#all this to say: you will see a Lot of repeated names on there

[ary11y]

I like this idea a lot

HEY WHOLE WANNA SEE HOW FAR I CAN FLY

<ICARUS I SWEAR TO HARMONIA I WILL GET YOU BANNED SOMEHOW IF YOU DO THAT AGAIN I'VE ALREADY PATCHED UP THREE OF THE HOLES YOU LEFT ON THE CEILING FROM DOING THAT.>

-and they have a very short lifespan with it being up to a week only

<Apollo. That's great but. This is a Starbucks. You're holding the line.>

"-cane and pointed. ' Did you ever remark that door ? ' he asked; and when his companion had replied in the affirmative, ' It is connected in my mind, ' added he, ' with a very odd story.' ' Indeed ?' said Mr. Utterso"

<Announcer, this is still not a library. Go read your novels out loud somewhere else please.>

PUT ALL THE MONEY IN THE BAG RIGHT NOW.

<Listen man you can't do that here but you can go to the bank maybe. The most I can give is three dollars.>

So yeah I'm a very popular influencer well actually micro influencer technically bu

<Ego. Order. Now.>

Hellooooooo how are you??? I hope you're fine :D haha that's coincidentally my name! Well, nickname actually, I'm just fine like that ahahaha!

<FINE JUST SAY YOUR DAMN ORDER.>

Wassup bbg ;}}}}}}}}}}}}}

<Devil get out of here you're scaring the clients. Also how did you even get drunk. There aren't any alcoholic drinks here.>

Ughhhhhhgghhhhhhhhhghh I'm so tireddddddddd

<And why is that? Did you go to the gym and do the things you always repeat but that I can't be bothered to remember?>

Look at him! His name's Jouse and he's my pet rat :3

<MORI WHAT THE FdUCK GET THAT AWAY FROM ME

ALSO NO PETS ALLOWED>

...

<...>

...

<...

Well??? What's your order?????>

Hey-

<ABSOLUTELY NOT, GO AWAY. EVERY TIME YOU AND YOUR GROUP ENTER SOMETHING EITHER EXPLODES OR CAUSES A FIRE>

Oh

Ok :(

[After a few minutes, the power goes out]

<FDUCK>

yeah ok sure . said this on twitter already but green tfftt is like a marble hornets character to me he just wanders into the woods for like days at a time & comes out with no idea where he is

[1980shorrorfilm]

has it hit you?

click!!!

pairing…sam carpenter x gn!reader

in which…an argument causes sam to push you away; which she regrets when you end up under the mistletoe with someone else.

before you read…angst with comfort. alcohol usage. mentions of sex.

“whatever sam said, she didn’t mean— you know she gets like that sometimes!”

tara follows you around the frat house that was lazily decked out with flashy christmas decor, like a child being led by her parent. fitting, considering she’s taking your fight with sam to the heart. 

it was sudden, so sudden yet something you should’ve been entirely prepared for. 

you made the mistake of taking a step in a direction she’s repeated several times she didn’t want to go down. emotional intimacy. a hint at a relationship. dinner with your family for the holidays. 

you had invited her and tara, having believed you were close enough with them to do so, but specifically sam. the woman you’ve spent most of your nights with, wrapped in her arms, skin to skin. 

it wasn’t just sex with her. when she was vulnerable enough, she’d trust you with some of her lighter secrets, still unable to tell you everything that goes on her mind. 

you were okay with that, though, always so patient with her. that’s why you accepted what you two were…nothing and everything at the same time.

not dating, no, she wouldn’t say that. she wouldn’t call you her partner. she wouldn’t even call you her best friend. you were just…you. someone she liked enough to occupy her time with, and she assumed that’s all she was to you.

not someone to bring home to your parents, sam did not think she had the title. she thought she didn’t want it, imagining the judgmental faces from your beloved family members, as if you brought home a mistake. 

a mistake. that’s what she called your whatever-ship.

something that should’ve never happened, she told you. you’re too clingy, she said. just leave me the fuck alone, she begged.

you listened. you always listen to sam. 

leading you to a frat party, being followed by her little sister, a constant reminder of what you’re trying to escape. 

“maybe we should go home— she’s probably waiting for you,” tara tries again, watching you grab a beer from the fridge. you sigh her name, not wanting to scold her, but really tired of hearing about sam. tara gets the hint, and the obvious annoyance in your tone, deciding to back off. for now.

your mind can ease somewhat without having tara’s shadow, actually talking to your friends while the alcohol works its way into your system. 

you find yourself playing beer pong against some faces you occasionally see in class, laughing at just how bad you were— then remembering how good sam is. her aim is amazing, sam knows the right angles and how delicate or hard the pressure should be. you learned that a long time ago, though. 

why are you thinking about her? when you’re just her mistake?

you shake your head, bringing the red solo cup to your lips and downing the alcohol while the opposite team celebrates their win. your partner, a tall blonde who leaned in very close to you the entire time, now trying to hold a regular conversation. 

“aren’t you seeing that carpenter chick?” they had asked, and your head snapped toward them, brows knitting at the comment. you hadn’t known your association with her seemed to others what you also had viewed it as. romantic. 

it’s slightly comforting, knowing it wasn’t entirely in your head, the way samantha tried telling you it was. maybe she was lying more to herself, than you, or so that’s what you hope for. 

“nope,” you tell them, “not seeing anyone.”

the bitterness of your words goes unnoticed, and is taken as an invitation; which it sorta is. you came here to forget her, to make yourself feel better. and if that’s with some blonde that lost beer pong with you, you’re okay with that. you think.

you’re honestly not doing a lot of thinking right now. you’re fake laughing at their stupid jokes. you’re repeating ‘right,’ at their never-ending stories. 

you’re being reminded why you picked sam over everyone else. this is draining, a chore to pretend to be interested. there was no pretending with her. her. her. 

holy fuck, you need another drink. 

you excuse yourself, but they follow, still talking to you. they cut themselves off, an enthusiastic ‘hey,’ as their palm on your wrist halts you in the doorway. 

“wh—”

they point up, and you glance. mistletoe. you see it more in movies than in reality, you’re almost amazed by the sight of the small green and red shrubs. to be beneath it with the love of your life— to be beneath it with sam. 

sam isn’t here.

but you are, and so is the blonde.

because why the fuck not, you close the space between you two, a peck on their lips that goes as quickly as it came. but it lasts long enough for her to see it.

the heat rushes to her cheeks, tara not telling her you were occupied with someone else in the urgent message she had sent her. just the fact that you were drinking, and she’s taking your recklessness as confirmation. 

sam ignores the stares as she pushes past the drunken partygoers, remembering exactly why she didn’t come to shit like this. if she wanted to feel judged she would’ve searched her name online, a habit you’ve tried to stop her from doing.

“y/n.”

her voice cuts through the music and chatter, your eyes falling on her in the doorway of the kitchen. you’re leaning against the counter, the blonde in front of you, looking between you two. sam is only looking at them. 

“can you leave us?” it comes out as a demand when she says it, and they don’t protest, both of you now alone when they scurry away.

you gulp at whatever she has to say to you, probably to get scolded for having fun without her. with someone else. despite her harsh words making it seem like that’s what she wanted from you; to find someone else and stop bothering her. 

you laugh dryly to yourself at the thought.

“what was that?”

“what was what?” 

sam exhales through her nose, trying to be patient in a moment she absolutely did not want to be. she will show you some grace due to being buzzed and not entirely there, but that doesn’t change how she feels.

bitter. annoyed. mad, very mad, at you. 

“so we have one argument and that’s it?” she begins to walk toward you, making you feel extremely small the closer she got, and the louder her voice became.

you dare to bite back, “thought that’s what you wanted.”

“why would i want that?”

“because you fucking said so, sam,” you tell her, the woman not realizing the weight of the things she had said until this moment. 

sure, they weren’t the kindest words that had left her mouth, but they were spoken out of fear rather than honesty. unfortunately, you’re not a mind reader, and you have feelings that sam has obliterated. 

“i don’t…” she trails off, a roar from the crowd in the next room causing her to squeeze her eyes in annoyance. “let’s go home. talk there,” sam tells you, hand gently grabbing at yours, but you pull away. 

“you can go home.”

“y/n.”

“im staying, sam. don’t wait up for me,” you push past her, to the fridge you had originally come into the kitchen for. to your luck, there’s one more beer, but it leaves your hands as soon as you grab it. 

sam walks away with the drink, practically shoving it into someone’s welcoming hands, a tight-lipped smile on her face that drops when she faces you again. “guess i am too, then.”

the audacity.

making you feel like shit, pushing you away, then pulling you back in when you find happiness without her. even if it’s stupid decisions like kissing strangers and drinking until your head hurts. it’s a better feeling than being told you’re not wanted by the woman you love the most. 

“fuck you, sam.”

with that, you storm out of the room, out of the house entirely, the freezing december air hitting you at once. you hug yourself, your ugly holiday sweater not providing you the warmth that the frat home had, and drag your feet to the sidewalk. 

you hear her behind you before she makes her presence known. 

“where are you going?” 

“why? gonna follow me?”

once more, her hand finds your arm, a firm grip holding you in place, and a hard stare that goes through you. it causes your attitude retreat, and your confidence to die completely. 

“if you want to be mad at me, fine, but i’m not leaving you alone like this.”

you remain still, eyes falling to your feet because holding her gaze is too overwhelming. she sees through you, gets to you easily like she is now, and why you’re accepting defeat. 

“fine, whatever. let’s go.”

she lets out of a sigh of relief, thankful this wasn’t going to be another argument. she’s too drained for that. her grip on you softens, along with her eyes that scan your face momentarily, like she was taking you in for the first time tonight. red eyes and a cute frown on your face that she wishes she wasn’t the reasoning for.

sam leads you to her car, making sure tara is okay before she leaves, the ride is quiet and uncomfortable. she taps her fingers on the steering wheel, occasionally glancing at you, your head facing the window, watching the snow begin to fall.

you look at peace, probably the most calm you’ve been since the fight. since she wiped the smile off of your face, replacing your joyful eyes with eyes of pain. her heart begins to hurt.

at a red light, she peels off her jacket, handing it to you without saying anything. you don’t put it on, but you use it as a blanket, inhaling the scent of the cinnamon and sandalwood perfume she drowns herself in. a comforting scent that makes you feel warmer than the jacket itself. 

when you arrive at her place, you’re still clinging to the piece of clothing, sitting on the couch while she makes sure all the locks on the door are secure. you’re mindlessly watching whatever channel on the tv she previously had on, hearing her shuffle in the kitchen.

it’s a few minutes later that she enters the room with two mugs, placing one in your hands. you smell the hot chocolate before she informs you that’s what it is, thanking her before sipping on the sweet drink. 

she sits beside you, leaning forward to grab the remote and mute the television. damn it. 

“can we talk?”

“go ahead,” you mumble, but sam is not as bothered by your subtle attitude. she gets it. she may have acted like it was unwarranted earlier, but you’ve made it very clear she had hurt you. and she deserves the absolute worst for that. 

“what i said to you…i didn’t mean any of it. i was upset— and that’s not an excuse, i know,” she begins, brown eyes trained on her drink, “i just…haven’t loved anyone like this since…”

sam goes quiet, unable to finish that sentence, before speaking again, “and it’s a lot…you’re a lot for me— not in a bad way —it’s just new. and i’m scared im gonna fuck up. i mean i already did.”

she dryly laughs at herself, at the thought of shutting you out to avoid getting hurt and ending up in a much worse position. how she had someone so caring and beyond understanding, and made them feel bad about it. a villain simply for loving her as much as you do— but you’re not one, and you never will be to her.

even now, you have nothing unkind to say to her. you have no desire to even talk about the argument that had taken place. your patience runs deep with samantha, your sympathy outweighing your frustrations.

sam is hurting even more than you, trauma that you couldn’t even begin to understand, insecurities that taint her mindset and your relationship. it’s a problem, you both know this, and you’re still valid for being upset with the words she had spoken due to her own personal complications. words that aren’t true or reflect you at all.

sam will do better for you.

there’s a beat of silence, not nearly as uncomfortable the ride here. the tension is somewhat fleeting, replaced with something else, vulnerability when you both need it.

“so…” you begin, “you love me?”

her head snaps to you, shocked you’re even asking, and that you’re not addressing anything she had said. she doesn’t mind it, though, and answers you.

“so fucking much.”

your cheeks go red at her words, how she means it. sam loves you hard. it is the only reason why you had a fight in the first place.

sam understands it now.

in that part of her brain that is kind to her, in the part that allows her to be in love with you, freely, deeply, openly, like she deserves, ignoring the cruel self-deprecating voices in the back of her mind. 

you end the night with your head on her chest, listening to the rhythm of her heartbeat as you fall asleep cuddled into her body.

[castillon02]

“You ‘have amnesia,’” Dr. Sharma repeated, her eyebrows arched. 

“Oh yes,” Q said. He cheerfully waved his hand at his bandaged head. “Mugged this morning. Terribly traumatic. Physically, not mentally, since I don’t remember any of it, of course.” 

Dr. Sharma’s eye twitched. “I see.” Over the past year of therapy, she had grown inured to Q’s shite, but this was perhaps a new level of it for her. “Amnesia,” she repeated. 

Q beamed. “Judging by the dark circles under my eyes, this seems like a bit of an opportunity for a fresh start anyway,” he said. “Past me looks overworked.” 

Dr. Sharma had been trying to get him a holiday for the past four months. Her “I see,” every time M had denied his request for leave had become steadily sharper. Now her eyes gleamed. “Amnesia,” she said, smiling wider than Q had ever seen. 

(Also on AO3)

—

“Amnesia,” M said, squinting at him from behind his desk. “Really, Q?” 

“M,” Q replied, tasting the name as if he’d just learned it. “Seems a bit funny to work for a letter, but I suppose my past self had his reasons.” He leaned back in his chair and cast his eyes around the room as if those reasons might be visible if he looked for them. 

M’s hand twitched toward the security button on his desk lamp. “You answer to the letter Q,” he pointed out. “You clearly remember some things.” 

“The name Q has silent vowels,” Q said, straight-faced. “Q-U-E-U-E. A long line in A&E is the first thing I remember experiencing, so it seemed fitting. You know, waiting for something that never seems to come gives you a lot of time to think.” 

M glared. “If this is about your leave—” 

“I am leaving, yes,” Q interrupted. “I even have the paperwork filed for Queue Smith, since apparently you lot do that here.” He quirked his eyebrows. “You still haven’t told me what I do, exactly, but I assume it’s some form of tech support, not anything crucial. Something other people have been trained in.” Like Q had been training R and X for the past six months, for instance. Specifically to deal with M’s bizarre separation anxiety. 

“You are actually one of our most valuable assets,” M gritted out, clearly aware that said valuable asset was a lying liar who was lying to him at that very moment. 

Q smiled. “What a shame I can’t remember anything, then,” he said. “No value whatsoever now. In fact, Dr. Sharma distinctly said I was as useless as a pin-pricked prophylactic, and the rest of the medical department agreed with her.” 

M’s eyes narrowed and he sat a little straighter. “Dr. Simmons would never go along with this.” 

“Dr. Simmons thought the whole thing was very novel,” Q disagreed. “In fact, he said amnesia might be under-diagnosed, particularly in injured field agents being recalled for missions.” 

M frowned. “How patient-centric of him.” 

“Oh, terribly.” Straightlaced Simmons, head of Medical, didn’t always see eye to eye with Q, but they both prioritized the health of the people under their care. M wouldn’t find anyone in-house who would challenge Sharma’s diagnosis. Now for the killing blow: “Everyone says that if I’m lucky and have a nice long rest, then I might remember some things. But who knows? Amnesia is unpredictable. I could be out of the game for good.” Q gave an innocent shrug. 

“It can be dangerous, walking around ignorant in the world,” M said.

“Maybe,” Q said. “But I got mugged while I was working here with all my memories intact, so really, nowhere is safe, is it? Might as well be unsafe in the Maldives.” Q gave M his most beatific expression. It was rather cute of M to threaten him with being killed, as though Q didn’t have a dead man’s switch for exactly that contingency. 

M gave him a long look but eventually sighed. “I’ll put you on an indefinite medical leave. Don’t do something stupid with your free time.”  

Q stood. “I’ll do whatever I please. Since that is, in fact, the point of the term ‘free time.’”  

—

Q spent five days eating take-away and playing Elden Ring in his pajamas. On the sixth day, he had enough energy to move, so he took the train and then a bus to a little town in Andalusia, dreaming of egg-and-potato fry-ups and sunny olive tree-laden views. 

Warmth. Sunshine. Red roofs and white stone buildings. An outdoor cafe where he could drink his tea and people watch. 

Down the street, a wrinkled old woman stooped down to scratch a brindled dog whose whiptail flew back and forth at the attention. Q watched them until they rounded a corner out of sight. When he brought his gaze back to his own table, Bond was sitting across from him. Shite. 

“Amnesia,” Bond said. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

Q stared him down. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” If Bond asked about a mission, Q was going to send him back to R and X for replacement corneas. 

But Bond shook his head. “You can call me James. We don’t know each other outside of work,” he said. “I thought we could change that.” Bond gave him a half-smile, somehow sheepish—different from his Target Acquired smile. His bright yellow I Heart España t-shirt was more camouflage than Q had ever seen him in. 

“Caminito del Rey has beautiful vistas,” Bond added, his blue eyes locked on Q’s. “Or I know a place with good tapas if you’d rather eat than hike.” 

This might be a work-shaped trap. But there wasn’t any tech in the Gaitanes Ravine, and yellow wasn’t the color Bond wore when he went anglerfishing. Additionally, traversing a treacherous one-meter-wide walkway carved into a rock face a hundred meters above a river sounded like it was genuinely Bond’s idea of a good time. “If we went hiking,” Q said, “it wouldn’t be efficient. I take pictures of cool bugs. I lollygag to look at spiderwebs. I get distracted by rock formations.” 

“If I wanted efficient,” Bond said, “I’d wait until you ‘got your memory back.’” He offered Q a wry tilt of his mouth. “I have it on good information that you’re currently useless, and I don’t expect we’ll need any of your skills from the office.” 

Bless the medical staff’s ability to gossip. Q exhaled and slouched a little. “You’re really here just because?” he asked.  

Bond shrugged. “We’re good at being useful together. I thought we might be good at being useless together too. If you like.” He tilted his head. 

Q stood without answering. 

Bond stood with him. His designer blue jeans stretched flatteringly around his thighs. No concealed carry. His watch wasn’t one of Q’s. He had a knife in his boot, but that was sensible enough. His t-shirt showed off tan arms criss-crossed with pale scars and a smattering of graying hair. He had a red España bucket hat tucked into his belt. 

007 on holiday. 

Q smiled. “Lead the way.” He extended his hand. 

Bond took it. In the center of a rural village steeped in machismo culture, Bond held his hand. “I have a car,” he said, and they walked, still linked at the fingers, to where Bond had parked his entirely normal Mitsubishi Mirage rental. Good god; a hatchback. Not even four-wheel drive. Bond was really giving this ‘useless’ thing a genuine effort. 

If this went well, Q would have to send 006 a basket of explosives. Rather than leaving his mugging-based amnesia up to fate, he’d rather desperately arranged for a surreptitious blow to the head from one of Six’s experts in cranial violence. He hadn’t expected that his memory loss would lead to something so lovely.  

[1shadowhole]

Since it's once again the 24th, here comes the annual reminder from me that Kingdom Come AKA the so called BBC MERLIN'S Canonical Season 6 is actually anything but canon and was made by fans.

BBC Merlin doesn't have a Season 6

And every year people tell me "I don't think that anyone actually believes that Kingdom Come is canon" and every year I cry because no, no a lot of people do. Maybe not on Tumblr but everywhere else you always see comment threads that go a little something like this:

"omg the ending was so sad why did the writers do that?😭😭"

"don't worry! The writers actually wrote the script for Season 6 that later got cancelled, but it's online you can read it!!"

"I DIDN'T KNOW THAT THANK YOU SO MUCH"

Ahhhhhhhh

And I also make these posts for all the new, wonderful fans that don't know the whole story, who may stumble upon the Kingdom Come blog and read "the canonical ending of the show" or whatever lie the people who made it wrote and believe it to be the case. Because why wouldn't you? It's says it is! BUT IT ISN'T!!

Why am I so pressed about it?

I mean I ain't going to lie the main reason is because I don't like it and think it is a great example of character assassination and disregard of what the original show wanted to share with the finale.

But I mean there are many fanfics (and kingdom come IS a fanfic) that I think are just as bad if not worse. Why don't I also complain about them? Because it isn't my place! I can criticise some tropes but you'll never see me directly attacking a specific fic by name! It's a story someone made for free just because they like writing.

But since these creators clearly believe that their work is somehow superior and has more value than other fics, I will treat it as such! And if you wanted it to be canon so bad I will criticise it like I do with the actual show. And trust me, as much as I adore BBC Merlin I am not blind to its flaws, and I am very critical about them on here.

So yeah. I think it sucks that a lot of fans believe that's the actual ending! Even if you liked it (and so didn't think that the show ended horribly with all its morals squashed) I don't think it's right that you fell for a lie. I had conversations with people who loved it and think of it as their personal season 6 while knowing it isn't canon. And that's wonderful! But you should know the truth.

So let me repeat this one last time

BBC Merlin has no canonical season 6

I feel like I was a lot harsher and aggressive this time around. I think it's because I lost a close family member just this month, and with Christmas so close my nerves are frayed.

But my goal is to make so many of these posts that when you look Kingdom Come up you find them before the actual blog lol. So anyone reading will know not to trust what the blog says.

And to make it clear. Hidden in their posts they do say it is fanmade. But you have to look for it, and if you just want to read you won't see it.

Plus the way they make it sound, the script they sent to BBC (btw... DON'T SEND YOUR FICS TO WRITERS FFS) was actually accepted lmao. And the only issue was the actors didn't want to come back.

Sure babe, sure. That's how shows work.

Damn I'm so salty today.

Again I wouldn't talk about other fics this way, I swear.

Now go read And like the cycle of the year we begin again. Or the Change Trilogy. Both very different, but very long and amazing possible Season 6s

[bring-forth-his-sac]

The Christmas Party - Chapter 6

summary: The Christmas Party is nearly here and while setting up decorations, Negan has other plans...

tags: Modern AU, Teacher AU, Gossip, Swearing, Pet Names, Slow Burn, Alcohol Consumption, Flirting

word count: 5.9k

check out the previous part here!

It’s strange how much can change in just a week. Seven days ago, the mere sight of Negan was enough to make your stomach turn. Everything about him annoyed you. From his smirk to his little quips, to how his eyes would follow you. Everything!  

And from the way he had abandoned you at that Target parking lot, it was clear he felt the same. But here you are now, a week later, and things are just… different.

Wednesday morning goes by in a flash. When you aren’t trying to get your students to focus, you’re jotting down decoration ideas for the sports hall or texting Negan to arrange times to meet.

Only on professional business, per usual.

Although you have so much sorted for the party, everything still feels like a frantic blur. Other teachers talk to you about last minute presents they can’t track down. Meanwhile, the kids are practically counting down the minutes, each one trying to power through the day just to get a little closer to the holiday break. 

No one wants to be here and yet you’re all stuck in school for a few more days; one last push before freedom.

A rhythmic knock echoes at the classroom door, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Without waiting for a response, Carol pokes her head in, a bright smile on her face. Some kids meet her look with big grins of their own, completely buying into her happy-go-lucky persona.

You give her a smile too but you know when she’s putting up a front.

You have most of your students writing stories, giving them a page quota and letting their imaginations run wild. None of them are doing it though, too busy chatting with friends, sneakily going on their phones and asking you to play Christmas music.

“Hi!” Carol greets you, throwing a quick glance behind her to make sure the students are too busy chatting to pay attention. 

Clearing her throat, she hovers by the edge of your desk and whispers “I see you didn’t take my advice”.

Your eyebrows knit together and you pull your chair closer to her. “What? What advice?” You question, tone full of curiosity. 

“When I told you to keep your head down and just plan the party, I didn’t mean put your head down on Negan’s thing!”.

You almost blurt out a string of “What’s,” “No’s,” and “As if’s,” but you catch yourself just in time, not wanting to draw the attention of your students. Instead your mouth just opens, a strangled sound of what could be a scoff coming out. 

“I haven’t been anywhere near his thing!” You quietly protest “Negan and I are just working on the party, nothing more, nothing less!”.

The look on her face says she doesn’t believe you. “So you just like sending each other pictures? Nothing physical?” Carol asks pointedly, making you feel like a student getting reprimanded. 

As subtly as you can, you throw your hands up “Ok, so this is all coming from Sherry and the dick pic rumor?”.

Jingle Bell Rock starts playing down the other side of the class and you have to quickly remind Enid not to play it too loud before turning back to Carol. 

She looks at you with her arms crossed “Yes, Sherry mentioned pictures but also, it’s a little obvious with how Negan’s acting”.

You raise your eyebrows at that, waiting for her to continue.

“Do you know what I walked into today when I went into the teacher's lounge?” she asks, her voice taking on a dramatic tone “Negan, laughing with Eugene”.

She lets the words hang in the air, revealing it like the twist in a horror story, expecting you to react the way she clearly wants.

“I don’t think I follow…” you admit truthfully.

Carol sighs, looking like she’s about to pick up a book and try to knock some sense into you. “Negan was laughing with Eugene,” she repeats “not laughing at Eugene, like he normally does”.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the smirk that’s desperate to break free. “Maybe he’s finally found the meaning of Christmas?” you suggest, offering up an explanation.

Carol doesn’t appreciate the joke. 

“He’s different, I’ll give you that,” she says, her gaze locking with yours. It’s not a glare, but an intense stare that makes you feel like she’s trying to drill her words into you, as if she needs you to understand now more than ever. 

“But he’s still Negan. And Negan will do what he always does, chase skirts and try to get laid” she continues.

You purse your lips, torn. You don’t want to defend Negan, especially when Carol is technically right. But you also know there’s more to him than what she sees. You opt to stay quiet.

“If you show him interest then he’ll sniff around you for a while but he’ll get bored or realise you’re not interested in doing things at his pace, and that’s when he’ll vanish,” Carol gives you the harsh truth “He’s not going to chase after you when you rebuff him or eventually give into him. Either way, you’re not winning”.

It almost makes your mood falter, the harsh reality check of who Negan is. But then you remind this is just her perspective, shaped by the rumors she’s heard and the small glimpses she’s caught.

Carol hasn’t seen him getting dodgeballs hurled at him or witnessed Negan falling on his ass while ice skating. There’s a different side to him that you’re more privy to.

And so you shrug nonchalantly “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind”.

“Keep it in mind?” Carol repeats, her voice laced with a thin edge of disbelief. She has a talent for making every answer you give sound like the wrong one.

With a sigh, she adds “Oh, he has you wrapped around his finger and you don’t even know it”.

Sticking to your story, you calmly reply “Negan’s just a friend, that’s it. I get that he has this… charisma but that doesn’t mean I’m interested in him”.

Carol keeps her face neutral, her eyes studying you like she can detect if you’re lying. “Sure, if you say so,” she cautiously concedes “but that’s not the impression everyone else is getting”.

You let out a long groan, putting your head in your hands.

“But I’ll drop it,” she quickly says as you groan “…but if something happens, I called it first”.

“Carol!” You exclaim before looking around at the busy students “Um, I mean, Ms Peletier!”.

She chuckles at your quick correction. With a final glance, she heads toward the door. “I’m just looking out for you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you” her words hang in the air and before you can respond, she disappears out the door.

As your classes go on, Carol’s words echo in your head. No matter how much you try to push it away or deem it ridiculous, it lingers. 

You know Negan. You’ve been on his good side and his bad side and yet, you’re still here. You’ve got it all under control.

There’s no crush, no hidden feelings lurking in the corners of your mind and most definitely no secret hook ups or nudes being sent. 

By the time you get to visit Negan, your lingering thoughts are replaced by nervous fretting about the party. 

You already gave him the heads up that you wanted him up a ladder and putting up the tinsel and lights you had bought. But in true Negan fashion, by the time you get to visit the sports hall, he isn’t the one up a ladder.

“Carl, I know you’re just fucking with me now,” he has his hands on his hips, not even holding the ladder “just tape the lights up there! It doesn’t have to look all fancy!”.

“I know,” the tense voice of his student retorts.

“You know? Then why the fuck are you doing a ‘will they, won’t they’ routine with lights and tinsel?” Negan barks out before remembering how an essential part of hand-eye coordination just so happens to be eyesight. 

“Y’know what, just come down and I’ll get my own ass up there” he sighs, practically slapping his hand off his forehead. 

“Looks like I came just in time,” you speak up, alerting Negan to your presence. He looks back with a smile, sizing you up and down. 

Gesturing to the ladder, he asks “Why, you gonna volunteer?”.

“Nope but I’ll hold the ladder for you,” you offer. Walking over, you wait until Carl’s feet touch the ground before giving him a grateful smile for trying. 

Negan steps up next, turning back to his class and ordering them to start moving some tables in here and to pretty them up with tinsel.

“Hope ya don’t mind I got started without ya,” Negan grunts as he begins his ascent up, lights wrapped around one arm and tape in the other.

You hold the ladder steady, purposefully not looking up. 

“It’s fine,” you reply “but won’t the decorations get in the way of your classes tomorrow?”. 

Glancing around, you see Negan’s class fully focused on the mission at hand; some are following his orders and lifting in tables, two are racing up and down as they sweep the floors, others make paper chains and snowflakes with what they can find, hanging them up on the walls.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Negan steadies himself at the top of the ladder “if the weather’s fine tomorrow, I’ll have them run laps outside”.

Through a series of huffs and grunts, you can only assume Negan is getting the lights and tinsel to stay. You hear strips of tape being tore off, the rustling of the tinsel and then… whistling?

You look up. How could you not look up when he’s deciding now is a great time to whistle?

But it’s a trap. 

Grinning down at you, Negan lets out a dark chuckle. “Look at you appreciating the view” he teases. Instantly averting your eyes, you make an act of putting your hand up to shield him from your view. 

“Asshole” you mumble just loud enough for only him to hear. You get a chuckle in response before Negan goes back to work.

“So if the hall’s going to be done by the end of the day, what’re we supposed to do tomorrow?” You ask.

“We got a special job tomorrow,” Negan says vaguely “we’re getting domestic”.

He purposely makes you wait until he’s done taping up the lights and tinsel before revealing more “Dear ol’Jesus— the school counselor, not the other one, has made a donation to our cause”.

“Is that so?” You allow yourself to look up at him once he starts his descent down, meeting him with a skeptical look when he’s off the ladder.

“Yup,” he smirks, tongue peeking out of his mouth as he revels in your reaction “we got a Christmas tree to put up!”.

“What?!” Is the only thing you can manage to say, your brain struggling to catch up with the absurdity of the situation.

Negan nods “He gave us a tree, balls to hang off it, a fuckin’ star for the top”.

You blink at him in disbelief. “First off, they’re called baubles, not balls,” you correct him, but even as you say it, you’re still trying to process the entire scenario “And second… just— what?”.

Negan tilts his head, his smirk never fading “I know but balls are better, and I raise your what to a what the fuck”.

“Well, why don’t we put it up now? Or after school if you’re free” you suggest, trying to keep the momentum going.

Negan sighs, shaking his head slowly. “Sorry, doll. I got plans… and so do you.”

You furrow your brow. “I do?” you ask.

“Yeah, duh,” he says, his tone impossibly casual, as if the answer should be obvious “it’s my turn to take you on a date”.

You laugh, shaking your head despite appreciating the gesture “Negan, no, you don’t have to do that”.

He raises an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. “Oh, c’mon. You took me out, and you didn’t even expect me to put out,” he winks mischievously “it’s my turn to wine and dine you”.

You hesitate, clearly torn. You want to accept and Negan’s offer is tempting in ways you’re not willing to admit, but you’re not about to let yourself get swept up in whatever this is. 

Carol’s words from early ring out in your head. 

“Well…” you start, fidgeting with your fingers as if the words are stuck in your throat “I don’t think another round of ice skating would be a good idea”.

Negan raises an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across his face “Who mentioned that? No, no, no, I’m going all out this time”.

You try to keep your voice even, but there’s a part of you that’s already imagining whatever plan he has. You swallow the feeling down, just barely. 

“So… what did you have in mind?”

He leans back, eyes gleaming as he watches you “You said you haven’t been to the Kingdom yet, right?”.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The second you walk through the heavy wooden doors of the Kingdom, you're met with the rich scent of roasted meats and herbs.

The dim lighting casts a golden glow over the room, with flickering candlelight atop sturdy wooden tables, each surrounded by plush velvet chairs.

The walls, lined with dark oak panels, are adorned with tapestries depicting medieval scenes; knights on horseback, feasts in great halls, ancient forests.

As the server leads you through the restaurant, he brings you and Negan to a table near the back. Close by, a stone fireplace crackles softly, the flames dancing in the hearth. 

“Negan, how did you even get a booking here so close to Christmas?” you ask once you’re both alone and left with the menus.

He lets out a stiff laugh “Between you and me, the place had plumbing issues a few years back and I don’t think its reputation ever recovered”.

Your face says it all but Negan quickly reassures you “It’s all sorted now so don’t worry if you need to use the shitter”.

With a playful scoff, you pick up your menu “You can’t say ladies room? Or bathroom?”.

“Oh, well I would be nice and polite if this was a date,” he says it so brazenly with that perfect white smile of his “so, doll, is this a date?”.

You open your mouth to answer when the server comes back over “My dude and dudette! Have we decided on food? Or some drinks to start you off?”.

Giving Negan a quick, playful glare, you turn to the menu and decide on which drinks to have.

The candlelight flickers gently on the table as you order drinks. Since Negan has insisted on driving tonight, you’ve decided to treat yourself to a cocktail, the house special to be exact. Shiva a lá Tigress. 

The buzz of quiet conversations act as background noise, merely there to set the mood.

Negan’s shoulders relax as he leans back in his chair, the deep lines of his face softened by the warm glow of the table. He’s wearing a smile tonight but you don’t doubt that it could become a mischievous smirk within seconds. 

You can’t help but notice the leather jacket that clings to his broad shoulders, the worn material perfectly shaped to his frame. As much as you’re reluctant to admit it, the jacket makes Negan look effortlessly handsome, a perfect combination of rugged and rebellious. 

The conversation flows non-stop, especially since you have your cocktail in front of you. He talks with that charmingly cocky confidence that used to irk you endless but since then, you’ve grown accustomed to it. 

For dinner, you keep your order simple, while Negan goes all out with steak and roasted vegetables. He’s always been partial to something he can sink his teeth into and tonight's no different. 

“So, you heading back home for the holidays?” Negan asks before clarifying “I mean, family home”.

You go to shrug but stop yourself, the question throwing you off guard to the point that you can’t pretend to be nonchalant. “Actually, I was going to stay here for Christmas” you take a sip of your cocktail to distract yourself. 

Negan raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your answer. His smirk softens into something more thoughtful, though it’s hard to tell if he's surprised or just curious.

"Staying here for Christmas, huh?" he repeats, his tone warm but carrying that edge of skepticism only he can manage "No family to visit? No friends back home?".

You can feel his gaze lingering on you, a mix of curiosity and maybe just a hint of concern—though it could just be him enjoying the chance to poke at something unexpected. He swirls his glass of Coke before taking a sip as you debate what to say.

For once, the man is patient.

You can feel the weight of the question. It's not one you expected and that's only one of the reasons it makes you uneasy. Shrugging, you steal a small roast potato off of his plate. 

“I just want some space, I guess,” you bite into the potato before you continue “I want a nice, relaxed Christmas and this is the first time I have an actual excuse not to go back home for Christmas”.

Negan watches you swipe the potato, his lips twitching into an amused grin, but he doesn’t say anything right away.

Instead, he thinks it over, eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words. When you finish speaking, he lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

"First time with an excuse, huh?" he murmurs, the tone half-wistful, half-knowing. 

"Well, sometimes the holidays aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, you know? Family’s great and all, but... sometimes you just need a break from all the noise” Negan taps the side of his glass thoughtfully "I get that. Hell, I’ve skipped a few of those big family gatherings myself".

He shrugs, his eyes flickering to the plate but you can see he’s not really focused on the food anymore “So, you’re not used to relaxed Christmas’?”. 

You glance up from his plate, finding the question oddly direct but it’s clear he’s genuinely curious now. You take another bite of the potato, chewing slowly before setting it down.

“I don’t think anyone in my family knows how to have a ‘relaxed’ Christmas,” you say with a dry laugh, shrugging “It’s always... loud, busy, everyone trying to outdo each other. Or if it’s not that, it’s just a whole lot of awkward silences and forced smiles”.

You take another bite, letting the quiet settle in for a moment. “I don’t even know if I’d know what to do with myself if I had one of those perfect, calm Christmases you see in movies. Maybe that's why it feels like the right time to just... take a break. For once” you try to explain.

Negan gives a low, thoughtful hum “Yeah, I get that. Sometimes it's easier to just step back, take a breath. No noise, no expectations”.

He leans back in his chair, a little more relaxed now "Maybe that's what Christmas is supposed to be, huh? Just... doing what feels right".

There’s something in his voice—maybe the quiet understanding—that feels like he's speaking from experience, not just making small talk.

“So, what’s Ms. Goody Two-Shoes’s idea of a perfect Christmas?” Negan asks, his grin widening as he throws the playful jab your way.

You giggle at the nickname, shaking your head a little. You pause for a moment, thinking about it. What would a perfect Christmas look like for you? You’re not sure, but one thing’s for sure—it wouldn’t be like the ones from your past. 

“Hmm,” you murmur, tilting your head as you contemplate the question. “Lazing around all day, eating whatever I feel like, and watching Christmas movies on repeat. Sounds like heaven to me”.

Negan raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “The Hallmark ones?” he teases, smirking at the thought of you glued to the TV watching all the over the top, feel good holiday rom-coms.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “No, no. Whatever ones I come across. Doesn’t matter if they’re cheesy or weird or action packed. I’m not picky”.

You take a moment to think about it, the image of you sprawled out in front of a TV playing reruns of Christmas movies filling your mind. “Honestly, I think I just want something... low-key. No pressure to impress anyone, no forced cheer. Just me, snacks and maybe an ugly Christmas sweater”.

Negan’s smile softens, studying you for a second "Yeah, I can see that. No expectations, no drama. Just... doing whatever feels right in the moment. Not a bad way to spend the holidays". 

You can feel the weight of his words and for a second, it almost feels like you’ve stumbled into a little unspoken understanding between you two. But then you remember that this is just two friends having dinner.

There’s nothing more to it. You’re not about to get tangled up in whatever attraction this is. It’s not like Negan is the type of person who does relationships or anything more than a hookup. 

As Carol’s warning from early ring in your head again, you take another sip of cocktail. 

You try to rid your mind of his laugh— genuine and deep, or the glint in his eyes whenever your gaze meet. No, that warmth that makes you want to melt isn’t important. That’s just how everyone feels when they look at their friends! 

…right?

Both your phones go off at the same time, a sharp ping cutting through your drifting thoughts. For a split second, neither of you react, the phones interrupting the nice moment.

Before you can pull your phone out, Negan already has his on the table. The screen glows bright and he glances down, fingers tapping quickly to unlock it.

You’re unsure whether you should look or not but without saying a word, Negan tilts the phone so you can see the group chat from his phone. 

Gregory: staff party friday can only go on until 11! Everyone needs to leave the premises by then

You can't help but groan. "Ugh... We don’t have to stay the whole time, right? Like, we’re not obligated or anything?"

Negan chuckles, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. "As far as I’m concerned, the second that party kicks off, it’s no longer our problem".

You’re about to take another drink when Negan leaves the group chat messages and goes back on to his list of messages with his various contacts.

You were at the top of the list due to Negan and you messaging during school about your dinner dat– … dinner meeting, but Gregory’s message into the group chat has knocked you into second place.

You catch a glimpse of your name sitting by the top and a confused look shadows your face. Yes, it technically is your name but the brackets after it is what throws you off guard.

You lean in, squinting to get a better look, and read aloud “Good ass, great throw?”. 

The words hang in the air, your voice wavering slightly as you glance up at Negan. His expression shifts instantly, that sly grin fading into something closer to a deer in the headlights moment.

Without missing a beat, he swipes his phone off and locks it, a little too quickly. 

"Uh..." he starts, but his usual confidence is nowhere to be found now. He shifts, looking anywhere but at you "You... didn’t just see that". 

You raise an eyebrow, trying to suppress a grin. "Good ass, great throw, huh?" you repeat, drawing the words out “that’s all you have to say about me?”.

Negan clears his throat, looking a little flustered for once. "Yeah, well, uh, I mean it is the truth, doll”.

“Uh huh,” you respond, waiting a few beats before playfully slapping his arm “you’re weird”.

He laughs at your brief assessment, relaxing now that you’re not storming out. “Well, it used to say good ass, weird at flirting”.

You blink in mock outrage “I am not weird at flirting!”

Negan gives you a slow, calculating look, his grin widening like he’s about to watch some sort of show “Alright, then. Prove it to me”.

You raise an eyebrow, instantly skeptical “Prove what, exactly?”.

“Flirt with me! Show me you actually got some game,” he laughs at your innocent question.

You take a slow breath, a bit taken aback but determined to play along.

You lean forward slightly, meeting his gaze with a playful smirk. "You want me to flirt with you?" you say, your voice laced with a quiet challenge "I mean, I’m not sure you’re worth the effort but I guess I can make an exception".

Negan raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. His smirk widens “Oh, so we're starting with the sass, huh? I like it”.

You giggle, running a finger along the rim of your drink, eyes never leaving his. "I’m not being sassy, just honest," you continue, gesturing to the leather jacket "Like I can be honest and tell you that I’m liking the whole ‘Rebel Without a Cause’ thing you got going on”.

His eyes glint with amusement and he shifts slightly, clearly enjoying the game. “Well, well, look at you, getting all bold. You think you can handle a guy like me?”.

You laugh softly, your tone low and teasing “I don’t know, it would be a tight fit”. To make sure he gets what you’re saying, you give him a slow once-over, letting your eyes roam down his chest… then down his torso… to where the table blocks your view. 

Negan’s smirk falters as he lets out a low groan, his expression shifting. “You want to get out of here?” His voice is gruff and there’s something in it that makes you think he’s serious.

“I think we’ll have to,” you agree before you break your act and nod towards the approaching waiter “here comes the bill”.

Reluctantly, Negan pulls his gaze away from you, his eyes flicking toward the waiter. He lets out a heavy sigh, then shoots you a playful glare, clearly not thrilled about the interruption. 

Before he can say anything else, the waiter arrives at the table, ready to settle the score.

Negan pays the bill without even asking if you’d like to split it, putting a couple of bills down on the table and nodding to the waiter.

You both stand and he gestures for you to head out first, the tension between you still palpable despite the evening winding down.

As you both step out of the restaurant, the sharp winter air hits you immediately, biting through your clothes. You’re just about to pull your coat tighter when you feel the warmth of Negan’s leather jacket settle over your shoulders, his actions wordless. 

The smooth, worn leather feels surprisingly comforting against the chill, and for a moment it’s as if the cold doesn’t exist. You glance up at him, but he’s already heading towards his truck.

You follow, trying to will yourself not to smell his scent from the jacket.

The drive back is quiet at first, the only sounds are the hum of the engine and the occasional flick of a turn signal. The soft glow of streetlights flickers through the windows, casting shadows that seem to accentuate the unspoken energy between you. 

Every now and then, you’ll give him a direction back to yours. Considering you’ve had your cocktail, all you can do is accept the ride home from your friend. You can feel his eyes on you, how he always turns to look your way whenever he doesn’t need to be paying attention to the road.

“And Negan will do what he always does, chase skirts and try to get laid”.

The car moves smoothly through the night but the air feels charged, thick with the remnants of your banter from dinner.

It’s calm, almost intimate, but you can’t ignore the underlying tension— like the quiet before a storm, neither of you know how it’ll break but it will, eventually.

When he pulls up outside your home, you take a deep breath and say what you’ve been debating the whole ride home.

“I’m not inviting you in,” you make clear, despite the hesitancy in your eyes “we know where that would lead…”.

A ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he turns to you, his voice soft but laced with amusement.

“I wasn’t expecting you to,” he replies, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

“If you show him interest then he’ll sniff around you for a while but he’ll get bored or realise you’re not interested in doing things at his pace, and that’s when he’ll vanish”.

“I’ve had a really good night, though,” you add quickly, wanting him to know you’re not brushing off the evening entirely. You unbuckle your seatbelt slowly, taking a moment to gather your thoughts before you slip his leather jacket off your shoulders. 

You hand it back to him but Negan doesn’t take it. Instead, his hand moves in a fluid motion, past the jacket and gently cupping your wrist before you can pull away.

The quiet hum of the engine fills the space between you, his thumb absentmindedly tracing the contours of your hand. The air in the car feels thicker now, charged with something deeper, something neither of you can put into words. 

His eyes stay on you as if nothing could pull his gaze away from you now. Negan shifts slightly, his posture more serious.

“I gotta ask,” he starts, his voice low but steady, “are you gonna keep on pretending these aren’t dates?”.

It’s tempting to play it off, to keep it light and avoid the question altogether but the truth is, you know it too. There’s more to this— more to the connection between you than just a night out or playful teasing while planning the party.

Yeah,” you admit, your voice soft “I guess these are dates.” 

The truth feels strange coming out, but the moment you say it, you feel something inside you shift. It’s like a door has opened and suddenly, everything is laid bare between you.

You lean in just a little, your breath mingling with his, and for a heartbeat, you almost forget to breathe. His lips are so close and the moment feels so right, you can’t resist anymore.

“He’s not going to chase after you when you rebuff him or eventually give into him”.

Negan’s grin widens but it’s softer now, like he’s relieved. He leans in closer, the air between you crackling with a mix of excitement and anticipation.

“Took you long enough,” he murmurs, his lips brushing just a hair’s breadth from yours.

And then, the tension breaks.

Without another word, Negan leans in and the space between you closes in an instant. His lips meet yours with a quiet, urgent tenderness, as if all the teasing, all the moments leading up to this, have been building to this one perfect kiss.

Time slows as you kiss him back, the world outside reduced to nothing more than the heat of his lips and the fluttering of your heart.

It’s slow at first as if you’re both savoring the simple act, but soon it deepens— more pressing, more urgent, as if neither of you wants to let the moment slip away.

When the kiss finally breaks, you both pull back just enough to catch your breath, foreheads touching and a quiet laugh is shared between you. The air is still thick with desire, but now there’s a warmth, a certainty, that wasn’t there before.

“Either way, you’re not winning”.

“You’re still not coming inside” you murmur, grinning up at him before you rethink what you’ve just said. “My apartment!” you clarify “You’re not coming inside my apartment!”.

“Fair but don’t think this’ll be the last time I’m taking you out” his words carry a promise but there’s something deeper in his tone, a kind of vulnerability you didn’t expect from the infamous womanizer.

“Goodnight, Negan,” You give him one last lingering glance then slowly slide the truck door open.

He watches you for a beat longer, a half-smile still playing on his lips. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he responds, his voice carrying something more than the usual casual goodbye.

As you make your way up the path to your door, you can’t help but feel a sense of giddiness, like you’re walking on air.

It’s baffling to think Carol was so wrong about him but you can only assume that’s the result of so many people brushing Negan off as an asshole.

You don’t know what the future holds, but tonight, something changed, and you can’t wait to see where it goes.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Thursday. Just today, classes tomorrow and then it’s on. Party time. 

You rush around the school, genuinely panicked that it’s already midday and you still haven’t located Sherry.

You need to know the details; what food specifically will she be making for the party? Will she only prepare it and you have to cook it before or will it be ready to go? How much food is she making? Does she seriously believe Negan’s dick pic story?

To make matters worse, you haven’t seen Negan all morning too, setting back your plans to decorate the Christmas tree. 

Like a beggar, you stay in the stoop of your classroom, unable to leave your students unattended but yearning to track down the cafeteria worker. Whenever a colleague passes by your classroom, you barrage them with questions, hoping someone else might know what you so evidently don’t.

“Have you seen Sherry today?” is the question you start with.

Morgan, or, Mr Jones to the kids, keeps walking as he replies “I’ve been clearing the corridors all morning and I haven’t seen her once”.

Next, you ask Eugene, who gives you the most unhelpfully detailed answer. “Well, uh, truth be told, I don’t exactly have that particular piece of information in my possession,” he starts “if I did, I would certainly share it. But as of now, I am, regrettably, not privy to her current whereabouts”.

Carol thankfully didn’t stop either when you asked her, knowing she’d be able to read your face and know that something happened between you and Negan.

“Maybe she just isn’t in yet?” she suggests before going off to her own class.

Rosita, on the other hand, simply says “No”.

It’s only during the short break between classes are you able to quickly do a lap of the school, peering into the cafeteria and staff room as you go. But once again, no luck.

Walking back to your next class, who are no doubt going crazy now that they’re teacher is late, you catch a glimpse of a certain brunette out the window. 

In the teacher’s parking lot, Sherry huffs as she gets out of her car. You see her mouth move, as if she’s talking before shutting the car door. Not seeing anyone else around, you assume she’s on the phone and decide to wait until later to bombard her with questions.

But then the passenger’s door of her car opens. You recognise the tall frame, the slicked back hair and the greying stubble.

Negan. Arriving to work with Sherry. In her car. Together.

Your throat tightens and you’re not sure if you want to cry or punch something. Turning on your heels your feet go into autopilot as they bring you back to your classroom.

“Either way, you’re not winning”.

[muttsona]

i hope i die, you broke my heart

[the-acid-pear]

Okay I'm home now and i can fully and freely type. Anyway mild spoilers for into the spiderverse i guess?

❌❌❌

Anyway uh. Yeah it... It was a tiny bit of a disappointment. It didn't do it for me at all. I feel like this movie is more of an art exhibit and i mean that as a fucking insult. Like sure the animation fucks my ears are ringing and my head aches horribly (that's on me for thinking i can be autistic and watch this on theaters) but like, the story man? It just so much (DEROGATORY).

It commits the sin a lot of spiderman movies make and that is that it bit more than it could chew. Not because they're bad at handling a complex story, but because they tried to juggle like 5 at once. And that never fucking works (my ear is still ringing and it hurts I'm in pain rn -_+ just wanted y'all to know)

Like it introduced SO FUCKING MUCH and it all was cool yeah! Just like electro was cool, and Harry, and Gwen, and captain Stacy. You know what in trying to fucking say? There's only so much you can do in 2 hours and you can just throw all you have all at once at the viewer because all you'll do is leave them disappointed wanting for more of that.

I feel like a baby. They show me this cool thing but nuh uh! Enough of that! Here's this new cool thing! But nuh uh! Enough of that- and so on. Like there were so many cool characters and ideas and concepts and shit but it could barely balance it all. YOU KNOW HOW BAD I WANTED TO SEE MORE OF THE SPOT?! HE BARELY WAS HERE!

It's like, you cannot fucking make a whole movie as the introduction to your next movie. That just sucks. You're setting yourself up for failure.

Like I'm just so upset bc it was full of amaizing things but it didn't fucking deliver in any of them!!!! And God don't get me started on the references. I think this was one of the worst ways to fill your movie with references. Like at least let me fucking process what I'm seeing if you are gonna waste so much time here, but also just... Don't make it so fucking blatant.

Like man i... This was a very experimental spiderman movie which i appreciate in a way but... It's not what I was expecting. To me, personally, it was disappointing. And also not designed at ALL to watch on cinemas. I think that last bit is just a fact.

I'm just kinda sad man. Like i loved Miles and Gwen's drama and i loved Miguel but I also wanted to see more of, you know, THE WHOLE FUCKING NEW CAST AND THE NEW FUCKING VILLAIN THEY INTRODUCED BUT SHOWED ONLY FOR LIKE 2-3 SEGMENTS MAX???????

LIKE HANDS ON HEAD EMOJI WHAT WERE THEY DOINGGGGG 😭😭😭😭

[nezuscribe]

you try not to get jealous. it does you no good. but sometimes you get a little miffed when it comes to how women treat your husband, arranged!gojo.

you see how the women giggle at him, how they bite their lips whenever he walks by. you see them giggle to each other, the way they try to catch his attention.

and though most ladies of the high society act this way, some of the servants around the estate, the women of the town, and others behave like this too.

they act as if he’s not married, as if that ring on his hand is purely for decoration. and sure, maybe a couple months ago it was for show but now things have changed and you don’t appreciate those ladies all that much.

and gojo notices.

he knows you’re getting better at talking to him about what ails you, but he also knows that it’s a a lot to get used to at once. he sees the way you tense up at their whispers, the glares you throw their way when you hear his name in their conversation. he understands because he’s the same as you, his feelings mirroring yours.

so he decides to comfort your worries a bit indirectly.

“what…” you whip your head around as gojo stops at a random spot in one of the hallways, taking you away from your tea time with shoko as he fails to give any explanation for his hurried responses, “what are you doing? you have that meeting with your counsel and-”

“missed you,” is all he’s able to say as he slams his lips onto yours, earning a surprised yelp in response.

your back hits against the stone wall, one of his hands against your head to protect it from bumping back as your gasp in surprise, letting him slide his tongue in your mouth as he sloppily kisses your lips.

“satoru, w-wait,” you try to stop yourself from whining out loud, your fingers cuing into his artic strands as his hands move down to hold your waist, “it’s daytime, p-people, people can come…” you can’t speak anymore because he doesn’t let you, lips slotting against each others as your eyes screw shut, heartbeat in your throat as he hands squeeze as your skin.

“i missed you,” he just repeats, nipping slightly at your bottom lip as you mewl, feeling his lips trail down your chin to your throat as you tilt you head upwards to give him a better angle.

you almost want to laugh because it’s only been hours since you’ve seen each other, but for gojo it feels like days since he’s seen you.

you peek slightly too look at him, see the way his lips attack your skin, sucking and biting, surely leaving marks as he makes his way down. you love the way his hair is slightly wavy, most likely from his bath after sparring.

you’re almost too intoxicated from his feverish kisses to notice the sounds of incoming footsteps, but the loud overbearing giggles is what pulls you back to reality.

you tense up, scrambling to push him away from you but he won’t budge. if anything, he seems to be motivated, moving back up to your lips to steal your words away.

“t-there’s people coming!” you try to warn him but he doesn’t seem to care, his blue eyes gleaming with a different look as your whine from one of his hands moving upwards to your chest, giving one of your breasts a light squeeze.

“so?” he murmurs, lips hovering against the corners of yours as his brow cocks upwards.

you go to say something else but he tilts your chin upwards to meet him, one hand balancing on the wall behind you, one on your hip, his hair messy from your fingers gripping at him.

you don’t feel like moving, too drunk off of him to even notice the ladies as they round the corner, not looking their way as you hear their squeals of shock, the way they try to hurriedly leave.

you glance slightly to the right as gojo moves back down to your neck to get a look at them, your fingers still tangled in his hair, one hand draped over his neck, squinting slightly as you remember their faces from last week, when you overheard them talking about your husband.

there’s a slight tilt in your lips as you hear their scrambled apologies, the way they try to leave as fast as they can. you try not to gloat too much in their looks of envy and jealousy.

and if you focused just enough, you could feel the smile on his lips.

“you missed me?” you ask a little breathless, a coy tilt to your voice.

“so much,” he mumbles as he glances up at you from his white lashes, his pupils blown wide, lips messy with spit, red and swollen as he presses a slopping kiss to the slight skin showing of your chest.

“you’re so immature,” you chide, trying to look away, the hide the bashfulness in your face but his hand cups your jaw, pulling your face back down to see his.

“they had to see for themselves,” he tells you, his voice wavering on something darker, “had to see who the only lady gojo is.”

and you smile, eyes a little hazy as your fingers slightly tug on his soft strands, reveling in the way his eyes roll back and his lips find their way back up to yours.

yeah jealousy wasn’t the best. but thank the gods your husband was just as petty as you.

[nereidprinc3ss]

kiss it better

in which spencer notices your bruised knees and tries to make it up to you

18+ (fluff, allusions to past intimacy) warnings/tags: gn!reader i believe, reader has bruised knees lol, guess why, implied intimacy, hurt/comfort, sorta implied d/s dynamics maybe?? spencer is so smart and not very smart, but forever my no. 1 cutie pie a/n: why do i love writing about smut like before and after smut way more than i actually like writing smut LOL anyways here is this cause i haven't been posting very much!!! (also ik I said I don't like babe as a pet name but shhh) and GIF :D

“Hey,” you grunt as you flop on the bed in your pajamas, rumpling the neat covers. “Pay attention to me.”

Spencer holds his Sudoku off to the side and watches, eyebrows raised, as you scoot closer, tossing your leg over him. Soon he’s abandoning the book and pen on the bedside table in favor of hooking his fingers under your knee and stroking your leg, much to your delight. 

“Okay. What kind of attention would you like?”

You allow him to put his other arm around you and settle your cheek on his shoulder. 

“This is pretty good.”

“Oh, good,” he says with only a hint of teasing, leaning down slightly to kiss your lips and then the tip of your nose. 

When he pulls away you can’t help smiling up at him like a lovestruck idiot. Obviously he’s perfect all the time, but in his glasses, with his hair messy, wearing a navy crewneck instead of a button up and tie… he’s just… he’s just so…

He’s just so alarmed?

“Honey, your knee.”

“My knee?” Your own brows furrow and you track his eye line, craning your neck to look down to the blotchy sprawl of purple and red marring your skin. “Oh.”

The pillow is soft under your head where it falls, unconcerned even as Spencer gawps at you, baffled by your nonchalance. 

“What did you do?”

You snort. 

“What did you do, Spencer?”

It’s cute, the way his lips move as he silently repeats the sentence, trying to discern the meaning of your words. 

“What do you mean? I did something?”

“Babe.”

The knot between his brows has not loosened any—in fact you’re worried he’s going to give himself a headache. Or at least make himself dizzy, with the way his eyes cycle between your own. You try again, covering his anxious hand on the bend of your leg with your own. 

“When we got back from Penelope’s thing, the other night?”

Slowly the understanding seeps into his expression—soft guilt in his eyes, and a deep red stain in his cheeks. At least his face relaxes. 

“Oh.”

God, he’s so cute. He can’t hold eye contact, looking down once the shock of embarrassment has faded and swallowing, a little frown twisting his features once more. You reach up, brushing his cheek with a thumb and adjusting his glasses. 

“What’s wrong?”

The question comes out too smiley, but you can’t help it. 

“I hurt you,” he says, quietly, utterly ashamed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I kinda think you did,” you tease, and Spencer says your name with a serious edge. You try to quit grinning so much. “Baby, it’s fine. You didn’t hurt me. Don’t you ever get mysterious bruises?”

His eyes are wide and honest on yours when he meets them again. 

“No. My iron levels are optimal.”

Naturally. 

“Okay, well, lots of people do. Sometimes I get a bruise and I have no idea what it’s from because it never hurt. These,” you look down, gesturing to your knee, “never hurt. It’s just what happens when your knees hit the floor.”

“Well you shouldn’t have been on the floor,” he scolds, countering with a sweet touch on your cheek. “I’m never letting you touch the floor ever again.”

Your shit-eating grin is back and better than ever. “Oh, so you’re going to carry me everywhere we go?”

“If that’s what it takes. I don’t like seeing you bruised up.”

“It’s okay. I bruised myself doing something I love.”

At this Spencer rolls his eyes and kisses you once more before gently pushing your leg away and getting out of bed. 

“Where are you going?” You ask, all smugness gone and more concerned than you ought to be as he flicks the bathroom light on. For a moment you receive no answer, but then he reappears bearing a white tube. 

“Give me your legs,” he says, sitting next to you on the bed. You swing your legs over his lap and watch on in mild interest as he dispenses lotion from the bottle and tosses it aside, carefully rubbing it into the bruised skin. Every few seconds he glances up to gauge your reaction, and though it’s definitely tender, you avoid wincing. “You don’t have to do that. I can tell it hurts.”

You laugh. 

“Yeah, well, it didn’t until you started trying to fix it.” The ointment is pungent and you make a face. “What are you rubbing all over me?”

“This is vitamin K and Arnica. It will make the bruises go away faster.”

“Aw. You don’t think they’re pretty on me?”

He sets the bottle on the nightstand and retrieves the pen he’d been doing Sudoku with earlier, uncapping it. Your heart swells as he draws tiny sad faces by the bruises on your knees, glasses slipping down his nose as he focuses intently. 

“I always think you’re pretty. I just never want you to be hurt, ever.”

“Are you done taking care of me now?” You ask, reaching out for him. The pen joins the bottle and suddenly he has no concern for your bodily health, practically crushing you with a hug. When he speaks it’s muffled by your shoulder. 

“Never.”

You hum, nose tickled in his hair and forming a dastardly plan. 

“You could kiss them better.”

Spencer laughs and presses his lips briefly to your neck. 

“I might just do that.”

[calypsocolada]

how they are when they're jealous... ft. giyu, mitsuri, obanai, sanemi, rengoku, tengen, & hotaru

authors note: hello. with this new season of demon slayer i felt inspired. lemme know if you guys want more. i sort of went a little crazy with tengen's and hotaru's little stories. ENJOY!

cw: lots of death talk in hotaru's part, maybe slightly suggestive, not proofread

wc: 5k

click here for my masterlist

Giyu hides his jealousy way too well. You two had worked together for a very long time. The first few months of knowing him you didn’t even know if he knew your name let alone that you existed to him. He was not very open so you left him alone the best you could. That was until one day you were eating peacefully and he came and sat next to you. You were stunned, your chewing paused as you slowly looked over at him. He was sitting cross legged beside you, quietly opening his wrapped food. When he noticed you looking he paused and met your eyes.

“Hm?” He hummed, as though he sat next to you all the time. As though you two had said more than three words to each other in months. You didn’t want to scare him off so you just gently shook your head. 

“Nothing.” You answered, looking back down at your food, swallowing nervously. Giyu returned his look to his food and out of the corner of your eyes you saw him pause. 

“Are you… friendly with Sanemi?” He asked. You furrowed your brow, chancing a glance at him. He met your eyes with a curious stare. 

“Sanemi?” You repeated. He nodded his head once. You purse your lips. You were friendly with all the hashira’s except him but you didn’t think that was exactly what he was asking. Well to be honest you weren’t really sure what he was asking so you decided to play it safe.

“Hmm… yes. He’s a friend.” You answer. His face doesn’t reveal anything as he nods his head again, looking back at his food. You wonder if you answered correctly as he suddenly pulls out a little white sweets box. The very same sweets that you would buy as a treat for yourself after missions. 

“Just a friend?” He asks as you nod your head, blushing slightly. Giyu looks relieved and hands the sweets over to you without a word. 

“Oh… for me?” You ask and he nods his head. When you reach to take it your hands brush and you swear his cheeks pinken.

-

You didn’t think Mitsuri ever got jealous until a few years into your relationship. You two often had missions together which meant you also had time off at the same time. Hiking to the swordsmith village to relax. After settling in you two hit the kitchen. The only thing that could rival your love for each other was your love for food. There were a few other hashira’s around and when you couldn’t pop a jar open you handed it over, sighing, to the closest person, which wasn’t your girlfriend. Shinobu popped it open for you and you continued to help prep the food. That’s when you noticed Mitsuri pouting and when you met her eyes she blushed and looked away embarrassed, returning to helping prepare food. You didn’t think much about it but at dinner she was quiet. You wanted to ask if something was wrong but you didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the other hashira’s so you waited until you two were headed back to your shared cabin. Once out of ear shot you reached and tucked her hair behind her ear so you were able to see her face. 

“Is something wrong?” You asked, still blushing she shrugged it off, shaking her head.

“No… nothing’s wrong, dear.” She answered quickly. It was an obvious lie.

“Did someone say something to you? To make you upset?”

“No… it’s… nothing important.” She said with a soft shake of her head, like she was trying to trick herself into forgetting about it. You laced your fingers with hers. 

“If you're upset then it’s important. Come on, just tell me.” You prodded gently. She gave a little sigh and you could tell she was a little embarrassed but still she opened up to you.

“I’m strong… you know,” She starts, wearily looking over at you.

“I know that.” 

“I can open things. Lift things…. You know, you don’t need anyone else to do that kind of stuff.” Slowly you nodded your head, trying to understand what she was saying. “I just wanted you to know that.” You gave her hand a gentle squeeze and that’s when it hit you. You absentmindedly let someone open a jar for you. It really was a small thing but you knew Mitsuri liked to be strong for you. You turned to hide your smile, you pulled her hand to your lips and kissed her knuckles. “That… reminds me, honey, I’m exhausted…” “You want me to carry you?” She asks excitedly as you softly laughed, nodding your head. MItsuri sweeps you off your feet with ease and you can tell she’s forgotten all about being upset.

-

Obanai doesn’t necessarily get jealous, it's more of a territorial thing. You thought for sure he hated you, little did you know he worshiped you from the start. Sometimes you’d have missions with him and he'd speak about three words to you and sometimes when you were lucky he’d speak full sentences. You didn’t know until later on it was because he was so damn nervous around you. On this particular mission, after slaying the demon, you two went out for drinks. It was wholly awkward so you excused yourself from the table and found your way to the bar. The bartender thanked you for helping with the demon and it felt nice to talk with someone. This whole thing played out for maybe two minutes before the bartender froze, eyes fearful as he glanced behind you. You furrowed your brows and turned as Obanai approached. 

“We received another mission, we should get going.” He says as you sigh, nodding your head, he placed some money on the counter for your drinks.

“T-the drinks are on the house.” The bartender offered but Obanai just slid the money over, his eyes sharpening. You watched the whole thing, sort of speechless. When you followed him out he held the door open for you and gave one more heated glance at the bartender. The village you two were currently stationed at was quiet and peaceful. 

“Where are we headed next?” You asked as you fell into step with him.

“A few towns over.” He answered and you nodded your head, knowing that was just about as much talking you're probably getting out of him tonight. “Unless you wanted to stay.” 

“Stay here?” You asked, he was walking a few steps ahead of you. He didn’t answer. “I wouldn’t have minded having a few more drinks.” You joked.

“With that bartender?” He added and you didn’t miss the bitterness in his voice. You paused, deciding whatever you said next you had to tread lightly. You could tease him or you could clear things up. 

“At least he talks to me.” You said. He stopped, turning to face you.

“Anything enlightening?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You said and he raised his head just slightly.

“I would.”

“I’m joking, he was just thanking us for taking care of that demon.” You said truthfully as Obanai nodded his head, turning away from you as you walked. You didn’t want the conversation to end. Even though you two never talked much before you found yourself wanting to hear more of his voice, wanting more of his attention. Unwittingly you had all of his attention most of the time. You couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You make me nervous,” Obanai says over his shoulder. “That’s why I don’t talk much.”

“Oh,” You were stunned. He turned to face you again and you gave him a soft smile, you wanted him to feel comfortable with you. “Is it because I talk too much?” You ask. Obanai instantly shakes his head ‘no’. 

“Don’t stop. I like the sound of your voice.” It almost sounded like a plea.

-

Sanemi lets it be known he’s jealous, he doesn’t care to hide it. Someone’s talking with you, smiling and laughing a bit too much with you? There’s Sanemi saddling up beside you, hand sliding around you to rest on your hip as he pulls you a bit closer to him. He’s shameless. When he first met you, you were in training to be a hashira under Tengen and Sanemi would watch your workouts sometimes. He’d always watch with this sort of intense expression and sometimes it caught you off guard and distracted you. In those moments Tengen would take you to the floor, huffing. 

“I’m going to ban him from our training sessions if you can’t focus.” Tengen said, he straddled you, pressing you into the dirt as you cleared your throat.

“I’m so sorry sir, it won’t happen again.” And at least for the rest of practice that day you kept your eyes on your teacher. But after Tengen was finished with you he ruffled your hair.

“You’re a force to be reckoned with if you keep your eyes off the wind hashira.” He said and you turned bright red, unable to chirp back at him so he laughs heartily and waves as he leaves. You sigh, turning as Sanemi grabs a practice sword. You watch as he swings it around before pointing it towards you. 

“Tengen’s a handsy guy. Already has three wives but watch out and you’ll be his fourth.” Sanemi stated dryly. You were exhausted from training and the way Sanemi moved closer to you you wondered if he was wanting to train you a bit himself. Sanemi circles you like a predator. You feel his eyes on every part of your body as you swallow dryly. When he walked back around the front he tossed you the sword and you caught it with ease. He grabbed a sword himself. 

“I… am exhausted, Sanemi.” You huffed and he gave you a heated look. 

“One round.” He points the tip at you. You swallowed down a sigh and pointed your sword right back at him. You weren’t bad by any means but you weren’t even close to the level of a hashira. Sanemi worked around your blade with practiced ease and you realized right there and then that Tengen was certainly going easy on you because Sanemi had backed you up in seconds and took you to the ground. He pressed himself against you, his sword against your neck. Your eyes glared up at him.

“Alright you won, can I go rest now?”

“Has that lousy sound hashira taught you anything?” Sanemi questions. He was obsessed with this. He saw the look on your face. “Ditch him, I’ll teach you from now on.”

“I’m not doing that. Tengen is a good teacher.” You defended. Sanemi pulled the sword away from your neck and with swiftness pulled you to your feet. He doesn’t let go of your hand though and the closeness to him has your heart beating wildly in your chest. 

“I’m better.” He says as though it's a well known fact. You wondered what his motives were and what his grudge was against Tengen. 

“What’s this about?” You ask and watch his eyes leave yours as he shamelessly looks at your lips, scanning what he wanted to before meeting your eyes again. This simple act wreaked havoc on your systems. 

“I think it’s pretty clear, I want to teach you myself.”

“Why though?”

“Tengen doesn’t deserve to. That’s why.” He pulls you to him suddenly. “Do you understand?” His voice was low and soft, eyes searching. He was trying to tell you something with his eyes. He sighed, you guessed he needed to be more clear with his intentions so he gave a small shake of the head and dipped his head to meet your lips with his. You sucked in a breath as he kissed you hard enough to prove his point. You understood now, albeit a little late.

-

Rengoku’s jealousy is healthy. He trusts you fully but doesn’t trust anyone who would come up and flirt with you when he’s right there. A lot of people come up and talk with you and you're completely oblivious to their flirting so Rengoku will intervene to save you. On your very first date the waiter at the noodle place you two were at flirted with you practically the entire time. Rengoku didn’t get angry, in fact it made him smile that no matter how much flirting was being done you’d still be leaving this restaurant with him. But the moment the waiter stepped over the line and made you clearly uncomfortable Rengoku cleared his throat. He didn’t yell or make a scene, he just simply gave the waiter a fiery glare. The waiter was gone within seconds. You looked at your date, giving him a knowing and thankful smile. 

The only time jealousy fully got under his skin was when he came back from a long mission and caught sight of you eating lunch in the courtyard with Giyu. He felt his cheeks burn at the sight. One thing Rengoku loved just slightly less than you was food. And what he loved more about it was eating it next to you. But here you were, eating it next to someone else. Sure it was childish but logic never really came into play when jealousy took over. When you walked back to your shared room and caught sight of his red hair your face completely morphed into light as you sprinted across the room and slammed against him in a bone crushing hug. He’d been gone for at least two months and it was almost unbearable.Rengoku, despite pouting slightly, wrapped you in a hug with the same vigor, breathing in your scent. You two stayed like that for a long moment. 

“I missed you. When did you get back?” You asked, muffled against his chest.

“About an hour ago.” You pulled back at that, looking up at him. He wanted to mope but the moment your eyes met his smile so wide fitted to his lips. 

“An hour?” You asked. “Why didn’t you come find me?”

“I saw you eating with Giyu, just didn’t want to bother you.” He says and knows he was being silly earlier. But being apart from you for two months had made him weary and heartsick for you. 

“You could never bother me. Never.” You doubled down, pulling his face to yours, proving your point with a kiss. He mumbled an apology against your lips before you smiled into the kiss. When you pulled back you slightly smirked up at him. “Was that jealousy?” You asked as his entire face went beet red and you knew you were right. You tilted your head to the side. “Kyojuro…”

“I’m sorry,” He says, tightening his hold around you. “We’ve been apart far too long.”

-

Tengen also hides his jealousy pretty well but hides it behind jokes. You could not stand him when you first met. You were nothing like him. Liked the quiet, liked the dark, liked your solitude. Tengen on the hand liked you. He liked how quiet you were and wanted to diminish the dark for you and snatch away your solitude. You liked your personal space and he also liked your personal space. 

You grew up an only child with cold parents in a depressing town so when you met Tengen and he was flashy and warm, naturally you sulked away from him. He tried everything. He bought you your favorite sweets and relished when you’d give him the smallest of smiles that looked more like a grimace but he’d take what he can get. He’d find you books to read and insist that you read it to him in return and when you begrudgingly agreed he’d melt into a puddle and sit as close as humanly possible. And when he’d pretend to fall asleep on your shoulder he really felt as though he could combust. 

He’d never chased after someone so hard. 

You were so elusive, just out of reach. When you met his wives they all adored you in the same way he did. It scared him though, you weren’t one to put yourself out there. You didn’t like many people and being with Tengen meant you’d be with four people at all times. Though the times that you were around and happened to run into him and his wives you didn’t seem overwhelmed. In fact the first time he saw you actually smile, like eyes crinkling cheeks blushing smile was when Hinatsuru pulled you into a hug and told you how pretty you looked. The only jealousy he felt then and there was not being able to have that smile directed at him. But after seeing that smile he finally realized it was possible to make you smile so let the teasing begin. Suddenly Tengen was around all the time. You didn’t notice it at first but suddenly he was everywhere. Teasing you, overtly flirting with you, towering over you and trying so damn hard to make you blush and smile the way his wife did. 

It was exhausting for you. All this attention. What was even more exhausting is pretending that you didn’t want Tengen. There was a war within you. Wanting to be alone and wishing to never be alone again. Tengen and his life was the polar opposite of yours. Everything you couldn’t stand but found wanting to tolerate, wanting that shine in your darkness. Things all came to a head when you were at a fork in the road. Tagging along Tengen’s mission versus Giyu’s. To you it was an obvious choice. Tagging along with Giyu meant not really having to talk the entire time. And when you told Tengen things spiraled.

“So you got a thing for the quiet ones? Should’ve known.” He teased with this sort of practiced ease. He looked wholly unaffected by your decision.

“I don’t have a thing for anyone.” You corrected, you had been cleaning your katana when he found his way into your room somehow without your objections. Maybe it was all the time that you were spending with him things were just slowly becoming comfortable? 

“You’re breaking my heart, sunshine.” If looks could kill Tengen would be long long dead. It wasn’t the first time he called you that nickname and it certainly would not be the last. Unfortunately.

“I’m very busy, you know.”

“Busy thinking of your mission with the stoic Giyu?” He teased and you breathed in and let out a huff of air.

“You are relentless. Is there something you want to say?” You ask over your shoulder. He’s uncharacteristically quiet behind you so you turn just slightly. Tengen is looking at you in the same way he’d been looking at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Tengen looked at you as though the light only shined on earth because you held the sun in place. You looked away and begrudgingly ignored that flip in your chest.

“You like him better than me.” And… he’s back to teasing. Well two can play that game.

“Yes I do.” You answered bluntly.

“Now you’re really killing me, Sun-”

“Nope. No nicknames. I’m not a pet.” He laughed at that, a warm laugh that you didn’t know how badly you wanted to hear again. 

“I bet he isn’t able to get under your skin like I do.”

“You’re right.” You said and heard Tengen stand from where he was sitting. You go slightly rigid as you feel him walk closer to where you’re standing. He barely brushes against you as he looks over your shoulder. You try to continue to work like this was unaffecting you but your walls were slowly crumbling around you. There was only so long you could pretend you didn’t want a good thing. And Tengen was sure as hell a good thing. 

“Giyu’s quiet. You won’t have an ounce of fun on his mission.” 

“Killing demon’s isn’t supposed to be fun.” You throw back and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he responds.

“It is with me.” You roll your eyes and turn to tell him to get lost but when you turn and look up your faces are millimeters apart. Maybe even less. Your words falter and for a moment all you can think of is if you moved just barely forwards your lips would meet his. “Cat got your tongue?” He said huskily just loud enough for you to hear. It turns your insides out, burning you up from head to toe. You wanted to ask what he really wanted but it would ultimately be a stupid question. Tengen had never hidden his intentions from the start. Only you had. He pointedly moved his eyes to your lips but didn’t move any closer. You knew then and there he was practically handing over the reigns. If you wanted him you’d have to make the next move. You had a penchant for letting things pass you by. It was like you were begrudgingly obsessed with not letting yourself have anything. Love never seemed like something attainable. Friendship seemed like a lot of work and family never felt like family. “I’ll wait forever, if that’s what you want.” He whispered, interrupting your thoughts. Your heart hurts at that. You weren’t being fair. Making him wait forever was a selfish thing to do and even with all those things he still looked one hundred percent serious when he said it. He wouldn’t get tired of you. He could be the one to stick around for good. He could be the good. 

“I”m still going with Giyu. I already promised.” You said.

“Break the promise, Sunshine, I’m practically begging.” As his face slightly dropped you leaned forwards and closed that gap that you had gotten far too comfortable with. Lips sliding against lips.

-

Hotaru was downright scary when he was jealous. Holy shit you were scared out of your mind. Your destroyed blade laid in pieces in front of you. Your heart was in your throat. You felt a hand on your shoulder as Rengoku gave you a reassuring squeeze. 

“Tough break, kid.” He said with a shake of his head. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“The last time I broke my blade he yelled and ranted for three hours and passed out from lightheadedness.” You said, remembering the whole ordeal with a shiver. Rengoku shook his head.

“Your blade broke for a noble cause, make sure to tell him that.” He said, giving you one last squeeze before turning to leave. You bent over and grabbed the shattered remains. You were dead. Dead dead dead. You had so much life to live. You had sweets in the fridge that Mitsuri made for you. You had finally learned a few new cool tricks to use in fighting. You were visiting home next month. You sighed, gathering up the broken pieces in a cloth. 

“I will pay you double… no triple the usual amount, please I beg you.” You had your hands clasped together in front of you as though silent praying. The night before last you had an idea. There was more than just Hotaru that could make you a blade in the village so if you enlisted someone else to make you a sword just this one time Hotaru wouldn’t lob your head off your shoulders.

“Mr. Haganezuka  would kill  me, bring me back to life then kill me again if I made a sword for you.” The villager trembled at the mere thought. He was clearly just as afraid of Hotaru as you were. You swallowed dryly.

“He would never know, please I beg you.I’ll give you any amount.” You begged but the villager just shook his head.

“He would know because it’s you. Any other client I might do it but you… absolutely not. You’re his favorite!” He said, looking over your shoulder as though Hotaru would enter his shop at any second.

“What does that mean! The only people that would know would be me and you! Please I will literally do anything!”

“And me.” A voice behind you says. Your blood goes cold. Slowly you turn around and sure enough there’s Hotaru. You’re caught like a deer in headlights. The villager actually screams and scrambles away, startling you. Hotaru’s expressions are hidden behind his mask so you’re not sure whether or not he’s angry quite yet. You’d seen his face once a few years ago when this peaceful village was attacked. You were surprised in the moment that someone so intense could look so beautiful. That didn’t dull that fact he was scary though. 

“Mr. Haganezuka! W-what a surprise!” You choke out, cheeks going fuchsia. “Lovely weather we’re having today isn’t it?” You squeak out. Hotaru slightly moves his head and you force yourself not to bolt out the door screaming like the villager. You’re a hashira for god sakes! But to be completely truthful, Hotaru was scarier than any demon you’d ever faced. 

“Very lovely. What brings to our village?” He asks, his voice scarily calm. You force yourself to give a terse smile.

“I- I came to relax of course!”

“Relax at my competitor's shop?” He asks and there is a sharp edge to his voice. 

“Competitor? Wha? I didn’t-- I did not know you two were competing!” You nervously laughed it off, running a quick hand through your hair. “We-- we go way back. I was just visiting for a second before hitting the hot springs!” You say and start to walk towards the door but Hotaru’s hand juts out, blocking you from leaving. You freeze, you’re so close to him, he towers over you and when he turns to look down at you you feel weak in the knees. Slowly he brings his hand up, untying the back of his mask as it falls into his waiting hand and you’re met face to face with Hotaru once again. The years had passed but he still looked as beautiful as ever. You definitely make a sound, a strangled gasp, though if it was from fear or surprise no one would ever know. 

“You… two… go way back?” He grits out. God… you’d done it now. You should’ve just went to him in the first place, accepted his scolding and went about your week. But here you were, ten feet under and you weren’t even sure after this debacle if he’d fix your sword for any amount of money. You cleared your throat.

“Uhm… y-yes?” 

“Yes?” He repeated and the look on his face was as sharp as the sharpest katana. You were so dead. Goodbye family. Goodbye sweet treats. 

“How… far back?” He asks. You stare at him. How far back? He caught you in the lie and you wished instead of twenty questions he’d just yell at you. 

“Just like… a year.” You lied, Hotaru’s eyes narrowed on yours. The intense eye contact was insane. You almost forgot to breathe. 

“You’ve known me longer than.” He articulates sharply. Your lips part, you're stumped for a moment. 

“Uh… y-yes, sir, I have.” You stumble. 

“Yet instead of coming to me, who you’ve known far longer, you go to my competitor to fix the sword that I made you.” Ah fuck. The color absolutely drained from your face. 

“What?” You shook your head. “N-nuh uh! I-- I was just visiting like I said.” At the end of your sentence he holds up the cloth that had the broken pieces of your sword. You patted your bag and gasped. How the hell did he get that! “It-- that-- It’s not what it looks like, Mr. Hagenzuka! I-- well you see it broke… honorably of course… and I was coming to you-” Hotaru raised his hand to silence you and you instantly stopped talking. This was it. This was the end. Killed by your swordsmith. If you were quick you could probably wrestle back a piece of your katana and end your life before he could. 

“If you ever break your sword again,” Hotaru practically growled.”And go to my competitor, I will-”

“Kill me?” You filled in.

“Kill him.” He fumed and then he reached for you. God he was gonna choke you out! His hand slid against your cheek and when he leaned in you sent out a final goodbye. 

His lips met yours. His lips. Pressed against your lips. He was kissing you. Kissing? You? Your eyes were wide open. You had watched the whole thing in slow motion. Sure enough the moment heated as he stepped a bit closer to you, hand sliding around your hip to yank you a step closer to him. The most startling thing? The heat that suddenly ignited in your gut at the press of his mouth on yours. You made a startled sound in the back of your throat at the strange realization. What the hell was happening? When he pulled back your eyes were still open. Looking up at him as though he’d just smacked you right across the face. 

“You… just kissed me.” You say. He doesn’t answer you with words, just nods his head, still looking pissed. “On the lips.”

“Yes.” He says sharply. 

“Like lips on my lips.” “I’m aware of what I did.” Hotaru groans, looking down at you.

“Am I dead?” You asked, patting yourself for any life threatening wounds, Hotaru watches you, looking unamused. 

“No. You are not dead.” “I… was dead sure you… were going to murder me. Like… bloody murder.”

“Why in the world would I murder you?” Hotaru asks, crossing his arms.

“B-because you… because I broke my sword and schemed to fix it behind your back with your competitor.” You say slowly as though he doesn’t remember the last ten minutes. But he just looks down at you like you’re saying something incredibly apparent.

“Yes. I know.” He growls but his anger doesn’t necessarily seem directed at you as he sighs heavily. 

“I am… very… confused.” You force out. Your brain felt melted in your head. Hotaru looks down at you and for a moment so quick you could’ve missed it his eyes look… soft? No… that had to be a trick of the lights.

“You’re my client. No one else’s. Got it?” He punctuates seriously. You nod your head quickly. What the hell just happened?

[strang3lov3]

Clean

Joel makes a mess on you, then keeps you in the bathtub until the water goes cold. (3k)

Tags - dark!joel, one shot, smut, fingering, come shot, manspreading, masturbation, overstimulation, forced orgasms, dubconnnnnn, daddy kink, innocence kink, inexperienced reader, biiiig girthy yet unspecified age gap, weird feelings and some good ol' fashioned shame, hitting, Joel is fatherly in a hot and disgusting way, calls himself 'your old man', gratuitous use of the nickname 'kiddo'. Say the affirmation with me: The ickier it is, the harder I nut.#bushnation, MORE DEPECHE MODE REFERENCES. TRY AND STOP ME. Like car sex, I write bathtub sex uniquely in that I’m not bound by bullshit ass physics or logic so yes, both people fit in the tub and everything is fine. Reader is bathed by Joel, her hair is washed and finger-combed by him too, but length and texture are not described. This was a decroded fic for me to make i can't lie Fic help - @endlessthxxghts, thank you for always seeing my disgusting visions and giving me your eyeballs A/N - thank you for all the birthday wishes, dear friends in my phone! I celebrated with you all last year when I was writing Mall Rats and it’s special that a lot of you are still with me today, but some I have new friends too ❤️ I love you. Having readers like you in my corner all this time has been beyond special and so rewarding and I hope you know I mean it when I say that I love you.

You’re washing the dishes tonight, your least favorite of the chores Joel makes you do. You prefer doing laundry or plucking the weeds with him, because he lets you collect flowers and put them in vases. He even taught you how to press them between heavy books, and how to frame them nicely. 

Joel calls your name from upstairs. You quickly wash and dry your hands, then scurry up the steps. His door is closed almost all of the way, just a small sliver of light peeks from his room into the dark hallway. “Joel?”

“In here, sweetheart. Need ya for somethin’.” 

You push open the door the rest of the way, and Joel’s naked and sitting upright on the edge of his bed, cock in hand with his bare thighs spread wide. He’s grunting as he squeezes the base, the tip all flushed and swollen. “C’mere. Switch me spots.” 

You don’t yet obey his order. You’ve seen Joel’s cock before, seen him masturbate before, too. Despite that, it still makes you feel nervous to see him and be with him like this. It gives you that icky feeling in your gut and makes you breathe funny. 

“C’mon. You know it ain’t gonna bite ya, kiddo.” Joel stands up  and pats the spot on the bed. “Sit,” he says, his tone sharper than before. “Need somethin’ pretty to come on.”

 Joel doesn’t like repeating himself. You won’t make him ask a third time. 

You sit on the bed, the covers warmed and slightly damp by Joel’s body heat don’t comfort you. He stands in front of you, rock-hard cock bouncing in his loose grip. “Why don’t you give me a hand this time,” he says, reaching for your wrist. He pulls it up to waist level, then wraps your palm around his member, closing your fingers tightly. “Ohhh, fuck,” Joel groans from deep in his chest. Loudly, he breathes in and out through his nose as he twists your hand up and down his shaft. “Jus’ like this. That’s a good girl.” 

This is, however, the first time you’ve ever felt his cock. All of your firsts with Joel have never gone the way you thought they would. The first time he saw you naked, touched you, or that you saw him - it was all surreal and rather abrupt. Joel tells you things like this are always a little new and funny at first. 

His cock feels heavy in your palm. You think about the things you like about it - the warmth, all of his veins and ridges, how smooth and soft the head is. But it’s a little sticky, too, which is unexpected to you. 

“Alright, alright. S’enough,” Joel says, pulling your hand away. “Lift up your shirt.”

You lift your shirt, pushing it up your torso until it’s bunched just beneath your breasts. “Nuh-uh. Like this,” Joel murmurs, pushing the garment up above your chest, exposing yourself entirely to him. He rubs his thumb in circles over both of your nipples so that they pebble under his touch, then gropes and squeezes your flesh. “Lie back,” Joel says, pushing you down on the bed. “Attagirl.”

You watch as Joel pumps his cock above you, the end of his fist slapping against his softened belly repeatedly. He breathes heavily, and his dark eyes are wild like an animal as his gaze is fixed on your naked form. Joel breathes quicker as he approaches his release, grunting a slew of swears he doesn’t allow you to say. “Fuck, goddamn. Oh, goddamn,” he hisses as ropes of his hot come spurt onto your body. He covers you like a canvas; his favorite painting, and for his eyes only. 

Joel collects a bit of his spend up with his first two fingers. “Give it a taste,” he says. “Want you to try it.”

You open your mouth, and Joel pushes his calloused digits inside, painting your tongue with his come. “Suck,” he says, and you do. You furrow your brows at the salty, bitter flavor, how it tastes dissimilar from its scent. “Don’t like it?”

You shake your head. “I don’t think so.”

Joel chuckles, cupping your jaw and rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. “S’okay. Y’don’t have to.” Joel yawns then, patting your cheek gently with his weathered hand. “C’mon, kiddo. Bath time. Daddy made a mess a’ ya, didn’t he?”

Joel walks you to the bathroom with him, holding your hand the whole time. He puts the little rubber stopper in the drain of the bathtub, then turns the water on. “Warmer, pl-”

“Don’t need a reminder, sweetheart. Know you like it hot. Daddy won’t let you freeze.”

“And bubbles.”

“I know, baby girl. I won’t forget your bubbles.”

As the bathtub fills, Joel opens the oak cabinet under the sink and pulls out the old bottle of bubble bath, the one he’s been refilling just for you. He pours a capful under the water, bubbles immediately building. It smells mostly of nothing, but a bit of that original bubblegum scent remains. Your image reflected in the mirror begins to blur as steam fills the bathroom, and when the tub is full, Joel shuts off the water. He helps you undress and then gets in the tub first, carefully lowering himself until he’s sat with his back against the wall. “Jesus, s’hot. Gonna turn us both into soup,” Joel laughs. You smile shyly. 

 He spreads his legs, then outstretches his arm to you. “C’mon. Hop in.” You take Joel’s hand, squeezing it while wobbling a little on your one foot as you step into the bath. “I gotcha, kiddo,” he says. 

The water is warm on your feet, nearly burning you but you enjoy the tingle. Joel helps you down, lowering you until you’re submerged in the water, your back against his warm chest, his thick package pressing against your ass. 

Joel fills an old, plastic measuring cup with the soapy bath water and brings a hand to your chin, tilting your head back so he can rinse your hair. The hot water feels soothing on your scalp, and Joel repeats the action until your hair is soaked all the way through and dripping down your back. 

You giggle at the noise the bottle of shampoo makes when Joel squirts a bit into his hand. He lathers it between his palms, then scrubs your scalp. “Eyes closed, kiddo. Don’t wanna hurt ya,” he whispers. 

Your eyes flutter shut as Joel works the soap into your hair, scrubbing your scalp all over. He alternates between scratching you gently with his dull nails, to massaging you with the tips of his fingers. He uses his thumbs to rub the base of your skull in circles, the other four fingers of each hand drawing lines up and down and all over. Once Joel’s built a thick lather, he uses the same plastic cup to rinse out the shampoo.  

He conditions your hair next, working the cream into the strands. He uses his fingers to loosely detangle, “Ow, daddy,” you complain as he tugs on a knot. 

“I know, I know. M’sorry, baby girl.” Joel presses a kiss to your forehead. “Was an’ accident. M’tryin’ to be gentle.” He rinses out the conditioner next, “Grab me that bar of soap, will ya?” he asks. 

“Mhm.” You lean forward and reach for the orangish, rectangular bar of soap in front of you on the shower niche, then grab it and hold it over your shoulder. 

Joel takes the soap, “Thank ya kindly, darlin’.”  He dips it in the soapy bathwater before lathering it between his palms that are already beginning to prune. Gently, he pushes you forward to scrub your back and your neck, then pulls you right back into himself. “Gimme an arm,” he says, a slight rasp in his voice. You raise your arm for him and he washes you with the lather, “An’ the other,” Joel adds, now washing your other arm, massaging you with his strong hands. “Here-” Joel taps your shoulder with the soap. “Your daddy’s gettin’ old,” he grumbles. “Can’t bend like he used to. Wash your legs f’me, sweetheart.” 

“Okay,” you murmur, taking the soap back from him. You lather the soap just like Joel did, then wash your legs one at a time, bending them at the knees. When done, Joel reaches over you to take the soap back. He pulls you back against his soft middle and puts his soapy hands on your torso, sliding them up and down your skin, washing off his now dried spend. He groans quietly as he washes your breasts, kneading the flesh there and circling your nipples with his slippery fingers. You feel his cock twitch against you. 

Joel washes down, down your stomach. “Spread ‘em,” he says, and you part your legs wider. Your stomach jumps when his hands rub past your pubic hair and he washes your folds, that soft, private place between your thighs. You whimper when his thumb catches your clit. 

“That feel nice, kiddo?”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you search for an answer. 

“I-”

“You can tell your old man. I know it does,” Joel coos, rubbing his thumb left and right over your clit. You lean your head back and turn your head to the side, burying yourself in his bicep as you whine. “You don’t take much at all, do ya, sweetheart?”

Joel’s made you come before. It’s one of the first things he did when he brought you home, actually. But you amaze him every time, how quickly and easily you fall apart on his fingertips. He thinks about tasting you for the first time, how sweet you’ll be on his tongue. Or his cock, down your throat or between your thighs and splitting you in two. God, you’ve so much to learn, and Joel gets to walk you through it all. His favorite innocence. 

Joel adjusts you both so that you’re sitting more upright and he can reach around you with both hands. “Rest on me,” he says, pressing the side of your head against his so that his scruff is tickling you, but not scratching you. It’s too long for that.

 Joel peers over your shoulder to watch what he’s doing, and to watch how you react. Your soft tummy rising and falling with big breaths, thighs twitching. Joel circles your clit with his middle and ring fingers, patiently working you up. “How’s that feelin’?” he asks, “Can you tell daddy?”

“Mm,” you hum, “Yeah…”

Joel chuckles, dragging the tip of his aquiline nose along the side of your face. “Use your words, baby girl,” he instructs. “Good girls use their words, hm?”

“Feels g- feels good,” you whimper, voice breaking as Joel works you. He rubs your clit faster now, and you’re rocking against his palm, splashing the water a little. 

Joel brings his other hand to your core and lines two fingers up with your entrance, slowly pushing in while he massages your clit. You wince in pain, squeezing his bicep as he pushes them in further. 

Joel hums in sympathy. Being in the bath means you’re not a slick, slippery mess like usual. “Know it hurts, kiddo, but you gotta get used to it.” Joel’s fingers are all the way inside you now, and he pulls them back out. “You’ll get used to it,” he drawls, now pumping those fingers in and out of you, slowly. “You’re bein’ so brave for me, baby girl.” 

The ache of Joel’s fingers stretching you out dissipates eventually, and he changes the action - instead of drawing his fingers in and out of your cunt, he curls them repeatedly inside of you - Joel knows you love when he does this to you. 

You moan freely, relishing in the pleasure. Joel’s right, he’s always right. You’re used to him now, and he feels so good. Swirling his fingers around your clit, stroking that sweet spot inside you with the other hand - it takes no more than five minutes until your breathing turns ragged and you feel that hot, sticky feeling in your gut, the one that feels both bad and good all at the same time. 

“Ask for it,” Joel mumbles, reminding you of your manners as he senses how close you are. “Be polite.”

“Please,” you say, “Can I come?”

“‘Course you can, sweetheart. Of course.”

The orgasm washes over you quickly. You come with a symphony of breathy moans, saccharine in nature. Joel’s never heard anything like it, and he’s grateful he has enough of his hearing left to be able to. 

With his weathered, wrinkled fingers, Joel fucks you through your climax until the last of it courses through you. You come down, but Joel doesn’t stop touching you. 

Maybe he thinks it’s not yet over. Joel keeps doing those same tight circles on your clit, and you start to squirm. “Joel–” you wrap your hands around his forearm and attempt to move him, but his strength is far too great for your efforts to mean anything at all.  

“Sit still. You’re givin’ me another one.” 

Joel keeps your back pinned tightly against his hairy chest, your legs spread wide with his hand in between them, patiently swirling his middle and ring fingers around your swollen and over-sensitive clit. Your hips are starting to ache and the sensation of Joel pleasuring you has turned uncomfortable, downright painful. 

“I wanna be done, Joel. I can’t do another one,” you whimper, voice shaking as tears well up in your eyes. There’s nowhere to run, and you know you just have to take it. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he whispers soothingly, his ministrations on your pussy unfaltering. Joel’s holding you back. You’re not supposed to tell him no. “Know you can.”

His words serve more to frustrate you than encourage you. “I. Can’t,” you huff as you try to pull away from him and close your legs shut in the now lukewarm and soapy water, but Joel keeps you in position in his vice grip. 

“Knock it off,” he growls. Joel has to hide his amusement. You’re quick to anger, just like he is. Just like your daddy. “Jus’ relax.”

You’re close, and whether you realize it or not, Joel does. Your twitching legs, the way you’re breathing. Release is right around the corner if you’d just calm yourself down. Poor thing. You always did struggle with regulating yourself.

“Get - I told you-“ you interrupt yourself to groan, “You’re not listening to me, daddy. I said I c-can’t fucking—” you don’t finish the sentence and instead seethe in frustration, jerking and splashing bath water onto the floor. “F-”

Joel slaps your cheek, hard. “Easy,” he scolds, “I didn’t raise you to speak to me like that.” Joel his nose against the side of your head and bites your ear, the way a dog does with a pup. A warning. “An’ I don’t have to listen to you. You listen to me,” he adds. “Adjust the fuckin’ attitude and try it again before you piss me off.”

Your voice cracks as you whimper Joel’s name, a sob then escaping your chest. Your cheek stings and tingles, like you never stopped feeling the impact of Joel’s hand meeting your skin. 

“Don’t start cryin’, just breathe. Breathe. Go slow,” Joel instructs, pleased when you inhale steadily. On your exhale, Joel whispers, “You need me to talk you through it?”

You nod against him, sniffling. “Then I’ll talk you through it. Focus on my voice, focus right here, kiddo,” he tells you. “Relax, just a minute. Calm yourself.”

You rest against Joel, and he pauses his ministrations on your clit. “I can’t do it again, Joel,” you plead. “I don’t think I can.” 

“I know what you think. It don’t matter, ‘cause it ain’t up to you, sweetheart. We’re tryin’ it again.” 

Joel restarts, circling and massaging your clit with that same pressure from before. And just like before, it’s uncomfortable. It hurts, and you don’t like it. 

“Lean into it, sweetheart. Let it ride.” 

Frustrated, you shake your head. “Daddy–”

“You need to let it happen. Got all night, sweetheart. Water’s gettin’ cold.” 

“Joel.” Your voice cracks.

Joel ignores you. He pumps his fingers, focusing specifically on your g-spot as he knows how sensitive you are there. Your protests begin to quiet, replaced by soft noises of pleasure. “There it is,” Joel purrs. “Make those pretty noises for me. You’re doin’ good.” 

Pleasure begins to build, just like Joel said it would. It almost makes you mad, mad that he’s right. Always right. Mad that Joel knows your body like the back of his hand, better than you do. The stubborn part of you wants to stave off release, but a bigger part of you doesn’t wanna fight Joel on this. You don’t like to fight with him anyway. You always lose. So, you allow yourself to bask in the pleasure Joel knew you’d feel.

“You gonna come one more time? You gonna come on daddy’s fingers?”

“Yeah,” you nod. Your eyes squeeze shut as the feeling builds, almost exponentially. Your gasps and moans halt and there it is - Joel’s pulled another orgasm from your body. More powerful than before, the feeling washes over you like the tide, waves of warmth and electricity flowing over your body with each movement of Joel’s fingers. “Yeah, attagirl,” he breathes. “Manners, sweetheart. What do you say?” 

“Thank you,” you whisper, out of breath. 

Joel rinses you with the water as you come down from your second orgasm of the evening. He taps you twice on the hip, “Up,” he says, and you stand up on shaky legs. 

Joel reaches for an old, floral-patterned towel and dries himself off first, then wraps it around his waist, thick belly bulging over the edge of the fabric. He grabs another towel for you next, drying your legs and arms one at a time before wrapping the towel snugly around your shoulders. 

“You finish those dishes?” Joel asks, pulling the drain stopper out of the tub. 

“Not all of them,” you answer. “I’m sorry.” 

“Nah, don’t you worry ‘bout it. I’ll do the rest, hm?” 

You wear a small smile, “Okay.”

“An’ I was thinkin’ that I could make us popcorn, like you like. Put on a movie. One of those girly ones I picked out for you, huh?”

Your smile grows. “Yeah,” you answer. 

Joel smiles too. “Good. Let’s get you dressed, then.” 

thank you for reading! please consider engaging by reblogging, hopping in my inbox, and/or commenting. your words go so far in keeping me motivated to write ♡

More dark!joel

[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime

summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.

“I’ll be back.”

“But what if–”

“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard. 

“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back. 

“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.” 

“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?” 

There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.

But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed. 

Through it all, you stayed. 

And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living. 

“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers. 

“And if I can’t?” 

“You’ll have to.” 

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”

“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.” 

And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct. 

You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him. 

You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him. 

In your dreams, he was alive. 

In your dreams, he had made it back home.

In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura. 

And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura. 

Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on. 

For yourself.

For Laura.

For Logan. 

—

He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about. 

But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about. 

Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret. 

Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm. 

He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it. 

Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you. 

“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”

“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms. 

Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself. 

That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right. 

“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”

“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.” 

“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”

“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.

“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally. 

He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears. 

Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again. 

But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate. 

“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head. 

“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky. 

Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl. 

“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly. 

“From my universe,” Logan answers. 

“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?” 

“There was.”

“And what happened to me?” 

Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”

“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself. 

And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.” 

My Logan. 

Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him. 

“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”

“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?” 

Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.” 

Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles. 

“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.

You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.” 

Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes. 

“I’m not him,” he whispers. 

“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.” 

[d-emeter]

Types of lingerie they'd go a little feral over — plus-size!fem!reader x cod characters

Includes: Price, Soap, Ghost, Gaz, König, Graves, Alejandro, Rudy, Valeria

CW: mid/plus-size reader, photos of people wearing lingerie!, mentions of sex/sexual activities

Photos are not indicative of reader's body type/skin colour/other physical attributes! Just meant to be examples, but us bigger girls deserve some rep on here (but also why is it so hard to find cute pics of mid/plus-size girlies that aren't ads or extremely edited?)

All rights go to owners of the photos! I tried to crop out their faces as best I could <3

John Price

Price would love anything feminine. He adores when you play into his housewife kink, parading around the house in babydoll dresses and fur-lined robes (preferably sheer). He wouldn't even bother with taking the pieces off once he gets his hands on you, simply pulling and adjusting where necessary. Not above ripping either, but don't worry, he'll gladly buy you some new sets. Maybe he should get you some of those crotchless panties, poppet, would save him a lot of hassle.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

Listen, as much as he loves it seeing you all dolled up, there is nothing that gets him going quicker than you in some raggedy, hole-ridden comfy clothes, preferably when they're his. His boxers framing your plump ass so nicely, digging into your flesh a bit when you move and his shirt doing nothing to hide the jiggle of your tits while your nipples poke through the fabric. If he sees you like this, his hands are all over you in a split second. God forbid your shirt is cropped, showing off your soft tummy and the underside of your breasts — you couldn't pry him off with a crowbar.

(you cannot tell me Johnny doesn't own some dumbass boxers like this)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

In fear of repeating myself, I think Simon would also go a little dreamy-eyed over you in your comfies. Except, unlike Johnny, he loves those sweet little pj-sets you wear. He's still a little taken aback every time he comes home to you curled up on his — your — couch. The realization that he has something this sweet to come home to — that he has a home at all, hitting him like a freight train. Like Price, doesn't bother taking your pajamas off when he pounces on you. Just makes it easier for him to tuck you into bed after he's done with you.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

Garters, belts, straps, buckles, the whole thing. And best believe he's the one picking them out, too. You'll randomly find boxes on your bed, the contents in different styles, colours, fabrics. He insists you model them for him, or send him pictures if he's deployed. The sets are an absolute nightmare to get into, but he'll gladly help you take them off, darlin'. Don't mind him though, if he snaps a photo or two in the process. Also loves it when you wear lingerie as part of an actual outfit. What can I say, the man loves showing you off (with the knowledge he's the only one that gets to see the full sets and everything underneath them later).

König

Anything resembling some cheap halloween costume from party city. It honestly doesn't matter to him what; sexy secretary, naughty nurse, you name it. Literally whatever. He will lose his mind a little if you go as far as to engage in some roleplay pertaining to whatever you're wearing — acting like he's your boss or your patient. Oh, a pair of animal ears can and will make his eyes roll back in his head. (He will, however, ensure that your outfits are of relatively good quality — they've gotta outlast a least a few rounds, Schatzi).

Philip Graves

Ugh, he's so nasty (affectionate). He wants you to look hyper-feminine. His perfect little all-american wife (even if you've never set foot in the usa, or don't yet wear a ring on your finger) in her hyper-feminine lingerie, waiting for her soldier to come home. Frilly bras, lacy undies and silky night dresses in white or pink or any pastel shade. He gets off on the innocence they exude — makes him want to ruin you. And then wife you up. Maybe give you a baby or two.

Alejandro Vargas

Corsets!!! Or anything somewhat structured, really. This man adores the shape of your body no matter what, and the way the corset only accentuates the curve of your waist and pushes your tits up so deliciously has him rock fucking hard. If you choose to add some thigh-highs to that with the plush fat of your thighs spilling over the edge you may as well have killed him. He also has this weird infatuation with the marks the corset leaves on your skin after you (or he) take it off.

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra

This poor man nearly faints the first time you wear lingerie for him (and pretty much every time after that). It doesn't particularly matter to him what it is, but he does like it when you stick to the classics: simple lacy bra and panty set. He likes that it makes you feel confident and (relatively) comfortable, as your comfort is always his number one priority. He also just thinks the simplicity of the sets helps accentuate the beauty of your body, rather than distract from it.

Valeria Garza

Anything expensive. Like, crazy expensive. She has the money, amor, why not spend it on something she enjoys? She'll make sure you only wear the highest quality fabrics (and that goes for all your clothing, by the way, she likes taking care of her girl). There are diamonds glittering all over your body, highlighting all your curves and twinkling with every move you make, and a nice string of pearls disappearing between your folds.

(I couldn't find ANY photos of this type of lingerie on bigger bodies, my apologies. Rest assured Valeria will get everything custom-made for you — remember, only the best for her girl)

[selfcarecap]

Sharing is caring

✧ Logan Howlett x reader x Peter Parker

✧ summary: Your new teammate Peter Parker has a huge crush on you, and your boyfriend Logan has always wanted to watch someone else fuck you. It’s Peter’s birthday and Logan decides to share.

✧ warnings: smut 18+, mmf threesome, oral, unprotected piv, so much cum lol, Peter is very pathetic lmao (and not very experienced) and more of a sub, Logan is dominant and reader is dom-ish for Peter but sub-ish for Logan, little bit of say gex 😋 (oral, Logan receiving), pet names (my girl, good girl/boy, baby, bub), implied age gap (Peter is the youngest – didn’t mention a specific age but early 20s-ish, reader is a few years older, Logan is obv the oldest), Peter being a nerd, lots of teaching Peter (mostly how to go down on each other), also the fic starts with smut right away lol

✧ note: idek if anyone else is interested in this character constellation and needs it as much as i do but they’re my two biggest marvel crushes (in completely different ways) so i had to!!!!! like hellooo😵‍💫 and i really love this omg

✧ word count: 7.5k oops

-

You’re on top of Logan, riding him like your life depends on it. 

Logan’s so good in bed that you usually just let him pamper you; you both like it that way. It’s also what makes the times when you’re on top even more special. Your boyfriend is struggling not to cum in you yet, fingers indenting your hips where he’s grabbing you hard. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby, such a good girl,” he groans underneath you. 

You grin as you lean down to give him a sloppy kiss, pulling away before he’s done with you so you can resume bouncing up and down in his lap.

Logan slides his hand between your legs, beginning to rub your clit as he feels you clenching around him tighter. 

You’re so close.

You’re so fucked out that you barely register the door to your bedroom opening. 

“Hey, do you know if– oh god, sorry!” you hear Peter’s voice, and before you can catch a glimpse of him the door shuts with a bang.

It takes a few moments for your heartbeat to calm down and for you to realise what just happened. Peter walked in on you fucking your boyfriend. Innocent, nervous, adorable Peter Parker – new recruit at the mansion. You’ve only just barely befriended your new teammate and you’re not sure your friendship can handle him catching you like this.

You look down at Logan for the first time, only to see him smiling. 

“He did that on purpose,” he chuckles, hands still resting on your hips as if he’s ready for you to start right back up. You stay on top of him with his cock nestled deep inside you, pulsing, but you can’t get yourself to focus on the pleasure of it.

“He’d never do something like that on purpose. He’s way too innocent for that. He wasn’t meant to see us like that – I bet he’s traumatised!”

Logan laughs again, “Traumatised because he’s not the one fucking you maybe, sure.”

Your mouth hangs open at Logan’s accusation – Peter sees you as a friend, nothing more! You doubt he even thinks about sex, let alone about having sex with you. 

Rising to your knees, you let Logan slip out of you, his cock slapping against his abs with a dull, wet smack, a mix of his precum and your wetness smearing over his skin.

“What? We’re stopping cause of him?” Logan grabs your hand, “He’d get what he wants.”

“Logan,” you warn, somewhat seriously. He’s making Peter out to be someone he really isn’t.

He smiles, adjusting your hips so you’re hovering over him again, jerking his cock and positioning the tip at your entrance. You smile down at him – it’s hard to resist when he looks so good and your pussy is still wet and not yet satisfied.

“Peter did that on purpose, bub,” he repeats, breath becoming laboured as you sink down on him, “You’re not telling me you’ve been oblivious to his crush on you all this time, right?” 

You involuntarily clench your pussy around him, closing your eyes so you don’t have to face looking at him after that. But Logan’s smirking – you don’t have to open your eyes to know that; you can practically hear it. He jerks his hips under you, starting to fuck into you from below.

“Y’like that, baby? Spider-Man’s got a crush on my girl. You don’t know that?”

It almost feels like you’re cumming with how much wetter you get at his words, and you manage to open your eyes to climb off him properly this time, lying down next to him, burying your face into the pillow to hide.

“Noo,” you squeal, though it comes out muffled.

Logan slaps your ass, keeping his hand there to grab your flesh, “Uh-uh, baby. You can’t squeeze around my cock like that and then run away.”

You giggle, leaning up to look at him, “That was just because I was sitting on your big dick. It had nothing to do with Peter.”

“Suure, bub, sure. Can I keep fucking you then?”

You nod, scooting closer to him, both of you on your side. Logan hikes your leg over his hip and slowly thrusts into you as your limbs tangle together. He spits on his hand to rub your clit messily, the way he knows is enough when you were already this close to an orgasm just moments earlier.

“You’re the only one I want, Logan,” you tell him in a quiet voice, distracted by how good he feels inside you as he fucks you, playing with your puffy clit.

“I know that, baby, I know that. I know you’re my girl. My perfect, pretty girl. Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy that someone else has a crush on you. Can’t expect Peter to be blind.”

You cum around his cock then, moaning into his skin as he fucks you through your orgasm, filling you with his own load seconds later.

Logan drops the topic of Peter while you cuddle afterwards, and it’s hard to keep thinking about it when you’ve got your gorgeous, beefy boyfriend next to you, your hand buried in his hair as you massage his scalp the way you know he likes.

It’s when Logan says he’s going downstairs to get you some water that you remember Peter.

“Tell him I’m sorry if you see him.”

“Sure, bub,” Logan says dismissively, kissing your knee with a teasing grin as he gets off the bed. You suppose he’s right – you have nothing to be sorry for. It’s Peter’s fault for walking in without knocking.

But you can’t help but feel bad. He’s an adult, only a few years your minor, but he seems so innocent. He likes you – you can agree with that. He admires you; that much is obvious too, but you don’t know if calling it a crush is an exaggeration. If Logan is right and Peter has a crush on you, you’re sure it’s nothing sexual.

-

Logan can sense Peter from a mile away. Peter is pacing up and down in the kitchen. Logan smiles at the floor as he enters the room.

Spider-Man’s face is flushed – whether it’s from embarrassment or arousal, Logan can’t tell. But the bulge in Peter’s sweatpants assures Logan that he was right in his assumption in the first place. He turns to the sink to pour a glass of water to take upstairs, giving Peter the time to adjust himself.

“My girl says she’s sorry,” Logan says in amusement, turning around, “Didn’t mean for you to see us like that.”

“What? I– no, I’m sorry. I should have knocked,” Peter stammers.

“That’s what I told her.”

Peter doesn’t reply, having a stare contest with the floor so that he doesn’t have to meet Logan’s eyes.

Logan chuckles, “So why’re you in the kitchen and not in your bedroom?”

Peter doesn’t miss the sexual implication. “I feel bad.”

“What, you think people don’t jerk off thinking about their crush just because that person is in a relationship? It’s just in your head, bub, you can do what you want.”

Peter looks up. It’s not that he feels bad towards Logan; he feels bad towards you. But if Logan thinks that way and you’re his girlfriend, maybe that means you share his opinion. Peter is too lost in thought to reply to Logan.

“Suit yourself,” Logan says as he leaves the kitchen. 

-

“Did you see him?” you ask Logan when he comes back.

“Yeah, said he’s sorry, he should have knocked.”

“And he didn’t seem disturbed?”

Logan laughs out loud at your question, “No, baby, don’t worry. He’s not disturbed. His only problem seemed to be how hard he was.”

Your mouth falls open, “Really?”

“Maybe he’s not as innocent as you thought after all, bub,” Logan smirks, pulling you closer.

That revelation turns you on more than you care to admit, to yourself or to Logan.

-

It’s Peter’s birthday a few weeks later and he’s happy as long as he gets to spend it with you. 

He’s not expecting you to get him anything, but you get him a Lego set that he’s been wanting for months. It’s something he’s mentioned to you only in passing and he can’t believe that you remembered.

You make it so hard for him to see you only as a friend when you’re this attentive. To be fair, he’d probably fall in love with anyone who gives him Lego, but he already liked you before. If only your boyfriend wasn’t the most attractive, masculine man in the entire world who, even though Peter’s confident in his skills, could probably maim Peter without any effort at all.

He’s not sure if it’s true, but you’ve told Peter that Logan is busy today, so he can’t join you for Peter’s birthday lunch. He introduces you to his friends and his aunt that have come to his small celebration, and he fantasises that surely some of them must think you and him have a thing going on. May definitely gives him a look when she sees how gorgeous you are, but she already knows all about Peter’s hopeless crush on you.

You kiss Peter’s cheek when everyone leaves, letting him blush in peace as you go up to your bedroom. 

You told him you’d watch a film with him tonight but you seem to have forgot. It’s evening already and he wouldn’t want you to stay up too long for him if you watched the film later. Even if you did forget, he’s grateful he got to spend the day with you.

He’s about to bring his best gift – the one you gave him – upstairs and to his room.

“You like it?” Logan’s voice sounds behind Peter.

“I love it. I’ve wanted this for ages,” he grins.

“I’m glad you appreciate it. She made me threaten a twelve-year-old over it. It was the last set they had at the store.”

Peter grows even fonder of you. He knows he must be blushing, but he also knows there’s no point in hiding it – not since the night he walked in on you and Logan having sex. He’s been hoping Logan didn’t tell you about their run-in afterwards, although he knows he can be a little obvious regardless. It’s hard to hide a crush as big as the one he has on you.

Logan clears his throat, folding his arms, all those muscles bulging, “I’m not the best with material gifts but I’ve got something else for you.”

“Yeah?” Peter’s wary. Logan and him aren’t exactly friends. He wasn’t even expecting you to give him a gift.

“I know you wanna fuck my girl.”

Peter gulps at Logan’s directness, starting to stammer out a few words that make no sense.

“Y’don’t have to deny it. Can’t blame you, can I? You wanna live out your fantasy?”

Peter finds it hard to imagine that this isn’t a trap or some sick joke. “No–no, of course not. She’s your girlfriend and I’d never, I mean, she’d never cheat on you and I’d never try anything. I respect you so much–”.

Logan cuts him off, “Calm down, bub. This isn’t a trick. I’m asking if you wanna fuck my girl for your birthday. We both had the idea,” Logan smiles, and he doesn’t have to wait for a verbal answer to know that Peter wants it – the gleam in his eyes tells him enough, “C’mon. She’s waiting in your room.”

Peter abandons the Lego box on the floor. He couldn’t care less if some student found it and took it for themself. Peter’s on his way to better things.

-

Peter doesn’t let himself believe it until Logan opens the door to his bedroom, and there you are. You’re sitting on his bed – something Peter has imagined many times but never even dreamt of seeing in reality – in the most gorgeous set of lingerie he’s ever seen (not that he’s seen many in real life… or any).

“Hi,” he waves awkwardly, unsure whether to try and hide his growing erection. You’re half-naked only a few feet away from him, and this is better than all of his wet dreams about you combined.

You’re grinning, first at Peter and then at Logan, who closes the door behind Peter.

Logan takes a step forward to bend down and kiss you. It’s a short but sloppy kiss, Logan’s hand resting on your cheek. He looks back, chuckling at how desperate Peter must already look, and sits down in the chair near the bed.

“Hope you don’t mind, I’ve made myself comfortable,” you bite your lip. Even your voice alone could make Peter cum.

“No no no, not at all. You look so gorgeous. I never thought I’d get to see someone look so sexy in real life.”

You giggle and it feels heavenly to be making you laugh like that. You lift your hand for him to take. He gasps when his hand touches yours, and you pull him to the bed with you. He feels like hyperventilating just from being so close to you in nothing but underwear. Peter wills himself to be strong; he can’t embarrass himself and cum right away.

“You know, Logan’s been trying to tell me for a while that you might have a tiny crush on me, and I didn’t believe it at first but…”

Peter laughs nervously before you can finish your sentence, but you don’t have to. Everyone in this room knows how much Peter likes you. All of Xavier’s school probably knows – teachers and students.

“Yeah,” Peter says weakly, cheeks hot.

 “Logan and I thought this could be a nice present for your birthday, if you want. Cause I think you’re cute too, and Logan doesn’t mind sharing me for one night.”

It hurts a little that you only find Peter cute, but he’ll take whatever he can get. Clearly he’s cute enough to fuck, and that’s all that really matters right now.

“Of course I want to, so what are we doing?” Peter doesn’t mean for it to come out so stupidly. He knows you’re going to have sex, he just doesn’t know the details.

“I’m gonna get you nice and hard first,” you say it with a smile, looking down at his lap, knowing exactly that he’s more than hard enough already, “and then Logan’s gonna join us and you can both fuck me at the same time. Does that sound alright?”

Peter grins. “More than alright. I don’t know if I’m gonna last long but I only need a few seconds before I can get hard again,” he tells you proudly, before he remembers that your boyfriend has healing abilities too, far more complex than Peter’s. You’re probably used to going endless rounds. Now he just feels a bit silly for admitting that he can’t last long. 

Peter turns to the side to face Logan. He’s manspreading, arms folded cockily in front of his chest, and it’s unnerving how a single person can ooze that much confidence. Although, if he looked like Logan and had a girlfriend like you, Peter’s sure he would be less insecure too.

“Have you had sex before?” you ask Peter all kindly, and he blushes thinking about the image of him you apparently have in your head. He’s not that experienced, but he’s not that innocent either.

“Yeah,” is all he manages to say at first.

“What have you done?” you ask him, gently resting your hand on his jaw, thumb trailing over Peter’s bottom lip. He stops himself from licking it.

“I’ve, uh, been inside of a woman before and I’ve, like, fingered her. My ex-girlfriend.”

You smile at the unnecessary piece of information, “That’s it? You’ve never had your dick sucked?”

Peter shakes his head, feeling like he’ll cum just from your words, “No, and I’ve never gone down on a woman.”

“You wanna?”

He nods his head so eagerly that it makes you giggle again.

“Maybe later,” you tell Peter, your hand dropping back to your lap.

“You can eat her pussy after I’ve cum in it,” Logan says with a smirk. You give him a look, turning to assure Peter.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to do that.”

Peter looks between you two, “I don’t mind! I’m up for anything.”

You smile, moving to straddle him as you hum, “Good boy.”

He tenses underneath you, eyes screwed shut, and he can’t even enjoy the way he cums as soon as you settle on top of him, your hands on his shoulders. Hot embarrassment floods Peter’s body, and he feels like he might cry.

“Aw, it’s okay,” your voice is nothing but sweet with not even a hint of amusement, and Peter dares to open his eyes. Your face is inches away from his, and your closeness makes him feel less embarrassed.

“You like me that much, hm?” you continue, and Peter hears a quiet laugh from Logan, but he doesn’t care about his opinion, only yours, “I’m flattered you do. Glad you like your gift.”

“I really thought the lego set was my favourite present,” he says. This time he cracks a smile too as Logan and you giggle at his words.

“Let’s get you out of your clothes, okay?”

You get off Peter after he nods, pulling off his shirt. Peter stands up as you kneel in front of the bed to pull off his jeans, biting your lip when you feel how sticky his cum-stained boxers are.

“Look at what a mess you’ve made, baby. So cute.”

Peter swears you’ll stop associating that word with him by the end of the night, although he’s starting to like you calling him that. He takes one glance at you on your knees for him, and he has to look away in fear of cumming again immediately. 

“I know,” Logan tells him, and Peter sees then how hard he already is too. Peter can’t believe Logan gets you like this every night, but for now he smiles at him as they silently bond over how attracted to you they both are. It’s impossible not to be.

Logan’s eyes drift down to Peter’s hard cock, and you’re grinning back up at your boyfriend, “Look how big he is, baby. Almost the same size as you.” The joy in your voice makes Peter stand a little bit taller. He’s proud that you like his dick. It’s probably the proudest moment of his life thus far.

You pull Peter back on the bed, sitting down as you lean back against your hands, “You wanna unwrap your present?”

Peter nods, smiling at the goosebumps that erupt on your flesh as he pulls at the ribbon that you’ve wrapped around your waist. He leans over to place it on his nightstand – he’s keeping that forever.

When he sits down in front of you, the sweet smell of you hits him. He looks between your legs, and there’s a wet spot on your panties. All because of him? He keeps feeling prouder and prouder.

“Thought about this so many times. Jerked off at least three times every single day since I walked in on you two.”

You and Logan smile at each other. He asks Peter, “You did that on purpose?”

Peter doesn’t turn to face Logan, the blush that has only just subsided flaring back up. “N-no. Of course not.” He knows neither of you believe his lie. He couldn’t help himself.

“Don’t worry. She liked it too,” Logan informs him, and Peter’s eyes go wide.

“You’re a handsome boy, Pete,” you shrug, brushing your hand through his hair and he hums at the nickname.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks finally, cock already so hard he can barely think, and you haven’t even done anything yet.

“Go ahead,” Logan says, but Peter pays him no mind.

“I wasn’t asking you,” he says bravely, and your eyes go to those of your boyfriend as you raise your eyebrows.

“Told you he’s got it in him,” you say, pulling Peter close to press your plush lips to his. It’s like an explosion of endorphins, and Peter knows that from this moment on he can die happy. You pull him closer, kisses getting wetter as the sound of them takes over the room, and it’s the hottest thing Peter has ever experienced.

“Here,” you briefly pause, taking his hand and guiding it to the clasp of your bra at your back. He fiddles with it for a few seconds, and you want to give him a chance, but then the bed dips with the weight of Logan, and he opens your bra with ease.

Peter doesn’t know when he took his clothes off, but Logan is naked except for his boxers. He looks nowhere nearly as good as you, of course, but his muscles aren’t exactly an unwelcome sight.

“Isn’t my girl so pretty, Pete?” Logan asks, pulling the straps of your bra down your arms, taking off your bra.

“She’s gorgeous,” Peter rasps, “She’s perfect.” Logan hums in agreement.

Peter has imagined your tits too many times to count, and yet they’re even better than anything he’s fantasised about. He’s too nervous to touch you, but you take his shaky hands, putting them on your breasts.

“Oh my god,” Peter whispers, breathlessly cupping and squeezing at your tits as his cock leaks with precum. He sees you biting your lip as you look at his lap, and Logan takes Peter’s hands off your tits.

“Take off her underwear,” Logan commands as you smile at his words. You lift your hips, upper body leaning against Logan, and Peter pulls your panties down your legs. He throws them off the bed somewhere, hoping you won’t be able to find them again so that Peter can keep them forever.

He moans loudly when you spread your legs, and it’s a wonder that Peter doesn’t cum again just at the sight of your pussy. You’re perfect, and so wet, and he falls to his hands, in front of you on all fours.

“You want her mouth or her pussy first?” Logan asks, although you and him already know the answer.

“Wanna go down on you,” Peter says, unable to tear his eyes away from your pussy. You spread your legs further for him, and he looks up at you with the most adorable puppy eyes you’ve ever seen.

“You can,” you smile.

Peter inhales deeply when he squashes his face between your thighs, trying to burn the memory of how good you smell into his brain forever. 

He doesn’t have a technique, he just starts. You let out a soft moan when Peter licks up your entire pussy once; he moans too as he tastes you. He grabs your soft thighs, putting them over his shoulders as he lies down.

You give him a reassuring smile as he begins to eat you out, experimenting with different licks and kisses. You turn to your side to start kissing Logan, your hand holding his wrist as his arm drapes over your chest.

Peter licks greedily at your pussy, and you reach into Logan’s boxers to start stroking the hard length of him. Your hand is coated in his precum quickly, and he smiles into the kiss before he gently nips at your lip.

“You okay there, bub?” Logan pulls away to smirk at Peter. If you can still kiss Logan that well, then Peter isn’t doing a good job. You both look down to find Peter more focussed on grinding his cock against the bed rather than on eating you out. He blushes.

You reach out to touch his cheek, some of Logan’s precum from your hand wiping against Peter’s face, “you’re so cute.”

He doesn’t even register the word anymore.

“You want Logan to teach you?”

Peter nods, moving only minimally to make space for Logan next to him, both their wide shoulders knocking against each other’s (okay, Logan’s are slightly bigger). Logan huffs but doesn’t say anything, placing one of your legs over his shoulder and pressing your other knee up against your chest.

“Here’s how you do it,” Logan looks at Peter, bending down to press a sloppy kiss right against your clit, coating you in his spit before he begins to gently suck. You squirm immediately, and Peter can’t wait to try it out on you.

Logan pushes two fingers into your wet pussy, moving them in a way that you evidently like. Peter doesn’t know what to look at – your pretty face or your pretty pussy. Logan huffs next to him, “I know she looks good, kid, but you gotta focus if you wanna make her cum.”

Peter nods, watching Logan sucking on your clit and moving his fingers inside you.

“You can use your fingers to fuck her,” he explains.

“I know,” Peter says, his tone perhaps a little more petulant than what he was aiming for, “I just hadn’t gotten her consent to do that yet, so I didn’t.”

You smile at him, “you can do whatever you want to me, Pete.”  

And that’s all he’s ever wanted to hear in his life.

Logan nods at him, sitting back up, and Peter gets between your legs. He knows he’s got it easier now because Logan had his mouth on you for a bit, but it wouldn’t be fair otherwise. Logan is like an old man with loads of experience, and he probably gets to fuck you every night, so he has an unfair advantage.

Your boyfriend gets next to you, kissing you – and it’s all sensual and passionate and wet and Peter can’t help but stare for a few moments. Logan starts touching your tits, groping you and moving to gently play with your nipples.

You pull away from the kiss, a string of spit hanging between your and Logan’s mouth, “Pete?” you ask softly, but Peter can hear some desperation in your voice. He doesn’t need to be told twice.

First, he quickly licks your pussy just to get that heavenly taste in his mouth again, then settles on a more precise movement of his tongue. He circles your clit, hearing you sigh against Logan’s mouth, but Peter isn’t sure if he’s the one who evoked that sound.

He slides two fingers into your pussy, curling them how Logan showed him to. He’s stopped moving his mouth, too concentrated on looking at your face to see a reaction.

“That’s it, Peter, don’t stop,” you moan, pushing his head back down and he happily wraps his lips around your clit, fucking you gently with his fingers.

“Yeah, baby, he’s got you,” Logan says into your neck, “You’ve got her, right, Peter?” he asks all smugly.

“Mhhmmm,” Peter squeaks without taking his mouth off you, and the vibration of his voice seems to make you squirm a bit more. He decides to let himself moan the way he’s been wanting to the entire time, subtly grinding his hips into the bed beneath him as he eats you out and fucks you with his fingers.

You cum with a cry that makes Peter even prouder than he’s been all night, and he thinks he’ll savour the feeling of your thighs squeezing around his head for the rest of his life. He pushes his tongue into your pussy to taste as much of your arousal as he can, stopping when he feels your and Logan’s eyes on him.

“Did such a good job,” you tell him, and he grins proudly. He gets on his knees to lean up and kiss you. Your tongue slides into his mouth, and his heart skips a beat at the way you smile into the kiss. He’s in heaven.

“You wanna fuck me now?” you ask, and Peter’s eyes go wide as he sits up and gets back between your thighs.

“And I want you too,” you smile up at your boyfriend, pulling at the waistband of his boxers. Peter has no idea how Logan has this much self-restraint, watching as he gets off the bed and takes off his boxers with a grin. Peter sees how you drool at the sight of Logan’s big dick, and Peter feels his own mouth watering. 

“Here you go, baby. Gonna be a good girl for me, right? Gonna take my cock? You been waiting for this, hm?” Logan kneels next to you. He holds his cock over your face, lightly slapping the tip against your lips. Peter’s cock pulses against his abs. 

You nod wordlessly, wrapping your lips around your boyfriend’s huge cock. You pull off him only to spit on it, jerking off the lower half of him that’s harder to fit in your mouth. 

The wet sounds coming from you sucking Logan’s cock make Peter’s dick twitch as he spills a new load of precum. It lands on your thigh, getting your attention. 

Peter doesn’t know how you can spare a single moment away from Logan’s cock, but you pull your mouth off him, “You can start if you’re ready,” you smile at Peter. Both of you watch him as he pushes his cock inside you. 

Your warm, velvety walls suck his cock in unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Peter’s eyes flutter shut and he just stays like that for a few moments, the sound your mouth makes around Logan’s cock doesn’t make it easier for Peter. Even if you don’t seem to mind him cumming fast, he’s trying to prevent it, feeling so close again already.

He hears Logan huff out a laugh, and Peter opens his eyes. You’ve stopped going down on your boyfriend, looking at Peter all sweetly.

“It’s okay if you cum quickly, I did too at the start,” Logan confesses. It’s hard to imagine him – the epitome of virility – not being able to last long, even with someone as perfect as you, but it makes Peter feel better about himself, by a lot.

“I really don’t mind it, Pete,” you smile, and Peter nods. He looks down towards where you’re joined, your pussy stuffed with his cock. Even though you’re used to something even bigger, there’s an obvious strain, and you’re squeezing around him hard even when he’s not moving.

You and Logan watch as Peter starts to fuck you, your hand on your boyfriend’s cock, lazily jerking him off. Logan doesn’t seem to mind watching Peter pushing into you slowly. The two pairs of eyes make him feel more self-conscious, yet it’s also invigorating.

Peter clumsily rubs at your clit, at least attempting to focus on something other than how good he feels.

“You’re so tight, feel so good,” he mumbles, and you seem like you’re enjoying it too, back arched and hand faltering around Logan’s cock. You’re too distracted by Peter.

“Don’t stop,” you say quietly, evidently not there yet but Peter’s sure you feel good.

You share an intimate smile with Logan, and he tells Peter, “Doin’ a really good job with my girl. This is the only thing, bub..”

Logan tries to hide his smile as he grabs Peter’s hand to guide his fingers back to your clit from where they’d drifted off to your thigh, where he’d just been holding you. Peter’s cheeks turn red – or maybe they’ve been red the entire time – as he goes back to playing with your clit.

He doesn’t notice it, but a few seconds later he stops touching your clit again, too distracted by how good your pussy feels. Logan shoves his hand between your legs instead, making you moan as soon as he starts rubbing your clit in circles.

Your pussy spasms around Peter’s cock as you orgasm, and he can practically feel the pleasure flowing through you.

“Can I cum inside you?” The question comes too late to wait for an answer so Peter pulls out, cumming all over your belly in sticky ribbons as he jerks off desperately.

You bite your lip when he’s done, humming as you take some of Peter’s cum off your belly, pushing your finger between your lips. “Tastes so good,” you tell Peter, “Taste it.” 

You swipe some more on your finger, bringing your hand up to Peter’s face as you put your finger in his mouth. He wraps his lips around it hesitantly, smiling shyly when he tastes his own saltiness. Logan’s watching him too, cock still hard.

You gently nudge Peter’s head down towards your belly, and he smiles at you sweetly as his lips glide over your skin and he begins to lick up his own cum.

“Don’t swallow it all,” you say, your hand in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. He nods obediently, keeping his mouth closed when he’s licked your skin clean.

“Here,” you open your mouth for him, pulling him up to your face. His eyes go wide when he realises what you want him to do, and he holds your chin as he spits his cum into your mouth. 

He was starting to worry a little because, even though he knows he has no problem getting hard after a first orgasm, it’s been a while since he’s gone three times in a row. But now his dick is so hard again that it almost hurts.

You stick out your tongue, showing Peter and Logan the cum mixed with your spit in your mouth. “Come taste him,” you look up at Logan with the sexiest smile anyone has ever smiled, and Peter feels his cock flex as he somehow gets even harder.

Logan rolls his eyes playfully, bending down to kiss you nevertheless. Some of Peter’s cum runs down your chin, and Logan pulls away from the kiss to lick it up. Peter thinks he really should start training his stamina with how close he is again just from this.

You still don’t swallow when Logan stops kissing you. “Come here,” you tell Peter, and he kneels next to you so you have him and Logan at either side, their dicks hard. You sit up a little, spitting the rest of Peter’s cum into your hand as you reach for Logan’s cock, starting to jerk him off. 

He gives you a fake annoyed look at you using Peter’s cum as lube, but it’s obvious he likes it, and it makes Peter reach out to his own cock to give it a few strokes – he can’t help himself.

“Haven’t made you cum yet,” you peer up at Logan, who puts a reassuring hand on your cheek.

“You know I don’t mind watching you two, bub,” he says, and your wide smile hints that Logan has told you something slightly different in private. He doesn’t just mind it, he loves it. Peter gets why Logan might find that hard to admit in front of someone else, something about conventions and possessiveness, but he’s glad that Logan decided to share. He’s glad that you want him.

You wrap your lips around Logan’s cock again. While you suck his cock, you stop Peter’s hand on his cock, jerking him off instead. You pull your lips off Logan, turning to suck Peter’s dick.

You switch between them a few times, the taste of their precum mixing in your mouth and dripping down to their balls when you suck their dicks. Peter particularly enjoys this, awaiting his turn eagerly every time. The head of his cock is swollen with lust against the inside of your cheek, and you turn to him to focus on him fully, letting him get lost in the feeling of fucking your warm, wet mouth.

You put your hand on Logan’s hip, guiding him down the bed. He smirks as he gets between your thighs, watching you suck another man’s cock as he starts to fuck you. He goes slowly first, letting you adjust to his size as you moan around Peter’s dick.

Logan watches Peter’s eyes flutter shut at the vibration of your voice. Logan knows you’re not just moaning because of him inside you though.

“You like that, baby, hm? Like sucking Peter’s cock?” you don’t take your mouth off him, but your sparkling eyes meet Logan’s. It’s a look of understanding. 

Logan is ready to cum, but he tries to draw it out. He can go endless rounds but the first orgasm is always the best. He wants to savour it, save it for a bit longer. He focusses instead on making you cum, fucking against your g-spot, almost making you see stars.

You moan around Peter’s cock when you cum again, and Logan almost submits, but he’s able to fuck you through your orgasm without cumming. Peter spills into your mouth as your cheeks hollow around him, sucking him deeper down your throat.

“Such a good girl,” Logan praises you until your pussy stops pulsing with an orgasm, and you give him a fucked out smile as Peter pulls his cock out of your mouth.

“My girl,” Logan adds, kissing you, and you sigh against his lips in pleasure.

You sit up to grab the water bottle from the side of Peter’s bed and take a sip. You pass it to Peter and Logan afterwards, and you don’t move back between them once you’ve put the bottle away, so they’re facing each other.

You sit on your knees, looking between them as they’re impatiently waiting for you to come back, both their cocks standing hard and proud against their abs.

You bite your lip, “Are you into men, Pete?”

Peter’s heart misses a beat and then happily continues drumming against his chest as he nods eagerly, although he’s not sure why it matters right now.

You share a brief silent exchange with Logan before your next words. “So is Logan,” you nod towards your boyfriend. You wait for them to catch on to what you’re saying, but Peter is too shy to and Logan is still contemplating. This wasn’t a part of the plan, but he can’t say he’s against it. He just didn’t know you wanted to see him with another man the way he wants to see you with one.

“Um, what now?” Peter asks with a nervous smile, ready to please.

You fight the urge to simply answer now you kiss, “You think you two are the only ones that get a show?”

Peter’s eyes widen slightly at your suggestion before they brighten. A shy yet excited smile takes over his features.

“You sure, baby?” Logan asks you. You bite your lip, nodding slowly. Logan smirks, because he knows that exact look and you haven’t been quite this horny all night yet.

“Only if you want to as well,” you tell him, and he doesn’t need to answer.

“This okay for you, bub?” Logan lowers his voice as he speaks to Peter. 

He replies through an eager nod, “yeah.” The word comes out as a whisper.

Logan smirks as he leans in, gently placing his big hand around Peter’s throat. He’s not squeezing, just holding him in place. You didn’t mind Peter being all squirmy when you kissed him, but Logan wants to keep him still.

You watch their cocks rub against each other’s abs as they get closer, strings of spit connecting their lips as they make out, tongues tangling in desperation.

It’s sloppy, the way they kiss, and you could watch them forever.

Logan pulls his lips from Peter’s with a wet sound, firmly patting his cheek, “Now get on your knees, bub.”

The command makes even your knees buckle, and you watch Peter happily drop to the carpet, kneeling between Logan’s spread legs as he moves to the edge of the bed. He beckons you over to his side, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a messy kiss to your mouth.

You know he’s close now, having denied himself an orgasm this long.

Peter wraps a greedy hand around the base of Logan’s cock, leaning in to press a few kisses to his dick. You and Logan watch him, you pulled closely against his side.

“You want me to show you what to do?” you ask Peter after a while of him not doing anything but kissing and licking. Peter nods quickly, “yes please,” and you kiss him after you sit down next to him, tasting your boyfriend’s precum and some of your own arousal on him.

“Think he’s almost there,” you tell Peter as you look up at Logan through your lashes, and he smirks.

“That’s not a problem,” Peter says quickly.

“Here, you can use your tongue,” you tell him, wrapping your hand around Logan’s cock as you take him into your mouth, tongue wet against the underside of him, “try it.”

You keep holding Logan’s cock as you pull off him, angling it towards Peter’s face. His face is flushed as he takes Logan’s dick in his mouth for the first time, sucking on the tip.

“That’s it, doing so good,” you brush your thumb over Peter’s cheek where it bulges when he takes Logan deeper. Your and Logan’s eyes on him make him nervous, and he pulls off to kiss you instead.

You make out with him for a few moments, letting him kiss you greedily and wetly, before you guide your mouths back to Logan’s cock. You and Peter part only minimally as you kiss either side of Logan’s dick, spit running down from your mouths to his balls as you share him.

“Feels so good,” Logan mumbles, all blissed out, watching his perfect, pretty girlfriend share his cock with another guy.

You see how close he is, slowly pulling your mouth off him and leaning your cheek against his knee as you watch Peter take your boyfriend’s cock into his mouth all by himself.

“Attaboy,” Logan says, placing a hand on the back of Peter’s head when he goes deeper, spit falling from his lips.

“Juuust like that,” you add, your praise spurring Peter on. Logan’s other hand goes to your cheek, absent-mindedly brushing over it with his finger as he holds your face.

Peter gets more confident when Logan’s breath stutters. He moans on Logan’s cock as he takes him as deep as he can, the wet sound from his mouth obscene. 

Logan’s hips jerk as his cock twitches in Peter’s mouth, and he cums down his throat in warm, sticky ropes of his load.

“Good boy,” Logan softly ruffles Peter’s hair when he’s done, and you lean in to kiss Peter, some of your boyfriend’s cum still fresh on his lip.

“Doesn’t my boyfriend taste good?” you ask against his lips, hardly breaking the kiss. You can hear the slick of spit and cum on Logan’s cock already as he jerks off again, to the sight of you two making out with his cum between you.

“He does,” Peter mumbles against the skin of your jaw, kissing down your neck.

“He tastes better than me?” you tease.

“No– no, you taste better than anything in the world.” And Peter means it.

-

You’re not done until hours later; you fuck until it’s the middle of the night. Earlier, Peter was ready to forgo his birthday movie night just so you can go to sleep on time, but he got something much better, even if it means you stayed up late for him. He can’t say he feels too bad.

Peter is tucked in, you and Logan at either side as you send each other loving glances over Peter’s head. You’re stroking Peter’s hair, basically cuddling him with how close you are.

“Hope you liked your present,” you tell him, pressing one last kiss against his lips as you smile at his sleepy expression.

“Best birthday ever,” Peter mumbles, before he drifts off into a peaceful sleep.

-

P.S. reblog + let me know your thoughts and Logan and Peter will appear in your bed tonight 🩷🫣

[mattybsgroupie]

warm | matt sturniolo

contents: established relationship; p in v; creampie; cockwarming; semi-public sex; lowkey sub!matt

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ notes: good evening my loves!! im doing my best to post 1 full fic a week and hcs / blurbs on the other days i hope you guys see my effort lmfao “where’s dom matt” HE DOESNT LIVE HERE ANYMORE. HE’S GONE. and now we have a very long milf! X chris fic to work on. not proofread, enjoy!!!

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matt was eager to try new things. new restaurants, new places to go, new parking lots to visit. in this particular night, you and matt had the duty to drive his brothers around. of course, he could just drop them off and pick them up later, but why not hanging out with his beautiful girlfriend while you both wait?

“where to, miss?” matt asked as his brothers walked out of the car, gently squeezing your thigh.

“wherever you wanna go” you say, placing your hand above his. throughout the ride, matt’s grip grew tighter and his breathe became heavier, as if there wasn’t enough air for you both. you sensed the shift in the atmosphere and gulped down, squeezing his hand lightly.

a small “hm?” came from matt’s lips, he was aware of each and every movement of yours. “no, nothing” you chuckled, trying to laugh it off.

the truth is that matt looked incredibly good, better than ever. his messy hair matched perfectly with his brown shirt and the cold metal of his rings pressed against your bare thighs, giving you goosebumps.

“c’mon, tell me what’s on your mind” matt said as soon as he parked the car on an empty street. “how on earth will your brothers find us?” you asked, noticing there was no one around.

“well, that’s the point” matt grinned, his fingertips wandering under your skirt. “i’m kidding, we have our location shared all the time so they’ll find us” he assured you, still caressing your skin.

“matt” you whispered, not being able to wait any longer before smashing your lips against his. he immediately leaned in, deepening the kiss as he slid his tongue inside your mouth, dragging the damp muscle against yours.

the kiss was wet, loud and desperate, as if you were touching each other for the first time. matt’s pants started to tighten — he was so easy to get going. a lingering kiss, a neck bite, a naughty smile, anything from you would get him pathetically hard, just like now.

“fuck” matt breathed out. “missed you s’much” he said as his hands travelled through your body, touching all his favorites spots. he held your waist with both hands, trying to bring you closer somehow.

you smiled at his eagerness, pulling away from the kiss and moving to his lap. “there we go” matt whispered, forcing your hips down on his thigh. you gasped at the sudden pressure, trying to keep your composure.

“baby, we’re not gonna fuck here” you spoke when matt brought his fingers under your shirt. his blue orbs widened in surprise, a pout appearing on his swollen lips. “w-why not?”

“your brothers are gonna be back anytime” you told him, cupping his cheeks and giving him a peck. “and we’re in public, matthew”

“don’t call me that” he whined at the name. “you know i like other names better” matt complained, not even thinking about giving up.

“yeah? like good boy?” you teased, ruffling his hair. matt threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his cock twitch.

he quietly nodded, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck. “so you’re gonna be my good boy and behave, alright?” you continued as matt dragged his face across your chest.

he looked up at you with puppy eyes, silently asking for at least some attention. “what do you want hm?”

“warm, please” matt practically begged, his voice coming out in a low whisper.

you smiled at matt, adjusting your position on his lap. he gasped when you fully sat on his crotch, pressing your palm against his hardened cock. you began to unbuckle his belt, quickly opening his zipper and revealing the wet patch on his underwear.

“just warm, yeah?” you repeated, touching his waistband, kissing his neck and going down to his collarbone as you pulled his dick out, wrapping your hand around matt’s shaft.

you pumped it a few times, spreading the pre-cum and coating his length. you touched his wrist and guided matt’s fingers to your panties, which he quickly pulled aside before pressing your clit with his thumb, gently rubbing it.

you let out a deep sigh, almost giving in. you lift your hips as you keep on stroking matt’s cock, guiding it towards your wet entrance. you guys were not having sex — he just needed to be warmed, and you just needed to be filled up.

“s-shit” matt mumbles as you rub your folds against his tip, teasing him. “please, i need inside” he complained once more, still pulling your panties to the side and holding your waist.

you gradually lowered yourself on his shaft, mouth hanging open from how big matt was. it seemed like forever until he got all the way in, his incredibly long dick hitting your cervix and stretching your walls open. you wrapped your arms around matt’s shoulders — it was your turn to hide on the crook of his neck.

matt gently caressed your back while placing kisses on your collarbone, an unreasonable amount of thanks coming from the back of his throat. “so tight ‘n so warm…” he said, feeling himself throb against your walls “feels so good”

“i love when you fill me up, prince” you cooed, running your fingers on his brown locks. you let go of the hug to look at him before lifting your shirt and placing your palm against your lower tummy. “you’re right here” you said, pointing to the outline of his dick showing.

matt sunk his teeth on his bottom lip, unwittingly bucking his hips forward, not being able to hold himself “s-sorry sorry fuck you just look so pretty taking my cock” matt explained, breathing heavily as he wrapped his arms around your waist, trying to bring you even closer. “matt, be a good boy hm?”

“‘m tryin’ i promise but you’re squeezing me so good” he cried, giving you puppy eyes again. you already knew that he we wanted two to cum, but for that, he needed your boobs. matt held you tighter, pouty lips revealing that he needed something to suck on.

you could be mean and give him your fingers, but you could tell he was really trying his best, considering that his cock leaked inside you. you smiled at him and and brought your shirt up, showing him your boobs.

he immediately shoved his face on your chest, moaning before latching on your nipple. he sucked hungrily, slowly moving his hips upwards, trying to get some relief to his aching cock. “i d-dont think i can hold it” matt spoke, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your tit.

“and how am i supposed to get back home hm? full of your cum?” you responded and matt whimpered — it was all too much. your breasts, your voice, your hands, your pussy. “can i? please?” he asked.

“you don’t sound that desperate, baby. i think i can keep warming you just like this, right?”

“n-no! please! i wan’ cum for you, please!” you chuckled at his desperation, ruffling his hair and caressing his cheek.

with a simple nod, you allowed matt to let go — and you needed him to do it fast. from afar, you could see his brothers taking slow steps towards the car, silently approaching.

you praised matt as he released his thick spurt inside you, “good boy” whispered over and over along with kisses across his face. matt was completely worn out, panting and trembling.

you removed yourself from him, feeling the sudden emptiness along with the sticky liquid coming from your hole barely being held by your panties as you jumped back to the passenger seat and zipped matt’s pants up.

he had a confused expression, furrowed eyebrow and a pout on his lips, as if asking “why did you leave?”.

his question was answered a second later, when both of his brothers opened the door, entering the vehicle with a loud chatter. “are we interrupting something?” chris playfully asked, noticing the awkwardness between you.

“no, we’re fine! we were just cuddling, matt needed to warmed up” you played along, squeezing matt’s thigh as he gulped and started the car.

little did he know he was gonna have to clean the mess he made.

♡⊹𑄽୧

taglist (drop a 🌸!): @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @bugeyedgrl @sturncakez @riowritesitall @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @mattscoquette @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn @lizzymacdonald06 @blahbel668 @fratbrochrisgf @bagsbyclair0 @sturnobsessedwh0re @cayleeuhithinknott @sturniolo04 @1c3b4th @mattsfavbigtitties @bellassturniolo @sturnsxplr-25 @ivammbb @shadowthesim @slutformatthewsturniolo @stefansring @teeheeomg @dystfopia

[reverieblondie]

Remember Me?

Pairing: ExNerd!Miguel O’Hara X fem!civillainreader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), , Oral, Cowgirl, Missionary. You and Miguel make a mess...

Summary: Miguel has changed a lot since high school, but one thing remains the same...how he feels about you.

A/N: I have been trying to write about Miguel for weeks now! Every time I get close to finishing something for him I reread it and hate it! So I am posting this before I can change my mind! I hope you all enjoy I tried my best!

Word Count: 6,823

Part 2: coming soon....

“Pfft…I can't believe this is real; this can’t be real!” Gwen keeps repeating to herself, trying to stifle back her laughter. 

“I know! I couldn’t believe my eyes when Peter showed me but here it is!” Miles agrees; Pav quickly slings his arm around Miles for a better look.   

“Take a look at the specks on him. Did you know he needed glasses?” 

“Flip to the club photo. Now, that will shock you all.” 

At Hobies request the teens quickly start flipping through pages. The sound of flipping pages and then the sudden bursting of laughter from the small huddle was something Miguel could no longer ignore. Miguel wasn’t sure why the teens and Peter were in his office. But since the events with the spot and some well-deserved apologies, Miguel, in the teen's words, “Chilled out,” and now they seem to hang out around him more. Meaning they are often now in his office… Miguel, of course, tried to appear as indifferent as possible to this change of pace, though He had to admit it was somewhat nice to have the cheerful ambiance that came with them... Hell, sometimes they could make him chuckle; Miles was actually pretty funny. But, of course, he keeps these things to himself. 

Miguel makes his way to the huddle to see what could possibly be so enthralling. When he sees what's causing their uproar, his blood runs cold, freezing him dead in his tracks.

Is….that…his….yearbook…

It was turned to his picture and plan as the day under his unrecognizable photo was his name. So there was no getting out of this saying it wasn’t him…

“Miguel, is this really you?” Miles questions pointing to the picture. 

“Must be his name right there,” Pav teases, making Miguel groan. This was an actual nightmare. 

Looking over them, Miguel sees the picture they are all questioning; the difference is pretty night and day. A young 17-year-old Miguel was way scrawnier compared to his now bulking physique. His dark brown eyes were hidden behind his thick black-rimmed glasses, the only ones his mother could afford at the time. Miguel's thick, wavy brown hair looks untamed as it hangs down his forehead, threatening to cover his eyes if not for his glasses, the rest hanging loosely down to the nape of his neck. Poor kid was desperate for a haircut. Their cheekbones and jaw were still chiseled, and his face was not yet littered with lines of stress, sleepless nights, and age.  

Hobie quickly grabs the yearbook, vigorously flipping through the pages until he stops on a picture of a young Miguel holding up a mathlete trophy, awkward smile and all. “This is my favorite picture. Do you still smile like that, bruv?�� 

“How did you all get this?” Miguel asks in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that will somehow stop his building anger and embarrassment. 

Very aware of the sight of Miguel about to rage out, the young spiders quickly part, pointing the blame to a laughing Peter. Who finally quits his laughing fit as now he is staring into the eyes of a very irritated Miguel, waiting for an explanation. 

Peter nervously clears his throat before speaking, “Wel, uh…do you remember a couple of days ago when you told me to drop off that equipment at your apartment? Well…I happened to see this on your living room bookshelf and thought I would look at it. Then I saw how much you had changed… I figured the kiddos would get a kick out of it…”

Miguel's eyes narrow, and his talons pop out, ready to bounce, but that is quickly escalated by Gwen taking back the yearbook, prepared to negotiate peace. 

“Okay, okay, no need to rip his head off; we will return your book.” Miguel's body relaxes as he sighs of relief, holding out his hand for the book, but Gwen smirks, holding the book back out of his reach, “But, you have to show us your old crush first.” 

Miguel’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, freezing at the terms of the agreement, and everyone else, including Layla, starts oohing. Making Miguel pitch the bridge of his nose again, muttering under his breath, “Esto tiene que ser una pesadilla…” (this has to be a nightmare…) 

Then, to make things worse, they start chanting, “Show us….Show us…Show us! Show us!!”

The chatting became too much, and he snapped, holding out his hand irritatedly for the book. “Fine! I will show you; just shut up!” 

A yay fills the room as Miguel starts irritatedly flipping through the book as soon as it’s laid in his hand. Everyone waits in bated breath until finally landing on the correct page. It's the page he spent the summer before college staring at, the picture he had agonized over. Miguel pauses, taking in the picture, and he feels those familiar feelings rushing up and swelling in his chest…Those high school crushes do hit you hard…

Even after all these years, he still remembers you so vividly; seeing the picture always solidifies for himself as confirmation as to why he had liked you so much. Beautiful and popular, everyone would only have positive things to say, even if your friend group wasn’t as nice. Miguel remembers that sweetness fondly. Though, behind that sweet smile, there was a mischievous side of you; he recalls hearing it hidden in your cooing voice when you would say that pet name during chemistry class… 

“Miggy~”     

The memory warms Miguel's cheeks, but he quickly dismisses the feeling. “There, that's her.” 

The teens quickly grab the book back, climbing over each other to marvel at the picture of the girl the oh-so-scary Spider-Man 2099 had a crush on when he was their age. 

“Wow, she's stunning!” Gwen complements 

Miguel hums in agreement, “Yeah… the prettiest girl in my grade…prom queen, part of the student council, incredibly sweet…, and we took chemistry together…” 

Pav and Hobie shoot Miguel a smirk, and he quickly huffs, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Ever work up the nerve to confess?” Pav questions, ever the romantic. 

The group watches as Miguel closes his eyes, thinking that the blush from earlier is slowly rising to his tan cheeks, making them all gasp in excitement. 

“You did!” They all scream, but Miguel is quick to correct them. 

“Well…technically…I didn’t” 

“What do you mean technically?” Miles prys

Miguel can’t believe he admitted this much, but since he's already down the rabbit hole, he might as well give some more context: “At graduation…I kinda did, then I…ran away…”

A look of shock and confusion fills the teenager's face, but Peter is all grins and is going to give Miguel a high five: “Ah, the mysterious type. Nice.” 

Gwen quickly swats him on the shoulder, earning a whine from the man. 

“Not nice! That is so confusing! You just ran? Did you ever talk to her again?” 

Miguel takes a second to avoid eye contact, stoically starting to the side, before letting out a quiet, “No…” 

There is a collective groan, and Miguel rolls his eyes, trying to contain his high school embarrassment. 

“Can we stop talking about this and return to work now?”

“Have you seen her since?” Miles questions, 

“No,” Miguel answers sharply, irritation coming back up.

“Wha-what! How will you ever win her love if you don’t clear up the misunderstanding and confess your true feelings!” Pav laments, making everyone look at him with a raised brow. 

“Pav, mate…you know how long it's been since he's seen her?” Hobie chides 

Pav shrugs slightly, muttering, “Maybe it could be like a romantic thing…” 

“So wait, You have all the resources and never thought to at least search her out? Aren't you curious?” Gwen prods 

“No, I never thought about stalking my old crush. Now, can we please-” 

“She lives in the city!” Miles' voice calls out, making Miguel whip around.

Miles and Layla stand on Miguel's platform with your picture, info, and social media pulled up on his halo screens. Everyone is quick to web over, including Miguel. Miguel quickly pushes away a beaming Miles as he takes in all your information. He sees where you went to college, where you work, and…

“Ooohhh! She's still single!” Pav beams, looking at Miguel expectancy.

Miguel rolls his eyes as he keeps looking at you, still as perfect as he remembered. Somehow, you seem more confident in yourself, you seem…sexier…

Feelings start rising back to Miguel's chest. He hasn’t seen you in so long, and even your pictures still stir something within him. 

“Wow! This is awesome!” Miles beams, pointing to one of the screens 

Miguel, being too lost in your pictures, hasn’t realized what the teens are yammering about until they all start shaking him back and forth in excitement. Then he finally hears it.

“You can see her at your High School reunion! It's coming up in a couple of weeks!” 

Miguel turns his head to the invitation Layla had pulled up. “You got this a month ago but didn’t think you would be interested…. It looks like you will be attending now, though!” 

Before he can protest, she is RSVPing, and all the teens are hollering in laughter and giving high-fives. Everything is happening so fast that all Miguel can do is stand there in something akin to a trance. That's until Pav comes up to him with a giddy smile, 

“It’s like density!” 

Miguel groans…he wants everyone to get back to work…

They really got him here….How the hell did he let them convince him to come here? They even managed to get him to dress up…

Hair in its usually slick back style, slate gray button down that did little to hide his bulk, and black trousers that he thought appeared too tight but Layla had insisted upon.  

Miguel stands uncomfortably off to the side as people he used to know all gather together, chit-chatting about their lives and reminiscing on the good old days… All while Miguel stays sulking in the corner…Maybe things from high school haven’t changed that much. Well, despite the whole genetic splicing that made him a superhero… Instead of still being the captain of the Mathletes team, he's now the CEO of Aleamax. However, one thing remains the same: When he is in a room filled with all these people from school, his eyes still roam around, trying to find you…

High school had not been kind to a nerd like him. He was 9 inches shorter, and the most important things to him were keeping all A’s, getting into his dream college, keeping up with his favorite comic series, avoiding bullying, and wanting so badly to kiss his crush. 

Miguel vividly recalls all those times in chemistry when you two worked so closely together. Miguel shyly mutters the mixing process while you lean in with stars in your eyes, taking it all in. Miguel never knew if you were interested in what he was saying or if you were trying to get a good grade, but he didn’t care. You still made his cheeks flush and heart race all the same. 

“Then…When-when you add fluid B to A, you will get a fizzing reaction…” 

A shaking Younger Miguel tries to steadily pour in the fluids while you watch, leaning in so close he could smell your sweet perfume and look at your glittery glossed lips. 

“Wow! Miggy, you’re so smart.” Your voice would be like sweet honey praising him, and the mere closeness of you to him would make his body feel like it was going to melt. 

“I keep telling my friends I have the best lab partner…” Miguel feels his throat dry as your hand slowly curls over his forearm. Then the bell rings, and Miguel is flustered, packing his things as you smile sweetly and wave goodbye. 

God, you must have been just messing with him, toying with him, knowing he was like a love-sick puppy for you. The worst part, if this was the case, he would have let you…Miguel would have let you toy and bat away at his heart until you felt content with it fully unraveling to you. Pathic…is that what you thought? Well, if it wasn’t what you thought of him before, it must be what you thought after his pitiful confession…

Miguel thinks back to that night when he last saw you…that all too familiar warmth threatens to take him over, so as he stares down at his drink, he slips back to that moment…

The ceremony had ended, everyone had exited the stadium, and Miguel was taking a second to calm himself in the dark hallway. High school was over, and his life was beginning. He was thinking back on all his decisions for this new chapter. Miguel fidgets with his graduation cap and feels about what awaits him. Then he thinks about the things he missed out on…

Then your face comes to mind…he had vowed to confess; even if you laughed and rejected him, he wanted to get his feelings off his chest. But when it came down to it, he let his shyness get the better of him and let you slip through his fingers without telling you. This was high school? He was sure to like other girls…but why was this eating away at him so much? Why did he feel so sick to his stomach for not doing this… 

The sound of clicking heels fills the corridor, and like fate, you are walking through the hallway back toward him. Miguel adjusts his glasses, unsure if this is some kind of halustion brought on by self-pity, but no… it was you…

As soon as your eyes locked to his, your lips curled to that all too familiar smile, the one that was so sweet. Then your voice rang that teasing nickname you graciously bestowed upon him.  

“Miggy, what are you doing, silly? Hanging out in the dark…Don’t you want to go celebrate?” 

“Oh…... I didn’t plan to go to any parties… just going to go home and get started on some summer reading…”

The smile that curled on your lips was additive as you stepped closer to his slouching form, “hm…Miggy…always so prepared… I’m going to miss seeing you around so much. I’m sure you're the only reason I passed chem!”  

“No…I am sure you will have more interesting people to talk to than a nerd like me…” 

“Maybe I like talking to nerds like you.” 

The statement made Miguel look up to see you so close to him mischive filling your eyes. Leaning in so close to him, he feels like he can’t breathe when he looks at you so close like this…

“You don’t mean that…” he chuckles softly.

Then your index finger lifts his chin, and you look at him with sweet eyes, but your tone is stern, “Don’t tell me what I mean…” 

Miguel feels his heartbeat quicken, and his palms begin to sweat. Before he can return to rational thought, he leans into you. 

He so gently cups your cheek with his nervous hands. Brushing his nose against yours, his shaky breath fanning over your sparkly glossed lips. Then, when your lips finally meet, he isn’t sure who fills the gap. 

The kiss was so sweet, and he held you so gently, but he knew you could feel the shaking of his hands and the heat rushing to his face. Everything around you two seemed to fade.

Eyes shut tightly from falling into the depths of the kiss, he pulls away to breathe. Peeking open his eyes, Miguels sees you are breathless, and your face is burning with a deep blush. You look so surprised... and he doesn't know what to say or how to explain. 

“I’m sorry…I just had to do that once…”

Then he ran off… leaving you alone in that dark hallway, scared of what you would say next…

“Miggy!” 

“Miggy!”

“Miguel?” 

Lost in his thoughts, Miguel failed to notice that one of his ex-classmates had been trying to get his attention. One of them must have finally recognized him. Looking up from his cup, Miguel expects to see one of his old mathlete teammates, but as he finally meets their eyes, he feels his heart stop at the sight. 

Looking up at him with that same sweet smile, you look just like he remembers: completely radiant. Your pictures showed you were still beautiful, but in person, you are the thing he remembers most about you: breathtaking.

“Miguel, that's gotta be you… Do you remember me?” -How could he not remember you?

Miguel feels himself staring at his thoughts, running everywhere; what does he say? What does he do? 

“I…I, of course, remember m-my lab partner.” -Okay, a little shaky…But with your face seeming to light up when he says he remembers and your eyes roaming over him, he can’t chastise himself too much for stuttering now. Miguel feels his hands starting to become clammy, and his stomach feels full of butterflies…shit…this feels like high school all over again. 

“I can not believe how different you look!”

“Yeah, late growth spurt and I uh… I started going…to the gym a lot….You though! You still look so beati- uh nice…good you look outstanding…” His mind is running a mile a minute, and he can’t believe how he is acting right now! He's Spider-Man, and he’s acting so nervous?

Smirking, you look as if you could read his mind about how nervous he is, though to anyone with working eyes, it was obvious. 

“You think I look good?” you ask, playful spinning, making Miguel's eyes take in just how tight your dress is. “I was hoping for beautiful…” you smile, giving him a wink. His blood rushes in his veins, and he swallows his suddenly dry throat. 

You could eat him alive…and he would let you…

“Beautiful then, you - uh… you have always looked beautiful…” 

“Thank you, Miguel, you look very handsome.” Miguel feels his heart racing as you step closer. Your eyes stay on his confident smile on your glossy lips. It teeters on cocky, and Miguel can’t bring himself to hate it…he loves it…

“Though Miguel, I do have to say…I miss the glasses; they were really cute.” 

“I still have some that I wear sometimes,” he says a bit too eagerly. 

Your smirk widens, “Really? Does your girlfriend like them?” 

“Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend.” 

The smirk on your lips borders on sinful “Good…” You purr 

Miguel feels a wave of electricity shake through him. Are you flirting? Miguel can’t help the smile and blush that's now reached to the tips of his ears. Miguel came here thinking that you wouldn’t be here, and if you were, you would be avoiding him, but he didn’t expect this. Do you even remember it? Well, of course, you would! Who forgets getting kissed, and then the person runs? He needs to apologize before he never sees you again. 

“So Umm…I am glad I got to see you, well other than it’s just nice seeing you…but I want to apologize…” 

“You’re talking about graduation.” Your cheerful voice cuts him off and utterly confuses him. Furrowing his brow, he’s lost and hoping you can explain. 

“Miguel, I liked the kiss…I wish you wouldn’t had run away…” 

Miguel is sure he’s died, and there is no possible way you're saying this to him. Sweet, perfect you, liked when he kissed you. Nerdy awkward him? Gently, Miguel feels your hands touching his chest, slowly dancing your fingertips over his muscles. Miguel hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat is racing right now. 

“You know, now that I really think about it…you owe me an apology or something. It was very rude of you to kiss me suddenly and then run away like that, teasing me. Then, when I went to reach out to you, you didn't have any socials. That's not very nice to do, you know…”  

Your hand slightly grazes his jaw, and he feels like he could melt. Rising to your tiptoes, you try to whisper in his ear as you lean into his chest, your chest rubbing against him. Miguel can feel himself starting to break a sweat. 

“I thought you were sweet…” 

Miguel feels you start to pull away, and in a moment of bravery or desperation, he carefully places his hands on your waist. Leaning down, he whispers back to you. 

“Could I make it up to you somehow?” 

“I have an idea…if you're up for it?”

Gathering his confidence, when he sees your smile, he squeezes your sides slightly, “Anything you want.” 

Without any hesitation, you grab his large hand from your waist and pull him along with you to slip out of the reception room into a dark hallway. The irony is not lost on either of you as you grin and pull each other close. Your lips are so close to his as you lean into his chest. 

“You're not going to run away this time. I want you to do this properly this time…”

Part of Miguel feels like he could be dreaming; your arms are wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair, smiling at him so sweetly. Your eyes are one of pure hunger, and your voice is so transparent with your want. It’s perfect. 

Miguel brushes his thumb over your tempting lips, slightly dragging the bottom down while he tries to archer himself back to reality. Moving his hand to your neck as he leans in and kisses you. Your lips are soft and perfectly guiding against his. Miguel's hands fall to your hips; he digs his fingers into the plush of your skin, making you gasp into his mouth with a moan. It’s been a long time since he’s kissed you, and he wants to make sure you know how much he wants you… trying his hardest to impress you. 

The fingers in his hair tighten to a fist as you guide him to part his plush lips, then slip in your tongue to get a taste of him. It’s gentle at first but quickly heats up from your eager influence. Then you start straddling his thick thighs, grinding slightly against him. Both your bodies feel like you’ve been set on fire in a blazing flame of want. 

“Miggy, I always liked you…just-”

Before you can finish your words, Miguel drives his tongue back into your mouth, eager to taste those words he had always wanted to hear. His hands cup your ass as he drives his knee deeper between your legs, letting you use him more. Breaking the kiss, you let out the most perfect moans as your body tingles and shivers. Miguel hasn’t had enough of you yet as he keeps his mouth kissing against your flushed skin. His tongue rolls over your rapid pulse as you keep grinding and mewing for more. 

“Fuck, miggy~”

Miguel licks a long strip up your neck before grunting in your ear, “I… I only came here… to see you…t-talk to you…” 

His rough words make you grind against him more, and right as Miguel starts to feel your slick soaking through his pants, you pull his hair, successfully pulling a whimper from him, which is quickly cut off by your soft lips to his again. Then, as you pull away, you bite his bottom lip, which makes him shiver. 

“Can…can I take you home…” Miguel asks breathlessly, his hands still squeezing your ass. 

A small giggle leaves your kiss-bitten lips as you take a second to fix his now-disheveled hair, thanks to you. 

“Take me to your place, Miggy; you still owe me…” 

Miguel feels a rush of excitement run through him, making his length throb at your words. You really are going to eat him alive…

It's the perfect sight he’s only ever dreamed of seeing, you sitting on his large bed completely naked, a sweet smile on your face, soft legs crossed over each other, waiting patiently for him. Miguel adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose…you had insisted, and he’s finding he can’t deny you…

Miguel slips off his underwear, kicking them away. Your eyes widen as you see his massive length slap against his abdomen, then hanging heavily. Your eyes rake over his immaculate form; the sight of you licking your lips isn’t lost on him. 

“Strip for me, Miggy,” you taunted as you dropped your dress with little effort, waiting for him to follow. Of course, he did. He would follow anything your sweet voice commands. Just please…let him touch you…

Running his hand through his hair, Miguel approaches you, but your sweet voice turns to him in disapproval, and he pauses. 

“No walking, I want you to crawl on your hands and knees…please? Miggy~” 

Every time you use that old nickname, he feels his cock twitch. Keeping his now blazing eyes on you as he slowly sinks to his knees and begins to crawl to you obediently. The action is meant to make him look submissive, but you find that even now, he looks like a predator getting ready to devour its prey… The shiver that shoots down your spine goes right to your sex, making you drip down on his sheets. 

As Miguel crawls closer, you unfold your legs, stretching one out slowly toward him. His large hand immediately catches your ankle. Hungry eyes look up at you, blazing with want, as his hand slowly caresses up your leg. Miguel's lips kiss softly against your calf while he whispers faint words under his breath after every kiss. His eyes watch you as he slowly raises your legs, the back of your thighs being pressed against his broad shoulders.  

Miguel's hands grab your hips, making you slip a moan. His eyes turn softer as he hears you moan, his lips coming away from the fresh mark he's left on your inner thigh. Miguel's lips part to apologize, but you're quick to interrupt before he can. 

Leaning forward, you push his glasses back into their proper place and caress his cheek. “You're doing so well for me, Miguel…though…It does feel like you're trying to make me beg… Are you trying to tease me?” 

Miguel's lips curl into a smile as he lowers his face to lick his tongue against your clit. You throw your head back at the hot contact, Miguel groaning at the sweet taste of your cyprine. 

“I wouldn’t dream of teasing you…” Miguel's lips lower down to your clit before he gives it a quick lick. 

Unable to help yourself, you grab a fist full of his hair, making him let out a soft groan, “Then devore me, Miggy; you still owe me, remember? And I-Ah!~” 

Before you can finish your taunting, Miguel is driving his face into your wet sex to selfishly devore more of you. Long slow licks of his warm tongue send waves of pleasure to flood your body as your toes curl from every push of his nose to your clit. 

His breaths for air huffing against your quivering sex, the tip of his tongue darting back to lick against your soft folds, making you whine. Looking down at him, his glasses crooked and hazy and his groans continue to vibrate through your pussy. Then the sensation of his tongue probing you open makes you close your thighs against his head and grab this thick hair, pulling hard enough for a grunt to slip through his chest. Getting the message, Miguel moves his tongue to lick your sensitive clit as his finger slips into you. Your grip on his hair gets tighter as you squirm, grinding your hips against his face, mouth hanging open as your chest heaves moan after moan. Your body starts shaking at the addition of another finger, making you feel jolts of pleasure that make you need to roll your hips onto his face more. 

Miguel could carless at the apparent use of his face for your pleasure; it's all he craves right now, your cum to dip all over his eager tongue. For your hips grind onto his face for hours. He would stay on his knees worshiping you like this until you're calling out from too much pleasure, and even then, he doesn’t know how he could pull himself away from your delicious taste. 

You feel him groan into you, the vibrations rushing through you to cause you to gasp and shiver as his tongue keeps sliding in and out of you, desperate for your sweetness. You want more, need more, you crave it with every roll of your hips; you want him in you deeply. Unclenching your thighs from his head, you pull his hair, forcing his face from you with a wet pop. 

Miguel's eyes are blown as he keeps them steady on yours, his full lips parted and panting. The sight of his face glistening with a mix of his saliva and your arousal is sinful and complete perfection. His poor glasses are resting on his face, still lopsided from his ravenous pursuit to taste your cunt. Leaving forward, you keep a smile as you hold his cheek; he immediately melts into it. Grabbing his glasses from his head, you toss them to his nightstand; before he can say anything to you, you're leaning forward to bring him into a kiss. His lips and tongue are laced with you, and you can’t help but want to giggle as he groans and leans his whole body onto you, so needy for more. 

With a gentle push to his massive chest, you can change the positions as you now straddle his hips effortlessly. You are slowly running your hands up and down his chest and abdomen, feeling his hair decorating his skin, making your mouth water. As you shift yourself up, you feel his swollen length hanging heavily as you nudge against it. The tip is hot and already pebbling with glistening pre-cum, straining for you to envelope around him. Reaching down, you flick your eyes from his eyes to his length. 

Miguel sure has changed over the years, but his face is so breathless and furrowing with every strained pleasure as you slide your thumb over his cocks slit. Whining so softly, sounding like the sweet nerd you remember. On the other hand, Miguel is witnessing you in a way only his mind had fantasized about. Your smile is no longer so sweet but devious; He wants to push his cock into you so deeply and have you shudder and scream while you gush all over him, But this teasing and taunting… it's mouth-watering. 

Touching his length, you feel the sheer heat of it as you carefully trace over the soft skin, feeling every vein. Tracing over the red weeping tip, you feel him shudder and mumble something under his breath as you grasp him to hold against you, seeing that he measures to your stomach. You can't help but bite your lip in anticipation of the stretch. 

Your eyes flick back to Miguels, “Think it will fit?” you tease.

“I will make it fit…” his rough voice sends a shiver down your spine. 

Lifting to your knees, you line up his tip to brush on your clit, making you gasp as you slip him through your folds. Then finally, you slip him in slowly, feeling his cock stretch your fluttering hole; the stretch is intense and makes you roll your eyes as your back arches. Miguel grabs your ass tightly, bucking his hips to sink in a bit faster; he pants a sorry as you let out a moan and squeeze your hands on his chest for support. Looking down at his beautifully blushing face, you only smile as you sink deeper. 

“So eager, Miggy~” 

All Miguel can manage is a smile as he works hard to keep himself from bottoming out immediately. He so badly just wants to shove it in deeply and rut into you like a damn animal. A groan builds in his throat as he tries to keep himself from whimpering as you continue to sink so slowly. His cock throbbing and stretching your walls as it heats your insides. Before he can manage a whine, you sink all the way down, taking every inch; before either of you can moan, you lean down to catch his lips in a needy kiss, taking control you guide him, your tongue pushes past his lips to taste his groans. While his tongue eagerly does the same. Pulling away from the kiss, you grind against him, relishing in the feeling of his cock pushing in deeper and his trimmed hairs tickling your sensitive skin; you can’t help but bite his bottom lip to compensate for the mind-numbing feeling. 

Miguel's hands squeeze harder, making you release his lip as your cunt to clenchs on him, the moan of his name dropping from your lips as your hips start to grind on him at a slow pace. Using your hands, you slightly push yourself up and rock your hips back and forth, letting his cock slide to bully your gummy insides, brushing your cervix with every nudge. Miguels is mesmerized as he roams his hands over your body, worshiping every inch of your skin with his careful fingertips brushing and rubbing you so tenderly. His hands come to your breast, where he takes a minute to squeeze and pinch your nipples, your whimper in response, and grind harder against his cock, pushing him to rub harder against your cervix.

“You look s-so fucking beautiful…your body, your…tatse…I’ve never stopped thi-thinking of you…” Miguel mutters through pants of hot breaths. 

The words spur you on, and you start to pick up your pace, making him moan out and guide your hips to rock back and forth faster, “Always so sweet…” you coo to him…the words are less taunting but just true; he has always been sweet to you…

“Only for you…” he muses, and you can’t help but smile, 

“Good…” 

You feel yourself starting to sip from having a clear head that's now blurring in a haze of lust as you continue to pursue your pleasure on his girth. Pushing in and out on him quicker. Your hands grab onto him tighter as you ravish your tight pussy with his throbbing cock. Begging for both his and your release. Fucking so deep in you, now your jaw falls slack as his cock keeps pushing against your velvety sweet spot, making jolts of pleasure pulse through your body with every bounce. 

The sweat that has built on your bodies works hard to try and cool your fevered states, but with every push into your cunt and with every clench around his length rousing him to go deeper makes it all in vain. There is no cooling as you two approach your white hot release, bodies only growing more hot and sensitive with every whine and every mind-numbing push. So close to tipping the other to ecstasy…

With a couple of aided thrust from Miguel fucking up into you, your muscles tenase and your mouth falls open in a pitched scream of his name as your danm burst making you clench and shudder on his cock, coming undone on top of him. You're quivering on his length as he carefully grinds you through your drenching pleasure, the feeling of his cock slipping deeper as you eagerly ride him through your high. 

With the way you clench so tightly and grind faster, Miguel couldn't help but feel himself throb and spurt right into your cervix. The feeling of it spurting so thickly, his cock pulsing inside of you, feeling so heavy in you with each twitch. This cum is hot and fills you so that it's leaking down mixing with your arousal, creating a sticky mess. You can't help yourself when you side on more and more feeling your cunt want to stick to his skin. 

Haze starting to clear you fall forward on him, you try to catch your breath in between placing frantic kisses to Miguel's chest and neck. Your orgasm leaves you utterly satisfied, but Miguels is not done…

With a quick turning over your body, you're lying on your back now as Miguel situates himself between your legs. He takes time to look over your flushed form, his massive hands dragging over your sensitive body, and you shiver and buck your hips up. Miguel takes your legs, pushing them up to your chest, making your mew from his touch, your pussy completely exposed to him. Miguel feels his breath catch as his cum leaks out of your trembling puffy cunt in milky drops. Miguel releases one of your legs to fall to his shoulder so he can plam his cock, still erect and ready for more. His red eyes flick back to your blisted-out face, and though you're at the point of overstimulation, you still ache for more. 

“M-Miggy…” you're the one to tremble shyly for him now, and the switch of the roles makes him fold. He’s helpless for you…

Leaning down carefully, Miguel cages you between his massive arms as he places a gentle, sweet kiss on your begging lips. Breaking the kiss, he whispers in your ear so softly, “More? Can you give me more? Perfect girl…let me feel you again…please…” 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his damp skin, you buck your hips up in your whine of, “More, Please, Miggy ah—I need more of you, always. You are so good to me.” 

He catches your hips in a quick grip as he lifts them up, smiling; it's everything he has ever wanted to hear from your sweet lips. And he is always eager to satisfy you. 

Miguel slips his cock into you with a groan; you're already so sensitive as he pushes down to the base, filling you so quickly that your body already starts quivering around him. Pressing soft kisses to your sweaty skin, he rolls his hips slow and deep. He is taking his time with you. Every thrust is hot and tingling, and you feel that familiar tense starting to build up again from the consistent pace he's set. Managing to open your eyes through moans and rolls, you see Miguel with beautifully flushed cheeks, eyes filled with want as he softly pants and whimpers with each clench of your wet cunt. 

As his pace quickens, you feel him throb, giving you new resolve to meet your hips with each thrust, and your core starts to burn deliciously. Your nails find their place, digging into his broad back. Every slap of his balls to your overly sensitive skin makes you moan and throw your head back. Miguel takes the opportunity to kiss and lick against your neck, his hot breath rushing over you. With a final clench and strained moan, you feel that white-hot wave of pleasure burn through you; his body shudders at the feeling of your cunt, so desperate to cum against him to milk him dry again. His groan borders on a whine as his hips are still, and you feel that familiar throbbing against your cervix as his thick cum fills you up. Looking up at him, you watch his face contort to be in complete pleasure; the sight of it is completely addicting. 

Staying in you till you are both down from your highs, he slowly pulls out his softening cock. The pooling of both of your cum completely ruins the sheets underneath you, but Miguel doesn’t worry about that. He brushes stray hairs from your face and whispers he will be right back. You're too exhausted to move, and you can only twitch slightly as you feel a cool cloth cleaning you up so gently. 

After cleaning you up, you feel the bed sink beside you and the feeling of an arm around you, bringing you closer to his warm body, his other hand brushing through your hair so carefully. You gather your energy to curl into Miguel with a broad smile. You two lay there, slowly drifting away in each other's comfort. 

Clearing his throat, Miguel tries to be as unawkward as possible, and it only manages to make you smile more; you two just had amazing sex, and he’s still nervous; some things die hard, you guess. Looking up at him, you see he’s trying to gather up the best way to approach his next words; this night has been everything he hoped, and he doesn’t want to blow it now, but he needs to know the answer to his question, 

“Can-can I…take you out on a date?” 

His face is completely sincere and flushed; you have to bite back your giggle before you answer. 

“Miggy, about time you asked…” 

You two set the date up for the next night; Miguel, of course, wore his glasses…