#I’ve been tweaking silently all of today and that one comment just . god it fucked me upp lolllll

[wherenymphsroam]

can we . stop making commenting on people’s weights. like just in general please

[spiciespencie]

Spencer being the camera man with you so he can have a video to watch while he's on a case and so you star following his instructions and fuck yourself, he's so turn on that he leaves the camera on the tripod, sits and he starts touching himself

hehehe i like this one ;)

CW: penetrative sex (toy), kinda voyeurism, fingering, cum play, masturbation (male and female), kissing, dom!spencer, sub!reader, a comment is made abt switch!spencer, making a porno? idk what to call it. *please let me know if i’ve missed anything*

spencer had been gone so frequently in the past few months. today, you planned on doing something special for him. you weren’t exactly sure what you should do, but that’s when he brought the solution to you.

“spence,” you piped in, stepping out of the bathroom once you had showered to peek at your boyfriend reading in a chair. “i was wondering something.”

“what would that something be?” he piped up, placing the book down on the nightstand.

“when you’re away on cases… what’s the hardest part about being away on cases?” you cringed at the wording.

“being away from you,” he answered within a heartbeat. “especially when we’re on a case where the hours are ridiculous. sometimes by the time i get to the hotel, you’re deep in sleep.”

“right…” you tried to think of some sort of solution that could stem from this issue. “what’s one of the hardest parts of being away from me?”

“what’s this about?” he chuckled as he walked closer to you, holding onto your elbows as if to stabilize you.

“i don’t know… you’ve just been gone a lot and i feel bad. i wanna do something special for you so being away wouldn’t be so tough,” you shrugged before spencer cupped your cheek and neck, bringing your lips to meet with his softly and tentatively.

“never,” he began once he pulled away, “has anyone loved me so much as to be so thoughtful. i love you beyond measure. so much so that i feel as though ‘i love you’ is too mundane a phrase,” he whispered with such sincerity it brought tears to your eyes.

“stop, i’m supposed to be displaying my love for you right now,” you shoved his shoulder playfully before giving him a hug.

“the sex,” he randomly stated. you pulled back and gave him a quizzical look. “the hardest part of being away from you, that there may be a solution for, is sex. i’m always thinking about you, and you make me horny… a lot.”

“well, doctor,” you trailed your hands to his shoulders, knowing calling him ‘doctor’ always got to him, “what is the remedy to this problem?”

and now, you were sitting naked on the bed, legs spread so spencer, and the camera, could see all of you very clearly.

you’re making a video for him for while he’s away. at least that way, he’ll still have a piece of you.

“run your hand down your body like i would, kitten, play with your tits,” he ordered, zooming the camera in to focus on only you.

“yes, doctor,” you ran your hands from your hair down to your breasts, playing with them and tweaking your nipples and massaging the pillowy flesh before trailing them down to your torso.

“now i want you to see how wet you are for me,” he added, biting his lower lip as he began to look through the camera.

you let your fingers wander between your legs, cupping your center before using your middle and ring finger to gather the wetness that’s accumulated from the way spencer had been eyeing you.

“look,” you presented your fingers to him and the camera before pressing them to your tongue and sucking all of your juices off of them. “you sure you don’t want me to relieve some of that pressure?” you eyed his obvious bulge, not like he was trying to hide it.

“i’ve got it covered, my love,” he began palming himself over his pants, his breathing becoming a bit heavier but not doing anything more; this video was all about you. “pick up the toy, suck on it like you would my dick.”

you reached onto your nightstand and grabbed the dildo he has bought you, one relatively similar in size to him that was a lavender color. you opened your mouth and hit it against your tongue how spencer would often do before allowing you to take the reigns.

once you wrapped your lips around it, you would shift eye contact between spencer and the camera, not knowing which one you wanted to look at more. you opted for the camera, that way at least future spencer could look in your eyes as he would work himself to that high you would miss witnessing. you began exaggerating everything for the sake of the camera, shoving the silicone down your throat and gagging on it, allowing your saliva to drip down to your chest, your tears staining your cheeks. it was exactly as if spencer were doing this.

although he wasn’t, it would never be that good.

“fuck, y/n,” he whispered loud enough for you to hear, acting as if the microphone wouldn’t be able to pick up the sound. “are you ready for it? or do you need to get yourself ready first?”

“can’t you do it for me?” you pleaded. “you do it so much better, make me feel so good,” even whipping out the old puppy dog eyes didn’t work.

“answer the fucking question,” he reasoned with. “are you ready for it or not?”

“i-i’m ready now,” you bit your lower lip as you swallowed thickly.

“good girl,” he grinned. “now i want you to slowly push it in.”

you listened exactly. spreading your legs even wider and planting your feet on the bed, you put the fake dick at your entrance and slowly let the head enter you. your breathing picked up slightly the deeper the toy got inside of you. by the time it was all the way inside, you were nearly out of breath.

“fuck yourself with it,” he ordered, beginning to rub himself a bit more than before. “slowly, and play with your tits too, like i would.”

pushing the toy in and out of you slower than you would’ve liked, purposefully teasing yourself, you trailed your free hand up to cup your breast. you began to knead the mound, occasionally paying special attention to your nipples like spencer would. although, you wish he would’ve taken it in his mouth then and there. he did everything better. it’s like he knew your body better than you, which was decently plausible.

“spen-spencer,” you moaned out, silently pleading him to fake mercy on you.

“faster,” he pulled himself out of his slacks now, his breathing becoming subtle moans as yours were radiating in the room.

“fuck, please,” you didn’t know what you needed, but you needed something else, something more.

“shit,” he groaned, his head falling back for the briefest of seconds. “clit,” he breathed out, “rub your clit.”

“oh my god,” you used your fingers to find the sensitive pearl and began playing with it.

it had been so long since you had done this yourself, spencer always insisted on doing it for you and when you were away, he didn’t want you to touch yourself or cum without him. he was a rather possessive dom - although you were bound to prove he was a switch somehow, but that’s for another time.

“i’m so close,” you threw your own head back. “i need you spencer! please, god!” you let the tears that were welling in your eyes overflow, hoping the man would take pity on you.

“keep going. don’t fucking stop,” he commanded as he worked himself closer to the edge.

“please!” you cried out. “let me taste you, please! cum in my mouth!” you begged him, losing all dignity and self respect for the genius across the room. “spencer! fuck-please! i need you so fucking bad!”

“cum, my love,” he chuckled as he saw your legs trembling, your knees closing in on nothing and your hands ceasing their movements as you came down. the whole time he was working himself to his own high, his cum covering his stomach after watching your spectacular performance. “wanna clean up for me?”

you eagerly nodded and removed the toy from inside, wincing slightly from the stimulation before padding across the room with weak legs and kneeling below him. he grasped your hands and it them on his knees, giving you permission to touch him. you smiled before you extended your body, bringing your tongue to his stomach and licking up all of his cum. perhaps you sucked a few marks whilst doing so… but what could you say? you loved the man, and he’s yours.

“so good for me, my love, y’know that?” you shook your head ‘no’ so he would go on. “i think you do,” you smirked at his words. “cleaning up my own mess after starring in a video for me? you’re too good for me, love.”

“never,” you interrupted as he helped you to your feet. “you deserve the best, and i can only try and provide a fraction of that for you.”

[yungbud]

Silent Treatment+X

Req? Yes! @madonnasinn said: Can you write a smut about Dom ignoring y/n over a petty fight they had a few days ago, and y/n parades in a very tiny skirt around him when they go out to have dinner with his friends (to get his attention). He then gets really mad because all the guys keep eyeing her, which she knows he hates so she tempts him and fuck in the restaurant bathroom 🤭 just a lil idea i had LOL

Word Count: 2.4K

Tw:Light choking, semi-public sex acts, a little bit of thigh spanking/smacking, idk smut obviously.

A/N: Feast

—

You sat in the kitchen with Dom. Well, Dom sat, you stood, washing the dishes as he talked to you about how the album was going.

“I’ve just been so stressed for the past three fookin weeks trying to get this done. I just want it to be perfect, you know? And I keep wanting to go back and tweak it but Gav tells me not to.” Dom ranted, absentmindedly picking at his nailpolish while he did. 

You reached for the knob of the faucet, turning the water on to rinse off the dish in your hand, accidentally turning it too high and ending up being splashed with water, soaking the bottom half of your shirt.

That reminded you, tomorrow you had to do the laundry, then clean Dom and your shared room, then you’d have to shower– No, that wouldn’t work. You’d have to shower then do laundry before you leave, or else you’d end up being late for your appointment.

God, these last few weeks had just been so stressful. You felt like you barely had a chance to breathe, you’d finish one thing and up would pop the next. Oh, and you couldn’t forget lunch right after your appointment. You hoped there wouldn’t be traffic, you can’t be late because (Y/B/F) would only be visiting you on their lunch break, they’d have to go back to work straight after. 

Who were you kidding, it’s LA, of course there’d be traffic.

Should you reschedule? You were both so busy as is and this was the one time your schedules had allowed you to meet up in what must’ve been months. 

Shit, you thought, how long had it been? You began replaying the last few months in your head as you absentmindedly scrubbed at the plate in hand.

“And you’re not even listening.” Dom pouted.

“No, no I am. That’s great sweetie.”

“What’d I just say.” He tests, looking at you, his raised brow doing very little to hide the fact that he’s annoyed.

“You were talking about the uh- The uhm,” You paused, mustering all your brain cells to remember what he had just been talking about. The towel squished between your hand and the counter as you leaned against the sink, your fingers coming up to stroke the bridge of your nose as you thought “The drums, you just finished the last of it, right?” 

The oven dinged, signalling the food needed tending too. Your mind flipped as you searched the kitchen for the oven mit.

Where could you have possibly put it if not right next to the oven where you could’ve sworn you left it. You spun, searching the other counters, even going as far as to look in the sink before realizing it had slid to the floor right below where you put it. Sighing, you leaned down to grab it, pulling open the oven to tend to tonight’s dinner.

“Uh, what else happened today?” You ask, trying to keep your mind on track. You were careful not to burn yourself as fussed with the food

“Shit, babe can you hand me the tongs?” You ask, reaching a hand out behind you. That’s when you realized he hadn’t responded.

“Babe?” You try again, turning around only to realize he’d already left. You scoffed, grabbing it for yourself before leaning back. Standing straight, you take a moment to bask in the warmth of the oven before closing it. 

*~Three days later~*

Dom raised his head to look at you, your spoon clinking against the side of your bowl signalling your entrance of the living room. He looked back to the TV just as soon as he had looked over, obviously too invested in whatever he was watching to acknowledge your existence. A sigh of relief left your lips when your butt hit the cushions, leaning back into the inviting, cushiony supports.

“Ugh, this week has been so stressful. I feel like I haven’t had the chance to sit in like… forever.” You say, your eyes focusing on what was playing in front of you. It was an old episode of the great british bake off. 

You laughed a bit, but it came off more as a hum.

“You know, I heard when contestants would cry, Mel and Sue would stand by them and use un-airable language so the footage wouldn’t make it to the final cut. Isn’t that so thoughtful?” You say, trying to perk some conversation out of the boy sitting next to you. 

He wasn’t responding. Your eyebrows furrowed as you searched through anything you might’ve said to upset him recently. You couldn’t think of a single thing, come to think of it, what was the last thing you had said to him? Hell, when was it?

You realized quickly your last exchange was in the kitchen, and even that had been cut short by him leaving. 

Yes, that’s right. When you had crawled in bed with him that night, he had been asleep and you were in such a rush the next morning you couldn’t remember if he was awake next to you when you woke up. He wasn’t exactly avoiding you as much as he was not talking to you.

Had he seriously been giving you the silent treatment for that long? 

“Is everything okay?” You tried, sure you were only getting in your own head. Your eyes had completely left the TV at this point, focusing solely on the quiet boy next to you. There was no response, not even so much as a nod.

“You haven’t talked to me in almost a week.” You continued

“Doesn’t matter. Even if i did, you wouldn’t be listening.” Dom retorted

“I’m sorry i made you feel that way. It honestly was not my intention, i’ve just been so caught up this week.” You were sorry, but it seemed awfully ridiculous to have gone this long giving you the silent treatment just because you had been distracted.

The conversation ended entirely there.

Dom hadn’t said more than two words to you since your argument, doing everything in his power to avoid you. It wasn’t hard, after all he was a very busy man. Especially with the release of his new album coming up, there were interviews and meetings to be had, but at a certain point they became less of a responsibility and more of an excuse.

You were on twitter, you had seen his fans practically begging him to take a break, but taking a break would mean seeing you, and that just wasn’t something he had been in the mood to do recently. It was bad enough already that he had to go to dinner with you.

That was okay, you would help him get in the mood. Or, rather, out of his mood. If Dom wanted to be petty, fine, you could be petty.

You slipped the soft material up your legs, admiring your reflection in the mirror. If Dom was going to ignore you, you were going to give him something to ignore. 

You knew this skirt would do the trick, every time you saw another girl or, fuck it, boy, prouncing around and one of these skirts even you nearly fucked them. Everybody looked good in these, it was a fact of life, you’d decided. You knew you definitely looked good, you almost had to stop for a moment and touch yourself to the sight, but glancing at the clock you realized you didn’t have nearly enough time for a bit of self pleasure.

You were practically already running late, spending all your time getting yourself ready to grab Dom’s attention. You added some finishing touches before heading out to the living room where Dom sat, waiting for you patiently. 

Any other time Dom would’ve been right next to you in the bathroom, admiring your work on your makeup, outfit and hair, but today he stayed in the living room

You tried not to smirk as you made your way into his line of vision. The look on his face was completely worth the hours of tireless work, though. He’d turned his head to look at you, a distinct glare replaced by shock, his eyes widening a bit as they landed on your outfit. It was tight and loose in all the right places and only added to your stunning features. 

“What?” You teased,

He tried to recover quickly, returning to his pouty state, not even bothering with a response as you followed him out the door.

You were sitting at the table, surrounded by you and Dom’s friends when someone finally made a comment on your appearance.

“You look really good, (Y/N).” Tom commented, everyone nodding in agreement as the conversation momentarily shifted to you.

“Thank you! I thought so.” You praise yourself, smiling down at your outfit.

The conversation drifted off again, a newfound confidence bubbling up in your chest. You reached over to Dom, grabbing his hand and placing it on your thigh. It stayed there for a moment before he moved it, and it continued on like that. You did everything in your power to remind him of how good you looked and how short your skirt was until he motioned for you to stand. A couple eyes turned to you as you walked off, but no one asked any questions.

Dom was practically dragging you, your feet fumbling as you struggled to keep up with his long strides. When you realized where you were headed you glanced at him, eyes wide, but he wasn’t looking back. His eyes were focused on the bathroom doors ahead, his jaw clenched, gorgeous green eyes shadowed by his black eyeliner.

“Dom, what are you doing?” You began to plead, uncomfortably aware of the fact that you were about to walk into a bathroom with your boyfriend in front of the whole restaurant. You glanced around, checking for any cameras or onlooking eyes. There were none in sight, but you knew that didn’t mean much.

Your head clobbered light as he pinned you to the stall, his eyes burning into your own. Your gaze faltered, looking everywhere but him. Normally sex with Dom never made you nervous, he had always managed to make you feel safe and comfortable, but going from complete silence to being pinned against a stall in The Olive Garden so abruptly made you timid. His hand pressed down on your shoulder, your legs bending until your knees hit the tiled floor, staring up at him through your lashes. Dom hastily unbuttoned his pants, maintaining his gaze, er, glare on you. Your eyes flickered from his own to his hard dick springing from its constraints, watching as he stroked himself achingly slow before his tip slid past your lips, sliding himself across your tongue a few times, his head leaning back as he felt the warmth of your mouth surround him. 

You hollowed out your cheeks, eyes remaining on his expression. When you reached up to replace his hand with your own you felt a harsh tug on your hair. It took you a moment to realize what he wanted from you, but when you realized you let your jaw go slack. Dom’s hand remained wrapped around the base of his cock, shoving it down your throat unexpectedly, causing you to gag.

Your mouth hung open, weary not to let your teeth scrape against him as he thrust into your mouth. You pulled back a bit as you gagged, your head lightly hitting against the wall behind you. Dom continued to push forward, his hard cock pushing farther and farther back in your throat. You were pinned between his thrusting hips and the bathroom stall, you had no choice but to let him fuck your throat.

Not that you were complaining.

Well, you couldn’t.

You gagged around him, hands coming up to grip at his hips as he continued to use your mouth to get himself off, angelic moans falling from his plush lips.

Dom finally took mercy on you, pulling away and grabbing your chin with his thumb and forefinger, staring down at you.

“You look so pretty gagging on my dick.” He says, wiping the tear coming from your eye. His hand makes its way down to your neck, wrapping around it and pulling you to your feet.

 “Or maybe it’s just that fucking skirt.” He adds, slapping your thigh before lifting the skirt up to reveal your lace underwear. A groan slips past his lips, bringing his fingers against your core. You let out a sigh of relief as his fingers rubbed against your clit, glad to finally get some relief after all this time. It was short lived, though, as he pulled you to your feet using the grip he had on your throat, tilting your head up to look at him.

The air around you seemed to freeze, your eyes roamed eachothers faces, desperate for one another. His lips came against yours slowly and then all at once, his hand remaining around your throat as his tongue slipped its way into your mouth. The hand that wasn’t wrapped around your throat remained between your legs, working steadily at making your legs shake for him.

It was almost embarrassing how ready you were for him, so needy that the slightest touch beckoned a whine. Things became heated again quickly, his hands moving from your neck to your thighs, a quick hop before you wrapped them around his waist. 

Dom reached between your legs, trying his best to move the material without dropping you, eventually giving in and letting you do it instead. Reaching between your legs, you wrapped your hand around him, lining his hard dick up with your aching core. He paused there for a moment, enjoying the feeling before pushing himself in. His lips reconnected with your own, thrusting into you a few times before sighing and setting you back to the floor. Your eyebrows furrowed up at him, unsure what to do before he was spinning your around, pinning your face against the wall. You felt him slide between your lips once more before pushing in. It took him a moment to find his rhythm, but soon you were being pounded against the bathroom stall, pathetic moans falling from both your lips, Your senses clouded by pleasure leaving you completely lost to your surroundings.

You would have to be petty more often.

[ri-ahhh]

bad day

MJ has a bad day dealing with her snotty coworker, who wants MJ’s promotion and her boyfriend.

4.8k

warnings: potentially triggering BD thoughts/language; smut; obnoxious amount of fluff cuz idk about you but I need some softness

“Hi sweetheart,” Grayson says with a smile as MJ stalks into the living room with a scowl. She plops next to him on the couch and hurls her heels off with a flourished kick, glaring at where they land a few feet away on the shaggy rug. His grin falls when he notices her pinched face and lack of returned greeting. “Rough day?”

MJ nods and curls into his side, silently pleading for him to wrap her in his arms. Grayson obliges immediately and pulls her into his lap, tucking her as close to his chest as he can. When MJ asks for physical affection as comfort, which isn’t as often as you might think considering that’s one of the best ways she shows love, Grayson knows she really needs it.

“’S the matter, Peach?” he asks gently with a kiss to her forehead. He smooths her long hair down and scratches his nails lightly on her thigh as she snakes her arms around his waist. “Chanel again?”

Chanel Marten is MJ’s coworker and a petty, idiotic thorn in her side; every bit the LA bimbo with the stereotypical Barbie looks and meanness to match. When she isn’t calling MJ fat behind her back or constantly trying to undercut her to their bosses in light of an upcoming promotion they’re both up for, she’s actively hinting at how much she disapproves of MJ and Grayson together. She’s been a fan of the twins for years, and doesn’t make it a secret that she is very much attracted to Grayson, which MJ finds partly amusing and wholly fucking annoying.

“God, how do you let him go to those influencer parties alone?” Was what she asked earlier today at their office. She was scrolling through the series of photos on Grayson’s latest Instagram post from the night before, looking his sexiest in that half-open linen button-down and his Louis pants. “I wouldn't let him out of my sight in public if I were you.”

MJ glanced over at her blonde coworker and couldn’t believe the audacity of this woman to go through her man’s Instagram right in front of her. She didn’t acknowledge it, answering her question instead. “I trust him. And he’s not alone, he’s always with Ethan.”

Chanel twirled her hair and sighed, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. It was the end of the day on a Friday, and she probably could have gone home already, but had instead chosen to wheel her desk chair into MJ’s office across the hall from her own. For what, exactly, MJ didn’t know; they were far from friends, barely amicable coworkers at best. Antagonizing MJ was probably the start of a good weekend for Chanel.

Her suspicions were answered a moment later with Chanel’s next choice of words, her irritating vocal fry even more prominent than usual. “Yeah, but all of those IG models in one room, and you guys aren’t, like, super public. What if he wants a taste of what he doesn’t have?”

MJ squeezed her mouse in a death grip, but didn’t divert her gaze from her screen. “What are you implying, Chanel?” she asked irritatedly, her patience running at the thickness of a piece of paper for the bitch by then. She had already thrown MJ under the bus in their morning meeting with their bosses for something MJ’s intern had screwed up in their presentation, and MJ had caught her making snide comments in the break room about her ‘birthing hips’ and ‘thunder thighs’ to Annie the Asshole from Accounting. Annie was another coworker who, upon learning that MJ wouldn't invite Grayson along to after-work drinks simply so she could meet him, had immediately put MJ in her hypothetical burn book.

Right then, she finally had a moment to go back into their projections and fix what her intern Alessia had mistyped in the final presentation copy, and Chanel was only serving as both a reminder of her actions in the meeting and a distraction from her getting her work done.

MJ wanted nothing more than to be at home with Grayson by then, a tension headache creeping steadily up the back of her neck and into her temples. She had been the lead on this client presentation, so staying at the office until nine or ten at night hadn’t been an unusual occurrence lately; she was only glad by then that this was the end of a rough few weeks of work as soon as she was done fixing Alessia’s errors.

Chanel smirked but hid it as a simper of sympathy, clearly thrilled she was visibly getting under MJ’s skin. “I’m just saying, MJ, you’re super pretty, but, like, you don’t work out that much, right?I never see you in the gym here, or hear you mention going to one after work. I mean, Grayson being surrounded by girls who do fitness for a living would have to be like being in a candy store for him. We both know how much he cares about living a healthy lifestyle.”

She double-tapped the post, her too-long nails that were clearly trying to emulate Kylie Jenner’s or the like clicking obnoxiously against the screen, and sat back in her office chair. “I think if I were you, I’d quit this place and concentrate on building a following. Maybe try the fitness influencer route, yourself. It’s a pretty good trade-off, if you think about it; Grayson gives you clout, and you get snatched for him. And, you’d be able to keep a close eye on him. Boys will be boys, after all.”

That did it. Chanel Marten didn’t know her life, and she sure as hell didn’t know Grayson’s character. MJ finally took her attention off her iMac to give Chanel a glare that rivaled Lily’s ‘you’re dead to me’ look in How I Met Your Mother. It took every ounce of self control she possessed to hold herself back from acting on the overwhelming urge to punch Chanel’s newly-doctored nose.

Upon realizing MJ was done fucking around, Chanel’s smug smile slowly faded, until all pretenses were dropped, and the two women just stared at one another. No more fronts — not cordial coworkers anymore, but rival ones.

MJ knew what this girl was doing. Trying to make her insecure in her relationship with Grayson, and question her position in the firm so she wouldn’t go for the promotion. Chanel was as dumb as she looked if she thought either of these would work, but MJ had had enough of both her intelligence and her appearance being so blatantly insulted. She swiveled back to her computer and started doing the last couple of tweaks to the report that she had started before Chanel so rudely barged in.

“You know, next time you wanna pull a fast one and make me take the fall for an intern error, I’ll be happy to let Lacey know you’ve made us all rush this presentation by turning your last three sections of analytics in late, which is why I didn’t have time to review Alessia’s portion since I had to work your shit in last minute. I have time stamps on my email to prove it. Not to mention, the screen recordings of Snapchat stories of you at Saddle Ranch that someone showed me from the same nights you sent them. Should be pretty beneficial for my interview for Executive VP next month, don’t you think?”

MJ smiled and emailed the altered report back to her boss, Lacey, and made sure her computer was completely locked down before reaching into a cabinet for her purse and lunchbox. She stood and looked down at Chanel, who had her arms crossed tightly and her overfilled lips pursed so they were unusually pale and thin. MJ was going to leave it at that, but she was very much done being the bigger person, and a brief moment of pettiness came over her.

“And I hope you do find a man as good as Gray one day; maybe having someone as kind and real as him will make you less of a cold-hearted bitch.” MJ dug her keys out of her purse, motioning with her eyes from Chanel to the open door. “Now, please get out of my office. I’m ready to go home to my amazing, faithful, sexy boyfriend.”

Chanel scoffed and rolled her eyes but did as she was told, rolling back to her desk and giving MJ the cold shoulder as she breezed past her office.

“I didn’t fucking do anything to her,” MJ whines into Grayson’s neck after relaying all of this to him. Her bravado and smugness towards Chanel had dropped almost as soon as she reached her car in the parking garage of her downtown office building. Her insecurities had crept into her brain to join her full-fledged migraine and made driving home in traffic an even bigger nightmare than usual. “She’s hated me since the day I started there, no matter how nice I’ve tried to be.”

“She’s jealous, baby,” Grayson murmurs at once, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “You’ve come in and been there half the time she has, done the same job way better than her, and got recognized for it. Nobody likes to be outshone.”

MJ sighs and squeezes him reflexively as she moves on to the other half of Chanel’s dislike for her. “And it’s like getting bullied by the head cheerleader in high school. She basically told me I was too fat for you and that I don’t work out enough to ‘keep up with your healthy lifestyle.’” She lets out a little mirthless huff of laughter. “I mean, usually she says it behind my back to Annie the Asshole from Accounting, so I guess I should be appreciative that she at least had the decency to say it in so many words to my face tonight.”

Grayson sits in silence for a moment, seething internally at the thought that some dumb bitch who doesn’t know him in the slightest could have the nerve to talk to and about his girlfriend like that. He reaches for his phone on the couch next to them. “First of all, you're not fat, and I’d love you just the same even if you were. Second, give me all her at’s. I’m blocking this girl on everything.”

God, could the man get any more perfect? MJ sits up some and cups his face, shaking her head with a small smile. “No, no, it’s okay, Bear. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she got to me. If anything, I’d want you to post a thirst trap just so she can see what’s not her’s. What’s mine.”

“I think that could be arranged tonight,” he smirks, giving her a chaste kiss.

She attempts to smile back, but it turns into a grimace as her head gives a massive throb out of nowhere. “Shit,” she mumbles, pressing her fingertips against her temples. Grayson gives her a concerned look before she explains, “Headache.”

It takes all of three seconds for Grayson to secure one arm around her back and hook the other under her knees, standing and holding her bridal style. “Come on,” he says, like she really has a choice in the matter, and starts carrying her to their room. MJ wraps her arms around his neck and nuzzles her head into his shoulder with her eyes closed to block out the evening sun. “We’re taking a bath, then I’ll order dinner to eat in bed while we have a movie night.”

MJ nods gratefully. As usual, he knows exactly what she needs. “Ratatouille?”

Grayson chuckles at the hopeful tone in her voice. Ratatouille is one of MJ’s ‘sick’ movies; something quiet and nostalgic that offers that weird feeling of peace that you need when you just don’t feel good. “Of course, Ratatouille.”

He sits her on the counter once they reach the ensuite bathroom and pinches her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, planting a warm, lingering kiss on her lips; not heated, but comforting. Just what she needs in that moment.

“Stay put,” he commands quietly. MJ agrees and starts to unbutton her blouse as she watches Grayson step into the closet, pulling out one of her favorite t-shirts of his and a pair of his boxers. He puts the folded items next to her on the counter and helps her untuck the shirt from her cigarette trousers, tossing it in the dry-cleaning pile before reaching into one of her drawers and retrieving her makeup wipes.

MJ sighs and closes her eyes as she lets him gently drag the fresh-smelling cloth against the skin of her face. They aren't part of her usual skincare regimen, but Grayson has been exposed to her routine long enough and is perceptive enough to know that they’re for late nights, or ones like tonight, when she just doesn't have the energy to do more.

It feels better than if she had been able to get herself to use face wash and toner and such, anyways. The coolness of it and pressure of his fingers feel wonderful against her eyes and cheeks, alleviating some of the pain there momentarily.

MJ flutters her eyes open when he’s done. “Thank you, Bear,” she sighs, which he replies to with a kiss before walking over to the soaking tub. She hops off the counter and unbuckles her belt and pants, then unhooks her bra and steps out of her underwear.

Her reflection in the mirror glares back at her, Grayson in the background fiddling with the knobs on the tub to get the temperature of the water just right. She watches his muscles ripple with the slightest movements, his abs outlined through the fabric of his t-shirt, and can’t help but focus back in on herself. There’s some extra squish around her upper thighs and arms that no amount of training would get rid of; a softness to her tummy that probably comes from her undying love of Oreos, which are her nighttime vice. When she compares the two of them in this intimate space, maybe Chanel was right…

“Stop that.”

MJ startles a little and looks up in the mirror from where she had unconsciously started pinching and picking at what were really the bits of healthy pudginess under her skin, to find Grayson standing directly behind her. The harshness in his tone makes her withdraw and blush some, embarrassed that he had caught her at such an insecure moment.

He wraps his arms around her middle, his open palms brushing against the skin of her belly. His touch both warms her insides and causes them to erupt in nervous tingles. For some reason, MJ has a hard time seeing the two of them like this, with her completely naked and him fully clothed. She isn't afraid, never with Grayson, but she feels incredibly vulnerable in a way she isn't used to with him.

Grayson presses a kiss to the back of her head and makes sure they have eye contact through the mirror before he continues. “I’ll be damned if I let some idiot girl who doesn't matter to either of us make you feel like you’re not enough, MJ. You’re perfect, you hear me? You’re perfect, and I wouldn't change one inch of you, inside or out. Please don’t pick yourself apart like that.”

His voice holds a mixture of conviction and sadness, and MJ bites her lip as she sinks her back into his chest, her arms folding around his at her waist. She brushes her palm across the crisp, dark hairs covering one of his forearms.

“I could work out a little harder, though,” she murmurs after a few seconds of silence. “And cut back on a few carbs.”

Grayson looks at her incredulously. She’s lean and athletic, but it’s impossible to have the juicy, natural perfection of her ass and those breasts without a little extra, which he actually adores; she’s the very definition of slim-thick, a beautiful personification of the word.

He isn’t sure what kills him more inside: to think he hasn’t made it abundantly clear to her that he loves every square inch of her body; or if girls, society, whoever it is, make her think that the hard work she puts into her physique isn’t enough simply because she has a body type that isn’t what Instagram or people like Chanel deem ‘perfect’.

Either way, he’s going to rectify things right this instant.

“First of all, MJ, I know exactly how hard you work out; I’m doing it every morning with you, five days a week at 6 AM, remember? I’m the last person to lie to anyone about how much effort they give in their fitness. I know how hard you push yourself.”

He spins her around and cups her cheeks in his big hands. His stomach withers and his heart hurts when he sees the faint glitter of tears illuminating her emerald green eyes, making him want to be extra sure his next words are heard loud and clear. “Second, if I ever see that family sized box of double-stuffed Oreos in the trash, not empty, I’ll have a meltdown wondering where the hell my girlfriend went. Please, MJ. Those girls at your work are miserable cunts who only want what they can’t have. Don’t bring that energy back here, on us. I love you, exactly as you are.”

MJ takes a moment and considers his words before relenting with a nod. He’s right. Chanel and Annie should be the last things she’s thinking about when she’s got the man of her dreams right in front of her, saying all the right things and bringing her back to reality with his sweet, supportive words.

“I’m sorry,” she sighs, leaning in for a tight hug from him. “I love you, too.”

“Don’t apologize,” Gray assures, rubbing her back soothingly. “Let’s have a nice, relaxing night now, okay?”

MJ nods, pulling away enough from his body to grasp the hem of his t-shirt. He wags his brows playfully as he lifts his arms so she can pull the garment over his head, and gives her a quick smile before ducking down to kiss her.

She seems to be feeling slightly better, and a weight lifts from his chest at the realization. “Don’t distract me,” he mumbles against her lips after they make out lazily for a few moments. “Or our bath will overflow.”

“Don’t be so perfect, then,” she says back with a smirk, giving his ass a little swat as he returns to the tub and drops a Lush bath bomb and a chunk of bubble bar into the water.

While he does that, MJ opens one of the medicine cabinets. She isn’t big on taking pills, but she relents today and pops an Excedrin as her head pounded again. Once she swallows it with a handful of water from the sink, she starts to pile her hair into a bun, but is stopped by Gray’s grip on her forearm.

Her eyes had zoned out on a random spot on the counter, but at the pressure of his hand she looks up in the mirror to see him as naked as she is. “Don’t be silly,” he chides lightly, a smile toying at the corners of his lips. “You’re getting the full treatment tonight, Peach. I’ve got your shampoo and conditioner ready to go over there.”

He pulls gently down on her arm, and her hair tumbles back down over her shoulders and back as she lets him tug her to the warm, foamy water.

Ten minutes later, the Excedrin has kicked in, soft music from their ‘chill’ playlist plays through Grayson’s phone on the edge of the tub, and his strong fingers are creating heavenly relief for her as they scrub at her scalp. She’s totally relaxed in front of him, letting his broad chest and shoulders cocoon her smaller frame as her eyes droop and she moans lightly.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day, sweetheart,” he whispers in her ear, making her shiver despite the steaming water they sit in. She snuggles closer to his warmth. “And I’m sorry you have to deal with those assholes every day.”

It takes a moment for her brain to form the words, but she hums contentedly in reply. “It’s okay. Don’t know what I’d do without you, though, Gray.”

It’s so true. She has never been the girl to be codependent on anyone, let alone the man she’s in a relationship with, but Gray has achieved that honor in a matter of a year and a half. Probably earlier, if she were being honest with herself, but her adult life before him was a blur. She’s forgotten what it was like to not have him by her side, and she doesn’t want to imagine a scenario in the future where he isn’t.

He finishes washing her hair, lulling her into an even deeper trance when he moves her dark, wet locks over one shoulder so he can massage her neck with deep presses of his thumbs into her tight muscles. His fingers are nimble and dexterous, strengthened by his renewed passion for rock climbing, and are perfect for loosening the tension under her skin.

“Mmm, fuck,” she moans, not meaning for it to come out quite so pornographic, but she feels nearly orgasmic in the relief his hands are bringing her. Speaking of… “You’re gonna get the best head tomorrow, I promise.”

Grayson chuckles, squeezing her shoulders now, too. MJ feels him twitch against her lower back, but he says in her ear, “I’m not doing this for you to return the favor. I just want to be the one to make you feel better. Because I love you, and you’re mine, and you deserve it.”

“I know you’re not,” MJ smiles. “That only makes me want to do it even more.”

He grins and moves his hands further down her back beneath the water, massaging his knuckles into the soft skin there as well before coasting up her sides. He cups her breasts as MJ sinks back against him, her breathing picking up the slightest bit as his hands work magic there, too.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his hot breath flowing straight into her ear and sending goosebumps flaring over her skin.

More than okay, she thinks. MJ nods, and gasps when his hands pinch her nipples gently between his ring and middle fingers, tugging slightly. She takes his large hand off her right breast and sinks it into the water, straight to her center, her legs already parting to welcome him.

“Just rub me,” she whispers, eyes closed as he doesn’t hesitate to obey. “Circles, like this.”

MJ guides his fingers over her clit for a moment to show him exactly what she wants, but this isn’t their first rodeo and Gray knows perfectly well what he’s doing. She lets him take over and simply lies back against him as he expertly brings her higher and higher, until she’s falling over the edge, twitching in his arms and moaning sweetly.

Grayson tilts her head back to kiss him, sighing into her mouth as she twists in his arms to straddle him. He’s completely hard now, and she takes him in her hand instinctively. Twenty minutes ago, sex was the last thing on her mind, but she feels so good and relaxed now that she doesn’t hesitate to line him up and sink down slowly on his dick.

She grins smugly when his eyes fly open and he lets out an embarrassingly loud moan, completely surprised by a warm wetness that is vastly different from that of the bathwater. When she had stroked him in her hand he thought she might jerk him off, but her pussy, still deliciously tight from her orgasm, isn’t what he’s prepared for as he becomes slowly encased in it.

It’s a good thing she doesn’t meant for it to last long, because he’s so overwhelmed and caught off-guard it only takes a couple of minutes max of her grinding up and down on him while she whispers hot, dirty things in his ear, for him to shoot deep inside her.

“Shit,” he huffs out with a little laugh as she raises herself up enough for him to slip out of her pussy. “Did you just give me the equivalent of a hand job with your vagina? I know that wasn’t for you.”

She giggles and sits back in his lap, shrugging as she nuzzles his nose with hers. “What can I say, I’m feeling lazy tonight and that seemed like the faster option. Are you complaining?”

Grayson shakes his head vehemently. “Of course not, but I didn't want you to do any work tonight.” His brows pinch a bit and his lips turn down into a pout. “Are you okay? How’s your head?”

MJ smiles softly and brushes his cheek with pruned fingertips. Even post-orgasm, he’s still concerned only about her. “Better, Gray-bear. Thank you.”

God, she loves him so much. She can’t resist wiping her hands on the towel and reaching behind him to grab his phone to capture him in that moment. His hair has gone curly in the humidity of the bathroom; the light from the window shines perfectly on his chiseled face, making his sex-eyes nearly pure green and illuminating his full lips that have curled into a small, crooked smile as he realizes her intention. She laughs when he takes it upon himself after a few serious snaps to play up to the camera, scooping up some of the bubbles and blowing them off his palm while giving her a joking, coquettish expression. Finally, she puts her back against his chest once again and they take a couple of goofy, up-angle shots, close-ups of their faces.

Photoshoot over, Grayson sighs and hugs her tight to him as he sucks kisses up and down the sides of her neck while she goes through the pictures. He’s making her head swim, but she manages to determine three of her favorites and doesn’t even bother editing them before adding a simple heart emoji in the caption and posting them to his Instagram once she earns his approval.

She turns around to put the phone back on the ledge before leaning in to plant her lips on his, slipping her tongue between them sensually. She could kiss this man forever, but eventually they start slowing down. MJ moves her kisses to his sharp jawline, trailing her mouth across and down until she gets to his neck freckle. She gives it a peck before pulling back, meeting his hooded gaze with warm eyes. It feels so good to just give each other these little bouts of physical affection with no real end goal. Just enjoying each other’s company, in their own space, caressed by the comforting warmth and scents of the bath.

Eventually, MJ peels herself away from him and stands up. Grayson stares up at her adoringly, admiring the way the water cascades over her body and rains down back into the tub. “C’mon, I’m hungry.”

She looks like a naiad with her long, dark hair covering her tits and dripping sensual trails of warm water down the dips and curves of her body. As if she doesn’t look delectable enough to him right now, her pussy is inadvertently right in his face, and his hand instantly reaches up to touch her. “Me too,” he growls, his fingertips tracing her lower lips and parting them so her clit is exposed. His mouth literally starts to water as he thinks about her earthy taste and her slippery arousal coating his tongue.

Just as he’s ducking in to swipe his tongue over her slit, MJ grips a handful of his hair and stops him, tilting his head back with that grip to make him look up at her questioningly. “Not now,” she says, taking her turn to scratch her nails along his scalp for a moment. “Still sensitive. And actually starving; I had to spend my entire lunch break fixing part of that report.”

Grayson nods understandingly and lifts the plug in the drain before standing up as well. “Then let’s get some Monty’s in you, hm?”

“That sounds amazing,” she agrees, her stomach growling right on cue.

They both chuckle and Grayson helps her step out of the tub before wrapping her up in a big, fluffy towel. He kisses her nose, then her lips, and retreats into the closet with his own towel to find fresh PJs for himself.

An hour later, they’re chowing down on some burgers and shoestring fries together in the fresh blankets of their bed while Ratatouille plays through the projector. And Chanel’s stupid username hasn’t popped up once in his likes or comments.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Musical Tryouts (1/31/2021)

Please pretend I posted this chat log a month and a half ago when it actually happened, sob.

Valera @autokrates is leaving an audition for Hell’s first production of Hamilton, and runs into Alastor, waiting for his turn to audition. They hang out and chat until it’s his turn—which marks the first time in forever they’ve had a full conversation that wasn’t Incredibly Awkward the whole way through. Hooray for progress.

Chronologically, this chat log happened between this (note: art of extremely hilarious outfit) and this (note: art of another hilarious outfit)

Alastor

Alastor hasn’t auditioned for a show since the seventies, and hasn’t auditioned and *cared* about it in almost a century. He’d like to think he doesn’t look nervous, but he knows he’s reread his typewritten lyrics about a hundred times and every couple of minutes he catches his leg bouncing again. That’s fine, he’s in disguise, he isn’t supposed to look like himself anyway. He can look a little nervous.

When he realizes he’s more staring a hole through his pages than actually reading them, he forces himself to lift his head, slouches back in his cheap metal chair, and looks around the makeshift backstage waiting room. Maybe he can figure out if anyone else is trying for his parts, drag them into the back alley, and mangle them. It would defeat the purpose of showing up in disguise, but it would burn some nervous energy, and anyway he’s already seen one would-be Angelica pin another down and slit her throat. His gaze scans over the other hopeful actors.

Valera

From the stage comes the muffled sound of someone singing, as expected. But the singing gets louder as the voice approaches the door, and it certainly sounds like Not A Musical Number. It sounds a lot more like someone who needed to be accompanied by someone torturing a piano with a series of small hammers. Was that a Will Wood number? Why yes, yes it was!

Through the curtains and round the corner comes the fish supreme, bedecked in enough frills and frippery to lose an orphan in with their 18th century french fashion, belting out lines from I/Me/Myself as they saunter towards the exit with barely a glance for the other hopefuls waiting for their call. Barely a glance at all, until their eyes land on Alastor. Then their jaunty tune is cut off with an uncanny impression of a record scratch crossed with a chicken being strangled, head whipping around for a double take as they freeze mid stride. Holy fuck what was he WEARING???

Alastor

Alastor’s ears threatened to perk up beneath his temporarily shapeshifted hair at the sound of a very familiar and very beloved song from another performer—he’d almost considered performing that one himself, God was he lucky he’d decided to go with “Modern Major General”—and he turned to see who it was with the spectacular taste in music—

“Valera?!” What the hell was Valera doing at a musical audition in Hell?

Valera

It WAS Alastor! They KNEW it! They gasp, pointing at him as their eyes boggle. "Al--" And just as quickly, a hand is clapped over their own mouth, teeth clicking as they clamp their mouth shut. Okay, try that again, *without* ruining his disguise.

They stride over to where he's sitting, leaning in slightly before hissing. "What are you WEARING?"

Alastor

Alastor plays the sound of something crashing over when Valera starts to say his name—the other waiting performers look around to see which props just toppled over—and hops out of his seat to meet Valera in the middle when they approach him. “Do *not* expose me,” he hisses, flinging an arm around Valera’s shoulders. “Nobody here knows I’m the Radio Demon and if this is going to work, nobody *can* know.”

Then he looks down at his own outfit. “A disguise.” Obviously. “I asked my listeners, ‘What’s the last thing you’d ever expect me to wear?’”

Valera

Oh, great, he's touching them AND he's already mad at them for something they'd already avoided. This seemed like par for the course, might as well get through this as painlessly as possible. Valera's face tightens into a stiff little smile, stomach already twisting into knots. "I've got no plans of exposing you, it would be a shame to ruin the work you put into your... outfit."

A slow exhale from the nose, and they force their shoulders to relax. Can't have the other actors see the two of them at odds, they're clearly just a couple of friends running into each other! A funny coincidence! Their voice raises back to a normal speaking tone, all sunshine and cheer as they give Alastor a pat on the back that falls short of actually touching him. "I take it you're here to audition for a part, then?"

Alastor

Alastor wheezes a near-silent laugh. “Isn’t it hideous?” he whispers. “You should see what the full leggings look like, they’re horrible.”

He lets go and steps back. “I am! I was seized by a wild burst of inspiration, and auditions happened before that inspiration ran out. I take it you... *already* auditioned.” Which raises a whole slew of questions, but Alastor starts with the most important one: “Which part?”

Valera

Valera sends up a silent prayer of thanks to any God listening, hands folding behind their back as they admire Alastor's grotesque attire. "Unfortunately, I kind of love it. It's vile, but with a few tweaks it could be a genuinely good outfit."

They clear their throat at his latter question, rolling back on the heels of their new shoes. "Washington. I didn't come to Hell today expecting to audition for anything, I was just here buying shoes. But I heard music, saw the theater, decided to pop in and see what was going on. And hey, why not try out? Didn't expect to run into you of all people."

Alastor

A little tension drains out of his shoulders at the answer. He glances down to idly check out Valera’s new shoes. “Oh, good! I don’t have to duel you for a part.” He almost instinctively starts playing a snip from “Ten Duel Commandments” to underline the comment, but catches himself. He is, after all, trying not to blow his cover—he’s even consciously suppressing the radio distortion to his voice, he nearly sounds like a normal person. “The feeling’s *entirely* mutual. You’re about the last person I’d expect to try out for a show around here, so far from home!”

And he’s not sure how he feels about it yet. He’s been trying to avoid talking to Valera—can’t get in trouble after interacting with them if they *don’t* interact, can he?—and now here he is doing the opposite of that... but they haven’t started another stupid argument. Yet. “What are you doing if you actually get the part? You’re committing to being in Pentagram City on a near daily basis for—goodness, months at least!”

Valera

They don't know how they feel about seeing him here either. It went from being a fun little spur of the moment tryout before icecream into an UNEXPECTED INTERACTION with A PERSON THEY DON'T KNOW WELL. But no, they have to tamp down on the urge to make their excuses and leave, things would never improve between them if Valera did nothing but avoid him after all.

"IF I get the part! I haven't been in a production in years, I'm rusty compared to plenty of the actors here today, I'm sure." A hand waves, lazy and dismissive. "But if I do pull it off, I've been planning on spending more time in Hell anyway. This is just a convenient excuse."

Alastor

“Hah, I haven’t tried out for a show since—well, since before you were born.” And then, he’d just been doing it as a lark, too—something to attempt to keep his mind occupied. He hadn’t actually *wanted* to be in a production this badly since he lived in New York, before he gave up on making it on Broadway and went into radio. “But how many of *them* can launch into a full musical number at the drop of a hat!”

Valera

Right, it was easy to forget that Alastor was old enough to be their dad. Or Grandpa. Probably? They'd done the math at some point..

"Hatched." They correct on reflex, reaching up to fuss with the feather on their hat. "Who are you trying for? Lafayette? I could see you as a Lafayette." They're saying it because of the French, but they will NOT say that out loud.

Alastor

Great-grandpa, easily. Maybe even great-great grandpa if a few generations got early starts.

His face brightens. “Let’s hope the casting director thinks so, too! Yes, Lafayette and Jefferson—the same actor played them both in the mortal realm, why shouldn’t one person play both down here, too?”

Valera

Great-grandpa Alastor, the spryest old man in the nursing home. Eating the interns when he gets bored... That sounds like a typical older Veci actually.

They hum, looking Alastor up and down in his getup. "You'll get the part, or I'll eat this silly chapeu. I've seen the competition you're up against. They're good, don't get me wrong, but..." A vague gesture at him. "Nobody could compete!"

Alastor

"You flatter me!" All the same, he's beaming widely. "But I was hoping that would be the case, what with when they scheduled auditions. January's a bad time for, well, *most* people's schedules. I'm afraid I missed all but the tail end of your performance—spectacular choice of song, though!"

Valera

"Why thank you! Will Wood doesn't fit the show's theme in the slightest, but it certainly shows my singing chops! Though if I'd planned for this audition I might have gone with an outfit a bit less.. *French*." They grin, shimmying their enormous sleeves. Unrepentant in the slightest. "Might. I could see Washington's doughy self in this getup."

Alastor

Alastor examines Valera’s getup. Was that French? It just looked old-fashioned to him. “Well, hopefully they’re not going to judge based on fashion!” He glances pointedly down at his own outfit.

Valera

Another glance at his outfit, and they give a thumbs up. "You've got a bowtie on, you'll be fine."

Oh. Would it be a supportive friend thing to do to sit and wait for his call with him? Or would that be somehow rude? They couldn't just ask, if it *was* rude he'd probably be offended by the notion, but if it wasn't... Something bad. Probably? Maybe they're being unfair. A quick clearing of the throat, and they gesture towards the door. "Do you want to sit down? I've got time to kill before. Uh... *Mon Cerf Rouge* arrives with my ice cream."

Alastor

*Oh right*, he’s wearing *Valera’s husband’s* bow tie. His hand flies up to cover it as if that will prevent it from being identified, and he quickly forces his hand back down. “Well! I wasn’t going to show up to an audition underdressed, was I?” He laughs thinly. Don’t act suspicious it’s fine.

Is Valera hanging out with another Alastor? He wonders which one. How is it that every version of himself manages to get along with them but him? It wouldn’t be so galling if *none* of them could get along with Valera, but if it’s something he uniquely is doing wrong—no, don’t worry about that right now.

His first inclination is to turn down the offer, they’ve had a cordial conversation so far and he can’t mess it up if it ends right here; but there’s a chance they’re about to both end up in the same show, isn’t there? Polite avoidance might not be an option for long. Better get to work on getting along. “Sure! It’s a bit yet until my turn.”

Valera

What a reaction! They will politely pretend they didn't see him have a miniature panic over being seen wearing Pentious' bowtie. Far too busy inspecting their gloves, for some reason. How convenient.

Well, now they've done it, they're stuck here. Though it's surprising he accepted the offer, maybe it'll be okay? If he really wanted to avoid them he could have turned the offer down. They're probably overthinking it. A quick nod, and then they perch on the edge of a seat so their fuckoff huge tail can actually fit amidst the mounds of ruffles. On the plus side, nobody but Alastor was going to be taking the seats next to them anytime soon, unless they wanted to fight the tide of frills.

Time to.. Get along? Polite chit chat? "Is this the first production of Hamilton in Hell? It's a fairly new musical, and I know there's a bit of a delay getting things down here."

Alastor

“The very first! In fact, this production company is the one that got the first recording smuggled down from the living realm! Online there’s a few amateur recordings of recent arrivals singing the songs they remember, but so far that’s the only presence Hamilton has had in Hell. Anyone who gets in this show has an opportunity to *define* their roles in the eyes of the public.” Oh, he’s getting a little starry-eyed just thinking of it. “I suppose you’ve probably seen the original production in the mortal realm?”

Valera

"I did, though that was long before I met you or I'd have invited you along!" They're going to take the hat off, it's very silly and the feather keeps floating around in the corner of their vision. Plus, now they have something to hold in their hands so they can't start doing anything weird with them. Win win!

Alastor seems genuinely excited about this production, he'd gone through all the effort to get an outfit, come for tryouts.. And they just sauntered in on a whim. Thank the gods they weren't trying out for the same part, Valera would have had to bow out immediately. "I wonder if any of the actual founding fathers have survived long enough down here to see the show. Wouldn't *that* be something?"

Alastor

“Wouldn’t it just! I can’t think of *anything* I’d enjoy more than prancing around on stage making Jefferson look like an absolute damn fool while the real deal seethes in a front row seat!” He laughs. It’s not a terribly friendly laugh. “But I don’t know if any are down here. I don’t pay close attention to that sort of thing—and anyway, most *important* people who end up damned either find themselves on the receiving end of a deluge of assassination attempts or else change their identities fairly fast. A founding father could show up and audition to play as himself and we might not know.” A thoughtful pause. “Although I doubt any of them would get the part.”

Valera

"I'd assume they wound up here, considering the whole owning slaves and starting wars thing. Good PR post mortem doesn't absolve you of shitty behaviors in life, unfortunately." Yes. Very unfortunate. That's why they're grinning so toothily. "Imagine if we got the actual King George on the roster? Though I'd rather see Pentious try for the part, personally." There's no way George was still around, he'd gone batty enough in life that he'd probably wandered onto the nearest angelic spear first thing. But they could dream!

Alastor

“One would hope! But no one’s ever sent me the rule book on what does and doesn’t get you access upstairs, who knows for sure? I can tell you what I think *should* get you down here, but I can’t tell you with complete certainty whether or not it does.”

Oh, his eyes light up at that. “Just imagine him in the full raiment of a king! But no. Getting up on stage to have hundreds of people laugh at him for dressing and acting like royalty? He’d hate it.”

Valera

"He'd look glorious in a crown! But you're right, he'd never want a comic relief role, even if he WOULD get to sing about sending battalions after people." Alas and alack, King George ala Pentious would have to live in their dreams. But they smirk, leaning a fraction closer to Alastor to whisper. "But we might be able to get him to sing it privately, at least, and wouldn't that be lovely?"

Quickly pulling back, they cross one leg over the other and put on that cheerful grin again. "What do you think *should* qualify to send people to Hell, my fine fellow? It's a broad question, so we can skip it if you'd rather not open that can of worms."

Alastor

Wouldn’t it be lovely, indeed. He smiles uncomfortably and glances away.

“Oh, skip it.” He waves a hand vaguely. “I find the topic as sanctimonious as it is futile. It may not be for *you*, perhaps—for you, it’s little more than an interesting thought experiment on alien morality—but for us? What’s the good of debating why people should be damned when we’re *already* damned? It’s not going to help us get out of Hell. God isn’t going to take our suggestions into consideration. All the topic does is make one bitter that the powers that be don’t appear to be judging people to one’s personal moral standards—or else it inspires one to assume that God *is* operating in line with one’s personal understanding of justice, and try to pigeonhole everyone one meets into the crimes one believes are worthy of damnation. I’ve run into countless people down here who *don’t know why* they’re damned—and yet they *are* damned, which means they’ve done something that *is* damnable even if they themselves don’t believe it. If people can’t understand their own sins, how can they be trusted to judge anyone else’s?”

Valera

They lean back as Alastor skips one can of worms for another, watching him as he broke down his reasoning. It was interesting, insightful, even if they didn't have much to say to him in response. He was right, after all. For them it was an alien concept, a novelty to roll around and discard when they were bored, just like so many other human notions. But not everyone was so lucky. A nod of agreement, and they flick their tail.

"You're right. My apologies, Alastor, it's easy to forget how... fortunate I am, to be in the position I'm in." A side eye at the other actors, who PROBABLY couldn't hear the conversation, but even so. "Something lighter, then. Have you had a chance to work on restoring your deathday gift yet? You did a fine job with Alexander, he's as glossy as the day you *finished* him."

Alastor

“Oh, that’s just to be expected. How many people have a chance to measure their lives up against the dead and damned, anyway? We’re not given opportunities to interact with anyone but our fellow prisoners and our jailers, and that’s by design.” He’s occasionally side-eyeing the other actors himself, but none seem to be paying attention.

“Oh—yes! Cleaned out the guts and got off the worst of the grime of age. I need to get a few cleaning supplies to finish the job, but soon the both of them will be spick and span!” Look at him beaming, the proud father. “How *is* Alexander? I wanted to talk to him while visiting your place, but his time seemed to be monopolized by someone else the whole trip!” He really did feel bad about that. He feels like he’s got something a duty to Alexander, but so far he hasn’t been able to meet it.

Valera

This was a MUCH better topic. Radios and mutual friends, much safer. They let their shoulders relax under the jacket, chirping as their fins waggle. "I'm sure they'll be as good as new by the time you're done with them, mon collègue. You'll have to show me how they come out. A beautiful antique is always twice as radiant when restored with care, and those radios were gorgeous."

Ah.. Alexander. Their face twists, a frown tugging at the corners of their mouth. "Alexander is.. alright, I suppose. Nothing terrible has happened, and I've been trying to work with him on his manifestations with generally mixed to positive results." They shrug, sighing through their nose. "I think he misses other humans. Or former humans, I suppose. We get along well, but he'll see something and start talking about.. Ponzi? Or his mother writing to him from the" Airquotes here as they squint "Dust Bowl?" What the fuck is a dust bowl? They don't know, it sounds like something a chinchilla would roll in. "And he loses me completely."

Alastor

“I’ll have Vaggie take pictures some time.”

Alastor’s eyebrows shoot up. “That poor man got tangled up with Ponzi *and* the dust bowl? Goodness, what an unfortunate life he lived! But you’re right, he really needs more humans to talk to, doesn’t he? I’ll—“ A pause, and then he says thoughtfully, “I’ll see whether I can contact him myself. If not, I’ll let you know and we’ll arrange a play date. If it works, though—you’ll probably hear about it from him.”

Valera

Contact Alexander himself? Valera opens their mouth to ask how, then it clicks. Right, radio to radio transmissions. Could Alastor reach radios outside of Hell? Maybe it would be easier if the radio was haunted, a bit closer to the fuzzy boundaries between Heaven, Hell, and Earth. Or, Okkylk in this case. Hm.

"I'll take your word for it, I haven't got the foggiest about what either of those are. What the *devil* is a Ponzi?" They've heard "Ponzi Scheme" said in movies, but maybe it wasn't even the same Ponzi! Maybe Ponzi was a normal human thing. Like a brand, they do love their brands... "But thank you. I think he'd benefit from having more than one very alien being to talk to."

Alastor

“Charles Ponzi! A con artist! He convinced a whole slew of people to give him a mountain of money to invest in what he claimed was some post office money-making scheme and that he’d double their money in a month or two. Instead, he pocketed the money, convinced *another* slew of people to give him money for the same scheme, used that money to pay off the first wave of suckers—and rinse and repeated until he’d scammed thousands and stolen millions! Spent a few years in prison, got out and tried another scheme, got arrested in dear old New Orleans trying to flee the country! You knew you weren’t going to be bored any time he showed up in the papers!” Alastor loves a good con artist story. “The Dust Bowl, I missed myself—just a little bit after my time—but from my understanding it was a big drought in the middle of the States that dried out a bunch of farmland. Lot of farming families starved those years.” Alastor loves a good con artist, but starving people are just sad.

Valera

This Ponzi guy should have gone into politics, hot damn. Valera makes a low whistle, nodding their approval. "That DOES explain why he thought about Ponzi, we were talking about the weird political scams my predecessor left me on the hook for when I snuffed him out. Though I think that Charles there pulled it off with more flair than that bird brain ever could have. What a character! I've got to respect that kind of daring."

Probably best not to comment too much on the dust bowl, that sounds like a downer. But, they did bring it up, and if they're talking about Alexander.. "That does explain it. I believe his family was based in that middle area." A nod, and they immediately jump to something less negative. "Let him prattle on at you about his electronics store, he'd love it. The man talked my fins off for twenty minutes about something called a Perikon Detector a regular asked him to order and I STILL don't understand why he was so exasperated about it."

Alastor

“Oh, did he ever have flair! There’s a story I heard about when news of his scams started hitting the papers—all his investors swarmed his offices to demand their money back, he went around to them one by one offering coffee and donuts and smiles, and charmed them so well they *left* their money with him!” Alastor laughs.

Perikon Detector? Alastor stares off into space a moment, trying to dig the term out of nearly-century-old memories. “... Probably because Perikon Detectors were replaced by vacuum tubes before ninety percent of the nation ever even *heard* of radios. What the hell did someone want a Perikon Detector?”

Valera

They laugh, clapping their hands together. Charles Ponzi, was it? They'd have to look the fellow up later just to see the details of his escapades, maybe forward the information to a certain lawyer they knew. But for now, their potential costar has been oddly silent..

Alastor in a state of blank befuddlement was a rare treat, and one that Valera enjoyed while they could before he seemed to snap back into focus with his scrabbled knowledge in hand. "You'll have to ask him for specifics, but judging by the choice of insults, this person had a habit of asking for obscure, outdated parts rather frequently. Maybe a collector? Upcycler?" They shrug. "I still have no idea what a Perikon Detector IS. It sounds like a little bauble they'd use in a bad sci-fi show."

Alastor

“Well, it detects perikons, obviously!” He pauses. Dead silence. “Right, forgot I gave the laugh track the afternoon off. You at least know what vacuum tubes are, right? They, uh...” Has Alastor ever actually learned what it is, *exactly,* that vacuum tubes do. He knows how to use them. He knows how to tell which one he needs. He’s put them in radios. He’s *made* radios. But his eyes glaze over whenever he tries to learn what exactly it is the electricity *does* in there.

“Well,” he says confidently, “they control electrons, you see. You’re not getting very far in electronics if you can’t control electrons.” There’s a smattering of laughter. “Shut up, you’re all on break. Anyway, you’ve got vacuum tube radios and crystal radios—there’s a crystal in a Perikon Detector, see—and vacuum tube radios actually need some electricity to power them—which means you’ve got enough electricity to also power a speaker. Crystal radios are powered only by the very radio waves they pick up, but you’ve got to squeeze headphones against your face to hear it—so not very useful if you want to use a radio while doing anything but sitting in one spot very quietly with your hands over your ears. A Perikon Detector is just one brand name of crystal detectors that pick up radio waves.”

Valera

Alastor's initial joke is delivered, and Valera rather wished it hadn't been. In fact, they'd like to file a formal complaint with the verbal post office, they seem to have delivered an auditory assault instead of pleasantries. Silence reigns between them, oppressive and all consuming like an unjust monarch, three eyes staring silent judgement at the Radio Demon for his awful, terrible, no good dad joke levels of comedy. Jingle the bells on your little jester hat, old man-- Oh wait, he's talking again.

Valera stops squinting, rolling their eyes with a groan. He's still telling bad jokes. Those are only funny when YOU'RE the one telling them, the bastard. But they're going to completely gloss over his evil sense of humor and focus on the technical talk, and if there's a little upward twitch of their lips it's his imagination. Shut up. Dad jokes aren't funny. "Interesting! I'd never even heard of a crystal radio before, humans upgrade their technology so quickly that it makes the mind reel. One of their.. Your? Finer features."

Alastor

Alastor is goddamn hilarious and a gift to the microphone and the world is better for him and his humor having been in it, if we’re not counting those murders he did. “It *is* one of our more impressive parlor tricks! Although, truth be told, only one we picked up in the last century or so!” A pause. “Last *two* centuries. I keep forgetting the 1820s aren’t a hundred years ago. Anyway, we’ve really picked up the pace lately, relatively speaking! I once heard someone say—I don’t know how he knows, but I’m sure someone looked it up—that for several thousand years, the human *pelvis* evolved faster than the plowshare! And then all of the sudden, boom! Factories! Steel! Trains! Airships! Radio! How did people before the nineteenth century not bore themselves to death, I’ll never know.”

Valera

Valera cocks their head to the side, mind casting back. "From what I recall about sixteen hundreds France from my earliest visits, there was a lot of interpersonal drama and dying from preventable diseases to keep people busy. Much less interesting than the industrial revolution. Though the water was also a lot *cleaner* back then." A dissatisfied scoff. "Late eighteen hundreds London was a foul, foul place. Only went once and I had a cough for a week."

Alastor

"Oh, *that's* right! *Human drama!* Entertainment at its purest! I would have been an insufferable gossip, I'm sure." His smile broadens with satisfaction at figuring out what he would have done before radio.

Valera

"Oh don't sell yourself short, Alastor. I'm sure given the chance, you could be an insufferable gossip now, too!" They flutter their lashes dramatically, fanning themselves with their hat as they titter like a fine court damsel. Okay, enough of that. "They should be calling you soon, no?"

Alastor

“You flatter me! If more people shared gossip with me, I *would* be!”

Oh, right. He’s here for the first audition he’s cared about since dying. He sits up a little straighter, ears almost lifting out of his absurd disguise hair as he strains to listen to the current audition on stage. Sounds like it’s wrapping up. “Probably.” He looks down at his printed lyrics again and, predictably, forgets how to read.

Valera

Valera glances at Alastor's paper, humming as their hands rest on their hat. Was he *nervous*?

"Are you nervous?" Wait they said that out loud didn't they. Well, shit. Better commit. "What did you say you were doing again? The Major General's Song?"

Alastor

He's gonna ignore the hell out of that first question. "Yes, Modern Major General—and I learned a couple of songs from the show, more or less. I don't know what they're going to ask for. I figured at a minimum Modern Major General would show I can sing fast enough for the parts, if they don't want anyone to sing from the show."

Valera

If he'd actually answered the question, Valera would have probably accused him of being an imposter. Alastor wasn't known for admitting to his emotions unless you happened to be a Victorian steampunk snake, and even then. A sigh, and they lean back in their seat as much as their tail allows. "They let me sing Will Wood, so I think your selection should be perfectly sufficient. You even went with another musical theater song!"

Valera

Even then, he only just sort of failed to deny straightforward accusations. Kind of like what he just did. "I'm glad I didn't go with Will Wood," he mutters.

Yep, there's no more singing or talking from the stage, they're definitely wrapping up. Any second now.

Valera

It sounds like Alastor's turn is coming up, and good timing on that. They had no idea how to respond to his mutterings beyond pointing out that no casting director in Hell was likely to have heard of a semi obscure avant-garde jazz musician. Which might not even be accurate, maybe he was popular down here.

Out comes the phone, the ultimate distraction to ignore a potentially awkward silence. Better to end the talk on a positive-ish note, considering they're going to be seeing this garishly dressed man on the daily for possibly months. Sit next to one Alastor, text another, barely suppress snorts when the second gets confused about "phish food" being an ice cream flavor. As a fish does.

Alastor

The most recent actor comes backstage again, and another demon calls, “Next, uh... Lass?”

Alastor hops to his feet. “That’s me! That’s my name.” He turns to Valera. “Stage name. Drag name, usually, but as long as I’ve got the hair and the dress today—Anyway!” He claps a hand on Valera’s shoulder. “Tell me to break a leg!”

Valera

They glance up from their phone at the name call, sliding their eyes back down as Alastor hops up. Off he goes then? Maybe not, he's talking now, they should respond--

They make a very undignified BWAGH at the unexpected touch, hat flying off their lap as their whole body jumps. Then immediately pretends it didn't happen, clearing their throat noisily. What? No, they didn't just jump out of their scales. "Break a leg, Alastor."

Alastor

*Wheeze.* He doesn’t apologize but he *does* quickly take his hand back, which is probably as close as they’re gonna get from him. “Thanks!” He startled the hell out of someone and got a quick laugh out of it, that does something to steady his nerves. He folds up his lyrics, tucks them away god-only-knows-where, and strides out. Showtime!

Valera

Valera watches him go, shaking their head as they stand. Well, that's one radio demon out of their hair. Time to go willingly throw themselves at another one! The hat is plucked off the floor, and off they go. Not too shabby a day, not too shabby at all.

[ella-se-vuelve-loca]

I’m Not Done With You Yet | Joel Pimentel

Hey y’all! I’m back with another smut coming your way! I hope I can deliver! 

Warnings: SMUT! Mentions of overstimulation, Sub!Joel, slow riding (off into the sunset on his dick sksksks why am I like this lmaooo) (+18)

Masterlist

Wanna be tagged in future fics?

**

He’s asleep and my body craves for him. I know I shouldn’t wake him up, but I’m so needy right now and I don’t know how much longer I can wait. I nudge his shoulder slightly. “Joel?” He stirs in his sleep and I frown. “Baby?” I nudge him again and he answers. “What?” His voice so raspy and he yawns. “What is it?”

I run my fingers on his chest and said. “I want you so bad right now, mi amor.” I placed a soft kiss on his chest and he sighed. “No not.. I just want to sleep, please.” I couldn’t stop the thoughts of him fucking me. The thought alone was enough to get me wet and wanting him. “I can’t sleep.” I whined. “Joel please, I want you..” He grabbed my hand and placed a small kiss on the back of it. “C’mon, baby, please. You’ve.. you’ve worn me out so many times already today..” He opened his eyes fully to look at me. “I don’t even have the energy to fucking move.”

I bit my lip. “All I can think about is you inside of me. I want to feel full with your cum mi amor, just please..” He thought about it for a moment, and gave me a small smile. “Okay, fine, but you’re gonna have to do all the work in this because I.. I’m just exhausted.” I nodded, eager to get this on and get him inside me. “And if you want this, you’re gonna have to get me ready too.” He chuckled. “Because I don’t even have the energy to even get it up right now, so you’re gonna have to... you know?”

I slowly slid down his body and placed kisses down his chest until I reached the waistband of his underwear. I slid it off of him and his dick sprung free. I reached up and started stroking his length. I placed kisses on his shaft and took him in my mouth and what I couldn’t fit in my mouth, I used my hand to stroke the rest of him. “Aaahh yeah... you’re so good at this mi amor oh my God..” 

His moans were so soft and boyish. I love it. I slowly swirled my tongue around him and felt one of his hands reach down and slightly tug on my hair. “Oooh fuck ye - ess... shit..” I wasn’t going fast like I normally would. He was still a little sensitive. “Do you see how easily you get me going? It’s like I want to but my body doesn’t even have the energy to move.”

I hummed around him and felt his hand cup my cheek and rub small circles. He pulled me off of him. “C’mon, you’re on top.” I raised an eyebrow at him. I’ve never been on top before. “Me? On top?” He chuckled and nodded. “Yes, because I’m so tired.” I almost forgot that I woke him up for sex. Oops?

“You’ve already had me seven times today and I don’t know how much more I can take of this.” Yep, you heard that right. Joel and I have been very... busy today. We’ve had sex just about everywhere in our apartment. “C’mon,” he laughed. I discarded my underwear and crawled up his body. I want this so bad. “Yes, get on it. Go.” My legs were on either side of his waist as I straddled him. I grabbed his dick and placed it at my entrance before sliding down onto him. 

“Just go slow... aahh yeahh..” I stayed still for a moment as I felt him stretch my walls out. “Mmm...” I slowly started to bounce up and down, as I closed my eyes getting lost in the feeling of finally getting filled up. Soft moans and the sound of the headboard hitting the wall were the only things I could hear at that moment. He felt so good. “Bebesita, you’re so beautiful.” 

I continued to grind my hips against him slowly, savoring this moment. “Come here a second..” He reached up and pulled me down to him, capturing my lips with his. He played with my hair and slipped his tongue into my mouth. I don’t want this to end. He feels amazing. He moaned against my lips and pulled away all too soon for my liking. “Yeah just.. go put your hands on my chest and lean on me.”

I placed my hands on his chest and rolled my head back. “Don’t be afraid to put all your weight on, that’s okay. I may be tired, but I can handle it.” I slightly scratched down his chest and left little red marks on his beautiful body. “Do you know I like it when you’re assertive like this? Mmm..” I rocked my hips and moaned out his name. “Joel.. oh shit..”

“Don’t stop.. it’s s - so good..” He grabbed onto my hips as his head rolled over to the side. His curls were now a complete mess as his eyes were scrunched together tightly. He’s close. We were on cloud 9. “Baby, just grind into me.. ooh fuck..” Soft grunts filled the air as I continued to ride him. “Oh no not yet, not yet.. aahhh..”

I wanna feel him cum inside of me. I need this, I need him. “Mi amor.. I don’t want you stop. I really do wanna cum, but I don’t wanna cum just yet.” He ran his hands all over my body. Up to my breasts as he tweaked my nipples and back down to my hips as I slowly sped up my movements. “Ohh keep going..” 

I wasn’t going to stop until all of his hot cum was inside of me. I want him to give me it all. “Please, keep going.. ohh yes..” He bit his plump lip and softly moaned. “Are you getting close?” I nodded. I couldn’t speak. He took the words right out of my mouth. “You are?” I could only moan. “Joel.. y - you feel so g - good.. oohhh..”

“I’m gonna let myself go soon, okay?” His breathing becoming really heavy as his grip on my waist tightened. Surely, there’s going to be a small bruise there tomorrow. “C’mon, ride me a bit faster.” I leaned on him and bounced up and down until they only thing you can hear was the sound of skin slapping against one another. I felt him shudder as he was nearly there.

“Ooh f - fuck.. ahh I’m gonna cum..” Next thing I felt was his hot seed slip inside of me. That feeling was all I needed for me to cum on him. I sat there on top of him as I tried to bring myself back down to earth. Wow. “I really don’t think I can go again. I’m a little bit sore, actually.. ahh..” I slid his dick out of me and laid next to him as he played with my hair. I could feel his heavy breaths on the top of my head as I closed my eyes, a smile on my lips.

“Mi amor... can I please go to sleep now?” He chuckled. I laughed along with him and nodded. “Come here..” He brought me closer to him as my head lied on his chest. It was silent between us as we tried to come down from our high. “Can you feel my heartbeat?” 

“Yes.” I looked up at him as he smiled down at me. He pushed a strand of hair away from my face. “You’re incredible, and I wouldn’t change you for the world.” I leaned into his touch as he brought my face closer to his and kissed me. 

**

IT’S FINISHED! Lmaooo I hope y’all enjoyed! Please, if you liked it, make sure to send some love! Comment, reblog, like! I love y’all! x

[carey-pricemas]

Broke Down- Jamie Benn

Ok coming up with new smut is hard! XD Especially when one participant doesn't do oral! XD Omg... So funny! Anyway! Anon I hope this is what you were looking for, if not let me know! Up next for my non-smutty people: Chris Kreider!

Warning: cussing, sex, smexy time!

Anon request: Hi hi could I request an imagine? Not sure how detailed or vague you like requests but if it could be Jamie Benn and something along the lines of them being kinda friends/acquaintances but they frustrate each other but have ridiculos sexual tension and Jamie really has it in for the reader? and they have to .. relieve tension ;)) smut would be a++++ I love u and ur stories ahhh

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

              "Ugh" you groaned as Jamie walked closer to you. You were hoping to just be able to avoid him altogether, but you should have known better.

              You had known Jamie for a few years now and each time you dealt with him, he ended up saying something incredibly rude or hurtful.

              Too bad you were so damn attracted to him.

              And the beard and snapback were definitely not helping the situation.

              Your mutual friend, Tyler, said Jamie was just socially awkward and was attracted to you too, but you didn't exactly believe him considering how cool and distant Jamie was (when he wasn't being rude). Surely if he had any sort of attraction to you, he would be a jerk.

              "Hey" Tyler said giving you a huge hug. You hugged him back tightly.

              "Great game!" you said as you separated. You looked at Jamie and smiled. "You too." Jamie rolled his eyes.

              "Could've been better" he said. Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. "What are you doing here anyway?"

              "Tyler invited me to dinner" you said. Jamie sighed deeply. Apparently, Tyler invited Jamie to dinner as well.

              "Let's get this over with" he groused.

              "Thanks so much. I even took a shower today" you snapped.

              "Hey, come on now! We're all friends! Let's enjoy dinner, drinks, and female attention" Tyler said, throwing an arm around each of you. "Like the three musketeers!"

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

              "Hey, Tiff and I are going back to my place!" Tyler shouted over the loud music. After an awkward dinner full of only Tyler talking and reanimating plays from the game, he talked both you and Jamie into hitting up a club.

              Now he was ditching you for a blonde that didn't even look old enough to be here.

              "What about me?" you asked. Tyler was your ride.

              "Jamie will take you home" he said. Jamie choked on the drink of water he just took.

              "No I won't!" he said. Tyler waved and walked away, the blonde clinging closely to him. "I'm going to kill him!"

              "Not if I get to him first!" you said. You looked at Jamie and both shared a small smile. "Guess I need to go call a cab."

              "No, come on. I'll take you home." Jamie set his drink down and started for the door. You grabbed your purse and coat and jogged after him, worrying that he might leave without you. You climbed into his truck and put on your seatbelt.

              The ride was silent and awkward. As he started to drive out of the city, you couldn't take it anymore.

              "Why do you hate me?" you blurted. Jamie looked at you before letting out a sigh.

              "I don't hate you" he mumbled, like he was afraid you’d hear if he spoke too loud.

              "Sure" you said with a laugh. "And I'm a princess." Jamie gave you a rueful smile.

              "No really I-" Jamie was cut off as his truck made a terrible grinding noise before steam started up from under the hood. Jamie maneuvered the truck to the side of the road. He turned it off and it made another grinding noise. "Shit."

              "I'm no mechanic, but that didn't sound good" you said. He gave you a 'no shit Sherlock' look before he hoped out. You quickly followed him to the front of the truck and waved the smoke away as Jamie lifted the hood. "Do you know anything about cars?"

              "About cars? Yes. About smoking cars?...No" he said with a sigh. You pulled your phone out and tried calling Tyler to come get you guys. He didn't answer so you left a message for him to call you back as soon as he got it.

              "Tyler's not answering" you said. Jamie sighed and looked at his phone.

              "My phone's dead" he said sheepishly.

              "Guess we're going to have to wait for Tyler to finish with blondie then" you said. You walked to the back of the truck and let the tailgate down. You hopped up and laid back, your legs swinging over the edge as you looked at the stars. The truck dipped next to you and you looked over as Jamie sat down next to you.

              "At least it's nice out" Jamie commented.

              "Yeah, Texas is a far cry from Canada." You guys remained silent as you both continued looking at the stars.

              "I'm sorry I'm such an asshole to you" Jamie blurted. Your head whipped over to stare at him. "I just... I don't know... I..." Jamie trailed off, running his hand through his hair, messing up the perfectly styled hair. "I just really want to fuck you to be honest."

              "Oh so you feel the tension too?" Jamie nodded. He looked down at you.

              "I've felt it from the moment we met. And then I met Katie and I was hoping a girlfriend would distract me from you and instead..."

              "I became what you couldn't have." Jamie nodded. "Hey Jamie?"

              "Yeah?"

              "We have a lot of time to waste." Jamie laughed, but laid down next to you. He reached out and rolled you on to your side. He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear before he leaned forward, kissing you.

              Fireworks erupted the moment his lips touched yours.

              You hitched your leg over his hip and your fingers gripped onto Jamie's dark strands as he rolled on top of you. You slid further onto the truck bed and Jamie followed you, looking at you like you were dinner.

              "I'm not sure we'll have enough time to thoroughly scratch our itches" he said before slamming his lips back down on yours. You moaned into his mouth and Jamie took that moment to snake his tongue into your mouth. You bite down on it gently, causing him to hiss and pull back. His mouth moved to just behind your ear and pressed a trail of kisses down your neck. You tilted your head to the side to give him more room. You hissed in pleasure as he bit down gently before soothing it over with his tongue.

              His hands trailed up under your shirt to your breasts, tweaking your already hard nipples. You moaned in pleasure and bucked your hips, pressing against his hard length.

              "Fuck (Y/N)" he hissed, one hand moving to adjust his pants.

              "That's the plan, Captain." You took your hands from his hair and moved to your jeans, unsnapping them. "And when we have more time later, I'll show you what I've dreamed about doing to your cock for a while, but for now..." You shimmied your jeans and panties down your legs. Jamie grinned and kissed you hard once more, his hand moving to his belt. "Jamie" you said as he opened his fly.

              "Patience" he murmured.

              "Fuck patience" you said, bucking your hips once more.

              "Fuck, condom." Jamie rolled off of you, making you groan in frustration as he pulled his wallet out, pulling the foil square out.

              "At least you have one" you said. Jamie chuckled and opened it up, sliding the rubber over his stiff dick. He rolled back on top of you, resting his weight on you.

              "Now, where were we?" Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck. He lifted himself onto his elbows and lined his cock up with your core. You both moaned in pleasure as he filled you. His head bent down and he kissed you hard, biting your lower lip. You gasped and Jamie's tongue slipped inside, thrusting in and out of your mouth in time with his hips.

              This was WAY better than you had imagined.

              His hips slammed into yours roughly as he thrust hard, bottoming out inside of you. As he pulled out, his cock rubbed against your G spot and heightened the coiling of pleasure building inside of you.

              "Jamie" you pleaded, almost in tears at how good he felt.

              "Let go" he whispered harshly. His lips slammed to yours once more, swallowing your cries as you orgasmed hard. His hips lost rhythm as your muscles milked his cock. He lost control and continued kissing you hard as he came inside of you. His hips slowed down and stopped as he finished.

              Your harsh breaths mingled in the quiet Texas air.

              "Wow" you finally said. Jamie laughed and rolled off of you. "I don't want to move" you whined.

              "Never know who will wander by. Come on now." Jamie handed you your pants and you both quickly fixed yourselves up. Jamie laid back in the bed of the truck and you laid half next to him and half on top. "Dinner? Friday?"

              "I think I can arrange that" you replied. You both lapsed into silence again.

              "Thank god my truck broke down" Jamie blurted. You stayed silent, but couldn't agree more.

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Ok I really hope this makes sense because I wrote half of it after work so it would be up on time! Let me know what y'all thought! Like I said earlier up next: Chris Kreider!