#and i'm doing these one at a time so that list doesn't get longer

[the-crafting-gremlin]

It's been a hell of a few months since I last posted anything...

I got a couple of WIPs finished, I visited family I hadn't seen in ages, my department at work has lost four people (and only one has been replaced; one is moving to a different position and is staying in my department until we can find at least one replacement; another has left already, and the other is leaving next week), and we have some major system changes at work that are going to throw my short-handed department into further chaos for at least a week.

My ass also violently met the stairs last night (I misjudged where a stair was, my foot slipped off the edge, and the only reason I didn't slide all the way to the bottom was because I was holding onto the railing), too. Definitely bruised my tailbone but I probably didn't break anything. I'm sore but not in any great pain.

While I was in Michigan visiting family, I asked my sister if we could hit up a couple local yarn shops since there are three in a reasonable radius of her house. We ended up only visiting one because the first one we visited was heavenly (Ewe-nique Knits in Royal Oak, MI for anyone curious). It was the first stop because it was the closest and I loved the name. And holy shit, y'all. The staff was awesome. The selection was awesome. The prices were definitely reasonable. They had some amazing kits, including a shawl kit I'm going to get once I have a little more disposable income and a little less yarn.

I spent more than I was planning to. And yes, I know I said I was gonna work through my stash before I got more yarn but this was a special exception because I can't just go there whenever I want. I also didn't get that much--only 5 skeins. And they had some books and patterns on sale so I got some of those, too.

One of the skeins and patterns was a beanie for my sister (she picked out both); that is already done and just needs to be blocked which I'm planning on doing this weekend. That yarn was a superwash Uruguayan merino in fall colors (Laneras brand). Then I got a couple of absolutely gorgeous, and so soft, skeins of dream in color's Smooshy Cashmere, one of which is definitely gonna be a pair of socks. The other may be as well, but I'm still debating.

The last two skeins don't have a project yet; they're Blue Sky Fiber Metallico, and are a mix of baby alpaca and silk. And OMG that yarn may be the softest thing I've ever touched. I'll probably need to order a couple more (Ewe-nique Knits has a website. I'm thrilled. My bank account is not.) to really make anything substantial with it, but that yarn is waiting for the perfect pattern.

(I'll update this post with links to the yarns on the Eqe-nique Knits site once I'm home tonight.)

I'm working on the socks right now between calls as my department waits for the chaos to descend. We've got probably an hour before that happens so I'm trying to relax myself as much as possible and hopefully I'll be able keep knitting through it. That may be the only way to save my sanity...

[vargaslovinghours]

Fandom: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (But really Vargas lol) Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

What, exactly, did Scriabin take from Edgar when they separated?

My first multichapter fic for Vargas! :D Yay!

(Pls read Ch. 1 first - Ch. 2 is also recommended, but as long as you're caught up on the first, you're good to go!)

-----

Side B

What the fuck.

"It's, it's possible that if, maybe whatever happened earlier, whatever caused all that blood and for us to be knocked unconscious-"

What the fuck.

"-and if I suffered a head injury, then maybe-"

No. That's enough.

Scriabin pushed away from the closet door he'd defensively pressed himself up against and put his hands on Edgar's shoulders, which quieted him. He looked at him expectantly, with eyes that Scriabin somehow only just now realized were casually guarded, curious, uncertain in a way that denoted inexperience. That was so messed up, that was completely wrong. Edgar should've been on guard, absolutely, but only because he knew exactly what Scriabin was capable of. He really didn't want to look at him right now if this was what he was going to be seeing instead.

He spun him quickly and pushed him out the door before he could protest. He got one last look at those wide, confused eyes before he slammed the door behind him, bracing it shut with both hands for good measure.

What. The fuck. His head came forward, making a dull thud as his forehead connected with the door. He doesn't remember me? His fingers curled on the door. What does he mean he doesn't remember me?! How could he not know me?! One hand pushed through his hair; his scalp tingled and that was so weird, he felt it and it was so weird- We literally just- He literally just-! As if pulling him screaming into life wasn't bad enough, now he had decided to play some sick prank!

This can't be true. It's just like him to try and make jokes at the worst possible time, he has no tact.

There was a timid knock on the other side of the door. Scriabin jumped as it resonated through his skull, his elbow, pressed to the door with his hand buried in his hair, set his jaw. Then silence.

If he was really trying to get back in, clear things up, say he was only kidding, he'd actually try.

Nothing.

Scriabin's blood was ice as he went over it again. The way he'd said his name. The vacant look in his eyes as he said it, like his mouth knew its shape but none of the meaning. No fear, no realization, nothing that really felt like Edgar, just sound, just noise.

Maybe he really had-

Oh god. His knees gave out, and his arms had no practice at holding him upright, not yet. His hand slid down the door, his other hand guarding his head as his hair fluffed against the grain.

How could he do this

This is all his fault

Stupid, idiotic

He can't do this to me

I can't believe him

I can't believe this

How dare he leave me alone like this

Thoughts spiralling, and all he could do was hold himself down, press his fingers into the back of his neck, force his chest to his knees and maybe he wouldn't immolate under it all. He was shaking, from tension or fear he couldn't tell, his mind too hazardous and loud to cut through it all. He was shaking, dizzy, and if he moved, letting go would surely kill him.

He can't do this to me.

He breathed. And breathed. And swallowed. Eyes closed, heart pounding, sure. Confusion and dismay, whatever. Pain. Fine. So be it.

This isn't like me. A hand untethered from his vice grip in his hair, and he stayed attached to the floor. It connected with the carpet below him and became a new lifeline. He pushed up and away into a limp sit, arms already burning slightly from holding himself up after all that. He shook his head mildly. This isn't who I'm going to be in life. His body, this fear response be damned, he was in control now.

Regroup. Let's- a mental pause, barely a quarter of a second long as he turned the word in his head. Let's pretend it's all true- what does that mean?

He flopped over, leaned upright with his back against the door, heels of his fists pushed down into the carpet to scootch closer. Moving was so awkward still, very unfitting.

He was acting normal. Well, Edgar's baseline for "normal" had changed considerably, so maybe put an asterisk on that. Not that he was ever normal to begin with, but normal-for-Edgar, -ish. That means he has to have some memory.

Scriabin held out a hand, arm slung over his knee, one finger held out. He had recognized his glasses. One. The apartment. Two. Which key to use. Three. He had said Todd's name. Four.

His stuff can be discounted, he's had all that for a while. Back down to one. The kid is a new fixture. Which means he remembers the last couple months at least. He shook his head and brought his hand up to comb through his hair. Well...it's fuzzy for me, so it probably is for him, too. Scriabin remembered everything in as much clarity as the last couple months allowed, there was no way Edgar would know more even if he had all his memories.

Speaking of which, Scriabin could remember everything. He flipped through; the last two months and bringing Todd in, Edgar's parting words to Johnny, his and Devi's conversation - he grit his teeth - and further back, everything along the way, all the way back. False dreams, shared childhoods, everything that was once Edgar's alone, he still remembered it. Nothing was out of place which made it all the more strange!

This is so fucking weird, if I remember everything, then why would he-

He stopped short. His purported purpose had been to replace Edgar. Take him over completely. If he bought into the conceit for a moment, just to play in the space... He was alive now. That was not as intended; it shouldn't even have been possible.

Did he...give me his memories? Like, all the way? Not just to borrow, to shape him, give him legitimacy - he was alive now. His own person. Separate, embodied, and whole. Was this the price of life?

That's stupid. But possible, he couldn't discount. If this - he brought his hands up and looked down at them, watched himself touch his own chest and felt it beneath his coat, shirt, the nerves firing as his slid his fingers up himself - if this was possible, then...

He continued for a moment, curious and reverant, all of him new and privately exciting, to exist and to touch, to feel, smell, see, all of it clear and fresh and penetrated deeply into his mind, as if a layer of film had been lifted from his senses. The moment passed as the memories, unbidden but important, cluttered in around him again.

There were still a lot of questions, and most of them couldn't be answered without Edgar, ugh. If getting anything out of him before had been like pulling teeth, he was very sobered to think about how it might be now. Depending on how much Edgar remembered, maybe he could start piecing things together.

Did he do it on purpose? Did he know this would happen? There's no way he would have been willing to if he had- But he couldn't ask him things like that. Even if he did remember, admitting something like that...

He was just spinning his wheels at this point. Better to gather what he could from the man himself. He looked up, preparing to stand.

Ah-

The room was still in something of a state.

Edgar would be annoying, or at least distracted by trying to pick up the clothes and uncarefully unpacked items strewn about the floor from Scriabin's very successful excavation of his old glasses. The clutter would have to go if he wanted his full attention.

He grumbled as he pushed off the door to pick up the first few things. First day of life and I'm already his maid. Figures. He's always needed me to clean up after him.

Silence.

Somehow it only just hit him. Thinking alone in the late hours, planning things behind Edgar's back, it was nothing new. But a barb unsunk into his mental flesh was left out in the wide emptiness, poised to stab whoever happened upon it next, and he was the only one here.

He felt very small all of a sudden, and he didn't like it at all.

His eyes blankly scanned the room, looking for nothing, until they settled on the toy at Edgar's bedside. His toy.

He dropped the items he'd bundled into his arms and made his way over. He picked up the small simulacrum, turned it over in his hands once, and stared at it.

He wouldn't know this. Not really. He brushed a thumb up and over the little mouth, the contours of its small face. Retroactively, I've never been this at all.

I'm no one to him.

Does this mean we can start over? The thought struck him like lightning, freezing his heart in his chest. He was fixed solid, staring down at the small figure in his hands.

Before he could even think, he'd already thrown it through the open closet door, landing noisily in the box he'd dug through with a clatter. He grabbed up the fallen clothes and items and stuffed them back in the box, burying the toy in mundane detritus, then closed the cardboard flaps and slammed the door of the closet for good measure.

His breath was laboured and he glared, like wishing it gone would make the closet itself disappear.

Answers. He needed answers, more than anything.

He ripped the door open, and there was Edgar who looked up, staring dumbly back at him and carrying the clothes he'd shed earlier over his arm. Something in his mind clicked over, and he didn't think about it.

"Alright," he caught his breath for half a second, "what do you remember?"

Edgar just kept on staring, mouth open, eyes unconfident behind weak glasses. Scriabin huffed irritably, I don't have time for this, and moved towards him, arm outstretched.

"Come on." Edgar gave a small startled sound behind him as he grabbed his collar and dragged him through the doorway. He threw him across the room, not bothering to watch his arc as he closed the door behind him. The bed was that way, he'd be fine.

When he turned back, Edgar had managed to catch himself, though already halfway on the bed. Scriabin stood with his back to the door, feet planted and he crossed his arms. No more speculating around impossibilities, tangible and present as they might be, it was time for a proper interrogation. It was at least preferable to-

Edgar made a face at him and scooted back, offering a seat next to him on the bed. Equal footing briefly flashed through his mind and while he wouldn't consider it ideal, nothing today was really going his way. He sighed, then made his way over and sat across from Edgar, who was eyeing him with a certain degree of caution. At least the feeling was mutual.

"Spill." He re-crossed his arms and leaned towards Edgar. "What do you know?"

Edgar hesitated, apparently thinking, his hands laced and fingers agitatedly if quietly rubbing the backs of his hands.

"I want to verify some things first."

Scriabin snorted dismissively. Where had Edgar's overly-trusting nature gone? A serial killer, well he's an honoured guest, but Scriabin? He didn't even distrust him for the right reasons.

He gestured with an open hand, Go ahead, then tucked his arm back in.

"Todd's last name?"

Pfsh. At least it was proof enough that anything Edgar knew, Scriabin did as well. As expected.

"Casil. His stupid bear's called Shmee in case you forgot that too." Edgar shook his head. No he hadn't? If only he could just check!

"Do you know our phone number?" Obviously he did, so he rattled it off quickly, Edgar nodding in turn. He flipped his hair in time with the last digit, careful to keep his eyes covered. It was a bit of a timid attempt, being the first in this body, which was a minor blessing he supposed.

Edgar mulled over what he'd given him for a moment, then a moment longer, then a moment even longer. His eyes searched absently, gazing down into his own hand, his other on his chin, lightly thumbing his goatee. He was focused on names and numbers, but those were child's play compared to everything, everything Scriabin still wanted to know. It was frustrating on a visceral level, watching him struggle with such simple innocuous nothings while the most important person in his life was sitting right in front of him.

He was supposed to be the most important.

It was frustrating.

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" He didn't hide the sneer as it shaped his voice - odd the way his body just did that now, did things without him actively thinking them into being. Even things like the little waver that made its way in that he pushed back down and under. He was frustrated, angry, tired - any emotionality could be attributed to those, nothing else.

Edgar didn't answer, just kept his gaze locked to his face. That was almost worse. Watching him fumble through things, it wasn't fun, but at least he wasn't trying to pry. He could see him try to look past his bangs, and the fact that he didn't know better...

Scriabin looked away for a moment, then thought better of it. Best defense is a good offense.

He reached for Edgar's face, for those damn scars, ever-present reminders. Edgar shied away, not wanting to be touched suddenly by someone he didn't know. As if Scriabin had ever cared about that.

Well, things were different now. Maybe he didn't really want to touch him anyway. Not yet.

"Do you remember these...?" Instead he framed his face with his hands less than an inch from his skin, and even there he could feel the heat coming off him. Edgar reached for his face, looking away from Scriabin as he touched the angry red marks. He winced minutely, then glanced back at Scriabin, searching him, his expression guarded again. Scriabin could hear his own pulse in his ears.

"...Johnny?"

"Fuck." Fuck! "Of course you'd remember him but not me." God damn it! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, just because Johnny came first by a hair's breadth, just because he wasn't in Edgar's head, with Edgar's fucked up little obsession with the murderous stick figure- It limited what he could get away with too, if he remembered that far back. Absolutely nothing was going in his favour.

"I'm sorry..." He sounded genuinely remorseful, and it stuck in his throat. Disgusting. "So you know Johnny, too."

"Unfortunately." Scriabin tucked his chin to his chest, arms crossed again in close proximity. This sucks. Edgar just kept rambling, unaware as ever. His excuses held this time at least, one point in his favour, no points for bringing his annoying habits with him despite everything.

"I don't think I've seen him for a couple months now? Everything's awfully..." He gave a vague gesture and Scriabin uncurled slightly. He was giving him room to contribute. He shook his head.

"You haven't."

"Have you?"

He returned to his tight coil of sulking. Not like he was keen to meet up and chat, but he couldn't explain why he hadn't had the opportunity to either.

"I remember he called, too."

"Ugh," barely above breath. Enough about Johnny! Again, Edgar continued obliviously.

"Although I don't really recall what we talked about, not for a while..."

Of course not. I took over for half of those.

He perked a bit, and Edgar focused more on him, patiently setting his hands in his lap.

"You know."

He could play this to his advantage. Give Johnny some well-deserved karmic justice for fucking him over so many times. It was almost better that Edgar didn't know - Scriabin had been trying to get him away from Johnny all this time, and if he really had forgotten everything, not just the moments when Scriabin took over but every moment they had shared, then that meant it coincided almost perfectly with his first meeting with Johnny. Blank spot after blank spot after blank spot, all lined up immediately after getting his face slashed.

He could work with that.

"It's probably trauma." Edgar startled and his hand shot to his temple, lightly touching his hair.

"Like, head trauma?" Scriabing almost laughed. Yeah, probably that too. But that wouldn't help his case.

"No." He leaned in, taking a more intimate, secretive tone. "Think about it. When did things start getting fuzzy?" If he was right on this - which of course he was, but not being able to verify, not being able to see that he was right, it was disconcerting - but if he was, Edgar's memories of Scriabin should start with that first fateful encounter, give or take. A bit of reframing here, a touch of implication there... It probably wasn't even an outright lie; if Edgar's memory were perfect after experiencing everything Johnny had put them through, that would be some kind of twisted miracle.

His only real concern was their "childhood" - how much had Scriabin pulled with him? Would that throw off his story? But that was so far back, there was no way Scriabin or Johnny could be implicated in that. As long as Edgar didn't bring it up before he thought his way around it...

Edgar stayed quiet for a long while. His eyes raced behind closed eyelids, searching, scanning, retracing - Scriabin could almost see the moments where he hesitated, stopped and went back, then starting recollecting again. He wished he could see it for real, watch him unfold himself, touch those memories again, hold up his own in contrast. Even just hear Edgar's thoughts as they went by, feel the emotions he felt. But he couldn't, so he just stared as unblinkingly as this new body would allow, just watched as Edgar went over everything on his own.

He finally opened his eyes, staring back into Scriabin's though he was sure they were still hidden. He felt naked and awkward and Edgar still hadn't said anything. If he could just see like he was supposed to, or if Edgar would just tell him, he wouldn't have to ask. I have to do everything around here.

"It was after you met him, wasn't it?"

"You think it's...mental trauma?" An unspoken 'yes.' Relief flooded him, and he pushed ahead.

"Edgar. He stabbed you." Edgar gripped his shoulder, his eyes closing again and he looked to be in pain. That was a very effective reminder at least. "Do you even know why?" He shook his head and spoke throught half-grit teeth.

"I must have made him mad, but I don't remember-" Of course not, I did that.

"Your mind is trying to protect you." Not. But one of us has to with your inexhaustable deathwish. Scriabin reached out to touch him properly, but Edgar pulled away. He didn't follow, still not yet. Play up the pity. "He messed you up so bad," with a curl in his tone, an I told you so that barely made it to words even privately; how long had he been holding that in? "Surely you must've felt like you wanted, you needed to get away from him, that he wasn't good for you, that you-" He'd told him so many times, some it must have stuck, some of it had to have-

"Then-!" Edgar's eyes shot open, wide and desperate with an edge of disbelief. A strangled gasp escaped him, half-choking him as he tried to speak. "Then why can't I remember you?!"

He almost began rolling off the cuff, but really, he still didn't know for sure. And it definitely wasn't like he could tell the truth even if he wanted to; who, who hadn't lived it, would believe him? Edgar certainly wouldn't, not with his lack of imagination. He had to dress this up, weave a narrative that was plausible, had the perfect mix of truth and falsehood to stand up to scrutiny.

Huh. Ironic.

"I..." No. Some of this was Edgar's fault too. "We...argued."

"Argued?"

"I... Mng." He wanted to aim for some kind of levity, but his throat had tightened on him. He just wanted to tell this stupid inside joke and not have it affect him, not have it mean anything, and here he was getting emotional? He'd say it and fucking mean it. "It's not like I'm in your head, so-" spat out in a rush, there, he'd said it. Haha, isn't that so funny. He swallowed harshly, pushing down everything he felt into his stomach acid. He was in control. He was fine. This didn't shake him. "I can't know for sure," another humourless laugh inside, "but I was against your relationship with Johnny. Maybe you shut me out so you could keep seeing him with no pushback."

It certainly wasn't outside the realm of possibilities of what Edgar would do to avoid taking Scriabin's extremely basic advice about fraternizing with serial killers. How many times had he been ignored up to this point, only to culminate in the ultimate 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Pfeh. I bet he wishes he'd thought of this sooner. It did nothing for his painfully stuttered pulse.

"You know, I've been trying to convince you to stop going back to him for a while, but, well..." He waved his hand at Edgar's hand still death gripped into his shoulder, and Edgar averted his eyes guiltily. At least he showed some remorse. Better than his nigh constant apologia.

He stayed quiet a moment longer, and just before Scriabin made to fill the silence again, Edgar struck him with an intense look.

"What are you to me?" Ugh. Of course. There was not a single good answer for that. Even if he told him everything- no, especially if he told him everything, there was no way Edgar would believe him. But coming up with a convincing lie on the spot, when they were so clearly something to each other - even he needed time to come up with something workable. How could he have ever prepared for a situation like this? It was never meant to happen, so many things were never meant to happen!

He continued at Scriabin's silence. "You know Nny," Ugh! Even his awful nickname. "And Todd. And...me." He couldn't refute it, so he nodded tightly. "Do you live here?"

Technically he had, and technically he hadn't. Still, going forward, it would be easier to let Edgar assume that he did. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go at the moment anyway.

"Yes."

"Are we..." He searched him, looked him over as much as he could and he wasn't subtle about it. If only Scriabin had his proper glasses, he'd let him look as much he wanted, behold his spectacle! As it was, he just felt self-conscious and it was very unbefitting. "...family?"

The baggage on that. He did not feel like opening that particular can of worms in either of their current states. He turned his head and flipped through any number of halfway decent ways to phrase it until he hit on something Edgar would remember. Better not to contradict for now.

"You told Johnny you have no family when you met."

"That's true..." Edgar blinked, processing. "Wait, did I tell you that?" Scriabin startled. Even after he'd accounted for his memory! Of course he had to pick his story apart now, he never knew when to leave well enough alone.

"When you-" No, he had to be involved. "When we bandaged your face."

Edgar mulled on that for a few seconds, taking on a thoughtful pose. "I only remember being alone."

"You don't remember me at all. What do you want from me?" He huffed.

"No, sorry, you're right."

"Thank you." He was right!

Where had Edgar expected him to be? There was something weird about how he'd said it. He filed the thought away for later.

"So, if you've been living here, where..." Edgar looked around the room, then back to Scriabin. "Where have you been sleeping? Todd's already on the couch..."

Scriabin couldn't help as a smile sprung to his face. If he was going to present him with such a perfect opportunity, well, he'd better take it. He even had the decency to look nervous in response! This was too good.

"Would you believe me if I said right here, in bed?" He again tucked his chin, playfully this time, his hair falling further in his eyes. Even through the dark tangles he could make out Edgar's face immediately bristling with heat.

Ooh. That's such a fetching shade on you, my dear.

"But-! I, I haven't been sleeping on the floor!" He was visibly sweating!

"Correct." His smile grew. This was too easy, and he needed an easy win right about now.

"W-" He leaned forward on his legs, though refused to get any closer. When he spoke it was a harsh whisper. "Why...?"

Scriabin shrugged easily, not bothering to reign in his smile in the least. "I mean, where else, right?" He leaned in since Edgar refused to, and oh. He was blushing all the way up to his scalp. Hilarious. "You certainly didn't seem to mind." He couldn't hold back the slightly musical tone or his eyebrows inclination to move on their own. His body knew what he was getting at, and he could see it only increased Edgar's fluster. All the better.

"Well I do now!" Edgar darted up and away, stumbling in his hasty retreat. "If you'll excuse me!" though he was already practically in the hallway by the time he said it. What a display, and Scriabin's laugh was loud and natural.

Finally, something positive. He'd managed to fumble his way through, not his best work in lying or manipulation, but he'd set some important groundwork. He'd gotten some answers, and he could start to shape some more believable stories around them.

The biggest hurdles were Johnny and Devi. As long as Edgar didn't meet with them too soon - or well, at all would be preferable, but he doubted he could just keep him locked up, as much as the idea appealed to him. There were so many things that were possible now, things that he had the ability to do, given the right circumstances... All of that in due time. For now he had a yarn to spin.

He listened as Edgar fumbled in the hall, the sheer sound of cloth being pulled and folded over an arm barely perceptable. Was he really going to try to sleep on what little was left over? Maybe he'd give up once he realized the pickings were thin and beg Scriabin to let him sleep with him. Hah.

While he was out, Scriabin made his way over to the pajamas drawer. They were all old and soft, even just to his hand. They'd do for now, until he could get his own. It wasn't like he hadn't worn all this before anyway.

By the time he'd finished dressing, his clothes discarded on the opposite side of the bed to where Edgar had set up his little nest, Edgar had finally gotten himself a set of pajamas. He wondered for a moment if he'd dress with Scriabin in the room again, though maybe his intense stare drove him off. Who could say. He patted the bed with a wide grin when he returned and was dutifully ignored. He settled down to the side, and Scriabin laid on his arms to look down at him.

"Ugh, lame."

"I don't-"

"Yeah, whatever." He'd heard it all before. At least he could literally look down on him like this. He folded his hands and leaned just a bit further, looking him over. A desire he hadn't realized he had surfaced in the dark and quiet. "Give me your hand."

"Sorry?" Scriabin held out his hand expectantly.

"I used to hear your heart beat every day." Edgar looked at him incredulously, but Scriabin was unperturbed. "Let me hear it again."

He hesitated but eventually slowly offered his arm. "...Okay."

He pulled his arm up and placed his thumb against his wrist. He felt a strange mismatch - where he'd been expecting one heartbeat, there were two. He covered his surprise, near shock at the realization that of course he had his own body now, by pulling harder on Edgar's arm, directing him up to his ear.

"Wh-"

"Shh." Quietly. He had wanted this, wanted this body, this separation, this freedom for so long, and now... He spoke quietly, his voice betraying nothing. "I'm listening."

Edgar's pulse was erratic, but he hardly paid attention to it. His own fingers on Edgar's skin, warm and pliant, and Edgar's fingers twitching in his hair, he could feel it, he was trying not to touch him- This hesitation was killing him, every jerky movement away not from fear of what Scriabin could do to him, just uncertainty, like he was still a stranger- He pressed him harder to his head, and he could feel goosebumps under his fingers. He wanted to just hold him there until all the memories they'd shared poured back through him, into his blood, into his breath.

Where are you?

But he replied in that same uncertain, guarded tone that indicated he didn't know, not really.

"C...can I have my arm back now?"

He pushed him away. "Fine." Edgar curled his hand protectively against his chest, and he noticed he rubbed it slightly, he probably hadn't even realized.

He mumbled out a harried "Good night," and it was almost enough to make Scriabin smile. Almost. He could still affect him but this wasn't enough, it wasn't right.

He laid his head on the pillow, not bothering to pull his arm up over the side of the bed. If he twitched in the night and touched Edgar, well, that could mean anything. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he did it on purpose. Plausible deniability was one of his greatest assets.

As it was, he was just tired. Maybe he didn't pull it back because he hated the thought of sleeping alone, pushed out and forgotten, and hated it more that he was even thinking something like that. How pathetic. He didn't need anyone, especially not Edgar.

But he was tired. Not in his right mind.

Does this mean we can start over...?

The thought echoed and died, and he slept.

[missrosegold]

Looks like I just lost another close friend to guy who isn't worth a pile of dog shit. 😊

[pipermca]

New AO3 Tag Wrangling Policy and the Transformers Fandom

(This is a long one, folks, but I think it's important.)

A new tag-wrangling policy on AO3 has the potential to create some massive confusion and chaos in the Transformers fanfic community, with regards to fandom tags. There is a Reddit post about it here with a focus on anime fandoms, but I want to give some concrete examples for the Transformers fandom on why we DO NOT WANT this, and why I think it's a horrible idea.

The Problem

Basically, AO3 is looking to get rid of the "All Media Types" fandom tag across the board, either by dismantling them or just not maintaining them. The Transformers - All Media Types tag has been an all-purpose tag that you could select when your story doesn't fall into any one specific continuity. Additionally, all most (see below) TF continuities on AO3 are considered a subtag of the Transformers - All Media Types tag. For example, if you look at the link above for all works in the All Media Types tag, you will see fics that are also tagged ONLY with Transformers: Animated, because it falls under the All Media Types tag.

One exception: With the upcoming Transformers: One movie coming out imminently, there will likely be a big influx of stories tagged with Transformers: One. In fact, there are several already. However, it hasn't been linked to the larger Transformers - All Media Types tag yet. I wasn't worrying about it though, because I know these things can take time.

With information about this new tagging policy, however, I'm now wondering whether it'll EVER get linked to the All Media Types tag. If that happens, and when more continuities are developed in the coming years (since you know Hasbro loves creating new universes) this has the potential to cause massive confusion when looking for stories to read.

Searching for Stories with the New Tagging System

So let's say the All Media Types fandom tag isn't accurate anymore, because it no longer includes ALL of the continuities (such as TF:One). You will need to include ALL the Transformers continuities when browsing for TF fics.

How many tags is that? Well, here are all of the tags currently listed under the Transformers - All Media Types tag:

Note that this doesn't include Transformers: One since it hasn't been categorized yet.

You will potentially have to have 40 or more different fandom tags in your search, just in case the author tagged their story with something you weren't expecting.

This massively decreases the findability of a story.

Tagging with the New System

The email response from the Tag Wrangling group (see the linked Reddit post above) seems to be a bit flip in the response to the user's concern. "...encourages creators to tag with the media they intend."

While I appreciate what they are attempting to do, this policy change feels like a solution in search of a problem, especially in larger fandoms with multiple continuities, versions, and media types that are all cross-pollinated in both canon and fanon. While I'm focusing on Transformers fandom, imagine a creator in the DC comic universe writing a story that incorporates bits and pieces from a dozen different reboots.

For example, let's say that I am writing a fic about Ratchet. I am using the setting of the original G1 episodes, but I also am using the characterization of him as a bit of an old man grump. That characterization originated in the Animated continuity, but I want to incorporate bits of pieces of his other characterizations as well (old friend of Optimus from TFP, Ratchet ran a faction-free clinic like he did in the War for Cybertron series, he's got a Decepticon boyfriend like in IDW1 - or maybe even Cyberverse, etc.)

With this new tagging structure, I might potentially have to tag the story with ALL of those continuities. So instead of just slapping down the "All Media Types" tag (and maybe one other fandom tag that matches the characters as best I can), I'll have to analyze my story and try to figure out how best to tag for the characters I used.

And what if you're doing a completely AU version of the story? For example, a humanformers story, or merformers? Using the All Media Types tag along with a Alternate Universe - Human or Alternate Universe - Mermaid tag worked perfectly, since you weren't writing the story to fit into one specific continuity. But now, that might not be an option.

What To Do??

The first thing I would suggest is to contact AO3 (using the Feedback and Support page) and let them know (nicely) that you think this is a horrible idea. Give them some examples on how you use the All Media Types tag to find stories to read, or to help you tag a story. People outside of the Transformers fandom don't always appreciate how absolutely tangled the continuities can be with each other, and providing examples might help them see why this would be a really messy change.

Readers: Be aware that when you are looking in the All Media Types tag, it will no longer show newer continuities. And if AO3 starts dismantling that tag like they suggested they are doing, be aware that some stories won't show up in that tag like they used to. You can also create and then bookmark a custom search page that includes all 40+ continuities. REALLY annoying, but it's a workaround.

Writers: Until they start dismantling the All Media Types tag, ALWAYS ALWAYS tag your stories using Transformers - All Media Types... Especially for newer continuities. This will be especially important if you are writing a Transformers: One story. Right now, anyone who is only browsing the All Media Types tag will not see a story tagged only with Transformers: One. Make sure you're aware of how tags work and how they can affect the visibility and findability of your story.

Epilogue

Ugh. That's a lot of words for a long-weekend Saturday. And maybe I'm overreacting a tiny bit. But my work involves information architecture, and this change just absolutely baffles me. It's almost as though they want to make it harder to find stories. Considering that AO3 won a Hugo partially because of its fantastic tagging system, this change seems like AO3 is doing its best to shoot itself in the foot.

When you have a square hole, a round hole, and a rectangular hole… Yeah, you DO want each peg to go in the "right" hole. But if all of the pegs fit in the square hole, who cares? You got the job done.

I love you @ao3org, but please reconsider this change... Especially for IPs that are as old and are as varied as Transformers.

[evilminji]

You knooooowwww... >.>

The only difference, technically, between a school in the Zone? And on Earth? Is the American government won't recognize your Zone diploma...

Not accredited. But like..... I'm JUST SAYING? If you didn't try to pass your school off as some Big Ivy League type? Pulled the "oh yeah, you'd never have heard of it, it's local." And the COMPUTERS say it's legit?

How many people will dig deeper?

If you legitimately have the knowledge, you legitimately have the knowledge. Not YOUR fault you left out the whole "extra-dimensional" part. It makes folk nervous! And nervous folks get stabby.

So like? If you were ALREADY planning to "Move" as you euphemistically put it? Talked it over with your VERY concerned folks and friends? Who do NOT like the look of the steady but concerning rise of Anti-Ghost Powers That Be? Who finally put their foot down and reminded you that you are a TEENAGER and it's NOT your responsibility to fix the world?

Well...

Fuck those guys, I guess. You'll miss the old house, but Team "Taking our ball and going literally anywhere else" makes some good points. Why ARE you putting up with this?

And honestly, you've never SEEN your dad have so much fun. Him and the Reality Realtor just sorta... Vibe. Himbo to Himbo communications. Smatters of advanced physics. Fudge. It's great.

They move the portal. Collapse the old one in a way that makes it impossible to recover or recreate. You... kinda don't want to ask. They had that "mad scientist glint" in their eyes.

And while everyone's checking out brochures to different realities? You? Head off to the nearest College. It's the Zone, so technically you could go to any of endless billions. But you'd like your education some time this century.

Cue! Danny Fenton! Entering?

Academia's wet dream. A sprawling CITY of a college. Where the classes are on EVERYTHING and the price is FREE. People have Obsessions okay?? They NEED to teach. Debate and discuss! Study! Right papers and read them! It's been going on a while! And what happens when you find a subject that's NOT covered?

YOU COVER IT!

It's like if New York was a College. Good fucking luck find the dorms. Sleep on the floor like the rest of us, you casual.

Danny was Not Prepared ™.

He loves it though.

Classes on aeronautics next making the perfect sandwich, shoved next to historical basketry, stacked above alien slam poetry. But only on Tuesdays! Ever shifting. Breaking his Fenton Born Adhd in to a fine PASTE to be smeared upon bread. Happy mental stimulation chemicals go Brrrrrrrr

If it wasn't wildly inappropriate, he would LICK IT to claim it as his then wrap around it and gaurd like a territorial cat. He thought he HATED school! Turns out he just hated high-school. College though? College, or at least ZONE College, is fuckin AWESOME.

He's sit in SO MANY random classes just cause.

Picked up and dropped them at a whim. When they no longer sparked joy. He's been a flighty bitch and for once? No one CARES. No one says "you HAVE to commit and stick with this FOREVER once you choose this" and? It just? It's so FREEING! He's learned so MUCH!

He's probably gonna come back!

Which? Is how a deeply, DEEPLY weird aerospace engineer from supposedly bumfuck NOWHERE, end up working at Wayne Industries. He's.... a lil crazy behind the eyes. Ha ha... CONCERNING ™!

Dude sleeps on the lab floor. Has weirdly spotty knowledge. Can be an unprecedented genius one second and not know who the current president is the next. Doesn't know what DAY it is. Forgets to eat. Tried to make a fusion reactor out of the break room toaster before Sandra from accounting distracted him with pictures of her cat.

It's like he wanders through life blissfully unaware that he is both terrifying and about three seconds from killing them all. Then FUCKING TRIPS because he forgot to tie his shoelaces again.

Who hired this man?

WHY!?

I mean, we KNOW why. Probably to put him on a watch list. But? He's like a terrifying murder puppy! Built like a tank! That's stoned out of its mind half the time. And have you HEARD his college stories? That CAN'T be legal. Was this guy raised in a cult!? Aaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!????

@hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @babbling-babull @dcxdpdabbles @hypewinter

[just-jordie-things]

headcanon request: how would the jjk guys react if someone's trying to flirt with them but they're already in a relationship with their s/o?

YES i love some light jealousy teehee ___

GOJO SATORU

has no chill if someone's flirting with him. or worse, he thinks someone's flirting with him, but they're just taking his order, or letting him know his shoe is untied.

he's literally "I'M MARRIED"

(for the untied shoe one, he definitely trips when he runs off)

he's so annoying abt it fr. always throwing "i have a wife" (even long before you're married) around even when unnecessary

and ppl do flirt with him, he's gojo, but sometimes... he's just a lot.

even if someone looks at him too long, he's wrapping his arm around you and loudly announcing "in front of my wife? you're lucky i'm holding her back!"

and you're just standing there bewildered with the box of cereal you were about to toss into the cart and wondering who the hell he's talking to- and when the hell did he propose??

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

for the most part he doesn't really notice when someone's flirting with him. i think it would take some very obvious hints.

so say someone is really trying to get him to catch on, pulling all the stops- fluttering eyelashes, unnecessary touching, one too many comments about his eyes, and finally, slipping a piece of paper into his hand with their phone number.

megumi can accidentally be a little cold.

he scowls at the phone number before crumpling the paper and dropping it.

"i don't want that," he's completely expressionless when he speaks, and honestly, the flirt-er is lucky he said anything at all rather than straight up walking away. "i have a girlfriend"

and then he walks away.

and when he meets up with you again he's a little more affectionate than usual, holding you a little longer, pulling you closer when you settle on the couch or bed or wherever, kissing you a few extra times for good measure.

don't get him wrong, it's not out of guilt or anything. he just wants you to know that he thinks of you when you're apart, and that he appreciates and loves you to death. nothing could ever change that.

ITADORI YUUJI

i don't often add him to my brainrot posts but i SHOULD and i had the most brilliant thought for him specifically

if he's getting hit on, he'll shut it down casually enough, and just blatantly tell them they're not his type.

and then he'll just start listing everything about you. and lover boy is BABBLING ok, no one could shut him up

he's describing your hair your eyes your nose your hands your style- and once he gets thru the physical stuff, it gets random

he's talking about your hobbies, your weird interests or collections, how sometimes you're a bad driver but you try your best lmfao he gets on such a tangent i don't think he'd even realize his tactic for defusing the flirting is just confusing the other person to the point of no longer wanting to give him their number

and once he's done with his dreamy little speech, he just goes "like my partner!!" all excited and bubbly

he's always rushing off to meet up with you then, having got himself so eager to be around you some more

OKKOTSU YUUTA

he's polite, but firm. he can also be a little quick to say he's taken, but it's only because he wants to let people down easy!

he's very kind when urning down phone numbers or flirty advances, always giving a gentle smile and saying no thank you, or actually i have a girlfriend. and he never apologizes when he says the second one, but that doesn't mean he's cruel! he's just thoughtful and respectful of you!

yuuta's a total gentleman.

but. god forbid. if he gets one of those nasty ppl that pull the "your girlfriend doesn't have to know" bullshit. oh boy. he does not handle that well.

toxic!yuuta jumps out a little!!

for as polite as he can be, he can get nasty when provoked just right, and someone disrespecting you? his beloved?

first it's a lecture- how dare you suggest such a thing? do you often try to break up people's perfect love lives?

then it's standing up for your honor- do you know how wonderful and lovely my partner is? you couldn't even understand the lengths that their radiance extends to. this part usually gets a little messy. he can get carried away when talking about you.

and lastly, he gets personal. deeply. personal. if they're having a not-so-great hair day, or if their attempts at slipping him their number were particularly weak, he's pouncing on that. he sniffs out weakness like a goddamn Chivalrous Boyfriend Bloodhound and sinking his claws in. i think yuuta could be really mean if he wanted to.

but that's kinda hot tho

INUMAKI TOGE

definitely the funniest of all of them. bcuz if he's getting hit on, he kinda just... stands there.

._.

CAUSE HE LITERALLY CANT SAY ANYTHING ???

sure, he could play it off like he doesn't understand what they're saying, or even type a little note in his phone saying he has a partner... but...

toge definitely prefers to stand there, completely blank faced, and stretch out the discomfort as long as possible.

sometimes people just scowl and walk away, finding it rude

one time tho someone actually started tearing up and completely ran away

(you came back just as it happened, an ice cream cone in each hand and a confused look on your face. but there's no way your sweet, mute boyfriend made a person cry, right?)

[daftpatience]

YEAH YEAY OKAY! here we go! welcome to i get to infodump about pens again, yay yippee!

what's the difference between ballpoints, rollerballs, and gel pens?

ballpoints, rollerballs, and gel pens all use a ball-socket mechanism that continuously coats itsself in ink as it rolls across a page. what makes them all different from each other is in the ink composition!!

ballpoint pens have an oil based ink paste. the ink is very thick & requires more pressure to write with, and can get kinda skippy as the tip gets dirty or clogged, but is able to stick to many more surfaces like receipts, plastic, really shitty paper, etc. it can be hard to wash out of things that you get it on, since it's more waterproof than other inks.

one of the neat things about this type of ink is that you're able to shade with it by varying pressure. lots of artists make great use of this!

hybrid or low viscosity ballpoint ink is often just ballpoint ink with an added lubricant to make it write smoother and flow better.

rollerball pens use water based inks. fountain pens, felt tip pens*, and dip pens all usually use water based inks. because of this, rollerballs are very free flowing and rarely clog, but paper choice is more important and some folks can find them to be leaky or overly wet. the writing experience is not as glidey as a gel/ballpoint since the ink is not thick, but it doesn't need a heavy hand. rollerballs enjoy more colour options than ballpoints and can have very dark blacks, but aren't waterproof unless the ink is pigment based instead of dye based. *felt tip pens feel very different than any of the other pens on this list cause of the soft point, they put out ink in a very even and somewhat dry way, and can also use alcohol inks, like copic markers. alcohol inks soak very deep into the page and dry very fast, and blend very differently. i'm not as familiar with them!

gel pens use inks that are made of pigment suspended in a water based gel. these inks tend to be very thick and put out a wet line that takes a longer time to dry. gel pens are most likely to clog and skip due to this, since the ball is not as evenly coated in a substance so thick. gel pens do have the widest colour options and can be fully opaque (ie. pastels, whites, etc) but are often very frustrating as they clog up and get old and dried out.

as a bonus, true technical pens are a whole different kind of beast and have very specific standardized nib sizes and colours. cad software has largely replaced the need for extremely precise technical drawing, but artists still like pens like the rapidograph! they're made differently everywhere but generally, instead of a ball, there is a small tube of a precise diameter with a little wire inside it that controls the ink flow. they can't be held at a lot of angles and aren't as versatile as other pens, but they put down incredibly crisp lines.

yippee yay pens!! wahoo!!

[katescorner]

thinking about olympic athlete!oikawa tooru today who made it to the paris olympics, representing argentina (proudly, he might add), and his whole story leading up to the games is full of drama and expectations because of course fate would line things up perfectly for the two nations he held in his heart to rival each other on the world's court.

he hears the cheers of fans and friends along with the jeering boos from the locker room, and he thinks, has he really betrayed his birth country when "home" no longer feels like home? with rising pressure, competition tastes like a bitter word when the opposition is all familiar faces. but he didn't make it this far by being sentimental. he trained for this. he sacrificed for this. he—

"the world is watching, tooru."

your voice is soft, but it cuts through the static of his thoughts. it parts his negativity with gentle movement until all he sees is you, and suddenly, he can breathe again. so he does. he draws in a long, deep breath, and you wait for him to speak to you.

"i'm scared," he whispers. "i don't want to disappoint anyone."

his admission is proof alone of how far he's come already, willing to admit insecurity and allowing vulnerability in difficult moments. oikawa tooru is not the same man he was when he left the land he'd known all his life (leaving claw marks into the grass and ground of his hometown; they forget he was only eighteen when he uprooted himself in the name of his passion) and when he let his mother tongue fall flat so he might have a chance at becoming the best (people forget that learning languages isn't some indirect relationship, when one rises, the other does not always fall; he remembers the words he came from, the intonation and the vocabulary, the slang and the meaning of it all; he remembers, still).

oikawa tooru is not the same man he was when his childhood friends saw him last. he's grown in his time apart from them; they all have. he's miles tallers and his horizons have expanded. he's changed, but that doesn't mean he's a stranger to himself.

(i'm scared they won't recognize me.)

"you are still the person they all befriended and the man i fell in love with, and i am so so proud of you," you answer his underlying question with a kiss to his cheek, a reminder of your love. "you aren't disappointing anyone with your decisions."

"but the people of—"

"the people will cope. they'll have to." you shrug. "what else can they do? what you do isn't up to them. it isn't up to the public because the roster that made it all this way and achieved this much lists oikawa tooru, starting setter, not the guy in the eighth row calling you names, not the displeased broadcaster with a combover, and certainly not anyone else."

you take his hands into yours. you're careful because these are the instruments of his success. his fingernails are always cut short and his skin is soft except for the pads of his fingers which are rough but not calloused. he doesn't let anyone else handle him the way you do, drawing circles and hearts into his palms and pressing kisses into his joints.

"as long as you are happy with the decisions you've made to get here, no one can take that away from you." you look into your fiancé's eyes. "are you happy, tooru?"

and he thinks about the uneasiness he felt landing in argentina, the finality in not buying a return ticket, and the eagerness for volleyball that earned him an easy spot under the guidance of jose blanco. he thinks about the sleep that he lost from being hungry in an unfamiliar country, missing his mother's cooking and the smell of yakitori and takoyaki when he walked down crowded streets filled with vendors.

but he also thinks about the first word that he learned in argentina, hermanito, tossed around during practice when he didn't even know how to ask for a pass because he didn't lose a brotherhood when he left japan, he just gained one in argentina. he thinks about the grueling process of overturning his birth citizenship, the uproar he caused in a country across the globe and the apology he almost let slip for it because everyone thinks it was just for volleyball. oikawa tooru, the athlete who doesn't know loyalty, but what do they know of the open arms he received in argentina when japan turned him away?

he thinks of how stress melted from him that first night after receiving his new passport, walking to your shared apartment with his stomach grumbling at the smell of choripán and alfajor as he hummed along to lamento boliviano. he thinks of how joy spilled into him, realizing he was finally home.

so he nods at your question and he draws stuttered hearts into your palms and he presses a kiss to your temple.

(thank you for seeing who i am.)

"i'm happy."

[ms-demeanor]

So I've been seeing some discourse around the No Fly List leak that looks a bit like "hey everybody, we can't make jokes about this, the list is racist and there are children on the list" or "if you're talking about identity categories instead of the list you're missing the point" and I think that we CAN make jokes about a trans bi lesbian catgirl owning the US government while also appreciating the gravity of the No Fly List but what I think is troubling to me is the way that these discourse posts are treating the blatant racism and inherently fascist nature of the No Fly List as news.

It is news that Maia Arson Crimew was able to download a copy of the No Fly List from an unsecured public server.

It is not news that there are 1.5 million people on that list, many of whom do not belong on it for any number of reasons, and it is not news that there are children on that list, and it is not news that the list is a tool used to deprive people of their civil liberties. That's why the list exists.

I'm aware that I'm getting older. I'm aware that there are entire adults of legal drinking age who were born after 9/11. I'm aware that it's not super common to follow up on foreign policy or national security debacles from when you were in kindergarten, but there are people who have been mad about this shit for twenty years and if you're just now hearing about how bad the list is for the first time, hell, maybe that's on us and we haven't been yelling enough (though when I'm yelling about how the TSA is security theater meant to make us accept encroachments on our rights, this is at least a part of what I'm yelling about).

The No Fly List is a list of individuals maintained by the TSA who are deemed a threat to security for some reason or another.

The TSA maintains the list, though they are given information for the list from the FBI, Terrorism Screening Center, and other entities. If you'd like to click this document, you can find 250 pages of FOIA'd documents about the No Fly List pre 2006. Much of this document is members of the FBI trying to justify why they need a copy of the list and lamenting that airlines have a copy of the list and they don't. This is very funny.

There have been issues with mis-identifications and false positives for the list for as long as the list has existed. You can click here to read through an infuriating 200 pages about a Pfizer employee who was stopped at least a dozen times at airports and who retained a law firm to hound the TSA/CBP/ICE clusterfuck of interagency buck-passing for nine months to try to get the problem resolved. One of the three documents at this link includes a complaint from the president of the Terrorist Screening Center lamenting the way that the TSA would refer obvious non-matches to be detained, including infants and the elderly.

At this point, the FBI/TSA/TSC/ICE/CBP claimed list was still relatively small, in the low thousands at most.

However a 2009 cost-benefit report by the Defense Technical Information Center found that in 2004-2005 30,000 people contacted the TSA to have their names removed from the list; 30k false positives suggests a list somewhat longer than a thousand names.

As long as the No Fly List has existed, criteria for being placed on the list has been subjective and selectively enforced.

As the Crimew leak shows, there isn't a tremendous amount of biographical data, but there are hundreds of thousands of names and it is enforced at the discretion of the TSA in each individual airport in the US, which is how you end up with duplicates and toddlers and 100-year-old men on what is functionally a filter to keep Muslim people out of the US.

The list has expanded every year that it has existed, and has been defended by republicans and democrats alike since it became one of the tools in our arsenal to fight "the war on terror"

And for just about that long, people have been talking about how it is unconstitutional, denies civil liberties, and also just doesn't really work.

It has never been transparent, it has always been a tool of surveillance, exclusion, and control:

And people have been documenting, protesting, and suing over the islamophobic nature of the list - and the security state's weaponization of the list as a threat - for two decades at this point because in the earliest days of the No Fly List it was OPENLY ACKNOWLEDGED that it was based on racial profiling and people made (shitty, cruel) legal arguments for why it should be:

THIS isn't funny. These are not the things that people are joking about when they choose to stay silly :3 in this conversation.

But these things also aren't news. Nearly everything I screencapped here was listed as a source on Wikipedia, and what wasn't was available as simple searches on Archive.Org or easily looked up on news websites.

All you have to do is just *look* at the sources on Wikipedia to see that people actually have been talking about it for quite a long time, very publicly, and that there has been a lot of public outcry about the list as it balloons and punishes innocent people with false positives:

And when you've been looking at stories like these for twenty fucking years it feels wonderful to say "holy fucking bingle" and celebrate that for once someone did something VERY COOL in order to shine a light on this massive (and apparently underappreciated problem).

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing. 

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin. 

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club. 

 The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about. 

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met. 

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud. 

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me. 

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home. 

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it. 

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again. 

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

  When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.  

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone. 

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste. 

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time. 

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement. 

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants. 

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges. 

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive. 

“I can too!” 

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?” 

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.” 

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?” 

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.” 

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.” 

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

 “I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated. 

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.” 

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.” 

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle. 

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask,  “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?” 

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours. 

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.” 

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.” 

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream. 

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.   

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.  

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.” 

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years. 

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo. 

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him. 

You 

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night. 

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!” 

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.” 

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.” 

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.” 

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs. 

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?” 

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?” 

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?” 

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind. 

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.” 

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!” 

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes. 

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.  

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops. 

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself. 

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile. 

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo. 

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man. 

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning. 

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.  

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.” 

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve. 

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it. 

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear. 

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.    

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in. 

Spanking, five. 

Whips and Crops, five. 

Paddles, five. 

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point. 

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five. 

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel. 

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied. 

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours. 

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you. 

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call. 

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears. 

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs. 

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller. 

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel. 

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his. 

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault  the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips. 

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you. 

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on. 

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently. 

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives. 

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging. 

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table. 

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms. 

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

[mapis-putellas]

I’ll carry you all the way

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 2142

Warnings: tiny amount of blood.

Summary: Alexia takes you on a hike. Things don’t go how either of you planned, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

Notes: Alexia’s English is slightly off in this on purpose.

[Prompt list]

You were fully aware you were not as fit as your girlfriend was. Running for hours without getting out of breath just wasn't possible, and completing a single pull-up made you want to pass out. That wasn't even mentioning the hours upon hours of cardio she could do without even breaking a sweat whilst you broke one by barely running half a mile.

You were okay with your lack of ability to do those things. In fact, you were used to it. Just because you didn't have abs or a six pack doesn’t mean you weren't healthy. You ate good, walked everywhere and got in a good amount of exercise weekly. Because of that, you were pretty confident in assuming you'd be totally okay when you agreed to going on a hike with Alexia.

Turns out you were wrong. So, so very wrong. It had barely been an hour and you were already regretting your decision. You were sweating, your legs ached and your stupid shoes were rubbing making it impossible to walk without a limp.

The midfielder, however, was apparently having the time of her life. She was walking contently beside you, rambling in Spanish about her day out with Mapi yesterday. She wasn't sweating. She wasn't out of breath, and she was definitely not walking with a limp.

You were contemplating just dropping to the floor like a toddler having a tantrum, anything to have a break that you knew for a fact Alexia would ultimately fight you on.

"Taking breaks is fine, amor. But we have just only started."

"Qué? A break already?"

"Use those strong legs, bebé. Not far to go."

She meant no harm, you knew, but it made you feel a little pathetic and inadequate for not being able to complete something she deems so simple and easy. It was why you'd yet to say anything about your current discomfort, because whilst she'd agree on taking a break, she wouldn't be happy about it.

Eventually though, you are forced to stop, and you bend down to pretend tie your shoes to give yourself a much needed excuse.

"Amor? Estas bien?" You feel her hand settle on the small of your back. You wince a little. Not because you didn't want her to touch you, but because of how sweaty you currently were.

It didn't seem to occur to you that Alexia wouldn't care considering she'd throw herself onto you after a game despite being grossly sweaty herself. Lingering in your position for a few seconds longer, you take a deep breath and straighten up before sending her a forced smile.

"I'm okay, Ale. Let's keep going, yeah?" You fist the straps of your backpack so tightly your fingers turn white before reluctantly continuing with the hike.

Alexia hums suspiciously but doesn't stop you, her eyes following your body as you walk ahead of her. It doesn't take a genius to realise what may be the problem, especially if your visible discomfort was anything to go by. Still, she doesn't quite know how to go about calling you out on it. You could be stubborn sometimes, more so than her.

When the midfielder lingers behind you instead of either passing or catching up like she usually tends to do, you turn to face her with your hand shielding your eyes from the sun.

"Come on." You hold out your other hand for her to take. Despite her concern, Alexia couldn't help but smile as she reaches to grab it. You interlock your fingers with her own, giving them a squeeze before coaxing her forward. She complies, though makes sure to keep a careful eye on you to make sure you were okay.

And you were. For a while at least. It takes about twenty minutes before your signs of discomfort seem to grow again, but each time she looks at you, you force a smile so fake onto your face Alexia is concerned you may pull a muscle.

"Amor, stop for a second, okay?" She gently pulls you to a stop and reaches to take your other hand in hers too. You were stood facing her, cheeks flushed red and skin visibly damp with sweat. Baby hairs were stuck to your forehead, and Alexia gently uses the tips of her fingers to brush them away.

"What is wrong?" She murmurs, bringing her hand back down to your own and squeezing softly. You hesitate before shaking your head.

"I'm okay, baby." You attempt to reassure as you shift in place in a futile effort at taking the weight off of your feet, but your reassurance gives her no comfort. She could tell you were lying.

Alexia shakes her head, "No, amor. Something is not right. You can tell me. I will not be mad. Prometo."

Her tone makes you want to give in. You want to tell her you ache and you're sweaty and your feet hurt but just the thought of doing so makes you feel pathetic. If she could handle it, why can't you?

Hesitantly, you flicker your eyes up to her own. It was clear to see she was genuinely concerned, and at that you decide to allow yourself a compromise. Tell her one thing, but keep the rest to yourself. It seemed like the only reasonable option.

"The shoes I'm wearing are rubbing, and I'm pretty sure I have a blister." You admit, and Alexia's eyebrows furrow in concern as she glances around for something. Seemingly finding what she was searching for, she places a hand beneath each of your arms and guides you over to what you could now see was a rock.

You frown with a light flush as your ass meets stone, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed, "Ale, it's okay. It's probably nothing." You attempt to pull your foot away when she crouches down and places it on her lap.

"No, amor. You are in pain, sí? Let me help." She doesn't really give you much of an option to disagree as she gently tugs off your shoe and pulls down your sock over your heal. You wince at the sight that greets you. Just like you'd suspected, your sneakers had gotten you pretty good.

There was a sizeable blister at least the size of a penny that was bleeding, and Alexia looks up at you with pursed lips.

She was mad. You knew she'd be mad.

"Bebé, why?" She frowns, and you shrug as you attempt to reach for your shoe so you could pretend like none of this had ever happened. She bats your hand away before you could even come close, and you watch as she pulls off her backpack and rummages through it for a second before pulling out a first aid kit.

"Ale, no. That's not necessary. Lets just-" she gently grabs your ankle as you attempt to pull it away again.

"No, stay." She warns, and you huff quietly as she meticulously cleans the blister with some water before drying it off and placing a large bandaid over it. She does the same with your other foot which thankfully wasn’t quite as bad as the first. Once she was done, she packs away the first aid kit and shrugs her backpack back on before scooting closer to you, cupping your face in her large hands.

"Are you mad?" You whisper, leaning into her gentle touch.

The midfielder immediately shakes her head as she grazes the pads of her thumbs over your cheeks, "No, mi amor. Never. Not at you. I am just...sad you could not tell me you were hurting." She murmurs.

"It's just a blister." You shrug, not understanding the big deal, but Alexia shakes her head softly as she presses a kiss to your forehead.

"No, bebé. It is not. You were hurt, and you did not think to tell me. Why?" She drops her hands down and places them on each of your thighs instead, giving the warm flesh a soft squeeze.

You sigh as you tuck a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear, ignoring how gross it felt between your fingers. "Because I know you were looking forward to this hike, ale. You've been talking about it for days."

Alexia nods in understanding. "Sí. I have. But you are more important than a hike, amor. You know this, mhh?"

"I guess." You murmur, more than ready for this conversation to be over.

"Amor, look at me por favor." Alexia pleads as she inches herself as close as she possibly could to you. Despite your reluctance, you don't hesitate to comply, placing your hands on top of her own that were still resting on each of your thighs. The tips of your fingers absentmindedly trace over the soft skin.

"Bueno. I love you, bebé. It was not my intentions to make you feel like you cannot tell me what is wrong. It is more than your feet, yes?"

"Sí." You murmur, no longer able to lie to her. It was evident she could see right through you so why you even tried you didn't know.

"Can you tell me?" She coaxes, hands trailing gentle circles across the outside of your thighs.

You hesitate before deciding it was probably better to be truthful. "I can't do things as well as you can, Ale. I get sweaty, out of breath, and it makes me feel pathetic because you can do it so easily."

"Mi amor," Alexia murmurs as she situates herself between your parted legs, wrapping her arms firmly around your waist. You sigh slightly as your head comes to rest against her shoulder, feeling the way her hand rises to cup the back of your neck. "I train for hours, every day. I work hard. For years. My body is used to it. I am very strict and I do not allow me to have days off.”

"I know." You nod, letting out a quiet sigh as your hand rises to cling to the material of her tank top.

"I do not think many people could do this hike and not be sweating so much." She adds, and your lips quirk up into a teasing grin as you pull away and cup her face in hands. You try not to be annoyed by the fact that she wasn’t sweating. Not even one tiny bit.

"So you’re just better than everyone else, huh?" You press a kiss to her nose.

"Sí." She nods seriously, and you can't help but laugh as you pull her against you again. She allows this, nuzzling her nose against your neck. "Do not feel bad amor, I love you." Her words were a quiet whisper spoken against your skin.

"Te amo." You return the sentiment, your hand rising to cup the back of her head. She pulls away from you a moment later, looking at you ever so tenderly before cupping your cheek and pressing her lips against your own. You all melt against her as you reciprocate, letting out a quiet, content sigh. She pulls away sooner than you would like, soothing your upset pout by placing another peck to your lips. Then your nose. Then your forehead.

You can’t help but laugh as you tug her back into your arms, squeezing her to you as tight as you possibly could. Alexia returns the embrace, her strong arms holding you close as she press gentle, yet innocent kisses to the expanse of your neck.

The comfortable silence remains for just a few moments before she begins to move, and figuring she was trying to stand back up, you give her a small squeeze before releasing her from your embrace. Your arms had barely even left her body when you suddenly find yourself in the air, and the yelp that escapes your lips was immediate.

"Ale, wh-?" Your legs hook tightly around her waist, feeling the way her hands clasp together beneath your rear end as a make shift seat.

"I will carry you back, bebé." She bounces you up slightly to get a better grip before bending to grab your shoes too.

“To the car?!”

“Sí.”

Your eyes widen. "Baby, we've been walking for over an hour. There's no way-"

"Sí. I can. I am strong, yes?" She grins up at you as she begins to walk, and you can't help but mimic it as you allow yourself to settle comfortably in her arms.

"Okay. But if I get too heavy, please-"

"You will not, amor." She interrupts you yet again, and you roll your eyes playfully as you poke her nose.

"Okay. I get it. But stop interrupting me, vale?"

Alexia at least has the decency to look somewhat sheepish at your playful scold, and you accept the kiss she places against your nose in place of an apology, “vale.” She nods.

“Thank you.”

"Okay, mi amor. Time to go home."

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @goldenempyrean

[edenesth]

[3:00 PM]

"Appa, I want to eat!" called the small voice of Choi Bada from the tiny playpen you and San had built for her a few years ago.

"Aww, is my baby hungry? Don't worry, appa's coming!" you heard your husband say as he gently placed Byeol, the family cat, back in her spot before hurrying over to his precious little princess.

You could only sigh, clutching the worn-out plush that once belonged to him, as another wave of pain hit you relentlessly. So much for hoping to spend the day in his loving arms. "It's just you and me now, Shiber. I'm no longer at the top of his priority list."

The man snorted as he scooped up your daughter, carrying her over to the dining table where the lunch he had made earlier still sat untouched, thanks to your late breakfast, and removed the covers. "You do know I can hear you, right?"

You rolled your eyes. "Good, I wanted you to hear," you shot back, grimacing as another vicious cramp attacked your lower abdomen.

He smirked, busy reheating the food, and planted a kiss on the child's head. "You know damn well you'll always be my number one. Besides, I've already pitched a solution, and the offer still stands. If you'd just agree, we could get to work and, you know, banish that pain."

Resisting the urge to launch Shiber at him, you slapped a hand over your forehead. "Please, never mention that 'solution' again. I have never heard anything dumber in my life."

"Oh, come on! It would stop your period for nine months, and Bada would finally get a baby brother," he said, turning to your daughter. "You want a baby brother, don't you?"

Your daughter clapped her hands, grinning from her high chair. "Yes, yes, eomma! Bada wants baby brother!"

Smiling at your little mini-me, you pushed yourself off the couch and walked over, leaning down to kiss her chubby cheeks. "We'll think about it, sweetie. But first, let's eat." You swiped the plate from San's hands, placed it in front of her, and watched as she dug in with her new utensils like the little champ she was.

Feeling your husband's hands snake around your waist from behind, you spun around and whispered with a pointed finger, "Stop filling her head with ideas! Do you seriously think pregnancy is the answer to menstrual cramps? Have you conveniently forgotten about contraction pain, my guy?"

He pouted, tightening his hold around you, pressing his forehead against yours, and whispered, "But my love, doesn't the pleasure always make the pain go away?"

Flustered, your face burned as you quickly shushed him, nodding towards your daughter, who was staring up at you both in wonder. His suggestive expression softened as he grinned down at her. "Is it good, Bada-yah?" She nodded cutely. "Good, then finish it."

Once her attention returned to her food and Baby Shark playing on the TV, San cupped your cheek and met your gaze. "All jokes aside, didn't we agree to have at least two kids? Bada's turning four soon, so maybe now would be a good time to try for another. Don't you think?" he murmured, his presence and touch intoxicating, his lips brushing against yours as his thumb tenderly caressed your cheek.

You felt your resolve slowly crumbling. He was right—you both had agreed to have at least two children so your daughter wouldn't be too lonely. The thought just hadn't crossed your mind yet. But maybe he was right... maybe now was the time.

"I..." Before you could find the words, a whine escaped your throat as another torturous cramp sent you curling into his chest. He held you close, soothingly running his hands up and down your back. "What do you say, my love?"

You couldn't believe what you were about to say, but you had to. Anything to stop this agony. "We'll put the baby talk on hold, but for now... I need you, Choi San."

"Say no more, baby," he whispered before carrying you into the bedroom, but not without first turning on auto-play on YouTube—Baby Shark would have to handle babysitting for a while.

ATEEZ Masterlist

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[roturo]

CRY FOR ME -dick grayson x f!reader

① NEW REQUEST FROM ANONYMOUS!: sex pollen, old lovers meet again.

→ summary: He loves you, he really does, but he left you. Months wondering why he did that had you crying for him, never ending the never-ending cycle of the abandoned by Dick Grayson wasn't in your to-do list. It's time to hit him with a smile, rather than a goodbye that would leave him wondering.

→ warnings: SMUT, angst, sex pollen, mating press, breeding kink, marking, fingering & oral (f receiving), mutlipes orgasms, overstimulation, mention of weight loss (but it's never specified how much or the weight of the reader exactly, neither a body type), hero into villain!reader, med student!reader, mentions of kory and dick being together but never in a relationship, reader is friends with harley quinn, reader was part of the og titans.

A/N: I'm really proud of this one, might even do pt2 if it gets support. -Words: 3.4k

TUMBLR IS BASED ON A REBLOG SYSTEM. PLEASE REBLOG MY WORK. THANK YOU. ENJOY. SMUT BELOW THE CUT.

¨And you know what I hate most of all that shit he put me through?, He-¨

¨Can you please stop talking about Dick Y/N? It's been MONTHS, damn it! almost a year! You're driving me nuts! I'm not even Dick's ex, or friend and I already hate him as much as you do. So let's move on.¨

¨You don't understand, I was a good girlfriend! Shit! I even became a hero for him! Now look where we are.¨

Harley laughs at your remark of how the tables have turned.

Both of you were sitting at the top of a building eating some ice-cream, which Harley insisted on steal from a random kid on the street, after robbing some random store she liked a collar from, you were now looking at how police officers where trying to look for a culpable of this crime.

It's been 11 months and 5 days since Dick broke up with you. You couldn't AND still don't understand why he did it, both of you were fine one day and the next one he decided, 'oh how could I destroy the woman of my dreams heart?, I know how! What if I tell her I don't need her anymore in my life and she's useless! then some months later fuck some fire princess and act like i'm a new person with this new suit and name! oh! also, re-do the titans! when my ex helped me do the og ones, helped when the fell apart but she's useless anyways!'

To say you weren't deep down for him, would be a lie. You don't know how he could keep laughing everyday knowing how his little trauma ass dumped you like trash. Well, if you're being honest he doesn't have a small ass, but that doesn't matter.

¨Aw, I want more ice-cream¨ Coming back to earth after some deep thoughts, Harley grabbed you by the wrists in order to change up and start looking some restaurant for dinner.

After changing clothes and Harley talking about how obsessed she´s with the Joker, you couldn't quite blame her, both of you were finally walking on the street, laughing at some random inside joke both of you had.

¨Huh.¨ Your phone started ringing and you could swear if it wasn't cold enough to freeze you up, the call was. ¨Who is it?¨ Harley asked, sneaking through your shoulder.

¨OH! Donna?, the cute girl you talked about?¨

¨Shhh, let me attend this call... Hello? Donna?¨

¨Y/N, um- hello! How are you? It's been what? one year since we don't talk?¨ ¨I'm... fine. How about you?¨

You were quite confused for this call, on the outside you're calm, but inside, you're freaking out.

¨I'm good, it's nice to hear you're doing fine!¨ ¨Thank you Donna, but I know you just don't call to ask how i'm doing, what's wrong?¨ ¨Oh well, you quite know me well Y/N, i'm sorry it seemed that way, but you're like the only person I know who could help us with some medical issues, you know? So I wanted to ask you if you could come and help us to deal with Conner, and maybe stay some days...? i'll explain you who he is and all of that later.¨ ¨Donna, you know i'm not longer on the me-¨

Harley pinched you in the arm, trying to talk but you were faster. ¨Ow Harley! Stop it!¨ You told your best friend in a whisper so Donna couldn't hear the both of you, also covering the microphone of your phone, for... extra precautions.

¨You don't understand! This is an awesome opportunity! You're going undercover in the titans tower! Imagine how crazy Jack (Jocker) would be! Say yes!¨

Thinking it for a few seconds, she was right, you could get some important information from them, it was indeed, an awesome plan.

¨Who knows, you might also see bird-boy again!¨ She said raising her eyebrows in a teasing way making you roll your eyes.

¨Y/N? Are you still there?¨

¨Yes, when do you need me to be there?¨

¨Erm... now if it's possible¨

You were now unpacking your suitcase, Donna told you to pack for at least a month, isn't that incredible?

You haven't come across any of the other titans, beside, Donna, Dawn, Gar, Rachel, Jason and Rose... Quite interesting team.

You didn't introduced well to the kids since you were in a hurry to enter your temporary room and not ran into someone else...

While you were unpacking your old tools Wayne gave you while you were their medical support 'hero' maybe also because you were a med student, you still helped with fights, bruises and hits.

You found the 'special' bandages you had for Dick, since the 'normal ones weren't soft enough for his bruises' a small smile appeared on your face at those old memories.

Now unpacking your clothes, you found three special lingerie underwear with a note from Harley:

'Just in case you have some fun ;)

xx Harley~'

The note made you roll your eyes but you couldn't deny it brighten your mood, throwing away the not and putting aside the 'Harley present', you continued unpacking your clothes, you brought in a separate case for your suit, just in case.

¨Y/N! Can you come here?¨

¨Coming!¨ maybe you could order the clothes other time.

When you entered the living room, the kids were no longer there, except Jason.

They started explaining you what happened between Deathstroke and what they know about Conner, you were paying attention to know what you're dealing with, you haven't even realize Dick came in sight until Dawn mentioned it.

But Dick didn't came alone, he was next fire princess which you couldn't care less to investigate her name when you found out about Dick meeting her.

¨Oh Dick! We brought Y/N so she could help us with Conner, since we don't have anyone else who knows about this weird medical stuff.¨ They know what happened between you two, and they still decided to ask for your help knowing he's going to be here.

You stood up from the sofa, eyes locking with his, you couldn't longer see the coldness in his eyes, but there wasn't warm either, you couldn't quite decipher what he's feeling.

¨Kory¨ She gave you her hand at which you responded with your name and doing the same. You locked eyes with her for a brief moment, a small smirk appeared in your face but disappeared once the greeting finished.

¨Y/N.¨ You locked eyes with him, a tension only the two of you could feel. You were different, much prettier, you lose some weight too, blame it on the break-up depression, but you were shining.

¨Grayson.¨ Hearing you say his last name instead of his name he could feel a small part of him getting shattered inside him, you changed.

After checking on Conner and taking some notes, it was finally night time, you were eating some cereal, knowing more about Gar and Rachel, Kory, Dawn, Donna and Robin were dressed up with their suits.

¨We have some issues to deal tonight with another troublemaker, nothing serious though, just a one night problem.¨ Dick announced while getting ready to go out.

¨Y/N, you should come! Maybe warm out a little like the old times." Dawn invited you, how nice of her, only if she knew you were also a troublemaker.

¨No thank you, i'm only here for medical support.¨ You gave her a small smile and said your goonights.

Some knocking in your door woke you up, it only passes one hour since you went asleep and they're already annoying you, first day!

¨Y/N? Are you awake?¨ You heard Dawn saying though the door.

¨Mmh¨ You replied.

¨We need you, it's Dick.¨

Even more annoying.

You walked next Dawn through the halls until you finally came into Dick´s room. Inside they were Donna and Kory, clearly concerned about his well being.

His behavior seemed, weird, there wasn’t any bruises or cuts, not even blood. He was just twisting in pain on his bed. You stepped closer to him, and got your hand on top of his forehead at which he only whined, that scared you, since it sounded more like a moan than a whine. He was hot, sweating and moving a lot.

You had your suspicions what this could be, but you needed to confirm it, this can't be real.

¨Can you please... tell me with which villain you fought with?¨

¨Ivy¨ Donna said.

Shit.

¨I need to make a call¨ you quickly said running out of the room.

¨Surprise, surprise!¨ Harley said in her taunting tone. ¨Oh my god Harley, I can't believe you.¨ ¨Well, you know a girl needs to help her best friend, so... I called another friend and voilà!¨ ¨What am I supposed to do? I don't have the fucking cure for sex pollen Harley! I owe you one, can't believe Ivy did this for me.¨ ¨You just said it, sex. C´mon Y/N!, it's your moment to play with him! He had you like a sad girl, why don't turn her into a mad girl? Make him cry for you. Break his heart like he did with you.

You ended the call, and just in time, Kory came. ¨Y/N, we need you Dick keeps talking about you and rambling about some stupid things.¨ You could sense a strange behavior from her, like if she just discovered something big.

Watching Dick twisting in pain and saying your name in just some black briefs felt good. You can't lie to yourself Harley was right.

¨It's sex pollen¨ You admitted.

¨And what's the cure? Do you have it? That's why you made the call?¨ Donna asked.

¨No, the only cure for it it's well... sex. The pollen might last for at-least 3 days or even a week, symptoms are well... extremely high sex-drive, dehydration, high temperatures, and... I think that's all.¨

Donna chuckled at what happened to Dick, ¨Let's go girls, let's leave this to Kory.¨ Dawn just laughed at a very shocked and blushed Kory, ¨Don't be like that Donna, Kory and Dick haven't confirmed anything yet.¨ You felt your jaw clenching, but decided to act calm, and when all of you were almost leaving, you were stopped.

¨No. I want her.¨ Dick said, pointing towards you. All of you stayed quiet at the sudden confession. You were shocked to say at least, blood rushing to your cheeks, you were about to leave that damn room until you remembered what Harley said.

Cry for me.

Donna grabbed your shoulder, looking at you. ¨You don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable.¨

¨No. It's okay, i'm in.¨

After mentally preparing yourself, bringing some water bottles into the room, they left you alone with him.

You sat next to him on his bed, memories came back flying around the both of you.

¨Look, I know that-¨ He completely cut you off when he started kissing you, making you lay down on the bed, you left a small moan when he broke the kiss for a moment.¨Oh my god, you don't know how much I wanted to kiss you again.¨

Did he missed you? Every question that came to your mind was easily erased when he started kissing and sucking your neck while unbuckling your jeans and taking them down with your underwear, he pulled apart to admire the bruises he left, he grabbed your panties and threw them to his nightstand.

He started kissing your thighs, making small pauses on each to make sure he's marking you as his again. Every time he went higher until he gave a small peck on your clit. ¨I can't wait to taste you sweetheart.¨ There it is... the nickname.

He got your legs over his shoulders and gave a testing long lick on your pussy, teasing your hole. At which he started sucking your clit once he heard the high pitched moan you did when he teases your hole.

His started spelling his name with his tongue on your pussy at which it only made you hornier, suddenly he inserted his index finger inside you. Dick sped up, fingers now flicking in and out of you at light speed, nose pressed into your clit, and before you knew it you were cumming, shuddering on his mouth, crying out his name.  Quickly he took all the remaining clothes from you and him, now both of you completely naked for each-other.

He was rock hard. No, scratch that, his cock looked like it was made of fucking ruby. Red and painful and already half-soaked with pre-cum.

He pressed your legs impossibly closer to your torso, moving down to meet your eyes, until you were folded in half beneath him, legs on his shoulders, putting you into a—

Oh. 

Oh. 

This was going to be a long night.

He fell on his forearms, and you wondered how much more you could take- He laced his fingers on top of your head, thumbs on your forehead, holding you still. He mumbled out another gonna make you feel s’ good before pounding you in earnest, practically bouncing you both on his mattress. His balls smacked against your ass, and the feeling was so damn satisfying that he just had to go harder. You would sport matching bruises tomorrow, his hips on your ass. You pushed out moans in time with his unforgiving pace, a metronome playing the beat to which his sanity danced away from him. 

“More?” He sounded fucking pathetic, like he was asking himself that, his voice octaves higher than it usually was, but he didn’t care. “More, you little slut? That what you want? You want more?”

“I’ll give you more,” he babbled, “More, baby, give you more give you everythin’ gonna fuck you so hard you won’t walk for weeks.”

He’s not too worried about hurting you—you’re already so wet—more that he’s afraid he’ll cum the second he starts moving again. Out of his previous partners, he doesn’t think any of them have felt this good around him.

“Please-” a strand of incomprehensible begs and pleads leaves his mouth when he starts thrusting into you again.

¨Shit- how are you even tighter huh? You've been keeping this tight pussy just for me?¨ He's a whiny mess, small kisses every time he cans, praises here and there.

“Mmm yes please yes please yesyesyesss—” was all you could manage. He laughed at you, breathless, and you wondered how he could keep up this pace and still rattle off incredibly filthy little comments, looking right in your eyes. 

“You’d like that? Yeah? Gon’ look so pretty, little baby, so pretty full of my child, yeah? All round and glowing and heavy with me. All of ’em will look at you and see me, all me, see that I did that. You want that? You want that you want that—”

He leans forward to coo praise into your ear, gently nipping at your earlobe. Goosebumps raise along your exposed flesh. The sound of skin slapping on skin echoes through the stairwell. Sometime during this his teeth find the soft muscle of your neck, leaving a crescent shape mark that’ll certainly bruise in the morning.

You're pretty sure everyone on this tower have heard the both of you fucking like rabbits by now, but knowing this was going to follow him his whole life, with the memories of him fucking you every way possible just so you could leave him, it's all you need to don't care about that.

The first time he cums, he doesn’t even realize he has. He shudders. It felt good—a bit too good—but nothing out of the ordinary. It makes him do a double take. His cock doesn’t even go soft. Drips of cum run down your thighs, pooling on the bed-sheets beneath you.

His thumb traces circles around your clit, moving in erratic, uneven motions. Dick leans back down for another kiss. You can taste yourself on him, though it’s not entirely unpleasant. Your arms wrap around his neck, holding him to your chest. The two of you can only fuck and cum until you’re too exhausted to continue. You’ve never felt so full. The thought of using protection crossed your mind once—and only for a moment—the pollen leaving you too desperate to care.

Second day and he wouldn't give you a break to nap for a minute.

His body curved and bowed, hips pressed hard against you, arms below your body and hands gripping your shoulders. “Mmm fuck baby,” Dick muttered into your mouth, your moans coming out of you almost breathless. “Yeah, yeahyeahyeah milk me fucking milk my cock gonna cum in you fuck a baby, my baby into you and you’re gonna fucking take it take it nnngh —”

He buried his face into your neck, teeth latching on to skin, biting down to draw blood, a choked groan as he came, really came, his balls squeezing painfully, a deep ache in his gut, indescribable tingles all along his cock, his spine, down to the soles of his feet.

Third day, and you started getting him where you wanted it.

“Sensitive,” you hissed, “Sensitive, Dick, you insatiable—”

“Insatiable is right,” he said to you, eyes wide, still looking like you just told him the Earth was flat. He towered over you, kneeling now, and with horror and a bit of something else you felt how hard he still was. 

¨I missed you so much, the biggest mistake of my life was leaving you.¨

Fourth day he started getting sensitive but that didn't stopped him, and he was a little more languid, strokes slow and smooth, his thighs shaking just a bit as exhaustion started to settle in. His cum was spreading in a pool on the sheets now, and you couldn’t bring yourselves to be even a little disgusted. He loved it. He loved so much how it felt that tears dropped from his eyes every-time he felt that electric shock come to him when he was about to come. He was crying for you.

Last day. Fifth day. Barely even thrusting anymore, just a slow grind of his hips, the friction and the pressure and the raw sensation squeezing out what could have been an orgasm if only both of you were awake enough to feel it.

When you both woke up the next day, he was staring at you, straddling your hair, and that's when you knew it.

¨Good morning sweetheart.¨

You just answered with a small ¨hey¨

¨I never through of seeing you laying next to me again, it felt like home. I'm sorry I did that to you, you don't know how much I regret it, please, give me a second chance.¨

Bingo.

Without saying a word, you grabbed some shirt of his, long enough to cover yourself and went back to your room, stumbling and shaking someway you made it. You changed yourself, taking a minute to observe how he marked you, it was time.

You went back to his room, already changed, you gave him a smile and sat on the bed with him, with no emotion behind your eyes, it was your time.

¨You were ready to leave me for her.¨ Confusion, first stage he made you go through.

¨I was doing fine, really, but then you walked again into my life again and fucked me up.¨ Sadness and lies. Second stage.

¨You think this will make me stay?¨ You signaled the both of you. ¨You think with just some stupid sex to heal you is enough of an apology?¨ A laugh escaped your mouth. ¨You thought this was real?¨

¨You know for a fucking fact this wasn't supposed to happen.¨ You got your hand on top of his, faking a caring smile looking at him.

¨When friends of yours make jokes about how you always leave them, you think it's funny, but it's not. That hurts a lot, actually.¨

You got up from the bed and stepped closer to the door, you paused for a second and turned around to see a hurt Dick naked on the bed with just some blanket covering him.

¨And Dick... Of course I still love you, if it wasn't for me, I would go crying and throwing myself into your arms again.¨

¨You still can.¨ He tried.

¨No.¨ You chuckled. ¨I won't let myself get hurt again. Our love isn't worth the fight. Goodbye Dick Grayson.¨

[jeannineee]

JJK men...dom, sub, or switch?

(ft. Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami)

author's note: just a little drabble??? While I work on smau. might do the other boys too.

warnings: uh straight up SMUT. Too much stuff to list here.

Satoru Gojo: switch

Satoru Gojo, who is the biggest tease. He knows your body like the back of his hand--knows exactly where to touch you, what buttons to push in order to have you writhing beneath him.

"This is where you're weak, right? RIght here?"

Satoru Gojo, who will edge you to the point of tears, and then some. He's mean, really. Plump lips latched to your nipples, biting and sucking at the sensitive flesh as he curls his fingers inside you so quickly that you can't catch your breath. He can tell when you're getting close through the way your moans grow louder, the way your walls pulse around him. And just when you're about to tip over the edge, he stops completely, a wicked grin forming on his face at the sight of your pouting, cock twitching in his pants at the sound of your begging.

"Doing so good f'me, pretty. Just a bit longer, alright?"

Satoru Gojo, who is desperate and needy the moment the roles are reversed. He'll do anything to hear your praise, to feel your touch. His brain turns to mush as soon as you wrap your hand around his cock, focused solely on the pleasure you're giving him.

"F-fuck, baby, please--please don't stop, so good, so good..."

Satoru Gojo, who loves hates when you overstimulate him. He's already so sensitive, hips bucking off the mattress as you relentlessly pump his cock, his abs tensed and painted white with strings of his release. He can hardly speak, the only noises escaping him being pathetic whines and half-hearted pleas as you work him through another orgasm.

"Ohhhh, fuck, I can't, b-baby, please. I'm cumming, I'm cumming..."

Suguru Geto: dominant

Suguru Geto, who, despite his seemingly laid-back and calm nature, is the complete opposite in the bedroom. He'll manhandle you into whatever position he wants--doggy is his favorite. He'll have one hand on your waist, keeping an almost bruising grip as the other hand wraps around your hair, pulling you flush against him.

"That's it, princess. Just a pretty little slut for me, hm? Taking me so well."

Suguru Geto, who loves having you on your knees for him. Making you stick your tongue out before tapping the head of his cock against it, reveling in the way your cheeks flush with embarassment. He'll let you take the lead at first, but if you allow him, he'll fist your hair into a ponytail, and use your throat like it's his personal toy.

"Such a good girl--fuck. 'S like you were made for my cock."

Suguru Geto, who will not put up with your attitude. He's normally so patient with you, so why would you be so snippy with him? Push him too far, and he'll have you over his knee before you can blink. He'll spank you till tears are streaming down your face, and then he'll put his fingers to use until the only word you know is "sorry."

"Can't take anymore? Oh? Why are you so wet, then? I've barely even started, lovey."

Kento Nanami: dominant

Kento Nanami, who uses you to rid himself of his pent-up frustration. His favorite way to do this is by having his tongue between your legs. Him, knelt in front of you, or you sitting on his face--he doesn't care. Either way, he's hooking his hands around your thighs, and sucking on your clit until you see stars.

"Taste so good, love. Just one more for me, okay? You can do it. I can never get enough of you."

Kento Nanami, who puts his tie to work in more ways than one. Sometimes, he'll blindfold you, rough and calloused hands tracing along your body until you're pleading for him to touch you where you need it most. Other times, he'll tie your hands behind your back, or above your head, and have his way with you.

"Fuck, you're so perfect. Squeezing me so tight. Gonna fill you up, yeah?"

Kento Nanami, whose mouth is uncharacteristically filthy compared to his composure outside of the bedroom. He won't degrade you. He couldn't imagine doing that to his sweet girl. But he loves to humiliate you; loves to see the way you avoid his gaze, as though you can hide from his words.

"Soaking through your panties, and I haven't even touched you yet. Is that all it takes, sweetheart? Don't hide from me. Let me see you."

[thecomfortgoth]

Peeping Tom Part 1

18+ MDNI (just don't, ok?)

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader x Perv!Steve Harrington

Summary: You're behind the school with your boyfriend Eddie making out, things get a little hot and heavy.. and then you see that someone is watching you..

WC: 6k

CW: unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, masturbation, slight persuasion, use of degrading pet names, use of praisey pet names, posessiveness, voyeurism/exhibitionism (one party doesn't know it's happening, sorry), Steve being a huge secret pervert, Eddie being a little gross and pervy himself towards the end, semi public sex, kinda Dom!Eddie, all characters are 18+

Please let me know if I've forgotten anything and I can update it.

A/N: This was just a little something that came to my mind randomly a while ago, I've had it on my "to write" list for ages and decided to finally check it off, now that I'm actually starting to put some content out there. Enjoy! Please leave feedback, I always like to hear how people have enjoyed my writing.

Requests are OPEN

Smut under the cut

"Hurry up, Eds, come on. We don't have long" you giggled as you held your boyfriend's hand, leading him around to that little spot behind the gym block that you had both claimed as your little makeout spot. It was down a nice little alley, secluded apart from the two openings at either end. One of which was a brick wall that meant you could only go right or left and those little pathways leading off of it were rarely used by anyone, if ever. So it was pretty prime makeout spot material. You were surprised no one else had found it before. Unless you just didn't know about it.

"Oh don't you worry sweetheart, I'm coming alright" he said from behind you with a big smirk that you could literally hear, grabbing your hips and leaning around to nip at your ear, humming against your warm skin.

You rolled your eyes and laughed, turning to face him, taking his hand again as you turned the corner and walked backwards further into the alley. "Stop being such a pervert babe, just hurry up and kiss me" you said, biting your lip as you slowly backed towards the wall, squeezing at his hand.

He grinned at you and obliged, his palms grabbing you by both sides of your face and smashing his lips against yours, making your back hit the wall a little harder than he'd intended, mumbling a small apology to you. You just melted into the kiss though, sighing into his mouth as you rested your hands on his biceps, slowly rubbing them up and down and gently squeezing. You loved Eddie's arms, all that lifting amps and guitars and music equipment from his band's shows and practices really paid off. He didn't look very strong to most people, but he definitely was. You for one knew it by the way he lifted you with ease and threw you around in his bedroom or the back of his van. Or one time The Hideout bathrooms.

"I've been waiting for this all day, I always miss you so much when I have to go to these stupid fucking classes" your boyfriend hummed against your lips, his hands now moving to your waist and gripping at you, pulling your body against his as he crowded you against the wall. All you could do was nod your head and make a soft noise of agreement, not wanting to stop kissing him even for one second.

You lived for moments like this, however small they were. When you had Eddie all to yourself, even if it was just a quick makeout session when you'd both left class early feigning stomach aches because you'd missed each other too much. It didn't matter that you'd just saw each other at lunch, you were inseparable and you both really noticed the others absence when you weren't together. Even if it was something as simple as Eddie going to the store to grab some snacks for your movie night, you'd find yourself launching your body at him as soon as he came back, kissing him like he'd been gone for a lot longer than 10 minutes. And he was just as bad sometimes.

Eddie's hands began to wander, gripping at the soft cotton of your little black tank top, bunching it in his hands as he flicked his tongue across your lips, begging you to open up and let him in. You obliged without even thinking, your arms moving to wrap around his neck, your lips parting to which he took full advantage of, licking into your mouth with a small groan coming from him.

You could tell he was getting a little worked up, with the way your tank top was slowly riding up a little more each second, his greedy hands possessively gripping at it and trying to slyly move it up your skin. Your hands moved to his to sort yourself out a little, trying to pull the top down again. But his hands continued travelling upwards over the material, now cupping your breasts and squeezing. You weren't wearing a bra, so the slightest of friction on your nipples made you gasp a little into his mouth.

"Eds.." you said quietly, breaking the kiss and sounding slightly whiny. "Come on, we said this would be a quick makeout, you can undress me when we get back to yours later" you giggled, feeling his lips latch onto your jaw and suck a little mark into your skin, making you close your eyes and relish in the sensation.

"Baby, I can't help it. God they feel so good.. I gotta see em, please?" He groaned again, his lips now travelling down your jaw in little wet kisses towards your chin and moving to the other side. "Come on, show me your gorgeous tits and then that'll be it, I promise. Just flash me a little bit and I can hold off till later". He sounded desperate, but not in the way where he was whiney or pathetic sounding.

You didn't respond, hoping that if you just ignored it, he'd hopefully not push it any further. One of your hands found his face, gripping his chin gently and guiding him back to your lips, kissing him harder and deeper, your tongues fighting for dominance in each others mouths as you let out an involuntary soft moan into his mouth. Fuck. That wasn't going to help matters. And it didn't.

He groaned and pressed his body against yours, slotting his thigh between your legs and pushing you further into the wall as his hands moved down and slipped under your top, his rough palms now fully engulfing your bare tits, his thumbs gently flicking over your peaked nipples. A shudder ran through you as he did so, gripping onto his arms a little harder as he palmed at you and squeezed the soft skin of your breasts.

"Jesus, please show me 'em sweetheart. Just gotta see em for a second, promise" he said, his voice sounding rough and a tad fucked out as he began trailing his kisses down your neck, finding that one sensitive spot you had that he knew you wouldn't be able to resist and sinking his teeth in, latching on and sucking another bruise into your skin. It made you gasp and grab at his shoulders, looking up at the sky as your eyes fluttered closed from how he was sucking on that spot of your neck and working his thumbs over your nipples, hands shoved up the fabric of your tight top and definitely stretching it out. You tried to swallow down the little whimper that escaped you as he sucked particularly hard, he fucking knew just how to make you give in to him.

You knew he wasn't about to let this go. And when Eddie really wanted something, he got it. You tried to think of an excuse, one worthy enough of Eddie Munson and his stubborn ass. But you were shit out of luck. There wasn't one. You closed your eyes for a second, letting out a sigh as he squeezed a little harder at your tits, slightly pinching your nipples between his thumb and index finger, your back arching a little against the wall as he did so. "Fine" you said, trying to sound annoyed but how could you when he had you like this? "But I swear, just for a second and no more. I don't need someone coming around the corner and seeing me standing here with my tits out"

He let go of your skin from his mouth with a wet pop, kissing the now dark purple mark on the juncture of your neck which made you whimper slightly again, before he pulled back with a shit eating grin on his face. He palmed at your tits once more, biting his lip and nodding down towards them. "Go on then princess. Show me the goods" he winked at you, taking his hands out from under your top and resting them on your hips, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles into the skin just above where the waistband of your cute little plaid skirt lay.

You rolled your eyes at him, trying hard not to let the smile on your face crack through. You didn't want him to think you were enjoying this. But you kinda were. Even if you were terrified of someone catching you and seeing you indecent at school, it was sort of exciting. Your heart was thumping in your chest as you moved your hands down towards the hem of your shirt, grabbing at it with your fingertips gently and slowly sliding it up your body, almost as if you were teasing him.

He looked at you completely entranced, his eyes widening as you revealed your tits to him, watching as you lifted the tight fabric up and over and both of your breasts bounced out from underneath, jiggling as they settled where they naturally lay. You held the top up just at your collarbones even though you didn't have to, gulping as you looked side to side, making sure no one was coming. If someone did appear, then you could quickly cover yourself up again.

Eddie's gaze was completely and utterly on your chest. His mouth hung open wide, eyes almost popping out of his skull as he stared at them like he'd never seen them before, like you were showing him for the first time that night in his bedroom when you'd confessed that you had a crush on him. He was a complete sucker for your tits. He swears he'd never see a better pair. Not even in nudey magazines or pornos he'd sometimes smuggle home from Family Video.

"Okay, is that enough? Can I put them away now and we can get back to smooching a little more?" You giggled, about to move the top back down and cover yourself up again. What you didn't see was Eddie moving without thinking, grabbing both your tits with his hands and his mouth latching onto one of your nipples, sucking and flicking his tongue over it as you looked down and gasped. "Eddie! Come on, we can't do this here" you hissed at him, watching as he looked up at you and then closed his eyes, pinching your other nipple as his teeth grazed at the one his mouth was currently attached to, a muffled groan coming from him.

You couldn't help but bite your lip and moan a little as he moved to the other one quickly, your hands coming away from where your top sat bunched up against your collarbones, one moving into his hair and tugging at it, trying to get him off of you. But it was no use, it just made him suck harder at your nipple, biting at the sensitive bud as his tongue flicked faster.

"E-Eddie.. not here..." you complained pathetically, your cheeks now completely red and flushed with embarrassment, the thought of someone coming around the corner and catching you with your boyfriend with his mouth quite literally glued to your chest making your heart thud harder than it normally would when he did this. His free hand had started to wander too, fingers running up the inside of your thigh under your skirt, the cool rings on each of his fingers making you shiver a little as they brushed against your skin.

"Why not? No ones here, no one ever comes here baby, come on.. let's just have a little fun hm?" He said as he looked up at you with his big brown eyes, fluttering his damn long lashes at you while his tongue peeked out of his mouth and circled each of your now stiff nipples, paying equal attention to them both as his hand under your skirt moved higher, your leg instinctively lifting up for him as he cupped your pussy gently and rubbed his fingers over the damp lace of your panties, a shaky quiet moan coming from you as he did so, your hand flying to your mouth to cover it. You didn't need anyone who was nearby hearing that kind of noise and suddenly getting intrigued.

"We can be quick, I promise, I just.. fuck, I need you so bad. And I know you need me too, I can feel how wet you are already" he grinned up at you, teeth grazing over your nipple as his fingers moved up and toyed with the elastic at the top of your underwear, sliding his hand down into them, two of his fingers parting your folds and stroking you teasingly, gathering up some of your wetness from your entrance on his middle finger. "Oh, my little slut really is fucking dripping for me"

Your eyes rolled back a little, another moan coming from you muffled by your hand. He knew he had you right where he wanted you, he knew you wouldn't be able to resist much longer, especially when he was talking to you like that. So he moved his mouth back onto one of your peaked nipples and sucked at it again, groaning and finding your clit with his fingers. As soon as he started to rub slow circles over it, you shuddered and fell forward a little. Your hand coming away from your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut and then looked down at him. He was making you feel so fucking good, his fingers were well and truly skilled, as was his mouth. You cursed past you for all those nights you spent teaching him exactly how you liked it, all those nights he discovered a new way to make you crumble. And this was one of them. Sucking your tits while rubbing your pussy was always one way Eddie could get whatever he wanted. And he always looked so fucking pretty while doing it, even with a shit eating grin on his face because he knew exactly what it did to you.

"Fine. Okay, fine. But be quick, please Eds, I don't wa-" you were cut off by Eddie suddenly unlatching from your nipple, both of his hands suddenly under your skirt and pulling your panties down your legs. A little dumbfounded by how quickly he was getting them off you, you stepped out of them and watched him stuff them into his back pocket as he stood up again. Grinning at you devilishly, he was suddenly lifting you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as you grabbed at his shoulders and let out a surprised squeal, one of his hands holding you up under your ass and squeezing, his other hand down at his belt unbuckling himself and making quick work of undoing his jeans.

Now he had you giving into him and giving him what he wanted, he'd do as he wanted. "I'll be as quick as I want to be. Or maybe I'll take my time. Make you late for class cause you're too busy being stuffed with my cock" he chuckled darkly, licking his lips as he freed his cock from his boxers, shoving them and his jeans down underneath his ass and moving closer to you again, rubbing his cock against your drenched slit as your boyfriend pinned you against the wall with his full body.

You could feel the fat head of him dripping with precum and nudging against your clit, making you whine a little. Eddie was long and thick, definitely the biggest you'd ever had. At first you'd been intimidated by his cock, but that was long gone now. You loved it, you begged for it sometimes too. You bit your lip and looked up at him, watching as he smirked and groaned, his nose slotted beside yours, letting your slick coat his cock as he made you needier for him. "Eddie please.. just.. just..."

Without another word, he lined himself up with your entrance and slowly started to push himself inside you, holding you up against the wall with both hands under your ass. Both of your arms were tightly wrapped around his neck, one hand on his back and the other in his hair, your mouth hung open as he stretched you out slowly, a choked moan coming from you as he bottomed out, stilling for a moment to let you adjust. You'd been with Eddie for months now, but you still needed a second to get used to him when he was fully inside you.

"Jesus FUCK angel, so fucking tight and so wet. And it's all for me ain't it?" He groaned, burying his face into your neck as he all but lost his mind, feeling your warm velvety walls clench down on him at his words. He slowly drew back and thrusted in again, making you bite down hard on your lip so you didn't moan too loudly as the sting of the stretch turned into burning pleasure, nodding slowly to agree with him that you were infact all his.

You were still absolutely fucking terrified of being caught. Of another student who was also ditching class stumbling across you both while trying to find somewhere secret to smoke or something. Or worse.. a teacher who'd been on the lookout for ditching students. The thought of it made you come to your senses a little, looking around cautiously as Eddie started fucking into you slowly but hard, mumbling curses into your neck and squeezing your tits, making you mewl under his touch. Maybe no one would come out here. Maybe you could just enjoy your boyfriend fucking you at school, when you should both be in class.

You were just about to look back at him and stop worrying so much, when suddenly you saw something move out of the corner of your eye and your heart almost fucking stopped. Your head snapped to where you saw the movement and you gasped loudly. You saw a little piece of brown wavy hair and an eye peeking out from the corner.

Someone was watching you.

Someone was watching Eddie fuck you right now. You felt like your heart was about to jump out of your throat, your mouth opening to try and speak, but only being able to let out a strangled noise as Eddie fucked you a little harder and squeezed at your ass, his fingers digging into the globe of it. You were about to slap his shoulder, alert him to something being wrong, when the person watching moved out of the corner a little more and pressed their finger to their lips and shaking their head, telling you to be quiet as their mouth moved in a silent "Shhh". It was then that you saw exactly who it was.

Steve Harrington.

Steve fucking Harrington was watching your boyfriend fuck you right now against a wall behind the gym block. Steve Harrington, the king of Hawkins High, the captain of the basketball team, the beer keg champion. The pervert.

You looked at him in complete confusion, wondering what he was doing. How long had he been there? How much had he seen? You shook your head a little at him, waving your hand at him as if to shoo him off. But it was just as the head of Eddie's cock nudged at your g-spot in the right way and made you cry out in a moan, your head falling back against the wall that he was currently rutting you into. "Oh, there she is, is that good baby? Let it all out, let me hear all your pretty noises" Eddie mumbled, kissing up your jaw with his eyes clamped shut, mouthing at you sloppily as he moaned himself completely unabashedly. He clearly wasn't caring if you got caught. And he clearly wasn't aware of Steve's presence right now.

He'd always thought you were hot, you were insanely pretty and he'd always imagined what your tits looked like, maybe he'd even jerked off to your yearbook picture a couple times too. So when he had been walking around the school to cool off after Billy Hargrove pissed him off one too many times in gym class and he happened to stumble across you flashing your tits to Eddie, he absolutely couldn't pass up this opportunity. He immediately got hard as a rock and.. well he just couldn't help his 'manly urges'. He had to help himself out. And he definitely didn't want to stop watching when things got hotter and heavier.

You looked over at Steve again in a slight panic, seeing him watching you both intently, his eyes completely open wide in awe, licking his lips like he was concentrating hard on something. You quickly registered the fact that he looked like he was a little flushed. And then you saw his gym shorts were pushed down a little, his hand wrapped around his thick pink cock while he gripped at himself tightly, his other hand lifting his shirt up a little to let you see his toned stomach. You didn't think he was as big as Eddie from where you could see, but shit he definitely had a big dick. A little bit of precum dribbled from the slit of it and he immediately swiped it away, using his thumb to rub it into his cock and making eye contact with you, stroking at himself faster and smirking. He was enjoying that he'd been caught watching you both.

You couldn't fucking believe this. Not only was he watching Eddie fuck you, but he was getting off to it too. You were livid. You were absolutely disgusted. You were more soaked than you'd ever been. You're not sure why.. but having Steve watch you two was making your cunt flutter more around Eddie and your juices drip out of you. Eddie always usually had you soaked, but something about being watched like this, about someone seeing you completely indecently, your tits bouncing every single time Eddie thrusted his hips harshly into you.. yeah, it was fucking hot.

"Faster Eddie.. please.. god, please fuck me faster" you gasped, tugging at his hair and nibbling at his ear, keeping eye contact with Steve the whole time, deciding that if he wasn't going to shy away in embarrassment now that he's been caught and he was gonna continue to watch, then you better give him a good show right? Eddie, of course, obliged, cursing under his breath as he grabbed you under your thighs and shifted you up the wall a little, his hips snapping against your thighs hard enough to definitely leave bruises the next day.

Steve's eyes widened more and he raised his eyebrows as you spoke, lifting his hand up to his mouth and spitting into his hand, before going back to jerking himself off, trying to match the speed of which Eddie was fucking you now. He bit his lip to stop him from moaning, his eyes flicking from your face, your tits and Eddie's ass rutting into you. He couldn't help but imagine exactly how Eddie's length looked sliding in and out of your tight cunt, biting down on his lip harder as his head fell back for a second, before reminding himself that it was happening right in front of him and he could look. His head snapped back up, and he looked at you with a dark look in his eyes, his tongue darting over his lips and wetting them, moving out of the corner a little more and letting you get a good look at him and what he was doing.

No one knew this, but Steve liked being a bit of a disgusting pervert. Everyone thought just because he was "The King" and got any girl he wanted falling at his feet that he wouldn't need to be. He kinda liked the thought of spying on people when he thought they were alone. He'd never done it before, not until now. He'd thought about doing it plenty of times at parties, hiding in closets and waiting until some unsuspecting couple came stumbling into the room looking for somewhere private to fuck each others brains out. But he'd always chicken out and never actually acted on it. Not until this perfect opportunity presented itself and literally fell at his feet.

You gasped as you watched him, still a little in disbelief, moaning into Eddie's ear as he continued ramming into you. "Oh god, yeah, that's it baby, just like that, keep doing that, fuck that cock feels so good" you moaned out, keeping eye contact with Steve and licking your own lips slowly as your head fell back against the wall again, one hand coming to grab at your own breast and toying with your nipple, feeling yourself get closer to your orgasm. You weren't sure if you were playing it up on purpose now because Steve was watching, or if Eddie really was just making you feel that good. You felt his hand slide between your bodies, immediately finding your clit and making you cry out his name as he began furiously rubbing at your sensitive bud.

"You gonna cum for me pretty girl? Gonna gush all over this big dick, hm?" Eddie panted into your neck, groaning as he felt you clamp down on him. "That's it, come on princess, let me see you cum all over my dick" he said raspily as he lifted his head and looked down at the way your cunt swallowed his cock whole, holding onto his shoulders to keep yourself up as he parted your legs wider and held you there.

You nodded your head, your eyes flicking to him and then over to Steve again who was now tugging at himself furiously, standing on his tiptoes, hoping to get a tiny glimpse of your soaked cunt. He had to quickly cover his mouth as he caught sight of Eddie's fingers moving rapidly over your clit and sucked a breath in, stopping himself from making any noise and ultimately being caught by your boyfriend. He wasn't quite sure how Eddie would react, probably not in a great way since he saw how possessive he was over you, how he'd give death stares to any guy who's eyes lingered on you a little too long. Definitely not in the way you had reacted. He was still surprised at how you didn't even say anything, how you didn't rat him out and seemed to actually enjoy him watching you two. And God was he grateful. You're not sure why you didn't say, and you're even more unsure of why you're enjoying him watching your boyfriend about to make you cum.

"I'm.. I'm gonna cum! Eddie, fuck! I'm cumming!" You moaned out, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you felt your back arch and that knot in your stomach break, your orgasm washing over you with a loud gasp, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream as your head lulled forward and you opened your eyes, watching yourself squirt all over your boyfriends dick, his fingers rubbing at your clit making it a little more messy than it should have been, your fingers digging into the back of his neck, your nails leaving little half moon marks as he hissed at the feeling.

You'd never done that before. Eddie continued looking down as he felt the liquid spill from you, his eyes widening as he realised what had just happened. "Holy shit.. holy fucking shit" he said with a gasp, looking up at you and fucking into you faster, grabbing your jaw with his fingers covered in your release and kissing you hard, moaning into your mouth as he made out with you filthily, chasing his own high. His movements started to stutter and you opened your eyes, looking over as you watched Steve tug harshly at his now angry looking cock, his face screwing up as he looked at the puddle of your cum underneath you both and the way he was fucking into you. You moaned back into Eddie's mouth, your eyes half lidded and your mind fuzzy from the intensity of your orgasm.

"Cum for me baby, want you to cum for me please" you whimpered out against Eddie's lips. A small part of you was talking to Steve too, wanting to see the face he made when he orgasmed out of curiosity more than anything else. He knew you were talking to him too, nodding his head as he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and his brow furrowed, letting you know he was close, his chest heaving as his eyes glazed over.

"M'cumming sweetheart, don't you worry, m'gonna fill you up baby, oh fuck, shit!" Eddie grunted out, his voice cracking as he did just that, panting against your cheek as he gasped and moaned your name, his eyes squeezing shut tight. His forehead rested against your temple as he slowed down his movements and twitched a little, thrusting into you shakily as his cum spilled into your now oversensitive pussy, the sensation of it making you whine.

You watched as Steve's own face scrunched up and he gasped quietly, his eyelids fluttering a little as he fought to keep them open so he could keep looking. His mouth was hanging open, his hand rubbing at his length as he shot thick ropes of cum out onto the ground, his body jerking forward a little and making him stumble, cursing under his breath silently as his head fell back and he milked every last drop from himself. He looked down and watched as the last few drops of his cum dribbled out, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. You're really not fucking sure why you find watching him cum so hot, why it made you whine just as Eddie did when he came inside you. You can't believe how much he came too, blinking slowly as you looked all of it on the ground in front of him.

"God baby.. you.. you fucking squirted" Eddie said in a breathy chuckle, opening his eyes and grabbing your jaw, guiding you back to kiss him, this time was much softer than before. He was being gentle with you now. "You've never done that before, my filthy girl. Was it really that hot, getting fucked behind the school where we could be caught? It was the hottest fucking thing that's ever happened to me, that's for sure" You giggled into his mouth and shrugged your shoulders. If only he knew.

"Maybe a lil' bit. Maybe you just turned me on that much" you said with a grin as you kissed him back, wincing a little as he slid himself out of you. He slowly lowered you down, rubbing gently at your tits and slowly lifting your top down for you, not before he kissed each of your sensitive nipples, which made you squirm and push at his shoulders gently in protest.

"Goodbye girls, I'll miss you" he said to your boobs with a big fake pout, looking at them and smoothing the fabric of your tank top back down your body as you watched Steve putting his cock away into his gym shorts. He was nodding his head with a grin on his face, almost like he was agreeing with Eddie. And it made you giggle just as much as Eddie's fake pouting did. You held your hand out expectantly, raising your eyebrows at Eddie. Who just looked up at your hand and then at you, cocking his head to the side with a dumb smile on his face. "What baby?"

"Um.. my underwear maybe? I kinda need those. Unless you want everyone to see your cum dribbling down my legs" you scoffed, already feeling some of it sliding down the inside of your thigh. You watched him as he squatted down in front of you and lifted your skirt up fully again, holding it bunched in his hand at the waistband. You felt your cheeks get all hot and looked over at Steve again who was smirking and leaning against the wall, his eyes glued to your pussy as Eddie lifted one of your thighs with the hand not holding your skirt up, spreading you out and revealing your creampied messy cunt to him. And to Steve.

"Keep your leg up just like that for me, Princess. Just like that, need to have a good look at my pretty pussy" he said, his voice low and gently commanding. You did as he said, keeping it held up and looked back down at Eddie, watching as he hummed and scratched his chin with a smirk on his face, like he was thinking about something. He took your panties from his back pocket and wiped up the cum from your leg slowly, grinning up at you. He gently wiped over your cunt a little too, chuckling darkly when you jerked and hissed with how sensitive you were.

Steve thought he was going to blow his load again as he watched on. He hadn't really seen just how perfect your pussy was. So pink and wet, your clit practically throbbing still. And it looked so fucking good filled with cum too. He began to wonder if Eddie did in fact know he was there and was just trying to make him jealous, showing him that it was his cum inside of you and not Steve's. Either way, he wasn't particularly fussed, he still got a great view of your legs spread and what lay between them.

"There. That should do it. I don't think you need panties anyway, considering I'm just gonna have you on my cock in a couple hours again anyway" he shrugged and winked at you, standing up to his full height and letting your skirt fall back down around your thighs, both of your feet firmly planted on the ground again as he shoved the now soiled panties back into his back pocket. You rolled your eyes at him and slapped his chest gently with a hand.

"You're disgusting" you laughed, shaking your head and smoothing your skirt out. "Come on, we're already late for class since someone decided me flashing them wasn't enough" you said with a small sigh as you reached out for his hand and pushed yourself up off the wall, smiling wide at him.

He grinned at you, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side. "You love that I'm disgusting" he winked at you, making you roll your eyes again. It was true. You kinda did love it when he was gross like that. "It's never enough, sweetheart. You know I can't resist you" he said as he kissed your cheek sloppily and loudly, accentuating the Mwah! sound of his lips smacking against your skin. You giggled and looked over your shoulder, watching as Steve stood there and winked at you, kissing the air towards you and flicking his tongue at you lewdly.

"That was fun though, Eddie. Maybe we should do it again sometime. Was kinda hot thinking we might get caught" you said, watching as he turned back around the corner and walked away, smirking as he heard what you said. Eddie simply chuckled and looked down at you, right as you turned to look up at him, smiling wide and melting into his side.

"Oh my girl enjoyed that did she? Are you a little exhibitionist baby? You want one of the jocks to catch us and see what they're missing out on and can't ever have cause you're all mine?" He said as he nuzzled his nose against your cheek, making you giggle.

"Maybe a little bit..." you shrugged your shoulder, blushing at the fact that you know one of the jocks had already caught you. And it was Steve fucking Harrington nonetheless, who stood there and jerked off right in front of you, totally uncaring. Steve would definitely think about what he'd just witnessed later. Your jiggly round tits and your puffy dripping cunt was firmly embedded in his wank bank as jerk off material now. Or for when he was sleeping with some chick who was a little less skilled than he was used to and he needed something to get him off.

And maybe every now and then you'd think back to it too, to when you'd thought you had Eddie all alone behind the gym block..

But instead there was a peeping tom named Steve Harrington, watching your completely oblivious boyfriend cum inside you as you licked your lips at him and watched him stroke his cock.

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Wanna read part 2? Find it here

[soulprompts]

HEROIC INTERVENTION. ( A PROMPT LIST! )

so i was writing this headcanon for one of my characters, and it got me thinking about how some characters are absolutely, to their very core, protectors, and even then they still need protecting! so i made this list which is similar to about five other memes i've made. feel free to add a "reverse" if you so wish! DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST NOR CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN. THANK YOU.

FROM THE SENDER TO THE THREAT:

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " is there a problem over here? "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " can i help you with something? "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " i think it's time you were leaving. "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " why don't you and i go outside for a sec? "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " you wanna tell me why you're hassling my friend? "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " you better start running before i really get pissed. "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " i'm sure there's a rational explanation behind you upsetting this person? "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " i hope you're not thinking of staying here a moment longer. "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " get out. "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " right, either you leave or i kick you out. your choice. "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " i think it's fairly obvious my friend doesn't want anything to do with you, don't you? "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " leave them alone. now. "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " didn't you hear them? back off! "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " don't even think of pretending you didn't hear me the first time: leave! "

FROM THE SENDER TO THE RECEIVER:

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " hey, are you okay? "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " don't worry. i'll take care of this. "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " why don't you go on out back? i got this, it's okay. "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " here. you go on into the car, alright? i'm right behind you. "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " is this person bothering you? "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " it's okay. hey, hey… look at me. they're gone. "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " hey… what's going on? what's wrong? i… has this person said something to you? "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " it's alright. the others just went out to the car; why don't you join them? i'll handle this. "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " hey, hey… talk to me, huh? what's the matter? you look like you've seen a ghost… who was that? "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " don't be scared. i'm going to take care of this. i promise. "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " you don't need to say anything. just nod if you want me to kick them out, okay? "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " you're alright. i'm right here, don't worry. and they'll be gone before you can blink, that's another promise. "

ACTIONS:

[ HAND ]: sender, having seen the receiver's encounter with the threat, gently takes the receiver's hand to assure them they aren't alone.

[ INTERVENE ]: sender wordlessly steps in between the receiver and the threat, facing the threat while shielding the receiver from them.

[ BLOCK ]: sender steps in between the receiver and the threat, this time facing the receiver while turning their back to the threat and blocking them from the receiver's line of sight.

[ BACK ]: sender places a protective and gentle hand on the receiver's back, preparing to guide them away from the threat.

[ DOOR ]: sender firmly but politely insists that the threat leave the building, and escorts them out of the door.

[ EXIT ]: sender physically catches hold of the threat and drags them away from the receiver, and outside of the building.

[ PUSH ]: sender places a careful hand on the threat to keep them at arm's length, and steps forward again to give the receiver more space between them and the threat.

[ SHOVE ]: sender runs over and forcefully shoves the threat back and away from the receiver.

[ SPACE ]: sender pushes between the receiver and the threat and begins to move forward, invading the threat's personal space as both a means of intimidation and a way of getting them away from the receiver.

[ DIVERT ]: sender arrives behind the threat and gains their attention, distracting them from the receiver so as to give them time to leave the area.

[ CLEAR ]: the sender firmly and clearly tells the threat that they are no longer allowed in the premises nor anywhere near the receiver.

[ ARM ]: sender wraps a protective arm around the receiver and guides them away from the threat and out of the premises.

[ PUNCH ]: the sender, having seen the receiver's reaction to the threat and the threat's lack of consideration, moves forward and punches the threat in the face.