#and then I just……….. can’t talk properly at all?

[sceletaflores]

any nasty down bad breeding kink art musings love of my life?

viciously yanked me out of my mini challengers rut with this one because yes. yes i do have some thoughts on that.

for some reason the first thing that came to mind was virgin!art....in a universe where he somehow didn't get laid before stanford lol

like auurgggghhh virgin!art and his deep seated breeding kink. it's literally ingrained in him even before he has sex for the first time.

you're his first real girlfriend, met when you needed a tutor in accounting and art's professor suggested him.

the two of you have been dating for two months and he already knows that he loves you despite what patrick says about "playing the field a little man, you're not married to the chick."

but the thing is that art would marry you. he'd up and marry you tomorrow if that's what you wanted. he doesn’t care how crazy it sounds.

he loves you and he wants you to be his first.

maybe he wasn't entirely expecting it when you laid on your back on the mattress of his dorm, peering up at him through your lashes as you announced that you were "ready to take our relationship to the next level..."

he was hard before you finished talking.

art could barely think straight, his body reacting faster than his mind. he swallowed hard, trying to steady his hands, which had started trembling the moment you laid back on the navy blue comforter of his bed.

“are you...are you sure?" his voice came out more breathless than he intended, his brain scrambling to keep up despite all the blood rushing to his dick.

your gentle nod, paired with a soft smile that made his heart stutter in his chest was all it took for him to lose any lingering doubts.

he crawled up the mattress, leaning down to kiss you with more tenderness than urgency, his heart thudding against his ribcage like it was trying to escape his chest.

he fumbled his way through fingering you, his hands shaking with nerves even though you've done this part countless times.

it wasn't until the two of you shed all clothes, art settling himself between your legs before you were speaking, thighs twitching to close around his hips.

"you'll have to pull out, i'm off the pill."

fuck.

art's heard of that before, pulling out. usually the punchline of some jokes the guys like to tell in the locker room, or from patrick recapping his own hook-up stories.

the dirtiness of it makes his cheeks burn, and he hopes to god you can't see the embarrassing red blush he knows is there.

he takes a deep breath, steeling his resolve as he presses the leaking head of his dick to your slick hole.

"okay." his voice sounded pained, his hold on your hip probably a little too tight as he held his throbbing dick steady and nudged his hips forward until just the tip slipped inside your fluttering hole.

"oh fuck."

art’s brain short-circuits for a moment, his entire body freezing as the tight heat of you grips the head of his dick. he sucks in a shaky breath, trying to keep his cool, but every nerve in his body is screaming at him to move, to take more. to bury himself so deep he wouldn’t know where he ends and you begin.

he lets out a low groan, fingers digging into your skin, knuckles turning white with it. he wasn’t prepared for how overwhelming it would feel, like his entire life had been leading up to this exact moment.

"jesus...you're so—" he can’t even finish the sentence, his voice breaking.

"art," your hips shift beneath him, making him jolt forward, sinking just a little deeper inside you. his mind goes blank, a vast space of nothingness but the tight heat wrapped around his dick.

there's only you, your soft skin, your quiet gasps, the feeling of being wrapped in the most sinful warmth.

for a while art gets lost in the feeling. in the way you pant into his open mouth, to overwhelmed to kiss him properly. in the way your hands grip his shoulders harder with every inch he gives you. in the way you pussy shakes around him like it can hardly wait any longer.

but soon enough, art knows he's getting close, that he probably needs to pull out soon. but you're just so soft and you smell so good and your pussy is sucking his dick in so wet and warm like it never wants him to leave again.

"i can't," he grits out against your collarbone, shaking his head frantically. "i can't do it."

"don't stop," you whine, manicured nails digging into the toned muscle of his shoulders, "don't stop, baby. fuck, give it to me harder, harder please-ah!"

art screws his eyes shut as tightly as he can, brows pinched together as he presses his forehead against the sweaty skin of your shoulder. to ground himself. his hips speed up to punch out more high whines of his name from your slick lips.

there's an odd feeling working it's way through his body as he ponders his options, a wrongness flashing in the back of his mind each time he reminds himself of pulling out to spill over your stomach.

despite the fact that he's never done this before, his gut tells him no.

you deserve his come inside you, painted along your insides as he claims you for the first time.

"i can't pull out," he whines through clenched teeth, big hands tightening their hold on your waist. his voice is pinched and high in a way it's never been before, desperation leaking through his tone.

your lips fall open on a gasp, your head shaking back and forth dazedly, but he feels the way you clench around him. the way your pussy tightens up like it's trying to milk the load directly out of his aching balls.

"fuck! please don't make me baby," he begs, self restraint snapping in two as he buries his face in your neck. "lemme come in you, it'll be okay. we'll be fine, nothing gonna happen if it's only this once."

"no..." you moan, "art don't, gotta pull out..." but your hips start rising of the bed to meet his thrusts, the dirty smack of skin on skin filling his tiny single. you're dripping around him, coating his dick with a slick layer of shiny wetness.

"i can't," art repeats breathlessly, dick twitching inside you warningly.

"i need it…need you, need to come in you so fucking bad," his voice is strained and cracking, hips trembling with the effort, but you’re so tight around him, every squeeze pulling him deeper.

it's too much and not enough all at once—the heat, the wetness, the overwhelming need. it has pure kerosene burning in his veins.

"art," your legs stay wrapped snug around his hips, ankles locked over his lower back. "m'close, gonna come, fuck! i'm coming—!"

so is art. the added squeeze of you're pussy coming around shattering the last of his resolve and sending him careening him over the edge.

"fuck," your name falls from his lips in a tight groan as he unloads inside of you. flooding your pussy with warm come as his hips keep up the punishing pace he set.

art doesn't stop thrusting even as he comes so hard his vision whites out. he can't stop, like you've got some sort of magnetic field that keeps pulling him in over and over and over.

your too-loud moans and cries dissolving into sharp keens and gasps as he fucks you into over-stimulation, his hips pumping in in in as the image of his come getting fucked deeper and deeper inside of you plays on a loop in his mind.

when his arms finally give out and he collapses on top of you in a sweaty heap of limbs, your arms immediately come up to wrap around his shoulders. a pleased hum rumbling through your chest as you scratch your nails along his scalp soothingly, smug smile hidden in the sweaty halo of his hair.

art's out like a light in five minutes, falls asleep right there with his head resting on your bare-chest and his dick kept safe inside you.

patrick buys a plan-b for art the next morning when he's too nervous to face the cashier at walgreens.

[daengtokki]

Heyy there :) I literally can't stop thinking about SKZ f!additional member AU and softie Seungmin who seems nonchalant like the unbothered king he is but caring just deeply about reader, for example looking out for her when practice gets tough, getting snacks during recording sessions and so oooon. Yeah, I'm weak for that. Maybe you are, too. Have fun during this fluffy week either way^-^<3

This trope is interesting, but I've never actually read a single fic based on it! I'm not sure if I would do it justice. I do have an idea, though, and it's in the same vein as this, and I can add in the things that you're weak for (because same). The problem is…I can’t do it in a single ~1k word oneshot 🥲

So thank you for the inspiration for a new possible longer story! Unless everyone absolutely hates it.

If you like it, I’ll be happy.

idol!Kim Seungmin/guest artist!reader/idol!Chan x reader △

wc: ~1.1k (part 1?)

rating: angst to fluff

Day 5 of Seungmin's birthday oneshot countdown!

It's a few more weeks at the most, maybe longer, and after that...he'll probably never see you, or talk to you again. The planning stages of this was fun, he admits, and all eight of you sitting around the table talking to you on speakerphone; the excitement in everyone's eyes and voices was contagious. And of course Seungmin is excited...it's you. He's been a fan of yours for as long as he can remember, so having the opportunity to work alongside you, and maybe even sing with you? It’s a dream come true.

That's the problem.

He hasn't slept properly in a few days, and he's feeling very puffy and tired. There's only so much he can do now to prepare himself. He took a cold shower this morning, drank as much water as he could handle, but after that he couldn't stomach more than half of his iced coffee. It's still in his hand, numb from the almost melted ice, and dripping steadily on the floor. You're somewhere in this building right now, and you could walk in with the others at any moment.

Time to turn off. Turn off or make a complete ass of himself.

/ / /

You feel a little awkward as you walk toward the meeting room...recording studio? You actually have no clue where you're going, but you're flanked by two much taller men you don't know, and in front of you is Chan, who was a little red in the face when he was talking to you and asking you to call him Chris. So you do.

"Chris?"

He turns and smiles at you, and it's so...something you can't and refuse to deal with right now, you think. No. It's cute, and it's shy. The photos you've seen of him before today really did nothing for him, even the good ones. But you're a professional, and you are very good at acting professional when needed. Even when sweet, attractive men are involved.

"Yeah, all good?"

"Good, yeah! Where are we headed? Should I be mentally preparing to meet everyone?"

"Yes, definitely start preparing right now"

One more right turn and something about the door up ahead feels like the one. Meeting suite 1411. That's the one. Chris opens the door and moves aside to let you in first, and the room is empty, or appears to be. Security fell back and took up guard at the end of the hallway (unnecessary and embarrassing, you told Chris when they appeared).

"Oh, nobody is here...okay." He checks his phone and scrunches his nose, and you kind of feel like kissing it. "I'm sorry, I guess everyone ignored the group chat this morning."

"That's alright, are they somewhere else?"

"It's possible, but..." he points to the table filled with snacks and drinks. "I don't wanna drag you around looking for them." The phone is to his ear, and you hear it ringing, and ringing...

"I can wait here if you have to go find them. I already see a coffee carafe with my name on it."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I haven't had enough coffee or stare at my phone time this morning, anyway. And my friends are down the hall."

He smiles so big, you have to return is just as enthusiastically. Maybe he'll turn up his flirting, and you won't have to feel as responsible for your own.

"I'll be right back"

Chris turns on his heel and is gone, and the room is so quiet. Maybe you should put some music on. Before anything, you look over the catering and wonder if anyone will actually have time to enjoy this. The coffee and lemon water, sure, but this is actually a full-course meal in front of you. Just as you fill your cup with coffee, you hear music...but you don't think you pushed play yet.

No, definitely not, because it's your voice that you're hearing. You turn toward it, and jump when you see him standing there, almost mid-step, one hand reaching to pull at his earlobe. His eyes are wide, but other than that...he seems less surprised to see you than you are to see him. But he does at least pause the music.

"Hello," you say, hoping to get him to come a little closer. Whoever he is, and you feel like you should remember all of their names by now, he looks a little annoyed that he now has to share this space and this coffee with someone else. "My eyesight isn't great even with the contacts... I don't bite."

"Hi," he takes a few steps toward you, and you watch his long legs move in his shorts and socks and clean black converse. "I'm–"

"No, I can remember...give me a second"

He does, but he doesn't seem happy about it. This one doesn't have the carefree smile that Chris did, or the shy demeanor. It's a bit distracting, the way his lips purse into a heart, and the way his big brown eyes look down at you. His hair falls perfectly in front of his eyes, but you're pretty sure he woke up looking this good.

"Oh..." it comes to you, sort of. "You're the puppy, aren't you?" You think you see the ghost of a smile on his lips, but it's gone so quickly. "Seungmin."

"Yes, I'm the puppy. And also Seungmin."

The puppy persona fits him, at least physically. His face is soft and round, his big brown eyes turn every so slightly downward, and his ears—something about the way his ears sit on his head, is so... "it's nice to finally meet you."

"Likewise"

Seungmin holds out his hand for you. You do the same, and he takes it so gently. His touch and his mien don't seem to match, and you wonder if the first impression isn't the one to remember for this one.

/ / /

Seungmin finally takes a deep breath when you turn and head toward the coffee again, and he watches as you very carefully add the smallest amount of milk and sugar to it. He finally finished his, so maybe he should make himself another cup. It gives him a reason to rejoin you instead of standing here looking like an idiot.

"Have you met everyone else, or just me?" What a stupid question, he thinks. "I mean, I'm sure you met someone...you're here."

"I met Chris. He left to go find all of you, but you must be the only one who read the message and listened."

"Yes, I saw the message. I like to be on top of things."

The way his voice lowers as he speaks sends a little shiver up your arms. Seungmin likes to be on top of things, and you love catching an innuendo wherever you can. You smirk, but wipe it from your face when you think he might be looking at you.

Seungmin sees the smile pull at your lips and then disappear immediately. "What?"

"Nothing,” you laugh. “I don’t think you talked much on the calls, did you?”

“I did not speak much, I don’t have too much creative say. I have some, it just depends on what we’re doing.”

“Well, it’s tough getting in there with eight of you, I’m sure. Everyone can’t be everywhere…too many cooks in the kitchen.”

Seungmin allows himself to laugh at that, but he stifles it a little and turns away. You’re as cute and relaxed in person as you seem in interviews, and on stage, and it’s a little overwhelming. He can’t let himself do this—he can’t get himself into something he won’t be able to escape. But he seems to remember reading something about a possible relationship you’ve gotten yourself into. Thinking about that breaks his heart a little, but it’ll at least help keep him away.

None of that matters, though. Why would you have any interest in him in the first place?

“Do you want coffee? How do you take it?”

Dammit, okay… “black is good.”

[andbreakmynose]

every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own

part 1

your first date with the hot single dad you may or may not work for...

(the car! alex, single dad! alex)

WARNINGS: SMUT, feelings, age gap (reader is mid 20s), p-in-v (protected), oral (f receiving)

WORD COUNT: 5k

You hadn’t been this giddy over a man since Aiden Grant called you pretty on an Instagram post when you were 12, although you also hadn’t been with anyone like Alex fucking Turner.

Barely anyone knew you even worked for Alex; he didn’t want them to for his own privacy. You understood that, he was a private person and especially so when it came to his child. You didn’t have a problem with telling acquaintances that you worked for a rich man and not saying anything else, they usually understood. It’s never been a problem until now.

When you came home after that fateful night all giggly and smiling your roommate had more than a few questions. The alcohol in your system got you dangerously close to spilling but you came up with some lie last minute, you couldn’t remember what you said in that drunken haze but apparently it was enough to get Claire off your case.

You wanted to tell her though, you wanted to tell the world and you couldn’t. It was eating you alive that you couldn’t tell anyone that you had kissed - no, fucked - Alex Turner. Not in a bragging way, in the way that you wanted someone to tell you to calm down and slap some sense into you. You wanted to be able to ask someone for advice, to know that you weren’t making some grave mistake. It was times like these you wished that you took that advertisement in the mail for three months of free therapy.

Alex, in a sort of way, became that person. He was too busy to really talk the rest of the week, but his gentle gestures like kissing you before you left gave you enough reassurance to make it through the night without freaking out.

He felt the same way, there was this underlying fear in his bones that he really had done something terrible. It’s not that he thought he was taking advantage of you, no you’re a grown adult. But you’re the grown adult he has employed, he can’t lose that. If he worked for a company this would’ve been an HR violation. That was a bad feeling.

Waiting for Friday would be unbearable if you weren’t so damn busy. Toddlers don’t have time to accommodate for a complicated love life and it seemed that neither did Alex’s schedule. He wanted you to know that he cared and he was genuinely looking forward to having an actual date with you, but it seemed that every time he tried to start a conversation his daughter would start crying or his phone would start ringing.

It isn't until Wednesday that he actually gets you alone. He has enough time to slip home and grab lunch, and it's late enough that Ayla is already sound asleep for her nap. When he sees you sitting alone on the sofa, his heart swells. There's already something domestic about the scene: you, in his house, comfortable on his furniture. No signs of work, just relaxation—and he likes that.

“Hey. Had a few minutes to sneak out.” He sneaks into the living room, startling you slightly before you smile warmly. You can’t be upset with him, not even for a second—his presence is just too warm.

“There’s some leftover mac and cheese on the stovetop if you want it. Not exactly fine dining, but it was pretty good.” Your words make him laugh, and that feels good. He has a nice laugh, and you feel a sense of pride knowing you made it happen.

“I’ll pack some and take it back to the studio. Don’t really have much time,” he says, glancing down at his watch—probably more expensive than your car. “But I did want to talk. Y’know, about Friday.”

You nod and sit up properly, straightening your back so you don’t look lazy. He notices but doesn’t comment; it’s cute to him that you’re still trying to impress him when he already finds you so special.

“So I’ve been thinking... and talking...” He leans against the doorway, smiling. “I made a reservation at that restaurant for 6:30, and I’ve already talked to Matt. He’s more than happy to watch Ayla for the night. You know how excited she’ll be to see them.” He beams at his own productivity, clearly pleased with how he’s going above and beyond for you.

The mention of Matt confuses you. You’ve been nervous about even mentioning the situation to your sister, and yet Alex already told Matt? It makes sense, you guess—Matt understands celebrity life and knows how to keep secrets. He seems decent enough from the few times you’ve met him, but the idea still makes you feel something strange.

“Matt knows about... us?” you ask, hesitating slightly. You don’t want to seem upset—you’re not upset—but you do want clarification.

Alex picks up on your nerves instantly. It’s obvious in the way your fingers dig into your knee and your teeth worry at your lip. He shakes his head, chuckling. “Don’t worry about that. I told him an old friend is coming to town for drinks and that you weren’t available anyway.”

Damn Alex and his talent for easing your nerves. You exhale the deepest breath you’ve taken in a while. It’s all good. “Ah, okay. I was just wondering if you were telling the whole world about us,” you joke, knowing he isn’t. You needed to say something to lighten the mood, more for yourself than for him.

He laughs at your joke, and he doesn’t even need to say no—you already know he wouldn’t want to jinx things yet. He’s about to speak again when his watch buzzes, prompting a disappointed sigh. He doesn’t want to leave, he’d rather spend all day staring into your wide, pretty eyes.

“I’m excited for tomorrow, yeah? We’ll drop her off at 6:00 and then head out. I really am excited. You don’t even know.” He sounds slightly nervous, and it’s cute to see that you can make him feel that way. You don’t know what you did to deserve it.

"I’m excited too.” Your voice is warm, matching the smile on your face. You’re not entirely sure what to say, but you know just how excited you are to have something with him. His expression softens as he lifts himself from the doorframe.

“I’ll see you later, darling. Take care.” And with that, he’s gone, but you can’t blame him—you know how busy he always is. The word "darling" bounces around in your head, a reminder that this isn’t a dream. He really does like you.

Thursday night is spent stressing over what to wear. You know Alex will show up in his usual suit—one of his quirks that drives you wild—but you don’t want to overdo it. It’s just dinner, but your work clothes won’t cut it. You certainly can’t show up in sweats to a date with Alex Turner.

You settle on a dress you haven’t worn since your ex-classmates wedding to her now ex-husband. It’s not the nicest, but it will do. You have a sneaking suspicion that Alex would like you in a trash bag anyway. You roll the dress up and tuck it in your bag—no way you’re wearing it to work where it’d end up covered in marker and spit.

Friday’s anxiety convinces you that you’re doing your job horribly. You must have forgotten something or messed up because your mind is all Alex, Alex, Alex, like he’s a parasite who’s crawled into your brain.

Knowing he’ll be home around 5:30, you start getting ready at exactly 5:15. You make sure to look presentable, curling your hair and applying a layer of concealer. He’s seen you at your worst—covered in child vomit—but you still want him to see you at your best.

Right on time, he unlocks the front door, and Ayla immediately bounds over to him. He laughs, picking her up and setting her on his hip before his eyes sweep over you. You look good—you always look good—but this time, it’s something else.

He clears his throat, giving a small smile. “You look that good to me?” You don’t want to blush, but you’re sure your face is bright red. Of course, you dressed up for him.

“Nah. I dressed up to get spit on,” you joke, stepping forward and ruffling Ayla’s hair just like Alex did. He smiles at the closeness, free from the stresses of the day and surrounded by the people he cares about the most. It’s a good feeling.

He chuckles at your words, raising his eyebrows and making a quizzical face at his daughter as if she’s hiding something. She just babbles, reaching out to pull his sunglasses off and throw them on the floor. Alex shakes his head, pretending to care. You laugh, silently thanking her for letting you see Alex’s eyes again. He really does have the nicest eyes.

“Those were my nice pair, you rascal.” You’ve never heard him upset and this is no exception, even when he’s pretending to be upset he still has so much love in his voice. “Y’know I was gonna surprise ya by taking you to Uncle Matt’s for the night but it seems like you’re being a little punk tonight.” The girl immediately cries out and shakes her head, protesting just the thought of not going to Matt’s.

“Aw alright, you’re too darn cute to deny. Plus I have to do things anyways tonight.” This makes Ayla clap excitedly and make small noises, Alex giving her a smile before looking up with a wink. You secretly knew that the plans he had tonight consisted of you, and you wink right back at him. “You pack her night bag?” He asks you, it was the one thing he asked in the morning so of course you did it. You were always 10 steps ahead and he loved that.

“Mhm!” You nod and gesture to the pony-printed bag behind you. It was a gift you had gotten her for Valentine’s day earlier this year. Alex nods and walks over, daughter still in hand, to grab the bag and swing it over his shoulder. He’s signaling that it’s time to go.

You follow after him silently into his black sports car, taking Ayla from him to help buckle her into her carseat. You hop in the passenger's side and he sets the radio to the kid’s channel. Alex looks back at his daughter with a wide grin, even if he doesn’t particularly tolerate these songs he knows that it makes her happy. He starts to sing along to some song about waffles, god it’s awful but somehow his crooning makes it sound like a 1950s love song. You smile at the scene while Alex pulls out of the driveway.

That’s how the whole drive goes, it’s only about 15 minutes but all 15 of them are spent with Alex singing his heart out just to please his kid. “Is this on the new album?” You remark with a teasing grin at one song about silly snakes, Alex just laughs and reaches out to gently swat your arm.

That moment confirmed to you that your relationship with Alex had changed, not a single other person you worked with would have touched you. And Alex wasn’t just touching you sexually but he was touching you in a warm, familial way. For a second it felt just like you were old lovers and your kid, not what you really were.

It’s an easy handoff to Matt, Ayla is excited to see everyone and all you really have to do is hand off the night bag, Alex trusts them enough that he doesn’t even consider worrying for the night. When he’s sure the door is shut he takes your hand in his, leading you back to the car. You’ve come to love his hands; they were gentle and warm, yet also calloused from years of experience. They were the most Alex Turner hands you could possibly think of.

He starts the car again, making sure to shift the stereo to his personal mix of 2000s garage rock and 1960s french jazz. It was such an eclectic combination but it told you everything you needed to know about him, you felt warm as he hummed along to the words you didn’t really understand.

The restaurant was about a 30 minute drive, it was mostly silent besides the few times Alex pointed out things in the city. He showed you which venues he had played and which stores he had shopped in, he made sure to recommend the sweaters at some luxury store that you couldn’t pronounce the name of. When you told him you loved his sweaters he made a mental note to get one for you for the holidays, or to lend you one of his own.

Like he said, the restaurant is formal but cozy. It reminds you of something from Lady and the Tramp, or maybe Ayla had just made you watch that movie on repeat in the past week. He hands the keys off to the valet worker and grabs at your hand again, leading you inside.

“Turner, party of 2,” he says to the hostess with a smooth voice, looking over at you to remind you that you’re his party, his date. The hostess grabs two menus and leads you to a secluded booth in the corner. There’s a candle and roses on the table, which you didn’t notice at any others. Maybe he had done that special just for you.

He orders the two of you a glass of wine and a basket of bread, pointing out his favorite items on the menu. You decide on some fancy seafood pasta, Alex mumbling that it was a good choice.

This is your first time ever alone with Alex for a prolonged period, you’re not quite sure what to expect. He starts the conversation off easily, asking about your day and telling you about his. The endless flow of drinks and food (everytime you ask to order something he says yes - reassuring you that he couldn't care less about the price) makes it all really easy. There’s just chemistry between you and Alex.

He tells you about touring and you tell him about your childhood dog, he tells you what it’s like to be famous and you tell him about your experience in college. There’s such a difference in lifestyles but it doesn’t seem to matter at this moment, he’s completely enthralled by your life. It almost feels like you’re sharing similar experiences, he understands everything you say and is able to respond in such a damn charming way.

The food is unreasonably good, like maybe in the top five you’ve ever had. The flavors are rich and you wonder for a second how you’ll go back to fast food and microwaved dinners after this. At some point Alex decides he wants a bite from your plate so he puts his fork in it, there’s an awkward clash of arms that has you both giggling.

“You want some of mine? It’s only fair,” he asks you, a small amount of pasta sauce stuck under his bottom lip. You want to reach out and fix it but you’re too preoccupied with his words. You give a nod and he picks up his fork, grabbing a piece of chicken and bringing it to your lips. You were totally fine with getting your own bite but he had different plans, and the scene made you feel more like you were in Lady and the Tramp.

His food was also too damn good and you let out a satisfied groan, him grinning and reaching out to clean your lip. You figure since he did it you can do it too, so you take your thumb and gently wipe down his lip. It’s a quiet sort of encounter but it’s full of so much tension and unspoken words, god why was pasta sauce turning you on?

He finally removes his hand from your face and wraps his arm around you, pulling you to his side. You can tell at that moment that you’ve crossed a bridge and probably won’t be able to keep your hands off each other anymore, it’s good that there isn’t that much food left.

He keeps his arm tight against you as you eat, like he’s afraid you’ll run on him. The food doesn’t take too long to finish, at least on your behalf. It’s so good that you can’t stop filling your mouth. And when you’re done and Alex has a bit left it’s a treat that you get to watch him eat for a second, his mouth alternates between telling stories and chewing, his perfect lips always moving.

The waiter asks if you want dessert but you two were both too full, and Alex gives you a look that says he has dessert prepared for later. It’s a silent promise that reminds you of what happened last time we were together and has your heart beating faster in anticipation.

He pays the bill (you don’t even bother to look at how many figures are on there) and then takes you back to his car. His hand never leaves your back, sometimes drifting down to the curves of your ass. The valet man hands him his keys back, he tips heavily, and you’re heading back to his place. Nervous anticipation fills both of your throats.

“That was maybe the best food I’ve ever had.” You tell him as you take a seat in his car, buckling your seatbelt and smiling at him.

He nods and hums, following your actions and expression, “Glad you think so. I’m pretty fond of it myself.” He starts the car and his music begins to play again, you had heard this song before. Maybe because of him. “I really like that dress on you sweetheart, so damn gorgeous.” He breaks the silence after a minute, voice husky and smirk on his face. He did mean the sexual connotations behind his words but he also just really liked the dress, you were a gorgeous girl and seeing you dolled up for him was lovely.

“Aw thanks.” You reply, feeling your face heat up a bit. You still weren’t quite used to his compliments, he shouldn’t be saying you looked gorgeous when he looked like a damn god. He drives in silence for a second, taking occasional glances over at you with that smirk on his face.

“I have a confession to make...” he gives you a devilish grin, a small laugh trying not to escape him, “I get really touchy feely when I’m a bit drunk. But emphasis on the touchy part.” And then he laughs, he really can’t hold it in and neither can you. He has you laughing while simultaneously attempting to not pay attention to the burn between your thighs.

He smiles back at you, he loves your laugh, and then turns the stereo up a bit. He wants to get you back home and fast, this week of waiting for you has just driven him crazy. You’re able to get comfortable and let the music distract your busy mind, your eyes stay peeled to the window so you don’t notice how his hand is flexing against the steering wheel.

He leads you to the kitchen when you get home, the same place this all began. He opens the wine cabinet and starts to look, but you interrupt, “I shouldn’t drink anymore, I don’t want to be hungover at work tomorrow.” He nods and lets out a small sigh, that’s right. You were his daughter’s damn babysitter, not a girl he brought home from the bar. He has to repeat this thought as your cleavage is right in his face. “Yeah, that’s fine...”

Another second of silence fills the room, you know what he’s thinking about but is too shy to say. It’s a bit endearing how he doesn’t want to come across as too forward. “Alex... if you want to fuck me you can just say it. I can see you staring down my tits.”

He’s halfway through a drink of wine when you say this and he ends up coughing it up, he didn’t expect you to say anything. Good, maybe he wasn’t the only one being so sexually desperate here. “Right... well I think I’d like that.” He regrets saying that instantly, it sounds so stupid. He wants to fuck you with ever fiber of his being and he’s saying he “thinks” he’d like that. God he feels like an idiot.

He was still shy, and to be honest so were you. It had been a while and the first times with anyone were always scary. But you still nodded at his words and tilted your head towards his bedroom, if there was anytime nerves would be the lowest it would be now when you were both a bit tipsy.

Alex swallows and takes the lead, grabbing your hand and leading you to his bedroom. You had been there before to grab things for the kid before but this felt different, you weren’t there for your job. You were in his room and you were about to have sex with him.

Before you can finish looking around he grabs you by the waist and captures your lips in a searing kiss, too much pent up desire to wait for any longer. You’re caught off guard but still end up moaning into the kiss, Alex can only think about how he wants to hear more of those moans. Something must’ve taken hold of him because he gets the confidence to push you towards the bed, starting to work at the zipper with his long fingers.

He gets the zipper all the way down and you can barely register it before your dress is on the floor, leaving you in your underwear set. It wasn’t really the nicest but it still had Alex’s breath hitching. “Fucking gorgeous body. You know I’d return the favor from last time but I think if I’m not inside you soon I might perish and die.”Always one for the dramatics.

You give a small giggle at his words, reaching your hand out to gently palm his prominent bulge through his trousers, he hisses at just the littlest bit of contact. There’s a tangle of limbs as you try to get his clothes off and he tries to get your lingerie off, it’s awkward and messy and you almost feel like a high schooler again. Everything about Alex makes you feel like a high schooler again.

After you’re both completely undressed he joins you on the bed, pushing you back and settling on his knees. He starts to gently part your legs to look at your soaked cunt, running his middle and pointer fingers through the folds to collect your wetness. “Your cunt is pretty too, you know that? I think I’ve changed my mind, I need to taste you.”

Before you can even respond (which you probably wouldn’t have been able to respond with words anyways) his lips are attached to your sex. You let out a loud whine and attach your hand into his hair, pushing him deeper. He brings his mouth up slightly higher and his nose budges at your clit, that perfect fucking nose. It’s only been a minute and he already has you shaking and letting out endless streams of whines. He’s reveling in your taste, he thinks he could survive purely on the taste of your juices.

He develops a rhythm of licking at you, sucking at your clit, and peppering kisses along the sensitive folds. It’s intoxicating and you’re sure the words you’re saying don’t make sense, the only ones you can recognize coming out of your mouth are “Alex” and “Fuck.” He’s obsessed with your cunt but at the same time he’s hard in a way that’s making him uncomfortable, so he pulls his lips away much to your whining protest.

“Shh.. shh... sorry sweetheart. I just need to fuck you now,” he says in a voice smoother than butter. As he shifts to having his hips in between your legs your eyes meet the throbbing member in front of you. The head is red and you can see the pulsing. Yeah, it makes sense he needed to fuck you. He takes his time to line his head up with your folds, he needs that first thrust to be perfect as silly as it sounded.

After he decides on his placement he places his hands on your shoulders and starts to push himself in. It’s a stretch for you but in the best way, you hadn’t been filled by a cock in so long and now the most beautiful one was opening you up. Your tight caverns had Alex matching your groans, leaning down so he can kiss you again.

“So. Fucking. Perfect. And all mine.” He says in between kisses, starting to move his hips at a pace that has you both satisfied and begging for more. You’re his, you’re completely his. If there was any question about it before. You didn’t care that he was technically your employer anymore, at this second he was your lover and maybe the best lover you had ever had.

“Yes Alex, I’m yours. All yours,” you moan out, every thrust causing new goosebumps to arise on your arms. “Now fuck me harder, please.” You add on, causing him to laugh.

“Your wish is my command, sweetheart,” he says before picking up the pace. He starts to slam into you at a brutal pace, still littering your neck with kisses. If that wasn’t enough he starts to pinch and roll your nipples in his fingers, all the sensations making your eyes roll back. You knew your orgasm was soon, and Alex knew it too. You both wanted this too much to hold on for much longer.

Your moans start to become one constant stream of noises and his grunts start to become more guttural, the coil in your lower stomach was starting to build up and you just needed to push towards that release a bit more. He took note of this and brought his thumb from your nipple to your clit, circling it quickly like if he didn’t make you cum, he’d be executed. His own release was nearing and he could feel himself start to twitch inside of you.

“Can I cum fuck - inside?” He groans out, always the gentleman. He’s really damn turned on by the idea of cumming inside before but he’s seen what that can do before and doesn’t exactly want to deal with that again. You nod your head, you’re glad he asked but you’ve been on birth control since you were 15 for period cramps.

“On the pill!” You scream out. And it’s so embarrassing but that’s the last thing you’re able to say before the coil inside of you snaps and you’re cumming all over his cock, your walls squeezing him deliciously. He’s decided that making you cum is his new favorite thing in the world, the noises you make and the way your body is reacting drives him to his own release. With a final thrust and groan he’s leaning forward against you and emptying inside of you.

He cums a lot; you knew that from sucking him off, but now it was inside of you. And even when he pulled out, despite missing how he felt, you still felt pretty full. You were full of his remains; he likes that just as much as you. He spends a second to smile at your spent cunt leaking him before he snaps out of it.

"I'll, uh, I’ll get a towel, yeah?” He says, still catching his breath, before walking off to grab what he said. You miss him for the two minutes he’s gone, and when he returns, you feel like he’s just gotten back from war. He gently cleans your sex off and then puts the glass of water aside for you on the nightstand.

Collapsing onto the bed next to you, he pulls you into his side, placing a kiss on your temple. “That was perfect; I hope you let me do it again.” Of course you’d let him do it again; you’d let him fuck you right now if you weren’t kind of tired.

“You can fuck me whenever we both have the time; that’s my promise to you. And maybe we’ll go to that restaurant again? It was good!” He chuckles and nods, playfully ruffling your hair and placing another kiss on your head.

“I’ll take you wherever you want; you're mine now, and I mean it.” He pulls you against your side, and you know the truth to his words—you were entangled with him, whatever the implications were. You were his. And now you were about to sleep in his bed.

He wakes up before you; he knows he has to go pick up the kid from Matt's, and it’d be odd if you went too. He slips on a shirt and jeans for the day, more casual than he was used to, and lets his eyes roam over your sleeping form. Your nakedness was a reminder of everything you did that night, but your eyes closed, and the smile on your face was a reminder of the deeper meaning to it all. He couldn’t wait to explore that more.

He thought about you the entire drive to Matt's—not just how you felt under him but how you made him happy. He could’ve been embarrassed by how whipped he was this quick, but it was a long time coming. His mind drifts back to how pretty you were last New Year's when he had you take Ayla to the “family” party.

When he gets to Matt's, Ayla is beyond excited to see him, running up and pulling his leg into a hug. He hugs her back for a second and then gestures for her to walk to the car; he’s about to follow, but Matt stops him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Is there a reason you were holding hands with your babysitter last night, Alex?”

A/N: kinda hate this but i needed to get it out. title from jane eyre again <3 love dad alex

[insolemi]

New Beginnings

cate dunlap (gen v) x (hopefully)gn!reader

summary: cate's life takes a series of turns when she gets to God U, and you're at the center of all of them

genre: fluff, potential angst

inclusions: language, awkward situations, touchstarved and socially awkward!cate, overly-excited and outgoing!reader, ooc cate fs, this is more a few different scattered scenes that it is a full, single plot fic so be aware, my first attempt at a fic so please lower expectations

wc: 4.4k

hiiii… y’all i am so sorry this took me seventy years to get posted, i had the strangest series of events happen, but here it is and i hope you enjoy it !!

Godolkin is an entirely new environment.

It's not like Cate hadn't known that going into it, hadn’t known that her life would be completely different from the moment Indira Shetty had shown up in her room and offered her a way out of her childhood bedroom turned prison. She doesn’t think she’d ever be able to repay her for that. For getting her out of that house, out from under the echoing emptiness of the four walls of her bedroom and the occasional sound of her online homework videos.

For being the reason she met you. Her pretty, sweet little roommate.

Move-in day hadn’t been particularly good or bad, the large crowds of people and their chattering were overwhelming but calming at the same time, knowing the voices weren’t in her head but out loud, around her this time.

She made her way down the hall, brushing through smaller crowds of students and their parents as she counted the different numbers above the doors. 415, 417, 419. She reads the number, coming to a slow stop outside of the dorm room with the number written on the piece of paper in her hand, her name labeled right next to your name. The thought alone of it makes her nauseous, having to share a bedroom with an entirely new person she’d never met before and hope that they get along. 

Whatever. It’s fine. She can do this. All she has to do is walk into the room, introduce herself to you, and try her best to not embarrass herself. That’s easy enough, no? It’s not like its rocket science or a hostage situation (although the way her heart is beating loudly in her ears might say differently), all she has to do is walk in and say ‘Hi, I’m Cate’. 

She stands in the doorway, just staring at your back for a moment, her eyes wide, the leather of her gloves creaking around the strap of the bag she’s holding in her hands (one of the only things she’d even brought with her) as she works up the courage to just open her mouth and talk as the only thing running through her mind is that everything is fine, she's got this, all she has to do is say–

Fuck.

The second her mouth opens, you turn to face her from the desk you’d been arranging things on and any words she’d been carefully planning in her head die on the tip of her tongue immediately at the sight of you. 

She hardly has any time to let the thought cross her mind and register it before you’re in her space, introducing yourself with an excited note to your sweet voice and wrapping your arms around her in a brief hug, your chin pressed against the side of her shoulder, the palm of your hands braced on the back of her shoulders, the other hand around her neck. You pull back from her and rest your hands above the back of her elbows, your face still in her direct orbit as you smile at her, your mouth opening to continue speaking. “You’re Cate, right? My roommate?” There’s a pretty little sparkle to your eye that she has to tear her own away from.

She can’t think about anything but the sound of your voice ringing in her ears and the feeling of the heat of your hands over her sleeves, but she somehow manages to get the words out of her mouth to finally introduce herself. “Uh, yeah, hi,” she forces out, her head spinning so fast that she can’t think properly and she stumbles back a step, pulling out of your grasp, unable to handle the warmth of your touch. She awkwardly tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I'm, um… Cate.” It’s been so long since anyone touched her so enthusiastically, without any ounce of hesitation, and now here you are, all smiles and casual touches, and she can barely keep it together.

But she does. She doesn’t want to come across as weird, a freak, so she smiles and nods along with your excited chattering, your energy far off the charts of anything near the realm of what she’s used to. “Thank god,” you laugh, clapping your hands together as you look her over for probably the first real time since she entered the room. “I was so worried I was gonna get a total bitch, but you seem sweet, so, again, thank god.” Another bell-ringing laugh.

“You have a nice laugh.” Fuck. Again. Her and her big mouth. “Sorry! I didn’t–”

“It's fine! Thank you," you keep the pretty smile on your face as you continue to look over Cate, a tint to your cheeks appearing briefly before you’re back to talking, something she’s starting to get the sense you do a lot (not that she minds, not if it means she gets to keep hearing your voice). "Oh, your hair is so gorgeous," you lift a hand from where it’s clasped in front of your chest to briefly lift a strand of Cate's blonde hair, admiring the clips she has in place.

Cate feels her pulse quicken. “Uh... thanks. It’s just, you know... hair,” she laughs nervously, unsure what else to say. Your touch, though brief, leaves behind a warmth that spreads through her chest, and it’s making her head spin

You smile brightly, seemingly unaware of how much you're affecting her. “Y’know, you and me? We’re going to be best friends. I can already tell.” 

Cate’s face flushes instantly. "Oh, um... yeah! That’d be cool." Her voice cracks slightly as she tries to match your enthusiasm, and she winces inwardly. You sound so sure of yourself, have so much conviction in your voice that Cate can hardly do anything other than believe your words. It’s overwhelming, in the best way, but she feels like she’s drowning in it. She’s not used to this kind of attention directed at her. You’re all smiles, your energy is infectious, and it’s making her feel out of place for not being able to respond how she wants to. She knows what she wants to say, but that’s almost never what leaves her mouth.

Still in the back of her head, there’s a wiggling part that kinda smarts at what you say. Best friends. That’s exactly what she needs, she thinks, a genuine best friend, though that thought directed at you makes her chest tighten in a way she doesn’t know how to handle, for reasons she doesn’t want to think about.

“You seem... really sweet, too,” Cate admits, biting her lip the moment the words leave her mouth. She hates how transparent she’s being but with you... it’s hard to hide how much she’s already attached.

Your smile grows even warmer. “Good! ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, Cate.”

Cate lets out a nervous laugh, trying to mask the overwhelming flood of emotions that sentence sparks. "Yeah... I’m okay with that." More than okay, she thinks, but she can’t say that out loud.

—

It’s late, and the two of you are sitting on the loveseat couch in your dorm room that you’d somehow managed to acquire (somehow being you sweet-talking a frat boy out of one, not that anyone else needed to know that), mid-way through watching some animated movie Cate can’t remember the name of but you’d forced her to watch (‘forced’ meaning you asked her once to watch it and she caved) once you realized she’d never seen it. You’ve been leaning against Cate’s side for most of it, your head resting on her shoulder, legs thrown over the arm of the couch, and she’s been tense the whole time, back ramrod straight, trying her best not to move too much, not to let her nerves show. She’s terrified that if she moves, you’ll realize how fast her heart is racing.

It’s silent in the room until you let out a soft sigh, shifting slightly where you’re laying basically your entire body against her side. Cate can’t help but somehow stiffen up more. This doesn’t escape your notice, just like anything else that has to do with her, and you lift your head, turning it to look at her.

“You okay?” The concern in your voice makes her heart squeeze and she makes a conscious effort to relax a little. 

“Yeah,” she slips you a tight smile, her eyes darting back and forth between the screen and your face. More than okay if she’s being honest.

You nod, a soft hum of contentment leaving your lips as you lay your head back down on her shoulder, pulling your legs closer to you on the couch and loosely wrapping an arm around hers. Cate’s breath hitches despite her best efforts to focus on anything other than your bare palm on her arm. “Yeah,” you echo, the sound full of a kind of relaxation Cate desperately wishes she could hit.

It falls silent in the room again, the neon colors on the screen glowing brightly around the room, casting long shadows where the light can’t quite reach. There’s almost something either poetic or ironic in that, Cate thinks. Maybe she could figure it out if she could think about something other than the heat of your skin or your breath fanning out over her arm, your eyes still focused solely on the screen.

She feels like she should say something more, but the words get stuck in her throat, but all she can think about is how warm you feel against her, how much she wants this moment to last forever.

You glance up at her again, noticing the distant look on her face, and nudge her with a playful grin. "You’re still watching, right?" you tease, your voice light but laced with affection. “This is my favorite part.”

Cate blinks, momentarily startled, then forces a sheepish smile. “Uh, yeah. Totally.” But in reality, she hasn’t processed a single frame of the movie. How could she, when you’re so close? When your every movement sends ripples of warmth through her?

The movie continues to play, but all Cate can focus on is how natural it feels, how right it feels, sitting next to you like this.

—

It’s been a few weeks since you two moved in together, and Cate is slowly starting to feel more comfortable around you. She’s still a little awkward, old habits die hard (especially ones like hers), but she’s not as jumpy as she used to be. Especially not now when, where there used to be hard spots of tension in every silence between you two, are now small, quiet moments that are more comforting than they are terrifying.

So today, when you suggested grabbing coffee at the campus café, Cate agreed. Even if the thought of spending time alone with you, even if it is in a public space, still makes her heart race, she just couldn’t find it in herself to say no this time. She’s sitting across from you, absently stirring her drink as you talk about anything and everything, your hands doing most of the speaking for you when you bring it up. 

“So…” She can already tell you think you’re taking a risk bringing it up, which makes her stomach twist a little. “There’s this little hangout thing – not a party!” You reassure immediately, hand coming up to stop any protests she might have, already well aware that parties aren’t her thing; too many people, too much noise, too much of a risk of something bad happening. “It’s not a party, it’s just, like, five or six people, I swear.”

“You should come with me!” you say, your eyes lighting up. “It’ll be fun, I promise.” It’s a long shot, asking her to go to a party (or anything, really), and you both know it, but you never skip asking her anyway, despite her numerous rejections. It makes her feel… warm? That you never give up on her. That alone makes her reconsider her usual knee-jerk reaction of saying ‘no’.

Her fingers toy with the rim of her cup, buying her a moment to think. “I don’t know...” she begins, her voice hesitant. “Parties aren’t really my thing.” She glances up at you, biting her lip. “But... maybe.”

You nearly spill your coffee as you sit up straighter, eyes wide and a hopeful smile on your face. “Wait—really? You’d come?”

Cate feels her heart skip a beat at your genuine surprise and excitement. A small, tentative smile pulls at her lips, and for once, she lets herself enjoy the idea. “Yeah,” she shrugs, trying to sound casual even though her heart is racing. “Why not, right?”

You grin from ear to ear, letting out a little squeal of excitement, making her feel a little braver for saying yes. “This is awesome, Cate! You won’t regret it, I swear.”

She hopes you’re right.

—

Later that night, Cate stands in front of the mirror, adjusting her shirt nervously for what feels like the hundredth time. She’s never been comfortable with events like this, even if it is nothing big, just a small gathering with some people from your class like you’d said. Despite the anxiety gnawing at her, she’s determined to at least try, especially since it means spending more time with you outside of classes. She tugs at the sleeves of her shirt, her eyes lingering on her gloves.

Your soft knock on the open closet door pulls her from her thoughts. You poke your head around it, a playful grin on your face. “You ready?”

Nope. She is absolutely in no way prepared for this. At all. Cate takes a deep breath, her lips quirking into a small, hesitant smile. “Yup,” she chirps, though there’s still audible uncertainty in her voice.

You walk over to her, gently reaching out to fix a stray strand of hair that’s fallen out of place. Your fingers barely graze her skin, but it’s enough to send her pulse racing. “You look great, Cate.”

Cate’s breath catches at the compliment, and she gives a soft, nervous laugh. “Thanks,” she murmurs, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “You too. I mean, you also look great.” She's not entirely sure that covers it.

You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. “Don’t worry,” you say reassuringly, “I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

For some reason, that promise makes all the difference. Cate takes another steadying breath and follows you to the door, feeling just a little braver with you by her side.

Maybe tonight, she’ll finally stop holding herself back.

—

A few weeks later and the two of you are lying on your beds, the lights dimmed, just talking about anything and everything. These late-night conversations have become a nightly routine since moving in together, and Cate is starting to feel like she can really open up to you in ways she hasn’t with anyone else. There's something about the quiet of the room, the gentle rhythm of your voice, and the way you listen without judgment that makes her feel... safe, she thinks. 

You stretch out, letting your arm dangle off the edge of the bed, glancing over at her. “Hey, Cate,” you ask softly, “what’s your family like?”

Cate hesitates, staring up at the ceiling. She’s never been good at talking about them—the weight of her past always feels too heavy, too personal. But with you, it doesn’t feel quite as suffocating. There's something about the way you ask, like you’re genuinely interested, but not pushing her to share more than she’s comfortable with. She still isn’t sure how much she wants to reveal, but the silence that follows your question is patient, giving her room to breathe.

She finally speaks, her voice low. “My family’s... complicated.” She shifts slightly on her bed, pulling at the sleeve of her shirt. “I don’t really talk to them much anymore.”

You turn your head to look at her, your voice soft and full of understanding. “I’m sorry, Cate.”

Cate swallows, feeling a familiar tightness in her chest. She doesn’t want to go too deep, doesn’t want to drag the mood down, so she shrugs, trying to make it seem like it’s not that big of a deal. “It’s okay. I’m... kinda used to it by now.” Her voice wavers slightly, betraying her attempt at nonchalance.

The room falls into a thoughtful silence. It’s not uncomfortable, just heavy with the unspoken weight of everything Cate has never said aloud. You don’t push for more, just let her words hang in the air, like you’re giving her the space to share if she wants to. After a long pause, you break the silence with a soft chuckle.

“You know, I think we’re kind of like family now,” you say, the warmth in your tone unmistakable. You roll over on your side, facing her, your face half-lit by the soft glow from the window. “I mean, we live together, we spend a lot of time together, grocery shopping... pretty much checks all the boxes, right?”

Cate turns her head slightly, surprised by your words. The idea catches her off-guard, but not in a bad way. It’s just... new. “Yeah?” she murmurs, her voice uncertain. “You think so?”

“Definitely,” you say with a grin. “And you don’t have to think about any of that shit with your family right now. You've got me.” You scoot a little closer on your bed, giving her an earnest look. “So... if you ever wanna, like, talk about it, I’m here. But if not, that’s cool too. It won’t hurt my feelings or anything.”

Cate’s heart skips a beat. It’s not the words themselves that get to her—it’s the sincerity behind them. The way you say it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, makes her feel like maybe she’s not as alone as she thought.

A small, genuine smile tugs at her lips. “Yeah,” she murmurs, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “I guess.”

You flash her another warm smile, your voice light. “See? I’m not so bad to have around, right?”

Cate chuckles softly, the sound easing some of the tension in her shoulders. “Eh, you’re alright,” she teases gently, heaving an exasperated sounding sigh. “Guess I could do worse.”

You laugh, a playful glint in your eye. “Wow, thanks, I think? High praise coming from you.”

Cate rolls her eyes, but there’s no denying the smile that’s still on her face. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” you reply, your grin widening as you settle back into your pillow. The easy banter between you both feels like a balm, soothing the heaviness of the earlier conversation.

—

You and Cate are sitting on the bed, talking like usual, but there’s something different about today—something a little heavier in the air. Cate’s been quieter than normal, her gloved hands resting tensely in her lap, fingers curling and uncurling against the fabric. You can tell something’s bothering her, the way her gaze keeps flicking down to her hands, then back up at you, as if she’s debating something in her head.

You wait for her to speak, sensing that there’s something she wants to say but is struggling to get out. Finally, you reach over and place your hand on top of hers, your thumb tracing gentle circles over the soft leather. “Cate... what’s going on?” Your voice is full of care, inviting her to share what’s going through her head, even when you both know you already know.

It’s silent in the room for a moment before you speak again. “It’s about your gloves, right?” A gross underestimation and you both know it. “You don’t have to wear those if you don’t want to. Not around me.”

Cate’s breath hitches, her eyes widening as she pulls her hands away instinctively. “I– I do,” she whispers, almost like she’s trying to convince herself as much as you. “You don’t understand. If I touch someone, tell them to do something... they have to. I can’t just take it back. What if I say something I don’t mean? What if I hurt you without even realizing it?”

Your expression softens as you scoot closer, your knees brushing against hers. “I trust you, Cate,” you say firmly, but with a gentleness that makes her heart ache. “C’mon, I know you’d never hurt me. Not like that.”

Cate bites her lip, her gaze dropping again to the gloves. She’s heard those words from you before, but it’s hard to believe them, especially when the memories of what happened to her brother still haunt her. “It’s not that simple,” she mutters, her voice tight. “I could slip up. All it takes is– is a touch and a word, and I could—” She stutters through her words before they break off, biting her lip. The thought of losing control terrifies her.

You lean forward, holding her hands tighter, not letting go this time. “I do know,” you say softly, your eyes searching hers. “I know, Cate, what you can do, what happened to your brother, but I also know you. And I’m not scared of you because I know it wasn’t your fault. Not even a little.”

Cate’s breath catches, her heart pounding as she stares at you with wide, searching eyes. No one’s ever said that to her—not like this. Not with so much confidence in her. She wants to believe you, wants to trust that she won’t make a mistake... but the fear of losing control, of saying something she can’t take back, always lingers at the edge of her thoughts.

She looks away, her voice trembling. “But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’ Cate,” you interrupt gently, moving her hand up to your cheek, even with the glove still on. “You can take them off. I want you to. Please?”

Cate’s heart pounds, her fingers trembling beneath the leather. She hesitates for a long moment, her mind racing with a hundred different reasons why she shouldn’t. But something about the way you’re holding her hand—like it’s nothing, like you don’t see the danger—makes her want to try.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, she reaches for the edge of one glove, pulling it off with trembling fingers. Her hand feels exposed, vulnerable, but you don’t flinch. You just hold her gaze, calm and patient, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

She pulls off the second glove, her bare hands now resting in yours. She waits—waits for something to go wrong, for the fear to take over. But nothing happens. You don’t pull away. You don’t flinch. Instead, you gently lift her hand back to your cheek, letting her feel the warmth of your skin.

“See?” you whisper, your voice gentle. “You’re in control, Cate. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Cate’s breath hitches, her chest tight with emotion. She can hardly believe what’s happening—she’s touching you, skin to skin, and it’s okay. It’s more than okay. It feels... right.

“I never thought I’d be able to do this,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I was so scared I’d mess up... that I’d say something and lose you.”

You smile softly, still holding her hand against your cheek. “You don’t have to be afraid, not with me. I trust you, Cate. I always have.”

Cate’s heart swells, the weight of her fear slowly lifting. For the first time in what feels like forever, she feels safe. Not just because of your touch, but because of the way you believe in her—like she’s more than just her power, more than her fear.

“I... I trust you too,” she finally whispers, a small smile tugging at her lips. She holds onto your touch, the warmth of your hand grounding her in a way she’s never felt before. “Thank you. For believing in me.”

And in that moment, with your hand in hers, the fear that’s haunted her for so long feels just a little bit lighter. Light enough to get everything else off of her chest.

Cate swallows hard, feeling like her heart’s going to burst right out of her chest. She tries to steady herself, but the weight of everything she’s been bottling up is too much. She glances down at her hands, then back at you, and before she can stop herself, the words start to spill out—awkward, messy, but real. “I... I’m scared because... because I care about you. Like, a lot. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone, and... and the thought of hurting you... it just—it freaks me out.”

She looks away as soon as she says it, like she’s half-expecting you to laugh or push her away. But you don’t. Her heart skips a beat when she hears your voice, soft and closer than she expected.

Your heart skips a beat at her confession, but you don’t pull away. “Cate, you’re not gonna hurt me.” You lean in, your voice a little quieter, a little more vulnerable. “I care about you too... more than you know.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide as she stares at you like she can’t believe what she just heard. “Wait... you—you do?”

“Yeah.” You nod, looking just as nervous but still smiling a little. “I’ve felt like this for a while. I just... didn’t know how to say it.”

Cate opens her mouth, but all that comes out is this weird little half-laugh, half-gasp sound, like she’s trying to process it all. “You’re serious? You like... you’ve liked me?”

“Yeah. For a while now.”

There’s this awkward pause where you’re both kind of just staring at each other, unsure of what to say next. Cate lets out a shaky breath, her fingers twitching in your grasp, and she looks down again, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

Your smile softens, and you reach out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to think about that. I’m not going anywhere.”

Cate’s throat tightens, and she feels her eyes starting to sting. She blinks quickly, trying to hold back the tears, but it’s no use. They’re not just tears of fear anymore. It’s everything—relief, hope, something she hasn’t let herself feel in a long time. She leans in without really thinking, her forehead resting against yours, her voice barely audible, trembling just a little.

“Promise?” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin.

You nod, your eyes closing as you hold her just a little tighter. “Promise.”

In that moment, Cate finally lets herself believe it might be okay.

[demonbanger]

18+ | something more | big dick, secret freak friend! Choso x Reader (college age)

“hic,” a small hiccup leaves soft rosy lips.

“hic-” followed by a little whimper.

a warm embrace surrounds you, but you can’t control the tears and the soft hiccups that come with and make your chest jump.

“hic—”

“shhh, just take it,” he lowly groans, baritone voice almost cracking in the middle of his own sentence. as if you can quiet down your involuntary hiccups. so unfair. but was it ever supposed to be fair?

you’re supported and uplifted by big, warm, hands at your sides,

then he slams you.

down.

squelch.

right.

on.

his.

big,

fat…

cock.

“mmf-oh god,, please!” you let out a high pitched whimper, as he lifts you back up, his thick mushroom tip caressing your velvety walls, nerve endings so riled up right now by any little teasing movement,

and he plops you back down, filling you and giving such a deep stretch your head feels warm and fuzzy. pussy so full, and a head so void.

your friend’s been fucking you for what’s felt like hours, and he’s selfishly pulled out a few orgasms from you for his own sick entertainment, wanting to see you squirm as he plays with your needy cunt. wanting to listen to and relish in all of your little noises.

noises he knows you’re making allll because of him. he’s just that good.

the cocky bastard knows that no one else can stretch you like this, none of your pathetic small boyfriends, or even that one really nice one night stand you were in a situationship with,, and you’re utterly at his mercy now as he pumps into you and stretches you so wide.

“please what?” he whispers, his hot breath on the shell of your ear making you shiver as you hiccup again.

a small smile stretches across his pretty lips. gosh he’s such a fucking tease.

you blink through tears and turn your head back to lock eyes with him, a small sob choking out from overstimulation.

he moves you with those hands of his to grind on top of him as he’s balls deep, and you mewl out a hushed little “oughhh fuuckkk me~” that he secretly loves, your sticky wetness coating both of you at your meeting place, slick drooling down his balls beneath you, even down to the sheets. thighs trembling. clit throbbing.

“hmmmmm?”

you don’t know how to talk logically right now!!! this is so not fair, for him to give you such a hard time. When he’s already giving your poor little weeping pussy such a hard time! why is he so so … mean?

you answer shakily, pouting a little bit. “please, ‘s too much, I’m so full.”

to that he lets out a little mean chuckle. “please do what?” he reiterates. you didn’t answer his question properly. all you said was please but please what? you usually know how to hold a conversation and answer all his questions in depth. why can’t you right now?

how weird.

wonder why…

At another roll of his hips because you’re taking too long to answer, you’re blubbering.

“please - ah - need to cum on your cock, please!! please—please?” you contradict yourself by pleading in wet desperation, melting as he pumps into you agonizingly slow and deep, his movements driving you to the point of going utterly berserk. you can’t help but struggle on top of him but also grinding down on his cock to meet his hips.

he shakes his head, chuckling. you’re such a silly girl! asking for more orgasms when you just said you’re having more than enough, when you’re so overstimulated.

just like how you squirmed away from his hands when his fat fingers pumped inside you earlier, yet you also sucked him in like you didn’t want him to go anywhere. which is it? do you even know what you want?

you tighten around his cock at how he says more with his stupid, fucking, annoying, seductive voice.

“selfish, selfish girl . I guess I can give you what you ask for.” And just like that, he’s fucking right back into you, slow and constant, holding you in place so you have nowhere to go, no matter how much you try to squirm. It’s pointless. Your pussy is getting used for his own pleasure, and of pleasure… he’s absolutely starved. plus, his appetite is voracious as it is so. lucky you, or unlucky.

your eyes close for a beat longer than a second,

but he notices. he notices everything. he just loves to pick on you.

“ah ah ah, you said you want to cum, right?”

you force your eyes open and look at him, biting your lip at how beautifully he drags against your walls.

“mmmhh— yes,,” your eyes roll back at a particularly harsh thrust. he could fucking break you with this thing.

“then look me in the eyes, or else I won’t allow you to cum. It’s bad manners not to look at me when I’m talking to you.”

you listen to him, trying so hard to be good, and turn your head at that uncomfortable angle to look at him, trying so so hard to keep holding eye contact, even though he’s thrusting his length into you so sensually you feel you might cry again. are you drooling too?

he’s hitting what feels like the end of your cavern, kissing your poor cervix, and you see stars each time that beautiful friction and his veins massage your insides.

“mmfuckkk I, I’m sor—ohhh fuck” you gasp when he pushes you forward to fall, and grips your hips so tightly they may bruise a little, then starts slamming sooo deep into you. impossibly deeper…

“aww, Y/N, you’re what now?” he teases, looking pleased you still tried to keep eye contact. The look in your eyes is just so intoxicating right now, you look so fucked out right now. He’s been wanting to see you like this…

You’re a bit shaky but you fight through it to whine out, “‘M sorry, didn’t mean to be rude,” your voice a bit bumpy as his rough fucking rocks you around a little.

“I’ll forgive it, since you’re so good at apologizing. I’m not worried. You’re just have to keep fucking taking it like a good girl does,” he chuckles, and your moaning gets louder as the pleasure is now hanging over your psyche like a cloud, and you’ve already started to rain.

He’s just battering into you, abusing your poor pussy, and now, one of his hands brushes over your clit. Your clit, that’s already gotten so much attention from the first couple of rounds. Oh. You’re so done for.

Your attention wanders because everything is such a blur…

SLAP!!

You let out a tiny yelp.

Your ass stings a little bit.

“Y/N…What did I fucking tell you?”

You’re so fucked out. This isn’t fair. He knows it. Just like how you’ve always been to eachother. Relentless bullying and double standards, except you don’t have it in you to say anything back for the first time ever.

You want to let him win, let him claim his prize.

Your eyes flit back over, so desperate, he can tell how hard you’re trying, and he makes it easier by pulling you up by the neck so your back is to his chest and he’s choking you, your head leaning back on his shoulders.

You grip the hand that chokes you, and he only tightens it. This feels so fucking good, especially because you’ve wanted this and denied yourself of this for who knows how long now.

if only you saw how hot you were in this state, just an absolute ruined mess, totally different from the girl who’s all dolled up at work, tries to be little miss perfect wherever she goes, the girl in the friend group who’s lighthearted enough.

now here you are, face flushed, gasping for air, getting fucked like a little slut, by a guy whose voice you tried so so hard since first knowing him to not find hot.

you denied yourself any thoughts that would creep up, especially when he’d remember something you said a while ago that you thought you mumbled off handedly, and he’d repeat it almost word for word in that stupid sultry voice.

you hateddd how you both hung out and you’d hear implications in the friend group how well-endowed he was. pretended so much to yourself that you weren’t a curious creature, and a little turned on hearing that.

well…curiosity killed that cat.

and he’s definitely killing yours right now with that discovery.

the lack of oxygen to your flustered brain is making you even wetter, and you start to go a little cross-eyed from near suffocation.

the guy friend you’ve had the hots for then starts to take more oxygen from you by kissing you.

it’s hungry. it’s desperate.

he breaks it to rasp, “keep your mouth open.”

since you obey, he spits in your mouth, lets go of you before you run out of air, and you swallow while taking a sharp inhale.

you stick your tongue out, to which he replies,

“good fucking girl, Y/N.”

you’re getting close. You’re getting so fucking close. And he can feel it as you try so hard to catch your breath, but are fluttering around him.

He rubs your clit just perfectly as you chant his name over and over, slaps and whines filling the room.

“Choso, please, need you, please cum inside,” you cry out, begging as you have been, throat raw from moaning so much. you just couldn’t help it….

his hips are beginning to stutter too…his endurance is so fucking good but the way you’re squeezing him; it’s really really hard for him to keep himself together now.

your eyes sparkle, all dumb with pleasure, just wanting his cum in your cunt, and you’re trembling and squirming as he plays your clit like an instrument, his low moans egging you on and only making you clench around him more.

then… it fucking hits you like a ton of bricks and you’re screaming yourself raw as you clamp down on him.

“Cho, oh fuck, ohfuckfuckffuuckfuckfuckfuck,” you slur out, vision turning cloudy.

then you become quiet.

just like that you feel some extra warmth inside you and know he just came inside you too, just like you wanted.

as your high wears down, you both pant. After some time he slips out of you, and you whine at the absence.

“so….uh….what will we tell them?”

__________

thank you for reading :3

honestly I didn’t do much physical description because I was thinking of someone else while writing this the whole time, forgive meh~<3

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Dealing with customers makes me so anxious I canNOT

[coffeebanana]

something something necromancer Marinette AU where Adrien keeps throwing himself into danger to protect her because “she’ll just bring him back” but she never thought she’d fall so hard for the guy she met by accidentally reanimating his corpse

and can she marry someone who’s legally dead anyways?

like. for tax reasons

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

thinking sashisu thoughts rn ………… suguru was the least desensitized of the three and that’s why he was the first to break . explodes

[fakeoutbf]

five stages of grief but it’s five stages of social anxiety

[laniidae-passerine]

people think the theories are getting too crazy well I don’t think we’re getting crazy enough. we need weirder shit. Armand wasn’t Alice. Louis was Alice. how does that work? it doesn’t. but it’s only Tuesday and I can’t day drink rn so we’re gonna work with this until the weekend

[palms-upturned]

.

[arolesbianism]

Doodle of my boy

[exopelagic]

everyone was so harsh to alola it deserved so much better. like this region is so well designed and so pretty and the story is actually really fun? will never forgive everyone for what we did to her

[bibleofficial]

went to the beach w kp & 4 other indian friends & 3 of us had NEVER surfed before girl WHEW it’s SO fun literally only 20quid to rent a wetsuit & board & i fucking smashed my toes on the sand so much, but also we 1) got the wrong tickets so we got off 1 stop early 2) went to find a bus & the bus that was supposed to be 15 min turned into an HOUR 3) on our way to find a bus back everyone’s phones are dying or dead bc it took us 3hrs longer to get there, cigarettes are out 4) all of the shops in town are closed & the town seems to have ONLY a tesco extra & 1 off license that sells a PACK FOR 15.65 A PACK WHICH IS FUCKING CRIMINAL ITS CHEAPER TO BUY IT FROM TESCO ARE U INSANE 5) the bus back to the other town kept skipping us bc the bus stop wasn’t the ACTUAL bus stop - i had 1 bowl since literally 11a & we got back at fucking 11p 😭😭😭

[wormieapple]

the one thing i will never forgive sam for is the fact that he lied through his teeth to dead kevin’s gosht that he’d get over his shit. to kevin???? poor dead kevin???? ur gunna lie to???????