#they can work through shit in a way you'll never see!

[ikemenomegas]

Levi decides he wants a baby. He doesn't have an alpha, but this is the modern era. Who needs an alpha to have a baby...

But the thought of a total stranger siring his child doesn't satisfy him either. After a year of thinking it over, he finally brings it up in front of his friends and someone recommends

You

Deeply suspicious of an alpha "chill" enough to simply stud for free, and recommended by his friends no less, he accepts an invitation to a group gathering where he spends the whole time not so subtly eyeing you and then pretending not to.

And when you finally get the opportunity to talk to him, you're so offensively nice, Levi has to hold himself back from ruining the encounter

But you can tell he has something on his mind. He doesn't tell you, but your receptiveness, laughing at his clumsy attempts at humor, it all lower his guard.

So when he finally meets you, formally, at a cafe with plenty of private space for you to talk, it's just a tiny bit less awkward.

He reminds himself that he doesn't even need your body. He just needs you to agree.

And he's so frustrated, because you don't. You want to "get to know him", whatever that means. And he knows it's reasonable. He does. But he's waited for so long. He's not getting any younger. And he's waited so long to bring it up and it cannot be so easy yet so impossible.

And again, you're so patient with him, with this frustration so deep that it nearly brings tears to his eyes.

Levi has spent his life carving space in the world for himself, surviving things that aren't so hard for other people, and it's painful, knowing that this thing is so important, that he can't just do this himself.

But you meet again. He wonders, mutinously, which of his acquaintances (...friends, temporarily downgraded) has turned rat on him to make you so nice, kind, patient, attentive, interested. In him.

Yet somehow, before he knows it, you've gone six months. Somehow, it's nothing like he'd expected.

"My answer is yes," you said, in a gap between conversation, cupping a lavender latte, a travesty but so far his only complaint today, between your palms. "But..." you hesitated, but then your resolve seemed to crystalize before his eyes, "I'd like to be involved. With the baby. If you'll let me, if you're open to it."

Levi knows his eyes go wide, and he knows he all but flinches, because he's never even imagined you asking this, never imagined asking you. That's not what this is. You're a donor, a practical stranger. That's what he keeps telling himself rather than wonder if he's just someone you humor on the weekends or odd weekday morning, rather than wonder if he'd rather you actually spend a few nights with him, instead of going through the procedure Hange had told him about, rather than wonder if the kid's going to have your eyes or your smile or your way of folding a napkin with perfect corners after a meal.

His heart is pounding and you look obviously worried, like you've gone too far. It's just...

"A baby is a lot of work," you say, waving your hands like you're showing him you're not a threat. Your scent turns placating, when did he start being able to scent you even under the scent patches? "Even with your family helping. And even if we're not mated, I've been doing research. They say having the donor alpha offer pheromones can help your recovery, and if the kid is omega or alpha, it helps them bond stably." You're babbling. This is surely not what he wants.

"You know what, never mind. I'm sorry. I know you value your privacy, and you won't need another person intruding on your space after the birth. It was wildly out of line for me to--"

"Can I think about it?" he chokes out before you can rescind the offer. "If you, if I, shit," he curses, his cheeks are flushed, but he's cold, but he's not scared. It's just unexpected.

You relax, but he can still see that you're uneasy. He's so stupidly grateful when you nod though and he wonders if you can scent him too, if you can taste it wafting faintly from his neck, that relief.

Neither of you manage to stomach anything more than another tea, and your smile is as weak as his joke about the second latte you order. When you turn your wrist, he can see the rapid flutter of the pulse there and he knows your heart is hammering. He blames it on the caffeine.

You give him space, although you continue to text him regularly. He's stupidly grateful that your texts are normal, even though he appreciates the effort it must take to pretend - because he knows you, and he feels the same way. It takes effort to reply, but he does, because he doesn't want you to think that he wants this to be over.

He's not running away. He's just thinking.

Erwin is no help, happily mated as he is, but he is comforting and encouraging, and being around Erwin's two-year-old, which is really not as bad as people say it is, helps.

Seeing Erwin's alpha doing the normal childcare things Levi has seen a hundred times and thought nothing of helps too.

Hange is clinical and excited about it, spouting unhelpful statistics about post-partum alpha-omega bonds, even between unmated pairs, and mentions studies done with surrogate couples. That makes Levi flush, briefly imagining he's having your baby and not his own, something he quickly shakes off.

Mikasa is surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, level headed about the whole thing. The only thing she's never normal about has been her own mate anyways.

And she asks him the question everyone else may have also been asking, but he hadn't heard.

"What do you want?"

And then he gets to sourly sit through dinner where Mikasa looks at Eren like she wants to literally eat him, like down to the bone, and he excuses himself, wondering how long it will take until he's soft and sluggish, until he can't move so fast that Eren can't tell when he's moved.

Then he sits in his house for a week. He asks you not to call, not to text. To give him time. And you do, and he hopes that you hate it, at least just a little.

At the end of that week, he can't eat in the morning. He turns his phone over and over in his hand before he takes a deep breath, feeling like he's going to throw up.

And then he calls you.

[leafington]

𝗶𝗳 𝗮𝘁 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗰𝗲𝗲𝗱, 𝗱𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗼𝗳𝗳 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗿𝘆 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻! - kento n.

content warning !! - rushed, not proofread, gojos boundaries being absolutely ass, nanami demarcus kento flirting and being an awkward mess, blackfem!reader coded (racism hinted but not mentioned explicitly so keep ur eyes peeled), toxic relationships mentioned, suggestive ending???

"I said I was sorry!" Satoru pleads once Kento's hand makes contact with his collar, the anger on his face evident. "But you can't be that mad! Look at her! She's the whole damn package with an extra piece comin' in the mail!" He holds the phone up again as if showing him the picture would make him feel any better. "Cancel it. Now." Kento grits, bringing the sorcerer closer just about getting closer to knocking Satoru on his ass.

His whole life, minus a few years, Kento stayed single. Women have never interested him, nor caught his attention. After the not-so recent divorce with his toxic wife, he made a pledge to never get involved with another female again. Of course, Satoru Gojo can't bring himself to see his former junior constantly shut down the many women who bring themselves his way, so he signed him up for a pop-up date with an alleged "close friend" of his. He hasn't gotten it through his thick head that Kento isn't interested in another relationship, being used as a scapegoat and ATM isn't something he wants anymore.

"One chance, and if you don't like her, I'll leave it be. Honest." He whimpers out, and oddly enough, the Kento Nanami takes a deep breath of consideration. "... When's the reservation?"

That's how Kento ended up standing in a mirror, checking his tie for the umpteenth time for the night, Satoru babbling something about how fine the woman was for her age. For someone who set him up on the date, he sounded better off just taking her for himself. After finally becoming satisfied with the resulting touch of his appearance, he almost asked for Satoru's approval, quickly thinking against it before grabbing his essentials. "You look hot by the way, smashable even. You wouldn't even think you had a wife before this." He beams followed by a thumbs up. "I'd rather not talk about my past relationships on a date, I'm not as plagued as you, Gojo." Satoru's jaw drops dramatically and scoffs as if he hasn't been on twice as many failed dates than Kento has denied.

Little does he know, Satoru can easily detect the anxiety he's going through. It's not everyday you're presented with an open opportunity to go back out into the dating scene, especially with an attractive woman (according to Satoru's point of view).

He's debating on giving him some advice about his little friend, but he shakes his head and pushes him right out the door with some friendly advice. "And remember, cover your ends or you'll have little friends!" This set Kento off, but before he could retort back, the door got slammed in his face. That damned egoist.

The drive to the restaurant wasn't all that bad, he got to see the wondrous scenery of the city at night, enjoy the fresh breeze, the aura of it alone made him think the date wouldn't end up being absolute shit like he originally presumed. His plan consisted of pretending to have a good time so he can go home and not have to worry about another woman another day in his life.

And oh how wrong he was to think it would work.

Kento pulls up to the restaurant, straightening out his collar, then locking the doors to his car and taking confident steps inside the eatery. He had to admit, Satoru picked a decent place—marble floors, elegant designs from top to bottom, grey-white walls, perfect taste in the arts he might add, and the drop-dead gorgeous woman shuffling through her mini-purse in front of him.

He breathes out a quiet "damn.", so silent that he almost didn't realize he even said something so remotely disrespectful until the woman perked her head up and raised an eyebrow at him. "Sorry, don't mind me, it just slipped unexpectedly. I had zero intentions of saying anything that unprofessional." Kento rambles, a subconscious reaction from either being flustered or anxious, and in this case it was a tiny blend of both.

Not once does he recall ever meeting someone this attractive, he thought she was decent looking in the picture presented to him, but goddamn does she look better in person. Her hair is perfectly curled to fit her cute little face, light-makeup—nothing too extreme—just the way he likes, and the dress. Oh god the dress. If Kento had no sense of morale, he'd swoop her into his arms and take him home to make her his in other ways, the thought lingers in the back of his mind though.

"My eyes are up here." The voice of her's snaps him out of his trance. Kento didn't even know he started ogling at her breasts like a mad man! "I am very sorry, I would never want to make a—" He's then cut off by her tutting. "Just... don't do it again please." She says, saving the both of them from the second-hand embarrassment. At least she was kind about it.

Strike one.

This was going to be a long night.

But goddamn were the ass and thighs on this woman heaven-sent, just enough to drive him to sanity and the actively-pitching tent in his pants. Kento just tugged his blazer over his well-tailored slacks and hoped he'd soften up as the date progressed. A kind waiter greeted the both of them, somewhat breaking the vexatious silence between them, that somewhat coming from the look he was giving his date. It wasn't good, in any way looking at someone else's date isn't a good thing, but the look he was giving her wasn't one of those 'wow your date's smoking hot' stares. For now, he just played it off as one and in return shot a mean glare, that should knock some sense into him and luckily they weren't ready to order yet so he scurried off promising to come back later.

Probably being tired of the awkward silence, the woman sighs and straightens herself out. "Sorry if I seem like... pushy or rude. This was all so sudden, Gojo didn't say anything about this being a date. It's nice to meet you...?" She trails off, leaving room for Kento to introduce himself. "Nanami Kento. Don't worry, I'm well aware of how childish and idiotic he can be. I apologize on both his behalf and my own for disturbing your day." She tilts her head, gesturing for elaboration. "It's partially my fault for this, he told me a few things about you before. Gojo's been harassing me about going on dates again, I only agreed to this to get him off my ass." Even a few weeks later, he still thinks Y/n is such a fitting name for a woman like her.

"Again? So this is like a last resort or something?" She questions and her expression hardens in the slightest.

Strike two.

"No, no, no. Nothing of the sort." Kento saved himself but that definitely put him in a bad spot for this date. Y/n hums, almost like she's unsure of his response. "... What did Gojo say about me? Anything bad, good, weird?" He can't possibly screw this up, it's all about his delivery. He has enough charisma for this to nail his answer. "He said you were a strong-willed woman. Very kind, generous and beautiful." Most of that were things he came up with, if he shared what Satoru actually said, the date might've just ended right there.

Besides his second accidental slip of the tongue, he could confidently say that the night was progressing well if you exclude how irritatingly tight his pants are. They actually shared more in common than Kento thought, both having experience in the horrible ex department and having a slight hatred towards the blue-eyed freak who set up this entire scenario. On a completely different note, Kento finds himself enjoying the date more than he'd like to admit. No, not because of the chilly climate of the restaurant and can tell from how Y/n's nipples harden. I mean, no bra? She's testing him, literally, he's a man and it's kind of an appropriate reaction to be turned on given the circumstances. Stiffness and hesitation still lurk in the air, and naturally any type of alcohol would loosen someone up which definitely works on Y/n's end.

Her guard has fallen only a bit, but it's worth listening and learning about her, so maybe that's why he's giving tonight the benefit of the doubt. Kento, out of impulse has, however, tried to be bold and flirt (if you could even call it that). His attempts are sorry, a little embarrassing, and definitely sounded way better in his head. He started off with a simple, "You have a nice smile." This was successful, Y/n chuckled and tried to hide her grin from the compliment. Then... it got worse.

It was sink or swim, and Kento for sure was playing waterpolo with this date. "Your parents must've been bakers, cause you're such a cutie-pie." Okay, yeah, cute. That one earned a nice little giggle. After receiving their dinner and ordering he abruptly threw out a "If you were a fruit, you'd be a fine-apple." the minute his eyes landed on the side he received with his meal. Y/n laughed at it, finding it humorous for some strange reason so he finally stopped. It was safe to say this date was smooth sailing from the earlier hiccups.

"You redeemed yourself." She went to dig in before releasing she had no utensils, calling a nearby waiter for an extra. "I promise. I'm not as bad as Gojo makes me seem, only he gets to see that side." Kento swallows his food quickly to reply to her. Having recieved her own appliance, Y/n began eating and chuckled. "Really? So you're not a smart, levelheaded, mean, yet respectful guy?"

"He said that?" It unintentionally comes out in such a disbelieving way, but Kento easily changes his mind on her laugh. It's his favorite thing in the world. "Mhm. Then added on something about your bedroom skills being S-Tier." She snickers behind her fork, and is met with a new expression of his. Mixing anger, embarrassment, and frustration alike. "... I'm sorry." He shakes his head followed by bringing a large palm to his face to supress his sudden urge to have a few words with Satoru. "Don't be. I know how he is. I can only imagine what he really said about me." He wouldn't dare bring up what was spoken between them back in the bedroom of his penthouse, though he's definitely thinking about it.

Great. His boner is back, and he hears the table suddenly clank! whilst Y/n brings her head up massaging it.

Can he count that as strike three?

"Didn't think you were enjoying me that much." She clears her throat, uncomfortably setting her fork down that she had apparently dropped at some point. Should've said something about the damn fork. "It's natural, happens at random." Kento counters. "And you genuinely think I'm gonna believe that? I noticed it the first go-round." Fuck. Strike three it is. For a moment the two sit in silence; Y/n staring at him with a particular glint in her eyes and Kento failing to mask the lust that's brewing in him. "I don't have sex on the first date." That's when he calls for the bill, the embarrassment is too much for him to handle. A few curses and criticism from Satoru, maybe. Not being checked by pretty women.

Then he's stopped, soft hand resting against his rough one from the endless paperwork filling and fighting. "If you need the help, I'll make an exception." Her voice lowers enough so the waiter couldn't pick up on anything she'd say. "Put those S-Tier bedroom skills to the test, no?" Kento just about slapped his card on the table, growing heavily impatient with how fucking long it took for the payment terminal to register the transaction. His respects were given and promptly left the restaurant with a hand now rested on the small of her back.

This was definitely going to be a long night.

©2024 leafington dont steal please!! :) (yeah i reposted this? so what?)

[sunarc]

Exes who convince you to get back with them by fucking you until you’re cumming and making a mess on his cock. He’ll have you in a mating press just so he can get a perfect view of how your pussy clenches around him. He knows every spot to make you tremble. He’s cocky about it. It’s almost a cycle for him. You’ll storm out telling him how you’re done with his shit. You'll slam the door telling him you never want to see him again. Yet somehow you always end up in the same position, ankles resting on his shoulder taking his cock babbling about how you love him so much.

“Mmh, I love you so much baby” your words are a memorized pattern that you always find yourself drooling whenever you’re with him.

He chuckles, eyes never leaving the area where you two connect. The squelching sounds of your hole are almost as loud as your moans

“You love me baby?” he groans “ This pussy loves me too, listen to how she’s purring”

His thrusts are rough. You’re almost positive the neighbors are sick of the two of you. He’s in a trance. All he can think about is making you cum on his cock. The way your hole squeezes him only fuels him. He can’t help but admit how much he missed this. The way you call his name is like music to his ears. He hasn’t heard your pretty voice beg him to let you cum in so long. He’s savoring this moment. His hips meet your roughly grunting each time he bottoms out.

“Thought you said you were done with me” he knows he should be thankful he has you back but he’s so cocky he can’t help but tease you a little. You look away embarrassment flooding through you.

“Look at me baby” he growls “ Look at how much your pussy missed me” his eyes are trained on the way you suck him in.

“You missed this cock didn’t you?” He knows his words are getting to you. Your whimpers grow louder. All you can do is give in and admit your truth.

“Missed you so much baby” your voice is shaky. Your eyes meet his and he has a smirk on his face hearing your words. He places his hand on your stomach, feeling where his cock is.

"You feel that baby?" his eyes switch back and forth between the creamy mess your making on his cock and the bulge that shows where his cock presses inside of you.

He leans down to put his head into your neck to leave wet kisses. His hands wrap around you pulling you close. His groans fill your ears and for a moment you want to never hear anything other than that again.

“You’re mine” his words match his thrust You can feel yourself growing closer to your orgasm. "Say it" he growls. His thrust are sloppy. His mind floods with his claim over you. You want to speak, to give him an answer but you feel so fucked out of your mind all you can do and whimper and moan. He chuckles watching you practically go dumb from his cock.

“I guess i gotta fuck you until you remember who’s pussy this is”

Matsukawa, Atsumu, Kuroo, Osamu, Suna, Sukuna, Toji, Gojo, Tsukishima, Semi, Geto

tag: @smoothopz , @ykimobessed , @mizloca

let me know if any of you would like to be added to my tag list for other works

[gay-dorito-dust]

hii!! I don't know if your requests are open but I love the way you write for the Batboys so I thought I'd request something ^-^

The batboys reacting to their s/o not saying "I love you" back when they end a call. This tiktok for reference.

(In case the link doesn't work https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLW4JWj1/)

Idk if you'll see this but thank you!!

Dick

‘I’ll see you soon honey, I love you.’ Dick said on the other side of the phone.

‘See you soon, bye.’ You said cheerfully as you hung up the phone, trying your hardest not to break down with laughter. You could clearly see Dick’s face within your mind, looking down at his phone with the expression of a confused husky dog, head tilted to the side and a pout spread across his face.

For not once had you ever not said ‘I love you’ to Dick when ending a phone call, even when you were annoyed with him you still told him that you loved him, so this was completely out of the ordinary for you and you knew that Dick knew that too.

Which is why he was quick to call you back.

‘Hi! Yeah this is your BOYFRIEND speaking, you know the one you love and are devoted to loving for all of eternity, so do you not love me anymore now or?’

‘Of course I do what makes you think that sweetheart?’ You asked, trying not to laugh at Dick’s dramatics.

‘Well it doesn’t sound like it.’ You could practically hear him huffing. ‘I just want to be loved is that so much to ask for?’ He asks rhetorically.

‘Dick, you’re being dramatic.’ You tell him and he gasps on the other side. ‘Me dramatic? Never! All I ask is for my beautiful, stunning and perfect partner to say they love me before I go kick some ass, but no I’m asking too much apparently.’ Dick then huffs. ‘How mean.’ You heard him mutter under his breath.

‘Fine I love you! I love you very much so go kick all the asses for my honey! I love, love, love you!’ You practically shouted down the phone. ‘How was that for you mr dramatic?’ You add.

‘Mr dramatic loves you too very much.’ Was all he said before hanging up.

Dick never liked it when you didn’t say I love you, he gets very upset and doesn’t want to do anything else until you concede and tell him you love him as though your life depended on it. He was indeed a dramatic man.

Tim

‘Don’t stay up too late for me, I’ll be home soon I love you.’ He said.

‘Okay bye.’ Was all you replied with before hanging up the phone.

Tim knew damn well you weren’t doing much but hold back your laughter when you put down the phone after not saying ‘I love you’ like you normally did, and so through the process of elimination did Tim eventually come to the conclusion that this was all an elaborate prank.

‘I know this is a prank, you can cut it out now.’ Tim tells you the moment you picked up the phone.

‘Prank? Why would you think this is a prank?’ You asked.

‘You’ve not once forgot to tell me you love me in our past calls, so for you to do it now only is an indication of two things, one it’s a prank or I’ve done something wrong.’ He told you with certainty in his deduction.

You raised a brow. ‘And what makes you think that you didn’t do something wrong and I’m not mad at you?’ You were the one to ask this time as you could practically hear him think.

‘Because I didn’t.’ Was his only reply and you couldn’t help but giggle as you ask again. ‘Are you sure?’

Silence for a couple of second were what you were greeted with before being greeted with a ‘I’m a hundred percent certain.’

You sighed. ‘You’re right, it’s a prank, I’m sorry but I hope this I love you will set things right. So here it is: I love you Tim Drake.’

More silence and you were worried for a second before you heard him say ‘I love you too, don’t stay up too late for me please, we both can’t be sleep deprived that’s only reserved for me.’

Tim knew, he always does so there’s no point trying to prank him because he’ll know unless he’s caught off guard, though he won’t tell you is that he nearly shit himself when you didn’t and though he did something when he begin to think logically.

Jason

‘Okay I’ve got to head out on patrol now with Roy, I’ll see you as soon as I’m done chipmunk, I love you.’

‘See you soon jaybirdie, bye.’ You replied before quickly putting the phone done but as soon as you did, mentally counting down from three and when you got to one, your phone flashed with Jason’s contact almost immediately.

You knew he wasn’t going to let that slide once you started this little prank and he played right into your hands.

‘What was that.’ He asks.

‘What was what.’ You replied, acting as though you were confused.

‘You know what, the whole not saying I love you. it’s kind of out thing and so for you to not saying it is kinda throwing me off my grove, and Roy won’t stop saying how much of a simp I am. What even is a simp anyway?’ You couldn’t help but feel your smile grow wider at Jason’s rant and let out a small chuckle.

‘I’m sure Roy can tell you what a simp is, but I don’t see how me not saying I love you once is enough to throw you complete of your game.’ You replied as you could almost hear Roy laugh.

Jason sighs and you could imagine him rubbing his forehead. ‘Can you, can you just say it so I’m not thinking about it for the rest of the night, I don’t feel like bleeding out on our bathroom floor tonight.’ He says and you couldn’t help but feel yourself bend to his will a little before completely yielding entirely.

‘Fine, if it’ll make you feel better, I love you.’ You said and you could tell that took the weight off of his shoulders.

‘Thanks chipmunk, I love you.’ He said before hanging up, finally content to see the patrol through with a clear mind.

Needless to say Jason internally overthought himself when you didn’t say I love you once, it nearly drove the poor man insane and into doing something reckless. So it was good that you did say it when you did.

[cryptidghostgirl]

omg omg omg totally new silly idea- human! alastor x human! reader where they meet at a party and go outside for a walk near the pier and the moon is beautiful and… they pull out weapons on each other (specifically Alastor a knife and reader a gun) and thats when they decide to form a partner in crime partnership

And in other to keep appearances they are forced to “fake date”

Mimzy: youve been spending some time with that new girl havent you, is she your gf or smth?” chuckle

Naize 20 yr old smth Alastor trying to think of a response thats not that:...

Mimzy: OMG IS SHE?

Alastor: sureeeeee

And they aren't actually into each other until a lot later into their partnership when they’re chasing some guy and reader gets to them first and just starts going at it “hey man i think hes had enough” “YOU WANT WHAT HES HAVING???” thpe shit

and Alastor has to catch his breath and he lowkey thinks hes dying because his heart starts beating a lot, And he goes again to mimzy for advice cuz i dont think he has anu friends and shes like “oh sweetie…”

And because its quite impossible to not get attached at one point theyre in another chase and reader starts laughing hysterically like “did you see him trying to run away??? lmao” and he goes “I couldnt take my eyes off you” and then just grabs her face and SMOOCH >:)

I think its a good trope- fake dating to actual dating even if its. about. murderers- :3

A/N YOU GUYS COME UP WITH THE BEST REQUESTS JESUS CHRIST!!! Also I promise I will get to the rest of the requests this weekend, I had two exams today so this is the only thing I am gonna post. Sorry.

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: uh, murder. Mild gore. Violence. Weapons.

Word Count: 4,460 (I went a little overboard with this one)

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

"I'll walk her home, don't worry Mimzy." Alastor was saying as Y/n pulled her coat over her shoulders.

The noises of the party still raging on filtered into the grand entryway of the house, muffled through the walls. Mimzy shot her two friends a suspicious look.

"It's nothing like that, Mimz." Y/n sighed, straightening the collar of her fur coat, "I just asked cause of all those murders in the news. Kinda freaky, don't you think? I don't really wanna be out alone at night and Al here was kind enough to offer."

Mimzy crossed her arms, eyebrows raised.

"Sure." she teased.

"Mimzy." Alastor sighed in response and she put her hands up in false surrender.

"Sorry! Sorry." she hummed playfully, "I know you two free birds would never."

Alastor rolled his eyes and, turning to Y/n, held out his arm. She took it daintily, a grateful smile on her face. The pair had just met a few hours earlier but had quickly fallen into a casual camaraderie. He lead her from the house, Mimzy calling her goodnights and wishes for their safety after their retreating forms.

It was a mostly quiet walk through the desolate midnight streets of New Orleans. Y/n hummed softly, kicking a can along with the toes of her healed shoes.

"You'll ruin them that way, wont you?" Alastor asked, feigning concern.

Y/n just shrugged.

"They're shoes. Yeah, they're nice but I wont let that stop me from living. Let's stop by the water, it's so pretty tonight."

Alastor turned slightly, looking out at the Mississippi with it's slightly turbid waters reflecting the light of the stars. He tried not to smile, it was like she wanted him to carry out his intended work. She was making it so easy for him.

"Sure."

They turned towards the rail and Y/n let go of his arm, leaning her elbows against it. She let out a sigh of longing as her eyes tracked the ripples in the surface.

Alastor watched her for a moment, the moon illuminating her features. She was a handsome woman, there was no doubt about it. It had been proved to him tenfold by the amount of prospective partners she had turned down dances with at the party in favor of drinking with him at the bar. That was not what Alastor was interested in, however. Once he was sure she was distracted, once he was sure she had no intent to take her eyes from the glowing river, he looked down. Moving his coat slightly to the side, his hand quickly found its way to the hilt of the knife he had stashed in his waistband for just such an occasion.

He pulled it out, the weight familiar, almost comforting in a sense, in his hand. There was a click. He looked up, the blade pointed to its intended target.

Y/n was facing him now, a wry smile on her face. One foot in front of the other, she took a step forward. The muzzle of the gun, the cocking of which had been the source of the noise which had drawn his attention, just a few centimeters from his chest. The tip of his knife hovered indefinitely by the open center of her coat. He chuckled in amusement, eyebrows raised.

"I thought there were a few more bodies in the news than there should have been. A gun? Really?"

Y/n shrugged.

"I'm little. I don't have the privilege of being able to overpower my victims like you."

Alastor hummed softly. A slight breeze picked up, playing with the edges of their hair.

"What a shame."

Y/n laughed lightly.

"I don't think so. It works well enough."

"Those machines are inelegant, they are detached."

"And you prefer a sense of intimacy to be involved in all your escapades?"

Alastor removed the knife, holding it up to his eyes. He turned the blade over in his hand, examining it closely. Following suit, Y/n let her hand fall to her side, the gun still cocked should an occasion arise to use it.

"I have an idea." he suddenly announced.

"Oh?" Y/n asked.

She took a step back, returning to the water's edge. Alastor followed, leaning over the railing beside her. They watched one another closely, weapons still clutched loosely in their hands.

"Yep."

"You gonna tell me what it is or am I gonna have to guess?" Y/n teased after a moment, breaking the oddly comfortable silence that had fallen after Alastor's last words.

"There have been a few times, of late, where I've come a bit... uncomfortably close to being seen."

"Getting lazy." Y/n hummed, "Or maybe just cocky."

"It seems like you could use a hand, someone with brute strength in case anything goes wrong."

She scoffed, smiling just the slightest bit.

"Are you proposing we work together?"

"You're the one who said it, not me."

Y/n shook her head slightly, amused.

"How would I know you wouldn't just turn on me? End up killing me or decide not to step in if I needed help?"

"And how would I know that you wouldn't rat me out? Alert someone to where I was and what I was doing rather than telling me someone was coming? It's called trust, Y/n."

Y/n thought it over, fiddling with the gun in her grip as she did so. Alastor watched, seeing the gears turning in her mind through the light of her eyes.

"Fine." she said at last, un-cocking the gun and holding a hand out to him, "You've got yourself a deal."

Alastor smiled, slipping the knife back into his belt before grasping her hand in his. It was chilled by the air of the January night enveloping them.

"Deal."

Y/n quickly learned Alastor's preferred demographic. He had a penchant for angry men, drunks. Y/n had been a one off, a spur of the moment opportunity he had thought to take hold of. Alastor had not been like that for her. Y/n's preferred victims were also men. Anyone that showed any pressing interest in her, anyone who tried to take her home for the night, always ended up six feet under. For both, murder was a way of processing their personal experiences and traumas.

As a result of their deal, Y/n and Alastor began to spend more time together. They had to learn one another's intricacies, their ways of thinking, their nature of being. It was a necessity if anything was actually going to work. They both had rather busy work schedules, Alastor as a radio broadcaster with his very own show and Y/n as a seamstress at a local dress shop. Because of this, more often than not, the only time they had to get to know one another was through shared meals. Both of them had to eat, needed a lunch break or dinner. It was just what worked. Because of their slightly shared demographic of victim, they ended up in bars together quite frequently as well.

It was in one of these meet ups that they ran into their first difficulty. Y/n was sitting across a table from him outside a cafe, lazily sipping on a coffee as she perused the missing persons list in a newspaper. The newspaper was old, they were exchanging information about who was responsible for what. Working together didn't just mean knowing one another as they were now, but their histories as well.

They should have known not to sit in such a public place. Both had many connections in the city due to their jobs, though few friends. It just so happened on that day that the one true friend they did have in common was walking down the very street they sat on.

"Alastor?" Mimzy exclaimed, catching sight of his familiar face and moving towards their table.

Y/n folded the newspaper, placing it on the table as she turned towards the sound. Mimzy came to a stop, her brow furrowing in mild confusion as she saw her friend was not in fact alone.

"And Y/n, fancy meeting you two here."

"Pull up a chair, Mimz." Y/n smiled and Mimzy obeyed.

Swinging a spare chair from a nearby table, she quickly joined them.

"I haven't seen you two since the party! How have you been."

"Fine, fine." Alastor hummed and Y/n nodded her assent.

"And whats this with you two getting coffee?" Mimzy asked, a teasing smile slipping onto her face as Alastor took a sip of his own drink, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, not at all Mimz." Y/n shook her head, a slight smile on her face, "It's always a pleasure to see you."

"You sure this isn't a date or something? I mean, with the way you two left and everything... having coffee alone..."

Alastor nearly choked on his drink. Y/n and Mimzy turned to him as he put a hand to his chest, clearing his throat.

"Excuse me." he said and Mimzy's grin widened.

"Oh this is totally a date."

"No!" Alastor exclaimed, exchanging a fervent glance with Y/n across the table.

She raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips. Without words, she told him to handle it. Alastor sighed.

"Are you sure?" Mimzy asked, a suggestive tone to her voice.

"I... uh..." Alastor stuttered, his brain working in overdrive to think of anything else. It came up empty, "Fine. Yes. We're... we're on a date."

"You caught us." Y/n chimed in and Mimzy turned to her.

"Oh my stars! You two.... I shoulda guessed you'd get on like a house on fire. Shame I can't invite you to any more of my singles parties though Y/n, you are a riot."

Singles parties. A hunting ground. Y/n smiled.

"No, no, Mimz. We're not exclusive or anything."

Mimzy's eyes widened slightly at the revelation as Alastor shot Y/n a look across the table. Dating was going to be hard for them to sell but swingers too? What was she thinking.

"Really? How exotic." Mimzy hummed in thought.

"We're all going to hell anyways so, why not." Y/n shrugged.

"Oh you." Mimzy laughed, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder as she got to her feet, "Well, I won't keep you love birds any longer. I'll see you next week for the next party then?"

"We'll see." Alastor hummed placidly.

Once Mimzy had gone, he rounded on Y/n.

"Swingers?" he asked, eyebrows raised, "Really?"

"Hey, you're the one who started the whole 'we're dating' thing." Y/n sighed, picking the newspaper back up and resuming the task at hand, "I just made it easier for us."

"It will utterly destroy my reputation if this gets out you know."

Y/n shot him a look over the top of the paper.

"Al, you got a lot more to worry about than pretending to be a swinger in terms of your reputation. Now, Marcus Alcost? Six four, buff, scar on his left forearm? Brown hair?"

"Blue eyes?"

"Umm... yeah."

"Yep, that was me."

"Nice. Musta been a tough one to take down."

Alastor would track men, following them out as they left the establishments in the small hours of the morning with the intent of returning to their families. He would stalk them, corner them, lead them in. Y/n would stand watch, alerting him at the first sign of trouble.

The moment she heard footsteps, chatter, Y/n would duck in. Grabbing Alastor by the arm, she would whisk him off in some random direction, having consistently used the time she was on lookout to scout for escape routes.

They had had a few close calls, one or two times he had had to press her up against a wall and pretend to kiss her to avoid prying eyes. They always had a good laugh after something like that. Mostly, things worked out well. They each had survived on their own for years at this point. They knew what they were doing, adding another person into the mix just made it a tad easier.

Y/n, on the other hand, didn't need to track her victims down, they did that work for her. She would dress up all pretty and the moment someone asked to take her home or something of the like, would agree. Then she'd pull them into some ally or another under the guise of not wanting to wait a second longer and attack. Alastor would stand behind her, arms crossed menacingly as she carried out her work. He threatened so she could perform and she never had any trouble thanks to him.

That was, until one night about a year into their little partnership. As the time had passed, their relationship had grown. They still held the ruse of dating up before anyone who asked why it was they each spent so much time with the other but, a real friendship had begun to blossom between them as well. As it turns out, they had a lot more in common than just a tendency to commit brutal murders. Y/n knew Alastor well by now, better than anyone else most likely, and he knew her as well. That was how he could tell something was wrong.

Y/n had given Alastor the usual signal from across the bar and he had settled his tab. As he followed the pair, Y/n and the tall man whose hand she held, Alastor had noticed something was off. Normally by this point Y/n was stumbling around, pretending to be drunk and ditzy. She was doing this very thing now but in a more halted and jagged way. The man she was with seemed more believably drunk than she was, swaying this way and that. Her movements were uncharacteristically harsh as she pulled the man into the ally about a block ahead of him.

Alastor picked up the pace, breaking into a light jog. He reached the ally and turned down it, expecting to see Y/n flirting with the man or with her gun out already. Instead, he was met with something entirely different.

At the back of the ally lay the huddled mass of the man. On top of him was Y/n. The thuds of her knuckles against his face was the only sound breaking the silence of the night. She hit him, again and again. Alastor stood there, stunned.

"Dear, whatever is the matter?" he asked at last, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Y/n."

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see the splatters of blood now, on the ground around them and the wall behind. The thuds included the occasional squelch, the crack of a bone.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"You'll ruin your hands for work tomorrow if you keep at this."

Still, she ignored him. There was a sickening crunch. Sighing, he approached.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see it now, the man's mutilated face. Part of his skull looked like it had caved in. He had stopped moving long ago.

"Y/n, dear," Alastor tentatively reached out a hand towards her shoulder as he spoke, "don't you think he has had enough?"

Y/n whipped around to him, her eyes wild and her bloody raw knuckles raised. He froze, his hand hovering above her shoulder. There was blood everywhere. It soaked the sleeves of her collard shirt, it dripped from her fingers, it decorated her face and her bared teeth.

"What, you fucking want some too?"

Alastor's breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his ribcage, begging for escape. It wasn't fear, it couldn't be. He could take this girl down in ten seconds flat, blood hungry as she was.

Y/n's eyes, sharp with violence, softened slightly as she saw his reaction. She let her hands fall, resting them on the man's chest.

"He tried to drug me." she revealed, turning her eyes back to her mess, her masterpiece.

"He what?"

"Yeah." she sighed, using the back of her hand to push her hair from her eyes, leaving a residue of blood in the wake of the movement, "I caught him, switched the drinks."

Alastor shifted his gaze to the man before falling on Y/n once again. Her face was blank now, all the rage gone.

"He tried to drug me." she said again, her voice hollow.

At last, his hand found its home on her shoulder and she turned to face him once again. Alastor extended his free hand to Y/n. She examined it for a moment before daintily placing one of her own in his and allowing him to help her to her feet. Both her hands now rested in his as they looked back at the remains of the man.

"Well, he's definitely dead."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hands. Now free, he used one of them to turn her face to his. Blood spattered, wide eyed, lips slightly parted -- his heart fought for freedom from his chest once again.

"He deserved it."

Alastor let go of Y/n's chin and used the cuff of his jacket to wipe some of the blood from her face.

"Can you walk me home?"

Normally if she had asked something like that, Alastor would have teased her to no end. Why be scared of the monsters in the dark when she herself was one of them? But her voice had been small, timid. She had avoided his eyes and his fingers tingled at the prospect of her viewing him as protector.

"Of course, my dear."

They did not have another planned meeting until two weeks from that day. Y/n had a big project at work and wouldn't have any spare time because of it. Alastor, normally restless at the idea of having to wait so long to satisfy his bloodlust either by killing or seeing the show of death, was grateful for the respite. He was confused, overwhelmed even, because his strange reactions, the change in his patterns of thought towards the girl, hadn't ended at Y/n's front door.

No, she was haunting him. Like a vengeful ghost, he saw her in his mind. She took up every waking moment, he didn't know what to do. Alastor waited a day and still, it persisted. The skip of his heart, the odd slightly sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of their reunion. He waited three days and it didn't stop. By the time the end of the week rolled around and Alastor still found himself smiling at the prospect of only having to wait another week not to kill but to see Y/n again, he did the unthinkable. It was the only option he could come up with. Besides Y/n, she was the only other person in the world he even half trusted. Alastor called Mimzy.

"Alastor, darling!" she excitedly exclaimed into the phone, "What a surprise! What can I do for you?"

"Yeah, hey Mimzy. Um..." he struggled to find the words, fiddling with the phone cord as he walked to the window, looking down at the street below, "I just... I need your advice about something."

"What is it, hun?" she immediately replied, "Seems its got you in a tizzy, not a lot can do that."

"I... It's about Y/n."

"Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?"

"No. Maybe?" he turned from the window, collapsing in his desk chair, "I don't know."

"Spill."

"Well, we... I just.... Mimz, I can't stop thinking about her."

"Well I would hope not, you've been together for almost a year now."

"Yeah well, about that. It may have been a... stretching of the truth? Shall we say?"

"Al." Mimzy warned after a moment's silence, "If you are playing with this gi-"

"No!" he exclaimed, cutting her off and quickly crafting an excuse, "No. It was just to get our parents off our backs. We had a deal. They were both pestering us about when we were gonna get married, you know how it is."

"I thought your dad was dead?"

"My ma though, she really wants to see me settled down."

"I guess that explains the swingers thing." Mimzy sighed, "It didn't really seem in character for either of you. So, whats the matter?"

"I told you, I can't stop thinking about her. It's like... it's like... look, we're not dating, but we're friends, you know? And we were out at a bar together a few nights ago and she just... she did something and when I looked at her, it was like I died."

"That little minx." Mimzy laughed in glee, "What the heck did she do?"

"Just something, okay?"

"I have got to quiz her about this."

"No! Please, no. She'd... probably be embarrassed."

"Mmm... okay...." came Mimzy's doubtful reply, "So what was it you needed help with?"

"Well, that. It was like the breath had left my body entirely. I felt... sick, my chest hurt. It was so strange. I thought it would go away once I got some sleep but it didn't. Every time I think about her, it feels like there is a vice around my heart and I can't stop thinking about her."

"Al, seriously? This is what you're asking me about?"

"Yeah?" he uncertainly replied after a moment.

"What are you, twelve?"

"Mimzy, are you going to help or not?"

She sighed.

"Alastor, you have a crush on her."

A beat.

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. Maybe even more."

"I..." his brow furrowed, his breath left his body.

This was bad. This could be dangerous, detrimental even.

"Are you sure?"

"Butterflies in your stomach? Pains in your chest? Can't get her out of your mind? You're even breathless for christ's sake Al. It's textbook first pangs of love."

"Fuck."

Mimzy laughed.

"You're already pretend dating, what harm would asking her to do the real thing with you do? My bet is, she's probably been feeling the same thing about you. That tends to happen in cases like yours, I've seen it before. The whole 'fake love turns real' trope. It's overdone if you ask me."

"Mimzy, this isn't one of your trashy romance novels. This is my life."

"So live it radio man! Go get that girl."

Alastor was nervous, trembling even as he sat at the bar. His glass of whiskey had gone warm on the table as he watched Y/n dancing and having fun in the crowd. This was how it usually went when it was his turn to hunt, she'd have fun and he'd find a target. Once the target left, he'd grab her and they'd move out.

Tonight he was distracted and it showed. The man had nearly given them the slip. With Alastor's knife still sticking out of his shoulder, he had ducked away and started running. Of course that meant Alastor and Y/n had to give chase. They ran after him through the streets of New Orleans as he screamed bloody murder and Y/n's heels clicked definitively on the ground. He was thankful that the hour was late and no one was out and about, thankful the man was so drunk his words came out closer to garbled singing than pleas for help, thankful he was slowed by his consumption.

When they at last caught up with him, Alastor grabbed his second knife from his belt and, taking the man's hurt shoulder in his free hand, buried it deep in the man's back. He fell to the floor, sputtering, coughing up blood. In a few moments he was still. Alastor turned to Y/n, panting.

Her pretty eyes traced a path between murderer and victim a handful of times before a smile broke out onto her face. Before he could really register what was happening, she was doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach.

Alastor watched Y/n, eyebrows raised as they both caught their breath. After about a minute, she straightened up and turned to him, wiping a tear from her eye.

"What?" Alastor asked with a wry smile, "What is so funny about a dead man."

"He..." she broke out into laughter again, "He... the way he ran! And we almost lost him?! Oh my god, Al, that coulda been so bad."

"The way... he ran?"

"He... didn't you see it? Oh my god, it was so funny. Like he was running in a three legged race with an invisible partner." she wheezed.

Alastor felt the heat pooling in his cheeks. Mimzy was right, it was time for him to live his life. A normal existence could coexist with his hobby, Y/n had already proved that to him.

"Didn't you see?" she asked again.

"No." he shook his head, "I was... I was watching you."

"You were... Al, theres no way you were." Y/n scoffed, "No way. If you were watching me, he would have gotten away. If you were watching me, it would meant that you were unconcerned by your oh-so-precious reputation being ruined. If you were watching me, it would mean..."

She trailed off as he took a step closer to her, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her lips. Y/n's cheeks flushed pink.

"Alastor."

Her voice was a dying prayer. Reaching a trembling hand up, he laid it on the back of her head, his fingers tangling with her hair as she looked up at him with wide eyes. Alastor closed the gap.

He had been so scared. Scared she would push him away, that she wouldn't kiss back. Even a little bit scared he'd just become the next name on her list of degenerate men she'd killed.

There was a moment, a split second, where his fears were realized. Then, she washed them all away. Hands buried in the lapel of his jacket, she pulled him closer, Y/n leaned in.

They broke apart after a moment, their cheeks flushed and utterly breathless.

"I-"

"Would you like to go on a date with me, Y/n?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Are you going to try to kill me again?"

"Oh please, I thought we'd moved past that darling."

Y/n smiled, still holding him close. Alastor let his hands fall onto her waist as they swayed slightly under the light of the moon.

"Yes Alastor. I will let you take me on a date."

"We will not be swingers."

Y/n laughed.

"Just had to make that clear."

"No, Alastor. If I am going to get you, I want you all to myself. Now, what are we going to do about that body?"

----

Next Part -> Cover Up pt. 2

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

Hear me out please…

Imagine Bucky doing this as a way to get you stay home from work and says something like “Nope. You can’t leave. If you leave, I’m going with you.”

The Bed's Warm, Why Go?

PAIRINGS: James "Bucky" Barnes x Reader

WARNINGS: swearing, unprotected sex (darlings, please wrap your man's pig in a blanket), p in v, nipple sucking, mentions of cum, cumming inside. (If I have left anything out pls DM me and let me know 😊)

WORD COUNT: 730

ENJOY!

"Doll, don't leave me all alone," his arm snakes around your middle just as you're about to get up from bed. He pulls you towards him, and your back hits his warm, bare chest.

"Love, you know I don't wanna go," you turn in your place and smile at him while scratching his stubble. "Then don't," he pouts and rubs your hip, then cups the back of your knee and hooks your leg over his muscular thigh.

"I need to earn, Bucky. How else am I gonna spoil my favourite man, hmm?" Bucky smirks, and you can see his cheeks flush slightly red. He sits against the headboard and lifts you as though you weigh nothing, setting you on his thighs.

"Stay with me, princess. Call in sick," he wraps his arms around you, pulling you impossibly close as he stuffs his face between your breasts. You sigh and chuckle softly, running your hands through his fluffy bed hair.

"Convince me," you whisper. And that's it. That's all Bucky needed to hear.

He quickly flips the both of you, settling in between your legs. "Don't have to tell me twice, doll."

He tugs your underwear to the side, and slips his cock free from the restraints of his boxers.

You'll never really get over how big your boyfriend is. You start to whine, needing to feel something. "Bucky."

He smirks at your neediness, bending to catch your lips in a chaste kiss. "Oh, I know, doll, I know. Trust me, I'm going to fuck you so good that you forget about work. So good, that the way you walk into work tomorrow, your co-workers are going to think you were really sick."

A whimper leaves your lips, and he chuckles, tapping his cock on your clit. You gasp at the sensation. "Yes, please. Bucky, oh god," you whine, gripping onto his shoulders.

His brows pinched together as he slowly slips into your weeping hole. "Fuck. So, fucking tight, princess." You throw your head back against the pillows, biting your lip as you feel your walls trying their best to accommodate his girth.

He bottoms out in you, and you feel his pubic hair tickle your sensitive button. "Bucky, move please," you whine again. He leans back and grabs your hips, then he starts to pull out until it's just the tip of him inside.

Then he slams into you, and you wail his name. His thrusts start to become harsher, and your moans become more higher in pitch. "Such a good girl for me, yeah? Taking everything I give you."

You moan and start babbling when he hits that particular spot on your spongy wall. "Fuck, Bucky. Right there, right there!" Bucky bends, grabbing the headboard with one hand and tossing your leg over his shoulder with the other.

Reaching new depths into your canal, you scream in pleasure. "Oh yeah, just like that doll. Let the neighbours know how good I make you feel," he sucks a bruising kiss on your neck before sloppily marking up the rest of the column of your throat.

His thrusts are short and hard, and with each one of them, you move closer to the headboard. "Fuck, Bucky, you feel so good," you whine loudly.

You clench around him hard, feeling tears prick at the corner of your eyes. "Babe, I'm close." Bucky groans at your words, thrusting faster. "Shit, me too."

The band tightens until the tension breaks. You arch your back as you gush all over Bucky's cock. "OH FUCK."

Bucky grunts, feeling you milk him. "God, so pretty when you come like that, princess."

You feel his thrusts falter in pace, indicating he's close. You reach behind him and grab his ass, squeezing the muscle. "C'mon baby, come for me," you whisper. He groans, pressing himself against you. Your thigh is impossibly pressed against your chest, and you moan again.

"Shit," Bucky grunts as his body goes slack, and you feel his warm load paint the inside of your walls.

You both pant hard, trying to catch your breaths.

After a while, Bucky removes your leg from his shoulder, and then proceeds to lay himself on top of you. Resting his head on your boobs, he smiles tiredly. "So, you going to work?" he raises a brow.

All you can do is just laugh and playfully flick at his nose.

💌💌💌

Thanks for the ask, babes!!!!

Absolutely, in love with that gif.

I srsly can't stop looking at it, LMAO.

Till' then

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[familyvideostevie]

steel drum weight of me

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni

summary: joel comes back from his wall shift with hands in need of some serious tlc. but why stop there? | 3.2k

warnings: fem!reader, fluff turned to smut, a tender blowjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex, riding, creampie

a/n: this could be in the same universe as come care about me and watching you with wonder but who knows. what matters is it's a post-part i jackson au and all is well. this is my first fic in a while and i hammered it out today so hopefully it's coherent. <3 series masterlist here.

__

Jackson looks its best in the winter.

You've always thought so with its endless skies gone white, blending in with the grey clouds carrying the constant threat of snow. The peaks you never tire of, such ethereal beauty in a world otherwise gone to shit, looming over town with a steadfastness that you can fool yourself into thinking means protection, means safety. In reality, they're just something nice to look at when you have a free moment.

It's also fucking cold.

But you can deal with that. You've spent more winters in the last twenty years than you'd like to remember mostly outside, freezing your ass off, fingers so numb you could barely pull the trigger. But when it counted, you did.

Winter now means a town full of children laughing and having snowball fights. It means big pots of stew and your pick of hats, scarves, and a good pair of boots. It means a warm house to go back to every night, a bed to crawl into, and a man you love to hold you.

Things could be worse.

You're home first today. Joel and Ellie are on the wall and have been since mid-morning. The light is already going, the sun dipping behind the Tetons, sky that winter mix of purple and pink that makes the breath catch in your throat no matter how many times you see it. There's a flu going around and taking people out for a few days at most but it means fewer bodies free for the wall and for patrol. You're pulling a double tomorrow and you're already looking forward to the hot bath you'll take after.

Today, though, you change from your work clothes to something softer, a sweater that travels between your drawer and Joel's, thick socks Dina gave you for your birthday last year. It's hard to heat houses like yours the way you used to but it works well enough to fight the chill so long as you layer. That's the name of the game these days: adapting.

You set the kettle to boil and forgo thinking about dinner for a few hours. Joel won't drink tea with you but if Ellie stops by she'll have some. Maybe you can convince her to watch the movie you pulled from the library this week. You love him, but Joel just doesn't appreciate comedies.

The front door creaks, the bell you have hanging from the doorknob jingling.

"S'me," Joel calls into the house. "You home?"

"Making tea." The kettle isn't steaming yet so you lean against the counter and wait.

The sounds of his return are familiar even though you can't see him. He locks the door with a click, shrugs his jacket off with a sigh. He sits down on the bench you put in the entryway so he can take his boots off. The thunk of one and then the other. He'll tuck them next to yours under the coat rack. When the weather is bad you try to come in the back door so not as to track snow through the house but you don't want his back to get any worse so a bench in front makes sense.

The kettle screams. You pull it off quick and pour the water into your mug -- a chipped green one with a dinosaur holding a cookie that you find endlessly amusing -- and leave it to steep. The floor creaks under your socked feet as you make your way into the hall. Joel still sits on the bench digging into the meat of one palm with his thumb like he's working the feeling back into them.

He looks up and his jaw softens a little. His cheeks are rosy from the cold and his hair a mess from the wind. "Evenin," he says.

"How was the wall?"

"Fine." He stops messing with his hands and rolls his shoulders back with a grunt. "Ellie swears she saw a moose on her last patrol. Said to tell you. I think she's fuckin' with me. How was your shift?"

"Fine," you echo. "Is she coming for dinner?"

He shakes his head. "Game night at Jesse's."

You cross the remaining distance between you and he parts his legs automatically so you can stand between his knees. You run a hand through his hair, pushing the greying fringe back from his eyes. He looks up at you and finally smiles, just a little. You drag your hand down the side of his face and enjoy the feel of his beard on your skin.

"Maybe she did see a moose." He rolls his eyes and brings a hand up to cover yours. You lean down to kiss him but something catches your eye and you pull back, tugging your hand from beneath his to circle his wrist.

"Jesus, Joel." He makes a surprised sound.

"Hey now, what --"

You pull his other hand from his knee and hold them both close to your face, turning them over in the light of the entryway. "You didn't wear gloves, did you?"

He just shrugs. That means someone else on the wall -- probably Ellie -- forgot theirs and he handed his own over.

The skin of his knuckles is dry and cracked, the rest of his palm dry and cold to the touch. You've seen them bloody, broken and bruised, and compared to that, this is tame. Welcome, almost. But you know he won't do a damn thing about it, let himself bleed rather than take a second to make things better.

And you've never minded this part. Taking care of him, making him slow down and rest for even just a little bit. You both know you'd get your hands dirty or worse for him and he for you, but this is the part he has trouble with. So you take the reigns.

It's part of how you fit together -- part of how you look after each other.

"We've got something for this." Joel looks unamused. You press a light kiss to one of his knuckles and his nostrils flare. "Go sit on the couch," you say.

"I'm fine --"

"Joel, they'll bleed if you don't let me --"

"I said I'm --"

"Hey," you say. He hears the finality of your tone and lets you have it, sighing your name in one long breath.

"Alright," he says. "Move, then."

You press a quick kiss to his lips and release his hands to step back. He stands with his usual grunt and you have to stop yourself from leaning into the width of him, from wrapping your arms around him and slotting your nose in his neck and never letting go.

"It's that salve Dina brought over last week," you tell him. "The new one for the winter. Smells nice. Good for this kind of stuff."

Joel makes his way to the couch and you fetch the tin from the kitchen.

"What's it made of?"

"Uh -- oil? And some flowers, I think? Wax, maybe."

He's settled into the cushions when you return, smirking. "It's okay to say you don't fuckin' know."

You sit next to him and unscrew the top, folding your legs so you're facing him. "Well then, I don't fuckin' know." You're sure to imitate his drawl.

"Cute."

"Gimme those hands, big guy."

The salve smells faintly of lavender and it's cold on your fingertips. Joel extends his right hand and you work it into his skin slowly, extra careful around where it's cracked and split. You feel his eyes on you but you let him look.

"Feels good, huh?" He hums. "If you'd wear your gloves then --"

"What was I gonna do, let her freeze?" So it was Ellie, then. You flick your gaze up and find his brow furrowed. If you have a free hand you'd smooth the crease with your thumb.

"No," you say. "Guess it's a damn good thing you have me here, then."

He chuckles, a throaty, rusty sound. "Guess so."

You finish the first hand and motion for his second. He gives it to you and you dig your thumbs into the meat of his palm. Joel lets you touch him whenever you like, for the most part. Pressing into his side when you walk down the street in town, trailing your lips down his neck until he whines just a little in your bedroom. You've worked knots out of his shoulders and cleaned blood from surface wounds. You can never get enough of him, of his warmth, the expanse of his tanned skin all yours for the taking.

And, boy, he touches you back.

So you take your time. You rub the salve between his fingers, over the ridges of knuckles split so many times you don't even know about. His hands are rough even when they're not dry and cracking, callused from years of hard work. From years of violence and playing guitar, shooting a gun and holding the people he loves. Dotted with scars and nicks, hands that have touched every part of you.

Joel's slightly slimy finger taps your chin. "You okay?" You've been stroking the same bit of his hand for who knows how long.

"Yeah," you say and mean it. You rub your own hands together to soak in some of the salve before putting the lid back on the tin and standing. "Need to let it soak in."

"Feels soaked in already," he grumbles.

"Stay there." He purses his lips. "I mean it, Joel."

"Bossy today," he says. "There's wood that needs choppin'." You ignore him since he's just being annoying. The salve goes back in the kitchen and his voice trails after you. "And I told Tommy I'd --"

You turn on the tap. "You gotta let that soak in," you say again from the sink.

"What? Can't hear over the water."

You turn off the tap and dry your hands. Joel is still on the couch when you return. "Sorry," you say. You run your hand through his hair again and settle back down next to him. "I said be patient."

"Don't think that's what you said."

"It's what I meant."

And he looks at you in that way that always makes your face feel hot. Like he's seeing right to the bone of you, like he's laying you bare on the floor in his mind. Like he never wants to stop looking at you, next to him on the couch, leg pressed to yours. Like he loves you.

"Alright," he says.

You get an idea, the flames licking at your belly and your hands itching to touch him again, to touch him differently than before. That idea has you grabbing a pillow and tossing it to the floor, has you getting up and drawing the curtains before you sink to your knees before him.

Joel only looks mildly surprised, eyebrows raised, mouth tugging up at the corner. "Now, I ain't gonna complain but --"

"Then don't," you say. You tug his shirt from his waistband and start working on his belt. "Gotta pass the time somehow. And I don't know what we're doing for dinner yet, so maybe I'm just stalling."

"Hell of a way to stall." He reaches for you to touch your face, maybe, or help you with his belt, when you click your tongue. "We can just go to the community hall--"

"Don't touch," you remind him. "You have to let it--"

"Soak, Jesus, yeah, yeah." Joel tips his head back along the sofa and takes one deep breath. If he really wanted to he could ignore you and you'd let him get away with it, but if there's one thing you and Joel have solidified, it's trust. He trusts you to take care of him, to handle him with hands that love him.

So you do. He lifts his hips just a little so you can tug his jeans down, zipper undone and button popped. You pull out his cock, already half-hard at the promise of what's to come. You spit into your palm and stroke him once root to tip and he hisses. More blood flows and he stiffens in your hand.

"You just gonna look at it?"

You give him a squeeze for being a shit. He laughs but it sounds punched out, on the edge. Frankly it's an effort not to take him in your mouth right away. You've always loved this -- the exchange of power, the trust. You're the one on your knees but you're calling the shots. And he's mouthwatering. The way his cock curves a little, the vein that runs along the underside. The mushroom head a little pinker than the rest, the wiry hair at his base. The hefty weight of his balls in your hand, on your tongue. You know how to make it good for him and it's good for you, too.

Joel opens his mouth to no doubt say something else annoying so you finally drag your tongue along the vein, swirling a little at the top before taking just the tip of him in your mouth. His precome is salty. You work your hand along the rest of him as you start to suck in earnest, hollowing your cheeks and taking a little more each time.

"Look so pretty, baby," Joel says. His voice is gravely, broken in his throat. You manage to take almost all of him and you swallow, just once. Your reward is your name spilling from his mouth in a groan.

It's messy. Spit beads at the corner of your mouth and drips a little as you work him, breathing through your nose when you take him all the way. So good, takin' all of me, keep goin'.

Joel has clearly forgotten your directive as he winds one hand in your hair and pulls just a little, just enough to make you moan around him. You don't scold him for it, instead keeping your eyes on his face. His head is tipped back just a little, lips parted at he gazes down at you. His other arm is stretched along the length of the couch, his fingers digging into the fabric as you bob on his cock.

You know he's close. You can feel how he's trying hard to keep his hips down, trying not to fuck your throat cause usually he asks first. So it's only a little surprising when he pulls you off him, eyes a little glazed and some color high on his cheeks.

He wipes spit from the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb. "Why don't you c'mere?" he says. "Let me fill you up."

"Joel." This was supposed to be about making him feel good. You know even if he comes in your mouth he'll ask you let him touch you, so frankly you don't mind if he fucks you or not.

He smirks, presses his fingers into the side of your neck a little. You swallow so he can feel it. "We both know you can take it," he drawls, eyes dark. "Always gets you goin', my cock in your mouth."

You can feel the heat between your legs, the arousal pooling in your gut. He's right but he's also an asshole. "You're annoying," you tell him.

"So is that a no?"

You drag the flat of your tongue up his shaft one last time as punishment before standing, using his knees as leverage to get off your own. He shucks off his jeans the rest of the way as you drag down your pants, letting them pool with your underwear at your feet before stepping out. Joel holds out a hand for you to balance on and you take it, putting your other on his shoulder.

"Feels softer already," you mutter. Joel snickers and you straddle him. He uses one hand to drag his fingers through your cunt and you fail to swallow a gasp.

"Well, look at that," he says. "I was right." He pushes two fingers into you and they go easily, your hips jerking as he pumps them in and out once, twice, and then you're empty again.

"Smug bastard," you manage. He brings his hand to his mouth and takes a long lick before surging forward to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you even wetter.

Joel licks into your mouth and you kiss him back sloppily, desperately, in the way you know he likes. You're so busy with that hands on his face, his beard scratching your skin deliciously, that you don't notice what else he's doing. His hand presses into the bare skin of your back under your shirt and you lift up a little on instinct and then --

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance and his hand presses again and you meet the movement of his hips with your own and he fills you with just one stroke.

You moan in unison, Joel's arm wrapping around your back as you curl yours around his neck, mouths not so much pressed together as hovering as you pant, as you adjust. Even with how wet you are Joel is a stretch, a welcome one, but a stretch regardless. You shift your hips, roll them back and forth a little.

"Go on, then," you tell him. "Fuck me."

He laughs.

His lips leave yours and trail down your chin, sucking spots onto your neck and on that spot that makes you keen as he does what you ask. He goes slow at first, letting you meet him thrust for thrust. One hand snakes up your shirt, thumbs at your nipple when he finds no bra in the way. You wing your fingers in his hair and tug, tug until he picks up the pace, until all you can hear is the smack of his flesh against yours.

"Joel -- Joel -- right there --"

"M'not gonna -- I -- fuck --"

"Said you were gonna fill me up, didn't you?" you pant, managing to find a bit of cheek in the haze of your fucking. "C'mon, Miller. Don't keep a lady wait--"

His hips pick up the pace, his hands pressing into you hard enough to bruise. You give up trying to tease him and hang on for dear life, managing to snake a hand between your legs to rub at your clit as he pounds into you. The only thing you can say is his name over and over as you feel the hook pull taught, feel the head of his cock brush against and then pound that spot that makes your vision blur.

Joel comes just before you do, his thrusts stuttering and his name on your lips. You feel it, the heat inside you and it's enough to send you over the edge, your cunt squeezing him as he empties inside you.

You press your forehead to his and catch your breath. He palms your neck, your jaw, slides his thumb lazily under your eye and kisses the corner of your mouth.

"Hell of a salve," he manages.

You slot your lips over his. "Wear your damn gloves." Joel laughs and it shifts him inside you. Even softening it makes you both hiss a little. "Just gimme a second."

His hand drags up and down your back, pressing into your spine. "Take your time," he says. "M'clearly not goin' anywhere."

"You never stop, do you?"

Joel kisses you again. "'fraid not."

You laugh into his neck. "Good."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[xianyoon]

you're not that bad of a study partner

xiao diluc kaeya childe wriothesley lyney alhaitham x gn!reader studying with them. romantic fluff. reupload from my previous blog ; @.i23kazu.

[ ♡ ] xiao

he's the one who has the noise-cancellation headphones, blacklisted apps activated kind of student. everything is on lockdown and on do not disturb mode – he doesn't even get texts from his parents – please don't disturb him. poke him with your pen and you'll just see him roll his eyes at you– no, seriously- it's not worth it! admittedly, xiao is also a really good student ; always on task, even for the subjects that he absolutely despises. ask him to tutor you and he might grumble and groan, but what happens when the tutor falls in love with his student? only one way to find out.

[ ♡ ] diluc

possibly the class rep and one of the harder ones to get close to. studying with him is a express ticket to resources that teachers had given him because of his high-class status. he's not proud of it – diluc genuinely believes that each student deserves the chance to have the same access as him – which is why he's willing to share it with you as well. we didn't even have to meet up, you could just have sent it over- you whine, but the tinge of crimson on his cheeks is a telltale sign that perhaps he needed- no, wanted, this excuse.

[ ♡ ] kaeya

the teasy study buddy. watch him annoy the hell out of you– of course you know he's teasing, but sometimes it hurts. "haha, i thought i taught you this already? does the little bunny not have enough space in there?" he taps your head with his pen. it's only when your face crumples and you start to mumble out apologies, teardrops cockling your paper – that he panics. "shit- i'm so sorry– how can i make it better?" he wipes your tears away gently with his thumbs – a true gentleman owns up to his mistakes. he makes it up with a sweet kiss and a stack of gift cards to your favourite cafes.

[ ♡ ] childe

he's the study partner friend who keeps you going, truly. if sunshine was bottled up and wrapped with a bow and had an orange cap, it would be childe! watching your face fall after staring at algebra simply won't do for him, no, no. let him lead you as he tugs on your hands outside of the study room, and just let your feet follow in his footsteps – you'll find yourself outside the library cafe. he takes out his wallet from his pocket and grins at you. "alright, it's on me! what do you want?" maybe his wallet is a little lighter, but so is his heart, once he sees your face light up.

[ ♡ ] wriothesley

wriothesley is the one who has it all planned out. first, you'll start studying at 10pm... which is a little late, but it's alright. you'll get tired around midnight, which will be when he offers you the first cup of warm chamomile. "won't this put me to sleep?" you whine, accepting it from him anyways. he chuckles and runs his hands through your hair, replying that it's never worked on him. true enough, you start getting sleepy around half past one – finally leaning against his shoulder, your arms going slack. kissing your head, he drapes a blanket around you. good night.

[ ♡ ] lyney

the one who sits besides you, cracking jokes every now and then! but when it's time to study, he can buckle down and start doing work –that's just lyney – the human on and off switch. there's something about him doing work while twirling his poker cards in his hands that's just so mesmerising – a stare a moment too long catches his eye, and he immediately jumps into doing a trick for you. get back to work!, you laugh and playfully swat his shoulder, turning back to your own paper. he chuckles in return, and unbeknownst to you, turns back to look at his own work with a smile.

[ ♡ ] alhaitham

alhaitham can be stricter as a study buddy – he's stern with distractions, wanting you to keep your phone to the side as he's explaining concepts – yes, concepts you learnt, but never understood. "hey, eyes here. did you understand, or do i need to go through it again?" he sounds bored, and you feel sorry for him. you mumble a soft i understand back, and he sighs and tells you to take a break. "look up." your eyes trail up from your tear-soaked papers, and instinctively close as he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead. "please believe in yourself just as i believe in you." he utters softly. you've never seen alhaitham act so tenderly before.

[covetyou]

the best of the world in the palm of our hands

part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: dub con (reader is paying a debt), pussy spanking, unprotected PIV, fingering, oral (f receiving), cumplay, anal play (blink and you'll miss it), derogatory names (slut), drug reference, unspecified age gap, joel miller is a massive slut word count: 4.9k chapter summary: You find a way to pay your fathers debts

A/N: pussy spanking! lets go! you know the old saying, open mind open legs.

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song: damage gets done by Hozier

Your dad had been rationing his pain meds for months, barely taking one every two days now that the world had gone to shit and they were so much harder to come by - and so much more expensive as a result. Lean times were made leaner still by missed shifts and slow work, which meant for even fewer pills to ration out.

Eventually, you would listen, night after night, as he groaned and writhed in pain, meds long gone. Nights like that meant another missed shift, fewer ration cards, and the ever looming threat of debtors coming to collect on what was theirs.

That was the situation that had brought you here, to his door. Desperation, and a debt needing to be paid.

Your knock on the door sounds sharp in the silence of the hallway. You're in a "nicer" part of the QZ - the apartment block cleaner and less crammed full of bodies than others. Here there are fewer people to care, fewer people to see. Fewer people to hear you scream.

The door in front of you suddenly flies open and you wretch you head around, straightening your back. You'd told yourself you'd play it cool, but already you were failing.

Joel Miller, self appointed pharmacist, medication supplier, drug dealer, stands before you. He's tall and broad, taking up almost the entire doorway as he rests one hand on top of the frame. He ticks one hip to the side and tucks his fingers through his belt loops.

You'd seen him from a distance, people pointing with whispers of "that's him", but never up close. Flecks of gray dance around the scruff on his jaw, his dark brown eyes wrinkling as he assesses you. The firm expanse of him so much more intimidating from this distance, you square yourself before you speak.

"I -" you begin, but he immediately cuts you off.

"I don't do business in the hallway," he drawls. "This is business, right?" he quirks a dark eyebrow at you.

You nod, all words snatched from your brain. You'd never heard him before - his southern drawl sounding cocky as he sizes you up, standing meek and mild in the corridor.

"S'always business. Come in then, sweetheart," he says, barely moving his body from blocking the doorway for you to squeeze past him. You push yourself against the door frame as much as possible so you don't drag your body along his.

The living room of his apartment is bigger than the entire place you share with your father. As far as you can tell, Joel lives here alone.

The door slams shut behind you, and heavy footsteps walk past you. Joel picks up a bottle and a single glass, pouring himself two fingers of whisky before setting the bottle back down and taking a sip. You knew you would be vulnerable, coming here alone, but you hadn't taken into account feeling trapped.

"So, what y'here for?"

"M-my dad, he's -"

"I know who your dad is, sweetheart. Seen you together. He owes me. Ain't heard from him in a few weeks. I asked what you're here for, not about your dad."

"Yeah," you nod, trying to feign confidence, "Yeah well, that's why I'm here. He needs more medicine."

"What I gave him weren't medicine, it ain't fixin' shit. I gave him pain relief. That's it."

"Well, he needs more. He's out, and he's hurting, and he can't work - " you ramble, but he cuts you off again.

"Now, sweetheart," he raises a finger to stop you. "I don't see why I should be giving you, or him, anythin'. I owe you nothin', and from where I'm standing, you're the one who owes me. Two weeks worth, right?"

Your eyes go wide. You were hoping he'd make it easier than this - go easy on you because you were a girl and you were here alone. You were hoping to play on his heartstrings, but you were starting to realise that maybe he didn't have one.

His glass thunks down on the table.

He circles you like a predator circles its prey, looking you up and down, assessing for weakness. You stare straight ahead, unwavering as possible.

He stops in front of you, tall and foreboding, before tilting your chin up with a single finger.

"You got the cards for that?"

You shake your head no.

He clicks his tongue, smiles, and says, "That's a damn shame". You have a feeling he doesn't think that at all.

"Dad's been hurting too much, he can't work, we haven't been able to get the cards, I've been trying I - "

"Looks like you'll have to do then," he shrugs, crossing his arms across his broad chest as he leans back against his dining table. "Show me what you can pay me with."

You'd never done this before - well, that was a bit of a lie. You'd done something like this, once, before, with someone else, someone different, someone who probably couldn't hurt you in the ways the massive figure of Joel Miller could hurt you.

You take two small steps toward him, and move to lower to your knees - you'd heard men like him accepted this mode of "payment" all the time - but he grabs your arm in one giant hand before you can make your descent.

You balk at him, "Wha - "

"I don't want a half-hearted blow job, sweetheart," he licks his lips and his thick fingers tug at the hem of your too big t-shirt. "Why don't you take this off. Show me what you can pay me with."

The implication was clear - he didn't want anything you could give him, but you had plenty he could take. Your breath hitches, but you don't let yourself hesitate for long.

Swallowing thickly, you yank your t-shirt over your head and dump it on the floor beside you in one swift action. You're painfully aware that your bra is the least flattering thing you could possibly be wearing - it's soft and old and entirely shapeless, but you weren't expecting to be stripping off for him. You shouldn't even care what he thinks of you but it'd been so long since anyone had seen your bare skin that even this twisted exchange felt like you should've made more of an effort.

You stare directly ahead, not daring to meet his eyes as heat flares in your cheeks. He stalks back to the table and picks up his whisky. You watch him raise it to his lips before he notices you looking. You haven't moved.

He's on you in an instant, grabbing your face, squeezing your cheeks with force as he directs your eyes to his. The heat still burns through your face, but you feel it start to snake traitorously down your spine.

"I said, show me or do you want me to fuckin' rip the rest off you."

Nodding, you scramble to remove the rest of your clothing. It's not sexy, why fucking would it be, and you fumble with the buttons on your pants longer than you'd like, but eventually you're stood entirely nude for him in his apartment.

A puff of air huffs out if his nose and his face twitches as he appraises you like some kind of show cattle. You don't know if he likes what he sees, but that traitorous drip of warmth down your spine hopes that he does. You can trick yourself into thinking it's because he might go easier on you if he likes you, but the longer you stand there under his gaze the more you don't want him to go easy on you.

"You are a pretty thing," he says, rubbing the scruff of his beard. "I think you got just the thing I need to let your dad off the hook, don't you? Might even throw something else in to sweeten the deal if you're extra good." He strokes your hair, and you try to hold back a shudder of arousal. Maybe he'll think it's fear, and maybe it is. Maybe it's both.

"How's that sound?" he prompts as he laces his fingers through your hair and tugs.

You look at his face, his eyes are dark, darker than before, the way he's looking at you makes that traitorous drip into a flood. "Okay."

He wordlessly grunts as he tugs your hair some more and pushes you toward a door on the otherside of the room, making you walk ahead of him.

Even with his hand in your hair, guiding you, your feet move of their own accord. You want to object, refuse, but you can't. You want this. You want a man like Joel - big, protective, in control - to pay you any attention. Whatever the cost.

One final nudge of your head and you stumble into the room as he releases you.

His bedroom is sparse, as expected. Interior decor went to shit with the end of the world, and Joel didn't seem like the kind of man who would've cared about that before anyway.

You stand at the foot of his bed looking down at your toes as they bunch and un-bunch in the carpet. You hear him come in and close the door. If you weren't trapped before you definitely are now. You don't look up at him, you can't, so your eyes remain fixed at your feet when his step into view.

"You ready to get on the bed for me, sweetheart?" His hand strokes gently across the swell of your breast as he talks to you. It's the first time he's really touched you and the flood down your spine has now gathered into a slick pool between your legs.

You do as you're asked sitting on the edge of his bed, feeling even smaller now as he towers over you. You could have been 8 feet tall and still felt small and vulnerable in this moment, Joel Miller cascading above you fully clothed.

A large hand rests on your shoulder, a gentle pressure pushing you to fall back to the mattress below.

"You lay back now. Relax."

You try not to scoff but you can't help it.

"Ain't goin' to hurt you. What good would that do me. I like my customers alive."

You take a deep breath and try to steady yourself with your back flush to the mattress, looking at him as he still hulks above you. You can do this. He'll just... take what he wants. And you'll let him. Then you'll be on your way.

He's still standing above you as he directs you. "Good girl. Now open your legs for me. Lemme see."

You take another deep breathe, hold, and exhale, opening your legs for him just a fraction.

"I'm a patient man, sweetheart, but when I tell you to do something, you fuckin' do it," he growls as he kicks your legs open further. You spread them even wider, wanting to keep on his good side. You're completely exposed and bare for him now. Everything is on display and he still towers over you, looking down at your naked form on his bed.

"Fuckin' beautiful," you think you hear him mutter as he moves to a crouch between your spread thighs. You hold your breath, tensing and try not to clamp your legs shut at his inspection.

"I'm just lookin', sweetheart," Fingers rub calming circles over the softness of your thighs and your legs twitch.

"Keep your fuckin' legs spread," he says with a sharp slap to your thigh. Gasping at the shock, you push your legs to spread as wide as they can. You feel obscene, so open for him and his hand strokes the spot he'd just struck, soothing it.

You were beginning to see how this would go - do exactly as he said and he'd be gentle. Disobey, or be slow on the uptake (patient man my ass) and you'd soon feel the sting of punishment. The thought of that makes you clench around nothing, and you curse under your breath as it's surely now drawn attention to just how wet you are.

You stare up at his yellowed ceiling and hear a chuckle from between your legs - he definitely fucking knows. You don't dare to look down, you just want him to get on with it, until suddenly fingers come dangerously close to your sex and pull you apart, spreading your bare cunt even more for him.

"Well, you're a pretty little thing," he says to your pussy.

The fingers, his thumbs you realise, massage up and down the sides of you, avoiding any direct touch to your folds, but massaging the flesh in such a delicious way that you can't help but feel it right where you need it most.

Joel hums as he moves to his knees, getting closer to your spread cunt, still rubbing his thumbs up and down the sides of you, gradually moving closer and closer to the center of your sex until he's dragging the tips of both thumbs through your wetness and up to the sides of your clit.

You take another deep breath and try to muffle your whimpers with pursed lips, trying to hold back a moan.

"She's likin' that," you hear the amusement in his voice, "I wonder if she'll like this." He moves one of his slicked thumbs directly above your clit and begins to gently stroke. Your hips jerk, unsure if it's toward or away from the pressure of his thumb.

"Oh, she does," and he applies more pressure, circling torturously around your nub as his other hand continues to explore your folds in gentle strokes, parting your opening with two fingers occasionally to see the wetness gathering there, to see how ready for him you are.

"You ever touch yourself like this?" he's talking to you again now, not your cunt.

"N-no," you stutter, as his thumb keeps its languid pace on your clit.

"You don't touch yourself? Y'look well old enough to have done this before."

"No, I-I do, just... not. Not like this."

Joel hesitates for just a moment, fingers stilling, before continuing on. "You like it though." It's not a question. "Tell me how you touch yourself." That wasn't either.

"I don't - I. Fuck," you hiss. You try to relax your grip on the sheets, but his rough thumb on your clit is distractingly good. "I - rub," you pant out.

"With fingers?"

"No," you squeeze your eyes shut. You can't say you expected much from this visit, but telling a stranger how you get yourself off in the dark of the night definitely was not on your list.

"Againstapillow," you mumble, a soft moan being pulled from shortly after as he increases the frequency of his circles on your clit.

"So you're a sweet girl whose sweet pussy only knows soft things?" he hums in thought. "Anything ever been in here?" his index finger circles around your opening, slick now dribbling out of you and being spread around by his thick finger. You must glisten.

You gulp down a sigh. "I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're getting at."

"That's good," he chuckles. "Can't imagine you'd want your first to be like this. Of course a pretty little slut like you has had somethin' in here before." His finger circles more around your hole, barley dipping inside as his well practiced thumb swipes firmly over your swollen clit.

Two thick fingers suddenly plunge into your dripping cunt with ease, stretching you. You pull back with the shock, trying to shuffle up the bed and away at the sudden intrusion, pulling his fingers from you. His hands grip your thighs, anchoring you down and pulling you back toward him.

"Did I say you could fuckin' move?" You shake your head. You didn't even mean to move. It felt good, it shouldn't feel fucking good, you were just surprised.

slap

You hear it before you feel it - a wide hand colliding bluntly with your exposed cunt, sending a sharp stinging, buzzing sensation straight back up your spine. You think your brain shuts off entirely for a second before you gasp for air.

"I know you wanna be good for me. You wanna do right by your sick old dad, right? Help him out of a tough spot?"

His entire palm engulfs your mound with ease, covering you completely as he massages his fingers side to side, easing the sting and jerking your clit in a way that has you rolling your hips and biting back a moan.

"Try getting away again and I'll give your worse than that," you push your pelvis toward him at his words. You really try not to be obvious in your disappointment, you want to be good, but you want it. You want worse. And you know he knows. "But be a good girl and I'll give you exactly what you want. That's why you're here, ain't it?"

Before you can answer he delivers several quick light smacks to your bare pussy. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough send the vibrations through you and straight to your struck clit. He removes his hand to look at your quickly reddening pussy before returning to smack you some more. You gasp, trying desperately to keep still and not moan at the building sensation he's pulling from you - you shouldn't be enjoying any of it at all, let alone this, but fuck you are. There's nothing violent about the way his hand is striking your naked cunt, the light slaps against you turning you on, zinging through you like a tuning fork being tapped on a hard edge.

You hear another laugh from between your legs.

"You've only been givin' it to her soft, sweetheart, when she's just crying out to have it rough."

He spanks your pussy again, this time you can't help the moan that escapes you, your back arching into his quick slap slap slap against your cunt. The speed of his palm slows, but the force increases, drawing obscene noises from you with each blow.

"Uh," the breath huffs out of you with each firm smack to your swollen cunt.

His hand pulls off of you and he spreads you wide again before a warm wet sensation draws up from your fluttering hole to your tender clit in a broad stroke. He's soothing your pussy with soft licks when he latches onto your clit and suckles gently before pulling back to look up at you.

"I like 'em pink like this," he mumbles around your clit, "You're bein' so good takin' it for me."

He's holding your thighs obscenely wide as his tongue lathes your clit, wrenching you open as you wiggle beneath him. You are so close, on the absolute precipice and moments from tipping over the edge, when he pulls from you completely, spreading your cunt open with an his thumbs for inspection once more. The man fucking loves looking at you.

"Look at her twitchin'. I think she likes being spread wide for me, look how wet she is." He dives in for another broad lick, slurping as he goes.

"It's just dripping outa you," he breathes. You feel the warm trickle of wetness drip its well worn path from your pussy and down between the cleft of your cheeks. His finger trails it, and you take in a sharp pull of air when the pad of his finger strokes your tight asshole, spreading your slick across it and causing your legs to twitch closed a fraction once again.

slap. You feel the sting and its aftershocks buzz through you before you hear it. "Keep 'em," slap, "fuckin'," slap, "open!" He soothes your pussy with his full hand again and you moan into him, fisting the sheets at your sides.

"Won't go there today. But don't think I'll be feelin' so generous next time." Next time. He rubs and squeezes your pussy, and you rock your hips into his palm, desperate for more anything.

"You likin' this?" he murmurs, his words almost sounds tender -

- Until another slap rings against your bare sodden skin.

"Answer me."

"Y-Yes!" you gasp out with the next spank to your oversensitive cunt. "Yes, please - I - fuck - please I need to -" slap slap slap slap

Your mind goes blank as a series of slaps are delivered straight to your pussy. A groan is pulled deep from your chest and you spread your legs more for him, pushing into his palm as it rains its gentle smacks down onto you.

"You're goin' to come, ain't you?" he growls out, his smacks getting quicker.

You nod frantically, so fucking close, you shouldn't be so close from this but you are. You're just about to beg for something more, anything more, when the smacks against your pussy get even quicker, and quicker, until he's rubbing frantically at your clit, so swollen from his attention that you practically scream at the sensitivity.

Your orgasm tears through you, drawing a deep guttural sound right from your belly. Your back arches, your dripping hole so neglected as it grips around nothing.

"Fuck," he grinds out from below you, stuffing two fingers quickly into your pussy to feel you grip around them as you rock through your orgasm. You can't see him do it, white blaring across your vision, but you hear the hiss of his breath as he pulls his cock out from his pants.

You whine when he pulls his fingers from your cunt, stroking himself with the slickness of you. He stands and presses himself between your legs, hot and heavy.

"You want it here?" he says, grinding the heft of his cock against your spent cunt. "'Cause you're making a mess, drippin' all over my sheets without me to plug you up." You're in a daze as you nod, still floating from the intensity of your orgasm as you stare dumbstruck at his rock hard length for the first time. It's so big.

It's too big.

"W-wait, it's too bi- "

"Fuckin' look. Watch as I fuck this into you sweetheart," he growls as he feeds the tip of his cock into you anyway, the solid width of him stretching more than you have ever been before, but your wetness letting him slide right in. He fucks the tip in and out, and you watch him do it.

In previous years you'd had nothing more than clumsy fumbles with men, some drunken, but most just uncaring one night stands with promises of more. There was never more. One way or another you were being used, but this time, and for the first time, you could call it what it was. There was no illusion of care here as Joel took what he wanted and made you watch.

And you liked that. You liked being used by him. You liked letting him do anything he wanted to you.

"I want you to watch her swallow me darlin'. Keep your eyes right there," he pushes his hips forward, the pressure of him filling you immense, and he groans as your cunt gives way to him and swallows him whole. "There she goes. Such a good little pussy for me."

"Keep lookin'," he groans again as he retreats from you only to fuck his full length back inside of you in one swift movement, "You look or I send you out of here jus' like this. See how the locals treat a naked slut in broad daylight."

Your cunt pulses with the threat, and Joel notices. He cocks his brows at you, still relentlessly fucking into you. "Oh, she likes that. You like bein' a slut, huh?"

Fuck yes, you want to scream, but instead you nod meekly, still watching him fuck you, obsessed with the sight of his cock disappearing into you over and over again.

"Good fuckin' girl."

Never once does he lean down to steal a kiss, or swipe his tongue across your bare nipple. You're naked for him but he does nothing with it except pound into your flesh, using your cunt to get himself off. His eyes flit between where he's disappearing into you and your eyes, watching with a sneer as they roll back into your head with each knock to your cervix.

"Fuu-uuck." He's hammering into you now, hips smoothly pounding your pelvis, when he grabs one of your arms and flips you onto your side, pushing your knee up so high it's practically by your ear. He slams back into the hilt again, rocking you back as you moan out wantonly around his cock.

From this angle his cock drags across you in ways you've never felt. You'd seen trees being felled as a kid, a wedge being hammered into a cut far too small to fit. You felt like you were being split, just like those trees.

"Ah - uh, I, Joel, please, I -" tears are in your eyes from how good it feels, the dull throb of the impact into your cervix melting your insides.

Joel brings one of his legs up beside you on the bed, the other planted firmly on the floor, giving himself leverage to fuck so deep and hard into you that the air is knocked out of you for a moment. When you can finally take another breath, you're screaming for him, your pussy creaming around him from the endless pounding.

The sloppy wet sounds of your cunt accepting his battering over and over are eventually taken overby moans being ripped from your throat. His belt rattles about his waist with each smack of his hips into yours, you can feel the metal of his buckle, bitingly cold against your skin.

"That's it - fuck - you just fuckin' take - it. You take this cock." You can feel his balls draw up and his cock twitch inside you as he gets close to bursting. He fucks you relentlessly anyway, desperately holding back as long as he can, until he can hold no more.

He drags his cock sharply from your used cunt, throwing you back onto your back on his mattress. His large hand grips his cock and he jerks it over you.

"Oh fuck yeah, fuck yeah," he's practically chanting as he jerks himself, letting out a deep stuttery groan when he finally comes, spurting hot cum all over your soft thighs, belly, chest.

He doesn't aim, he doesn't care where he gets it, the action more akin to a dog pissing on a tree to mark its territory than anything else.

The only noise in the room when Joel's shoulders finally relax are your twin heavy breaths, punctuated by light whines that you just can't help. You're so overstimulated that when his hand comes down to your thigh, you don't realize that he's smearing his cum into you until he's rubbing it into your belly, spreading it across the peaks of your tits, up your neck and across your cheek.

He gives you a light tap on the face. "Look at me," he says, swiping a come coated finger across your lips. You're entirely fucked out, all you can do is look dumbly at him, totally cockdrunk.

"What do you say?"

"I... wha-..." you know what he means when he raises his eyebrows threateningly once again. "Th-thank you."

"That's right."

Suddenly he's yanking you up into a seated position and the blood rushes to your head. Another tug, the world spins, and you're on your feet, but you can barely trust your legs. He drags you from the room and before you know it your own clothes are in your arms, the remains of his come dribbling down your body.

"Get dressed," he stands with his arms crossed, looking at you, expectant.

You stare for a moment, totally lost in his dark eyes, before moving to get your clothes back on. You are still covered in his come, your pussy still buzzing from his spanking. At some point, he tucked his cock back into his pants. You didn't even notice, and you try to push down the disappointment of not getting to see it one last time.

Pulling your clothes back on with skin sticky from sweat and come isn't easy, but you eventually manage. When you stuff your feet into your shoes, he grabs you by the arm and drags you toward the door, unlatching it and pushing you toward the exit.

"I'll consider your debt paid," he murmurs into your hair from behind, pushing you out of his apartment a second later.

"Oh and, catch," he throws something to you but you miss, barely even turning in time at his words. It rattles as it hits the ground. Pills.

"Told you I'd give you something if you were good." Confirmation that you were good for him is all you need to feel another gush of wetness between your thighs. You feel like you could come again from his words and the rough feeling of your panties against your abused cunt.

"What do you say?" he asks again.

"Thank you."

He smirks before closing the door in your face.

You lick your lips as you walk away down the empty corridor tasting Joel Miller for the first time, pills in hand and debt paid.

He never even kissed you.

next part

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[hrdenha]

— noona got you | l.hs

SYNOPSIS: Your boyfriend can't blame you for wanting more than he has, right? Especially, if that thing you want is his younger brother's cock.

WARNINGS: MDNI! CONTROL WHAT YOU CONSUME. cheating (which we don't tollerate), oral (m receiving), heeseung calling yn 'noona', heeseung's magenta mullet (cuz it's dangerous, almost had me dead bc of it 😭), thick cock, oral against the wall. blowjob under the table. hmm, ig that's it.

"Hey, hee... did you see y/n?" A voice by the door asks, "I don't know, hyung. Guess she... hm... went home." Heeseung replied not glancing at his brother, and kept himself distracted with his game.

"Okay. Tell mom that I go out tonight if they ask"

As the door closed, heeseung sighed, the game he's playing was long forgotten. His lids flutter close, asking breathlessly in a whisper "you okay there?" Instead of an answer, heeseung just felt the tight socket of your throat sucking him wholeheartedly. If ever, he would believe you wanted to swallow his dick whole by how mercilessly you are just to get his pleasure.

"Shit, noona... t-think i'm gonna cum" He shouldn't have said that, now, he felt you popping him out of your mouth causing him to whimper but it's okay. Noona got you. Still has your hand stroking him up and down. "Not yet, baby boy—" A lick in a tip, "We're just getting started" before bobbing your mouth through his grith again. Now, you wonder how would it feel if it's inside you and not your mouth?

Heeseung cursed. Damn, that fucking mouth. His tip is definitely hitting you through, tip grazing through your throat as your palate and tongue suck him whole. He wanted to moan loudly but couldn't. His parents' room is just down the hallway. And, heeseung doesn't want them to spoil all the fun.

He cursed, for the umpteenth time as pleasure sends waves throughout his whole body making it numb and he's having all of it. Letting his back rest on his gaming chair as you work wonders down his desk, "Noona—" He called desperately, brushing his magenta mullet with his hand before fisting your hair in the same palm, now, fascinated by how you look trying to suck his whole length. "Wanna try something— p... please" He felt you moaned with a slight nod with him still in your mouth, guess you'll let him have his way.

You don't know what he'll do, but you also know that heeseung would never do something you wouldn't like so you stare at him, waiting. Without warning, he pushed you with your back flat on the wall that made you stare at him in surprise, mouth agape at the sudden action. "Wh—" The next thing you felt was his whole cock pushing down your throat, him being thick is an understatement, he was fucking massive. You can't help but gag, trying your best to accommodate all of him inside your mouth. Even feeling tears starting to build up on the side of your eyes but the pleasure was on point that you can't help but to play with yourself, eyes rolling at the back of your head in the process and moaning in response.

"Yes, that's right, noona. Play with yourself while your boyfriend's younger brother fucks your mouth"

You sense a mocking tone through his voice but you don't care. He can taunt you all he wants, it doesn't matter. All you can think of is how his cock deliciously using your mouth right now. Heeseung's cock is thick, thicker than your boyfriend will ever be. You know that he's gun is thick when you're sucking him under the table, and he's even more thicker and heavy now that he's practically fucking your mouth regardless your limit. Boyfriend can't blame anyone if you desire more than what he has, right? Can't blame your mouth if it wanted to be choked not by him, but by his brother's cock.

Bet his dick leaves a bulge on your neck every time he'll thrust, and he bet your pussy's so fucking wet as you play with yourself. Heeseung growled at the thoughts, his thrust picking up pace as he moaned under his breath. As a result, slobs of saliva and precum mix run down your neck, some of it even drops straight on the floor as heeseung harshly ram his cock.

"Noona, think... I'll— shit!" He whined before shoving himself further inside your mouth, his hand supporting the back of your head as he released his cum onto your cavern and down your throat. You let him empty himself even pulling him towards you by his ass to further bury his thickness inside before playing and sucking him dry.

When you let him go, harsh breaths eventually dominated the room as you two rests and processes all that's just happened. You calm yourself sitting on the same spot a while ago when heeseung was still rutting on you with your back on the wall, while he was sitting across you on his gaming chair. It didn't take long when he reached to took something out of his drawers.

"You okay, noona?" He asks, hand pulling out a wipes from its container. You silently nodded, knowing you won't be able to get back your voice for a few days after the stunt heeseung pulled. You were about to grab the wipes when heeseung pulled you up and despite the darkness of his room, he managed to gently walk you towards his bed where he made you sit after turning one of the lampshades on that lit his room decently.

Heeseung then silently cleaned you, gently wiping the trace of cum on your neck and sides of mouth. You two even laughed when he saw that there's also a drop on your thighs. Not gonna lie, it's kind of awkward. Intimate to be exact, too intimate than your liking knowing that you're cheating from your boyfriend with his own brother. No regrets though. It's just funny how you find heeseung taking care of you more awkward than when his cock was buried deep inside your mouth a few minutes ago.

"Think it's done, no more stains now noona"

But all of those thoughts melt away when you feel the familiar feeling somewhere clumping down there, you smirked at the thought before innocently humming. "I think there's a spot you didn't get, hee..." You seductively blurted out, hands raising the skirt just enough for him to see the dangerous wet spot on your cotton short. "Think you can help noona?"

Heeseung immediately pushed you down settling himself on the top, "Gladly..." He smirked enveloping you on a messy kiss. Guess you'll just have to sneak out of their house later at midnight.

comments, reblogs, and likes are deeply appreciated 💞

© hrdenha, 2024

[yuyusboyfriend]

Cookies & Cream

pairing: nerd!seonghwa x reader

wordcount: 2,7k

content: your tutor helps himself to the cookies in your bag despite you telling him countless times no, without knowing what they really are.

warnings: nsfw, aphrodisiacs, afab reader (use of words cunt, clit, pussy - no mentions of chest or other gendered terms) dom!reader, sub!seonghwa, use of pet names (baby, love), unprotected sex (wrap it ☝️) mentions of food, mentions of sex toys, blow job, cunnilingus (pussy ATE 🗣), edging, some body worship, lmk if there's anything else

Masterlist!˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You had told Seonghwa that on the way to his dorm for a study session, you'd be picking up snacks to get you through the next few dreaded hours. Not that you dreaded spending time with seonghwa, the boy was a pleasure to look at, big brown eyes smiling at you every time you grasped a concept thanks to his help; the warmth of his body engulfing yours when he leant over you to help with a question.

Okay, that wasn't so much helpful as it was distracting, but you liked it nonetheless. You wondered if Seonghwa had any relationship experience, because of the way he was oblivious to almost every move anyone made on him, and would turn fire engine-red when he heard you talk about anything slightly sexual. From your observations, you had concluded that this man has probably never felt the touch of a lover. Still he was a lovely boy, sweet and innocent,,, it kind of did something for you.

“Did you get me turtle chips?” Seonghwa questioned through the front door.

“No 'hello y/n! You made it! Nice to see you'? What did you do with my sweet seonghwa?” you sighed at him, knowing you bought him both the originals, and the churro version. Pretending to not notice the blush on his cheeks, likely caused by the 'my sweet seonghwa' comment, you strolled passed him till you reached your regular spot on the sofa. You pulled the snacks out one by one, watching the joy on Seonghwa's face as you brought all of his favourites to last him until the next session.

“What's in the tub?” seonghwa eyed the plastic tub you had put bag into your bag after pulling the rest of the drinks out.

“Cookies I made, and before you ask, no you can't have any.” you warn.

Seonghwa pouts like his life depends on it, devastated as he adores home-baked goods, especially the ones you make for him. "Why? Who are they for?? Are you seeing someone after me?” he blurts out a little too desperately.

“Why? You jealous, Hwa?” you smirk at him, watching him turn red once again at your words.

“I'm not jealous! I was… just worried because it'll be late by the time you leave, I don't want you wandering around at night…” he gets quieter with each word.

Ah shit, you feel kind of guilty now. You stood up to walk over to the table where always study together, ruffling his hair as you go. “Oh, Hwa, I'm going straight back home after this, don't worry your sweet little head,” you reassure his worrying.

You hadn't realised your tutor had cared so much about you, before this you didn't even know if he considered you friends. Your stomach fluttered at the idea, knowing that seonghwa didn't have many people he considered friends, you could count them all in one hand.

He huffed and pulled out his chair, handing you the test papers you had filled last session, with red pen markings on it showing you where to improve.

“You did really well, if you keep this up you'll be passing with flying colours. I added a couple suggestions on where you can expand on points, but otherwise, you did an amazing job y/n.” He smiles softly at you, proud that your hard work has been paying off.

After an hour of going over some new material from your classes with him, you decide to take a break to stretch and eat the food you brought. Although, you both had already cleared a bag of turtle chips and a bowl of M&Ms in that time, as well as a bottle of your favourite drink.

“Hwa I'm going to the bathroom, ill be back in a minute” you announced to your friend as you walked down the hallway to his spotless bathroom; you always admired how clean seonghwa was, sometimes he'd even help you with yours when you held study sessions there.

Honestly, seonghwa was still hung up on why you didn't let him eat the cookies in your bag, the clear container told him there was way more than you could eat on your own,,,

Surely—you wouldn't notice if one was missing…right?

The boy looked over to the hallway, listening to the sound of you—fighting the shower curtain? He couldn't tell, but you sounded busy. He turned his head back to your bag and reached in, opening the tub and taking one…must've okay three cookies, stuffing them in his mouth and chewing them as fast as he could. They tasted like heaven, he could tell they were a little different from your regular ones, you must've tried a new recipe? Maybe that's why you were so adamant about him not having any? Whatever it was, it was hardly noticeable, the crispy marshmallows taking over his taste buds. He quite literally moaned at the taste, almost annoyed that he nearly missed out on this.

He washed them down with the strawberry milk he kept stocked and put everything back where it was, just as you walked out of the bathroom.

“Alright, what have we got left?” you looked at the boy standing by his chair.

“Uh, we”, Seonghwa went to answer your question but his brain completely blanked. “We were…” he looked at the table to remember where you had left off, but you had already his noticed is off demeanour.

“Hwa, you good?” you tilted your head at the boy, watching him push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“I'm great y/n! Lets, uh, get back to the work?” he avoided looking in your direction, his body feeling funny - fuck, what did you put in those cookies? He thought.

“Hwa. What did you just say? Did you—Did you eat the cookies I told you not to!?” You started raising your voice at him, more worried about him than anything.

“I-I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd notice if a few were gone…” he says under his breath, feeling overwhelmingly heavy. His emotions feeling all too strong to the point where he feels a tear rolling down his cheek before he could stop it. His core felt like hot coals, and his skin more painfully tender than he had ever experienced in his life.

"Sit down, I'm gonna get you some water… I know this is a weird question, but are you seeing anybody currently that I can call?" you already knew the answer, but you didn't want to risk it.

"Wh-what? No, I'm not seeing anybody y/n, why would you need to-" He huffed out a groan as his sweatpants grew tighter and rubbed against his swelling hard on.

"Okay, those cookies you just ate? They're aphrodisiac cookies, I hadn't even had a chance to test them out, I was going to when I got home…" you reluctantly looked at Seonghwa's horrified expression, mixed with sweat forming on his brow. You watched as he fidgeted and pulled at his irritating clothing, his hips rutting and bucking subtly against nothing.

"Hwa you wouldn't happen to have any… sex toys, would you? I can go to the pharmacy and pick some up, It's not far." you already start grabbing his spare set of keys and your jacket to leave, if you went now it would only take 8 minutes-

"In the bottom drawer of my desk, can you help me get to my room?" Oh. So he wasn't as innocent as you thought. He reached out for you, barely able to stand by himself now, his legs feeling like they would crumble under his weight. As you wrapped Seonghwa's arm over your shoulder, pulling him up, he pressed his body against yours, resting his head on your shoulder. God, the scent of you was making him harder, barely restraining himself from biting your neck while you walked him to his bedroom.

He slumped into his bed, not waiting any longer to take his shirt off. He wanted to burn the damn thing now, the material felt torturous on his sensitive nipples. You looked at him in awe, his blushing body making your mouth dry and your hands ache to feel him under them.

"Well, I'm gonna go-"

"No."

You looked at him in confusion, seeing his darkened eyes filled with desire, "What do you mean, no?"

"The least you could do is help me...please?"

That's all you needed to jump into his lap and connect your lips. The kiss was filled with desperation, teeth bumping and tongues swirling together, fighting for dominance in your mouths. You grind against his aching cock, dragging a whine from his sweet voice.

"Sweatpants off, now Hwa" need dripping from each word, you didn't have to tell seonghwa twice. He lifted his hips up on the bed, and he pulled them off with your help. You took a moment to take in his figure. He was gorgeous, I mean, you already knew that, but lying here looking so desperate for your touch gave you goosebumps. You wanted to devour him; and you would do just that. You leant down between his legs to his stiff cock, kitten licking his soaked tip.

"Oh fuck," He squirmed under your tongue, hips trying to buck into your mouth for more. You held his hips down as you took him fully to the back of your throat. He cried out sweet whimpers at the feeling of your mouth around his cock, taken away all too quickly as you came back up for air. He didn't have to suffer for too long, though, as you formed a steady rhythm with your hand.

"I'm gonna cum y/n it feels too good," tears rolled down his reddened cheeks.

You took his cock out of your mouth with a pop, "love, we just started, I can't have you cumming that quickly now, can I?" untying the string of your own sweats, pulling them down with your underwear, exposing your bottom half to seonghwa. His member twitching and leaking at just the sight of you.

"You're my tutor, shouldn't you be helping me, hm? Why don't you let me sit on your face, and you can show me how to make someone cum, baby?"

Hwa had a habit of swiping his tongue against his lip when he was thinking, or doing anything and fuck, he was so sexy about it. It fuelled so many wet dreams and solo sessions, you couldn't wait to feel it in action.

God, he did not disappoint. He swiped his tongue across your soaking cunt, swirling around your swollen clit. You cried out at the sensations of him ravaging you as you stimulated your clit on the tip of his nose, while he fucked your starving hole with his long tongue. It didn't take long for the pressure in the pit of your stomach to build, you barely had time to warn seonghwa before you came on his tongue. He wrapped his hands around your thighs and rocked your hips against his face as you rode out your high.

You admired his fucked out face, your arousal still across his mouth and nose, and leaned over to kiss him again. “Okay, it's only fair you have your turn Hwa, ready baby?”

He could only whine out your name and beg for you to fuck him, he was so ethereal in this state. You couldn't wait to see him cum. As you sank down on his cock, he sat up and gripped your hips so hard it would leave marks he wanted to worship after. Once you bottomed out, you stayed there, letting seonghwa adjust to the feeling. He pulled your shirt over your head and kissed your skin, scattering hickeys across your chest.

"Fuck you're so tight y/n, please move," he keeps his hands on you trying to roll your hips against him.

"And you're such a needy boy, should've listened to me when I told you not to eat those cookies, hm?" you cooed at the boy looking into glossy eyes, before lifting yourself up and slamming back down, ripping the loudest moan yet out of seonghwa. You kept a slow, steady pace, teasing and punishing seonghwa for this very avoidable situation, more so because you worried that this would be the last time on his cock. Fuck he was perfect, he filled you so much better than your exes', hitting all the spots you never knew you needed.

But, He couldn't take much more of the pace and took it into his own hands, flipping you on your back and lifting your legs over his shoulders to put you in a mating press. Once he had you like that you knew you were done for. His hips slammed into your cunt, making your jaw drop, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. The way he pounded you deliciously had you seeing stars, Your groans just short of screams; not so much because you didn't need to but for his neighbours' sake, although you were already expecting to hear about a complaint in the morning anyway.

"fuck, fuck y/n you feel so good," He huffed out a series of thank-yous and sweet nothings into your skin, worshipping your pussy like he was willing to die for it.

He picked up his pace, thrusting just as deep, and you knew you wouldn't be able to last much longer, by the looks on his face he was right there with you. You cried out again when he moved his hand to your clit, circling with his thumb at the same pace as he was dipping into your cunt, your orgasm just on the edge.

"Y/n I'm gonna cum I can't-" was all he could get out before you clenched tightly around his cock, your own orgasm beating his. He pressed his hips down into your cunt, his cum filling you, leaking out from your hole. He rocked in and out once more before finally, and reluctantly, pulling out, watching his cum leak out of you.

Once he had helped you clean up and changed the bedsheets, you started looking for your scattered clothes to go home, you didn't know how to face seonghwa, guilt rushing back through your veins.

"Where you going?" seonghwa looked at you from the bed with sad eyes.

"well you know, I thought- I thought I should…." you mumbled.

"Come back, I'm not done yet…and I'm cold…" seonghwa smiled sweetly, pulling the blanket back for you to get in with him. With a sigh of relief, you picked up one of his hoodies he had left on the back of his desk chair and pulled it over your head before climbing into bed with seonghwa. As soon as you were under the covers his arms wrapped tightly around you, slipping his hands under the hoodie.

"Are you okay with this? I mean, is it okay that I like you as more than a tutee? Seonghwa softly admitted into your neck as he held you closer, rubbing circles into the small of your back. His breathing against your neck gave you goosebumps, you wouldn't ever want to leave his arms if it was an option.

"You like me? Wow Hwa, you're trying to take advantage of your student" you teased, but not for long when he looked at you pouting. Instead of answering with your words, you pressed your lips to his once again, taking your time to enjoy feeling his soft lips and the way that you fitted together like two pieces of a puzzle. You fiddled with the hair that reached his nape pulling a satisfied hum from seonghwa.

You pulled away to look into his pretty eyes, "So, tell me more about the toys in the draw?"

AHHH this took ages ,,,,, I deleted like 1000 words and started over bc I wasn't happy with it but now! It is done!!!!!!!! Who next......

also not proof read so sorry for any mistakes !

[ikigaisvt]

laundry room

in which your husband is really good at cleaning - and he looks hot doing so.

pairing: seungcheol x she/her!reader, husband!seungcheol x wife!reader, somewhat dom!seungcheol x somewhat sub!reader & somewhat sub!seungcheol x somewhat dom!reader words: 2.6k content: smut, fluff (minors dni) warnings: reader uses she/her, seungcheol picks up reader twice (sorry), they're so in love with each other, sex standing up, vry horny reader tbh, seungcheol is a teasing shit, swearing, fingering, begging, multiple orgasms (for reader), unprotected sex, cum eating(?), petnames (for reader : sweetheart, darling, baby, wife, pretty wife / for seungcheol : baby) note: i had this idea after seeing a tiktok of a married couple cleaning up every night,,, MINORS DNI or you'll be blocked. anyway seungcheol is so husband material and i can see him doing the most for his partner irl (i love him sm) i hope everyone likes it, pls don't forget to reblog!

You always knew you were lucky to have such an amazing husband; in fact, all your friends asked you at least once where you found him.

Seungcheol is truly a dream come true: he is a hardworking man, he always finds energy to cook for you, clean around the house every night, but most importantly, he never fails to make time to love you but also to satisfy you. Ever since you two started going to bed – to do more than sleeping – he always found a moment to fulfill your needs, with no shaming.

It's been over three hours since your husband came home, looking as good as ever and a little over an hour since you two started cleaning up around the house after dinner; your daily cleaning time started in the kitchen with Seungcheol doing the dishes while you were wiping down the counter tops. You stole glances at your husband the whole time, noticing the way his arms bulged at every one of his movements, his white shirt hugging his body tightly, his back tattoo showing through the thin material making you drool at the view. He was truly a sight to behold with his blonde hair gently grazing at his upper cheeks as a natural smile hangs on his lips. A few times, he took you by surprise as he turned around to meet your eyes, a chuckle leaving his lips almost every time, knowing you were turning into a puddle – down to your panties – at the way he looked.

Your cleaning made its way through the living room as you were in charge of fluffing the sofa cushions and dusting the coffee table while your husband was vacuuming. The stolen glances followed you all throughout the housework, as if you were still a shy student having a crush on your senior, as if you were not looking at your husband who fucks you every night. As you keep working on the cushions, fluffing them over and over again, being too flustered at the sight of your husband, you wish for time to go by faster so you can hop in the shower and burn your skin with cold water.

But since your husband is none other than the teasing shit Choi Seungcheol is, he keeps making exaggerated noises, groaning every time he has to bend down or push out a chair. He even goes as far as to wipe the sweat on his forehead with his shirt, his torso all in the open for you to feast your eyes upon. You almost snap a few times because his antics were distracting you from your task in hands but you know that sooner than later, it will be time to go to bed and you will somehow get what you want – like you always do. Because as much as Seungcheol is a teasing shit, he is first and foremost a simp for you.

“Are we ready to take care of the laundry, sweetheart?” your husband asks you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you organize a console in your living room, “Because it is hell in there.” He pouts, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Yeah, all done here!” you say cheerfully, caressing his hands before making your way to the laundry room, “Come on, the quicker we finish this up, the quicker we can go to bed!” you tell him as you push the door open.

“Oh, you want me in bed so bad.” He teases you making your ears burn.

As soon as you enter the room, you start to unload the dryer to fold everything up as you take special care to ignore Seungcheol’s words – and the burning sensation in the pit of your stomach as your husband starts to unload the washing machine. You start to fold up clean clothes and towels, making distinct piles of everything so it is easier to put away, trying your best to ignore your husband who’s quietly working on loading the dryer behind you – his groans and huffs still present in his breath. But as nothing comes without hardships, you fail miserably at ignoring his presence – his scent almost overwhelming you, his presence enveloping you, almost feeling his hands on you. You slowly get lost in the sensation he could give you if only he was touching you right now-

“Baby?” you hear his voice whisper in your neck, giving you goosebumps all the way down to your back, desire building in your stomach, “You’re good?”

“Hm, yeah,” you say as he starts to kiss down the side of your neck, his hands rubbing at your hips, “Just had a moment.”

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks in his deep voice, his hair tickling your collarbones and his lips never once leaving your neck, making your panties wetter by the second.

“I- fuck, I’m okay,” you say, a moan threatening to spill out of your mouth.

“Yeah? You don’t sound okay, darling,” he admits, his hand slowly making its way towards your pink cherry shorts while his other one wraps around your waist pining you gently to his body, “Is that okay?” he asks in your ear, playing with the band of your short.

“Hm, yeah,” you mumble out, one of your hands finding anchor on his arm around your waist, the other one resting on the counter top in front of you, “please,” you beg lowly, already needing him to fuck you.

“My pretty wife, begging so good for me, hm?” he chuckles, his digits crossing your shorts and panties, lightly touching your clit, wetness pouring out of you, “You’re already dripping, sweetheart.” he groans, drawing circles over your clit, building up your orgasm – as if you are not so close already.

“Only for you,” you moan, the knot in your tummy getting tighter and tighter, almost snapping, “Please- need you-” you say, reaching out behind you for his belt but before you can do as much as graze him, he takes your hand and pin it to the counter, making you bend down slightly.

“Let’s not get too greedy, now, hm? You’ve been so good for me, it’d be a shame to ruin everything now, wouldn’t it?” he warns, two of his fingers sinking in your pussy, your walls stretching to welcome him, more cum dripping out of you.

“S-sorry, fuck, feels so good,” you say, almost drooling at the way his fingers feel, plunging in and out in a timed rhythm, his thumb never once stopping its movements on your clit, bringing you so close to the edge, “I- just wanted to- know,” you try to explain, your words coming out all slurred from pleasure.

“Wanted to know what? If I’m hard for you?” he snickers, pushing his pelvis to your body, his hard-on pressing over your lower back, “Feel me.” he whispers, angling his fingers differently, grazing at your sweet spot, your moans coming out in rhythm with the pounding he settled for, “Of course I’m hard for you, darling. You should see yourself right now,” he chokes out, lightly humping himself against you, moans building in his throat, “And knowing you got horny over me cleaning around the house? Here I was, trying to be a good husband while my horny little wife was eye fucking me the entire time.” He sneers before whispering “Of course I saw you.” in answer to your whines.

“Cheol, cheol- fuck, baby,” you mumble, your orgasm burning at your stomach and all the way down to your pussy, your legs almost giving out below you, “I’m so close, can I please cum, please, let me cum, please, please, please,” you babble, feeling like your body is on fire, your eyes stinging with tears.

“Cum for me baby, go ahead,” he says, his fingers never once stopping as he wraps his arms around your waist, supporting you completely, “You can let go, darling. Let it wash over you, I got you,” he whispers, kissing your hair, before you slump in his arms, your orgasm making your legs give out and your eyes roll out. Your pussy spams around his fingers as they never once stop, working through your orgasm making you drip with cum, ruining your shorts and dripping down your thighs.

“Fuck- baby, you came so much,” your husband says as he pulls out his hand from your shorts, making you wince out. It takes you all the strength in the world to open your eyes and look back at Seungcheol, seeing him suck on his two fingers, moaning at the way you taste.

“Cheol- this is so dirty, even for you,” you moan, fully turning around and hiding your head in his neck.

“I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart,” he chuckles as he takes a hold of your face, leaning in slowly to kiss you – it always feels like he says I love you when his lips are against yours, “Are you okay? That was a lot,” he adds, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m fine- I just feel clammy,” you pout, your fingers playing with the hem of his shirt and it takes everything in Seungcheol to not gasp when your fingers graze against his pants. Little does he knows you are doing it on purpose.

“Want to jump in the shower?” he asks, already parting from you before you grasp at his shirt mumbling something so softly he doesn’t even hear your words, “What was that, darling? Speak up for me, please?”

“No, I- want to keep going,” you whisper, not giving him any time to answer that you’re already kissing him, smoothly trying to get the upper hand before he grabs your jaw, setting out a rhythm that pleases him.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, beloved,” he says after breaking the kiss, letting go of your jaw, “You want me?” he whispers, his arms resting on the countertop behind you, caging you against him.

“Yes- please,” you say, looking up with doe eyes, “Need you- Need your cock,” you whimper, already grabbing at his shirt, pulling it up so he can get the clue.

“Fuck- Okay sweetheart, I’ll fuck you,” he says, grabbing at your waist, you lower back bumping against the counter, “Nice and slow, hm? Is that what you want?”

“Yeah- want you,” you whisper, kissing his neck, all the way up to his jaw, making him groan out. He gently taps at your upper thigh, wanting you up on the counter all for himself. Just like a meal.

He gently puts you down, your thighs immediately wrapping around his hips, feeling his cock pushing against your clothed pussy while you still try to get him to lose the shirt, “Get the shirt off,” you mumble, your words working just like you wanted – and even a little too well – as he takes a step back to take off his shirt and his pants – his briefs falling to the ground too, “Fuck- baby- didn’t know you were going to do a strip tease for me,” you chuckle, still not you used to the sight of your husband even after being with him for years.

“You’re so silly,” he says, coming back between your legs to kiss you, as you touch his shoulders, feeling his muscles move at the way he plays with your shirt, “Your turn,” he mumbles against your lips, pulling your shirt over your head and throwing it behind him, “Now, this needs to go,” he says as he snaps the waistband of your short against your skin making it redden before pulling it off along with your panties, “We’re so lucky we’re in the laundry room because we are about to get so dirty,” he jokes out, the mood feeling lighter than before, love taking its deserved place between you two.

“Now who’s the silly one, hm?” you chuckle, looking at him as if he holds the world in his hands – and probably some more, your words making him giggle before he works himself up again, his hand wrapping around his cock, pre-cum oozing at the tip, “You look so hot,” you whisper, your eyes transfixed on his movement and the way his cock twitches with pleasure.

“Are you ready for me, darling?” he asks, a blush on his face at the compliment, as he teases your hole with his cock, driving you more and more insane.

“Yeah- just fuck me,” you whine, your hips bucking towards him, “Like you know how to do. Only you know how to handle me.” you tell him, teasing him before he plunges into you, your walls adjusting around him, you two moaning at the pleasure to feel each other. To drown in each other.

“Baby- you feel so good- so, so good for me,” he whimpers, his hips slightly bucking towards you.

“You can move, baby,” you tell him, tapping his upper arm lightly before finding anchor on his shoulders, your hands playing with his hair at his nape. He sets a slow rhythm, trying to reach as deep as he can, his hips flush against yours, making you moan out every time he pushes back against you. You drop your head back, closing your eyes as he kisses down your chest, up to your neck and jaw. You feel him bite, suck everywhere he can reach while you can only pull at his hair, pressure building in your lower belly, your moans getting louder and louder.

“Feels good, baby? Am I handling you like you wanted me to?” he chuckles against your throat, his truths meeting your pussy harder, quicker as he chases after his own orgasm.

“Fuck- yeah, yeah, you’re the only who knows how to fuck me,” you choke out, pleasure building all the way up in your throat, feeling yourself teetering on the brink of your orgasm, “I’m so close, please, please, let me cum baby, please, Cheol,” you cry out, tears threatening to spill.

“Shit- hold it, p-please, wanna come with my wife, please,” he begs, his hips working harder to finally let go.

“Baby, fuck- Come with me, come with me,” you choke out, pulling on his hair harder, your thighs wrapping around his frame, “Fill me up, make me yours- Cum for your wife,” you moan, breaking the last thread of sanity you both were holding on, feeling Seungcheol’s cock twitch as you clutch around him, both of your orgasms washing over you, making you shudder at the strength of it all.

You slowly come back to yourself, feeling Seungcheol leave tiny kisses over your belly, your hands stroking his hair. He slowly looks up at you, his lips harboring a lovesick smile, his eyes shining with a thousand stars.

“If you were not my wife already, I’d ask you to marry me right now,” he chuckles, massaging your hips as he pulls out, his cum almost dripping on the counter top, “That was the best orgasm of my life.” He admits, adoration coming out on his features.

“You’re too silly for my own good,” you joke, slowly sitting up straighter, trying to avoid making an even bigger mess, “We really did a mess of ourselves,” you acknowledge, a smile ever still presents on your lips.

“It’s our turn to get cleaned up now,” he says lightly, picking you up bride style as you let out a little scream at the surprise of being in the air.

Seungcheol might be silly – for saying he’d marry you because you gave him a good orgasm – and much more, but you know where he is coming from. In fact, you’d marry him a hundred times more. For he takes care of you like no one ever will, for he holds your world in his hands and for he is your soulmate. (And also, for the mind-blowing orgasms).

thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed! don't forget to like, reblog, comment 🫶 (and pls send all of your good energy to seungcheol so he can get up on his feet quickly!)

[ghouljams]

I can just imagine the first time König meets his darling goes a little like; he steps on one of her flowers and out of nowhere this woman appears and starts giving him the dressing down of his life for being "such a clumsy, unobservant oaf," but the whole time he's just starting at her with heart eyes.

She could also keep the name Bee, because she's buzzing about the flowers all day. Though, perhaps she's a bit more like a hornet with that fiery personality she has.

Yeah that's pretty much how it happens.

König has never cared much for plants, he walks through the garden with advisors in tow, grumbling and growling until he finally rounds on them to leave him the hell alone for two goddamn minutes. Christ he didn't become king so he could deal with all this mundanity, he became king because his father was weak and the kingdom was going to shit. Corruption was a hydra, each head he chopped off just sprouted three more. He needed people he could trust, not power hungry nobles that only sought to elevate their own status by joining his cabinet. He may have to look outside the kingdom for that.

König stops at the edge of a wide flower bed, well tended, but in his way. The garden is full of winding paths, ones meant to draw people in to the scenery and inspire admiration in whatever flora is blooming. As previously stated, König has never cared much for plants. He steps off the path and into the bed, not so carefully trampling over the blooms and delicate stems that live there. He's king, these are his gardens, he can destroy what he wishes. Actually it's sort of nice to destroy something after a long day of signing laws and reviewing tax nonsense. He steps more purposefully onto a rose bush, eyes wide and pleased at the way the thorns drag against his clothes and attempt to prick him. Good, he hopes they draw a little blood for the trouble it's causing to walk through them. He even hears them yelp.

Oh no, that was a human. He stops grinding his boot into the woody stems and glances back at you. You look horrified. You look mad. Oh you look mad. He feels the emotion sink down his spin like warm honey, your eyes are furious as you pick your way through the trampled flowers. Actually you stop and gasp in horror at one of the bushes he'd destroyed crouching to fret over the stems and cup the delicate petals. König takes that as his sign to continue his walk. He doesn't expect you to stand in front of him or push your hands against his chest to yell at him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You ask him, fury edging your voice, his eyes dart between yours enjoying the fire in them, "Do you have any idea the work I've had to put in to make the hydrangeas that color? The soil has to be exactly right or they won't be red enough and look at what you're doing to my roses!" You push at him again, he tips his head to properly stare down at you.

"Move." He commands, and you push him again. Something shakes in his eyes, makes the world feel like it's trembling on the edge of insanity.

"You are supposed to stay on the path," You insist, "You move!"

"I am your king," König threatens, "Move or I will move you."

It hardly seems to make you do more than glare. He'd think you were stupid if he hadn't decided you were crazy. You point at the path he's made for himself. "This is my garden, and my flowers, and you-" You jab a finger against his chest, "-are going to apologize for ruining it."

König grabs your wrist and drags you, kicking, the rest of the way across the flower bed. You do your best, but he's sure to make you trample some of your precious flowers same as him. He tosses you onto the path and, though you stumble, you manage to keep yourself upright, glaring as he steps over the stone edging and back onto the path. You clench your hands into fists, and he hopes maybe you'll cry. He likes when that happens, it's fun seeing the waterworks. Instead you slap him, and all his anger and annoyance fall into the pit of his stomach as the chainmail mask stings both his cheek and your hand.

You seem to realize you've just struck the king almost as quickly as König realizes it. Though your reaction and his are miles apart. You freeze and he, decidedly doesn't. König grabs your arms and squeezes you, leaning in close to look you in the eye. You can smell the metal of his mask, see the almost reddish color of his irises. The mad dog that killed his father rather than wait for a throne that was already his. He's going to kill me, you think to yourself, watching the heave of his shoulders as he breathes.

"Do it again," He squeezes you tighter and your fear flips to confusion, "mein Herz, mein liebe, do it again Liebling."

Who are you to deny an order from your king?

[futureman]

his favorite girl, part ii

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: keeping things professional only works if both parties are in agreement. after a heated first lesson, it's clear you and joel aren't.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, guitar teacher!joel, age gap (30 years), slow-burn, smut, angst, m&f masturbation, mentions of regret and shame

word count: 3.6k

series masterlist | part i

Adrenaline hasn't stopped pumping through your veins since you left your guitar teacher's house. Joel's house.

It's hard to even think his name now that you know what it's like to moan it for him, to feel his body tense and tighten like nylon strings as you tune him to your pitch. The things that man could teach you with all of his experience and endless patience...wait, no. No.

How to play guitar—that's the only thing you need from Joel Miller. Nothing else. God, what the hell is wrong with you? That stupid daydream has been running through your head on a loop ever since you got home and it really shouldn’t be. It was a mistake, one that almost cost you your entire future, and yet you’re still so hung up on it.

On everything you learned during your short, disastrous guitar lesson, the intimate knowledge you’ll never be able to forget. Like the fingering for the chord he showed you, or that he makes the neediest sounds when his body's pressed up against yours and his fingers are so close to where you need him, inches away from—

Stop.

The freezing cold shower you just took is about to be rendered useless at the rate you're going, and tomorrow’s lesson won’t be far behind if you can’t get your shit together.

But you can’t stop yourself from wondering—how much of it was real? You toss your hair over your shoulder, ignoring the icy droplets trickling down your back, and the bruise you’d imagined he left isn’t there. Instead, the mirror taunts you, reflecting smooth, unmarred skin that only serves as a harsh reminder of your fuck-up.

You’re more disappointed than you should be. It would've been the only piece of physical evidence you had proving what happened earlier wasn't all in your head. That maybe he reciprocates even a fraction of what you feel. But it's for the best. Now you can move on and focus all of your mental energy on staying present tomorrow so he won't rescind his offer to continue your lessons.

You'll have to keep things totally professional. The diligent college student, eager to learn and dedicated to her studies—that’s you, all right. It shouldn’t be that hard to stay focused for one measly hour, not when those thick, talented fingers of his are so captivating and capable of so many useful things. Guiding you through the next few bars of that song, slipping beneath the waistband of your—

Fuck it, you're doomed.

There's no way you can handle this. He's just too distracting, and you're way too easily distracted. Judging by the way he reacted to your inappropriate behavior earlier, you're starting to wonder if he can handle it himself. He was a little too quick to touch you, to sit so close that you could feel every instruction he gave you rumbling in his chest.

That familiar heat’s starting to build in your belly, and you know it’ll boil over the second he’s within reach again. You have to get this in check before you see him tomorrow or you’ll be royally screwed, and not even remotely in the way you’d like to be.

But it’s getting harder by the minute. It’s all too fresh in your mind, and you can practically still feel the drag of calluses across your skin and the weight of his arm slung over your shoulder. His fingers twitching in your desperate grasp like he was just itching to trace a knuckle down the soaked fabric between your legs.

You don’t remember how or when you got into bed, but you suddenly find yourself lying on top of your damp, unfastened towel, your bare breasts exposed to the cool air of your bedroom, and your fingers grazing your hardening nipples as you snake them down your body.

The second your fingers slide through your embarrassingly wet folds, you're a lost cause. God, that's good. You're so wet for him, and he's not even here to see you, to feel what he does to you.

You press down on your clit and pretend it's his solid chest tucked against you instead of your shitty dorm mattress, and his rough fingertips swirling masterful circles around your slick nub before dipping achingly slowly inside you.

Shit, you're going to cum soon, so much quicker than you normally do. But maybe this is exactly what you need to get him out of your system. Maybe cumming as many times as you can to the thought of your hot, middle-aged guitar teacher is all it'll take for you to finally get over this stupid, dangerous schoolgirl crush. To get on with your life and earn your fucking college degree.

Joel Miller. You erupt around your fingers with his name hot and heavy on your lips, but it’s…not enough. It's fine, that's totally fine. You'll just go again. As many times as it takes.

But by your third orgasm in as many hours, you realize you’re only making it worse. The aching emptiness you feel every time you cum is almost unbearable. Even as you fuck yourself on three of your fingers, desperately trying to fill yourself up the way he would, it's still not enough.

It’s not him.

God, what are you supposed to do now? Can you really face him tomorrow knowing that you spent the entire night gushing around your fingers, pretending they were his?

And what if he tries to touch them again? Shit. Shit. You just keep making dumber and dumber decisions when it comes to him.

So...maybe you can forgive yourself for making one more. You know that you couldn't have imagined everything earlier. That dark, hungry look in his eyes when he told you flat out that he didn't pull away from you on purpose—he has to want you as much as you want him. Right?

He just needs a nudge in the right direction. A green light so he can push aside those polite, southern manners just long enough for you to both get what you need. Then, you can continue your lessons distraction-free.

After all, you did your finger exercises tonight just like he told you to, and teaching is always more effective with a little positive reinforcement.

Yeah, this will totally work.

Joel’s been rock hard ever since you left his house.

He’s still sitting on the couch in the same spot you occupied just a few hours earlier, his mind running a mile a minute, hands clenched painfully at his sides so he doesn't touch himself.

Christ, you're young. Much too young to be this desperate over or to consume his every thought the way you have since you shoved his hand between your thighs, moaning his name like his fingers were already buried in your tight cunt.

He can't do this. His own fantasies are starting to concern him. He's never this vulgar. Not since he was a stupid kid in high school, picking up girls and bragging about it to his buddies. But that's how you make him feel. Like a stupid, horny kid.

C'mon, dirty old man. Get your shit together.

This is why he never should've agreed to start taking on students. The second you walked through his front door, he should've known he was in for it. Those bright eyes, ever-observant and eager to learn, and delicate hands, clutching the handle of a guitar case much smaller than his own. He wanted to help you with your class, he really did.

Wants. He wants to help you, but he feels like he can't trust himself around you anymore, if he ever did in the first place. Still, he made his old bandmate—your professor, now, he guesses—a promise that he didn't intend to break. Not until he actually met the student in question and discovered, to his horror, that you were his every wet dream come to life.

When you picked up your tiny guitar, a baby version of his own Taylor six-string, and began to strum clumsily with your beginner's touch, he couldn't help himself.

All he could think about were those dainty fingers wrapped around his cock. Teaching you how to stroke him just right, his hand guiding yours up and down his length the way yours were shifting up and down the neck of your guitar as you hopped from fret to fret.

Shit, he's fucking hard.

It's not going away anytime soon, either. Maybe if he just...takes care of it. Jerks off, quick and dirty, thinking about the smooth pad of your thumb circling the head of his cock while he leaks precum onto your fingers. He'd cum so quickly imagining himself splattering his release across your plush lips, his name on the tip of your tongue.

His jeans are halfway down his thighs before he can think twice about it, and he hisses in a sharp breath when he finally begins to pump himself, tight and focused toward the tip just like he'd tell you to.

He was right. He's not going to last long. That's probably a good thing. The faster he can get you out of his system, the better, and then he can forget all of the things he did to you. He's more than ashamed at how quickly his balls start to tighten when he remembers how intimately you let him touch you. How fucking crazy you drove him.

The living room fills with the echoes of his stuttered groans and skin slapping against skin as he frantically fucks his fist, lost in the memory of his lips dragging across your bare shoulder and the heel of his hand grinding into your soaked, clothed pussy.

Then, he hears it so clearly through the haze of his pleasure—your voice whimpering his name, begging him to take care of you. He barely has enough time to tug up his shirt before he's cumming hard across his stomach and dribbling down his knuckles. Christ, you'd look so fucking good on your knees right now, sucking the release off his fingers.

Not good.

What the hell is happening to him? This desire, this need, it isn't who he is. And all of it over a beautiful girl. A very, very beautiful girl. He sighs, running his clean hand frustratedly down his face, fighting to ignore the cum drying uncomfortably on his skin.

It's not just that, and he knows it. It isn't your youth, either. It's...your passion. Your kindness and determination, even in the face of adversity.

It's you.

But he can't have you, no matter how much he aches to. You deserve better than an old, washed-up musician with bad knees and high blood pressure. You need someone who can really take care of you, and he's already decided that isn't him.

Come tomorrow, he'll keep things professional like he said he would. He'll keep his distance and teach you everything he has to offer. Be the guitar teacher he should've been from the beginning.

You're both adults, perfectly capable of controlling yourselves long enough to get through an hour-long lesson.

Yeah, this'll work.

You're late.

Not a great start to your second lesson, but then again, that seems to be your M.O. these days. Not this day, though. Today, all of that changes.

You take a deep, steadying breath before your fist connects with sun-bleached oak, and do your best to focus on the warm, mid-September breeze instead of the impatience and anticipation threatening to swallow you whole.

Now that you're back here, standing on his porch, you're beginning to realize you're actually excited to see him. The anxiety you felt last night has given way to a strange sense of relief and a fresh wave of want. It's like your body can sense him and all of the things you're about to learn and experience.

His broad figure comes into view through the foggy glass paneling of his front door, and then after a strenuous 24 hours, your guitar teacher is within reach again—Joel. His name is Joel. You’re going to have to get used to saying it without your breath catching in your throat or he’ll know. He'll see your intentions clear as day and you'll never get to moan it for him again.

“Hey, you, uh...ya made it," he says breathily, frowning down at his watch. He's panting, and there's a gentle flush spreading from his cheeks down to his neck, disappearing under the collar of his navy blue T-shirt. “I was startin' to get a little worried there."

You smile apologetically, turning to nod back at the piece of shit Chevy parked in his driveway. It's old as dirt and somehow always manages to act up when the weather gets too hot.

"I had some car trouble," you tell him sheepishly, throwing a disdainful look over your shoulder before facing him again. "I should've called. I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, offering you a small, if not subtly strained, smile in return. You can tell he's relieved you didn't call, even if he's too polite to say it.

"S'alright, m'just glad you're here now," he says tightly, shifting from one foot to the other as he continues to stand awkwardly in the doorway.

Well, this isn't good. You can take a pretty decent guess as to why he's acting so strange, but you're not sure how to even begin diffusing the situation. Inviting yourself in wouldn't be a terrible first step, but he already seems nervous as hell, and you're afraid he'll spook.

He's still thinking about yesterday. It's evident in his stance and the tension visibly building in his biceps and shoulders. What you wouldn't give to relieve some of that stress—but you can't do much of anything while you're still stuck at an impasse, sizing each other up for two very conflicting reasons.

Hiking your guitar case higher up on your shoulder, you gesture as delicately as you can to the door he's still hiding behind.

"Is it okay, um—should I...come inside?" you stumble over your suggestion, your words conveying none of the confidence and allure you'd hoped for.

Come on, buck up. Be the girl who made him question his self-control; the girl who made his eyes turn so dark, you thought you'd lose yourself in them and never find your way out. You meet those same eyes again with a playful darkness of your own.

"Or did you wanna continue what we started yesterday out here on your porch?"

He does startle at that, but luckily it's the push he needs to finally let you into his home.

"Y-yeah, yes. M'sorry, 'course ya can," he mutters, shaking his head as if he'd been in a trance the entire time. "Didn't mean to keep ya standin' there. Come, uh...Christ, come on in."

Good. Entranced is good.

He holds the door open for you like a perfect gentleman, and your chest drags across his as you squeeze past his large frame and into the entryway. It’s an unsubtle and potentially cheap move, but neither of you pretends it wasn’t on purpose. He sucks in a harsh breath, seizing up until you're past him and taking in the quiet comfort of his living room.

Last time, you'd been too distracted to notice all of the little details and odds and ends that make the space so distinctly Joel, but now that you're really paying attention, it's...charming. The stacks of CDs next to his guitar stand, some in cases and some not, and the varying brown tones of his shag rug and leather couch feel warm and inviting. Just like the man who spends his days and nights here.

Being here suddenly feels intimate in a different capacity than before. Heat begins to bloom in your chest instead of between your legs at the idea of creating music together, a variation all your own, heavily influenced by the history all around you. The abrupt shift takes you by surprise, but it's not unwelcome. If anything, it increases your sense of urgency.

So you let it draw you in, back to where your next lesson and, hopefully, everything you have in store for Joel will take place. That same cushy spot you dreamt about all night while you fucked yourself with your fingers, and that he, unbeknownst to you, lingered while he fucked his fist to thoughts of you.

Looking back over your shoulder, you catch him watching you. There's a curiosity there and an undercurrent of something darker that makes your stomach swoop. He's still flushed, even more so than before, despite his AC kicking to cut the heat and oppressive humidity you brought in with you.

But then he blinks and it's gone again. Left in its place are the kind, if not extremely guarded, eyes of your patient guitar teacher. He's so good at that. Maybe a little too good.

You twist around, heaving the soft case off your shoulder so you can plop down on the couch. He winces out of the corner of your eye when you land on his spot, and his fingers twitch restlessly at his sides as you pull out your guitar and set it across your lap. Lifting an eyebrow, you wait for him to make a move, but he seems stuck in place. Conflicted, almost, like he's fighting himself.

You need him closer. You need him to loosen up. Most of all, you need those thick, insistent fingers inside you before you lose your damn mind.

"Joel? You coming?" you ask expectantly, moving your hands into place over the frets and strings.

At that, he downright grimaces but nods nonetheless. He mumbles something under his breath that sounds a lot like self-admonishment as he putters across the room to pluck his guitar from its stand.

Instead of sitting beside you, he pulls up a chair in front of you, putting enough distance between himself and the couch so you can heed his instructions, but not be tempted to touch. Whether that's for his benefit or yours, you're not entirely sure, but you shiver at the thought. He notices.

"Y'need me to turn down the AC? 'Cus I can handle that real quick before we get started," he sounds a little too eager to get away from you again, so you hurriedly reach out to grab his hand before he can make his escape.

"Woah, hold your horses. It's totally okay. I'm not cold, I promise," you try to reassure him with a chuckle, attempting to soothe the palpable tension in the air. Those rough, time-hardened fingertips brush against the delicate skin of your inner wrist, and you instinctively tug him closer.

But he resists. He carefully pulls out of your grasp and sits back down, returning to a safe distance and refusing to make eye contact.

That's not a good sign. At all. You can't help but feel a little ashamed at his reaction. It was never your intention to push him, but you also hadn't expected him to be repelled by just the sight of you.

Maybe you misunderstood your last conversation? Or maybe it really was all in your head, even after you stopped daydreaming. It's entirely possible you only saw what you wanted because you wanted him. You bite your lip anxiously, shifting away to offer him more space.

"Hey, is everything okay? You seem kind of...off today," you press him hesitantly. "Look, if this is about yesterday—"

"S'nothin' like that. We agreed it was water under the bridge, right? Two adults keepin' things professional," he cuts you off, kindly yet firmly dismissing your concerns.

He meets your eyes again, and they're clearer, now. His voice, too—unwavering and more sure than it's been since you got here.

Oh. This is a reminder. A gently worded warning for both of you.

Okay, that's totally okay. It has to be. He's right, anyway. You keep forgetting how important these lessons are, and he's just being the reasonable, responsible adult who wants to keep you on track, no matter how nervous you make him.

Shit, you wish that didn't turn you on so much. You tell yourself to ignore it. Your mission's a bust, anyway, and he's clearly not interested. You ignore how badly that hurts, too, while you're at it.

"Yeah, of course. Totally professional," you repeat back dejectedly, and you will yourself to mean it. But he never makes it easy, does he?

"That's my girl," he smiles so, so handsomely, and you're forced to bite back a frustrated groan.

How he manages to look so genuine and innocent while he says things like that, you'll never understand. What's worse, you have no doubt he actually is.

Joel Miller. 56 years old. Your generous guitar teacher whose only goal is to share his craft in that syrupy sweet twang that sounds like the sweetest music to your ears.

Just your luck.

thanks for reading & stay tuned for part iii <3

(dividers by @saradika & @inklore)

[cdbabymp3]

𐙚chris' girl (intro) ― matt sturniolo

summary: matt has a not-so-innocent crush on chris' girlfriend

notes/warnings (pls read!!) : this series is going to be nsfw ! if u don't fw that, kindly, bye <3 reader is a popular influencer in la and lowkey oblivious but not really...you'll see lol, alcohol, partying, smoking, the whole nine yards honestly, buckle up...

*this is a work of FICTION, i don't think any of this would actually happen lmfao, it's just for fun! while chris and matt both like reader, there will be no incest shit whatsoever. you can 1000% miss me with that, thank youuu !

[unedited]

it started off with little things every so often. there wasn't this big moment that made matt fall for her, it was more so a collection of interactions he thought back on before bed every night. these interactions, some innocent, some... not so much, plagued his mind. she was everywhere. in his head, in his car, in his house, on his couch. the smell of her vanilla perfume always lingered. he'd pretend to complain, but there was never an ounce of actual annoyance in his voice. it was almost visceral, the way his body reacted to merely thinking about these interactions.

like the time she came into his room for a towel before her and chris went to the hot tub. matt almost choked on his own saliva, the sight of her in the tiniest black bikini known to man, belly button piercing sparkling. the $300 vivienne westwood necklace chris gave her for her birthday dangled dangerously low in the valley of her full chest. matt couldn't speak, but how could he? all he could do was gulp and hand her the towel.

or that time when he was heading to his room for the night, but caught of glimpse of chris' cracked door. she sat on the edge of his, back to the door, slipping the straps of her pink bra back on. she turned her head slowly, as if she knew. but matt was quick to keep walking. did she know? did she want me to see her like that? these questions loomed around matt's mind, a constant battle of fighting what he actually saw versus what his fantasies made him believe. it was bad, that half-awake, half-asleep state of being that would nearly convince matt there was chance she had interest in him.

he could her voice saying his name over and over again.

"matt, matt, matt, matt...-MATT, WAKE THE FUCK UP!" chris interjected, throwing a pillow at matt's head. matt jolted up, gasping for air, chest heaving up and down.

"chris!" matt scowled at him, hand over his heart to make sure he was still alive after being in that much shock.

"ooooh, someone was having a good dream." chris teased, flicking on the lights, "c'mon, seriously, get up. i told y/n we'd pick her up on the way to the party." he mentioned casually, leaving the room to make sure nick was ready to leave as well.

the party. matt had completely forgot. fuck.

the drive to y/n's house was normal: matt drove, nick sat in the passenger seat texting different group chats to see who was coming to the party, and chris sat in the back middle on aux, per usual. maybe it was pathetic, but every time they picked up y/n, matt's stomach would get that light feeling right before you go on a massive roller coaster. he thought with time, it would go away. this had to be the 5th or 6th time they were picking her up, but the feeling in stomach proved no signs of lessening in the slightest. matt would just have to deal with it. he took a deep breath, slowly pulling into her driveway and turning down the music a bit. chris sent his usual "i'm here" text and it wasn't even two minutes later that y/n came strutting out. a pale pink, skin-tight dress that stopped barely after the curve of her ass adorned her body. her chunky black heels clicked against the pavement as she made her way to matt's car. she did a little wave at matt and nick through the driver's side window before opening the back door, chris holding out of hand to help her in.

once she closed the door, the vanilla wave of her perfume set in instantly, matt's grip on the wheel tightening.

"hi guys!" her honey voice beamed, adjusting her dress. "hi baby", giving chris a quick kiss on the cheek. his hand went to its usual spot on her inner thigh. and like usual, matt saw this in the rearview mirror, eyes darting from the sight to the gps directions back and forth, making sure chris' hand didn't travel any further. matt reversed the car, praying he could keep his emotions level for the 14 minute remainder of the drive

"you look soooo fucking good!" nick complimented, turning his upper body to face y/n, almost baffled by her beauty.

"yeah, you really do." chris chimed in, hand squeezing her thigh now. seeing this, matt 'accidentally' hit the brakes abruptly at the red light, causing chris' hand to leave her thigh.

"shit, sorry." matt apologized dryly

"matt, focus up! i swear to god, y/n could drive better in her 6 inch heels." chris jokes, and nick laughs, but y/n swats chris' arm.

"leave him alone." y/n rolls her eyes, digging in her purse for lipgloss.

matt tried so hard not to smirk, turning into the street where the party was happening and parking a couple houses down. the whole street was packed, luxury cars filled every available spot on the curb, beautiful people all heading to the biggest house on the block.

matt didn't register the moments before entering the house, mainly by choice. he hated watching chris always give her the sloppiest tongue kiss whenever they got out of the car. he hated the awkward walk up the street, y/n and chris walking in front of him, hand in hand, while he had to listen to nick's latest tangent.

once nick swung the door open, though, matt had no choice but to look alive. deafeningly loud rap struck matt's chest, the bass booming and buzzing throughout his whole body. y/n and chris went straight to get drinks and greet people like they always did. matt trailed loosely behind.

after a couple drinks, chris and y/n were the stars of the party. y/n body-rolled to the music, chris stood closely behind her, one hand on her hip and the other holding his solo cup in the air. everyone was dancing and having a good time, and then there was matt. he stood off to the side near the drink table, sipping root beer from the can, summoning the strength not to leave with every body-roll and swivel of y/n's hips against chris' groin. matt shook his head, frankly pissed off. chris always did that stupid thing where he pretended to act shocked by y/n's dancing as if they didn't go to parties together all the time. thankfully, matt's suffering was cut short when chris left y/n to get a refill. he walked up to the drink table, pouring himself a shot-sized amount of vodka into the cup, eyeing matt's muted disposition.

"y'know, matt, you could actually talk to people or have a good time here. no one's paying you to stand there like a fucking statue." chris threw his head back, downing the liquor.

"my stomach hurts." matt remarked flatly, sipping his root beer. to be fair, his stomach did actually hurt. the reason why, he couldn't tell his brother-or anyone, really.

"whatever." chris waved him off, leaving to talk with some friends in the other corner.

matt sighed, stomach in knots, the knots covered in thorns, the thorns injected with poison. maybe he should leave, just for a bit... tempting, but then he would lose his parking spot and god knows he wouldn't hear the end of it from nick. his thoughts are interrupted by a cloud of smoke wafting in his face. matt coughs as the cloud fades to reveals some random guy. as much as he tried, matt could not for the life of him keep up with what influencer was who.

to be polite, matt nodded at him, "hey, man."

"'sup." the guy reciprocated, taking another hit of from vape. his eyes traveled somewhere else after a moment, staring with his mouth agape. "jesus fucking christ.." he muttered in disbelief.

matt quirked an eyebrow, confused. turning his head to the direction the guy was looking. that confused dissipated in half a second. there she was. y/n in the middle of the crowd, shaking her ass and rotating her hips sensually. her hands slid down the curves her body to the cadence of the song playing. there were other pretty girls dancing around her, but no one could dance the way y/n did. even without intention, y/n had an innate talent for drawing people in.

"oh...yeah, she's-uh-" matt struggled with what to say that wouldn't blow his cover completely.

"please tell me she's single" the guy's eyes widen on y/n's body, his voice soaked in envy, "or is she your girl?"

matt's stomach filled with a new feeling. defeat. he could lie to the guy, sure. he could could say she was single, but to fuck off because he was about to make his move. or he could go a step further and proudly say she was his girl. he doubted the guy would question it. but it wasn't worth it. he was better than that. plus, he knew he'd feel even more pathetic for it later tonight.

"nah, man, " he took one last look at y/n in all her glory, before throwing his drink away. giving the guy a pat on the shoulder in solidarity, "she's chris' girl."

new fic woooooo !!!! i'm excitedddd

this is just the intro, chp.1 will be up later !

[mcrslover]

MCR quotes for anyone who needs them:

"Kids would say they were going to kill themselves then they heard our music... it's our mission"

- Mikey Way.

...

"Reasons why mcr is good for you

juradsleigh:

Feeling like a rad vampire? Listen to bullets

Feeling angry? Listen to 3 cheers

Feeling sad? Listen to black parade

Feeling colourful and happy? Listen to danger days

Feeling like breaking up your band? Listen to death never stop you"

...

"This is for every kid out there... That dyed their hair a fucked up colour and can't get a job. They got a tattoo on their neck like Frank, and can't get a job. That does this because they fuckin' love this. This song is for every kid in the audience- even if you don't have fucked up hair or tattoos-every kid on stage, this song's about us, this song's about you, it's called The Kids From Yesterday."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Stop covering your children's eyes.

Everything is fucked up and pretending it's not won't make it any better. I'm tired of people praying for a change when it's up to them to get off their asses and make a change."

- Frank Iero.

...

"I spent most of my time in the back of the class, just drawing. My goal was to not get noticed in school, because spent so long not being noticed anyway or being treated as if I were invisible that I started to like it.

I've learned that it's actually not very lonely... It's like, you have less friends but the friends you have count more. I met a lot of people that weren't outsiders, or they were very popular, and they have a lot of friends but I don't know if they're the kinds of friends you would call up at 3 am to help you out or talk about being depressed."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Promise me, when MCR's gone, you'll do what it takes to survive. You're strong enough to do it without us."

- Gerard Way.

...

"All your quirks and all your problems, even your depressions, and your failures that's.. that's what makes you, you."

- Gerard Way.

...

"If you or someone you know is severely depressed you need to fucking talk to someone! Your mom, someone in school, I don't give a fuck! Because suicide is fucking bullshit."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Being happy doesn't mean that everything is perfect. It means that you've decided to look beyond the imperfections."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Nothing is worth hurting yourself over, nothing is worth taking your life over"

- Gerard Way.

...

"If we never play another show again, just keep yourself alive."

- Gerard Way.

...

"We're outsiders, we're the kids who didn't get dates for the prom, we're the kids who were confused, who didn't fit in with the cliques, who weren't part of the in-crowd.

Growing up can be a very frightening and confusing time, and I think people look at us and see it's okay to be different. They see that there is a way other than what they're being offered. That you can stand out, that you can be creative, that you can be yourself."

- Gerard Way.

...

"gerard-hey:

I love MCR so much it's like they have a song for every situation. Feeling sad? Listen to The Lights Behind Your Eyes. Feeling frustrated? Listen to I'm Not Okay. Feeling Energetic? Listen to Na Na Na. Feeling like you wanna kick some ass? Listen to Destroya.

Feeling rebellious? Listen to Teenagers. Feel like you wanna break up your band? Listen to Fake Your Death."

...

"The difference we want to make is, number one, to let these kids know that they're not alone, that they're actually not that messed up, and that they can do whatever they want they can express themselves in any way they want without being persecuted or called a faggot or some kind of racist thing. Really just get people to get over their stuff so they can live."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Whatever happens to you, no matter what, l'm always fucking there for you... Don't forget that. I don't give a shit if your boyfriend dumps you. If your girlfriend dumps you. If you're working a shitty job or can't get through school. If you can't get through a fucking Harry Potter book, there's nothing worth dying over. There's nothing worth taking your life over. I will always fucking be there."

- Gerard Way.

...

"If you come to an MCR show, you're probably a little fucked up, and that's okay because we're just as fucked up as you. It's us against the world. And it's great because there's thousands of us in one place."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Someone doesn't like you? Fuck it.

Having a bad day? Fuck it. Didn't get that job, or that grade, or that promotion you wanted? Fuck it. Fighting with your lover? Fuck it. Feel fat today? Fuck it. Losing control of everything and everyone? Fuck it.

What matters now won't matter soon; the truly important thing is that you are alive, and that you have the capacity to do absolutely anything with this beautiful, crazy coincidence of being on this earth. Just stick your middle fingers in the air and think, 'Damn, I have it good."

- Gerard Way.

...

"You're going to come across a lot of shitty bands, and a lot of shitty people. And if anyone of those people call your names because of what you look like, or bedause they don't accept you for who you are. I want you to look right at that mother fucker, stick up your middle finger and scream

"FUCK YOU!!"

- Gerard Way.

...

"Real revenge is making something of yourself."

- Gerard Way.

❤️🖤❤️🖤