#If you follow this blog you know how big a deal this is

[keenenthusiastinfluencer]

It’s been less than 24 hours and I can confidently say she’s my favourite Christine

[nezumeanie]

𐐪𐑂 B a d H a b i t s 𐐪𐑂

no warnings | gn reader | fluff | uh...not proofread __φ(。。)

Shu Itsuki has a few bad habits, including the fact that he doesn’t realize how heart fluttering they can be

❝ Shu hasn’t quite realized it but he’s become attached to you in a strange way. Inadvertently, he’s made you a part of his daily routine, his dreams and ambitions…❞

…and his afternoon cafe runs.

ఌ Though his concentrated face while mulling over his stage designs are heart fluttering, the issue lies (as he would say) with y o u. ‘Ah, is there a hole in your chin? How did you get icing there? You’re this old already how haven’t you learned how to eat properly yet?’ Shu always presses your cheeks between his elegant fingers, takes his napkin, and wipes off the remains of your cinnamon bun while scolding you. His hands feel a little cold but soft and after knowing him for so long you can only hear the warmth in his voice. You can’t help but think it’s a little unfair—he’s already talking to you about something different while your heart is still pounding in your chest.

ఌ His bad habits also follow the both of you out in public. It looks like there’s a brand new craft store across the street from the cafe, though it’s wares look a little cheap it’s still worth a trip inside! You always have to walk a little faster to keep pace with Shu when he spots something interesting, smiling slightly while listening to him talk about how long lasting cashmere can be if you treat your clothing with care. When you can’t fast enough Shu finds himself sighing and grabbing your wrist to make sure you don’t fall behind. ‘It’s important for you to know these things! And you’re walking to slowly! How can you do your job properly if you can’t manage to make it from one end to the other without assistance?’ Because he’s still walking ahead of you, you can safely give him a lovelorn look, why does he hold your wrist but not your hand?

ఌ Possibly his worst habit rears it’s head in the small craft store aisles……besides openly criticizing the fabric and jewelry making supplies for being stiff and unmanageable. There’s many other customers looking for ways to begin their seamster journeys. Too many. Whether Shu is a repellent or you are a magnet—people just won’t stop bumping into you. The thread aisle, the button aisle, the velcro aisle…Shu begins to huff like it was your fault. Placing an arm around your side he pulls you out of the way of another shopper, bumping your shoulders together. ‘Won’t you pay a little more attention?’ As if you could in a situation like this. His soap has just the faintest scent of linen & peonies, even though he smells like laundry in an open field something about it reminds you of star gazing. The only thing keeping you grounded is the feeling of his hand around your upper arm keeping you out of “harms way”. It might be a blessing that he has a bad habit of not noticing when he manages to make you feel so flustered. ‘Stand right next to me. Ah, I can’t take you anywhere.’ …..He really has a bad habit of saying that, too.

[oathofkaslana]

i’ve been encouraging spotlighting fundraisers on main for a while now (i’ve been spotlighting gazan fundraisers since early thsi year*) but i need to talk more about it here. spotlighting fundraisers is such a big help to everyone (palestinians seeking the donations, their loved ones, vetters, other people spotlighting the fundraiser). please consider it if you are able to. i promise you no matter how small your blog is you will make an impact.

i encourage you to pick a vetted fundraiser from operation olive branch or el-shab-hussein and nabulsi’s spreadsheet and promote it on your blog if you are able to!!!!

[theexorcistiii]

Guys ask for my adult secret blog I mean it

[malusrecord]

((I need to outline this properly on my main page but please note that private and request only muses are completely different beasts in regards to this blog.

Private muses, while also request only, are generally very extreme, very triggering characters and I won't write them with someone who doesn't understand that, how I write them and handle the topics surrounding them, etc. Extensive ooc communication is necessary before interacting can happen.

Request only muses are more like the general muses on offer but my muse for them is finicky/particular, I might have a hard line or two concerning the source material, etc. Ultimately it's much easier to interact with the request only muses compared to the private ones.))

[no-144444]

"oh yeah?"- l.norris

summary: lando and you go out to celebrate his win and the championship, you run into someone...

pairing: lando norris x fem! reader

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He’d done it. 4 wins, a title fight, a constructor’s championship, and a hell of a lot of ups and downs. And you stayed with him through it all. 

“Do you want another drink?” he asked, shouting over the loud club music. You were both covered in dried champagne, exhausted from the whole weekend, but they’d won. It would be a sin not to celebrate. 

You shook your head, but gave him a little nod as to tell him to go off and get another for himself. It was some club in Abu Dhabi, too big to really see anyone you knew, unless they were right beside you. “You go ahead.”

“You sure?” he asked, aware of the whole ‘don’t leave someone alone in a club’ thing. 

You nodded. “I’ll stay here and you’ll be back in five minutes, I’ll be fine,” you smiled. He leant over, pressing a kiss to your cheek, before turning and snaking his way through people to the bar.

He leant against the counter, patiently waiting his turn when he felt someone nudge him. Going into ‘meeting fans autopilot’ he immediately smiled and turned to the man. The man was not smiling back.

“You know her?” he nudged him again, asking and pointing at you. Lando’s brow furrowed, he knew this guy from somewhere. He was British, tall, and weirdly familiar. 

“She’s my girl,” he nodded, still trying to remember the man. (To be fair, he met a lot of people). 

The man frowned, then started laughing. Lando knew nothing better than to just laugh with him. 

“You?!” he exclaimed, almost shocked by the hilarity that you’d ever get with someone like Lando. He frowned. He remembered that asshole. 

Your ex. Jamie

“Mate come on, we’re just trying to have a nice night-” Lando tried to reason with him, but the way he smirked made him think that he was beyond reasoning. 

“How’s she doing then?” he asked, smug as ever.

“None of your fucking business, mate,” Lando scoffed and he watched as his face fell. “She’s my fucking girlfriend, and she broke up with you for a reason. You’re the same pathetic, arsehole, loser she left 2 years ago. What’s worse is that fact that you followed her to fucking Abu Dhabi to try and make her uncomfortable, which I will be dealing with- expect a note from my lawyers very soon- all while knowing she’s with me.”

“I didn’t know she was with some deadbeat-”

“Lando Norris, Formula One Driver, fucking awful to meet you,” he sighed before walking off, G&T in hand. When he made it back over to you, he grabbed a handful of your ass and locked his lips with yours, not pulling away for a few moments. 

You pulled back, laughing and surprised. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Just want to thank you for everything you’ve done this year for me,” he smirked, then leant in closer. “We should go back to the hotel. I have an idea of how we can celebrate.”

You smirked. “Oh yeah?” 

He nodded, biting his lip. “Oh yeah.”

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[thebibliosphere]

Ma'am/Sir/Other

So much of your blog is "Yaya another thing in my body broke (kill me)"

I'm not judging at all, cause I'm also dealing with that somewhat but,

In the most polite manner possible;

How the fuck do you manage to function without killing everyone around you in a bodily pain induced rage.

Body hurts too much.

But in all seriousness, therapy and a whole lot of radical acceptance.

I don't approve or like what’s happening to me, but realistically, there is no way to avoid it, so I either have to accept it and make changes to my life or reject it and increase my suffering.

It might take me a while to process this change and there might be a few screaming breakdowns in the interim (”it's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair!”) but after a long time of doing this type of therapy, I’ve gotten good at holding my own hand and holding myself through the despair.

It’s a bit like being my own gentle parent. Like “hey bud, I know this sucks and you’re feeling a lot of big emotions right now. And I’m not asking you to stop feeling them, but I do need you to eat and drink before you get sick, okay? Okay, you’ve had some water, do you want to try for a shower? No? Okay, let’s go back to bed for a bit. We’ll try later... Cry it out if you need to. I’ve got you.”

Probably sounds bonkers to some people but it's the only reason I’m still alive.

My support network is wonderful and they do so much to keep me going, but it wasn't until I allowed myself to feel my emotions and self soothe through them that things got better.

I can’t change what has been done to me. I can’t change the dynamic nature of my disabilities or the fact that parts of my body will continue to break down. But I can accept myself and say, this is the way things are: react accordingly for our continued survival.

Radical acceptance isn’t about approval or giving up. It's a stress tolerance skill that lets you look at some of the worst parts of your life and go “fuck this sucks. Okay, how do I make this suck less?” and then following through on it.

It's a skill that takes a long time to build. But it's well worth investing in.

[duplicitousfate]

Hear me out: Lamb but two 👀

Literally everyone knows about there being two lambs. The Bishops, the cultists, the crowns. Everyone EXCEPT Narinder

It made... quite a first impression when he was later revived after bringing the bishops into the cult

Now the whole cult's placing bets on how long it'll take for him to figure out which of the lambs killed him and which lamb he kinda, maybe, likes hates with a passion.

(Art by @dashing-through-ecto )

No one looks at tumblr blogs anymore so under the cut is more in depth refs about the bishops and such! WARNING: LONG.

LAMBERT: Masc They/Them. The main caretaker of the followers. The few times they go on crusades, they prefer the blunderbuss and the golden fleece combo. Did, in fact, one-shot Leshy’s fight with this min-max strategy.

They are gentle and treat the followers more like their kids than their followers for the most part. They are the one that loves Narinder, but for the sake of the bit, they keep it subtle.

LAMBARI: Femme They/Them. The main crusader. They can work with generally any weapon, but will refuse and in fact rage-quit if they get the gauntlets or the dagger, preferring to strike heavy. They were the one that made the original deal with The One Who Waits, and was more than happy to slay the bishops.

They are more stern, preferring to take a more tough-love approach that will tell you immediately if they don’t like something. They eventually get with Shamura, and have the goal of restoring their mind.

NARINDER had absolutely NO idea there were two lambs until he was brought back to life, after his siblings were brought into the herd. The twins did what any pair of identical twins would do: Fuck with him.

Now, he not only has to figure out which one was the lamb that struck him down, but also which one he began to harbor feelings for. The entire cult is now taking bets.

His role in the cult is undefined, as he is far more occupied in figuring out his conundrum.

SHAMURA was the first Bishop of the Old Faith, and the first to be betrayed by Narinder. They were the last Bishop to be struck down by the lambs, and the last to be brought back. The God of War and Knowledge, the most savage and yet the most diplomatic, attempting to warn the Lambs of their imminent betrayal and the quickest to listen and convert when they bested their brother.

They have the most vague position in the cult, often focusing on the personal care of Lambari after their long, grueling crusades. They are often seen at the refinery otherwise, when there’s nothing else to keep their many hands busy.

KALLAMAR was the second Bishop of the Old Faith, the second to be betrayed. Third to be struck down, third to be brought back. The God of Pestilence and Vitality may be a coward, but he is an impeccable fighter, providing the most trouble thanks to how devoted his followers are to him.

While his official role is that of a healer and the main refiner, he will be seen in various roles to help any number of his multiple boyfriends. He is also often the one sent out on missionary work as the most charismatic of the siblings.

HEKET was the fourth Bishop of the Old Faith, and the third to be betrayed. The second to be cut down and brought back, and the first to make moves when the group acts as a unit. The God of Famine and Fertility took over when Shamura’s injury proved too debilitating, acting as the big sister despite being the second youngest. She is strong, stern, and acts in the best interest of the siblings, which the Lambs respect despite the implications of her involvement with the extinction of the sheep.

She is the strong silent type, overseeing the farming and cooking. She keeps to herself, when she isn’t busy making everyone swoon, intentionally or otherwise. Many men’s hearts have been broken when she made her preference for women clear. Much to the delight of many girls.

LESHY was the final Bishop of the Old Faith, the youngest and last to be betrayed. He was the first to be struck down and the first to be brought back, both times cut down in one single attack from Lambert. As the God of Chaos and Order, and someone who respects a good fight, he was easily converted thanks to Lambert’s dedicated attention to dealing with him.

Any attempts to assign Leshy to a duty end in failure. He often does whatever work interests him that day, to mixed results. So his “official” role is that of an enforcer, which he often takes to mean “the bookie, right? The guy that keeps track of all the bets? Yeah I got that, no problem.“  But he has no hesitation when it comes to helping Lambert take care of the cult.

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Give Into The Temptation

Oscar Piastri x Fem!Norris!Reader

warnings: ‼️‼️⚠️⚠️SPOILERS FOR TWISTED HATE BY ANA HUANG ‼️‼️⚠️⚠️, cursing, SMUT

Thank you to @forevercaffeinated-lee for this idea! I hope it meets your expectations <3!

Slight enemies to lovers

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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When I first met Oscar I thought he was cute and he is but my god was he so full of himself.  

Now don’t get me wrong, I love a man who’s confident and knows what he wants but Oscar was not that.

Oscar was cocky, full of himself and sometimes downright disrespectful. I usually let it slide because I didn’t see him often so I didn’t have to deal with it, emphasis on the word usually.

-

I’ve been on the road with Lando so far this whole 2024 season because he had asked me to tag along, he something about missing his twin sister or some bullshit like that, in reality everyone knew that I was here because he liked the way I made his meal preps and not the person that’s currently doing it now.

This is the week of the Monaco Grand Prix and Lando has been out all day with his trainer all day doing whatever the trainer made him do all the while I’m stuck at the condo alone.

I was chilling out on a pineapple floaty in the pool when I heard the front door open. I'd decided that I wanted to play a prank on Lando so I snuck out of the pool and quickly dried myself off before quietly sneaking into the condo. I'd heard rustling coming from the bathroom and that gave me the perfect chance to scare him. I waited against the wall for about 45 seconds before I heard the door open, I waited for a second until I saw a taller figure step out the bathroom and with a big leap I screamed 'Boo' at the man in front of me.

However, I didn't get as much joy from scaring Lando as I thought I would and that was only because I didn't scare Lando. I scared Oscar.

"Ah! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Oscar screamed as I still stood in front of him, placing his hand on his chest as if to slow down his heartbeat.

"What are you doing here?!" I screamed back in total shock and anger that he was here. I mean how did he even get the key? Only Lando and I had a key?

"I'm staying here this race weekend dipshit. You know this." His attitude evident, as always.

"Obviously not, seeing as I'm JUST NOW FINDING THIS OUT!" I shout. I'm so frustrated, I wanted to have a nice weekend to support my brother and hopefully only see Oscar when needed, but turns out I'm gonna be spending the WHOLE weekend with him.

"That's it, I'm going back out by the pool." I scoffed while I dragged my feet dramatically out to the backyard.

-

Back out by the pool, I was laying on one of the lawn chairs and I decided that I was going to try and finish the book I was currently reading 'Twisted Hate' by one of my favorite authors Ana Huang.

While I was reading, I was so deep in thought that I hadn't heard the patio door open and Oscar come out. At least not until I heard a big splash in the water and felt drops of it land on my legs.

"You muppet! I'm reading here!" I shouted as I took the towel I brought out to dry my not-so-wet legs. Oscar looked displeased with me as when I looked up I saw him rolling his eyes at me.

I continued reading in peace and quiet for about another 15 minutes before my timer went off indicating that I should go apply more sunscreen before I get too burned. I let out a annoyed groan because my book was just getting good so I quickly got up and went into the air conditioned condo to the living room to grab the spray on sunscreen, applying it before walking back outside.

Opening the back door, I was quickly met with a sight of Oscar with a towel around his waist and my book in his hand.

"Oscar, put my book down now!" my face just as red as a tomato at the thought of Oscar reading the previous page of the two characters fucking. Part of me didn't want him to know what I read on my free time but part of me wanted him to have read it so that he learns not to pick up and read random books.

"Twisted Hate? I think I've heard of this book." if my face was red before, it must've been a shade of hell right now. How did he know about this book? Maybe someone said it was a good series? Did he know about the pure sex written in it? So many questions flooded my head but before I could question what he meant by what he said he continued talking

(THIS NEXT PART CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE BOOK SO PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING UNTIL YOU SEE THE BOLD WORDS! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!)

"Yeah, Jules ends up telling Josh that she was the one that took the painting. Josh was mad at her at first but then they had make-up sex. Turns out he didn't forgive her and 'broke up' with her mid orgasm and kicked her out." My face fell in shock. There's no way this bitch just fucking spoiled this book for me. No, he's making shit up. There's no way he'd know what was going on in the book, someone could've told him about the 'break in'. Oscar loves to get under my skin and this would be a good way he could do it.

A scoff left my lips as I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Yeah fucking right. That's a good one Piastri, and to think I almost believed you. Wow, this is a new low for you." I laughed as I snatched my book from his grasp and gathered my stuff. I was going to finish my book in the comfort of my well air conditioned room until my brother comes back and we go out to eat.

(OKAY NO SPOILERS AFTER THIS PART)

-

It had been about 30 minutes since my last interaction with Oscar and I was sitting against the headboard of the bed under the covers reading. I was having a good time in the quiet of the room while reading until I got to a part that eerily started to sound like what Oscar told me was going to happen between Jules and Josh.

I kept reading because I didn't want to believe that Piastri was THAT disrespectful to actually spoil my book for me. Sure enough that Aussie dipshit did in fact spoil my book for me. With an angry grunt I peeled myself away from the book and left my room. I was going to find Oscar and kill him.

I searched the house with so much anger in me I felt like I was going to explode. I finally spotted Oscar still out by the pool except this time instead of being in the water, he was sun bathing. Lord knows he needs it because of how pale he was.

Swinging the patio door open I started yelling " OSCAR JACK PIASTRI!" The volume of my voice and the slam of the door startled Oscar and he quickly locked his phone before chucking it on the lawn chair next to his. "YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKING BASTARD!" A slight smirk plastered on his face as he saw how mad I was.

"Finally get to the part I spoiled for you?" he looked so cocky right now and all I wanted to do was to punch him right in his sexy face. No, stop Y/N don't think like that.

"You're a cunt Oscar. I want to never see you again!" I stomped my foot. I looked like an angry toddler when they wouldn't get their way.

"Oh that's cute. We're rooming in the same house this weekend and in case you forgot, your brother and I are on the same team so that's not happening." I watched as a small laugh left his incredibly sexy and slightly plump lips.

As much as I wanted to be mad at Oscar I couldn't help but want to swoon for him right now. He'd gotten out of the pool not that long ago because his body wasn't wet anymore but his swim trunks and hair were still damp. That nasty smirk still plastered on his sexy face, his damp curls laying in every direction, his perfectly toned chest on display, the damp swimming trunks sticking to his hard cock. Wait, is he hard? Was he watching porn before I came out??

"As much as I'm flattered that you're checking me out, my eyes are up here princess." Oscar called as he snapped his fingers at me before pointing to his eyes when I finally looked up.

Did I just get caught checking out the man I hated the most while I'm trying to be angry and yell at him?

"As if. I- I would never check you out. You- You're the last guy I would want to find attractive." I swallowed the lump in my throat as I watched Oscar slowly start to walk in my direction stopping right in front of me. He was so close I could feel his breath on my face, none of us moved and I don't think either of us wanted to. Oscar raised his hands to rest on both sides of my face, leaning in but stopping right before our lips met.

"Really? So why aren't you backing away from my touch?" He was so close to me and all I wanted to do was have the most rough and dirty sex with him right now. "You hate me right? You know they say there's a blurred line between Love and Hate."

"I" need you "I would never love you" I'm trying so hard not to give into the temptation of falling for Oscar but it's so hard. Oscar might be harder but I don't want to be the first to give in. I left heavy calloused hand on my waist and gave it a small squeeze which caused a pathetic small moan to escape my lips.

"That moan that left your mouth just now says otherwise," Oscar and I made eye contact just before he turned his head to whisper in my ear "just say the word and I'll fuck you 7 ways to Sunday before your brother gets back" His hand slowly sliding down my front before they got to my bathing suit bottoms, stopping right above the elastic.

A whimper left my lips before I could stop it. "Is this fine?" Oscar said as he grabbed my chin to look up and face him, a small nod of approval was what I gave him but that wasn't enough "No princess, I need words. Is this okay with you?" Even when we're so deep in this intimate moment he's getting on my nerves.

"Yes," I said breathlessly as I placed my hand on his and guided him underneath the fabric of my bikini bottoms "I need this, I need you so fucking bad." I whispered as I had leaned into the crook of him neck to leave small and delicate kisses.

A heard a groan leave Oscar's lips as I started to suck the skin of his neck to litter his gorgeous skin with hickies.

"Mmmm, fuck. I need you right now." Oscar moaned right before he smashed his lips to mine. The kiss didn't last too long before Oscar picked me up and threw me over his shoulder and started to make his way to my room and slamming the door once we were in. Oscar placed a hard and firm slap to my ass before tossing me on the bed.

"You're so sexy, did you know that?" Oscar started talking while slowly crawling towards me leaving kisses in his wake, started by my feet "I've always dreamed of fucking you since I met you" left a kiss just below my knee "I've jerked off to the thought of me fucking you in my drivers room, making you scream my name so loud they can hear you in the grandstands" kissed my clothed pussy, causing me to jerk my body up "and the thought of filling you so full you're carrying child." kissed my stomach "I've thought about taking you at so many events." kissed my breasts "I thought about us getting caught while I'm fucking your mouth." kissed the under side of my jaw before looking in my eyes "I thought about us getting married and just fucking like rabbits everywhere I can take you" He kissed my lips before biting my bottom lip

"Do it." I said breathless as Oscar leaned down to kiss my cleavage, the second those words left my mouth I felt him freeze.

"Which part?" He searched my face for an answer

"All of it." In 0.2 seconds flat his lips were on mine in a hungry kiss before he licked my bottom lip for entrance which I happily granted him access to. Our tongues fought for dominance but his ultimately won, as we made out I felt an ache in my core that I needed to get rid of. I bucked my hips up to rub against his hard cock, it didn't last long though as one of Oscar's hands pressed firmly on my low stomach pressing my lower half into the mattress.

"Impatient are we?" A small moan left my lips "Don't worry baby, I'm gonna take good care of you" Oscar took the hand that he had pressed against my stomach and moved it to take off his swim trunks before moving that same hand to undo the knots on the strings on the sides of my bathing suit bottoms. Undoing two double knotted knots with one hand was supposed to be hard but Oscar made it seem easy, and hot. Super super hot. Oscar peeled the bottoms off of me and chucked it to God knows where in the room.

Oscar grabbed his cock and fisted it a few times before lining his tip to my entrance before looking in my eyes once again asking for permission

"Oscar, please fuck me. I can't wait anymore" I whimpered. At this point I don't care how pathetic I sounded, I had a hot man in front of me about to fuck me and I needed him.

That was all the confirmation he needed before he slid his cock so deep in my cunt I felt like I could feel him in my throat. He was big and thick, not too big but my god was he thick. My walls stretched in a delicious pain as I adjusted to his size. A quick tap to Oscar's bicep told him all he needed to know before he pulled out and slowly slid back in. He kept going at a slower pace before I spoke up.

"Oscar," I moaned

"Yeah baby, what do you need?" He leaned in to kiss my collarbone

"I need you to fuck me faster" without a second thought Oscar pulled out and slammed into my pussy, easing the aching throb thats been there for a minute.

My walls stretched with each hard and rough thrust of his cock and I enjoyed every minute of it. Oscar had one hand on my hip and used it to guide my hips up to meet his every thrust. Oscar kept fucking me raw and rough for about another 2 minutes before he abruptly pulled out.

A disappointed groan left my lips at the feeling of being empty but that didn't last long because Oscar ended up flipping me around and forcing me on all fours. I turned half my body to face him and I watched he stood on his knees and aligned himself with my entrance again and grabbed my hips and thrusted his cock in me.

A loud moan left my lips as I felt so full of him again. Oscar set a blistering pace as he rocked his hips in and out of my dripping pussy. Oscar slowly withdrew his cock from my pussy before slowly pushing his girthy cock back in making sure he'd bottom out. Even though Oscar was bottomed out he kept pushing himself deeper in me which caused me to reach behind me to attempt to grab ahold of his thighs in hopes to pull him closer to me to make him go impossibly deeper in my cunt.

Oscar finally started his thrusts up again and was fucking me so hard I'm pretty sure the bed was moving. Each thrust sent my body jerking forward and I felt like I was on fire. I could feel a familiar tightness in my tummy as Oscar keeps his merciless pace going.

"Gonna cum for me sweet girl?" Oscar's hand brushed up my back and rested on my shoulder.

"Mmhmm" was all I could muster, Oscar was fucking me so good I couldn't form coherent sentences. I felt Oscar pull out of me before quickly flipping me untilI I was on my back and he thrusted right back into be with so much force.

"I wanna see your pretty face when I make you cum. M'gonna ruin you for any other man." I can't focus, I'm so close to cumming and I need this release.

"I don't want any other man" I murmured "Oscar, I'm so close. Choke me"

I didn't have to ask twice and the second his calloused hand gripped the flesh of my throat and gave it a gentle and slight squeeze my walls clenched around his cock and my body shook as my orgasm washed over me. Oscar kept fucking me through my high as he chased his own orgasm. I could tell Oscar was close just by the way his hips stuttered against me. I was going to tell Oscar to pull out and to cum on my stomach but before I could say anything he spoke up

"Can I please fuck your mouth and cum in it? Please I need to cum so bad" Oscar whimpered

"Please" was all I said before I watched him pull out and quickly made his way up to my face before he shoved his cock in my mouth and started to roughly fuck it.

He didn't last that long and after a few thrust he shoved his cock to the back of my throat and used my used his hand he had placed behind head to shove my face closer to his body until my nose was touching his skin as he spilled his cum down my throat.

Oscar pulled out of my mouth and watched me as I swallowed all his cum. He placed a kiss to my lips before having to pull away due to my phone ringing.

I picked up my phone and looked at the caller ID "Oh shit, it's Lando" I pressed the answer icon and placing it on speaker "This better be good, I'm reading" I said into the phone

"I'm gonna be back at the condo in 20 so get ready for dinner and while you're at it wake up Oscar, I called him 4 times but he isn't answering. He's a heavy sleeper." I had to refrain a chuckle from leaving my lips

"Okay, I'm gonna wake him and then take a shower. Bye, I love you too." I hung up before turning back to Oscar

"Yeah, I forgot I threw my phone on the other lawn chair." he said as he rubbed the back of his neck "And no I wasn't watching porn, I was watching videos of you being interviewed at movie premieres. I can't help it, you're just so hot." Oscar mumbled as he leaned in to kiss my lips again.

"We have to get dressed Oscar" I mumbled against his lips as I pulled away "I smell like sex and I want to wash my hair so I gotta go now." I got up from my bed and was about to walk towards my bathroom before I felt a firm slap on my ass causing me to jerk forward with a yelp

"I'm gonna fuck you so good when we get back, I hope you know that"

-

I MISSED YOU GUYS (I just posted two days ago) I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS!!

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[ncroissant]

I just read your Sub! Frances fic and OHMYGOD??? GORGEOUS. AMAZING. HOLY HELL THIS IS THE FIRST FIC THATS MADE ME FEEL THIS WAY I—A JOB MOST CERTAINLY WELL DONE 😭💕✨🙌

I was wondering if you were up to writing more of it? I had this idea for Sub! Frances where he’s a doppelgänger and reader is part of the DDD cleanup crew…except when Frances’s doppelgänger is sent over to them, they decide to initiate a so-called mandatory ‘procedure’ to ‘discipline him’ if you know what I mean…🤭🤭 maybe even throw in some overstim and mind break~

Buttt feel free to ignore this if you want to, no pressure :)

sub! doppelgänger francis mosses x d.d.d! gn! reader

summary: how the clean-up crew likes to deal with slutty doppelgängers

wc: 1.5k

content warning: nsfw, dub-con, spanking, ball play, mind-break, overstimulation, fingering, anal, cock can be seen as strap, cum play, dirty talk, nipple play

author’s note: hi guys! sorry for the wait, but thank u sm for 150 follows omg, u guys have been blowing up my blog ily all. thanks for the ask anon, i love this concept and i'm so happy u liked my first francis fic :') hope u enjoy this one too !! not proofread, minors please dni !!

the calls to the d.d.d. were slow today.

but when you finally got a call from the nearby apartment's security guard, you were quick to accept the job. what you weren't expecting was to find such a handsome man, awaiting his sentence, upon your arrival.

you soaked in the sight of him. his all too tight uniform and his dopey little hat that was a size too big, slipping over his brunette eyes. his sunken eye bags, long lashes and pleading expression.

the alarm was blaringly loud and the lights were blinding, but you still made your way over to the doppel, your breath fogging up with hazmat suit.

"i'm here for a mr. francis mosses?" you inquired, cautiously stepping closer to him. "is that you? or who you're impersonating, hm?" you tilted your head, driving him against the wall.

his eyebrows furrowed, back pressed flat against the wall in attempts to escape. he stayed silent, but you continued to stalk forward. "can't talk, huh?" you scoffed, shaking your head disappointedly.

your head turned to look at the aluminum sheet covering the security guard's window. you slipped your phone out of your pocket, dialing the security guard. "this might take a while. keep that window closed, yeah?"

you hung up, stuffing your phone away. your head quickly turned to look at francis with a glare. "turn around," you demanded, nodding your chin towards the wall.

"what?" the frown on francis' face deepened. you clicked up tongue, disappointed with his reaction. you gathered his wrists together, spinning him around and pressing his chest against the wall. his pants were so tight that you could see the outline of his balls.

"listen to me, slut," you growled, tightening the grip you had on his wrists. "when i tell you do something, you do it, yeah?" his back arched, rubbing the bulge of your cock against his ass.

"are we clear?" you glared down at him as he looked back at you with widened eyes.

"y-yes..." he shyly nodded with a huff.

you smiled at his obedience, moving back to create space between yourselves. "now, i know you've been a bad boy. messin' with the security guard, knowing you can't enter the building like this," you started, grabbing the fat of his ass.

he gasped, biting down on his lip to suppress the lewd sounds that were so desperately spilling out of his lips. "since you wanna be a brat. let me show you how we deal with bad boys like you." you spanked his ass roughly, kneading it gently afterwards.

"h-HNG!?" he panted when you slipped off his pants, exposing his bare ass. his cock twitched at the feeling of you pressing him against the brick wall, the ridges rubbing against his perky nipples.

"no underwear?" you chuckled, dragging your fingers down to fondle his balls. he squirmed in your gasp, little whimpers escaping his mouth.

he shook his head when he felt your thumb circling around the rim of his hole. "unnghhh...'s dirty down there, ooohh...!" your fingers slipped in so easily from the accumulation of sweat and slick, making him jolt at the thickness of your fingers.

"so deep, mmMNGH! y'keep hittin' that, hngh, s-spot..." he whined, leaning head back in bliss. the room was filled with the sound of francis' moans and the sloppy wet sounds of your fingers ramming into his hole.

you fucked your fingers into him, grazing them against his balls. and every time he got used to the thickness of your finger, you'd add another one to catch him off guard.

as much as he wanted to deny it, he was shamefully enjoyed the way your fingers pressed deep against his prostate. "ooOGHHH! m' g'na c-cum, HNGH! 'm c-cumming, cumming!" he whimpered, cum coating the wall.

his cum dripped onto his white uniform pants and rolled down the inner sides of his legs. he was shaking against you, slumping backwards into your arms.

"you think i'm gonna let you off the hook just 'cause you're cute, huh?" you shoved him deeper against the wall, the bumps flicking his nipples when you pulled him up. "who gave you permission to cum?"

his face paled as he shuddered at the look on your face. "'m sorry! needed t'cum s-so bad," he pleaded, shaking his head when you wrapped an arm around his tummy to arch his back more.

you dropped his wrists for him to ball his hands into fists against the wall to stabilize himself. "okay, be a good and count for me, then." he looked confused at what you meant then yelped when your hand came down on his ass.

"GHK!" he shrieked when you smacked his ass again.

"i'm not hearing any numbers, slut," you tsked, slapping his ass again. it was blooming pink, a stark contrast to the pale white earlier.

you spanked him again, prompting a moan from him. "hNGH! o-one, mnghh..." he huffed, he looked back at you with his cheek smushed against the wall.

you continued to torment his ass until it was bright red, throbbing when you brushed your hand over it. "you learn your lesson yet, or should we do five more, hm?" you cooed, rubbing the fat of his ass soothingly.

"n-no more, hnggh...learned my lesson," he begged, tears filling his eyes.

you laughed under your breath at his desperation, giving him a break. "alright, alright. quit your whining, needy boy." you caressed his cheek, wiping a tear from his eye. "c'mere."

you took him off the wall, leading him over to the aluminum covered window. he stood there in confusion, wondering if his punishment was already over. "are you letting me go now?" he furrowed his brows.

you laughed at his assumption. if only he could see what he looked like right now. his pants and underwear pooled at his ankles, his ass blooming red with cum splattered on his shirt with his nipples poking out.

the way he looked back at you with a flushed expression and tears lining his waterline made your cock throb in your pants. "i'm not letting you go for a long time, slut," you shook your head, unzipping your pants.

francis' heart thumped out of his chest at the sight of your bulge. "i'm not so sure how sound-proof this window is..." you stated, cock springing free from your underwear. "so unless you want the security guard to hear how much of a slut you are. i suggest you keep it down."

"m-mkay, i'll do my best," he nodded with a cute little pout on his lips. he looked so serious, wanting to impress you so badly.

"good boy," you stroked at your cock, inching closer to francis. "spread yourself open for me, yeah?"

francis' hands gripped at his ass cheeks, revealing his throbbing, dripping hole. his cheek was pressed against the glass of the window, looking at you for approval.

you slowly entered him, the tightness of his entrance making you grit your teeth. "hooHNGH! o-oh my god...haah," his mouth hung open, drool dripping down his lips.

he's never felt anything like this, nestled so deeply in his ass. the way you stuffed him so easily, kissing his prostate upon entry, made his cock twitch with pleasure.

"fuck. such a tight little thing, aren'tcha?" you grunted with a chuckle, you cock completely disappearing within him. "took me so well though, hm?"

you quickened your pace, thrusting into him with more ease. "n-nghhh! y-you're hitting that spot a-aghhhNGH, again..! 's too big, mmfph!"

you shoved your fingers into his mouth to silence him, rubbing your fingers against his tongue. "haaaaghnn! feelsh sho g-good, ahhnn..." he muffled out, even with your fingers filling his throat.

"told you to keep quiet," you grit your teeth, feeling him tighten up. "bratty boy isn't listenin' to me again. want me to stop?" you threatened, pulling out.

"n-no! k-keep fuh-ghh...f-fucking me, please! d-don't pull out, mnngh!" he begged, shaking his head furiously.

your tip teased at his entrance before fucking into him furiously. it's not like you could resist indulging him, especially with the expression he was making. eye rolled back, tongue sticking out with tears and drool spilling out.

he looked like a common whore, humping against you like a bitch in heat. "ooGHHK! r-right there! f-fuck, 'm close, hngh!" he nodded mindlessly.

your grip on his waist was bruising, as your free hand rubbed the buds over his shirt. "o-ooh, oh! c-cumming, c-cumming 'gain, h-HNGHHK!"

cum spilled into francis' hole, filling him up generously. his own cock was covering in cum as it had stained the window along with his fingerprints.

your fingers fucked the cum that was spilling out back into his hole as francis twitched in your hold. "feelin' alright, tiger?" you cooed, feigning innocence as if you hadn't just breeded his tight, little hole and filled him with your seed.

"u-uh-huh. wan' more...?" he nodded in a dazed, rutting his ass against your fingers. he cupped his chest, flicking his nipple with his thumb. "'again, ngh?"

the smile on your face was pure evil. he looked so desperate for your cock, your fingers weren't cutting it for him anymore. "fuckin' hell..." you cursed, tugging your cum-covering fingers out.

"again," you smirked, thrusting into him roughly.

[riotlain]

Trap Making Reader

offically BACK and congrats youre jigsaw now

also if my writing still gives off like 2021ish then just idk enjoy it idk

no bubba or thomas since i was very unsure of how that would work since they in middle of nowhere

NWLNW BLOG !! WOMEN DNI

Poly Ghostface

Your traps were getting on the news, almost as much as their kills were!

They just had to track you down and maybe kill you- and they ended up in one of your traps

You were gonna kill them but then Stu wasn't gonna have his giant party!

After a deal maybe even a couple dates and kills the big party arrived. You had your traps all nice and set up in Stu's place for people to fall into while they were busy tormenting and killing

Imagine in this world, they actually get away with the party (their plan was very stupid shh you have the brain in this world)

You 3 will now live happily ever after killing people in more elaborate ways

OK NOW TO DYNAMICS

Billy's first impression of you was mainly jealousy and a hint of being impressed but mostly jealousy

After meeting and becoming friends and maybe even gay lovers, he likes giving you cool ideas for traps

Of course they're all bases around horror movies

Stu's first impression of you was he was hella impressed! But getting put in an almost saw trap did freak him out with the possibility of death

When actually dating he also loves giving you trap ideas, albeit very elaborate and probably impossible traps for you to make

You're a killing genius in his eyes

He loves incorporating Ghostface into your traps, whether its just standing there while the person struggles or actually killing them himself

Jason Voorhees

Jason has his traps and he likes them. They're simple and easy to get.

You on the other hand have much more insane things. But Jason can't lie he does love the reverse bear trap

Your traps are reserved for the worst of the worst in your eyes while Jason is just for anyone in the camp

You can't resist his puppy eyes though if he wants to use one of your traps (he stares at you blankly and menacingly until you agree)

Camp Crystal Lake now has much more interesting rumors spreading thanks to you

Michael Myers

He met you after watching you kidnap his victim

He was planning on killing you, he did not care but then he ended up following you and interrupting one of your traps

He doesn't care how expensive it was that was his target you can't share targets

Upon actually dating, he looms over your shoulder whenever you're busy planning

He doesn't take part in your traps he just likes staring its literally his thing

He could help you kidnap your victims but he isn't the kidnapping type he's not interested

No he will not grab you food or drinks while you work do it yourself

Vincent Sinclair

You were supposed to be one of their victims until you ended up making a trap out of nothing but glass, string, and the interworking of your mind

He was impressed he's an artist after all

He helps you sketch out ideas for traps and even helps set it up

He's like a genius, have you seen the town

You two have to keep each other in check don't overwork yourselves

You definitely help make the town somewhat more lively but also more gorey

You have to deal with Bo though but like he doesn't get too much in the way

The only times he doesn't like your traps is when they completely destroy the body like that was supposed to be the next statue😒

Bo Sinclair

Similar situation with Vincent except his was more like a deal offering with you

You two probably started off hating each other but you work together so it doesn't matter

Once you're dating yes he is very affectionate it doesn't matter what you're up to

Busy making a trap? Well he's behind you holding you

You help play into the whole act of the town by being somewhat normal

You're offputting but who isn't in this town

Chromeskull

He fell for you when he saw your traps on the news

Call that parasocial but he needs to know who this mastermind is

He has you tracked down and brought to him so he can yknow shoot his shot

He's rich, mute and a big attractive serial killer like who wouldn't want him

After a couple of maybe or maybe not forced dates you two are a powercouple

He spoils you most definitely. He will pay for your traps and whatever else you need

[joelscruff]

joelscruff -> @pedropeach 🍑

so! this past little while has certainly been a dumpster fire of a situation! but if anything, something good that has come out of it is that this was the final push i needed to finally make a new blog.

i've been wanting to do this for a while; some of you may already know (because of the amount of times i've complained about it lmao) that joelscruff is and always has been a sideblog. when i first created it i hadn't used tumblr in years and wasn't anticipating using it very much again, so instead of just making an entirely new blog i decided to just make a sideblog attached to my very old (and unused) main. but obviously once i realized there was a whole ass community on here for pedro and pedro character fic, i ended up sticking around and - as a result - being stuck as a sideblog.

unfortunately being a sideblog on tumblr is extremely limiting. i can't follow from this blog, send asks, or even like posts. it was only very recently that sideblogs were even able to reply to posts. it's always been extremely frustrating and for the longest time i've toyed with the idea of just making a new blog so i wouldn't have to deal with the sideblog limitations anymore. but of course i was hesitant because making such a big change and leaving behind what i've done on this blog is a difficult decision to make.

however, after the shit that's gone on the past week, how it's affected me, seeing how it's affected the people closest to me, and witnessing the love and kindness from others because of it - a fresh start just sounded like a really good idea. the fact that i am no longer limited by tumblr's sideblog rules is incredibly freeing and, frankly, all of this stuff has just left an extremely bad taste in my mouth and has left joelscruff feeling like a shell of sorts that i'd like to leave behind.

so, you can now find me at @pedropeach

it's bittersweet to leave this blog behind, but i will be keeping it up as an archive - none of my fics will be deleted. at this time i don't see myself reposting them to the new blog, nor do i see myself posting any fic for a little while in general. however, when i do decide to start posting fic again, my current series will continue to be updated over there as well as on my ao3.

so yeah! whether you want to follow the new blog is up to you! if you decide to say goodbye or stick around, i appreciate you and the time we spent together on this blog all the same. it was truly an incredible experience and i will cherish it forever. i love you 💖

[ramp-it-up]

Party Games

Summary: You want it bad.

Pairing: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2K

A/N: This wasn’t the kink y’all picked, but here we are. It’s two am. 🥴 Hope you enjoy! You can read this as a companion piece to That Face.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. Reader is owning her sexuality. This is about a nal s ex and it’s enjoyment. Allusions to past acts and partners. A teeny bit of angst, but mostly pwp. Bucky has turned reader out but he’s sprung. Drinking, bathroom s ex, mirror s ex, rough s ex, (but Bucky’s so sweet), oral s ex (f receiving), a nal, praise/degradation kink, allusion to group s ex if you squint. Not Beta’d. All errors my own. 

I don’t have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

You were having fun at game night. Until the bottle pointed Bucky’s way.

Then the fun turned into need.

“Choose anyone here to do anything with.”

“That’s easy,” Nat laughed as she rolled her eyes.

“No. I’ll give James a pass. He can go with anyone he’d like.”

You were confident of your man.

Bucky’s face lit up.

“Really Doll?”

You hesitated. You didn’t like the way he jumped at that chance. Curse your mouth that ran ahead of your brain when you were tipsy.

You fixed your face as Steve smirked at you two and took a swig of his beer.

“Really James. Live your fantasy.”

Your voice was less confident now.

You held your smile as Bucky grinned and rubbed his hands together, looking around his circle of friends.

He could choose any one of these beautiful people. You'd heard tales of how wild it got with them being in the field before you got together, and even of him and Steve, years ago.

‘Adolescent exploration,’ Bucky had called it.

You lowered your head and braced yourself as you felt him stand up. You didn’t want to see who he chose. You listened, on alert, to the sound of his shoes as he went toward the bedroom door. He stopped, presumably to make his choice.

“Get that ass in here, y/n.”

You gasped and looked behind you to see that Bucky was grinning at you. Everyone started laughing when you got up and skipped toward him.

Bucky pulled you through the bedroom to the bathroom, making sure to close both doors for extra privacy. He chuckled at you.

“How could you even think I’d choose someone else, Doll. You know you’re my one and only.”

You nodded and allowed him to pull you into his arms.

“I know. You know how I get when I drink. I get loose. Create scenarios.”

You shrugged as you smiled up at Bucky, causing his heart to skip a beat.

“You’ve had three beers, Doll. I was counting.”

“You were watching me?”

You angled your neck back as Bucky started licking your pulse point. It was a done deal that you were gonna let him fuck you in your en suite with your friends in the other room.

The question was how.

“Like a hawk, Doll. Was gonna suggest you stop after three. Need you to be sober enough to let me in. You’re a tight fit.”

Bucky’s hand was palming your cunt over your jeans and you ground yourself into the warm metal.

“It’s because you’re so big, James.”

You smirked at him.

“But how much tighter is my ass tho?”

Bucky stopped, pulled back and looked at you, eyes blazing and jaw clenching.

“Fuck. Doll. You want me to fuck ypu like that? Right now?”

Bucky licked his lips, exactly like you imagined the big bad wolf would before he tore you apart.

You whined in anticipation, your core flooding with slick. You whispered your reply to him.

“Yes, Bucky. Please. I- I’ve been thinking about the last time since the last time and I- I need it.”

You reached for him and started unbuckling his belt, a fiend.

Bucky closed his eyes as you went inside his pants and started to stroke him. He was thinking about how you wanted him to fuck you and the way it had you stuttering.

“Please, James. Pretty please?”

When he opened his eyes again, you licked your lips and pouted. How could you be begging for something so filthy yet be so adorable?

His dream girl.

Bucky panted while you handled him, your hand barely closing around his stiff, aching cock.

“Doll…I…”

You watched Bucky’s eyes dilate as he opened his mouth to breathe and you continued to stroke him. The way that you were licking your lips and looking him in the eye made Bucky realize that he was the one that taught you to be bold.

“I’m such a fucking slut for this cock. Want it in my ass, Daddy.”

“Jesus.”

You had Bucky shook. And he admired the monster he’d made.

“Yes, James. Make me your fuck doll. You know what you’ve done to me.”

And it was true.

Bucky Barnes had ruined you.

Turned you out.

Reduced you to a dripping, quivering, distracted mess whenever you thought about it.

You wanted him to do that sweet, dark, feral thing all the time.

All the time.

Something about being impaled on his pretty, hard, huge cock, stretched to your limits, feeling pleasure that was just on the razor's edge of pain and pleasure that had you hooked.

Oh, and when Bucky led you over that edge into that intense pleasure …

God.. you were addicted to it.

That first time, he was gentle, oh so gentle. And, as he promised, he’d made it feel oh so good.

Bucky teased you, pleased you, coaxed you, ate you, stretched you, lubed you, then eased into you so slowly and sweetly that you were on cloud nine the entire time.

And you’d cum harder than you ever had before.

Then Bucky took care of you with a hot bath, food, water, and rest.

The more you did the deed, the more wanton you were for it. You moved, arched, grabbed, and begged for it.

Tonight, the added bonus of people a few feet away had you heated, glowing hot.

And Bucky was like a moth to a flame.

He took you by the waist and brought his mouth to yours, making you open for him in this way first, wanting the tenderness on your lips at the moment. He backed you up to the sink, and left you breathless as he drew away, opening the medicine cabinet.

You were looking down at Bucky’s cock playing peekaboo in your hand as he searched behind you. You looked up when he suddenly exclaimed.

“Ah HA!”

Bucky brought a brand new bottle of lube around in front of you and your heart started beating double time.

Setting the lube down on the counter, Bucky reached for the button on your jeans, sliding your zipper down. His thick, metal index finger traced the slit in your panties, divining your wetness.

“How long were you thinking about this today? Hmmmmm?”

Bucky looked down on you possessively, demanding an account of your intimate thoughts. He took in the lust on your face and reveled in the fact that you really wanted this. His mouth descended toward yours before you had a chance to answer.

Bucky loved making love to you, fucking you, taking you apart and putting you back together. But this kind of connection was the most intimate to him.

It was not just because it felt amazing being inside your delicate, snug walls, but because this uncharted territory yielded just for him. Bucky was not into virginity as a concept, but damn, knowing that he’d made you into this brazen, begging goddess, that you’d let him into a place so sacred to you rendered him a slave to your pleasure, which he could tell was intense.

Bucky turned you around so that you faced the mirror and he pulled up your tank top, exposing your breasts to the bright bathroom light.

“You wore this with no bra on purpose, didn’t you?”

Bucky just stared at your chest instead of touching like you wanted him to, expecting an answer as he pressed his black-jeaned bulge against your ass.

“Yes, James.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched and he lowered his lips to your neck while his hands came up and played with your nipples, slowly and tenderly circling your areolas. You arched into his hands; you wanted it rough.

The sound you made when he started pulling was everything.

“Eyes open. Watch what I do to you.”

You watched Bucky watch your face and your open mouthed breathing.

When your eyes connected he said, “Good girl.”

You turned your head and kissed him before he grabbed your open jeans and pulled them down your body, kneeling behind you as he took them off.

Bucky sat back on his haunches and looked at you, running his hands up and down your thighs, grabbing your ass and admiring your anatomy.

“So gotdamn beautiful, Doll.”

You shivered as he started kissing your legs, and soon, but not soon enough, licking into your heat.

Bucky’s moans as he participated in his fine dining was enough to make you cum, or maybe it was the anticipation.

It didn’t matter, because by the time he stood up and told you to, “Bend over, Doll,” your knees were already weak.

You watched Bucky tear the plastic off the bottle of lube with his teeth, plucking your own nipples now.

“You ready?”

It was a purely rhetorical question as you moaned in response.

Bucky watched in awe as the cool lube dripped onto your ass and you arched to meet it. A thick metal middle finger quickly warmed both the liquid and you. You let him fuck you there digitally until you begged for him.

“Need you James…please!”

Bucky grunted, reaching around for your clit again.

“Give me one more, Doll.”

His human hand was magic as he worked you from both front and back. Once he had what he wanted, he pulled back to take off his pants and looked down at his prize.

“Shirt too, please.”

He couldn’t deny your look in the mirror; Bucky loved how you loved his body completely.

Finally, he was teasing your tight hole with his cock, sparking electricity and rivulets of slick in your core. You could tell he was holding back because his jaw was clenched and his movements were tentative.

When you bent down and pushed back onto him was when his eyes rolled and you saw his head hang back on his shoulders.

“Holy mother of…. Damn, Doll.”

Soon his eyes were back on yours in the mirror as you fucked yourself back on him.

“Remember when I had to beg you to fuck this sweet ass, Doll?”

Bucky looked down at his thick cock breaching your tight hole. Then he pulled you upright and flush against him for control, one hand around your neck and the other in your cunt as he pounded inside your tightness.

Bucky searched your glazed expression in the mirror, your head lolled back against his flesh shoulder as you rode his cock and his metal hand. Three of his warm, vibrating metal fingers were deep inside your cunt as he slowly fucked your puckered hole.

“Now you beg me.”

“Hmmm. Ummm hmmmm.”

You nodded, mouth open for air as you let the pleasure take over you.

“You really are all mine, aren’t you?”

“Yesss Jamesssss…Ohhhhh yesss.”

The third orgasm while he was buried in you made Bucky wild, and he started pumping in earnest, keenly tuned into your sounds for any sign of discomfort. All you felt was his thick dick pulling and dragging inside the most sensitive parts of you.

And pure rapture.

“I can take it. Give it please!”

At that point Bucky had to stop, and pulled your head up as he whispered in your ear. You could feel his huge cock pumping in time with his heartbeat inside you.

“My beautiful complete cock slut. Such a good fucking girl for me.”

They way he bared his teeth as he snarled it in your ear caused you to spasm again as he fully wrecked you now, pumping voluminous amounts of cum inside you.

“Holy fuck!”

Bucky bit down on your shoulder as you laughed, still impaled on his softening cock. You curled your legs up as he carried you over to the shower and turned it on, him finally releasing you to kiss you thoroughly against the shower wall.

“We’re being rude to our guests, Bucky.”

“Wanna invite them to join us?”

You smirked as you turned around and Bucky started washing your back.

“I draw the line at those party games.”

“Me too,” Bucky smirked, “you’re all mine, Doll.”

“Now let me clean you up…”

And Bucky’s hand was between your legs…

As always: If you liked it, please reblog.

[kuroppiii]

ㅤpictures of us ᵕ̈        timeskip!boyfie!suna rintarō x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : your boyfriend really ⋮⋮ wants to catch a new movie coming ⋮⋮ out . what must be so special about ⋮⋮ it , anyway ?

📋 content     ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮     ♡ # 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 🥛     ♡ # 1.2𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🎶 on shuffle " pictures of us " - beabadoobee

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ how many times have i teared up in my car to this song ? that ' s up to YOU 🫵 to decide ! ”

suna rintarō begs you to see an exclusive screening of an upcoming independent film at a small local movie house.

as pretentious as the idea first sounded, you of course oblige because how can you resist your one and only boyfriend? especially when he’s clinging to you and hanging off you as he so sweetly asks, sneaking kisses along the expanse of your neck and shoulder in between points of how, “it’s really about the experience. it’s what the director would have wanted.”

he really wanted to go.

so you go with him when the day comes, but for some reason suna takes longer than usual to get ready so you end up arriving at the movie house when the last of the previews are wrapping up. usually you and him go early to see those, where he says things like, “that looks like ass,” or, “we’re going to see that one, for sure,” and it never fails to make you snicker in your seat beside him.

you’re just a smidge late for all that this time.

“but that’s ok,” you reassure him, “the previews always drag on anyway. plus, you look really nice from getting ready for so long.”

you giggle and give him a quick kiss on his cheek and when you pull back, he looks at you with just the most lovestruck look ever.

“you’re the best, y’know that?” he says, in a tone strangely more lovey-dovey (especially given the fact you’re in public) than usual. it wasn't like you don't compliment him on a regular basis, either.

okayyy…?

“i know,” you quickly joke with a light laugh, trying to dodge the odd feeling that him looking at you like that gives you.

after suna pays for your tickets, he takes you by the hand to pick out some snacks. and in another odd turn of events, he lets you get all the snacks and popcorn you want.

“you’re seriously going to pay for all this?” you raise an eyebrow at him–already attempting to put some back because you were just teasing when you grabbed so many, like you usually do when the two of you see movies together.

the worker behind the counter politely butts in, “a-actually, today there's a special deal where snacks are free!"

"seriously?" you gawk in response. suna nods at the worker with a smile before he gathers all your said snacks and treats and gestures at you to start following him.

weird...

but free snacks? you weren't going to complain.

you two quietly slip into the dark theater and suna must have perfectly remembered the seat numbers on your tickets because he walks right up to a row in the dead center of the room. as he sets your belongings down, you quickly double-check the seats he so-confidently led you to, but he was right about them. you don't recall him glancing at your tickets for more than a second since you bought them, though.

what a good memory he has?

you settle into your seat next to him and start picking at your big tub of popcorn. it looks like you arrived just in time as the last preview is starting up.

the preview colorfully flashes up to a start in a way that imitates old film, as a soft tune starts to ring through the speakers. it's a bunch of artsy close-ups of clothes and belongings shrewd about a hardwood floor, beams of sunlight hitting them gorgeously.

... hey, you own a sweatshirt that looks like that.

and then you see it: it's you up there on the big screen.

captions start to appear as a reel of videos containing you start to play.

[ i thought for the longest time i was perfectly fine on my own ]

a clip of you as you and suna walk to class in inarizaki’s halls, in your old uniform and glancing back at him now and then. your smile is wide and if it weren’t for the music playing over the video, you could almost hear your own laugh at probably some dumb joke suna just told you behind the camera.

[ but for the longest time, i didn't have a fucking clue what "perfect" really meant. ]

your head tucked in your arms with your hood up, sleeping mid-study-session on a college library’s table scattered with open notes and dog-eared textbook pages. your eyes peek out from the material of your hoodie, the glint of a smile reaching what can be seen before you bashfully bury your head further back into your original position.

[ i was an idiot for thinking i did know what "perfect" was. ]

your hands clutching at his pro jersey you’re wearing as you stand in front of the stadium building, thousands of unheard fans on the inside waiting to see him play. undoubtedly when after that clip was recorded, you two went in, and it was still only you he really looked for wearing his jersey in the crowd whenever his team scored a point.

[ because then i met you. ]

all the times when you’ve turned to see his fond eyes peeking above the back of his phone—as he photographs you like a rare and beautiful sight that’s fleeting, one he absolutely needed to snapshot at those exact moments in order to keep for himself forever—got laid out before you.

now you’re seeing them from his point of view, and it captivates you like nothing else.

[ you are perfect. ]

the b-roll of moments you and suna have shared over the years fades out, and the preview's title card shows up in a pretty and elegant font: "will you marry me? (directed by: suna rintarō)"

you don't even realize your jaw is hanging wide open in shock when you turn to face present-day suna next to you, and there he was again, his phone in front of his face. but you catch in the glare of the silver screen you're sat in front of, the eyes that peek over the camera are crinkled up as they look at you with unbridled joy and radiates a love in its purest form.

"rin..." you can barely speak, both because you're touched but also because you're bewildered out of your mind.

with a chuckle he finally lets up on his recording, sticking his phone into his pocket. he stands up and moves in front of you, getting down on one knee. your heart skips a beat.

the lights suddenly turn on in the theater, and your first instinct once your eyes get readjusted to the brightness is to look around–because a room full of theater goers were are being subjected to whatever it is suna has orchestrated here.

but as you look around, the whole ordeal feels even more surreal, because it's all your loved ones filling up the rows of seats. they look back at where you're sitting, smiling and with some of them also recording on their phones now, too.

"so..." suna starts, redirecting your attention back to him. he pulls out a tiny box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a ring that shines divinely in the dim lighting of the room, "will you?"

his delight is evident as he fights back a grin and his face and ears are dusted an adorable shade of pink. you're arguably more delighted than him–over the moon, even–as you utter out your answer...

"yes, i'll marry you."

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ y ' all ever seen that viral video of the guy that reanimated sleeping beauty to propose to his girlfriend ? yeah ”

🗒⋆ *. ୨୧⋆｡ taglist : @chloiyoomi , @rinsoap , @twusizz ( saw your reply ! here it is ! )

[violetrainbow412-blog]

How about Morgan discovering something inappropriate in Spencer's stuff and the team laughing because it's the reader's? 👀

send me more ideas for blurbs if you want!

“Can someone lend me a buck?” Morgan asked, walking into the desks in the bullpen, where Emily, Spencer, JJ and you were sitting. “The machine doesn't accept mine.”

“Try another day, I only bring three dollars in coins for the subway back,” you laughed, as you signed the report you had just written.

“I always fold my bills in half to fit in my wallet, sorry.”

“I'll lend you one,” muttered Spencer, who was too busy on the computer participating in a heated discussion on a blog about Carl Sagan “Look in my jacket, it's there.”

Morgan followed his friend's pointing finger and when he found the garment on the back of a chair, he searched the right pocket, but found nothing. He then searched in the left one and although he felt the leather box that housed the man's money, a piece of cloth next to it also caught his attention. Captured by curiosity, he took it and when he took it out he couldn't help but utter a surprised whistle.

“Look what we have here,” he laughed.

Spencer had no idea what it could be and turned to look at him, but when he realized what it was he rushed to snatch it from his hands and jealously keep it in his pants pocket. Unfortunately, everyone present had noticed that it was a piece of black lingerie, which obviously did not belong in the doctor's wardrobe.

“Weren't you looking for the money?” Spencer cleared his throat, under the watchful eyes of his friends.

“Well, my hands touched that before!” Morgan apologized, but without a hint of guilt in his words.

Prentiss and JJ had always believed that there was some unresolved tension between you and the man, so they looked in your direction thinking that the fact that he carried women's underwear in his pocket would negatively affect you. However, they were both surprised when they noticed that you were completely blushing and pretending to pay attention to some documents that, in fact, you had already reviewed. Both of them shared a knowing look of understanding and JJ suppressed a smile.

Spencer walked to his wallet to get the money his friend needed and handed it to him without saying anything, but clearly embarrassed by what had just happened.

The mistake that ended up giving away both of you was when, almost as if it were planned, his eyes met yours and a nervous and almost imperceptible smile crossed your face.

“I didn't think you were the type to collect those kinds of trophies, Reid,” Emily murmured, clearly trying to touch a nerve, but not intending to be rude. All she wanted was to joke a little about what had definitely been going on between you for who knows how long.

JJ, on the other hand, kept an eye on you, noticing in all your body language the embarrassment of having been caught.

“Shut up,” he snorted, but as soon as she started laughing Spencer did too and then you joined them.

“I just asked myself: who will be the lucky one?” Morgan muttered playfully “Y/N?” you froze and looked up at him, debating whether to admit guilt or lie.

"Yeah?"

“Do you want me to bring you something from the machine?” he murmured, pretending to be friendly, but from the smile on his face it was obvious that he had deduced the truth.

"No. Thank you, Derek.”

"It's no big deal. We have to be cordial with our co-workers, don't we, Reid?”

A new wave of giggles filled the atmosphere and even you, the most affected, ended up joining in the mockery.

Spencer could only think that from now on if he wanted to keep a memory of you, he would have to be more careful with where he left it.

[pedgito]

MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter One: Teacher’s Pet

Chapter Summary: First day woes and a difficult semester ahead, you find solace in your caring, attentive creative writing professor who shows you just a little more attention than everyone else, or so you think. [5k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: fem!reader, professor!joel miller (his teacher persona is v different from outside of the classroom, so if he seems slightly ooc....close your eyes), dom!joel, sub!reader, reader is a little obsessed with joel (and delusional), mentions of infidelity (not by joel), sarah doesn't exist here, background tess x joel, inappropriate relationships/actions, talks of literature and lots of random writing topics, dream smut, gratuitous descriptions of mr. miller's body and personality.

note: thanks to @planet-marz1 for the last minute beta.

— AO3 | PLAYLIST | PINTEREST

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec

There’s a deafening silence that surrounds you when you step into the lecture room, not nearly as big as your other main course classes, it’s intimate. Close. If you kicked a foot out from the chair you were sitting in you could touch the professor’s desk. 

Part of you wonders if you were the only person taking this class, sitting for a few minutes alone, not another person in sight—until one files in, then another, until there’s about ten of you seated sparsely in the small space. It’s mostly bare aside from the few books shoved away on a nearby shelf, antiquey books that, no doubt, had a thick layer of dust. 

The problem with the class was that you weren’t sure if it was ever going to be a real thing—applying you had the expectation of who your teacher would be, what you could expect from the coursework, and just how manageable it would be amongst the rest of your classes. But, there was little known now. 

All you did know was that they had to find a replacement quick, which they did, and you were sure that a sign of their lacking punctuality was a great start, tucking your chin over the bag placed on your desk as you waited in silence amongst simmered voices, feeling starchly out of place.

You didn’t know this place—it was new, Austin. You moved clear across the country on a whim, wanting a new start in a place you’ve never seen before. You’d plucked a community college out of the bunch, not worried with the semantics of applying to some big, ivy league school. You wanted something manageable, something attainable. This seemed like the easiest option, unsuspecting and unknown, you could slink by and go about your life peacefully. 

That is what you wanted, after all.

Until you meet Mr. Miller.

Joel could’ve pursued music, or carpentry, or about a billion other things he was skilled at—yet somehow, teaching seemed to be the easiest option. It gave him the familial feeling of caring and guiding that he did enjoy, molding young minds and helping them bloom. He worked at a local high school in Austin for years—fifteen good, long years. 

But, he too needed a change. His life was slowly crumbling in on himself.

He sees the job opening on the last weekend of summer, still teetering with the option of returning to his teaching job at the high school—it isn’t as manageable as it used to be, finding that in his older age that dealing with the behavior and arguments with ill-managed kids was more of a hassle than it needed to be for the pay he was receiving. 

So, fuck it. He applies.

He gets a call the following Monday and he’s officially added to the staff by the end of the week—and of course, he’s never stepped foot on the campus until his first day. So, he’s lost. Joel realizes how unprofessional it looks, scrambling with his bag as he throws it over his shoulder and haphazardly adjusts his tie, hoping that his hair wasn’t too askew and wild, despite the wind flying through his hair in the chilly bite of the autumn weather.

Things couldn’t have been off to a better start.

-

There’s the slightest trickling of a thought that you should leave, give up that this class might be an ultimate failure but then he’s walking through the door. You knew his name, but that was as far as your reach extended. Mr. Miller. J. Miller, to be specific.

James. Justin. Jonathan. It was all a mystery to you.

You find that his appearance is less than prepared, mostly disheveled and he seems breathless as he offers a subtle nod of awkward acknowledgement as he slings his bag onto the desk. Thankfully, he seems to understand that there was a tinge of urgency with him being late and he quickly reaches into his bag and pulls out a stack of papers.

Class syllabuses. He hands them off silently to the person on the farthest side of the room and hoping they would get the idea, pass them off until they reach the final person. It’s crisp, stark white paper covered in a boring black-inked text. Nothing seemed out of the norm—different methods of writing you would try over the course of the semester and specific assignments that would pop-up throughout. You enjoyed the predictability of it. Though, there is a significant surprise when your professor begins to speak, pulling your attention to the front of the room.

He’s gathered himself rather quickly, assuming he’s had his fair share of time in the field.

He writes his name out in clear, dignified letters on the board.

Mr. Miller, the screech of a solid drag as he underlines his name.

“I know I’m not who you all were suspecting.” He begins, placing the chalk down, hand wrapping around a balled fist as he cracked his knuckles, walking slowly until he can lean against the edge of his desk, soles of his shoes squeaking against the floor.

“And I’ll admit, I’m new to this,” He waves vaguely around the room, “I’m used to public school and the shittiness that comes with that—so I hope that if I can take this seriously, you all can extend that gesture too.”

You notice how comfortable he seems in group settings, relaxing his broad shoulders as he crosses his arm, glancing around the room casually, never lingering for too long.

“I won’t pester you too much today, given I already wasted some of your time,” Someone snickers softly toward the back of the room and Mr. Miller cracks a subtle smirk, seemingly embarrassed but not offering anything to pick at. “But, I’m willing to answer any questions you have while we have the time today.”

Questions flow in easily: what the semester would consist of, more elaboration outside of the syllabus, some of Mr. Miller’s favorite pieces of literature—part of you expects him to inject the usual ‘around the room introduction’ scheme, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans into the more engaging questions asked, answering as freely and as interested as he can.

He loves Robert Frost, which makes sense. You’re not sure why, but it is predictable. 

He is predictable. Sipping on a large mug of what you can only assume is coffee, the smell permeating toward you with where he’s resting against his desk, only a foot or so away. You haven’t managed to catch his gaze yet, which you’re partly thankful for. It allows you to study him, examine his expressions—admire…No.

And while he can continue his talk about favorite authors for days—the class draws to a close sooner than you expect, and you move lazily as most of the class disperses at the first opportunity with it being their final class of the day.

You’re throwing your bag over your shoulder when you hear his voice, addressing the only other person in the room.

You.

“Intimidating?” Your face screws up in confusion, head tilting his way as your eyes connect for the first time. “Oh, uh—sorry, I’ve just been doin’ this a while. I can tell when someone is anxious in class.”

And, while it wasn’t necessarily anxiety—it was more the idea of adjusting. This was new, this place wasn’t familiar and you were just trying to settle in. Mr. Miller seemed like the guy to have deep roots planted into these grounds, familiar with this town like he’s been here his entire life.

He has, but that wasn’t the point.

“No,” You answer indifferently, shrugging your shoulders, “I think your radar might be a little off.”

Joel chuckles softly, tapping his fingers against the leather cover of his bag as he leaned the tops of his thighs against the edge of his desk, “You know—you didn’t partake much in class discussion just now.”

You weren’t sure where he was driving his point, gradually stepping toward his desk, fingers wrapped around the straps of your bag, pulling against the tight material of your shirt as it stretched over your breasts, “And you were about—fifteen minutes late, too.”

Touche. He nods, lips pursed together.

“Just, fair warning—class discussion is a good chunk of your grade, participation and all that. I want you to feel comfortable enough to join in so…however I can help with that.”

Your eyebrows knit together, thoroughly thrown off by his forwardness—or well, so you assumed. He quickly realizes his misstep.

“No—not like…I mean, if there’s anything that you like or are interested in that you want covered over the semester, let me know. I don’t want it to be so focused on stuff that only appeases a few people. Alright?”

You think on his words, chewing at your bottom lip quietly. 

He doesn’t know why he feels like he’s standing on the edge, waiting impatiently for your response—but when you do, it feels like he can breathe. Joel didn’t want to fuck this job up and he already felt like he’s stepped off on the wrong foot.

“Alright.” You confirm simply, nodding politely. “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

He nods in response, the smallest twitch of a smile pulling at his lips.

“Have a good day.” He bids kindly, waving at you haphazardly as you left.

And now the day felt even weirder than when it started.

-

The first few weeks of class are actually…a delight. You find yourself looking forward to them as the weeks grow on and drag out, slowly making your way through the day and finding that Mr. Miller’s was the only class you could successfully relax in, not so pressure to participate because it was as equally engaging on both ends.

Mr. Miller liked to talk and argue just as animatedly as most students who had a point to prove—and you see why he must’ve been hired on a whim, the ability to charm and wit himself in and out of any scenario he wanted. It was…mesmerizing in a way that intoxicated you and infected your body and mind. He had you locked in every time he opened his mouth, finding your eyes dragging along the planes of his face and his well-kept appearance now that he arrived on time, sharp. Never early, never late. 

He was as punctual as they come, slowly littering his classroom with more and more personalization. More literature books, smaller books of poems, packets of some of his favorite script writings and a few non-fiction pieces he thought to be intriguing. 

But, the most interesting thing you notice is the small tan line around his ring finger. The advantage of the small classroom allowed for such details to be revealed, alongside knowing when he had taken a certain morning to do a fresh shave of his facial hair or spill a small spattering of coffee against his shirt, dull brown staining the white, crisp button-up he usually dawned alongside the occasional navy blue or black.

So, he was married—you assumed. He just didn’t wear his ring.

The more you indulged in him, the more complex he seemed. The ever mysterious J-something Miller, finding that no matter how hard you looked you couldn’t seem to find any information on him or an inkling of what his first name might be.

He must be a private person—no socials, no good deeds leading to news articles about him, or anything of tangible evidence to allow such information to seep out to the public. He was good at hiding, integrating himself in places he might not belong. He was a natural chameleon, much like yourself.

And you’d like to think you were good at writing considering you were attempting to pursue a career in it, mostly focusing on the aspect of screenwriting and film, not entirely sure what you were after but knowing that was where you wanted to go. You were great at convoluting things and empowering your far too creative imagination—often dangerous. You were never lacking in ideas, but your first assignment is a struggle.

It was something pertaining to non-fiction, a boring topic that Mr. Miller wanted to be intrigued by—he wanted something so mundane to be eye-catching and page-turning. Hanging on the edge of his seat, as he’d said so menacingly.

So, here you were, writing about the monogamous lives of certain breeds of penguins and they’re mates—whatever the fuck that was all about. It’s like he picked obscure topics for this very reason, the difficulty and the need for assistance. He wanted to help and you learned that quickly.

You could’ve been stuck with global warming, so it wasn’t all that bad. 

Mr. Miller is leaning against an empty desk as he’s talking to a student a few desks away—yeah, the unlucky one who snagged the global warming topic. His expression is sour, tapping his pencil against the desk rapidly as Mr. Miller talks quietly, nothing that you can make out. He travels around the room gradually, eventually landing on you with a raised eyebrow, seeing that you had some, if not very little outlined.

He looks amused, knowing how you were pulling an absolute fat nothing over this topic. You could sit there and lay out the facts, but that’s not what he wanted. He wanted it to be explained in a way that held you close and dragged you along. It all came down to wording, at the end of the day, and as much as you wanted to prove you were a decent writer, you still had a lot to learn.

“This is so stupid,” You gripe, looking up at him briefly before you continue to stare daggers into the notebook you were scribbling in, “—pardon my language, but what the fuck is this topic?”

Mr. Miller chuckles deeply at that, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek.

“I’ll let that slide but try not to make it a habit,” He comments, acknowledging your foul language and understanding the frustration, “—it’s meant to challenge you. The obscurity of it. It’s not complicated, but you don’t want to just write a research paper.”

“Isn’t that…exactly how non-fiction works?” You ask curiously.

“You’ve read biographies, right? Auto-biograhpies and all that?” 

You nod quietly.

“And I’m sure some of that caught your intention, right?” He asks and you respond with another nod, though meeker than before. “Non-fiction work is just as important as story-telling. Do some more research, explain why monogamy is sacred to them, explain their mating patterns, the behaviors—are you following?”

“Yeah—because some penguins mate for life, right?” You ask, feeling ridiculous asking him such an obscure question. “At least, I thought they did.”

“Most do.” Mr. Miller nods, “If you find yourself learning enough about the topic and actually finding some interest it won’t come out so…bland. Just look into it and write something you’d find intriguing to read, don’t stress over it that much. It’s just one assignment.”

It eases your worries slightly, but still, the frustration stuck.

“Okay,” You mumble, “Thank you.”

Mr. Miller offers a soft pat to your forearm as he nods silently in acknowledgment.

You were determined to make that assignment your bitch. Plain and simple.

-

Class discussion days are much easier. You switch between a certain selection of poems to snippets of scripts that Mr. Miller has pulled apart for the class to dissect and mince the words, learning how to write screenplays in a way that was both descriptive but directive and still managed to somehow keep the flow. Poems always seemed a little silly, but it was nice to debate the meanings and nuances of it all, always finding that you preferred to sit back and hear the thoughts of others until Mr. Miller decides he’s had enough one day—two months into the semester when he finally calls on you directly.

It was something he didn’t do often, but you find yourself going wide-eyed. He was always so polite to you, even when he’d catch you staring or lingering on his form for a moment too long, like he knew what you were thinking.

He was tall and—as was glaringly obvious, broad. His shoulders were immense and large as he extended his hands out and talked animatedly, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, slacks stretching over taut, tight muscle as he planted a foot in a nearby chair or stretched his stance out slightly as he stood—often finding it hard to stay still the longer class drew on.

You pull your attention to him, an innocent gaze glazing over your features.

“Why don’t you read the next poem?” He asks curiously.

“Oh—um,” Your eyes flick toward the poem book held tight in your grip, flitting to find the the place where the class last left off, so distracted you find yourself scrambling, but Mr. Miller is quick to lean over without much show or way of embarrassing you, pointing out the spot where the class last left of, blunt nail scratching against the paper as you follow the trail of his finger, you clear your throat and start:

“How should we like it were stars to burn

With a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

Let the more loving one be me.”

The point was to interpret the words and form an explanation for why they were used, what they were trying to explain, but you lose any sense of thought when your eyes drag up to meet Mr. Miller and he’s staring right back, allowing you all the attention in the world.

Like no one else in the room existed. It was all a delusion in your own head, something you weren’t privy to then, but you believed whole-heartedly in the moment. He was just allowing you the floor and sharing you the same attention he had with everyone else. 

At least, that’s what he tried to do.

Mr. Miller clears his throat to subtly bring you back down to earth when he notices your mind fleeing from your body, asking an easy, “So, what do we think about this one?”

No one answered, staunchly disinterested as they stared at you, waiting for a response as you were the only one who had avoided participating all day.

“Uh, it—it sounds like the love isn’t being returned,” You start slow, dissecting the words in your brain as Mr. Miller nods, “but that person is willing to show up and offer more to make up for it, maybe even to their own…undoing, I guess.”

“There’s really no right or wrong,” He addresses the class as a whole but pointedly acknowledges your observation, “and that’s the best thing—you’re allowed to think as individuals and come up with your own conclusions. Good job.”

The final part is directed at you. It makes you feel warm, gooey—like you were being given a star for good behavior or gentle praise under the guise of friendly language.

You despise how hard it is to stay focused some days with how often Mr. Miller likes to pick on you and point you out—but he sees potential there. Real potential. Not to say that it isn’t within the rest of the class, he just sees…more. And it intrigues him in a way that feels dangerous, but he wants to ensure that you are given the proper support needed, even if that means a little extra attention.

It was harmless, after all.

-

Your first big assignment comes three months into the semester.

It’s a simple writing assignment but tactful and heavy, given a week to complete it before you were due to turn it in for a final grade. A collection of self-written poems, the outline for a possible script idea for a scene, and a small creative writing assignment that must include some kind of supernatural element. You appreciate the Mr. Miller never allowed things to lay stagnant with his work, always giving you something to think about.

And everyone loved him, that much was blatantly obvious. He was, easily, one of the hottest professors at the college for someone his age—you could only assume he was somewhere in his late 40s. But, there remained the unknown of if he was married, something people debated often, but you examined in the privacy of your own mind.

There was no indication of another—no pictures lingering on his desk as his classroom continued to collect belongings, no screensaver on his phone or laptop (because yes, you were observant) that gave you any idea of what his partner looked like. And he never mentioned anything outside of his own interest in literature. The curiosity with no discovery was only slightly disappointing, because despite that, Mr. Miller showed his attention toward you like you were the only person in the room.

And maybe it was like that for everyone, but it felt special to you. There was always a little extra to give to you that he didn’t offer to everyone else.

You turn in your assignment a few minutes before it is due, well into the late hours of the night.

-

Mr. Miller, unbeknownst to you, smiles when he sees the notification on his computer as he sits in his office at home, scrolling down the deep troves of porn in the darkened space, quickly clicking away to another browser as he hears the door creak, his wife poking her head through the crack with a smile.

“Hey, it’s late—you comin’ to bed soon?” Tess asks, eyes ringed with a deep exhaustion.

Joel nods, scratching at the side of his face, blinking tiredly. 

“Yeah. In a bit,” He excuses, “Just tryin’ to catch up on these assignments and then I’ll be done.”

It’s a lie, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Things had been rough since the affair—finding that Tess had been sleeping with her boss at her law firm for a few months, something she swore meant nothing, despite how long it dragged on in secret. Joel forgave her, mostly. They were managing, attempting the idea of marriage counseling, but he still couldn’t bring himself to put his wedding band back on, despite how proudly she wore hers still.

He had his own reservations on the matter and while he was trying to work things out, he wasn’t sure they could ever resume the same rhythm they had before, thinking that this was something he had for life, slowly crumbling and falling between his fingertips.

This was why he needed a change of pace, something different.

And maybe he was stupid for entertaining the obvious affection you showed toward him—he definitely was, but he does it anyways. It was playful, so meaningless and harmless that he didn’t even think twice about it. He could see you craved the attention and while he couldn’t be bothered to save that energy for Tess anymore, he could try to offer it to you.

Because you—you had so much potential. It was refreshing, seeing so much of his younger self in you, drive and dedication. The willingness to question stuff without fear.

He clicks on the email notification with your assignment, opening in a separate browser as he rises to lock his office door quietly, before returning to his other browser as he sat and unbuckled the thick leather belt around his waistband, a dignified zip that echoes throughout the confines of the office, reverberates and reminds him of his own loneliness.

And he shouldn’t picture your face as he finds himself aching and fucking deseprate into his fist, soft gunts muffled behind clenched teeth. But, he does. And he loves it.

He’s so fucked.

-

The comments on your assignment come a few days later, curled up in your bed in the small apartment you rented out, scrolling desperately to find out any further information on Mr. Miller but coming up with absolutely nothing. What a fucking ghost he was.

You’re curious, though—so you quickly switch to your emails to check his response and what your grade ended up being after how hard you worked to make sure it turned out perfect. Better than perfect actually. You hoped that with his obvious relationship woes he would appreciate the angst and underlying meanings in your poems, a bunch of bullshit you couldn’t relate to but hoped, on a whim, that he might.

‘Way to press on the idea of heartbreak, well done. Very expressive and real. Thank you for pouring those feelings into your work, though I hope no one has ever broken your heart that bad. Wonderful job.’

And he scores you a 90/100.

Which—whatever. You could accept it. Still, you wondered if those lingering ten points lied with him and his own bitter dealings. You’re fingers are curled around the laptop, ready to close when you get another notification blaring through your speakers.

You lift the laptop to stare at the screen, seeing an email come in from an unknown sender—though, the name grabs your attention immediately. First name, last name, followed by a series of number you can only assume is a birth year—not the school email Mr. Miller had previously sent you a response from.

You perk up, legs crossing over each other as you take a peek at the contents of the glaring email, seeing that it had links to a few books, followed by:

‘I hope you don’t mind my emailing you like this. But, I have a few pieces I think you may enjoy and would help with some of what you’re trying to convey in your writing. You have a beautiful way of expressing feeling and you should harness that. Let me know what you think. :)’

In hindsight, Joel should’ve never sent it. But, there was an urge there he couldn’t fight.

Maybe it was out of spite for his life and his wife betraying him, his urge to try and do some real good for someone, seeing that potential in you no matter how inappropriate it may be to go around school ruling and message you from his private email.

But, now you had a sliver of information. A peek into who Mr. Miller—Joel Miller, was.

It sends you down a spiral, searching and scouring for any information available online.

You find out that he’s 48…or 49, not entirely sure of his actual birthday. Only going off the year designated in his email. And that he’s a published author, but nothing of significance. He used to be a high school teacher and he was…or is, married. It’s all vague and unassuming, but it has your mind stirring. Wondering what was so interesting about him, what part of him had crawled into your mind and refused to get out.

And him messaging you on a private email—complimenting you with unnecessary eagerness, even when it wasn’t needed. You can’t be this delusional. There’s something there, even if neither of you have spoken on it explicitly.  

The faint touches and smiles traded, the hard-gazed looks and glances over his shoulder as he does a sweep of the room, always spending just a smidgen of extra time over your desk when you ask for help. 

It makes you feel special. And that’s exactly what you need.

-

You fall asleep that night with a wild idea in your head, wondering just how brave you could be in this situation. It burrows into your mind and seeps into your dreams:

You’re pressed against the edge of a desk in a dark office, the solid wood pressed flat against your cunt as you lean forward and capture the lips of the person in front of you, a shaky breath coming from their mouth.

“Want that pretty mouth ‘round my cock.” He says—your heart skips, nearly stops. 

You don’t know why you’re surprised to hear Joel’s voice, but it clears your mind and his hazy face finally comes into view in all of it’s intricate detail, right down to the soft crinkle of skin around his eyes, eyebrows furrowed as he pulls away to look at you, lips puffed from the kissing and seeming so innocent as he spoke in such a depraved manner.

Delicate fingers drag along the shape of your lips, stopping at your cupid’s bow before he’s pressing two fingers inside, grabbing the hand relaxed at your side and pressing it over the front of his slacks, the hard line of his cock pressing against the zipper.

There’s no other word to offer than intimidating, his size morphing any idea that you might’ve had–which, you did. His slacks are well-tailored, form fitting, and if he stretched just the right way in class you could see the head or outline of his cock press against the fabric for a split second….and you observed. A lot.

“Wanna stuff your mouth, huh?” He asks, eyes rolling back as his fingers press down on your tongue, quickly pulling out as he grips your face, spit spreading across your cheek, gasping at the suddenness of his movement. “Think it’ll fit?”

He sounds so condescending, eyeline over you but downcast on your figure from where your perched against his desk, idle hand exploring the soft, plush skin of your thighs as he drags his fingers along the full expanse of your cunt and it sets your whole body on fire, like you’re feeling everything dialed to an impossible level, every nerve in your body coming to life.

You shake your head meekly, gasping when he yanks you forward suddenly.

“Guess we’ll have to train that filthy mouth then, won’t we?” His eyebrow quirks up salaciously, earning a less than subtle grin as he presses his fingers into the wet spot of your underwear, not breaking the barrier but allowing you to feel the pressure.

And just as you feel yourself grabbing onto something tangible, hands gripped in the lapel of his suit jacket, pulling him impossibly closer, you’re startling awake with a gasp.

You could feel your imagination mixing with reality, falling lazily back against your bed as your chest heaved hurried breaths, palms pressed over your chest in an effort to calm down, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The room was hot, too hot to feel comfortable anymore.

Your lip pulls between your teeth, chewing thoughtfully at a bad idea.

You reach blindly for your laptop laid out near the end of your bed, opening the device with a swiftness, squinting at the blinding screen that burned at this time of night.

Nearly two in the morning—this was pointless.

But, you hit reply on his email anyways and slowly type out a response.

‘Thank you for noticing, Mr. Miller. It’s greatly appreciated and I will definitely look into those sources and give you a full, detailed review. :) I appreciate you thinking of me as someone so esteemed. I would love to talk more about literature, if that feels appropriate.’

The lines were already blurred. He’d blurred them. You were just smudging them a little more.

You never said that starting fresh meant you had to stay on your best behavior. Because really, there was nothing innocent about what game was developing between you both.

It was a game of chess and you felt a million moves ahead, nearing a checkmate—and you would do anything to have Joel Miller in the way you craved. Anything.