#really? you really think i forgot that detail? are you fucking high?

[frmisnow]

✧˖ ?!— BATHROOM OF POSSIBILITIES ˚ 𖦹‧ . - (NSFW.)

— ‧₊˚ — 🥝‧₊ : "is it true that you're a whore ??"

summary. who would've thought that you'd end up fucking your besties socially awkward friend in a bar bathroom??? (only to get caught by your bestie..) anything is possible !

notes. omg i'm so sorry i SUCK at writing threesomes, i won't even try!! i still hope asker is satisfied, much lovee!! ₊˚⊹♡

warnings/includes. (MDNI!!) (002 / getting caught), jk is socially awkward around new ppl (we r lowkey twinning here), cocksucker & whore mentioned, unprotected sex :( (they r reckless and a lil stupid), bathroom sex

the guy yoongi dragged into the conversation was hot- like really hot.

usually when yoongi introduces you to his other friends, they're either high, drunk or filthy rich that just seemed to be the typa guys yoongi attracted- nonetheless maybe this guy was all of the above.

though weirdly enough his eyes didn't quite settle like ever, he couldn't look you in the eyes even just once as yoongi punches his arm lightly for him to talk.

"hey," he greeted, and the sound that escaped his lips was unexpectedly awkward, almost stumbling over the single syllable.

yoongi chuckled, sensing the surprise on your face. "Don't let the intimidating exterior fool you," he teased, clapping Jungkook on the back. "jungkook here is a little socially awkward. it's kind of adorable, actually, you're gonna love him tho"

"why are you talking about me like i'm not right by your side," jungkook mumbeled quietly in response, his gaze looking to his feet as yoongi smiled at him like he was some forgein never-been-seen before animal species, ignoring his response, "he's exactly like the guys you usually fuck"

"now that just sounds like i blow all your friends off, that's just wrong, yoon-" you snickered, shaking your head, sipping the rest of his drink down in a swift motion as yoongi rolled his eyes, "can you stop drinking my shit? man, i can give your broke ass a few pennies for a drink" he pinched your cheek like he was talking to a child, "let me do chariety work"

"sounds just like something an old man like you'd do," you leaned against the bar casually, "y'know do some chariety and then take your little nap"

yoongi rolled his once again, quite poorly hiding the grin that snuck it's way onto his face, turning full way to jungkook like he forgot of your existence, "see? she's a brat, a menace, a whore- anything under the sun-" he paused like he was thinking of something, "i need a drink"

till turning again, pointing a finger at you, "cause you drank it all up, you'll pay for it sooner or later" slowly walking off not even waiting for an answer as you yelled, "shouldn't have insinuated that i'm a brainless cock sucker"

after he was out of sight, you turned your attention to jungkook who's eyes had been observing every detail of the past conversation, you shook your head in pretend-frustration, emphasizing: "sorry you had to witness that, when it gets over the time of 12pm and he's desperately over his bed time, he just gets so..." you sighed like you were in extreme concern, "cocky"

it was the first time your eyes linked, a small but growing smile on his face, "you're funny, i like you"

"well then it doesn't take much to impress you," you smiled back, thinking for a few seconds. no, you wanted to know more about the dude- at least one of you has to try. "but for real why are you out of all people friends with yoongi?"

he tilted his head up slightly like he was in fact trying to look into his brain to see an answer, "i think he's fun.. at times and i'm pretty sure he's a sweetie at heart"

you nod along, yoongi can be truly insufferable but if he did care when needed and maybe that was just enough- you shook your head trying to not overthink it all of a sudden, switching the topic, "truth or dare"

he raised his eyebrows for a split second, surprised by the abrupt topic switch, "truth"

"weirdest place you've ever had sex?"

he let out a little breathy chuckle, the sound of jungkooks laughter generally pretty, "an ikea bedroom," he played with his lip piercing like he was contemplaiting wheather he should say the next thing, "just a bit of fingering nothing to extreme nonetheless truth or dare?"

"truth"

"you're no fun," he pouted jokingly till adding, "is it true that you're a whore?"

this was not the position you imagined yourself at the end of the night- no, scratch that, this was not the man you imagined to be with in this position, pressed against the mirror of a dirty bathroom, ass hurting from the bath sink you were seated on, jungkook out of all balls deep into you.

his mouth was pressed against your neck, whispering horny sweet nothings against the bare skin, how much of a cock sucker you actually were, how easy it was for him to get you here, how stupid and solely cock-focused you were.

it was like all his awkwardness wore off the longer he lingered next to you as he pounded into you like he had fucked you tens of times before.

you didn't care if you were completely reckless right now or if the door was open and anyone could fucking walk in at any given moment or where yoongi was - after all maybe jungkook was right: all you could think of right now was his dick deep inside you.

"do you go around and fuck around with all of his friends behind his back or is it just me? mmh, c'mon answer" your tongue felt tied, it was like you had water in your ear, his words not quite audible as you shook your head, not getting it, "made for taking dick, exactly like i thought"

he spread your legs a bit wider, cock scretching your pussy just the right way as you creeked out something about 'needing to cum'

his fingers entertwined in your hair, pulling it just lightly, biting his lips trying to conceal a whimper at the feeling of your pussy tightning round him, "i'll give it to you, wanna have you cum all over my dick"

a high pitched scream aired through the room, so loud like somebody had witnessed a murder - simultaneously it felt like your little bubble of pure utter hornieness had popped, looking to your right to look at a deeply digusted min yoongi, who's hands were already covering his eyes like a defence mechanism.

"it's not what it looks like!"

you both yelled, jungkook pulling out instantly covering you with his shirt that had been thrown onto the ground like fifteen minutes ago, "what do you mean? your dick was in-" he shook his head dramatically and in a repeated fashion while you threw your clothes on as fast as you possibly could, "i don't think we can be friends anymore.. that image uhh-" he did another disgusted expression, covering his mouth like he was still in after-shook.

it took about ten minutes to calm yoongi down (and a whole lot of promises and gaslight about how he was probably to drunk for his own good) till you both sat him down into a taxi taht was going to safely drive him home.

you stood there outside the bar in the cold air of the night silently for a little while before you both started laughing, what started as a tiny chuckle turned into cackling like maniacs.

eventually you got your shit together, mumbling "well that was awkward" he grinned in response, "right before cumming too- how cruel"

jungkook played with his piercing once again, gaze zoning out shortly till returning to yours, "how about i take you home and you get to finish off just like you deserve?"

[lemonmaid]

Alpha gojo x omega male reader

Theme is angest and fluff

Reader and gojo were high school sweet hearts and on thier final year reader got knocked up by gojo and on his way to tell gojo there was a misunderstanding which leds to them breaking up and reader taking the unborn kids (twins because why not) and after a few years gojo finds him with the kids and they reconnect after the misunderstanding was cleared up if that's alright with you

Also can you not make reader submissive and shy, I don't like it when omegas are like that

Wow! Most detailed request but coming up!!

Warnings: misunderstandings, mpreg, omegaverse, angst, rushed. Miscommunication

"Standing Next to you"

20■■

(Name) was on the train coming back from Kyoto.

To say there was a lot on his mind was an understatement was…undermining it.

'This fucking blows'. 

(Name) looked at the omega across from him sitting in the reserved seating for pregnant people, looking at his flat stomach he cringed. 

'You're like an alien…. A parasite'.

(Name) was only a few weeks along, has he been to a doctor? No. But he did spend all day in Kyoto praying for a sign to tell him what he should do.

He could he a responsible adult and tell his mate that he was pregnant but in his teenage mind that's something that was off the table or too far out of reach. 

He did want to tell Satoru but knowing the Gojo clan, they would want him to abort anyway. 

That's where (name) was conflicted, he didn't want a pup but it was his damn choice if he wanted to abort, why should he listen to a bunch of betas and alphas tell him what to do?.

"Next stop Nagoya" 

He still had four more hours to think.

(Name) arrived at his dorm pretty late, surprisingly, Satoru was there, fuming.

"Where were you?".

"Out?".

Satoru crossed his arms, "Out?".

"Yeah".

Satoru stared down (Name) who was trying to take off his shoes before he came inside the room.

"Where were you all day? You never answered your phone".

(Name) shrugged his shoulders, "It died".

"Really?"

"Yeah, I forgot to charge it". In reality, whenever (Name) saw Satoru's name pop up on his flip he felt like vomiting.

Satoru sighed, "I feel like as your mate I have a right to know-"

"I'm not going to talk to you when you treat me like this". (Name) rolled his eyes, throwing his keys onto the counter, and walking away.

Satoru followed the omega into their shared room, "Like what?"

"You're talking down at me. Treating me like a child".

"Well, you're acting like a child!"

"Me? I'm acting like a child?"

"Yes! You just go out and don't talk to me anymore! I was worried-"

(Name) closed and locked the bathroom door, staring into the toilet bowl, "Maybe because I am a child? So are you Satoru, are you forgetting that we are 3rd years? Haven't even-".

'I'm going to vomit'

"Stop! I'm not arguing with you! You need to tell me where you're going all day!". Satoru's voice was filled with worry, he sounded like he was genuinely hurt.

"I don't think I have to tell you anything!".

'I'm so sorry Satoru' 

There was silence between the two, The dim kitchen light glowed softly in the background.

"Maybe… we should take a break".

'It's for the best this way'

***

Shoko awkwardly rubbed the omega's back, as he vomited.

"There…. There"

(Name) gasped before dry heaving.

'This is worst'

Shoko lit a cigarette in the cheap apartment bathroom, "So… are you telling him? You know being with your mate will help with-".

"No".

(Name) was quick to move out of the dorm and drop out. It's been…a few long terrible weeks without Satoru; his mate, his better half, his everything.

Shoko sighed, "I would recommend a patch that you put on your mating mark to help with separation sickness but I'm pretty sure that will fuck up the pup".

(Name) laid against the cool wall, huffing and panting as sweat dropped from his forehead, ".... I will…go through the pain if it means staying away from Satoru… I will just-".

Shoko tossed him a water bottle, "I don't need your sob story, gosh, you sounded like Suguru when he was going through his separation sickness". Shoko sighed, putting out her cigarette and flushing it down the toilet.

Shoko pinched her nose, "Listen as a"

"You're not a doctor"

"Yet".

"Just… tell him. He would understand, he cares about you. And you damn well know it. Hell you two are mated, you're stuck together-".

Shoko looked at (name) with wide eyes.

"Please tell me you are hoping he just gets a mark removal surgery".

"I heard his clan would-"

"Fuck his clan are you fucking insane? Do you wanna drop? You'll kill your pups-"

"Fuck Shoko! I know! Fuck I know" (Name) cried, no sobbing.

"No, snap out of it! Do you think you can raise pups alone! Fuck in this shit hole? How can you raise them if you're fucking dropping!"

"Fucking! I know! I don't know what else to do Shoko! We are 17!! I don't want to burden anyone!! I can't!".

"You're not alone! Stop acting like it! Satoru fucking begs me to tell him where you are at! Stop pushing us away!".

(Name) sobbed into his knees, "I don't need saving. I can do this!".

"I'm getting Satoru".

Present

That was the last time anyone really saw (Name).

It's been two years.

Shoko didn't have the heart to tell Satoru that his missing mate was pregnant, hell she didn't need to see another one of her friends drop and die.

Satoru had eyes and noses everywhere looking for his mate, he didn't really give up.

Well, until today. 

Satoru's eyes went wide when he saw two white headed pups run up to him. Yapping away about the similarities between the three of them.

"My! My!!"

"Dammy!" 

The two twins grabbing his long legs.

Satoru felt a sob in his throat when he saw his long lost mate few feet away from him.

Oh how he glowed.

Oh how he aged.

He was still beautiful.

Why was he wearing a scent patch?

Why did he look unhappy to see him?

Why did Satoru's heart crushed?

(Name) called the twins names over to him. 

'Aoto and Shuto'

"My pups?" Satoru begged, he was pleading, his heart bleeding with sadness.

(Name) was obviously hesitant before nodding.

Satoru felt a sob exit his chest before crushing the three in a hug.

The four of them had dinner at Satoru's home, Satoru didn't want them out of his sight.

Satoru had the twins on both sides of his neck, letting them rest on his glands as he scent bonded them as they slept.

"Why did you keep this from me?".

"I was… scared of you turning me down so I wanted to speed up the progress".

"I would never turn this down…. (Name)... you're my mate… these were my pups".

"I know your clan-".

"I've.. disowned that, this is my clan…" gesturing towards the twins.

The two sat in silence.

Satoru sighed, "I want to make this work, but you need therapy, we need couples counseling… I still love you and I want to work this out".

(Name) nodded.

"I love you too".

[steddieas-shegoes]

you're not jonathan

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'no upside down au' rated t wc: 997 cw: recreational drug use, language tags: meet-ugly turned meet-cute, flirting, somewhat ambiguous ending but we all know what's gonna happen

🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿

Steve was not supposed to be the one picking up the drugs for the party.

He wasn't even going to the party.

But Jonathan couldn't get it from his usual guy, said he was back home in California for the summer, and it wasn't like Robin had a hookup.

Eddie Munson didn't technically deal anymore, but he made exceptions for previous customers, and Jonathan had been a regular during high school.

It wasn't shocking news to Steve, but what was shocking was hearing all these stories about how Eddie didn't even usually meet someone during daylight hours. Except today, apparently.

Steve tripped over another branch, barely caught himself before falling on his face.

"I better get so high off this shit," he said to himself.

"I only sell the good shit."

Steve froze.

Somehow, he'd missed a person walking up to him, probably when he nearly ate dirt.

"Is there any reason a hike is required to get some weed?" Steve asked, brushing his hands on his pants to get the remnants of the tree trunk he saved himself on.

Eddie crossed his arms in front of him, raising an unimpressed brow.

"No. Jonathan suggested the place."

Hard to believe the guy who hated being outside for more than a few minutes would have suggested a half mile trek into the woods, but Steve didn't really care to argue.

"O...kay. Well, I've got the cash if you wanna get this over with," Steve said as he reached into his pockets that were..."Fuck."

He started patting his pockets, his shirt, looking around him at the ground to try to find his wallet.

"Everything okay?" Eddie asked, coming closer.

"I lost my wallet. Shit!"

"Alright, I can help you look, man. It's not a big deal. Gotta be somewhere, right?" Eddie started looking around him, though it was half-hearted at best. "What's it look like?"

"It's brown. Um, leather?" Steve suddenly forgot any other details about his wallet. How convenient.

"Okay, so the color of the ground. Should be easy."

Steve snorted.

Eddie was smirking as he walked the way Steve came, checking the ground around him as he did so.

Steve followed behind, but he was pretty certain they wouldn't find it.

After ten minutes of looking, Eddie sighed.

"We should just smoke a bit. Take the edge off. Ya know?"

"I don't think that's a good idea. I can't pay you until I find my wallet," Steve said as he continued looking, bending down to get a closer look at a spot that seemed like the color of his wallet.

"On the house."

Steve stood straight up.

"Really?"

"Can't really kick ya when you're down, can I? Plus, I planned on smoking after you left anyway. We can share," Eddie shrugged, like it was no big deal.

Steve had never gotten high outside of house parties, the comfort of his own home or a friend's home soothing his anxieties about losing his inhibitions.

But out here? With Eddie? It didn't seem like a smart thing to do.

"Alright," Steve shrugged back.

Eddie must have sensed something about him, though, because he didn't let him take more than three puffs of the joint before he put it out and found a collection of boulders for them to sit on.

"You ever think about how trees are alive but they don't have ears?" Steve asked a minute later.

"Oh, you're that kind of high." Eddie poked his hand, making him look over at him. "You eat today?"

"Maybe. I've been busy. Do you think trees get hungry?" Steve replied.

Eddie searched his face before letting his pinky rest against Steve's hand on the rock.

It felt like fire.

"They do."

"But they don't have pancakes or cheeseburgers. Like, we can't grind it up and put it in the dirt for them, right?" Steve's jaw dropped. "Can we?"

Eddie watched as Steve looked over at some of the trees surrounding them.

"I don't think we can, no."

"A shame. They're missin' out. You know who else is missin' out? Jonathan! He made me come here and he didn't even tell me you had long hair or like the nicest eyelashes. Which is weird because he didn't shut up about anything else about you but he forgot about the eyelashes!" Steve's hand curled around Eddie's pinky. "And you look warm."

Eddie's brows raised.

He wasn't sure who Steve was. Jonathan had just insisted he was cool.

But Jonathan hadn't mentioned that his hair looked softer than silk, or that his eyes were wide and innocent despite his lip curling up in the corner in annoyance.

Jonathan seemed to have left a lot of things out.

"Well, it is summer. It's pretty warm," Eddie gulped. "But you do look a little cold."

"I get cold easy. Robin says it's because I don't eat enough red meat or something. Low irony or something."

Eddie was so endeared.

"I could help you stay warm? Walk you back to your car if you want?"

Eddie did not want that, but he knew Steve probably needed to walk off some of this high before his friends started to worry about him.

"Don't wanna walk," Steve leaned his head on Eddie's shoulder. "My head is walking."

"Should I try to head back and get one of your friends?"

Steve shook his head.

"Be fine in an hour."

"Okay," Eddie put his arm around Steve's shoulder, surprised to find that Steve was shivering. "Hey, you okay?"

"You do have good shit."

"That's not an answer," Eddie chuckled.

"I'm good. Best."

Eddie let him burrow further into his side and waited for his shivering to subside before he suggested heading back to his car again.

Steve still refused, and Eddie didn't have it in him to push.

Not when they were finding shapes in the clouds and he was holding Steve close.

He'd definitely owe Jonathan a lot of product if this went the way he wanted it to.

[miraclewoozi]

DRIVE. - l.c

DRIVE -- or, the night you realise it's actually very hard to stay mad at the guy who shows up at your house, throwing stones at your window on a Thursday night, to try and fix something that was your mistake in the first place.

pairing : chan x fem reader. content : fwb > lovers. angst, smut (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT), fluff. more or less in that order. they’re both dumb as hell. not explicitly put in any detail but this was written with a more 70s vibe in mind so feel free to bear that in mind when thinking of the car/tech/styles etc if u like. w/c : 7.8k warnings : lots of swearing. it’s all a big fuckin misunderstanding because i am a whore for that. weed & alcohol mentioned (neither party is drunk or high at the time of this taking place). mentions of past cheating (neither mc or chan are the cheater). some pov switching because i said so. let me know if i've forgotten anything. proofread exactly once so if there's a typo, no there isn't. SMUT TAGS UTC.  notes : dino. get the fuck off my ass. i’m so serious i am not strong enough to handle the very real feelings i have for you. go away.  notes 2.0 : i listened to halsey’s drive for some inspo for this & took that as the title, so feel free to give it a listen if you want!

SMUT TAGS : dom!chan. car fuckin', making out, hair pulling, grinding/dry humping, fingering, finger sucking, dick riding, marking/scratching, unprotected sex (make good choices), overstimulation, multiple orgasms. praise. chan calls reader ‘baby’ & ‘sweetheart’. he’s a BIG talker during sex (sorry).

You’re not stupid. You heard his car pull up outside your house almost an hour ago. 

Since then, at random intervals ranging anywhere between thirty seconds and five minutes, there have been clinks of a thrown stone at your bedroom window, a piece of the gravel that lines your driveway. Each time, it makes your jaw tense, makes your fingers tighten in the bedsheets you pulled all the way up to your chin in a foul mood at 8pm. It’s been the same now for almost two weeks — you’ve been getting home from work, showering the day away, eating your dinner and retiring to your room as early as you possibly can. Your roommate tried to find out what was wrong around day three but you very promptly shut her down — she’s since learned that the best she’s getting out of you currently is a dismissive wave of your hand or some kind of a grunt. She joked one evening that it was like she’d adopted a teenager; you scowled so violently that she went to her room. 

Hardly any of your other friends have seen anything of you, either, despite the fact that several have come knocking to check if you’re all right. 

You’re very much not all right, as it happens. This is perhaps the most upset you’ve ever felt, and that’s going quite some way. The angriest, too. It’s worse than when that middle aged woman threw her entire bucket of popcorn at your head when you gave her salty instead of sweet, and you were picking kernels out of your hair for the rest of your six hour shift. It’s worse than when your nasty supervisor ‘forgot’ you were in the bathroom and ended up locking you inside the cinema overnight, because you didn’t have your own set of keys to get out and the people whose numbers you remembered weren’t answering their phones. 

It’s somehow even worse than when a summer crush from a few years ago broke things off by telling you that he already had a girlfriend back home and that you were basically just a means to pass the time and get his dick wet. God, and you thought that was the lowest you could possibly be.

Here you are, though, so far beyond all those things it would be comical, if it didn’t hurt. Chan has really done a number on you, and you’re not sure how you ended up getting so emotionally involved in your situationship with him that this is what you’ve been reduced to. For days now, you’ve been swallowing back tears of frustration (both with yourself and with Chan), rolling around in your bed night on night, unable to get to sleep because all you can think about is him.

Him, and the way he sounded genuinely horrified when his friends asked about the ‘movie girl’, and he laughed, ‘God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen’. It was impressive, how quickly your face fell, in no way aided by the squealing giggles that rang through the house as a very, very drunk girl came running out of the living room and shut herself in the toilet, drowning out a chunk of the conversation you were listening in on. Somehow, it hurt even more when he went on to say ‘besides, there’s… someone else’. 

And when you have managed to drift off after hours of staring at the walls and the ceiling, hearing those words on a loop on your fed up brain? Of course he’s been in your fucking dreams, too.

In your defence, all you were trying to do was use the mirror in the hallway outside the kitchen he and his friends were standing in, readjusting your top to cover the hickey that he had so kindly left on your collarbone just the night before. It wasn’t as though you sought him out to listen in; it was a coincidence. And okay, fine, maybe you should have walked away when the conversation turned to the topic of Chan’s love life. Maybe you should have not crept closer and held your breath to be able to hear them all better. Maybe, even, you should have stayed around long enough to ask what he meant by it then and there instead of hopping in a taxi and going home without saying goodbye to anyone. 

Hindsight really is a beautiful thing.

Never gonna happen. Well, Chan seemed quite happy to ignore the fact that it already had happened. Several times. At least four of those being in the very car currently on the street outside your home. The car he’s used on countless occasions to drive you up to lovers’ lookouts in the dead of night, letting one of his many mixtapes play through the tinny speakers, where he’d kiss you breathless and cradle your face between his palms, as his fingers would delicately explore beneath your clothes, as his broad shoulders would slot between your thighs, as his hips rol–

And maybe you aren’t stupid, but Chan seems determined to prove that he sure as hell is. He came to pick you up from work the day after the party like nothing had happened, and couldn’t figure out why you said you would rather walk home in the rain than get in with him and stormed away without any further explanation. Then, he showed up on your doorstep on the morning of your day off with your favourite coffee and a breakfast bagel, asking if you could talk. He still didn’t realise what he’d done to upset you, so you slammed the door in his face. Finally, just earlier today, he ran after you in the mall, persistent as you’ve ever known him to be, and laid a hand on your shoulder when you didn’t turn around to just the sound of his voice calling your name. 

You pushed him off so hard he almost fell over. 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” You had barked, shrugging your shoulders to try and realign your jacket. “I don’t want to talk to you. What’s not clicking?”

His face resembled that of a scolded pet when he took a step back and frowned at you. “I just wanted to–”

“I don’t care what you want, Chan,” you spat. “Give it up. I’m done.”

You could see the desperation swimming in his eyes as he scrambled for what to say and your heart felt like it was being weighed down all the way into your stomach. You supposed that was the part of you that was causing all this ache in the first place, and further that it was to blame for your current state of misery. But you steeled yourself and stood your ground nonetheless. He wasn’t going to win you over with puppy eyes and a pout. Not this time.

In his silence, you only then noticed how hard your breaths were coming, each slow and long but still dangerously unsteady. You lowered your voice, top lip curling at him as you muttered, “You’re embarrassed of me enough to lie to your friends? Fine. I don’t give a–… but shit, next time, tell a girl that to her face instead of behind her fucking back.”

It’s been seven hours, and you keep replaying the last thing he said to you as you stormed away (how his voice got quieter when he realised you weren’t turning back; how he sounded so hoarse, so sorry). 

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you - I— I never meant to.’

If. If. If. Were you not making it completely fucking obvious that he had, most definitely, hurt you? Part of your brain is even now starting to go down the route that he’s doing this on purpose, that it’s some twisted sort of damage control, that he hopes maybe if he plays dumb for long enough, you’ll forget what you were mad about or maybe start to second guess what you heard. But if that’s what he thinks, he obviously doesn’t know you very well at all. That’s never going to happen. 

Hell, for someone you were being so careful to keep in the appropriate lane in your head, Chan really has you thinking yourself in circles. You’re sick to your back teeth of him, and his stupid voice and his stupid smile and his stupid –

Clink.

Stupid. Fucking. Stones.

A groan loud enough to definitely catch the attention of your roommate sounds from deep within your chest at this interruption to your spiral and you finally, finally concede. Whatever argument he’s so clearly longing to have at 11 o’clock on a Thursday night? Fine. He can have it. If it means he backs off for good, you’ll give him his one last ruck.

You pull the window open none too gently and lean enough through it that Chan comes into view. He isn’t even looking up, you realise, too busy sifting through the driveway trying to find his next little projectile, and you hiss his name to get his attention. It startles him so much that he drops the indiscernible bundle in his right hand. He blindly scrambles to pick it up, those big, earnest eyes gazing at you as if you’re floating in midair before him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask him, trying not to raise your voice too loud but at the same time, needing to generate enough volume for him to hear. He holds the bundle in both hands, now, and they catch the light of the lamp by your front door. Flowers, you register, squinting to try and make them out, your brows furrowing so much that your forehead hurts. 

Black dahlias.

You choke back a laugh. Ah, the joys of fooling around with the son of a florist. Are they all so damn dramatic? (Or does he just know that they’re your favourites?)

Whichever it is, you tell yourself that’s not going to work. You won’t let it. Through gritted teeth, you say, “go away. I’m serious. I’ll call the cops on you.”

He shakes his head, begging as he steps just a little closer so his face is more visible in the amber light too. “Please–” he hurries, biting his bottom lip. “Please, don’t– just… tell me what I did. I want to make it right. Please.”

He never begs like this. In all the time you’ve known him, you swear Chan has said ‘please’ to you fewer times than you could count on your fingers. Which is by no means a bad thing — that’s just always been the very comfortable nature of your friendship, and later, the -with-benefits tag that you ended up sticking on the end. 

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose and fighting not to shiver in the cold nighttime air. Note to self: don’t do a Romeo and Juliet in the middle of the fucking winter without layering up, first. “What does it even matter?”

“What do you mean, what does it matter?” He asks, looking down at the bunch of flowers in his hands, then back at you. “I-... you know I’d never hurt you. Not on purpose. Please, just… if I did something–”

“There’s someone else,” you echo, fed up with his pretending. He’s a fair actor, you’ll give him that – he might even have been able to convince you, if you hadn’t already heard the other half of this tale he’s doing his best to spin in his favour. 

His face screws up, thinking he’s misheard. It’s his turn not to understand now. If you’re telling him you’ve met someone else, he’s got questions, because you’d promised to be open and honest with each other if that ever happened, so that you could call things off and go back to being just friends without it becoming a big deal. That was always supposed to be a calm conversation, not… whatever this is. You talked about it, right at the start. But… those are the words you’re saying, aren’t they? And why would you be mad at him if you were the one whose circumstances had changed? 

“What?” he asks, finally. “What do you mean?”

“God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen. Besides, there’s… someone else!” You raise your voice without really meaning to, before swallowing hard and glancing back inside your room. “You said that, Chan. Don’t piss me off by coming here and pretending like you didn’t.”

Chan starts to look like he’s trying to figure out an algebraic equation in his head while only having half the required information; his eyes fall down to the gravel, his lips move without any sound coming out of them, his features tighten until there are definite lines between his eyebrows. Then, it clicks. The lightbulb moment. He slaps one hand to his face and shakes his head furiously, and you just know he’s going to wake up with an ache in his neck tomorrow because of it.

“Oh fuck,” he curses. “No, no, no, no, no – that’s not–”

“What did I just say?” You spit down at him. “Don’t piss me off–”

“Listen!” He shouts, and you gesture with your hand for him to lower his voice, interrupting his flow of thought and rendering him silent for a moment. “Fuck, please. Come down here and talk to me. That’s not what you think it is.”

You’re in every mind to slam your window shut and leave him out there in the cold. It would work if you got out your headphones to drown out the sounds of him trying to get your attention, which you have absolutely no doubt in your mind that he would do. And maybe then he’d get the hint; maybe then he would understand that you’re not just some pushover who he can just pick up and play with when it suits him. 

But he’s still holding those fucking flowers like they’re a lifeline, still looking up at you without a single lick of anger on his face. Not stress at having been discovered, which you would have expected him to be swimming in right about now. He looks… kind of beside himself, as if nothing could possibly be worse than what you’re threatening to do.

All this, for you? It just doesn’t make sense. 

“Please,” he says again, quieter, weaker. For the first time, you pick up on the hint of a shiver in his voice, and you swallow. Whether you’re gulping back your pride, or your resolve, or the last remnants of your sensibility, you don’t know. 

Does he deserve for you to hear him out? You’re not sure.

But does he deserve to be stuck out in the cold in just his stupid leather jacket and a pair of jeans? 

With regret, you think, no. He doesn’t.

All you give him is a scowl before you disappear from view entirely, pulling the window closed and drawing your curtains again. Faster than you think you ever have before, you throw on a sweatshirt over your pyjamas, grab your keys, and hurry down the stairs as silently as you possibly can. 

He’s stood in exactly the same place when you edge outside and pull the door closed behind you. Up-close, you can see the tiredness on his face: this is a man who has exhausted himself in worry, you think, and yet he still smiles a little when he sees you in full. He still holds the flowers out for you to take. He still purses his lips and blows out a stuttered cloud of air. Nervous, and not in the way you think he ought to be. So when you walk straight past him and don’t take the dahlias out of his hands, instead standing by his car and waiting for him to unlock it for you, you start to feel overwhelmingly guilty. 

Chan is many, many… many things. But he really isn’t this good of a performer, no matter what you’ve been telling yourself all week. For God’s sake, why is it so much easier to be angry at him when he’s not standing right in front you?

You slip into his passenger side as he fumbles to set the flowers down on his backseat again, and he joins you up front just a few moments later. His hands are shaking when he sets the keys into the ignition. His whole body is. When you cast a real look over at him, the tips of his fingers are pale and his lips are lacking their usual rosy, pink hue. Your own teeth are chattering despite only having been truly exposed to the cold air for a matter of seconds; you dread to think how frozen he must be.

“Are we driving?” You ask to break the silence. Since he got into the car and fiddled with the heating settings to try and warm things up a little, he hasn’t said a word. It’s awkward. It’s horrible. You already miss the comfortable way you’ve been able to sit for hours together, barely talking, just watching the lights of the city and the cars travelling through it. 

You already miss him. Which is a strange thought, seeing as he’s only about ten inches away. 

“If– if you want,” he says, stuttering through the frost in his lungs. “We can go—...”

“Drive, Chan,” you say. It’s not just because you want him to stop falling over his words – which, to be fair, you do. Chan has always been very confident, carrying himself with the air of someone who knows exactly their worth. It’s one of the things you treasure about him. So this? Is fucking weird. But a big part of it is that you know his car will heat up faster if it’s in motion, and right now, you think maybe he’s at risk of losing a finger or two if he doesn’t get some circulation back.

He steps on the gas and the car pulls away from your home. It’s the first time you’ve ever been in his car without there being some sort of music playing, whether that’s historically just been the radio or a tape he put together with the help of one of his older friends. (The tapes that always had your first initial on them. The tapes that he never failed to ask your opinions on when he dropped you home – as if he’d compiled them with only you in mind.) The silence feels jarring and you can hear every rumble of the engine, every squeal of the brakes he definitely needs to get serviced. 

But the car does warm through, and you sigh out relief as the bones in your hands move a little easier, as your fingers curl and uncurl to less resistance from your taut muscles. Chan feels it, too; his body relaxes, his breaths stop coming out in fractions, his face gets some colour back. The timing feels a little less awful when you finally say, “go on, then.”

Chan glances over at you as he drives down an unlit street. Only for a second, like he’s checking you’re still there, before his eyes train back on the road. He’s going to one of your favourite spots. It isn’t a lookout – it’s somewhere completely shut off from the rest of town, hidden by the trees near the railway tracks, somewhere you’ve never had to worry about being seen or heard. Maybe he’s anticipating a screaming match. Maybe he’s expecting something else. Maybe, even, he just cares about how much you love it there. 

“I didn’t know you heard that conversation,” he starts, sheepishly. You want to roll your eyes, reach over and thump him, ask if that makes what he said okay, but you don’t. You stay looking out the front windscreen too. Waiting. “I… all right. I was out of my ass drunk.”

You click your tongue, pressing it afterwards against the inside of your cheek, but again, you stay quiet.

“I don’t think you heard what you thought you heard, though,” he goes on to say. “‘Cause– ‘cause it wasn’t…”

But you can only be quiet for so long in the face of this mess. Especially when he’s apparently working towards a doctorate in beating around the fucking bush. “I heard you tell your friends that it was never gonna happen with ‘movie girl’.”

Chan’s face brightens, and you can’t help but wonder what on Earth is wrong with this man. Why does he find that funny? Why is his chest moving like he’s trying not to laugh?

“And you… thought you were movie girl,” he says, nodding. “Okay. Okay – shit. I’m sorry.”

You look at him properly, now, as he indicates to the right and takes the turn that leads him down the lane to your spot. “What are you talking about?”

“I get it,” he says. “You work at the–... but you’re not movie girl. Not that movie girl.”

“Stop talking in riddles before I get out of this car, Chan. It’s too late for this shit.”

He holds a hand up as if to apologise and settles back against the head cushion, suddenly looking far more comfortable than he did thirty seconds ago. He clears his throat, running his tongue over his lips, before sucking in a breath and letting himself go on.

“You’re not movie girl,” he says again, successfully clarifying nothing. “There’s this chick I used to dance with — years back, before… God, when we were in school, like, forever ago. She moved away when we were sixteen.” As he talks, he reaches your destination and sets the car into park, before he unfastens his seatbelt and turns to face you. You do the same, shifting your weight to tuck one leg up beneath you, and with your undivided attention, he goes on. “I ran into her recently. She’s back in town now, I guess. It was like, two weeks—?”

“I’m gonna be all-over grey by the time you finish telling this story,” you interrupt, raising an eyebrow. “Can you please give me the short version?”

“Not if you want it to make sense,” Chan shrugs. Begrudgingly, you let him keep talking. “She said it would be cool to hang out, maybe catch a movie or do lunch or something — and look, I didn’t know she was asking me on a date, I thought she was just being nice, y’know? Trying to be friends, but… you weren’t working that day, it was when you had that… that stomach thing going on? And I brought you the soup my mom made, remember?”

You nod; of course you remember. At the time, you wondered why on Earth this grown man’s mother was making you food — you asked yourself whether he’d told her about you, or if she thought it was for someone else. In the end you decided he must have just been bringing you leftovers. But you’d been too worn out to start asking questions; instead, after you’d eaten, you let yourself fall asleep with your head in his lap as he patted your hair and hummed his favourite songs. You hadn’t let yourself think too deeply about it since. 

“Anyway. We were sat watching the movie and she, uh,” he glances down at his lap, tips of his ears burning pink. “She put her hand, sorta, on my thigh? And then I was like, shit, I didn’t read this right, like… at all. So I moved it off and she took the hint — and after it ended I said to her, you know, I was flattered, right? But I wasn’t interested. And then I went home and got that soup and—… yeah.”

He came straight to see you. To look after you. Hell, you didn’t even fool around that night; in retrospect, it was all uncharacteristically domestic. And slowly, the pieces you’ve spent days struggling to fit together start to fall into place. It makes sense. The only question that remains is do you believe him?

Well, tell a lie. 

There is one more. 

“You said there was someone else,” you add quietly. 

You’ll die before you admit it, but this is secretly the part that was hurting you the most. 

You can’t even look him in the eye, right now; your cheeks are burning with the embarrassment of even caring. As much as you want to tell yourself that the only reason you’re pissed is just because of the dishonesty, you can only stare at yourself in the mirror and point-blank lie so many times. Someone else. You hate it. 

Just the thought of him seeing somebody else, taking them out on dates, smiling at them, laughing with them, kissing them the way he kisses you, touching —

A shiver runs the length of you and you cross your arms, thrusting your sleeve-covered hands under your armpits. 

Chan takes a deep breath in and exhales it slowly, like he’s blowing smoke out of his lungs. “There is,” he admits, nodding slowly, avoiding your eyes, too. “There is someone else.”

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask. 

Chan doesn’t respond straight away. You don’t notice, but eventually his eyes do land back at you; it’s only when he clears his throat to get your attention that you look at him long enough to realise he’s quite deliberately staring. His lips are lifted on the right in a lopsided smile, his eyes soft as he reaches across the seats towards you. You stare blankly down at his hand until he wiggles his fingers, and you think briefly that this is the most fucked up ending to a situationship you’ve ever been through. 

You drop one of your hands down and let him hold it, though, staring at his face as his thumb brushes over your knuckles and you wait for him to finally say it out loud. For him to announce that he’s fallen for somebody and that he can’t see you anymore. To put the nail in the coffin. Don’t tell me their name, you think. I don’t want to know anything about them. Please, just don’t.

“For someone so frustratingly smart, you’re really fucking dumb,” Chan says, finally, swallowing around his words and squeezing your fingers. Whatever stoic expression you had forced onto your face at the start of this conversation dissolves into irritation and you snatch your hand away from him again, letting his own fall and collide with a thunk against the handbrake. 

“Oh, sorry that I didn’t realise you were sneaking around behind my back when that’s the one thing we promised we wouldn’t do,” you snap. “God. The only stupid thing I’ve done here is get involved with you in the f—”

“You’re the someone else.”

Oh. 

Oh.

“I’m—?”

“You.”

The admission hangs heavily between you, as does your nonsense, unfinished insult. Neither of you really know what to do with yourselves except sit perfectly still and try to somehow deal with your increasingly dry throats. When Chan moves, it’s only to turn down the heating dial when his cheeks burn a bit too hot; you appreciate it, in part due to the bead of sweat currently running down your back, but you don’t say so. 

“You could have started with that,” you say weakly, wrestling with all your strength to keep even some of your cards close to your chest. It’s not working though. Your attempt to conceal your elation is a bit like throwing a single leaf on top of a bison and calling it camouflage. 

Chan commits to laughing, finally, your sentiment breaking him too. Now, you do crack that smile, albeit mostly just at the sound that comes from him. It’s bright and airy, lighting his whole face up as he drops all the way back and leans against his car door, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I was trying to build to a moment! It’s not my fault you hit every branch of the anti-romantic tree on your way down.”

“I am not anti-romantic,” you scoff in protest. 

“Yes — you are.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“No, you’re just an idiot.”

“Says she who didn’t realise her fuck-buddy had feelings for about six months, Jesus.”

“Chan—” You start, your voice laced with a playful warning. 

“Here I was thinking I was making it completely obvious,” he rambles on. 

“— oh my God, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Dropping hints left and r—” … “Huh?”

He stops short a fraction of a second after you finish, stumped and silent, frozen with everything but a little buffering symbol above his forehead. Kiss me, you said. Chan, […] just shut up and kiss me. All right, you’ve asked him to do that before, but not like this. Not as if you’ll wither away should you not get a taste of his lips this instant. It takes him some time to process it, but he does move in first, eventually. The way he always does, closing the distance between you like he’s been shot out of a cannon, one hand either side of your face, crashing feverishly against your mouth. 

Every now and again, he’ll be happy to let you take charge and set the pace: mostly just if he’s feeling lazy or especially generous. Tonight isn’t one of those times, however. He holds you and kisses you possessively, like you’re his, like this is how he finally gets to lay claim on you, licking between your gasp-parted lips after he moans straight into your mouth. He’s spearmint sweet, edged with that one cherry flavoured chapstick he stockpiles as he grins up against you, rolling his body fluidly with every separation for air, every changing angle. 

He pulls your sweatshirt up over your head and throws it down into the footwell on the passenger side, straight away hurrying to kiss you hungrily again, hands cupping your neck. His tongue is in your mouth once more, there’s no way you could possibly differentiate your breaths from his: you’re one, in every way you can be with your clothes still on, but it’s not enough. 

“Want you,” you whimper as he nips at your bottom lip and pleasure rushes through you from head to toe. 

“You’ve got me,” he groans with his eyes still closed. “I’m all yours.” 

“No,” you insist, whimpering when his cute little nose drags across your cheek until he’s pressing hot kisses to your jawline. “I— fuck—”  He suckles on the sweet spot below your ear and your spine tingles, head tilting to give him better access. “Chan, I want you.”

Chan settles back from you, his usually bright, sparkling eyes now darkened with desire. All he gives you is a singular glance sideways, but you know exactly what he’s suggesting. You nod, breathing deep, biting the inside of your cheek; he turns off the headlights and it’s all systems go. 

There’s a rush to scramble into the back of the car. Chan takes the keys out the ignition and climbs through the gap in the seats; you opt for the less hazardous approach of getting out of the vehicle entirely and re-entering it instead. Not that it bothers him — no sooner is the door closed behind you, Chan’s hands are on your hips and he pulls you on top of him, your leg knocking the dahlias off the leather and onto the floor in the process. You gasp and glance down but he averts your attention with two fingers under your chin, guiding you to look back at him. 

“What? You think this is the last time I’ll bring you flowers?” He asks, capturing your lips as he leans up to you; at the same time, his hands drop low and he starts to slide open the buttons down the front of your pyjama shirt. “Baby, m’gonna get you so many more.” 

You sigh at the affectionate name, at the change in its use; until now, Chan has only called you baby while he’s buried inside you, bruising you inside and out with sharp thrusts and rough-gripping fingers. But as much as you can feel him growing hard against the inside of your thigh while you try to get comfortable, one knee planted either side of his hips, you can’t help but feel as if this time, it means something different. 

(He’s had feelings for six months: it always meant what it does, now. You know that, deep down.)

Somewhere in amongst the never-ending sloppy kisses and constantly travelling hands, you manage to strip both his jacket and T-shirt off him and you’re pressed bare-chest-to-bare-chest with Chan, feeling every little hitch of his breath in his lungs, every thump of his heartbeat, every tiny increase in the temperature of his skin. Your desperate search for friction between your legs has you rolling your hips down against his hard-on, drawing grunts and making him squeeze at your tits when you rock against him the right way. His head eventually drops to your chest and he replaces one hand with his mouth, freeing his fingers to slide down the front of your pyjama bottoms. 

It’s honestly rarer for Chan to get straight to the point than it is for him to tease you a little first, so when he flattens his palm against you and brushes his fingertips over your already aching clit, you let out a squeak of surprise. He shivers, releasing your nipple from between his teeth for a moment; once he’s collected a little more arousal to ease the friction, he continues to rub at the bud, slowly building the pressure inside you.

“No panties?” He asks, struggle clear in the roughness of his voice. 

“I was in bed,” you gasp, eyes rolling back. It’s for the best that it happens out of pleasure, really, because you’re not sure you’d be able to stop yourself rolling them in exasperation at his remark otherwise. You shuffle a little, lifting yourself up on your knees more, breath hitching when he uses the newly granted space to dip his hand lower and press a finger against your hole. “Please, Chan — this can’t be comfy— just…”

“S’fine” he argues, shaking his head, despite the fact that the angle of his wrist is actually kind of painful, right now. The truth is that he can’t bring himself to care: not when he can smell your fabric softener on the shirt still hanging off your shoulders, the shampoo in your freshly washed hair, all so pretty mixed with the damp scent of your desire. Not when you clench around him as he slides his finger in and out of your cunt. Not when he could get you to soak all the way through these pretty satin pants. 

Your arms snake around his neck as he dips a second finger inside you to join the first. The way your thighs tighten around his hips could — should — be embarrassing, the fact his sturdy lap holds you open enough for your pussy to be toyed with even more so. You almost always do this too music, too — for what might be the first time ever, you can hear every single wet sound your body makes, every hitch of your own breath, every grunt he gives even though he’s not the one being pleasured. 

You don’t even realise how you’re rocking up and down against his hand until Chan licks from the base of your neck to your jaw, smirking over your pulse point and says, “gonna ride my cock this good too, baby?”

And if it was anyone else talking to you like this, you would be embarrassed. Mortified, at being so needy you’re here doing all the work for him. At the cry you give as he splits and scissors his fingers to stretch you out. But instead? You feel another rush of arousal drool out of you as you press your nails into his shoulders and nod, bouncing harder and watching how his bicep tenses up solid with the effort of keeping his arm steady for you to use. 

“Wanna,” you gasp. “Want it so bad, Chan—”

Despite your pleas for this to move further, when his hand pulls back out of the elastic of your waistband, you feel like you could throttle him. The urge ebbs away when his soaked fingers press to your lips and he quirks an eyebrow at you, though — you end up suckling them clean, licking up every trace of your own slick. You lock eyes with him as you do, slumping on your thighs so your drenched core sits right over his tweaking length, the seam of your pants giving just enough friction to your clit for it to feel good as you grind down on him again. 

“Get those off,” he instructs, trying to sound hard and dominant. Which would work, perhaps, if his voice didn’t crack in the middle of the sentence. “Now.”

Even though you’re overcome with a need to tease him, the desire you have to be split open on his length outweighs it, so you do as you’re told and hold it in for later. It’s not easy, but you manage to manipulate yourself in his lap to work the satin down your thighs and past your knees. He helps you tug them the rest of the way past your ankles and feet, shoves them onto the floor — Chan’s hands settle back on your hips and yours skim down his stomach at the same time, fingers grazing over the little hairs that trail from his bellybutton down into his jeans. 

“Can I?” You ask, playing already with his belt buckle. 

He hums assent and you slip it all the way open, tugging as he moves his hips underneath you so you can pull it free from the loops. Between you, you manage to get his jeans unfastened, to pull both them and his boxer shorts down over his ass and to his knees; finally, fucking finally, his cock sits pretty and leaking and free between your stomach and his. It’s getting cold in the car now the heating isn’t on, but you’re already burning up in anticipation for him to ruin you; the way his abs ripple as he takes his shaft into his hand and strokes himself a couple of times to prepare tells you he’s in the same boat. 

It’s like clockwork, from here. You shift into position as easily as you settle into bed after a long day. Chan rubs his tip through your folds, feels the warmth of you and hisses through his teeth with fluttering eyes. Just like always. This never changes. He can’t ever get enough of that first feeling of his cock against your pussy: it’s like the first hit of a blunt, like the first sip of a cold beer, the first full-body stretch early in the morning. He’s sure it’s what arriving at the gates of heaven must feel like. 

You sink down onto him slowly, fluttering around his tip and stilling to give you both a moment to get used to the feeling. He’s thick inside you. Thicker than his pretty, dainty fingers have ever been able to stretch you enough for. Even as wet as you are, you still need to suck a deep breath into your lungs before you can relax your hips further and let your heat swallow him all the way to his base. 

Chan’s head is tipped back in pleasure, he’s biting his lip at the sting of your nails pressing hard into the back of his neck. He loves it, though — loves how the pain shoots in waves down his spine, how it tingles in his brain, how he knows you need to anchor yourself this way or you’ll lose control. He kneads at your ass as you sit against his thighs, listening to you whimpering at how deep he is inside you.

“So fucking tight around me still,” Chan groans, focusing all his willpower into keeping his hips down on the leather beneath him. “Shit, baby — you feel so good…” His neck softens and his head drops forward again as you start to move, rising and falling over and over. He kisses your throat and down to your collarbones while you work up to a rhythm, sliding his palms up your back, hugging you close to him. 

He isn’t even the one putting in the hard work, but within minutes of this, his soft, fluffy hair clings to his forehead. A light sheen of sweat makes him radiant under the moonlight breaking through the trees. He’s breathing heavily, the top of his toned chest painted a soft pink — you don’t think he could possibly look prettier. Not until he cups your jaw with his hands and you look upwards: you land on his smiling face, those plush, swollen lips, his devilish but sweetly glittering eyes. The sight of him, looking at you like you’re some kind of Goddess, makes your pussy tighten and your tiring hips stutter. You slip your pyjama top all the way off your arms and curl your fingers into his hair, meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss, through which you’re both just beaming. 

You’ve never kissed him this much. When it all started out, you sort of had a rule against it, but now? Neither of you can stop. As he starts to fuck up into you, taking the reins and letting your burning thighs rest, he keeps your face steady with his hands and freely allows his lips to slide against yours. It’s not refined. It can’t be. Not with how hard and fast his movements quickly become, not with the onslaught of curses and moans and babbled praise coming from the both of you. One particularly sharp thrust makes you yelp out a squeak of his name and he just swallows it down, making a point to keep aiming for— and hitting— that same spot inside you. You’re a mess. 

He could do this all night. When your orgasm bubbles inside you and he starts pinching at one of your nipples, sending you over the edge, he’s nowhere near finished. Even though your cunt massages at his length, throbbing and pulsing through your climax; even though your voice is so high by now that only dogs can hear you; even though you nearly collapse on top of him with almost all your weight in his lap, and he has to work twice as hard to keep this going, he barely slows. He definitely doesn’t stop. 

“You can gimme one more, right sweetheart?” He asks, grunting into your neck. “Always feels so fucking good when you come.” You choke up an ‘mhm’, to which he responds by slipping a hand between your bodies and down to where you’re connected. His thumb presses against your clit again — not moving, just applying enough pressure to make you stutter when you say his name. 

Your thighs are still twitching when you try to lift yourself a little, try to meet his movements as he chases his orgasm too. The “problem” with Chan is that his stamina is otherworldly. You couldn’t keep up if you wanted to. 

“Relax,” he says, tensing his jaw, doing the opposite himself. “Fuck — lie down.”

It’s pretty cramped and hard to move, but you lift yourself off him and only slightly lament at the sudden emptiness between your legs. There isn’t time to get too upset, however: moments after you get comfortable on your back, Chan shoves his jeans the rest of the way down and stands with one knee planted on the seats, lifting one of your ankles up to rest it on his shoulder. He slips back inside you easily then, gripping around your calf to keep you both steady. From the word go, his pace is relentless. You scrabble around for something to hold onto but the entire car seems to melt away; you ball your hands into fists at your sides instead, your eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

“Mm-mm. Look at me,” Chan hums, tightening his grip on your leg. “Wanna see those pretty eyes.” 

You obey, opening your lids to look up at him while he pounds into you hard enough to make the car shake. Over, and over, and over, and over. Rougher. Faster. For how long? Who even knows. All you’re truly aware of is how good it feels. How the windows grow foggy with the  steam of your laboured breaths. How his sweat mingles with your own. 

When his fingers on the other hand get reacquainted with your clit, when he bites down on his bottom lip, when his thrusts start to get messier and more erratic and the veins in his arms start to bulge out, you know he’s getting close. He doesn’t need to tell you out loud. The smirk he wears speaks for itself. 

“Where d’you want it, baby?” He asks you, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle. 

“In— mmh, in-…side me—” you stammer, hips jolting as you near your second orgasm to match his first. “Please, Chan — want it all…”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah—”

Well, he must’ve been holding himself back something spectacular, because a few thrusts later you watch all of his muscles contract as he tips over the edge, and you go hurtling with him. It’s all so much. All your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire and your vision starts to blur at the edges; it’s not long before you have to close your eyes to shut one of your overworked senses out, completely. Your muscles are sore. Your throat hurts. Even your lungs ache. 

God, he hasn’t gone that hard in so long, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can barely speak — it’s going to take you a week to recover from this, minimum. 

He stills deep inside you, feeling his cock throb with the last pumps of his release. Your leg slips off his shoulder and your foot lands down with a thud onto the car’s (thankfully clean) floor; he bends forward to kiss you, still breathing heavily against your lips. You’ve come over completely boneless and reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair again feels like running a marathon at sprint pace. You’d fall asleep right here, right now, if you could, but with sweat cooling rapidly against your skin, you know that’s probably not up there as one of your finest ideas. 

“You really think getting involved with me was stupid?” Chan asks, nudging your nose with the tip of his own. He’s never been less serious than this in his entire life, which stops you feeling too bad when you lightly slap at his rock solid chest and try to push him off you.

“Yes,” you lie, attempting to reach to the ground for your pyjama shirt while he grips your chin and attacks you with tiny little pecks all over your face. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

(Chan chuckles to himself and thinks that he’s quite happy to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, really. He can stay that way, as long as you promise never to stop.)

thank you so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed it - likes, feedback, comments, reblogs are all so appreciated.<3

[blushweddinggowns]

Prompt number 2 bc I’m praying for more jealous Steve content. Bc Eddie can be so oblivious and Steve can be such a bitch and those things are so important to me

Eddie was a glutton for self-punishment, that was the only reasonable explanation he could come up with on what the fuck he was doing here. Sitting at some random gay bar as he watched the man he loved dance the night away with his bestfriend.

He just had to volunteer to be their designated driver. Maybe it was stupid, but Eddie thought that y'know, a gay bar meant that no he would not have to watch Steve flirt with some randos. But he forgot the small detail that bisexual people existed. And he had seen at least three damn girls slip Steve their number.

Which was just...so fucking cruel. Why did life always have to do him so dirty? Eddie had thought that maybe...if they went to this type of place together Steve's mind would open up a bit. A stupid fucking thought honestly. Based off of nearly nothing. Like, okay sure, Steve was all touchy feely with him sometimes. When he was high or drunk suddenly Eddie became his personal chair. And he would say just...the sweetest shit. Going on and on about how happy he was to have met him, how he's so glad he's alive and well, how funny Eddie was, how nice and sweet and pretty and...and all of it had sent his traitorous brain into a tailspin that had him thinking he actually had a chance with a straight guy.

And the fucked up part was that Eddie had really tried to start doing the right thing. He put a little distance between them when he figured out that he was past a silly crush. No he was head over heels for the guy and he needed to get over it. Fast. And if he could just start saying no when Steve called to get high or have a few beers together he probably would have made some progress by now.

But no, he was still to eager for contact with him to say no. Which made him feel like a creep, always waiting around for Steve to be a little out of his mind just so he could get a hug.

When did he become so pathetic?

The only slight comfort he had tonight was the fact that he wasn't alone. It really wasn't fair to bring a straight guy to a place like this, but at least every guy who had eyes on Steve was going to have to suffer in silence with him.

And some of them were kind of cute. Cute enough for Eddie to try and use one as a distraction. He was sitting next to a preppy looking guy, talking to him a little bit. Maybe he shouldn't have set his eyes on someone that kind of looked like Steve, but fuck it. His name was Andrew, and he was nice, a good flirt. The perfect diversion for when Eddie could tear his eyes away from Steve.

And things were actually getting a little interesting with him. He had his hand on Eddie's arm, leaning in to loudly whisper everything he said in Eddie's ear. He was smiling at him, close enough for Eddie to see the pretty gold flakes in his eyes.

They weren't as pretty as Steve's but they'd do.

Andrew tucked a bit of Eddie's hair back behind his ear, leaning in again. But he didn't go for his ear this time, no, he was zeroing in right to Eddie's lips. Not that he was complaining, he let it happen, a sweet, light kiss that had zero time to escalate to more.

Because suddenly, someone was tugging at his arm, hard enough to force Eddie's whole body back, nearly out of his chair. He blinked, more than a little startled to see Steve coming out of nowhere, clinging onto him with that stupid, gorgeous smile.

"Eddieeee," Steve whined, completely ignoring Andrew's presence, "Robin ditched me to make out with someone in the bathroom."

Eddie couldn't help but smile a little bit, despite the fact that he was definitely interrupting what was probably the first good thing about this night. He glanced over at Andrew, who was staring at them, wide-eyed before saying, "Uh, I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

"I don't-"

"I can't hear you in here," Steve loudly interrupted, looking adorably confused, "Come outside with me?"

If Eddie was smart, he would have gently pried Steve's hands off him before sending him off to find Robin. But...a drunk Steve was also a very cute and cuddly one. So fuck it, Eddie could find a rebound for his non-existent relationship next weekend.

He shrugged at Andrew, mouthing a quick apology at him before Steve started to drag him outside through the back door. Eddie half expected Steve to do his usual routine when he was toasted. Sweetly asking for a piggy back ride that Eddie literally could never refuse before falling asleep on his back. Then he'd get him in the car, wrangle Robin from wherever the hell she was, and they'd be off.

But the second they were stepping outside Steve was straightening up and stepping back, to Eddie's immediate confusion. He leaned against the wall, glaring at Eddie in a way he had never seen. Or at least directed at him.

"So," Steve started, his tone way too close to how he sounded when one of the kids pissed him off, "Who was that guy? You looked pretty cozy in there."

Eddie's brain was still struggling to catch up to the change in atmosphere here. But he tried to answer anyway, "I mean we were but-wait. Why are you not drunk? You were literally just-"

"It's called acting dipshit," Steve mumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Which ow, rude. But his next words hurt even more, "Not like I have a choice, since you only seem to like me when I'm fucked up."

Eddie could feel his heart stop in his chest. He didn't-oh no. Oh god. Steve figured out he was a creep. A creep who was probably moments away from getting his ass handed to him.

Eddie swallowed, at a loss for what to say. But he still tried, "I-look dude it's um, it's not like that. I didn't- I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable-"

"Then why the fuck would you kiss another guy right in front of me?"

Okay. That was enough of that. Yes, Steve could be mad about him being creepy, but no he couldn't be mad over having to bear witness for a gay kiss at a gay bar, "Well if I had known that you were apparently only okay with seeing girls kiss each other I wouldn't have come out tonight at all! Honestly Steve, how can you even say that? Like that is some real dumbass levels of homophobia, even for you. I thought the King Steve thing had died-"

"Shut the fuck up oh my god," Steve hissed out, "Are you really that damn dense? That's what you think I'm upset about? Are you fucking kidding me? And I'm the dumbass?"

"Then why are you mad?" Eddie half asked, half yelled.

“I’m not mad," Steve seethed, like he didn't look about five seconds away from choking Eddie out, "I...I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

Maybe he really was drunk after all. Because now he wasn't making any damn sense.

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, beyond frustrated, "Who Steve? Like, I'm sorry to break this to you but not all of us can fucking look like you do alright? We're not all charming, golden Adonis basketball players okay? And sometimes you need to take what you can get. And there was nothing wrong with Andrew-"

"You think I look like a golden Adonis?" Steve interrupted, a weird expression on his face. He looked almost...hopeful? But that didn't make any sense.

"That's what you got out of that?" Eddie asked, exasperated, "I-come one dude. You know you're hot. But that's not my point."

"Well it's mine!" Steve groaned. He was biting his lips, a very distracting nervous habit that Eddie had picked up on, "Because what the fuck are we even doing? You think I'm so hot, so charming, so great, and you decide to kiss someone else in front of me? What the fuck is that? Do you like seeing me jealous? Do you get off on me pining? Please explain."

You see, that was the funny thing about Eddie's brain. One second he was lost, staring at Steve's red, bitten lips, and the next he was desperately trying to catch up with what just came out of his mouth. All of it the perfect blend to effectively shut his brain off completely.

Eddie stared at him, his words as dumb as how his face probably looked, "I-what? Huh?"

Steve narrowed his eyes at him, "Are we really doing this? Are you going to pretend like it's all in my head?"

"I-no. I just-please explain," Eddie is pretty damn sure he had never stuttered through a sentence that hard in his life.

"I've been coming on to you for months and you just keep giving me all of these mixed signals and..." Steve sighed, looking away, "I'm so sick of it Eddie. If you don't like me just say that! Stop whatever this is. Because it's mean and you know it. If you want a better option then just take it already and leave me alone."

He-what-that didn't even- Steve was straight, wasn't he? And now the stuttering had invaded his thoughts. Because if he actually understood all of that then...

He was the biggest idiot on the planet.

And his stunned silence was not helping anything.

Steve sighed, pushing himself away from the wall. He turned away, "I'm going to find Robin. We can just...act like this didn't happen I guess. I'm done."

Eddie had to give himself on thing, at least his body was working a lot faster than his brain. Steve barely had time to take a single step away before he was shooting his hand out to grab his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

"I didn't know you were an option!" Eddie blurted out, his heart hammering in his chest, "I-Stevie I thought all of it was in my head. I-I thought that you were straight and we were just hanging out-"

"You think I sit in the laps of my other guy friends?" Steve asked, completely unimpressed, "While playing with their hair and calling them beautiful? Really, dude?"

Eddie nodded, sure and fast, "Steve, I had to do my senior year three damn times. I'm not always the smartest okay? And in my defense you never mentioned like dudes-"

"Yes I have," Steve interrupted, "When you came out to me, I told you to your face that I understand. That I could relate about hiding things and not talking about it. I literally said we were in the same boat. What else could that mean?"

Eddie remembered that, crystal clear. But..."I thought you were talking about PTSD, not secretly being into dudes."

"One dude," Steve corrected, but he was relaxing a little, thank fuck. Maybe Eddie could still fix this.

He took a deep breath, using his hold on Steve's wrist to pull him closer. His hands were fucking shaking, bad enough for Steve to almost certainly notice when he rested them on his hips.

This was it, he might as well be as clear as humanly possible, "I am so into you. Like a scary amount. Like I'm...borderline in love with you."

He was completely in love with him, but he didn't have the balls to say that bit out loud. He kept going, "And I didn't know you felt the same way. At all. Like I am dangerously close to having a stroke from hearing all of that. You kind of flipped my world upside down there."

Steve huffed out a laugh. Eddie may have fucked up everything leading up to this point, but Steve was eating his little speech right up. He shuffled a little closer, wrapping his arms around Eddie's neck with a small smile, "Keep going."

"I thought that I had no chance. I mean even tonight, people couldn't stop looking at you. And you got those numbers-"

"I threw them away," Steve interrupted, "You missed that part."

He had definitely missed that part, too caught up in his own head. But that didn't stop a smile from breaking out on Eddie's face, "Good. Because if you want me, you have me. I'm all yours, in any way you want me. Understand? Fuck, Stevie if I had known any of this we'd be the ones making out in the bathroom right now. And I'm sorry about..."

For the life of him Eddie couldn't remember his name, not when he had Steve smiling at him in his arms, "The other guy. But it literally means nothing to me. Not if I get to have you. Do...do I get to have you?"

Steve hummed, pretending to think about it while he played with a lock of Eddie's hair, "I guess that depends. Is making out in the bathroom still on the table?"

"Fuck yes it is."

Steve grinned, leaning up to press the sweetest little kiss to the side of Eddie's mouth, "Then I guess you have me then."

[wazzappp]

So. @quasar-crew made a post about all the fun fic ideas they've been thinking of and within that was an 'Everyone gets infected funtimes' au. It has consumed me.

Ashleys mutations mostly focus on allowing her to GET AWAY and doing it QUICKLY. Most of her time while infected with the Plaga is spent trying to get away from threats, so it responded to that when developing its 'improvements'. She's mostly based off of the Novistador enemies found in the later levels.

Her clawed feet allow for climbing and perching on small objects. Armor extends up the leg because lets be real bro. I saw Jacksepticeyes playthrough theres no way her legs didnt at least get OCCASIONALLY grazed by wayward bullets from Leon trying to shoot whoever is carrying her away. NEVER AGAIN. Her armor is not as strong as I would imagine Leons is because it needs to be light enough to allow her to fly.

The Novistador's only have three fingered 'hands' so that translates over by only mutating three of her fingers. She has mandibles but they're mostly meant as a last resort self defense, along with her new sharp teeth (TEEF. TEEEEEEEEEFFFF). They don't move much beyond slight up and down motions. She also has a nictitating membrane that rests on the edges of her eyes when not in use. It activates after she blinks (think like a windshield wiper clearing away debris) and also covers her eyes when she's flying. This does impede her vision a little bit, so its best for her to find somewhere to rest if she's up there to spy.

Ashley has considerably less armor than Leon because 1. thats not the focus of her mutation. the focus is allowing her to get away from threats and 2. because she needs to remain light enough to actually get in the air. Her wings are extensions of the Plagas legs that have shifted to rest more on its back than its sides. That way its less strain on her back muscles (shoulders are already so fuckin complicated bro). They move in more of an x motion than an up and down. The best thing to compare them too would be a hummingbird. I briefly considered looking to dragonflies and their flight, which led me to this very cool video but I think she's just too large for that to work. Her wings have no bones in them, instead relying on the Plagas strong exoskeleton (carcinization strikes again) to keep her lightweight but strong. In theory, if she practiced enough, she should be strong enough to just. Pick an enemy up, lift them into the air, and then drop them.

Her antennae are controlled by a small tendon anchored just above her ears. They act to gather extra sensory information. They can detect smell, temperature (fire chaser beetle style babyyyy), and they are sensitive to touch which allows her to sense wind direction when she's flying up high. When in a situation where too much is going on, they will flatten back to try and avoid sensory overload. It's like when you turn down your car radio to see a parking spot better.

Also, because I forgot to draw it sometimes, the armor on her back wraps around her neck to protect more of her main veins and arteries. Plus, no more choking so thats a bonus.

And heres just. Some random doodles because I ended up really enjoying drawing her (bonus Leon with an awkward cutoff because idk how I want to draw his feet yet. Some kind of fucked up digitigrade deal most likely I just haven't figured out the details.)

Next up, Ada Wong you can not run from me.

[jxckchxmpi0n]

Jack champion x fem reader and he plays spiderman and reader is mj?

I'm going to make this into some headcanons

hope you enjoy <3

Being Ethan's mj headcanons

did not proofread |m.list

update : I just now realized that after posting this what you were asking I will 10000% rewrite this as its supposed to be!! I'm so sorry I hope this is okay for the time being! idk why it took so long for my brain to realize what you were actually asking for :(((((

Happy New Year babes!!!! I hope you all had a great new year's and were safe! I'm so excited for this new year and to grow my account. I am going back to school next week, so the requests are going to come out slowly, but I am writing them. I will try to post once or twice a week but I no promises <;3 I love you all so much and thank you so much for your support it really means so much to me.

You didn't know who Ethan was before your junior year in high school. both of you got paired up for a science project and ended up hitting it off and became close friends.

Chad would try to get Ethan to ask you out, he would be sad for weeks after you both finished the project, unable to see each other after classes had changed.

After a fight with some jock, you saw him hanging outside trying to clean up the cuts on his face, you would end up helping him and get to talking.

"Listen Ethan I actually wanted to ask you if you wanted to go out sometime." he would just stare at you in disbelieve, he'd be smiling so much the cut on his cheekbone started to bleed again.

From there on it was official you were in a relationship with him, he would always meet you up after school take the long way home just so he could be with you longer.

After a few months there was a change in how he was acting, you also noticed something different about him but couldn't put your hand on it.

This weekend it was longer due to some holiday and you, and Ethan had planned to spend the entire weekend together watching Star Wars and building Legos, but Ethan's mind had been so wrapped up in his new actives that he forgot.

Crawling through his window he heard his aunt talking, but he also heard another voice, and it was yours. His heart beating faster, just hearing your voice has that effect on him.

But thinking about your voice distracted him from realizing you were walking to his room, once he saw the door handle move panic set in.

Quickly he fell from the ceiling and grabbed a blanket but tripped himself in the process. "Ethan? when did you get home?" and before you both knew it you were holding the blanket while he shot up holding a hand to your month to stop you from yelling.

"Please, don't say anything! My aunt doesn't know yet you can't tell anyone!" his voice was harsh yet soft and scared. He was scared with how you were going to act.

"You're fucking spiderman! Holy shit! Holy Shit" you dropped the blanket and jumped into his arms. he stood there for a second confused, he eventually gave in wrapping his arms around you. feeling the warmth of your body against his. He felt safe with you.

"You have to tell me everything! and oh my god I have so many questions! but also you idiot!" you slapped him aside the head laughing but also giggling at the fact that your boyfriend is spiderman.

From there on you would help him fix his suit if he ever needed it or cover for him if a lie came back to haunt him.

Some nights he'd come to your window sharing all the details about some sandwich robbery he stopped.

There would be times where it's hard to be with Ethan, you sometimes thought he loved being spiderman than being with you. His actions spoke more than words could at times.

Bailing on date nights, sometimes right in the middle of your date. You love him and love seeing how much joy he gets out of helping others, but it also takes a toll on your relationship.

After an argument about how you felt he bailed out on you not wanting to say something he'd regret.

Things just got harder from there, you both agreed that you'd be better off apart, but you both lied to yourself.

Ethan thought it was better only to keep you safe from the criminals, and you thought it was all stupid. Knowing spiderman is who he is but he's also Ethan Landry the love of your life.

Soon things would take a turn for the worst as one of his enemies found out your importance to spiderman. Kidnapping you and using you as a pawn to trap him.

Ethan's heart would break seeing you in so much pain, even after trying to leave you to keep you save it did nothing. there you sat in front of him after he fought the villain. He didn't know what to do.

Both of you scrapped and bloodily up all you want to do is be in his arms. And just like before he stood shocked for a moment feeling your body against his.

It felt so right, wrapping his arms around your body he held you tight, tighter than he ever has. "I'm so sorry y/n please I'm so sorry i love you" he tucked his head into your neck, the faint smell of your perfume filled his nose.

"Don't ever leave me ever again! I'm being serious" you hugged him as tight as he did to you. "And I love you too."

[missmielyhoran]

Breakup sex

Breakup sex but not what you think...

[Warning- Car smut, fingering, choking, exhibitionism?, p in v, dirty talking (slut, whore), unprotected sex (wear condom kids!), teasing, slight bit jealousy, breeding kink, Olivia Wilde]

A/N- Since Harry is out there buying Ferrari which is like hot asf here is smut😙. I don't know if the relationship was pr or not (it was) but in this it was.

Masterlist

*****

Harry has never been more ecstatic about break up, he was probably jumping on his feet. He was free from this exhausting PR.

Since start Harry didn't want to get into this mess but Jeff is known to be persuasive. Jeff made Harry see how much he could benefit from this blinding him from the demirts. He agreed on it and boy oh boy was it a ride.

Like any other PR he wanted to keep it professional. Keep his personal life out of it but she was so fucking clingy, going to hang out with his sister and mother at shows. Although yeah it made the "relationship" look real but it pissed him off. He liked playing with her kids though cause well they were kids and Harry loves kids if it wasn't obvious enough.

That was in past now he was a free man. No parading around with her hands in his showing off a fake relationship.

He didn't know what to do to celebrate so, he went to buy a car, Ferrari to be exact. He has a wide vast collection of cars, since One Direction days he was fond of cars. So, when 1D grew and they started earning good money he brought himself his first car. Then the collection grew and grew along with him.

He was walking around looking at cars with the store owner and manager on their toes telling him about the various features of models when the red Ferrari 812 superfast caught his eye.

So, he bought it.

Now he was on his way to yours.

Harry met you when he was in "relationship" with Olivia. You were Sarah's friend coming at the first few shows of the tour and then the LA ones to support her. When he first saw you he couldn't help but garner a little crush on you but couldn't make a move since he had a made-up front to keep up.

For few months he forgot about you the but then you came to see them on UK shows and his crush was back again stronger this time cause you stayed as Sarah's kid's temporary nanny.

Both of you started to become really good friends and Harry's crush grew more. He got to know you more like how you liked a little extra honey in your tea, you hated spicy food and had a sweet tooth, how you were studying to be a pediatrician and loved to play with Jake (Sarah's baby).

He had texted you when he got out of the store telling you to wear something cute. He tried to ask you out many times after he told you that his relationship was not real. It was after you two slept together for first time. You were both very drunk but Harry tried to grasp on every touch and curve of yours thinking he might not get a chance again.

You woke up panicking thinking you have slept with a take man and have ruined a relationship and how your mom was probably cursing you from heaven so, he had no choice but to tell you the truth to make you stay.

You slept together multiple times after that but you never agreed to go on a date with him.

But today he was a man on mission.

*****

You were sitting on your couch facing the door shaking your leg anxiously. You have seen the articles about the breakup this morning. You squealed happily so loud it scared your cat off the bed and then you got his text an hour ago telling you to be ready and it became the best day of your life before it even ended.

He told you to wear something cute. You were wearing a pale yellow skirt you have just brought with a heart detailing in front and a denim corset strapless top with heart shape neckline with a black leather jacket over it reaching the end of your skirt, with some chunky knee high boots.

Was it a date? were you dressed too busy? if it was a date you probably weren't dressed for anything fancy and if he had any intention to take you to hiking you just have to suck it up and break your ankles.

A knock gets you out of your racing thoughts. Your hands smooth down your outfit, taking a deep breath you open door and see Harry standing there with his signature smile.

All breath gets knocked out of him when he sees you, shamelessly checking you out from head to toe. You were gorgeous he always knew that but, "Fucking hell babe" he groans pushing you back inside and closing the door behing him so, no one can see them.

His hand immediately finds spot on your waist and his lips on yours. Your fingers get tangled in the hair on the back of his head. You thought of how many times you had to share these lips woth someone else and now they were all yours, the thought made you smile against his lips.

"What?" He asked breaking the kiss but not going far. You shake your head and look down between you two.

"Come on tell me" he pushed further, you looked up at him your chin resting on his collarbone.

"It's just- Only I get to kiss you now" You said with a shy smile. He laughes at how cute you are, his hand drawing circles on your back. He kisses your forehead, nose all over your face making you laugh.

"My jealous baby" He cooed.

"Come on lets go" You said pulling away from him knowing if you stayed like this long you will never leave house.

You locked the door behind you as he took your hand in his threading his fingers into yours tightly. You squealed excitedly inside.

"Is that a new car?" You pointed out as you came closer to the car parked.

"Yup just brought it this morning" He said opening the passenger side of the door for you then jogging towards his side and sliding in.

"When you said you were going shopping I thought you meant groceries not a Ferrari!" you exclaimed but also let out a chuckle. He just shrugs and starts driving.

His one hand stays on the wheel while the other on your thigh rubbing back and forth.

"Did I tell you, you look absolutely gorgeous?" He asked looking at you sideways. Your face heats up at the compliment as you let out a small 'no' making him smirk.

"Mhm. You looking soo beautiful baby, irresistible." Harry turns to look at you fully when there is a red light.

"You just want to get into my pants" you shook you head laughing. He smirks joining you in laughter. He leans down pecking your lips three times.

"I don't know about pants my love but this skirt is making me feral" He whispers against your lips. His hand on your thigh sliding up towards your heat.

"Harry" You breathe out looking at him through lashes and seeing his emerald eyes darken. Your whole body shivers with goosebumps his faint touch making you lose all control over yourself.

"You want me to make you feel good baby?" He asks still looking at you through the same gaze. Your eyes flick towards the traffic lights now turned yellow.

"There are people around, you need to dri-"

"It's a simple yes no question Y/N" He says with his authoritative voice. You were sure your panties were drenched with arousal. You simply got wet when Harry was around you but like this god you could die.

"Y-Yes" You mumble out making him smile again with dimples.

"Good girl" He pecks your cheeks and goes back to normal. His hand slid back up where it was before leaving you flustered.

What the fuck.

*****

Harry was having fun seeing you squirm in your seat. Your eyes flicking all over him like a hungry animal then staying on his hands. He knew you loved his hands, the veins and rings turned you on.

He kept his face forward while yours was facing the window. His hands started sliding up already feeling the wamth of your pussy.

"Har" You sighed as his middle finger slide up and down your covered folds. You were unbelievably wet making him almost groan out but he kept his face straight.

"Yes darling" He smiled innocently like he didn't knew what he was doing. He tried not to keep his eyes on you longer as to not distract himself and get into trouble.

"Please" you whined and fuck him. He felt his dick twitch at your tiny whiny voice.

"What you want darling? tell me?" He asked trying to focus on both you and the road.

"Your fingers please" You whined again, your face scrunched up in pleasure and distaste. You were soo turned on it started to hurt, you clit swollen and throbbing.

"Poor baby" He pouted. With two of his fingers he slid your panties aside. His thick fingers moving up and down collecting your arousal. "Fuck baby, all this for me?" He groaned.

"Yes fuck yes" You sighed falling back on seat your hand gripping his and other holding the dashboard.

His fingers slide up towards your clit and you let out a loud moan. The frustration leaving your body as he starts running tight but slow circles on it.

"You're so pathetic Y/N I haven't even done anything yet and you look like you're about to cum" He chuckles shaking his head. His cock was straining against his pants begging for release but he needed to please you first.

"Want me to fuck you with my fingers baby? Want to come all over my fingers and drench it?" He asked leaning in close and nipping on your jaw.

He had parked seeing an empty parking lot. The windows were tinted so, unless someone comes really close no one can see them.

He pushes off your jacket seeing your bare shoulders and neck, your tits almost spilling out of your tight top.

He brings his middle and index finger near your entrance and replaces his thumb on your clit. In one motion he pushes them inside you making you choke out a loud moan. Your body topples over gripping his hand tight enough to leave the mark of nails on them.

He's pushing his fingers in and out at a relentless pace. Your hips move up to grind against his hands to chase your high. After sometime he starts pushing his fingers up in a come here motion hitting the spot inside you. All while his lips move along your neck and chest leaving trail of wet kisses.

"Fuck fuck Harry I'm-" You get cut off by a moan. "I know baby" He coos, "Feels good doesn't it?" He says moving his fingers faster you didn't thought he could and all you could do was nod.

You came with a loud moan not caring if there was someone in the lot hearing you two no, it only made your high last longer.

"Fuck my whole hand is wet baby" he says pulling his fingers out. His fingers and rings glistening in your arousal, he takes his time sucking off every single one with his darkened eyes on your tired ones.

"You okay?" He asks pushing hair stick to your forehead out of your face. Instead of answering you take off your seatbealt and move to the drivers seat, in his lap. Your lips on his moving in frantic motion.

His hands slide down to your ass pulling you closer to him, his clothed dick feeling hard against your clothed pussy. You started dry humping on his lap, desperate like a bitch in heat making him groan.

"Fuck baby need you" He breaks the kiss to take a breathe. You keep your hips moving as his lips trail down to your neck making sure to leave his mark.

"Me too" You consent making him hum against your chest. He swats your behind asking you to move, you stand up uncomfortably on your knees as he quickly pushes down his pants and boxers in one go. His cock now laying heavy against his black shirt, red oozing with precum.

You sit back down on his lap grinding against his thigh to get some friction while yiu jerk him off, you give his dick giving it a firm squeeze and slide your thumb on the slit collecting the wetness making Harry moan loudly.

Your panties were uncomfortably sticking to your pussy but you didn't care. Not when he was in front of you red face, parted swollen lips with head thrown back letting out pretty noises.

It was like the switch went off inside his brain when your hand touched his neck. He swatted your hand off his cock and pulled you closer again. "Want this?" He asks again and once you confirm he brings his lips to yours.

His hands slide back under your skirt getting hold of your panties and tearing them in one go. You gasp at the burn but he didn't let you break the kiss. He took the ruined panties and put them in the cup holder.

He finally pulled apart and lined his dick to your entrance pushing it in one go. He gave you some time to adjust his finger moving in soft circle on your clit.

You started swaying your hips back and forth once the pain diminished fucking yourself on him. He groaned and leaned back ajusting his seat all the way back.

"Go on darling take whatever you want. Use me" He said. He brought his hand to your top pulling it down making your tits spill out of them. Harry laid back his hands folded behind his head as you bounced on his dick with your tits moving up and down. He was surprised he didn't already come at the sight.

He bought his hand up to your neck squeezing it enough to make you feel light headed. You threw you head back in ecstasy feeling the euphoria fill your body. Harry bought his hand up from your neck to your jaw holding it tightly, bringing your eyes back at him.

He pushed his thumb against your lips which you invited in sucking on it swirling your tongue while keeping your eyes on him.

"Fuck look at you riding my cock while sucking on my fingers like a filthy whore" He degraded his voice getting deeper and restrained. His words only made you more wet. "Who's slut sre you baby?" He asked.

"Yours" You whined your thighs starting to cramp up from all the movement.

"Aww, my pretty pillow princess getting tired? Want to be a slut but can't work for it?" He pouted taunting. Harry sat up separating his legs wider as he could in the cramped space of car. His hand holding your waist tightly stopping any movement.

"Now I'm going to fuck you like the slut you are and you're going to take it and scream so loud the whole parking should know my name" he whispered in your ears.

You didn't have anytime to comprehend what he said cause he was thrusting up into you at hauntingly pace. Your head fell down to his shoulder muffling the noises leaving you. Harry pulled you back with the hold on your hair making you cry out.

"Look at me when I'm fucking you" His deeper authoritative voice made you clench around him. "Fuck" He cursed out.

Harry bought his lips down to your chest sucking on your nipple hard almost breaking the skin while his fingers rolled the other one. You were a moaning, panting mess, there were tears streaming down your cheeks and you were sure your makeup was all ruined.

But you didn't care.

Harry gave both your breasts equal attention while you slide you hand down to touch your clit. You needed your release asap you couldn't hold it anymore. Seeing you touch yourself while his cock fucking in you had his eyes rolled back.

He was close, his thighs quivering and his balls felt tight ready for release. "Fuck baby I'm about to come" he groaned out, panting against your neck.

"Me too- oh god" you moaned loudly. You were clenching around him so tight you almost pushed him out.

"Where?" he asked. Usually he would pull out coming on your tits, mouth or ass wherever you wanted.

"In me please" You whined out. Harry's eyes bulging out, his pace faltering at the thought of his cum dripping out of you. He knew you were on pill but he never did that not knowing if you would be comfortable or not.

"Are you sure baby?" He asked again to confirm, "Yes I'm on pill but can't care less if you knocked me up" You moaned, you were on the brink of your fall into euphoria. Harry was sure you were angel and the thought him knocking you up was what made him lose it.

"Fuck cum them" He screamed. His order was all you needed, your whole body tingled as your vision went white. You felt Harry shoot his warm load inside you filling you up. Both of you were moaning, whimpering mess coming down from your high.

The car was hot and sticky from all the heat, the window were fogged up and it smelled like sex. You felt harry go soft inside you, his head between your tits while yours in his mess of curls.

"That was fucking incredible" He was the first one to speak. You laughed along with him agreeing.

Harry pulled out of you hissing from slight pain you felt. He shot you an apologetic look and took out some napkins from the dashboard and cleaned you up as much as he could.

He pulled his pants up and you pulled your top up much to Harry's dismay. His childish pout when you started buttoning up your top made you chuckle.

Both of you stayed silently there holding each other in the empty parking lot basking in each other's presence.

"So you will finally go on date with me?" He asks you sheepishly.

"Yes" You laughed fondly.

*****

I'm not trying to make anyone look bad...do I not like her? yes. Do I also not care? yes. I didn't know who she was before this and I'm going to keep it that way<3

Let me know what you think about this or talk to me here♡

Please Like, Comment and Reblog<33

[twyftwyt]

daily Noah thoughts, pt. 4:

random text messages you get by him edition [NSFW]

“No, babe, I don’t care if you're out with friends, family, or business. I will send you sexual messages. Explaining in great detail how I will ruin you. Explaining the entire process of how I will destroy you when you get back home. All while calling you your favorite little pet names in front of everyone.”

“It's a shame how wet you get to the sound of my voice. What happened? You were so bold and sure of yourself moments ago, through text. Why do you seem so small now after I called you? You have no answer. I’m not even home, and you’re already tripping up on your words. Now wait until I get home. Do you hear me? We are definitely going to get some pretty apologies flowing from those pretty lips.”

“thinking about my fingers in your needy little pussy and my other hand around your throat so I can feel your pulse on both ends as you cum.”

“what about wrapping my hand tightly around your throat with each thrust until you can’t even make a noise except for your pathetic attempts at gasping for air? what about that???”

“in the mood for disgusting, depraved sex and tender kisses on your forehead”

“i just wanna look into your eyes while i slip two fingers in your mouth until my knuckles touch your lips”

“i desperately need you to leave a trail of sloppy kisses down my stomach”

“i want you on your knees and drooling, looking up at me with those big, beautiful angel eyes while you have your tongue out”

“sleepy girls deserve to get fingered tenderly”

“the masculine urge to masturbate to your cute selfies”

“i’ll buy you a new plushy so you can hold it while i fuck you”

“really need you to beg me to absolutely ruin you and leave you a sobbing, whimpering mess”

“all i’m thinking about is fucking you to sleep. slow, deep.”

“there’s nothing in those desperate eyes that dont make me hard”

“you know what would be good before i go on stage? kneeling at my feet and nuzzling your face in my bulge rn would fix me”

“get ready, cause it’s “fuck you while you’re wearing my hoodie and some knee high socks” season”

“i’d really rather be gently stroking your clit and fingering you while spooning, with my arm wrapped around you and you lazily grinding against me while we are watching a horror movie, but sadly i’m in a venue in oklahoma 💀” (sorry, i had to make one a little funny)

“next time you tell me you “accidentally” forgot your pajamas at home and you have no other choice but to sleep naked, then start grinding your ass against me, i’m going to “accidentally” let it slide in”

[chaotic-orphan]

INTOXICATING FEAR — PART IX

Read part one here

Continued from here

TW: overall content warning, very uncomfortable, forced self-harm, self-harm, mentions of self-harm, explicit self harm, gory self harm, blood, cuts, knives, cutting, explicit detail of blood/wounds, gross depictions of blood, torture, threats of violence, hopelessness, sadistic whumper

This one is even a bit squidgy for me at parts so take care of the warnings and of yourselves! Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

“Wakey wakey, Hero,” Villain sang. That was their only warning before a slap echoed around the room and Hero’s eyes shot open in shock. Villain was crouching in front of Hero, red lips tilted up into a half smile as Hero jerked forward. They didn’t get very far though.

Hero’s arms were kept restrained awkwardly behind them, bound tightly wrist to wrist. Hero frowned at Villain in question.

“Where’s Superhero?” Hero asked, voice erring on cautious. If Villain had managed to subdue or god forbid kidnap Superhero and use them as their own little puppet toy play thing then there really was no hope for either of them.

“Oh don’t worry your pretty little head about Superhero, Hero. They had to nip out on an errand which gives us some much needed alone time,” Villain said, their voice too high and pleased with themselves as they spoke, but their eyes… Hero swallowed the lump in their throat at the pain they promised. “Ah, there you are. There’s my scared, timid little Hero. You forgot yourself before, it’s okay. You can admit it, it’s only the two of us here after all.”

“I didn’t forget myself,” Hero snarled, bearing their teeth at Villain and jerking forward in the chair as far as they were able to. “I am done playing by the rules of your sick twisted games.”

Villain tilted their head to the side, dark eyes drinking in Hero’s threat. “Did seeing Superhero make you brave, Hero?”

“They’re going to see right through you,” Hero sneered, “and when they do I’ll be there. Watching as they beat the—”

Villain jumped at Hero, one hand going to their throat while the other pressed a knife against Hero’s cheek. Villain wrenched Hero’s head up so they were staring directly into Villain’s eyes with that cute little defiant look. Villain revelled at how still Hero went once Villain introduced the knife to their face.

“You won’t be able to watch if I pluck out those pretty little eyes, Hero, would you?” Villain mused. Hero struggled to free their head from Villain’s grip but Villain tightened their hold and pressed the knife in deeper until Hero stopped. “Ah, ah, ah, Hero. Play nice or my hand might just slip.”

“Take my eyes!” Hero spat, their voice taking on a feral growl to it, as they struggled furiously at their restraints. “Take whatever the fuck you want because you will fuck up sooner or later and it’s only a matter of time until Superhero finds out who you really are! So go ahead!”

Hero craned their neck up further, pressing into the knife that Villain held. Daring.

Bold.

Villain pulled away, dropping all contact from Hero. Hero let out a scoff as they dropped their head and rolled their shoulders.

“Yeah, thought so.”

“You know, Hero,” Villain said with a sigh, pressing the tip of the knife against their index finger and twirling it thoughtfully. They turned their back to Hero, walking towards the front door.

“You’re right. I didn’t really think the whole sickness thing through, if Superhero comes back and you’re still as feverish as you were, well,” Villain said inclining their head, with a wan smile: “they’d probably recommend a hospital or a healer… both of which I have no need of.”

Hero remained silent, they just glared at Villain as they continued.

“So, while you were out of it I was trying to think of a way to get Superhero off our backs and I had a little lightbulb moment, Hero,” Villain said, and looked over their shoulder at Hero with a grin, “you wanna know what it was?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.”

“You’re so un-fun, but I will,” said Villain, turning to face Hero now. “Sometimes stress manifests itself as illness, Hero.”

“Well I am sick of you, so that makes sense,” Hero grumbled and Villain laughed.

“And sometimes, it manifests as mental illness.”

Hero’s brows furrowed in question. Villain smiled. “Don’t you want to have a guess at what I mean by that?”

“Not particularly.”

Villain shrugged. “Good. So we can begin then.”

Hero tensed in the chair as Villain walked purposefully towards them, and then around the chair out of sight. Hero turned their head, but Villain pushed it back so Hero was forced to stare forward.

“Hey! Hey! What’re you—”

“Oh, not so brave now are we?” Villain asked, sarcasm dripping from every word.

When the cool metal pressed against Hero’s wrist they jerked forward, trying to get away but Villain said: “stay still,” and the sludge like command melted Hero’s brain until they were forced to remain completely still.

The metal pressed against Hero’s wrist again and to Hero’s surprise, Villain cut them free of the ropes or whatever was tying them to the chair. They still couldn’t move but for some reason being free didn’t exactly make Hero’s heart sing with joy. Something like dread settled at the bottom of their gut instead as Villain walked around the chair again.

“Now, Hero, illness… sickness, physical sickness can be treated by a healer or a doctor but mental illness? Especially from stress, perhaps… oh I don’t know, work related stress of being a Hero, for example. That is treated by time away from the stressors.”

Villain paused just to let their words properly sink into Hero brain. Villain didn’t speak again until Hero’s wide eyes met Villain’s with a panicked kind of hatred.

“No,” Hero said. “No! You can’t—”

“Oh, yes, Hero. Yes I can.”

“Superhero would never… they wouldn’t—“” Hero blubbered before furious eyes met Villain’s dark ones. “They would check on me everyday—”

“Would they? A good soul like Superhero? Or would the guilt of having maybe pushed you too hard, or not seen the signs earlier prevent them from coming regularly?”

“Wait, Villain. You can’t do this!”

“Oh I can,” Villain chuckled.

Hero’s mouth screwed up desperately, their breathing coming out a bit faster than necessary. “But— but, I won’t be as fun if you can’t fuck with me when I’m at the Hero tower, and you won’t learn about anything or be able to take down the Heroes from within, or— or—”

“Oh relax,” Villain said with a wave of their hand. “This isn’t going to be permanent, Hero. Just a long enough break away from the stressful environment of being a Hero. Some good old fashioned R&R with yours truly will set you right.”

Villain bit back a grin when they saw tears gather behind Hero’s eyes as they struggled to try and fight Villain’s compulsion.

“Please, Villain. Please! Anything but that, please. I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want. Please, I’ll stop fighting you. Please just don’t— don’t—” Hero cried, cutting themselves off with a heartfelt sob, sniffing as the tears started falling down their cheeks.

Villain moved closer then, cooing at Hero’s pathetic display of desperation. Villain pressed a cold hand against Hero’s cheek, and brushed the tear streaks away with the coarse pad of their thumb. A sympathetic smile on their stupidly too-red lips.

“It’s okay, Hero. Everything will be fine. Come on, walk with me to the bathroom. The blood will be easier to clean off there.”

To Hero’s horror their body obeyed Villain’s command. Every neuron in Hero’s brain was firing at them to stop, to not go with Villain, to fight, to regain control over their own body but it was all in vain.

Hero stood from the chair and followed Villain across their living room into their bathroom. Villain turned on the light, and turned to grin at Hero, holding out a hand.

“What?!” Hero barked, wiping the angry tears from their eyes.

“Well you have two choices Hero, you either; step into the bath or hold your arms over it,” Villain said, leaning their lower back against the sink and crossing their long legs. “The choice is yours, it doesn’t really affect me.”

“Is it?” Hero asked, coming to stand in front of Villain, their heart thundering against their ears. If they could stall for time and wait for Superhero to come back, they could catch Villain in the act. They’d know that Hero was suffering at the hands of a fucking tyrant.

The corner of Villain’s lips quipped up. “Knock yourself out, Hero. Enjoy the freedom.”

“Except it’s not freedom cause either way you’re going to make me do one of them, aren’t you?”

“Well obviously,” Villain blinked, then smiled wide, “but I can wait if you want. We can wait until your precious Superhero comes back and instead of hurting yourself you can hurt them too. Would you like that, Hero?”

Hero swallowed, eyes narrowing into the points of a sharp dagger. “You said you wouldn’t read my mind anymore. Takes the fun out of it, have you changed your tune?”

Villain rolled their eyes and stood to their full height, stepping forward and knocking Hero back a step with their shoulder. Hero’s eyebrows rose in surprise as they stumbled back, forgetting that Villain was taller than them.

“Honestly Hero, I try,” Villain said with another step. Hero matched it with one backwards, still glaring up at them. “But sometimes it’s so rare that you think anything in that little noodle of yours that the thoughts are too loud for me to ignore.”

Villain pressed a finger into Hero’s forehead and tipped them back another step before Hero batted their hand away.

“Real funny, Villain. Hah-hah!”

“I try,” Villain said, flashing a charming smile. “But you’re right. I have decided. In the bath is better than out.”

Without pausing Villain pressed their palm flat on Hero’s chest, fingers spread and shoved Hero backwards. Hero hadn’t realised how close they were to the bath and with the hard push Hero was forced back, their thigh hitting the edge and they reached out to steady themselves but fell off balance. Villain getting further away as Hero fell, their head smacking off the tiles as they landed awkwardly in the tub.

“Motherfucker!” Hero cried, rubbing their head with a scowl as it pounded from the whack.

Villain shrugged leaning back against the sink again, arms folded across their chest. “I did give you the choice to get in the bath of your own accord. This one’s on you.”

“Maybe I want to lean over it,” Hero grumbled, fumbling to right themselves. When they settled Hero glared up at Villain from the tub. “Well we don’t have all day. Force me to do whatever you want, I don’t care anymore.”

“Hero,” Villain chided. “Don’t have that attitude, come on. Make it fun for me. Struggle a bit.”

“What’s the point? You’ll just use your powers on me and get what you want eventually. Let’s just cut through the bullshit.”

Villain shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Villain leaned off the sink and handed Hero the knife in their hand. “Hero, I want you to take the knife and roll up your sleeves and cut your wrists.”

Hero felt the blood drain from their face.

“What?” Hero whispered as their hand reached for the knife against their own wants. “Wait! Villain, you can’t want to kill me I thought—”

“Oh hush, Hero. Don’t be dramatic. Make the cuts horizontal. Not deep enough to bleed out or need stitches but enough to leave scars.”

Hero was rolling up their sleeves as Villain spoke. “Villain, wait please. Please! Wait! Stop! Why can’t you do this to me? Cut me? Make them believable? Please?! Villain please I don’t want to do this.”

Villain crouched so they were eye level with Hero, looking into Hero’s too bright eyes that were already tearing up at the mere thought of Villain’s command.

“What makes you think I care about what you want, Hero?”

Hero let out a sharp hiss as the blade sliced through their skin. Hero didn’t look down. They didn’t want to see what their body was doing to itself. Instead they stared at Villain as they cut and Villain stared at Hero, never dropping eye contact for a second.

That was until the third cut which hurt like a bitch. Hero sucked in a sharp breath as they banged their leg against the wall of the bath, wrenching their head up to stare at the ceiling and breathing slowly out through their mouth with a pained hum.

“Alright there, Hero?”

“Never bett— AGH! Fuck!”

This time Hero looked and they wished they didn’t. Sticky blood surrounded their wrist, thick and dark and gloopy looking. Hero couldn’t even tell where the cuts were because the blood from the last cut had washed over them all and left streams of blood racing down Hero’s palm. Splashing down onto the white floor of the tub.

Hero was going to be sick, but there was no time as their arm mechanically moved back to slice again. Hero looked up pleadingly into Villain’s dark eyes and found nothing but their own pathetic reflection staring back at them. Hero bit their lip to stop crying out on the last cut before Villain moved.

“Okay, Hero. That arm has enough. Mo—”

“Wait,” Hero croaked, licking their lips. “Waitwaitwaitwait, wait…”

Villain paused, tilting their head, eyebrows arching at interruption. They didn’t punish Hero though, or chastise them so Hero took that as an opportunity to continue.

“The… the blood— my knife will slip. I need to—”

“Okay Hero,” Villain said softly. “We can wait while you fix yourself.”

“Thank you,” Hero breathed, dropping the knife onto the tub floor with a clatter. Hero’s hands were shaking violently as they wiped the blood on their tracksuit bottoms, biting their lip to quiet the pained whimpers.

Villain clicked their tongue and said, “Hero stop. You’ll ruin them. Use the water.”

Hero blinked up owlishly at Villain, eyes glazed over as if the thought of using the bath hadn’t occurred to them. Hero nodded dumbly and reached over to the tab at the end of the bath and turned on the cold tap. The water was freezing. Before Hero could talk themselves out of it they grit their teeth and plunged their arm under the tap.

Hero let out a startled gasp of pain, making their other hand a fist and beating it off the side of the bath because the cuts stung under the icy water. Hero bit their lip and rubbed the sticky coagulated strings of blood from their arm and hand. They did their best to not watch them slither down the drain and instead focused on turning the tap off.

Hero looked down at their arm to see fresh bright red blood surface in their cuts. None of them too deep. Just exactly what Villain wanted.

Hero pushed themselves back to the middle of the bath, their tracksuit bottoms wet as they scooted across. Hero found Villain’s eyes with their own as they wiped the fresh streams of blood on their tracksuit, half to dry their hands, half to fuck with Villain just because.

Hero grabbed the knife and got comfortable, balancing their knees against the inside of the bath, feet planted on the bottom of the tub. They cocked a brow at Villain, as if to say I’m waiting and Villain had to laugh inwardly at the gall.

Villain’s lips quipped up at the simple defiance. “Okay, Hero. Now cut your other arm.”

Villain relished Hero’s shaking hand as they drew the knife over their skin. They wanted to record all of Hero’s micro reactions in their brain just so they can think on it whenever they’re feeling down. It was intoxicating.

To watch Hero’s hand shake, their body fight against Villain’s power and not be able to do a single thing to stop them. They could feel Hero’s mental resistance trying to fight Villain’s compulsion off them as they made the second cut. Villain drank in their expressions, every muted wince that they tried so hard not to show Villain.

It was pure turmoil they put Hero in, and it was addicting to watch. They could watch it all day, and never get bored but that was just with Hero.

Most of their other victims had a weak constitution and gave in a few days into Villain’s mental assault, in hopes that Villain would get bored and let them go, or maybe out of sheer weakness but not Hero. How long had it been now? Weeks? Months? And Hero was still fighting them.

Even if it wasn’t fighting Villain’s powers mentally it was their little looks of defiance, their unwillingness to concede even if it would make life easier on them. No… Hero was a fighter and Villain couldn’t get enough of them.

Their favourite part was coming up now… ah yes. After the third cut, Hero bit their lip to stop the sudden cry. A deeper cut. They brought their head up and stared Villain directly in the eyes, that defiance still evident through their pain filled, glassy eyes on the verge of tears.

It felt like Christmas and Hero was a gift for Villain to toy with, to batter and break and fix and break again, but a toy doesn’t give you that same satisfaction. The euphoria of seeing Hero’s white knuckled grip tight around the handle of the knife as they sliced through their flesh against their will, and tried to hide the pain in their expression. Trying and failing to hide it, but that just made it all the sweeter.

Villain leaned forward. “Two more, Hero. One deep, one shallow.”

“Nn— no,” Hero whispered, their hand shaking harder now. “No…”

“Remember little Hero, what you are. You’re my little puppet. My play thing, you don’t get to say no to me. Now, deep enough to hurt but not deep enough for hospital.”

“Fuck you,” Hero whispered venomously as they sliced through their arm deep. Hero cried out loud this time, craning their neck back to glare at the ceiling and Villain leaned closer. Observing the strain in Hero’s neck, their jaw their voice.

“FUCK! Ughh!” Hero groaned, stamping their foot against the wall of the bath again, trying to exert the pain in their arm and transfer it to the bath.

“Look at it, Hero,” Villain said, and Hero shook their head.

“Go fuck yourself, Villain.”

“Hero. I said, look at the mess you’ve made.”

Hero fought the command like they always did but still their head turned down against their will and their eyes fixed on the massacre of blood on their arm again. Villain watched as Hero visibly paled at the sight with a soft smile.

Hero made another cut while they looked at their arm and then Villain plucked the knife from Hero’s hand. Hero glared up at them. Villain just grinned.

“Clean your arms with the water, then change out of those clothes and put them for the wash. I’ll get the blood out of them, Hero don’t worry.”

“You’re so gracious,” Hero spat. Villain looked over their shoulder at Hero.

“Hero, slap your cuts for me.”

Hero barely registered the command but the sharp sting had them letting out a diminished howl through gritted teeth.

“You fucker!” Hero screamed after Villain, but Villain had already walked out of the bathroom laughing at the good of it. “I hate you!”

“I know, sweet Hero.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The Orphanage (plz lemme know if you want to be added or removed <;3) - @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom

[macklemore1648]

North Shore High pt 2

it’s not that i was scared of Regina, i just so happened to not glance at her in the hallways and turn the other direction almost immediately when i saw her. i didn’t text her the day she gave me her number, how do you casually text someone like that? you can’t just say hey or hi you have to think of something clever. so i just avoided the whole problem all together and didn’t text her. easy peasy. that’s what i thought until i had reached 4th period, the one class i knew there was no way of getting around without seeing her.

“are you avoiding me?” she said almost immediately when i sat down.

“no of course not why would you think that?” i was trying to sound cool honestly.

“because everytime i’ve seen you in the hallways you turn so fast,i think you almost fell over one time.” she was facing me and staring very intensely at me.

“i just forgot something in my locker.” i was more trying to convince myself more than her, there’s no way i made it that obvious did i?

i could tell by the way she nodded she didn’t believe me one bit but she turned back around and i didn’t hear another word from her the whole class. when Regina invited me to sit with her at lunch i thought she was being genius. as intense of a person she seems like, i thought she felt bad because it was my first day. but with the stories i’ve been hearing, and there’s been a lot, i know she’s not that kind of person. she had to be playing some kind of prank on me honestly. i don’t tolerate people like her, i cant stand bullies.

“y/n are you going to come sit with me? you already promised you would.” and there was that damn smirk she kept using everytime she would talk to me. i didn’t have a lie today i haven’t even seen janis and damian yet. i bit the inside of my cheek contemplating my choices. i could go over there and have a nice lunch trying not to throw it up on her, or i could make up another lie that i forgot to get something somewhere and find a nice place to hide. seeing as she saw right through my lie earlier i slowly walked towards her.

once i sat down i saw her two friends, who i’ve now discovered to be Gretchen Wieners and Karen Shetty. once Gretchen saw me she looked like she was about to lose it.

“um what are you doing here?” Gretchen said with big eyes.

i opened my mouth to say something but Regina had already beaten me too it.

“this is y/n she’s new and she’s sitting with us today.” Regina made it sound very casual but i could tell from Gretchen’s face it wasn’t normal for people to sit with them. she even said something about rules?

“okay well then she’ll have to learn the rules to sit with us!” ahh yes i knew i didn’t hear it wrong.

what a lovely day this was going to be.

//

school was finally over and i didn’t see any sign of Regina George waiting to hit me with her jeep so i walked as quick as i could to my car, and i turned right into walking as slow as i could when i saw her leaning on the hood of my car inspecting her cuticles.

fucking perfect.

“so y/n are you going to text me yet for the details of my party?” she hadn’t even looked up from her nails yet.

“i thought you said it was a small get together?” i knew it was dangerous to be talking to her like this but i was trying to figure her out, with the stories ive heard around it doesn’t sound like her. she seems almost completely opposite of it honestly.

“give me your phone.” she finally looked up at me and held her hand out waiting for my phone.

“what no i’m not gonna give you my phone, i can’t just hand my phone to strangers that’s weird.” i was already pulling my phone out of my pocket it was really no use to even try to say anything. every time she demanded something i did it almost instantly for her.

once she had my phone her hand she went straight to my contacts and added her number in herself, she then proceeded to text herself so she would get my number. she even went as far as taking a selfie on my phone and setting it as her contact photo.

“you better actually text me back.” she slid me my phone back and walked off with a sway in her hips that i couldn’t stop myself from staring. she really was something else. once i got into my car i pulled out my phone to look at what she said.

all she said was a simple hey with a smiley emoji.

she put herself as Regina <3 and the bubble dots were already popping up.

Regina <3

221 N Baker Street. be there loser ;)

//

the next two days i didn’t sit with Regina at lunch, she talked to me in 4th hour but only asking about questions of what was happening in class. i noticed she did start parking her jeep where i could see it from my car. and we somehow managed to get to our cars at the same time and she would wave at me with a that smirk and wink.

tonight was the night of Regina’s party. i tried to talk damian and janis who i was now getting closer with to come with me but they wouldn’t budge with their hate for her. they did tell me they would come pick me up with damian’s grandmas jazzy? i told myself i would scope the place out see how i was feeling and then leave after that. i wasn’t going to stay long i had too much anxiety for that.

i pulled the address up onto my phone and followed it till i pulled up to a very big house with cars lined down the street and loud music. there was already teenagers throwing up outside or walking all crazy from having a little bit too much to drink, and that was enough to convince me to turn around completely. but the little blonde i couldn’t stop running into too had already seen me.

“oh my god y/n you actually came?” Regina pulled me close into her and i could smell the same perfume and shampoo but with a hint of alcohol. she dragged me all the way into her kitchen to where she had an older woman serving the drinks.

“y/n this is my mom!” she shouted over the loud music.

“your mom lets you throw parties?” i had to stand close and shout to her to make sure she would hear me.

“she just wants me to be like how she was in high school and have everyone like me.” she was pretty close to me now and it was making me nervous with how close she was standing to me. i could see her eyes inspecting my face and studying me closely. she pushed a drink into my hand and cheered her drink with it and started downing it. i felt no other option to down mine with her.

//

my first mistake was letting myself actually come to this party. my second mistake was excepting multiple drinks from her and her friend Karen. because i ended up in Regina’s room with her Gretchen and Karen sitting in a small circle.

“oh my gosh guys we should play spin the bottle!!” Karen said who had obviously had one too many drinks.

“Karen it’s just us four that’s not going to be any fun.” Regina said from my right side. this sent Karen into thinking about another fun game we could play.

“what about never have i ever!!!” she shouted with a fit of giggles.

Regina thought this over for a minute before turning to me.

“what do you say y/n?” wanting my approval even though she approved everything.

“that sounds like the best idea you’ve ever had!” i have Karen a big high five. my stomach was feeling warm and i was feeling a little dizzy but i felt good, i didn’t feel like throwing up on Regina every time i looked at her now. she was very pretty it was hard to look at her for so long and not want to barf all over her beautiful face.

“okay i’ll start.” karen put on her thinking face and thought very hard about a good question

“never have i ever slept with someone whose name i didnt know.” she laughed really hard putting her own finger down, this girl did not understand the rules.

“no Karen you’re supposed to say stuff you haven’t done.” Gretchen said slapping her forehead.

“like this, never have i ever kissed a girl.” Gretchen said to karen who put another finger down. i also put a finger a down for that one with a smirk on my face. i looked over at Regina who was bitting her bottom lip as she put one of her fingers down. oh?

the game confined on with mostly sexual questions and Karen was the first one out. turns out she’s hooked up with 11 people. but nobody was supposed to know that.

i looked down at my phone to see that it was already 1 in the morning and i decided it was time for me to go home. but when i stood up i felt how drunk i actually was and i wasn’t sure driving home would be the best idea.

“you can stay here if you want.” Regina said softly next to me.

“i don’t want the cops showing up to my house because you got a dui or something like that.”

“you know you are hot.” i knew i shouldn’t be saying stuff like this but the words just came out of my mouth before i could stop them. “sometimes when i look at you and you’re looking at me i want to throw up on you.” i nodded a matter of factly. this made Regina smile large showing all of her teeth and i knew it wasn’t a fake smile. it wasn’t that smirk she had been using to seem like she didn’t care. it was a real genuine smile from Regina George.

“i think it’s time for you to go to bed loser.” she led to me a spare room where she gave me some spare clothes to sleep in. i grabbed them thankful and started stripping off my shirt in front of her ready to get out of my clothes and go to bed. Regina’s eyes went large and she turned around immediately.

“thank you Regina i had fun.” i could hear all of my words slowly slurring and getting more and more tired. she finally turned back around to face me after she gave me enough time to get dressed.

“get some rest.” she gave me a small kiss on my cheek and headed out of the room shutting the door behind her. i sent a quick text to my mother that i was going to be staying the night at my friends house and then texted damian and janis.

no neeb to get mE all gud hEre.

i tossed my phone god knows where and laid down into the bed and closed my eyes. the last thought in my mind was Regina George.

A/N: creative juices are flowing rn but it also 1 am sorry for any misspelling or anything i’m very tired. hope yall enjoyed, thank you to everyone for reading <3

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

A list of things from my season 1 rewatch, in no particular order (but most of them are about Jamie because he's my special little guy)

Attention to detail! A lot of plot relevant things come up in the background a long time before they're addressed overtly — the news broadcast in the background mentions that Jamie's on loan from Man City in 1x02 (although Ted doesn't seem to be aware of it until 1x06); Roy is shown icing his knee in the background of several shots, ect.

Jamie displays a mixture of genuinely bad behaviour and behaviour that isn't inherently shitty but reads as him being an asshole in light of his general attitude, and might register as worrying outside of that context (thinking he'd have to sleep with whoever bid on him and his clear alarm at the thought; dissociating when Ted yells at him, flinching when Dani goes in for the high-five, his conviction that people (mainly Ted) are playing mind games when they're being nice)

I don't think they had the Amsterdam story planned out when they wrote 1x04 but it fits really well with Jamie's behaviour at the gala. My interpretation is Jamie asked Bex to come so he'd have someone he knows to bid on him/drive up the price but didn't intend for there to be a bidding war with Keeley specifically — he doesn't ask her to bid on him until her and Roy joking about him having to sleep with Cheryl (the older woman) freaks him out, and I think he may have asked initially asked Bex because he knew that as his girlfriend Keeley probably wouldn't bid on him

Cartrick strikes me as kind of similar to James Tartt in a way that might have represented some sense of familiarity, no matter how unpleasant, for Jamie — Jamie's worst behaviour is in 1x03-1x06 when the team is changing around him and he's losing his hold, but at the same time, losing that position of power in 1x06 does seem to mellow him out a bit

Love Rebecca's schemer era and how her better nature seems to slip through in these moments where she's not deliberately trying to scheme (offering Keeley a job, helping Ted through his panic attack)

Ted has grown on me a lot since my first watch through when I honestly found him quite annoying. That being said I still completely understand why Michelle wanted to get a divorce. Aromanticism aside, I would also divorce that man. Sorry Ted.

Forgot how much season 1 makes you want to murder Rupert. I want to murder him so much. Fuck that guy.

Roy and Jamie's mutual hatred era is weirdly hilarious when you know they're going to end up as friends. Aw it's your bestie <3

[reasonsforhope]

One of the things that I really appreciate about this blog is that now, every now and then, when I hear about some new awful thing in the world, it will be in the context of "and this is what people are doing to fight it". That's so much less paralyzing.

(If you have any sources to recommend for experiencing more of that, me and my mental health would be further indebted.)

Ahhh, I forgot about this message, sorry! Been a hectic couple of months.

I absolutely have more sources!

One of the biggest is the media collaboration The Solutions Journalism Network, which focuses on just that: closing the massive gap between people reporting on problems and people reporting solutions.

I have a giant bookmark list of sources for this blog, for good news stories and hope, so here's a bunch of links! Roughly in order of how good I think they are (in terms of size of stories, previously uncovered stories, good editorial standards, accuracy, detail, number of stories, etc. etc.)

We're gonna start with the ones that do good news ONLY, because sometimes you fucking need that, and then below I'll link some excellent sources that have a higher than average number of quality pieces on good news, even though they also publish other stuff too.

Good and hopeful news sources:

Future Crunch - If you only read one of these sites, read this one!!! It's a MASSIVE biweekly roundup of international good news stories with really high quality reporting--a lot of UN and WHO and major NGO reports as their sources. I cry from hope at LEAST 30% of the times I read this, and tbh it used to be like 100%, about a year ago when I started realizing that hope for the planet and for humanity was something that was REASONABLE TO HAVE.

Reasons to Be Cheerful - Fewer stories, but FANTASTIC quality of reporting, especially on fantastic local stories, many of them in international communities, that you've definitely never heard of before

Positive.News - Good coverage and especially roundups, mostly Europe-focused.

Good News Network - This one is awesome for the high number and approachability of its stories, but unfortunately also includes more "That's not news that's just a heartwarming anecdote" and "That's not good news it's actually dystopian" pieces than I'd like.

Jane Goodall's Good For All News - Really awesome focus on international issues, a lot of news from Africa, a lot of news about youth organizers and youth-led projects, and a lot of focus on how helping the environment and helping communities are inextricably connected. Yall Jane Goodall is doing SO MUCH amazing work out there even at her age, and most people also have no idea.

Good Black News - Mostly posts on music and entertainment, and doesn't post all that often, but they're great.

Good Good Good

The Good News Hub

Only Good News Daily

( ) for Tomorrow - Directory of grassroots solutions to all types of issues and "proof that no solution is too small to have an impact"

A Plus - Dedicated to uplifting stories in video form. I'm sure they're awesome, I just don't rly use them bc videos can set off my sensory issues

The Happy Broadcast - Illustrated good news tidbits! I haven't been using them much but it looks like they've (recently?) added more text and sources to each image, so I might change that. Illustrations are pretty cute tbh

Sources that publish a lot of good news, but also other not good stuff:

Euronews.Green - Environmental section of European news org

Yes! Magazine - Excellent solutions-focused journalism, excellent focus on BIPOC content and underrepresented communities

TheMayor.EU - EU-focused, discusses a lot of good projects and cool local developments/programs

Grist - Solutions journalism, fantastic corage especially on environmental issues

Mongabay - Billed as "News & Inspiration from Nature's Frontline," they are amazing and have some of the best goddamn reporting I've ever seen. They mean "frontline" very literally: there's a TON of pieces about and by and interviewing communities on the front lines of environmental conflict, especially developing nations and Indigenous communities world wide. That said there's also a lot of bad news on nature's frontline still, while they report a lot of amazing and powerful good news, make sure you're in a resilient mood when you visit this site, because some of the stories are also pretty upsetting.

Indian Country Today and Native News Online - two of the leading news orgs for Indigenous communities in the United States. Kind of like Mongabay in that they have a lot of good news stories from Indigenous communities that often no one else is reporting on, but also plenty of coverage of things that are definitely not good, so better to read when you're in a resilient mood.

If you have any good news sites/sources you'd like to add, please drop them in the replies or comments! I'm always looking for new good news sources (though I def don't always have time to use all of them, rip!). Plus, let's support these sites by giving them some traffic!

We could all use more ways to get some more good news.

[strangersteddierthings]

What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

"Did you ask about my sandwich?" is the first thing Robin asks him when he falls through her window. Only after the question has been asked does Robin turn on the lamp beside her bed.

"Ow," he replies, because he's landed on her shoes. One is digging into the center of his back and the other his buttcheek.

"I'll take that as a no," she swings her legs off the side of the bed, sitting up to look down at him. "You know, with the amount of noise you just made, you might as well have used the front door."

"We both know your parent's know I'm here, anyway. The use of your window is to avoid conversation with your mom. She always asks if I'm planning to propose before you go to college, or after you graduate."

Robin gags. "Don't remind me. Now get off the floor and tell me when I'm to expect lunch delivered by Eddie to Family Video?"

Steve does haul himself off the floor, then, because the shoes are painful. He joins Robin on the bed, shoulder to shoulder, and leans against her. "Sorry. I forgot to ask about your sandwich."

"I forgive you. Now, to the secondary issue of the night. Show me your knuckles."

"What!?" Steve usually prides himself at being able to keep up with Robin and her random thoughts, but this is so out of left field.

Robin just grabs the hand closest to her for inspection. It doesn't take her long to drop it and reach across him to grab his other hand. "Hmm. No signs of physical damage. Did you smother him to death with a pillow instead?"

Ah. "Har har. No. There was no violence of any kind. There was some yelling, at first, and I got the last word in-" "the most important part of any argument." "-because I screamed fuck you and then ran to my room but then... then he looked so sad about it. I even tried to a pick a fight, twice!-" "Yes, yes, your self-destructive tendencies." "-but Eddie really seemed upset by it all, which, he should. If he hadn't been a dick then I wouldn't be holding a grudge. But..."

"But you were also a dick back the rest of high school, so maybe the hurts can like... even out and go away?"

"Well, we didn't word it like that but that was the, like, ending we came to, yeah. Dustin was right. He's a dick, but like, in the same way I am, I guess."

Robin leans away from him so she can sway her body back, bumping her shoulder against his. "So, to summarize...?"

Steve shrugs. "We talked it out, I told him about Christopher and like, glossed over my parents leaving me alone all the time but I think he picked up on it. Especially after I told him your theory about why I was so attached to a cousin I saw for three to four weeks once a year."

"Hey, don't do that. Don't downplay how you're feeling or smack talk your own emotions. Those are my jobs and I'll not have you leaving me unemployed. Now come on. Let's lay down, and you can be the little spoon, and tell me all about it."

"You just don't want to see my ugly cry face."

"I don't want to see your ugly cry face," Robin parrots back as she clicks off the lamp before they lay down and do exactly as promised. Steve retells the whole night in as much detail as he can remember and Robin does spoon him, patting at his head and giving his stomach a little squeeze every time his voice goes watery.

Eddie left Steve's house with his entire worldview shifted. He hasn't felt this rocked about events since learning monsters were real. And the thing that has rocked him the most isn't learning that Steve had essentially been abandoned by his parents when he was fourteen, or even learning about the tangled web inside Steve that consists of his love for fantasy, curiosity for DnD, and grief for the loss of his cousin.

No, what has rocked Eddie, what worldview has shifted, is his perception of himself and how he has been viewing the world. Him and his fucking Munson Doctrine.

It had served him well, back when he'd first learned the word 'doctrine' in sixth grade and made his own then and there. It let him draw clean and clear lines between what hurts and what doesn't, what keeps him safe and what didn't. Befriend the lost sheep, avoid the jocks. Flight was the superior fight or flight response.

And he had made changes over the years; as a rule, don't tell the cops shit about anything, ever. Make yourself the target to help the little guy (if you're the weirdest kid in school, the others might get overlooked). Slash the tires of everyone who dunks your head in a toilet.

Those kinds of changes.

Around junior year, Eddie started selling because they needed a second income. He'd put in application around town, first, but hadn't received a single call back. Hell, four the places he applied straight up told him they wouldn't hire him so he could quit checking in on his application. He knew Reefer Rick wouldn't turn him away. Not when Eddie could get to the high-schoolers Rick knew would pay too much for too little a hell of a lot easier than Rick could.

It came with the added bonus of bullying ending for him, when the same people who used to shove him around or knock things out of his hands ended up wanting to buy some drug or another, and instead of finding Reefer Rick waiting at the picnic table in the trees out of view, they found Eddie.

This added a new point to the doctrine: charge jocks double. He'd held to that until Chrissy, who had seemed so much more like one of his sheep than a jock.

And, well, everything after Chrissy should have ended the Munson Doctrine completely. Because he'd used it to put people in nice, little boxes that made sense in his mind and that was fucking blown to pieces.

Nancy Wheeler, badass gun-owner who he watched make a sawed-off shotgun? She'd in a box labeled 'Priss, Prim, and Proper' and wasn't that a fucking lie.

Robin Buckley, who he knew withstood Russian torture and willing walked into Hell to save the world? He hadn't ever even given her a second thought. She wasn't a jock, a nerd, or a customer, so she just didn't really exist. Which is so shitty of him to realize.

And Steve. Steve fucking Harrington, who ripped a goddamn giant bat demon apart with his bare hands after biting it and then spit the blood out like every horror movie fans wet dream? Like Eddie's wet dream. Well, he'd been a real dick most of high school. That was a fair box to place him in, at the time.

But because of that goddamned Munson Doctrine, he'd been a dick to Steve first. He'd ruined any chance at even being Steve's friend.

Or he had, before tonight.

It's a really fucking humbling thing, to have your own biases thrown in your face. Don't get him wrong, at first it absolutely made him livid. It hurt, and made him defensive, when Steve didn't just accept his apology. He'd instead shot back, something about him not being wrong about who Steve turned out to be and then Steve... Steve had said 'lashing out at me first, at my reading ability, and mocking me for not being quick at math' and Eddie had felt his stomach drop.

He hadn't remembered that day, not nearly as clearly as Steve did, but Steve's words had brought the moment back to him. He couldn't recall exactly what he'd said but he remembered the feeling of satisfaction at humiliating Steve some random jock that day. Satisfaction at flipping the script and getting to be the one who wasn't hurt. He'd laughed at Steve with the other people who had gathered to watch Steve struggle to do simple addition. He'd retold the story to everyone in Hellfire after school and they'd all cheered about it, told Eddie he was right to do what he'd done.

What he remembers even more, though, is coming home to Wayne and bragging about it. Thinking of the responses he got from his friends. But Wayne didn't congratulate him. Wayne had nodded softly along with the story and then said, 'you can't be the one to hit first, Edward. You throw one to many punches and soon enough yer knuckles don't feel the pain anymore.'

Eddie had puffed up, defended himself, yelled at his uncle for defending a jock and Wayne had interrupted him there.

"He mighta been the jock, but you were the bully."

That had hurt almost as much as every punch his father had ever thrown at him. And did Eddie even learn from it?

No. He doesn't think so.

Eddie had a shit life until his Uncle stepped in, stepped up, and showed him that love was unconditional.

And he's just spent the whole evening learning about Steve, and how the love of his parents had always been conditional. (And never in a way Steve could achieve. Not that Steve had said their love was conditional, but you don't abandon a kid you love at fourteen.)

Steve's every decision until the Upside Down had happened was based on what his parents would think or want. Trying to earn his dad's respect or some shit.

Steve's dad might not have hit him, but Eddie knows an unloving father.

Jesus, all this thinking makes Eddie want a cigarette. He drags himself off his bed and to the window, which he yanks open and leans half out to smoke because this is a new trailer and Wayne asked him to smoke outside when they moved into it.

He left Steve's house feeling like they could be friends, which is great. Way more than Eddie expected. It was just also... a lot to process. A lot to take in.

Jesus. He'd never expected Steve to really be willing to play 20 questions to get to know him, either; that he was willing to set his grudge aside and try, even with his anger at Eddie wrapped up in grief for Christopher. Eddie wouldn't have been able to do it.

Not with his Doctrine in the way.

He doesn't need to change everything about himself, but he definitely needs a deep dive into who he is verses who he wants to be, or has thought himself to be. Steve admitted to bettering himself and Eddie wants to be a person worthy of being around Steve.

And being honest with himself in the quiet of his room, Eddie wants be a person worthy of being with Steve.

He's allowed to be a little delusional about it all, he thinks.

[tmntxthings]

∑一 Gasoline・゜・。

author’s note: so I started this months ago and came back today and somehow finished it? it’s now 4 am and idk what I’ve written but we posting it babyyyyyyy

song: reckless driving by lizzy mcalpine, ben kessler

warnings: cursing, narcissism, over-dramatics, cringe, sarcasm, flirting, confessions, unedited

—————————————————————————

Okay, I’ll admit. I’m not the best when it comes to..following the rules? Heeding caution? Listening to anyone??? Yeah not the greatest in that department.

But! I’m practically flying high in all others. Better brother, better turtle, cooler weapon, and not to mention handsome as fuuuck. So handsome in fact, I know I’ve snagged your attention. Heh. Call it what you will, intuition or gut-feeling, I know I’ve been occupying your mind.

But the thing is, you won’t admit it. No matter how much I prod, tease, or blatantly ask. It’s always “Leo, no.” “Leo, stop!” “Leo, shut up!!” And never “Yes, I think about you endlessly Leo, you’re right, and super handsome, be my one and only turtle”

…

Yeah…

It’s never ever that. And maybe that’s the reason why I can’t let this go. Because I know I’m right. If I wasn’t why would you keep coming around? Why would you spare glances my way? Why would you wear blue? It was all so infuriating to see these little details only to be denied again and again.

Raph says I’m getting a little obsessed. Donnie doesn’t give two fucks. And Mikey says something even worse, that I’m in love. Barf. Gross. Me? Love? Hell no. I collect admirers. I flirt with everyone. Unabashedly. Why would I fall in love with someone who is so clearly in denial that they are in love with me??? All I’m doing is getting them to admit the truth, and then they’ll be another tally mark. Another addition to the ever growing list of admirers I have.

It comes with the title of being the Face Man and all of that. Perks of being me I guess!

And so I was up to my usual antics.

“Keys Y/n, keys babe!” You scoffed pushing my hands away. “Keep your grabby mitts away, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you drive.”

“I curbed one time Y/n. Once! Give a turtle some slack here!!” I’m practically begging at this point. Because I have a plan. A genius plan to get you to finally admit the truth. It’s going to be epic.

“I think you’re also forgetting the three times you purposely ran into trash cans. You almost backed into another vehicle. And don’t get me started on how many times you accidentally forgot the keys in the car!”

…Okay so maybe there are a few more reasons as to why I shouldn’t be driving. But no matter! I’m a master manipulator. I can sway those around me like a pro. Plus since ya have feelings for me, I’m sure you actually really do just wanna hand over those keys. You’re just like playing a little hard to get is all.

“Whaaaa?? Are you sure that wasn’t Angelo? Pretty sure that was totally him and not me.” A big cheesy smile lights up my face trying to turn that frown of yours upside down. “Plus in any case I’ve got super rad portal powers to snab the forgotten keys!”

“Leo. No.”

And the actual begging and groaning and bemoaning ensues. I don’t throw temper tantrums that often. Only when necessary. After many ‘pleases’ and promises to drive extra careful. I finally get my long awaited—

“Leo, I said noooooooooo!”

A hard flick resonates against the space right above the middle of my eyes. Dramatically I flinch backwards crying out in faux pain. My hands going up, one covering the space that has just been so grievously wounded. “Oh c’mon that didn’t hurt…”

“Did it?”

Peeking through my three fingers I see the wisps of concern on your features and it’s at this moment where my all-of-the-sudden-plan enacts. As you draw closer out of worry it’s just too easy to create a small portal with my other hand that is behind my back. Don’t ask how the dagger got in my palm. Sometimes being a ninja just has its perks.

And just like that the keys to your car are securely in my hand and I bolt before you can realize you’ve been…hand-pocketed? Pick-pocketed? Whatever the case!

As I gloat from the driver’s side window, with the locks safely on so you couldn’t just rip open the door and strangle me like you were threatening to do right now. I make a show of raising the volume in your car and celebrating more with a little dance in the drivers seat. It’s not until you shake your head and the flames extinguish from your eyes do I dare to unlock the passenger door for you to get in.

You do slam the door close though. “Dramatic much?”

I can’t help but tease. I love winning. I love rubbing it in everyone’s face. And it makes my bones sing to see you get so riled up all over little ol’ me. You glower, somehow holding your tongue, perhaps giving me the silent treatment as you take over the music.

Driver gets veto power though. So I skip a bunch of songs you choose until I feel the flames start to rise again and I worry we (or rather I) may never even make it out of your driveway before I turn into roasted turtle. And that can’t be tasty.

So I let this particular song play. Humming along since I don’t know the words as I start to pull out and drive on the road. You stay silent for the most part and that just won’t do so I may or may not get a little too close to a curb for comfort on your side of the vehicle.

“God damnit Leo if you curb!!” You hiss as you clutch the handle on the car door. “Whoopsie!” I laugh getting back to the middle of the lane easily enough. “Where did you want to go so badly anyways?” You grump. But at least you’re talking now! “It’s a surprise!” I sing-song.

Now initially, my plan to force your admission of feelings was to continue to drive really recklessly and maybe almost die in a car crash or something like in the movies. And while you think I’m about to die you just have to tell me that you are helplessly in love and like magic. Confession secured.

But now thinking about it more seriously there are plenty of unknown factors like, what if I do actually kill myself in the process. Or ya know, you get hurt? Or I just wreck the car and we both are totally fine?! I don’t see myself surviving much longer after that if that ends up being the case. So I have nothing. Zilch. Nada. No back up plan was really made.

So I just drive.

And as previously mentioned, I’m not the best driver…

So you are on edge the entire time and constantly telling me to “Watch out!” “Don’t curb!” “Don’t hit that dude crossing the street!” “Red means stop!” “Yellow means slooow!”

Thankfully I know what green means. Aka turtle. Aka go ninja go ninja go. I’m proud of that one. Anywho, the drive winds up and down the backstreets of New York until even I don’t know where the fuck we are.

I pull over, parallel parking. Miraculously it’s one of the few tricks I can do with a car and you breath out a very unnecessary sigh of relief. “So this is the surprise?” You are looking around the low rise buildings with slight curiosity but more confusion than anything.

Nothing here is really special. No shops. No bright sparkly lights. It’s actually pretty grim because a few of the streetlights are out making the dark night even darker. It’s probably the least romantic place in the world. Definitely holds no sentimental value for an awe-inspiring confession.

My head hits the steering wheel as I close my eyes and say “Yup!” As bright and false as possible. I feel like a jerk and even worse than that a failure. I’m greeted with silence and I don’t open my eyes to check your face. I’m sure it’s turning into disappointment right now.

“Leo, everything okay?”

My head turns slightly, if only because your voice sounds a little different. I mean you usually are quite serious, but it’s also one filled with… care? “Just thinking.” And that is not a lie, just a very vague statement.

“Wanna talk about it?”

I mull it over. What am I even thinking? Driving around in the middle of the night. Being chaotic. Being a nuisance. Being with you. Dragging you along. Trying to get you to say something you’ll never say in a million years. And turtles sadly don’t live that long.

“Y/n, do you like me?”

I don’t dare take my eyes off of you now. Truthfully I feel like spewing out nonsense to cover up my mistake. I just had to open my big fat mouth. To actually say shit I actually mean. Or in this case something I really want to know. Your eyes widen ever so slightly, and you tilt your head as if you hadn’t even considered that a possibility. Liking me.

I’m instantly filling up the silence. “Like better than Mikey right? Pretty sure I don’t have to sweat over Donnie. And Raph may be second place but I’m definitely number one right?”

This way it’s easy. This way it’s safe. This way no one gets hurt. This way I don’t get hurt. This way I can play it off.

“I do like you.”

My thoughts empty and I straighten up. Swallowing back the spit that’s suddenly filling up my entire mouth. “Right duh, of course you do. Everyone does!” I laugh, smiling big as if nothing you just said affected me. Like I totally won’t be thinking about this even later tonight back at the lair. Overthinking it. Surely you meant it as a friend… but a turtle can hope?

“Even though you are so annoying.” You tack on, but your smile is too much. It’s genuine. It’s not plastered on like mine. It doesn’t hide anything.

Oh shit.

I just continue on, blabbering complete and utter nonsense at this point. Because part of me can’t believe it. That you really said it. That you do like me. That this surely isn’t possible, that you’re about to laugh and say that this was all some funny joke.

“Do you like me?”

And where there was nonstop chatter, it turns to silence. I avoid your stare now. In fact I turn my whole face away because I can feel my red marks heating up. Which is never a good sign. Blushing will only end in embarrassment. More than I can handle.

“Whaaaat? Me? Like you?”

I leave it open ended. To be inferred that I couldn’t possibly. But I think I just continue shooting or maybe slicing myself in the foot. Over and over and over again. Because in the window I can see you’re still looking my way. And your lips are pursed together in a small know-it-all smile. I whip my head back around, forgetting all about the embarrassing heat that covers my face.

“Y-yeah. I do.”

And then you lean forward.

Time slows.

And I feel your lips on mine.

And my eyes are so wide. I don’t know what to do but just stare. I don’t move. I don’t breath. Your eyes are closed and your lips are soft if only a little chapped. You pull away slightly, and I can feel your breath fan over my face.

“Good.” Is all you say. And I nod like a dumb pile of rocks is all I have for brains. “Now how about I drive?” Again I’m nodding.

The only thing that breaks the trance is the warning beep from your display signaling that I’ve just wasted all of the gas left in your tank.

…

Whoops!

—————————————————————————

[phillippadgettwrites]

Dropped Call, Chapter 2

Rated X / 3700 words / posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

They’re in Lakeland, Florida and it’s been pissing rain since they hit the tarmac in Tampa. Between the inability to keep his loafers dry, the fact that he forgot his glasses, and the lack of cable in his motel room, Mulder is in a seriously bad fucking mood. He even turned down dinner with Scully, something that is typically the highlight of his day on assignment, to spare her from his grouchiness. He always hates himself when he’s an asshole to her for no justifiable reason, and right now he doesn’t possess the capacity to regulate his emotions as effectively as he’d need to to avoid it. 

At this point, he’s come to the conclusion that the phone call was some kind of hyper-realistic dream or fantasy. Given, the facts don’t totally line up in support of that theory, but it’s easier to operate under the belief that it never happened than it is to accept the idea that it did happen but will never be spoken of, much less acted on. Easier than accepting that he unwittingly divulged graphic details regarding his sexual fantasies about Scully to Scully herself, and she was so horrified that she can only cope by acting as though the phone call never took place at all. 

But was she really horrified? His memory of the exact words spoken by each of them isn’t especially sharp, given that he thought he was speaking to Electra, but he’s pretty sure he remembers her asking him questions, goading him into sharing more. And he knows that he correctly recalls what she said about “enjoying other meals,” because by then he knew exactly what he’d done and who he was speaking to, and the high he experienced in light of her confession lasted well into the following day, right up until he knocked on her door with a paper bag containing tom kah gai in hand. 

She hadn’t acted strangely, aside from the general lethargy caused by her cold, and that in itself struck him as strange. She ate her soup, smiled at him while he detailed the creative ways he’d wasted time that morning in her absence, and then yawned and said she was going to take a nap. It’s not that he was expecting her to bring up the phone call or kiss him goodbye or something, but he thought things would feel…different. He certainly felt different. 

But weeks have passed, and she has more than fully recovered from her cold, yet there is nary a hint of increased sexual tension between the two of them. In fact, there’s been a distinct lack of their typical casual flirtations, almost like they’ve regressed. What conclusion can he come to other than she’s just not interested? She seems to want to pretend it never happened, and for lack of a better option he’s done the same. 

He calls the front desk again, hoping that he’ll get someone other than the exceedingly unhelpful young man who offered apologies regarding the lack of cable, but no solutions. After speaking to the night shift manager at length, his options are to move to a room clear on the other side of the complex, or go without. 

“Let me think about it and call you back,” he says, then slams the phone down on the receiver with more force than is necessary and flops onto the bed.

Within seconds the phone is ringing and he picks it back up, expecting to hear the night manager on the other end. 

“Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

He can hear the ghost of her voice through the poorly insulated wall between their rooms, a murmuring, indecipherable vibration. 

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted the rest of this pizza, but I kept getting a busy signal so it’s probably cold now,” she says. 

“I’ll never understand your aversion to cold pizza,” he says.

She makes a noncommittal little noise, and then they are quiet for a beat. 

“So who were you talking to?” she asks. 

Her voice is a bit higher than normal, giving away her attempt to appear disinterested in the answer, and that, in turn, piques Mulder’s curiosity. 

“Who do you think?” he replies, just to see what she’ll say. 

Scully scoffs as though this confirms what she already suspected. 

“Please send my regards to Electra,” she snarks. The reference to their previously unmentionable phone call sends a shock of adrenaline through him. He can’t think of anything to say, so he just doesn’t say anything. “What time do you want to head out tomorrow?” Scully says quickly, changing the subject, and he can nearly feel her embarrassment radiating through the wall. 

“Nine?” he suggests, and she grunts her agreement. There’s another pregnant pause, and he decides to seize the opportunity. “I told Electra about what happened,” he says, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

“Oh?” Scully says after a beat.

“Mmhmm,” Mulder replies, summoning courage. “She said you’re going to put her out of a job.”

Scully huffs an uncomfortable little laugh. 

“I highly doubt that,” she says quietly. 

They’ve never had an issue with awkward silences. As many hours as they spend in one another’s company, it’s just not possible to avoid lulls in conversation, and he’s long appreciated the fact that Scully doesn’t try to fill them with meaningless drivel. An unfortunate side effect of this is that on those occasions where they are intentionally avoiding a specific topic of conversation, the weight of those unfilled silences is practically unbearable. 

He wants to ask her so many questions. Why didn't she tell him it was her? Was she disgusted by what he said? What did her cryptic comment about “enjoying other meals” really mean? Is this a door she never wants to open, or does she just need him to open it for her so they can both walk through? 

“I’m sorry about that, by the way,” he blurts out, inexplicably compelled to keep them on this subject. “We’ve never talked about it, but I realize that it was probably really weird for you and…sorry.”

Part of him knows he’s fishing for information. If she accepts his apology, he can take that to mean that an apology was due. If she refutes the need for one, that will tell him something entirely different. 

She doesn’t do either of those things. 

“Well, I could have hung up,” she says, her tone inscrutable. 

“But you didn’t,” he says, equally ambiguous. 

“No,” she says. 

The silence is so fucking heavy it makes him feel sick. 

“Why is that?” he ventures. “Just out of curiosity.”

He hears her pull in a slow, deep breath and then expel it in a huff. 

“I’m not sure,” she finally says. He can’t tell whether she’s obfuscating. 

“Were you offended?”

“...No.”

“Surprised?”

“Very.”

“Was that surprise of the pleasant or unpleasant variety?” he asks, switching the handset from one ear to the other so he can wipe his sweaty palms on the bedspread. 

He’s listening so intently that he hears both the wet sounds of her tongue moving around inside her mouth in search of words, as well as the creak of bed springs as she shifts uncomfortably on the mattress.

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” she says after a time.

What the fuck does that mean? He wonders. He could logically conclude that she was into it, between the not hanging up, the asking of questions, and the hesitance to outright say whether it bothered her. But this is Scully, and the risk of making an incorrect assumption is not one he is willing to take. 

“How long have you been talking to her?” she asks, and at first he doesn’t understand the question. Talking to who?

“Oh, I was actually talking to the front desk,” he says, realizing that he never corrected her. “The cable in my room is out.”

“Oh,” she says. “So you didn’t really tell her about what happened?” 

Her tone is strange and foreign to him. She sounds uncertain, insecure almost. 

“I did, a few weeks ago.”

“Hm.”

“To answer your question, I’ve been talking to her for….I guess a little over a year now,” he says. 

This would typically be an embarrassing thing to disclose, but her active participation in a phone call of the same nature makes him feel like she doesn’t really have a place to judge. He also finds her curiosity regarding Electra compelling, though he can’t really say why. 

“Oh,” she says, sounding surprised. “That’s a long time. With one person, I mean.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

He can tell there’s something she’s not saying. Something she wants to ask him, or wants to know but is unwilling to ask. He has an overwhelming urge to tell her everything, to detail the ways that talking to Electra helps him cope with having to bury his feelings for Scully every weekday between the hours of 9-5, plus most weekends. He wants to tell her that it’s not just about sex, though it was the night he ended up with her on the line. That Electra knows exactly what Scully looks like, down to the little mole on her upper lip, and that she snorts if he manages to make her laugh hard enough. That for every time he’s jerked off while telling Electra what he wishes he could do with Scully physically, there were two phone calls where he kept his pants on and told her how tormented he is by his inability to get closer to her emotionally. 

“It’s not always like that,” he says, opting for a less detailed disclosure. “Most of the time when I talk to her, we just talk.”

“About what?” she asks, and he immediately feels his face get hot. 

“I feel like you already know the answer to that,” he says, equally mortified and irritated. It doesn’t seem fair for her to feign ignorance at this point. 

Scully is quiet, but he knows her mind is racing. He can feel it, a frenetic crackle against the shell of his ear. 

“I guess I do,” she says when he’s just about to ask if she’s still there. “I don’t want you to think…” she starts. He waits for her to find the right words. “I don’t want you to think I was offended or that I’m upset about what happened,” she says carefully. “I realize that it might seem like I am, so I just wanted you to know that I’m not.”

“Okay,” he says uncertainly. This is good news, in a way, but it’s also non-news. 

“I also owe you an apology,” she continues. “It was inappropriate of me not to tell you as soon as I realized. I violated your privacy, and I’m very sorry for that.”

“No apology needed,” he says. A beat passes. This is ridiculous. “Can we just—Look, I know this is awkward, and I know you’re a private person, but can we just—”

“I don’t think I’m ready to do that,” she interrupts him, her voice urgent and a little afraid. 

He takes a moment to absorb this. 

“You’re not ready to talk about it,” he says, and she hums in confirmation. “But you’re….interested? Open to it? Eventually?”

“Eventually,” she repeats. “Not now.”

“Okay,” he says, satisfied that he understands the situation. “I can and will respect that.”

“Thank you.”

“See you at 9 tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

He hangs up the phone and folds his hands over his belly, staring at the dusty popcorn ceiling as he thinks back through it all. A little smile plays at the corners of his mouth. Eventually isn’t something he can necessarily look forward to, but it’s a hell of a lot better than never. 

The phone rings, and reaches across the nightstand to answer it. 

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

Mulder’s eyebrows furrow. The voice is definitely female, but he can’t immediately place it

“Hi. Who’s this?”

The caller clears her throat. 

“Uh, this is…it’s Electra,” she says. 

A hot flush spreads out over his entire body, and there’s a slight ringing in his ears. 

“Hi,” he says, sitting up. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” she says. “What are you doing?”

He hears the vibration of her voice from the other side of the wall, the cadence of it a millisecond ahead of what comes to his ear through the phone. 

“I’m just relaxing,” he says. He suddenly doesn’t know how to behave. “I’m at a motel and there’s no cable in my room.”

“Oh no,” she says. “What are you going to do to entertain yourself?”

Her tone is awkward and unconfident, but he understands what she’s going for and plays along. 

“I don’t know,” he says, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. “Any ideas?”

“Well,” she says, her voice just this side of shaky. “You could tell me about another one of your fantasies, if you want.”

There is a rush of blood to his lap that makes him momentarily lightheaded. She’s really doing this. 

“Okay,” he says, but his mind goes blank. What is she hoping to hear? What if he says something she finds offensive? This is a lot harder when he knows it’s Scully he’s talking to. “Give me a second to think of something.”

“Last time we talked, you said you had other fantasies of the same nature,” she says hesitantly.

“I do,” he confirms. “I just…sorry, you just caught me off guard.”

“I can relate,” she says with just a hint of coyness, and that makes him relax a little. 

He lays back down on the bed and closes his eyes. If he’s going to do this, he has to pretend it’s really Electra on the line. 

“Okay,” he says. “Something that’s important to know for context is that she loves to take baths.”

“She?”

Mulder opens his eyes, taken out of the moment. He never has to specify with Electra; there’s only one “she” he’s ever referring to. 

“My partner,” he says reluctantly. 

“Oh,” she replies. “Okay, go ahead.”

Mulder closes his eyes again and lets the image of his fantasy fill his mind. The tiled walls of Scully’s bathroom, the bright smell of her lavender bubble bath, her dirty clothes in a heap on the floor by the tub. 

“One of my fantasies is that I stop by her apartment unannounced, and I hear her call out for me to let myself in. So I use my key, and once I’m inside she tells me that she’s in the bath.” He pauses to see if she has any commentary on this, but she says nothing. “I start talking to her through the door, which is something I’ve done a handful of times, but in my fantasy she tells me to come in.” Another pause. All he hears is her even breathing. “She’s in the bath, but it’s so full of bubbles that I can’t see anything. I sit on a little stool beside the tub and we keep talking.”

His heart is pounding. He can’t just say this to her. 

“And then what?” she asks. Mulder swallows. 

“And then…I end up touching her under the bubbles,” he says, glazing over the rest of the details and making use of a euphemism. 

Scully laughs a little. 

“I think you may have skipped some things,” she says gently, and he cringes. 

“Sorry. I don’t want to be too graphic.”

“Why?”

“I guess I’m worried I’ll offend you,” he says. 

“What if I promise not to be offended?” she offers. 

“Is that something you can reasonably promise?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

“Okay,” Mulder says, sucking in a steadying breath. “I’m sitting next to the tub and we’re talking. After a while some of the bubbles start to dissolve and I can kind of see her body. Not details, just sort of the contrast of her skin, and—” he pauses, then forces himself to say the next part. “I can see darker areas, like her nipples and her pubic hair.”

Scully hums, an indication that she’s following along. That she’s listening. 

“She’s talking about how much stress she’s been under. I think in the fantasy I kind of know that she’s been having a hard time and I’m worried about her.”

“Interesting,” Scully says, her voice breathy. 

“Why is that interesting?” he asks. 

“Oh…just…I guess I find it interesting that her emotional state factors into your fantasy,” she observes without judgment. “That was also true in the previous fantasy you shared.”

He doesn’t miss the fact that she’s referring to herself in the third person. And she isn’t wrong. 

“So she’s talking about how stressed out she is,” he continues, shifting his hips around as his erection begs to be touched, “and I tell her I can help. I ask if she’ll let me.”

“What do you say, exactly?” she asks. 

He reaches down and gives his cock a squeeze. “I say something like, ‘I know what you need,’ and then I look at her body under the bubbles. I’m not very explicit.”

“Why?”

“Because in this fantasy we’ve never done anything like that before, so I wouldn’t just come out and say it directly. That would be too forward for her.”

“So you want it to be realistic?” she asks.

“Sometimes.”

“Okay, so you tell her that you know what she needs. What does she say?” Scully says, getting them back on track. 

“She doesn’t really say anything. Her eyes get wide, and she looks down and realizes that she’s slowly being exposed. She’s embarrassed, but she’s also excited.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she’s not telling me to get the fuck out of her bathroom,” he says lightly, and she laughs. 

“So what do you do next?”

“I reach out and touch her knee, which is above the water. And then I watch her face as I run my fingers down the inside of her thigh.”

“You don’t kiss her?”

“Not yet.”

“Does she stop you?”

“No. She just looks at me. Her eyes are still all big and her mouth is open. She’s breathing hard. And then she moves her other leg to the side.” He swears he hears the tiniest little moan slip through the phone. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“What?” she asks, though it’s unclear whether she’s asking what his question is or if she’s just confused by his divergence from the story. 

“When we talked before, when I told you about my other fantasy?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Were you, um…did you touch yourself?”

She’s quiet for so long that he gets his dick out and gives it a few strokes before leaving it to rest, stiff and aching, against his belly. 

“Yes.”

His dick lurches, standing at attention briefly before it flops to the side. He doesn’t want to come before this is over, lest his post-nut clarity ruin the rest of the experience, so he tries to touch it as little as possible. 

“She moves her other leg to the side so I know without a doubt that she wants it. When I touch her, she closes her eyes and moans right away. Even under the water I can feel how wet she is. How slippery. I ask her again to let me help, but this time I say, ‘let me make you come, Scully.’”

She gasps a little, and he realizes that he used her name. He’s never used her name with Electra. 

“What does she say?” Scully asks, nearly whining. Her voice is high and tight, and he wants to know so badly if she’s touching herself again now. 

“She says, ‘we can’t.’ But she’s pushing her hips into my hand even when she’s saying it so I don’t stop. I know she wants it. I put one finger inside her and she just…she melts.”

“Oh,” Scully breathes out. It’s unclear whether it’s commentary on the story or a vocalization of whatever she’s doing over there. 

“I get rid of the stool and I kneel beside the tub so I can kind of lean over into it for leverage. And that’s when I kiss her. Or I try to, but she can barely kiss because of what I’m doing to her with my hand. I add a second finger and she’s throbbing like crazy.”

“Yes,” Scully says in encouragement. 

“Are you touching yourself?” he asks quickly, his tone unchanged from his narration.

“Yes,” she says again. 

Mulder squeezes his cock in his fist. 

“Me too.”

Another, “Oh.”

“I curl my fingers up towards her belly, and then I get my thumb on her clit. She’s holding on to the sides of the tub for leverage and practically fucking my hand, she wants it so bad.”

“Uh huh.”

He can’t hold back anymore. He strokes his cock frantically fast, pumping his hips up off the mattress as though thrusting. He no longer has the capacity to worry about how graphic he’s being.

“Then she comes. She comes so hard she can’t speak, can’t breathe. And her cunt is just…god she’s so tight. And all I can think about is how good it would feel to be inside her when she’s coming.”

Scully gasps, and suddenly the line goes dead. Through the wall, he hears a long, low moan, and then a series of high staccato whimpers. He explodes forcefully into his own hand, sending ropes of cum up as far as his chest and completely defiling his last clean T-shirt. He still has the phone propped against his ear and his cock in hand, slippery and quickly softening, when he hears a click, and then her voice comes back through the open line. 

“Mulder?”

He sits up quickly, which makes his head spin. 

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking, can we leave at 8:30 tomorrow? I’d like to stop for some decent coffee if we can make time.”

Mulder blinks stupidly, disoriented. 

“Uh, yeah, 8:30 is fine. Are you…you’re good?”

“Yeah, I’m great,” she says simply. 

“Okay. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight. Sleep well.”

Mulder sets the phone back on the receiver and looks down at his cum-streaked lap and belly. That absolutely happened, there is no doubt in his mind.