirling thoughts of self doubt and confusion; no doubt thanks to the alcohol consumption. You watch as So’lek’s ears pin with shame, up close you can see the way he recoils at your harsh command. His lashes flutter with his own self doubt, pursing his lips together tightly. But he bites his tongue, “What was that?” He steps closer, causing your noses to almost bump into each other.

“You heard me..” A soft whisper leaves your mouth, but not as confident as before. So’lek smirks deviously and clicks his tongue, “Mmmm you are quite the brat, aren’t you?” You could swear you hear soft purring erupt from his chest. He snakes his hand around your throat with a feather light touch caressing your skin softly. Your eyes almost roll into the back of your head from his sudden touch, as he brings his palm to the back of your neck rubbing small circles.

“Tell me what you want…” He brings his mouth to whisper agains the shell of your ear, causing a delicious shiver to run down the length of your spine. “W-what?” You stutter with no grace whatsoever. He tightens his grip behind your head ever so lightly, “I said tell me what you want…” His nostrils flare out fighting his blooming anger as he fights to remain stoic.

After a few seconds you muster up the courage to speak, “you. I want you..” You almost don’t trust your own words until you see his very reaction, the smile on his face evident with some sort of hilarity. But he says nothing. “Hm… meet me at 0600 in the artillery room. I expect to see that attitude of yours left here..” He begins to walk towards your door leaving you behind in complete bewilderment, shaking with adrenaline as it closes with a harsh thud. What the fuck just happened?

Previous Next Chapter

Taglist: @justtweetie

[jamneuromain]

No Use Running

Andy Barber x You / Reader

Warning: NON-CON/DUB-CON, Dark Content, Smut, Angst and Smut, Alternate Universe - College / University, Teacher-Student Relationship, Professor!Andy Barber, Student!Reader, Student!You, Clit Stimulation, Pet Names (Angel), Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Overstimulation, Angst, Angst With A Happy Ending, Dark!Andy Barber, sex toys, vibrator, bondage element

Word count: ~4k

Summary: What are you going to do when Andy is mad at you?

A/N: Big shout out to vera @rogerswifesblog and her amazing moodboard, both help me tremendously with the conversation in bold, also help me spiral a thought into a 4k smut. Fair warning, lots of angst, which surprises me, really, because I was mostly thinking of the smut when talking to vera (sorry not sorry XD).

Dancing in the Daydream M. List

A year into your relationship, Andy has only one rule for you.

One rule, and one rule only.

Don’t get drunk when you are partying with your friends. If you are partying, tell him beforehand in case he gets worried about you not coming home.

Just this one rule. Don’t get drunk, call him first.

Simple as that.

In your defense… face it, you have no defense. You screwed up. Big time.

You were so excited about the little getaway your friends planned (and told you about it the minute your last class of the semester ended “we’re partying tonight guuuuuuurl”) that you completely forgot about the rule of “calling Andy”, and happily got yourself more than tipsy.

“More than tipsy”. That’s an understatement. Your very last memory about the night was you doing shots with your friends. You find yourself in the shared home of you and Andy in the next morning, lying comfortably in bed with a minor migraine and fresh PJs, trying to remember what had happened.

Tipsy? You were wasted.

Knowing Andy? If he was home last night, he’d be so mad.

You search for your phone around your pillow, finally locating it on the other side of the bed, linked to the charger.

Your gut sinks to the bottom of your stomach. You’d charge your phone on your side. Your phone is now on Andy’s side.

Oh no.

Oh nonononono.

This is bad.

This is very bad.

This is Godzilla versus King Kong bad.

You can honestly hear every ounce of your luck shatters when you turn on your phone and a dozen missed calls from Andy pop up, dating back to last night and this early morning.

Holy fucking shit.

You are doomed.

Andy has already left because he has a full schedule today.

You frown as your phone gone cold. There was no message asking whether you have woken up. No sticky notes on your forehead as usual if you are sleeping late, telling you that he left a sandwich for you in the fridge. No nothing.

He’s really mad.

You frown more when you find excessive food in the fridge. Some leftover beef stew, chicken kabab, and a whole lemon cheesecake. That’s strange. Andy’s not the type to cook excessively.

And no sandwich.

You make yourself some food to eat and clean the house for a bit.

Your memory pieces some fragments together. You remember stumbling into Andy on the porch. You remember dancing in the club, raising your shot glass, and giggling with your friends.

Your memory is still incoherent and you don’t know what happened exactly.

You vacuum the living room, read for your upcoming assignment, and finally, you decide to cook dinner to show that you are sorry.

Leaping up when you hear his car pull up in the front, rushing to the door to welcome him home: “Hey Andy. How’s your day?”

Andy has a large box under his arm, which you pipe up to help him carry it and put it anywhere he wants.

“Just an average day.” He pecks you on your lips, insisting he carries this on his own. You are nervous as hell when he doesn’t smile, not even after kissing you.

You peek at the box, can’t help but ask as you see the black tape circling the cardboard box: “Amazon? What did you buy?”

“Nothing important.” He shrugs, heading up the stairs with the big box.

Maybe he’s not that mad?

You cross your fingers, hoping that everything works out with luck on your side.

Dinner is as uneventful. However, you can feel that he is distracted and uncharacteristically quiet. Andy used to say what he doesn’t want or what he doesn’t like. He’s vocal about your relationship, but this new Andy is so lukewarm that it is scary to you.

You choose to cuddle on the couch after dinner, playing a Netflix show as background noise on TV.

“I’m sorry about last night, Andy. I should’ve called you. I’m sorry.” You loop his arm around your shoulders, looking up at him apologetically, “and I shouldn’t get caught up partying either. I wouldn’t do that ever after.”

Something flickers in his eyes that you cannot catch. In the end, he says nothing, only tightening his grip on your arm, leaning for a kiss.

You rather wish he spanked you or edge you, just like what he did with your previous few wrong-doings. It wasn’t fun but you know he wouldn’t hurt you. You’d rather have him cuddling you after rough sex than to have him ... distant?

You deserve it, to be honest, you know he’d be angry with you.

You only are aware of how angry he is the second you step into the bedroom.

He is fixing the four cuffs tied to the bed, black leather with shiny metal chains. The now-empty Amazon delivery box lies wide open on the floor, giving you the slightest clue of what could have been inside.

Spoiler alert, you didn’t have cuffs in this house. He used to tie you up with his ties.

“Oh good, you’re here.” Andy smiles, for the first time today. He unbuttoned his cuff link and his collar to adjust the length of the metal chains. This normally looks extra hot to you, but knowing what could be waiting for you, you just want to run.

You carefully take a sneaky step back, “umm, Andy, I know you are mad. And I’m so very sorry.” Another step back. “But we can talk this out.” Another step. “Pl-Please don’t be mad?”

Andy rests his hands on his hips, his blue eyes icy cold.

“Sit on the bed, Angel.”

“Andy-” You visibly gulp, tensing all the muscles in your body so that you can dash to the stairs the second he drops down his guard.

“Don’t make me fuckin’ repeat that.” He shoots back at you.

You are going to die on the bed for all you know. You are going to be edged to the brink of your life. A chill runs down your spine, every sense in your body warning you of the menacing danger you are faced with.

“Please, Andy, we can talk this out, I’m begging you.” You plead to him, slowly dragging your feet to the door instead of the bed, “please, Andy.”

Your fight or flight response kicks in the second he prances on you. Of course, you choose to run from him.

You barely make it to the stairs when he grabs your wrist and halts you by your waist, clutching your body so tight like you are a prey struggling for its life. Your heart nearly leaps out of your throat. Your body, although unwillingly, clings to him for dear life, fearing that he slips and drops you on the floor.

“Andy, please! I’m so sorry! I won’t do it again!” You yelp when he throws you onto the bed. You try to sit up when he clasps your ankle with one cuff, you are forced to lie down when he clasps your wrist with another cuff.

“Can’t believe you even tried to run - save it, Angel. You’re in for a long night.” He huffs disapprovingly.

Clasp. Clasp. All your limbs are secured and tied up. He didn’t even bother to take off your nightdress, only pulls your panties to your ankles.

You think it couldn’t be worse.

Oh but it did.

He takes the vibrating wand from the bedside drawer and loosens his belt.

You watch in horror as he fastens his black leather belt around your thighs, squeezing the wand between your legs, where it nestles on your clit.

“Andy-”

“See, Angel, I was planning to hold that wand myself,” he kisses your forehead. The darkness seeps back into his eyes. With a flick of the remote on his phone, the wand buzzes to life. A warm grin on his face, he retreats to the corner of the room, where he sits on a chair and opens his laptop, “too bad I need to work first.”

The vibration is low yet brutal. It triggers your body into moving your hips to avoid it, not that there is much space to move. Without his kisses and skilled fingers working your body, your pleasure builds up high and dry, your skin heats up reluctantly, seeking the attention it deserves.

“Andy-” You choke when your squirming accidentally has the wand brush your clit again, “please, I’m sorry.”

He glances at your frame briefly; his eyes soon return to his laptop. Crispy strokes from the keypad seem to be mocking your fruitless begging.

Your core twists in agony. It doesn’t take much to force an orgasm out of you.

“Pleaaase, Andy, please don’t edge me.” You whisper, moaning when the stimulation to your clit brings a fresh wave of arousal pooling down your pussy. Your channel expects his shaft, but you get nothing. Tide riding higher in your veins, rushing to your core, you are on the verge of cumming any second.

He raises his head from the laptop, a smirk curls his lips when he dials the vibration up a notch.

“Andy-!”

The buzzing grows louder, no longer a soft vibration, but a stronger torture to your clit.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t cum.” He buries himself back into his “work”, his calm voice ghosts your ear, “you can cum as many times as you want. You’ve got all night, Angel.”

Your hips buck into the air, pressing your clit tightly on the wand, drawing the first orgasm out of you. Your body bounces on the bed as the orgasm hits you, doing all it can to run from the incessant stimulation on your clit. You wish you could run, but you are chained to the bed,

“Andy, please.” You cry out, tears rolling down from the corner of your eyes, “I-fuck-I said I’m sorry!”

The loud snap when he shuts his laptop makes you shiver.

“The thing is,” Andy sits perfectly still, he watches you writhing on the bed as the second orgasm builds up, "I don’t think you are." His tone barely contains his anger, “bet you totally forget about what yesterday was, huh?”

“Wha-”

“It was supposed to be our one-year relationship anniversary.”

Your brain stops working altogether.

Oh no. It was.

You started dating around this time last year.

You didn’t think you were doing an anniversary this early. If you are counting from the day you became boyfriend and girlfriend, you are two months away from your anniverisary.

“I cooked for candle-lit dinner and bought roses and shit, and what did you repay me with?” He crosses his arm and scoffs, “no texts. No calls. Get fuckin’ drunk with boys.”

Your mind clears its fog, letting you remember you stumbling into Andy while waving goodbye to Mike (or Michael?), who volunteered to uber you home when you were all getting “tipsy”.

“It’s nothing-He just-oh fuck, he just came along to make sure I got home. I’m sorry.” You whimper, your sentence cut off as you feel arousal leak from your pussy, “I’m really sorry about-ah-what you planned. Please, please stop the wand and we can talk.”

His words drip with sarcasm, “and I’m just a poor old fool who thought I could capture a young girl’s heart.” Andy snorts, “that work out well.”

Even as pleasure gradually clouds your brain, you understood what he said and a pang of pain rips your heart to shreds. If you knew about his plan, no, if you remembered, or thought about your anniversary, it wouldn’t end up with both of you in agony.

This is all your fault.

“No, Andy,” you croak, trying to ignore the buzz between your legs, “don’t say that.” It’s not true. I love you.

Andy doesn’t reply to your pleading, his cold expression molded on his face again, “you asked me to be ‘thoroughly fucked’.”

You did, trying to peel him out of his black T-shirt, trying to have him kiss you, saying tons of things that you utterly regret now.

“You wanted it last night, no? Wish granted.” Andy growls, “now take it.”

He turns up the vibration again.

If the previous vibration was barely endurable, this time it is way beyond what you can handle.

You cum with a scream, tugging the chains with your tied-up legs. The rattling of the chains doesn’t stop when you finish cumming. You jolt and kick, as the buzz is incessant on your clit, and you are on your way to your third orgasm.

“Andy, I’m sorry.” You whimper, “it hurts.”

“I don’t give a shit.” Andy picks up a book on the table, glancing at you one last time before he shuts his mouth and starts reading.

Another orgasm hits. And another. You can’t tell what hurts more, your swollen clit or his indifference. You scream and plead, stammering between moans and words, some of them mumble into one. Your skin is coated by a sheen of sweat. Your body reacts to the wand with overruling pleasure above your mind, having you think of nothing but the sensation from your bundle of nerves. And then it starts to hurt. With every second of the wand between your thighs, your mind cannot decide if it wants more or to get away from the stimulation. Another orgasm punches all the air from your lungs. Your cry is silent, mouth agape, tears roll into streams, your body refuses for you to breathe in, running low in oxygen that your vision has spots.

The stimulation between your legs dials down to a full stop.

You draw in a lung full of air. Coughing as you feel your chest is about to explode.

Your body buzzes. Or your clit still feels the buzz ghosting your legs. Your pussy twitches, quivering as it feels cold, soaked with your arousal. Your chest rises and falls, your heart pounding by your ear, your vision blurry with tears.

You want to curl up to your side. Your body is stressing as if it has just run a marathon.

The tugging from your wrists and ankles reminds you, you can’t.

A pillow is stuffed under your head, helping you to breathe a little.

You blink a few times before you make out it’s Andy sitting by the edge of the bed.

He held your head, bringing a cup to your lips.

You swallow on instinct, nearly choking yourself when you are taking big gulps of water.     

“…?”

His lips open and close, saying something that doesn’t make sense to you.

Or your ears are ringing so that you can’t hear.

“Wha-?”

“Still talking, I see.” He nods nonchalantly, “do you need more water?”

You shake your head.

He takes the cup, standing up to leave.

“Wa-ait!” You tug the chains desperately, trying to get a hold of him, “Sorr-sorry.” You sniff, “can’t. Can’t cum.” You realize how hoarse your voice is when you open your mouth to speak, like someone rubbed it on sandpaper. You feel sorry. You are sorry. You do. You just can’t do this anymore. Even if you are not screaming, your body is screaming bloody murder.

“Shhh, just a little bit more.” Andy coos, turning up the vibration again.

“No. No-!”

Andy watches as you make a mess on your shared bed over and over again. Your mumbling pleas and begs melt into crying and screaming. Arching your hips as your body reflexes, even though it adds to your misery. Your orgasm hits stronger and slower every time, lasting longer, depriving you of your breathing. You lean your head to the side, panting, struggling. Not out of your will, but when your body instructs you to.

Your thighs flex instinctively when he sits down and caress your buzzing thighs, which are still bound together.

“Don’t think about anything.” He bends down to kiss your belly, coated in sweat. His beard scratching your sensitive skin, having your core tensing once again. “Talk to me, Angel.”

Your brain is clouded. Hearing his voice, you mumble something that you don’t recognize yourself.

“Do you want this to stop?” His voice sounds muffled. Blocked. Like speaking, but with cotton in your ears.

But you understand.

“No-No-hmph.”

Your brain mushed. It hurts. You want more. Keep it going. Till the end of time.

Andy chuckles.

He dials the vibration down to a full stop. You, however, cry out again, one word slurring into another, “More. Want-more.”

He turns a deaf ear to your begging, unclasping his belt to reveal your thighs, having the belt digging into them so hard that leaves a red mark on both of them.

You burst into tears when he pulls the wand out between your legs. Your hips bucking for more pain and pleasure.

The wand is wet. From your arousal and your sweat.

Andy drops the wand to the side, unclasping the restraints on your ankles.

“More…” you whimper like a wounded animal, “more, Andy.”

Andy pries your legs open. Red marks from the wand between your thighs. A puddle of creamy arousal underneath you. Your legs shaking, trembling. Your pussy is red, swollen, covered in slick. Your clit puffy, peeking out from your pussy lips.

“More.” You mewl, as if that’s your whole vocabulary, “more.”

Andy kisses the red marks on your thighs gently, “you like that, huh?”

“Yes. More, Andy.”

Tears stain your cheek but you are about to cry again. Anything to have the wand back. To have something stimulate you to orgasm. Anything to stimulate you, burn your body with pleasure.

This is what he’s been waiting for. To overstimulate you until you are truly overwhelmed with pleasure. You will want more pleasure you can take until you pass out. You will agree to anything for it. Most importantly, you will want him again.

He unclasps your wrists too, prying your legs open more to touch your clit.

“Yesyesyes.” You grind your abused pussy to his hand eagerly, whimpering when he draws his hand back.

“My Angel…” He sighs, stripping himself out of his suit and trousers. His thick shaft straining in his boxers when you moaned and cried. He kneels on the bed, positioning himself between your thighs, hovering above you to kiss you, “my beautiful Angel. You’re mine.”

He sheathes himself in entirely at the last word, having you cry out. Having you moan his name. Having you digging your nails into his arm.

Your walls grip him. Sucking him in. Welcoming him with warm wet heat. Your walls crave his cock, craving to be filled to the brim again, craving the stretch and burn as you try to accommodate him.

The pain blends into your pleasure. You can’t tell them apart. His cock brushing your clit on his way out. Your walls convulse. Him slamming back in to rearrange your guts. Your walls clench down. He takes your long-ignored nipples into his mouth, sucking and tugging with his lips. You could only sob because of how good it feels.

You want more. You want him. You want his tip kissing your cervix.

“Say it.” He grits his teeth and spits out, “say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours. I’m yours.” You chant as he knocks the breath out of your lungs, his shaft thrusting deeper, harder.

“That’s right, Angel.” He snaps his hips into you, “you’re fuckin’ mine. I’m the only person who can make you feel this good.”

He interlaced his fingers with yours, pinning your arm next to your head.

You stutter his name when you cum, your vision blacks out, everything is slowed down to a halt. You feel a few more thrusts, and his hot spent flood your pussy.

Then you drift to a dreamless sleep.

Your arms hurt. Your legs hurt. Your stomach hurts.

There’s not a fine muscle left on your body.

You curl yourself into a ball, facing the opposite direction of Andy, wincing as you hug your knee.

Your pussy hurts too. Sore and tired from the orgasms ripped out of your body.

Your eyes are dry as if the Sandman blinded you, but you still shed a couple tears onto the pillow. Some of them traveled across your nose bridge and blended into the tears from your other eye.

You can’t believe he overstimulated you. You can’t believe he punished you so hard for disobeying one rule. Most importantly, you can’t believe he had no faith in your relationship. After the class, after the drama with Laurie, after his participation and encouragement in your writing, he means everything to you.

The heartbreak from last night catches up to you, piercing your chest, so painful that you couldn’t breathe.

You open your mouth to ease the pressure of your puffy nose, but the pain just follows your breath like a knife, slashing everywhere it could reach.

You try to cry as subtly and quietly as you can, but your shaking body betrays you, having Andy push himself on his elbow to rub your arm.

“Hey. It’s okay. It’s just a bad dream.” He whispers softly.

He notices you are not responding, leaning closer to check on you: “Shit.”

He grabs the Kleenex box, places it in front of you, and moves to spoon your naked body, kissing your bare shoulder: “I’m sorry, Angel. I’m such an asshole.” Kiss. “I’m sorry. I pushed too far.” Kiss. “Please don’t cry, Angel.”

“I got too angry over the night before and…” he sighs, “I’m sorry I lashed out at you.”

“How can you say that?” You turn abruptly, staring at him with watery eyes, tears falling from your cheeks. You can almost hear your spine crack for turning so fast, “how can you say that like you mean nothing to me? Like I’m some gold-digging bitch exploiting you?”

“Angel, I-”

“You mean the world to me, Andy.” I love you. “You are everything I write, you are every reason I come home to, you are every piece of my heart.” I love you. “And I…”

Maybe it’s your insecurities. Maybe it’s the unsuccessful marriage of Andy and Laurie. Maybe it’s your stories that you are certain every hero and heroine would be the perfect match for each other, but you can’t be certain in real life.

You would return Andy’s excessive interpretation in class right back to his face. You would challenge him academically in his office. But you suddenly feel your tongue way too heavy to say the simple word, “love”.

Andy hears your silence.

Andy cups your chin, having you look him in the eye.

Andy, as a writer, knows there are a million ways of interpreting this silence, but choose not to.

He chooses to look at your bed hair, your puffy nose, your teary eyes, carving every detail into his memory.

He wipes the tears from your cheek.

“I love you, Andy.”

[kitixie]

Gardens of Babylon / T.S.

word count: 4k

information: whew. y'all, this one is long but i am so so proud of it. i loved getting to write this, and i feel like "cowboy like me" now belongs to Tommy. please enjoy!!

warnings: sadness, a lot of self introspection

There had been parties around Birmingham all year, but this one was poised to be the best. Large, white tents covered the ground of the luxurious backyard, the grass freshly trimmed. The pristine flower bushes were banked in sprays of purple, pink and yellow flowers, filling the air with a refreshing scent. Taking in your surroundings was one of your favorite parts of the job. You learn so much about people based on the smallest detail, like how they arrange tables, how well they dress for their own event, how well people try to hide the skeletons in their closets for the night. 

When you were 16, you became your fathers right hand woman. Taking charge of stake-outs, surveying the people your father saw as a threat, and other tasks that most fathers would never let their daughter do. But your father was blinded by his power, only seeing what he could gain, never seeing what others would lose. That’s how you wound up here, five years later, striding through a stranger's yard, using a fake name to get into the event. You just had one specific mission tonight: make contact with Thomas Shelby. 

You found him an hour after the party had started, lounging against an outdoor wall with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. You waited, pulling your own smoke from your small purse, and lighting it up. Standing casually with your shoulders relaxed against the wall, you breathed in, deeply inhaling the nicotine. Immediately, any of the nerves you had relaxed. Thomas was just a man, albeit a dangerous one, but he would never even know your real name. No matter what came from tonight, you would end up back home in your bed. Closing your eyes and opening your ears, you could hear the sounds of music. It was a slow tempo song, but the melody was beautiful. It was a familiar song, although you couldn’t put your tongue on the name of it. Softly humming the song, you stamped out your cigarette and followed the music past Thomas towards the courtyard. Just as your kitten heels touched the dancing floor that had been laid over the grass, a tall figure stopped beside you. 

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” The man asked, only visible in your peripheral. 

“It is, I-“ You turned to face the man, it was Thomas. 

You took him in, he looked much different up close. His file only said ‘brown hair, blue eyes, average build’, but you could see nothing average about the man. He was thick, with wide shoulders and a well defined waist. His eyes weren’t just blue, they were pools of sky and ocean and reflections of the string lights hanging above your heads. His hair was varying shades of brown, ranging from lighter pieces of caramel to deep strands that were almost black. His eyebrows were dark and prominent on his face, but they weren’t too much like some men. His pink lips were turned up into a small smile, and your eyes scanned his face again before catching on his mouth for a moment. You looked him in the eyes as the music changed, the new song catching your attention. 

“Care for a dance Miss….?” He trailed off, waiting for you to tell him your name. 

“Dancing is a dangerous game, Mr. Shelby. But yes, I’d be happy to dance with you.” 

He offered his hand, and the two of you stepped into the crowd of swaying people. He placed his left hand on your waist. The right hand gripping yours. He slowly began swaying the both of you in time to the music, before he spoke. 

“I still don’t know ya name, Love. How come ya already know mine?” He asked, meeting your eyes. 

“My name is Taylor, and I’m not sure if ya know, but you're quite famous around here, Mr. Shelby.” You said, trying to rain in your anxiety. 

Had you fucked up by calling him by his name? He knew he had enemies, and if he was smart, he’d see right through the little innocent girl facade you were using. But maybe, he wasn’t that smart. Maybe, he’d see you, you’d be his perfect type, and there would be no more questions. Maybe the two of you would spend more time together after this and you could cover for yourself even more… no. The rules your father had given were very specific, and you were to stick to them tightly. No unauthorized time with the subject of the mission, at any point in time. The rules were rules for a reason, and there was no questioning them. You had worked to hard, come home too many times with your hands caked in both literal and metaphorical blood to stray now. But this was different, he was different. He wasn’t the usual rich prick who got off too far in debt or the typical middle men who worked for your father than needed to be eliminated. He was someone, something, else entirely. He was kind, and his hands were gentle. His voice was soft yet commanding, and you knew that this man could tell you to drop to your knees and you would, even if your father was standing right behind you. Perhaps dancing with him was more of a dangerous game than you thought. 

“You’re right about that one, Love. Sometimes I just forget who I am when I see a beautiful woman.” He crooned, swinging your arm and making your skirts furl around you as you twirled. 

A blush crept across your face, a laugh breaking through your lips. 

“Thank you, Mr. Shelby, I-“ 

“Please, call me Tommy.” He interrupted. 

“Tommy,” you repeated, letting his name run through your mouth, “I appreciate the compliment but I’m sure there are prettier women at this party.”

“I didn’t say pretty, Taylor, I said beautiful.” He spoke, sliding his hand from your waist to cup your jaw, forcing your eyes to hold his gaze. 

“Actu-, never mind. Thank you, Tommy.” 

Fuck. You had almost corrected him on your name. You needed to get away from him, his scent filling your head and making you feel almost high. It was intoxicating, and it was trouble. No man had ever made you feel like this, not ever. No one had ever taken away you sharpness, and without your wits you felt naked. You inhaled a deep breath, and thanked God when the song ended and he stepped back from you. 

“Taylor, if ya would be willin’, I’d like to spend more time with ya.” Tommy spoke, something sparkling in his eye. 

You swore you knew that look, it was the same look you always gave to targets, to draw them in and make them trust you. To make them do as you said. Before you could even think about it, your mouth opened. 

“I’d love that, Tommy.” You smiled, willing that feeling of mistrust to go away. 

You deserved this, to enjoy him. Even if he was wrong, even if he was your target. You had never wanted love, you had always wanted other things for yourself. But you wanted Tommy, and so for tonight, you would allow yourself to have him. 

- 

“What’ll ya have to drink, Love?” Tommy spoke, turning his entire body towards you. 

He had taken you to a place called The Garrison, which you knew he frequented, but ‘Taylor’ had to act like she’d never heard of it. You’d spent many nights holed up in the dark back corner of this bar, watching him and his brothers pass in and out of the back room. 

“Just a whiskey, please,” You smiled at him, “Whatever kind you’re having is fine.” 

“So and Irish then?” He asked, and you nodded your head in response. 

At least that wasn’t a lie, you did enjoy whiskey on occasion, but never while you had been working. Always the professional, you were thinking of how to use this to your advantage. Drunk Tommy would surely divulge some sort of weakness? Right? 

Tommy grabbed your drinks, and led you to the backroom of the pub. The room was empty, now except for the two of you. He sat down, choosing the table that was circled by a booth seat. He sat with his back to the door, which was an interesting choice that didn’t go unnoticed by you. You sat on the opposite side of the semicircle, and that small creeping feeling came back into your mind. You knew him, more than he would ever know. Thomas Shelby would never put himself at a disadvantage, never. So why put his back to the only door in the room? Why let you be the one with a clear path to escape if somehow this all went wrong? Was he that confident in his ability to charm and wow you, that he would dangle an exit in front of your face, only to be sure that you wouldn’t take it? Your brain was running a thousand words a second, never letting up on the thought that Tommy, who had yet to show any hint of cruelty towards you, was one step ahead. Had he figured you out? It wasn’t possible, your father made sure you stayed hidden until he wanted you to be seen, and even then, you were only seen by those you wanted to see you. How would he have known you were an operative for your father? Did your stumble earlier when he said your alias give you away? Was it the way that you clearly did not belong in the crowd at that party, feet slightly swollen by the tight heels, shoulders hunched over due to the many days you spent curled in a chair by the window? How could he have kn-

“Drink, Love. A blind man could see that somethings on your mind. What is it?” He spoke, sliding a glass of whiskey across the table toward you.

You shakily wrapped your fingers around the glass, pulling it to your lips and taking a long sip. 

“It’s nothin’, just reliving some family troubles in my head. I’d much rather be focused on you though.” You said, allowing a sultry tone to enter your voice; men could never resist. 

“If it's botherin’ ya, it’s not nothing. Tell me about it, believe me, I understand family troubles.” He laughed, taking a swallow from his own glass. 

“I don’t want to rehash it, Tommy, if it’s all the same to you.” You put a stern face on, not liking him questioning you. 

He raised his hands in an apologetic movement, sitting back in his seat. He grazed his eyes across your face, looking over you. Suddenly you felt small, sitting in front of him, telling him half-lies and half-truths. Not that he’d ever know, but you did. The realization that you felt bad for lying to him shot a sharp pain of sadness through your chest, only to be beaten by the overwhelming sense of anger that you felt for feeling bad at all. This was a job, and while yes, you had agreed to let yourself enjoy tonight, that didn’t mean forgetting your assignment. 

“Tell me about you, Tommy. You have this sense of mystery that I can’t figure out for the life of me.” You said, tracing your fingertip around the rim of your glass. 

“Not much to tell, darlin’. I live here in Birmingham with my family, we run a small business. No mum or dad to speak of, I spend a lot of time here, just watchin’.” He spoke, and you felt like he was telling the truth. 

Not that he had said anything you didn’t already know, you knew about his mom and dad, and you knew a hell of a lot about his ‘small business’ as he put it. You knew all about his family, you had almost decided to go for Arthur instead of Tommy, but then you realized that just because Arthur was older didn’t mean he was in charge, and then Tommy became your main target. 

You nodded your head at him, storing all of the information he had said in exact detail in your brain. Tommy studied you, almost as if he was doing the same thing you were. Except now, you thought that he was only studying you because he was interested in you. He watched your eyes, holding contact anytime you accidentally met his. He looked at your cheeks, your mouth, all the way down to your slightly exposed collar bones. He gave you another moment, before speaking up again. 

“Would you like to dance with me, Love?” He asked, extending his hand to you. 

“There’s no music Tommy, what do ya want to dance to?” You laughed, accepting his hand into yours regardless. 

A spark of electricity flew between your connected fingertips, and instead of flinching, you pulled him closer. Now standing in front of him, you had forgotten how tall he was in the short time the both of you had been sitting. 

“I was thinking you could sing, or I can hum if that’ll suffice. I just want to dance with you, Taylor.” He spoke, his shining eyes looking into yours with what seemed like only adoration. 

“Start humming then, Tommy, because I can’t carry a tune in a bucket,” you laughed, “My mother could sing wonderfully, but I never inherited that talent.”

Tommy began to hum, a soft song coming from his lips. It sounded familiar, but you couldn’t place it. Not that it mattered, if you ever recognized the song, this would be the moment it was tied to. This second in time, burned into your brain for the rest of your life. His hands delicately on your waist, with your hung over his shoulders. Your fingers lightly scratching the nape of his neck while he rubbed his hand up and down your back, slowly swaying the both of you in rhythm to the song he was creating. The skirt of your dress swishing around the both of your feet, the quieted sounds of the pub outside going silent in your mind. Here, in your space, it was only you and Tommy. Over the years, you had charmed countless men, telling them anything they wanted to hear, even doing some of the questionable things they wanted to do. Whatever it took to get the job done. This felt different though, this felt soft and warm and inviting. Tommy felt like he belonged in your arms, and that if he were to leave them, the awkward limbs would never fit against your side again. He felt like a home, a breath of fresh air, a lover. This was romantic and sweet, and the longing in his eyes and gentle touch of his hands only escalated that feeling for you. 

Tommy stopped humming a few minutes later, but he continued swaying with you in his grasp. He leaned his head towards yours, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your hair. You nuzzled your head into his chest, inhaling the scent of tobacco and whiskey. He let his lips linger on your crown, not moving from his spot. 

“I think I should take ya home, aye Love? It’s pretty early in the morning.” He softly said, almost not speaking loud enough to hear. 

“If that’s what you want, Tommy. I’d be content to stay here dancing with you for a very, very long time.” You tilted your head up at him. 

Tommy slid his hands up your back and over your shoulders, ending with his palms against your cheeks. He stared into your eyes for the hundredth time that evening, and there was something unfamiliar in them. Whatever he was feeling, you couldn’t read it, but you didn’t care. All caution and sense gone to the wayside, you perched on your tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He deepened the kiss, pulling your entire body into his. The two of you fit together perfectly, bodies molding into each other, forming one being. This kiss was only your second kiss ever, so there wasn’t much to compare to, but it was mind blowing. His warmth spreading all over your body, from your connected lips to the spots his hands rested to the way he had situated you with your legs on either side of one of his lean legs. 

Eventually you pulled away, finally needing air. He still cupped your face, both of your foreheads pressed together. His chest was heaving, panting breaths coming from both of your mouths. 

“It’s time to get you home, Love. Before I lose all composure and ruin this perfect night.” He breathed, untangling your bodies and pulling his face from yours. He still held your hand, leading you toward the door that would lead into the main pub, then out of the bar altogether. You took in the scene one last time, knowing that this could never happen again after tonight. You had let your ambitions slip, almost too far to come back from. Your heart beat wildly, the organ not caring about the betrayal you were imposing upon your father. How could you care about that miserable man, when the God that was Thomas Shelby was holding your hand, escorting you to your apartment? 

Tommy deposited you at the door to your small apartment, the walk to your home having been mostly silent. No words needed to be shared between the two of you, both of you having the dreading feeling of something coming. You didn’t know what was coming, but none of it mattered as he pressed his lips gently to your cheek, before pulling back to speak. 

“I had a wonderful time tonight, Love. Would you mind if I called you sometime to do it again one day?” He smiled, softly rubbing your cheek with his thumb. 

“I’d love that, Tommy.” You grinned back, writing your phone number down onto a small piece of paper you had in your purse. 

He took the paper, pressing one last kiss to your lips. His mouth was firm against yours, yet it moved so softly and swiftly that the fierceness in his actions didn’t scare you. Your body reacted, back arching into him while your mouth matched his movements. You gripped the side of his face, daring him to try and back away before you were done with him. His hands clasped around your waist, tugging on your already arched back, trying to get you as close to him as possible. The both of you tugged and moved against each other, not caring that you were in a hallway and that any neighbor, all of whom worked for your father, could step out at any moment. Almost sensing your tensing, Tommy slowly pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes while his chest heaved. 

“I’ll see you later, Tommy?” You asked, hoping and praying that he’d say yes. 

“Goodbye, Taylor.” He smiled, kissing your hands before turning and walking down the hallway, your paper still tucked in his left hand. 

-

It had been four days since you met Tommy, and two days since you started being paranoid. You would not leave your machine unattended for more than 10 minutes at a time, and when you had to leave its side for things like food and cleaning yourself, you made sure no other noise was going on so that you’d be able to hear it when it rang. He had to call eventually, he had said he would. You knew he was a lot of things, but a liar was not one of his descriptors in his file. He had never been known as a man who didn’t tell the truth, his truthfulness was honestly one of his greatest downfalls. It got him in trouble quite often, causing him to blurt off whatever he was thinking, with no care for the consequences. 

This time wasn’t different, right? Surely he didn’t charm you all night, walk you home, ask for your number, make out with you outside the door of your apartment, then just not call? 

The anxiety had begun to take its toll, your skin becoming more pale and dreary than usual, eyes slightly hollowing from the lack of proper food and sleep. No time could be wasted, not when he could call at any hour. You waited, and waited, and waited. He would remember what the two of you shared, surely. He would. 

-

On day seven, you found a small paper slid under your door. It wasn’t from your fathers office, and you didn’t recognize any of your few friends stationary. Cautiously, you unfolded it, reading the words scrawled in ink. 

‘Taylor, or should I say Y/N, I hope this letter finds you well. Truly. However, I do not like being lied to. You have not received any calls from me because I never intended to call you. I let my wits leave me that night, and it will never happen again. You are not who you said you were, and for that I cannot ever trust you again. If you ever see me in Birmingham, do not approach me and pray my brothers do not see you first. I liked you, Darling, I am damn near certain I loved you, but that does not matter if I cannot trust you. I know who your father is, I have known from the moment I saw you smoking in that courtyard, yet you were so beautiful I could not help myself. Do not worry, for your sake, I will not speak of this to anyone if you do not. If you do, I will know, and I will be forced to retaliate. I wish you the best in this life, Love. 

All the best, 

Thomas Shelby

& The Peaky Blinders’ 

You dropped the paper, letting it flutter to the floor. Tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks. How could you ever be so foolish? You had let this man control your life for the past seven days, dictating how you ate, how you slept, how you looked at yourself. Every doubt of his character from that night came rushing back. You had been right to think those things of him, to not trust him, but he was so beautiful and gentle, and he sucked you in. He devoured you, and you were happy to offer yourself up for him. You would have been happy to do anything he asked of you. 

Your breaths began to become short and exasperated, your face hot and wet from the tears. It felt like a chokehold around your throat, but there were no hands on your throat but your own. You clawed at your skin, willing it to tear open just so you could breathe, but it didn’t happen. You scratched and scratched until you bled, only stopping when you saw the crimson underneath your fingernails. Breathing still did not come, so you laid on the floor, sobbing and heaving, until you had no more tears and oxygen entered your lungs once more. You clung to the piece of paper, the last bit of Tommy you would ever have. You could not have him, but you had his words and his handwriting. You had the faintest smell of him in the paper, the littlest bit of him still with you. His words would be all that you were left with, while he was saddled with his love and your guilt. You wished you had just told him your name, just told him who you were. Damn all of this if it meant you could have him, but it was too late. You would never get to see him again, never get to smell him, never get to touch him. You would never have any part of Tommy Shelby ever again except for this letter and your memories. No man would compare to him, no man could. The way he held you, the way conversation was so effortless and comfortable. The way that even in silence, he filled up a space, never letting you feel alone. He was something so special, so tangible, and you had lost him. There would never be another love for you, never be anyone else. He was your love, even if only for that night, and you knew in your soul that you would never love again. 

[nteabodies]

Qui gon has a space youtube channel where he uploads videos of cool plants and reviews books on space botany with the occasional random footage of jedi stuff. The content is either very dry or very chaotic with shaky cam and somewhat blurry footage.

He made the account when he was a padawan after Dooku (nursing a headache from Qui Gon's latest hyperfixation) wearily asked him to channel his love for plants somewhere else at least until this migraine subsides, padawan

He realises that he actually loves making videos and chatting endlessly to a camera. His first few videos end up being 3 to 4 hours long and focuses on obscure plants and random books he found in Dookus room

The jedi Council is a little illiterate when it comes to social media (it hasnt caused any problems for the order yet so its pretty much unregulated) so QuiGon isn't actually breaking any rules when he posts videos without making them private. Many jedi do have social media accounts but they tend to use it for more professional purposes, so Qui Gon's channel slips under the radar with an average of like 5 views per video.

He continues using the channel as a botany/cute animals/philosophy/ranting outlet throughout his apprenticeship.

Once he's knighted he has less time to upload videos so his most common type of videos end up being those 20 second to 1 minute clips ft. Something Funny or Something Cool or just blurry footage with unintelligible audio.

Ofc when he gets padawans, he also posts random vids of them when he catches them in 4k doing sth stupid/cute.

By the time obi wan comes around, qui gon's space youtube channel has like, 50 short videos of feemor and xanatos doing things like petting tookas, failing spectacularly at executing a flashy ataru form, being sappy while high on painkillers, running away from qui gon as he holds a flesh-eating parasite towards them and shouts 'why are you running?' etc etc

At this point he has about 20 or so regular viewers who either think he's roleplaying a jedi or are members of the jedi order who find it hilarious (mainly Qui-Gon's friends and, for some reason, Master Yoda)

Anw the point of this is to lead to the premise of one of his videos going viral during the clone wars (possibly the one of general kenobi when he was 14 doing a backflip and landing on his face. Or the one of him sleeping while half his body is dangling outside a window. Or the one where he does this).

It's good PR for the jedi bc it shows them as slightly chaotic but peaceful people who are at their core just like everyone else (idiots).

It's memed to the extent that it reaches the eyes of the Jedi Council and Anakin who immediately like brings it to obi wan like "Master is this really you??"

Obi Wan randomly discovering this treasure trove of videos that shows so much of the person his master used to be, missing his dad so much but at the same time feeling a little betrayed that Qui Gon uploaded such embarrassing videos to a public forum where anyone could view it: you are haunting me from beyond the grave master

And the channel has both clips of Qui Gon and Obi wan as padawans, so there would definitely be fan compilation videos comparing their feral padawan energy. Obi Wan feels seen bc no one used to believe him when he told them that calm Master Jinn was actually crazier than him but now he finally has proof but then angst bc Qui Gon is not there so he can't rub his face in it :(

Anakin and ahsoka discovering that their cool and calm master used to be wilder and more feral than them before qui gon died and left him to raise a child: that's actually very sad.

The general public seeing Dooku in the bg of qui gon's padawan videos: is General Kenobi... fighting a war... against his jedi grandpa?

Anw this can go two ways: either this is just a cute thing that happened during the clone wars and everything else happened the same as canon OR it inadvertently saves the galaxy

Canon: the videos make everyone involved Feel Things but don't change their actions. The empire never gets around to banning the channel so Obi wan uses it as one of his last sources of comfort in the desert as he watches over luke. Once he reconnects with Qui-Gon's force ghost, they bond by watching old videos from the channel. Years later, Luke discovers Obi Wans old datapad and inadvertently finds out about the original viral video and the channel. It ends up being a very good reference for painting a picture of jedi life pre-empire. Luke uses it as a reference when building his jedi academy but not before spending a solid hour laughing at the padawan kenobi fail compilations

AU:

Dooku watching some of the videos and all the fluff (and possibly seeing the vlog where padawan qui gon talks about the differences between attachments and love with regards to jedi and bringing up his bond with dooku): Actually maybe I can leave the jedi order and make positive change without becoming a sith lord. Maybe I can help the jedi order without agreeing with everything they do.

Anakin watching the same video on attachments vs love and going to obi wan

Anakin: Do you love me master?

Obi wan: ???

Obi wan: You are my brother anakain??? Of course I love you??? But why are you asking me?? Are you okay?? Do you have something to confess perhaps?? Like about a senator?? A senator that has a name beginning with a p??

Anakin, panicking: Ah yes p-pa-palpatine did tell me a strange story about a wise sith lord when we went for our weekly bonding session yesterday

Obi wan: I -

Obi wan: I meant your marriage to Padme actually but wtf there is a lot to unpack there.

And anakin is just reeling from the fact that

1) obi wan loves him

2) obi wan knew about padme and didn't say anything

So he doesn't get angery when Obi wan brings the palpy matter to the jedi Council and investigates him. Then add in a few well-timed coincidences bc this is a fix it and yay palpy overthrown!!

Anakin prolly voluntarily leaves the order and becomes a happy trophy husband for Padme after a long talk with Obi wan about his future where he reevaluates his life decisions. ("Anakin you will be my brother whether or not you're in the order")

Obi wan meets Qui Gons force ghost and does get to rub it in his face that he was a less feral padawan than Qui Gon.

And they all lived happily ever after except palpatine who died angrily ever after.

[sortofanobsession]

could you maybe write a fic where Jamie gets sick at an away game— whether it be anxiety, food poisoning, flu, etc. Maybe he sicks up in the middle of the night and Dani or Sam (I imagine they room together and are best friends) go get Roy and he’s very very sweet in his own Roy way to Jamie and then the next day on the bus Jamie still doesn’t feel good so he snuggles into Roy in the back of the bus?

I literally love your work so much and would absolutely die if you wrote this (plus my birthday is coming up (Jan 25th) so this would be so epic to read then))

Happy Early Birthday, Anon!

Here is worried Roy Kent, sick and confused Jamie, amused Keeley, #1 nurse Phoebe, and well, everyone else. Hope you like it.

A/N: I'm not a medical expert. I have asthma so I know a few things about raspatory issues. But this might not be the most accurate. And it's unbeta read, as usual.

Ted Lasso Masterlist

Ao3

Pairing: RoyJamie

word count: 4k+

Content warning: Illness, pneumonia, fever, coughing, vomiting (from coughing), panic, angst, sleep depravation, fear, swearing/cursing/cussing.

Fever in the Night

Roy Kent growls at the knock that would have woken him up if he had been asleep. He’d been reading and didn’t appreciate being interrupted. 

“Better be fucking dying,” He grumbles as he opens the door. “What?” he snaps at Sam Obisanya. 

“Sorry, Coach,” Sam nervously says. “But it’s Jamie.” 

And that has Roy moving before his tired brain catches up. He almost forgets to grab his room key and phone, but he isn't a fucking idiot, so he grabs them. Sam relaxes a tiny bit that Roy didn't argue or even swear as much as Sam had expected for it being 1 a.m. Roy feels uneasy when he looks up to see Dani Rojas and Jeff Goodman in the hall, both in the open door of the room Sam and Jamie shared. The four players have adjoining rooms. 

“What about Jamie?” Roy finally asks as he follows Sam.

“He's very sick,” a worried Dani Rojas says. Jeff nods. 

“Okay,” Roy says. He was tempted to ask them why the fuck they woke him and not the team’s doctor, but it was about Jamie Tartt. He'd be pissed if they didn't. He cares about Jamie. And he shoves that thought aside because he really shouldn't think like that. And Roy forgets it completely when he gets one look at Jamie. Jamie’s pale. His stupid fucking hair is sweat drenched and sticking to his face. 

“You two, out,” he says to Dani and Jeff by the door. 

“But-” Dani starts, but Roy glares. Jeff was smart enough to be back in his own room already.

“You have a fucking match, with or without Tartt, so fucking sleep. He'll be fucking fine.” 

The coach weighs his options before handing Sam his own room key. “You fucking too.”

“But coach-”

“Not going to fucking repeat it,” he snaps. 

“What about you?”

“Don't fucking argue.”

“Sorry, coach,” Sam says, but he hasn't moved. The room key and his phone gripped right in his hands. 

“I’ll call the physio team, now fucking go.”

Sam nods and silently leaves. Roy sighs once the doors are closed. As tired as he is, his fucking heart is pounding. Something is wrong with Jamie Tartt. And that twists something inside the gaffer. And despite the protest in his knee, he is kneeling down beside Jamie to get a good look at him. He should call the physio team. He needs the team’s doctor. Roy might know more than your average bloke when it comes to health, thanks to his sister, but he's no bloody expert. But he needs a bit more information first. He reaches up and carefully moves the hair out of Jamie's face. 

“Fucking hell,” he says when just his fingertips can feel the heat of a fever. Just to be sure, he places his palm on Jamie's forehead. And he squashes down whatever feeling is stirred up by how the sick striker shivers at the contact but still leans into it. 

“Fucking burning up,” Roy mutters to himself. 

He winces at the pain in his knee as he stands up. He tucks Jamie's blankets tighter around him. The gaffer is scrolling through his contacts to find the one he needs. He flips the light on in the ensuite and talks to the team's doctor as he grabs a flannel and wets it. As he hangs up the phone, he sets the damp cloth on Jamie's forehead. That's when the player’s eyes snap open. Confusion, followed by panic, flashed across the striker’s face. Because in Jamie's mind, if Roy Kent is there, then Jamie is running late for something, and Roy is probably pissed at him. Jamie hates when Roy is pissed at him. Jamie doesn't like disappointing Roy. 

“Easy, Tartt,” Roy says. “Fucking stay put.” Roy puts the fallen flannel back in place. “Try and relax.”

And as anxious as Jamie is, a command from Roy Kent is one that Jamie will follow. 

“Roy?” Jamie manages to ask. And the coach hates how tired, weak, and utterly confused Jamie seems. 

Before Roy can say anything else, a knock at the door makes Jamie flinch. Without thinking, Roy smoothes the younger man’s hair back in an attempt to calm him as he gets up. Roy’s always been better at physical gestures than words. And if that's what was needed to keep Tartt from panicking or hurting himself, well, then that was a no fucking brainer. He was going to fucking do it.

He lets the doctor into the room and silently hovers as the doctor deals with the striker. 

“Any other player showing symptoms?” the doctor asks the gaffer.

“Fuck if I know, Obisanya, Rojas, and Goodman just seemed fucking worried. Are we going to have a fucking team tomorrow?” 

“Guess we will see in the morning,” the doctor says. Roy gets a rundown on what needs to be done for Jamie. The coach leans his head against the cool wood of the door when he closes it behind the doctor. 

“Where's Sam?” Jamie asks, finally realizing that his roommate’s gone. And that concerns Roy a bit. Jamie is one of his most observant players. On and off the pitch, he tends to keep track of who is around him and where his mates are. He likes knowing where the people he cares about are. He was just noticing Sam’s absence now, which wasn’t a good sign. 

“Sent him off to get some fucking sleep,” Roy says. Several things had been dropped off at the room by either the physio team or hotel staff. Roy had been focused on the doctor and Jamie when it had happened. The gaffer hands the player a bottle of water. Jamie takes it without argument.

“Where?” Jamie glanced at Sam's empty bed. Roy rolls his eyes. 

“My room,” Roy answers, and that seems to surprise Jamie. Before the player can comment on the decision, Roy adds, “Not like I'm fucking using it.” And Roy regrets saying it at the way Jamie gets a sad look on his face. “It's fucking fine, Tartt. My fucking choice.” 

“But-”

“But someone needs to make sure you fucking rest.”

And Jamie hates that because he doesn't want to be a burden to anyone. 

“You don't need to-”

“Already fucking decided,” Roy states. “Just try and fucking sleep.” 

Roy is woken up by violent coughing, and he is out of bed without thinking. Helping raise Phoebe had him trained to be a light sleeper at times like these. Roy follows the sound to the loo. He knocks on the closed door. He didn't know if Jamie had coughed so hard he made himself vomit or vice versa. But from what he could hear, it was painfully obvious one of the two had occurred. The gaffer is glad to find the door unlocked and lets himself in. Jamie tries to argue and kick him out, but he is tired and shaking and can barely move. And that has something in Roy breaking. 

“Not fucking going anywhere, Tartt,” Roy says. As he grabs some water and sits beside Jamie. Jamie accepts the glass if only to rinse his mouth out. Roy can hear the way Jamie's lungs struggle, and that has Roy struggling not to panic. But he manages. He gets Jamie calmed down, cleaned up, and back in bed. Roy ends up texting his sister, who calls him. She asks him if Jamie has been sick recently, but then he remembers what Jamie had told him during training. He'd nearly choked to death at Ola’s over a joke one of the other idiots had told him. And fuck, Jamie couldn't catch a break. His sister tells him it sounds like aspiration pneumonia to her. He should have the doctor double-check, but hopefully, Jamie being a fit footballer will mean he can fight it off without too much trouble. He would need to keep a close eye on him. Hopefully, he wouldn't need to be admitted to hospital. And that had Roy’s blood running cold. A cold and a fucking joke. He sent a message to the physio team and went back to Jamie. 

The only good thing was that pneumonia wasn't inherently contagious. The cold Jamie had before it might be, but it was unlikely to take Sam, Dani, or Jeff out of the game. Jamie wouldn't be leaving the hotel the next morning. Roy really dreaded the idea, but he was already hitting the number on his phone. Keeley would have a lot to say about this at some point. She’d probably see right through him and know he cares more than he should for just being Jamie’s coach. But he needed help, and he knew Jamie trusted Keeley as much as Roy did. 

“Better be good, Roy,” Keeley says. She was clearly annoyed and not a fan of being woken at nearly 4 in the morning. 

“Fucking opposite, it's very fucking bad,” he says, and he sounds it. And she knows if Roy is that upset, it means one of three people was in a bad state. It must be Roy's sister, his niece, or Jamie Tartt. Roy and Jamie might both be her exes, but she knew them well enough to know that they were both idiots in love, just neither of them would admit it. And since it's an away match, it probably meant Jamie was the one having issues. 

“What's wrong? What happened?” She says, all annoyance gone and completely awake. “Is Jamie all right?”

Roy tells her what has happened since Sam knocked on his door. She tells him to keep doing what he's doing. She’ll stay with Jamie during the match. 

“Just let me text Rebecca, and I’ll be there,” Keeley tells him. Roy Kent doesn't argue. 

Roy is an anxious fucking mess throughout the whole match. He does his job. The team does theirs, but everyone feels like there is a gaping hole in the lineup. Even if they physically have a full team, thanks to Roberts. But Isaac had told them to win it for Jamie, and the fucking lads did. That would at least make Jamie feel better about having missed it. Colin Hughes and Dani Rojas had Sky Sports doing replays of goals. And post-game interviews had been more about Tartt than one would think for a game he wasn't in. Roy was just glad he’d had Jamie give Georgie a heads-up that he was sick before he left for the match. The striker listened to his mum as an amused Keeley kicked Roy out of the room. 

The team didn't even ask Roy if he was going out to celebrate the win. The gaffer hadn't even hung back for the bus. He didn't even change his clothes. He let Nathan Shelley to handle the press. He caught a ride back to the hotel, annoyed by the chatty driver, but he was cognizant enough to not verbally eviscerate the guy. He was just doing his job. Tipped the guy well. Not his fault Roy was a shit company. 

“You weren't joking,” Keeley grinned when she opened the door for Roy. Her voice was quiet.

“Said I'd be back after the match,” he stated as he tossed his jacket over a chair in the room. His tone matches hers. “How is he?” 

“Out cold. Whatever the new doctor gave him must be working.” 

Roy hummed. The hotel’s concierge had arranged for a local doctor to treat Jamie so the physio team could focus on the match. And Roy didn't even mind the outrageous fee that was going to cost them. He'd throw all the money he had at it, even though he knew Rebecca Welton would cover it in a heartbeat. She cared deeply for her team these days. And Roy could respect that. He did respect that about his boss. He glanced at the muted TV as Sky Sports blathered on about the game. Roy was glad it was silent. He could ignore the bullshit commentary on his coaching. They won. That's all that fucking mattered. 

“You need to leave?” Roy asked at the way Keeley's phone kept going off. 

“Maybe to take a few calls. Seems the internet is not satisfied with the team's explanation of Jamie's absence.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Roy says as he moves to check on Jamie himself.

“You would say that,” Keeley grins. “But it's my job to answer it. I'm his publicist, after all.”

“Fair,” Roy states, but he doesn't look at her. His eyes are locked on Jamie. He doesn't see the knowing look on Keeley's face. 

“Team should be here soon,” she tells him as she grabs her bag. “Text me if you need me.”

Roy grunts and nods. He finally looks up at her.

“Doctor said he’ll be back up in a few days,” she assures him. “Bus ride might suck, but we'll manage.”

After she leaves, Roy turns off the TV. He was glad he and Sam had switched rooms. He silently changes into more comfortable clothes and pulls a chair up next to the bed. He picks up the book he had been reading. He didn't get very far in his book. He was too distracted by the wheezing sound coming from Jamie. He knew the team was back as the noise level in the hall increased. He was about to go out and tell them all to shut the fuck up when someone beat him to it. There was a quiet knock on the door. 

He opens it to find Nathan Shelley.

“How is he?” the assistant coach asks.

“Sleeping, but it's not fucking great,” he tells him.

“Think he’ll be able to travel?” Nate asks.

“Can't fucking leave him here,” Roy says. 

“That's true, but it won't make him worse, will it?” 

“Not much to fucking do about it.”

Roy had bought Keeley a ticket back so she could meet them when they got back. She complained, but he was ordering her around, but she didn't really mean it. They were both worried about Jamie. And if she could help ease his pain after a long trip, then she would. 

Roy had triple-checked that he had everything packed up for both himself and Jamie. Dani and Jeff had taken their stuff down so Roy could focus on getting Jamie up and moving. No one says anything, but they watch curiously as Roy leads a pale Jamie to the far back of the bus. The players exchanged worried looks. It was going to be a long, tense ride back to Richmond. 

The bus was quiet, as it usually is during these late-night trips, but this was an uneasy silence. The entire bus would go painfully tense every time Jamie coughed. 

They were on the road for half an hour when Roy noticed Jamie was shaking. Roy couldn't imagine how shitty the striker must feel. Fever-induced chill on a fucking crowded bus. 

Jamie's eyes snap to his when Roy feels the ill man’s forehead for what feels like the millionth time. 

“You okay?” Roy asks quietly.

“Cold,” Jamie says. And Roy had already figured that out by the way Jamie not only avoided the cold glass of the window but also the way Jamie sort of chased the warmth of Roy's hand as he pulled away. How Jamie could be burning up but shivering cold had Roy thinking this was a terrible idea. He should have made better arrangements for Jamie. He should have extended their stay at the hotel, no matter the price, and sent the team back without them. Sure, there would be a lot of questions he didn't even want to answer to himself, let alone out loud, but he regrets not doing it. For Jamie's health and safety. Jamie was already wrapped in his usual blanket, a new one Keeley had given him, and Jamie's jacket. But it didn't seem to be enough. 

Roy hummed. 

Jamie's tired eyes watched as Roy dug through the bag he had with him. First, he makes Jamie take more meds. Jamie is vaguely aware of the quiet buzzing alarm on Roy’s phone. As he takes the meds, he sees Roy pull out a jumper from his bag. Roy kept it with him on trips like these in case a hotel or bus had a busted heater, and he needed extra layers. Jamie considers arguing, but he is just too exhausted to actually do it when Roy helps him out of his jacket and into the jumper. Instead of Jamie’s jacket, Roy's much thicker leather jacket, still warm from Roy wearing it, is wrapped around the striker. Jamie almost cries because it's warm and it smells like Roy, and it's overwhelmingly comforting to his fever-muddled mind. Roy must notice the glassy look in Jamie's already bloodshot eyes because without hesitation or protest, even at the odd looks from a few people around them, Roy shifts them both. Roy moves so he can lean against the window with Jamie's back to his chest. One foot on the floor to brace them both. And Jamie manages to get a bit more air than he had bundled up in the window seat. Roy was fucking warm, and Jamie just wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep in his lap, but his lungs hurt, and he could barely breathe as is. Thankfully, the bench at the back of the bus they were on was a bit longer than the normal seats, and Roy could stretch his knee out. They still had nearly 5 hours on the bus. Jamie’s eyelids felt heavy when Roy pulled the blankets back around him. The violent chills finally eased a bit. Jamie didn't know if it was from the meds or how blissfully warm Roy fucking Kent was, but he felt just a tiny bit more human.

“Quit fighting it and fucking sleep, Tartt,” Roy said. Jamie chuckles, but it turns into a wheezing cough that earns concerned luck from the teammates who are sitting nearby. The striker doesn't see the way Roy silently waves them off, too distracted by the way Roy’s arm holds him tight, a hand on his chest to keep him from falling to the floor. Roy's other hand starts rubbing Jamie's back until he can pull an exhausted Jamie back against his chest.

“Just try and breathe, Jamie,” Roy's voice is in his ear, sending a shiver down Jamie’s spine. “Let the medicine work. Nothing else matters. Just fucking breathe.”

Jamie whines slightly because all he wants to do is tuck his face in Roy's next and probably cry.

Roy Kent’s heart fucking shattered at the weak noise that Jamie makes, and he can't take it. He wraps his arms as tight around Jamie as he dares with how much the striker is already struggling to breathe. And he plants a kiss on Jamie's temple.

“It's okay, Jamie,” the older man assures. “I've got you.” And that seems to do the trick because Jamie’s hands wrap around Roy's wrist. So the coach adds, “I'm not going anywhere.” And Roy starts quietly telling Jamie about his first time in Newcastle as a kid when he’d been training in Sunderland. His hushed words continue until Jamie is fast asleep against him. 

About halfway through the trip, Coach Beard comes to check on them. He isn't surprised that Jamie is passed out. Nor is he shocked to find Roy Kent wide awake. The gaffer might be exhausted, and on night two, he has no sleep, but he is wide awake. Beard hands him a water bottle. One Roy accepts because he was sort of trapped where he is. 

“You good?” Beard asks. Roy nods because as painfully asleep his leg might be, and as achy his bad knee is, he'd endure it if it meant Jamie slept. Jamie had spent much of the first hour of the trip trying to get comfortable. The fact he had slept long enough for Roy to get sore was good. 

“Fucking fine,” Roy grumbles. 

“You sure?” Nate asks when he appears over Beard’s shoulder. “We could help you-” 

He is cut off by a low growl from Roy. “You fucking wake him, and you’ll be picking your teeth up out the aisle.” 

“Right, yeah, got it,” Nate says before disappearing, presumably back to his seat. Beard just nods and hands him the book Roy had set aside. 

Roy can feel the rattle in Jamie's lungs worsening as the meds wear off, and Jamie starts to wake up. Thankfully, they were only about 45 minutes out from the dog track now. 

Roy gently shushes him as a bump in the road jostles everyone on board, earning a pained whine from the ill man. “It's okay, Jamie,” Roy tells him. “Nearly there, then we can go home and get you in bed.” 

And it's like a knife in Roy's heart that Jamie is too tired and sick to make a snippy comeback or stupid innuendo. Like all the humor and joy was being drained from the player. And Roy hated it. As much as he acted annoyed or put out by Jamie, he fucking adored him. Wouldn't change the man Jamie had grown into for the fucking world.

On the contrary, he'd fucking fight anyone that doubted Jamie. Because Roy Kent was fucking gone on Jamie Tartt. The arrogant prick stole his heart at some point, and Roy hadn't even fucking noticed. His sister and Keeley were never going to let him live this down. And he'd endure it as long as Jamie was okay.

Jamie worried as he watched how Roy had to grip the seats as they exited the bus. Roy is slower than usual. Jamie might be sick, but he knew Roy. He could identify Roy while blindfolded by footsteps alone. The slight limp and the way Roy leans heavily on the railing with each step down makes Jamie’s brows furrow.

“Fucking stop it,” Roy says when his eyes meet Jamie's. 

“Your knee-” 

“Is fucking fantastic. You going to just fucking stand there or what?” 

Keeley's laugh has Jamie looking behind him.

“You two are a sight,” she grins. 

“Did you-”

“Course I did, Roy-o,” she smiles. “Let's get you home, babe,” she says to Jamie, and he is too tired and confused to argue. He nearly panics when he notices Will helping Roy along, but Keeley's warm hand pats Jamie’s chest. “He's okay, just a long ride,” Keeley tells him. “Telling either of you not to worry is a waste, but I can tell you, he doesn't regret it. Now, in you go.” She helps him into Roy’s G-Wagon with little argument. He is surprised when Roy gets in the back beside him, and Keeley gets behind the wheel. Roy doesn't often let others drive his car. But then again, this is Keeley.

“Jamie?” The striker's eyes snap up and he meets Keeley’s in the rearview mirror before Keeley looks away to meet Roy’s. 

“Hmm?”

“She asked if you were fucking hungry,” Roy tells him, and the worried look on Roy's face has a familiar feeling in Jamie's gut returning. 

“I'm knackered more than anything,” Jamie says.

“I get that,” Keeley says. “Be home soon.”

Jamie must fall asleep because the next thing he knows, he's waking up in his own bed, unsure how he got there. He tries to put the pieces together, but he comes up short. 

“Good, you're awake.”

“Phoebe?” Jamie asks because Roy Kent’s niece is in the doorway to his bedroom.

“Hang on, I have to tell my mum.”

“Your mum?” Jamie mutters, but she is gone. So Phoebe and her mum were there. Jamie’s tired brain tries to remember what happened to cause this to happen. 

“Well, your colour's better,” Roy's sister says as she walks in. 

“You're in my house?” 

She nearly laughs at his confused look. Phoebe giggles.

“Well, yeah,” Phoebe says like it's the most obvious fact in the universe. “Uncle Roy let us in.”

“Uncle Roy,” Jamie mutters.

“My brother begrudgingly went to training,” the doctor tells him. She uses a stethoscope to check his breathing. Jamie coughs as she does. “Rough,” she tells him. “But better than it was.”

“Uncle Roy said it was something like popcorn popping while rattling a jar of change, and when you pinch a balloon as it deflated.”

Jamie’s laughs turn into a wheezing coughing fit at the odd description. He startles slightly as a funny mask meets his face, but he looks over at the doctor as she turns on a machine. 

“Yeah, she asked him, and that's how he explained it,” the amused mother said as she looked at her daughter. “Nebulizer,” she taps the machine. “Help get those lungs to open up faster. Make it easier to breathe.” She goes on to tell him how it works. 

“So,” Jamie says despite the mask muffling his speech. “You…have…Babysitting…duty?” 

He doesn't miss the worried look on Phoebe's face as he has to break between each word, but her mum just squeezes her knee, where she sits on the side of Jamie's bed. Phoebe's hands were too busy holding Jamie's hand. And that makes Jamie smile behind the mask. He was always happy to see Phoebe. Sure, this was a weird visit, but he was glad she was there. Being sick was awful. But it was easier when you had people that cared around you. 

“My brother insisted Phoe was the best nurse for the job.” And the smile the girl gave them did wonders to heal Jamie's heart. She was a ball of sunshine. Jamie was still trying to figure out how they got there when he remembered that Keeley had driven Jamie and Roy to Jamie's flat. Roy must have stayed. 

“His knee?” Jamie asks, sure that Roy's sister would know.

“Fine, after he iced it,” she tells him. “Or as fine as it ever is.” She shrugs. “Although if he doesn't start wearing the brace again on bad days, I'm going to kick him in it.”

“That's not very nice, mum,” Phoebe says.

“Neither is your uncle when his knee hurts, so seems fair,” her mum grins. Jamie chuckles. “Medication must be working. We got a laugh that didn't turn into a cough.”

“Yay!” Phoebe cheered, and Jamie smiled. The pair stayed, and Phoebe told him all about the match he had missed. As much as it hurt him to know he had let his team down, the colourful commentary from an 8-year-old made it easier to stomach. 

Roy had let himself in with Jamie’s keys and followed his niece’s laugh to find them all in Jamie's room. His sister turned off the nebulizer. And the icy grip around the gaffer's heart eases slightly at the smile on Jamie's face as the mask was set aside. 

“Uncle Roy's here!” Phoebe announced. 

“How's the best medical team doing?” Roy asks. 

“Great!” Phoebe grins. 

“And the patient?” Roy adds. And Jamie is stunned at the strange dichotomy on the gaffer's face. He looks exhausted. He has bags under his eyes. At the same time, there is a spark in his eyes. A smile on his face as he leans against the door frame. And Jamie feels butterflies when Roy looks at him. It's not the first time he's felt it. He's always craved Roy's attention. Even when they were both playing for Richmond, Jamie would go out of his way to antagonize his captain. Getting to see Roy content with his family was something Jamie always considered special.

“Much better,” Phoebe answers. “He managed to laugh without coughing.” 

“Oh really?” Roy asks with amusement. 

“He had the nebulizer on at the time, but it means we're on the right track,” Roy's sister tells him. “That and his fever finally broke.”

Jamie hadn't even realized that he didn't feel feverish anymore. 

“That's great,” Roy says. The gaffer feels himself relaxed. Jamie was getting better. 

Roy watches as his sister gets up from the chair beside Jamie's bed. She reaches a hand out to Phoebe. “Come on, Phoe, soup-making time,” she says. Phoebe gives both Jamie and Roy a hug as she leaves. Roy can't help but grin at the dopey smile on Jamie's face. 

“Wait, soup making? Do I even have the stuff for that?” Jamie asks, and Roy gets a bit uneasy again. 

“You do now,” Roy says as he moves to take the seat his sister had been in. 

“Since when?” 

And Roy gives him an odd look. 

“Since yesterday.”

“Did Keeley get them before we got back?”

“No,” Roy answers. “Jamie, you've been in and out of it for a couple of days since we got back.”

“What?” And he remembers that Roy's sister had said Roy was at training. They usually had the day off after long travel away matches like that. 

“A couple days?”

“You okay?” Roy asks as Jamie coughs. 

Jamie winces. He felt terrible thinking about how many nights of sleep he had ruined for Roy. 

“You should go home,” Jamie says when he can finally speak again. 

“Already here,” Roy states.

“I know, but…” Jamie starts. “You need sleep.”

“And you need to recover, so here we fucking are,” Roy tells him. 

“I know, but-”

“I can fucking assure you that I will not sleep better in my own fucking bed. Probably worse because no one is here to look after your dumb arse.”

“But my fever broke, and I'm feeling-”

“You just had a coughing fit,” Roy says with a glare.

“But I didn't throw up or pass out, so I’m-”

“Fucking hell,” Roy says, rubbing at his tired eyes. “Fuck it.” A stunned Jamie watches as Roy climbs into bed beside him. “Now will you shut the fuck up and sleep.”

Jamie woke up feeling warmer than he had in a long time. He felt better too. His lungs still felt like crappy, but he didn't care as much. 

[extra-gray]

— TWO HANDS?

MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI!

PAIRING: Lee Minho x Seo Changbin

WARNINGS: Anal sex (Minho giving/Changbin receiving), oral sex, face-fucking, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, bisexual Minho, “straight” Changbin, anal virgin Changbin (tell me if I missed anything)

WORD COUNT: 4k+ words

SYNOPSIS: Minho finds Changbin jerking off and decides to join him

A/N: I hope whoever reads this enjoys lol. I’m working on a Jongho x reader rn but I take forever to write… though stay tuned if you’re interested ;) feel free to give me any suggestions/prompts via my ask box <3

Everybody but Changbin was out doing god knows what, and he was thankful. He wanted to relax, alone, after a busy week. But at the other dorm, Minho was bored. He knew Changbin was alone, so he decided to go and bother him.

Scaring people made Minho sadistically happy, so when he arrived— he used his key to let himself in. Once he was inside, he saw that Changbin wasn’t anywhere to be seen… which meant he was probably in his room.

He locked the door behind him, and then he paused momentarily. There were interesting noises coming from down the hall.

He assumed Changbin was just playing a really stressful video game, so he went for the hallway and saw his door was cracked. Approaching slowly, he peeked in.

And immediately froze.

He saw Changbin lying in bed, back leaning against the headboard. He was wearing a tight black shirt that hugged his muscles, with his shorts and boxers pushed down to his thighs. Both of his hands were wrapped around his cock.

“Ah, fuck… yes,” he moaned, thrusting into his hands. His balls bounced as he did, making lewd noises, and Minho couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He didn’t know why.

Sure, he’s attracted to men... but Changbin is his friend.

And a straight one, at that.

He couldn’t look away, eyes trailing up his body and studying his facial expressions. He had no idea Changbin could make noises like that.

It was… hot.

Of course, Minho just had to lean in to get a better look. The door creaked, and he stumbled slightly. He cursed himself in his head, quickly straightening up like nothing happened.

Changbin panicked and covered himself up with his hands, “H-hyung, Jesus Christ! Go away!” He yelled, breathless with bright red cheeks and a heaving chest. Minho didn’t move an inch.

He just stood there, his expression unreadable.

“Fuck, go!” He shouted again, “Why are you even here?!”

There was a short moment of silence, when Minho finally spoke.

“Two hands?”

“Wh–” Changbin scoffed in disbelief, “What?”

He was getting very obviously annoyed now, and Minho could only smirk.

“Two hands. You were using two hands.”

Changbin clenched his jaw and looked away, “Dear god.”

The older pushed the door open further and took a few slow steps into the room, “Does it feel good?”

He sighed. All he could do was play along for now, until he went away.

“Yeah,” he said simply.

Minho hummed, stepping even closer, “Mind if I try it out?”

Changbin snapped his head towards him, clearly taken aback, “W-what is that supposed to mean?!”

Minho just slipped off his shoes and crawled into bed next to him, getting comfy with a deep sigh and leaning back against the headboard.

“Hyung, what the hell are you doing?!”

He honestly didn’t know. He was just listening to his body. And this is what it wanted.

He laughed quietly.

He pulled his sweatpants down, and then his boxers– exposing his hard, pretty cock. Above average in length and girth, a bit of blush on the tip of his foreskin. Nice full balls that sat perfectly. Changbin swallowed hard, staring in shock. Watching it throb.

He’d seen his fellow members naked, but he never really stared at their dicks. Especially not while they were erect.

Minho threw the clothes off the side of the bed and got comfortable again. Then, he wrapped a hand around the tip and pulled his foreskin down— his soft pink tip on full display. He swiped his finger over his slit, catching a tiny bit of precum. And then he wrapped his other hand around the base.

Changbin had an involuntary wave of pleasure rush through his body, forcing all the air out of his lungs. He wasn’t attracted to men. He was straight. So why was seeing Minho doing this to him? Why was it making him hornier?

Minho stroked slowly, his eyes instantly closing, “Nngh…”

Honestly, he thought his hyung sounded beautiful.

“Minho—“ he struggled, heart pounding against his rib cage, “S-Stop.”

Minho just sped up, bucking his hips into his hands. His jaw went slack, bunny teeth poking out. The noises he was making were low in his throat, and with every one— Changbin felt that same wave of pleasure.

He instinctively squeezed his cock, wanting the ache to go away. But looking at Minho’s leaking tip, watching his thigh muscles flex, and hearing him moan…

Fuck. He needed release.

“Keep touching yourself, Bin,” Minho smirked and lolled his head to look at him, “Don’t let me get in the way. I won’t tell anyone~” he winked, turning his head back.

Changbin couldn’t say anything. He kicked his shorts and boxers to the floor, and slowly wrapped his hands around his aching cock.

This is okay, right? They’re friends, so it’s okay. Changbin recalled stumbling across quite a few videos of friends jerking off together. He never watched them, but clearly it was a pretty… normal thing to do, right?

Fuck it, who cares. Changbin doesn’t let anyone influence his thoughts or actions. He’s his own man. And he didn’t see any reason not to do this.

He slowly began to stroke himself, tired of the tension. An accidental moan slipped out of his mouth, and he could’ve sworn he saw Minho thrust harder in response.

“Fuck—“ he moaned involuntarily, unable to take his eyes off his hyung, who was now looking at his dick.

Changbin found himself mirroring Minho’s movements. Speeding up as he did, slowing down as he did. His eyes drifted upwards to look at his face. He watched him stare at his dick, watched his mouth as he moaned. Seeing Minho get off to his body made him feel things he never has before.

Fuck, he couldn’t take it. He didn’t need to try and justify these feelings right now.

He reached over for Minho and grabbed onto his shirt— pulling him closer and pressing his lips against the sharp edge of his jaw.

Minho gasped in surprise and pleasure, but he had no time to be shocked… moaning as Changbin began peppering soft little kisses down to his chin. He left some kitten licks and nibbles on his skin here and there, and Minho couldn’t believe it. He didn’t think Changbin would touch him. He didn’t think he wanted to touch him.

And honestly, he couldn’t lie. He’s had to consciously suppress his urges a few times when it came to Changbin. He just didn’t want to be honest with himself.

“Yes, fuck—“ his voice, though loud, rang softly into the room. A hint of desperation hidden within it.

Hearing his name fall perfectly from those plump lips made Changbin absolutely feral. He couldn’t think straight right now. Has he had these feelings this whole time? He felt so pent up and needy, these feelings must have been hiding somewhere.

He snuck his hand under Minho’s shirt, feeling every inch of warm skin as he kissed the corner of his mouth. He was grinding against his thigh now, moaning under his breath as he throbbed.

“God— Bin… want you…” Minho whined, fucking into his hands erratically. The feeling of Changbin grinding against his thigh made him crazy. He turned his head and captured his lips within his own.

Changbin hummed into his mouth, palming his chest as he shoved his tongue inside to taste him. He knew immediately that he’d be craving it again. And again. And again.

His lips were so soft. He couldn’t get enough.

They parted for a second, and seeing Minho’s hooded lust-filled eyes threw the rest of his self control out the window.

He climbed on top of him and nearly ripped Minho’s shirt off, throwing it on the floor and reveling in the sight below him. He flattened his palms against his stomach, tracing along the scar towards the bottom. The heat radiated through Minho’s body, yet he shivered.

As Changbin did all of this, Minho couldn’t take his eyes off his cock. The way it swung heavily and throbbed between his legs. He looked up at him now, eyes dark.

“Yours,” he said, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

Changbin smirked and did as he was asked, watching Minho’s eyes flicker with excitement. A hand outstretched to slide up his abdomen, slow and steady with a serious expression as if he was studying a sculpture.

“God—“ Minho muttered.

Changbin crawled up his body to straddle him, sitting on his chest. He was so close that his cock brushed against his chin, and Minho clenched his jaw in anticipation. He rubbed and grabbed at his soft thighs, eyes wide and expectant. His arousal was through the roof at this point.

Changbin then grabbed ahold of his cock and scooted up a little more, pressing the tip against Minho’s full lips until they parted.

“Open.”

He obliged.

So he sunk into his hot, wet mouth with a loud moan. One of Minho’s hands grabbed his thick ass, while the other played with his tits. Pinching and pulling on his nipples. The combination was too good for Changbin. His body shook with excitement.

Minho’s eyes fluttered as he moaned around Changbin’s thick cock, not even gagging when it reached the back of his throat. He licked and sucked while his hands went and squeezed the skin that sat so perfectly on Changbin’s hips. He admired the stretch marks that painted them, wanting so bad to switch positions and pin him down so he could lick them. But he stayed still as he had his way with his mouth. Allowing himself to be used.

“Fuck—“ Changbin breathed out, clearly impressed by the lack of gag reflex.

Strong hands went to grab fistfuls of pretty brown hair as he fucked into his throat harder, the wet noises making his tummy do flips. The feeling of his balls slapping against his chin. The vibration of Minho’s moans took his pleasure to new heights, “Gah— I’m gonna cum—“

Minho opened his mouth even more, saliva dripping down the corners of his mouth. His eyebrows tented, moans more frequent now— like he was begging Changbin to cum. And he would be, if his throat wasn’t being filled.

“Yes,” Changbin pulled on Minho’s hair, fucking impossibly deeper into his tight throat, “Cumming, baby- I’m cumming… Fuck!”

Minho was shocked hearing Changbin call him baby… and then cum shot down his throat right after. Changbin’s cock spasmed, some of the cum beginning to spill out from Minho’s mouth as he continued to thrust. But he tried to swallow and lick it all the best he could.

His thrusts slowed as he panted, and he pulled out halfway— his body shaking and threatening to collapse. His eyes were heavy, and his cock was still twitching with aftershocks. When he pulled out completely, he climbed off of Minho and found his lips immediately.

As they kissed, Changbin couldn’t believe how hot it was to taste himself on his tongue. He licked his own cum off of Minho’s chin, making him moan. Changbin just hummed, the taste of his salty cum in Minho’s sweet mouth sending him to heaven.

When their lips parted, they shared an intimate moment of eye contact. Their breaths mingling together. And then Minho smirked, a hint of mischief hidden behind it.

Before Changbin could think, speak, or move— Minho switched their positions and pinned him down on his back. He could tell he was worn out, so this was the perfect opportunity to do what he wanted. Otherwise, Changbin could easily overpower him.

“Fuck—“ he gasped in surprise at the sudden show of dominance.

“Did it feel good?” Minho asked seductively, his voice hoarse from the abuse his throat just endured. His neglected cock bounced eagerly as he took off his sweatpants with his right hand, his left on Changbin’s chest holding him down.

His pupils were blown instantly, seeing Minho’s fully naked body in a new position.

“Fuck…” he repeated, reaching out to touch. His fingers traced the line in his hip, and then Minho grabbed his wrists to pin them above his head.

“I said… did it feel good?”

Changbin’s bare chest heaved, breath catching in his throat— feeling completely exposed in this position. But he didn’t hate it. Minho looked so sexy on top of him like this, his softening cock would surely spring back to life soon.

The air felt thick. Like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know how Minho’s dominance was able to overpower his own… how it was able to knock down his defenses and turn his brain to mush. But it did, and he couldn’t do a thing about it. His body felt numb and heavy.

“Y-yes…” he answered, breathless in a voice small. A blush began to spread across his face.

Minho narrowed his eyes, “Good boy.”

It seemed like Changbin enjoyed the praise, because his cock certainly twitched in response.

And then Minho quickly got between his legs, grabbing his thighs firmly and spreading them.

“W-what are you doing?!” Changbin asked, panicking as he propped himself up on his elbows.

“Nothing you won’t like.”

Minho pushed him back down against the bed, pulling a gasp from him, and then pushed his legs up to his chest. Minho’s eyes lit up, his mouth beginning to water. Changbin’s asshole was so cute. It throbbed as he panicked, beckoning for Minho’s tongue. He got lost in the thought of plunging straight into his virgin hole, and was only brought back to reality when Changbin spoke.

“H-hyung!” he squirmed, “S-stop it! This is embarrassing!”

He bent forward and placed gentle kisses along his inner thigh, “Stop?” His hot breath grazed along Changbin’s sensitive skin, “You want me to stop?”

There was no hint of actual concern in his voice. Because he knew just by Changbin’s tone that his pleas weren’t serious.

“If you want me to stop, then why is your cock so hard? Hm?”

Changbin went silent, biting back the moans that threatened to escape as Minho buried his nose in the soft flesh of his thigh. He couldn’t say anything, no matter how hard he tried.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous baby,” he nearly purred, licking and sucking on the skin. Leaving dark marks in clusters and patterns. He squeezed his thighs harder, and Changbin’s back arched.

“S-shit…” he moaned under his breath, struggling, “What… what are you going to do?”

He reached down and placed a gentle hand atop Minho’s head, tangling his fingers into his hair. He rubbed his scalp as he moaned, the feeling of his tongue dragging across his asscheek causing anticipation to burn deep within.

Then suddenly, Minho’s soft lips made contact with his pretty hole. Kissing it tenderly.

It tightened immediately, Changbin gasping at the new sensation as he tugged on his hair to keep himself grounded, “F-fuck! Why—“

Minho didn’t let him finish, and instead pressed his tongue flat against him. Changbin was losing his mind at the warmth. The wetness. Not a single sound came out of his mouth, his body almost in shock from the foreign feeling.

His mind and insides were fuzzy, every nerve tingling as his blood rushed through his veins. Minho kept licking at his asshole, the tip of his tongue just barely dipping in every few seconds. And Changbin was coming undone.

“Holy shit…” he whimpered, pulling harder at his hair. Minho smirked before shoved his tongue all the way inside. Changbin gasped and moaned loud— hands scrambling to grip at the sheets. That familiar heat rose in his stomach again.

Then Minho suddenly pulled away, and Changbin couldn’t even whine to protest. There was a wicked grin on his face as Changbin’s eyes struggled to stay open.

“So good, baby…”

The younger held out his arms, and Minho laughed softly under his breath. He pulled himself up so he was hovering over him, and smashed their lips together. Changbin wrapped his arms around his body.

The kiss was desperate and messy. Uncoordinated. Both moaning into each other’s mouths as they tasted and explored every inch. Minho groped Changbin’s chest, his tummy, his hips, his thighs. Everything he could get his hands on.

And then he pulled away for a single second to spit on his fingers. Before Changbin could ask, he was caught by Minho’s lips again.

His fingers trailed down to his asshole, pressing against it while he drank Changbin’s pleasure.

They parted for air at the same time Minho pushed his middle finger inside, and he watched Changbin’s eyes widen. He watched the shock flash on his face, watched the gleam of discomfort, and then the confusing pleasure.

“M-Min—“ he struggled. Minho’s finger was all the way inside him now, starting to bend and search.

Changbin’s dick was slowly coming back to life, Minho’s painfully hard as it hung between his legs. But he knew he had to take his time. He didn’t want to hurt Changbin too much.

“Yes, Binnie?” He cooed, voice thick like honey. Changbin’s moans were going straight to his head. Fueling his dominance.

“You— Ah!—“ he suddenly cried out, body tensing hard as he felt a strong wave of pleasure roll through his entire being. His nails dug into Minho’s back.

He smirked, laughing teasingly, “Oh? Did I find it?”

Changbin screwed his eyes shut and pulled him closer, trapping him in his big arms, “M-more,” he begged.

“More?” Minho teased, feeling Changbin’s heaving chest against his own, “You want more, pretty boy?”

He pulled his finger almost all the way out, and Changbin shivered in anticipation, “Please.”

Another finger was added quickly, before Changbin could even process it— and now both were rammed into his prostate.

“Fuck, fuck!” He scratched down Minho’s back, making him groan in pain and pleasure.

Minho started kissing his neck as he scissored his fingers inside him, stretching him slowly. The soft noises he pulled from the same throat he was kissing left him absolutely desperate. He wanted to be inside Changbin so fucking bad.

“Feels so g-good, hyung…” he panted, opening his eyes and grabbing Minho’s face.

“Fuck,” Minho moaned, fingering him faster. Changbin looked so cute with his rosy cheeks and glossy eyes. The way he looked up at him was intoxicating.

The younger pulled him down into another wet kiss, and at the same moment, Minho added another finger. Changbin gasped into his mouth, but Minho didn’t let him free. He kept kissing him, through his pain and his pleasure. He was stretching in between thrusts, and made sure to reach for his prostate everytime.

Minho sucked on his tongue and his lips, and when he pulled away, his fingers left too.

“H-hyung…” Changbin whimpered in protest, lips red and swollen.

“Bin,” he responded, grabbing his thighs and pushing his legs up again. He lined his dick up so it brushed against his prepped hole, “I wanna fuck you.”

Changbin’s breath caught in his throat, his own dick now fully hard and leaking. Minho’s dominance made him feel unspeakable pleasure. His hole throbbed, and his insides ached. He reached out to let his hand slide down Minho’s front, and then he met his eyes again.

He pulled his hand away shyly, “I want you to fuck me, too.”

Minho had no idea how bad he wanted to hear that from Changbin. How bad he needed to hear that.

Without hesitation, almost in a hurry, he reached over to open his nightstand drawer. He assumed he’d have lube in there, and he was correct.

“Oh, that’s embarrassing…” Changbin groaned, covering his face.

Minho chuckled and poured some lube in his hand, “Embarrassing? When I’m about to fill your ass with my cock?”

Changbin moaned at his words, cock twitching. He had no idea how sexy his voice could be. He heard Minho slick his cock, and he uncovered his face to watch, “S-shut up.”

Minho smiled and then rubbed the rest of the lube on Changbin’s hole, making sure there was enough to make him comfortable. His view was breathtaking.

“I’ll make you shut up instead,” he said seriously, lining up his dick once more, “Now watch it go in.”

Changbin was taken aback by the sudden command, but he did as he was told. He tried to stay relaxed, but he couldn’t help tensing once Minho pushed in. His face scrunched up in pain, and even though it hurt… he couldn’t lie. Watching his own ass swallow every single inch of Minho’s cock was hot as fuck.

“Deep breaths, Changbin,” Minho wiped his hands off on the sheets so he could reach down and rub his cock, “Focus on the good feelings. It won’t hurt for long.”

Minho was having a hard time controlling himself, though. Changbin was so tight. So hot. So wet. He wanted to be deep inside him, wanted to be wrecking him. His cock was sore at this point, for being so hard without release for so long. But he wanted to give him a good experience.

Changbin tried to take deep breaths as he was told. Tried to drown out the burning sensation. It was all so new, so foreign, but a part of him kind of liked the pain.

Minho wrapped his hand around Changbin’s length and stroked him slowly, penetrating him deeper and deeper. He throbbed inside him, biting the inside of his cheek to hold in all the noises he so desperately wanted to make.

“F-fuck,” he exhaled, leaning forward to place kisses along Changbin’s throat– feeling it vibrate as he made small whines, “You feel so good, baby.”

“Nngh,” Changbin moaned, “Y-you’re big, hyung.”

“Yeah?” Minho said before licking his adams apple, “Wanna feel it balls deep?”

Minho’s breathing was ragged. Uneven, fast, and shaky. The feeling of Changbin’s hot, tight walls wrapped around him made it hard for him to have self control.

Changbin arched at the words, and he squirmed slightly under him. He wrapped his legs around Minho’s waist and pulled him impossibly close— forcing his cock to slam all the way inside.

“H-holy fuck—“ Changbin hissed, his back arching more. The feeling of Minho’s cock all the way inside him, right up against his prostate, made his mind start to melt. He didn’t even care about the pain.

The sound that Minho made was a mix of pleasure, surprise, and pure struggle. It took all of his willpower not to start drilling him instantly.

“You…” he struggled, “You okay?”

Changbin let out a shaky breath and allowed himself to adjust, “So deep…”

Minho hummed and bent down to kiss his face. He moved past his cheek to whisper in his ear.

“I don’t think you understand just how bad I want to fuck you, Seo Changbin…”

Changbin’s body ignited at his words, and his nails dug lightly into his biceps.

“Then fuck me.”

Minho immediately grabbed onto his hips and began to move. Long, deep strokes. Drowning in every noise he pulled from Changbin.

When he started writhing, obviously overtaken by pleasure— Minho held him down with a tighter grip on his hips. He smirked and sat up straight to get a good look at him, and then started fucking him harder, “Stay still, baby. Be a good boy and fucking take it.”

The new pace Minho had set made Changbin scratch down his arms, “Holy fuck!” He screamed, “Sh-Shit!”

“Yeah, you like that?” Minho nearly growled, watching his cock and balls bounce with every thrust. Watching how his thighs jiggled, and how his eyes rolled into the back of his head, “Tell me you like it.”

Changbin whimpered as he tried to speak, eyes screwed shut as his nails dug into Minho’s forearms. He gasped, struggling to even form a thought, “I l-love it…” he threw his head back, ”Please… Please don’t stop—“

Minho laughed and suddenly stopped.

“N-no…” Changbin whined, opening his eyes, “Why?”

“Turn over for me. On your hands and knees.”

He pulled out slowly, humming in satisfaction as he watched Changbin obey his orders.

Then without any warning, he slammed back into his tight little asshole— grabbing handfuls off his soft cheeks. The sound of his balls slapping his taint continuously made his stomach churn.

“Fuck! Yes!” Changbin’s moans were getting higher in pitch, and he even began to move backwards onto Minho’s cock, “Fuck me, Minho. Please. Keep fucking me.”

“My god,” Minho growled and reached forward to grab a handful of his hair— pulling him up so his back was against his chest. And then he dug his nails into his hips, and sunk his teeth into his neck.

Changbin was trembling, moaning helplessly as his prostate endured the abuse. He felt his insides begin to stir, and he knew he was about to cum.

“Minho—“ he whimpered, “Minho-hyung, you’re gonna make me cum.”

His voice and his body was getting weaker by the minute, every thrust of Minho’s cock destroying him.

Minho was too lost in the ecstasy that he left several dark hickeys along his neck and shoulders. He was too caught up in the desire to mark him. To claim him.

As soon as Changbin announced he was going to cum, his thrusts got sloppy, “Fuck baby, cum on my cock. Your ass is so fucking good. Shit— I’m gonna cum—“

Minho reached around to grab ahold of Changbin’s cock and started stroking him fast. He felt him erupt in his hand. Felt it drip onto his hand.

“A-ah! H-holy fuck,” Changbin was moaning like a slut, bucking his hips into Minho’s hand.

And then his own balls began to empty— his cum painting the inside of Changbin’s ass as he continued to fuck and stroke him.

“Yes,” Changbin fell forward, shaking and barely holding himself up with his forearms, “Fill me with your cum. Please hyung.”

Minho’s moans were guttural. Like the pleasure was ripping through his body. Seeing Changbin in this position… his back arched, and his ass in the air. He came harder than he ever has before.

He could barely breathe.

His thrusts slowed, and he let go of Changbin’s softening cock. One last time, he sunk all the way into his ass— and just stayed still. Panting. Changbin moaned weakly, muffled slightly by the pillow he was now pressed against.

Minho licked the cum off of his hand, while the other ran up Changbin’s spine soothingly. He hummed at the familiar taste of his cum, and then pulled out slowly.

“Fuck baby…” he moaned and grabbed his asscheeks to spread them apart, “Look at that pretty hole.”

It was so gorgeously wrecked.

Changbin buried his face in his arms, groaning in embarrassment, “S-stop…”

Minho watched the cum ooze out, and he couldn’t believe this just happened. He took a deep breath and helped Changbin flip over on his back. A bit anxious now, Minho immediately kissed him as if to soothe it.

This time, it was a tender kiss. As they both panted and struggled to catch their breaths from their recent climaxes, they melted into the moment. Minho caressed his cheek with a softness that Changbin had never felt before, and it made him shiver.

When they parted, Minho couldn’t look away from his eyes, “How did it feel, Bin? I hope I didn’t hurt you too bad…”

His gaze trailed downward to all the marks he left on his neck and shoulders. He pursed his lips, going to trace them gently. He couldn’t help but feel scared that Changbin was going to push him away now.

“It was… really good. Really really good— what are you looking at?” Changbin’s eyebrows furrowed, trying to follow his eyes. He could only see the marks on his shoulders, which were big and dark, “Oh…”

Minho scrunched his face in a mix of sympathy and embarrassment, “I’m so sorry… it’s even worse on your neck—“

“My neck?!”

It wasn’t just a matter of explaining it to the members, it was a matter of explaining it to the entire company. The thought of everyone seeing him covered in hickeys was already so embarrassing, how could he cope with trying to make an excuse?

But at the same time, it made his heart flutter. Knowing he’d been claimed by him.

“I’m sorry, Changbin. I’ll take the fall for it. I’ll let everyone know. You don’t have to say a wor—“

Before he could finish his sentence, Changbin grabbed his face and smashed their lips together. Minho hummed in surprise, but ultimately sighed into the kiss and allowed himself to feel the warmth. Their bare bodies pressed against each other— chests rising and falling in sync.

Changbin moaned and broke the kiss first, “I’ll figure it out, hyung,” his hand went to tangle in his hair. Their faces were inches apart as they looked into each other’s eyes, “I’m not scared.”

He was at first… but the more he thought about it, the more he realized he had nothing to worry about. His classic confidence shone through, and showed on the big smile he gave Minho.

“Whether or not they know who marked me, I’ll wear it with pride.”

[typingcorgi]

unexpected (part ii of a three-part series)

gif by @joelmjller

read part i here

rating: e (minors, please shoo. you will be blocked) word count: 4k pairing: joel miller x f!reader warnings: teacher!reader, pre-outbreak timeline, canon divergent timeline, hint of vague age difference (if he's 36 I'm thinking like the reader is 5-10 years younger but honestly insert whatever age you want), fingering, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), protected p in v sex (yay for responsible joel), praise kink makes brain go brrr, porn with plot, soft-ish!joel, no use of y/n story summary: a one-night stand with a handsome stranger doesn't go as planned. chapter summary: you invite joel to your place. you both know why he's there. author's notes: this is actually going to be a three-parter, not a two-parter, lol. sorry. thanks to my lovely friend @magpie-to-the-morning for your support in developing this chapter! no apocalypse, yay! this is part one of a multi-part series. excited to get this new ball rolling. this is just going to be a fun romp away from the mushroom zombies, okay? have fun getting yours ;) and as always, please feel free to reblog or leave a comment! your feedback is so very appreciated.

There is nothing quite like a Friday night attached to a three-day weekend. With Columbus Day right around the corner, you have the next seventy-two hours to do quite literally, whatever the fuck you want. For the first time in weeks, school is the last thing on your mind.

And apparently, you’re the last thing on Joel’s mind. You gave him your number a week ago, and even though you know three days is the average length of time before your date gets in touch with you again—can you even call your debauched bathroom rendez-vous a date?—not getting so much as a message on your voicemail has you a little freaked out.

Okay, a lot freaked out.

You’d written your number down on a napkin. He could have lost said napkin in the middle of Austin’s city streets, and now, a total stranger has your information. Just fucking great.

You kick off your shoes as you pull yourself out of your fabricated daydream—more like a nightmare. As you move through your apartment, you don’t waste a goddamn minute. You unclasp your bra beneath your shirt, pulling the straps from your shoulders and sliding them down your arms before tossing the garment into the hamper.

Maybe it’s better Joel hasn’t called. You can totally picture yourself just holing up in your apartment for the next three days and calling in delivery every night after running downtown to the nearest Blockbuster and renting a couple of cheesy romantic comedies. The guy behind the counter knows you’ve rented How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days at least three times since it’d been released on DVD, and that fact is only mildly embarrassing.

Still, your job forces you to be a creature of habit. Days like last Friday night, hooking up in public restrooms—that’s not your norm. Your feet are killing you. Sometimes you just need a weekend that demands very little of your attention or energy outside of the four walls of your bedroom.

By 9:30, you’re in your pajamas with a glass of red on your bedside table. The TV is playing a rerun of some new reality dating show—you think it’s called The Bachelor, but honestly, you tuned in during the middle of the episode, so you’re not sure. Your bed is your fucking safe haven. There are stacks of students’ essays in your tote bag abandoned on a kitchen chair, but you know damn well you took them home to only pretend to grade them. 

You’re good and settled in your bed before the tune of your cellphone ringtone chimes from the living room. You nearly trip over your own feet scrambling out of bed to race to it (but no, you’re not even the slightest bit desperate, here), and the caller ID reflects a number not registered in your address book.

It sends a little shock of anxiousness through you, a flash of adrenaline as your stomach drops, but you hit the pick-up button, taking the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” a low voice rumbles from the other end of the phone, and immediately, you know who it is.

Holy shit. He actually called.

“Wow,” you breathe, your tone somewhere between vulnerability and flirtatiousness. “And here I thought you totally forgot about me.”

Joel chuckles on the other end of the line. “No, nothing like that. Just been workin’ like a dog all damn week. Either that or I’ve been taking care of my kid. Or she’s been taking care of me. Sometimes I don’t know the dif—”

He cuts himself off with a laugh, and you giggle softly into the receiver, because was Joel this charming when you met him last weekend?

“I just mean, I finally got a moment to myself is all,” Joel finishes. “Figured I’d get in touch.”

“I’m glad you did,” you confess, sinking into the comfortable cushions of your loveseat. You kick your legs across the arm of it, suddenly feeling like a freshman girl talking to her senior crush before the big homecoming game. Even though you’ve barely started conversing, your heart is absolutely racing, anticipating the questions he might ask you, the plans you might make. It’s entirely too late for a dinner date, and you’re not sure Joel would even want a commitment as serious as sharing a meal with you, but there’s a small part of your naivete that remains hopeful. If Joel had been looking for a one-night stand, why had he asked you for your number?

“Yeah, well, I’ve bored you with enough details of my week,” he says, and it’s as though you can hear the smile in his voice. “How’d yours go?”

“Good,” you say, trying to think of more interesting ways to elaborate on your one-note response. “I mean, as good as teaching high school students on a Friday before a long weekend could possibly go. They either have too much energy or not enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “That’s right. Supermodel moonlighting as a teacher. I get it.”

“You’re cute,” you laugh.

“So’re you.”

You blush. You fucking blush. Joel might have admitted to being out of the dating scene for a while, and even if his comments are simple and somewhat predictable, he’s got some serious charm.

At some point in the conversation, Joel confesses he’s alone for the evening. His daughter is at a sleepover—she’s a good kid, so if she wants to stay at a friend’s house on a Friday night here and there, I’m not one to protest—and you’re alone with nothing but your mostly-empty wine glass and your Nokia 3310, beeping intermittently to signal that your battery is going to die.

There’s a pause in the conversation as you internally debate your next move: continue to engage in slightly awkward small talk, as though he hadn’t completely rocked your world seven days earlier, or the option you’re leaning towards: invite him over. Hadn’t Joel been angling for this exchange to end up that way, anyway? His daughter isn’t home tonight, so there’s no reason for him to be home himself.

“You should come over,” you offer, suddenly sounding a hell of a lot less cool than you had moments earlier when you’d flirted.

The fluster is contagious. Even if this is secretly what both of you had hoped for, what both of you sort of expected, Joel is just as nervous as you. “Y—yeah,” he stammers, and it sounds like he needs to fight to find the word in the back of his throat. “Definitely. Uh, what’s your address?”

Joel knows where you live. Well, he knows the area. He says he used to pass your street every morning when he’d drop off his daughter off at school, back when she was in third or fourth grade. The notion of him waving goodbye to an eight-year-old and telling her he loves her and hopes she has a great day at school makes your heart absolutely squeeze. A part of you wants to forgo your in-person booty call for a round of phone sex because you’re fucking wet from that vision alone, but instead, you tell him you’ll see him soon and end the call.

You take a deep breath and let it sink in. Joel is coming over to your apartment tonight. There’s a half-full glass of pinot noir on your bedside table, a mess of dishes in the sink, not to mention, you look like a total mess. Your pajamas are more functional than they are sexy, your hair is falling every which way, and your eyes are probably tired. It’s been a long week, and there are some things that even the promise of great sex can’t immediately resolve—like your current energy levels.

Fuck it. You plug your phone into its charger and hurry toward the bathroom, readying yourself for your visitor.

Within fifteen minutes, you’ve changed into a pair of jeans and a tank top (you don’t plan on wearing it long, anyway, but there’s something too comfortable about opening the door in fleece polka dot pants). Your hair is tamed and you’ve even applied a respectable amount of makeup; just enough to appear as though your job hasn’t completely zapped the life from you over the past week.

You’ve just finished tidying up when there’s a ring at your doorbell. You buzz Joel in, and you can hear his footsteps making their way up the flight of stairs from the ground floor to yours. Every step causes your heart to beat quicker, the anticipation to bubble beneath your skin, and you wonder if it’s the same for him, too.

He knocks at your door and you immediately smile when you see him.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hello, darlin’.”

You stand there for a moment, catching sight of all the little traits that’d caused you to draw to him in the first place. The crinkles around his eyes, tired and friendly, the bit of gray found in an otherwise patchy brown beard, the broadness of his shoulders beneath a worn denim shirt.

And the fucking pet name, god. Joel is so fucking smooth and he doesn’t even realize it. Or maybe he does and you’re a damn fool. Either way, it works, and you welcome him inside without another hesitation, closing the door behind him.

You offer him the only alternative to wine you have in your place—beer—and he accepts both the bottle and its opener. You try not to be mesmerized by the sight of his hands maneuvering over the bottle cap or the sight of his lips as he takes a swig, and when he tells you you’ve got a nice place here, you have to ask him to repeat it because you haven’t entirely heard what he’s said.

“Your place,” he repeats, one side of his lips curving into a slight smirk. “It’s nice. You know how to decorate.”

“Yeah,” you say, and it sounds like something caught between a laugh and a gasp. Joel is approaching you, placing the beer on your countertop while he corners you in, his hands placed on the edge of the counter on either side of your hips.

“You know, not that I wouldn’t enjoy talkin’ over a drink with you, but if that was all we were in for, I’d take you out somewhere,” he rumbles. You swallow nothing but air, your face growing hot as Joel’s gaze falls to meet your eyes, then your lips.

“Yeah,” you repeat as you nod.

“Yeah,” he echos with a chuckle. “Is that all you’re gonna say to me tonight?”

“No,” you say, and you feel like a bona fide idiot. Joel’s index finger curves beneath your chin, tilting your face up toward his.

“I’m gonna make you sing tonight, baby girl,” he murmurs, and then his lips are on yours.

You push your weight off the edge of the counter, winding your arms around Joel’s neck while his hands hold the flesh of your hips. The man is made out of electricity, suddenly shocking you to life and warming your blood. You part your lips while he kisses you, giving him permission to search your mouth as you lead him to your bedroom step for step.

The television is still on when you step into the room, only the faint golden light of your bedside lamp illuminating the space within the four walls. Joel pulls away to catch his breath and you rush to locate the remote.

“Should I be flattered you chose spendin’ time with me over watchin’ The Bachelor?” Joel teases as you turn off the TV.

“Shut up,” you laugh, and then you’re on him again. Your hands find the top button of his shirt, steadily unfastening each so that you’re free to push the garment down his shoulders and arms. It’s the first time you’ve seen him like this, exposed to you, chest rising and falling with each breath. It nearly knocks the air from your lungs. It’s not like it’s a new realization, of course, but…Joel is sort of gorgeous. He’s staring right back at you and you can tell he’s searching for some sort of quip or teasing remark, but nothing comes. Instead, he’s leveling the field when he reaches for the hem of your tank top, and you raise your arms to facilitate him.

Both shirts and your bra are abandoned on the floor of your bedroom. Joel lays you onto your bed and fucking worships your tits, tonguing one pert nipple while his hand roams and kneads the other breast. He’s gentle, maybe a little clumsy, but eager. Eager to taste you, to explore you, to map out the path of your form and learn what makes you gasp and moan.

And you do. You fucking do. You whine as your fingers take hold of the back of his head while he lingers on your breast, teeth grazing against the flesh of one before turning his attention toward the other.

“Singin’ for me already, huh?” Joel asks, voice deep. Your hands fumble with the buckle of his belt, unfastening the leather from around his hips before you unbutton his jeans. He doesn’t appear to be in any rush, though. Joel’s focus remains on your chest; his hands have a gentle hold on the side of your ribs and you arch your back as you whimper his name, furthering his access to your body.

“I need to—I need to feel you more,” you confess. “I want to—”

“So do I,” he interrupts you, as though he’s read your mind. Whatever it is you want, Joel wants it, too, even if he’s more willing to take his time, more willing to drag it out—a welcome change from the circumstances of last weekend.

His lips trail from the underside of your breast down your abdomen, lingering at the skin just above the button of your jeans. Joel’s gaze meets yours and you nod, hoping you don’t appear too desperate or frantic, though you’d be completely unsurprised if that’s how you look.

Nimble fingers unfasten the button and pull your jeans down and off your legs, the black thong you’d chosen earlier that night going with them. Joel ascends your body once more, but catches you off guard when he takes one of your pillows and slides it beneath your tailbone.

“Been thinkin’ about this all week,” he murmurs as his index and middle fingers collect the wetness at your center. The half-smirk he’d given you earlier returns and you lick your lower lip in anticipation, breath catching in the back of your throat. 

“From the looks of it,” Joel adds. “So have you.”

“Yeah,” you admit. “Yeah, I have.”

Your eyes roll back when Joel slides one digit inside of you to the knuckle. He curls his finger, finding the spot that’d driven you wild the last time you were together. Joel’s deep eyes are half-lidded, his expression one that exists between complete satisfaction and needing more. 

Needing more of you. To feel you writhe and wriggle beneath him, to taste you, to feel the hot clench of your cunt against his own body.

He kisses your mouth while slipping in a second finger, finding a rhythm with his hands to prime you, ready you for the rest of the evening. You groan, your eyes rolling back even further than before. 

“F—fuck, you feel good,” you breathe while he tongues the salt from your neck.

“You do too,” Joel hums in response. “But I wanna know how you taste.”

If Joel had been taking his time before, he wastes none of it now. He immediately seeks your clit, lips securing around it while he suckles and tastes you. He stays just like that for a while before his mouth finds the slick between your folds, and Joel pushes deeper, groaning at your flavor. 

Your hands claw into the bedsheets while he feasts on you. It feels as though Joel is the only damn thing that can bring you pleasure like this. Every tremble of your body beneath his mouth, every tense of the muscle in your thighs like you mean to crush his head between them—it’s entirely too much. You inhale sharply as Joel holds your thighs in his strong hands, pushing them apart to give himself unfettered access to your body. You can’t hide from him, and what’s more, Joel doesn’t want you to. He embraces you. He drinks you down.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he mutters against your skin, pulling back for only a moment to catch his breath. “Seein’ you like this. I wanna feel you, baby. I want you to come on my tongue.”

You can’t find any words to offer him in response. You just whine, one hand gripping his messy hair while you pull him toward your core, urging him to continue, to let you finish. And you do. Joel lets you with the last several strokes of his tongue, stroking your clit while his fingers curl and pulse inside of you.

You’re a mess. You’ve soaked you both, and when Joel rises from his spot between your legs, he catches your lips against his. They’re soft, glimmering with evidence of your desire, and you you taste your own flavor sitting on his tongue.

“Shit,” you pant against his mouth. You’re still catching your breath, letting the muted colors of the room before you fall into view as you come down from your peak. Joel chuckles to himself as he kisses the edge of your jaw.

“You liked that?” He asks, and you’d think he was being a wiseass if he hadn’t sound so genuine.

“Mhm,” you hum, kissing him again.

—

It’s sudden, the way the tables have turned.

You’ve got Joel on his back now. He’d only gotten up to fetch the condom from his jeans’ pocket, but once he rejoined you in bed, you’d pushed him down, thrilling in the tiny pleasure of getting him beneath you.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he repeats, staring up at you as you straddle his hips. “Fuck, I got lucky tonight. In more ways than one.”

You swat his arm playfully, leaning forward to nibble at his earlobe while one hand seeks out his cock. You’d thought the comedown from immensely satisfying oral sex might satisfy your need for him, but you’d been so fucking wrong.

“I’m going to make you sing,” you whisper in his ear, soft and knowing. Joel groans in response while you sink onto his cock, gradually allowing yourself to fully take him inside of you.

“Fuck,” you hiss. “Fuck, you’re huge.”

“You can take it, baby,” Joel encourages you, his fingers pressed into your hips. “I know you can. I’ve seen you do it.”

You whine as your hips begin to rock, and Joel matches your movements. You’d demand that you’d do all the work right now but fuck, the way he hits your body just like that is not something you have the ability nor the desire to protest.

He fills you and suddenly the whole world makes sense. He fills you and you’re not sure how you managed to endure the last week without him. Every thrust of his hips, every moan that falls from his perfect lips, every squeeze of his fingertips against your body is only further cause for you to become nearly addicted to it.

He watches you as your move in time with each other, as your breasts bounce to the rhythm you’ve set for each other. He grounds his weight into one broad palm, pushing himself up so that he’s sitting upright beneath your body. He lets you continue to ride him while he fucks you underneath your form, teeth grazing against the gentle curve of your chin.

It’s sudden, the way the tables have turned. And without much warning, they promptly turn back. 

“So good,” he growls. “You gonna gimme another one? I know you have it in you.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as you nod, a desperate little wail escaping your mouth. Joel’s chuckle quickly turns into a moan as your walls clench and flutter around the hard line of his cock. He fucks you through it anyway, maintaining the pace you’ve built together.

“Good girl,” he rumbles in praise. “That’s my good fuckin” girl.”

Joel says that, and it’s all over. Joel says that, and you tumble over the crest he’s forged for you. You come and he continues to fuck you through the aftershocks. You shatter and he kisses your temple and tells you to go a little longer and you do. You fucking do. You might follow Joel to the ends of the goddamn earth if he asked that of you.

His forehead braces against yours while he meets his own edge. Your name is a groan in the back of his throat when he comes and it just might be the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

He hisses as you slide off of him, your bodies sweaty and sticky and warm, and a part of you thinks he’s immediately going to leave. A part of you thinks he’s going to grab his clothes and his keys and tell you he’ll call you again soon and you fear he never will.

It’s a fucking shame, how quickly you pull yourself from the supposed afterglow.

Joel’s breathing is labored but he kisses you despite it, his hand coming up to run through your messy head of hair.

He holds you in your own bed. Your back is flush against his chest while he asks you questions about your life: how long have you lived in Austin? How long have you been a teacher? What’s your favorite book to teach? The softness of it causes your heart to squeeze while you share the answers with him.

You’re just about to reciprocate his questions with some of your own before a ringtone sounds, but this one doesn’t belong to your phone.

“Sorry,” Joel apologizes as he releases his hold on you, sliding out of bed. He pulls on his jeans, grabbing his phone from his back pocket before he takes the call.

You sit up, listening to one end of the conversation, and surmise it’s Joel’s daughter. His tone is gentle, reassuring, and it only furthers the pleasant ache in your chest. Until this point, you’ve only heard anecdotes of Joel’s adventures in fatherhood but never witnessed him engage in it.

He ends the call with a brief see you soon, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“Was that your daughter?” You ask, sitting up.

“Yeah,” he says, swiping his shirt off your bedroom floor. “She was supposed to be stayin’ over a friend’s house, but they got in a fight and she asked me to pick her up. I don’t ask questions, I don’t have the brains to figure out…girl drama, but I gotta go.”

“Of course,” you say, and you’re not at all taken aback at his sudden leave. No, if Joel needs to get his daughter, that’s obviously paramount to pillow talk. There are no questions as he pulls on his boots and you pull your top overhead and your jeans over your legs.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes at your door. You shake your head and dismiss it immediately.

“Don’t apologize,” you assure him. “Please. Go get her.”

He kisses your cheek and gives your hand a little squeeze, and you revel in how it completely eclipses the size of your own.

“I’ll call you soon,” he tells you before he leaves.

Your apartment is quiet without him. You know you’ll replay the night in your head before you fall asleep, but before you do, you decide to prepare your apartment for a productive Saturday morning.

You prepare a pot of coffee, programming the machine to start brewing promptly at eight o’clock the next day. You toss the remaining wine from your glass and drain Joel’s beer down the sink, dumping the empty bottle into your recycling bin. You take your stack of essays from your tote, leaving them neatly on your kitchen table alongside a case full of newly-purchased gel pens. You know the version of you who wakes up tomorrow will be grateful for the care and preparation you’ve taken right now, to ready yourself for a productive morning.

The first essay in your stack belongs to Sarah Miller.

[loveydoveylex]

In which a confession is made, in which Lex fears rejection, and in which Lex isn't as observant as he thought he was.

4k words of pure selfshippy fluff and sappyness. This has been collecting dust since December, but I finally got my act together and finished it up. If you end up reading this; please enjoy! ❤

The Fairy Council. Surrounded by idyllic and tranquil woods, calm lakes, and bright moonlight emitted by a near-constant night sky, this was known as the resting place for the Heart of the World. For somebody looking for action, this certainly wouldn’t be their number one tourist spot; unless, of course, they’d be (un)lucky enough to crash a Hoodlum destruction party.

That’s a story for another time. Let’s focus on the present.

The aforementioned woods surrounding the Council - silent, with the only occasional sound coming from a Lum flapping its tiny little wings or an insect buzzing around in confusion - were especially calm today, which prompted a certain limbless hero of the Glade to take a breather from his usual adventuring, exploring, and saving the world… as he did on his average Tuesday. No, today, he wanted to slow down and take it easy.

Rayman let out a content sigh, his gaze carefully darting around the forest as he took in his surroundings. He had seated himself in a small patch of grass in front of a bright blue river - the water fresh, and the air even fresher. Behind him, supporting his back, was a large rock - perhaps even a small boulder? - which he leaned up against, as he readjusted his position slightly and stretched his arms (or lack thereof). Life was good. 

Unbeknownst to our hero, he wasn’t the only person who had taken a pitstop here to relax from the hardships of everyday life. 

Close nearby was a good alien friend of his, seemingly wandering around in confusion, who, upon taking notice of him, perked up in relief. As he was about to call out his name enthusiastically, he instead paused in his tracks, a smirk growing on his face as he tiptoed towards his hoodie-bearing friend who was seemingly lost in his thoughts.

Being careful not to make a sound, he arrived mere inches away from the drowsy Rayman - now a sleepyhead who was barely able to keep his eyes open - and with a grin on his face, he uttered one single word.

“Boo.”

Rayman let out a shriek, jolting awake as he scanned his surroundings for the source of the sound, forming a playful smile on his face once he spotted his extraterrestrial friend.

“Lex, pal. Please. Never do that again,” he chuckled, letting out a light yawn as he spoke.

Lex giggled, his starry tail noticeably emitting a bright glow. “Well - well - you have to admit I gotcha there. You were totally freaked out of your mind.”

“Only because I was snoozing,” Rayman snorted, giving him a small shove and rolling his eyes.

Lex’s giggles only continued in response, before he plopped down next to Rayman, quietly kicking his feet back and forth in the grass. After a few seconds of comfortable silence, he opened his mouth again.

“How’s it, uh, how’s it going, anyhow?”

“Hm?”

“I mean, what are you doing out here? Sleeping on the clock?”

Rayman once again chuckled. “There’s not much to do right now. The world doesn’t always need a hero. And those days are my days off.”

Lex nodded, his gaze drifting towards their reflections in the crystal clear water. The air between the two once again grew silent - but it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Quite the contrary - sometimes it was pleasant to just know you had company.

“And you, Lex?”, Rayman asked after a while of observing nothing in particular.

Lex’s eyes met Rayman’s as he replied sheepishly. “Oh, yeah. Uh, the Council and the areas it’s connected to, they have - they have some real good spots for stargazing.”

Rayman smiled. “Exploring the skies as usual.”

“Heh, yeah. I got a bit sidetracked, though. I had a run-in… with… a run-in with a fairy earlier, who kind of led me astray. And wanted to sell me some weird potions.”

Rayman cocked his eyebrow. “Y’know, that is weird.”

Lex chuckled. “Right? I tried to get rid of them, but - but they were persistent, I’ll tell you that. But those potions were disgusting! They looked like they had taken a beaker, and just - barfed their breakfast into it.”

“I think I threw up a little in my mouth just at the thought of that.”

“Be careful, Ray! Or - or else, uh, the fairy is gonna come after you and advertise your puke as a mana potion next!”

Rayman couldn’t help but laugh, and soon enough, Lex joined in. For a short while, their laughter echoed throughout the forest, before eventually dying down and once again being replaced with silence.

Lex hummed, still kicking his feet back and forth. He scooted a little closer to the water, positioning his feet right at the edge of the river; close enough to be able to get some water splashing around with each kick, but not enough to get his shoes too wet.

Rayman’s attention was caught by this, a content smile plastered on his face at the sight of his friend enjoying such small things. As his gaze followed Lex’s into the water, his smile turned sly - had this been a cartoon, a light bulb would have appeared above his head.

With a smirk covering his face, he whistled innocently, averting his gaze to look away from Lex. As he did this, he copied Lex’s motions with his feet; splashing a small bit of cold water around, kicking back and forth ever so slightly. After a while of doing this, he held back a mischievous chuckle as the direction of his splashing changed from back and forth to side to side, causing Lex to let out a yelp at the sensation of river water suddenly plashing on his shoes.

“Hey!”, Lex chortled, playfully sticking his tongue out. He huffed, repeating the action towards Rayman, who chuckled in response.

“Take it easy! These kicks aren’t waterproof, ya know!”

“And mine - mine are covered in fur! If they end up moldy, that ecosystem will be your responsibility!”

This, of course, didn’t deter Rayman one bit, who just kept on laughing, splattering more and more water in Lex’s direction. Soon, their little water fight developed from merely kicking water to and fro to throwing huge splurges of it onto the other, completely soaking themselves in the process.

“Alright, alright! Truce! I call for a truce!”, Lex managed to get out in between fits of laughter. His laughter went on for a while before turning into a softer chuckling. “My hair, it’s - my hair is drenched now, you goof.”

“Oh!”, Rayman exclaimed, a sympathetic look on his face. “I’m sorry, Lex. That was a bit harsh, heh. Here, let me get that for you.”

With that, he found himself scooting closer to his alien friend, quietly humming while reaching his hand up to wipe the worst off of his hair in order to help it dry off.

Lex, in turn, felt his face heat up at the sudden physical contact, which prompted Rayman to raise an eyebrow in concern at the rise of his temperature. “Did I go too hard on ya? You’re burning up, buddy.”

Lex rapidly shook his head - a bit faster than what most people would think of as a normal response - and internally cussed himself out for not being able to stay cool in the face of such an ordinary friendly gesture. “I - I’m, um, fine. I really am. But, uh… thanks.”

Rayman nodded in response, a bit unconvinced at his friend’s statement, but chose to put it aside anyway. Moving his hand back to its previous position in the grass, he quickly pushed himself up from the ground and onto his feet. 

“Y’know,” he began, as he wiped a bit of leftover dirt off of the bottom of his hoodie, before grabbing the damp hem and wringing out the worst of the water dripping from it. “I can see why these areas are good for your stargazing. We really are in a beautiful forest. Look at all of the natural wonders around us. Ever feel grateful for that sort of thing?”

Lex felt a smile forming on his face as his eyes moved up, expecting to meet Rayman’s - but instead lingering on his distracted gaze at the woodland around them. After a few seconds, he jumped back up on his feet as well - initially a bit wobbly from lack of balance. As he quickly regained his composure, he shook himself off - droplets of water sprinkling all over the already misty grass below.

“Mhmm,” he muttered, scanning the environment.

Rayman took a deep breath, inhaling all of the scents around them. “Even smells nice. Fresh nature.”

Lex grimaced in response, sticking out his tongue and tilting his head slightly. “It smells like the breath of… of a Greenbottle who hasn’t brushed their teeth in a few weeks.”

His quip got a chuckle out of Rayman, who would’ve slapped his knees if he had any. “Murfy was here not long ago.”

“That explains it,” Lex snickered. 

As the two had been talking, a flock of red Lums had flown up and about in the air, illuminating the otherwise dark twilight. This wasn’t an uncommon sight to see - Lums resided everywhere - but as if out of a fairytale, they had formed a twinkling path through the forest; this path would eventually lead to the reflective waters beneath the clear and open skies surrounding the Fairy Council.

Rayman, upon taking notice of this, couldn’t help but follow along. After about ten or so steps, he let out a content sigh, turning around to face his slightly puzzled friend before speaking up in a softer tone of voice than usual.

“I think I’m gonna go for a little stroll. You wanna come along?”

Lex - although flustered at the idea of going for a walk alone with Rayman, of all people, in a romantic, scenic forest - let his actions speak louder than his words, skipping across a short distance to catch up with Rayman, who grinned in response. 

The two traversed the lush grasses, admiring all of the various flora and fauna that were in view all around them. Sights like these were easy to take for granted, and it was always a joy to be made aware of what a beautiful world they really lived in.

Despite this, Lex couldn’t help but feel on edge. There was a persistent emotion that always grew inside him whenever he was alone with Rayman, and he didn’t like it. Of course he knew it was love. Admiration. Infatuation, whatever you wanna call it - he couldn’t deny it either way. And it made him feel traitorous beyond belief. The knowledge that he was just bottling it up, doing everything he could to pretend it wasn’t there… it ate away at him every day, and it was beginning to reach its breaking point.

Why couldn’t he get it off his chest? It was just a few words to tell him, wasn’t it? That’s what he thought at the beginning, at least, when those feelings had first started to develop. But as it turned out, it wasn’t that easy.

Rayman’s face, upon noticing his friend’s sheepishness, changed to an expression of concern as he stopped in his tracks. “Hold on, Lex.”

Lex - a couple of steps ahead of Rayman - stopped his walking as well, keeping his head lowered. “Huh?”

Rayman frowned, silently taking the few steps necessary to catch up to the alien, and looked him in the eyes. “Is everything alright?”

“Alright? I’m -”

“Do you want to talk about anything?”

Lex remained silent, feeling as though his lips had been zipped up.

As the two stood around for a bit, the now worried Rayman continued, not satisfied with the lack of a response from his friend.

“You can tell your friend Rayman anything, you know. I’m here for you, buddy.”

Lex shook his head. At this point, he was having trouble keeping himself calm and collected, and his nervousness was more obvious than he would like it to be. 

A long period of eerie silence passed by, neither of the two speaking a word to each other. Rayman, sensing his friend’s discomfort, now faced the internal dilemma of whether or not to continue prodding. He didn’t want to seem pushy - but he absolutely hated seeing people close to him this visibly upset.

“Please.”

At Rayman’s beckoning, Lex couldn’t help but feel the corners of his lips curl upwards - not enough for it to be an outright smile, but enough for it to lessen his frown, at the very least. He let out a deep, shaky sigh, feeling the pleasantly warm air around them suddenly turn freezing cold. After what felt like an eternity - but was really just a few agonizingly slow seconds - Lex finally opened his mouth to speak, although he didn’t dare to make eye contact with Rayman.

“...I don’t want to lose you,” the insectoid finally muttered, barely audible enough to be above a whisper. Despite the remark being quiet - near pin-drop silent, even - it naturally didn’t pass by the perceptive Rayman, whose expression had grown to one of playful confusion. 

With a small smile present on his face, he raised an eyebrow, letting out a little chuckle as he spoke. “But I’m right here, Lex.” His tone wasn’t mocking or belittling; it was comforting, soft, and reassuring.

Lex felt his antennae perk up as Rayman spoke those words. I’m right here. How badly he had needed to hear those words coming from the person he loved most. Had his anxiety not stopped him, he would have tackled Rayman into a hug right at that moment. Instead, though, he shook his head to rid himself of all those mushy thoughts, gesturing somewhat frustratedly with his hands.

“It’s - it’s not that. I… I know you are. And, uh… I’m… glad you are. I really am,” Lex managed to get out, doing his best to cover up his flustered state - though the growing blush on his face wasn’t doing much to help the case. “It’s just… It’s… hmmm.”

He tapped his foot tensely, as he began to nervously fiddle with his fingers. He felt that he was so close, yet so far from finally telling Rayman how he felt. This was the moment he had been waiting for, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to give in to defeat, but at the same time, he was growing more and more afraid of Rayman’s potential reaction - so much so that he really just wanted to drop the subject altogether.

Rayman, however, was persistent. Moving in closer, he placed his hands on the shoulders - or, well, the part of his torso that could technically be classified as shoulders - of Lex’s scruffy sweater, serving as a gesture of comfort. Lex, however, could only feel his cheeks burning up at the sensation - suddenly, he was hyper-aware of how close Rayman was to him, how he could almost feel the tingle of his warm breath on his skin every time he exhaled, that faint, sparkling glint that was present in his eyes - had they always been so captivating? So easy to get lost in?

“Talk to me.”

Lex gasped softly, feeling a gentle squeeze coming from Rayman’s touch - and after a long pause, a long, sharp and painful minute of silence, his mouth opened ever so slightly to speak. His words were barely audible enough to make out.

“I’m… I’m not a good friend, Ray.”

Once again, Rayman’s expression turned puzzled, a confused, yet soft smile growing on his face. “What’re you talking about, pal? You’re a great friend. Heck, I’d go as far as to consider you one of my best friends, that’s how great you are -”

“Good friends don’t catch feelings for the other,” Lex suddenly retorted, not looking Rayman in the eyes. He bit his bottom lip, feeling the anxiety build up inside him, threatening to spill in the form of tears. He was pretty sure he could feel one or two drops running down his cheek, too. Slowly, he moved his gaze up again to meet Rayman’s, whose eyes were wide open, mouth agape, and face flushed.

“Rayman… Rayman, I - I’m sorry -”

Before Lex got the chance to finish his sentence, he felt something warm and soft crashing against his own chapped and dry lips, practically leaving him with a heart attack as he realized what he felt was Rayman’s lips meeting his own.

He was trembling, his heart was beating so fast he was starting to fear that it would leap out of his chest, his face was probably hotter than the Glade’s two suns combined, and his tail was wagging so fast it was a miracle he wasn't lifted off the ground - but after the initial shock passed, he couldn’t help himself from shakily smiling into the kiss, feeling all the worries and woes in his body melt away like it was nothing. Like he had never had a single moment of fear in his life. Pure bliss.

And Rayman, taking notice of this, moved his hands to rest on Lex’s waist, pulling him in even closer. His grip was so gentle and tender, like nothing Lex had ever felt before. As if Rayman was afraid that one wrong move would make Lex shatter like a glass vase. Naturally, he also found himself unable to stop grinning as they lost themselves in the feeling of being one.

Imperfect as it was - with teeth clattering together, noses constantly bumping against one another - they couldn’t care less. At this moment, nothing else mattered. It felt as if time had slowed down just to focus on the two of them. If anything, the imperfectness of it all only served to make the experience that much more heartfelt; this wasn’t one of Lex’s bittersweet daydreams that he’d snap out of at a moment’s notice. This was real.

All good things had to come to an end, and at long last, after who knows how long, they reluctantly pulled apart, still touching their noses together, occasionally nuzzling the other.

“...Guess that makes both of us pretty horrible friends, yeah?”, Rayman whispered, lost in the eyes of the only person he could currently think about.

Lex was left unable to speak, his mind still racing, the feeling of Rayman’s lips on his own freshly lingering in his memory. He slowly nodded, incapable of getting a word out of his mouth. So many thoughts were darting around in his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to focus on any of them, letting them remain as incomplete passages of pure nonsense.

“Ah, was that, uh, what you had hoped for? Sorry, I’m not too good at this stuff,” Rayman snickered, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t really know what I’m doing -”

“Perfect,” Lex finally spoke, his voice raspy, but his face beaming with pure joy. “It was… it was perfect. Y - You’re perfect.”

Now it was Rayman’s turn to get flustered, the heat in his body rising to dust his cheeks with pink. “Aww, bud. You’re making me blush.”

Before he knew it, he felt Lex practically throw himself onto his body, the two entangled in a warm and safe hug. Rayman clumsily tumbled a few steps backwards at the unexpected gesture, but giggled as he pulled him in closer, planting a soft kiss in his hair.

Though Lex could still feel the adrenaline pumping through his body, he tried his best to take a deep breath, collecting himself as much as he could before muttering. “I… I thought I'd never have a chance with you, y'know? You're - you're the hero of the Glade. I'm just... a nobody. W - Who am I, even? A mess, that’s who I am, heh…”

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t sell yourself short,” Rayman reassured, his hand moving to rub circles on Lex’s back. “You’re the most wonderful person I know of, Lex. A nobody? You couldn’t possibly be further from that. What does it even mean to be a nobody, anyways?”

“...A - a coward. A wuss. You do all these amazing things, and… what have I ever done? I can’t help people. I can’t save lives.”

“You saved mine,” Rayman gently replied, his grip on Lex tightening. “You saved mine.”

The two stood like that for a bit, as Rayman slowly began to rock Lex back and forth in his embrace, closing his eyes as he occasionally let out quiet, soothing hums.

“...You might think you’re a coward, Lex. But… if it means anything, I want you to know that you’re a hero in my eyes.”

Lex was quick to snort in response. “A hero? Are you out of your mind? Y -”

“Look at me, pal,” Rayman smiled, adjusting his grip on Lex to look him directly in the eyes, a delicate, sincere expression present on his face. “Even heroes get scared sometimes. You wanna know something? I’m scared of snails, of all things! But that doesn’t make me any less of a hero, now, does it?”

For a moment, silence.

“...Well, no. I… I guess it doesn’t.”

“Right. Because you wanna know what being a hero is all about? Bravery. And you might not think you’re brave, but to me? You’re the bravest guy I’ve ever met. Bravery isn’t slaying dragons or saving princesses. Bravery is not giving up. Bravery is having the strength to keep going. To get back up even after you fall down. And look at you. You’re still here.”

Lex - who was already sniffling at this point - looked like he was about to burst into a fit of sobs, but he just kept his eyes glued to Rayman’s tender gaze, trying to hold back from making any sound.

“You’ve been through so much. The universe hasn’t been kind to you. But nevertheless, you never let it get to you. You’re right here… safe in my arms…”

Rayman couldn’t help himself from letting out a breathy chuckle before continuing.

“Or, uh… not my arms. My - the air where my arms would be? My phantom arms? My… hypothetical arms. You know what I mean!”

At this, Lex let a soft laughter escape his lips as well - truthfully, a bit throaty and hoarse, not that Rayman cared - which only made Rayman’s smile grow even brighter.

“There’s my Lex. There ya go! Look at that smile!”

“...Awh, you’re just saying that!”, Lex giggled, the tension slowly leaving his body as he grew more at ease. Suddenly, the air didn’t seem so thick and foggy anymore.

Their giggles and chuckles filled the gap of silence throughout the forest, echoing in the ears of any potential fairies that might be passing by. For just a brief moment, the universe revolved around them, and they couldn’t care less about their surroundings. Nothing else mattered to them other than the sounds of their laughter joining together in harmony.

A long period of time passed by - neither of them were sure exactly how long - before eventually, the air grew comfortably quiet once again. In spite of this, both of their heartbeats were clearly audible, even amongst the faint sounds of the woods; snapping twigs, the flutter of nearby Lum wings, chirps of a lone cricket… they were so immersed in the moment that all of this had been long blocked out for them.

Rayman placed his hand on Lex’s cheek, adjusting their faces to nuzzle their noses together once again. He let out a content sigh, simply admiring Lex and everything about him. The fact that he got to share this with him.

Lex smiled bashfully, avoiding eye contact at first, before eventually letting his eyes linger on the one he adored so much, almost unable to process that this was really happening.

“...I… um… I - I love you, Rayman,” Lex sheepishly spoke, his voice thick from all the emotions running through him simultaneously. His awkward, socially inept nature probably showed, but this was all too perfect for him to care about such trivial little things. “It - it might be too early to say that, but, uh, I’ve loved you… for a long time. A - and I just… I mean, look, I get if that’s - if that’s out of pocket, or you find it weird, or -”

Rayman giggled as he caressed Lex’s cheek with his thumb, easing all of his nerves by giving his lips a quick peck before looking at him like he was the most priceless treasure in the world - leaving Lex’s face lighting up with a deep blush, practically melting under Rayman’s touch.

“Yeah, I love you too."