#abed nadir smut

[hanasnx]

life in technicolor.

MINORS DNI 18+ WARNINGS: not edited mb | f!reader | sex tape | sexual content | established relationship | riding. NOTES: dedicated to @murdrdocs. credit for the cam idea

ABED NADIR had rented out that clunky camera from the film department ages ago. It sits in his living room precariously balanced on a stack of books on a shelf, and you cannot stop staring at it. It draws you in like a moth to flame, constantly staring into its lens. One part of you is paranoid it’s recording because it’s like Abed to leave it on to capture life as it exists, and the other part secretly daydreams he left it on to capture something else. Regardless of any fantasies, you know he wouldn’t just leave it on on purpose, right?

You chew your lower lip as you watch it and wonder what it would be like if he’d planned to make a movie with you. One without inhibitions or clothes. That kind of spontaneity isn’t within his peripheral, but you still hold out hope.

“What are you looking at?” his question snaps you out of your stupor, jumping in place before meeting his expectant gaze. The noises of the movie playing come into focus as your mouth parts only to expel silence. “You were looking over there so I just thought there was something to look at.” Abed answers your hesitance as if he anticipated your confusion, gesturing with a finger in the direction of the camera while his hand is still wrapped around the spoon in his cereal bowl.

“Oh!” you exclaim, glancing between him and the lens, shaking your head. “It’s nothing.” Uncomfortably, you shift in your seat, stuffing your clasped hands between your thighs. He notes that with a twitch to his brow. “I was just staring off into space.”

He continues to test the waters, adjusting the point of his finger towards the TV, “Is the movie boring?”

“Mm-mm.” You press your lips together and shake your head again. When you sigh, you visibly relax, sinking into his couch.

“You’re doing that thing you do.”

You hum in inquiry, frowning at him.

“The deflection.” He’s not a stranger to getting lost in thought, but you sure do get lost the most when you’re watching that camera. Regardless of his inexperience in the physical intimacy facet of a relationship, he knows how to read people, and he certainly knows what cameras are used for. He recognizes that flush in your cheeks. “You wanna try it out?”

At first he kept experimenting, showing you the buttons to press, demonstrating how to hold it, observing your reactions. You aren’t interested in being a film major, he knows that, but now that you’ve learned how to use it, who’s to decide what you’ll use it on? It’s easy to deduce where it’s headed, and it gets real dirty real fast.

“Point it down- between us.” Those breathless words send shivers down your spine, especially because he’s usually so silent when he’s inside you. You do as he says, recording where your bodies conjoin: his ruts up into you, your hole swallowing him up, the ring of cream forming at his base. It’s not often he gets to indulge you in the physical side of sensuality, this is his way of appeasing you. He’ll trim it up, edit it, make it pretty, and let you have a copy of the sex tape he has a hand in making right now. He doesn’t mind, his face isn’t in it anyway. Nobody’ll know it’s his tan dick fucking your insides. “I like you… like this.” he confesses, and a grin stretches onto your lips when you feel his hands squeeze your hips.

“You mean when I’m on top?”

“Yes,” he grunts, and a sting shoots through your abdomen. “I like what you look like. You look really pretty. Up there.” Broken phrases are interrupted by his sounds of effort, lithe body bucking into you as you struggle to keep the camera steady.

“Do I feel good?” you whisper, and Abed’s head tilts back. It defines his adam’s apple, and if this camera wasn’t in your way you’d lean down to lick it.

Your question does not go unheeded for he knows intimately how important verbal praise is to you, so he tries to be vocal. This is for you. He sucks in a breath, “Yes. Yes, very.”

[murdrdocs]

voyeurism; filming; director!abed; fem!reader; MDNI (inspired by this from @hanasnx and this) w/ ABED NADIR

if there's one thing you can say about abed, it's that he's committed.

it's rare that he'll back down from a bit, and you can count on one hand all the times that he has. you're sure that this won't create another tally.

from the moment your eyes opened this morning, there's been a camera in your face. advanced, fresh, a little bigger than the one abed usually carried.

new equipment he wanted to test out, he'd told you. and you had the privilege of being his test subject.

somewhere on the memory card is footage of you getting ready, footage of you grocery shopping, footage of you reading, and joining it is footage of you in your barest, most intimate form.

laid out on your bed, your legs spread to open the view of your cunt to abed, and consequently the camera. you didn't have to worry about eyes other than the ones in the room seeing the footage, but the voyeurism of it all makes you want to shrink in on yourself.

you're close to doing so, your knees pushing together and shrouding your working hand. but abed tuts, he sits up in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees.

"please keep your legs open, the camera can't pick up the action when they're closed."

he leans back to peer at the live view, nodding to himself before fixing his stare—hard and direct—back on you.

it suddenly becomes clear to you that he's playing the role of the director, one you've seen him portray many times before. it's odd how natural it comes to him. it's certainly not odd how turned on it makes you.

your legs spread again, revealing the glisten of your cunt and the way it has transferred to your fingers. evidence of how long you’ve been at this, the time being a testament to your inability to focus with artificial eyes watching you.

abed’s directing continues.

“could you angle your hips more to the right?” you aim your hips to the right. “my right, please. and use your other hand it gives better angles.”

frustrated, you huff and adjust your position, switching hands and sacrificing dexterity with the change.

you only have the patience to continue for a few moments before you sit up completely, resting your free hand out behind you and staring at abed. his lips part as if he's about to say something, his pointer finger already in the air in preparation.

you're quick to interrupt him.

"abed," you start, continuing when he hums. "since you know what you want so bad, why don’t you come over here and do it yourself?"

for a moment he just blinks at you. then his face morphs into astonishment, as if your words have cracked the formula to the entire film and a lightbulb should have been hovering over his messy dark hair.

"a hands on approach … like a clint eastwood film?" he's already standing and approaching you as you're nodding.

"yeah, sure. like clint eastwood."

[saphhhiree]

introduction to art part 2

abed nadir x reader

part 2 of a req from @vampireluck read part one here!

warnings: nsfw!!! 18+, jeff’s ego, oral m!receiving, fingering, slightly ooc maybe, hickeys!!!, troys jealous

also can we talk ab abed hands for a sec..

“wait. what’s happening? are you flirting?” he looks up at you, noticing that you’re a little too close than he remembers you being. “do you want me to be?” you ask looking down at your feet. he stands up, cocking his head to the side, looking down at you, “yes” he says.

he bends down and kisses you; you stiffen, not processing what happened until you feel the absence of his lips. “wait, y/n, i’m sorry if i read that wrong i thought-“ you cut him off smashing your lips against his again, he adapted to your speed and force immediately, matching your pace as you grazed your hands up his nape, weaving your hands in his hair. he groans softly into the kiss, placing his hands on your hips, pulling them closer to his. he squeezed them softly, you smile into the kiss, moving your hands from his hair to trail one hand down his adams apple, earning another soft groan from him, while your other hand continued down his chest, stopping at the hem of his pants. “can i?” breaking the kiss to whisper in his ear while playing with the hem of his pants, “only if you want to, y/n” he kisses your neck, as you bite softly on his. you tilt your head back, giving him a brief kiss before getting down on your knees, pulling his boxers and pants down in one go. he hisses due to the cold air against him, mixed with the sight of you on your knees for him. you spit in your hand and wrap it around his base while kissing the tip softly; you open your mouth, licking a line on the bottom of his base before taking him in your mouth. he groaned softly, eyebrows furrowed, accidentally bucking his hips forward, causing you to gag slightly. you move slowly, swirling your tongue around the tip before going down again, repeating this grueling process until he moans out, “faster, please, y/n” you hummed in response, earning another pretty sound from him. you trailed your hands up his inner thighs, using them for balance. tears pricked your eyes before his hips buck again, “i think im close” you release him from your mouth to jerk him off, out of breath and your mouth needing a break “cum for me” you whispered softly and with that, he softly whined as he came, painting your face with his seed, you licked off what landed on your lips before using your shirt to wipe the rest off. he pulled his pants back up as you stood up getting ready to put your clothes on, “wait, what about you?” he held your wrist, stopping you from picking up your pants, “oh, abed, it’s okay. i don’t wanna push you.” you said with a soft smile, you knew it was tough for him to show physical affection towards others, but he stopped your thoughts saying, “ but i want to make you feel good too,” he looked at you, a genuine, real, kindhearted expression laid out on his face. he wasn’t putting on a front, pretending to be someone else, or using movies or shows to connect. you could see that he wanted, no, needed, to make you feel good. “please, (y/n).” you studied his gaze a second longer before kissing him, walking back so you were against the study room table, “okay” you parted, connecting your forehead with his.

he leaned down and started softly kissing your neck before finding the exact spot that made your pulse quicken ever so slightly; he bit down, lightly sucking as he trailed his hands down your waist, hesitating on the hem of your underwear, “it’s okay, abed, i would tell you if i didn’t like this.” he responded with a soft “yea” before dipping down into your underwear, he felt your arousal immediately, smirking as he teased around your hole, he dipped one finger in, slowly, payback for your teasing earlier, you softly moan as he enters a second finger, still biting on your neck every so often, “fuck, abed” you pleaded, practically begging him to stop teasing. almost immediately, he curls his slim digits inside you, coaxing a whine from your pretty mouth; he whispers in your ear, “you’re the most captivating thing i’ve seen in my life.” he bites your earlobe before picking up his pace, fingers moving in and out while still curling. you squeeze your eyes shut as your mouth fell open, an array of whines and gasps falling past your lips. "dont stop, fuck" you moan into his ear, "i wont." he whispers in your neck. you feel so good, you bite down hard on his shoulder, earning a hiss from him. you were so close, eyes blurry as you reached your limit. "abed, im close.." with that, he entered another finger, stretching you out with his slender fingers; you snap before you can even process the change, "fuck" you draw out every letter, squeezing around him as you cum, a mix of pleasure, happiness, and pure bliss. he slows down and takes his fingers out carefully. you catch your breath, grabbing onto his hoodie for balance. "are you okay?" he asks; you nod and hum softly. he walks across the room, bending down and picking up your pants and stained shirt. walking back over to you, he hands you your pants but keeps your shirt. "i don't think you should wear this" he says before unzipping his hoodie, "here" placing it around your shoulders. you start putting on your pants before zipping the hoodie up, "thanks abed." you look at him before embracing him in a hug. "thank you, y/n" he says before wrapping his arms around you. "we should really finish that project..." you release him, now worried about the assignment that got you into this in the first place. "it's already done." he hands you his notepad, and sure as hell, the sketch perfectly summed up what needed to be done for a passing grade. "holy shit abed, this is really good." you look at him in awe, handing the notebook back before slinging your bag over your shoulder. "thanks" his gaze meets yours, "i really like you y/n, i really do, and i dont want this to end here." you take his hand in yours, "i dont want it to either." you lean in for a kiss before giggling. "we need to head back to the study room, cmon." you tug softly on his shirt before turning of your heels making your way to the rest of the study group, him following quickly beind.

"somethings different." troy mumbles as you both take your respective seats. you make quick eye contact with abed. "*GASP* YOU DIDN'T!" troy shoots up from his seat, pointing to you, noticing the marks across your neck. the study group turns to you as you try to cover your neck nonchalantly. "oh no... i need to go home... you ruined the only pure thing in this group! shame on you! mhm mhm" shirley says, shaking her head and rushing out of the study room, mumbling something about sinners and hell (of course), "wow! i can't believe abed got some before i did." jeff leans back in his chair. "OW!" he recoils from a sharp jab from britta, "abed is becoming a man now, and we need to support him. abed, it's normal to feel-" before britta could even start one of her "therapy" rants, jeff interrupts her saying "britta, no, troy, sit down, your boyfriend is fine, don't worry. as for me, im going home." jeff stands up getting ready to walk out of the room. "we need to finish studying!" annie pouts to jeff, crossing her arms. "im going home." jeff says walking out. "yea, same." britta gets her things ready and leaves. "ugh! fine! you guys are going to fail, and i will laugh in your face!" annie yells at them, but they're too far away to hear. you stand up, also getting ready to leave, you walk over to abed, planting a kiss on his cheek, "ill see you guys tomorrow, goodnight." you walk out, still close enough to hear troy say, "tell me everything. right now." to abed and annie whine "guys!! thats gross!! come on...." you chuckle to yourself and get in your car.

i hope everyone liked it!! im still kinda new to writing so be nice pls!

[harmfulb1tch]

Interesting Dreams Part 2

Ship: Brad Bakshi x reader

Warnings: SMUT (mdni): Vibrators, exhibitionism, teasing, orgasm denial, possessive. Swearing.

Summary: After your encounter with Brad last week, he has a little surprise for you.

A/N: The long awaited Part twoooooo yay! Finally Finished!

-------------------------

A couple of days had passed since the incident. You had barely spoken to Brad, meaning you had only spoken to him when necessary. That was in directory meetings and when you had to present him the designs for the new weapons in the game to see if they were marketable, and even then, you limited yourself to give him the design on paper and look straight down to the floor.

Poppy had confronted you about the dream a couple of times, saying that she didn’t know what you saw in Brad (which you didn’t know yourself). But you shut her down quickly when you brought up her dream about Ian. Of course, the situation wasn’t the same, because differently from Poppy, you did in fact want to be fucked by Brad. You wanted it so bad it was the only thing you thought about everyday at work. You always had him in view, since your office was right in front of his and they both had clear windows. He always was either pacing around with coffee in his hand or very concentrated on his Mac, working on something you didn’t know. It was very ironic how a couple of weeks ago you agreed with everyone around the office on hating Brad, but it only took a dream for you to change your mind about the lanky man (This is probably because you lied to yourself). While he was in his office, you only fantasized about what he would do to you. You wanted him to fuck you in his office, to treat you like he owned you.

There he was now, he was talking on the phone to some client, you assumed. He looked calm and collected, he probably sounded like that too. Although, you could look through that facade. He was calm, but you could see the cogs in his head turning. You could see that he was plotting a scheme or finding a way to make the client crack. That’s something you admired from him, how he could look collected and make everyone be at his mercy all at the same time. 

Your thoughts were interrupted suddenly when you saw Brad looking directly at you. He caught you looking at him, practically undressing him with your eyes. He immediately smirked and looked away. You also turned your gaze away from him, blushing madly and trying to focus again on your work. 

After that, you heard someone knock on the door of your office. David appeared with his usual fake smile and positive attitude. A part of you was scared that he was going to talk to you to mention the incident that happened with Brad a couple of days prior. You discarded the possibility remembering how nervous he was when he found out about the dream, thinking that if he were to bring the topic up, he wouldn’t be so jolly. 

“Good Morning Y/N! I just wanted to tell you that we will have a directory meeting at 12pm, so be ready for that! he said, accentuating the “T” at the end. You liked David, to a certain extent. You immediately started liking him less when he ratted you out to Brad. 

“Sure. But couldn’t you have send me an email with the details of the meeting? I could’ve prepared something on what we were working on right now in the art department” 

“Yep, sorry. We forgot to tell you. See you later!” And with that he left, closing the door behind him

You sighed. Typical. You, the art director, were forgotten when setting up a very important meeting. You needed a fucking break, you didn’t get paid enough to keep up with all this bullshit.

You went to the breakroom, where Poppy and Ian were talking next to the coffee machine. You pushed Ian aside without even talking to him to prepare yourself a coffee and grab a packet of Pop Tarts. Poppy and Ian started talking to you about their lives, just making casual conversation. Ian was telling you and Poppy about a hookup he had the night before. Although it was a very graphic explanation, you lived for the drama of it all. At some point, Poppy tried to bring up Brad into the conversation, but every time she hinted at the subject, you shot her a stern look, not wanting to talk about your experiences regarding Brad.

Ian looked at you and Poppy weirdly, clearly feeling excluded from the conversation. He then said his “goodbye”s and left for his office. Immediately after he left, Poppy looked at you, wiggling her eyebrows, clearly not scared of you revealing her wet dream about Ian anymore.

“So? You’re not going to ask him out?” Poppy said, trying to usher you into caving in and admitting your crush on the tall man.

“Absolutely not.” you said with the most serious look. To prove your seriousness, you took a sip of your coffee.

“Oh come on! You know you like him, admit it!”

“Poppy, he’s a fucking sociopath. I’ve been with guys like him before and I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“Aha! So you do admit he’s your type!” She said, with an exaggerated tone of voice, as if she just resolved a case.

“Poppy! Such the fuck up!” You shushed her “Plus, I’d be surprised if he doesn’t already have someone in his life… Anyway, I’m not asking him out, he’s probably already weirded out enough”

“I’m sure he’s not. You said it yourself, he’s a fucking weirdo. Remember when he tried to bet on my hair? Yeah, fucking weirdo” She rambled “My point is, he’s probably turned on by all this.”

“Ew, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m too busy for this shit, I’m going back to my office. Tell me if you need anything work related. Bye.” And with that you left straight to your office.

When you arrived, you sat on your roller chair sighing. You brushed your hand over your face in pure self-doubt. Should you ask him out? Should you just ignore this whole situation? You didn’t know. All of this was raising a lot of questions in your head. Opening your eyes again, you went to reach your computer to continue working before your meeting when you hand touched a small, wrapped box. When you inspected it further, you saw a note was attached to it. You opened the small envelope curious to see who left the little box on your office table. You hadn’t seen anyone enter, too occupied talking to Poppy.

“ A little present for you. Be a good girl and put these on for the directory meeting in around half an hour. I have the remote.

Brad”

After reading the note, you immediately opened the box, tearing into the deep red wrapping paper that covered it neatly. You opened the lid to reveal a pair of vibrator panties. Your eyes immediately widened at the sight. The fact that Brad would spend this amount of money to torture you was unbelievable to you. Even if you were a bit grossed out by the situation, you were also very curious on how all of this was to play out. Without a second thought (before you regretted it) you rushed to the bathroom and put them on.

Ten minutes later, you rushed to the meeting and sat next to the man responsible for the vibrator between your legs. He was sitting slouching in his seat as if he didn’t give a fuck about anything, with one leg over the other, pressing his ankle on his opposite thigh. He leaned into you a bit and whispered in your ear.

“Are you wearing it?” he said. You nodded softly, gulping in anticipation. “Good girl” your pussy throbbed at that, you loved his praises.

You saw him put his hand into his pocket and the vibration between your thighs started softly, drawing a pleased hum out of you. He was kinky, you’d give him that.

When it was your turn to show everyone your designs, you knew Brad would make your life impossible. As you went to stand up, the vibration in between your legs speeded up, making you jump, drawing a concerned and confused look from David. You couldn’t think about anything but Brad during your presentation, your voice shook, you slightly whimpered, you sweated and could barely recall what you needed to say.

“Y/N, are you ok? You really don’t seem like yourself today” David said, concern laced in his voice. You slightly looked at Brad, who looked at you with lust-filled eyes and smirked at you.

“Y-yes, I’m fine. C-can I please c-continue?” You couldn’t help but stutter, it felt too good.

“S-sure…?” 

You kept going through the presentation and when you were done, you went back to your seat, crossing your legs to try to stop the build up. It was Brad’s time to present. He looked so sexy while engaging with his small public that consisted of the directory committee: Poppy, Ian, David, C.W. and yourself. 

“The weapons Y/N designed were a huge hit, and they’ve been selling like hot cakes. Good girl Y/N.” You almost choked when he said that. A silence filling the room.

“T-thank you Brad.” You said flushed.

“Well that was fucking weird” Said Ian.

At one moment, he put his hands on his pockets and amplified the vibrations while was presenting. You were so fucking close. You needed release and without realizing, you smacked the table with your hand hard. Then you tried to camouflage it as a cough when everybody looked at you weirdly. That cough sounded more like a moan than anything, but people didn’t dare to question anything. Brad knew you were so. Fucking. Close. That was when he completely stopped the vibrations. When he wrapped up his presentation, you rushed to your office.

“What was that about?” David said, weirded out.

“I don’t know,” Brad said, bored.

Brad paraded after you and found you hunched over your desk. You were on the brink of your orgasm and he denied it like he owned you, which he kind of did. You haven’t been this frustrated in a long time.

“H-hey, uh… what’s going on?” he said in an innocent tone. You stood up to confront him, full of a new-found confidence. 

“What is your fucking deal? I was so fucking close, and you put me in the spot SEVERAL times. I’m so fucking done with you Brad” You sounded really pissed, because you were.

“Oh don’t get your panties in a twist.” he said annoyed

“Oh fuck you!” you shouted

“Careful there, princess. You’re playing with fire.” With that, he pressed you against your desk and, yet again, leaned into your ear, whispering “You don’t want me to deny you of your orgasm again, do you?”

“N-no…” With his body pressed to yours, your brain barely functioned. You didn’t know what was going on with you, you never acted like this. 

“Good girl. Now, I have to go. I’ll see you later.” before he left, he brushed his lips with yours. Not quite kissing you, just teasing.

You were left there, dumbfounded (again). You breathed deeply, and your eyes were wide. You probably looked crazy, a complete mess. And worst of all, you were the wettest you had ever been. You were so fucking frustrated. You wanted to shout, scream and have a tantrum but, most of all, you wanted to cum. You wanted Brad to fuck you like he owned you.

[milogoestogreendale]

THIS VIDEO?!

[secretly-dum]

guys unfortunately fics are gonna be suspended temporarily so please send little drabble or blurb ideas !! (specify male, gender neutral, female, and etc for reader)

[troynabed]

in light of the next trobed renaissance here's a link to the 18+ trobed server (it's not an exclusively nsfw server, but you do have to be 18 to join), come hang out!

[fictionobsession]

I just need everyone to know that I have recently starting watching community and the lack of abed nadir fanfic on this website is distressing. I do not expect anyone to solve this problem. I just want you all to know that I’m suffering from it.

[thedisc0spider]

Who I will write for:

-Michael Bluth

-Jeff Winger

-Abed Nadir

-Steve Harrington

-Dylan Matthews

-Ryan Atwood

-Seth Cohen

-Ryan Howard

-Peter Parker

-Bucky Barnes

-Steve Rogers

-Joe Goldberg

-Chandler Bing

-Nick Miller

-Hamzahthefantastic

-Peter Parker

-Cedric Diggory

-Edward Cullen

-Spencer Agnew

-Logan Howlett

-Timothèe Chalamet

-Guinevere Beck

-Love Quinn

-Kate Bishop

-Wanda Maximoff

-Wade Wilson

-The Deep

-Homelander

-Hughie Campbell

Now, these are just the main ones. If you request a character and I know who they are I will write for them. Also I’m open to doing smut, fluff, and angst. I’m also open to writing fem!reader, male!reader, and gn!reader! Just make sure to SPECIFY IN THE REQUEST or else I’ll do fem!reader by default.<3

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

ABED NADIR makes you think he’s hitting on you by asking you to star in his movie with a thousand sex scenes. In his mind, he’s studying the art of love-making on camera; in your mind, he’s creating an excuse so the both of you can get up close and personal without inhibitions. He’s like a different person when it’s rolling, talking to you in a different tone of voice, grabbing at you like he needs you. You’re sure it’s not artificial. Right up until he says, “Cut.”

[murdrdocs]

MISCELLANEOUS ONE SHOTS !

includes ... BILLY BONNEY, RODRICK HEFFLEY, MITCH RAPP, JAKE SERESIN, BARBIE, ADAM WARLOCK, RANSOM DRYSDALE, ISAAC LAHEY, ABED NADIR, PAUL ATREIDES, FEYD RAUTHA HARKONNEN, VINCENT RENZI, SARAH CAMERON, RICK GRIMES, TIM LAFLOUR, STEVE RAGLAN, WES HICKS, WALLY CLARK, JOHNNY CASTLE. STEVE MURPHY, DODGE MASON, OLIVER QUICK, FELIX CATTON, DUKE LETO, CARMEN BERZATTO, LUCA (THE BEAR), LUKE RIORDAN

☼ fluff. ☽ smut (18+). ☁︎ suggestive. ϟ dark content ☆ favorite full masterlist

note: most if not all works are fem!reader intended.

all works are 18+.

billy the kid teaches you how to ride ☽

rodrick heffley finds your panties ☽

rodrick heffley fucks you on his twin xl ☽

mitch rapp teaches you how to fight ☁︎

mitch pushes you to your limits when he trains you ☽

☆ jake seresin is the epitome of boyfriend

barbie's new life in the real world is domestic

more domesticity with barbie

barbie's fashion headcanon

barbie thinks you should get married

barbie learns about the cowboy hat rule

adam warlock and his corruption kink ☁︎

adam warlock and thigh riding ☽

ransom drysdale doesn't care for your clothes ☽

isaac lahey is a new wolf and more possessive

abed nadir plays the role of the pornography director ☽

paul atreides likes to make you cry ☽

☆ feyd rautha harkonnen is brought to his knees by you ☁︎

☆ vincent renzi knocks before entering ☽

vincent renzi likes to make you squirt ☽

sarah cameron wants to break you and rafe up ☁︎

sarah cameron wants to use the wand and rabbit ☽

rick grimes fucks with you despite his marriage ☽

rick grimes doesn't put up with your attitude ☽

rick grimes knows you don't really hate him ☽

tim laflour fucks in a jill scott way ☽

steve raglan fucks you in his office ☽

wes hicks likes when you give him head ☽

perv! wally clark steals your panties ☽ ϟ

wally clark loves when you wear his jacket ☼

johnny castle finally releases his energy with you ☽

steve murphy needs you even when you’re sleepy ☽

dodge mason likes to tease ☽

your relationship with oliver quick and felix catton is complicated ☽

felix catton helps you welcome oliver quick ☽

oliver quick pisses with you ☽

felix catton makes a move for you ☽

duke leto lets you cockwarm him ☽

carmy berzatto makes promises he cant keep ☽

carmy berzatto looks beautiful in the aftermath ☽

luca as your estranged stepbrother ☽ϟ

you and luca announce your engagement

luca and soft, sleepy shower sex ☽

luca's casual manhandling

luca and his impatience ☽

luke riordan helps when you're rolling ☽

luke riordan helps you ride out your high ☽

[saphhhiree]

hello!!!!!! i was wondering if u could write an abed nadir x reader mayhaps.. fluff or smut, i don’t mind !!!! i am so starved for abed content pleek.

HOLY SHIT HELLO MY FIRST FUCKING REQ????? HOLY SHIT YES OF COURSE ABED CONTENT IS LACKING!!! I WILL PROVIDE!!

introduction to art

abed nadir x reader

warnings: i’m very high so not proofread, nsfw, jeff’s ego, makeout, oral m!receiving, fingering, (in pt2) no pierce (i’m sorry but i won’t write anything pierce would do or say)

enjoy!! reader is afab if u didn’t want that i can change it if needed 🙏🏻🙏🏻 but gn prns!!! also! reader sits next to jeff in the open chair

“y/n? wake up!” opening your eyes while groaning softly “you can’t keep falling asleep, we need to keep studying” annie said rolling her eyes. “but this is borrrrriinnng” you yawn stretching your arms. “then leave, no one’s keeping you here yknow” annie crossed her arms while puffing her bottom lip. “gladly” you stood up but before you could pick your bag up, “you can’t.” you looked back up to the source of the voice, locking eyes with abed, his brows furrowed, “we have our art project due tomorrow.” he cocks his head slightly to the side awaiting your response. “so? you guys are studying for a class i don’t have with the rest of you, this is basically pointless for me. plus it’s almost 10, we all should be home right now.” you cross your arms, bag on your back ready to walk out. abeds mouth snaps shut as he looked to jeff as if he could stop you, jeff rolled his eyes saying “how about you and abed go to the other study room for your project and we can give him the notes tomorrow.” you practically wanted to murder jeff. 5 mins away from peaceful slumber yet now morally aware how unfair it was to leave abed to fend for himself. turning on your heels you walked to the opposite of the room “cmom im tired, let’s get this over with” tapping abed on his shoulder “aw, that’s nice.” shirley commented as abed packed up to follow you out in the direction of the other study room.

“what’s the assignment anyway?” you both put your bags down and sat next to eachother “expressing the human form and fabric texture” he pulls his notebook out, looking for the description of the assignment. “ah, okay…” you copy his actions, knowing you don’t have the notes because you fell asleep in the class. “since we’re partners on this one, you can be the model and i will draw it” abed says as he turns to you. “what? that’s not fair cmon.” you pout slightly, the thought of basically modeling for someone who you had feelings for was not something you wanted to do. “but you don’t have the notes” he points to your empty notebook then glancing at his notes. “fine.” you sigh and put your head in your hands awaiting further instructions. “it says arrange for a live model, examine the flow of fabric on the body while drawing it.” you get up, trying to hide the fact you were practically sweating, “draw me like one of your french girls, abed” you joke as he turns his chair around to look at you, “you have to be naked for that reference to work” he says looking down to start the sketch “what?? it was perfect timing, i think i hit the mark either way.” you groan back, “no, it doesn’t count, you can’t quote something that doesn’t apply to what’s happening. plus your not laying down” annoyed, you respond “yes i can! i can quote whatever i want! it doesn’t matter if i’m laying down naked or not.” you cross your arms. “yes it does.” he keeps sketching, “no, it doesn’t” “yes, it does.” “fine!” you yell, you’re tired and just wanted to make a joke, but now your irritated, you pull your sweater off, and next your pants. abed stares back at you, “you’re still not naked” he shakes his head almost burrowing it into his notebook, he’s seen half naked people before yea, but not you. you intrigued him, you never got mad at his ramblings, you watched kickpuncher with him when troy couldn’t, you’ve shown him movies you like, and he actually enjoys them. though you make crappy jokes about them, or *cough cough* quote them wrong *cough cough* something about you drew him in. he could read people so well, and he could read you too, but he still couldn’t figure out why he liked you so much. bringing him out of his thoughts you joke “why do you want me naked so bad?” “i don’t.” he lied. “so you think i’m ugly?” you push him further, “no” your laughter dies down, “oh?” you question, “wait. what’s happening? are you flirting?” he looks up at you, noticing that you’re a little too close than he remembers you being. “do you want me to be?” you ask looking down at your feet. he stands up, cocking his head to the side, looking down at you, “yes” he says.

PART TWO IS UP! NSFW! READ HERE, 18+ ONLY!

[harmfulb1tch]

Anyone got any thoughts// headcanons on Brad Bakshi? I’m so fucking deprived from fanfics and headcanons with him, he has so little. Abed Nadir works too btw. Any type works (smut, fluff, angst…etc)

[lucyswinter]

Request guidelines

Requests are : OPEN<3

Masterlist

Who/what I write for:

-Cillian Murphy/ characters: (Jackson Rippner, Tom Shelby, Neil Lewis, Jonathan Crane, Kitten Braden, Jim: 28 days later, Emmett: a quiet place part II, Raymond Leon, Robert Fischer, Tom Buckley)

-Criminal Minds: Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia, JJ,

-The Bear: Sydney Adamu, Richie Jerimovich, Carmen Berzatto, Sugar Berzatto

-Saw: Lawrence Gordon, Adam Stanheight, Mark Hoffman, Peter Strahm, Amanda Young, Jill Tuck, Lynn Denlon (for ships: I’ll do chainshipping, coffinshipping, and shotgunshipping/lynnmanda!)

-American Horror Story (All seasons up to Cult with the addition of 1984. Only ships if they are canon (by season, I mean)! i.e: I won’t do Kit Walker (s2) x Madison Montgomery (s3) or anything! And for canon relationships, I will do any season besides NYC and Delicate as long as they are already together. For example, I would do Montana and Richard from 1984.)

-Nip/Tuck: Sean McNamara, Christian Troy, Matt McNamara, Julie McNamara, Liz Cruz, Eden Lord, Sophia Lopez, Kimber Henry

-DC villains (from the Nolan trilogy or Gotham tv show! I will specify from which one I mean. I’ll also write Batman but that’s the only “hero”/vigilante)

-Peaky blinders: Luca Changretta, Tom Shelby, Alfie Solomons, Finn Shelby, John Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Oswald Mosley

-Top Gun/ Top Gun: Maverick: any characters! (For ships, I only rlly know IceMav 😭 but I’m open to others! I’ll also do penny!reader)

-Bridgerton/ Queen Charolette: Daphne x Simon, George x Charolette, Anthony x Kate, Colin x Penelope (and all of these characters individually as well as Benedict, Violet, Eloise, and the Featherington sisters! *Edit for season 3*: Lord Debling, Lord Stirling, Lady Arnold, Lord Anderson, Francesca Bridgerton, Cressida Cowper)

-Community: Professor Ian Duncan, Jeff Winger, Abed Nadir, Britta Perry , Annie Edison, Troy Barnes

-Impractical Jokers: Joe Gatto, Sal Vulcano, James Murray, Brian Quinn

-Supernatural: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Destiel (will not do Wincest or Wincestiel)

-X-files: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, MSR

-BBC Sherlock (only JohnLock)

-Good omens (only Ineffable husbands)

-Hannibal (only Hannigram)

(Any other characters im open to! Just PM me to see if I know the fandom/media they’re in, or rec with a few options! I’ll ignore if I don’t know them <;3)

I will write: A bit ooc (depends on scenario 🤭), fluff, smut, small-ish age gap, AU’s, non romantic pairings, alternate endings, fem!/gn!/afab!reader, character x reader, character x character

I won’t write: Male!/nonbinary!/trans!reader (im a cis female so I will write gender neutral reader if requested, but most fics (unless specified) were written with a fem reader in mind :)), incest, underage reader (or character), dub/non-con

Thanks for reading! Feel free to PM requests if you aren’t comfortable sending them through the question button or want to work through the request :)

[satansapostle6]

Characters I Write For

Please message me with any ideas/requests! I need ideas(short fics or series)

Mostly write for fem!readers. I can write fluff, angst, smut, etc. If I’m not comfortable with something I can let you know

Character/Actor List

Favorite Characters/Actors To Write For

Draco Malfoy, Weasley twins

Jesse Pinkman

Paul Dano characters

Josh Hutcherson characters

Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel

Damon Salvatore, Silas, Klaus Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson

Rodrick Heffley

Bellamy Blake

Ezra Fitz(should probably make it clear I don’t condone)

Ian Duncan(Community)

Charlie(It’s Always Sunny)

Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase

Finnick Odair

Tommy Shelby

Killian Hook

Paul Dano

Klitz(The Girl Next Door)

Dwayne Hoover(Little Miss Sunshine)

Edward Nashton(The Batman)

Calvin Weir-Fields(Ruby Sparks)

Brian Wilcox(Fast Food Nation)

Joby Taylor(For Ellen)

Nick Flynn(Being Flynn)

Josh Hutcherson

Peeta Mellark(The Hunger Games)

Mike Schmidt(FNAF)

Josh Futturman(Future Man)

Devon Bostick

Rodrick Heffley(Diary of a Wimpy Kid)

Jasper Jordan(The 100)

Cillian Murphy

Tommy Shelby(Peaky Blinders)

Dr. Jonathan Crane(The Dark Knight)

Neil(Watching the Detectives)

Christian Bale

Patrick Bateman(American Psycho)

Bruce Wayne(The Dark Knight)

Breaking Bad

Jesse Pinkman

Jane Margolis

Saul Goodman

Harry Potter(Golden Trio Era)

Harry Potter

Ron Weasley

Hermione Granger

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Ginny Weasley

Luna Lovegood

Neville Longbottom

Draco Malfoy

Pansy Parkinson

Blaise Zabini

Theodore Nott

Daphne Greengrass

Adrian Pucey

Terence Higgs

Harry Potter(Marauders Era)

James Potter

Remus Lupin

Sirius Black

Lily Potter

Severus Snape

Regulus Black

Lucius Malfoy

Narcissa Malfoy

Bellatrix Lestrange

Arthur Weasley

Harry Potter(Fantastic Beasts Era)

Newt Scamander

Queenie Goldstein

Leta Lestrange

Percy Jackson

Percy Jackson

Annabeth Chase

Luke Castellan

Thalia Grace

Jason Grace

+ Gods

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner

Emily Prentiss

Derek Morgan

JJ

Penelope Garcia

David Rossi

Elle Greenaway

Cat Adams

Megan Kane

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

John Winchester

Mary Winchester

Castiel

Charlie Bradbury

Rowena McLeod

Adam Milligan

Lucifer

Ruby

Jessica Moore

Gabriel

Benny Lafitte

Bela Talbot

Jo Harvelle

Ellen Harvelle

Superstore

Jonah Simms

Amy Sosa

Marcus White

Garrett McNeill

Dina Fox

Cheyenne Lee

Bo Thompson

Gilmore Girls

Lorelai Gilmore

Christopher Hayden

Luke Danes

Logan Huntzberger

Jess Mariano

The Hunger Games

Peeta Mellark

Katniss Everdeen

Gale Hawthorn

Finnick Odair

Johanna Mason

Haymitch Abernathy

Pretty Little Liars

Aria Montgomery

Spencer Hastings

Emily Fields

Hannah Marin

Mona Vanderwaal

Alison Di Laurentis

Jason Di Laurentis

Ezra Fitz

Toby Cavanaugh

Jenna Marshall

Caleb Rivers

The Vampire Diaries

Damon Salvatore

Stefan Salvatore

Katherine Pierce

Elena Gilbert

Jeremy Gilbert

Bonnie Bennett

Caroline Forbes

The Originals

Klaus Mikaelson

Elijah Mikaelson

Kol Mikaelson

Rebekah Mikaelson

Freya Mikaelson

Hayley Marshall

Marcel Gerard

Davina Claire

Twilight

Edward Cullen

Bella Swan

Alice Cullen

Jasper Hale

Rosalie Hale

Emmett Cullen

Victoria

The 100

Bellamy Blake

Octavia Blake

Jasper Jordan

Shameless

Fiona Gallagher

Lip Gallagher

Carl Gallagher

Frank Gallagher

Mandy Milkovich

Kevin Ball

Veronica Fisher

The Bear

Carmy Berzatto

Sydney Adamu

Richie Jerimovich

Suicide Squad

Harley Quinn

Rick Flag

Blackguard

Once Upon A Time

Emma Swan

Regina Mills

Killian Jones

Rumplestiltskin

Robin Hood

Ruby

Hades

Community

Jeff Winger

Abed Nadir

Annie Edison

Troy Barnes

Ian Duncan

It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia

Charlie Kelly

Dennis Reynolds

Dee Reynolds

Mac

Cricket

House MD

Greg House

Robert Chase

James Wilson

Lisa Cuddy

Parks and Recreation

Ben Wyatt

April Ludgate

Andy Dwyer

MCU, Marvel

Steve Rogers

Tony Stark

Natasha Romanoff

Bruce Banner

Wanda Maximoff

Loki Laufeyson

Peter Parker(Holland, Garfield, Maguire)

Gamora

Peter Quill

Scott Lang

Steven Strange

Jessica Jones

Wade Wilson

DC CW

Oliver Queen

Barry Allen

Felicity Smoak

Laurel Lance

Sara Lance

Malcom Merlyn

John Constantine

Leonard Snart

Ray Palmer

Caitlyn Snow

Julian Albert

Rip Hunter

10 Things I Hate About You

Patrick Verona

Cameron James

New Girl

Jess Day

Nick Miller

Schmidt

Other Characters

Charlie Kelmeckis(Perks Of Being A Wallflower)

Jesse Eisenberg Characters

Dr. Who(10th Doctor)

Will Probably Add More

[sil-te-plait-tue-moi]

Wedding-seasonal depression.

Quick summary: What if Pierce actually did get married to Wu Mei way back when in the second season? You and Jeff are both struggling to come to terms with the fact that this is Pierce’s eighth time getting married, while you’re both still sad and single and alone. You decide to take your frustrations out on each other.

Word count: 7.8K

Warnings: SMUT (you have been warned, this is essentially porn with a lil’ plot), but it's not like super kinky; lots of swearing; first time writing second-person, so buckle up, I guess; kind of angsty (??); many suppressed feels.

A/N: Hey, guys, what’s up 😃🌈🦶! Uhhhh, I know this fic is a little random, but I’ve literally had this story in my drafts for six months. Since then, I have finished the entire Community show and have brought you this gem of a smut fic for Jeff Winger (particularly Jeff Winger with a fuckin’ beard 😩😩😩 he’s such an asshole). Please excuse my horrible attempts at dirty talk. Also, this is the first fic I’ve written in second person, soooooo I’m sorry if it’s, like, bad. Okay, enjoy!! :)))

***

You know, the wedding is perfectly nice. You have nothing against weddings. Apart from the strangely sexist ceremonies (as Britta will agree), the giving away of the daughter to her new owner kind of thing, the virginal unveiling thing, they’re perfectly fine. There’s free alcohol, free food, dancing, friends – sounds pretty nice at first, doesn’t it? Yeah, you’d think that, wouldn’t you? Except, now, the only kind of enjoyment you can feel is the pleasure of yet another scotch burning its way down your throat. You’ve had three, now, and it’s only a matter of time before they start to kick in. And you don’t come to weddings just to get drunk, okay? Your friend is getting married today, and no matter how blatantly racist and sexist and homophobic he is on a daily basis, you want to support his happiness (Annie forced you to come).

The fact that it’s Pierce getting married (again) hasn’t really hit you yet. Pierce. Pierce who talks about women like they’re objects, who treats them like they have a fucking expiry date, who has had his shot at marriage several times before, is now at the altar again, having another wedding while some of you are left to wallow in your own self-pity and loneliness until the night’s end.

You ask the bartender for another scotch.

You swivel in your stool to survey the venue – tables are dotted all throughout the hotel’s expansive ballroom, swathed with elegant white tablecloths, with elaborate centrepieces of white lilies and tulips and curling ferns to adorn. The ceiling reaches up, up, up, and intricate moulding compliments and fills its area, leading to the elevated centre where a glimmering, twisting chandelier dangles, its large gems scattering rainbow light here and there around the room. It’s pretty – the bride knew what she was doing. Pierce had refused to get involved in any of the wedding preparation because, and you quote, “it’s a woman’s job”. When you asked him what a man’s job was, he had looked at you condescendingly, as if it were as plain as day, and said, “To attend the bachelor party, of course.” You didn’t blink or breathe for a whole ten, fifteen seconds, you believe – you thought he was joking at first. But you shouldn’t’ve underestimated Pierce and his miraculous ability to infuriate you. Lord knows why anyone would want to marry him.

Your table – the study group’s table – is right in the corner of the room. The location is a little questionable (you’re all pretty sure the bride detests you for being more important than she is to Pierce, and you don’t blame her at all—but, you know, she could’ve sat you a little closer to the snack bar is all you’re saying), and it’s not close to the altar, it’s not close to the buffet, or the bar, or the toilets, or the band. But, of course, the group has found its own way to keep everyone entertained. Abed and Troy have napkin hats placed on their heads, acting out some movie scene, you’re sure, and Britta’s well on her way to becoming black-out drunk by the time the vows start, and Shirley’s trying to figure out the recipe of the cheesecake Annie ordered, reaching over the table for another forkful and another and another, face scrunched up in deathly concentration as she tries to identify the ingredients by taste. Poor Annie, you think to yourself, but you’re smiling.

Your eyes immediately start searching for Jeff. It’s an unconscious thing that you do every time you enter a room. You just want to make sure he hasn’t done anything stupid yet. And if you know anything at all about him, he’s going to be glowering the whole night away, rolling around in his bitterness, torn between his jealousy that Pierce gets to be married (again) and between his fiery disdain of weddings. He’s just a little bit too much like you – that’s how you can foresee his scowl when he approaches the bar, how you just know his hands will be shoved childishly in his pockets, and that he’ll roll his eyes when some bridesmaid will stop him and ask how he knows the groom. It happens just like clockwork. Jeff thinks he’s some wildcard, but, in reality, he’s so predictable.

“I’m actually the head of what used to be his favourite escort business. He was one of my best customers, but, uh—” he hisses cynically, “—you can’t win ‘em all, can you?”

You smile. He’s predictable until he opens his mouth.

The bridesmaid looks absolutely horrified. She leaves promptly with wide eyes and an open mouth, trying to stifle a laugh for the sake of her friendship with the bride.

A self-satisfied look overcomes Jeff’s face – he’s probably laughing internally at one of his own jokes again – and then his attention shifts up over to you, and his gleaming eyes grace themselves upon yours. He’s such an ass.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” you snort, turning back to the bar and digging your nail back into this narrow groove in its mahogany surface – maybe, if you’re patient enough, you’’ll soon be able to carve your initials into it forever. Jeff steps up onto the platform that perimeters the bar, sighing from deep within his chest as he slumps himself forward in the viridian, velvet-cushioned stool beside you. “You could have at least pretended to be nice for a few seconds.” While your manner is joking, there’s an underlying seriousness to your words. He needs to stop introducing himself as a prick to everyone – it’s off-putting.

But he just grins over at you – it’s hard not to smile back. “That was me being nice, I’ll have you know,” he says meaningfully, “and it just kills me—” he slaps a hand right across his heart, “—to know you don’t think I’m genuine.”

“She looked abhorred, Jeff. Abhorred.”

He scoffs violently. “Don’t say she looked abhorred, okay? She did not look abhorred.” Then, a pause. Then, “What does ‘abhorred’ mean?”

Oh, Jeff. You’d think that, what with his lawyer days (or rather, his days faking a law degree), he’d have a better vocabulary than he actually does. You’re pretty sure he looks up fancy words in his free time, just to impress people, most of which he doesn’t even know. You can just picture it: Him, sitting in the armchair of his ridiculously clean apartment, a dictionary in his lap, a thesaurus to the side, trying to comprehend what “sporadically” means so that he can use it in class the day after. You haven’t proven this theory yet, and Jeff always avoids the question, but you’re 100% convinced that this act is entirely true.

“It means horrified, Jeff,” you deadpan. You watch him make a mental note to use that in conversation later.

He hums lowly, and you let out a long sigh. Wordlessly, the both of you turn your heads to look back at your table. There are a few, special moments in life where someone will resonate so much with another’s feelings that they feel as if the two of them have become melded together. The borders of their mind will collapse, and that shared emotion will just mingle between the two of them like a strange, little ghost. It’s like that now, with you. It’s a melancholy type of feeling. You both can’t quite place the sadness, even as you’re looking on at the happy study group, and you can say that, with confidence, Jeff feels lonely. Just like you. You can feel the ache in his heart.

But, as quick as the intimacy came, it disappears again. Jeff swallows hard and frowns down at the counter, clearing his throat before commenting drily, “So, this sucks, huh? The wedding and everything.”

You nod.

“I just don’t get why Pierce is the one who gets to get married. Like, why not one of us or something? It’s just kind of unfair.” And then he stops abruptly, inhaling sharply like he’s just broken some kind of code. You nudge him and ask if he’s alright, to which he responds with, “You’re not gonna tell any of the others about this, are you? I don’t want Pierce finding out and having one of his little tantrums again.”

“He wouldn’t throw a tantrum,” you smile, completely missing the trust he’s putting in you right now. “If anything, he’d gloat about how you, the Jeff Winger, are jealous of him.”

He scoffs exaggeratedly. “I am not jealous of Pierce.” Jeff doesn’t admit to being jealous of anyone, but it’s always obvious when he is – his sarcasm will somehow double, his face will squint up into a semi-permanent, sour expression, and his voice will up an octave or two if he’s feeling extra shitty. It’s always funny to see him try to keep it together. That man’s got an ego like no other. Under his breath, he finishes, “No more jealous than you are.”

Damn.

Truth is, even though you’re fucking bitter as can be about Pierce getting married, you know that you have no actual desire to ever enter matrimony. It’s not a Britta “fuck marriage as a whole” type of thing; it’s a “wow, someone is achieving something, and you are achieving nothing” kind of situation. What can you say?—it’s your toxic trait. Anyone “beating” you at anything is enough to discourage you from that sector as a whole. If you’re not naturally gifted, what’s the point? Not to say that Pierce is gifted at relationships. No, he’s just rich. It takes everything in you not to strangle him whenever he opens his goddamn mouth. But you just suck at navigating true, meaningful romantic connections with people, and having to watch Pierce enjoy a pretty party and tick off that milestone (again) is just a kick straight to the fucking vagina.

But you’re not going to say all that to Jeff Winger of all people. So, you suck it up, deepen your scowl, and say, “Ah, yes, ever since I was a foetus, my one goal in life has been to wed a person half my age so that they can drain me of my non-existent fortune and give me pity sex for the rest of my shrivelled-up, little life.”

“Can’t tell if that’s sarcasm or not, ‘cause that actually has been my goal since I was a foetus,” Jeff whips back, and you snort. His grin widens.

Stupid Jeff Winger and his stupid Jeff-Winger smile. You hate it when he does that with his fuckin’ face. It’s infuriating. He’s infuriating. You always feel it tugging at your stomach adamantly whenever you’re in his proximity and he does that, and it’s unsettling. Could be annoyance, could be something else. You’re not ready to explore that.

“Anyway, you wanna go find a back room and fuck?”

The words are so swift and casual that you have to take a moment to realise that that is not something normal people say when attending their friend’s wedding and having a conversation at the bar with their completely platonic other friend who has never before made any hints towards attraction.

You turn and blink hard at Jeff, your lungs buffering in your chest.

“What?” you stress to him.

He darts his eyes away from the great hall and shuffles them back to you like he has all the time in the world, like he hasn’t just said what he just said. He raises his eyebrows innocently and politely continues, “Oh, sorry, I just thought that was where this conversation was going.”

The commotion of the party, to your surprise, carries on as usual.

Your wrists are numb with shock, and they’re sparking with what you think might actually be excitement. Did Jeff really just say those words out loud? Are you angry about it? You can’t fucking tell.

Instead of addressing the problem, you swallow thickly, hoping he won’t notice, and ask through an incredulous scoff, “Is this how you get people to have sex with you?” Would you be mad about that? About the fact that he’s just asked, essentially, to sleep with you, right to your face, right in public, at Pierce’s wedding, where there are people that you know and that can see you clearly from where they’re sitting? God, do you look as thrown-off as you feel right now? You would hope to die before looking thrown-off in front of Jeff Winger. The very Jeff Winger that’s finishing your drink off for you and watching you amusedly from over the rim of the glass, smiling his fucking smile to himself as he watches you glitch and hesitate like a browser with too many tabs open.

“Don’t say the s-word,” he hisses patronisingly, narrowing his gaze, leaning closer to you, glancing warily around the room. “There are children.”

“You just said fuck.”

“Yes. Yes, I did. And also, would you like to?”

He’s analysing your expression with fond eyes, you see from your peripheral vision, setting your glass back on the counter gently as he waits, all patient, for your answer, for your reaction. This is probably the most patient he’s ever been in his life. It’s certainly the most patient you’ve ever seen him, and you’ve seen him through a lot.

You tell him (a little breathlessly), “You’re fuckin’ crazy.”

He lowers his voice. “Did I read the situation wrong?”

There’s a silence that’s far too long to be salvageable. Then, a flustered, “No.”

Jeff raises his eyebrows, like he’s impressed with himself, and he looks smugly up at the ceiling. Damn him, you think to yourself. And, sweet Jesus, he has pretty nice hands. You also think to yourself that he has—he has pretty nice hands. Nice hands fixing the cuffs of his shirt and jacket. Nice hands scratching at that awful thing he calls a beard. Nice hands shoved in his pockets all nice-like. Nice hands that you’re sure can do a lot of—nice—things. Jeff clears his throat, and your attention snaps back to where it belongs.

“So,” he drawls. “Back room?”

And just like that, his pick-up somehow works for you. Somehow, you end up stumbling into the janitor’s closest, and you’re shushing each other and telling each other to be quiet as he helps you on top of the wobbly desk. It’s clumsy and fast and you’re both more than a little drunk. “Ow!” he exclaims when you accidentally elbow him in the ribs. Maybe it’s that you’re both just extremely lonely at this wedding – you’ve both kind of realised that you may just have to spend forever alone, that Pierce has a better chance of getting married than you do, that happiness might not be for you after all. And that’s always a nice thing to hear. You just want solace, and both of you are fighting for that by getting it on in a barely sanitary janitor’s room. Think of it—as a favour for a friend. Yeah. You think, with Jeff, the Jeff who blunders over a bucket when he tries to kiss you, it’s just pheromones and genetics doing their thing. Skin-deep. That’s your excuse as you grab him by the tie and press your lips to his as he positions his arms either side of you to keep himself from falling. “Your hair smells kinda nice,” he tells you before he helps zip down your dress, and you slide down your underwear.

He goes down on you first, after you both mock each other about who you bet is gonna finish first. “Oh, I’ve spoken with Britta about you,” you’d said lowly, smiling, and his eyes filled with sweet, sweet defeat. “Yeah, she told me everything—One-Minute Wonder.”

And this had gotten little, insecure Jeff all riled up. “Alright,” he huffed, voice scraping against his throat like he hadn’t had anything to drink for a week. “Alright, we’ll see who cums first, then, huh, doll?” And instead giving you one of those classic Winger smiles, he whispered a request for permission to use his mouth on you. You didn’t even have a response to that. He kneeled down in front of you, hands eagerly spread on your thighs, and his breathing was slightly uneven as he awaited your answer. It made you feel some type of way. You gave a quick nod and shuffled forward to meet his hot mouth. When his tongue delved deep inside your cunt, all coherent thoughts went straight out the door, and now you’re weeping into the back of your hand and clenching down your teeth down on your fingers, trying your best not to cry out.

Now, there are a few things you do to try and stop yourself from finishing immediately: you try clenching your legs together, but this only makes Jeff moan right into your pussy, and that doesn’t do you any good at all; you pull lightly at his hair and scratch at his back and his neck and his arms, holding on for dear life, but he only grows more enthusiastic; and you try insulting him under your breath (“twat”, “asshole”), but he just chuckles into you, and you have to bite down on your knuckles all over again, wrestling with that increasingly violent fluttering feeling in your legs.

Near the end of it, you just give up that bet with Jeff; you’ll cum, you’ll finish first, you’ll lose the bet, and you’ll do whatever you can to get to it. You grind shyly, and then shamelessly, against Jeff’s face, finding a delicious friction with his beard, a lovely contrast to the soft, velvet slickness of his tongue – that is, until he uses his hands to press your hips firmly back down onto the table, rendering you powerless to his actions.

You’re just about to finish when he pulls away. You think it’s a mistake at first, trying to lower him back down onto you with your hand cradling his head, but then you catch sight of a shit-eating grin wanting to take over his face, and you whine out, “Jesus Christ, Jeff, don’t be mean!”

“C’mon, honey, I thought the point of the bet was to not cum. You don’t wanna lose, do you?” His chin is still slick with you and he’s talking to you like you’re not hot and flustered and half-naked for him in a fucking supply room, on the brink of an orgasm, legs shaking like there’s no tomorrow. What a fucking prick, you think to yourself. You’re still gonna fuck him, of course, but he’s still a prick to you, and nothing will ever change that. “What? Can’t talk anymore?”

“I’m about this close—” you narrow my index finger and thumb down to a microscopic space between, “—to leaving you alone in here with blue balls, Winger. You hear me?”

He stands up and massages your legs gently, almost tenderly, and makes you forget, just for a second, that you’re probably another one of his escapades, another one-night stand, just another girl for him to forget in the morning. “Aw, just look at you,” Jeff taunts, twisting his face up in mock-sympathy as you scramble to regain control. “You’re cute when you’re angry, you know that?” His nose brushes up against yours. He comes in real close and whispers against the shell of your ear, “You know, I think you just might get us caught, sweets. I think you’re gonna be crying out my name by the time we’re done, and all those wedding guests are gonna be shocked at the dirty things I’ve done to you and you’ve done to me. You think you’re gonna be able to walk right when they ask us to come out this room? Or do you think everyone’s gonna know how hard I fucked you in here, how I fucked you senseless, how I fucked you so good that you can barely sit down without thinkin’ ‘bout how my cock felt up inside of you?” Your clit throbs painfully. How can it not? You try to snake your own hand between your legs, but Jeff softly moves it away and kisses your shoulder. “Hmm? So, which is it?”

“I think I want you inside of me,” you say breathlessly, needily. Yes, you knew that Jeff likes to sleep around a lot, you knew that he was experienced, you knew that he knows how to get someone hot—but you didn’t really prepare for this. How many other girls has he had in the janitor’s room? How many other girls has he had at a wedding?

“I think I want to play with you for a little while longer,” he replies huskily, and you very nearly finish right on the table. You take his hand and guide it between your glistening thighs, taking him through the way you like to be touched, and he soon takes control, finding out what makes you squirm and what makes you bite into his shoulder and scratch at his back. Jeff has always been a person who loves knowing that he’s good at something, that he’s in charge, that he’s in control – it’s not hard to figure out he loves praise. So, when you tell him, “You’re doing so well,” and he kisses you roughly, hand in your hair, and pinches your clit, you take satisfaction again in his predictability. You yelp right into his mouth, brimming with smugness. Then, he dips a finger into your cunt, and maybe the attitude is punched out of you, but you lose a little respect for yourself with how eagerly you sigh out. After a while, he asks if he can add another, and you agree, grinding against the heel of his palm.

What you’re really scared of is that he won’t let you cum again, that he’s into edging, and that you’re going to be denied the sweet release you’ve been craving for what seems like years, now. “Let me cum, please,” you say, kissing his neck. “I’ll go down on you later, but just please don’t edge me again.” Ew. You hate how desperate you sound. You’re usually a little more dignified than this. Jeff’s there, quick-witted and sharp-tongued as always, and you’re sitting here, tongue-tied and helpless. This is sort of the most bottom you’ve ever been, give or take. With sex with other people, there was a mutual bond rather than a power dynamic, but, here, there’s a very clear distinction. It makes you a little uncomfortable. You’d feel, oh, so much better if it were you saying all those dirty things to Jeff, making him sweat with his cock on your tongue, being the one he asks for permission to cum. But you’re saving that fantasy for another time – you don’t have the willpower to do anything like that today, not when Jeff wants to be in charge right now.

And maybe it’s your imagination, but he grows just that little bit harder at the desperation in your voice. Maybe he should let you cum, since you asked so nicely.  “You don’t have to go down on me,” he says, even though he’d definitely love to see your pretty, little mouth wrapped around his cock. Instead, he reaches down and starts to kiss and lick and suck and bite at your breasts, making sure to linger at the swell of them – he has an odd thing for that area between your side and your breast, that little swell, you both learn, and he strokes that area tenderly with one hand as he continues to fuck you with his fingers.

When you finish around his fingers, he licks them clean and wipes the rest on the little square handkerchief in his pocket. He’s going to save that for later, he decides. Say he gets hard at night thinking about you and needs the smell of you to get off—or maybe he’ll just tease you at the post-vows dinner and make eye contact when he presses the damp fabric against his nose, just to see you clench your thighs together. Who knows? You, on the other hand, are only just realising that he’s still fully clothed. You are as naked as the day you were born, and he’s still prim and smart and handsome in that navy-blue suit and tie.

Pulling him closer to you by his belt, you fumble with the buckle as you tell him, “I’ll go down on you.” You just want a grasp of control after him having seen you so bare, so vulnerable. You don’t know if you’ll be able to face him after this if you just don’t get his dick in your mouth right now – it’s a strange logic, yes, but there’s no stopping you.

Jeff watches you passively as you frantically undo his belt, somewhat enjoying seeing you so flustered and out of control. It doesn’t only feed into his desire and lust, but it also adds to that weird, warm feeling in his gut, one that he hasn’t really experienced before. He can’t quite figure out what it is – heartburn, maybe; indigestion? – but he’s not stupid, and he’s a little suspicious, so before his tipsy subconscious can come to that terrifying conclusion, he tells you, “Can you spread your legs for me?” At your surprise, he adds, “Please?” Just to be nice.

“So fucking demanding, aren’t you?” you huff, but you do as you’re told, gut wriggling with apprehension.

He kisses you nice and slow, storing this memory in his mind carefully for later, trying to be the most genuine he can because, at the end of the day, you’re his friend, his good friend, and he would never do anything to harm or lose you. If he’s going to fuck you, he’s going to do it nicely, the way you’d fuck a friend (I don’t know). You remove his jacket as he loosens his tie, and he unbuttons his shirt as you tug down his trousers and his underwear. He rifles through his wallet for a condom, and you make fun of him for carrying a condom in his wallet (“You’re such a skeez, Jeff.”; “Hey, you’re fucking this skeez!”).

You both have a brief moment, a brief pause, of should-they-shouldn’t-they – after all, you’re going to have to see each other practically every day after this, at school, at the study group, at lunch, at hangouts. But then, you tell him, “Well, get on with it, then,” and he e-e-eases into you, taking his goddamn sweet time with it, letting you grasp at his arms and his back and his waist and his neck and hair and face and chest. He loves how handsy you are. You try not to be so vocal – you don’t want his ego growing any bigger than it currently is – but your touchiness always gives you away. And it makes him feel special as well – you’re not the most affectionate person usually, and you rarely give out hugs and touches and pats like some of the other members of the study group, so the fact that you’re touching him so much and so freely makes him feel blessed.

When he thrusts up into you, you bite into his shoulder again, and he nearly loses it. There’s a sinful, explicit, wet noise that’s made when he moves in and out of you, and it’s almost enough to make him cum on the spot. He’s suppressing his moans, now, trying to do well for you, trying to be good, be strong, be satisfying enough for you.

“Good girl,” he chokes out when you whine high in your throat for him – he says it more to himself than to you, feeling the need to give praise after receiving it, wanting to make you feel as good as he is (say what you will about Jeff, but he’s respectful when he wants to be). But little does he know that you love being called that. Some weird insecurity issue is probably to blame, but you whimper for him and clench around his length, making his hips stutter and his pace falter. He decides to play around a bit, just to see how far he can push you while you’re sedated like this – usually, you’d be up to speed, quick and sharp-tongued and tough and sickly sweet, but, now, he has you a mess in his hands. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he chuckles darkly. “You’re such a good girl for me. Such a good—” he thrusts harder, “—little—” harder, “—girl.”

All you can do is gasp and try to take it well. You can barely form words – it’s like you’re drunk. Well, you are drunk. Of course, you know you’ll have a hard time getting rid of this picture – this picture of him panting and sweating, of his mischievously glinting eyes, of his large hands digging right into your hips and thighs and waist – and you’re probably going to get yourself hot later just thinking about it. You blame him. You blame him for all of it. He’ll probably forget about it in a heartbeat, you think to yourself. He’s Jeff Winger, after all – ladies’ man, professional man-whore, completely indifferent to everything all of the time. You try to plan ahead, try to plan for later when you’re sad and alone and hating your body and hating your life choices, but then Jeff moans breathily into your ear, and you’re right back in the moment. You curl your legs tightly around his waist, letting your head fall back as he takes further control.

“You know, I think this is the first time you haven’t had some comeback ready to go, isn’t it, hon?” he says, then softly biting your earlobe. You can only choke out a moan. “Thank you for that addition.”

You groan and roll your eyes. “I fuckin’ hate you,” you say in a feeble attempt to put up your guard again.

“No, you’re just fucking me, actually.”

You sob dryly into his shoulder, and Jeff starts to encourage you a little, probably the kindest he’s ever been during sex: “Come on, darlin’, why don’t you cum for me? You’re doing so well, you know that?” And that just sets you over the edge. You finish, body quivering, exhausted, and slump right forward onto Jeff’s chest. He somehow manages to hold on – he’s not done yet, and he’s going to want to drag this out for as long as he can, that much he knows. He plants his hands on the table, either side of you, and rests his head forwards on your shoulder, panting.

“Nice one, Jeff,” you say to him awkwardly. What does one say to the friend they’ve just fucked? There’s no right thing, of course, but you know straight away that that was definitely a wrong thing.

But he laughs. “We just fucked the shit out of each other, and that’s what you’ve got to say to me?”

“Well, what am I supposed to say?”

“I dunno,” he tells you, and he genuinely doesn’t.

You stay like that for a while, him laying light kisses on your shoulder and neck, you running your hand gently through his hair, both confused as to what to do now. That is, until you point out, “You’re still hard, huh?” You can feel him throbbing painfully inside of you. This must be torture for him – you’ve finished twice, now, and him none.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I was gonna wait for a better time, but.”

“I don’t think there is a better time in this situation.”

Jeff swallows thickly, throat suddenly dry as he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. His dick twitches inside you when you grin up at him, and you pretend not to notice (but, oh, you’ll definitely remember it the next time you smile at him). He’s quite nervous, and he can’t pinpoint why. His brain’s just still a little too fuzzy to really process any coherent thoughts, even despite that sobering experience just then, but, again, he isn’t stupid – he knows what that knotted feeling in his chest probably is – so, before he has the chance to figure out what he already knows, he asks you, “Can you turn around? Bet you feel real good when I have you bent over this desk.”

“What a charmer,” you mumble under your breath. You know that’s about as sweet as he gets. You’re about to turn around for him when he surprises you:

“Of course, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He strokes your arms nicely. “We can go back to the party if that’s what you’d prefer, have a few more drinks, make fun of Pierce a little. Or we could try something you decide on. Got a favourite position? I’m sure we could make do with the space we have in here – maybe move a few buckets and boxes around, and we’re good. What do you like?”

Your mind goes completely blank, except for one very clear thought: “You’re what I like.” Not out loud, of course. You’d probably do anything he wanted right about now. You half-expect him to pull a 180 and say something snarky or sarcastic, but he doesn’t. He just kisses your cheek sweetly and waits for your answer. What do you like? You don’t even know anymore, and yet you’re getting wetter than ever before. Your breath is picking up, now. “You know,” you mumble, trying to contain your nerves, “the usual: a little light asphyxiation, a bit of hair pulling. I dunno. What else is there? I guess overstimulation can be nice sometimes. And, you know, I liked it—” a blush starts to form on your cheeks, “—I liked it when you...”

“Liked it when I what?”

“You know,” you huff frustratedly. “Said all those nice things to me.”

Jeff raises his eyebrows. “Praise?” Internally, he smiles to himself – he likes that he shares that in common with you. “Don’t worry, I like it, too.”

“Nice to know.” You maintain a neutral expression, but your clit is fucking beating right now, and your cunt is dripping wet. Your efforts not to clench around Jeff are herculean.

“Well, how do you want it?” he asks you brazenly, the usual Winger way. Okay, now, you squeeze tight around him, and Jeff presses his hands around your thighs in response—but, outwardly, the two of you are perfectly normal about this. “I can dial it back a little if you wanna take charge.” His eyes darken just slightly. “I don’t mind.” And that’s genuine enough – he certainly doesn’t mind the mental image of you with your fingers wrapped around his cock, teasing him as he whimpered and begged for a release, completely submissive to you in the moment. He wouldn’t mind that at all.

You grip the edge of the table and run a tongue over your teeth briefly. “I can turn around.”

“Really?” he asks. “You want to?”

“I want to.”

“Alright then,” he says, smiling. “Better get to it. We don’t want the others realising we’re gone, now, do we?” And you shake your head in response. Now that Jeff’s a little nicer, you’re more comfortable around him. He realises it, too, and so he allows himself to do the things he normally wouldn’t, brushing your hair out of your face for you and really looking into your eyes. Sex sort of became meaningless for him sometime along his life, full of emptiness and loneliness even in that intimate act – that’s the trouble he gets for sleeping his way out of his problems. And so, looking in his partner’s eyes has always brought him some type of shame – he’d always close his eyes and power through it. But you’re nice. You’re familiar. You’re safe and warm and soft. It might be a little to do with the friend thing, but, even when he was with Britta, he never felt this type of comfort, this okay-ness, this general acceptance. It was nice to have, for once: a friend.

He carefully pulls out of you, and then you turn around and bend over the table. Jeff almost stops breathing at the sight in front of him. And it’s not bad, don’t worry – he’s just a bit dramatic. “Jesus Christ,” he curses, and he moves his hands to massage gently at your hips. “You’re so fuckin’ wet.” And it’s true. Slick spills down your thighs, some of it slathered across the table and a fair amount dripping down onto the ground below them. That’s the type of stuff you see in pornos, he thinks amusedly to himself, and he continues to stare in awe at your cunt. Now, what Jeff really wants to do is to kneel down and lay his tongue flat against you. But he controls himself, and, instead, just sucks it up and praises you for it; “Keep that sort of energy up, yeah?”

“You sound like you’re a key-note speaker addressing an assembly of seven year-olds,” you say to him as he places his hands on your ass, spreading the sides apart slightly, his dick straining when he catches a better view of your aching cunt, and then he runs two fingers along your slit – he grows silent for a few heartbeats, amazed at how easily you drip down the length of his fingers and onto his wrist. You then turn back to see him place those fingers in his mouth, and you turn back around, blushing, before he can notice.

“Ah, so you’re into role-play?” he teases, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Sh—” but Jeff is already pushing into you, heavy and strong and thick; you try to continue your sentence without your voice shaking, “—shut u-up.”

He continues all the way to the hilt, and both of you use your hands to hold onto something for stability, his on your hips, and yours flat on the table. “You know,” he says as he bends over you, chest against your back, one hand coming to rest on the wall by your head, coaxing a pant or two out of you as he does so, “it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Role-play’s good once in a while.”

“Uh-huh,” you manage breathily. “You sound like you’re covering up a deeply concerning fantasy, there.”

“Don’t shame me.”

“We all know what it stands for, Jeff. ‘Role-play’s good once in a while.’ Really? Show me where you hid the goddamn body.”

He exhales amusedly through his nose. “I feel like you’re just trying to ease in with your officer-perp kink.” And he’s just casually gri-i-i-in-ding up against you, carefully pushing you back down so that your stomach is flat against the table, his lips pressing kisses into your hair and upon your shoulder blades as he starts to find a pace.

“It’s h-hot, okay?” you stutter out, trying to continue the conversation. It’s true enough – police officers can be hot when they want to be, and Jeff would certainly make for an interesting experience in that sector. Not that you were planning to sleep with him again. Fantasies are what’s discussed between a couple – it’s not really something you tell a one-night stand, especially if that one-night stand happens to be one of your closest friends who would never let you forget anything embarrassing you did—ever.

“Really?” Jeff says through a smile, though, now, even he’s having trouble composing himself. He should’ve cum when he could’ve – he feels like he’s about to give way any second, but he, oh, so wants to finish inside of you while you crumble apart around him. “Hands—” his breath catches, “—above your head.”

“I’m literally bent over a table in front of you.”

“Could still apply to some other positions, though.” And, with that, he begins to slowly pull out and push into you, nice and gentle at first, very controlled, but, as I said, Jeff was very quickly losing control, so one can imagine the animalistic desperation that soon kicked in for not just him, but for both parties. You buck up against him feverishly, letting out whines and suppressed, breathy moans and little, desperate whispers of his name (he absolutely loves those), and he just goes at it with all his energy. Who cares if he looks like absolute shit at the party later on? That’s a lot coming from him, he’ll have you know. As long as this memory is playing in his head, he doesn’t care about his hair or his suit anymore (the suit might be a stretch). He tells you breathlessly, “You know, you look good like this. Such a pretty girl.”

There’s the praise that you love. You squeeze around him and pant, “Take a picture—” and Jeff slides a hand between your legs, rubbing at that golden spot, and you have to choose between pressing into his cock or into his hand; the indecision makes your head reel, and the continuation of your sentence is twisted high and quiet, “—it’ll la-ast long-e-er.”

“Is that an invitation, doll? ‘Cause I’m not exactly against it.”

He pounds and pounds into you, nice and firm and precise, until you’re mewling and whining for him. “Be quiet, now,” he whispers against your ear – there are people chattering outside the room, passing through the exit after the party. But you can’t exactly keep it in. You try to hold your breath, you really do, but you end up grunting out when Jeff kneads at one of your breasts. “What?—d’you want those people to hear you or something? You wanna get caught?” You whine suppressedly again. “I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Dirty girl.”

You clench once again, so fucking close to cumming, and he asks, “Can I try something?” And you nod frantically, alongside giving him a rushed, weak verbal affirmation. “I want you to prop yourself up a little more, hands on the wall – can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you mutter, adjusting yourself, and, with your movement, Jeff groans and grips your hips tightly.

“Good girl,” he praises, kissing the place behind your ear. And he continues thrusting, and then swiftly lifts one of your legs right up into the bend of his arm, leaving you to press the side of your face into the wall, your entire body swaying with the sheer force of the rutting of his hips. You feel so full like this, and he’s reaching that heavenly spot inside of you. Your knee gently brushes against his corresponding shoulder whenever he moves into you, out of you.

“Shit,” you curses sharply when he roughens his pace. “Jeff.” His name comes out as an awfully high-pitched sigh.

He huffs, “Yup, that’s me, doll.”

“You’re such a prick.”

“You could at least wait until I’m not inside of you to insult me.”

“Tell me something nice.”

“Something nice? I dunno if I can muster it up – all the things I’m thinking aren’t exactly nice. Definitely not things I’d say to anyone’s grandma.”

“Well, then, be mean,” you chuckle, and he jerks inside of you. “I don’t care.”

“You like getting off on my voice, do you?” His voice is nice and low and gravelly, and it practically grates against your pussy in some magical way, and your whole body shudders beneath him. He keeps at that perfect pace, pressure, and you commend him for his technique, you have to say. “You ever think about me when you touch yourself?” You nod. “Such a perfect, little girl. Fucking perfect.”

And he’s got a good-ish look at your face from this angle. Your eyes are closed in ecstasy, mouth open in silent pleasure, and you’re chasing, chasing that feeling. He can’t help it. He cums. And you follow immediately after – your fists screw up uselessly against the wall, and your legs quake and quake, and you squeeze so impossibly tight around him that he lets out a choked moan at how good it feels. He continues sloppily thrusting up into you, helping you ride out your orgasm while also riding out his own. “God, you’re hot,” he mutters, smiling.

You grin back at him, and his cock twitches again – it’s instinctive, he swears. “You’re not so bad either,” you reply, eyes shimmering in the dim light. Those eyes flutter shut again when he carefully pulls out of you with a sinful, wet noise.

Shit, he thinks to himself as you slip your soaked underwear and your pretty, green dress back on.

Shit, he loves you, doesn’t he?

After he’s put his suit back on, you help to adjust his tie, and he has to try his very, very hardest not to blush. He’s pretty sure you notices anyway, but it’s the effort that counts, right? He really, really wants to kiss you, but he doesn’t know if he should. The one-night stand is over, right?

“Call me tonight?” you ask after a brief pause. Was that the correct thing to do? You and Jeff call sometimes, obviously, when he’s at the store and wants to ask if you want anything, or when you want to order a pizza for yourself but get too nervous and ask for his help—but this’ll clearly be different. Are you still friends? Of course, you know you’re still friends, sure, but is it still the same?

And his heart rate has picked up significantly. You want him to call you. You want to talk to him later. “So you can get off to my voice?” You laugh. He made you laugh. He just made you laugh. The sound is like music to his ears. “I’m not a phone sex line, you know. Not a free one, anyway. If you want my services, you’re gonna have to pay.”

You’re smiling. “What’s your price?”

“$100, give or take.” He neatly folds his pocket square back up and places it into his breast pocket. Like he said, he wants to save it for later. He’s not sure for what, but it seems important to him now. And then, what he bumbles out next is said on a whim – the words are quiet and shy. Yes, shy. Jeff Winger is shy. He’s blushing. His stomach is full of butterflies. “Can I come visit your room instead?”

“Yeah, but it’ll cost you $100, give or take.”

Jeff approaches the door, and you line up behind him. “Ready?” he asks you. And you grab a fistful of his suit jacket from behind, going up on your toes, and kiss him lightly on the corner of his mouth in response.

He doesn’t even notice that you wrinkled his suit. He just closes his eyes and turns around for another kiss.

(Spoiler alert: You don’t end up seeing each other in your hotel room because Britta gets black-out drunk and nearly starts a vodka fire on the bride’s dress, so Jeff has to take her to get her fucking stomach pumped. But he gives you a call, and you come, and you sit together by Britta’s bedside as she sleeps. You talk about weird hospital experiences you’ve had, and then you fall asleep. He lets you rest your head on his shoulder.)