#I'm just in a mood tonight....also there is no such thing as normal just the societal norm and construct

[gretagerwigsmuse]

One thing I absolutely love about Bradley and Smart Aleck is how whenever she rides his thigh, he bounces her a little, and that just makes her lose it 🫠

Like, I can see Smart Aleck sitting on his lap while in front of his friends, and him just randomly bouncing his lap and she has to take a moment before saying or doing anything. She would be a mess by the end of the night.

Also, in your Christmas party fic, Bradley mentioned using the Theragun as a vibrator. Imagine him bringing it out and just surprising Smart Aleck with it (I've never used a Theragun, I have only seen it online so I'm not sure if this is completely correct)

this took me a minute to reply to because i wanted to actually write something for you! i was actually in a meeting at work when i first saw the message preview on my lock screen and i stg i was blushinggg so hard 🤭 because my god what a delicious thought!

yes! he’d bounce her just a little, like just enough to get a reaction out of her and get a little whimper out of her. to your point i could picture them in the hard deck and it’s a big deal that she came out with them? more below!

but also the theragun would actually hurt which is something bradley would realize the second he turned his on to even the lowest setting haha. though i do think that he’d randomly be like ‘gun me’ and have her do his back/shoulders 🤭

—————-

“well, look who decided to grace us with her presence this fine evening.”

jake looked even more smarmy than usual as you and bradley approached the group of pilots and partners holding court at a corner table. at the comment, bradley’s hands tightened where they were on your shoulders. it was a bit of a crush in the bar tonight, but he had guided you over without issue.

you completely ignored jake’s comment and his follow up about slumming it that night and greeted everyone - bob, callie, and natasha, as well as sarah costigan, whom jake had presumably dragged along. sarah even tossed you a kind smile in return. granted, she was still annoying and slightly condescending, but she wasn’t that bad. at least she didn’t head off to the jukebox and queue up hall & oates’ rich girl like jake did.

you let bradley slide into the circular booth before you and then sat on the end. being mr protective, bradley normally wouldn’t like having you sit at the end of the booth, but he knew you liked the space and ease of a quick getaway with a lot of people.

and it wasn’t that you didn’t like going to the hard deck. you just didn’t like how crowded and loud it could get on fridays and saturdays, which was when bradley’s friends tended to go. normally, the group would get together at the beach or go for a hike or even to another bar or someone’s house to hang out - and you always tried to attend - but their old standby was the hard deck and those were the nights you typically skipped.

you had been there about an hour when everything took a different turn. everyone was chatting and the music wasn’t too loud yet, and you were in a good mood, which was probably helped by the fact that you were on your third cosmo and bradley his fourth beer.

but then mickey and his girlfriend, cielo, showed up, which meant there were even more people crammed into the already crowded circular booth. you got up to give both cielo and mickey a hug and then the two of them sat down on the other side of the booth. which in turn meant everyone scooted down further towards your side.

scratch that - your side was gone.

all that was left was a sliver of space for maybe one of your bare thighs to find itself plastered against the warm vinyl upholstery. bradley quickly noticed your distress and pulled you half onto his lap. he barely broke his stride, so focused was he on his conversation with bob and callie. or so you thought.

the way he had manhandled you onto his lap was done with little consideration to your pink dress - the same pink dress from your first date some eighteen months ago - and it bunched up between your ass and bradley’s jeans. you sucked in a breath.

oh.

you were still covered, still safe from any risk of indecent exposure, but oh it felt nice having your bare skin brush against bradley’s jeans. the jeans that were stretched across his big, strong, broad thighs. did he realize? did he know?

it was nice sitting on his lap; you were content, happy, warm. safe. it wasn’t something you’d ever done in front of other people before; normally, neither of you were this bold, but you weren’t yourself, it was too loud, too warm, too overwhelming in the hard deck. and bradley knew that. he knew you were fussy. he always knew when you needed to get out of your head.

a few minutes went by and you tuned into various conversations and groups, but you eventually focused back on your little group at the end of the booth with bradley, bob, and callie. they were talking about one of the the college football games on earlier because bob was a big sec fan. at one point, the boys got so animated and bradley got so into gesturing with his hands that you slipped a little in his lap. and then -

and then bradley bounced you.

oh.

he bounced you on his thigh and tightened his arms around you to keep a better hold on you.

“sorry, kid,” he muttered in your ear and then went back to his conversation, completely unaware of the whimper you let out.

oh.

that felt nice. that felt good.

you loved when he bounced you on his thighs.

you loved when he let you ride his thighs.

see bradley liked when you’d have to work hard to get yourself off. sometimes, he made it a punishment. it was torture - he wouldn’t touch you and you’d have to work for your orgasm. you’d get so frustrated.

and once you’d finally reach your peak and your cum would streak across his thigh, he’d sink his fingers - his big, strong fingers - inside your cunt and you’d ride them for another round until you’d get rewarded with his cock.

this time the whimper you let out was a little louder, but still for bradley’s ears only.

“you okay, kid?” he bounced you again.

this time your legs spread a little wider under the table and you shifted in his lap. you were getting flustered, warm. surely the sweat was building at the back of your neck, between your thighs -

“mmhmm, just slipped.” you took a huge sip of your cosmo, hoping to cool yourself down. god, this was so embarrassing. why were you getting like this? it was just a bounce. he hadn’t even meant to do it.

please don’t let him find out.

“yeah?” bradley bounced you again and your breath caught. “can’t have that - here.”

his thumbs dug into the tender flesh by your hips, anchoring you to him. you tried to shift, tried to squirm, but he wouldn’t budge.

“th-thanks.”

you took another sip of your cosmo. it was almost done, that had to be why you were reacting this way. three drinks normally made you tipsy, but not drunk, so it had to explain your flustered state and your heightened sense of arousal.

he knew. he had to know. he had to know how wet you were. how your pussy was clenching on nothing. how you wanted him to take you out of here and let you ride him in the car. maybe he’d finger you against the bronco like he did that night all those months ago?

bradley turned back to the group. “hey, why don’t you tell bob and callie about that project you’re kicking off at work?”

“oh. it’s not - it’s not really that exciting -”

“she’s lying,” bradley squeezed your hip, “come on, tell them about the projecting you’re presenting in london.”

callie gasped. “london? again? oh, i’m so jealous! how long are you going to be gone?”

“just a - a couple days. they’re scaling this project i did in the US for the EMEA market. just a - a presentation.”

somehow, when bob asked where you were staying and if you were doing anything fun while you were there, you managed to give an almost coherent answer. almost coherent.

but then you turned the tables back on the two of them and asked if they were excited for their trip to see callie’s parents in bryn mawr. you didn’t know much about the area baring the fact that mary once went out there to interview for a teaching position, but that wouldn’t have mattered anyway since you could barely focus on the last minute details for callie’s sister’s wedding because of bradley’s stupid hands.

the first time he did it, you didn’t think much of it. okay so he took a sip of his beer and fiddled with the glass before he put his hand on your thigh. it was cold, no big deal.

but then he did it again when callie mentioned the gorgeous bridesmaids’ dresses. and again when bob praised callie’s speech draft. and again when they mentioned the welcome party on thursday was scheduled around the eagles’ game.

it was cold and you could feel your nipples hardening and your breath coming in faster and god - could everyone tell? did they notice? you didn’t want them to notice, you just wanted bradley to notice.

feeling bold, you tried to trap his cold hands between your thighs, but when bradley yanked his hand away, you almost lost your balance. and what else was he supposed to do but bounce you and get you settled back on his lap. he growled a warning in your ear.

oh god. you wanted it louder, you wanted it just for you. you weren’t wearing a bra, could anyone tell? you hoped bradley could tell.

you hoped bradley bradley knew.

(you hoped daddy knew.)

the promise of what was to come was getting to be too much. you could have blamed it on the cosmos, the noise, the heat, the number of people, but it really was just one thing - bradley.

bob and callie were talking to natasha now, so it was just you and bradley at your end of the table.

“bubs?” you looked over your shoulder to meet bradley’s eyes and knew he was just as wrecked for you as you were him. “please?”

he cocked an eyebrow, looking entirely too smug. “aww sweetheart, why didn’t you just say you wanted to leave?” all the condescension did was make you want him more.

before you could respond, before you could try and say something clever, he cleared his throat and directed his next words to the entire table.

“‘think the kid and i are gonna head out.”

it only took a few moments to say your goodbyes - hugs from those who were easily able, waves to those who were not - and then you and bradley started meandering your way to the bar.

once again, after he paid your tab, bradley guided you out of the bar with a his hands on your shoulders and a broad presence at your back. you whimpered at the thought of him inside you, your big, broad, beautiful boyfriend inside you, telling you that you were a good girl for him. such a good slut for him. for daddy.

it had been a couple months since you’d first said it - said daddy - but it still made your pussy clench and your heart beat wildly.

the moment you were out in the cool parking lot, you sighed back against his chest. the pulsating music that once felt too loud was not a calming presence away from the chaos.

“atta girl, you did such a good job with my teasing.” his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close so you could feel how much he wanted you. “you ready for your reward?”

“yes, daddy.”

———————

half an hour later, on their way way out, bob, callie, and natasha didn’t even notice that bradley’s car was still in the parking lot even after the two of you supposedly left.

they also didn’t notice that the windows were fogged up. or that one of your sandals was on the ground by the driver’s seat door. 🤭

[jadewritesficshere]

Pretend

Robin Buckley x fem!reader

Contains: Angst to the max, growing up, menstruation (bleeding and all that entails) and puberty, homophobia (related to teasing and bullying), internalized homophobia, hurt no comfort

-This was a way to write my feelings regarding that girl from my life-

When you were young, you were on the playground swinging on a swing when the chains of the swing next to you rattled. Instead of sitting normally, a girl with lopsided pigtails laid on her stomach and kicked off with her legs. "What are you doing?" You quietly asked. "Flying." She held her arms out and giggled, "Like superman."

You watch for a moment as she continues to giggle. It looked fun. You stand abruptly and watch as her smile falls rapidly. She plants her feet, jolting herself to a stop so fast she almost knocks herself to the ground. You can see her face flush and her eyes look away, almost curling in on herself.

But her eyes went wide as she watched you walk around the swing and lay across it. You hesitantly kicked your feet off the ground, felt the swing push into your ribs and stomach. But she was right, you were flying. You could hear the chains rattle and her laughs begin again as she started back up.

Your parents found you both on the swings, laughing and pretending you were flying. You became inseparable, living two streets apart. Running throughout the neighborhood on adventures.

One summer day around ten years old, you convinced her to go rollerskating with you. Her brand new pink helmet and your purple one shone bright as her mother took a picture. Your faces were pressed together with wide grins as your arms were slung over the other's shoulder.

Robin had ended up crashing into you, knocking out your two front teeth as you landed in a jumble on the ground. Robin had apologized profusely, tears welling in her eyes. She grabbed your hand and raced you back home, apologizing profusely the whole way. Your face felt warm with embarrassment. You pretended it wasn't a big deal.

Her mother had jumped as Robin threw the door open so hard it shuddered on its frame. Her mother had held a frozen bag of peas to your face and her soothing tone calmed and comforted you both. It didn't take long for you both to get distracted by Popsicles. Her mother snapped another picture of the two of you then. You both had scraped knees and dirt covering you, but you both smiled (yours had two less teeth).

When you were a preteen, Robin went to a summer camp and you had been sick. She almost stayed, but you convinced her to go without you. Your stomach hurt so bad, you thought you were dying. You were convinced you were when you awoke in your own blood. Your parents had ran into your room when you screamed. Your father had taken one look and turned on his heel and immediately walked out, stammering awkwardly.

You had the talk then. You already knew about it but it wasn't something you thought about happening to you. You noticed the difference at the end of the summer. You were taller and had started wearing a training bra. But if you thought you had grown, it was nothing compared to Robin. Your mouth had dropped when you saw her again and had to look up at her. You pretended you were mad she had grown taller then you before hugging her tightly.

When you were a freshman, you and Robin went to a sleepover. Normally, you two would share the same bed. Awaking in the morning with Robin half sprawled on top of you. But that was when it was just two of you not a room full of girls. Everyone was giggling and talking about their crushes. "Who do you like?" One of the girls asked.

You hummed, pretending to think. "Well, i do like my lab partner, Josh," you finally declared. The girls chorused a round of Oohs. "What about you, Robs?" You locked eyes with your friend. "Oh uh..." Robin's eyes darted to the ground. "Oh come on, we all know who Robin likes!" Mary, or was it Marcy, declared. Robin's face paled and she stammered," What? No uh, it- it's not-" "Steve Harrington! You're always staring at him!"

The girls were giggling and laughing, going on about Steve and how cute he was. You watched as Robin relaxed, smiling. You pretended you weren't upset that she hadn't told you, her best friend.

When you were a sophomore, Robin was in band while you weren't. You were seeing her less and less. You threw your books in your locker as Tommy made excuses as to why he wouldn't be able to do his part of the project you were assigned. You barely paid attention until his arm darted out in front of you, peeling the picture of you and Robin off the inside. "Buckley? The band geek?" Tommy snorted. "Hey!" You tried snatching it out of his hand but he held it above his head.

"Why do you have a picture of Buckley in your locker?" Tommy asked, peering into the photo. "We're friends, do you not have any?" You asked snatching it out of his hand as he showed it to Carol. "I don't have pictures of Steve in my locker," Tommy defended. "Well maybe you aren't friends," you shrug.

"Or maybe you like Buckley?" Tommy declared, loudly. You could feel others eyes on you," What? No." Carol grimaced and looked at you," Ew, you like girls? We have the same gym class. Oh my god, are you like perving on us?" You could feel the stares growing. "Fuck no!" You threw the picture in your locker and slammed," That's weird! She's weird! I would never like her! As if!"

You turned your head and saw Robin staring at you. Her eyes with tears. Your mouth dropped open to say something but you hesitated. Robin turned and walked away. You pretended you didn't feel sick as you watched your friend walk away.

You were a junior when Starcourt Mall opened. You went to get ice cream when you saw Robin. She was rolling her eyes at her crush, Steve Harrington, but smiling. She locked eyes with you and her grin fell. You waved tentatively, but she turned and went back to talking to Steve. He kissed her forehead. You pretended that you didn't care, hurt and guilt blooming in you.

You left that summer. You thought Hawkins, Indiana was far behind you. You heard about Starcourt burning down, but you went through your senior year and college pretending like Hawkins never existed.

You had just got your degree when you ran into Steve Harrington at a bar in Indy. His swooped hair and hazel eyes looked you up and down, not an ounce of recollection in his eyes. "Sorry about that," he grinned at you," Can I buy you a drink?" Before you could respond, a person barreled into him. Robin.

She clung to him as she rambled about something, trailing off as she realized you were standing there. "Robin..." you blinked. She seemed settled. More sure of herself. It had been only a handful of years, but felt like a lifetime. "Y/N." Her tone betrayed nothing. Steve's eyes darted back to you, widening with realization. "Hey," You hesitant smiled," You look great Robs." "Thanks." You pretended not to notice the glance they shared. Steve invited you to sit with them.

You were glad he did because you got your friend back that night. You had drunkenly sobbed in her arms, apologizing. She had bawled holding you to her, forgiving you. Steve corralled you both into his car. You pretended like the alcohol was barely making you nauseous, getting warned by Steve not to barf in his car.

You wish you could say you could remember every time you hung out after that. Every moment. But there were far too many. Your wall was filled with pictures of you and Robin. Your hand shook as you looked back down at the pale purple invitation in your hand. Cordially invited to the marriage of Robin Buckley and-

You looked back at the wall. Pretending not to be effected. A tear slipped down your cheek.

That's what you did best. Pretended. From the very start.

You had pretended you were flying as a child as if your entire worldview didn't shift and fall out from you as you met the prettiest girl you ever saw. As you felt drawn to her in a way you hadn't felt before, even if you didn't understand it then.

You had pretended it wasn't a big deal when your teeth got knocked out, because you wanted to seem cool to Robin. Your palm sweaty in hers as she led you home. Your heart was beating fast for some reason you hadn't quite realized yet, but you liked holding her hand.

You had pretended you were mad she grew taller because you couldn't believe how good she looked. How you felt awkward and were growing pimples but she looked so good. You hugged her tight, liking how she felt wrapped in your arms.

You pretended you weren't upset she hadn't told you about her crush when you truly were. You had thought you didn't like anyone and just said Josh, because you only thought about Robin. You thought she felt the same. Hearing Steve's name was a shock to your system. And that was when you realized you liked her.

Your stomach had fallen, all the ideas of the future you created came tumbling down. Because of course two women living together and growing old together wasn't normal... of course people got married and did other things. Because of course Robin liked Steve Harrington, you had seen her staring.

You had pretended you didn't care about the picture, about her. You wanted to crawl out of your skin, feeling the stares and whispers. You weren't ready to face it. A part of you hated yourself, for hurting her and for liking her. You pretended you didn't feel sick and like you wanted to bawl watching her walk away. You wanted to scream at yourself because this never would have happened if you were "normal" like your parents wanted.

You pretended you didn't care about Steve kissing Robin's forehead, when you wanted nothing more to rip his perfect hair out. You wanted to kick him in the balls and be the one to kiss Robin's stupid perfect face. You wanted to throw yourself at her feet, begging her to forgive you. You wanted to kiss her senseless, which you quickly tucked back away in it's neat little box. Because women shouldn't kiss other women.

You pretended like your heart hadn't stopped when you heard about Starcourt, when you thought she may have been a casualty. You stole your parents' car and drove back to Hawkins to make sure she was okay. As soon as you saw her with Steve on her front porch, you drove straight back. You cursed him but was also thanking him, because you knew he had helped save her given the state of the two of them.

One day in college when you finally stumbled into a gay bar and cried, you pretended you weren't thinking about what could have been. About how it was okay and that you weren't odd or weird. That there were others just like you. You pretended like you didn't think of her all the time. That every time you kissed someone you compared it to her. That you wished when you opened your eyes you would be staring into hers.

It was fate running into them at that random bar. You had decided to go hear some band play. It was chance but you thought it was fate. You pretended you didn't feel the years of guilt at hurting Robin roll off as she said she forgave you and misses you. You pretended like you didn't imagine a future with her again, as if Steve wasn't there.

You had pretended the alcohol had made you nauseous, but really it was Steve Fucking Harrington having everything you wanted. It was seeing Robin giggle and him helping her into the car, when it should have been you.

You didn't want to not have her in your life. You were glad at any piece she was willing to give you. You wanted to get on your hands and knees begging like a dog for even a scrap of her.

Taking pictures and hanging them up so at least a piece of her lived with you. The time she ran a marathon with Steve and had collapsed into you fake dying. The time you snapped a picture where she had passed out on your couch under your blanket.

She never knew that you had gotten the date you met tattooed on your rib, the same spot the swing had dug into you. So at least a part of her was always with you. That you had always kept that picture her mom took of the two of you after roller skating as kids, because you could see even then your eyes alight with love for her.

It wasn't fair. You were gone for her the day you met, even the years you couldn't admit it out loud. She had stolen your heart from you, something you would have willingly given if she asked. But now her heart was given to someone else. Getting married.

You were too late. Because you never told her the truth. Because you never told her you loved her. You never were honest with her about liking women.

But you would smile and pretend it was all okay. Even as you crinkled the lavender invitation, even as tears rolled down your face, you smiled. Pretending like nothing was wrong. Because that's what you do best, pretending.

[wednesdaythesecond]

Can't sleep. Time to think about tgirl Mikey doing horrible shit to her body as a form of reclaiming it and making it hers

[sceletaflores]

woo, my baby's got me all mixed up!

feat: logan howlett & wade wilson

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, swearing, a bastard doomed polycule, more of 'why have just one bf when you can two bf's and why have just two bf's when you can have two bf's that are also each other’s bf's???', p in v, double penetration, one (1) single use of daddy, creampie(s), fingering...kind of (fem!receiving), oral sex, face sitting, face fucking, straight up nasty porn w/ zero plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: this is a shorter one-shot but i can't not format it like a full fic i have to or i'll get hives. this is also just pure freak nasty gross actually probably the filthiest thing i've ever written that i thought up off too much nyquil pm last night. kisses!

wade gets to whiskin’ (and logan's there too)…

"You're killing me babe," Wade groans lowly, cheek pressed to the slick skin of your inner thigh. "If my balls didn't feel like they just got the shit beat out of them in a back alley I'd be as hard as David Hasselhoff watching David Hasselhoff movies."

His hand is at work between your thighs, thick index finger slipped into your sensitive, puffy pussy.

It should gross you out that he loves doing this so much. It should make your stomach twist with all the unpleasant feelings a normal person might get.

It should, but it doesn't.

The familiar stretch is lost from taking Logan and Wade at the same time, a rare thing in your sex life because of how big they both are. But you were in a mood tonight.

Your pussy still clenches around him, trying in vain to tighten up, not used to feeling so empty.

The subtle pressure of Wade’s finger toes the line between pleasure and the sharp burn of 'almost too much' as it swirls along the sensitive walls of your pussy.

The first time he did it you were too fucked out of your mind to do anything other than ask what the hell he was doing.

"Gotta mix it up babe," was his reply, as easy as anything. "Don't want the baby batter to curdle, if you know what I mean."

Your heart stopped, flames lapping their way up your body as Wade scooped the thin line of come trickling from your abused hole to fuck it back in, back where it belonged.

It was so filthy, so depraved that it made you go liquid between your legs.

Your eyes almost immediately slid over to Logan, ready to see him shaking his head in irritation like he usually did whenever Wade ran his mouth in bed. You found nothing, no deep grimace or raised brow in sight.

There was an unmistakable heat in his gaze that matched your own, the inky black of his pupils blown so wide you could hardly see the hazel of his irises.

The casual raise of his right shoulder when he met your eye was undermined by the way his cock started to harden where it laid against his thigh, effectively tattling on him.

It told you all you needed to know about how he really felt watching Wade between your spread legs. That alone was enough to get you ready to go all over again.

It sort of became a thing after that.

"I'm not even doing anything..." you mumble breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't have to baby," Logan purrs from behind you, lips pressed to the top of your head. His hand skimming down the side of your body is enough to make goosebumps pebble along your skin, "Look perfect just like this."

It's been hours now, but they're still going. You're convinced that the two of them are the world's biggest horndogs, just once is never enough.

You lost track of tonight's rounds sometime after number five, not counting mouth and hand stuff of course. And it's starting to catch up to you, you’re tired, spent.

Wade curls his finger just right, brushing against the spot inside you that has a broken whine passing through your grit teeth. Your thighs start to tremble as a smug grin spreads across his face.

"Yeah, there it is," he teases, his voice low. He keeps the tip of his finger snug against that spot, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nerves. "That's that spot ain't it, gorgeous."

"Wade," you mewl, hands fisting the sheets as you fight to keep still. You're worried too much squirming will make their come start dripping out around Wade's wrist, and you can't have that.

There’s a sudden silence to your right, the heaviness of it pulling at your attention. You shift slightly, catching the faintest rustle of movement from Logan.

His breath is warm against the crown of your skill, his strong chest still plastered to your back—but he's too quiet, too still. You tilt your head just enough to peek at him out of the corner of your eye, and the sight alone is almost enough to make you come on the spot.

Logan is leaning against the headboard lazily, arm that isn't circled around your waist snaking down his own with the hard length of his cock in his hand.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him, red and leaking pre-come all over his knuckles each time he twists his fist over the thick head. Your hips grind down unconsciously, a needy moan falling from your parted lips. The wet sound of it has your cheeks burning, eyes fixed on the way his heavy balls bounce with each rough tug, still so full.

"Fuck, that's it," Wade murmurs, slipping a second finger inside you while he presses a shit-eating grin to the soft skin of your lower stomach. "You like it when daddy jerks off while I'm knuckle deep in you?"

"Watch it," Logan mutters warningly, tone gone low and dark as spilled ink. His hand doesn't slow, the loose grip of his fist slipping up and down his dripping cock in time with the slick squelch of your pussy.

Your hips buck up against Wade’s hand, a loud whine tearing from your chest at the dirtiness of this whole thing. The familiar heat starts to stir in your belly, your pussy drooling more mess over his wrist the longer he plays with you.

Wade barely muffles his chuckle against your hip, dropping a quick kiss there before pulling his soaked fingers from your velvety warmth. You whine at the loss, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

You’ll both get what you want soon enough.

"Alright, we should all know the drill by now people," he announces to you and Logan with a loud clap, pulling away from between your thighs to roll flat onto his back.

“Time to hop on the saddle, John Wayne,” he finishes, giving your ass a loving tap.

Logan snorts into your hair, dropping his cock to grab your hips and gently manhandle you until you’re situated directly over Wade’s face while Logan kneels in front of you. The jut of his cock bobbing inches away from your mouth.

Wade’s greedy fingers pry your swollen lips apart to watch the way his and Logan’s come starts to seep out from you, falling to drip onto his bare chest. He blows over the wet length of you, the cool air from his mouth has your hips twitching down in search of any friction you can get.

“Not so fast,” he scolds lightly, grinding his knuckle against the wet seam of you. Your nails dig crescent moons into his scarred shoulders, threatening to break the skin.

“You’ve gotta savor this moment, hot stuff,” he says slowly, leaning up to press a kiss directly over your throbbing clit. “You got the best seat in the house, don’t take it for granted–”

"Enough," Logan grunts, heavy hands falling on your shoulders to push you down on Wade's face, fully closing the gap. "Quit runnin' your damn mouth and make our girl feel good, red."

Wade's hands tighten their hold on your thighs, his hips bucking up off the mattress like he can't help it. His surprised moan rumbles against your clit, loud and shameless.

You cry out at the first drag of his tongue over your aching pussy, hot and wet as it slides through your dripping slit. You pitch forward, too caught up in pleasure to think clearly as you take Logan’s cock into your mouth. You take him all the way down to the root in one swift move, burying your nose in the dark hair surrounding the base. 

"Fuck," Logan bites out, eyes twisting shut as he feels your warm throat enveloping him. He takes your hair in his fist gently, just holding it as you swallow around him. 

Your hands move to rest on his thick thighs, nails scratching over the hair scattered along his skin. His breath shutters in his chest, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly, chasing the tight heat of your mouth.

The mix of your tongue tracing along the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock and the low, wet sounds of Wade devouring you has him pulsing in your mouth.

Your thighs shake on either side of Wade's head, the steady grip of his hands the only thing that keeps you from collapsing into a boneless heap on the mattress.

Your hips twitch the tiniest bit, rocking forward enough to grind your clit over the slope of his nose. He groans under you, squeezing the meat of your thighs in encouragement as he swirls his tongue through the mess dripping from your hole.

“That’s a good girl,” Logan praises gruffly, his hips speeding up. “Shut him up, baby. Make him fuckin’ eat it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, dragging your pussy along Wade’s mouth faster. You moan desperately around your mouthful, brain going hazy around the edges.

The frantic pace you set only makes their come leak from you faster, dripping down Wade’s face faster than he can keep up, and there's just so much.

A steady, thick stream of it that feels almost never ending thanks to Logan coming like he busted a pipe and absolutely flooding your insides every single time.

Wade doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest though, swirling his tongue along you with a new sense of urgency. His hands grip your hips tighter, his blunt nails digging into your skin deliciously as he slurps and sucks with unbridled enthusiasm, chasing every drop of come.

He’s sloppy with it, come sliding down his cheeks and chin in thin rivers of white.

Logan’s rough breath hitches above you, his fingers tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks just the way he likes. His growl sends a thrill down your spine.

"C'mon, Wilson," Logan grunts, his hips speeding up. When you peer up at him, you can see the goading smile that just barely tugs the corner of his mouth up.

“Spitters are quitters, you know that."

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[cherrysweets-world]

Invidia

Pairing - Geta x Caracalla’swifeReader, Caracalla x f!Reader

Summary- Geta wants what he can't have - his brother's wife.

Warnings - minors dni, intense pining, sexual contact, concubines, brief sex, unedited, potential part two

Word Count - 1.2k

Geta loved his brother. He knew this. Sometimes Caracalla even knew it too. However, as of late, it had been hard to remember.

The room was crowded and the air was hot and heavy. Some noble was in front of Geta, discussing some plan or other. Normally Geta at least tried to stay engaged, but tonight it was particularly difficult.

Caracalla was having no trouble staying preoccupied. No-one dared even approach his brother, lest they break his good mood. A mood brought on by his delightful new wife, who was currently sat square in Caracalla's lap.

It was unusual for noble women to engage in such openly intimate behaviour. Caracalla's happiness was so rare, though, that they didn't even look twice. If she could keep the young Emperor distracted and engaged in less blood thirsty pursuits then who were they to judge? It had been a peaceful month because of her and Geta could tell everyone, from the servants to counsel men to himself, was grateful for it.

Grateful and bitter, he thought to himself. It was not so long ago that he thought he was the fortunate one. Caracalla had always been resentful that he had been betrothed to a woman when Geta was free to choose for himself. Geta had privately agreed and had thought that he might never marry. It was perhaps the one duty that his brother had taken on so he would not have to.

His sister-in-law laughed loudly, leaning into Caracalla to whisper some secret thing to him. Geta's ears burned and he found himself leaning further toward them, as though he might hear what you had to say.

Caracalla responded with a raspy giggled, hands busying themselves on your thighs. There was nothing sexual about it, really. Just close intimacy, unlike anything either of them had shared with anyone before. Geta squeezed his hands tight, imagining what it would feel like to trace those very same patterns as Caracalla.

He could take it no more. "Senator, please, you must enjoy yourself," he tried to grin, "Rome has earned herself a break, has she not? Please, taste the wine, the food. Perhaps the women?"

The senator gave a full laugh. "Perhaps, Emperor Geta, perhaps."

Geta got to his feet immediately. The senator had hardly had the chance to turn around before Geta was across the room and standing before his brother and you.

"Geta," you said, surprised, "we were just thinking of rescuing you."

Caracalla gave him a look that said he was very much not planning to do that. "My wife is very thoughtful, is she not?"

"She is," Geta responded, hoping for nonchalance. "She is also the Empress of Rome. Do you think it is wise to be groping her like that so publicly? She is not one of your whores."

"Oh, I do not mind," you dismissed his concern, "they all know who I am. And it soothes my Emperor to have me so close."

"It does," Caracalla confirmed. "I cannot say you bring me the same joy, brother. I'm sure there are many others who would love to entertain you."

Geta's jaw worked as he considered this. There was no playfulness in his brother's eyes, he was serious. It was off putting to see him so lucid. How was this fair? Geta was the one who worked hardest to rule over Rome and her subjects. He was the Emperor people came to with their questions and simpering proposals. So why had his brother been blessed with a woman such as you?

He knew he should be more grateful. Caracalla had not had a serious episode since the night he met you. When he did have one it was quickly ended by you. In general he had become much more reasonable and everyone was all the happier for it.

Caracalla seemed especially aware of the blessing the Gods had granted him. He did not find Geta's interest in his wife amusing.

Caracalla did not even know the half of it. Geta had been yearning for you since the night you met. You had caught them both at a vulnerable moment and had comforted them when no one else had or could. How could he not want to be around you? He saw the contentedness you brought his brother and could not help but want that for himself.

Sometimes, at night, when he knew the pair of you were enjoying yourselves together, his thoughts turned a dark path. Caracalla had only been married to you for a month - it was not too late to annul the marriage and take you for himself. Darker still, he thought about sending Caracalla far, far away and telling you that he had died. You would turn to Geta for comfort and -

"Geta," you interrupted his thoughts, "are you well? You seem distracted."

"You are most kind, my sister-in-law," he smiled wearily, "I am. . .tired. I will retire early."

You opened your mouth as if to say something more but Caracalla leaned close, nuzzling your neck and tickling a giggle from you. It was shameful how hard the sound made Geta's cock and he almost grabbed it, right there in front of everyone.

Caracalla stared at him from your neck, blue eyes watchful and knowing. Although he was angry at Geta's wanting, part of him was also satisfied to have something that was finally his and his alone. Even better than it was you.

"We shall retire too," Caracalla said, hands coming up to cup your waist and graze the bottom of your breasts. He was making it no secret exactly what the pair of you would be getting up to and white hot jealousy almost skewered Geta to the spot. He wanted to tear you from his brother's arms but he was well aware had no right.

It was a terrible though, but sometimes Geta wished his brother was sicker again. Maybe then you would have come to him more often, or he would have been able to steal you away without his brother's unusually watchful eye. Something about you made him better, though, more alert. Geta did not want to think of what Caracalla might do if you were taken from him.

Geta stared longingly at the side of your face. You did not look back. Of course you did not. You had no interest in a man who was not your husband, who was not Caracalla. You were a good woman and would never think twice about another man. Geta admired this quality whilst equally resenting it.

He bid you both tonight and turned on his heel, dodging various people on the way out. He selected a concubine, a girl who, if he squinted, almost looked like you and retreated to his chambers.

He fucked her with her face turned into his bedding, imagining it was his brother's wife wrapped around his cock instead. Geta imagined what it would be like if he had been the one to marry you. If he was the one to occupy all your thoughts and attention.

It could be different with you, he thought. Maybe he would be gentle for once. You likely would be. Then again he had seen you flirting with Caracalla and you were not shy. Geta would have to take his time, savour the skin on skin contact with you, savour your noises and looks. It would be unlike how it was with his concubines because it would be you and he had never wanted anything quite so badly. It was to these thoughts that he came.

Still, these fantasies were not enough. He had to know.

Author’s Note - he’s too horny. I think this needs a part two, what do you think?

dividers by @enchanthing

[marscardigan]

bad thoughts

joel miller x reader

Not a lot, just forever universe

This is my first fic here, hope you enjoy thiss <3

Summary: After feeling down for a while, Joel makes you smile again.

Warnings: Pregancy, Ellie being kinda mean.

You have had a shitty day. Since the birth of your baby girl, you felt exhausted. You only wanted to be inside your bed all day, or between your boyfriends arms. So when you came home after a walk to ease your nerves, and you didn't find Joel, you were on the verge of tears. It wasn't really that bad; you just weren't in the mood to get to sleep Clementine, especially knowing how hard it was. It wasn't until Ellie came down the stairs that you got an idea.

"Hey kiddo" You sighed, with your daughter in your arms. 

"Hey," Ellie didn't look at you. Instead, she grabbed a banana and her backpack. "I'm going to Dina's tonight".

"I-uh... I was hoping you could help me to get Clem to sleep." The named one started crying. "I'm exhausted today"

Ellie groaned. "When you're not lately?"

The comment surprised you. "Well, could you help me, please? I promise I will make up to you." You tried to smile, shushing the cries of the baby. 

 "It's- ugh" She looked up at you, now. "I'm kinda late."

"Please, Ells, you know I normally would do it myself, but my back is hurting really bad."

"Jesus." The teenager then grabbed your daughter and went up the stairs. The moment the baby left your chest, she started to get quiet. 

Twenty minutes later, Ellie was leaving Clementine's room with an unhappy frown. "Done."

"Thank you so, so much, hon." You then went to hug her, but she dodged it. She was gone by the time you said goodbye. 

The last months, you and Ellie weren't at the best point of your friendship. You tried to think that it was because she was becoming more independent, but when she still did all the things she used to do with Joel, you couldn't help but get an uneasy feeling in your stomach. You then went to your shared bedroom with Joel, and tears started rolling. Likewise, you didn't even hear the front door opening and Joel calling your name. It was then when he found you, curled up in your bed with your face all wet. 

"Hey, hey, hey, angel." He grabbed softly your chin to look at your eyes. "What happened?"

You babbled something, but your head was all melted. You couldn't make coherent thoughts, let alone talk. "It's okay; breathe with me."

Minutes went by, and Joel didn't leave your side until you calmed yourself down. 

"It's just-" You hiccuped. "I just feel like an awful mother"

"With Clem?" You avoided his gaze. "Yeah. And also Ellie. Both hate me."

"Don't you dare to say that." He made you look into his dark, warm eyes. "You are the best mother they could ever ask for. Why would you think that?"

"Well... I can't put asleep my own baby - that I birthed myself - also, if I grab her, she screams like I'm burning her." Tears threatened to come again at the thought of your daughter loathing you. "And Ellie... Lately, I feel like a burden when I'm around her. I feel useless; I miss our relationship before I got pregnant. When she used to tell me everything and we cooked together. I feel like I'm losing them both, and I'm scared that-"

Joel called your name in a way that all your bad thoughts vanished. "You are not a burden. And you are absolutely not a bad mother. It is normal you feel that way. I can't imagine all that you have had to be gone through last year. Getting pregnant and giving birth in times like this? That alone is a miracle that you did yourself. And yes, raising a baby and a teenager at the same time might seem like hell, but we will go through it, together" He then kissed your forehead softly. "I've been having this feeling Ellie is kinda jealous or something about Clem, I don't know. What if you two talked tomorrow? Just tell her exactly what you just told me. She might be kinda bratty, but she is mature enough to understand what you're going through. I'm sure. And about little Clem, let me take care of her this week. You need to rest and before caring about others, you need to care about yourself first. If you're okay, we will be okay."

Tears rolled again in your cheeks, and Joel dried up every single one of them. "Please, don't ever think again any of those awful things. You are marvelous, angel." You then smiled, stealing a kiss from those lips you loved so dearly.

[cleo-fox]

Conquer

Part 2 of 5

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: The king intends to take a bride. You just never thought it would be you. (Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Chapter Summary: It’s no surprise that Loki has a gift for talking dirty and you wish that it didn’t work as well as it does. You wish that—for example��it were a little more challenging for him to talk you into letting him get you off in the limo on your way to a gala event hosted by the Swedish government.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Chapter Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, edging, teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, orgasm delay, semi-public sex, light Dom/sub. (see series masterlist for series warnings)

A/N: I realize that the GIF I'm using for this chapter is TVA!Loki, but the attitude is very much in keeping with this chapter, so I decided to forgo accuracy in favor of thirst. Also, you may be thinking "Part 2 of 5? I thought this was going to be 3 chapters!" Me too. Welcome to what it's like being in my brain: even I don't know what's going on here.

The wedding night isn’t the end of the sex, of course.

The immediate, sharp need for your first coupling is gone, but there’s a dull and persistent ache that keeps you coming back to his bed every night (and several times during the day). Loki is equally ravenous, if not more so.

While you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re going to fuck him, you still don’t like being the one to initiate sex. It sounds silly, but it feels like admitting to a vulnerability that you’re not prepared to acknowledge, let alone act on.

The problem is that your sex drive has skyrocketed since the wedding.

You’ve heard about this happening—the saying soulbonds are meant to be consummated, but some are more thorough than others didn’t come out of nowhere. You just didn’t think it would be a problem for you, especially once you found out who your soulmate was. 

You were wrong about this, of course—you are constantly horny. Your mind is a cineplex of perversion, constantly playing memories of the times that he has fucked you, ways he might fuck you next, his hands, his lips, his tongue, his annoyingly perfect cock. It makes you want to run your brain through the washing machine, like a couple of Tide pods and an extra rinse cycle might fix this.

But the part that drives you crazy is that he always seems to know when you’re in these moods and he always manages to claim the upper hand. It is—like so many things with Loki—profoundly irritating.

It’s all physical—your conversations are limited to the mundane or the utterly filthy. It’s no surprise that Loki has a gift for talking dirty and you wish that it didn’t work as well as it does. You wish that—for example—it were a little more challenging for him to talk you into letting him get you off in the limo on your way to a gala event hosted by the Swedish government.

You can feel his gaze caressing your body as you walk down the stairs to meet him. Your dress is gold and glittery, and hugs your curves while the slit sneaks just high enough that you know the fashion blogs will call it daring. You keep your eyes on your feet and your hand on the railing as you navigate the stairs in your heels. Normally, Loki would comment on that—something about how you needed proper education in comportment, you were a queen, queens don’t stare at their feet, people expected elegance, blah, blah, blah. Tonight, though, he’s silent as he takes you in, which you know means that he’s particularly enchanted by how you look. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to feel sexy and confident, to enjoy the fact that the most powerful man on the planet has been rendered speechless by how you look.

Are you ridiculously horny? Sure, but you’ve got it under control. You can hold out for an evening and you’re pretty sure Loki hasn’t figured it out. If he had, he almost certainly would have said something inappropriate when he offered you his arm. He’s probably going to be distracted by the gala anyway. Why had you ever doubted yourself?

When the two of you get into the limo, you remember why. 

The moment the door shuts behind you, Loki is pulling you close, his hands cupping your breasts and then sliding down to your thighs while his lips latch on to the spot where your neck and shoulder meet.

“What are you doing?” you ask, as though his intentions are in any way unclear.

“You need to come. I can smell you.” He’s hiking up the fabric of your dress.

Well. So much for him not noticing.

Your cunt clenches. “We’re in public.”

“Those windows are tinted and the partition is up.” His breath is warm on your neck as the fabric of your dress pools around your waist. 

“I can still wait.”

“Oh, I don’t think you can.” His fingers slip between your legs (when did you spread your legs for him?), gently grazing the gusset of your underwear, which you know is embarrassingly wet. “Soaked already,” he breathes, rubbing your clit through the thin fabric. “You need to come.”

“I-I c-can—I can wait until—oh fuck.” 

He pushes the fabric of your underwear aside and lightly teases your clit with the tip of his finger.

“You can’t,” he rasps, lightly nipping at your earlobe. “You’re such a greedy, needy little thing. Your cunt is insatiable.”

He presses his first three fingers together and rubs your clit in a big, broad circle that makes your back arch.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your hands flexing against the seat. “Fuck, just like that.”

“I thought you said you could wait?” he says with that mocking lilt to his voice, the one that makes you simultaneously want to punch him in the face and also ride him hard and fast and a little rough.

“Shut up,” you grit out.

He laughs low in your ear. “Oh, you don’t mean that, I know you love it when I talk you through it.”

You hate that he’s right.

“You love hearing about how tight and wet you are, how hard I am for you.” He drops his voice lower. “How hard I’m going to fuck you.”

You can’t help the quiet moan that falls from your lips.

“Yes, you love it when I talk to you like this,” he purrs. “And I love hearing what an utterly filthy, wicked girl you are.”

You whimper, despite your best efforts to keep quiet. 

“Oh, I like that little noise,” he says, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Let me hear you.”

“I hate you so much.”

You’ve said this to him before and like all the other times, he simply laughs. “Hate me all you like, darling, but you and I both know that you love what I do to you.”

You bite your lip and try to focus on the pleasure that’s rising in your hips.

“Has anyone ever made you come as hard as I do?” he muses, like he’s just making casual conversation. “From the way that you scream and beg for it, I imagine that there haven’t been very many that were capable. Your cunt has quite clearly been neglected.”

You’re going to ignore what he’s saying. That’s what you’re going to do. There’s no reason to listen to any of what he’s saying.

“The truth is that you need me, don’t you?” he says, nipping at your ear. “You need me because I know exactly what to do to sate your needy little cunt. I know exactly how to make you scream.”

You hate how close you are, hate how the impending rush of your orgasm has basically rendered you speechless, save for a few incoherent whimpers.

He brings his lips close to your ear, lowering his voice to a growl. “What would those pitiful Midgardians say if they knew their queen was such a needy little slut?”

Instead of delivering a stern rebuke, you come hard. Incredibly hard—it is arguably one of the most intense orgasms he’s given you yet, blazing through your body with a ferocity that leaves you shaking in its wake.

And he notices.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he purrs as he rubs you through the aftershocks. “I felt how hard you came, how utterly desperate you are for me to fuck you.” 

“Loki, please,” you breathe.

He tugs at your underwear. “Take this off.”

Your first instinct is to challenge him, but the fabric is now uncomfortably damp and you desperately need him to fuck you, so you lift your hips and slide your underwear down and off your legs without any complaint. He takes it from you and sticks it in his pocket.

You expect to hear the clink of his belt buckle followed by his silky smooth voice ordering you to sink down on his unfairly perfect cock. Even though you’ve just come, you want more. You always do with him. 

(You decide not to think too much about that last part).

Instead, though, he smooths his hair and settles back into his seat, looking out the window. After a moment, you clear your throat expectantly. 

He glances at you, utterly casual. “What is it?”

Your eyes narrow. He’s playing dumb and you both know it. 

“You made me take off my underwear,” you say, biting back a sharper reply.

“I did.”

“So…fuck me.”

He gives an amused little chuckle that makes your palm itch to slap him. “Darling, we’re in public, that would be unseemly.”

You roll your eyes before you can stop yourself. “You’re full of it.”

His gaze turns smoldering and stern. “And if you want to be full of my cock later tonight, you’ll change your attitude.”

You’re not sure if it’s the absence of underwear that makes you feel more aroused than usual or if he’s awakened some latent perversion you were previously unaware of. Possibly, it’s both.

Your breath hitches and he smiles like he knows he has the upper hand.

“Do you want that?” he says. “Do you want me to fill your tight little cunt with my big cock?”

You’re so far gone that you find yourself nodding before the thought of being contrary can even cross your mind.

“Well, then,” he says, flicking an invisible speck of dust from his tuxedo jacket, “you’re going to have to earn it.”

You huff out an irritated sigh and yank the skirt of your dress back down. “You’re an ass,” you say with a scowl.

“And you’re going to do exactly as I tell you or you won’t be coming at all.”

You stare at him, lips parted in the start of a complaint.

“And however much your pretty cunt is aching right now, I imagine it will be twice as worse tomorrow with no release,” he says. “If I’m feeling generous, of course. I could always make you wait longer.”

You close your mouth, biting back the urge to scowl.

He smirks. “That’s my good girl.”

Your cunt throbs. By the end of the night, your thighs will surely be sticky with your own arousal.

“This is unfair,” you grumble, crossing your arms and sitting back in your seat.

“Behave,” he says as you approach a rather impressive set of gates. “We’re almost there.”

A flick of his wrist sends seidr racing along your skin, smoothing your hair, straightening your dress, and fixing the smudge of lipstick at the corner of your mouth.

Your underwear remains in his pocket.

You have a feeling it’s going to be a long evening.

The Minister for Finance is giving a presentation. You’re not entirely sure that you would have been able to follow it under normal circumstances, but certainly not with Loki’s hand up your dress.

The two of you are seated at your own table—it’s one of the more stupid formalities he insists on, though you suppose it’s advantageous in this instance. His actions are obscured by the table and tablecloth and probably a little magic, but your heart is still racing with the thrill of it. His movements have been slow and deliberate, and the result is that he’s effectively been edging you for the duration of this forty-five minute presentation.

It feels incredible; it’s agony. You love it; you hate it.

“You’re being a very good girl,” Loki murmurs to you at one point and that alone nearly sends you over the edge.

“You’re a jackass,” you whisper back to him.

He chuckles. “If you want me to let you come once we get home, I’d suggest changing your tone, my love.”

You resist the urge to scowl, but only barely. “You made me come in the limo over here because you said I couldn’t wait,” you point out. “What happened to that philosophy?”

“It was supplanted by a desire to see what happens when I tease you for several hours.” A wicked smile curls at his lips. “Besides, I love how tight and desperate your cunt feels when I make you beg for me.”

You always come hardest when he makes you beg for him. You’d never admit it, though.

“I’d think you’d be more concerned about getting caught,” you say. “What do you think that would do to your image?”

“Oh, I think it would do wonders for my image,” he says. “Attentively tending to my wife’s needs despite potential social embarrassment? It’s rather feminist of me, don’t you think?”

“Okay, first of all, that is not what femini—” Your voice cuts out as he rolls his finger in a particularly devastating circle.

“What was that, my love?” he asks, voice thick with faux concern, his true intent easily betrayed by his shit eating grin. “You seem distracted.”

You’re not entirely sure if you’re tensing your muscles in anticipation of an orgasm or in an effort to stave it off. “You’re awful.”

His voice drops. “But I’m making you feel so very good, aren’t I?”

You take a deep breath, trying to soothe the tightening knot in your belly, even as your body is begging you to rush toward it.

“Aren’t I?” His tone turns stern and you hear the implied order loud and clear.

“Yes,” you bite out.

“Yes what?”

You swallow. You’re starting to get close, closer than he’s let you get so far. “Yes, you’re making me feel good.”

He smirks. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?”

You nod, taking another deep breath through your nose. Keep it together.

“I could let you come,” he muses. “Everyone’s watching the presentation. You could be quiet, couldn’t you?” His pace increases just slightly, enough for you to start to feel the tempting, shimmery tendrils of release. “Do you want that, lovely?”

It’s not a good idea, but you nod anyway. 

“I had no idea you were so filthy.” His fingers are massaging your clit more firmly and you bite back a gasp because you know it won’t be long. You’re trying to keep a straight face, but you’re struggling. You are so deliciously close.

“Are you going to come for me?” he asks quietly. He knows the answer.

You nod, not trusting your voice.

But just as you’re about to start to tip over the edge, Loki’s hand retreats and the building pressure in your hips diminishes back to that steady, throbbing ache just as the Minister for Finance concludes his presentation.

Loki is smirking like he expected this. “Ah. Unfortunate timing.”

You may kill him.

“You did that on purpose, you ass,” you hiss at him.

“Oh, you’ll thank me for it later,” he says, his voice dropping low.

You scowl at him, though you suspect he’s probably right.

You get a slight reprieve during dinner, but only in the sense that Loki’s hand is no longer up your dress. Your aching arousal remains, coating the inside of your thighs. Your heartbeat seems to be pulsing in your clit, the muscles of your cunt aching as they clench repeatedly around nothing.

While his hand is no longer up your dress, Loki continues to be as unhelpful as possible.

“Shall I let you unravel on my tongue?” he murmurs to you during the main course. “Or do you need my cock first?”

“I think you need to stop talking,” you say as evenly as you can muster.

“Whatever for?” he asks with the sort of feigned innocence that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Surely you’re not concerned that I’m going to make you come simply by telling you what I want to do to you.”

You take a slow sip of your water.

“Or perhaps that idea appeals to you?” he asks, dropping his voice even lower. “Do you want me to make you come in front of all of these people?”

There’s something about the idea that’s admittedly appealing in a taboo sort of way, though you aren’t quite sure you actually want to pursue it or if you’re just so desperate that even objectively bad ideas sound good.

“Truly, I doubt you could keep quiet,” he says. “You and I both know how much you like to scream for me and I’ve been teasing you for what, three hours now? But perhaps that’s what you want. You were about to come for me earlier. Perhaps you want them all to know what a needy little sl—ah, Stefan! So good to see you again.”

Loki has seamlessly directed his attention to the Swedish official who has approached your table. His ability to be charming and personable is irritating, particularly when he’s often been uttering absolute filth to you mere seconds before. Meanwhile, your brain has completely short circuited—your thoughts stopped being anywhere near coherent when he started touching you under the table during that presentation and your cunt is pulsing. You manage a polite smile and a pleasantly vague expression that you hope hides the fact that all you can think about is Loki throwing you down on the table and fucking you until you can’t walk straight and you’ve screamed yourself hoarse.

“You conducted yourself quite well,” Loki says softly once the man leaves. “I’d never have guessed that you’re hiding such a needy, sloppy cunt under that dress.”

You take a deep breath. “What’s to stop me from slipping off somewhere and taking care of things myself?”

His eyes flash a little dangerously and you hate how much it thrills you. “If you do that, I’ll see to it that you don’t come for a week. At least.”

You are irritated with him, certainly, but you are far more irritated with yourself for being even remotely aroused by his words.

“You’re insufferable,” you hiss instead.

Loki smirks and leans in to whisper in your ear. “We’ll see how you feel a few hours from now when I’m buried in your tight cunt.” His breath ghosts over your ear and it takes everything in you not to shiver. “I suspect I’ll find you much more agreeable. You always are when you need to be fucked.” His voice drops even lower. “And I know how much you need it.”

Your legs are shaking and you wonder how you’re going to make it through the rest of the evening.

You almost come during the concert.

It was probably easier for them to set up the orchestra on the same stage as the presentation, but it means that you’re still sitting at the same table as before, which gives Loki more than enough cover to continue touching you. His hand is creeping back up your dress before the oboe even plays the tuning note and while he’s still going slowly, it’s been four and a half hours and your body is aching for release in a way you have rarely felt.

His fingertip skates across your clit just a little too quickly and firmly and suddenly, you’re poised right on the edge. One more stroke of his fingers, just one more slight movement and you’ll come.

It’s a split second decision, so quick you can scarcely think twice about it. You desperately want to come, but even though you almost let it happen earlier, you know that a stifled public orgasm isn’t really what you want. You want him to hear you scream—you don’t want to hold back.

And you want to be good for him. You want him to reward you for being good, you want to be his good girl—

You shake your head to dismiss that thought and grab his wrist in a silent warning. Quickly, he moves his hand away, sliding it to your knee. Your cunt shudders and aches, the pulsing throb of your arousal even stronger than before.

He brushes his lips against your ear. “Oh, very good, darling. You’ll be rewarded for that.”

“You could reward me now and take me home,” you say pointedly, though it would probably be more effective if your voice wasn’t so shaky.

He chuckles, draping his arm around your shoulders. Every so often, you’ve seen a candid photo of the two of you in People or one of the other celebrity magazines and you’re always taken aback by how normal you look. You imagine that it would be the same if someone were to take a photo right now—you’d look like just another couple cuddling and canoodling instead of…whatever it is you actually are. Soulmates who hate each other but fuck like it’s their job and the rent is due? There’s no easy way to classify your relationship, which you suppose is for the best: this is not the sort of thing that should be common enough to have its own word.

“We still have quite a bit to go.” He brings his index finger—the same one that had just been up your dress—up to his lips and closes his eyes like he’s tasting something divine. “Norns, I can taste how desperate you are.”

You cross your legs in the hope that it will alleviate the pulsing ache between your thighs (it doesn’t). “You’re not helping.”

“Of course I’m not,” he says. “I told you, I want you begging for me by the end of the night.”

“How have I not already exceeded that threshold?”

He smirks. “I like to be thorough.”

Five minutes later, his hand is back between your thighs.

“Let’s try that again,” he murmurs. “Do you think you’ll be able to resist a second time?”

Somehow, you do—and two more times after that. By the end of the concert, your heart is pounding, your legs feel like rubber, your cunt is dripping, and you’d easily sell your soul for an orgasm.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” says Loki. He’s been full of praise and filthy promises and you can’t decide if that makes it better or worse.

“Can we please go home?”

He chuckles. “Of course not, that would be rude.”

“I have a hard time believing you’re concerned about rudeness, considering where your hands have been this evening,” you say with a pointed look.

“You wound me.” He stands and offers you his hand. You take it grudgingly, your legs wobbling slightly. “Now. Come help me charm the Minister for Defense. I need him to be much more cooperative about sharing intelligence.”

The only good thing about schmoozing with Swedish officials is that Loki can’t have his hand up your dress while doing so. Even so, he still finds ways to be constantly touching you—a hand on your lower back, your elbow, your shoulder, your waist. These things shouldn’t be erotic, but he somehow manages to make them so. Every brush of his fingers against your bare skin is agony: you are burning for him.

You watch the clock tick through another hour and a half while trying not to let anyone on to the fact that you’re keen to leave. Time feels like it’s dragging—even when the event officially ends, it still takes another thirty-seven minutes for you to say your farewells and make your way out to the front where your limo is waiting.

Your legs are shaking as Loki helps you into the limo. He slides into the seat next to you and you find yourself leaning into him, unable to resist any longer.

The door shuts.

“Loki—” you start to say.

“When we get home,” he says promptly.

“You can’t possibly—”

“Oh, I can.” He pulls you into his lap. “I’ve been hard for you all evening,” he purrs in your ear, settling you so that the thick column of his cock presses hard against your ass. “Do you know how many times I nearly dragged you off to some empty room to take you up against the wall?” He brings his mouth down against your neck, teeth pressing against your skin just hard enough to almost hurt. You tilt your head to the side to give him better access, guiding his hands to your spread thighs.

“Do you know why I didn’t?” he murmurs against your skin.

“Because you make terrible choices?” you say before you can think it through.

His low laugh rumbles deliciously against your throat. “No.” His hands slip underneath the hem of your dress, fingertips skating along the tender skin of your inner thigh. Your hips roll forward almost unconsciously, your breath hitching. 

“I didn’t because I know that you need to scream for me,” he says. “Just as much as I need to hear you.” His fingertip grazes your slit. “And you know that we can’t do that properly in the car.” His finger strokes your clit and you moan. “Poor thing,” he murmurs, tracing a slow circle over the sensitive skin. “I don’t think that I’ve ever made you this wet.”

“Loki—”

“I’m not giving you permission to come yet,” he murmurs, adding just a little more pressure. “I need you to be good for just a little longer.”

You let out a whine that you’re not at all proud of as he moves his hand away to gently massage your inner thighs. “Loki, please.”

“Be good.” His voice promises pleasure and punishment and everything in between and you feel drunk with desire.

“I’ve been so good,” you say, bringing his hand back to your cunt. “Please just let me come.”

“When we get home.”

“Just once. Please.”

He chuckles and brings his lips up to your ear. “You know that I’m going to take care of you,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “You know I always take care of your needy cunt. I always make you come. You just need to wait a little longer.”

“I need to come now.”

“Think about how good it’s going to feel if you wait just a little longer.”

“It would feel good now.”

“It will feel even better in our bed.” He rolls his fingers in a slow circle on your clit. “You know it will.”

You whimper, rolling your hips with his hand.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this desperate,” he says. “I’m rather partial to it.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you grumble.

“Oh, I’d advise you watch your tone, darling,” he says low in your ear, sliding a finger inside you, his thumb taking up the rhythm on your clit. “I don’t want to deny you, but I may have to if you keep being so pert.”

As if to make a point, he slides another finger inside of you and you find yourself once again on the edge. You grab his wrist, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you try to hold back the rising tide within you.

“Oh, good fucking girl,” he growls and the pride in his voice makes your cunt clench hard on his retreating fingers. “You want to come so badly, but you’re being so good waiting for my permission.”

“God, this had better be worth it,” you say as you wait for the pulsing ache between your thighs to recede.

“It will be,” he murmurs against your neck. “You know it will be.” He shifts you in his lap so you face him and guides your hand to his cock. “Do you feel how hard you’ve made me? I’m aching for you.”

You rub his shaft, working your way up to catch the tab of his zipper between your fingers. He looks at you, eyes hungry, a smirk curling at his lips.

Slowly, you pull down the zipper.

“Oh you wicked thing,” he purrs, a low groan escaping him as you wrap your hand around his shaft and slowly begin stroking him. He’s rock hard and throbbing, and your hand quickly grows slick with his precome.

You lean in, brushing your lips against his ear. “I want you to fuck me,” you say, flicking your tongue against his earlobe.

He chuckles. “Are you trying to flip the tables on me, darling?”

You’re a little miffed that he figured that out so quickly. “Would that be so bad if I was?”

He laughs again. “You’re adorable.” He slides a hand along your inner thigh and back under your dress. “But I think we both know who’s really in charge here.”

Even the possibility of his hand touching your cunt has your breath quickening and your hand faltering in its rhythm on his cock.

You’re not about to admit defeat, though.

“Don’t you want to fuck me?” you say, trying to keep the quaver out of your voice. You give his cock a few long, indulgent strokes. “We’re nearly there already. All I’d need to do is move a little closer.”

He chuckles, his hand sliding up to lightly tease your folds. “I would have made you warm my cock the whole ride back,” he says casually, like he’s commenting on the weather, “but I don’t think you could have done it without coming. You’re too sensitive.”

Your lips part like you have something to say, but all rational thought and the entirety of the English language has fled your brain and even more arousal is pooling between your legs.

Loki smirks like he knows all of this and he briefly strokes you from your entrance to your clit before withdrawing. “Ah, we’re nearly home,” he says, moving your hand away and patting your thigh before tucking himself back into his trousers. “Let’s make ourselves presentable, shall we?”

You climb off his lap and straighten your dress, but don’t even bother trying to fix your hair or makeup. You stumble out of the car a minute later, hoping that you don’t look like you’ve spent the entire evening poised on the brink of orgasm.

Loki, of course, is annoyingly put together. He wraps an arm around your waist and leads you forward.

“Oh, the things I’m going to do to you when we get to our rooms,” he says under his breath as you make your way into the foyer. 

“That had better be a promise,” you say.

“I thought we established that I’m the one who gives you orders—”

“We established nothing—”

One of his advisors—Sigurd, the same one who spoke to you in the hotel when he found you—is approaching Loki at a brisk clip.

“Your majesty—”

Loki barely takes his eyes off of you. “Later,” he says, waving a hand in Sigurd’s direction.

“Sire, it’s urgent.”

Your heart sinks. Loki stops and turns to Sigurd, eyes sharp, mouth pulled into a firm line. “It had better be.”

Despite the intensity of Loki’s expression, Sigurd looks unbothered and remarkably calm. “We received new intelligence on the matter you inquired about earlier, your majesty.”

Loki’s expression darkens and you realize with a sinking sensation that he has to go deal with whatever this is. “A moment,” he says to Sigurd before turning to you.

He lowers his voice so that only you can hear him. “Go to our rooms,” he murmurs. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

You nod and he leans in, brushing his lips against your temple. “Be good for me.”

A thrill runs through you.

By the time you get back to your rooms, though, you’re a little annoyed. He’s been teasing you for hours and when you finally get home, he suddenly has another work thing?

It would almost be funny if it wasn’t so frustrating.

Though admittedly, he did look pretty surprised and annoyed by Sigurd’s sudden appearance. It’s probably not fair to blame him for that.

Probably.

You take your time getting undressed, mainly in the hope that it will somehow hasten his return or trick you into thinking time is passing quickly. Not that you’re looking forward to him returning for any reason other than sex. You still hate him—you just really need him to fuck you. That’s all it is.

You hesitate for a long time over the collection of silk nightgowns in your wardrobe. Should you put something on? Should you just wait naked on the bed? A silky green number catches your eye. He’d probably like that. He’s pretty predictable when it comes to that sort of thing—put on his colors and he goes feral. With any luck you won’t be wearing it for very long, but you might as well do what you can to facilitate that outcome.

You contemplate underwear and decide there’s little point, given that tonight’s set is still tucked into his pocket.

You situate yourself in the middle of your bed and try not to think about your throbbing cunt. It would be so easy to get yourself off, but you know that it won’t be as good.

You need him.

You try to ignore the thought. It’s just physical. That’s all it is. You’re on edge from being teased all evening. It doesn’t mean anything.

You wait.

It’s late when you finally hear the door click open, followed by the tap of his dress shoes on the floor.

You sit up in bed, your eyes roving greedily over him. His suit jacket is gone and his tie is draped around his neck, shirtsleeves rolled up. You are loath to admit it, but it’s incredibly hot.

Before you can even get any words out, he’s striding across the room, eyes hungrier than you’ve ever seen them. His clothes disappear the second he hits the bed, followed swiftly by your nightgown. Seconds later, he’s on top of you, mouth seeking yours, cock pressing insistently against your stomach. Your hands are just as greedy, skimming up his back and combing through his hair.

“Have you been good for me?” he murmurs as he nudges your thighs apart.

“Yes.”

“Did you touch yourself?” he asks, his voice stern.

“No,” you say.

He knows you’re not lying and the hungry smile he gives you almost makes it all feel worth it. “Good girl,” he growls. “Do you want me to fuck you now?”

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he drags his cock through your slickness. “Please.”

He chuckles as he lines himself up at your entrance. “I know, darling, I’m going to take such good care of you.”

Your cunt is so slick and sensitive from his hours of teasing that just the act of him sliding inside of you feels like you’ve reached your own personal nirvana. 

“Oh, fuck.” Your voice comes out in a whimper and your legs tighten around his waist to hold him in place because he feels so overwhelmingly good.

Loki lets out a low groan as he eases inside you, catching his lower lip between his teeth as his brow furrows. “Perfect.” He leans in to kiss you as he starts to move. His first thrust is slow but even so, it draws a whimper from your throat. He’s always felt good, but this is transcendent.

“Oh god, please don’t stop,” you gasp.

“I won’t, my love.” His voice is tender as he moves with an aching, slow precision. “Not until you’ve had your fill.”

For the first time this evening, you let down your guard. Every time he’s touched you tonight—even before the gala in the limo—you’ve had to hold back to some degree. You haven’t been able to give into it, to let yourself be completely unbound and unguarded. But now when he’s moving inside of you, you have the freedom to just be and feel and it’s exquisite. Every thrust of his hips, every reverent caress of his hands, every sigh or groan is an opportunity to discover a new kind of heaven.

“You were magnificent tonight,” he murmurs, sliding his hand between your bodies to rub your clit. “Even with my fingers playing with your pretty cunt under the table, you looked every inch a queen. My queen.”

He’s never talked to you like this before and it makes your body sing. You arch, rolling your hips with him as the building wave inside you rises impossibly high, as though every orgasm you almost had this evening is starting to arrive all at once. The tension in your hips is equally fantastic and unbearable, a supernova of sensation that may destroy and remake you all at once.

“Filthy girl, I can tell you’re getting close,” he purrs, tilting his hips so he hits the spot that makes you tremble. “You act so prim and proper in public, but it takes so very little to turn you into my perfect little slut when I get you alone.”

You are approaching the peak, the whirling center of the storm building inside you. “Loki—please, I can’t, I’m gonna—”

“That’s it, darling. Soak my cock like a good girl.”

You always come the hardest when he’s inside you and this is no exception. The pressure in your hips is suddenly and spectacularly ablaze with a shimmering euphoria that draws a raw and primal moan deep from inside your chest. You are a fountain of sparks, all the tension and desire of the evening finally reaching its apex. You have yearned for this all night and the resulting blaze is spectacular.

His pace is still slow, but Loki’s eyes are wild and you get the sense that his composure is hanging by a thread. Though his eyes occasionally flutter shut as your cunt convulses around him, his gaze is locked on you in a kind of wonder. 

“Do you have any idea how good you feel when you come on my cock?” he rasps.

Even in the throes of utter bliss, you need to hear his voice. “Tell me.”

“I would create entire worlds and walk through the fires of their destruction just to feel you come.”

You shudder out a sigh. “More.”

He picks up his pace just slightly. “I would flatten mountains and raise valleys and reverse the currents.”

“More.”

He’s hitting that aching spot inside you again and the rolling tremors of the aftershocks are starting to coalesce into another building wave. You moan and his hand moves back to your clit, slick fingers pressing and rolling in just the way you need.

His eyes shine, bright with lust as his hips and fingers work diligently to unravel you again. “I would take down the stars and bring the heavens to the earth…”

His words are making you dizzy and his movements are coaxing the pressure inside of you into a cyclone that you know is going to take you down.

“Loki, please.” These are the only words you know because your entire world is him moving inside of you, inevitable as the sunrise, the architect of the heavenly destruction and renewal that is building and building in your hips.

He shifts so his weight is entirely on his elbows, bringing his lips up against your ear so you don’t miss a single word. “I would lay my crown at your feet and forsake my name…just to feel you come on my cock.”

The coil in your hips snaps and unfurls into a starry, sparkling oblivion that has you crying out his name over and over like he’s your ending and beginning, the center of your universe. Your eyes are shut against the onslaught of intense sensation, but you can feel him reaching the blissful height he’d been speaking of. He groans and slurs out a few incoherent oaths before succumbing to you and filling your pulsing cunt with his hot release.

His mouth is on yours and he’s kissing you like he means it as he slows to a halt. You lie together for a long moment, hearts beating wildly against each other. 

This felt different than other times. There was an intensity there that had nothing to do with the sex. You don’t know what that means, other than it’s definitely not any kind of feelings for him. It must be something else. You’re certain it’s something else.

“I didn’t realize I’d be called away upon our return.” 

You’re so distracted by your thoughts that the sound of his voice startles you slightly.

“Oh, um, yeah, I figured…it seemed unexpected,” you say.

He lifts his head to look at you, green eyes intent. “Trust that there are very few things that could have pulled me away from you in that moment.”

He’s being sincere. It’s not what you expect and that scares you a little, though you can’t quite articulate why. The idea that he would care whether you thought he’d intentionally extended your wait hadn’t even occurred to you. You don’t really know this side of him. 

“So, it wasn’t like…making a proclamation designating June National Peanut Butter Month.” You know you’re deflecting, but you don’t know what else to do.

He frowns. “That can’t possibly be a real thing.”

You shrug. “It might be. Lots of governments do stuff like that. Maybe you should consider it.”

His smile is slight, but brief as he stretches and slowly eases out of you. “I will leave that to others.”

There’s a beat of quiet and you suddenly find yourself desperate to fill the silence. “What did they need to talk to you about?”

He looks at you sharply and you wonder if this was the wrong thing to say. Loath as you are to admit it, this conversation has fostered a flicker of warmth between you, a fact you only notice now because of its sudden absence.

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he says as he rolls off of you. It’s not unkind, but it’s also not warm, and the discussion is clearly closed.

Part of you mourns the loss of that little spark of closeness, but a larger, louder part is intent on pretending it never existed in the first place.

“Suit yourself.”

You’re annoyed and you roll off the bed and go about your evening routine with a little more clattering and stomping than is strictly necessary. There’s a lump in your throat that you don’t understand and you’re full of feelings you can’t define. You eventually settle on the bed with your back facing him, glaring at the wall like he can see you.

But then he reaches for you in the darkness, his arms winding around your waist, nose nuzzling against the nape of your neck as he pulls you to his chest. And instead of reading him the riot act, you let him hold you and let yourself relax into his embrace, fingers twining around his. You sleep better like this, you tell yourself. That’s the only reason you’re allowing it. It’s nothing to do with him.

You’ve told yourself that every night since your wedding and every night, it gets a little more difficult to believe.

Next chapter coming soon

[attackurheart88]

“Do you and Hisoka have a relationship I don't know about?”

Illumi pauses at the sound of your voice. You were angry but why? It was late. He was gone all day and had only just arrived to see you brushing your hair clearly in a bad mood. “Not at all. He is mearly a good co-worker. His skills make the jobs easier that's all.” Illumi responded casually, removing his pins from his face. “Why?”

“Well since you spend more time with him than you do with me I must wonder if I’m a mistress and he's the one with the ring.” you accused bitterly.

Ah. So that was the issue. You were feeling lonely. Illumi didn't panic. He had read that wives often felt lonely if their partner worked all day and as a result can lead to excessive drinking, spending money, temper tantrums, and cheating. Which will inevitably end the relationship. Illumi didn't think he would have this issue with you as you knew his occupation and work schedule before the two of you married. That clearly wasn't the case.

Under normal circumstances, Illumi wouldn't know how to appease your anger. He might even make it worse. But thankfully that article he read in one of your newspapers also offered solutions.

The first step was to understand why you were upset. That was already completed. Next was to show you understand.

Illumi felt tense as he moved closer to you. He wasn't used to this kind of thing. Part of him really wanted to ignore you and tell you you're overreacting. But doing so will hurt you. He learned that lesson once before and has since tried his best not to repeat it.

“I understand,” Illumi stated plainly. You raised an eyebrow. “Understand what?” “I understand that you feel lonely and insecure but I assure you I would never cheat.”

You blinked twice. Did he just call you insecure? Over that stupid clown?

“If we're done I'm going to take a shower.” you just nodded at him dumbfounded. That was not how you intended things to go. You had hoped after expressing your displeasure about his abstinences he would offer to spend more time with you. Like taking you out on a date tomorrow or even making love tonight.

You let out a sigh and tucked yourself into the bed. Maybe if you seduce him you’ll get better results.

Meanwhile, Illumi was satisfied he ended things without even needing the other steps. Perhaps he was better at comforting than he thought.

[spdrvyn]

YOU'RE HERE, THAT'S THE THING — [ wc: 1.7k. college au. fluff-ish? ] nothing cute about uni life. nothing to romanticize about pulling off all-nighters. unless... ?

now that i think about this is the first miguel fic i've written that's not adjacent with spiderverse canon world-building wise 🤔 also kinda silly of me to write a college fic when i'm not even in college so be warned i'll sound probably like a dumbass but hope you guys enjoy anyway!

7:23PM in the evening. Twenty hours until your essay was due.

The blonded hues of the setting sun reflected onto your laptop’s screen, currently open with a completely blank Google Document and nary a draft or outline in sight. As the ice in your half-empty coffee had almost thoroughly melted, you realized that you were completely fucked.

Originally, there was a study group that you were intended on joining somewhere at the start of the week. Hell, you guys shared Notion calendars and made an entire group chat. Only when you courageously sent a message last night asking for a rain check on the plans, you were left on read and down one-hundred dignity points.

That’s how you ended up here, waiting for the adrenaline from the impending deadline to set in. The condensation from your drink wets your palm uncomfortably as you take a sad, bitter sip. Someone could be writing a story about your defeat, writing a ten-page analysis about it, and submitting it at least three days before the deadline like a normal person with a sense of urgency.

When you shut your laptop and concede to the pressure, Miguel walks in to your shared dorm. With thick textbooks and an open backpack slung over one of his shoulders, he pauses at the sight of you. “I thought you’d be out.”

The reminder that your group abandoned you sours your mood even more, you tersely reply: “They ghosted me.”

“Oh,” Miguel tries to sound sympathetic, but it’s obvious that he’s also struggling with a final of some kind with how he ushers all of his belongings to the table you’re currently occupying. He’s told you before that he rarely ever joins study groups, which makes sense. You’ve noticed he’s self-reliant and efficient to an almost terrifying degree when it comes to his academics, awake at ungodly hours of the night to pinch the highest grade that there is. If anything, it’s more likely that he’ll offer to tutor other people.

“What’s on your roster for tonight? I’ve got an essay,” You swiftly put on your document tab again, motivated by how he’s already flipping through his books and copying down notes on his tablet. God, you wished you could just start studying like that.

“Final tomorrow, haven’t started reviewing yet. I basically spent the last two days at the lab for my other final.” He’s writing at a speed that should be considered superhuman, all while he’s answering your pesky questions.

You don’t want to move to another spot, because it would seem rude. Not like his presence is unwelcome, his studiousness just makes you really, really envious. Also the fact that both of you are majoring in completely different subjects.

Majoring in Arts in Literature, while he majors in Genetic Engineering can cause difficulty whenever explaining plans to each other. Miguel puts in the effort to not confuse you with the STEM jargon while you try not to ramble about your current readings and explaining your interpretations of them to someone else instead of writing them down on paper to, you know, submit.

Either way, it hasn’t caused any big miscommunications with being so different and all. You hope he doesn’t mind you beginning to working with him too, as you shyly type a thesis statement into your assignment. Another sip of your coffee, sounds of Miguel scrawling, and you think you may be ready to take this assignment head-on.

~

12:40AM into the night. Fifteen hours until your essay is due.

Shockingly enough, you were able to finish three pages out of five. The grammar so far is probably going to drag you down by fifteen points and you usually send it to your friends to proofread, but it clearly isn’t an option given what time of the day it is right now. It’s still a lot better than the end you saw for yourself when you were left dangling on the edge of failure by your study group.

The caffeine had completely worn off by now, and your coffee had been drained somewhere around an hour ago. When that happens, you usually start to get antsy and it’s even harder to keep the momentum going and when that happens, you take a break and go for a walk or something.

Which is what you’re about to do, as you stand up, but you realize that Miguel is sitting still as a statue in front of one of his books and his eyes scan the words on the page, over and over again. You can’t tell if he’s also losing focus or if he’s knee-deep in focus.

“Miguel,” He sighs when you call his name and the noise makes you wince, fearing that you’ve upset him. “Uhm, I’m going to take a walk. Do you wanna come with?”

It’s an offer that you thought for sure he wasn’t going to take.

What you don’t expect however is for him to slam his reading shut, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose before getting up from his seat. With a huff of, “Sure.”

“Oh- we can go for a coffee run if that’s what you want. I don’t think I can sleep tonight.”

“Ok. Me neither.”

“Great, that’s- that’s great.”

~

Both of you stew in the (semi) comfortable silence as you make the trek from your dorm room and out to the expanse of the campus.

You realize how brisk a walk can become with Miguel considering how abnormally tall he is. Granted, you recognize his subtle effort to slow down for you when he notices how winded you got after only five minutes on the way to the gas station.

It’s a new height that you’ve reached with him, not like you never wanted to grow closer with him or anything. He is your roommate after all, so it only makes sense. Although despite your love for reading that has fender-bendered into a Literature degree in the making, you were never too great at reading people. Miguel is one of the hardest people to read considering his outward stoicism, and both of you being naturally introverted didn’t help at all.

Still, this was the perfect time in your life to make new friends and life-lasting connections. Besides you would also consider yourself pretty pathetic if you wouldn’t be able to make a new one out of your roommate, A.K.A someone who is confined to a room with you for a whole school year. Literally no other choice but to do so.

You wonder if he feels the same way too, but asking each other of your first impressions is a conversation that is really only befitting for people that have been together for years. A status that you have no idea that you’ll ever achieve with him someday.

Though you are quickly broken out of your kind of depressing spiral when Miguel opens the door to the store for you, with a muttered ‘thank you’ you behold the fluorescent lights and hint of smoke. The walk to the coffee machine is instinctive, and you pluck a bag of spicy chips from the shelf on the way. Miguel follows suit, only he picks a bag of pretzels and a pack of gum.

The dispenser chokes out a splatter of coffee into your plastic cup and you flinch at the noise, Miguel spares you a glance but goes back to fidgeting with the pointed edges of his pretzel bag.

“So, what’s your final about?” It’s a stupid question being completely transparent, but fuck it. You’re bored, and the silence only gets more uncomfortable the longer both of you keep quiet.

“Genetic inheritance, the traits passed down from a parent onto a child. That kind of thing,” He muses. “And you?”

“Oh, Les Miserables essay. Five pages total.”

“Long book, and long film.”

Your cup is nearly on the tip of overflowing so you quickly slide it out and put one under for Miguel. “Yeah, I had to do a re-read because it’s been a while. I only finished around two days ago and I started it again at the beginning of the month.”

He gives you an honest chuckle, you take it and you think you’ll remember the sound forever. “One of my, uh, friends sat me down to watch the movie. Fell asleep halfway through, but I do remember it being decent in the parts that I was awake.”

“Well if I can find a totally legal recording of the stage play, maybe that would pique your interest more.”

When you look up at him, he smiles and it might be the happiest you’ve seen him ever since becoming acquainted with each other. It’s not a lot, but you feel over the moon over a small talk about your stupid essay.

…Your stupid essay!

You cut the moment short by haphazardly closing the lids on both of your coffees, you hand it to Miguel who starts to emanate your hurried energy and the walk back to your dorm is very swift.

~

Morning. Some time before your essay is due.

That is what you can assume anyway, the sun is back and its rays peek at you from the gaps in the blinds. Your hair is a frazzled mess as you lift your head off of the pillow which is perched up against the armrest on the sofa, the blanket on top of you shifts, and this was also… definitely not where you fell asleep last night.

You were expecting neck and back pain, along with a mild headache once you woke up. As you came to the sloppy completion of your work, you called it a night, slammed your laptop shut, and decided to just sleep right then and there. Doing your night routine and getting into bed would simply be too much time and work when you probably wouldn’t even be getting that much rest anyway.

There’s a fresh glass of water on the coffee table and a sticky note from Miguel, who you could only assume was the one who put you here.

‘Had to head out early for my exam. Good luck with your essay, there’s food on the counter.’

You slump back into your makeshift bed and pull out your phone from your back pocket, there’s still seven hours until your essay is due and you only need around two for revisions.

Maybe you could sleep in just a little longer, dream about conversations that will never happen, cafe dates that never come to be. But after last night, rather earlier this morning, those odds shift in your favor.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Hello Aubrie! Goood, I love your writing so much, and I couldn't wait to send in another request!

Could I ask for Eyeless Jack and his s/o going on a date day? How it would look like and all that? (can be sfw/nsfw)

I decided to keep it just SFW this time as I was just in a fluffy vontent mood today, but you can feel free to request date night specific spicy stuff with EJ next time if you'd like :) I hope you enjoy, I'm extra tired today so my writing may be different but I had a need for EJ fluff

Your date day actually ends up being a date night with this one, as your boyfriend is nocturnal, however, he gets up a bit earlier than normal if the two of you want to spend a "day" together. Normally waking at about 6:00 pm, Jack will get up around 4:00 on a day the two of you wish to spend together. He'll spend a little while waking up, curled up in bed with you, discussing things you want to do, getting ready to go out with you, just waiting for the sun to go down more so Jack can handle being around the light (as he can't handle visibly bright light very well, hence the nocturnal part :p).

He'll make sure you get something yummy to eat for dinner, and that's usually your first spot on your date nights. The Underworld is full of restaurants that operate 24/7, so he'll take you out to eat at whichever place you'd prefer to go to, and you'll both sit and talk for a while over food. Even with the nocturnal citizens out and about, the Underworld is a lot more quiet at night, so Jack enjoys walking through it with you, enjoying the peace of it. The two of you might window shop a bit, going into any stores that catch your eye. I think if it's warm enough you two have a tradition of getting ice cream together, because there are places that serve a mix of demon and human appropriate flavors, so you can get whichever flavor you'd prefer, and EJ can get his go-to blood ice cream so he can enjoy it as well. Following that, Jack always loves taking you for another walk, this time through the forests of the Underworld. The air is nice and fresh, and the creatures running about are usually attracted to Jack, so he always gets excited by the chance to tell you what the different animals are, and because they trust him so much you can even pet them while they sit contentedly beside him.

It's not until either the sun starts coming back up or you start to get too tired that the two of you finally begin to make your way back to the mansion together. Once you get back, Jack normally prefers to enter relaxation mode with you again. You'll take a relaxing shower together, and then put on some perfectly fluffy, soft pajamas (Jack is a connoisseur of comfortable fabrics), and curl up in bed once more. Some nights you guys might put on a show in the background, or some music, or anything you're in the mood to watch and just sit, and cuddle to the background noise. However, there are also nights like tonight, when you snuggle up and read together. It always starts with both of you reading your own preferred books in silence, but then usually one of you grows more tired faster than the other (usually you, as it's generally 5:00 am by this point), and the other person will read their own book aloud for both of you. Days like these generally end with you fast asleep in Jack's arms due to your need for sleep overcoming you, and Jack will always chuckle and set his book aside, before pulling you into his chest, and finally falling asleep himself. You usually always wake before him, unless you sleep the whole day away (sometimes Jack also just refuses to let you out of his arms on purpose but shhhh it's fine, it doesn't matter), but post date day snuggles are also mandatory in this relationship, so really, date days are like two days in one because you've gotta recoup your energy from staying up so late. Even if the two of you just spend a date day curled up inside playing board games or reading, or even just silently snuggling up, Jack doesn't mind, so long as he gets to spend as much time with you as possible, anything is fine in his opinion. He's just thankful to have you there with him.

[mae-gi-writes]

Finders Keepers | Gally [TMR] - Part 3

In which Gally gets soft for one of the boys in the Glade, only…is it a boy? alternatively; In which Mai disguises herself into a boy to fit in the Glade, only to be suspected by the keen eyes of the Builder's Keeper.

taglist: @edynmeyer1 @ss28

Also available on Wattpad.

A/N: I'm sorry but can we take a moment to look at this fine-ass man? Thank you very much.

PREVIOUS | NEXT >>

-----

The first thing that Mai thinks of the moment her eyes spring open is Gally.

Him, and the fact that she's literally made a deal with him. Why? All for a lie.

A lie upon a lie.

Great, Mai wonders what he would make of her if he knew she was a girl. Probably never let her hear the end of it, surely.

It takes a lot for her to drag herself out of bed when she catches sight of Frypan to her left, getting a hold of his shoes and trudging to the kitchen. Mai sighs, running a hand through her short strands before slipping on her own boots to follow the dark-skinned boy.

It's still early and the Maze walls aren't open yet, giving the duo enough time to prepare all ingredients before the Runners start twitching in their hammocks. Frypan gives her the toasting of bread and the cutting of vegetables while he takes charge of the eggs, his good mood boosting the atmosphere and making her feel at ease in his presence. He's a nice guy, Mai decides as she watches him with a small smile, dancing about and humming tunes to himself, tunes probably from his past memory.

"How ya holdin' up, Mai?" Frypan asks as he overlooks his eggs, "you doing okay?"

"Fine," Mai replies, realizing that she'll have to either restrain herself from talking or talk in a deeper voice so that they won't get suspicious of her. Though, with the baggy clothes she's inherited from the storage room, it will take a while. They're all so large they practically dwarf her skinny frame.

It's finally breakfast time and the Runners are up first, getting their load of eggs, toast and bacon before they settle at their usual table. Minho's here too, grinning at her while she loads up his plate, "enjoying your new job, Greenie?"

"My name is Mai." she throws him a scowl, but he just laughs, "yeah yeah, sorry. The name suits you. Anyway, Mai," he makes a good point of dragging the word out, "hope your cooking's as good as Fry's."

"If not better," she answers with a roll of her eyes before moving on to the next Runner.

"Don't forget to pack their lunches!"

"For shuck sake," Mai mutters as she quickly moves on to the lunches.

Minho settles himself down at the countertop, not really caring whether she looks like she's in a panic, "Ever wanted to go out into the Maze, Greenie?" he asks, watching her quickly build up the sandwiches with amusement.

"No," Mai responds as she finishes wrapping up a sandwich, "aren't you scared of going out there everyday?"

The asian boy shrugs, "it's our job. That's what we do as Runners, we try to find a way out of this place."

"And have you?"

"Not yet," he presses his lips together, face drawn and serious, "but we hope we will soon. We've got a clue that might lead us the right way."

"Right," Mai finishes up his sandwich and hands it out to him, "you'll need all of that energy then."

"Thanks," he tucks it into his satchel, then without warning reaches over to ruffle her hair as Mai protests, "I'll see you tonight."

She barely has time to tell him off about touching her hair with the same hands that touched his food before he's setting off towards the Maze doors. Embarrassed and flustered, Mai pats her hair down in hopes of getting her heartbeat back to normal when a voice causes her to jump.

"You look pathetic."

"Jesus Gally!" Mai holds a hand to her chest, throwing him a glare as she does so, "can't you say hello like any shuck human?"

Gally shrugs, leaning over the counter where Minho had been a few seconds ago, "why you looking at him like that, huh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mai starts assembling his plate, putting two toasted bread slices before going to the eggs.

"Your face says otherwise."

She scoops up some extra eggs and bacon onto his plate before shoving it into his hand, "just go eat Gally, and leave me alone."

"Sure thing Greenie," he smirks, which causes Mai to scowl even deeper, "you're holding up the line."

Thankfully he doesn't fight her, merely picks up his utensils before trudging off to find a seat.

Mai blows out air from her mouth. Today's going to be a long day.

——-

"Newt, right?"

The elfin-faces boy looks up from his gardening spot, frown dissipating into confusion when he finds Mai looking up at him with an expression similar to a deer in the headlight's.

"Hey Mai, everything okay?"

That's probably the first person to address her with her name and she will certainly not forget that.

"Yes everything is fine. Uhm— Frypan needs more tomatoes for the stir-fry tonight," Mai tries not to fidget under Newt's intense stare, "so..."

"Yeah," Newt looks over to another boy not too far from him, "Oi Zart," he calls out, "think we got some tomatoes to spare them?"

"Should have," the boy called Zart replies, "just need to cut 'em."

While Mai lingers around for Zart's tomatoes, she decides to keep Newt company as he toils through the soil.

"I thought you were second-in-command," Mai's eyes linger over the way Newt seems to drag his leg. It's a small limp, barely noticeable and yet, it seems like it hurts him, "why are you out here in the gardens?"

"Ey well, I like planting," he throws a small smile her way, "but I also tend to walk around and oversee stuff when Alby's not around."

"Where is Alby anyway?"

"He's been up all night, the poor shank," Newt shakes his head as he pulls out a few weeds, "the Runner seem to have made some progress. He's probably busy with that." Only then does he glance at her small frame, "you doing okay with Frypan in the kitchen?"

"He's great," Mai nods, "I like him."

Newt chuckles, "everyone does."

She finds that he's easy to talk to, this blonde boy who barely looks over sixteen yet speaks with the experience of an adult that's lived here for ages. Mai realizes she feels comfortable in his presence and before she knows it, has spent the entire afternoon by his side as he goes through his tasks.

Only at Frypan's call does she clamber back to the kitchen with an apologetic wave in Newt's direction and her basket full of ripe tomatoes.

She's halfway to the Homestead when she collides against a hard wall. No, not a hard wall. Someone. And that someone's angry.

"Hey watch it!" An angry Gally comes out from the other side, causing Mai to yelp out, "I'm so sorry Gally, I—" her eyes are wide as she sways, basket threatening to fall in her hold, "I'm sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going—"

"What're you doing carrying that klunk around by yourself?" He interrupts, glowering at her.

Mai winces, hating the intensity of his eyes because god he can be scary when he wants to be, "I--Frypan needs more veggies for dinner so I--"

"Oh slim it, Greenie." And before she knows it, he's hoisted her basket out of her hold and is already striding towards the kitchen, leaving Mai to run after him in hopes of catching up to his giant strides, "you don't have to help--"

"Too late for that," he grunts out. He reaches the counter and hoists the basket onto its surface, throwing her a glare that makes her want to shrivel up and die in a corner, "watch where you're going next time. You have eyes, don't you?"

"Yes," her mumble barely makes it out of her mouth as her eyes glue themselves to the ground.

"So use them," he turns to go but Frypan's voice echoes through the air, "hey Gally! What brings you over?"

"Nothing," his eyes narrow towards Mai, "just this shank being useless."

"What happened?" Frypan looks over at the smaller Glader, concern swimming in his voice as he asks, "did you get hurt?"

"Of course not," Gally growls out, "but you might want to stick him into the kitchen instead of making him run around to get your stuff. He's weak as shuck."

"Gally," Frypan tuts, though there's a grin on the Cook's face. He turns to Mai, "don't worry about him. He's always this grumpy during the day. I think it's because he hasn't eaten yet."

The said grumpy Glader is already walking away at this point, leaving an amused Frypan and a traumatized Mai in his wake. The brown-skinned boy throws Mai a smile, as if to comfort her, "Don't worry about him, Mai. He's a bit rough around the edges, but his heart's in the right place."

"Not too sure about that," Mai mutters, though it reaches Frypan's ears and causes him to chortle in laughter, "come on," he motions towards the uncut veggies, "we got a lot of shanks to feed."

——-

Night falls and as usual, Mai waits in her hammock, curled up and tucked in to try and look as if she's already asleep as the rest of the Gladers shuffle to their own spaces. The chatter slowly dies down one by one and soon, even Newt, who's done his round around the Glade, settles in and murmurs a soft goodnight to her before turning his light out.

Mai waits, breathing as softly and as steadily as she can.

And then, when silence stretches out before her like a blank canvas, she decides to take the chance.

Slowly letting herself down from her hammock, she pads out of the Homestead as gently as she can, hurrying past the group of Huts where the rest of the Keepers are currently asleep. She hears a soft snore coming from Minho's hut and a small giggle escapes her lips. She can imagine him now, mouth parted and legs akimbo, probably dead tired from this morning's run.

Mai almost makes it to the showers when sudden footsteps echo behind her.

She swirls around, eyes wide and alert, only for her eyes to land on a familiar face.

"Gally?" she whispers hoarsely.

He lets out the most exasperated sigh she's ever heard from him yet, "You again?" He rubs a hand over his face, it's clear that he's tired too and half-asleep, "what're you doing out here?"

"I..." her voice trails off unsurely. What should she say? Should she just make up an excuse about wanting the loo?

Gally lets out another sigh before he regards her with a look, crossing his arms over his chest, "showers again?" he prompts when silence is her only answer.

He gets confirmation at her nod and after a few beats of more silence, the Builder shakes his head before motioning towards the shower, brushing past her in the process, "come on then, you crazy shank." he mumbles.

Maybe his words are a bit vicious, but it's probably the darkness that softens his tone and causes a small smile to quirk at the corner of Mai's lips as she follows him.

Contrary to his grumbling and his groaning, Gally stands outside the shower stalls -- after having been pushed out by the Greenie when he'd walked in and turned away -- a bit confused as to why Mai was so adamant on keeping her privacy. It just doesn't make sense, considering that they're all built the same. Right?

Unless...

Unless there's something that the Greenie is hiding.

Gally's foot taps impatiently out of pure habit, something he's picked up while deep in thought. What is it that Mai doesn't want to show other Gladers? He can't seem to think of one possibility apart from the very literal one that would've been so obvious that--

Wait.

Wait wait wait.

Wait a shuck minute.

No.

That's not possible.

The entirety of Gally's body freezes up like stone. For a moment, he thinks he forgets to breathe.

No. It can't be. Mai's a guy just like all the other Greenies that came up before. And he looks like one, there's no way he isn't one unless this is some sort of sick joke to the Creators. And if he was -- hypothetically speaking -- a girl, then why the need to hide?

Gally wants to laugh at himself for being so stupid. Of course not. He would've seen it since the very beginning. Girls had...well, different assets than guys, so he wouldn't have been able to keep it a secret for so long.

Yes, Gally was certain there was nothing else there. Mai just wants some privacy, as simple as that, because Mai fancies guys.

"Gally?"

His body unfreezes at the sound of the Greenie's voice. He steps away from the door and turns to see the younger boy, at the way his newly washed hair falls into his face and how he's practically swimming in his clothes. With his hair down like this, Gally can almost picture Mai being a girl, all soft features and small mouth and wide eyes that look like he's constantly surprised.

He's a guy, Gally repeats to himself. He is a guy.

But what if there is the possibility that Mai is a girl? Then what?

Doesn't that mean something to the Glade? Doesn't that threaten their supposed peace? Is it a sign?

And if so, is he supposed to tell Alby and Newt about it?

"Gally, you okay?" Mai asks, causing the said Builder to snap back to reality. He clears his throat, "yeah m'fine. Let's go."

He walks a little too fast for Mai's liking back to Homestead, but he realizes that he doesn't care. His mind is spinning too much and there are so many thoughts crowding his brain that he just wants to sleep and forget everything about that new stupid Greenie.

Tomorrow, everything will go back to normal and Gally can go on with his life just like he'd done for the past three years.

[mj-iza-writer]

Whumptober Day 13

Team as Family - Familial Curse - Multiple Whumpees - "Death will do us part" (Set it Off, Partners in Crime.)

Leader glared at his teammates; arms folded over his chest in annoyance.

His team didn't dare look in his eyes.

Leader was ticked, and it was their fault.

Caretaker came down and sat on the couch across from them.

"How is Whumpee?", Leader turned to look at Caretaker. Their face had changed to worry.

"Upset. They don't want to come down. I'm going to take some dinner up to them in about an hour. They said they should be back to normal by then. They don't want anyone else to see them until then", Caretaker sighed, and looked at the other members, "all of you knew they had this. You all screwed up big time tonight."

"We didn't know that's what they would like though", one of them spoke up.

"Yes, and that's when you ask questions, if the mood was right, or at least not make fun of it", Leader turned and looked at them again, "this also tells me that you all don't pay attention to meetings, because I absolutely explained to all of you what happened to Whumpee and what they would like if the curse was triggered."

"You all really hurt their feelings", Caretaker frowned, "we are a family. You can't go doing that. It messes with trust. If we can't trust each other, then we as a team are screwed."

Leader sighed, "Caretaker is right. It is fine not to understand Whumpee's differences. I don't fully understand them myself. That's why we ask questions. If you don't feel comfortable asking Whumpee, then ask Caretaker. They know a lot about Whumpee and this curse thing. If it's something they can't talk about, then they won't."

"We're sorry, we screwed up. We know", another one of them spoke up.

"Yes, I appreciate that, but I am not the one to apologize to", Leader looked at Caretaker.

"They do not want any visitors. I guess you all get to live with the guilt until you can get to Whumpee", Caretaker stood, "if you'll excuse me. I'm going to go make their dinner. I'm thinking grilled cheese and tomato soup. It's one of their favorites. Something comforting since their team... their family has jokes."

"Let me know if you need anything", Leader frowned.

"Can do", Caretaker made their way out of the room.

"Just as Caretaker said. None of you bothers Whumpee until they are ready. I want you to work hard on your apologies as well. None of this half done apology crap you all pull when you screw up on missions. You're dismissed."

Leader wandered into the kitchen just in time for the blender to go off.

Caretaker looked up at them and grinned.

"Pulling out all the stops?", Leader smiled, "it's smells amazing."

"Tomato soup always tastes better when it's made fresh. I had everything I needed to make a scratch made tomato soup, so I thought Whumpee would enjoy it. A little pick me up", Caretaker watched as another member walked in.

"It smells so good. Is this what we are having for dinner?", the teammate backed away when they caught Leader's eyes.

"I'm only making enough for myself, Whumpee, and Leader, if they want some. The rest of you will fend for yourselves tonight. All of you are adults, yes", Caretaker frowned, "though after the childish behavior earlier... I'm starting to wonder."

"You both have been really cold today", the teammate turned.

"Whumpee is currently crying. They are sprawled across their bed... crying..... because of all of you", Caretaker frowned, "the way I see it, you all could use a little coldness. You've gotten too comfortable saying things without thinking. I hope you all enjoy your dinner tonight."

After the teammate left, Leader turned to look at Caretaker. A huge grin across their face.

"I will definitely take some of that soup", Leader commented, "and a sandwich. You said Whumpee wanted grilled cheese? I can help make it."

"I appreciate that, but I'll make Whumpee's for them. They can be picky when they're upset. If you feel up to it, you can make yours and mine though", Caretaker smiled.

"I'll do that", Leader nodded.

Leader followed Caretaker up the stairs.

"Whumpee, I have grilled cheese and soup. Freshly made. Leader is here with me. Can we come in and talk with you", Caretaker leaned an ear on the door.

"Yes", a weak reply came from the room.

Caretaker opened the door and let Leader come in with the tray.

"I see some of it has died down", Caretaker commented as they studied Whumpee.

"Yes, some of it won't go away", Whumpee frowned as they looked over themself, "I'm about to take a cheese grater and scrape it off."

"No you won't. I will not let you. More work for me if you're bleeding", Caretaker sighed as they watched Leader set down the tray in front of Whumpee, "Whumpee it will go down in time. You have to let it run its course though."

"It will only come back again", Whumpee sighed, "I'm a walking freak."

"No you're not", Leader spoke up, "Whumpee, I know this is hard for you. What was said and joked about earlier was uncalled for. You're not a freak."

"Leader look at me", Whumpee bared their arms to show them off, "this doesn't happen to normal people."

"You're not normal. That's perfectly fine. I'm not normal either for different reasons", Leader sat down beside Whumpee, "I've never wanted to be normal", Leader pulled up their sleeves, "I may not have some curse handed down from generation to generation, but I come from a long line of leaders. My scars match those of my father's and grandmother's."

Whumpee looked up wide eyed after looking at the scars that lined Leader's arms.

"At the end of the day, mine will not disappear either. I wouldn't want them to. It's part of who I am. Your markings that come out every once in a while are part of you. I hope one day you might be able to at least be okay with them. You don't have to like them, but just to accept them."

Whumpee looked down and saw the markings on their arms were gone, "I'm sorry Leader... and Caretaker."

"There's nothing to be sorry about", Leader smiled, "how everyone acted earlier was uncalled for, and I will make sure they apologize properly."

Caretaker smiled as they looked at Whumpee, "I hope you know how loved you truly are amongst our team. Even if the others have a bad way of showing it. You are so important to this team."

"Thankyou", Whumpee's eyes sparkled.

"You're welcome", Caretaker sighed, "now all of that hard work to make your dinner, and it's getting cold. Which means Leader's and mine are also getting cold in the kitchen."

"Sorry", Whumpee giggled, "can I eat with you two?"

"Yes", Leader looked around for a seat.

"We can go down stairs... I feel better", Whumpee smiled.

Caretaker and Leader watched Whumpee start to eat before they, too, started their meals.

"Are you dipping your sandwich in your soup?" Leader watched Whumpee as they ate.

"Yes... You've never done that with your grilled cheese?", Whumpee looked at them worriedly.

"Leader grew up amongst soldiers... they didn't get to learn to play with food", Caretaker smiled as they dipped their sandwich, "try it Leader, you'll probably love it."

Leader looked at the sandwich they had already started to eat, then at the bowl of soup. They plungedbthe sandwiches into the soup.

Caretaker and Whumpee watched as Leader took a big bite of the soup covered sandwich and watched their face light up.

"That's incredible", Leader grinned, and went for another bite.

"Healing childhood traumas one day at a time", Caretaker grinned as they watched Leader and Whumpee eat the meal gleefully.

Leader looked up with a sparkle in their eyes, "this is amazing. Why haven't I been told this before?"

"I never thought about it. Plus, you never sit down long enough to eat", Caretaker smirked.

Leader smiled, "that might change. Especially if this is the meal."

"I finally found you're comfort meal", Caretaker watched them get the other half of the sandwich, "easy enough."

Leader nodded, "thankyou."

"Thankyou", Whumpee repeated.

"You're both welcome", Caretaker nodded, 'my little trauma holders', Caretaker frowned internally. I'll take care of you both and make sure you heal. I swear it.'

"Are you okay?", Leader looked at Caretaker worriedly now.

Caretaker realized the frown came out on their face.

"I'm fine, just had some thoughts", Caretaker smiled again, "it's alright though. Let's eat."

Leader and Whumpee nodded, and returned to happily enjoying their meals.

'I love you both.... so much', Caretaker thought to themself again, 'so much.'

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

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@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

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@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald

@jasperthecapser @does-directions

@deafeninglittlecrown @jumpywhumpywriter

[got-ticket-to-ride]

hi sorry but do you have any soft mclennon moments to share too :') the post you made about 22 seconds of longing hurt oh my god

Sorry for the delay in reply anon. I'm actually just a corporate collar acting my way as a temporary secretary every hard day's night, jobbing like a dog, 8 days a week in an English garden to afford a tan in the rain.

Hope this finds you well! Here are 22 McLennon moments as compensation for Johnny's 22 agonizing seconds in the pining video.

1.) "I'm Happy Just to Dance with You" scene when they both looked at each other at the same time. And the director had to pan out the scene because it would've been too straight. I know dilated pupils when I see it.

2.) Inviting your favorite boy to a solo trip to Spain but you stayed in Paris because it was so romantic, sharing a bed, picking out clothes for each other, slurping all the banana shakes, you know normal roommate things according to historians.

3.) Getting a solo invitation from a hot photographer and bringing along your best boy because you are attached to the hip and can't be separated.

4.) Their need to constantly touch each other

5.) Scene in Help (1965), where John is using all his strength to carry George and Ringo's weight and not crush Paul (because boyfriend things)

6.) Holding hands for mental support during a recording. (John is needy, please forgive him)

7.) Walking Martha like a couple in 1967 - outfits coordinated and all

8.) Impressions by people who met them:

"[John and Paul] sort of had their own way of communicating. Hardly anything was spoken, they just knew what the other wanted or was getting at and they had the most amazing talent."

"He was like a different animal with Lennon. When they were together they became something else, more than just the two of them together. That communication was incredible. It was like two high-speed computers just fizzing between each other."

9.) John is hiding his cigarette behind him, because he doesn't want to bother Paul with the smoke. (You know, boyfriend things).

10.) A portrait, king and princess up front. John's thigh just casually resting on Paul's (yet again).

11.) The spider fingers during a press conference, because they are actually both 12

12.) That very flirty jam session in Austria in 1965 that was cut short, but they probably continued after anyway

13.) The way they talk about the day they met sounds like "how I met the love of my life" Happy Honeymoon <3

14.) Quote from Emerick

The lights in the studio were turned off to set the mood; the sole source of illumination was a table lamp next to the wall. The two beatles, lifelong friends and collaborators, sat on high stools, facing each other, studying each other’s lips intently for phrasing.

15.) When they answer each other's songs

Paul in Can't Buy Me Love: "If it makes you feel alright?"

John: "I Feel Fine"

17.) “I could even hear what they were saying off-mike; ‘Oh Paul, you’re so cute tonight’ was met with the reply, ‘Sod off, Lennon.’” — Joan Baez on accompanying the Beatles to their concert in Red Rocks Amphitheatre, Denver. 26 August 1964

18.) Paul looking at John like he wants to eat him later after finishing with "I'm a Loser"

19.) Giving instructions on how John's hair needs to "look"

20.) Paul acting as John's walking stick

21.) Paul's heart eyes during this 1966 conference (also that lip bite... eat you later?):

22.) John the worried boyfriend who checks on Paul in the middle of an interview and doesn't believe him when he just says : "oh, yeah..."

John internally: "come on now, why aren't you laughing at my joke babe? You're unwell!!!"

The Bottles over and out.

Thank you for this ask. This was quite fun! Would love to hear your thoughts too <3

[ifimdreaming]

Can we go now?

Luke Hughes x Reader || angst, some fluff

summary: Luke brings you to a dinner party filled with misogynistic men and bad booze, and feels really bad about.

author’s note: this is very rushed but i hope you enjoy it anyway! love you

word count: 1.0k

-

“how much longer lukey?..” you grab onto his arm and lean into him, quietly asking into his ear. “I know… i'm sorry, it’s only been a couple hours babe..but we can leave if you really need” He replies kindly, knowing how much you both hate dinner parties like this. 

It wasn’t often that your boyfriend invited you to these events so you just nod in response, knowing he needs to be here for work and, also, not wanting to be the one to make him leave early.

Normally it isn’t too terrible, and there are moments for you two to sneak away from crowds and quietly sit together at a table and just enjoy the night. But tonight was different, it was non stop talking and mingling, Luke trying to be as professional as possible around borderline rude men making bad jokes and slightly misogynistic comments, not caring that you are standing right there.

 And for the most part you were doing your best fake smiles and laughs, but the comments just kept getting worse and worse as the conversations progressed.

 After having dinner and moving outside for watered down cocktails, you go to refill your drink, needing an escape, and leaving Luke with a group of mostly strangers for a moment. Looking over at him from the bar, you can just tell from his face that he is getting tired and probably more and more irritable as the time passes. 

A moment later you feel a small brush against your back as you’re sitting at the bar and a hand rests against your thigh. “Ok i’ll have a drink and then we’re out of here” Luke sighs out as he takes a seat beside you. He rests his head in his hand, closing his eyes for a moment and you reach up to comb your fingers through the hair on the back of his head.

“Ok…just please promise me you won’t get sucked into another endless conversation about the playoffs again?” 

“trust me, i wanted out of that conversation just as much as you did” he retorts back defeatedly. You both knew your moods were worsening when you started to get nippy and sarcastic with each other. 

You sit in silence for a moment while Luke is finishing his drink and you start to swirl the ice in your empty glass, needing to finish your drink even if it was the worst cocktail you’ve ever had in your life.

“Im really sorry i dragged you here, i just hate coming to these things…thought it would be at least a little more bearable with you around…” he looks down, “i didn't know it would be this…shitty” he begins to rub his thumb over your thigh slowly and you can tell by his tone that he truly feels bad about tonight and how everyone was treating you, knowing there are so many other things you two would rather be doing on a friday night.

“luke im just thankful we get to spend time together tonight” you start, “i'm glad you asked me to come with you” you say reassuringly. 

You look up at him with a small smile and place a gentle kiss on his lips, he leans in and brings a hand up to your face, cupping your jaw. You pull away and press a few soft kisses on his cheek, making him crack his first smile all night.

Just as Luke finishes his drink, you see two men walking towards the both of you sitting at the bar and you nudge Luke’s arm to warn him, not wanting to get trapped in conversation again. 

Luke quickly swivels on his seat and goes to stand up, grabbing your arm to help you down from your stool. He places some cash on the bar beside your empty glasses and you start towards the door, opposite the people walking your way.

“Luke Hughes! If it isn’t the newest new jersey devil!” a man in a dark grey suit and receding hairline creeps up behind Luke, “How bout’ we have a drink outside!” he says almost demandingly. 

“Sorry we’re actually heading out-” you try to interrupt, getting tired of staying quiet all night.  “Oh it will just be a minute” the man insists as he steps forward placing a hand on Luke’s back to nudge him towards the patio outside where more people were. This causes your hand to disconnect from Luke’s as the man begins speaking to Luke, completely ignoring you. 

“Actually she said we’re leaving” Luke defends, grabbing your hand and moving past the man. 

“Nice meeting you” he says sarcastically as we start to walk away and you swear you hear the man cursing under his breath at you as Luke pulls you by the hand, angrily marching towards the exit. 

“yeah this fucking sucked. no one’s treating you like that ever again.” he says as you make your way to the parking garage. “hey ..lukey…” you say and he turns around to face you as you’re both standing by the passenger side of his car “i'm so sorry about them” he says and crashes his lips on yours, his hands on both sides of your hips as he walks backwards, your back leaning on the side of his car as he makes out with you. 

You reach your hand up and run it along his chest and he leans down to place kisses across your neck. He places his hands on either side of your face and looks at you, “promise ill m-make it up to you..” he says remorsefully, hoping this night hasn’t upset you too much.

 “-Baby! Its ok! Its not your fault” you reassure through giggles and his eyebrows relax after seeing that your mood has lifted. 

“Honestly i’m just glad we’re finally leaving” his hands are still on your face and you grab his wrists, bringing them down, “Can we go now?” you say smiling at your sweet boyfriend as he looks back at you with loving eyes. 

“Of course”

-

-

[vodika-vibes]

Tomorrow Will Be Better

Summary: When his cyare has a bad day, Fives does everything in his power to make her evening better.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader

Word Count: 760

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I wrote this in about 30 minutes, so I'm sorry if it's really bad. But I needed to write, so ta-dah.

Fives knows his cyare. He knows her moods and her quirks and her habits. She has a routine, and she follows it without thinking about it.

Honestly, his presence throws off her routine more than anything else in the galaxy. Not that he minds. He takes pride in being the one thing that can encourage his cyare to divert from her normal schedule.

But he also knows that he has to give her fair warning in advance.

So, when he sent an excited series of comms to his cyare, telling her about a new restaurant that his brothers told him about and how they were raving about it, and how he was definitely bringing her there tonight, he expected an enthusiastic reply.

Instead, he gets a half-hearted response. Half-hearted even by texting standards.

And he’s immediately concerned.

Fives toys with the idea of texting her again, of asking her what’s wrong and what he can do to help, but he has a feeling that his prodding isn’t going to help at all. 

So, instead, he decides to scrap all of his plans.

Honestly, the restaurant can wait, his cyare can’t.

So instead of relaxing, like he normally does when he’s home for the first time in ages, instead he darts around the apartment. He can’t make it spotless, and he’s sure that his cyare wouldn’t want him to make the house spotless, but he does give the kitchen and bathroom a quick scrub, and he very quickly starts the laundry and vacuums the living room, before he sets about preparing everything she might need for a relaxing evening.

Her favorite pajamas are laid out on the bed. Her favorite dinner from her favorite restaurant is quickly ordered and paid for. He lights her favorite candles, the soft scented ones that don’t trigger her migraines.

Fives considers drawing her a bath, but decides to wait to see what her mood is like before he does that. 

He would hate to make her feel pressured, after all.

And when the door opens, Fives is quick to greet her in the hallway, with a broad smile and a gentle kiss to her forehead.

She looks tired, his poor cyare. Dark circles under her eyes, and her hair pulled in a messy tail rather than the neater tail she usually wore to work. There’s an air of, almost, defeat around her. 

“Oh, cyare,” Fives brushes the back of his fingers against her cheek, “You had a bad day.” It’s not a question.

She laughs, and his heart clenches when it comes out as more of a sob, “It’s been a hard week.” She admits, “And…oh, I said we could go to-...just let me change and we can head out.”

Fives lightly cups her face and kisses her cheek and then the other cheek, before ghosting his lips against hers, “Food has already been taken care of. I ordered your favorite.”

“You…you did? But you wanted to go to this new place-”

“The restaurant will still be there the next time you feel like going out. It’s not going to vanish into smoke,” His voice is light and teasing, “But I’m worried that you might vanish into smoke if I don’t help you get some rest.”

She sighs, soft and so very heavy, and then leans against his chest, “What did I do to deserve someone as amazing as you?”

“Hm…well, you tripped over my brother, and I caught you. So I suppose you could say that you literally fell for me.” Fives replies with a grin.

“...that’s awful.”

“You love me for my bad jokes.” Fives reminds her with a smothered laugh, “Come on, angelfish.” He kisses the top of her head, “I put your pajamas out and I lit your favorite candles.”

“You’re wonderful,” She says through a sigh.

“I am pretty amazing.” Fives agrees, “Now, come on. Let’s get you settled, and you can tell me all about your rotten week while I cuddle you. And then we can watch some trash tv together while you fall asleep.”

“I love you, Fives,” The words seem to slip from her lips without her permission, and Fives can’t help but grin. He already knew, of course, she’s told him that before, but it’s still new enough that it sends thrills through his entire body.

“I love you too, cyare.” He presses one more light kiss to her lips, and then pulls away to guide her to the bedroom.

He’ll take care of her until she’s ready to take care of herself…and even after.

[lfghughes]

Today, Tomorrow, and Forever

a/n: i'm in a sappy mood right now okay guys so i just had to write something kinda cute with Jack

A small study break was exactly what you needed. A part of you definitely regretted your idea of taking summer classes because not only was it a lot more work than a normal semester but you also had to give up a lot of plans with your friends. You also had to give up plans with Jack who you had kinda sorta been dating for a couple of months before the end of the hockey season and then at the beginning of summer you two had made it official. It was going great except for the fact that most days you couldn’t go out because you had to study.

A bunch of his friends had come to New Jersey and they were all currently down at the shore bar hopping while you were sitting in your bed in comfy sleepwear. You flicked through your phone during your study break and a laugh fell from your lips when a video of Jack trying his best to DJ at the bar came up. You could tell right away he was a few drinks deep but your boyfriend was adorable at least. You quickly sent him the video “hottest thing I’ve seen all night.” You texted him and after a few minutes your phone started buzzing, letting you know Jack was FaceTiming you.

“Baby, you got to come out.” Jacks face popped up on your screen and you could tell he had gone outside to call you. “It’s way too late, it’ll take me too long to get there. I’m sorry. I’ll try to go out tomorrow with you guys.” Your words made a pout grow on his lips. “Is it okay if I come over after? I promise I won’t be out too late, I can start coming over now. I want to see you.” Now that you definitely wouldn’t mind.

“You can come over whenever, don’t leave now if you don’t want to. Hang out with your friends. You have a key to my place so you can just spend the night if you want.” Depending on the time you would probably be asleep but you liked the idea of waking up to him and lately you’ve either been sleeping at his place or he’d be at yours. “I’ll get an uber, I’m ready to come home to you.” Your stomach turned at his words, you knew exactly where your feelings stood for him and you knew you were falling deeply in love with him.

About a hour later you heard Jack come into your place. “Hey handsome.” You told him and a smile grew on his lips as he hopped up on your bed, pulling you right onto his lap. “Mmm, I missed my girl tonight.” He told you as he buried his face into your neck, his arms wrapping around you tightly. You both stayed like that for a couple more minutes before Jack pulled away. His fingers moving to tuck a few strands of your hair behind your ear. “I think I am completely in love with you.”

There was that thumping in your chest as his words slipped out of his lips. “Jack, you’re still drunk.” At your words he quickly shook his head. “I’m buzzed at the most right now but I’ll tell you again in the morning.” He told you as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “And every day and moment after that too. Because I’m definitely going to marry you one day.” Jack pulled away, his blue eyes looking up at you and you could see just how serious he was. “But for right now I’m going to shower and get changed so we can watch a movie and cuddle.” He told you before leaning in to press a quick peck to your lips.

Jack gently moved your body back onto the bed and got up to go to the drawer that held a bunch of his clothes. “Hey Jack?” You watched as he turned at the sound of your voice. “Just so you know, I love you too.” At your words a wide smile spread on his lips. “Love hearing you say that.”