#Fic [Second Person POV]

[pebbleisgay]

heyyyyy @abyssal-author-and-artist remember that ask earlier about fanart,,,,

cw for, scars? i suppose?

i absolutely adored the constellations and the scars in Sunlight Streaming in Through the Windows and i had to at least get a doodle in as to that siffrin! so here's a half hour-ish doodle about it

(please ignore the fact that siffrin is fully wearing their hat in bed. its fine)

[naffeclipse]

Talk about your monster husband ocs coward (affectionate❤️)

Everyone, the tumblr user themeeplord is bullying me (affectionate <3)!!

You have no idea how normal I am about my monster OCs. They're so lovely just let me—ahhh!

Hawthorn is a Mothman monster. His wings are based on the garden tiger moth and he is so fluffy! He has a thick fuzz on his neck and chest and is a warm, cuddlebug. He also possesses bright orange eyes that pierce the darkness and startle the unfortunate late-night hikers or anyone piercing into the woods after midnight.

He has a thing for hanging out in the thick woods near where the MC lives. Wherever he goes, bad omens follow. He really shouldn't be near MC—he knows he'll be the death of his precious little human, but he can't help it. He's drawn to the MC like a moth to a flame (heheh). He's delightful and gentlemanly, but don't let that fool you. He's got a possessive stretch a mile wide and does not take kindly to anyone giving the MC looks or reaching out for a too-familiar touch. He will bristle and buzz, and fly swift and silent through the darkness to chase after anyone to ensure the MC stays all to himself. He is a bad omen, after all.

Grease is an oil demon! He feeds off of fear, literally, and delights in terrifying people in the night. His body is slick and iridescent, and he is constantly dripping black goo from his person. He is capable of shifting his form to hide in a puddle, slink underneath doors, or bubble through a crack in a broken window. He's got wicked sharp teeth, and eyes like a tiger but with a pale, unsettling blue color. He possesses tendrils on his head that constantly drip and a long, slick tail that he can use to grab MC by the ankle. He's terribly seductive and charming, terrifying but mischievous. He likes to say 'boo' just to watch MC jump. Of course, he's not all tang and salt. He's got a sweet side that rouses in a protectiveness over MC. He's possessive, sure, and he's marked his claim with the oil stains on MC's work apron, but he's got an ooey-gooey center of sweetness that MC occasionally finds when he blushes at a stray touch or a nice comment about him.

Calmo 91, otherwise just called Calmo, is a robot. Constructed in the 90s with a box TV screen head to match, he has bright yellow optics in the screen face along with thick wires falling behind his head in a ponytail-like fashion. He is cool and difficult to read but wickedly intelligent and learning much about humans and affections. His body is a thin endoskeleton with plastic matt gray coverings that give peeks of blue, red, and yellow wires at his metallic joints. He's got a mysterious past the MC is attempting to unravel that he truly wishes the MC would leave be. He's got much to learn about technology but he quickly figures out how to connect to the MC's phone for texting, phone calls, and other useful things of course, like keeping tags on where MC is and monitoring MC's heart rate. Useful tools. Modern technology. Living in the MC's house, he gets to spend more domestic time with the human he decided is kind and generous, but the MC occasionally finds him at the foot of the bed in the darkness, his yellow optics strangely switched to red until the MC says his name and his optics revert back to yellow again.

[strawwritesfic]

Kelvin!Spock x Female!Human!Reader: Mr. Right

Summary: When one door closes, another opens—perhaps the door you were meant to enter all along.

Warnings/Tags: Starship Enterprise; post-Star Trek Beyond; friends to lovers; breakup; almost kiss; counselor!reader; Star Trek: The Original Series references; Star Trek: The Next Generation references

Relationships: Spock/Reader; Spock & Nyota Uhura; past!Spock/Nyota Uhura; past!Kevin Riley/Reader

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Requester: @lovemesomeescapism

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Notes: For once, this is not a repost for this challenge…technically. I did write a response to the prompt "Mr. Right" ages ago, but when I was reposting, I decided that the Now You See Me one shot I wrote really wasn't worth keeping. Someone on Tumblr asked me for a Spock one shot, so I slipped him in as a replacement.

It's been a really long time since I finished something new. I realize that I am rusty. This is actually several drafts into attempts to write this one shot. For the first time ever, I actually cannibalized previous drafts while trying to get the meandering dialogue and point back on track. It still doesn't feel quite "right" to me, but it's probably going to take some time before I get back in the swing of things, and I'm ready to let this one go.

Mr. Right

Throughout Terra's history, human beings had sought the comfort of white noise. Quiet droning sounds proved beneficial for many aspects of mental health in the species. As a counselor on board the U.S.S. Enterprise, you'd recommended listening to white noise to dozens of fellow crewmates and patients alike. The best way to do this in the deep space you'd all been exploring for nearly five years was to turn everything in one's quarters down until the low hum of the ship's warp drive became audible. Many of those crewmates and patients reported back to you with decreased stress levels, improved mood, and a distinct uptick in ability to concentrate. Almost all of them said they got better sleep.

Now you learned that every single one of them had lied to you.

You'd spent the better part of the evening-adjacent hours lying face-down on your sofa, trying and failing to take a nap. The scratchy, standard-issue pillow beneath your face was soaked with tears. Your chest ached. Worst of all, any attempt on your part to get your mind off what upset you just ended with you crying harder. All the while, that awful rumble went on and on and on and on relentlessly, allowing you no respite long enough to drift off and forget your current predicament.

A chime cut through your misery. You paused without so much as lifting your head. As of three hours prior, you were officially off duty for the day. Nothing required you to answer the door unless an order came down from a superior officer, and they would call first. Probably it was only Uhura coming by to check on you. Having been through her own breakup during this voyage, surely she would understand when you didn't let her inside.

The chime sounded again, and with it came a surge of possibilities flooding your mind. What if your visitor was dealing with a crisis? Cases of PTSD had been on the rise since the events on Altamid. You could hardly ignore that in favor of your own small, personal crisis. Off duty or not, your role as a ship's counselor would not allow you to wallow in self-pity when someone might need your help.

As your boots hit the floor, you pressed one sleeve of your rumpled blue uniform to the corner of each eye. The gesture wouldn't do much to disguise what you'd been doing over the course of your time off, but you felt a little steadier afterward. Breathing deeply in and out helped too—until you hiccuped. But you could prepare yourself no more. Squaring your shoulders, you stood, walked over to the door leading to the corridor, and opened it.

Just outside stood the familiar, lanky figure of the ship's science officer. The second you spotted him, you wiped your sleeve across your face with greater urgency.

"You're not one of my patients," you said, "or Uhura."

"A very astute observation, Lieutenant [L Name]," Spock replied.

A long moment elapsed during which the two of you stared at one another. Several fellow crewmates in various uniform colors threw curious looks at his back as they passed by on their ways to wherever they were headed. Your friend, meanwhile, allowed a single dark eyebrow to drift toward his hairline. He clearly had no intention of moving on.

"What are you doing here?" you sighed at last.

The wayward eyebrow rejoined its brother. "Lieutenant Commander Uhura informed me that you left your office this afternoon in distress. I note that her assessment was an accurate one. If anything, you appear to be in more distress now than she described to me then."

You couldn't lie to Spock, not when you looked the way you looked after a crying jag like the one you'd just had. So you didn't bother to try. "Fine. I'm in distress. But really, Spock, it's not the kind of distress you can help with. I'm sure Captain Kirk will need you on a landing party any minute now, so if you'll excuse me—"

"Lieutenant Commander Uhura also informed me of the cause of your distress."

"Of course she did." Sometimes you wished your two friends were a little lighter on the "amicable" part of "amicable exes." "Let me guess: You came by to tell me that you told me so."

"As a Vulcan, I have no reason to rub my correct prediction in your face, if you will forgive the Terra colloquial."

You let out a wet laugh despite yourself. "You're pardoned."

"What I have done is stopped by the mess hall. If I am not much mistaken, ice cream is a traditional consolation food in these types of situations."

He produced from behind his back a number of different colored tapes. So startled were you that you found yourself unable to say anything. Never in a million years would you have imagined Spock of all people standing in front of you and offering you junk food of all things. Your silence went on for so long that he had to prompt you to speak:

"Was I incorrect in my understanding of how to handle Terran breakups?"

"No," you said, then, "I just didn't want you to find out about the breakup until I could pull myself together."

"I surmised as much, given that Lieutenant Commander Uhura found out about your circumstances before I did, although you and I are closer friends. It would have been more logical for you to contact me for assistance than her."

Vulcans as a whole were difficult to read. Even factoring in your education and training, as well as your friendship with Spock that had gone on for several years now, you could only guess his feelings the majority of the time. Not so then. Something about his tone made him sound hurt. Maybe you could chalk that up to projecting your own feelings onto him, but you couldn't risk that assumption.

"It's just that you warned me against dating Kevin," you explained. "As ship's counselor, I should have seen the end coming a kiloparsec away."

"Perhaps. But one might also say that your extensive proximity to the crew's emotions might cause some loss in objectivity on your part."

"So you're not here to make me feel worse?"

"I came for consolation purposes. That is all."

"Well, all right, then."

You stepped away from the doorway. Spock followed you in. He paused only long enough to press the button to close the door before he came to join you in your sitting room. A crate sat on the floor along his path, and he looked at you questioningly as he walked by it.

"Those are Kevin's things," you said.

"Expedient," he observed.

Normally, you might have tried to go for a little more decorum around him, but that day you didn't have the energy to do more than flop back onto your couch. At least you were upright. Spock, on the other hand, claimed a dignified perch at the end of your chair. The two of you certainly made an odd pair.

"He had so many hair products!" you burst out when the awkward silence turned unbearable. "I should have known we wouldn't work out. Who brings that much hair spray into deep space?"

"Humanity can hardly be expected to iron out all its flaws when you all cling so hard to your baser emotions."

"Do you mean Kevin's desire to look nice, or my need to be in a relationship?"

Spock blinked, then smoothly said, "In this case, I refer to your former beau's preoccupation with personal grooming."

"Right. Either way, I'm about ready to get rid of all my own baser emotions. Not feeling them would be a blessing." You got back to your feet and thrust one hand in Spock's direction. "Ice cream tape, please."

He offered one to you.

"Spock," you said warningly.

"I do not believe that heartbreak is an excuse to overeat. I only brought so many because I was unsure which flavor you would select."

The glare you leveled at him seemed to make him think better of lecturing you on the dangers of gluttony—as well it should have. This was the same glare that you gave Dr. McCoy when you were tired of listening to him. Unlike with Dr. McCoy, you smiled once Spock dropped the rest of the tapes into your outstretched hand.

"Thank you." You headed for your in-quarters food producer, then turned your head to ask over your shoulder, "What flavor do you want?"

"I do not require ice cream."

"Come on, Spock. If you're going to spend the evening commiserating with me, you have to have some ice cream, too. That's a critical part of the Terran breakup process."

One corner of his mouth twitched. "I'll have pistachio, then."

You fed the yellow-green tape into the slot. A quiet beeping noise covered the hum of the warp drive as the computer worked. While you waited, you flipped through the remainder of the flavors until you found the one you wanted.

"I don't think it would be a good idea for you to give up emotions," Spock said.

"Huh?" Frowning at him, you replaced his tape with yours. "Aren't you the guy that's been talking about doing the Kolinahr when we get back to Earth?"

"That's different. I am a Vulcan."

"Half Vulcan."

"Vulcan enough."

A shriller beep put an end to this potentially sticky subject. The ice creams were ready. You dumped the rest of the tapes in a basket next to the food producer, picked up the bowls, and brought them back to the living room. Spock took his with a grateful nod, though he waited until you sat down again before taking a bite.

"Maybe I'd be a better counselor if I didn't have emotions," you mused. "If I wasn't blinded by my own feelings, I could help the crew more with theirs. I shouldn't have the same problems as they do after all the studying I've done."

"While that may indeed make sense, it is hardly realistic. Besides, if you did not have your human emotions, you would no longer be the [Name] that I know, and I believe that I would miss her."

You couldn't help but smile around the spoon in your mouth. Popping that out, you said, "I bet you say that to all the Terrans you like."

"Hardly. In fact, that captain may benefit from an hour or two without his usual emotions."

"I appreciate you saying that, Spock."

"I am only speaking the truth. I have no intention of bolstering your ego artificially, even if doing so is a part of the Terran breakup process."

"I know." You slowly lowered your spoon back to the bowl, staring off into space. Something was dawning on you—something that might have dawned on you sooner had you not been so enthralled with your own feelings. "You know what else I appreciate? You coming here to help me today. Not every first officer would go out of their way for a ship's counselor like that."

Spock fixed you with an unblinking gaze as he said, "You mean a great deal more to me than most ship's counselors mean to their first officers."

"I don't care what Captain Kirk says. You sure know how to make a woman blush."

"I have had some practice with the activity."

"Remind me to thank Uhura later."

"Thank her for what?" Spock asked.

Maybe you were reading the signs wrong. Maybe you were just desperate. If he had to ask, you had to be wrong. But you took a deep breath anyway, and said, "Helping me realize that maybe the guy I've been looking for this whole time has been my best friend all along."

How could it have taken you this long to work it out? No one else spent as much time with you as Spock did, not outside of your office hours. It didn't matter if you were in the mess hall asking for a round of Fizzbin after dinner or you wanted a quiet night in your quarters. He always seemed to be there. You felt comfortable around him. Maybe you didn't always understand Spock; maybe Spock didn't always understand. But you didn't enjoy anyone's company the way you did his. And you had to wonder when your eyes met just then if he felt the same way, and if this coming-to-see-you-with-ice-cream thing was his way of showing you that.

"Well," he moistened his lips before going on, "I certainly feel that our relationship is founded more steadily upon mutual interests and desires than it is upon a passion for hair products."

You leaned forward. "You know, that sort of relationship sounds really appealing right about now."

"It does?" Spock shifted closer to you.

"I think it's about time that I dated someone whose first thought in the morning isn't beating me to the sonic shower, don't you?"

By that time, you both had come so close that it wouldn't have taken much more movement on either of your parts to touch lips. Your heart gave a painful leap inside your chest. Was this too much too fast? Even if you had just realized you'd had a thing for Spock for a while now, you had only just broken up with your last boyfriend that morning. Treating Spock as a rebound was the last thing you wanted to do. He didn't seem to mind, though. His mouth drew closer and closer to yours until you could feel his breath on your face.

The communicator in your room chirped. You jumped. Spock paused before sitting back up in his chair. Then you rose wordlessly, stepped over to the panel, cleared your throat, and pushed the button.

"[L Name]," you said.

"[Name]?" Uhura did not remark on how breathless you sounded, thankfully. "I need to talk to Spock."

"It's for you," you said unnecessarily. Spock had already reset his face into its typical blank mask and made his way to the communicator himself.

"Spock here. What is it, Lieutenant Commander?"

"Captain Kirk needs you on the bridge. We have a situation up here."

"What kind of a situation?"

"There's a former United States President floating outside the ship. He says he needs our help."

"I will be there right away."

A second chirp signaled that communications between your room and the bridge had ceased. Spock turned back to you.

"My presence is needed on the bridge," he said.

"So I heard."

"I apologize. I believe we were in the middle of something."

"It's all right."

He didn't move.

"Spock, go. Don't you want to know why a deceased historical figure has asked for the Enterprise's help?"

"I'd prefer to stay here," Spock said. "But you are correct. I must leave. Will you still be here later tonight?"

"Yeah." You surprised yourself with the eagerness of your answer. "Yeah, I will. I promise I won't run off with any other lieutenants while you're away. I'll save the rest of the ice cream. We can share it when you get back."

There it was: The slight curl to Spock's mouth that told you that you weren't making up the mutual attraction between you both after all. "To use another Terran phrase, it's a date."

He hesitated another moment longer before he quickly exited your quarter. You grinned as the door slid shut behind him and the white noise returned full force. As you sunk into your couch and pillow this time, you found you didn't mind the hum as much. In fact, the sound did exactly what it was supposed to do: Relax you. Kevin and his excuses from that morning felt farther away than your own home planet. Maybe you owed him a thank you, too, because if you were still with him, you wouldn't have slept as well as you did that night knowing that Spock would be back soon.

[sirjaketkiszka]

Silver Springs Masterpost

Early20s!Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

I know I could have loved you but you would not let me…

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Being best friends with Josh, you figured you’d get along well with his twin… You were wrong. Jake Kiszka is arrogant, cocky, and all things irritating.

With the semester being over, you spend your summer with the band before they leave town to chase their dreams. If only you knew what that would entail;

Jealousy, secrecy, and heartbreak…

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Word count: 22,502

Warnings: 18+!!, jealousy, lying, cursing, arguing, eventual smut, underage drinking, and mediocre writing.

(each chapter will have its own list of warnings as well.)

Disclaimer: in no way does this storyline follow real life events pertaining to personal lives, tour schedules, release dates, etc.

Playlist inspired by Silver Springs.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Chapter List:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five (coming soon…)

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Tags:

[doctorwhommm]

Jack and Ianto being a power couple? Either at work or at a meeting with UNIT or wherever

someone gimme fic recs like this immediately please 🫴

[waterdeepweave]

his velvet nightshirt (18+) - gale x reader

Turns out Gale just doesn't really like to get naked. He's very here for sex. Just... not naked. (prompt)

Tags: gale x gender neutral tav (no explicit genital description), second person pov, clothed sex, dry humping, hand jobs (male receiving), communicative sex, constant checking ins, fluff and smut

read here on ao3, or under the cut:

As much as the two of you vowed to find more time alone, the adventuring road left little room for more things than short, quiet moments. Even the nights crept up on the two of you in equal measure, desire washed away by the heaviness of sleep, spent in each other’s arms. 

It wasn’t until the road led to Balder’s Gate that you found yourself in the presence of a reprieve – and, mercifully, a private room at the Elfsong Tavern. 

You spend the first part of the night in polite company with each other, an unspoken agreement to let the anticipation build. Or perhaps to warm yourselves up, acclimate to the mood of indulgence – something neither of you had entertained since long before the nautiloid. Gale sits on a padded sofa by the fireplace, nose-deep in a book, and you curl up beside him, feet on his lap, reading from the same book once in a while. But for the most part, you admire him – his features lit in the glow of the fire, a flickering orange fleck in the endlessness of his brown eyes, deep pools of warm chocolate. The way his fingers glide over the page before he turns it – a flick so gentle you can almost feel it on your own skin. 

His chuckle rumbles against your face, and you sit a little straighter, reading from over his shoulder. You frown, confused as to what could possibly be so amusing about the ethics of necromancy. The words swim before you, melting into the glow of the fire, and you find another warmth growing in the core of your belly. You crane your head and press a kiss into the crook of Gale’s neck. 

“Hmm? Mmm.” Gale lets out something between a query and a sigh of contentment, his right arm leaving the book to wrap around your waist, nudging you closer to him. His left hand – and his attention – remain on the book.

Not for long, though. Not if you had your way. 

You nuzzle his neck, your face rubbing between the soft velvet of his tunic and the warmth of his skin. Your cheek grazes against his beard and you nudge deeper, alternating between kisses and nuzzles. Your hand travels across the expanse of his shirt, plush fabric beneath your touch, his heartbeat pulsing strong underneath. Your hand rests on a pec and you give it a gentle squeeze. 

That catches his attention – his heartbeat quickens underneath you, and shadows flutter in the periphery of your vision as he sets down the book, clearing his throat.

“Well. What do we have here?” His voice is sticky with growing lust as he shuffles you so that you are straddling his lap, kneeling on the seat. “There we go. Hello, my love.” Gale leans forward to greet you with a kiss, but you keep your face aloof, ever so slightly out of reach. You feel his grip on your waist tighten with frustration, and you grin, diving into his neck to lavish it with more kisses. You run your tongue along his jawline, fascinated by the texture of his beard. A soft moan escapes his lips, even as he turns his head instinctively, inviting you to taste him, to mark him all over. His hands begin to slide up and down your back, nails ghosting down your skin through the fabric, and your thighs bear down on his as you arch your back against his touch. 

“Mm - ah, fuck,” Gale manages as you grab a fistful of his hair, greasy with the lack of wash and whatever product he slicks into it to keep it back. It feels luscious in your hands, as does the rest of him when you tug gently, sending him rising into you. “Please,” he groans, a hand rising to catch your cheek, bringing your face to his. His eyes were dark, oozing pools of desire, pleading, adoring, all at once. “Kiss me.” 

He would make fun of you, after the fact, for how easily you folded at once, melted into his touch, letting him pull your lips to his, letting him capture you, taste you, have you. With a grunt, and a hand on each side of your ass, he pulls you toward him as your lips stay interlocked. You gasp a little in his mouth as you feel his growing bulge pressed right against you, so close to where you want it, and your hip jerks, desperate for the friction, desperate for his warmth. He chuckles at your wanton display and presses his hips upward into you, even as he holds you down with either hand.

It’s growing too much for you to bear.

Your hand slips under his shirt and you gather the hem in a fist, preparing to hoist the whole thing over him. Gale stops in his tracks, and a hand flies to catch yours. Your gaze flickers to his, and you unclasp his shirt. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know how to say this,” he begins. From the way he trips over his words, you can tell he is nervous. You slip off his lap and sit next to him, a tentative hand resting on his thigh. He reaches for it immediately, interlacing it in his own.

“You do recall the last time we shared a night. It was… well, it transcended the body. So to speak.” You nod, remembering the feeling of sailing across stars, of being caught in his arms, and then another pair of arms, and then another. Weightless. Glowing, but not warm. A breath of cold air, so refreshing, but almost… clean. 

“Such was the way I’d laid with another for many years in my life. Mystra, as you know. Then you. I realise now I had led you to it without asking for your preference, and for that I apologise. I was… eager to perform, and the familiarity gave me my best chance.

“My point is, it’s been quite a while since I’ve slept with someone on the… well, mortal plane, shall we say. Body to body. And that’s not saying I don’t want to – you, my love, are exquisite. However –” He clears his throat, somewhat in shame. “For the first time in a long time, of sorts, I’m suddenly finding myself rather… well, shy.” 

“Gale, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You know I am equally satisfied to simply share space with you,” you say quickly, searching his gaze. 

“Oh, no, it’s not quite that. I do want to have sex. Rather badly, if… well, if this is to be believed.” He gestures to his erection straining against his trousers, moisture weeping through the outline of his head. Your lips part at the sight, your breath catching in your throat, and it takes all of your concentration to focus on him, and what he has to say. 

“What I’m saying is… for tonight, at least, I would prefer to leave my clothes on. If that’s alright with you. And before you take it personally, I would have you know I make Tara leave the room before I undress, back in Waterdeep.” 

“Of course.” You reach up to kiss him on the cheek as you squeeze his hand. 

“And for whatever it’s worth, you are more than welcome to take your clothes off. I think I would rather enjoy the sight, actually.” 

“Is that so?” You flutter your eyelids at him, a look you know he cannot resist. “I may need some help with that.” 

“Come here,” he growls, a dark glint of mischief in his eye as he pulls you onto his lap once more. His fingers tangle eagerly into your shirt and he slides it off hungrily, your undergarments joining it on the floor with due haste. His thumb flicks over your nipple, hard and sensitive, and as you arch into his touch you find his thumb quickly replaced with his tongue. You moan, your hands curling around his face as his hand moves to pinch your other nipple. The sensation shoots from your chest across your body like sparks of lightning, and your hands glide down his neck. 

But then you find yourself faltering, pausing at his collarbones, half-obscured by his shirt. Gale notices you hesitate and resurfaces, his eyes meeting yours. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I’m… I’m not sure how to proceed,” you admit, a finger tracing the embroidery along the collar of his tunic. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“I see.” Gale takes your hand. 

“First of all, thank you. For this. For being so endlessly patient. I cannot overstate how much that means to me.” He presses a long kiss into your hand. “Shall I?” You nod.

“Guide me, Gale.” 

With a soft moan, he guides your hand to his waist and slides it under his shirt, leading your palm up his torso, over the soft fold of his belly, and onto his chest. His shirt rides up as he does, exposing his skin to the air, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He drags your hand across his chest, gasping softly as your skin grazes against his pert nipples, and back again, the friction so delicious. 

Understanding, you match his rhythm on your own, your fingers awakening to massage his pec, your thumb ghosting over his sensitive nipple. He rises against you, so responsive to your touch. Sandwiched between his tunic and his warm body, you press your forehead against his, letting your other hand slide under his shirt, toying with both his nipples at once. He groans at the sensation, throwing his head back.

“Fuck, I may come from this alone,” he rasps, his hand moving to cup the back of your neck. “You drive me insane, love.” 

You dip your head with a smirk, deciding to nibble his chest through the fabric of his shirt. As your velvet-lined lips graze a particularly sensitive area he groans again, his hips thrusting up into you, his desire meeting yours. His heartbeat pulses through the fabric, and down where you are wet and wanting, swollen and sensitive, you feel it all the more. 

“Fuck.” You grind down against him, holding onto his chest, the canvas of your trousers offering some form of friction – new to you, but somehow equally enjoyable, if not more. You rock your hips harder, chasing the feeling. “Fuck, Gale.” 

“Fuck, say that again.” Gale slips a hand between your legs and begins to palm his bulge through his trousers. His body – and yours on his – sink even deeper into the sofa. “Say my name. Show me how much you want me.” 

“Gale.” You gasp as you rock against his hand, feeling yourself grow closer with every motion.

“Gods above. Come here.” Gale grasps your hand and shakily brings you into his breeches, past his undergarments. “Please,” he whispers, and it is all you need to hear. Your fingers curl around his shaft, and as soon as it does he moans, his grip on you tightening. You stroke down his length and back up, your thumb swirling around his throbbing head, smearing precum all over. His hand reaches for your chest again, and you welcome his touch with a sigh. 

“Gods, you are magnificent,” he groans as you continue to stroke his cock, slowing your pace and squeezing just a little tighter every time you reach the tip, and releasing it with a languid motion down his shaft once more. “And incredibly frustrating,” he adds with a half-mustered frown, even as the rest of him quivers at your touch. 

You move your hand faster, and with a groan he thrusts up into your grip, shifting his trousers lower. He repeats the motion again, and again, until he finally nudges his cock free of his breeches, leaving it at the mercy of your touch alone. Encouraged, you quicken your pace, panting into the crook of his neck as your hand worked, feeling his chest rise and fall in quick succession as he thrust unevenly under you, too lost in ecstasy to keep time or tempo. 

“I’m close,” he gasps, catching your hand over his cock. “Fuck, come here, grind against me.” He guides you over his bare cock, and you drag yourself against him, experimentally at first. 

“Gods, your breeches… they feel wonderful. And damp.” He rubs two fingers down between your legs, and you flush at the knowing gaze he gives you, smug and heavy with lust. “Is that how I make you feel, my love?” 

“Yes,” you breathe, rocking into his beckoning fingers. Gale removes his hand, relishing your whine, and replaces you over his cock. “Show me,” he growls into your neck as you wrap your arms around his’. 

With a strangled moan, you bear down upon him, thrusting with abandon, chasing the friction of fabric sandwiched between throbbing, sensitive flesh. He groans at the sensation, drawing you closer, his hips twitching wildly underneath yours. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, fuck, I’m going to -”

Your own pleasure builds as you move even faster, clenching fistfuls of his shirt for leverage, your forehead pressed against his. 

“Do it,” you gasp, a finger tracing down his jawline. 

“Come for me, Gale.” 

With a cry and a final thrust, he spills all over his shirt, crying your name as he does. Pearlescent streaks litter his purple shirt as he rides out the waves of his pleasure, his hips jerking wildly. 

His desperate rocking against you is too much to bear, and you find yourself unravelling not long after, his name spilling from your lips as you come, wrapped firmly in his embrace, muffling your moans in his chest as you sink into him, gasping for breath, utterly spent.

“Oh, gods. Gods.” He chuckles softly, one hand holding onto you, the other tugging at his shirt, examining the sticky streaks on top of it. “I suppose I’ll have to give it a wash.” You laugh softly, nuzzling deeper into his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat. He nudges you off gently. 

“One moment, love. Don’t want to get your face all sticky.” He pulls the shirt over his chest and lets it flutter to the floor before dragging you back on top of him. “There we go. Much better.” You hum in agreement – his chest made for an excellent pillow, and you weren’t one to complain for the warmth of his bare skin. Your hand curls into a fist in the centre of his orb tattoo, and he places a hand over yours. 

“Did you enjoy yourself, love?” His free hand strokes your hair, and you nod, sleepy and sated, growing more so by the minute. 

“I wanted to thank you again,” he murmurs. “For your understanding. And your patience. I felt utterly safe with you. Something I haven’t felt in a long time.”

“Funny you should say that,” you mumble against his skin. “I feel utterly safe, wrapped up in your arms right now.” 

“An equal exchange, then.” 

Gale wraps both arms around you, holding you closer to him. You have a feeling he would never let go. 

He doesn’t, until the dawn comes.

[catsdrinkmocha]

Oh to be an author trapped in your own story as an infant who's later going to be canon fodder, spending your whole second life growing in this fantasy world of your own making only to meet another person in a similar situation as yourself and then arguing about who has the worse fate out of the people you both are now, while knowing its not going to change your situations and unfortunate forseen fates (all this while their husbands are confused in the background but nodding encouragingly)

[lavenderstarsx]

The Drawing (Bill Denbrough)

Pairing: Bill Denbrough x Reader

Summary: One day when you were in the library a drawing falls out of a book you were reading- and the drawing eerily looks exactly like you.

Word Count: 1.5k

——————-

You made your way slowly to The Derry Library. The fall weather was now in full effect and you couldn’t help the feeling of the slight chill you felt while you walked. You were looking for more interesting books at the library- currently you were reading ‘The Great Gatsby’ which you knew was a classic- but it was required reading so by that criteria it made it fairly boring. You opened up the door to the brick building and stepped inside. Almost no one was there. It was in fact a weekend so not a lot of people liked to spend their two free days in a dusty old building that probably had a rat infestation. You did see someone you recognized there. The boy you saw was Ben Hanscom. He had his head in a book. You barely knew Ben- the only reason why you even recognized him was because he sat with Bill Denbrough at lunch. Ben had just joined the little friend group that called themselves ‘The Losers Club.’ Bill was in many of your classes. You pretended not to notice him but- man was it hard to. Bill took up most of your thoughts. You memorized the way he laughed- even though it was rare and almost only came out when the Tozier boy whispered an inappropriate joke into his ear during a lesson. Your friends didn’t approve of Bill. They usually called him a ‘freak’ or ‘weirdo.’ You mostly ignored them because in your eyes, Bill was perfect. He was kind, caring, and respectful. Something that half the school wasn’t. Then you snapped back out of your thoughts. You headed towards the fantasy section. You read a lot of fantasy books now ever since you rewatched The Princess Bride a couple weeks ago. You looked through a ton of books but none of them seemed good enough for you. Then you saw one- it looked rather basic. The book had a huge red dragon on the front with a knight giving a cheesy smile next to it. You quickly read the blurb on the back before slightly opening it. A medium sized piece of paper comes gracefully falling from the book. You quickly look around before picking the paper up. You froze. The drawing looked exactly like you. It had your signature y/h/c colored hair. It was like looking into a mirror. The drawing wasn’t signed but it did look weirdly familiar.

“Do you need any help, dear?” An older librarian woman asks you. You practically jump out of your skin when she says this.

“No ma’m i’m fine.” You say gingerly. You try to hide your blush as you find a table to start reading on. You picked the table behind Ben. You thought it would have been too awkward or weird to sit right next to the boy. You could barely focus on your book, you kept finding yourself staring at the drawing of you. You were terrified but also mesmerized at the same time. You decided to leave the library not long after. You held the drawing and your book close to your chest. On your way out of the library you gave Ben a small smile before opening the door back into the chilly air. You walked back home, and when you got to your room you quickly put your new book down and flopped onto your mattress. You stared at the drawing for a while. The detail was so intricate that it got your exact eye color down too.

Finally it was the end of the day, you were now in your pajamas and you were now ~finally~ reading the book you had gotten from the library. You found yourself enjoying the book a lot more. You slowly drifted off to sleep.

The next morning you had to get ready for school. You chose a pair of jeans and a navy blue long sleeved shirt. You quickly brush your hair before rushing out the door. You made sure to grab the new book that you had just gotten and stuff it into your backpack. The bike ride to school was nice. You thankfully didn’t run into anyone from The Bowers Gang and you made it easily to school. The drawing was still in the back of your mind.

“Hey y/n!” You hear your friend, f/n shout to you. You quickly lock up your bike and rush towards them. You smile at them. They start talking about their weekend- which was not truly THAT interesting but you still smile and nod your head. You were more of a listener type. You and your friend walked to class together. But that’s when you saw him. Bill was walking to the same class as you. He was walking with Stanley Uris. Bill then had decided to hold open the door for you and f/n. You tried to hide your blush as you say,

“Thanks Bill”

“No pro-b-le-m y/n.” Bill then gave you a smile which made your heart melt to the core. You and f/n quickly went to your seats. You sat exactly behind Bill. The teacher started teaching the class but it was terribly hard to focus. Bill Denbrough, had given YOU a smile. You couldn’t help but to smile yourself. Bill also didn’t seem to be focusing. He seemed to be writing something in his notebook instead, you narrow your eyes to see if you could read anything of it. You didn’t want to seem stalker-ish so you pretended to be looking at the chalk board. But that’s when you see what Bill was doing- he wasn’t writing he was drawing. Bill wasn’t doing much to hide what he was doing. He seemed to be drawing a girl. Suddenly you feel Bill’s eyes shift. You and him caught eachother’s eyes. Shit. Bill then turns a bright shade of red and hides the notebook away from you.

That was odd.

The class went by quickly. In your head you tried to connect the dots. And that’s when you realize- what if Bill was the one to draw that picture of you? He had to- the style of drawing looked exactly like the picture of you did. Why would Bill draw you?

Throughout the day, you found yourself distracted. The thought of Bill and his drawings lingered as you walked to your next class. You kept replaying the events of the morning in your mind. Bill’s drawing, and the drawing from the library looked all too familiar. It was too much of a coincidence. Right?

Finally it came time for lunch. You spotted Bill with his friends. They were all gathered together. You feel a pang of jealousy as you sit with at your own lunch table. You glanced at Bill. He seemed distracted in thought. You decided to gather your courage and decided to walk towards The Losers’ table. When you reached the table everyone went silent. They all gave you a weird look. Everyone’s eyes were on you.

“Hey uh- Bill can I talk to you- for just a quick second?” You say.

Bill gave you a surprised look before nodding a yes. You and Bill find a quiet place on the stairwell that led to the cafeteria. You tried to ignore the curious stares of all of Bill's friends.

“Wh-at is i-t y/n?” Bill asked.

You take a deep breathe before pulling the drawing from your backpack.

“I- i found this in a book at the library yesterday,” You held out the drawing to Bill. “Did you uh- well draw it? I saw you drawing in class today and it looks alike to this one.” Bill’s eyes widened as he studied the drawing.

“Ye-a-h I did.” Bill admitted- he did look very embarrassed. You felt weird. You felt every emotion possible and something else that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“But why did you draw me?” You said the sentence quickly. Bill blushed.

"Be-because I… I like you," Bill replied, looking down. He was clearly embarrassed.

You froze as blood rushed to your cheeks. "You do?" you asked.

"Y-yes. And I, uh, have for a wh-while," Bill stuttered.

"I like you too, Bill," you revealed. You felt as though you were going to pass out, you were so happy.

Bills eyes widened again. He looked down meeting your gaze.

“Re-ally?” Bill questioned. A very small, shy smile formed on his lips.

You smiled, unable to control the large grin on your face.“Yeah, really.”

For a moment both of you stood there like time itself had stopped. Bill took a tiny step forward.

“So- u-h wh-at now?” Bill asked sheepishly.

You let out a small laugh trying to ease the tension,

“Do you want to go to the movies with me this weekend?” You replied.

Bill’s smile grew,

“I w-ould li-ke that.”

[lilacxquartz]

Those Late Summer Nights | Chapter 14

satoru gojo x f!reader × suguru geto

plot: you moved to tokyo over the summer to take a teaching job. as you get settled in, you find yourself entangled in a toxic dynamic.

chapter summary: suguru begins his first training session with you. shoko in the meantime begins to piece things together while satoru settles on a troubling decision.

< Previous Chapter • Next Chapter >

14. Fight, No Flight

You woke up on the sofa the next day alone.

The smell of fresh brewed coffee and eggs filled your senses, pulling you awake. Your eyes then fluttered open, jolted awake from the sound of dishes being placed on the coffee table right next to you.

Slowly stretching yourself awake, you continued to try and wrap the last month or so around your head.

What exactly did you get yourself into…?

Suguru crouched down to meet with your line of sight, his dark eyes studying yours before pulling back and glancing at the contents that lay spread out on the table.

“Training begins today, but it can’t happen on an empty stomach,” he said, breaking the silence at long last.

You blinked as you stifled a yawn, “D-do I still have to go through with that?”

“Yes,” he firmly replied, silencing any shred of doubt that still lingered in your mind.

“But-“

“—you’re doing this,” he interrupted, “besides, this isn’t just about self defence, this isn’t even about me teaching you how to hurt people. It’s about me teaching you how to not let anyone touch you ever again.”

You couldn’t help but feel a wave of unease wash over your body as he told you this. sounding so serious and almost cold. His words carried spite and almost resentment in them.

You wanted to reply but you couldn’t form proper words just yet.

“You’re going to be responsible for the first year kids this year anyway, aren’t you?” he asked, thinking of a way to get you motivated.

You finally got something out at last; a questioning hum as you made eye contact.

“You can’t look weak in front of your students,” he clarified.

“I-I guess not,” you replied, letting out a resigned sight. He was correct about that much.

Suguru pulled you upright into a sitting position to further wake you up, “The cursed spirits that reside in the cities are probably nothing like the ones you know back home,” he paused as his expression turned slightly bitter before continuing, “this city is so full… of hatred and it shows.”

Gulping, you understood what he was trying to get across. Your eyes focused once again on the food right in front of you; coffee and a rolled omelette, looking surprisingly good to your exhausted mind.

“Eat up,” he said, attempting to be strict yet comforting at the same time, “muscle needs protein and I’m going to make you strong.”

You nodded as you ate the meal in silence while he left for the bedroom. You could hear shuffling and the creaking swing of doors before he emerged with a duffle bag, chucking it right next to the front door.

You warily looked at it, hearing some sort of wooden clattering as the bag settled.

“Don’t worry about that just yet,” Suguru reassured, “it’s equipment, but you won’t need it today.”

He wanted to get you into using swords to fight with, but that much was for deep into the late stage of training. For now he wanted for you to learn the basics.

You settled into the coffee and sipped it, his eyes trained on you as you finished every last drop.

You couldn’t help but look less and less forward to this session.

Once you were ready, he unfolded his arms and took the dirty dishes away from you without making a fuss, “Go get dressed; something ideally comfortable, loose fitting maybe.”

“A-all of my clothes are at-“

“—oh right,” he replied before you could finish your sentence, forgetting that you didn’t actually live with him full time just yet and you were just existing in a series of t-shirts he kept giving you to wear, “…One moment.”

You nodded as you observed him slip away off to the bedroom again, watching as he came back with a change of clothes that he then threw over to where you sat.

“These should be fine,” he said, “they’re my old workout clothes, used to wear them when I was a bit younger so it might be closer to your size.”

You hesitantly picked up the change of clothes, intending to go and change in the bathroom but Suguru stopped you in your tracks before you could go anywhere else.

“You can get changed right here, can’t you?” he asked.

You stiffly nodded in response, reminding yourself that he had already both seen and touched every part of you already so technically it was fine. The problem was everything else that had happened before that threw you into an uncomfortable loop.

Also, just the fact alone that he was already fully dressed and behaving a certain way while you slowly took your clothes off and the way his eyes settled on your exposed skin left you feeling deeply uncomfortable. It was as though there was some sort of power imbalance going on, especially with how a subtle smile tugged at his lips.

Once you were fully dressed however, he pulled you away from your troubled thoughts and towards him instead; taking the strings at the waist of the sweatpants you wore, tying them tight against your hips.

“There we go,” he said, his gaze softening before turning around, swinging the duffle bag over his shoulder, sticking out his other hand out for you to take, “now come along.”

You took hold of his hand as he pulled you closer to him, gradually walking you out of his apartment building and into his car. He threw the bag into the back seat while opening up the front passenger side for you to get into.

Driving this time with Suguru felt less heated, perhaps more settled even. He didn’t attempt to feel you up even if you did remain tense the entire ride. Your eyes drifted off to the side of the window either way, paying attention to where you were going—the city becoming less and less busy as he parked into a sleepy neighbourhood.

By the time you were outside, he led you into a private studio of some kind with tinted windows while you reluctantly stepped inside the second that he left you in.

Throwing the bag onto the floor and kicking it underneath a table, he locked the door to the studio once again, ensuring zero interruption. As he led you into the main area just beyond the door, you were met with an airy interior that boasted cedar panelling along the sides of the room, high bordering windows and dusty mats that concealed what seemed to be a hardwood floor.

“Nobody else uses this place or knows about it,” Suguru broke the silence as he watched you take it in, “I haven’t been in here for a while either.”

As he took a few steps away from you to stretch and crack his neck, you warily anticipated at what he had in mind for you. Your unease only continued to grow as he positioned himself into a defensive stance, his eyes intently focused on yours.

“Try hitting me,” Suguru instructed, his tone deadly serious.

You blinked, “What?”

Suguru smiled in response, amused by your hesitance, “Try it. Hit me.”

For some reason, this whole situation felt strangely humiliating. You already knew that he wasn’t going to let you do so and you didn’t want to lose whatever shred of dignity you had left in life.

“…Do I have to?” you asked.

“I’m not letting you leave until you land a hit on me,” he said as his smile grew wider.

Resigning into a sigh, you entertained his request as you tried to land a punch in what you determined was a vulnerable spot. However, he caught onto your attempt right away and stopped you before you could even get close.

Not only did he block it with ease, but the retaliation hurt.

“The problem with fighting is that people tend to fight back,” he said, giving you a window to listen.

“What if I simply just don’t pick fights?” you asked with some hope, fully well understanding that you would need to train at some point regardless if you were to protect your students on field trips.

He titled his head off to the side playfully, “That’s not always up to you though, is it?”

“So why am I not learning self defence instead?”

“Because that’s just prevention,” he replied, his smile slowly fading away as his expression darkened, “I want you to learn how to kill.”

“And this isn’t extreme in any way?” you asked, feeling that all too familiar feeling of wariness flood your body.

“I don’t think so. This world is cruel, so you need to be cruel back,” he said, repositioning himself to a defensive posture once more. “Now, try again.”

With a heavy sigh, you tried to do so again and again. The experience as a whole was starting to exhaust you, both physically and mentally as his reflexes were driving you almost to the brink of insanity with his resistance.

If this was simple, as he called it, then you could only begin to imagine what he had in store for something intermediate.

This wasn’t even fighting either, this was just prolonged humiliation; this was that same sort of power imbalance you felt from him earlier being practised in the most brutal form.

But then to your surprise and also his, you finally got a hit on him.

His eyes widened with excitement as you finally breached his defensive barrier and to an extent, you felt accomplished as you did so too.

He relaxed after that, seeming to be done with you for the day.

“Good job,” he praised, “although, next time you’re gonna block a hit from me.”

“I-I am?” you asked as you could feel the blood drain from your face.

“When you hit me again, I’m gonna hit you back.”

You stood still and simply blinked.

“I’ll be gentle though,” he assured you, “just for you. I’ll only go as rough as you can take it.”

His tone was almost flirty as he spoke to you, some genuine playfulness cracking through what you perceived as a cold exterior. The warmth that he shared with you felt nice on the inside, but left your heart feeling all the more confused.

“Anyway,” he settled a little, redirecting your attention to more important matters, “we should get something to eat.”

“R-right,” you nodded, feeling the hunger boil within you again. You worked up such a sweat that it felt like you hadn’t eaten all day even though you knew that much wasn’t true.

You continued to feel confused as he led you elsewhere now, the kindness in his personality finally showing itself to you, the playfulness that he kept from you.

It was so confusing, it all hurt so much.

He hurt you so much.

But you couldn’t help but feel a certain way.

Was there something wrong with you for being like that?

~~~

The following night, he decided that it was fine to take you back home to Shoko’s apartment. The food that you both shared after that session was absorbed almost instantly into your body as it was a type of hunger you had never felt before.

You were so hungry, so sore.

He hovered right outside of the door before he let you go on without him.

“I’ll give you a couple of days to recover,” he said as he thought about what else to say, “if you need to go out, text me and let me know where. If you’re still feeling sore on the day we have to train next, don’t be scared to tell me so I don’t talk you into something that could potentially be harmful to your body.”

You nodded as he spoke, finding his requests surprisingly reasonable.

“Promise me?” he asked.

“Yeah, I-I will,” you confirmed.

Suguru smiled as he now left you to enter your apartment at your own will without saying another word. Earlier on in your friendship, back when you were still trying to properly get a read on him, you would have seen this action as quite rude.

Slowly but surely however, he was becoming the easiest one to understand out of the three of them though. He never once hid his intentions from you, even when he hurt you.

Actions always spoke louder than words, for better or for worse.

“Aah, you’re back,” Shoko greeted you as she ate something at the table, her eyes squinting as she recognised the old Jujutsu High gym clothes, recognising a particular tear on the collar of the t-shirt that sparked a memory in her mind, “…and wearing Suguru’s clothes?”

“Uh,” you faltered, feeling embarrassed as she could recognise them.

“Hey, I mean, it’s not my business to judge what you get up to,” she replied in a neutral voice, even if her face did seem a little curious, “you look kinda rough. Was that him too?”

“N-not in that way,” you stammered as you scrambled your words, hoping that she didn’t register the muffled talking outside and the weary look as being dropped off after a hookup.

“Hey, I mean, I’m not judging~” she smiled as she teased you just a little. She seemed to not poke as much fun at you as she did when you admitted to kissing Satoru.

“H-he um, was teaching me to fight and-“

“—how to wrestle~?”

“No, like, actually.”

“Oh… you’re being serious,” she understood as she finally recollected herself and toned down the teasing. She then poured herself some red wine, pointing the bottle at you since she figured you might want to relax.

You nodded as you took a stemmed glass out of the cabinet, grabbing a seat with her as you poured some for yourself too.

“Tell me all about it?” she asked.

You stared at the drink and considered the thought; you were definitely in some dire need of relaxation because you were surely burnt out from everything that had happened up to this point. At the same time though, you couldn’t tell her completely everything so you settled on a controlled amount just so that the surface of her curiosity could be answered.

“Y-yeah… yeah, alright, why not?” you said at last.

She leaned over the table as she gulped down a sip. The red wine left a hint of redness on her cheeks as she got started earlier on without you, appearing to be properly relaxed and without under eye bags for once. You wanted more of that for her since she seemed to be in a much better state than usual.

“So,” she continued, “fighting?”

“Yeah, um, he said that I needed to know how to fight back against certain situations so that what happened before doesn’t happen to me again,” you explained, thinking it made enough sense.

“That’s nice of him,” she considered, “I suppose you might as well though, can’t look weak in front of those kids you’re gonna be overseeing.”

You let out a gentle snort, finding yourself experiencing indirect deja vu, “He said the same thing actually.”

“Would you look at that, my wisdom is finally rubbing off on him,” she beamed as she leaned back, her wrist swirling around the glass as the wine sloshed around, although she started to notice some details.

From the way you looked tired to the way your eyes looked blank. There was something off about you in a way that didn’t point to something healthy going on at all.

A moment of tense silence brewed between the two of you.

Shoko suddenly seemed serious, leaning forward and setting her drink aside on the table, “[name]?”

“Yes?” you asked, shaking your troubling thoughts away.

“Did something happen?” she asked, taking hold of your wrist and rubbing it with her thumb, her gaze softening as she read more and more into the way you presented yourself.

“N-no, it didn’t,” you tried to retaliate, desperately hoping to not talk about it.

Shoko didn’t want to push you, but she could read between the lines and tell that something was amiss. You weren’t really acting like yourself anymore and it seemed to always get worse after you spent time with Suguru, therefore, he was clearly doing something you didn’t like.

Still, she dropped the topic for now. Deciding to take matters into her own hands the next time she saw him, because if he was doing something genuinely wrong, then regardless of how close they both were, she couldn’t let something potentially abusive continue.

“Ah, it’s alright,” she sighed, forcing a smile as she reunited with her drink, “think I just missed a spot on ya, let me know the next morning and I’ll fix your face up properly.”

You nodded along, thankful for her attempt at normalcy even though you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed that you were so terribly easy to read. In a way, you wanted for her to find out, just so that you didn’t have to carry the weight of this whole thing alone.

The conversation otherwise continued like this for a while; you explained as much as you could while leaving out the problematic details while she listened, choosing to bite her tongue when she heard something that didn’t sit quite right.

You both drank on into the night. Even if you did leave a lot out, it was still nice to talk to someone who didn’t pressure you on other sorts of topics.

For the most part, she was curious about his feelings towards you and whether or not he was being stupid. She wasn’t going to pressure you for the details if you didn’t want to give them though.

It was mostly just that Suguru was seldom interested in long term relationships and if he was helping you learn how to defend yourself, that meant he was acting out of care. At the same time though, if you felt bad after spending time with him, then he must have been doing something wrong.

As his friend, she always wanted for him to actually find that special someone and you weren’t a bad person in her eyes—although she did have a slight concern with how much you’re tolerating. You still had a problem with standing your own ground and she hoped that he was being decent to you, but who really knew what went on behind closed doors?

Eventually however, the two of you did start to feel rather drowsy as the night grew late and the warmth from the booze began to hit.

You both quietly stumbled off to your rooms, ready to end the day at last.

You closed your eyes to surrender to sleep while Shoko gave into a deep thought, convinced that there was something you weren’t telling her.

~~~

Satoru meanwhile simmered away in his penthouse, overlooking the night skyline with flickering golden lights moving along busy roads.

Having spent the day earlier on with Suguru, had still been left with more questions than answers, not quite buying what his good friend had been telling him. It felt almost a little like a lie…? To think that Suguru had made a move on you and you just accepted over the course of time seemed a little unrealistic to him, especially how you reacted to that little kiss.

Especially to how you reacted when he let slip of his composure and did something he almost regretted back in the alley. He was confused, mostly. He didn’t understand why it all seemed to go wrong from the moment you left the town with him, as if being in that place all alone with him had been the binding glue.

He knew that deep down, Suguru might have talked you into something that he shouldn’t have done. Satoru knew you pretty well by now and how you wouldn’t have dared to even spend a night away from Shoko’s if you could help it.

While Satoru himself did coax you into spending the night with him in that guest house—spending a night in a place like Suguru’s literal apartment, seemed not like you at all.

In the midst of his overthinking, his pocked buzzed. Shoko’s name lit up with a little text, asking if he knew anything about the relationship between you and Suguru, that she’s thinking it seems a little too off.

Another text came. Something about him teaching you to fight, although the words were scrambled. Shoko was likely drinking again so that was the cause, but he didn’t want to deal with that just yet. Maybe tomorrow when he had more time to put his personality back together.

Not while he was going through something.

He didn’t reply, pretending to be asleep instead. He felt conflicted, mostly. Knowing properly well that there must have been more behind this whole thing than what he was seeing and in a way, succumbing to jealousy the more he thought about the whole situation and just how messed up it truly was.

No, he was livid. His supposed friend, his best friend who had gotten to you in a much more sinister way, all the while he had been trying to be good. The thought in his mind had settled—Suguru must have done something to you, but rather than fight for you, he chose to give into something he usually didn’t bother with for once.

Satoru hummed as he considered it, slinking off back to bed, eyes drifting off to the dark ceiling. He could absolutely talk you into something too, probably could be just as convincing if not more.

Suguru didn’t want to share, but no matter what—he’d get his way, he’d sample just a little more to call it even.

Even if it hurts you.

[nighttimepatrons]

Not Without Maedhros

Thinking about a Fingon fic set in Mandos where Fingon is ready for reembodiment but won't leave the halls without Maedhros. Never mind the fact that he hasn't actually seen Maedhros's spirit yet...

The only way he can tell the passage of time is the influx of spirits into the Halls, the halls get larger to accommodate them all. Surely Maedhros is around here somewhere.

It's about Fingon being asked if he's consider Life again and he says he has, but he'd like to wait for Maedhros first. He does not want to leave without Maedhros.

More spirits enter and he waits.

When asked again he is indeed ready for Life but it is disturbing to him that it as taken this long for Maedhros to find him. So he reaffirms that he is waiting, he will not leave without Maedhros.

Spirits come and some start to leave.

The asking stops, and in its place he is told: "it is to leave these halls", "you have lingered long enough", "you can feel the yearning for Life in you, go on, it's time to go". He always says the same: Not without Maedhros, not withouth Maedhros, not without Maedhros.

It seems impossible, but the population of the Halls actually seems to decrease.

And yet he waits. He waits until all of his family has walked out of those great, beckoning doors. He waits as his fellow spirits dwindle around him.

He waits, until he is alone in the vast, silent halls.

[place-called-space]

it’s finals week and i’m genuinely dying trying to write all these final projects and essays for my classes but... there’s a smutty one shot idea for our favorite lawyer that’s been rattling around in my brain for ages and i’m not sure if i can ignore it for much longer🫣

it'll be my first relatively plotless one shot that i'd post on this hellsite but there's been such a drought of matty fics recently that i feel compelled to feed and water the masses

i probably won't get around to actually writing it until after this week, and we'll be lucky if i post it by the end of next week, but for now let me set the scene 🫶🏼

content warning: dom/sub dynamics (orgasm control/denial, ruined orgasm, edging), semi-public phone sex? (matt’s in his office with the door closed but it’s implied that karen and foggy are in the next room), masturbation (male and female, but neither of them actually cum), fingering, reader is ✨sexually frustrated✨ so she slips into subspace easily, body worship/fantisization? (reader has a very active imagination and she actively imagines several naughty situations with matt), reader’s wet dream (not super detailed, just mentioned in passing)

it feels like it's been weeks since the two of you have spent any real time together.

the firm has been busy with some high-paying client that they're not in a financial position to turn down, so it's been all hands on deck for the better part of the last month. matt has to leave before you get up, but he nudges you awake to say goodbye, pressing a kiss to your forehead and letting you know if he has a lunch meeting or not so you can call and hear his voice for a blessed 30 minutes.

and because the universe hates you, matt's duties as daredevil haven't eased up either. all you've been able to get out of him is that he's been staking out one of the smaller crime families in hell's kitchen that have been looking for an opportunity to gain more power. he hears whispers of smugglers and arms deals and he barely has time to scarf down some eggs and toast-

(carbs and protein to hold him over until he can turn in for the night and warm up the plate you always left for him)

-before he's sheathed in kevlar and leather, shouting over his shoulder to not wait up for him before fleeing out the roof access door.

and of course you miss him.

you used to make coffee for you both as he got ready for work, chatting idly about that crime docuseries karen had recommended and getting matt to translate the legal jargon. you'd loop his tie around his neck, tightening the knot before pulling him down for a kiss, passing him his briefcase before sending him off to work.

he'd come home after work, smiling as he came through the door because he'd been able to hear your voice from the lobby as you made dinner, singing along to one of his favorite vinyl records. soft jazz and pasta sauce and you would smother his senses as soon as he stepped into the apartment and as soon as he shucked off his shoes and set his briefcase down, he'd round the kitchen island and wrap his arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling at your neck and peppering your skin with kisses, reveling in the delighted giggles you let out.

but with his new schedule, the apartment seemed so empty.

you were eating alone and washing one set of dishes, sleeping in a bed too big and too cold for just you. you missed the way his arms would wind around you as you slept, the fearsome vigilante that struck fear into the hearts of criminals throughout the city suddenly becoming a cuddle octopus, greedy to feel your skin on his.

you missed all the small, sweet things about him, the romantic moments that would make your heart melt... but you also missed the steamy, intimate moments where your hands would wander each other's bodies, unwilling to be separated for even a moment.

it had been weeks since you'd had sex, and you missed the way his cock split you open, the low, hoarse growl his voice would become as he crooned poisoned honey into your ear, the delicious mix of praise and degradation turning your brain to mush.

you could feel your own impatience building with each night you went unsatisfied, a dull ache beginning to throb between your legs as your body struggled to adapt. you'd gone from cumming at least once a day to nothing at all in the blink of an eye, and you were having trouble adjusting.

waking up to an empty bed for the third week in a row had nearly sent you into a fit, your panties already soaked through from the remnants of a blissful dream where matt had tied you up, your legs bent and spread wide as he toyed with your puffy folds, his fingers slick with your arousal as he'd slowly slid them inside you...

fed up, your hand had already dipped below the waistband of your sleep shorts, your fingers barely brushing your clit, a soft moan leaving you as your body finally got some relief-

but then your phone rang, matt's handsome face beaming up at you. taunting you.

you answered the phone with a breathy call of "matty" because you knew he'd heard you and two could play at that game, and the low octave with which he says your name makes you moan again, pleasure sparking to life in your core as you sink two fingers into your drooling cunt.

matt calls your name sharply, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

"naughty girl," he admonishes, his voice somehow both sweet and condescending. "so impatient. i'd wondered how long it would take you to break, but i didn't expect it to be so soon."

you whine into the receiver, your anger melting away as you remembered you hadn't been the only one suffering these last few weeks. it must've been nothing short of torture for matt to wake up to the smell of your arousal, his rapidly swelling cock nestled against your ass, aching and eager to satisfy the primal urge to mark you in every way possible. and yet, every morning, he'd forced himself to ignore it, to take a cold shower and hurriedly get dressed, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before shuffling out of the apartment, still half-hard.

the thought only made you more desperate for him. god, did you wish he was here with you, with his much thicker fingers stuffing your pussy, stretching you out and prepping you so you could take his thick cock. you wanted him under you, breathlessly kneading the flesh of your tits as you bounced on his cock, your eyes rolling back as his impressive length dragged against that special spongey spot inside you with each smack of your hips against his, your cunt squeezing him tight and drawing out the pleasure for both of you.

but the apartment was empty and his side of the bed was cold, his scent faint on the silk sheets you both adored. a pang of loneliness hit you then, wanting his skin on yours and his voice filling your head with mindless praise.

frustrated tears stung at your eyes, but you were determined to make the most of this. you had him on the phone, you had a shot at getting what you wanted. all you needed was a few more words from him, maybe a countdown if you were lucky. you were so worked up, you could probably cum just from him reading you the new york penal code.

so you beg.

"please, matty," you whine prettily, another breathy little moan leaving you as you begin to pump your fingers in and out of your dripping pussy, the friction delicious after so long with nothing. "i need-"

"what you need," matt cuts you off swiftly, his voice so dark and commanding even through the phone that your body freezes, "is some manners. i enjoy spoiling you, sweetheart, but that doesn't mean you can cum without permission."

the whine you let out this time is significantly more petulant than before, the sound high and needy, but matt quickly curbs your bad attitude with another click of his tongue, his disapproval clear.

"don't be a brat," he says, patronizing and confident in his control over you. "just because i've been busy doesn't mean i forgot about my sweet girl."

the pet name makes your breath catch in your throat. matt hardly ever called you that. he'd always preferred the softer, more affectionate nicknames. sweetheart. darling. the occasional honey and sweetie.

but sweet girl? that coveted term of endearment had always been wreathed in coarse shadow instead of suave charm, cooed in the low, dangerous tone of the Devil.

your cunt clenches around the fingers you still have buried within yourself, though they had long since stalled their movements, and matt, damn him, somehow knows that he has you hooked, a satisfied purr meeting your ears.

"there we go," you hear him murmur, pleased. "there's my sweet girl. so good for me, i didn't even have to tell you to stop. no punishment for you, then, but you'll still have to earn your reward."

the breath that leaves you is half desire, half relief, already squirming on the bed. surely he just wanted a show, something to hold him over until the work day was done and he could come home and have his way with you. your moans would replay in his head all day, your breathless cry of his name making his cock twitch beneath his desk every time it echoed through his mind, his thoughts muddled and disjointed as he struggled to focus on the case.

"tell me what to do," you plead, your own thoughts already growing fuzzy around the edges, dizzy with anticipation of the climax he was sure to grant you. "miss you so much, matty... i wanna be good…"

matt groans low on the other line, an excited shiver running through you as you hear the barely audible "fuck" accompany the distinct sound of his belt unbuckling.

"need to hear you, sweet girl," he hisses. a shaky exhale leaves him next, and you imagine he's just freed his cock, the vein running along the shaft throbbing. the tip is probably flushed a dark pink and probably already leaking salty precome, his balls heavy and full from almost a full month of not satisfying himself.

christ, was your mouth watering?

"go on, sweet girl," matt tells you, his voice hoarse. "keep touching yourself. make yourself feel good."

far be it from you to disobey a direct order.

your fingers began thrusting once more, your low, breathy moans becoming high and whiney within minutes, not making an effort to silence yourself. matt wanted a show, so you were going to give him one, noise complaints be damned.

it doesn't take long for the knot within your belly to tighten, your body teetering on the edge of a long-awaited orgasm. you were practically half-delirious, so grateful for the pleasure that you'd already begun expressing your gratitude, your thanks garbled and slurred but genuine nonetheless.

you don't hear the mean, condescending bark of laughter, too caught up in your own ecstasy. you were so close, your forearm burning and your cunt beginning to pulse as you neared the edge, your jaw falling slack as you prepared for the monumental release of pleasure-

"stop."

your body obeyed without consciously thinking about it, your fingers slipping out of you. your poor cunt clenches and flutters around nothing, feeling achingly empty as your pleasure stalls and curdles, spoiling like milk in the sun.

you lay there for a moment, your chest heaving as you try to figure out what happened. your pussy was sensitive and tingling, still pulsing weakly with a ruined orgasm that had given you no satisfaction. you wanted more, damn it, but most of all, you wanted him.

"matty," you cry brokenly, vision blurry with frustrated tears. "why did you... why..."

Your rambling was slurred but audible to your tormenter, his delighted chuckles making you shudder.

"sorry, sweet girl," matt said, not an ounce of remorse in his voice, "but i wanna be there with you when you cum. i need to feel that pretty pussy squeeze my cock, need to hear you moan my name as i fuck you."

he lets out a strained groan, and you imagine he has his fist wrapped tightly around the base of his cock, preventing himself from reaching the pinnacle he'd so cruelly snatched you away from.

you hadn't cum, but neither did he.

you whine at the thought, your pussy still fluttering weakly. you sniffle quietly, still mourning your ruined orgasm, and there's a burst of static, like he'd just sighed.

"you did so well for me, sweetie," matt murmurs, his tone no longer mean, but warm and loving. "i know it hurts, but i'll make it up to you tonight. i'll make you feel so good, you'll forget this ever happened."

though your eyes are still glassy with tears, matt's subtle switch in temperament did wonders for your mood, the promise of pleasure soothing your wounded pride. you sniffle again, working up the courage to meekly inquire, "promise?"

matt hums again, and you can imagine the pleased grin on his face as he purrs your name, the sound of his voice making you melt.

"i promise."

a/n: my brain literally couldn’t focus on anything else while i had this mf rattling around in there. this will be an actual oneshot at some point where we actually get some gratification, maybe even a two-parter! depending on how fried my brain is after cranking out multiple 2k word finals, it could be posted in either 5 days or 5 years or anywhere in between.

i do actually like writing guys i swear 😭 but i’m a humanities major so i do a lot of writing for my degree and my free time consists of thinking about the roman empire (for my major) and reading greek philosophy (also for my major).

glad i got this out as proof of life, didn’t mean to be horny on main but there is no other valid response when it comes to mr. murdock. i hope you guys enjoyed and let me know what you think!

- estrella ★

[strawwritesfic]

(Don't) Hold Your Breath Master List

Summary: You've made a lot of monumental mistakes in your life. Cutting your arm off isn't even at the top of the list. Now you're about to learn a lot of life lessons at the hands of your savior and her brute of a guardian--and they're not about to let you learn them the easy way either.

Challenge: "#32 in His Rulebook" by Edible Heart Monster on Lunaescence Archives

Ratings/Warnings/Tags: M (post-The Last of Us; excessive swearing; sexual references; violence against children; infected children; references to abortion; references to cannibalism; references to starvation; references to riots; implied domestic abuse; implied grooming; implied sexual relationship between an adult and a minor; death of a parent; violence; gore; blood; gun use; ableism; amputee!Reader; enemies to lovers; not canon compliant)

Pairings/Relationships: Joel/Reader; Tommy/Maria; Reader/Male!OC; Reader & Ellie; Ellie & Joel; Ellie & Maria & Tommy

Notes: I've received a few asks regarding this fic. I'd deleted it a few years ago for various reasons, but I got into my old laptop recently and decided that, well, if people have cared enough to track me down and ask about it, maybe I should put it back online.

My feelings about this story are…complicated, which is why I'm hoping people read this before they jump in. The Last of Us is a dark story, and so this story has a lot of dark themes. They're not always executed very well. That might lessen the impact. Maybe it makes it worse. I don't know. But this is a very different sort of work for me. I feel, in retrospect, that I went a little overboard in some aspects. And I don't know how to really even begin putting in warning tags for some of the stuff that's just brushed off like nothing because, to the point of view character, it isn't worth dwelling on. If there's something you see that you feel needs a warning, tell me. I'll add it.

I think the most important thing for me to get out there is that the reader character is an amputee. I had people claiming to be amputees telling me I did a lovely job, but more crucially, I had someone claiming to be an amputee that told me that they didn't like that even 18 chapters in, I was having the reader character struggle with using only one arm in various ways and keep complaining about her situation. I respect that. My thought process during writing was that, in a world without physical therapy or prosthetic limbs, it would be much more difficult to adjust to suddenly having only one arm (and the nondominant arm, at that). And the character whining was because she's got a lot of self-pity that she has to work to get over. That being said, I really took that criticism to heart. I had every intention of drawing back on both aspects…I just never actually wrote another chapter. But, you know, if this gets enough attention for me to justify finishing the story, that's 100% on the to-do list.

I'm not changing anything. It's going up as-is. I'm going to do a quick proofread, of course, and catch a few more typos (I hope), but the excessive swearing and the weird coffee and the thing with Ellie using bang snaps inappropriately are staying in. I'm not doing a line-by-line rewrite like I have with my KHR stuff.

This is not intended to be canon to the television show. I've never seen it, and I don't plan to watch it. This is not intended to be canon to The Last of Us Part II. I've never played it or watched anyone else play it, and I never will. The only thing that this work might have in common with those is that Ellie is a lesbian, because I always intended to give her a girlfriend in this even way before the second game came out.

Anyway, I hope the handful of people that were (mysteriously, miraculously) searching for this story don't find themselves too disappointed now that they can read it again. Thanks for reaching out. It means a lot to me.

Posting Status: Incomplete

Story Status: Discontinued post-Chapter 17

Rule #1: Shut up. The enemy might hear you.

Rule #2: Try not to get yourself hurt.

Rule #3: Try not to get yourself killed. God, are you that stupid?

Rule #4: Quit stealing shit.

Rule #5: Don't touch anything.

Rule #6: Don't piss off the locals.

Rule #7: First impressions are important, so don't be yourself.

Rule #8: The villagers are always a little stupid. Try not to contract that.

Rule #9: If you fall off a roof, don't let go. Nothing will catch you.

Rule #10: Again, the enemy can hear you, so shut up.

Rule #11: If you get badly burned, let me put some ice on it for God’s sake.

Rule #12: If you can’t swim, tell me beforehand. Otherwise I won’t notice if you start drowning.

Rule #13: Don't wander; things around here will kill you.

Rule #14: If it’s your birthday, just remember it’s your fault if we get ambushed at the party.

[sirjaketkiszka]

Silver Springs: Chapter Two

Early20s!Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

I know I could have loved you but you would not let me…

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

You bring a date to the end-of-the-school-year bonfire at the Kiszka house.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Word Count: 5,092

Warnings: 18+!!, underage drinking, cursing, slight jealousy, kissing, and extremely poor writing.

Disclaimer: apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes.

Silver Springs Masterpost

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The highly irritating blare of your alarm jolts you awake from your deep sleep, your eyes blinking rapidly as you shut it off. The warm spring sun melts on your features through the gaps of your closed blinds, causing your eyes to squeeze shut at the intrusion.

Despite him dropping out of the next year, Josh did extremely well on his finals, and you– well, you passed with flying colors, of course. However, the incessant nagging at the back of your mind acted as a dreadful reminder that Josh would no longer be attending the same school as you. You’d be navigating the remainder of college life without him, and it was a thought that weighed heavily on you.

Begrudgingly getting out of bed, you figure staying in it will only make matters worse. Sitting up, you groan when the stiff ache of your bones disappears with a thorough stretch, your legs and arms shooting outright to undo your previous curled sleeping position.

With Summer Break in full swing, Josh has asked you to help set up for the end-of-the-school-year bonfire at the Kiszka house. You’re not entirely sure what needs to be set up since it’s usually just a small group of people, but you agreed anyway. In no time, your morning routine was a distant memory and you were parked in front of Josh’s house under your favorite tree.

Walking up to the front door, the split and worn porch boards creak beneath you, and your closed fist knocks your whitened knuckles against the sturdy wood. There’s a moment of silence, and the consuming sound of leaves brushing against each other and birds calling out to each other is all you can hear. That is until you hear stumbling behind the door and what sounds like a few trips and tumbles on the way to it. The front door swings open, and you’re met with a huffing Josh.

“Oh, hey!” He acts surprised in between heavy breaths, “You’re here early!”

“Am I here early, or am I here on time?” You tease, earning an eye roll from him, knowing that he’s never been on time a day in his life. Punctuality is none of the Kiszkas’ strong suit. Eventually, you get used to it. “Why are you out of breath?” You ask, noticing the way his chest is heaving with his hands firmly planted on his hips.

“Turns out,” He huffs out a laugh, “putting decorations up by yourself is not easy.”

“Decorations?” Your brows furrow, mirroring your confusion, “Decorations for what?” Never once have you guys decorated for a bonfire. The get-together is extremely casual; a variety of drinks, snacks, and a small group of people huddled around a burning fire enjoying each other’s company.

“As you know, Sam and Danny graduated from high school this week,” He explains, and you nod along, “Sam asked if he could invite a few friends over for the bonfire– turns out, Sam knows almost his entire class and now we’re throwing a party.” He smiles nervously, knowing you don’t enjoy events with large groups of people.

“That’s… great,” You lie, your jaw clenching as you attempt to smile, “So, again, why the decorations?” You doubt the decorations are Sam’s idea; he’ll probably think they’re childish in all honesty.

“It’s just a ‘Congratulations’ banner… For now,” He waves his hand in a “no big deal” kind of way, “Come in and take a look.” He urges, stepping to the side and allowing you to come into the house. Sure enough, above the fireplace, is a mounted and extremely crooked “Congratulations!” banner. Your steps come to a halt to fully examine it, and your head tilts trying to imagine how it’d look upright.

“He’s going to hate it,” You simply state.

“What? No, he’s not,” Josh sounds defensive as he shuts the door and stands beside you, examining his work. His head tilts as well, and his hands are back on his hips, his breathing steady now.

“You know how Sam is,” You gently argue back, “He’s going to want the party to be as laid back as possible.”

“You’re right, I do know how Sam is,” Josh lifts his chin in pride, “He’ll love it.”

“He really won’t.” You shoot back.

After going back and forth about whether to keep the banner up, the sound of heavy footsteps descends down the stairs. You and Josh pause your bickering, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand, knowing whose presence is about to appear. In your peripheral, his dark figure stops at the bottom of the steps, assessing the situation. You keep your eyes on the banner while Josh warmly welcomes his twin.

“Jake, you’ll decide!” Josh declares, turning away from you and facing his twin.

“Decide what?” Jake’s voice is husky, like he’d just woken up, and it begs your attention. Finally looking at him, his hair is slightly tussled, eyes blinking slowly and hooded, and he’s wearing what you assume is his sleeping attire; a fitted plain black tee shirt and grey sweats you’ve never seen him in. Your face heats at the observation.

“She doesn’t think the banner is a good idea,” Josh glances over at you and back to Jake, “But I don’t think Sam will care.”

Jake looks at you, back to Josh, and to the crooked banner. His lips purse while he puts some thought into the problem like he’s actually considering an answer. His eyes linger on the banner, his head tilting like yours did moments before, and he looks back at Josh. “It’s not a good idea.” He states, shrugging and finally stepping off the final step of the staircase.

“See! Thank you!” You absentmindedly express your gratitude, and Jake’s eyes meet yours for a fleeting moment as he walks past you and Josh, disappearing into the kitchen.

“Traitor!” Josh yells after him, a faux angry expression pulling at his features, “Fine, let’s take it down.” He grumbles reluctantly, stepping forward to grab one end of the banner.

“I told you-”

“Don’t!” Josh cuts you off, making you clamp your mouth shut as you grab the other end, holding back a laugh, “I guess I shouldn’t put those up then?” He nods his head in the direction of the couch, where a pile of more decorations resides, the colors representing Sam and Danny’s high school.

“My God, no,” You can’t help but laugh this time, making Josh burst out laughing as well. The both of you rip the banner off of the wall through choked laughter, stumbling back when the large decoration falls at your feet.

Sighing from his residual laugh, Josh bunches the banner up in sloppy folds and tosses it onto the rest of the decorations, “Well,” He begins, straightening his back and putting his hands on his hips again, “I guess you didn’t need to be here so early.” He chuckles, shaking his head.

“What about the food and drink situation?” You ask, peeling your eyes away from the crumpled-up banner on the couch, and looking at Josh, whose eyebrows are furrowed in thought.

“We do need more alcohol,” He considers, and you give him a questioning look, “He’s going to drink either way– might as well do it here, with us.” He answers as if he read your mind.

“Alright,” You nod slowly, “and your parents?”

“Hanging out with friends, but they know.”

“Fine by me,” You shrug, “Let’s go,” Turning around, you head for the front door with Josh following closely behind. The moment you open the door, the climbing temperature encompasses your face, causing a sheen layer of sweat to rise on your now-damp skin. You rush to your car, wanting to be the one to drive due to Josh’s lack of air conditioning in his.

“I’ll drive!” Josh calls out as he closes and locks the door behind you.

“Too late!” You yell back, already rounding your car and stopping at the driver’s side. Opening the door, you fold into the driver’s seat, the soft cushion deflating beneath your weight. Josh opens the passenger door as you buckle yourself in and he playfully glares at you before plopping into the passenger seat.

“What do you have against my car?” He asks defensively, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Nothing,” You lie, putting your key in the ignition and turning it, making the engine rumble out of its short slumber, “Put your seatbelt on.” You instruct him while releasing the emergency brake and putting the car in drive. He uncrosses his arms and puts his seatbelt on, but returns to his defensive position. “You’re dramatic, you know that?” You laugh, pulling away from the curb and driving in the direction of the nearest liquor store.

“I may have been told that once, or twice,” He unfolds his arms, resting an elbow on the center console and the other propped against the door. You keep your focus on the road, muscle memory guiding you to turn on the car’s air conditioning. Warm air flows for a few seconds before being replaced by a crisp breeze, making the hairs framing your face gently curl back. “Any plans for the summer?” Josh asks after a brief moment of silence.

“This,” You say, glancing over at him for a second, “Being with you.”

“Good,” You can see him smile in your peripheral, “I have big plans.”

“That sounds terrifying,” You chuckle, side-eyeing him as you pass by clusters of small businesses, “Like what?”

“Lake days, camping, the fair,” He lists the usual summer activities, “you know, stuff like that.”

“Sounds good to me,” You say, pulling into the parking lot of the small liquor store, where only a few other cars are parked. Parking into the nearest parking spot, you put the car in park, pull the parking brake, and unlock the doors. You and Josh exit at the same time, allowing you to lock the doors as soon as he’s out of the car, “ So, are we getting anything specific?” You ask as you both walk toward the entrance.

“Nothing in particular,” He admits, opening the door for you and allowing you to step in first. You both nod a “hello” to the owner, “Maybe a keg?” He suggests, patting a large keg set next to the entrance.

“Can we even carry that to the car?” You question, inspecting the stainless steel object.

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” Josh shrugs, “But let’s grab everything else first.”

Nodding, you grab bottles of different alcohols; vodka, tequila, and hard cider. You place the bottles in a nearby basket, giving Josh a questioning look when he adds a bottle of rum.

“For Jake,” He clarifies, and you nod. Rum guy, huh?

We bring our impressive and concerning collection of alcohol to the register. The owner smirks and chuckles, “Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“And the keg,” Josh says simultaneously with your answer, nudging his head in the direction of the beer keg. You look at him, your mouth open to object, but you can’t find a reason why it’s a bad idea.

“And the keg,” You agree, and the owner nods, scanning the bottles and manually typing in the total of the keg. The price is hefty, but Josh offers to put it on his card. “Big shot,” You mumble, making him huff out a quiet laugh.

With the help of the owner, he and Josh carry the heavy keg to your car, lugging it into the backseat, making the car bounce slightly from its weight. Carrying the bags of alcohol bottles, you set them in the backseat behind the driver’s side, and climb into your seat when everything is secured.

“Ready?” You ask Josh, who sits back in the passenger seat after thanking the owner and waving him off.

“Yep,” He huffs out in a breath, the heavy lifting taking a toll on him, “I have no idea how we’re getting that in the house.” He admits, leaning his head back against the headrest.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” You sigh, shaking your head lightheartedly, and turning the car back on. Pulling out of the small parking lot, you begin your short journey back to Josh’s house, passing by various family-owned businesses, tall trees along the side of the road, and the occasional pedestrian.

Shortly, you park in front of the Kiszka house, reclaiming your previous spot before the street fills with eager, party-hungry teens and their cars. As soon as you’re both out of the car, Josh rushes to your side, grabbing the bags of alcohol, “I’ll be right back, stay here,” He instructs you and walks toward the house.

“Okay…” You mumble to yourself, going around to the passenger side and opening the door to the backseat, “fuck.” You curse at the sight of the massive keg, glance at the uphill driveway, and back at the damn keg. “How the fuck–”

“Josh said you needed help,” Jake’s voice comes from behind you, startling you and causing you to whip yourself around. His expression is blank and unreadable, like it always is, and like always, it unsettles you. His clothes have changed as well, his once pajamas are now a pair of black jeans and a striped shirt unbuttoned halfway. Your eyes linger on his exposed chest before blinking out of the unwelcome trance.

“Um, yeah,” You step aside, revealing the beer keg sitting snugly in the backseat, “If you can get it out, I’ll help carry it up the driveway,” You explain, though you’re not entirely sure if you’d even be able to help him carry it.

Without even a single nod or acknowledgment, he steps forward and grabs hold of the keg’s handles. Pulling on it, a low grunt catches in his throat as he drags it out of the backseat, his breath held as he lifts it and sets it down carefully on the sidewalk. His breathing resumes when he steps back from it, “So, whose idea?” His attempt at small talk surprises you.

“Who do you think?” You respond, looking at him as he looks down at the keg.

“Shouldn’t have asked,” He mumbles, bending over to grab hold of one of the handles, “Grab the other one.”

Rolling your eyes at his lack of asking nicely, you bend over as well, gripping the handle opposite to his. He quietly counts down from three, and the both of you lift the keg. Immediately, the weight takes you by surprise and nearly makes you heel over. The two of you quietly shuffle up the driveway, the early afternoon sun blistering on your bare shoulders, causing beads of sweat to form on your temples.

Making it halfway up the driveway, Josh reappears from the house, lightly jogging to you and Jake, “I’ll take it from here,” He offers, standing beside you and replacing your hands with his own, making the keg lighter for Jake, you’re sure. It’s not that you couldn’t hold your own, but you thought it was entertaining to watch Jake do most of the work.

You follow the twins up the rest of the driveway and listen intently to their quiet conversation.

“You think this is enough?” Josh asks, looking down at the keg and back to Jake.

“More than enough,” Jake huffs, climbing up the few steps onto the porch. The front door is already propped open, and the twins wobble inside carefully, being cautious when crossing the threshold.

Making it into the kitchen, they set the keg down with a thump on the tile floor next to the refrigerator. Stepping back from the keg, the twins set their hands on their hips, and their chests heave from exerting themselves. You stifle back a laugh from their unintentional mirrored pose.

“Thanks, Jake,” Josh says, bringing a hand up and patting Jake on the shoulder, “Really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” Jake vaguely states, silently excusing himself when he realizes his efforts are no longer needed. Your eyes involuntarily watch Jake exit, your gaze fixed on his broad back and the way the ends of his hair sway with each coordinated step.

“So,” Josh’s words pull you back to him, “we should probably order the pizza.”

“It’s still a little early,” You check the clock on the microwave hanging above the stove, it reads 12:23 pm, “What time are people supposed to show up?” You ask, knowing that these types of gatherings don’t start until later.

“Around four, but we need a lot of pizza,” He explains while grabbing the home phone, “So, it’ll probably take them a few hours to cook and deliver them anyway.”

“Good thinking,” You declare, taking a seat at the kitchen table while Josh makes the call. From what you hear, he orders eight large cheese pizzas, probably to keep it as simple as possible, and multiple liters of different sodas. When he ends the call, he joins you at the table, sitting across from you and propping his chin onto a closed fist.

“So, you have a date tonight,” He raises his eyebrows and smiles, making you jokingly and dramatically roll your eyes.

“It’s not really a date,” You reason, “Just a casual hangout since I was too busy with assignments before.”

“Uh-huh, right.”

“I’m serious,” You chuckle despite your statement, “I don’t even know how I feel about him.” And you didn’t. After yet another week of talking to this man, the more distance you felt was growing between you two. The constant back and forth bored you, yet you still promised a date– no, a hangout– by the end of the week. Who knows, maybe seeing him in person, outside of school, and in a more relaxed environment would change your mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house rumbled from the sound of classic rock and the shuffling of feet from an entire graduating class. Sam really did know everyone in his class. The overlapping voices and overstimulating hum of their harmonization jumbled your thoughts, pulling you away from the person in front of you. Your eyes took in the large group of teenagers; some stayed glued to the wall observing much like yourself, while others danced and yelled over the pounding speakers.

“So, how’d you do?” Your “date,” Chris, yells over the noise, causing your attention to focus back on him.

“I’m sorry?” Your voice is raised as well.

“How’d you do on your finals?” He repeats his earlier question; one that you assumably tuned out from your previous zoning out.

“Oh! Really well, I think,” You knew, but you were humble, “and yourself?” You ask back out of politeness.

“Aced every single one!” He says confidently, his chest puffing out unintentionally, you hope.

“That’s awesome,” Your voice grows quiet, and silence, if you could call it that, falls in the space between you. It’s awkward. It’s not the comfortable silence you’re so fond of with Josh, or any other person you tolerate. You’re silently beating yourself up from your disinterest, frustrated that this is yet another failed talking stage.

“Do you want to step outside?” He asks, looking around at the partygoers and noticing your discomfort.

“Please,” You sigh, pushing yourself off of the wall you were just leaning on, leading him to the backdoor in the kitchen. Opening the glass sliding door, you’re immediately met with that comforting silence you love so much. The evening air is beginning to cool, signaling a chilly night by the bonfire tonight. As the sun sets, brush strokes of gentle pink and burning orange cross the clear skies, with freckles of faint stars emerging from their daily slumber.

Chris follows you down the back porch steps, closing the sliding door behind the two of you. The muffled noises of the party grow distant as you approach the unlit bonfire pit where Josh and Jake are sitting. Josh smiles when he notices you, his eyes glancing at Chris, who he’d already met.

“Hey, guys,” You address the twins; Josh is still smiling, happy that you brought a “date,” and Jake is blankly staring, his eyes jumping between you and the man behind you. Turning to him, you address Chris, “You already met Josh, but that’s his twin, Jake.” You offer a closed-mouth smile, looking between the two men, who could not be any more different.

“Nice to meet you,” Chris waves to Jake, who holds a hand up for a millisecond as a half-assed wave. You refrain from rolling your eyes, a motion you find yourself doing a lot in the presence of Jake.

You take a seat in the wooden chair directly across from Jake, and Chris scoots the nearest chair right next to yours, making the arm rests nudge against each other. You allow the slight intrusion of your personal space, not wanting to make apparent your growing dislike for him.

“How’d you two meet?” Josh asks, knowing the story, but asking anyway.

“We are,” Chris starts, and you’re silently grateful for it because it is not a story you find interesting enough to tell yourself, “Well, we were, in the same Photography class and we just got to talking.” Yep, that’s the whole story.

“Fantastic,” Josh’s voice is much too optimistic for your liking.

“Isn’t it?” Chris asks while his hand closest to yours on the armrest inches closer, making you pull yours away slowly. Oh god.

Clearing your throat, you keep your hand on the edge of the armrest, “Yeah, we’ve been talking for a little bit now,” You add, although you’re not sure why.

For whatever reason, Jake is actively listening to you talk, his gaze fixed on you rather than Chris. Again, his eyes are unreadable, and the soft purple skin below them is accentuated by the setting sun. His eyes bore into yours, his deep brown irises being overtaken by the crashing waves of his pupils, which double in size like a drop of rain splattered on concrete.

Once again, you feel small under his piercing stare, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat. The voices of Chris and Josh become muffled as the two men carry a conversation about whatever it is they’re talking about. You don’t seem to care.

Your eyes shoot to different places, feeling adamant about avoiding eye contact with Jake. Still, his eyes study you; your body language, the way your hand keeps dodging Chris’s every attempt at holding it, and how you become restless under his observance.

Having noticed this silent battle between you and Jake, Chris puts his hand over yours, enveloping your hand in his large one. Looking over at Chris, his eyes are now fixed on Jake, who is finally looking back at him. However, Jake’s eyes shoot down to Chris’s hand engulfing yours, and his chest visibly rises with a deep breath.

“Take the hint,” Jake mumbles under his breath, leaning back in his chair, and taking a swig from a red solo cup that was previously sat on the ground next to him.

“I’m sorry?” Chris asks, but the three of you all know what he heard. Josh stops his persistent rambling, now sensing the sudden building tension in the group. His eyes bounce between Jake and Chris.

“She doesn’t want to hold your hand, man,” Jake explains with a bitter chuckle, his tone reflective of ignorance and annoyance. Chris frowns, removing his hand from yours, and the cool air makes a point to emphasize its much-appreciated absence.

“Jake–” Both you and Josh say his name. Is he drunk? You ask yourself, confused as to why he’s acting this way. Never once has Jake stood up for you, except for this morning with the banner, so his sudden change in demeanor disorients you.

“I think…” Chris peels his eyes away from Jake, now looking at you with an overtly angry expression, “I’m going to go.” He states, standing from his seat too aggressively, making the chair scoot back a couple of feet.

“Chris, wait–” You stand from your seat as well, following him as he walks around the outside of the house to the front. Glancing back, Josh is giving you a sympathetic look, which turns into a frown when he looks at his twin. Eventually, you catch up to Chris when he gets to his car, “Please, wait.”

“Is there something going on between you and that guy?” Chris asks with sharpness on his tongue.

“What?” You stumble back slightly at his accusation and anger erupts in your chest, “God, no, Jake’s just an asshole.”

“Right,” His chuckle is just as sharp as his tone, “Whatever this is,” He motions between the two of you, “Isn’t going to work with him around.” Bummer.

“I mean, was it ever going to?” You ask, laughing. That pisses him off.

“Fuck you,” His words are laced with hatred and venom, and a part of you is glad he showed his true character before going further. Not that it would’ve gone further, but now you didn’t feel so bad.

Without exchanging any other words, you watch with a blank expression as he gets in his car and peels out of the neighborhood with a loud screech. While you were planning to cut things off, you would’ve done it in a much cleaner manner, which only fueled your anger for Jake even more.

Stomping around the house and returning to the firepit, Jake is nowhere to be found, but Josh stays seated, waiting for you. When he sees you, he stands, “What happened?” He asks, concerned.

“He broke it off,” You admit, although you don’t sound sad about it.

“Are you okay?” He reaches out and rests his hands on your shoulders.

“More than okay,” You chuckle, watching the concern dissipate from his face, “But thank you for checking on me.” You express your gratitude sincerely.

“Of course,” His smile is still sympathetic, knowing how frustrating this is for you.

“Where’d Jake go?” You wave off his pitiful look, “I have some words for him.”

“He stormed off when I asked what his problem was,” He says, looking in the direction of the house, “He went inside to get another drink, I believe.”

“Got it,” You step away from Josh, already barging up the stairs of the back porch, creating loud thuds with every forceful step. As soon as you open the sliding door, the humid air of the house hits you, blanketing your tense features and adding to your frustration. The stagnant air is thick, and it reeks of alcohol and room-temperature pizza.

You see Danny fixing himself a drink at the kitchen counter, and you approach him with false calmness, “Hey, did you see where Jake went?” You ask, taking notice that he’s not in the kitchen fixing himself another drink.

“Oh, hey,” His words are slightly slurred, “Um, he went to the garage, I think.”

“Okay, thank you,” You rush out the words while storming toward the garage door, “And congratulations!” You make a mental note to properly congratulate him for graduating when he’s sober.

Without hesitation, you swing the garage door open and slam it shut behind you, being met with the warm garage and dim lighting. Jake is rummaging through the garage refrigerator, but his head lifts when he notices your presence, “What the fuck was that about?” You get straight to the point.

“I don’t know what you mean,” He mutters into the open fridge, his eyes fixed on the shelves.

“Right, play stupid,” You snicker, “I had that handled, dipshit.”

“You didn’t,” He finally closes the fridge, no drink in his hand.

“I didn’t need your help,” You scoff.

“You were going to cut him off anyway,” He shrugs nonchalantly, “I just sped up the process.”

“That is not a decision for you to make, Jake.” You step closer, your voice growing louder.

“You should be thanking me,” He turns to you fully, the two of you only two feet apart.

“Thanking you?” You laugh in disbelief with your hand coming up to squeeze your temples from your growing headache. “God, Jake, you really are unbelievable. Just when I think ‘he can’t possibly get worse,’ you prove me wrong! You sure can get worse! And to think I’m going to thank you for creating yet another problem in my life? You are so full of yourself!”

Jake stands still, consuming your resentful words with a stoic expression on his features.

“For once, I am truly speechless,” Your laugh is humorless.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Jake speaks again, and your laugh disappears.

“Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you?” You step back, the building anger in your chest close to erupting once more. His silence speaks volumes and you stare at him for a second longer before having enough, “You know, I can’t take this anymore, Jake, I hate–”

Interrupting your stepping back, and your hateful words, Jake takes two large strides in your direction, grabbing a hold of your right bicep. Before you can speak your final word, his lips crash onto yours in a swift motion, shutting you up.

The initial shock doesn’t last when the tension in your body melts, and your wide eyes flutter close, welcoming him. His shaky hands snake around your waist, pulling you deeper into him from your lower back, prompting your arms to wrap around his neck.

Your lips move fluidly against his, and a relieving groan rises from deep within his throat. One of his hands slowly traces up your spine, leaving chills in its wake as it grips the back of your neck. Heavy breaths are exchanged through your noses, your lips never breaking apart as the kiss grows lust-filled and hungry.

Parting your lips, Jake swipes his tongue along yours, and your quiet moan is swallowed whole by his eagerness. While tasting the faintness of rum, your hands search for the roots of his hair, gripping tightly, but not enough to cause him discomfort.

Finally, you pull away, in need of air. You rest your forehead against his, the both of you panting soft breaths, “Jake–” You whisper, leaning back in.

“No,” He quickly backs away, realizing what he’s done.

“What?” Your chest still heaves from the lack of air.

“That was–” He brings his fingers to his lips, tracing the plump flesh, “This was a mistake, I’m sorry.” His words are rushed, and so are his movements as he exits the garage, slamming the door shut and leaving you there. Dumbfounded, you remain still, lips still parted in shock and eyes zoning out as you feel the ghost of him on your lips.

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I’m really sorry for how rushed this is, and I appreciate your patience! I am incredibly sleep deprived right now, so chances are I’ll be coming back and doing small edits. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed chapter two of Silver Springs.

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Tag list:

@aflame4goinghome @peaceloveunitygvf @dilflover-4ever @hollyco @dayumclarizzel @jakesbeloved @fleetingjake

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Tags:

[paperstarwriters]

What do you do if you find your lover sleeping with a better version of you?

Maybe not even sexually, but they wrap their arm around your midsection, they cuddle their face into your neck, and from afar it looks as if they're hugging you.

but that can't be you, because you're standing here. In the doorway, staring at the stranger who wears your skin. And when they turn their head, you know full well that it is not you.

They're beautiful. Too beautiful. Too ethereally beautiful their face is just like yours but so much prettier somehow, it's softer where it should be soft, sharper where it should be sharp. The structure is the same, but fine details are changed. Not every blemish is removed form your skin, but enough are that you can tell, and those that remain hardly even look like blemishes.

Your skin looks smooth, free of the texture that it's notorious for having, your hair looks tousled and yet is somehow free of knots.

and when that creature opens it's eyes, you find yourself looking at your own, glossier, shinier and prettier than you've ever seen them before.

It's like every single word, every single compliment your partner ever gave you turned true.

And though you see the creature shift, though you see the bones snap and swivel and turn, you see the flesh shrink, stretch, melt, they eyes roll loops in it's skull, you still find yourself reaching out to touch the finished figure.

They look exactly like your love.

To you at least perhaps... did you truly look so pretty to your love? Did you—

did you check if they were alive?

[its-in-the-woods]

Down the Rabbit Hole Chapter 19

Chapter one here, two here, three here, four here , five here, six here, seven here, eight here,nine here, ten here, eleven here , twelve here , thirthen here, fourteen here, Fifteen Here Sixteen here, Seventeen here, Eighteen here

master list

Pairing: Walton Goggins x You

Rating/Warning:  As always minor get out. P0rn? What? Pretty vanilla, cum eating, fingering, cowgirl, missionary, minor choking, palm ridding, some plot, older man x younger woman, look if you've made this far you know these two need to fck k?

Synopsis:

You cross your legs, trying to keep your eyes focused on him, as his fingers drag the zipper down. He was a showman in every sense of the word, he loves to have eyes on him, particularly your eyes. Licking your lips you watch his fingers run along the top of his pants, the v of material exposing the black material of his boxers. 

“Come closer,” He hushes out, you move to stand, stopping when he puts his hand up. “Crawl.”

ENJOY <3

The door shuts behind you, and Walton has you pinned against it before you can move into the space. The day had been way too long, and the flight even longer. Add the fact you both had been interrupted several times that day, and Walton was on edge. When the movers had knocked on the door with Walton between your legs, you thought he might actually pop a blood vessel. Instead, he had taken several deep breaths, fixed your pants, and opened the door. You briefly wondered when you got on the earlier flight if he would drag you into the bathroom. Thankfully, he had just crossed his legs and dug his nails into your thigh hard enough to leave marks.

Now he was kissing you, tongue pushed into your mouth, you suck on it listening to him moan as your fingers run into his hair. Your other hand is pushing under his shirt to feel hot skin, his hands have found their way to your pants pushing them down over your thighs. It’s fast and hot and dear god his fingers are rubbing against your core through your underwear. You push down against him, groaning at the friction. You push his jacket off, it thumps onto the ground, you break the kiss to get his shirt off. Your hands exploring along the hard plains of his body, finding the button of his pants. He pulls back your shirt falling onto the floor, bra not far behind. He kisses and licks down your neck, muttering sweet words as he latches onto your collarbone. Your reaction is instant hips pushing down onto his fingers as he drags a new mark to the surface 

You whine and rock, “M’close.” You whimper, continuing to move, the heat burning you up. Walton unlatching from your skin, to look down at your eyes heavy with lust. Making you shiver as he pushes his hand up so that you’re grinding against his palm. The stimulation is almost not enough as you cling onto him, mouth open. Palm against your clit, his fingers moving your underwear out of the way so he can push inside. Your hands cling onto his arms as you rut against him. 

“Going to come for me,” Walton grins, watching you melt for him. His mouth moving down to the top of your breast, sucking a new mark into it. The mix of pain and pleasure edging you in the best way possible. 

“Please, can I, Sir,” You add emphasis Sir, feeling him react to it. His fingers stilling for a moment, as he bits harder onto the next bruise he was making. You are right on the edge, Walton having memorized exactly what to do to make you soaking in seconds. 

He leans back watching you again, your hips squirming harder with his eyes on you. “Yes, come for me, baby girl.”

You fight to keep your eyes open, gasping as you tremble against his hand. Can feel wetness dampening his hand as your body contracts around his fingers, his lips leaning down to kiss you. You push back as he lets you ride the edge until it’s too much. He groans pulling back, you whine as his fingers slip out with a wet noise.

“Let’s go to the bedroom” He whispers against your ear, his fingers sliding over your lips. You open your mouth to lick at the tips. Your heart is hammering in your chest as you taste yourself on him.

You grin as you lean forward to take more of his finger into your mouth, “You’re going to get spanked if you don’t stop, little lady.”

A sigh escapes your lips but you pull back, a grin crossing your lips  “What if I want you too?”

Walton looks down at you, hand coming up to push against your throat, and you groan as you feel him squeeze a little. The way he pushes you against the wall makes you squirm. The wicked grin crosses his lips, as he watches you. “Oh, don’t tempt me, beautiful, 'cause you and I both know how much you liked it the first time.”

You flush, looking down at where his free fingers have twined with yours, wondering if you should keep pushing his buttons more. Looking back at him, you can see the weight of the day of travel. As much as you love to get him worked up, you could tell he just wanted to take you to bed. 

Leaving the suitcases in the hall, you take his hand, Walton leading you to the bedroom. He keeps the lights turned down, he has you remove your underwear in front of him, before instructing you to sit on the bed and not move. Before he turns and walks out the door. You stay as still as possible, tiredness has crept in unwanted. Rubbing at your eyes, you try and think awake thoughts, but the bed is soft and so comfy. Shaking your head a few times you blink again, perking up when you hear Walton’s footsteps. 

He comes in with two mugs, his pants hanging dangerously low around his hips, handing one to you. You take a deep breath of the coffee, thanking him as you take a sip. He takes a sip of his coffee, before placing it on the side table. You watch him over the lip of the mug, as his fingers go to the button of his jeans. You bit your bottom lip face going red, it was always hot. Despite this same thing having played out before, you can’t help the tingling sensation that moves into your stomach. Shifting slightly you take another sip, trying to play it cool even if you’re squirming on the bed. 

“I was thinking of blindfolding you again,” Walton says, as the button slips out of its loop. “But I wanted to see you, the way you look at me every time I get undressed.”

You cross your legs, trying to keep your eyes focused on him, as his fingers drag the zipper down. He was a showman in every sense of the word, he loves to have eyes on him, particularly your eyes. Licking your lips you watch his fingers run along the top of his pants, the v of material exposing the black material of his boxers. 

“Come closer,” He hushes out, you move to stand, stopping when he puts his hand up. “Crawl.”

A shiver runs up your spine, but you do as you’re asked sliding off the bed, looking up at him as you move towards him. Stopping at his feet you sit back on your heels, fingers twitching in your lap wanting to grab his pants and pull them down. 

“Yeah, just like that,” Walton grins, you can see his heart rate increasing as his chest moves. “Know how much you want to touch me, always finding ways to run your hand over me.” His hands push the pants and underwear down, your eyes moving as his clothes move. Your mouth opens a little as you pull your eyes away from his center. The way Walton stares at you should set fire to the room, his fingertips run under your jaw. You stare up at him, hips rocking slightly without permission. 

“Look at you, already so needy,” He hushes, his right hand grabbing at the base of his cock squeezing and twisting as he works at his own body. Eyelids fluttering closed as he moans, you can feel yourself clench as he moans. “Do you want this,” Walt asks, staring down at you, you nod your head, swallowing as you try to shuffle forward. 

“Use your word,” He whispers your name, watching you squirm at his feet. It had become a game you’d both played, he knew you struggled with voicing your needs. So he’d made sure to use it against you in situations such as this. 

“Please,” You squirm, saying the words always felt so much more dirty than doing the action. Didn’t matter how many times you tried to voice it. “Can I please taste you?”

He grins, continuing to stroke himself so close to you, “Keep going.” Voice breathy as he pleasured himself in front of you. 

You grit your teeth a little, trying to push past the made up barrier in your mind. “I want to taste you so bad, you always taste so good, please, Sir.”

Walton groans, the smile twitching on your lips as you watch his cock leak out, “Mmm, you know just the right buttons to push. Now open your mouth for me.”

Marking a little win in your imaginary check box, you move forward opening your mouth. Sticking your tongue out and batting your eyelashes, he moves forward the fat head of his cock tapping on your tongue. You can taste the salt of him, the familiar musk making you shiver. Thighs clenching as you feel your slickness drip out of you. 

“No hands, hold still.” He warns, you put your fingers back onto your lap. Squirming a little at the orders, him ordering you around made your stomach twist with desire as you did as he asked. 

He lets go of his dick, hands sliding on each side of your face, you suck around the head as he pushes it further in. Dragging it back out so it rests on the edges of your lips, and then push back in. Being so careful not to thrust too far. You want him to move faster, but you keep still working your tongue on the underside, trying to pull him deeper with your cheeks. Walton stills, thumbs rubbing over your cheeks before he drags you forward slowly until he is all the way inside. Your nose flush against his pubic hair, relaxing as best you can around the intrusion. Feeling your throat flutter as you try to breathe through your nose, he holds you there and you can feel your chest trying to push him out. Just as you are about to tap out he pulls out, you cough sputtering for a moment, drool stretching from your lips to the tip of his cock. You blink back tears, his thumbs wiping at them. 

Sitting back, you open your mouth again, determined to continue. Looking up at his flustered face, red cheeks, mouth open a little, his cock twitching. “Always so eager to do whatever you’re told.”

You can’t help the smile that crosses your lips as he moves forward placing the head on your tongue again, sliding himself down to the root. Than holding for a second, hand running under your chin so he can feel himself. Then he sets a pace, you suck and lick as drool drips out of your mouth, tears spilling unneeded out of the corners of your eyes. Groaning he pulls out again, twirling the spit and precum around his fingers to bring them up his mouth. You whimper watching him, your thighs wet with need. Fingers now have left more marks on your thighs from holding onto them to stop you from grabbing him.

“You did so good,” Walton leaning down to kiss you, letting yourself push into his kiss, heart pounding in your throat. “Follow me,”

You get up, legs trembling as you follow the man over to the bed. He lays down on the bed, motioning for you to join him. You crawl onto the bed, straddling his hips, keeping yourself above him as you lean down to meet his lips. Large hands cupping your ass, as he pushes you slowly down onto his cock. A moan ripping out of your throat, he felt so good. Wide head parting your soaking lips, as his shaft pushes you open. You settle on top,  the two of you joining for a moment, he squeezes your ass, one hand sliding up to cup your breasts. Heart pounding in your chest, Walton rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger before his other hand finds your hip. 

“You can move,” He whispers, you start to move immediately. Hips moving in circles as he starts to thrust up into you. You moan as his hands find your face, those damn hands holding you against him as you work yourself up and down. The rhythm comes easily as the two of you taste the other. You grind yourself down as he moves up, the friction as delicious as the noises the two of you make. 

Eyes rolling as his pace increases, you match the pace, rocking back and forth the two of you grinding against the other. You sit back, hands on his chest, as he plays with your nipples. Suddenly you are taken off guard as he rolls you over, biting your lip as you watch him. Hands on either side of you, his mouth opens slightly as he pushes your legs up. He shifts sitting back on his heels, big hands over your thighs to hike you up against him. Walton helps you up, a moan slipping out of his mouth as he slips back into you. You wrap your arms around his neck. It’s slow, the feel of every movement leaving goosebumps covering you. 

“Fuck,” He groans, lips and tongue running down your neck over your shoulder, “Always feel so good, don’t want it to stop.”

A whimper is all you can muster, body aching in the best ways as you keep moving. His name echoes in the space as you keep pushing, his hands holding you close. You clench around him, letting yourself flutter around him several times. Watching his face strain as he tried to hold on. 

“Want to feel you, want to feel your cum dripping out of me. Please.” You keen as he lowers you down against the bed, his hips losing pace.  

“Oh fuck,” He groans, you can tell he is close as the pace increases. You can’t help how your nails dig into his back. Your tongue licking down his neck, tasting the sweat and the sweetness that was uniquely his. Making your way along his arm, before biting into his bicep. His hips stuttering at the sensation of pain. You know you shouldn’t be leaving a mark, but you can’t help yourself. The way he reacts makes worth, feeling him sink all the way in cock twitching and spilling deep. You let out a long groan, it never got old and fuck did it feel good too. 

He stays there for a moment, chest heaving, grinning as he glances down at the small mark. “You’re so bad, leaving marks on me.” 

You flush, covering your mouth with your fingers, squirming under his gaze. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Mmm, really now,” He leans down kissing your neck, as he slides out and you huff a little at the emptiness. “You are a needy thing, might have to keep you up all night.” 

“Is that so?” You flutter your eyelashes at him, you both know neither of you is going to stay awake past another orgasm. 

He licks his lips, and you watch as his tongue goes down your sternum, sucking a mark in between your breasts. You breathe hitching as he keeps going, kissing around your belly button, down towards your center. Pausing as his hands push your legs up and open a little, settling between them.

“Oh,” You stutter as he grabs a pillow with one hand, lifting your ass with the other. His tongue moves down to your core. A string of non-sensical words streaming out of your mouth as your hand pushes into his hair. Fingers pulling you open so that he can get at the mix of both of you. 

He hums approval as you push up against his tongue, letting you ride his face as he tries to suck your soul out of your body through your center. 

“Fuck that’s hot,” You whimper, hips pushing and grinding, his nose rubbing at your clit. His fingers move over your thighs to rub at it, tongue continuing to work as he eats his come out of you. “Please, oh god,” You squirm so hard, trying to hold back the impending rush. 

Walton's hazel eyes catch yours, “Come for me,” Your name whispers out before he goes back to his ministrations. Your hands clawing at the top of his head, stomach sucking in as you buck up. Heat pushing out as you come, his fingers continuing to work at you as you ride wave after wave of pleasure. 

“Please,” You whisper trying to pull him off, he lets up his face shiny with the combination of you both. 

Crawling up your body to lay a filthy kiss on your lips. You hold him there, hearts pounding together before separating. The world spinning around you as he climbs up to lay beside you. 

“We doing that every time we come home?” You tease, snuggling in beside him, he grabs the covers and pulls it up over you both.

Walton lays back dragging you against his chest, “Anywhere and anytime you want.”

You flush and bury yourself into his chest, leaving a little kiss on his collarbone. He hums slightly, hands running over your hair, “As for the mark you left, have to think about what you're going to do to make up for it.”

You nibble at his collarbone, Walton grumbles before kissing your forehead. 

***

You’re sitting at your desk highlighting the latest script you’ve been sent. You’re not the head of department, but it never hurt to have your own set of notes. You can hear Walton just barely through the shared wall. Upstairs you had been graciously given a room to make your office, Walton had even taken you to buy a desk and a few other pieces. You worry at your lip, a small smile when you hear his laughter. 

It had been a little less than a month since moving, as always it was easy. Well for the most part. You had pushed about paying for your part of the bills, it seemed only fair considering you were living in his house. Walton, did as he always did, and told you it was fine. It had led to a small heated discussion. You didn’t want to be a burden, he said you were far from it, neither of you wanting to back down. So the two of you had made up a contract, it was more film real than actually real, but it made you feel a little better about everything. You’d pay rent, half of groceries, and he couldn’t kick you out without four weeks notice. There were other details in there too, and part of you worried that a lawyer would have been better. At the same time, you’d been reassured seven ways from Sunday by just about anyone you spoke to that all would be okay. It wasn’t like you both were married or anything like that. 

That thought had wandered through your mind way too many times. It was way too early for any of that nonsense. You were content to enjoy this, one day at a time. Looking up at a piece of art you had made with that exact saying, two pinky fingers entwined. Walton had insisted that you frame some of the art you had made, hanging several of your sketches in his office. In turn, you had gotten some of his photos printed, putting them onto the corkboard that now hung on the walls. 

The sound of footsteps as Walton pokes his head around the doorframe, a mischievous smile on his face.  You smile back, capping the highlighter, and leaning against your chair.

“Hey, baby,” He says, pushing the door open a little more. 

“Hello, handsome,” You reply, closing the binder of notes, “How was the phone call.”

“Excellent, I believe we're going to be heading east in three days.” Walton bounces, coming into the room to sit on the corner of the desk. 

You chuckle, the fact the two of you had made it a month without Walton exploding from lack of movement was amazing. Helping you move in had helped, several press events, new scripts, auditions, you had to keep him busy. Walton had even joked that it would be your official title, “Walton’s entertainer”.

“Oh! We got start dates?” You ask, sipping on some cold coffee. It was so hot in LA you hadn’t had warm coffee since moving down here. 

Walton all but vibrates, "Yes, technically we are going to be there four days before filming. But we got make-up tests, and some camera stuff to do beforehand.” 

You giggle at him, “If you could go today we would go eh?”

Walton nods his head, stealing a sip from your coffee mug. “Maybe, I haven’t been to the East Coast in a while. Have you ever been?”

You stretch a little, “No, I haven’t. I am sure you’d show me around town.”

He is up and moving again, pacing around the small room. “Yes, I went to this bagel place last time. It was so good, also there is this underground bar. I got to take you too, the cocktails were fantastic.”

You watch him for a moment, before getting up and moving to him.  Walton turns and wraps you up against his chest, you hum content to stay there for a moment and enjoy the feel of him around you. He holds you close, it was one of the few times he wasn’t moving around the place. 

“How is my kit coming with me?” You inquire, wondering if you could pack in a suitcase. You’d traveled with a small kit before, but this show would need something a bit more extensive. Even though you were only taking care of Walton, there was also the FX side. Your heart speeds up at the thought,

“Whatever you can put in a suitcase pack. Even if you need an extra one. Anything else will be purchased there. Plus Jeff will have all his stuff there, the two of you can work out what you need and so on. Another reason we need to get there early.” Walton chattered, kissing you on the forehead. 

“I think I can manage that,” You say, over to the desk and grabbing a notebook. Lists were going to be necessary to make this as easy as possible. Mind running over all the different bits and pieces you need, realizing an inventory list would help. As well as needing to check in with Jeff, the realization that you’d be working with him was exciting  A comforting weight, knowing you would be busy soon. Maybe you were more like Walton than you realized.

“You doing okay in there?” Walton asks, hand resting on your hip, leaning in to kiss the side of your face. Your body relaxes against his touch. 

“Actually, yah, can’t wait to get back into the thick of things again.” You smile, feeling content as you lean against him. 

Chapter Twenty

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[tavyliasin]

Yurgir x GN!Reader - Migraine Comfort

A short drabble, for those suffering with terrible head pain. Written for a dear darling who adores Yurgir, and shared for the rest of you who may appreciate it~ 2nd person, some NSFW insinuations and strong language, but otherwise tame.

“What vexes you, Little Rabbit? Those creases are not familiar.” Yurgir looked down at you, trying to figure out why you were shielding your eyes from the meagre light of the candles. “My…my fucking head.” You just about managed to groan, the pressure increasing tenfold with the effort. “Feels like…axe…” You made a chopping motion with one arm, then pointed at the centre of the pain. “There is no axe in your skull, Rabbit. You are…unwell?” He seemed unfamiliar with the concept, but watched closely as you nodded slowly. “A warrior cannot fight at half strength. Come.” He sat back against the pile of cushions and blankets, placing a couple in his lap to protect you from the rougher parts of his outfit, and his body. The scent of the Orthon should have felt overwhelming, but climbing into the soft space, leaning against the ever-present warmth that radiated from his huge form, it felt like the smell of home. You breathed deeply, resting your head against his bare skin, nuzzling slightly as you felt his huge claw gently run along your scalp. “Rest here, Little Rabbit. You have fought well. Stop fighting, for now.” His other hand began to caress your back, supporting you as you curled closer into the strange comfort. Any other time, the feel of him near you, knowing what lurked beneath the cushions and furs below you, that would raise your pulse and awaken an entirely different beast…but for now, you let him indulge you, following his command to let go a while. Perhaps Yurgir was an unwise choice of respite for most, but you had long since earned his respect, and that came with these hidden moments of tenderness that few would believe if you told them. Somehow, that made it all the sweeter. This was for you, and you alone. Nobody else was worthy of the soft caress, the hint of a deep purr rumbling in his chest that soothed the last of the worry from your mind. You heard the faint sound of the last candles snuffed by a swift and easy magic, the edge of sleep finally drawing your mind into a soft and easy rest.

------------------ I hope everyone suffering has a low symptom day and some comfort while you recover~