#“she shouldn't have nearly that much ass”

[viiolyns]

abby anderson x reader

cw / somno. ass humping. kinda shit writing.

a soft moan slips past her lips as her small, perky tits press gently against your bare back; puffy, wet cunt grinding against the curve of your bare ass. you stir slightly, your eyebrows furrowing at the unexpected contact, but you don't wake.

you were asleep, and she found herself doing...this, she knew she shouldn't, but the urge was too strong to resist. she couldn’t wait any longer.

she hadn't seen you in weeks. recently, reports of infected had surged, with some even breaching the base's defenses. as a result, isaac had been sending groups out for extended missions, often leaving for weeks at a time. unfortunately, you were part of the last group chosen, and it had been nearly two frustrating months since you left.

frustrating for her and you, mainly her because she missed you like crazy, she loved you so much. you're one of the only people she had left in this fucked up universe. aaaaaaand because she couldn't fucking get off without you.

she wanted to deny the fact, she really did. and she tried, over and over, but nothing worked. not her fingers, not her pillow, not even the very few toys she had tried. nothing worked like you did, only you could make her come. it was humiliating, she couldn't believe she had been conditioned to need someone so badly. she was a grown woman not some child, and yet somehow you had found a way to have that much control over her.

now you were back, which was great. but you were exhausted, crashing almost the second you got back. barely giving abby any sort of attention beside a quick kiss and a promise to satiate her desires the next morning. but she needed more.

she needed you.

...even if this wasn't the right way to go about it.

her eyes are squeezed shut now as she pants, clit throbbing so hard it was almost painful. cheeks dusting a rosy pink as she heard the wet, sticky sounds coming from where you two were connected. shyness, humiliation even, eating away at her because she couldn't just wait a few hours for you to wake.

her nose was buried in your neck, breathing in your sweet scent with every shaky intake of breath. she bit down on her bottom lip, praying to whatever gods above to keep you asleep.

she eventually found a steady rhythm, pussy thinking first as she sped up, any self restraint she had long gone. your body racked with her harsh thrusts and, unfortunately for her, she didn't notice you moving just a bit too much.

"fuck." she whines, chasing that warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. her hand comes up to palm at her breast, squeezing and fondling herself as she imagines it was your touch instead of her own. she presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck, leaving a series of dark bruises behind.

she’s not being very subtle right now.

as abby moved on top of you, her toned muscles quivered with each movement, sending shivers down your spine. her breath came in shallow gasps, each one a high-pitched whine on her lips. it was clear she was close now, so fucking close.

her grip on you tightens, her blunt nails digging crescents into your thighs. that’s when you started to wake up.

“the fuc—abby?” your words cut through her impending orgasm and she freezes. it's when you start to shift some more that she finally starts to scurry off of you.

“i’m so-sorry…you were asleep so..” she muttered sheepishly.

“i was, yeah.” you grumbled, propping yourself up some, taking in the sight in front of you. she was fully naked, tank top hanging around her neck. her braid had come undone, loose pieces of hair framing her pretty face.

you sat up completely, turning to face her fully. your hand came up to cradle her face. “why didn’t you just wake me up, abs?” god, she was mortified. her eyes didn’t meet yours, ashamed of what she’d done. “you know you could’ve.”

she knew this. she nods weakly, attempting to ignore the intense throbbing between her legs, getting increasingly wetter at the sound of your thick, sleepy voice. "didn’t wanna wake you. i’m sorry, baby.”

poor thing…so weak and pathetic. she couldn't help herself. not when it came to her wants, her cravings. she needed you, craved your touch, your control. you could see it in the way her body trembled, her eyes begged. "you just can't get off without me, can you?"

she nods, unable to find any words.

"you want more, don't you?”

another nod.

you lay back down in your spot, eyes closing as you edge back into sleep. "go on then. clean my ass off when you're done."

booooooooo. boringggg and rushed ending. i forgot about this account whoops

[bunni-v1]

sunday x m reader who wont shut up while hes working so he makes reader cockwarm him to shut him up

Cockwarming With Sunday

🍓Dom Sunday makes my skin crawl. Anyway, I went for a softer take than what you wanted, sorry lol. Even when Sunday tops I can't see him as all that mean, at least, not in the way this was worded lol. Anyway, I'm very well Sunday's biggest hater (I love him more than life itself), so I hope you enjoy this. I want him dead.

Tw: NSFW; Implied power dynamics; Mean(?) Sunday; Grammar Errors; ts kinda ass

Info: Dom!Sunday x M!Reader (it's hard to tell lol); Cockwarming; pre ae sunday; Nsfw

Word Count: 1.5k

Sunday was always considered to be a patient man, especially with those he considered important to him. He had put up with plenty of Robin's silly plans and humored her with delight -- he loved her after all, and any plan she had wasn't truly all that silly so long as it came from her. He even enjoyed her endless conversations when he was meant to be finishing up paperwork. His time with her was sparse, he could afford extra time away from his duties for her. She never kept him for long anyway, understanding his position better than anyone else.

You, however, did not have the excuse of being his darling sister. You spent a significant amount of time with him, both in and out of work, and he had all the time in the world to spend with you. Which meant you knew better than most others how much he needed to fill out this report today. Yet... you kept running those stupidly pretty lips of yours.

He wasn't even sure what you were talking about, he'd tuned you out about ten minutes into your talking. Nearly an hour had passed, and you were still going on and on about something or another -- he catches that it's about an up-and-coming artist you'd seen, not that he cares for any musician that isn't his sister. It wouldn't be so bad if you were just talking, he'd mastered the technique of ignoring things that seemed to get under his skin, but you needed assurance that he was listening.

He would occasionally have to pause and answer questions without much context, or hum in acknowledgement of your words. Your incessant rambling is normally incredibly endearing to him, but with the deadline looming over his head, and the ache stinging between his brows it was enough to make it vexing.

He lets out a sigh, hands pressing the pen to the desk just a bit too harshly. You silence yourself, flinching back a little in surprise. He nearly coos, he hadn't meant to scare you, but you were very cute when frightened. (Perhaps he shouldn't be thinking such things...)

"My love," He hums, meeting your gaze with a calm smile, "you know I love having you around, don't you?"

You nod, nervousness shining in your eyes, giving you away despite the brave front you put on. You were always too easy for him to read, a bit concerning considering the enemies he has, but he'd prefer you pliant than hardened -- at least, in that way.

He gestures to the papers on his desk, "You also know how important it is that I get this done today, yes?"

"Of course," You answer immediately, and he can see the realization of why he was scolding you across your face. So very cute. "Was I talking too much?"

He hums an affectionate smile on his face, and gestures for you to come to his side. You do so with no arguments, as expected. He turns in his chair, grabbing you by your hips to situate you between his legs. You flush a bit at the contact, predictable as always, but he chooses not to comment on it.

"I need to get this done, angel," He asserts again, and you frown shamefully.

"Would you like me to leave?" You offer, but the idea sours something in his chest.

He shakes his head adamantly, "Of course not. I love having you here, but you'll have to behave for me."

There is a spark behind your eyes at his words that makes him ache a bit, his member coming to life much too fast for his liking. The effect seems to be mutual, as far as he can tell from his position near your crotch. His placid smile morphs into a slight smirk, and his eyes meet yours again, "You can behave for me, can't you?"

You nod adamantly, "Of course, s-sir." The title is stuttered, somehow unsure despite your knowing very well what he wanted from you now. It was so adorable how concerned you were with overstepping with him. You truly could do no wrong in his eyes, even when you were getting in the way of his work.

"Then," he pushes you to step back, leaning back in his chair, "Take your pants and underwear off for me. Quickly, I'd like to get this done as soon as possible."

You nod again, doing as he says like a well-trained pet, pretty eyes looking to him for approval as you shove the clothes to the side. He rewards you with a smile, leaning forward to run a finger along the bottom of your hard cock. You hiss at the sensation, drawing a chuckle from his chest.

He eases himself out of his pants as he tugs on your sensitive member a few times, enjoying the little whimpers you give him. His dick springs free, hitting his stomach. He leans back again as it does, telling you what to do with his eyes alone. You follow along like in a trance -- he'd almost believed you were under the influence Harmony, if it weren’t for the fact that he wasn’t using it in the moment.

You hiss lowly as he slides into you. Going raw must've been painful for you, but it felt heavenly for him. Your ass squeezed him so well like it was meant to hold him deep within. He smiles reassuringly at you as you finally sit fully on his lap, taking your chin in his hand to settle a kiss to your lips.

"Very good," He compliments.

You bite your lip, averting your gaze, "Thank you, sir."

He tuts at you, drawing your gaze back just as quickly as it left, "You can sit still and wait like a good boy, can't you? If you can't well..."

"Of course I can!" You respond with a desperation that surprises both of you, quickly adding, "Sir."

"Good, good," he hums, pressing a warm hand against the back of your neck. Your chin rests against his shoulder on instinct, getting comfortable against him. Once he's satisfied with you behaving, he leans forward and starts back to working on the document you'd been distracting him from.

The scratching of his pen is one of the only things keeping you grounded in reality. The stretch of his thick cock in your ass is almost too much for your brain to handle. You shouldn't have been talking so much, honestly, this is no one's fault but your own. Still, the torture of not being allowed to move for fear of worse punishment is enough to make you want to cry.

You sit there pretty on his dick like a good boy, though. Always so obedient for him, if only he didn't have to tell you to behave. No one is perfect, so this was a sacrifice Sunday had to make to keep things as he liked.

His fingers climb up your spine, tingling across your body right to your achingly hard cock. You almost hear Sunday chuckle when it twitches between the two of you, but it's so quiet you believe you might've made it up in your fucked out brain. You wiggle your hips in an attempt to get some friction, but all Sunday has to do is place his hand on it and you cease all movements.

Sunday seems, on the outside, entirely unaffected by everything. For the most part, he really is. He's blasting through his work faster than before, but that was because he couldn't wait much longer to bend you over the papers and reward you for good behavior. Each squeeze around him has him swallowing down groans, determined to not give into your temptations -- no matter how wonderful that sounded.

When he signs the last dotted line and closes the stack of papers back to the front page he lets out a sigh that resembles more of a moan than anything as you clench anticipatorily around him yet again. His pen is set on the desk with a little 'click', and he finally looks at you after agonizing minutes of your squirming. Lust has clouded over his gaze, and he looks positively angelic nearly lost to his own sin.

You are no better, pleading with your eyes for him to fuck you like the sweet thing you were. Tears pricked at the corners of your lashes, a picture of absolute beauty. He smiles at you, wiping them away from your cheeks as they spill over.

"You were very good, my sweet angel," He hums, moving his hands to your hips, "you deserve a reward for behaving, don't you?"

You nod adamantly, your heart picking up in excitement. He raises an eyebrow expectantly at you, and you know what you're meant to do next without the need for words. Standing from his lap, hissing as he leaves your tight hole, and bending over his desk like the good pet you were.

"Very good..." He hums, and your spine tingles in excitement as you hear his pants and belt hit the floor around his feet.

[s-lycopersicum]

Sometimes I feel like making a nsfw alt, but it would be mostly filled with complaints thrown at twitter artists whose approach to lewd art go against my own personal philosophies.

[laugtherhyena]

Oh right uhh, Kokoro lives in -2+2 (And Emma, and also Hibiki)

[bunny-jpeg]

the bouncer & the missus

simon "ghost" riley

tags: smut/pwp, bouncer au, bouncer!simon, established relationship, simon's soft spot, pregnant!reader, car sex, clothed sex, pregnancy & breeding

a/n: want to suggest your own fic? the inbox is open! this rabbit runs on comments & reblogs!

"baby girl." simon said as he came over during his break. he saw you in a booth by yourself, happily on your phone and munching on a basket of fries and onion rings that simon ordered for you. he knew you ate dinner before you came to see him, you dropped him off his portion of the meal. he looked down at you.

he was wearing all black. from the backwards baseball cap hiding his blond hair to the tight black t-shirt that highlighted his tattoos. he looked at you with those deep brown eyes. he asked, "you and the peanut shouldn't be in a place like this." his gaze cast down to your swollen middle.

you replied, "i'm not drinking, si. plus, these fries are much better than any kind of alcohol." you leaned against the vinyl of the seat and rubbed your swollen middle, "plus, i can't sleep well tonight."

you were dressed in one of his sweatshirts, it covered you perfectly. plus the faint smell of cigarettes on it plus the body wash he had been using for nearly a decade. you also liked that it had your husband's last name written across the back. made you feel protected as you ventured out of the house to visit your beloved simon at work. underneath was a stretchy maternity dress because struggling jeans didn't feel like an option tonight.

simon didn't like you hanging around the bar, even before you got pregnant. now with the peanut on the way, he was extremely protective over the both of you. he got into the booth beside you and held your face while he kissed you on the lips. you kissed over the black medical mask over his mouth. he didn't take the thing off during shift except to replace it if it got dirty or ruined. he didn't want to ruin the mystery when giving a kiss to his missus.

you were knew around the bar was "the missus" or "mrs riley", you've always been known as that even before you got married to simon. it was why you were able to have both onion rings and fries!

he placed a wide hand on your belly and rubbed it gently. you rubbed your thighs together lovingly while you continued to eat. simon had a thing for your pregnancy. knowing that you were carrying his child, it excited the bouncer.

he was all tattoos and sharp edges. meanwhile you were painfully sweet, the total opposite. and together you made the most precious peanut you could possibly imagine. you were perfect for him. so of course he rubbed his nose up against your neck and you giggled against him. his touches got a little more firm, not enough to hurt. but enough to know that your husband was getting a good feel of you.

how could he not? he loved you, you were his wife. no one else could call themselves that! he even got a quick squeeze of your ass before you pulled down his mask just enough to kiss his lips in the low light of the bar.

you pulled the mask back over his mouth and asked, "how much time do you have left in your break?" you knew that this wasn't going to happen if you waited until you got home.

simon looked at his watch, the one you gifted him for his first, un-offical father's day. he said, "twenty more minutes." and before you knew it, you were being helped out of the booth by your adoring husband.

you ended up in your car, simon opened the door for you and shuffled you inside. you sat in the backseat with him. he chucked his mask into the dark of the vehicle. he kissed you passionately and his hands pushed up your dress. he touched your behind with a bit of force, but not enough to bruise you.

simon riley would never bruise his missus on purpose. he one time smacked your ass too hard it left a purple hand print and he spent a month apologizing to you. he managed to get your panties around your left ankle and his cock out of his jeans.

"there she is." he said softly, "my missus." he purred lovingly. simon, despite his rough exterior, loved you deeply. he loved you so much he almost didn't ask you out when you first met because he was worried a woman as amazing as you didn't need to be with someone like him. but you loved him all the same, every mark, scar, tattoo, all of it. it was what made your husband, your husband.

"i hope i'm not taking up too much room." you said with your hands on your middle. simon patted your belly with another hand on your hip as he assured you that you were fine.

"i'll always take up more room, love." he said. you didn't have much time, as much as he loved to admired his wife. the two of you had to be quick if this was going to work. the breathing between you two was hot as you sank down on his cock.

you groaned and nodded when simon asked you if you were okay. you let out a cute little moan and your husband silenced you with a hot kiss. you felt a tremor of pleasure in your gut as you started to rock your hips against him. he was so much bigger than you, so intimidating and scary. but he loved you. you were his wife, his everything.

"you look amazing, lovie." he said softly as you moved against him. your pretty painted nails dug into this shirt over his shoulders. your fingers grasped onto the black material.

your swollen middle rubbed against his abdomen and he loved the feeling. it was a big cramped with little room to get comfortable with. but this wasn't the most cramped space you ever had sex in. plus, simon could be any position and still cum because of your sweet cunt.

the movements were fast, but not rough. you bounced on simon's hard cock and he kept a hand on the top of your head so you didn't hurt yourself against the roof of your beat up little car. you felt the shift in your weight as you moved. simon eyed you with those dark beautiful eyes.

"there's my girl." he purred as he moved against you. you felt the swell of warmth in your soul from the movements. simon dialed for the roughness after you got pregnant. his girl needed some tlc, but no bruises. never bruises.

"mmm, please, simon." you arched your back a little and felt the excitement race through you. you held onto him tighter, his strong shoulders felt good under your touch. you felt the zaps of pleasure through your body.

simon rested a little more up against the leather seats as he held onto your head and hip to make sure that you didn't put too much strain on yourself. he rolled his hips up against you and you moaned a little louder. you felt the warmth radiate in your core as the two of you fucked passionately in the backseat of your care.

simon loved that your swollen middle was up against him. to feel so close to you. to know that he made you that way excited him. oh, did it excite him. he loved it. he loved knowing that you carried a big piece of him everywhere you went. you two made a family together, and that left simon aroused.

he was finally putting the seed to go use. dumped enough of it inside of his missus and now you were sprouting a lovely little bump. in a few months you'll have your son in your arms. you two moved together in a rapid pace, the kisses got hotter as did the steam on the car windows.

husband and wife doing it in a car behind the the bar. your noises got a little louder and higher in pitch as you felt the swell of want through you. it excited you, he excited you.

he kissed at your next with admiration. he carried all his love in his touches and kisses. he carried his love for you in everything he did for you. you were the center of his world. as was the baby you were carrying. simon riley finally got the family he always wanted and he'd make sure that you two were protected.

"i love you."

"i love you too."

your words sweet like honey as you felt closer to your orgasm. you felt a tightness in your chest as you tensed up from the heated want. the pleasure coursed through you as you felt so close to your orgasm. you continued to move up and down his cock until you clenched around him and orgasmed.

simon continued to with his cock into you, he felt a similar heat in his body as he moved you up and down his cock as much as he could. he could feel it all bubble up and eventually pour over. with a few more steady thrusts of his hips. he finished inside of you with a heavy groan. you two looked into each other's eyes and simon pulled you in for a heated kiss, "mm, my girl, always takin' care of me."

you held onto his wrist and looked at the time, "oh no. you better hurry up and you may have time for some food in your stomach!" you kissed him then struggled to get your panties back on. he kissed you before he got out of the car.

he pointed at you and said, "you get right home and don't stay up waiting for me. you and peanut need sleep. i'll meet you in my bed, mrs. riley."

you giggled from the driver's seat, composed enough to get yourself home, "don't worry. i'm well worn out, it'll be time for a cup of herbal tea and comfy pajamas." simon leaned in to kiss you on the lips deeply before he went back to the bar to finish the rest of his shift. you watched him leave and before you left the parking lot you looked down at your swollen middle and gave it a pat.

"you and i better get to bed, or else papa is gonna be worried. but maybe we'll make a quick stop to the corner store first for some ice cream." you giggled before you turned on the car and sped off of the parking lot. <3

[zippidi-dooda]

In the early stages of going over to meet Bakugou's parents you were visibly uncomfortable, nervous, and always coming up with an excuse to postpone the visits.

Your heart was beating in your chest, hands clammy, eyes almost watery. And even though they were endlessly nice and welcoming towards you, something wouldn't let you shake the fear of being around them and you barely uttered a word, the rides home going with complete silence between you and him.

Bakugou of course had noticed and tried asking you about it, but then you'd feel that lump in your throat, not wanting to explain why you were always so anxious when it came to his parents since you didn't even know the reason yourself, you'd quickly change the subject or use any excuse to leave the room.

The avoidance irked him beyond belief, he wanted to snap and ask his questions straight out ... but he didn't want to run the risk of you crying. So, he sends a text explaining the situation to his parents and asks for advice, how should he approach this?

And the next time you visit, he and his father conveniently have to run out for an errand. You of course rushed to offer to go with them, you couldn't bear the idea of being in Bakugou's home without Bakugou, but they refused saying it'd be rude to make the guest do things for them. So, you were stuck. Alone. With Bakugou's mother sitting on the couch right across from you ....

You look down at your sweaty palms clutching your pants, head racing and praying to God she wouldn't want to talk.

And to your relief, she leaves the room.

Ahh ... you'll live to see another day.

Clink!

You look up slightly to see a plate full of steaming cookies on the coffee table in front of you.

Then you feel the cushion sink next to you and a caramelized floral scent envelops you.

"Glad we got rid of 'em! That boy would have a fit if I showed you these with him around."

Mitsuki was sitting right next to you.

"Well? Go on, grab some, it's rude not to try your host's treats. Brat doesn't like sweets, but these are Katsuki's favorites, I'll give you the recipe later." She winks.

You were dazed for a moment before grabbing one out of fear politeness.

The older lady crosses her legs, opening a thick album you hadn't noticed she'd been carrying and points towards a photo in the bottom right.

"This here is from when we got to bring Katsuki home for the first time. I knew then and there he'd be a pain in my ass. Ugly thing isn't he?"

... what a way to talk about your child.

You lean over a bit to take a look. And a smile makes it's way across your lips. He wasn't the prettiest thing, no, but since you loved him you couldn't help feeling happy at the sight.

She points to another one, "This here is when I caught him getting into my makeup. Masaru had taken the picture since he wasn't paying attention then showed it to me. Nearly chased him down the block when I saw it. Little Bastard was always getting into everything he shouldn't have."

You chuckled through your nose, finally taking a bite of the cookie.

It tasted amazing.

Mitsuki continued to flip through the album, telling you the stories that came with each photo, her way of storytelling garnering a bit a laughter from you and eventually you had your feet tucked on the couch and cheek resting on her shoulder simply listening to her talk. You hadn't even noticed it happen.

She didn't ask you questions about yourself, didn't point out your change in behavior, or even glance your way. It was almost as if you weren't even there. But, you were greatful for that. And she knew.

She had stood when she heard the front door beginning to open and looked at you, raising a finger to her lips, "don't tell Katsuki 'bout this, kay?"

You smiled and nodded, turning around to watch the pair as they walked in.

That was the first time you truly felt comfortable in the Bakugou household.

And you were soon looking forward to each visit, much to Katsuki's relief.

Well, it was relief at first when you were starting to converse and interact more, taking the time to get close to his mom and his dad and asking him about his family on your own.

But then he knew you were getting too close to his family, especially his mom, when you started sighing and asking questions like "Oh, what happened to the Katsuki who would sing just cause he felt like it" or saying things like "You know I think I'm happy I didn't meet you as a kid, we wouldn't have gotten along as well" or even pointing out toys to him like "look, it's just like the one you had as in the past, right?"

Then he knew exactly what made you open up to his family, "Hag's been showing you that damn album, hasn't she?"

And suddenly he didn't know if he should be mad or greatful towards his parents for coming up with their plan to help you grow comfortable around them.

[mattyriddlesbitch]

matty w a overstim kink so much she gets all teary n sniffly💞

Relentless

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: overstimulation, bondage, cussing, dacryphilia, oral(female receiving), fingering

18+ Minors DNI!

You had been such a tease all day. Bending over in your short skirt to give Mattheo a good view of your ass. Leaning on something so he’d see your cleavage. Being extra touchy and touching him all over, even an “accidental” brush against his front side when you were walking past him.

Mattheo was getting pissed. He knew you were doing this stuff on purpose, you both were too busy to get a moment away until after dinner. He nearly dragged you back to his dorm after dinner.

He let go once you were inside, closing the door as he looked at you, still fuming. He crossed his arms over his chest before saying, “You wanna act like a slut today, you'll get treated like one. Strip.”

“Mattheo-”

“Strip.”

You slowly took off your clothes, purposely prolonging it to piss him off more.

“On the bed.” He said as he took off his belt. You followed the order and lied down on the bed. He came over and grabbed your wrists before using his belt to bind your wrists to the headboard. “All fucking day with you. You've been teasing me all fucking day. Are you that fucking horny? You need me to make you cum?” He asked in an irritated tone.

“I just need you.” You said, testing the restraint. “Please, Matty.”

“You're fucking lucky I love you. I shouldn't even touch you after what you did today.” He said, taking off his clothes as you stared at him. “Behave this time.” He warned as he got on the bed with you. He brought his head down to lick at your cunt as he held you down, wrapping an arm around each thigh.

“Fuck, Matty.” You moaned as you tried to watch him, struggling a little with your bound arms, but his face between your thighs was always a sight you loved to see.

He pushed two fingers in you, adding to the pleasure. He always knew how to make you orgasm so quickly, how to lick, where to push inside you, where all your little sweet sensitive spots were. You were cumming within minutes. Your body trembled, a cry of his name leaving your lips, your legs trying to close on him, which they would have if he wasn't holding them already.

Only now he wasn't stopping. Normally he'd give you small breaks between each one so you weren't overstimulated, but he didn't seem to care right now.

“Matty, please, too much.” You said, your body trying to move away from him.

He wasn't having any of that. “You can handle it.” He said as he looked up at you, licking and sucking at your poor sensitive clit.

You were whining and whimpering, squirming under him to try to get away. You could feel another orgasm building and your eyes rolled back as this one hit, a little stronger than the last one. You were crying and screaming his name, your overworked cunt just begging for a break.

He still wasn't letting up and you could feel tears building in your eyes as you sobbed in overwhelming pleasure.

“I can't, I can't. Matty, I can't.” You said between cries.

“You were just so desperate for me to make you cum. What happened?” He asked in mock sympathy.

“It's too much.” You whined.

“You look so pretty like this. Give me one more, yeah?” He said, bringing his mouth back to your clit. You continued your sobs of pleasure as he brought you to another orgasm, and all you could do was take it and cry.

He finally relented and pulled off of you, coming up to kiss you. You took the moment he was giving you to try to collect yourself. But he was pushing inside of you before you could. You whined into the kiss, your pussy still so sensitive. He grabbed your hair on the back of your head and pulled your head back, breaking the kiss to watch you as he started thrusting.

“You're so perfect like this. Crying from all the pleasure I give you. So fucking pretty.” He said to you as he watched tears build in your eyes again as you whined and whimpered.

“It's so good. Too much.” You whined out, sniffling to try to control your tears.

“You've been doing so good for me, baby, I don't wanna stop yet. I love seeing you all ruined on my cock.” He said and moved his head to kiss your neck.

He had you cumming again on his cock quickly since you were still so sensitive from his mouth and fingers.

“That's it. Good fucking girl.” He groaned as he felt you clenching his cock from your orgasm. He helped you ride out your orgasm as you shook and cried. “Give me just one more, princess. I know you can do one more.” He said as he kept thrusting into you, never faulting.

You couldn't even reply at this point, only cries and whimpers leaving your mouth.

He was praising you, trying to soothe you as he relentlessly fucked into you, trying to get both of you to cum.

“Come on, angel. I just need to feel you cum on my cock one more time.” He said as he watched your face again, your tears only seeming to add to his pleasure.

It only took a few more thrusts after he said that before you came. Your walls trying to milk him finally sent him over the edge as well and he came inside you as he rode out both of your orgasms.

This incident seemed to spark his love for overstimulating you, because it was definitely happening more after that.

[hoodielord]

The king of the Infinite Realms and his two Red Knights

King Phantom sat on his throne, listening to the pleas and demands of his people. Many for Gotham asking for justice. Many ask for justice against the Joker. The ghosts plead with the king to end the clown. Beside him, his two knights stand. To his right Red Huntress's hands tighten on her blaster as she listens. And to his left Red Hood stood frozen but close enough you could see the slight tremble. The ghost that was speaking remembers her death but very little of her life. She tells the king of the Joker and how she worked for him.

“I hated it I know I did something bad but couldn't make it right, I should have. I lured someone …someone important... to him and I watched him nearly beat them to death. The joker then locked us in together and set explosives.” The woman was crying and struggling to make it through. “That person I led there he …he tried to save me even if I led him there he tried to shield me from the explosion.”

“I know I shouldn't ask for anything but I want to ask that you make sure that person knows that I'm sorry and to tell them ‘thank you’” 

Beside Phantom Hood shook slightly trying his best to hold himself together.

“Despite your pericous actions I will see to your request.”

The ghost's image flickered and she smiled as tears streamed down her face.

“Thank you.”and then she was gone.

The throne room cleared, Phantom relaxed into his throne as his knights did the same. 

“ It never gets easier, does it ghost boy?”

“No…no it doesn't.”

After a moment's pause. Phantom speaks again.

“Hood….Jason." Danny calls in a gentle voice. 

Jason turns to face Danny. His face was hidden by the helm but Danny could tell he was close to a panic attack. Danny and Val gently walked toward Jason trying to usher him to sit down.

“That was…that was my mom, my biological mom. She..she apologized?”

“Some ghosts are remorseful for their actions and want to repent.” Danny sat on the ground next to Jason and Val on the other side. 

“The Joker was the one to kill us but she she helped.”

“The Joker is enough of a threat to ghosts as well given his brushes with death. He fall within my jurisdiction. And even if he didn't,”

“  We would have still ended him for you.” Val finishes Danny’s sentence.

Jason removes his helm and stares at them. “He wont let you.”

“Killing the joker wouldn’t be hard.” 

“No I talking about Batman he wont let you kill the Joker.”

“As I said the Joker is soaked in so much death that he falls under my jurisdiction.” Danny smiles, his features stretch his form becoming more eldricth as it shifts.

Val smacks him on the side of his head. “Enough of that save it for the Joker”

“Ow Val.” Danny rubs his head as Jason snickers at the two of them.

“ You deserved it, you royal pain in my ass.”

[vultbae]

small world ❀

art donaldson x female reader

part two (soon)

↳ summary: Art and Patrick were once your peers at the Mark Rebellato Academy —not the nicest ones. Five years later, you've made a friend that can help you fuck with their minds a little.

↳ warnings: making out, dry humping, manipulation, a lot of pettiness, mentions of bullying, and weight!! the dumbification of art donaldson tbh

↳ notes: Istg I be having the most random ideas, but I hope you enjoy!! as always, english is not my first language lolz

word count: 3.1k

Tashi enters the living room with a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes, moving gracefully in a beautiful blue mini-dress. With a soft pop, she eases the cork, instantly pouring the effervescent gold-ish liquid into the two glasses. 

"You shouldn't even worry about them," Tashi says with a wry smile. As she finishes serving you some rosé Veuve Clicquot, she hands you the glass. "What are you—like, the second or third in Europe? They are gonna be broke by their thirties," she concludes, staring at you with confident eyes.

You nod, taking a sip of champagne. "Don't see it as serious; it'll be fun."

Tashi raises her glass, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. "Im just saying, don't stress over men."

You clink your flute against Tashi’s. "Alright."

A year and a half ago, you had met Tashi Duncan, who you believed was a hard-hearted bitch but ended up being a close friend of yours. She is merciless, proficient, and goddamn; she has that vicious aura you worship so much. While living in Biot, you'd always look for the nearest CRT to watch Tashi flawlessly play, enchanted by how she unnerved her adversaries.

During summer break, your father dragged you out of the academy to visit California for a benefaction event. Amidst the glamour and chatter of the event, you caught sight of Tashi —most likely attending due to her relevance spiking around the area. Luckily, your connection rapidly deepened, fueled by reciprocal admiration and tennis dependence.

And the commitment to stay in touch despite the geographical distance worked. Tashi became pretty much your best friend, and you became hers. Aside from the workaholic aspect, the resemblances between you were too much to ignore. Sooner than later, you discovered much about Tashi's personal life, the players she liked and despised, and her daily anecdotes regarding tennis and her intimate life. And that's how you became acquainted with Fire and Ice's peculiar hyper-fixation on Tashi.

Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig.

You thought it was a unique offering from God. You didn't expect you'd get the opportunity to face the golden pair again. When Tashi told you she had met Zweig and Donalson, a powerful sentiment of gratitude washed over you. You nearly fell to your knees when she proceeded to explain they were a walking boner for her. If that wasn't high power granting you a second chance to delight yourself, it was an insane coincidence.

But telling Tashi the backstory was a different pain in the ass. Although she expressed some sort of disgust towards Zweig and Donaldson's brainless carnal-based attitude, you couldn't buy it.  And your skepticisms were demonstrated as valid when she —dreamy voice and all that shit— confessed through the phone she nearly had a threesome with them. A fucking threesome. You couldn't hold it back anymore, so you told her everything.

Tashi was aware of tennis's influence on your household, as you were raised by two renowned tennis coaches from the States. When you turned eight, your parents turned you in at the Mark Rebellato Academy —as if you were condemned to play tennis by default. The detrimental part of your journey was developing thyroid issues when you were twelve. Jesus, twelve years old — the commencement of the preteen period where kids either kiss your feet or bully you. One year after, along with the anticipated weight gain, you met Art and Patrick. And as if you weren't unfortunate enough already, the two —who at the time looked like fucking Beavis and Butthead— decided they didn't like your physical appearance. They hated it.

“Hey, Y/l/n!” Patrick’s voice rang out, sharp and mocking.

You froze, your heart sinking to the underground. You tried to focus on your serve, but your hands were immobile. 

Patrick sauntered over, his smirk widening as he looked you up and down. “What’s the matter, Y/n? Ball too heavy for you to lift?”

You heard Art’s laughter behind your back. He joined in a kind of trembling voice. “Or maybe she’s saving her strength for lunch. She doesn't hesitate when it comes to eating.”

The echo of them and the rest of the kids on the court laughing was a sound that felt like daggers piercing your heart.

After two years of ceaseless bullying and humiliation—which also distracted you from tennis—your parents sent you to The Mouratoglou Tennis Academy in Biot, a small town in France. You are not sure if it was the harassment itself, the low self-esteem, or possibly your undeniable attraction for Donaldson. It didn't matter. By the age of seventeen, you were undoubtedly one of the major promises of European tennis.

So, explaining the theatrical, soap opera-like backstory to Tashi for your detestation of Zweig and Donaldson took time. But when you did, it was worth it because Tashi didn't distrust your testimony, and if anyone was exhilarated to play some moves against them at the beginning, it was Duncan. 

That's the explanation behind Tashi pitching a tremendous party to celebrate her commitment to Stanford. This was absurd, to say the least, considering she had college offers piling up, and no one doubted she would commit to a prestigious school. But Tashi knew you'd visit from France, and this was just the perfect instance to hook you up with both condemned.

Because, of course, her biggest fangirls would attend. 

It didn't take long until the country house was full of people ranging from Tashi's cousins to bare acquaintances. And spotting Fire and Ice was easier than you thought. 

Tashi elbows you discreetly and signs with her head the direction they are standing. "There they are."

Your gaze falls over Art, who is laughing with —who you assume is—Patrick. His features are sharper and more defined. The lanky, slender physique you remembered from his premature teenage years had filled out into a more athletic build, with broader shoulders tapering to a trim waist covered in a light pink shirt. His blonde hair, which was no longer too light, was now strawberry blonde-ish, slightly tousled, and cascading over his ears.

Patrick, standing a few feet away, was equally transformed. His brunette hair, just a bit longer than you remember, frames a face that had hardened over the years—angular jaw, defined cheekbones, and piercing eyes that seem to miss nothing. The fucking smirk is still there, and you can see how he displays it every two seconds at whatever thing Art is telling him.

The interior of your stomach resembles a volcano about to erupt. You feel ambivalent, so many emotions overlapping each other. You see two cute, hell, gorgeous guys, and you wish you could approach them without considering crucifying them before. And you can't help but feel envious at how effortlessly Tashi managed to tame Art and Patrick while the only thing you got from them was hostility.

Your eyes can't seem to unbuckle from them. Tashi catches you slightly frowning at the panorama, and she isn't certain if you are infatuated or planning murder on the spot. "Come on."

You have no time to react before Tashi leads you through some partygoers to reach where Zweig and Donaldson are. Like dogs sniffling fresh meat, it's pathetic how their heads twist simultaneously when Tashi approaches them, conversation instantly pausing. It is as if Tashi's presence was magnetic for them.

"Well, hello, both of you," Tashi greets them excitedly, still holding your hand. "Didn't think you'd come."

Art's eyes widen, "Are you kidding?" he's about to keep speaking, but his gaze merges with yours for a split second, and he shuts off. Dead. Silent. 

"—Stanford's a big deal, Tashi." Patrick interrupts, compensating for the awkwardness of Art's sudden number. "I had to drag this lazy fuck out of his bed, but we made it."

Suddenly, Art's out of the trance, tearing his blue eyes off you to bombard Patrick with a killer look. "Hey—shut up, Patrick."

Tashi sweetly, softly giggles at their word exchange. God, she's good, you think. Tashi turns to gesture to you, "This is my friend, Claire, by the way. She is visiting from the Mouratoglou Academy—

To be fair, Claire is a believable name.

"Wait, the Patrick Mouratoglou Academy? In France?" Art runs over Tashis's sentence, incredulously shooting you a broad-eyed glare. You nod in agreement, still processing you are having a civil conversation with Art Donaldson.

You feel Tashi squeezing your hand at your quietness.

"Yeah, you know it?" you timidly ask, forcing a polite smile that, if you were Art, you wouldn't buy it. But, of course, he's as dumb as a pigeon.

"Heck... Of course, I do. I wish I could go there."

Tashi smirks, enjoying the spectacle. 

Patrick’s investment in the conversation piques. "Mouratoglou, huh? That's impressive. Maybe we could hit the court sometime."

And that's the first time Patrick makes eye contact with you. He's stabbing you with his stare. You abruptly wonder if he's as dumb as Art, probably not. 

You squeeze Tashi's hand.

Tashi leans closer to Patrick, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "Hey, Pat... do you remember what you mentioned about erectile dysfunction? My aunt's a sexologist, I think—

Patrick loudly chuckles, apparently alarmed by the deficiency of filtering confidential information. "I need to smoke sum' stronger. Wanna come, Tash?"

Tashi purses her lips, casting a quick glance at you. "Sure."

Your point of view is like a sitcom scene, swiftly panning from Tashi's body leaving your radar to the boy in front of you, staring at you with soothing eyes and reddened cheeks. It's basically comical.

Art's eyes dart around the lively yard before landing back on you. He clears his throat. "So, uh, Claire? That's a cute name."

It takes tons of willpower not to drop the good girl act right there. You attempt to return the sentiment with a quirk on the corner of your lips. "I need to get a drink. Come with me?"

He shakes his head up and down, finding it easier than answering with words.

For the first time in a couple of months, the inside of Art's mind has more than a giant cardboard cutout of Tashi Duncan. He is in awe. 

You lead the way, weaving through clusters of drunk teenagers towards the house. You feel Art's gaze lingering on your back —or ass, you don't know—a magnetic pull that makes you hyper-aware of his presence.

You arrive in the kitchen and quickly grab a bottle of vodka, a can of soda, and a party cup. Art watches you closely with a look of hypnotic admiration as if you were concocting the most complicated cocktail in the world. You want to roll your eyes so badly.

"That dress looks amazing on you." Art blurts out, unable to contain his thoughts any longer. 

You look at him. Art is sitting on one of the high stools by the kitchen island, his elbow resting on the table's sleek surface, supporting his chin with his hand. There is a softness in his eyes completely foreign to you, an infrequent vulnerability that contrasts sharply with the characteristic asshole demeanor you remember.

To Art, you appear almost ethereal, like an ideal concept from a wet dream of his. His thoughts are a kaleidoscope of jumbled fragments of memory that make no sense. You look so familiar... but no. 

There's no way he would forget about you.

You glance up, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. "Thank you," you reply, handing him a drink.

Art sips on his red plastic cup, eyes hooked on yours. "So, uhm. I just realized I never introduced myself properly. Im Art—

"Yeah, Donaldson, I know." you cut him off, leaving him completely silent and confused. "I've seen you play. Not bad," you clarify, with an unconscious hint of pride in your voice.

Art's smile widens. "Wait, you've seen me play?" he exaggeratedly emphasizes me. 

You nod.

His eyes twinkle with excitement. There’s this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "That's, uh, great. Next time you are watching, I'll play better..."

His innate nerdiness and try-hard flirtiness provoke nausea in you. If you didn't know him, it would be a different story. But seeing a former, intense crush who shamelessly bullied you for so long, giving you heart-shaped eyes...

It's fucking bizarre. And it pisses you off.

Art begins conversing about something else. You don't know what—tennis-related, maybe. You are not wearing earphones with noise cancellation, but you can't hear him anymore. It's a blur as his words course through one ear and depart through the other. Immediately. Your brain has simply blocked the action of listening to him.

You step closer, so close you can see the fine lines in his eyes, the flecks of green amidst the blue, with a hint of brown sectoral heterochromia on his right eye. You can smell the faint woody scent of his cologne, something spicy that makes you salivate. His lips keep moving, forming words that dissolve into the dim background noise. The music, the laughter, the chatter—they all blend into a distant hum.

Art's voice vanishes into oblivion as you fix your gaze on his mouth, the curve of his lips, the way they part and close as he speaks. "Art," you say, stopping him in his tracks.

His eyes flicker with uncertainty, puzzlement, and a spark of hope. His adam's apple throbs as he notices you staring at his lips.

You lean in, your breath mingling with his, your heart pounding in your chest. Your hand reaches up, fingers brushing against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin and the slight stubble that prickles against your touch. Art's breath hitches, his eyes widening in surprise, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he leans in, too.

Your lips crash against his. Although you don't want to make it weird, you fail. It's not a gentle kiss or a precious, out-of-a-book lips meeting. It's fierce, instructing, a clash of sour sentiments and intent. You pour all your frustration, your pent-up anger, and your fucked-up desire to overpower him into that kiss. 

Art's shock melts away and quickly replaces it with an appetite that matches yours. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his body pressing against yours. The kiss deepens, his lips parting to allow your tongue to explore, to taste the unmistakable flavor of cigarette and cheap vodka. You can feel the warmth of his breath and the way his hands tighten on your waist. It's almost as if he's frightened you'll pull away at some point.

And you can only fantasize about the moment you walk away.

—but not yet. You push harder, your fingers tugging slightly in his messy strawberry-blonde hair. He lowly moans into your mouth, a sound that dispatches a shiver down your spine. His hands roam your back, tracing the curve of your spine and dangerously lowering to your ass level. There's a distress in his touch you never thought would come from him.

The way he's dissolving under your venomous touch is already a win for you. You've managed to put him under you. And it's intoxicating, this control you have over him, this ability to make him forget everything else.

You pull back, your lips hovering just above his. Art's eyes are half-lidded, his lips swollen and ridiculously red from the intensity of the kiss. He looks at you in pure infatuation, "What- I... Did I do something wrong?"

You press a finger to his lips, silencing him again. "Come with me."

You peek at the party going outside—most people are outside. The living room is nearly empty, with a few alcoholized individuals entering the country house to refill their drinks. It's perfect.

You take Art's hand, your fingers lacing through his, and you lead him toward the sectional, six-seat couch in the center of the living room. You push Art down onto the couch, and he complies without resistance, his lust-drunken eyes never leaving yours; he nearly chokes on his spit at the sight of you slowly straddling him, your knees sinking into the soft cushions on either side of his hips.

"Jesus, Claire—"

You get the ick at the roleplay name Tashi baptized you with. 

"Shh," you whisper, leaning in to brush your lips against his in a soft, teasing kiss. "You never shut up, Donaldson."

And that's odd for him. He gives it a second thought because he isn't aware of how much he has talked, but definitely not that much. 

The overthinking vanishes as soon as you begin to kiss him again, slowly at first, savoring the way his lips deliciously move against yours. Art's hands rest tentatively on your hips, his fingers twitching as if afraid to hold on too tight. You guide his hands around your waist, urging him to hold you closer. His grip tightens, and you can feel the heat of his palms through the delicate fabric of your black mini-dress.

A sigh rolls out from your throat when you perceive something hard putting pressure against your core —which, because of the dress, is only shielded by thin lace panties. The coarse fabric of Art's light denim jeans rubs splendidly against your pussy. 

A primitive groan slips out of Art's lips the moment you grind your hips against his clothed dick. Suddenly, he breaks the kiss, and his eyes wander downwards. "Shit— you'll kill me," he pants into your mouth.

You pull back slightly, looking into his eyes. They're dark with craving, his pupils dilated. "Then let me."

You are about to attack his lips again, but he hesitates. You tilt your head in confusion, murmuring a low what?

Art starts to speak, his voice shaky and breathless. "I... I was wondering if you wanted to go back to my hotel with me."

Before you can respond, Tashi suddenly appears in your vision behind Art's head. "Claire, there you are," she says, fucking loud with a knowing, manipulative smile on her lips. "Your dad called, he's outside."

You feel a surge of delicious triumph as you see the apparent dissatisfaction in Art's eyes. 

"Sorry, Art," you say, standing up and smoothing your dress. "Maybe another time."

There’s a raw sadness in his eyes, an almost childlike hurt that he can’t quite conceal. He isn't even drunk; he's fully conscious of the stunning girl he just met and now is evaporating as if she was going to turn into a wolf at midnight or something. 

As you are about to disappear from Art's vision, he shouts at you, "I'll see you later, right?"

But you don't answer.

Instead, you hurriedly walk with Tashi to reach the front yard. 

"I didn't lie about your dad being here, though," Tashi clarifies, pointing at the big Jeep parked in front of the country house.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, a smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, alright." You glance back at the house to ensure you are out of earshot. "I think fucking him would've been better. Do you think he's gonna remember about this tomorrow?"

"Oh, yeah. This is definitely gonna fuck his head up for a while." Tashi chuckles, "he's pretty obsessive."

You feel a swell of fulfillment at your best friend's words. "How obsessive?"

Tashi smiles. "A lot."

❀

[the-californicationist]

Please! I need the part 2 of “Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen.“ I'm on my kneesss pleaseee it was so good! 😭♥️

Anyways, I'm your new follower 😍, and some of the stories you write is just so damn good😍 (Sorry for bad grammar's, English isn't really my first language, uwu)

im sorry but idk what a part two even looks like. i know a lot of people have asked for it but its... just some couch sex?? idk i'll try.

Laswell clicked the door shut behind her, and part of you wished she had locked it. Gaz was sure to tell the rest of the team, but you could do without an audience. What would they even see if they barged in here?

The captain had let his cock loose from the confines of his pants, and they were sliding down his thick, muscular ass with every selfish thrust. He was rubbing himself like a naughty dog against your clothed pussy, begging for entrance with every forward movement. Your shirt was pulled down, revealing your breasts, and now they were covered in pink marks from the roughness of his beard as he moved his mouth across you.

Feeling him take each nipple and suck it so gently into his mouth, pulling it in like delicious nectar through a straw, drinking you although you were dry, tasting you even though you had no flavor. It was too much, but he couldn't stop.

You felt a little wrong to be enjoying your commanding officer so much. His humping was making your body respond even as it waited for your guilty conscience to catch up.

"Cap... oh, my fucking God... No, Captain. We shouldn't..." you tried to protest on his behalf, knowing he was being controlled by the powder.

"Corporal," he spoke with his mouth full of your flesh, "I can stop... now. It'll give you... enough time... to run..."

His bright pink eyes flashed up at you in warning and he used both his arms to pin you on either side of your head, forcing you to look at him, the intensity of which went right to your rapidly-melting core.

Suddenly, in a moment of lucidity, he looked you right in your eyes and finished his sentence,

"But that will not be bloody true for long."

As if warning you, he rubbed his hardness up and over your belly, letting it ruck up your shirt, and you felt its incredible heat. It was like a long, steel brand. His skin was smooth, but it was scalding and swollen with his blood. The huge tip left a wet trail of desire wherever it went.

"It's okay, Captain. You can have me if you --"

There mere suggestion of your consent was all he needed to let the dam burst and the river run free. His need crashed from him with an explosive force. He all but ripped your clothes from you, nearly hurting you in the process, making your ankles ache from the sudden pressure as he shucked your pants and boots away in one go.

Your panties were torn from you, sturdy though they were. The fabric made a whining, popping noise as the elastic split. Air rushed across uncovered skin, and your body doubled down on its plans to produce as much natural lubrication as possible. It seemed to know you'd need it.

He didn't touch you. Not with his hands. There was no preparation of any kind. Price fed himself into you like a hand into a glove, a body part in need of sudden and immediate warmth. He took control of your head again, pinning you in that same furious way, and you had a singular view of his face, twisted in a sort of sublime agony as he sank himself into you for the first time.

The pressure was almost unimaginable. Your body was making a lurid, wet, slicking noise as his cock forced you in half. You tried to allow him in, tried to relax, but there was little you could do. He was immense and heavy. It felt like a fist on a strong arm, like a forge hammer, hot and searing. The only thing more tormenting was his voice purring darkly in your ear.

"Fuck, you're warm..."

He pulled himself out of you inch by inch, leaving a terrible hollow where you were once whole.

"Wet for me. So wet. How?"

Back in. And in. And in. It seemed to go forever in and it made you wonder how deep you were.

"It feels so good to have you 'round me, love..."

When the rosy head of him found the end of your wet hole, it sort of... settled there. Locked in, like a key into a tumbler, and each fold of you a lifted pin, fitting him as if you were crafted for it.

"Thought 'bout how you'd feel. Sometimes... dreamt it."

You felt your body give away your surprise. He was too gone to notice it, but not you. You would have been able to feel the planets shift an inch to the left if they dared. You could feel everything. Each and every pore and hair and breath was awake and alive and living in the rawest possible way. Could he have really been thinking of you like you were thinking of him?

"Bloody fuckin' hell. So tight. Too tight."

He was right. It was too tight. He was squeezing himself in with each of these aching, crazed thrusts, shoving himself inside of you hungrily, all the way up to your pounding heart, it seemed. You felt yourself slipping around him like hot oil, running down his shaft and matting the coarse, dark hair that cradled his root.

"John..."

You used his name in place of his title, and he noticed. Noticed it like a hawk notices a hare. Right in your ear, up against your cheek, he responded, too quickly, too much teeth,

"Yes, love. Yes. Yes? Tell me."

He was grunting now, clearly on the edge of his pleasure. You aimed to take him over it, to plunge him into blinding darkness. You whispered, and each word hit its mark like the straight shaft of an arrow, striking into the target one after the other, tearing through the bullseyes like they were nothing but air.

"You're gonna make me come, John."

Again, that unearthly snarl came from his chest, the one you'd never heard before come from the mouth of a man. It was a cry and a scream and a prayer and a plea and had he not been pinning you down prone with his own prostrated body, he would have been growling it from his knees. He commanded you as he worshiped you,

"Give it to me. Give it to me. Give. It. To. Me."

Your body listened before you could even register his words.

From the bones in your hips, you felt your muscles tighten along his iron rod like a fist, closing in on him knuckle by knuckle, and each closure brought you closer to that brink where the darkness turned to blinding white light. You could feel the sparkle of it, that peppery gunpowder flash and then...

"Holy fuck, love..." He stared at you as if you were the sun lighting up his whole life. Like he'd seen you before, all sherbet pink and blazing orange, in the dawn, in the mornings, cutting over the horizon.

Price had come in you. You felt it. It slid along the cleft of your ass and soaked into the fabric of the couch. He didn't mind it. You couldn't. His body was still thrusting as hard and as heavy as before, fucking up into you as if he hadn't just filled you with his thick, hot cream.

"I can't... " he gasped, wrenching his eyes shut, "I can't stop..."

"It's okay, John..."

"I can't bloody stop, love. I'm... fuck, I'm sorry..."

"I'm okay. It's okay," you whispered to him, trying to soothe him.

You pet the hair back over his brow and he leaned into your touch like a cat, purring for more of it. You laced your fingers through his hair and held him tight at his scalp, turning his head so that you could talk to him right into his ear,

"Fuck me how you need to, Captain."

Did you enjoy this tale or maybe some other work by me? Consider buying me a coffee, if you have the means. Kudos, likes, reblogs, and feral comments also work as well ^_^ Thanks!

AO3 Link

[shapelytimber]

Wanted to paint some of my favorite characters, nothing more nothing less

[COMMISSIONS]

Way too much yapping like an embarrassing amount, the individual portraits and the template I used below vvv

I shouldn't be allowed to talk about my favorite characters- especially to people who (presumably) don't know them xjfkdk apart from the very popular ones ofc

ILLYA KURYAKIN (The man from U.N.C.L.E)

gay ass little Russian spy I love him he is so *dramatic* and a huge nerd and a Beatles fan and into fashion design- perfect pocket size blorbo ;w; also seeing a Russian character being given a positive leading role in an American tvshow from the 60s ?? Yes he lives in New York and works for UNCLE America.... But he is still a communist ?? Incredible ! Also I really like the fact he isn't given the cliché personality traits often given to Russian characters i e anger issues drinks a lot violent ect (looking at you shitty(imo) modern remake... What did you do to my little guy ;;). In a close contest with Spock for the "gayest man from tvshow" of the 60s..... And in my heart he is winning djdkd for me the gay subtext of muncle hits so much more because it's not a scifi show- it's closer to home, Napoleon and Illya were *like that* in the present day of the 60s, they were both human, and no alien fuckery made them go to the village more than once or play house in the suburbs or get attached ass up to get pegged on a regular basis... Truly a show that feels written by an old queen and a guy with the biggest fem dom fetish jkvjjkb (don't get me wrong tho I adore star trek tos and spirk too <3)

KUROO HAZAMA and PINOKO (Black Jack)

sometimes I rewatch some of the oavs from the 90s when I'm sad :) I had a huge phase a couple years back when I read nearly all the manga (should really finish it... Or reread the whole thing frankly), watched *all* the shows (bar young black jack, hated that shit) and idk I just love this venal bitch so much- him and his daughter and his conflicted feelings for his tboy ex that he still loves kfkfkf btw I'm dying for a modern take on this like please please please I'd love to see Kei Kisaragi's story rewritten a bit (trans character in the 70s sure was progressive but oh boy-), because him and black jack's relationship makes me so *weak*.... And maybe see him a bit more than in one story- anyway ! When it comes to his daughter Pinoko, it's very hit or miss- when the writers lean on the cute father adoptive daughter relationship it's great, when they lean more on the whole "she has a crush on him" (very much like a child in most case, and he *never* reciprocate thank god) and bring up the fact she is technically 18 a lot (she was an evil tumor trapped in her sister before he created a body for her- black jack shit dw), and she gets jealous of other women.... Well it's terrible and I'm uncomfy :(

EVA KANT (Diabolik)

Look.... You just can't show me danger diabolik 1968 and not expect me to become insane djdkdkdk she is so cool ;; !!! Her and her devious eel of a man (here as a panther, because even tho I haven't read the comic yet, I'm taking an educated guess that all the panther imagery is here to represent him, the lethal twunk always in the all black gimp suit... And if it's not then fuck my entire life ig fjfkkd), the cuntiest het couple you've ever seen, such freaks I love them ! Partners in crime that will blow up the tax offices of the whole country if you try to put a bounty on them <3 they are in the guilty faves category only because I'm this invested in these characters after 1 (one) movie fkfkf watched the first two remakes and was hmmm let's say underwhelmed, could have been worse but going after the 60s one ie peak cinema was hard... I went in fully invested in these heterosexuals and they still fucked up their romance and relationship ;; (don't spoil me the third one btw haven't seen it yet ! I know it's the yaoi one- which doesn't give me much hope for Eva tbh...) I'll soon start reading the comics tho ! Managed to find all twelve volumes of "Il grande Diabolik" in french for pretty cheap so I'm excited for that :D (might scan them and upload them online because omg I tried finding scans in *any* language and only found a dubious website that sold digital copies for 7€ a volume ??? What is this)

UTA (The Void / Тургор / Turgor / Tension)

Apathy girlyyyyy she just like me for real for real nfkfk what absolutely charmed me about her is yes her design, but more importantly her chamber's design (if you've never played the void, a sister's chamber is a space that represent her. You get a sense of who she is by exploring her chamber before finding her and talking to her soul it's great). The lonely island out at sea, her laying down on a suspended steel boat in a grotto, looking passively at the moon by a crack on the ceiling.... And the moon is looking back. Incredible ! I love this game so much

KIM KITSURAGI (Disco Elysium)

Do I really have to explain this one ? When I played the game with quiji I remember I kept saying "when Kim talks, we *listen*" djkdk we did get a good grade in Kim Kitsuragi and got him to dance in the church <3 this fucking centrist cop wormed it's way into my heart and many others because of course he did. The only Kim K in my eyes. Also funny anecdote : before I played Disco Elysium, I had one concept art masterclass where a kinda famous concept artist came to give advice, make us really stressed then give us a shitty grade.... And when I tell you this man looked so much like Kim ??? Same haircut, glasses, face with a scar *exactly* where Kim's portrait has a stark shadow on his cheek and he was dressed in an orange top- truly uncanny. Anyway, Kim is so fucking cool how does he do it

DARK VADOR (La guerre des étoiles)

*sight* not surprising if you know me... and to be clear when I say Vader I don't mean Anakin Skywalker, post barbecue only zouz here. I refuse to yap about this man djdkdk I already do that way to much in ao3 comment sections

And here is the template I used ! Don't know who made it tho sorry...

PS : all these where made in 2-3 hours each :D wanted to challenge myself by painting quickly, and I mostly (looking at the Eva Kant one that gave me trouble) succeeded !

[mypoisonedvine]

Can I request a little somno something with obsessive best friend!Neil? 🩷

OH FUUUUCK YES

warnings: DARK NONCON SMUT 18+ ONLY, alcohol consumption/extreme inebriation, incel/'nice guy' neil

You stumbled in and fell onto his couch the second he opened the door, and he'd just laughed and asked if you wanted to get in his bed instead. He worried it sounded dirtier than he meant it-- not that he would mind at all if you wanted him to get in bed with you-- but you just hummed and mumbled something into his throw pillow about how you were comfy where you were already.

He sighed and sat next to you, putting a blanket over you as you fluttered your eyes shut. "Love you..." you whispered softly, and he smiled a little as his heart skipped.

"I love you too," he breathed, wondering if any of your shitty boyfriends had ever taken care of you this well when you got too drunk. You met most of your boyfriends by getting too drunk, so Neil was glad to have you safe back here at his place where nobody would do anything to you.

But he hadn't gotten up yet. He was still sitting beside you, his hand still resting on your shoulder where he'd placed the top of the blanket.

"You know, you really shouldn't drink so much..." he sighed, petting some hair out of your face as you stilled. It was sort of instinctive-- yet made his heart race-- to run his hand down lower, tickling your back and tracing your spine as he sighed. "Somebody could... get the wrong idea..."

He checked your face again, making sure you were out cold, before gingerly taking the blanket off of you again. Your dress was way, too short, he'd tried to warn you not to wear it, but you insisted on looking hot; you really should've known better, showing off your legs like that... Neil had always been obsessed with your legs, and he bit his lip when he saw how the dress had ridden up to basically just under your ass.

Tossing the blanket away, he hummed as he rubbed his hand up and down your legs, constantly checking your face nervously in case you woke up or stirred. Even if you did, you were too weak to stop him... fuck, why did that make his cock throb?

He started to open his jeans already, even though his heart raced with anxiety and shame at what he was about to do. She's passed out, she won't know the difference anyways, he thought to himself as he climbed up on the couch with you, pulling his cock out of his boxers with a little sigh. He stroked himself with one hand as he gently pushed up your dress with the other, groaning at the sight of your ass hardly covered by the lacy panties. You were obviously trying to get laid tonight, no doubt about it-- so wasn't he just giving you what you wanted?

He had to let go of his erection to tug the thin fabric down with both hands, smirking as the way your ass jiggled a bit, but then nearly gasping as he revealed the cute little pussy underneath. "F-fuck, baby," he praised with a sigh, leaning back to try to get a better view, carefully spreading your lips apart with two fingers so he could see your holes. "Fuck! That's a gorgeous pussy, wow..."

Of course you were perfect everywhere, it was just his luck: the most amazing, sexy, incredible best friend who teased him in the most infuriating ways. You'd do all these things that turned him on, trying to act innocent-- asking for his opinion on outfits, falling asleep on his shoulder during movie nights, laughing at his dumb jokes-- and then you'd turn around and fuck some jerk you met at a bar. When he gathered the nerve to say something flirty to you, you'd always giggle and push him away, saying something dismissively that always broke his heart: like "shut up, Neil, you're my best friend" or, even worse, "ew, stop, you're like my brother."

He fucking hated when you said that; it made him feel like he was cursed to have you so close but never have you, you know? But tonight, he felt like a lifetime of bad luck was paying off in the best karma ever: you were here, and you were his to play with however he wanted.

He spit into his hand and smeared it over himself, sighing as he looked down at you looking so peaceful and sweet under him. "So pretty," he cooed as he nudged your legs apart with his knees and slid inside you, "and fuck, so tight..."

He groaned deeply, watching in awe at the way your hole eagerly accepted him, swallowing up every inch that he gave it until you were stretched and filled to the brim.

"Oh my god," he gasped, taking a moment just to bask in the feeling, "fuck, baby, I'm not gonna last very long. I can already tell."

He held onto the couch tightly as he started to move, but then realized he should take the chance to touch you instead and put a hand on your hip. It helped, actually, because it kept you from rocking forward too much from his thrusts and kept his cock going as deep as possible every time.

He groaned proudly as he moved faster, squeezing your hip and keeping his eyes trained on your sweet face. "That's it," he praised, "take it, baby-- take my fucking cock."

He loved not having to impress you, or please you, or make you come-- he could just treat you like his own personal toy, your pussy basically just a fleshlight for him... if fleshlights were hot and sticky and felt like absolute fucking heaven.

Your walls tightened on him for a moment, and he moaned loudly. "So good," he choked out, shutting his eyes with pleasure briefly. "So good, baby, feels so good on my cock-- fucking perfect."

He gasped as he heard you whimper a little, and opened his eyes to look down at you. You were stirring just a bit, but your eyes were still shut. "N-Neil?" you groaned out groggily, and he should've stopped moving-- but he couldn't, he honestly couldn't. He was already so close and you were so adorable all helpless like this and he just needed to come so bad...

"Shh," he soothed, though it came out a little stuttered as his hips moved faster, slapping against your ass with the most amazing, filthy sound. "Shh, it's okay, just rest..."

"Neil," you said again, making him bear his teeth and flex his cock. He wanted to blurt it out right then and there-- yeah, baby, it's me, that's my cock inside you-- but he managed to stop himself, laying down on top of you instead as he pet your head and gave you rougher, deeper thrusts.

"Don't wake up, baby," he groaned, "I'm right here. It's okay. You can just go back to sleep."

"What... what's going on?" you asked, barely managing to open your eyes for a second... he loved the way you fought it, trying so hard to wake up, but your body was so happy to relent even if your mind resisted. "What are you doing?"

"Shh," he hissed again, "j-just stay still, I'm so close. Fuck, I'm so close-- I'm almost done, please--"

You whimpered, trying to struggle under him, and he moaned louder as it made your walls squeeze him again. "Neil, please..."

"Fuck," he grunted, "say my name again, baby-- I wanna hear you say it when I come inside you."

[mickandmusings]

vi. 'tis the damn season

part of the 'hangman & honey' series!

summary: for the past six months, jake has spent every spare moment attempting to mend communication between he and honey. for months, he uses his phone calls to phone her, leave long voicemails, and writes her multiple letters a week. his efforts come with no avail, she never calls or writes him back. with christmas around the corner, jake makes his way back home to texas, but not before making an important stop along the way.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: 18+ mdni!! (dirty talk, but no explicit descriptions); definite military inaccuracies; definite college inaccuracies; general angst; christmas story in august?

-

'Dear Honey,

I know this is the third or fourth letter this week, and I'm not even sure if you're receiving these, but I can't just not write to you. I left you another voicemail, and I'm not sure if you're listening to those either, but I have talked to you nearly everyday since we were nine, and, well, that's not a habit you break easily. I called you on your birthday last week and left a message, and I sent you a card, I hope you got them both.

Honey, I'm sorry. I'll say it in every voicemail and every letter until you believe me. I shouldn't have taken so long to tell you the truth. I regret it. If I could take it all back, you know I would. I didn't do it to hurt you, I never want to hurt you. But I know I did, and no words I could say or write will change that. I'm sorry. I'll say it over and over again until you understand how much I mean that.

I know you likely don't want to hear about my time here, but I've always told you everything. If you don't want to hear me talk about it, I thought you might read about it. I can't ever remember a time you weren't reading.

Life here is different. Not bad, just...hard. The weather is certainly cooler than the winters back home. We even got snow, true snow, not the shitty kind we get in Haven. It sticks to the ground, and you can actually play in it, not just bust your ass on ice and sleet. Things are always very routine and strict, but, considering it's a week til Christmas break, things are looking up. Honestly, I've never been more ready to go back home to Texas. Granny said she spoke to you about coming home for Christmas, since you missed Thanksgiving? I really hope you'll come around. I miss you, Honey. I haven't heard your voice since that voicemail you sent me in October. Look, you can stay at the other house, I'll set it up for you before you even get here. Or, I'll stay there, and you can have our my room. You don't even have to talk to me, just please come. Just seeing you would be enough.

My bunkmate, Javy, the one I've mentioned to you for the past few months, he's from New Orleans. He's coming home for Christmas, and he's going to drop me off at the airport there. I'll fly back to Austin from there, and Pawpaw will be there to pick me up. Sometimes, at night or when we have spare time, Javy tells me about his life back home in Louisiana. More often than not, it makes me think of you. They make me think of the birthday beignets you make for Pawpaw, and how you'd make us gumbo in the winter. Frankly, everything makes me think of you. Honey, I see you everywhere. There are these bushes outside Bancroft Hall, and they're full of these little white and red flowers. I'm not sure what they're called, but they're pretty, and I know you'd love them. There's a kid in one of my morning classes, and he's got your accent too. It's nice to hear, I haven't heard your voice in so long. I hope the Magnolia State is treating you well. I imagine you're much happier with your favorite flower all around you.

I don't have much else to tell you about. I'd like to tell you my other stories when we're face to face again. I just wanted to let you know I miss you, and I love you, always. Call me back or write to me whenever you get the chance, if you're feeling up to it.

All my love,

Jake'

Honey holds the paper tightly in her hands, letting it crinkle under the pressure of her grasp. If he'd sent this letter when they'd first split, she'd have balled it up or ripped it to pieces with her blinding, white-hot rage. She had been so angry when she'd first moved away, ignoring his incessant phone calls and numerous voicemails. She had let his letters pile up on her desk, unopened and unread. In the chance that he'd sent this letter just a few months later, she would have stained the ink of his letters with her tears. After her anger came a fierce sadness, one that seeped into her bones and left her incapacitated, ridden with the agony that threatened to pull her under like a rogue wave. But now, as she stares down at Jake's scratchy handwriting across the lined paper, she simply feels numb. His letter does not spark an onslaught of tears or suffocating sobs that leave her chest heaving. She simply folds the letter back up and slides it back into its envelope, placing it gently on her desktop, deciding to deal with it later, much like the emotions it evoked.

She knows she shouldn't, but she grabs the familiar orange sweatshirt that lives on her bed and throws it over her head. It comes to her knees and the sleeves are far too long, but it provides her with a comfort she almost wishes it didn't. In her tiny dorm room in Starkville, her small college town (although bigger than Haven,) she feels isolated. Her entire life for the past six months had simply been going-through-the-motions of life: wake up, go to class, come home, study, finish assignments, work a shift at her on-campus job, shower, repeat. Life had become monotonous, something that her life with Jake never was.

She knows she shouldn't wallow. She should try and get out, make more friends-more than just the lady at the circulation desk in the library-and try to enjoy her life at nineteen. But, once again, that gnawing, creeping feeling infiltrates her chest, Honey wasn't like her classmates. She wouldn't enjoy sitting in a bar or attending a frat party. She'd sit in the corner alone, nursing a drink she likely wouldn't finish, and leave with an Irish goodbye. Now, all she had was a sweatshirt that smelled faintly of the boy she once slept next to each night, and it was her only source of comfort.

Honey knows she should get up and call Mrs. Janet, to let her know that she's okay, and that she was settled. The last time she'd spoken to her or Mr. Jacob had been nearly two weeks ago. She should call Haley and Sarah Grace back, both of her hometown friends had been calling since they'd met up for the last time in October. She knows she should stop shutting those who loved her out-Jake included-but that was a different situation entirely.

Instead of doing any of the aforementioned, she simply sinks into her comforter and puts her headphones on, effectively shutting out the rest of the world. She was glad her roommate had left for her own home state, leaving her alone in the dorm room for the next two weeks. Deep down, Honey knew she was lying to herself. She yearned for the feeling of home, her true home, on a farm in Texas. She craved Mrs. Janet's cowboy cookies that she made at least two dozen too many of, and Mr. Jacob's Christmas ham that took hours to get just right, but was so worth it when it practically melted in her mouth. She missed sitting around a room full of the Seresin family, watching the children open new toys and heaps of candy. She'd laugh as they opened new clothes with sour faces, quickly ditching them for the next box in shiny wrapping. Their childlike joy made her own flare, leaving her chest warm as she giggled quietly in Jake's arms. She missed Jake sneaking them eggnog from the kitchen, and the babbling laughter they erupted into when they realized no matter how much older they got, it was always just as disgusting as the first time he'd snuck it when they were thirteen. Mostly, she missed the warm, peaceful feeling she felt when she was in a room full of people she loved most. In a bout of honesty, she admits that maybe, just maybe, she just missed Jake.

Through her headphones, she can hear the rain patter against her window, and she sighs, the weather only adding to her melancholy mood. Honey knew if she chose to rot in bed, her emotions would only grow heavier, so with a deep sigh, she rolls out of bed and slides on her worn sneakers. She takes off Jake's Longhorns hoodie and swaps it for her own, tosses the hood over her head, and grabs the keys to Jake's truck. She grabs her finished library books to return, and her wallet, deciding to wallow in the secluded section of the library instead. She walks out of her dorm room, locks the door, and takes the stairs down to the lobby. She pushes the door open and heads out into the rain.

Honey would never make it to the library that day.

-

Two weeks prior...

"You scribblin' away for that girl again, Seresin?"

Javy's voice fills Jake's ears, and Jake doesn't bother looking up as he shoots his roommate a middle finger salute. Javy laughs at the action before climbing into his top bunk, leaning his head against his pillow. There's silence between the two before Javy's voice cuts through again.

"So when are you gonna tell me about her?"

From the second that Javy had met Jake, it seemed like something was weighing his bunkmate down. It wasn't until a week or so later, when they both were calling home, that Javy learned it wasn't something, it was someone. Jake kept information about his girl on lock, so Javy knew little information: her name was Honey, which Javy found odd, but brushed it off. She was studying English at a college in Mississippi, and Jake had, somehow, royally fucked things up with her before he'd come to the Academy.

Jake sighs, stopping his writing as he looks up at his friend on the top bunk.

"If I tell you, will you shut up for ten minutes so I can write?"

Javy nods, his brown eyes sparkling with a stream of questions he'd been burning to ask.

"Fine, what'dya want to know?"

Javy is quiet for a moment, looking up at the ceiling, as if pondering something.

"What's she like? Wait! No, let me guess! She was a cheerleader, pretty little thing, prom queen, the whole nine-yards to your little All-American thing."

Jake lets out a laugh, thinking of Honey as he shakes his head.

"You couldn't be more wrong. Except the pretty part, she-she's gorgeous."

"Really?" Javy sits up and leans over the metal railing of the bunk. "What? Is she like some metal chick with the eyeliner?"

Javy motions around his eye to emphasize his point.

Jake's eyes widened, continuing to shake his head.

"Definitely not."

"Then what's she like? C'mon man, you gotta give me something! You're always callin' her and writin' her, and I never see you get a response. She got you under Love Potion Number Nine or something? She do the whole magic thing? Can't trust that man."

"No, no, she's not like that. She's-," Jake pauses, trying to find the most accurate words to describe Honey. "She's quiet, shy, she's practically the opposite of me. She likes to read, a lot. I don't think there's ever been a time in our lives when she didn't have a book in her hand. She's kind, never lacking patience when it comes to all of my bullshit. And smart, ridiculously so, she's the smartest person I know. Honey is...witty, and funny, she's got this sarcastic sense of humor that you'd never expect from her. W-We've been friends since we were kids. We started datin' in high school, and we had this fight before I came here, and, obviously, she's still mad about it, so...yeah."

Javy notes the glimmer in Jake's eyes as he talks about his girlfriend, a small smile forming across his lips. Javy hadn't known Jake for more than six months, but this was probably the happiest he'd seen his bunkmate. Javy shrugs, giving his friend another incredulous look.

"So what are you gonna do about it, Seresin?"

Jake's jade eyes look up at him, his letter finished but suddenly forgotten.

"What do you mean? She obviously doesn't want to speak to me. The only time she's spoken to me in six months is when she left me a drunk voicemail on Halloween, saying how I made her cry. What am I supposed to do with that? If she saw me, she'd probably knock my lights out."

Javy shrugs. "But do you love her?"

Jake looks down at his well-kept shoes.

"More than she'll ever know."

"You said she's studying in Starkville? You think she's going back to Texas for Christmas?"

"It's unlikely," Jake responds, his voice somber at the admission. "Why?"

"Well," Javy props back onto his pillow, his hands tucked under his head. "I'm driving back home for Christmas, passin' right through Mississippi. It sounds like if you messed this up, you need to be the one to fix it. Show her you haven't given up, and you want her back. If you surprise her, maybe she'll give you a chance to explain yourself."

Jake's heart hammers in his chest, his friend's plan wasn't entirely bad. Jake looks up at his bunkmate, his face set in a knowing look.

"Honey hates surprises."

"And you hate living without her, which one will be worse: her temporary anger, or never speakin' to her again?"

Jake sighs, he hates that Javy was right. Maybe it was a stupid idea, cancelling his flight back home from Austin, tagging along on a road trip with Javy to get the love of his life back. But, a week later, Jake's duffel was slung into the backseat of Javy's car haphazardly as he rode shotgun, giving his friend directions toward a small Mississippi town.

-

Now, Honey makes her way across the rainy parking lot. Through her blurry eyesight, she quickly finds Jake's truck in the nearly empty parking lot. She fishes the key from the bundle of keys in her hand, sliding it into the key slot on the door and unlocking the door. Before she could remove the key and pop open the door, Honey hears a voice call out her name. She pauses, and for a split second, she thinks she hears Jake's voice. She shakes her head, pulling at the driver's side door. It was often shut too hard, and she had to pull with a good portion of her strength to get it to open. As she tugs on the handle, she hears it again, her name in Jake's voice. She tugs harder, thinking she was finally losing her mind.

"Honey, wait!"

The footsteps behind her alert her that the voice she had been hearing likely wasn't just a hallucination. She turns abruptly, and her heart stops in her chest. There, standing before her in a rain-soaked Navy sweatshirt and jeans, his significantly shorter blonde locks plastered against his forehead, was one Jake Seresin. Honey's eyes widened in shock, the breath in her chest growing short and ragged. She pulls her books closer to her chest, an action of both shock and keeping them as dry as possible. Her eyes dart back and forth between his own. She's quiet for a moment, rendered completely speechless.

"Jake?!" Her eyebrows furrowed. "What the hell are you doing here?! You-You're supposed to be on a plane to Austin right now!"

Jake stands in front of her, motionless, as his eyes take her in completely. It had been so long since he'd seen her, and he simply wanted to peer at her forever. She hadn't changed much, she was still shorter than him in stature, still an avid reader by the small pile of books she'd finally tossed onto the truck seat, but her eyes didn't quite shine like they once had. Jake's heart hammered in his chest, staring at the girl he loved standing in front of him in the pouring rain, arms crossed over her chest, shivering in the cold.

"Jake, hey?!" She waves her hand in front of his face, attempting to gain his attention. "What are you doing here?!"

Honey's voice is loud enough to hear over the rain pelting around them both. Her eyes are wide as he looks down at her, his hands itch to touch her, but he keeps them at his side. He takes another look into her eyes, and he simply loses every ounce of control he has. He takes a step forward towards her, his hands come to rest on either side of her face. Honey wants to knock his hands away, she wants to let her anger simmer forever, but the warmth of his calloused touch provides her with a comfort she hadn't felt in so long. If it had not been raining so fiercely, both halves of the pair would realize the tears running down one another's face. He's silent for a long moment, simply taking in her face for the first time in months.

"Honey, I-I fucked up," Jake starts, his voice trembling with a flurry of emotions. "Honey, I fucked up so, so bad."

He pauses, allowing the rain to soak through both their clothes, his thumb brushing carefully against her cheek. His bottom lip trembles, his hands beginning to shake against her face. Honey says nothing, only braving a look into his green eyes darkening with tears.

"I-I've apologized a thousand times over the past six months and it's not enough. It'll never be enough, because knowin' I hurt you?" He pauses and shakes his head with his lips pressed into a fine line, effectively keeping him from bursting into sobs. "Honey, that shit has ripped me to shreds everyday since you left. I-I never meant to hurt you, ever. I'll spend the rest of my life apologizin' to you if that's what you want." His eyes bore into her own, his breaths shaky.

"I'll spend the rest of my life on hands and knees, grovelin' if that's what you want. A-And if you tell me to fuck off and never speak to you again, I-I'll do it. Just-just know that all of me-body, heart, soul, everything I am-it belongs to you. If you've decided that you're movin' on, and you want to do everythin' we planned with someone else, I won't try to stop it. But, you have to know somethin', and I need you to understand that it doesn't matter if you move to Canada, o-or you stay here, or you move back to Haven, my heart forever sits in your hands. It's yours, forever, whether I have yours or not. That house on my grandparent's farm? I fixed it for you, it's yours. This truck? It's yours, take it. Honey, you can have whatever you want, I'll buy you whatever you want, I'll make it if I can't buy it. Tell me what you want, and I'll make it happen. Whatever it is, baby, it's yours."

His chest moves quickly with his rapid breaths, his hands shaking from his contained emotions. Honey simply looks at him, still a bit shocked that he's standing in front of her. If she wasn't overwhelmed by the landslide of apologies he'd just spouted, she'd have given him her own back. Instead, she stands a bit still, her chest just as heavy as his. He mistakes her silence as rejection, and his face falls as he gives a subtle nod of his head. His hands move from her face, and, in that split second, Honey is shocked into action. She wouldn't lose him again, she couldn't lose him again. In one quick swoop, she grabs the wrists of his sweatshirt, pulling his attention back to her. She speaks a tad louder than her normal tone, ensuring he would hear her over the pelting rain.

"You, all I want is you. That-That's all I've ever wanted, Jake!"

He catches a glimpse of her face, her cheeks pink as she shivers, but her eyes, they were the same love-filled gaze he'd remembered. He wanted to begin another string of apologies, to assure her that he meant everything he said, but he never got the chance. In an action almost completely out of nature for the shy girl he knew, her arms were around his neck, pulling his lips towards hers in a heated passion. He wasted no time in indulging in the action, his hands coming to her hips, lifting her a bit higher to deepen the kiss. The sweet kiss quickly turns to a clash of teeth and heated movements, and Jake quickly hoists her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as if it were muscle memory.

From his car across the lot, Javy shakes his head and smiles as the two embrace one another. He cranks his car back up, backs out of the parking spot and turns back onto the main road. He shakes his head as he thinks of his friend, mumbling to himself as he drives:

"Tis the damn season, Seresin, you lucky dog."

Back at the school, it only takes a split second for the couple's kiss to grow a bit too intense for the parking lot setting, and, without thinking, Jake pulls her through the lobby's double doors and into the elevator, where the two finally break apart for a split second.

"J-Jake, I-I never should've left like that, I-,"

She doesn't get to finish, Jake's lips are back on hers, this time with more fervor than before. Honey shudders, with both the cold from her wet clothes and the heat building in her torso. They break apart as the elevator dings, and Honey is pulling Jake by the hand back to her dorm. She all but shoves him inside, locking the door behind her. Jake wastes no time in crossing back to her, slowly pulling off the hood of her hoodie, his eyes widening when he glances at her mostly dry hair.

"Y-Your hair, it's...shorter."

She chuckles. "Yeah, I just needed a change...you're one to talk, J, I've never seen your hair that short."

He pulls her in closer by her hips, lifting the soaked hoodie over her head as he speaks.

"Yeah, well, plebe summer wasn't my best look, you're just lucky you missed me bald, baby."

Even in the dim light of the dorm room, Jake notes the darkening look of her gaze, her lids growing heavier with desire. Honey's hand comes to the short hair growing on the nape of his neck, her head cocking to the side as she threads her fingers through the new growth, a look on her face he can't quite place. He pulls her flush against him, attempting to read her look.

"Hm, yeah," she starts. "I'm real glad I missed that part. Y'know, why?"

The girl below him moves to kiss the underside of his jaw, making his hands tighten on the grip he has on her hips.

"Why's that, baby?"

Honey's lips move to his neck, his hands slipping past her hips and to the round of her bottom. Above all else, Jake Seresin had been raised to be a Southern gentleman, but his resolve was slipping.

"Because," Honey starts, her accent slipping through, causing the heat in Jake's lower half to grow unbearable as her lips continue their course down his skin. "I like havin' somethin' to hold onto when you're between my thighs."

Long gone was Honey's shy demeanor, and long gone was Jake's gentlemanly resolution. Without a word, he's tossing his own damp sweatshirt over his head and throwing it to the floor with her own. Honey has ditched her drenched shirt and sweatpants, now standing nearly bare between Jake's arms. Without a second of hesitation, Jake pulls her onto the ridiculously small bed, but he pays it no mind, more focused on the grinning girl beneath him. He kisses her lips passionately, his hands resting on her bare thighs. His own heart hammers, and, as he kisses down Honey's neck, he can feel her own beating just as loudly. He pulls away, tossing off his damp jeans to the floor. He looks down at her almost bare frame, his emerald eys heavy with lust, but his voice is cased in affection.

"If this is what you want, that's certainly fine with me, but I need to hear you say it, baby."

Honey looks up at Jake's kind but intense gaze, her heart slowing a bit.

"After that whole The Notebook-esque apology you pulled, yes, I want this."

She nods in confirmation, and Jake wastes no time in attaching his lips back to hers. Honey's hands fly back to his hair, her fingers digging into his locks. Jake's hands come to her torso, carefully sliding off the clothing constricting her chest and tossing it onto the floor. He pauses for a brief moment, staring down as he hovers over her. Honey looks up at him, her head cocking to the side.

"Jake? Hey, what's the matter?"

Jake's mind is in overdrive, and he simply feels the urge to stop and stare at her. She's bare before him, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing with affection. Jake swallows thickly as he pushes hair out of her face.

"Honey, you-you're beautiful. I am the luckiest man on fuckin' Earth, baby."

Honey blushes at his compliment, pulling him back in with a heated kiss.

"You're such a smooth talker, Seresin...but right now, I need you to use that mouth of yours for somethin' other than talkin'."

Jake grins from ear to ear, the usual smirk she's used to seeing painted across his face. His thumb brushes against the fabric adorning her hip, gently pushing it down. He tosses them to the floor along with the other clothes they'd shed, and nudges his way in between her legs. Heat fills the space between them completely as he speaks:

"Yes ma'am."

-

Hours later, in the late hours of the night, Honey is woken by the vibrating of something nearby. Jake-who has her pressed into his chest with the strength of a bear-doesn't budge. Honey, ever the light sleeper, groans, lightly tapping Jake's shoulders. His body moves, but he simply curls back into their shared pillow. She shoves him again, a little harder this time as she speaks.

"Jake," Her words receive no response, so she speaks again. "Jake!"

It's Jake's turn to groan, his arms pulling her closer to his bare chest.

"Hm? What is it, baby?"

Honey's lack-of-sleep induced annoyance fades at the nickname she so adores.

"Your phone is ringing."

Jake groans again, slipping out from under the blush pink sheets and searching for his phone that he assumed was still lodged into his jean pocket. Honey opts to glance at his newly toned arms and strong, broad shoulders, his time training in Maryland obviously having physical gain. He hits the button on the screen, not bothering to look at the caller ID, and speaks:

"Hello?"

"Jacob Thomas! Where the hell are you?!" His grandfather's voice fills his ears, and Jake pales. Shit. He had completely forgotten to tell his grandparents about his detour. "I've been sitting at the airport for three hours, son!"

"Pawpaw, I-I'm sorry, Javy just decided to take me all the way back to-" He's cut off abruptly.

"Look, that's fine, but you could've called. Your grandmother's callin' and she's pissed, son. Just get home, alright? Preferably sometime before Christmas Eve? She's already distraught about Honey not comin' around, so, the sooner the better. Heard?"

"Loud and clear."

"Alright, well, I love you, kid. Be careful."

"Love you too."

Jake hangs up the phone, crawling back into Honey's sheets and pulling her back into his arms. Honey's nose burrows into the crook of his neck, Jake's warm skin against her own far warmer than any blanket she owned. Jake's hand ghosted against her side, the other threading through her hair. His voice is low and soft as he speaks:

"How do you feel about Christmas in Texas?"

Honey's eyes open, looking up at her boyfriend with a shy smile, completely retreating back into her usual quiet self, a stark difference from the heated confidence that had run through her only hours before. Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight, a wide grin on her face as she buries herself back into his neck, his toned arms pulling her in tightly.

"I don't know if they'd even want me there, I should've called Mrs. Janet back, haven't responded in like two weeks."

Jake scoffs, pushing back a hair from her face.

"Don't even think like that. They're gonna be more excited to see you than me."

"Guess we'll find out." Honey pushes up from her spot next to Jake, sliding out of bed and slipping on new clothes before packing a small bag for the road. Jake watches from the bed, a smile across his face. He rests his hands behind his head, his blonde locks tossed about from their rendezvous. Honey turns to him once she's dressed.

"Are you gonna show up like that? Not that I mind this look, but your grandmother might have some issues with it." She laughs lightly, tossing him his now dry shirt. "You might want to get dressed, babe."

Honey stills and grows red when the nickname falls from her lips without any thought. She turns to Jake, his eyebrow furrowed humorously at the nickname, his right pointer finger beckons her closer. She stands next to him beside the bed, his hand pulling her in by the waist.

"Where did that come from?"

"I-I don't know," she admits bashfully. "B-But if you don't like it-"

"Baby, I more than liked it."

He pulls her closer, plopping her back into the sheets with him. She practically rests completely atop him. His hands move to pull up her shirt, his hands resting on her now bare waist. She makes note of his gaze darkening as he looks down at her, his arousal evident against her leg.

"Jake," her voice is a whisper. "We should really get on the road."

Jake smirks, his lips now kissing the sweet spot behind her ear.

"I'll get up as soon as you do."

Unable to resist one another, they were nearly another two hours before they got back on the road. After those hours and a ridiculously long drive back home to Haven, Honey now rested comfortably in the passenger side of Jake's her truck, Jake's thumb rubbing against her thigh. Both of them were incredibly tired from the prolonged trip, and more than ready to collapse into his childhood bed they'd shared for years. As Jake turned onto Seresin Farm Road, Honey felt her nerves kick in. Despite her excitement to return to the home that had nurtured her, she worried that she was going to be a burden for Janet and Jacob. She hadn't told either of them that she'd be coming home, and Jake hadn't either. She slid closer in the seat to Jake, her head resting on his arm. He looks down at her as they pass one of the many fields on the property.

"You alright, baby? You're lookin' a little out of it."

"M'fine, just nervous."

Jake's eyes cut down at her. "Nervous?"

"It's stupid, I know. I just, didn't tell anyone I was coming, and I don't want to be a burden to your grandparents."

"Honey, you're family. You don't have to let us know you're comin'."

Honey smiles, her nerves fading as the house comes into view. Jake parks the truck, the backwards baseball cap over his head covering his short, blonde locks completely. He cuts her a sly grin, a look of mischief drawn across his face.

"Want to really surprise them?"

Honey cocks her head, puzzled. Jake simply kisses her cheek and hops out of the truck, moving to open the door on her side. He comes to the front door, opening it and promptly hiding Honey behind his taller frame. He comes to the entrance of the kitchen, raising his finger to his lips as he leaves her only a few feet away in the foyer. She can hear his boots against the hardwood as he walks.

"Hey," he speaks simply, both Janet and Jacob Sr.'s eyes cutting to their grandson standing in their doorway.

"Jacob! You scared the devil outta me! Get over here!" Janet shuffles the towering young man into a hug after lightly chastising him.

"Sorry I'm late," Jake's voice is muffled against his grandmother's neck. "Had to make a detour and pick up a little surprise for you."

His grandmother pulls away, her eyebrows furrowed as she gives the blonde a questioning look. "Surprise?"

Jake sends her a blinding smile. He pokes his head around the corner, beckoning Honey forward with his pointer finger. Honey shakes her head as she approaches, and Jake slings his arm around her shoulder.

"Hi," Honey speaks quietly. Janet and Jacob Sr. both turn, smiles painting across their faces.

"Honey! Oh my, sweet girl, you did surprise us!" Janet's voice is bubbly as she shuffles over to her grandson's girlfriend, pulling her into a tight hug. "Oh! And look at that hair, it's just darlin' on you!"

Honey feels her heart hammer, and she has to swallow down her tears as the older woman embraces her. Jake's grandfather follows suit, and Honey can no longer stop the tears rolling down her face. Janet wipes them away with the back of her hand.

"You alright there, Hon?" Jacob Sr. fills her ears. Honey nods through her tears, crossing the kitchen back to Jake's arms. He pulls her close, kissing the crown of her head as her tears stain his shirt. Janet's eyes gleam as she sees the two being affectionate again. She had been so worried about them both being apart for so long.

"I'm fine, promise." Honey's voice wobbles slightly. "I'm just really, really happy to be home. I didn't want to be a burden, but, I-I've really missed you guys."

"Oh nonsense! I promise we're happy to have you home, sweetheart." Janet's own face wobbles with emotion. "Now, c'mon, I'm glad I waited to make desserts, now I've got double the help."

She shuffles her bowls of ingredients around on the counter and Honey pulls away from Jake, more than happy to lend a hand with making sweets. Jake slips out of the kitchen to allow them to share their moment, and finds himself lounging next to his grandfather in the living room.

The graying man peers up at him over his glasses, giving him a satisfied look.

"Smart move there, son."

Jake directs his eyes from the black and white film on the TV to his grandfather.

"What do you mean?"

"Bringin' Honey home, makin' things right with her. Me and your Granny learned real quick this place doesn't feel the same when you two aren't around."

Jake smiles, shocked by the amount of emotion behind his usually stoic grandfather's words. The older man only gives him a hint of a smile before focusing on his western movie again. Jake listens as he hears Honey's laughter from the kitchen, and for the first time in six months, he feels content. Exhausted from hours of driving and he and Honey's activities in her dorm, he falls asleep on the couch.

Later, after Honey and Janet have finished their baking for the night, Honey spots Jake sprawled across the sofa, his boots and hat abandoned at the end. She covers him up with the blanket that rests behind him, placing a kiss on his forehead. She hadn't intended to wake him, but his eyes popped open. He's not fully awake, still a little bleary eyed as his hands fumble for her torso.

"C'mon, J, you're tired. Let's go to bed."

"Hm, lead the way, baby."

That night, Jake sleeps with Honey under his chin, tucked comfortably into his hold as tightly as possible. He dreams of Honey vividly-although mundane and simple, his dreams are a comfort: them sitting placidly with one another as she reads and he looks on as her voice fills his ears. For the first time in nearly six months, both of them slept peacefully and deeply, in a way they never could without sleeping next to one another. Tomorrow, when the Texas sun blares through Jake's thin curtains, they'll both be thrown headfirst into holiday preparations. But tonight, under the same roof where their story had ended, it begins again: Honey, in Jake's arms, sleeping content and comfortable in the bedroom up the stairs.

-

taglist:

@djs8891

@unattainablesillygoose

@psuedochakra

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

@mrsevans90

@86laura11

@cmiguelbilinski

*if you asked me/want to be on the taglist and you weren't tagged, pls message me, i would love to add you!!

[vifilms]

author!abby who writes a fictional novel based on you, but the two of you hadn’t spoken in years, she really didn’t think she’d be on your radar at all. yeah, sure — you did like to read. but you hadn’t even known about it when you were together. how would you even find out about it? abby sure wouldn’t be the one to tell you.

author!abby starts to worry about you finding out about her book when it starts selling well. she was happy, over the moon actually, but the fear loomed over like a dark rainy cloud, following her every where she went. confessions of love and words never spoken all laid out prettily in ink, and god did abby feel exposed.

author!abby who cries when she gets the news her novel is a new york times best seller. she’s stupidly happy about it and she’s feels proud of herself. almost as if you’re here right along with her, but you’re not. just this idea of you, placed inside this world she created — one where there is a happy ending for the two of you but then the doom of reality sets in.

author!abby nearly passes out when she runs into you. friday night, the moonlight hitting you so well, it truly wasn’t even fair. some other girl on your arm, and she only pulled you closer with abby’s presence.

author!abby still thinks you’re the most beautiful person, inside and out, and it pains her still to see you with someone else who isn’t her. of course she had been with other people, just like you, but there wasn’t anyone who fit perfect like you did.

author!abby wonders what she would say to you if your companion wasn’t trying to size her up. she was a femme which already made abby feel insecure. abby was your only history of dating a masc, which had always been a sore spot. she’s beautiful and the way she holds you, god it makes abby want to hurl.

author!abby thinks it’s silly she can’t just move on. you’re just a girl. granted, a girl who inspired her to write an entire novel. even then, she should be able to get over you. you’re stupidly perfect lips, those stunning eyes that maker her fall to her knees every time. it isn’t fair how much she still loves you after all this time. fuck.

author!abby also finds herself dreaming of you when she's lonely. it's harmless mostly, until she wakes up and you're not on the other side of the bed. then it hits her cruelly, you're not here and you've never even set foot in the apartment she moved into when the two of you broke up. she's living her worst nightmare.

author!abby really believes she's sick when you're untangling yourself from the girl you're with and you collide into her arms. you smell of cedar and vanilla and it intoxicates abby as she feels your arms around her waist. she feels light, the heavy weight of her solemn loneliness bites the dust in your presence.

"Missed my sweet, Abs. Fuck, it's really you and all that muscle, huh?" You kiss her cheek sweetly, so quick she's doubts if it even happens.

author!abby tries not to laugh at your date omitting an aggravated grunt at the interaction, but she decides ignoring it and having you in her arms is far more important. if it's only for this short time, so be it. abby knows she's blushing and hopes it believable the cold is to blame.

author!abby tries not to think of it for the next couple weeks. your kindness spreading to her like angel dust on skin, healing a heart abby had practically broken herself. abby wondered how serious it was with you and the other girl. the only thing she did know, was abby had made her jealous. the way she kissed you and grabbed your ass could only be the effect of bright, green envy.

author!abby starts outlining a new story and she knows as well as her publisher why and now she regrets telling him, but your pure presence had her writing again. the timing nothing other than comical. it shouldn't have, but it did.

author!abby is wearing nothing but black sweat pants and a white beater when there is a knock on her door. it's aggressive and harsh, and it surprises her when it's you. how did she even find out where you live? fuck, manny. it had to be.

author!abby takes in your appearance and it's clear you were dressed for a date, more than likely with the girl you were with earlier. evidently, you were dating her and god you were dressed to the nines in front of her. a cocktail gown with pretty black heels. she tries not to take note of your cleavage and your perfect tits, or the way the material was snug around your hips, accentuating them perfectly.

author!abby knows you're angry, and she isn't sure why. it's not like the two of you had talked since your run in. maybe abby had stalked your socials a bit, yeah. obviously. but she wasn't bold enough to actually reach out to you.

author!abby didn't have to think about it much longer when you threw the book at abby's chest forcing her to catch it. with a look of horror in her eyes, she knew you had found out about it and read it. eyes filled with tears, abby had caused you heartbreak once again. even if it was unintentional, she was the source of your pain and she hated herself for it.

author!abby hates the way you're looking at her, tears cascading down your plump cheeks, but your anger was still prevalent. you had every right to be upset and abby tried to think of it from your perspective. if you had refused to tell her you love her, but then wrote it all in a book and didn't tell her about it, there isn't a sliver of doubt she would be upset.

"I guess I should have listened to Manny and told you about the book." Absent mindedly chewing on her bottom lip. Abby avoids looking you in the eye. She can't even stomach your presence. It makes her feels sick, and happy, and awfully optimistic. It's disgusting.

author!abby knew a light-hearted joke wasn't the best choice she could make, but it was the only one she had. there wasn't much else she could do except wait for whatever blow she knew was coming. this was her own mess, there was no one but to blame but herself.

You ignore her comment. It makes you want to punch her and kiss her. "How could you look me in the eye tell me you don't love me and will never love me and then proceed to write an entire romance novel based on our relationship?" You were practically screaming at her, but your volume was reduced as chocked sobs fell from your lips.

author!abby wishes she could give you an answer that would help, but there isn't one. her reasons are selfish and nothing she says help you - not in the way you need. anything she could offer would provide little to no comfort.

"I'm happy now. I have a girlfriend whose good to me and it took me a long time to get there. To be happy without you and your cruel, vile words hanging over me and infecting my day to fucking day life." You regretted saying it the moment your eyes caught blue ones, guilt pouring out from within. “I’ve finally moved on.” "Then be happy. Just forget about what I wrote. It's stupid anyways, okay? Just a dream I got carried away with." It's a lame attempt and not enough effort is made to sway you to walk away from her front door. Abby pushed because it's the only thing she knows how to successfully do.

author!abby wishes you would go away because if you stand in front of her for any longer, she'll be inviting you in and lord knows she doesn't need this to happen. it's the last thing she wants and the absolute one thing she needs.

"It's not stupid, if it's your dream." You said, trying to reassure her. "You cared enough to write about it. I-, uh, please can you just tell me the truth? Please just tell me?" You pleaded wanting to hear what you thought of endlessly. "I wrote this for the girl I fell in love with, for the girl I still love and will always love and she's standing in front of me with the power to crush my heart in her hands if she wants."

[steddieas-shegoes]

naked under there

for @steddieholidaydrabbles pop up event 'graduation'

rated m | 940 words | cw: mention of illness (flu symptoms), mentions of sexual content | tags: established relationship, modern au, college graduation, sick fic, the laziest possible almost handjob you may ever see (that's why it's not even rated e)

🎓🎓🎓🎓🎓🎓🎓🎓🎓🎓🎓

Steve worked his ass off to get here, and now his ass was fucking cold.

This was definitely his own fault, but he hadn't considered the fact that the graduation ceremony was inside. With air conditioning. And fans blowing on the stage to help circulate more air.

Steve was naked under his graduation gown.

He was standing in an arena filled with nearly 1500 students and probably 5000 family members and friends, and he was naked.

Admittedly, not his brightest moment.

And what was worse, what was actually going to kill him, was Eddie called him an hour before the ceremony crying because he had a fever and migraine and body aches and Wayne wouldn't let him get out of bed. So he'd done all this for nothing.

He only had a few people ahead of him now, and his body was shivering. He looked out to find Robin, but she was lost in the sea of people already called to get their diploma sitting back in their seats. Steve was the biggest idiot here. They shouldn't even give him his diploma.

"Steven William Harrington."

He quickly made his way across the stage, smiling as he heard cheering in the upper level of the arena. All his kids had made it, though a couple of them didn't fly in until earlier that day and had to rush, so he didn't get to see them before he had to line up and get to his seat. Wayne promised to be there too, more of a parent figure for him in the last four years than his own parents had ever been. Even Nancy had made it, explaining that there was no way she was missing this when she'd helped so much with editing his papers.

As he walked off the stage, diploma in hand, he paused to smile for the camera that was taking pictures. He didn't think he needed them, but Wayne insisted on buying one to celebrate his achievement. He wanted to frame it and place it next to the picture he has of Eddie on his high school graduation day.

He forgot for a moment that the flash would make the pale yellow gown a bit more see-through. He forgot that the camera recording the entire session would probably capture this moment, too.

Instead of panicking, he walked back to his seat quickly, head down and hands holding his diploma in front of his entire crotch area. He was such an idiot, holy shit.

If he wanted to blame Eddie, he probably could, but really, this was all Steve.

Eddie had made a comment last week while he was fucking Steve against the wall that he couldn't wait to fuck him in his cap and gown. Steve couldn't stop thinking about being pulled into a closet after the ceremony, while everyone waited for them, Eddie lifting up the back of the gown and fucking into him.

Hence, being naked under the gown. Easy access was crucial when time was of the essence.

Except now, Eddie was dying of the flu in bed, and Steve was naked for no damn reason under this gown.

The shivering started again as soon as he sat in his seat. Why the hell was it so cold in here?

By the time they got to the last names beginning with Y, Steve felt miserable. He was freezing, but sweating down his back and neck, and the gown kept sticking to his thighs. His whole body felt sore and the pain behind his eyes was making its way to the back of his head and down his neck.

Would he get in trouble if he left early?

He had his diploma, and they were mostly done. He could go.

He left.

A few people around him told him to sit, but must not have felt the need to argue when they saw how miserable he looked.

His phone was buzzing in the pocket of the gown, but he couldn't bother to check it right now. He needed some fresh air and some water.

The fresh air helped slightly, but the sun hitting his eyes made him want to lay down and die. The headache increased exponentially as he tried to find a shady spot with no luck.

He could just walk back to the apartment. It was only three blocks.

Eddie was there.

His vision was slightly blurry as he made his way home, but he didn't need to see details to know how to get there. He walked this area every day for the last four years and now he was done.

He was done. Holy shit.

He barely made it in the door before he unzipped the gown and let it fall to the floor.

"Stevie?" Eddie's rough voice called from their bedroom.

He was so dizzy.

"Hey, Eds," Steve said as he climbed into bed, naked, sweaty, shivering, sick with the same illness Eddie was bedridden with.

"Sick?" Eddie whispered, eyes barely open as Steve turned on his side facing him in the bed.

"Think so."

"You're naked," Eddie said, eyes closing as he wrapped a hand around Steve's soft cock.

Steve let out a small moan, but didn't have the energy to do anything else. Neither did Eddie, it seemed, as he let out a small snore only a few seconds later.

Steve smiled to himself as he placed a hand on Eddie's chest and closed his eyes.

Eddie could fuck him in his cap and gown in a few days, like they planned, but this time, he wouldn't have to risk being caught in front of thousands of people.

[kiwi-on-ice]

Kinktober 2024 day 25: Pet Play with Moira

Fem reader, NSFW 18+

Also contains dom!moira, pussy slaps, fingering

With a rough tug of the leash, you hiss as you're pulled back to your previous position of kneeling at the desk of your lover.

"Pet, how many times have I told you. Sit. Still."

You huff softly, but don't dare speak. After all, you know pets shouldn't. But despite your need to follow Moira's rules, you can't help feeling bored. She's been working on her new experiment plan for ages, and you were starting to feel restless.

And she knew it. She knew that putting the cute collar on, a soft pink with a gem in the middle the same colour as her hair, would send you automatically into a more pliable headspace. The cute cat ears she'd found had simply been a cute addition.

Those ears have a slight bell on them, and the dainty sound rings out when you lower you head a little. But it doesn't stop Moira from reacting to your small huff, slapping your cheek lightly.

"And cut that attitude out. I thought you were going to behave."

You let out a soft whine, your version of an apology, before resting your cheek back on her leg. After a few moments, you hear her typing again, so you sneak a look up at her, at your mistress.

And you immediately regret it. Your neglected cunt practically throbs as you see her working, her sharp features focused on the screen in front of her. She'd put reading glasses on, the frames making her look more intelligent, more powerful as her eyes scan the document she's typing. You wish you could be touching her right now, but you sink your claws into your own thighs to restrain yourself.

Instead you rub your cheek against the material of her trousers, sighing softly as your eyes flutter closed. But the longer you stay down there, the more desperate you become. Eventually to all gets to be too much, so you subtly shift and grind on her show, the tip of it providing a stimulation to your clit that has you biting your lip.

And you almost get away with it, but Moira is just too perceptive, too observant. So with a yank of your leash, you nearly topple over. "You really are a bad girl, aren't you? I thought I had a well behaved kitten in my care, but you're acting like a spoilt bitch."

You whimper at her harsh words, looking down ashamedly before her long fingers tangle in your hair. In a display of mock comfort, she massages your scalp, feeling you almost purr beneath her touch.

"Bend over the desk beside me."

Scrambling up to obey her, you arch your back as you bend, and she hums before feeling your ass with her hand, not even bothering to get up from her chair.

"Count." she remarks, and you nod and brace for the spanking you think you're about to receive. But Moira is never one to be predictable.

She delivers a sharp slap to your clothed pussy, not as hard as she would on your ass, but still enough for a whine to be ripped out from your throat.

"I believe I said to count, kitten." she says with a smirk, as you quickly do what she said.

She strikes twice more in quick succession, and your thighs shake at the pleasurable sting. To soothe you, she rubs small circles over your clothed clit. Immediately you moan gently, finally getting some attention on your needy bud.

But she strikes again, and you mutter a quick "four" before she grins wolfishly.

"One more my darling, and then no more speaking." she demands, before delivering the final smack.

After you practically yelp 'five', she grins and pulls down your now soaked panties. The delicate material feels lovely on her callous fingertips; she always adores when you wear such dainty garments, to really solidify your place as her pretty pet.

She presses a finger inside of your cunt, feeling your drenched walls immediately clench around her digit like a lifeline. You moan softly, clearly needing more but trying your hardest to remain still and pliant.

"Fuck yourself on my fingers pet."

With a soft noise, you start to rock forwards and backwards, feeling her press a second finger inside to make the sensation more pleasurable for you. With each movement, the bell on your cat ears rings gently, emphasising the salacious nature of your actions.

"Fuck..." you mumble softly, before she tuts and shakes her head.

"Kittens don't speak." she taunts, and you whine again as an apology. The shaky tremor of your noise makes her smile, document forgotten for now as she aims to please her needy pet in the way she knows you deserve.