#So you can decide how old he is too on that front I guess

[soohiefan13]

MOMOKARUN (college roomies AU) (no powers AU)

headcannons muhehehh

⋆˚࿔ they're only roomies because they are (surprisingly) majoring in the same thing (these little freaks are getting PhD's in Mythology and Occultism)

⋆˚࿔ they actually got along pretty well at first! they studied together and had fun talking about their interests!

⋆˚࿔ then it was dinner time... and okarun took smth off momo's plate as a joke. she beat him up.

⋆˚࿔ despite being a certified lameo, okarun is totally an athlete. damn is this dweeb fast? he's on the uni's track team! but he practices a ton and has a bad habit of leaving his smelly running shoes in their common area. momo throws them at him when she finds them there.

⋆˚࿔ that being said, momo is MESSY in the kitchen and it drives okarun up the WALL. this girl loves to eat, and that's totally fine, but she can't wash a dish to save her life. okarun made them a chore chart and now momo feels super guilty if she doesn't pull her weight.

⋆˚࿔ momo also has her friends over all the time, and that would be okay if they didn't blast music super duper loud. it's always on okarun's nights off when he's trying to study. he doesn't say anything- just puts his headphones on and listens to radiohead or weezer or smth (he's lame)

⋆˚࿔ speaking of her friends- miko and muko totally hyped momo up to ask him if he would let her put him in gyaru (they want them to date, duh). he said yes! during the makeup sesh, they totally realized their feelings for each other and ended up going to their separate rooms and not talking for the rest of the night. (miko and muko are geeked as momo updates them on the sitch)

⋆˚࿔ the next morning, momo stayed in her room for as long as possible. she heard okarun leave for his normal morning run, so she snuck into the living room to enjoy her morning coffee. she knows his runs usually last an hour, so she popped her headphones in and watched a movie.

⋆˚࿔ whoops! okarun went out without his fitness watch to track his progress... guess he has to run back home and grab it. he comes in and sees momo cuddled on the couch in her pajamas. totally cute. "oh, good morning, miss ayase..."

⋆˚࿔ momo noticed him blushing when he greeted her. totally cute. she also saw his slightly curly bed head for the first time. totally cute! when he turned around, she noticed his toned back and arms. this guy is secretly buff, too?! TOTALLY HOT!

⋆˚࿔ ofc, okarun noticed her staring. he went back to his room to grab his watch, his face all warm. when he returned to their common area, momo was standing in the way of the front door (she was blushing too now), staring at the ground. "are you alright, miss ayase?"

⋆˚࿔ "um, if you wanna talk about what happened last night- we can! I actually really want to talk about it so how about you come sit with me before you go back." okarun did as told. at this rate, he was gonna send this poor girl into cardiac arrest.

⋆˚࿔ they totally confessed to each other and now their "study dates" are just regular dates.

⋆˚࿔BONUS!!! they decided they wanted a pet. they got this cute little white cat from the animal shelter. as soon as she got to the apartment, she ran all over the place and kept clawing up okarun. they named her turbo granny because she's super fast but she also acts like a mean old hag.

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Calico - Act Three

Choi Y/N is pretty, smart, and funny and she knows it - mostly because she hears it all the time from all the men (read: victims) she dates. She’s about to get a taste of her own medicine. 

You can find the masterlist here. 

Calico has a sequel called LMLY, if you’re interested.

Genre: (a little) fluff, (quite a bit of) angst, smut, college au, heavily inspired by John Tucker Must Die

Pairing: Joshua x female reader (with mentions of Mingyu x female reader, Woozi x female reader, Seokmin x female reader, Jeonghan x female reader)

TW/CW: MDNI!!, contains smut with no protection mentioned (be safe please!!), mentions of alcohol, food, a whole lot of cyber bullying.

Word count: 8.6k

This is a repost of a previous fic I did. It was one of the first fics that I ever posted on here and I wish I had made some different choices aesthetically. The content will be the same, it will just be a little prettier and more readable.

The drive is quiet, mostly because no one knows what to say. It’s never been this quiet for the three of them, not in 22 years. Not even when it was supposed to be. 

Seungcheol and Jeonghan aren’t talking. Two weeks ago, Seungcheol found Jeonghan on campus and just started swinging. Jeonghan ended up with a bloody nose before some of Seungcheol’s teammates nearby could drag Seungcheol off of him. Not as bad as it could have been, but it was a first. They’d never been in a fist fight before, not even as kids on the playground. They ended up in front of the Dean for it too. Thankfully, the Dean let it slide with a warning. 

Seungcheol is also not talking to Y/N, specifically because he hadn’t known she slept with Mingyu the night of their birthday party months ago. He’d thought he had a pretty close relationship with his twin sister, but he feels betrayed that he found some thing like that out on twitter of all places. 

Jeonghan and Y/N are talking, but barely. The tension is overwhelming. No matter how much they emphasize that they haven’t been sleeping together, no one seems to believe them. Without really discussing it, they decide some distance would be good. He’s insistent that he’s still her best friend for life and she’ll never be rid of him, though it doesn’t feel like it from the back seat of her and Seungcheol’s shared car. 

Y/N kind of feels like a ghost. She has for two weeks now. She barely took in anything to do with dead week or finals week. The normal stress of that time of the year doesn’t really register because she feels too numb. It’s kind of a blessing because if she can’t take much in, she doesn’t notice all the laughter and whispers that follow her around campus, at cheer practice, and in the sorority house. 

Just about the only person that gives her any sympathy is Wonwoo when she goes to return the loaner laptop before leaving for the break. He delicately asks how she’s doing and he seems like he really wants to know. His kindness doesn’t feel like something she deserves. She leaves before she cries in front of him again. 

Tonight is the dinner at her father’s house. Jeonghan is always invited and is still coming despite whatever is going on with the three of them. When they got in the car, the only thing they really said to each other is that they didn’t want to involve their parents in this mess. So they had to pretend like everything was fine, if only for one dinner. 

The mansion is cold when the three of them arrive. Their bags are still in the car because they aren’t staying here. Y/N is relieved by that small blessing. She can’t wait to be in her old bedroom in her mom’s small cozy apartment in a matter of hours. 

Nari greets them with a smile that is totally fake. She’s wearing a little black dress and heels under her apron. Y/N guesses she’s taken on the role of housewife since leaving her position as secretary at the company. It sounded like it didn’t look good for her to be married to the boss, preferential treatment and all. 

Nari sends them to the sitting room. It’s cold in there too and not a blanket in sight over the back of the couch or in a bin in the corner. Jeonghan silently takes off his wooly cardigan and hands it to her, ignoring Seungcheol’s glare. He’s been doing that anytime he sees the two of them interact. 

Nari comes out with a tray of drinks, handing them around. Y/N takes a single sip of the drink and puts it down. There’s no grenadine in hers while the boys’ drinks are a light pink because of it. She knows it’s a calculated jab to not give her something everyone else gets but Y/N refuses to give Nari the satisfaction of a reaction. 

“Where’s Appa tonight?” Seungcheol asks politely. Everything is formal with Nari, just as it’s always been with their father too. 

Nari smiles and it’s so sickly sweet that Y/N has to look away. “He called and said he was running late at the office. Should be here anytime. Excuse me, I need to go check the roast. The chef is on vacation.” She says it snidely, like the chef doesn’t deserve a vacation, but the three of them say nothing. Once she’s out of the room, Jeonghan switches drinks with Y/N, taking the non-grenadine one. He, again, pointedly ignores Seungcheol’s glare.

Y/N is still cold at dinner where she picks at her food. Her father has barely glanced at her the whole time. He’s worried about how Seungcheol’s team is going to do this year and how Jeonghan’s applications to the internship at his company’s office near the university have gone. He promises to put in a good word for Jeonghan. 

Reluctantly, her father looks down his nose at Y/N. “And how was your semester?”

“It went well,” Y/N said, feeling a little bit like she was in a job interview. “I got straight As. The sorority and cheer team are doing well too.” She could talk about the fundraisers and volunteer events the sorority did, or how she learned a new stunt for a routine, but she knows by now he doesn’t really care. He’d always looked at her with such disinterest, even as a child.

Her father pretends to look pleased. “Good to hear. We need a Dr. Choi in the family. Can’t let those grades slip.” Y/N just nods in agreement. “By the way, did you get the replacement laptop I sent?” 

“I did. Thank you for sending it so quickly. I apologize that I didn’t send you a message when I got it, but I had a lot to catch up on, what with a broken laptop.” The words burn in her throat. She doesn’t want to thank him. She doesn’t want anything from him. She wants her mom. 

“Of course, but you should really be more careful, Y/N. Don’t be so reckless with your belongings,” he scolds. Y/N doesn’t miss how pleased Nari is with the lecture. Y/N remembers when Nari sent her to boarding school for part of semester in high school. Seungcheol hadn’t been sent away since he was supposed to be a starter on the basketball team. Their mother had to drive to the boarding school and pull her out after Y/N cried on the phone one too many times. Nari didn’t look happy when she showed up on the doorstep with her suitcase again.

“Yes sir,” Y/N answers meekly, if only to avoid anymore conversation. Seungcheol and Jeonghan both clench their jaws across the table. 

After an agonizing couple hours, Seungcheol makes the excuse that they should get going. They still have to drop Jeonghan off and get home to their mother’s apartment across town. 

In the car, neither boys say anything as Y/N cries in the backseat. This dinner was the straw that broke the camel's back. Jeonghan ignores Seungcheol’s looks in the rearview mirror because he refused to sit in the front seat, sliding into the back with her to hold her hand. 

The break flies by only because Y/N wishes it wouldn’t. She’d like to stay in her warm bed in her mom’s warm apartment for the rest of her life. She surprises herself by even considering not going back, but she knows she’d never hear the end of it. After all, she has one semester left. Then she can pick anywhere for medical school, given that she gets accepted. 

Her mother is clearly worried, and Y/N feels so guilty for it. Her mother has been a nurse for over 20 years. She works hard and she works long, weird hours. She always has in order to make it work for the twins. So Y/N tries to slap a smile on her face when she’s out of her room if only to keep her from worrying, particularly when she’s just come home from an overnight shift. 

But it seems it doesn’t matter because her mother still knocks on her door the night before they’re scheduled to drive back to school. Y/N is packing after doing some laundry and she slaps that fake smile on her face when her mother sits cross legged on her bed. “Are you sure you have to go? You could just move back in for good. Just don’t tell your brother,” her mother teases. 

This does bring a little bit of a genuine smile to Y/N’s face. “I would love to, but I’m so close to being done.” 

“I know, baby, and I’m so proud of you.” Her mother stopped and stared for a second. Finally, she sighs. “You know, I had a really bad semester at nursing school. Even had to switch schools because of it.”

Y/N isn’t sure how she knows that the semester was bad because she hadn’t said anything. But there’s no point in denying it. She’s been moping for weeks now. “Really? What happened?”

“Some mean girls,” her mother shrugs. “They’re everywhere, but they were more tolerable at the second school.”

Y/N continues folding clothes if only to keep busy. “What if I’m the mean girl?” 

“What do you mean, baby?” 

It had been weighing on Y/N’s mind. Something about the post a couple weeks before finals had made things painfully obvious to her. She hadn’t realized how it looked to others while she was chasing and looking for the right guy. She didn’t realize how many feelings she’d hurt on that chase. She eventually deleted her twitter account and locked down all of her other socials to avoid finding out how anyone else really felt about her. 

“I think I’ve hurt some feelings with my dating habits. I didn’t mean anything by it… but I did.” 

Her mother is quiet for a moment, before waving her over. There’s something so comforting about curling up into her mother’s side. “I’ll tell you what I think, okay?” Y/N nods into her shoulder. “You have so much love to give. You always have, you and Seungcheol both. And you really want to be with someone to share that. But maybe it’s okay if you keep it to yourself sometimes.” Her mother’s head plops down on top of Y/N’s. “You know, I was always afraid the divorce would affect you two. It’s why I stayed until I just couldn’t anymore. But now I see how you might be chasing after the validation you didn’t see in mine and your father’s relationship. And you don’t need it, okay? Take care of yourself first.”

Y/N is tearful and this is all too serious, so she has to crack a joke. “I think you’re spending too much time covering shifts in the psych ward. You sound like a shrink.”

Y/N’s mother laughs loudly. “Oh, I know. They’re keeping me on that rotation because I’m so good. Come on. Let’s finish packing this and then we’ll make some cookies for you to take with you tomorrow.”

Mingyu is pissed. He has been for days. Specifically, because a couple days before he was due to come back from break, the twitter account mysteriously disappears. So does any trace of it. No one has screenshots and the document they’d drafted of the exposé is gone too. All that’s left is anything they compiled for the final project. 

Seungkwan says he didn’t do anything with the twitter account and Mingyu believes him because his texts sound panicked. As Seungkwan is lamenting over the years he’s spent building up that account, Mingyu develops a theory. When he calls Wonwoo multiple times without receiving an answer, he considers it evidence. 

So when Mingyu arrives back at his apartment, he’s seething. Wonwoo looks totally unfazed where he lays on the couch with a book as Mingyu all but throws down his suitcase. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Wonwoo sounds bored. He doesn’t even look up from his book. 

“The twitter account, you asshole!”

“Oh, that? I hacked it and deleted it.” Wonwoo says this so casually that it almost makes Mingyu’s brain explode. 

“Why would you do that?! You know how hard we worked on that.” Mingyu thinks he might hit Wonwoo. “Months of work and now we have nothing to show for it. And years of work for Seungkwan.”

“That’s too bad,” Wonwoo says without an ounce of sympathy. 

Mingyu is fast approaching the bargaining phase. He plops down on the couch next to Wonwoo. “I thought you said you couldn’t do it anyway. What happened?”

Wonwoo gives him a blank look. “Oh, I’ve spent months on it, but I was finally able to do it over the break. It wasn’t easy, but it was very satisfying to click confirm on that little pop up.”

Mingyu stammers, at a total loss of words. Eventually, he’s pleading. “Why, Wonwoo? That was the basis of our whole project.” 

“And your project is done. I saw the document you guys turned in.” Wonwoo’s voice is turning icy. “What? It wasn’t enough for you to get a little revenge and an A+? Now you want to go back and relive it?”

“Why are you acting like this? You don’t even like her!” Mingyu cried. 

“I like her a hell of a lot more than I like any of you guys right now. I don’t even recognize you anymore, Mingyu.” It’s Wonwoo’s turn to be mad. He slams the book closed, throwing it down on the coffee table. “You tore her apart and then kept that account up to let everyone else keep tearing her apart. Do you feel better now? Does that help you get over the three dates you took her on? Are you seeing how you guys overreacted now?”

“She had it coming,” Mingyu argued but he was losing heat. Wonwoo rarely lectured him like this. 

“You destroyed her. I’ll be surprised if she even comes back,” Wonwoo snapped, standing up to pace. “I asked her if she was okay when she turned in the loaner laptop and she looked like she could cry on the spot. Whatever vengeance you got, I hope you enjoyed it because you don’t get anymore if it touches a computer or phone. I’ll hack every single device you guys have to make sure of it.”

Mingyu has deflated, totally stunned. “Why are you defending her? I don’t understand this at all.”

“I’m defending her because it seems like literally no one else is. I’m sure you know the damage that you’ve caused.” When Mingyu gives him a blank look, Wonwoo snaps again. “Let me refresh your memory. I heard she’s the laughing stock of the sorority and cheer team. She’s deleted her twitter account because there were hundreds of people tagging her in comments. And last I heard Seungcheol and Jeonghan fought.”

Mingyu had heard that. It makes news in the locker room when your captain gets into a fist fight and is sent to the Dean’s office. The coach wasn’t happy. “I can’t help that,” Mingyu insisted. “Besides, that was probably a long time coming. Joshua said Y/N had been sleeping with Jeonghan the whole time.”

“And that’s another thing! They’re both firmly denying that.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes because he can’t help it. “And you believe that? How do you know all of this anyway? Everyone’s been gone for break.”

“You know, I do believe it actually, especially since she didn’t bother denying anything else you guys wrote. And let’s just say some other accounts have been cleaned up as well.” Wonwoo picks up his book. “I’m leaving. I mean it though. You guys are done.”

Wonwoo’s disappointment is clear and leaves Mingyu feeling conflicted. But the thing is, the project’s over and the twitter account is gone. Mingyu decides it’s time to move on. 

Joshua can feel eyes on him, but this time he knows who it is. Minghao has been doing a lot of staring lately. Neither had anywhere to go during the break, but they saw very little of each other. It seems Minghao is upset with him, and Joshua hasn’t asked yet. 

But it’s starting to drive him crazy, because he really wants to enjoy his night off and watch some TV. When he glances at Minghao, his roommate is peering over his laptop. Joshua raises an eyebrow. “What?”

Minghao continues to stare, before finally saying, “Nothing.”

Joshua scoffs. “If you have something to say, just say it. You’ve been like this all break.”

Minghao purses his lips. “Nothing, really. I just thought you were nicer, is all.”

“Nicer? What do you mean?” Joshua prided himself on being polite, a gentleman even. 

“I mean the twitter account.” Joshua must looked surprised, because Minghao rolls his eyes. “Yes, even I have twitter. And even if I didn’t it would have been impossible to miss. I just don’t understand how you got involved in all that. Or why.”

“She deserved it,” Joshua mumbled. He didn’t really have another excuse anymore. He’d deleted the app to keep from looking at it because it was kind of like watching a car crash. 

“I beg to differ.”

Minghao’s statement makes Joshua’s jaw drop as he sits up. “What do you mean? You were the first one to tell me what she was like.”

“Yeah, I get it. Play the player and all. But you and whoever you were working with took it to the extreme,” Minghao said seriously. “I mean, there are some nasty things being written about her.” 

“So?” 

Minghao blinks a few times. “Fine, be that way. Leave me alone, though.” Joshua watched as Minghao slid headphones on and turned away. 

Y/N has never been what you would call a recluse. She liked to be around people, always had, but she finds she can’t when she returns to campus. She hides out in her room at the sorority house most of the time, even avoiding her housemates. Some are mean and others are pitying, but Y/N doesn’t care for either of those things, so she waits until everyone has left or is in bed before she comes out for things like food or laundry. 

She’s taken to spending a lot of time in bed. Not scrolling, not watching TV, not even reading. She’s staring at that same spot on the wall when there’s a knock on her bedroom door. It opens and Seungcheol comes in. They haven’t really talked much outside of the necessities of traveling together so she sits up in bed, surprised. He doesn’t really acknowledge her as he puts the bags he’s carrying down onto her desk. She watches as he unpacks a couple orders of her favorite sushi. When he hands them to her with a pair of chopsticks, her eyes water a bit. 

She doesn’t dig in right away, waiting for him to get his stuff and sit next to her on the bed. He doesn’t crack open his food either. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. 

Y/N shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry. I made such a mess without even realizing it.”

“Maybe a little,” Seungcheol chuckles. “But you’re still my sister and I’m sorry that I didn’t just come talk to you about it. And I’m sorry I haven’t really helped you out any lately. I know you’ve had a hard time with all this.”

Y/N sighs, putting her food to the side. She leans into Seungcheol. “Maybe I deserved it. All the pranks. The twitter account. I didn’t even realize how bad it all looked until I read it along with everyone else.”

She feels Seungcheol shake his head. “No. They don’t understand it.” She doesn’t have to ask what he’s referring to because she knows it’s about their father and the divorce. Seungcheol had once jokingly said the whole thing had given her a complex, but maybe it wasn’t much of a joke. “And anyway, that whole thing with Joshua reeked. I wish I’d pressed you more to end it with him because it’s totally unfair that it was a set up.”

Y/N frowns. She’d tried not to think much of Joshua lately because it would do no good. She hadn’t heard from him and she didn’t expect to, so she hadn’t reached out either. “I should have known it was too good to be true.” 

“Maybe, but it’ll work out with someone someday.” Seungcheol sounds like he means that. After a beat, he asks, “So you and Jeonghan? How long has that been going on?”

“It hasn’t been. We lost our virginity to each other when we were 16. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” Seungcheol sounds surprised. 

“Yeah, I promise. It rarely comes up anymore. I’m not even sure how that rumor got started recently,” Y/N sags into Seungcheol’s side. That was something that hadn’t gone back to normal yet. She was used to seeing Jeonghan all the time, maybe more than she saw her twin, but they didn’t really know how to be around each other lately. 

“Do you wish it would come up? The idea of you and him, I mean?” 

Y/N is surprised by the question, only because she remembers hearing about their fight. “Do you really want to know the answer to that question?” Seungcheol nods. Y/N bites her lip. “Sometimes. I wished it would have back then, but we were so lucky we didn’t ruin our friendship at 16. Not that it matters now, even if I did want it to come up.”

“He misses you too, don’t worry,” Seungcheol says easily. 

“Have you guys made up?” Y/N’s head pops up, relief in her eyes. 

“Yeah, I interrogated him this morning,” Seungcheol smiles and there’s a flash of something mischievous before it clears and he’s serious again. “I told him to come see you but he’s working up the courage. He wishes he could have shielded you from all of this.” Y/N frowns at Seungcheol’s explanation, but he doesn’t let her press him for anything. “And for the record, I’d be okay with it if you two did have something going on. I’d just like to know about it. Don’t keep secrets from me anymore.”

Seungcheol places her food back in her lap and with a tone of finality, he insists, “Eat. That place is expensive.”

Y/N does, feeling a little bit lighter. 

The next day, she decides that she’s not going to wait for Jeonghan to come see her. He’s been her best friend for over 20 years and this is getting fixed today. Seungcheol is out when she knocks on their apartment door. Jeonghan looks like he just woke up but his eyes widen when he sees her. “Surprise,” Y/N sings lamely, holding a bag from their favorite bakery. 

Nevertheless, Jeonghan smiles and lets her in. They sit together on the floor next to the coffee table. As kids, they didn’t care to sit at the table or even on the couch, and it was a habit they still had occasionally if only for nostalgia.

Jeonghan would normally inhale the cake that she’s just given him but he eats slowly today. Y/N picks at her own slice. “I’m sorry you got roped into all of this.” 

He looks at her for a long time and she’s beginning to worry that he’ll kick her out. But eventually he shakes his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong in my book, so there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Others would disagree with you,” Y/N says bitterly, putting her cake down on the coffee table and pulling her knees up to her chest. Laying her chin on her knees, she looks at him. She can’t imagine not fixing this with him, but it’s up to her to apologize and it’s up to him to decide if he still wants to be friends. “I don’t even know how that rumor started. It makes you look bad too, since you’ve been dating as well. So I’m still sorry.”

Jeonghan looks so stubborn now. She knows the look well. It’s the same one he gives when someone tells him to do something he doesn’t want to do, like doing chores or homework. “No. I don’t accept your apology because it’s not needed.”

Tears prick Y/N’s eyes. “Let me apologize,” she pleads. “You should be saying ‘I told you so’ anyway. You’ve been telling me for years to be more careful.”

“You’re misunderstanding, Y/N,” Jeonghan lets out in exasperation. “I never told you to be careful because of how it looked. I know your intentions were never bad. And I never imagined anyone would do anything so… cruel in response to it.” He looks back down to his cake, picking some of the frosting off with the fork. “I only told you to be careful because I didn’t like seeing you get let down over and over again. And I’m certain there’s no one who deserves you so it happens all the time.”

Y/N stares at him while he still picks the frosting off his cake. “Do you really feel that way? Not even you?” There’s a tinge of a joke, but she really wonders.

Jeonghan chuckles, some light returning to his eyes. “Not even me, and I’m flawless.” This earns a laugh from Y/N but then things get quiet. “Of course, I feel that way. Whoever you do end up with one day will be really lucky.”

There are so many things Y/N wants to say, but finally, she lands on, “I feel the same about you. I’ve been telling you for years that you’re total husband material.” 

Jeonghan laughs again. “And who made me learn all that? You hold your best friend to high standards,” he teases. “Now, can we go back to normal? I missed you.”

Y/N grinned. “I missed you too, Hannie. But did you really think I was leaving here without things going back to normal? You’ll never be rid of me, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.” Jeonghan shoves her by the shoulder and she loses balance, laying flat on the floor. 

“Don’t make me kick you out. Now, eat your cake or I will.”

Joshua walks into the hospital with a minute to spare. It’s his first day at his internship and he’s really looking forward to it. He goes to the front desk and finds out where he’s supposed to be - to which the answer is the 3rd floor. This is one of the regular units, specifically not the ER or the ICU. As soon as he steps out of the elevator, he bites back a groan. 

Somehow, he’d forgotten that Y/N would be here. And even if she was, he kind of assumed they’d never have to run into each other because they’re interns in different departments. But sure enough, Y/N is standing there with the charge nurse that Joshua was told to find. 

Both women turn to him as he approaches. “Joshua, right?” The charge nurse, Eunji, asks and when Joshua nods, she smiles. “Good! And both of you are on time too. Joshua, have you met Y/N before?”

Joshua looks at Y/N, who doesn’t so much as glance at him now. Evenly, she says, “Yes, we’ve shared some classes.” Her tone has none of the usual sparkle to it, and he’s not sure if it’s because she’s trying to be professional or if it’s because he’s here standing next to her. 

“Great! Well, unfortunately, I don’t have anything exciting for you guys,” Eunji looks apologetic. “We need to do inventory today, and the tech that would normally do it during this shift is out.” Eunji hands both of them clipboards and pens, before leading them to a supply closet. The bare overhead light is not very bright and most of the corners are still dark. “Sorry it’s so dingy in here… Anyway, it’s pretty straightforward. For each line item, do a count and write it down. Split it however you’d like and if you have any questions I’ll be around.”

With that Eunji closes the door behind her, leaving Y/N and Joshua alone. They haven’t seen each other since that Sunday in her bedroom, outside of a couple classes they shared. Joshua feels awkward when Y/N turns to one of the shelves and starts without another word. He doesn’t know why but the silence kills him for the next hour. He has to recount rolls of gauze and boxes of bandaids a few times before he thinks he got it right. 

He’s in the middle of his third count of boxes of alcohol swabs when he hears a grunt behind him. When he turns, he sees Y/N on her tiptoes, trying to reach the top shelf. Without thinking, he comes up behind her, grabbing the bin that she needs and handing it to her. She barely glances up at him when she mumbles a quick, ‘thanks’, before turning to the table in the corner to count the contents of the bin. 

Joshua doesn’t know why he’s staring. Doesn’t know why he thinks she looks cute in hot pink scrubs and a ponytail. Doesn’t know why he likes how concentrated she looks. It burns him up inside that he wants to talk to her when he couldn’t wait to be rid of her last semester. 

Impulsively, Joshua says, “Are you okay?”

She doesn’t look up from the bin. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

“It’s just, we haven’t talked since…” He trails off when he sees the tension building in her shoulders. 

She looks up at him with confusion all over her face. “Joshua, I don’t mean to sound like a smart ass, but what would there be to talk about? That tweet was pretty clear about where we stood.”

“So? You have nothing to say?” Joshua’s blood starts to boil.

“What is there to say? No one wants to hear it anyway,” Y/N says with a bit of bitterness.

“A lot of people want to hear an apology,” Joshua seethed. “You’ve fucked with a lot of people.”

“Yeah. I know how to read twitter comments, Joshua,” Y/N snapped, throwing things back into the bin haphazardly to turn to him fully. “Are you happy? I don’t even know what I did to you. Other guys, fine. I’m not great to date, I get it now. The comments made it crystal clear. But I did absolutely nothing to you.”

“Absolutely nothing? What about sleeping with your best friend while you were seeing me?” 

Y/N throws her hands over her face in exasperation. “When we were 16! Not once since then. I’m so sick of explaining this.”

Joshua freezes. “What? But I heard you guys talking about it.” He watches realization wash over her face. 

“Oh my god,” she groans into her hands again. “You’re telling me you spread a rumor like that because you eavesdropped on a snippet of a conversation that you had no context for?” Joshua’s silence must be answer enough because she barrels on. “We did what stupid teenagers do and wanted to lose our virginities to someone we trusted. And if you had waited five fucking seconds, you would have heard him say that he was happy things were going well with us.” She laughs, but it’s not right because it sounds a little watery. “I really liked you, Joshua. I don’t know what I did to deserve all this. And I don’t give a fuck about the mean girls on the cheer team or in the sorority, or the gross guys on the basketball team, or anyone else on campus for that matter. But you almost wrecked the two relationships that I’ve had for my entire life.”

“You deserve it because I’ve met girls like you,” Joshua bit. “You just have to smile and you get handed whatever you want. You play with people like toys until you get bored.”

“Well, I didn’t get what I wanted, now did I?” Now she’s crying but she looks furious. “You saw to that, did you? All I wanted was for it to finally feel right with someone, and when it did it was all a trick.”

Joshua scoffs. “Like it’ll take you long to move on.”

Y/N’s chin wobbles in the dim lighting and there’s a pang in Joshua’s chest at the sight. “Oh no. I’ll be swearing off dating from now on. No one will have anymore reasons to fuel their stupid pranks or trap dates or twitter accounts.” Joshua freezes again and Y/N is on a roll now. “You didn’t think I would figure out who was behind all of that? It’s a little too convenient that you’ve been hanging out with just about everyone mentioned in that stupid tweet. Do you guys feel like you’ve gotten your revenge now? I considered dropping out over all of this. Would that have made you guys happy to never see me again?”

Joshua stumbles over his words. He didn’t expect her to piece everything together, and he really didn’t expect that she considered not coming back to finish her degree. She was a good student and seemed so invested in her future. But it doesn’t matter what he has to say because she’s shoving the clipboard into his chest hard as she passes by him. “You finish the rest. I can’t fucking reach it anyway.” 

The door slams behind her and he looks around the supply closet for help understanding what just happened. He feels guilty now in a way he hadn’t throughout this whole experiment. He’d felt that he had no choice but to transfer after the embarrassment that was the end of his relationship with Lily, and now he’d just made someone feel the same way. But she was brave enough to come back while he ran across the world with his tail between his legs.

When he finally snaps back to attention, it takes him way more than three counts to get each line item right. 

Two months have passed and things are looking up for Y/N. She, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan are glued to each other again just like it’s meant to be. What few classes she has to take are going well. And she’s getting used to the way things are with other people around campus. Once she got over the initial shock and subsequent depression at the whole situation, she decided not to acknowledge it anymore. She didn’t entertain the conversation with her sorority sisters or teammates when they asked if she was seeing someone. She was getting really good at shutting out anyone that asked her out, which seemed to be just as frequent as it was before. She used to enjoy the attention, but now she just saw a bunch of red flags. 

Her escape had become her internship. After the first day, Joshua was working in another unit so she didn’t have to see him. As promised when she was offered the internship, she would be shadowing in the ER. It was mostly triaging or assisting the non-critical cases, and she didn't even get to do the fun stuff. Mostly, she would call patients back and gather their history under the supervision of an RN. Then she might escort them to a room when one became available. The exciting days were when she could assist with treatments, but it was mostly handing the doctor or nurse things and holding the patient’s hand while she talked their ear off to distract them. 

Today was a triage shift and it was almost over when the nurse from the front desk gave her a new clip board and walked away. Y/N sees the name on the sheet and smacks her forehead with the clipboard hard. Then, resigned, she goes to the lobby. 

“Lee Seokmin.” 

He hobbles into the triage station with another guy holding him up on one side. She can tell he’s surprised to see her, but she doesn’t react to it. “Have a seat,” she said, pointing. She also drags over two more chairs so he can prop up his foot and his friend can sit down. “I’m Y/N and this is Yunseo.” Yunseo waved from the other side of the computer. “Yunseo is the RN for triage today, but since I’m an intern, she’s letting me take some of your medical history. Injured foot, huh?” She says neutrally. 

“Ankle I think… Y/N, this is my friend Junhui.”

Y/N gives Junhui a polite smile, but she can tell by his reaction to her name that he knows quite a bit about what’s been going on last semester. “What happened?” She asks Seokmin. 

“We were rehearsing and I tripped,” Seokmin sighs. 

“Can I take a look? I have to make sure it isn’t critical. If it is, I need to hand it off to Yunseo right now.” Seokmin doesn’t hesitate to roll up the leg of his jeans. His ankle is swollen and starting to develop a nasty bruise. Y/N hums sympathetically, and Yunseo nods encouragingly to her to continue. This is how Y/N knows she’s right to assume it’s not critical. “I’m sorry, that’s rough.” She backs away from Seokmin. “Well, unfortunately there’s not much to do until a doctor can see you besides icing your ankle and taking information for your records.” When Seokmin nods, Y/N zips out of the room.

She wants to linger at the ice machine for a breather, but today’s charge nurse is in the break room taking lunch. So, Y/N works quickly to get the bag of ice and returns to Seokmin and Junhui. Once the ice is on Seokmin’s ankle, Y/N plops down in front of the computer. It’s both a blessing and a curse that these questionnaires are so long. On one hand, there’s not a lot of time for them to talk about anything else when she’s peppering him with questions one after another. On the other hand, it feels like it takes an eternity to get through it. She tries to focus on the fact that this is good experience with Yunseo over her shoulder pointing out certain things.

Y/N feels like she’s so close to freedom after she’s rolled Seokmin in a wheelchair to an exam room while Yunseo calls the next patient to get started. “Someone will be in to see you shortly, but call if you need anything,” she says professionally. Her hand is on the knob to pull it closed behind her when Seokmin speaks up. 

“Y/N? I’m sorry.” 

She pauses and she can’t help but frown at him. He does look sorry actually, guilt all over his face. Junhui must sense where this is going, so he asks where the vending machine is and excuses himself. Y/N is still standing in the doorway, arms crossed now. “Sorry for what?”

“For the experiment. The pranks. Joshua. The twitter account.”

Y/N blinks at him because she’s not sure what else to do. “Experiment?”

“It all started as a psych experiment - conformity on social media. But it got out of control… and that sounds really stupid when I say it out loud.” Seokmin rubs the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, it does,” Y/N murmured. She looks around the pristine exam room because she can’t really look at him. She’d just started to feel better from all of this, but now she’s learning of a whole other layer to it. Her misery lately is a result of a class assignment made of questionable ethics. She’d really like to forget about all of it. “I guess I owe you an apology too. I didn’t mean anything by cutting things off, and I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I wanted more.”

“You didn’t,” Seokmin insists and she looks at him in confusion. “I thought maybe you led me on. I was upset at how things had gone with us. That’s the whole reason I agreed to any of this in the first place. But the longer I think about it, you were pretty honest about how you felt. You shouldn’t have to apologize because I got my hopes up.”

“You’re not the only one though. That twitter account kind of makes it seem like it’s a habit of mine.”

“Yeah… that got really out of control. I’m sorry you had to see any of it. But if it makes you feel any better, it was hacked and deleted.” 

Y/N found herself laughing. “Hacked? Who did that?”

Seokmin looks amused. “Let’s just say you have a very talented friend looking out for you. He shut down that dating app because of you too.” Y/N’s eyes widen. 

“Man, you guys were serious about this revenge.” 

She watches Seokmin relax because she’s laughing again and he finally laughs too. “Yeah, like I said. Out of control. I’ve been trying to convince them to apologize. I think Mingyu, Jihoon, and Seungkwan will come around… I’m not sure about Joshua.”

“Seungkwan? Boo Seungkwan?”

Seokmin nods. “He ran the twitter account.”

“Ah,” Y/N sighs. “Well, you might be right about Joshua. He’s interning here too, and that’s going about as well as you would expect.”

“Total avoidance, huh?” When Y/N raises an eyebrow, he shakes his head. “We haven’t seen or heard much from him either.”

Junhui’s hovering outside of the door with a pack of cookies and a loud crunch gives him away. It makes Y/N laugh. “You can come back in. I’m leaving for real this time.” 

A couple hours later, she waves to Seokmin and Junhui as she leaves. It’s kind of a relief to know that someone involved feels a little bad, but she thinks he’s probably wrong. She won’t be getting an apology from any of the others. 

“You want me to do what?” Wonwoo asks. He thinks he’s heard the request wrong and he’s confused. 

“Bring the twitter account back,” Seungkwan requests again. 

Wonwoo sighs and nods. “Ah, that’s what I thought you said. Two questions, are you stupid and do you know what the word ‘deleted’ means?”

Seungkwan is totally unfazed by the insult. “It’s for another project. You can’t restore it?”

Wonwoo can’t help but glance around the table. The whole crew is back together and he was kind of hoping that would never happen again. It had been a disaster last semester. He finally pins Mingyu with a look. “I told you that you guys would not get a technical method to do this again.” 

“It’s not what you think. We probably should have led with that,” Mingyu puts his hands up in defense. 

“Then what is it? I deleted it for a reason. Nothing on there should have seen the light of day, especially near the end,” Wonwoo says impatiently. He wants nothing more than to be rid of these little requests because he doesn’t trust any of them as far as he can throw them. 

“We need the reach to issue an apology,” Jihoon says simply. “We can’t do that with a brand new account.”

“An apology?” Wonwoo’s laugh gets caught in his throat because he never thought he’d hear something like this considering how evil they were last semester. “This should be good. Tell me more.”

“We’ve been talking,” Seokmin started. “We got carried away and we’d like to reel this back in if we can.”

“There’s not a lot of reeling back in you can do,” Wonwoo scoffs. “The damage is done. Now you guys get to feel guilty about it.”

“Yeah, that’s why we’d like to issue an apology,” Mingyu says. “So can you restore it or not?”

“No! The warning message says ‘permanently deleted’ for a reason.” Wonwoo lies through his teeth. He’s not going to tell him he didn’t hit delete. Instead, he’d changed the email attached to the account and hit ‘deactivate’. “Besides, an in-person apology will probably go much farther. If you’re apologizing to the person I think you’re apologizing to, she doesn’t even have a twitter account anymore to see it.” 

“I don’t think she’d want to see us,” Jihoon huffed. “Which is fair, I guess.”

Seokmin shrugs. “I don’t know, she wasn’t mean to me or anything when I was in the ER last week.”

Joshua has been silent the whole time. Wonwoo’s not sure why he’s even here because he might have been the cruelest of them all and hadn’t seemed to regret any of it. Wonwoo stares him down. “Are you part of this apology too?” He watches Joshua hesitate for a moment, then nod. 

Wonwoo purses his lips. “I can’t promise anything. They might really mean ‘permanently deleted’ when they say it.” He lies through his teeth again. He needs some time to think about it before he hands the account back to any of them. He glares at Seungkwan. “But I’ll be doing some major clean up if I can actually restore it.”

Seungkwan nods eagerly. “I would have done it anyway, but have at it. You’ll probably be faster at it anyway.”

“Great. But how do we make sure she sees it?” Mingyu asks. 

Something catches Joshua’s eye and suddenly he’s jumping out of his seat. 

If Joshua had to describe Seungcheol and Jeonghan in one word, he would say overprotective. He got that vibe at the dinner and movie triple date he met them at. He’s definitely getting that vibe now. In fact, he thinks they might leap over the table at any of them. Maybe Joshua first though with the dirty looks he’s getting.

Joshua has to talk fast to get them to agree to even sit down with the group at the table. Jeonghan even sets a timer for five minutes passive aggressively. 

They explain everything, starting from the psych experiment, to the dating app, the pranks,, the twitter account, and Joshua. Seungcheol and Jeonghan look totally unimpressed. Joshua gets that because it all sounds so fucking stupid now that they have to explain it.

“And you think an apology will fix this?” Seungcheol asks coldly. 

“We’d like to try,” Mingyu says weakly. He’s been feeling Seungcheol’s wrath for two months now. He doesn’t want to run anymore laps or do anymore pushups. 

“It better be a damn good one then. You know she almost didn’t come back to school?” Seungcheol snapped. 

“Yeah, we heard that,” Jihoon said, glancing at Joshua. “Look, we would approach her if we thought she would hear us out. But we’ve made a mess of this to everyone else that followed that stupid account and we need to correct this with them too.”

“I thought it got deleted?” Jeonghan asks, eyes narrowed. 

“That’s why he’s here,” Mingyu says, pointing to Wonwoo. Wonwoo waves him off with a simple ‘don’t talk to me’. “He’s going to try to recover the account. The problem is that we’d also like her to see it.”

Jeonghan scoffs, a bitter smile on his face. “Yeah, good luck getting her back on there.” 

“That’s what we’d like your help with actually,” Joshua started. 

Seungcheol and Jeonghan share a look. The timer goes off on Jeonghan’s phone, but they stay anyway. 

It’s Saturday morning and Y/N is busy hosting a sorority house meeting. The president and vice president have been away at a conference and won’t make it back in time to run the meeting themselves, and as the treasurer the duty falls to her. Her phone has been buzzing in her pocket the whole time and she keeps ignoring it. She’s thinking it’s Jeonghan blowing up her phone because he’s bored, something he likes to do when she’s inconveniently busy. She has no problem making him wait for a bit. 

But it’s becoming apparent that something exciting is happening what with the way all of her sorority sisters will not focus on anything she’s saying. It’s starting to get frustrating and when Y/N can’t take it anymore, she bangs the gavel as a call to order. “Okay, what’s going on? I’m trying to run a meeting here.”

A young sophomore named Ara hesitantly stood up, but she was smiling when she handed over her phone. “You might want to read this, Y/N.”

Y/N didn’t have to skim long before she mumbled, “Meeting adjourned. Have a good day, ladies.”

Did you miss us? Yes - us. 

I started this account a little over two years ago and have always enjoyed interacting with all of you. But if you’ve been a follower for a while, you may have noticed a shift in the tone of this account. You won’t find any evidence of that here now, but… if you know, you know.

That’s because this became a team project last semester. I’ll be honest. It was a revenge plot and as we look back on this plot of ours, we’re embarrassed. We all got carried away, some because of hurt feelings and some because of a desire to run a successful account with a thirst for drama.

So, here it goes. We built a dating app, the one that was posted on here a while back. It was used to make a match with someone that had the same kind of vendetta some of us had against Choi Y/N. 

While we waited for this app to be ready, we began pranking Y/N. At first, we thought it was harmless, but things escalated quickly. (Y/N, we still owe you a new laptop.)

When the dating app was ready, Joshua joined us with the goal of giving Y/N what we perceived to be a taste of her own medicine. We were cruel. Particularly near the end of the semester with our little exposé. 

We owe Choi Y/N an apology. A big one that we’ll probably never convince her that we mean honestly. For the pranks. For Joshua. For the way this account was used. For nearly ruining over 20 years of friendship between her and Yoon Jeonghan on a baseless rumor, and damaging the relationship between her and her twin brother, Choi Seungcheol. 

Y/N, if you’re reading this (and we hope you are), we’d like to start making this up to you. Reach out if you’re interested. 

Seungkwan, Mingyu, Jihoon, Seokmin, and Joshua

[radiance1]

To say Danny was worried about Vlad's continued disappearance was... sort of an understatement? At first, he was glad about it. He could finally kick back and relax when one of his more insistent and cunning foes were gone to who knows where and left him alone.

When it continued, Danny very obviously thought that hey, Vlad might be cooking up some supremely intricate plan that'll ruin Danny's day so, of course, Danny started to look for him.

He didn't expect to find Vlad when he was (surprisingly) captured by the GIW. All of his pride scrubbed away, all the elegance he insisted upon exchanged for something more.. beastly, collared and reduced to some raging experiment that was more animal than human.

It scared Danny.

Like a lot.

Danny thinks that Vlad was many things. A fruitloop, annoying, overconfident, intelligent and cunning when he wants to be, also an idiot and, again, extremely annoying.

But not. Well. That.

So he, understandably, didn't like it one bit. Especially when they tried doing the same thing to him. So, Danny tries to escape, which was surprisingly harder than he had first thought because you know that collar they put on Vlad?

Yea, they put it on him too, and it makes his powers all wonky and harder to use. The only thing that wasn't really impacted was his regeneration.

And then there was the dehumanization.

Oh, by the Ancients.

The dehumanization.

Being referred to as it, thing, animal, anything besides human really takes a toll on a person when they're actually going through it. Sometimes Danny caught himself calling himself an 'it' too and he's not happy about it.

Danny wanted out.

And he wanted out bad.

So while he may have felt guilty, that guilt didn't exactly stop him from using Vlad to his own ends to get himself out of there. Even with that power wonker of a collar, Vlad was still an outright menace without the rest of those chains on him and Danny?

Danny was extremely, very glad about that fact.

So there Danny goes, escaping into a portal with Vlad at his back because, well, he wasn't just going to leave him there. When they actually escape is fair game though. And then the last thing the GIW do to fuck them over is hit them both with some experimental tech that forces them to reveal their 'true form' which, obviously Danny didn't expect to actually work.

Then he found himself significantly younger with a younger but no less traumatized and feral Vlad in a place that wasn't Amity Park and oooooh boy this did not go to plan and everything is fucked up.

The worst thing about all of this?

The both of them are still collared. So wonky and/or weakened powers, in a place Danny has no knowledge about, with a feral Vlad that he couldn't leave alone anymore because Danny was a toddler and he'd use every advantage he could get now, both of them wounded because it wasn't a clean escape and oh hey apparently heroes exist here-

Wait.

What.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Incubus

NSFW Art the Clown x F!Reader

Prompt: Reader is out with one of her friends when she runs into an interesting looking clown. Later that night, he seems to visit her in a dream. (Kinda going off the idea that Art is a supernatural being who can appear in people's dreams at will).

CW: Art being a freak, use of sex toys, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, choking, creampie

a/n: to quote Cassie from Euphoria "AND YOU CAN ALL JUDGE ME IF YOU WANT BUT I DO NOT CARE! I HAVE NEVER EVER BEEN HAPPIER" really going back to my sexy-clown-fucker roots with this one gang

~~~

Halloween Night.

You and your friends had been planning to go out like you had since you were teenagers. Getting dressed up in your sluttiest best Halloween costumes, going to your favorite spot in town to eat, then hitting up some parties.

Your group took up a large table at the same old diner you always met at. Friends pregaming with flasks and shot bottles they snuck in. Some more blitzed than others. As you got older, the desire for partying was beginning to leave your body. Wanting to be completely black out drunk in public becoming more embarrassing than exhilarating.

So when your best friend decided she wanted to mess with one of your fellow patrons, a lump formed in your stomach.

A tall man dressed in a half white and half black clown costume sat at one of the tables alone. Giant shoes adorned his feet, the tip of his long nose had a black dot on it, and a bald cap with a tiny hat rested upon his head. He had been staring at your group since he arrived. Most of your friends too out of it to notice.

Your friend walked over, leaning over the table he sat at. Pushing her cleavage directly in his face as she spoke to him. “Nice costume,” she batted her lashes at him. His expressionless face stared at her. A semi aggravated frown on his face. Everyone at your table began giggling as you watched in horror. She took a seat directly in his lap, wrapping one of her arms around him. She tugged at the hat on his head, smacking it down with a pop. “Awe, look how cute. But dontcha think it would look better one me,” she grabbed the hat off his head. Pulling the string and placing it down on her own.

Embarrassment ate away at your insides. All your friends stared and snickered at the situation. The man seemingly unfazed. She flicked at his nose with her finger. You could not take it any longer.

“Oh my God,” you grabbed her by the arm and yanked her away from him, “I am so sorry. If I had known she was going to do that I would’ve stopped her sooner.” You ripped the tiny hat off her head. “Here’s that. Once again I’m so sorry—“

“Why do you keep apologizing to this freak?!”

You shot a look at her, brows pushed together in frustration. Pulling her outside of the restaurant. She fought for you to let go of her. Stumbling in her drunken state.

“What the fuck is wrong with you! Why are you acting like this?” You were hurt by your friend’s actions.

“Why do you even give a shit, Y/N? That’s just some random skeezeball in a restaurant. I could fuck him and we’d never have to see him again.”

“Because you’re embarrassing me!” You shouted, folding your arms over your chest. Taking a deep breath and blinking away the feeling you were harboring.

She stood in front of you with a look of disgust on her face. Her hand planted firmly on her hip. A laugh erupting from her. Wrapping her hand around your wrist and pulling you back inside. Presenting you in front of the table of all your friends. “Go ahead if that’s really how you feel, Y/N,” she cocked her head to the side.

“I— I, uh—“

“Y/N said she’s embarrassed by us. Guess we huwt hew widdle feewings!” Your friend pushed out her bottom lip and mocked you. The entire table laughed at you. All your so called friends calling you names like “Debby Downer” or “Sour Puss” or “Buzz Kill.”

You stood frozen in shock. Unable to believe all your friends you had known so long were treating you this way. All of them a little drunk, but not drunk enough for them to not know what they were doing.

“Come on, everybody. Since we’re so embarrassing to be around. You can stay here,” your friend patted you on the head as she and everyone else threw some cash on the table to cover their bills. You were in disbelief. Feeling abandoned and hurt. Ashamed.

You looked over at the Clown Man who you were defending previously. His gaze fixated on you, expression completely emotionless. Sharp eyes cutting into you. Walking over to him one last time as you began to leave, “I really am sorry she did that. I hope your night goes better than mine.” You gave him a closed mouth smile as you walked out of the restaurant. Lifeless eyes watching you exit.

You held yourself as you walked home. Cold breeze hitting your revealed skin, sending chill bumps down your body. You tugged at the short skirt you wore when you saw a group of guys staring at you. Suddenly uncomfortable in your costume. You arrived home and began getting ready for the night ahead. You did love passing out candy. Something you really had not got to do in a long time. You loved seeing all the kids dressed up, excited for their sugar filled treats.

Time passed and the knocks on your door were scarce. Disappointed in the lack of trick-or-treaters. Feeling like you had lost all love for this holiday. One that was your favorite. Deciding to pass on dinner and just bake some cookies instead.

You sat on your couch mindlessly watching TV. The lack of trick-or-treaters had you drifting in and out of sleep. Finally dozing off…

You were in a dark room. Only lit by candlelight. A musky smell filled the air. You looked down to see yourself completely nude. Wrists and ankles tied to the frame of the large bed you laid on. Confusion ran through you.

Footsteps filled the room. Straining your neck to look down the dark hallway through the open door. Complete silence coming from the darkness other than the loud clap of shoes. The Clown from the restaurant earlier walked into the dim light. Facial expression flat, eyes piercing down at you. Heat dripped down your body knowing he was seeing you completely nude and on display. Approaching the edge of the bed, his head falling to the side as he stared at your bare pussy. A wicked grin crept upon his face.

His hand dug deep down into the bag he carried. The sound of all different textures of things tussled against each other as he went shoulder deep looking for something. An excited look washed over his face as his hand gripped around what he had been looking for. Pulling a deep red, microphone shaped vibrator from the bag. Your entire body flushed.

He crawled on the edge of the bed between your spread legs. Clicking the vibrator to the setting he thought you would enjoy most before teasing around your pussy with it. You moaned at the sudden sensation. Your thighs began trembling as he edged closer and closer to your throbbing nub. When the toy finally found its place on your sweet spot you called out to him, your hips arching at the feeling. Making circular motions with the vibrator, pulling every noise from you he could. Watching as your chest heaved with each shaky breath.

The waves of your first orgasm washed over you like a tsunami. Every inch of you quaking as pure ecstasy pumped through your veins. The Clown smiled at you from the position he was in. A prominent tent pitched through his satin suit. You bit your lip watching him palm himself through the fabric. Mouth beginning to water as the spot of his suit grew darker with his pre-cum. You rolled your hips at him, encouraging him to fuck you.

Dark eyes shot up to look into yours. Hand never leaving his erect member. Your eyes pleaded with him, a small quiet “please” falling from your quivering lips.

His hand clawed at the fabric around his cock, ripping open a hole big enough for him to pull himself out. Eyes unable to look away from how his gloved hand wrapped around his member. Tugging at his erection, his head falling back ever slightly as he savored the feeling of his hand. Almost like he was putting on a show for you.

His body weighed down the bed as he positioned himself to be directly in front of your aching core. Head of his cock prodding at your entry. Tremors of anticipation quaked through you. His lips were barely parted as he looked down at your face. Hooded eyes enjoying the view of you. He rubbed the tip against your folds, collecting all the remnants of you on himself. Ready to delve in.

… A loud knock at the door pulled you awake. You had been dozed off for a few hours now. It was almost too late at night for kids to be out. You sat up, grabbing the bowl of candy off the table in front of you. A second more aggressive knock. “On my way!” You called out as you walked to the front door.

Opening the door to a familiar costumed man. The Clown your friend had been rude to earlier. Little old to be trick-or-treating, but you did not care. “Oh— Hey! It’s you,” flashes of the dream you had been having about him ran through your mind. Heat rising to your cheeks. You swallowed heavy. A toothy grin painted his face as he waved excitedly at you. Holding up a black garbage bag asking for candy from your bowl. You smiled grabbing a large handful of candy and putting it in the bag for him. His eyebrows rose as his mouth morphed into a perfect ‘O’ shape. His hand went up to his lips blowing a silent kiss at you. You caught it with your hand and placed it on your cheek with a giggle.

“There plenty more where that came from. You’re probably my last trick-or-treater for the night. I’ve got all this candy left,” you shook the bowl tossing the candy around in it. The Clown stood before you not saying anything. Eyes staring at you with a wicked grin on his face.

The loud sound of your fire alarm going off made you jump right out of your skin. You looked over your shoulder then back at the man in front of you. His eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Oh— Oh, Crap! I forgot about the cookies I put in the oven!” You rushed back into your house leaving the door wide open. Running into your kitchen and grabbing the oven mitts you had left on the counter, pulling the charred cookies out and throwing the pan into the sink, running cold water over it. Smoke engulfed your kitchen. You opened the window over the sink, fanning the thick fumes out of the window with your oven mitt. Coughing as you accidentally inhaled some of the tar.

You leaned over the counter, hearing the squeak of shoes approaching you identical to what you had heard in your dream. You looked up to see the Clown examining your house. Waving his hand in front of his face as he scrunched up his nose at the smell. You sighed, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even get to introduce myself to you yet. I’m Y/N.” He waved at you acknowledging the introduction.

“Don’t say much do you?”

He shook his head aggressively.

“Hmm. Then how am I going to learn your name?”

He gleamed excitedly. Coming over and grabbing you by the wrist. Pulling you to your fridge where you had countless letters, newspaper clippings, and coupons pinned. He pointed to a picture about the local go-cart racing tournament that happened a few weeks back.

“Cart?”

He made an ‘X’ with his hands, shaking his head in disagreement. He reemphasized the ‘X’ before holding up one finger.

“Okay, minus one letter.”

He nodded with a bright smile.

“Car?”

He folded his arms over his chest, a look of disappointment on his face. His head falling to the side with a look that said “really?”

“Okay. Okay. Art?”

He jumped up and down clapping his hands with joy. Nodding his head rapidly. Clearly thrilled that you were so good at guessing.

“Art! I like that name,” you smiled suddenly realizing that his grip around your wrist stayed. Blushing at how close your bodies were to each other. Remembering your fantasy you were having about it pulling heat to your face.

“Well, since you’re already in here might as well make yourself comfortable. If you wanna sit in the living room I can bring you a glass of water or something,” you smiled. His wide eyes stared at you, smile never leaving his face. He slowly gave you a thumbs up before spinning on his heel and going into your living room.

“Can I tell you something crazy?” You smiled as you sat the glass down in front of him. He nodded. “I— you were just in my dream.” His mouth morphed into an ‘O’ shape, eyebrows raised in intrigue. “I dozed off after I got ditched at the diner. And we were— uh— well, you were. I was—“ Embarrassment washed over you. Realizing you were about to admit to having a sex dream about a complete stranger.

He made an okay gesture with one hand, sticking his opposite pointer finger into the o. You blushed at his insinuation. You nodded coyly. His face fell into a look telling you he thought your thoughts were naughty. Chastising you with his finger. You smiled. He rested his chin on one of his hands propped against his leg, waving for you to continue with the other.

“OH! No, you don’t want to hear the details or anything. It was…” you hid your face from him slightly. Unsure of what to say about the dream. Too awkward to fully admit it.

Art crawled off the couch, resting his chin on your bare knees like a begging puppy. A large frown decorating his face as he fluttered his eyes at you. Wide eyes stared down at him in your lap. Your nerves were set on fire. The source being where his chin touched your bare skin. You swallowed back hard.

He pressed his lips into the skin of your exposed thigh. Biting the soft flesh, leaving grease paint anywhere his lips touched. You felt your body quiver as his teeth dug into you. Bites turned into long licks. Saliva painted your exposed skin. “Art~” you moaned loving the feeling of him on your skin. A wicked grin crept on his face.

Partially gloved hands pried your legs open. Sadistic eyes stared at your clothed core. Noting how you had already soaked through your panties. Licking his way up your skin before planting a sloppy kiss on your core. You slid down the couch exposing yourself better to him. His long tongue lapped over your soaked entry, sucking on the fabric. Your hands gripped his head, eyes rolling back as he worked on you.

He suddenly stood up. You fluttered your eyes up at him. He walked over to his previous seat on the couch. Digging through the black trash bag he carried with him. Making a surprised face when his hand found what it was looking for.

Everything was so familiar...

Pulling something out and hiding it behind his back. Gesturing for you to join him. Patting his lap as you got closer to him. Hesitantly you straddled him. He leaned back into the couch, hooded eyes scanning your entire body. A mischievous grin painted his dirty teeth. He grabbed at your panties, ripping them clean off. Holding them up to his nose and taking a deep inhale, eyes rolling back into his head. Over exaggerating his exhale and putting your ripped garment down into his trash bag. The cool air against your now exposed core sent chills across your entire body.

There was a sudden hum coming from behind Art. He pretending to look around as if he could not find the source of the sound. You blushed at the realization of the noise. Revealing the same deep red want from your dream. You gasped.

"That's the same one from my-"

He cut you off by pressing the toy against your throbbing clit. You moaned loudly, throwing your head back. You rolled your hips against the vibrating silicone. Fire igniting deep inside you. Lost in the feeling.

Art watched how you played with yourself on the toy. His cock begging for the same attention the vibrator was getting. He smacked the side of your thigh to get your attention. Pulling you from your horny, dumb state. Your eyes meeting his gaze. His brows furrowed together as he pointed down to his erect cock. You continued your motions as you reached around to unzip his clown suit. Sliding the satin off his shoulders. His pale, slender body revealing itself to you. Propping yourself up so he could shimmy the material around his ankles. Noticing how he wore no underwear under the suit. You smiled as you stared at his cock.

Your first orgasm was rapidly approaching with the pace of the toy pressed into you. Art's gloved hands guided you down onto his member. Throwing his head back as you sunk down. The way your walls sucked him right in. Almost like your body was begging to be fucked. He blinked hard, his jaw agape. Hands encouraging you to bounce up and down. From the first few hops your orgasm took over you. Moaning his name and shaking. Walls gripping his member inside you. Art licked his teeth, mocking your orgasm face.

You expected him to move the wand so that he could fuck you to his own high. However, he pressed it firmer into your aching nub. Your hips rutted forward. Shocked expression taking over your face as you panted above him. Sweat decorating your skin.

"I-I can't do an-another one," you pleaded with the Clown. Your senses in overdrive as your pussy still spasmed around him occasionally. He pouted, mocking your pleas. Nodding his head to tell you, you would be having another one. Shaking entirely as he began a relentless pace inside you. Snapping his hips flush against your ass with each aggressive thrust. You cried out with each crack of skin. Overwhelmed with how good he felt inside you.

Fingers dinging into his bare shoulders. Gripping him tight enough to break the skin. His own fingers held your hips with a bruising force as he continued bouncing you on him. Feeling yourself approach another orgasm. Air hitching in your throat feeling your skin burn with pleasure.

Art reached one of his hands up and wrapped it around your throat. Squeezing tighter than anyone had ever before. Having you seeing stars, feeling like you could faint at any moment. Truly taking your breath away from you.

HONK!

A silver horn was shoved in your face as he released your throat. Bringing you back to the situation. Also causing you to grip his member again. He mimed a laugh when your body jumped at the sudden noise.

His head fell back against the head of the couch as he savored the feeling of you wrapped around him. Knowing his end was approaching. Sloppily thrusting up into you, circling your clit with the want. Willing you to cum at the same time. You watched as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. Wishing you could lean forward and bite at his flesh. Decorate his skin with your markings. But you were far too close to your second high to change positions now.

Screaming out to him as you came far harder than the first time. You felt Art shoot up into you, spilling his hot seed into you. Continuing to thrust up into you as he rode out both your highs. Watching how he leaked out of you and pooled around his base. Smiling for a moment before his face fell flat. He helped you off his lap, sitting you beside him. Standing and attempting to reach his zipper on the back.

You stood and helped him. Making sure to pull the zipper away from his skin to prevent any accidents. Art turned and tipped his hat to you. You blushed as you stood in front of the man who just rocked your world.

You watched as he grabbed his black bag and threw it over his shoulder. Heading towards the door. Turning to blow a kiss at you one last time.

Catching it and placing it on your lips. Blowing one right back at him. He pretending to rub the blush off his cheeks.

And just as quick as he had entered he exited your home. You waved goodbye. Choosing not to question the stranger you had let into your home for a quick fuck.

Watching as he disappeared into the night.

~

[END]

// Thank you for reading! This is my first time writing for Art. You really gotta get creative when you can't use dialogue lol. I hope you enjoyed this story! I plan on writing more for him, so if you have any requests please send them my way! Or if you want to be tagged in anything let me know! //

{tags}

@hoe-for-daddywise | @cup1d-ends-here | @xenoanamorph | @getmeoutofhell |

[watchmegetobsessed]

MAKE HER REGRET IT

A/N: i was really in the mood for some smut and the neighbors trope popped into my head, so here we are!

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry, your freshly divorced, insanely hot neighbor needs your help: you have to pretend to be his new girlfriend when his ex-wife comes over, however your little stunt outdoes your expectations in a lot of ways.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It's a basic instinct for you at this point to look up at the balcony whenever you’re approaching your apartment building. However you’re not looking at yours, but the one next to yours that belongs to one hot, freshly divorced guy who moved in next door about two months ago. 

You remember the morning the moving truck appeared and you knew someone was taking the vacant apartment beside yours. You just arrived back from your morning run and you jumped right into guesses about who it will be. Maybe someone your age? A girl you can go to yoga with? Or a sweet old lady you can have tea with on warm afternoons? Hopefully not a noisy family, because the walls are way too thin to endure the screaming of a child. 

Then you saw him. Carrying a heavy looking box up the stairs, a simple white shirt stretching on his torso, tattooed arms flexing under the weight of the box, you knew you were fucked the first time you saw Harry Styles. 

It took you no time to lurk over the next day and introduce yourself as his neighbor. 

“If you need suggestions for coffee spots around the neighborhood, I’m your person,” you smiled at him charmingly as he stood in his doorway in gray sweats and a black t-shirt, hair messy but so delicious, it was screaming for your fingers to run through his locks. 

“I will definitely keep that in mind. I can offer to fix anything around your apartment, I’m kind of a handyman,” he chuckled and your knees almost buckled hearing his creamy british accent. 

Fate played on your hand, because you kept running into each other so it didn’t take long for you to go out for a coffee run together and it was smooth sailing from then. You learned about how he just got divorced, his wife cheated on him and he found out on their second anniversary, tragic story and you still can’t quite understand how any woman could cheat on a man like him. You practically drool every time you catch a glimpse of him arriving back from a run in nothing but a pair of shorts, his tanned skin glistening from sweat. You definitely love to move out to the balcony around the time he can be expected to appear in the late afternoon, you watch him stretch and breathe heavily and the sight alone makes you break a sweat as well, but for a whole different reason. 

You’ve been trying to flirt with him every possible occasion, but you also make sure you don’t come off too pushy. After all he just got out of a marriage, it must be hard on him to recover from being cheated on. There’s also a slight age difference between the two of you, not that dramatic, but that eight years could easily be a deal breaker for him, so you’ve been playing it safe. 

When you’re lying in bed late at night and sleep is not coming to you, you can’t help but think of how he is on the other side of the wall, you imagine him sleeping without a shirt, maybe thinking about you the way you like to think of him… But it’s all just a fantasy, one you fancy very much. 

The door to his balcony is open so you know he is home, but he is not out. You take your time walking up the stairs, your legs are definitely tired from the run you just had and just when you reach your floor Harry’s front door swings open and you stop, watching him walk over to your door. He didn’t notice you, so you stay still and watch him take a deep breath as he lifts his fist up to knock, but then it falls back to his side and he shakes his head, stepping backwards before returning to his spot on your doormat and that’s when you decide to put him out of his misery. 

“Are you out of sugar, neighbor?” you ask, slowly walking towards him. Harry spins around with a stunned expression. 

“Oh, I didn’t–I didn’t see you.” You catch his gaze running down your body and legs and you’re thankful you decided to wear your shortest shorts. 

Playing with your keys in your hands, you finally reach him. 

“What’s up?”

“Um… I have a bit of a situation on my hands and you might be able to help me.”

Unlocking the door you push it in and gesture for him to follow you inside. 

“Do tell me.”

Rounding your way into the kitchen you step to the fridge to grab some water. Harry hesitantly follows you and stops by the kitchen counter. 

“So, I talked to Rory this morning,” he starts. You’ve heard enough about Rory, his ex wife to know that if she’s involved, it’s for sure something messy. “You know that painting in my living room?” You nod. “Well, she insists it’s hers, because a friend of hers painted it, but I was the one who paid for it. Whatever. She’s been trying to get me to give it to her and honestly I’m over it so I gave in. She is picking it up today.”

“When will the part where I can help come?”

“Right here,” he chuckles nervously. “We got into a fight, no surprise. She screamed at me over the phone and told me I’ll die alone because no one can put up with my shit.”

You need to force yourself to swallow the bitterness in your mouth. That woman sounds very much like the spawn of the devil, because who would say that to anyone? Especially to Harry? Aside from being insanely hot you’ve also learned just how kind, passionate and funny he is, basically the whole deal. Rory is the biggest loser in history for letting go of a man like him. 

“One thing followed the other and I just… Um, I told her that I have someone.”

The light bulb switches on in your mind, because you already know where this is heading. And you like it, very much. 

“I don’t know what got into me, but I told her she can meet my alleged girlfriend when she picks up the painting so she can see herself that I’m not the loser she thinks I am. And… as you might now, I do not have anyone…”

“You want me to be your fake girlfriend,” you finish for him, saving him from having to say it out loud. You can see just how awkward he is, having to ask you for such a thing. 

“Basically, yeah. Only if you don’t mind being part of this shitshow. I understand if you find it weird and I don’t expect you to–”

“When should I be over at yours?” you simply ask and watch his eyes go wide. 

“Y-You will do it?”

“Sure, sounds fun. Besides, I’m curious to see the stupidest woman on earth,” you add smirking and he finally lets out a relieved laugh as well. 

“Thank you so much, Y/N. Really, I owe you big time. She’ll be here in about two hours.”

“Perfect. I’ll be there.”

For the next two hours, you do everything you can to bring out the hottest version of yourself. Hair, makeup, dress, everything is on spot when you step out of your apartment and walk over to Harry’s door, ringing the bell. 

When the door swings open and Harry sees you his mouth hangs open, giving you that one last ego boost you need to be the best possible fake girlfriend ever. 

“Satisfied with your girlfriend?” you ask, tilting your head. 

“I-I uh–Yeah! I’m… yes.”

“Can I go inside then?” you ask with a chuckle and he steps aside in a hurry.

“Sorry, yeah come inside.”

“So what’s the plan?” you ask, walking into his living room and making yourself comfortable on the couch. Harry follows, but he takes the armchair across you and you can tell he is still struggling with not ogling you, especially your exposed legs and deep cleavage the dress teases him with. 

“I don’t… I have no idea, I have never done this before.”

“I have.”

“Really?”

“Just once, in college. One of my friends broke up with a girl who did not take it well and I was his fake girlfriend for a week to get her to stop harassing him. It worked.”

“Then… I trust you with anything.”

“What’s the goal?”

Harry opens his mouth, but then closes, as if he is embarrassed to say what’s on his mind. 

“Harry, say it. I’m happy to help with anything.”

“I want to make her regret it.”

“Regret what she said?”

“Regret everything,” he corrects and when he looks you in the eye a shiver runs down your spine from the determination that’s behind his green irises. 

“Consider it done,” you smile at him devilishly. 

At your suggestion you both take a shot to ease your nerves and make it easier to lie. It seems to loosen him just enough that he doesn’t look like he is about to attend an interrogation. 

And then the bell rings. 

“Show time,” you smile at him and as he walks over to the door you take your place on the couch again. 

You hear the door open and then a female voice mixes with Harry’s before the footsteps follow. Harry comes into view first, but then Rory steps out from behind him and you see the pure shock in her eyes when she finally spots you. 

“Oh, hi!” you smile at her almost disgustingly sweetly as you stand from the couch and walk closer. “You must be Rony. I’m Y/N.” You hold out a hand for her and watch as her mouth twitches when she hears you mess her name up. 

“Rory,” she sassily says and shakes your hand at last. “So you’re the… girlfriend.” The disgust in her tone is apparent, she is not even trying to hide it and it just makes it way more enjoyable. 

“Yes and you must be the cheating ex-wife.”

Harry coughs beside you, he was not expecting you to be this blunt, but the look on Rory’s face is priceless, because she can’t deny what she is. Moving closer to Harry you wrap an arm around his waist and though at first he freezes at your closeness, he is quick to recover and join in on the act, his arm finding your waist as well. 

“The painting is over there, just take it and let’s get over with it, alright?” Harry nods towards the painting he already took off the wall, now it’s leant against the console table that’s been underneath it. 

“You didn’t even wrap it?” she scoffs. How am I supposed to take it like this?”

“Rory, I’m not a fucking gallery. You wanted the painting, take it.”

“It’s gonna be ruined if I just put it into my car like this!” she argues. 

“That’s none of my business.”

“Harry, this is so not okay! I can’t–”

“Jesus, Rory fine! I think I have some bubble wrap,” he grunts, heading into his bedroom to find something to wrap the painting in, leaving the two of you alone.

Rory gives you another long, dirty look, as if you were the woman Harry cheated on her with when she is the culprit of this mess here. 

“So how long have you been together?” she then asks, pretending like she is just chit chatting, but you know she is eager to know everything about you.

“A little over a month now. You know, I wasn’t looking for anything serious, but Harry is just the perfect guy and I couldn’t stay away from him.”

“Oh, he is not that perfect, little girl.”

It’s obvious she tried to derogate you by calling you a little girl, she must be around the age of Harry, not more than thirty-six for sure, but she can’t find anything to use against you other than the fact that you’re clearly in your twenties. How mature. 

“I know. But everything he can give me makes it worth it. And the sex, ah!”

She gives you a puzzled look. You knew this would stir her up, Harry mentioned how distant they grew in the last few months and sex wasn’t the same anymore. Looking at the timeline she must have started her affair around that time and Harry couldn’t perform the way he otherwise could because she wasn’t open to him anymore. It was a vicious cycle, but you also know Rory is the kind of woman who must have humiliated him because of that. Harry never said, but you just feel that she criticized his sexual performance when she left him even if it all happened because of her. 

And now hearing that he is giving his all to another woman is definitely something that can drive her nuts. 

“Oh please, he sucks in bed,” she scoffs.

“Not with the right partner. He is so good, I honestly don’t know how you could let go of him.”

“He couldn’t make me cum for months!”

“That’s unfortunate. I get an orgasm basically after every meal. He is so good at it, honestly, it’s like he just wants to please me every possible moment. I mean, I can’t remember a morning when I didn’t wake up with his head between my legs, he loves quickies, I have to sanitize the kitchen counter like twice a day.” You let out a chuckle and just watch as her face grows redder while staring at the kitchen counter, raging jealousy swirling in her mind for sure. It’s clearer than daylight that she didn’t cheat on him because he wasn’t manly enough, this woman is simply a stupid loser who couldn’t appreciate what she had, maybe panicked that she can’t mess around with others and then simply chose to ruin everything. 

You’re more than happy to remind her what she lost. 

“Alright, this is all I got,” Harry emerges from the bedroom with some bubble wrap he probably had left from moving, but when he sees you and Rory staring each other down, he stops. But before he could speak up, you decide to push that knife into Rory’s chest as your final move. 

Stepping over to Harry you push yourself up against him, he drops the bubble wrap and his hands grab you by the waist instantly, though you see confusion in his eyes before you take his face in your hands and pull him closer, lips pressing against his hungrily. 

It’s not a sweet, shy first kiss. This is the perfect show off, messy, passionate, full of tongue and eagerness as you practically devour each other. For a bit you forget about the show you’re putting up and it’s your real desire you’ve been fighting for weeks now. Every time you try to pull back Harry just keeps demanding more and you happily give him what he wants. He bites into your bottom lip when one of his hands moves down to your ass, giving it a not-at-all shy squeeze, making you moan into the kiss. 

It feels like it takes forever for you to stop, when you open your eyes you’re met with Harry’s hungry eyes, his lips are slightly swollen and shiny from your kisses. 

And then you remember you’re not alone. 

“Oh, fuck you. Fuck you both!” Rory pops the bubble around you and when you turn to look at her, she is already grabbing the painting, not even bothering to wrap it. 

“It was nice to meet you!” you call after her.

“Fuck you!” she repeats, marching towards the door and you’re just smirking like an idiot, pleased with yourself for pissing her off so badly. 

Harry follows her to shut the door behind her and you let yourself bathe in the sweet victory you just earned. 

“This went amazing, right? She was so mad, oh my God!” you laugh, but your smile quickly disappears when you realize the serious look on Harry’s face as he is walking back towards you. 

Shit, maybe the kiss was too much. He didn’t want it and now he is pissed at you.

“Are you mad about the kiss? I-I’m sorry if it was too–”

The words die down on your lips when they crash against his again, his hand cupping the back of your head while the other returns straight to your ass, groping you so hard your whole body smashes against his. 

Your mouth opens in surprise and it gives him the chance to push his tongue against yours, he is demanding, rough and so much more raw than what you imagined him to be like. 

“What did you tell her?” he asks against your mouth, moving you around until the small of your back hits the kitchen counter. “What did you tell her that made her so pissed?” he demands, his hand already eagerly moving underneath your dress. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

“I said, ah–I said I wake up every day with… your head between my legs, and… Oh fuck!” You’re losing your ability to speak your thoughts as his fingers start circling, the fabric of your underwear is so drenched, if you could think straight you might be embarrassed just how aroused he made you so fast. 

“And?” he urges you to continue, but at the same time he pushes your underwear to the side and pushes two fingers into you without warning, making you gasp so loud that people on the street must have heard it through the open balcony door. 

“A-and that you fuck me on the… the kitchen counter all the time.”

He curls his fingers inside you as he keeps talking.

“Then that’s what I’ll do to you now. Are you okay with that?” he asks and you nod eagerly as you hold onto his broad shoulders. 

The next moment he pulls his hand back and you whine, feeling empty all of a sudden, but then he lifts you up and makes you sit on the counter, he lowers himself and places your legs over his shoulders with careful, but confident moves. You grab onto his hair as he pushes his head between your thighs and his mouth meets your clit. 

“Oh, fuck! Harry!” you gasp out, tugging on his hair as he swirls his tongue against your swollen clit, his fingers teasing your hole again. Then they push into you and he sucks on your clit, making you see stars. 

You imagined him to be skilled, but whatever it is he is doing to you, it feels out of this world and now you know you weren’t wrong when you praised him that much to Rory before. 

You’re totally out of breath when he comes up, he kisses you and you can taste yourself on his tongue, your hands impatiently tug on his shirt to get rid of it. Soon the fabric lands on the tiled floor and you map out every inch of his hard chest with your palm and while you keep kissing like there’s no tomorrow, you faintly hear the zipper of his pants come undone. 

You look him in the eyes when you reach down and take his hard length into your hands and you can’t hold back a gasp when you realize just how big he is. 

“I know you can take it, baby,” he coos, kissing the corner of your mouth and you’re ready to take him right then and there, but he moves back, making you reach for him in panic. “Condom,” he says and you lean back onto your elbows with a sigh as you watch him disappear in his bedroom. You have just a few seconds you process that here you are, on top of Harry’s kitchen counter, with your dress bunched up around your waist, your drenched pussy on show, waiting to be fucked properly. You definitely did not expect this outcome when you woke up this morning, but you’re not complaining. 

Then Harry appears and he is walking over to you, completely naked, his dick in his hands as he rolls the condom on while moving and you bite into your bottom lip, hoping to remember this view until the end of time. 

When he reaches you again he simply curls his arms around your thighs and tugs on you so you get closer to the edge. His erection wedges between your wet folds and the tip pokes against your clit, making you clench around nothing. 

“I have to admit, I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on this counter since the day I moved in and saw you for the first time.”

“Just on the counter?” you ask teasingly. 

“Every surface of this fucking apartment,” he admits with no remorse.

“Make a list then and I’m more than happy to do them all. But let’s tick the counter off first.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

He reaches down and circles his thumb against your clit a bit before grabbing his dick by the base and dragging it up and down your cunt a few times before pushing the head in first, letting you adjust to his thickness first. When you claw at his chest he takes it as a sign to go deeper and he keeps pushing until you take his whole length, feeling fuller than ever before. 

“I want to go hard,” he breathes out, staying still for now.

“Go hard then. I can take it,” you assure him, though you do have doubts feeling just how stretched out you are now. 

“Of course you can. You’re my good girl,” he praises you and before you could get a word out, he pulls back and slams into you hard. 

There are moments when you actually think you’re about to burst, Harry did not joke when he said he wants to go hard, his thrusts are fast and rough and he makes sure he buries his whole length into you every time he pushes into you. At one point he pulls your legs over his shoulders and it allows him to reach a point in you no one has before and it pushes you towards the edge rapidly. The counter is painfully hard underneath you, but you somehow forget about the pain and only focus on how hard Harry is railing into you. His stamina is incredible, your body already feels like goo and you’re not even doing the actual work. 

“Harry, I’m so close,” you moan and his fingers dig deeper into your thighs at your words. 

“Come around my cock, baby. I wanna feel you squeeze me.”

You cry out his name again, a tear rolling down your cheek, because you’re so desperate to let go. Harry moves a hand to where you meet and his thumb returns to your clit and that’s what throws you over the edge. 

Your back arches and you squeeze around him uncontrollably, gasping for air as he ruthlessly keeps fucking into you. 

“That’s it, baby. You look so fucking beautiful, coming on my cock.”

You can’t stop moaning as you ride out your orgasm. The last waves are washing over your body when his movements fall out of rhythm, he slams into you hard and he sucks on his breath before moaning out your name over and over again, pushing into you a few more times as he comes. He falls forward, his face burying into your heaving chest as he tries to catch his breath along with you. There’s a long minute of silent bliss, his cock is still inside you, his lips peppering soft kisses onto the skin that’s exposed on your chest while you’re mindlessly playing with his hair. 

When he straightens up he pulls out of you, the empty feeling hitting you again. He carefully helps you off the counter, but keeps his arms around you, because when your feet hit the floor you wobble. 

Nuzzling your nose against his chest you take the cross pendant on his necklace between your teeth and pull back, looking him in the eyes. 

“Don’t do that, or we’re moving to the next place on the list.”

Giggling you let go of it and push yourself up to steal a kiss. 

“Give me some time to recover, but I’m all in to check out another place.”

“Jesus, I knew you’d be the death of me the moment I saw you,” he breathes out, before his mouth claims yours hungrily. 

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[mywritersmind]

CURB FLIRTING - LN4

summary : In which Lando finds a girl crying on the side of the road and decides to help her a bit.

listen up : this is the cutest thing i’ve ever written. no pt.2‼️

word count : 1438

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Tears stream down my face, I try to control my breathing but I'm still in shock. Even though I'm sobbing, I want to laugh.

I’m sitting on a curb outside of a club, it’s gross and there’s cigarette butts by my feet. I can only smell alcohol and the scent of my vanilla perfume.

I want to rip it off my body. I try to take a deep breath but my chest hurts and I start coughing. People around me ask if I'm okay but when I nod they leave.

Until a man’s shoes appear in front of me, “Are you alright?” I look up, breathing heavily still before nodding and looking back down at his shoes. I like them.

He sits next to me, “You sure?” He has an accent. British, I think.

“No.” I laugh as he cracks a smile.

“I’m Lando.” He holds out his hand for me to shake, so I do. His ring is cold against my burning skin. When I meet his eyes again, I realize they’re green and unfairly stunning.

In fact, his whole face is stunning. He’s got curly hair, dark and mullet-ish, his clothes are light and his jewelry is nice.

“I’m Y/n.” I sniffle, wiping a tear from my face, “I like your shoes.”

He smiles again, “Thank you. I like your dress.” I glance down to my bare legs, hot and uncomfortable with the icy air. He seems to notice my body language and shrugs off his jacket, laying it over my legs.

I frown, crying more, “Hey- I didn’t mean to make it worse.” He looks genuinely worried.

“You didn’t. I’m just- Thank you.” He nods, “I’m kinda embarrassed.”

“No need. Plenty of strangers have seen me cry.” He shrugs, eyeing my hair and earrings, “You don’t need to worry though, you’re a pretty crier.”

I let out a laugh, something I haven’t done for a few hours, “I doubt you aren’t.” His presence is oddly comforting yet also awkward because I was bawling in front of him.

His smile is kind and soft while his body looks sharp and hard. “You flatter me, Y/n.” I like the way he says my name. But that could just be because of my tears.

“What’s your deal, Mr. Lando no last name?” My eyes are still wet but my tears are no longer falling, “Are those your friends?”

We both look over to the group on the other side of the road, three men staring. Lando eyes them but quickly looks back at me, “Uh, yeah.”

“Do they think a twenty four year old woman is going to hurt you?” I look at them again, “Because they sure are protective.”

He laughs, “Protective is a good word for it. Where are your friends?” This makes me frown and he sees it instantly, “Are you visiting Monaco?”

I nod, “Yeah. Are you?”

He shakes his head, “I live here.” My eyes instinctively widen at this. He looks young. I mean, he could be studying here I guess but still.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty five.” This makes my brows pull together, he laughs at this.

“Are you… rich?” I whisper it as if it’s illegal.

He leans it a bit close, “Sort of.”

I hum, “How…?”

“I’ll tell you if you come and sit in my car with me.” I raise a brow at this, crossing my arms, “I promise it’s just because I'm worried you’re gonna catch a cold.” I look at him skeptically too, “You can hold my keys if it makes you feel better.”

I stand, holding his jacket close to me as he drops his keys into my hand. I stare down at them, blink. “A McLaren?” I roll my eyes.

“An eye roll is not the usual reaction I get for that!” He starts walking and I follow him.

“Oh, so you bring all the girls you find crying in the street into your car?” He eyes me, a slight smirk on his face.

“Only the pretty ones.”

I roll my eyes, “You’re going to let a stranger take the keys to your McLaren?” He just shrugs.

“I know your name. You know mine.”

He lets me sit in the driver's seat, he turns the car on and Mamma Mia starts blasting. “Shit.” He mumbles, turning it down quickly as I giggle.

“A musical fan…?” His face is serious and definitely embarrassed. I can’t help but laugh more, “Okay, Okay. How are you, Mr. very mysterious Lando no last name, rich?”

He stretches his arms up, grinning but staying silent. Oh god. He’s fit as hell.

“Oh no.” I feel doom approaching me.

“What?” he asks.

“Don’t tell me you’re a footballer.”

He looks horrified, “An american footballer?” I did forget about that one little difference between us. “Why would I be an American footballer?”

“Well you’re-” He raises a brow as I groan, “You clearly work out.” He laughs at me. “Lando! I’m serious, you’re an athlete aren’t you? Oh god I don’t want to know. Do you play soccer? You’ve got the height for it.”

His jaw is dropped at this point, “Calling me hot then calling me short is insane!”

“I did not say, ‘hot’!” I scoff, turning towards him, “Tell me what you really do then. Are you in the Mafia?”

He sighs, leaning his head against the glass of his car. I hadn't realized before, but I'm much more comfortable here. Well, I suppose a McLaren has got to be more comfortable than a street corner.

It’s quieter and definitely warmer. Plus, I do feel safe with Lando which is a bit odd because I just met the guy.

“I’m a formula 1 driver.”

Oh?

“Oh.” I nod. I don’t know anything about motorsport so I'm a bit lost, but I guess I got my answer, “So you drive cars?”

He looks happy at my answer, his smile making my cheeks heat, “Yeah… Yeah I drive cars.”

Lando Norris.

An interesting name for an interesting man. We stay in his car for another… hour? I don’t know. I lose track of time when Lando starts telling me about everywhere he’s traveled.

He lets me rant or stay silent, something I've been waiting for all night. Or maybe all my life.

He leaves me for five minutes alone, in which I peek around his car, finding absolutely nothing but a golf ball and a bag of chips. He comes back with a smile on his face and an ask.

I move to the passenger seat, saying hi to his friends. He said that he wanted me to feel safe and after the conversation with his friends, I really do. I don’t think I've ever laughed harder at a man’s friend group.

He plays ‘Thank you for the music’ on low while I look out the window, my hair blowing in the wind.

“Hey uh-” he clears his throat, “Could I get your number? Just to check in tomorrow.” I bite my lip as he hands me his phone, smiling to myself as I type in my number.

“Dont abuse it.” I joke as he taps his finger against the wheel.

He's grinning again, “Can’t promise anything.”

I sigh, watching the city pass by me, some of the boats on the water quiet and some bright and loud. I like it here. Even if me crying had to get me in such a good mood.

“Thanks for driving me.”

“Of course, I hope to do it again, one day.”

“You know we're probably not going to see eachother again, right?” I see the corner of his mouth quirk downwards, “I’m going home tomorrow.”

“And I have access to private planes.” He shrugs as I scoff.

“Lando. I just met you. What if I was some crazy stalker?” Does this man not know stranger danger?

He eyes me, “Well, are you?”

“No…”

“So,” he glances at me, a curl falling into his face, “I'll see you soon.”

Sadly, my hotel isn’t far and when he pulls up to the front, I get an odd sensation of sadness washing over me. “Want me to walk you up?”

I shake my head, “You’ve done enough for me.” I lean over the middle console and press a soft kiss to his cheek, “Have a good night, Lando.”

“You too, Y/n.” I grab my bag, and slip out the expensive car, looking back one last time to see Lando watching me. His eyes are meaningful and something I have a feeling I won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part Nine: The Expo

Your eyes widen to saucers as you climb out of John’s work van. The event hall in front of you is huge - the largest in the city. A big, glass dome with a high-end hotel attached. It glows in the morning sun. Lines of people have already formed out front. You passed them on your way around to the vendor entrance. It’s the twentieth anniversary for the Tattoo Expo, apparently, which means they expect massive crowds.

“I hate that Kyle couldn’t come.” You frown as a security worker hands over your badge. It’s fancy - heavy weight with brightly colored, neo-traditional graphics. Something about having the word VENDOR hanging around your neck makes your heart skip.

John sighs, heaving one of the boxes of his books onto your dolly. “Yeah. He tried but he couldn’t get his head out of the toilet long enough to do much of anythin’.”

You wrinkle your nose. Apparently he had caught some nasty stomach bug, poor guy. You thought about calling and checking in on him, but you worried that was too clingy. After… everything, you don’t want to come off as anything other than normal about it. Which you are. Totally normal.

At least Johnny was home for the day to help him out.

“Has Simon ever come?” You ask, titling the dolly pack to push into the convention hall.

John’s arms flex as he fights with his rolling tool box to get the handle back out so he can pull it. He just had to wear a sleeveless muscle tee, didn’t he? It’s rude, frankly. You look over his more rarely exposed shoulder and upper arm pieces - some more faded than others. Some more colorful, some better crafted. Part of you wants to reach out - to trace them the same way you want to with Simon. You want to ask him in detail about each one. Maybe he’ll let you, someday.

“Can you actually picture Simon in a convention hall?” He chuckles eventually, finally getting the toolbox rolling properly.

You laugh. “Guess not.”

The 141 booth sits in the center of the floor, surrounded by a few other big-name shops and figures in the community. You glance around at them, only recognizing a few. You don’t get much time to look around. There are only a couple hours designated for set up and you have to help hang all the flash options, get the cash box sorted, and be ready for the flood when it comes. You’ve mentally prepared for chaos, reading through pretty much every reddit and twitter thread you could find about convention disasters. You know that won’t happen here, and even if something did, John wouldn’t abandon you to it. Still, you feel better being mentally prepared for anything - no matter how unrealistic.

“Why do you still do these?” You ask, pinning one of the large flash sheets to the display board. “I mean - you don’t exactly have to get your name out there.”

“I enjoy them- the community. I was here when this was still bein’ held underground in an old warehouse.” John looks around, eyes scanning the rows of artists. He doesn’t share his thoughts, just stands there quietly for a moment with his hands on his hips. After a few beats he grumbles quietly, “Gettin’ old…”

You focus on setting up the front table where you’ll be stationed. John brought a few prints of work as well as several copies of his book. He brought a few signed ones as well, only selling them for about twenty more bucks than the usual price. You asked why he doesn’t mark them up more, but he just shrugged you off with a mutter of ‘I’m not all that’ before moving on to another task. You decided it was best not to argue that he is, indeed, all that. His books are literally filled until the late fall.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so proud of setting up a decently aesthetically pleasing display all on your own when you’re surrounded by real artists, but you still grin wide with your hands on your hips. It’s simple, with cards for each of the boys lining one sit and a roll of tattoo tickets for the day beside the cash box. The table cloth with the shop’s name looks nearly identical to the sign. One might call it lazy marketing, you find it charming.

“Somethin’ happen with you and Kyle?” John asks suddenly, back turned as he messes with something in his rolling tool box full of supplies.

You freeze, eyes wide and mouth dry. Did Kyle say something? You thought you’d been normal about it. Kyle hadn’t acted any differently - which shouldn’t have hurt your feelings - and you were sure you’d met him with the same level of normalcy. The past weeks race through your mind. Every moment, every interaction, picking each apart into threads in milliseconds.

“Uh, no? Why?” It comes out squeaky. Unsure. Lord, you really are a terrible liar.

John hums. He’s quiet for barely a beat, a moment that seems to stretch for lifetimes. You can almost feel your cells aging while you wait. “You’ve been quieter than usual around him. Just wanted t’make sure.”

“Oh.” Had you? You thought you’d been the same as always. Both of you totally moved on from… the incident. Well, except for those few times you caught yourself staring - zoning out while thinking about the way his lips pressed to yours. Imagining Kyle pulling you into the back room again. Another kiss with less nervousness and more heat. Actually bending you over the desk properly-

“Y’with me, love?” John snaps you back to reality.

“Yeah!” You jump and stutter. “Yeah. No. We’re fine. I’m… fine.”

You wonder if the giant guy in the weird homemade mask at the booth across from yours would smash your head in if you paid him. Let him free you from the torment of embarrassment. It had been eating away at you, if you’re honest with yourself, and now lying right to John’s face just feels… awful. He’ll find out. You know he will. Maybe he already knows as that was a test. Fuck if it was, you totally just failed.

The clock turns to nine, and you have no choice but to let that be a problem for your future self.

Something you realize rather quickly as the attendees begin to flood the hall is that John is a god here. People don’t meet his eye. They speak meekly, even to you, with voices low and faces flushed. The line for your booth stretches down the walkway as soon as the doors open - appointment tickets practically flying out of your hands. You overhear a pair of friends muttering about sleeping outside overnight to get in early enough for John’s booth. It makes your head spin.

You wonder if they’d still act that way if they saw him snoring open-mouthed at the desk in the back room mid-afternoon.

“Thought I heard 141 got a new front desk girl.” A syrupy southern accident lilts above you just as you finish selling tickets. He’s handsome. Blonde and blue eyed with a little scar gracing his cheekbone. Not much younger than John, you don’t think. Probably around Simon’s age.

You slip on your usual customer service smile. “Hello! How can I-”

“Graves.” John grunts behind you, not even looking up from the work in front of him. “What d’you want?”

“Just wanted to come see how you were.” The man - Graves - grins wide. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “And to meet your new front of house. Philip.”

You take the hand he holds out, giving a perfunctory shake and your name. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that John doesn’t like this guy, whoever he is, and you’re inclined to trust his judgement. You opt for basic small talk. “Are you an artist?”

Graves nods. “I own Shadow & Co. It’s a few blocks over from your place.”

Oh. You’d heard of them. They came highly recommended when you were looking for artists in the area initially. In the end you opted for John based entirely on vibes. The Shadow building is far too modern - to minimalist - for your liking. Too corporate.

“Y’know, we’re looking for a new desk girl as well.” Graves smiles. You do your best not to sneer at his use of desk girl. “We’re growing pretty quick - even if you wanted to split your time-”

“She’s full time with us.” John snaps - blatant irritation lining the edges of his voice. He still doesn’t turn around.

The blonde man pauses, glancing between you. Something passes over his eyes - some implicit knowing that you don’t quite get - but it’s gone just as fast as it came. He digs into his pocket, flipping open a too-new wallet and pulling out a business card. “Well, if you ever want to work somewhere more exciting-” you nearly laugh at that. “-give us a call, hm?”

You glance up to his face, then back down at the card. John’s tattoo gun continues to buzz behind you, but you can tell he’s slowed down. He’s listening. Before even really thinking you extend your hand, pushing the card he holds away from you.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m very happy here.”

Philip scoffs, dropping the card on the table. “Keep us in mind, yeah?”

He disappears into the crowd easily - blending in just like his shop’s namesake. Your nose wrinkles. You snatch up the card and tear it in two. “Dickhead.”

You think you hear John chuckling behind you, but can’t be sure over the roar of the convention.

The day flies by - people bustle by your booth. You run out of signed books just over halfway through - prints not long after. Your voice feels hoarse from talking to so many people. The hall has grown quite hot and you’re sure that your hair looks insane at this point. Either way, you’re having a great time. You get to talk to a with full body trash polka that you like for some reason. You get to meet one of the people involved in the stage competition - her massive thigh piece holding some of the best color work you’ve ever seen. All in all, despite the discomfort, you think this ranks in your top ten favorite days. Maybe top five.

“Excuse me?” Murmurs a voice so soft you almost miss it entirely over the roar of the convention. When you look up, you’re met with a painfully young face. Definitely not old enough for the 17+ entrance requirement.

“Hi!” You put on your warmest smile. “How can I help you?”

“I, uh, I was just…” They stutter, shifting in place. “I- Are there any signed copies left?”

You look them over, a too-familiar pang in your chest. You know those eyes, that anxiety. The jumpy way they look around at the people passing by and tug at their sleeves. Your teeth sink into your lip and you look over at the three blanks that make up your entire left over stock. Glancing over your shoulder, you see John finishing with his current client - giving the man a firm handshake before turning to clean up his station. There’s a fifteen minute break until the next one - his last for the night - and as much as you don’t want to take up his precious little time to set up…

“Let me check!” You squeak, shaky as you grab one of the blanks with all the subtlety of a brick over the head and cross the few feet over to where John sits. You lean over to speak in his ear, low enough that the kid won’t hear you. “John?”

“Hm?” He hums, turning slightly on his stool.

“Can you sign this one?” You chew your lip. “I know you had a set amount but this kid looks so…”

He glances behind you at the teenager in question, bashfully staring at their feet.

“I’m sorry, I know you need to set up for the next-”

John cuts you off by taking the book from your hands and standing.

“Thanks, dove.” He gives you that lovely, warm smile and rolls his shoulders before making his way over to the front table.

The teenager’s eyes go so wide you think they might pop out of their head. You decide to hang back and not interrupt their moment. John sets the book on the table and grabs a sharpie from your back up stash of pens. The kid mumbles something you can’t understand. John’s voice lowers as well. You can’t hear them, but you watch John scrawl something in the book and hand it over. He pushes away the crumpled, messy wad of cash the teenager tries to give him, shaking his head and saying something else that you don’t catch. The kid looks like they’re about to cry, a wide, wet grin splitting their face as they say goodbye and practically prance away.

You melt, shoulders slouching and what you’re sure is a very stupid smile breaking out across your lips. You don’t know why you doubted him for even a moment.

“What’s that face?” John scoffs, cocking a brow at you.

“Nothing.” You shake your head and re-take your spot at the table.

The ending of the convention is rather uneventful. Some of the other booths begin clearing up early. You take the time to count the cash box - which is absolutely stuffed to the brim. John rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck about five times in the span of a few minutes. Maybe you could convince them to do a company yoga class. It’s easy to see how tense and tired they get. You file that idea away for later.

Luckily most of the booth set up belonged to the venue and, since you sold out of books and prints, you don’t have haul those back to the van. All you have to take is John’s rolling toolbox and tattooing table. All things that easily fit in your bag and dolly. Thank god. Neither of you speak much on the drive back to the shop - opting for comfortable silence. Your ears ring ever so slightly from the noise of the convention hall. When you were in it, you hadn’t realized just how loud it was. John’s eyes are locked on the road, the slight glow from the setting sun warming his skin.

The sun just disappears over the horizon as you put the last of the equipment in the backroom - stacked rather messily but that’s another problem for future you. You’ve been working for a grand total of fourteen hours and, somehow, it still has yet to hit you. Adrenaline and excited energy still pulse under your skin.

John sighs loudly, crossing each arm over his chest to stretch them out. “Could really go for a scotch right now. You want a nightcap?”

Your cheeks warm, still riding high from the excitement of the day you agree easily. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

He gives you a gentle smile, softened further by the low street lights. “Let me show you a spot.”

The place John leads you to is small. Local. You sit at the bar and take a moment to look around. Three pool tables take up half the floor space. It looks like a small tournament is going on - a white board showing the matches and who will go against who next. Two ski-ball machines are tucked in a corner beside the bathroom, currently taken up by two younger men who you aren’t completely sure are drinking age. The lights and music are both low. One of the bartenders is posted up on the opposite end of the bar with two other people watching Shin Godzilla on the mounted television. It’s cozy and oh-so very John Price.

You get an easy sipper, something fruity and sweet as a treat for the long day you’ve had. It’s nice against the warmth of the summer evening. A heat that’s only aggravated by the one that settles in your spine whenever the guys are around. John especially.

“Think that kid was a little young for the event…” You blurt in a poor attempt to make conversation.

John nods along. “Definitely.”

“That was really nice of you. I didn’t want to… I don’t know.” You murmur, unsure why exactly the words won’t stop. You blame the drinks and exhaustion. Seems realistic enough. “They just seemed so sad.”

“Wasn’t nice. Just the right thing t’do.” John shrugs. His words come slow, almost as if he’s unsure if he should say them. Though, you find it hard to believe he has ever been unsure about anything in his life. “I know what its like… to need t’escape. Lied about my age just to enlist.”

Your eyes widen. “R-really?”

He hums. “They didn’t care much back then.”

For some reason you never thought about John’s childhood - his homelife. You know he has a mom somewhere. Kyle let it slip a couple of times - said she’s a really good cook. John doesn’t volunteer information about himself often, you gathered that much. He’s worse than Simon, somehow, which says a fucking lot.

“Did-” you mull over your words. “You didn’t grow up around here, yeah?”

It’s a clumsy attempt at getting him to talk, but it works well enough. He nods. “Hereford. My mum’s still out there.”

Score. “Do you visit her much?”

John shrugs, chuckling. “When I can. I could move back home and it wouldn’t be enough for her.”

You snicker.

“She’s the best woman I’ve ever known…” He murmurs, eyes far away. It’s only for a moment, but they look past you. Defocused in a way that seems to out of character for the hyper-aware man.

Your faces are close. Hunched in like school kids exchanging secrets and gossip during recess. Your eyes dart from his to his lips and back. It’s confusing. All of this. The intimacy you have with each of them in these moments is overwhelming. You like Kyle - you liked kissing Kyle - you really shouldn’t be wanting that from your boss, though. A co-worker is bad enough but John… John is off limits. You know that. Even so, you find yourself subconsciously leaning just a bit closer, eyes roving over the freckles you don’t see standing further away and the grey flecks in his eyes. You think, for barely a millisecond, that he leans in too.

Until he sits up straight, tossing back what little is left of his drink. “Let’s head out. Could go for a smoke.”

You nod, swallowing down your thoughts and following him out of the bar like a lost puppy. You’d follow him to the end of the earth, you think. Even if it hurts that you can’t get as close as you want, you’d go anywhere for him. Yeah, that’s definitely the drink and tiredness talking. Part of you also knows that it is undoubtedly true.

John rounds a corner to the side of the bar. It’s moderately lit, a single street lamp just down the way giving you just enough light to see. You lean against the wall beside John, the exhaustion beginning to cling to your eyes.

“Are you?” John asks suddenly.

“Hm?” You hum, unsure of what he’s asking about.

“Happy here?” He cuts the end off a cigar he pulled from the silver box that lives in his back pocket.

In the low light of the alley, his pupils overtake most of his irises. Dark and intense as he looks you over from head to toe. You see it, suddenly. The god that the others do. He’s not as physically large as Simon, or as loud as Johnny, but he fills every inch of any space he enters regardless. You suppose you became so used to being in that radius that you forgot just how much presence he carries. You’ve wrapped yourself in it like a blanket. A shield.

Your cheeks warm and you shuffle your feet. “I… yeah.”

“Good.” John sighs out a cloud of smoke. “It’d be a pain in the arse to replace you. The boys care about you too much.”

You stare up at him. You can feel something on the edge of his tone - some weight that you don’t understand. There always seems to be another layer to the things he says. Implications that you can’t understand, context that you’re missing. Part of you wants to ask, needs to ask, but the words get stuck in your throat. What would you say? You’re not even entirely sure what you need to ask. You know they care about you, and you care for them in turn, so why does it feel like there’s something missing?

“Does the boys include you?” You blurt, one again wishing that big guy from the convention was here to smash your head in like wile e. cayote and the anvil.

He looks you up and down, slightly taken aback while you debate on bolting. “Thought that was obvious.”

You scoff, still flustered. “You’re hard to read.”

“Am I, now?”

You nod. A comfortable silence falls over you, despite the awkwardness surely emanating from you. Your lip catches between your teeth, eyes on your feet. “John?”

“Dove?” He tilts his head, once again leaning ever so slightly closer to you.

“Thank you. For everything.” You murmur, voice low and unsure. “It’s… it’s really good here.”

“Think nothin’ of it, love.”

You look up at those pretty blue eyes. They always make your chest ache with some deep hole you haven’t been able to pin down. At first you could blame it on wanting to do well - to be a good employee. It’s more than that, though. It starts in your chest and seeps it’s way through the rest of you. A want. A craving. That’s the word. You crave those eyes on you. The weight of his hands, the fortitude of him.

You’re not sure who closes the gap - whether it’s you or him - but either way it closes. It’s too natural for the context of your relationship. You slot together too well. It’s not like with Kyle. John carries an intensity with him that Kyle never could. His beard scratches not unpleasantly. His lips are warm - you can taste hints of scotch and his cigar. He smells of spice and earth. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders - unsure of where to put them.

This is wrong. It’s messy. You already lied about Kyle, which he’ll surely find out. If he hasn’t already. What about Johnny? Or Simon? Will they think less of you? Are you less for this? For impulsively kissing your boss in some back alley? Will Kyle be angry if he finds out? Your thoughts surge, all chaotic waves crashing against each other in an attempt to make sense of this situation you find yourself in.

John’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer into him. Your arms drape around his neck as you push onto your tips toes to meet him.

That’s a problem for future you.

A/N: Sorry this part took so long, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to escalate it or not but I want to get a move on with these boys

[acoazlove]

A New Place | part two

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Summary: Months after a horrible birthday, you’re happy with new friends, but soon you’ll find out that you have to face your family once again.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

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It’s been three months and they haven’t come to see you. Not a single one of them. So either they don’t care and haven’t looked for you, or they just can’t find you. However, that’s a stupid thought because they could send Azriel, he is the spymaster after all.

You have to keep telling yourself you don’t care because it's easier that way. Thinking about it for too long would cause you to spiral. One that you’re not sure you could get out of.

On the bright side of all of this, you’ve made friends with your coworkers, and know a few regulars by name.

Benny has been the most helpful through it all. Was there even when you were being stubborn and trying to pull away completely. Trying to isolate yourself so nothing and no one can hurt you again.

The first week after you had moved into the apartment above the bar—which isn’t nearly as bad as it sounds—she taught you how to pour drinks, what bottle is what on the shelf, how to clean glasses efficiently, but best of all, how to deal with all kinds of fae who decide to wander in. The worst of which were creepy males who couldn’t take no for an answer.

Benny kept your mind busy, doing anything and everything she could, giving you advice despite not asking for it. One of the most freeing feelings was no guilt when you went shopping for the first time since being on your own, now you don’t feel like you owe anyone when you spend a single dollar.

Your coworkers were the next best thing for getting your mind away from your family. Odessa—the black-haired female—is probably your favourite person other than Benny. She looked quite intimidating at first but once you got to know her she was a sweetheart—kind and funny. Quick to make you feel at home. She is also a busybody, not that you complain.

Speaking of Odessa, she’s standing in front of you, her hip leaning on the edge of the bar, animatedly moving her hands as she ranted about her latest experience with ‘irritating males’ as she so kindly put it.

“Gods, then he tried to buy me a drink even though I told him I wasn’t interested again.” Exasperated, she finishes her story with a scoff and an eye-roll. You purse your lips and lift your guilty gaze to meet hers, the female tilts her head at your expression, and her mouth drops open, “Were you not listening to me?” she exclaims.

You place the glass that you were drying down on the bar top. A heavy breath leaving you and an apologetic look on your face, “I was Dessa, I promise. I just got in my head.” Mumbling the last part. A playful glare graces her features, and then a smile tugs at the corner of her lips, “You're lucky you’re good at your job. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be so nice.” A snort escapes you at that.

Just as you were about to retort, a hand harshly claps your shoulder, “She is good at her job, but she won’t be if she keeps getting distracted by you. Now go on.” The deep voice shoos her away. Frowning in return, she grabs a tray of drinks and stalks off with a crude gesture thrown over her shoulder at him.

You turn to see scruffy brown hair and tanned skin—Dominic. who is the biggest and most intimidating male you’ve ever seen, also an older male, with faint lines on his scowling face. He still won't tell you how old he is. You'd have to guess he's older than the males in the inner circle.

He raises his eyebrows at you. Flushing slightly upon realising that he must have asked you a question, while you were lost in thought. Again.

A sharp exhale passes through his lips, waving a hand in exasperation, “Can you please go check on the boys in the back? They're taking far too long to just bring out a couple of crates of booze.” With a curt nod, you turn and head into the kitchen.

Scanning the room, you find the two males you were sent to find. Oberon and Tarian, chatting away while seated in the corner. You arch a brow at the sight, arms crossing over your chest. The huff you let out pulls their attention to you, a friendly smile from Tarian and a feline smirk from Oberon sent your way.

“Dominic wants to know what’s taking you so long to get the new crates of liquor.” Grimaces shift their expressions. They share a look before turning back to you. Oberon's cropped blonde hair falls across his forehead at the movement, blue eyes meeting your own. Lips pulled into his previous smirk. “Wasn't Adem supposed to help?”

An incredulous look twists your features. “Just do it.” You grumble before turning to leave. “y/n.” Tarian’s raspy voice grabs your attention. Pale skin glimmering in the soft lights, “Cover for us?” mousy-coloured curls bouncing slightly with a tilt of his head. Grey eyes glittered with mischief.

You scoff before you exit the kitchen. “No. I got in trouble last time.” snickers are heard from behind you at that, though you do hear bottles clink together, indicating they had finally decided to do their job.

Blue hair flashes across your vision, Benny stepping into your path. “Break time.” voice with a singsong tone. Just as you're about to argue that you had your last one not too long ago, she cuts in. “Your last break was about five hours ago.” her arms folded over her chest.

Eyes widening before giving her a small defeated nod, you follow her to the bar's entrance, passing Adem on the way. The red-haired male gives you a smile, which you return as you pass through the door.

─

The inner circle has been miserable, sulking over every word you had yelled at them. Truly realising their own mistakes soon after the door had slammed closed behind them. Not going to look for you, with the excuse of wanting to give you space. Three months of space isn’t enough it seems.

Azriel immediately sent a few shadows after you to make sure you’d be okay. Well as okay as one could be after a horrific birthday. Those same shadows hadn’t left your side since. You haven’t noticed them yet, but it was only a matter of time before you did. Swirling dark tendrils aren’t exactly the most discrete thing when one is walking in broad daylight.

He had felt horrible that he hadn’t said anything when you looked at him that night. He just couldn’t bring himself to say that he was the only one who didn’t forget your day. Or the fact he had gotten you a present and hadn’t given it to you. The day after you left, he had given the present to Benny to give to you, which she did, but fulfilled his wish to not say it was from him. Already Feeling bad enough for not giving you it himself.

Walking down the cobbled streets of Valaris was something he and his brothers had done for years, though since Rhys had been crowned high lord, it was rare for them to get that time. The three of them looking for a place to maybe have lunch, or just sit and have a nice chat. Any excuse to spend just a couple more hours together. Their mates had sent them off so they could have a ‘girls’ day’ at home, which is most likely a cover to plan how to make it up to you.

A pointy elbow jabs Azriel in the ribs, pulling him out of his thoughts with a pained grunt. Glaring up at his brother, Cassian only replies with a snort. “What was that for?” Azriel grits out, hand rubbing his side.

“You’re brooding. No brooding on boys’ day.” At his words, a chuckle escapes from Rhysand who’s on Cassian’s otherside.

“I am not brooding.” Azriel grumbles. “Fine then, moping.” Cassian’s words have that same teasing tone as when they’re sparring, trying to rile him up as much as possible

Opening his mouth to growl out a retort, shining blue hair flashes from across the street at a Cafe, catching Cass’ attention. “Benny!” His booming voice yells towards her.

Head snapping in the direction that her name came from. a beaming smile stretching across her features seeing the three boys.

Before Rhys or Az can pull him back, Cassians already bounding over to her, pulling her into a hug before she could take a seat at her table. A laugh bubbles from her chest, hugging him back.

Joining them, Rhys grins at her, And Azriel gives her a nod of acknowledgement. “Long time no see. How’ve you boys been?” her smile still clear in her voice.

“We’ve been great, how about you? Are you having a late lunch all by yourself?” Rhysand’s voice has his usual charming lilt to it.

“I’ve been good too. Not alone, my friend is in the bathroom.” Azriel’s attention is pulled towards the bathroom door as if he could tell who her friend was from where he is standing. “Haven't seen you all in nearly a century. Busy with mates now I assume.” more a question than a statement.

“Yup,” Cassian enthusiastically pops the ‘p’ “you need to meet them, you’ll love them.” A loud, over exaggerated gasp gets pulled from him. “We should all go to your bar for dinner and drinks.” Beaming, likes it’s his best idea he’s ever had.

Benny’s own smile grows in response. “I'd love that. I’ll even reserve your old favourite table. Though I might have to pull two together considering how much your family’s grown.

a bark of excited laughter is pulled from Cassian. Rhys pulls him away before he can distract her from her lunch any more than he already has. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s leave you to it, and we’ll see you in a couple days?”

“I’ll save a couple tables for you.” She embraces each of them, before pulling away and waving them off, to finally sit down.

They depart with smiles and waves, then head off to find a place for them to have their lunch. Azriel can’t help but look over his shoulder hoping to catch a glimpse of who she’s with. Before they round a corner and are out of sight, he sees exactly who it is. You.

─

You exit the toilet and make your way over to the table Benny had chosen outside. The food and coffee you had picked now waiting for you.

As you pull your chair out, she turns her gaze back to you, a grin gracing her cerulean features. Deciding to ignore the mischievous undertones of that look, you pick up the pastry sitting in front of you and take a bite.

“We're going to be busy in a couple of days. A couple tables have been booked.” She speaks as if it’s an afterthought.

Your brows pull together at her words. “Since when did we reserve tables?” you inquire, never having heard that was a possibility for the bar. “We don't. They’re just special guests.” her voice light as she picks up her coffee, signalling that she won’t be answering any more questions.

Glancing in the direction that held her attention previously, you find nothing. whoever it was must’ve been important for Benny to change her usual routine with the bar. choosing not to dwell on it for too long, you turn back to the female in front of you, to enjoy your lunch.

─────────────────────────

a/n: There might be some spelling mistakes. I’m sorry for taking so long to post this, and i know this isn’t exactly the part two you guys wanted, but the story needs to be built up just a little bit. I promise the next part won’t take as long, and there will absolutely be more interactions with the inner circle. Thank you for your patience, I have had low energy because I’ve been quite sick, and haven’t been able to get this to a place where I want to post it. I hope you liked it anyway. <3

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

[the-thing-inside-your-closet]

Gala Buddies

Sam Manson glares out across the sea of the rich, snobby ‘elite.’ The people mingling with one another, all fake smiles and false niceties slipping from their lips easily. Every face a mask they put on to hide their true selves from the view of the public. They made Sam sick. She hated Galas, particularly the ones that took her away from Amity.

So of course, her parents had insisted that they simply must attend the gala in Gotham being held by none other than Bruce Wayne. They couldn’t miss out on the opportunity to see their old pal again.

Though Sam thought it was more like they wanted to suck up to the man for some business venture.

Or try to set her up with one of his sons again.

At least she got to see Gotham’s architecture. That was a positive, she concluded. She’d get some cool photos out of the trip to show Danny and Tucker back home. And maybe she’d get to see one of Gotham’s infamous vigilantes up close, she could try to learn anything from gauging the way they handled themselves that might be useful for Danny.

Sam readjusted her stance, the fabric of the obnoxiously pink dress making her legs itch uncomfortably. Her mother had gone through her luggage before they left when Sam hadn’t been looking and slipped in the monstrosity she was currently wearing, and removing the dresses she had selected for this torturous night. She was becoming moodier, and ‘crabbier’ as Tucker and Danny might have put it, by the second.

Maybe she could ‘accidentally’ trip into the chocolate fountain and ruin the dress. At least then she’d be getting some form of retribution for being forced into the frilly cocoon of humiliation. And it’s not like her parents would be able to scold her too much in front of all the other rich schmuks attending the party. As Sam was eyeing the chocolate fountain she noticed in her peripheral vision a person approaching her.

“Not in a party mood I take it?” Asked whoever had walked up to her.

Sam turned to examine the guy in front of her. He looked to be roughly her age, dark skin and a fancy suit that he looked uncomfortable in. A nervous energy permitted off of him, Sam guessed he wasn’t used to these sorts of events and was unashamedly out of his depth.

“Nah, not particularly,” Sam offered with a shrug, “you seem like you want to be here as much as I do.”

“Ah yeah,” the guy rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly, “I’m kinda only here because my brother didn’t want to be here alone and most of our other siblings were unavailable aside from my sister and I. But now he’s off talking to a friend of his that happened to be here, and my sister’s disappeared to who knows where.”

“That’s rough buddy,” Sam offers him a sympathetic smile.

The guy snorts before asking, “did you just quote Zuko?” And Sam grins. He holds out his hand to her, “Duke Thomas.”

Sam shakes his hand, “Sam Manson. Nice to meet you, Duke.”

Duke visibly appears to relax a little and the air of nervousness around his somewhat dissipates. He shifts of his feet for a moment before deciding on something. “So,” he starts, “if you weren’t stuck here what you normally be doing with your time?”

“Probably playing Doom with my two best friends back home,” Sam doesn’t mention anything about the ghosts. She hopes Danny and Tucker are alright in their own.

“Oh cool,” Duke smiles and Sam would be lying if she said she’d never seen someone so perfectly embody literal sunshine like he did. “I usually play videos games with my siblings. Mario Kart can get super competitive though.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at that, intrigued. “How competitive?”

Duke grimaces slightly but looks amused at the same time, “well, tables have been flipped and expensive things broken. And everyone lost Alfred’s cookie privileges for a week.” He ground out that last part as though it physically pained him.

“Damn. They must be some good cookies if you’re that bummed about it.”

“Your have no idea. Alfred’s cookies are the best thing in the world. Fights have broken out over them.”

“Your family sound insane,” Sam chuckles and quickly adds, “in a good way.”

Duke grins at her, “yeah they’re kinda crazy sometimes, but they’re great. Really. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

“It must be nice, having siblings like that.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“Nah,” Sam shakes her head, “only child.”

Before either of them know or Sam and Duke have been talking for nearly the entire gala. They remained glued to one another chatting even as one or both of them wanted to grab something to eat from the buffet table. Their interactions didn’t go unnoticed by Bruce and the others.

Sam couldn’t remember the last time she had such a normal and fun conversation with someone other than Danny or Tucker.

The end of the night came too soon, Sam felt. Things were winding down and people were bidding others farewell. She could see her parents speaking with Bruce Wayne, possibly thanking him for a wonderful night.

“Looks like I’ll probably be leaving soon,” Sam deflated a little.

Duke pondered something for a moment but seemed to reach a decision quickly. He pulled out his phone and offered it to Sam, “here, give me your number. We can keep talking later. If you want that is.”

And Sam couldn’t find any reason to say no, especially when Duke was smiling like that. “Sure,” he took the phone from his hand and added her number into his contacts. She pulled out her own phone and handed it to him to add his number in too.

“Well then,” Duke fighters with the end of his suit jacket.

“Sammikins!” Pamela Manson called out, “it’s time to go sweetie.”

“I’ll talk to you late?” Duke asked with a smile.

“Yeah,” Sam smiled back, “talk to you later Duke.”

[morhido]

Sighs. Okay yeah i have thoughts about cgi toothless.

First of all, why does he look so... slimy? He feels too smooth. Like they just stretched some scaly skin over a skeleton and let it walk around. Immediately offputting.

His body language is. Fine? Am i being nitpicky or does it seem just the tiniest bit less expressive? I'm guessing this is either the scene right after hiccup cuts him free, in which case he should be way more intimidating, or the fish-sharing scene, in which case he should feel a little friendlier and more curious around hiccup. It's a quick shot so i won't put a ton of expectations onto it, but i think it's worth noting.

Okay this is a legitimately cool detail though. He has a secondary eyelid!! You can see it slipping away when he opens his eyes. That's a detail exclusive to the books so i like that they included something as small as that.

Sighs again. And this is the shot that prompted me to make this post.

Look at the original, and then look at the cgi version. I could write an essay about how inferior the cgi version is in comparison.

First off, they flattened his face. I swear every iteration of night furies after the first movie has just been compressing their snouts until they're sufficiently 'cute' enough for the audience to forget they're supposed to be sleek and aerodynamic.

Second, his eyes. Absolutely radioactive. I understand using a brighter colour for his eyes, especially in a relatively darker environment to make him stand out and seem more fantastical. But. They're just so bright. It's mildly unsettling how saturated they are compared to everything else.

Third, his eyes. Again.

Toothless is supposed to be terrified but still threatening in this scene, and the original shot conveys that perfectly. If it's a threat, then by all means hiccup should kill it or at least run, but instead he draws a connection between both of them being scared of the other and decides to cut him loose instead. And that's the core of their relationship. Toothless is staring him down with a slitted pupil that could just as easily be interpreted as "fuck around and find out" but hiccup just acknowledges that there's a frightened, injured animal in front of him that needs help, and he helps.

Is any of that conveyed in the cgi version? No!! It's trying so hard to be cute that it's gone full circle back to just being scary. The wide-eyed stare, the dilated pupil, he's basically just saying "🥺🥺 uwu pwease i'm so cute and innocent don't kill me aha 👉👈". Which is a lot less of a compelling reason for hiccup to free him!! Plus the fact that toothless turns up to look at him instead of lying and accepting his fate like in the original, which only makes it seem even more like he's trying to show off how apparently adorable he is.

Idk. Just the difference between the in-your-face sanitised cuteness of "teehe you wouldn't kill little old me would you? 🥺" and the expert subtlety of his "please don't hurt me" of the original doesn't give me high hopes for a toothless that stays true to his character from the first movie. Even from something as small as this. He's gonna get woobified. I can feel it.

[anundyingfidelity]

DO YOU HATE ME THAT MUCH? — Billy Butcher

Summary: Butcher gives orders for you to stay back from the fight. You hardly comply and prove differently; he starts thinking in a very improper manner about you.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x female!supe reader.

Word count: 2k.

Warnings: smut!! hate sex, unprotected sex, fingering, enemies to fuck buddies, reader can control blood and explode shit (like Victoria Neuman lol), the usual mentions of violence.

Notes: this is a request made by @thatcharmingmushroom for my 400 followers drabbles celebration. I'm sorry I took soooo damn long on this, but I hope you like it and thank you so much for the idea because I had so much fun with it! I picked the Herogasm episode for this tho hehe

☕ if you like my writing support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

taglist is here!

On the hunt for Payback, you made your way to infiltrate Herogasm along with Butcher, Hughie and the new asshole, Soldier Boy, not caring that the British dick ordered you a thousand times to stay back.

For different reasons, you were kind of forced to stay with the team, and while you didn’t really get along with any of them, Butcher was by far the one you hated the most. And, in the end, when Soldier Boy burned the whole place to the ground with a blast and Homelander arrived, you couldn’t stand there doing nothing. While the three men tried to hold down Homelander, you used your blood to create strong whips around his limbs, trying to tie him to the ground as Soldier Boy prepared to blast, yet again.

But just in seconds, Homelander recharged himself and pushed them all aside, cutting your whips, and flashing you quickly with his heat vision before storming out. Your blood blades barely made it to the hole he left in the roof as the supe just disappeared, flying away like a scared bitch.

“Well,” you started after an instant of staying silent. “I guess we fucking failed.”

Butcher shot you a dark glare as he walked straight until he stopped in front of you. “You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered.

You held his eyes as he towered you with his broad figure. He looked even more intimidating now he started playing the supe, injecting himself with Compund V. “I don’t care.”

There was this smug smirk on his face as you talked back. You knew he hated you; you knew you hated him. But as fucking weird your powers were, controling blood and exploding people with their own, Butcher found you interesting and stupidly astonishing. But of course, he wasn’t going to admit it. They were just intrusive thoughts about you and how hot you were, defying his direct orders of strictly not coming to the supe-orgy. Yeah, Homelander was a fucking cunt, and he would take care of Soldier Boy soon too. Right now, he just needed something to take the stress out after another stupid failure. His hand would work later once back at the motel, he decided.

Butcher leaned down, until his lips almost brushed the shell of your ear. “We’ll see about that.”

“Why do I have to keep listening to you?” you asked as Butcher followed back to the motel.

You stopped right out of your door, because of course you weren’t going to share a room with him and the old asshole. Hughie, who went inside their room, was the only decent human being between all of them, but still, you had to take care of yourself from those fuckers. Besides, the British idiot wouldn’t stop the verbal vomiting the whole fucking trip and you were growing sick of it.

“Because, for starters, you’re a fucking newbie here,” Butcher replied, smirking hatefully. “And second, your powers are fucking out of control. You need training and keep your mouth shut.”

You rolled your eyes, showing him your wrists. “I already healed myself from the cuts I made. Perhaps I should use your blood next time?”

“No, there’s no next time for you.”

“You don’t decide that, Butcher,” you crossed your arms over your chest, tired of being treated like a stupid kid. “I’m helping on this, I want him dead. And if any of you idiots don’t kill him, then I will.”

He curved an eyebrow, not showing any signs of being taken aback at your words, but inside, he was just in awe as before. You really hated Homelander as much as he did, however, you didn’t have a fucking plan. You would attack first, ask questions later. In any way, since when could he care about that? He had no idea.

“Hey,” Soldier Boy talked behind Butcher and stepped in closer between both of you. “You fucking stay back from this, you ain’t doing shit with your blood whips.”

Furious, you motioned your hand to draw fresh blood from a wound on his cheek and created a sharp blade, cutting his skin lightly. Soldier Boy clenched his jaw before smirking at you.

“Talk to me like that ever again and I’ll blow your dick, and not the way you like it,” you warned through your teeth.

Soldier Boy wiped the blood off the fresh wound, and smiled anew before patting Butcher on the shoulder. “She’s all yours, pal.”

With that, the old supe disappeared in the next room. You just wanted this to be over, so you turned around to get inside your room, but Butcher wouldn’t leave you alone just yet, putting his foot between the door and the frame, holding it with his super strength.

“What the fuck you want now?!” you yelled at him as he made his way inside, slamming the door closed.

“Imma have to call the fucking CIA if you don’t calm down your ass,” he threatened between his teeth.

“You wouldn’t-”

“I can, and I fucking will,” he insisted, taking slow strides, making you step back from him until your back met the wall.

His eyes were getting dangerously dark and you could smell the sweat and dry blood coming from him. You noticed his pulse was increasing, and you grinned. Your mind jumped to an unsafe place where you probably knew what Butcher was feeling right now. The heat and coming down the high of what could have been the end of both yours and his enemy was too much to burden. Little did he know that you were the kind of person that used to take out the stress with something, or someone. Just like him.

“From one to ten, how much do you hate me?” you asked all of the sudden, looking straight into his eyes.

Butcher’s fierceful gaze turned into confusion. “What?”

“How fucking much do you hate me?” you repeated yourself steadier.

Butcher rolled his eyes before answering in a whisper. “I’d choose a one thousand scale for that.”

“Good, I hate you too,” you replied with a smirk before pulling him for a kiss that turned heated too fast, but you didn’t care.

You needed release. Something quick, hard and hot to take it out of your system. He was perfect for the task, and by the way his tongue tasted your mouth, you found out that he wouldn’t step back. At least you hoped so. The tension between both of you was so damn sharp and it was just a matter of time for that bomb to explode, and you preferred it this way instead of fighting each other to death.

Gripping the neck of his shirt to get even closer as you kissed, Butcher’s hands roamed all over your hips, running on your sides until he met the flesh of your ass on your jeans, pressing you towards his chest. You gasped against his mouth when he started to unzip your pants, you worked immediately on the buttons of his shirt. Desperately, you discharged his shirt, the fabric being followed to his pants, and he undressed you with the same eagerness until you were only panties and bra.

Butcher lifted you up from the ground, hands on your thighs as he guided you to the mattress. He crawled on top of you, spreading your legs with his big, rough hands and leaning down to lick down at your chest and rip your bra off. His action made you gasp out loud at the same time he sucked on a nipple like a starved man.

“You're a fucking beast,” you whimpered, feeling his hands peeling off your panties and leaving you completely exposed at his mercy.

You tugged at his jeans and he pulled them down along with his boxers as quickly as he could, taking out his dick with that smug smile on his stupid face. He noticed your eyes taking the sight of his half nakedness, biting your lip slightly once you focused on his hard cock pressing on your crotch. It only made you wet.

“Well, I plan to fuck you like one,” he said, grabbing the back of your legs and rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds.

“Show me, don’t talk- fuck!”

You let out a rather loud moan when he rubbed your clit with his fingers, playing with your entrance until he inserted a single, thick digit in your pussy. Butcher stretched you out with a finger, then slid a second one, scissoring them to reach your deepest spots as your walls clenched around his digits. You kept whimpering and moaning as he increased the thrusts of his hand.

“Bloody fuck, these are the only sounds I like coming from your mouth, luv,” he hissed, sensing that you almost came on his fingers.

Right before you reached your high, he pulled out and you groaned in annoyance, feeling empty once again.

“Shit,” you breathed out.

He positioned between your legs anew, getting comfortable as he started to push his tip against your slit. The grip of his hands on your thighs became a little harsh once he entered you slowly, the thickness of his cock splitting you open.

“What a tight cunt I always knew you’d be,” he grunted, filling you up completely and leaning down to mark your neck with his teeth.

His mouth and thrusts earned him your sweet moans as he fucked you senseless. The burning soon turned into pleasure. Your nails scratched his back while moaning incoherent words. His hands on your thighs would leave marks on your skin, but it felt so damn good. You needed a little bit of pain to remind you that you were alive, rotting for that sweet bliss only sex could give you.

Moans escaped from your throat and mingled with his deep groans and the sound of your skin against his own, the headboard of the bed hitting the wall with every of his hard thrusts. You pulled him down for a wet kiss when you felt closer and closer to come undone.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you gasped.

Butcher increased the rhythm of his thrusts, his cock throbbing as your walls started to clench around him.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he mumbled against your mouth.

“Do you still hate me?” you asked, trying to catch your breath. You reached down to rub your clit. You were so close, almost there.

“If I keep fucking you like this then I might change my mind- holy fuck!”

In that moment, you came hard with a string of curses and clenching your walls around his cock. The pound of his hips increased and he fucked you through your orgasm to reach his own. You continued rubbing your clit, fingers finding the place where you two connected, meeting his cock coated with your juices when he pulled out just slightly to slam back inside again.

Butcher emptied his cum inside you, mumbling dirty words against your ear. His rhythm slowing down eventually, fucking his seed in your pussy. Once he came down from his high, he pulled out and rolled by your side on the bed. Your body started to ache but in the best way possible. It was the best fuck you had in a long time. After a couple of minutes in complete silence you decided to talk, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I hope you keep hating on me…”

He turned slightly to see your blank face. “Why?”

“I love hate-fucking.”

He scoffed with a smile curving on his lips. “You bet I enjoyed this too.”

Within a second, you climbed on top of him. Thighs straddling his lap as you rubbed your cunt on his soft cock.

“Second round? You can eat me out and suck your cum out of me,” you gave him a wink, rolling your hips and leaning down for a quick kiss.

“Dirty girl,” Butcher whispered on your lips. “Perhaps put your mouth into good use.”

“I like how that sounds,” you smiled back at him.

Billy Butcher taglist

@delaynew

@thesilmarillionblog

@feyresqueen

@drasticemotions

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[ienjoywritingfilth]

a sinner i am part v

If its so wrong, why does it feel so good?

trope: Boyfriend's Dad PP character: Joel Miller x f reader this chapter summary: You and Joel promise to stay away from one another but the tension proves too much for either of you to handle. warning: ur girl is getting her oral on, joel's a dirty old man, cheating on your bf (but it’s cool, cuz its with Joel and everything is fictional in this universe), alternative universe b/c daddy miller stays alive and hates golfand he has a son named Shawn, no Sarah. words 3.2k rating: E taglist: @lady-viscera | @cjdign | @fuckthatbazinga | @liciafonseca | @stevie75 | @joelalorian | @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff | @akah565 | @dontknow446 | @pedritosgfreal | @yesjazzywazzylove-blog | @untamedheart81 | @ashleyfilm | @sptbear | @elegantduckturtle | @noneofmyshipsarereal | @blahkateisdone | @hisandsnakes | @wintersquirrel | @shivkillian | @auteurdelabre | @sheepdogchick3 | @moel-jiller | @cuteanimalmama | @gossipgirl-03 | @cowboymarcs | @tahi2006 | @guelyury | @churchofjoemiller | @r3dheadedwitch | @tutarrads | @galway-girlatwork | @supertoga | @ghostofzion | @casssiopeia | @tateypots | @yxtkiwiyxt | @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 | @pastelpinkflowerlife | @inept-the-magnificent | @meleekabenjamin | @stevie75 | @animejunki5 | @zooty-and-fruity | @drunk-and-capable | @lunpycatavenue | @joelssluttyknee | @getitoutofmymindwrites | @swankyorange | @joeldidnothingwrong | @thischarmingmandalorian | @604to647 | @pedr0swh0r3 | @josephquinnswhore

wanna see my other stuff?

part v : fire dance

"Some of the best moments in life are the ones you can't tell anyone about." — Sarah Nader

We'll be home soon luv u

You look at the text Shawn sent you and feel revulsion go through you. Your mouth still tastes of his father's cum, your pussy still soaked, your nipples so hard they throb. 

You can't face Shawn in this state. He'll know something is up. You want to talk to Joel but you don't know what you'd say. 

And you'd have to go into his bedroom where he's been for the last twenty minutes, silent as a statue. 

You decide the pool is a good place to go for further contemplating. You throw on your bikini, grab your sunglasses and beach bag and you slide out the door, careful not to disturb Joel. 

Joel sits on the edge of his bed nauseated as he thinks about what just happened. He's dressed now, his hair drying into loose curls. He can't stop his heart from ping pinging around in his chest. 

What did he just do? He stood in front of you naked, fucked your mouth and urged you to swallow his cum. You, his son's girlfriend. 

How is he supposed to look you in the eyes? How can he face his son? His girlfriend? He threw everything away for five minutes of bliss. 

"We're home!" 

Tess' voice calls out as she and Shawn walk in and he feels his mouth fill with bile. 

You're going to say something, he's sure of it. You're going to confess and his life will be ruined. His son will never speak to him again, Tess will ruin his reputation at work. 

He exits the bedroom with a forced smile on his face. He hopes you won't say anything. 

"You two were fast."

"Yeah coming down wasn't that bad," Shawn says as he glances around. "You see where Sleeping Beauty went?"

"Huh?"

Shawn motions to the empty bedroom. "I thought she'd still be sleeping but the beds empty."

"Is it? I've been working on emails all morning so I guess I didn't hear her leave." 

You must have sneaked out while Joel berated himself. That's fine by him, it gives him time to talk with you before things blow up. 

"Poor man," Tess sympathizers with a kiss to his bearded cheek. "I'm gonna grab a shower."

"I call dibs on the next one," Shawn says distracted as he types on his phone. "I need to get this dirt off."  

"I'm gonna take a walk," Joel announces casually. "I'll bring y'all back something to eat."

He leaves quickly walking over towards the pool of the resort. There are only so many places you can be. 

You're huddled in the empty cabana with your knees drawn up to your chest. You're forehead balances on your kneecaps. 

You look out at the ocean wishing you could just swim home to Texas. This trip that was supposed to be such a dream is just a nightmare. 

You sucked off your boyfriend dad and you liked it. You liked that his cock was so much bigger, that he spoke sweetly to you as you hollowed your cheeks. You loved the expression he wore when he came down your throat. You'd never seen Joel like that before; exposed and domineering. 

"Hi." 

You glance up to see Joel entering the Cabana with a shy wave. Your stomach flips. 

"Hey." 

Joel looks warily at you for a beat before he takes a seat at the end of your lounge chair. Normally the proximity would go unnoticed, but after everything all you can concentrate on is the heat of his body and how good he looks in his swim trunks and t-shirt. 

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Joel admits to you. "I can't believe I did that."

"We did that."

"I'm the adult."

"I'm twenty three years old Joel. That's hardly a kid." 

"Since my son is your age you'll have to forgive me, but that's young," Joel says with a sigh. He rubs the crinkled space between his eyebrows. "Something changed on this trip and I don't know how to get it back to where it was."

"I don't know that we can."

You feel sad and Joel watches as you lower your chin to your kneecap. Joel looks into the glittering ocean. 

"I'm just scared about ruining everyone's lives. Not just ours but Shawn and Tess."

"Me too."

Joel exhales long and slow like a deflating balloon. 

"So, what do you think we should do?"

The two of you lock eyes and it's like you're both transported back into that bathroom. You on your knees with his dick in your mouth. Joel feels his cock hardening in the mesh of his swim trunks. You squirm at how aroused you are at the memory. 

"We gotta stay away from each other," you tell him shakily. "We can't be alone like this." 

"You're right," Joel nods emphatically. "It's only a few more days and then we're home and things are back to normal. It'll be fine." 

You feel a bit of hope at this. You straighten, your eyes blinking doe-like with relief. It's not like you saw Joel all the time at home! 

"So we'll just never talk about this again, we can pretend it never happened and after the trip everything can just be how it was with us barely seeing each other."

"Exactly."

"Great." You almost cry relieved tears. A part of you had been so terrified that Joel would want to confess to everything. 

Joel smiles politely but you don't miss how his eyes rake over your flimsy swimsuit. 

"I should get back," he murmurs, eyes stuck on your hardening nipples. "For what it's worth I'm sorry I asked you to... Do that back there." 

Your pussy has a heartbeat right now. You can't stop remembering how it felt to make him cum. 

You'll swallow mine won't you baby girl?

Your eyes shut tightly as you try to block out the images. 

"We don't have to talk about it Joel." 

By the time you open your eyes to look at him he's gone. 

Shawn and you spend the day on the beach tanning and swimming while Tess and Joel go into town for a coffee tour

Walking around the plantation hand in hand with Tess Joel tries to focus on how they roast their beans, the process that makes their coffee less acidic. 

But all he can think about is how you looked on your knees for him. The way you looked stuffed full him, of you knowing how wrong it was. What would it be like to sink into your warm pussy? 

His cock is weeping by the time they're back at the rental car and Tess is amused as Joel drives them back to the resort. 

"Joel what's gotten into you?" Tess giggles as her hand squeezes his cock. "You're never this horny."  

"Must be being on vacation," Joel says with a charming grin. "You wanna help me out with it?"

Tess giggles and looks around the fairly unoccupied road. Joel groans as he feels her unzip his shorts. 

He grunts when he feels her mouth descend over the head of his cock. He keeps his eyes on the road, sure to keep her shielded from the passing cars.

"That's it, just like that." 

She bobs her head slowly up and down and hollows her cheeks and it feels good but Joel can't stop the running narration in his head. 

She's not doing it right. You did this little tongue thing that she isn't doing. You took him so deep. 

She moans and he looks at her head in his lap and tries to will his cock to explode

She's getting him there but it's too slow, he needs more friction

His hand goes to the back of Tess ' head, pushing her lightly down to the base and thrusting up into her mouth. He keeps his eyes on the road while he furiously fucks into her wet mouth. 

"Take daddy's thick cock all the way, uh huh, c'mon, gonna cum down your filthy fuckin throat." 

Tess splutters a gag before pulling off of him and glaring. She wipes her drooling mouth with the back of her hand.

"What the fuck was that Joel?"

"What?" Joel asks still hard and flushed as he drives.

"The daddy shit, the aggressive way you just---" Tess trails off shaking her head. "This doesn't feel like you."

Joel's fingers tighten around the steering wheel. He feels disgusting and humiliated all at the same time. 

"Thought we were having a good time," he mutters in shame. 

Tess looks chagrined and tries to make peace. 

"Joel---"

Joel feels heat creeping up his chest as he shoves himself back into his shorts with one hand. 

"Just forget it."

Two days pass in relative tension free fun. You and Joel stay away from one another and feeling guilty you lavish affection onto Shawn. 

Joel rents a cabana for the four of you again, hoping to recapture the innocent fun of the start of the trip, back before he fucked your mouth. 

Shawn seems dedicated to giving you tons of attention, grabbing you at every possible moment. A paranoid part of you is concern that perhaps he knows something is wrong. But he seems happy, almost eager to show you how much he cares. 

"Let's go swim," he suggests before lunch, surprising you. You agree, taking off into the ocean with him. 

Joel watches all of this from behind his sunglasses feeling irritated. Not just because Tess is giving him the cold shoulder, asleep under her hat. You're out there in your bikini, tits spilling out, giggling with Shawn like nothing happened. He knows he should be thankful for it, but he can't stop being pissed off. 

He needs more of you. More time spent in your company even if it is with Tess and Shawn. When the two of you come dripping in from the water he gives you all a broad smile. 

"Hey ya'll wanna check out the fire show tonight? If you do I'll make reservations."

"Yeah," Shawn agrees eagerly. "That sounds awesome."

"Sure," Tess mutters from under her straw hat. 

Joel turns his sights on you standing quietly nearby. "How about you, darlin'?" 

You swallow your nerves.

"I'd love to."

Joel smiles broadly, making his face look even more handsome.

"It's a date." 

Hours later the four of you are ready to leave for the resort. You feel cute in your sundress and Shawn looks great. You can't help but observe that sun-kissed and showered, Joel looks so fucking sexy. 

He and Tess seem a bit tense, but that might just be you projecting. 

"Let's go," Joel says smiling at you when a buzzing emits from his pocket. He brings it out scanning the screen before offering a soft "fuck" under his breath. 

Tess looks at him with raised brows. 

"What's up?" 

Joel continues to scan his phone, exhaling as he reads the highlights of his emails. 

"Fuck. Owens says it's urgent." 

Tess frowns. "I thought you weren't working on this trip."

Joel shoots her a dark look. "Tess I own the company. You know I can't just ignore these."

Tess huffs a sigh before shaking her head and moving out the door. You and Shawn watch after her feeling awkward. 

Joel is already turning to go back to his bedroom where his laptop rests. 

"You guys go, I'll try to make this fast."

Shawn looks disappointed but he nods. He's used to this having grown up with Joel's schedule.  

You and Shawn are hand in hand on the way to the resort when he finally talks. 

"This is why it don't want to take over my Dad's company. I don't want that kind of life, never getting a break."

"Why don't you tell him that?" You ask seriously when you realize Shawn looks like he's near tears. 

"I can't disappoint my dad. I'm all he has."

"He has Tess."

"You think she's gonna stick around with a guy who puts work before everything?"

The theatre in the resort is already busy with people wearing Hawaiian shirts and drinking out of pineapple themed glasses. 

"Should we save my dad a seat?" Shawn asks Tess as you find some free seats. She sighs before shaking her head. 

"Don't bother. Owens never shuts up. Your dad will be on that call for hours." She sighs wearily before flagging down a waiter and ordering gin and tonics for the three of you. The man looks at your wrist frowning. 

"I'm sorry, Miss. I cannot serve you without the band."

"Darn, I forgot," you say as you look at your unadorned wrist. The one you need for resort drinks. "I'll go grab it."

"Hurry, the show is gonna start soon," Shawn frowns up at you. 

"I'll be quick," you insist. Fire dancing wasn't even something you were very interested in anyway. 

You jog back to the bungalow and you're thankful that when you enter Joel is in his bedroom. You can hear him talking in low, urgent tones behind the closed door. 

You slip into your bedroom, looking for the plastic band they give all guests at the start of their vacation. The one that designates if you're old enough to drink. You crawl onto the made bed, sweeping behind where the mattress meets the wall in case it got wedged there. 

Joel's phone call ends sooner than expected. He looks at the time and sees he can still be in time for the fire dancing. He steps out into the hallway when he hears a rustling noise from the opposite bedroom. 

Are they getting broken into?

Joel walks into the second bedroom, investigating the noise and feels his stomach flip. 

You're knelt on the bed, ass in the air as you search for something. Your panties are on full display under your summer dress and Joel can see the outline of your pussy. 

At the sound of Joel entering you twist and look over your shoulder. 

Joel's eyes are stuck on your pussy. And as you realize this you feel your cunt throb. 

"I'm just looking for the drink band." 

Joel doesn't reply before he steals over to your bed, his large hands resting on your hips. He spins you around before urging you backwards. 

"Joel, I----"

"I need to taste your cunt," he tells you in simple terms, pressing you back onto the bed. "Open for me." 

Your face flames and you feel helpless to what's going to happen, because deep down you want it to happen. 

"Joel we shouldn't." 

"Just once," he promises you, urging your thighs apart with his large hands. "Just need to taste it once and never again."

It's pitiful, the same thing he said only days ago when you were on your knees in the bathroom but you don't care. 

"Yea, okay," you nod, already leaning back onto the bed and parting your legs for him. 

Joel kisses his way down your belly before tugging your panties down your legs, widening you for him to inhale and groan.

You're so wet you're drooling and Joel feels his cock tighten painfully at how puffy and needy she is. 

"Pussy this messy just for me?" 

He glances up to see your hooded eyes trained on him. You can only nod. Joel grins a broad white stripe against the tan of his face. 

He throws your legs over his broad shoulders, the sensation of his crisp shirt against the soft of your thighs. Your knees crook, feet bare. 

He doesn't say more, he just licks between the seam of your lips, groaning at the taste. 

"Sweetest fucking cunt I've ever tasted." 

Your eyes cheat to the back of your head at this, hands fisting the bedsheets. He makes out with your pussy, eyes closed and his nose pressing against your swollen clit. 

You know that this is the worst thing you've ever done; falling into bed with your boyfriend's father. But it feels so good. Shawn rarely goes down on you and when he does it's all prodding and poking. Not this sensual slow lick and suckle before giving a rumbling groan, like he can't believe how good you taste. 

Joel builds you up slowly despite time not being on your side. He holds you in place with one arm banded across your waist when you squirm. He keeps sneaking looks between licks to see your mouth hung open wide, moans and whines escaping you. 

Shouldn't be doing this. She's Shawns girlfriend. But look at her fucking body. I'm fucking sick. Fuck she wants this. Sweetest cunt. I'm a bad man. She's gonna cum hard. I'm making her cum so fucking hard, gonna drink her down. 

Your eyes drift down your body to where Joel kneels between your spread thighs. The curls are brushed back from his handsome face, his mouth glistening with your arousal. His dark eyes blaze into yours, a wolfish smile accompanying. 

His fingers dimple your ass as he moves his hands to clutch you, his tongue twisting and curling as you make breathy begging noises for him to keep going. 

Joel can't believe he's doing this and that you're so responsive to his touch. And he can't believe that he's fucking your slot with just his tongue and you're already twitching. 

"I'm so close!" 

Your eyes are on him, glazed and far away. He knows that look, he's seen it on many women. Despite this he hardens further at your expression. 

"Feels good doesn't it," he murmurs before lapping gently at your clit. You whimper and nod, hips rolling. 

"Gonna cum on my tongue baby girl?"

Joel watches your brows knit together as your back arches at his words but he's not ready for what you whine out next. 

"Yes Daddy." 

Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. It's sick and twisted and he feels his cock twitch violently before painting the inside of his boxers. He feels your cunt tighten before you release into his mouth. You're crying out, thighs trembling against his ears. 

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck," Joel chats against your pussy, licking you as his orgasm tears through him. "So fucking good for Daddy. Daddy's good girl." 

After a moment Joel gently shrugs your legs from his shoulders, but not before placing a delicate kiss on your inner thigh. As your orgasms ebb and the distant sound of clapping intrudes from the bedroom window you jerk up in bed. 

"The show!" 

"If you go now you can still catch most of it," he tells you with a quick glance at his watch. 

You nod, going to the dresser and pulling on new panties as Joel watches you. You are about to leave when Joel catches you by the wrist. 

"We can't do this again," Joel says huskily. "This is so fucked up." 

You don't respond to that other than to stand in front of him and you watch his chest expand with every deep inhale. Eventually you stand up on your tiptoes to press a warm kiss to his bearded cheek. 

"Goodnight, Daddy." 

please leave me comments or i dont wanna keep going ;p

[lipglossanon]

April Showers

Real Dad!Leon S. Kennedy x real daughter!reader

A Little More Savory tier commission from @ao3-rex1223

Word Count: 2365 (I went over! 🫣)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, DEAD DOVE, father/daughter incest, nicknames, dirty talk, kissing, shower sex, grinding, nipple play, breeding kink, lactation kink (mentioned), unprotected sex, creampie

Proofread ✍️

The weather app on your phone is nothing but a filthy liar. 

“Sunny with a partly cloudy afternoon, my ass,” you mutter out loud. 

“What was that, sweetheart?” Your dad glances over to you, the downpour soaking his hair until the fringe lay flat on his forehead. 

You keep your eyes firmly above his neck, a Herculean feat since you wouldn’t mind following the water as it drips down his shirt—nearly opaque now and showcasing his mouth-watering pecs. It’s been a stupid, invasive thought that you can’t shake since moving closer to home after graduating. Your dad’s been helping you out around the house, fixing things up, and during one of those times, you accidentally stumbled on him half naked in your bathroom. 

It really wouldn’t have been a big deal; he got covered in some kinda gunk from cleaning the gutters and decided to take a shower before heading back home. Not thinking about it twice, you opened the door to hand him a towel, only to be met with his flexing back muscles and tight ass. He’s been haunting your dreams, whether you wanted him to or not. 

Since then, you’ve been keeping a catalog on what makes him so hot; suffice it to say, the brain rot hasn’t abated in the slightest. 

“Oh, nothing,” you sigh. “How much longer til we make it back to the cabin?”

He glances down at his smart watch, the small face bright in the gloom. “GPS says about another quarter mile.”

Groaning, you tip your head back, raindrops smattering across your face and down your neck. “Who’s bright idea was it to hike today?”

Leon grins, "Believe it was you this time, squirt.”

Trudging forward, you shake your head, “Yuck, you know I hate that nickname.”

“Come on,” your dad needles you, laughing at your sour face. “It’s cute.”

“Uh huh,” you roll your eyes, then gesture to the trail in front of you. “Following your lead here, pops.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand at you and steps out in front. “Make your old man slug it out first. I get it.”

Rolling your eyes again, you give his broad shoulders a light push, meaning it solely as a joke—something you’ve done a thousand times before—however, because of the sudden deluge of water, the trail is nothing but a slippery, muddy mess, and he loses his balance. 

He begins to fall backwards, and you try to catch him, but it’s a moot point; he just has too much weight on you. Both of you crash down onto the ground, Leon sprawled on top of you, leaving you both coated in mud. Wincing, you try to raise up at the same time Leon turns on his side, and you end up pinned underneath his body. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you valiantly stifle the whine in your throat. It’s unfair to have your hot dad pressing you into the ground, pelvis to pelvis, while mud and leaves are seeping into your clothes. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he laughs a little deprecatingly as he finally hoists himself up, stretching a hand out toward you. “Guess we’ll need to clean up in the outdoor shower.”

Heart tripping over itself, you nod, “Sure.”

Turning his back to you, he curses under his breath, “Good thing it’s insulated, huh.”

Head dizzy at the thought of seeing your dad strip down in front of you, you can only cough out a strangled yep. Shooting a look over his shoulder, you smile tightly. 

“Must be a frog in my throat,” you joke weakly. 

It’s enough to make him grin and chuckle. 

“Well, Kermit, let’s get outta here.”

“Does that make you Miss Piggy?”

“Har, har, aren’t you funny?”

“Learned from the best.”

A comfortable silence falls between you, only broken up by the sound of rain and your trampling footsteps. Making it back to the cabin, you follow behind your dad as he walks to the lean-to built onto the side of the building. A shower stall’s setup alongside the house, protected from the elements by the sheltered roof. Glancing at it, it doesn’t seem like a lot, but it's fairly spacious inside with a little shower bench. 

“C’mon,” Leon nods his head at the stall, kicking his boots off and starting to unbutton his jeans. “We’ll both hop in in our undies and get clean in one go. Save time, so we can get started on dinner and warm up.”

You feel faint, blood surging hotly through your veins. “Um, s-sure. Quick and easy, right?”

He chuckles, “That’s the spirit, squirt.”

Arousal dampening a smidge from the silly nickname, it revs back up when he turns his back to you and bends over to take off his jeans and socks. Biting your lip, you press the dough of your thighs together, eyes drinking in his toned form. Once he’s down to his briefs, he steps into the shower stall, holding the door open as he cuts on the water. 

“Hurry it up, sweetheart, haven’t got all day,” he sing songs. 

In no time at all, you stand next to your dad wearing only a sports bra and boy shorts, brain overrun with thoughts of his half naked body. You bite back a gasp when his hand comes up to press between your shoulder blades, ushering you into the shower. He steps in behind you and shuts the door. 

It’s wide but not very deep due to the bench. As you both try to rinse off, you’re rubbing up against your dad in an almost obscene way. You really aren’t doing it on purpose, but he finally grabs you by the hips and stills your movement with a cut off groan. 

“Dad?”

“Sorry,” he mumbles behind you, fingers gripping you tightly as he lets out a breath. “I didn’t—it’s been a while and just—that’s no excuse, ‘m sorry.”

Your heart beats a staccato in your throat, and you rock yourself back, ass brushing against his stiff cock. 

“Oh, dad,” you whimper, and he inhales a sharp breath. “That’s so hot.”

He doesn’t stop you from pressing your ass fully against his chubbed cock, grinding back against him with a moan. His grip shifts, and he guides your hips into a rhythm that makes your toes curl, knowing your dad is getting off to this just as much as you are. 

“Daddy,” you whine, reaching one hand over your head to drape over his shoulder. “Touch me, please.”

His hands move from your hips to drag along your sides until he’s groping your breasts through your flimsy bra.

“Take it off,” he tells you, voice thick with lust. “Show daddy these tits of yours, baby.”

Slick floods the gusset of your panties while you eagerly strip your bra off, dropping it to the shower floor with a splat. His hands immediately grope and squeeze your breasts, fingers tweaking and tugging your hard nipples.

“Daaaad,” you moan, hips rocking back against his while he plays with your tits.

“Hang on,” he mutters, one hand disappearing, and you hear him shift behind you. Glancing down, you see him kick his underwear off to the side, making you whimper.

“There we go,” he sighs, slipping his cock between your thighs. “Mmm, so soft. And..”

He trails off, and you feel him guide his cock up to rub against the outline of your cunt. “So wet, baby. S’this all for me? What a dirty girl.”

He coos the last sentence in your ear and you melt against him, keening low in your throat. “Daddy, please.”

He pulls back and turns you around to face him; your dilated eyes rake down his body, taking in his thick, dripping cock. Leon yanks your panties down, and you step out of them. 

“Pretty pussy,” he groans, fingers skating along your slit, smearing slick along your cunt and his fingers. 

“Dad,” you tilt your head. “Kiss me.”

“Baby,” he rumbles in your ear, and your hands grip onto his biceps, pulling him into a wet kiss. 

He slips his tongue past your parted lips, groaning as he licks into your mouth. You’re so turned on, it feels like your brain is melting from your ears. Leon ruts between your thighs, cock dragging precum all over your pussy lips, parting your slick folds to nudge against your clit. 

“Want it,” you pant, pulling away. “Want your cock.”

“Yeah?” He drops his hand down to grip the base of his dick, guiding the tip until he’s pressing against your hole. “Want daddy to stuff your pretty pussy?”

“Please, please, please,” you chant under your breath, eyes wide as they watch him tease the tip in and out of your fluttering cunt. “Dad, please, I wanna fuck you.”

“God,” he groans, sinking halfway into your snug pussy. “Take it then, sweetheart, since you want it so bad.”

“Yes, yes, oh, fuck,” you moan and whine, hands gripping his shoulders but making sure to keep your nails from scratching him up. No need to give your mom any suspicions. 

Once he’s buried completely in your wet heat, he grabs your thighs and picks you up. Without pulling out, he walks you both back so he can sit down on the bench. Your knees settle on the outside of his thighs, letting you sink down on his cock until the tip kisses your cervix. 

“So deep,” you slur, that pinch of pain making you clamp down on his dick. “Daddy, no one’s ever been this deep.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, hips snapping up, making you squeal as he knocks against the opening to your womb. “This sweet pussy’s never had a dick this big?”

Shaking your head rapidly, you sling water everywhere, “Nooo.”

“Goddamn,” he bites out, pulling you into a spit filled kiss. “Gonna dick down my little girl like she deserves.”

“Uh huh,” you mumble, kissing him between all your little moans and pants. “Give it to me, daddy.”

“Gonna let daddy breed your little pussy, sweetheart? Hmm?” He teases against your lips, warm palm cupping your lower belly. “Put a baby right here if you let me cum in this soft pussy, cream you nice and deep.”

Shuddering, more slick leaks from your cunt, coating his cock, while your nails claw at his back, totally forgetting about not leaving any marks, “Dad, y-you can’t—we shouldn’t, it’s bad.”

“So bad,” he simpers, kissing your neck. “But doesn’t it feel good? C’mon you know you want it. Let daddy stuff your sweet cunt, baby.”

Nodding, you kiss him, sloppily making out underneath the shower spray. His fat tip drags against your g-spot on every thrust, fucking you better than your last boyfriend by far. It really shouldn’t be this good between father and daughter, but now that you know how sweet this forbidden fruit truly is, you never want to stop. 

He pulls away to mouth kisses across your jaw and down your neck, nipping at your pulse point. Drooling, you pant and gasp, knees digging into the tiled bench of the shower as Leon pounds into your clenching heat. 

“Fuck, pussy’s so much better than your moms,” he grunts, fingers digging into your hips. “Like this tight hole’s made for my cock.” 

“Daddy,” you whine, and he groans, biting down on the swell of your breast. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He slows his pace, dragging his cock in and out of your cunt in deep strokes until you’re writhing against him. 

“Want it fast,” you pout. “Please?”

“Don’t like being teased?” He chuckles, pressing a kiss on each of your nipples. “Let daddy play with you a little, sweetheart.”

Clit aching, you rock yourself against him. “But dad—“

“Shhh,” he nips at your stiff nipples, and you whine. “Just let me enjoy it. God, you’re so sexy.”

Pussy fluttering around his cock, you whimper, and he groans in satisfaction. “You like that? Yeah, best little pussy daddy’s ever had.”

He fucks you slow and deep, cock pumping in and out of your pussy while his mouth and tongue tease your nipples. 

“Just think, if you let daddy knock you up, these gorgeous tits will be full of milk.” He bites your nipple roughly, a sharp pleasure that makes your pussy flutter. “Then daddy would have to help milk these fat tits every day.”

You hump down on his cock, thighs burning as you fuck yourself faster and harder against him. “Oh, god, dad, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Fuck,” he groans, moving a hand between your bodies to strum across your senstive bundle of nerves. “Little clit’s so fat and slippery, baby.”

Keening, you thrash against him, arousal building higher and higher until it’s all white noise in your head. “‘M so close.”

“Cum for me, let daddy feel this little cunt squeeze his dick,” he coos. “Be a good girl and cream all over my cock.”

He pinches your clit a little harder, and it’s enough to snap that band wound tight in your lower belly. Your climax hits you hard, pussy squirting slick as your walls clench over and over while you shudder and writhe in his lap.

“Oh fuck,” he chuckles in disbelief. “Squirt’s more than just a nickname, huh?”

Thighs twitching, you slump against him, muscles too weak to keep you up. He wraps his thick arms around you and begins to pound up into your sopping wet pussy. 

“Gonna cum, oh fuck, gonna nut in your hot little pussy, oh, oh, yeah, take it, gonna knock my daughter’s fat pussy up, breed your sweet little cunt,” he babbles against your neck, cock throbbing in your fluttering walls. “Oh, fuuuck.”

He buries himself to the hilt, shooting rope after rope of hot, thick cum inside your puffy cunt, letting your snug pussy milk every drop. He doesn’t pull out when he leans back and takes your chin in hand. Leon tugs you into a soft kiss, the sweetest one that you’ve shared thus far. 

“Let’s go inside and continue this,” he nips your bottom lip. “We’ll worry about the consequences later. Daddy hasn’t had enough.”

He palms your belly, “Gotta make sure it sticks, too.”

A dull throb echoes through your cunt, “Okay, dad.”

[entitled-fangirl]

Sweet mama.

Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Joel gets baby fever watching the reader play with Tommy and Maria's baby.

Author's note: don't think too hard about the timeline please and thank you. Also, I got baby fever this weekend, so I figured I'd make everyone else have it, too. Also also- I use they/them for the baby since the gender hasn't been revealed in the show

Masterlist

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Oh, God. She was all that occupied his mind at the moment. 

Life in Jackson was not exactly what Joel had in mind, but even he'd admit, it had its perks. 

For example, this scene in front of him.

Y/N on the floor of their shared home with Tommy and Maria's baby.

At first, Joel had very much disliked the idea of babysitting for the night when Tommy asked. But how could he have said no when he saw the way Y/N's face lit up at the very thought?

So, he obviously said yes.

But now, here they were actually doing it. 

He was sat on the dusty couch with an old can of beer he had found, sipping occasionally when he fell out of his daydreams. 

How can he not enjoy the way she interacted with the kid?

He had seen just how fantastic she could be with Ellie.

Y/N had been with Joel a little less than Tess had. They had had a rocky start, especially right at the beginning.

She was a friend of Bill and Frank's. And Frank had decided that they should meet.

But he knew telling both parties about it would only cause conflict. 

So, he didn't tell them at all.

Imagine their surprise when unsuspected visitors appeared in the middle of Y/N's and Frank's tea time. 

She pulled her gun on Joel.

Things were tense for a while after that.

But, after some time, they found that they liked each other very much.

Sometimes, Joel worried that they liked one another a little too much.

"You know," Joel finally said to her. "I haven't even been around a kid like this since… well, when it was Sarah, I guess."

She looked up from her spot on the ground as the baby played with the wooden blocks in front of them, "Really?"

He nods, "Don't even know if I remember what to do. Thank God I got you."

She laughs, "You were the one that was a parent. I was just an older sister. That's how I got my experience."

He shrugs, "You have a gift for it."

She smiles, grabbing the 10-month-old. The baby giggles as she lifts them into the air. She walks to the couch, "Here." She holds out the baby to him.

He holds his hands up in surrender, "Nah. You're doing great, Sweetheart. I won't stop ya."

She scoffs, holding the baby close to her chest now with a teasing scoff, "Whatever, Miller."

"I'm serious," He argues, "I like watching you like this. Happy and… God, this looks so fucking natural for you."

"Joel!" She yelled. "Language."

He laughs, "See? You're…" He sighs in thought.

She notices, "What?"

He smiles and shakes his head, "In another world, sweet girl…"

She tilted her head, "Joel, I'm confused."

He stands up, inches from her face now. He gently takes the baby out of her arms and places them in the makeshift playpen. He returns to her quickly.

His arms grab her waist gently. His voice lowers, "If life was different, I'd give you a baby right now."

Her cheeks turned pink, "What?"

He laughs as he buries his face into her neck, "Think about it. You'd be a beautiful mother. God, I'd give you a baby."

Her gaze started to turn hopeful. She had never thought about having a baby. 

Her thoughts turned dirty as he started to kiss up her neck slowly.

"A sweet mama." Kiss. "Walking around here with my baby in you." Kiss. "Making every man in here green with envy." Kiss. "You'd be so pretty like that." Kiss. "God, you'd just glow more than you do now."

"Joel…?"

He pulled away at her weak voice.

She looks away in thought. "Do you think… if… if this whole 'cure' thing works with Ellie… You think there may actually be a world we could have a baby in? Where… we could be parents?"

He takes in her features carefully, not realizing just how much his words had affected her. "Well… I… I don't know." 

She nods and pulls away from him completely, her wishful thinking over, "Right." She walks back to the baby in the playpen, "Not worth even hoping for."

He pulls her back into his firm chest, and circles her waist with his arms, "Hey. Don't say that. We'll just… leave it on the back burner. Yeah?"

She nods. "Back burner. Okay."

The two watch the baby in front of them play happily, blissfully unaware of the world they all lived in.

…

Y/N sat in the backseat with an unconscious Ellie.

She was still shaking at the sight of seeing Joel in a murderous rage in the hospital.

She knew he was protective of her and Ellie but she had never seen him do anything like that before.

She cradled the girl's head carefully in her lap, gently running her fingers through Ellie's greasy hair. 

She looked up to catch Joel's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Guess we're not getting that cure, are we?"

He shook his head, "Guess not."

"Say goodbye to the chance at parenthood." She sighed.

They sat in silence for a while.

She watched Ellie carefully to check for signs of her waking up.

And she heard Joel's light chuckle.

She looked up, "What?"

He looked at her though the mirror again, "Nothing, sweet mama."

"I'm not… this is…" She glanced down at Ellie, and back up at Joel. 

She smiled slowly as she reveled in Joel's observance.

"I guess…" she noted, "I guess we've already been doing it."

Joel nodded, "Guess it really was made for you."

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