#and wait wait wait....... I am NOT the one that was saying 'recording bad'. y'all were

[lynxgirlpaws]

I spent quite literally one [1] hour with my father and now feel like absolute shit. Unironically how does he do this [i am impressed]

[mysticlael]

God, y'all like these <_< >_>

Dick: *Kicks the door open, looking panicked* Bruce: What did you do? Jason: NOBODY DIED! Bruce: WHAT KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT?!

Tim: Dear Diary, my teen angst bullshit has a body count.

Bruce: I hate to say ‘I told you so’— Jason: No, you don’t. You would marry 'I told you so’ and have a baby with it and buy adjoining burial plots.

Damian: I hate you with every inch of my body! Jason, looking down: That’s not a lot of inches.

Steph: My bad, It’s a knee jerk response. Dick, holding Tim's unconscious body: WHOSE KNEE JERK RESPONSE IS TO START THROWING BRICKS AT SOMEONE???

Robin!Tim: He called me the B-word. Jason: Motherfucker doesn’t start with ‘b’!

*after the Squad's plan goes horribly wrong* Bruce: Now it seems we're back at square one-- finding Jason. Tim: For the record, I already found him. Dick: And you let him get away before we could have a meaningful conversation! I'm telling you, just let me try- Tim: He stabbed me! Damian: I'm surprised he waited this long, Drake. We've all had the urge.

Pre-adoption Jason: I am very small and I have no money, so you can imagine the kind of stress that I'm under.

Roy: I'm so happy, I could kiss you! Jason: Um...Neat. *later* Jason, lying face down on his bed: I said "Neat," Dick. Who the fuck says neat these days? It's not neat to say neat but I said it anyways because I'm fucking stupid. Dick, upside down on the bed: Don't beat yourself up too much, Little Wing. Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Remember what I did when Wally confessed his love for me? Jason: ...Didn't you thank them? Dick: *swings up* I fucking thanked him.

Steph: Synonyms are weird because if you invite someone to your cottage in the forest, that just sounds nice and cozy. But if I invite you to my cabin in the woods you’re going to die. Tim: My favorite is explaining the difference between a butt dial and a booty call. Bruce: It’s called connotations. Jason: Try this one on for size, “Forgive me, Father, I have sinned” vs “Sorry, Daddy, I’ve been naughty." Dick: Great news! Language is now banned!

Dick: What does “baka” mean? Tim: Moron. Steph: Idiot. Duke: Stupid. Dick: The fuck did I do?!

Bruce: In the past year you have managed to piss off the LAPD, ATF, CIA, FBI- Jason: NBA. Bruce: …? Jason: Snuck into a Cliffords game.

Tim: Oh god, he texted you ‘hi.’’ punctuation only means one thing, Dick... He's mad at you. Dick: No, it's Jay. He's just being grammatically correct! *meanwhile* Jason: And then I used a period so they'd know that I'm mad at him. Roy: A period doesn't say 'I'm mad', it says 'you're dead to me'. Jason: I stand by my choice.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

https://www.tumblr.com/wisteriagoesvroom/765425050649231362/what-happened-between-carlos-and-oscar-in-the-gap

Can you list the clues we have? 🕵️‍♀️

I am not sure I know what all happened but I’m ready to put my RPF brain into it 

i don't have many clues, but here are some thoughts if we wish to put the capital F in rpF:

🇸🇬 singapore

iirc, oscar was the one who roared past carlos in quali and carlos somehow put it in the barrier during q3 in singapore (oscar was the "another car"):

from

so in singapore, oscar qualified p5, and carlos in p10.

oscar ends the race p3 / podium, and carlos in p7

cue 3 week break, then, cut to:

🇺🇸 austin

oscar has a lacklustre sprint quali (he qualified so bad i had to zoom so far out to get the screenshot, rip). carlos starts austin sprint in p5, oscar p16.

oscar ends up fighting his way in this sprint to p10, vs carlos's p2 finish.

oscar drives relatively hard in the austin sprint, incurring a 5 second penalty for pushing gasly off in the process, and manages to hold yuki behind him. i say relatively 'cus he's still pretty clean, but he was scrappy here.

THEN, carlos defended oscar, fully on the record, in the face of the FIA penalty. which he thought was "harsh" on oscar...

much to consider...

from

later. carlos starts p3. oscar is side by side on the starting grid in p5.

carlos finishes p2 there, oscar p5. fairly uneventful race for oscar. not the case for carlos, where iirc ferrari allowed the two red cars to fight.

results from

then...

🇲🇽 mexico city

and BOOM for some reason by mexico city practice they are beefing again. but wait! what's been happening in the background?

my rpf mind says oscar is grumpy because he was denied the additional mclaren upgrades, where the team has prioritised lando. add in: helmut marko dragging oscar's name into the media discourse to mess with zak (who is busy defending lando's position as Prized Top Boy because helmut decided to play mind games with all of them as part of the driver and constructors' championship fight. max haunts the narrative).

from

meanwhile!! carlos is coming to the end of his ferrari run, the end of one of his childhood dreams. (launching his own karting business this year was another one - side note, interesting shift in PR strategy.)

anyway, he didn't win austin like he probably wanted. but, he's kind of doing excellent in mexico. i am not as familiar with ferrari's overall dynamics tbh, but it seems like he and charles were also openly at odds with each other over strategy again at some point in austin (??):

screenshot. + austin writeup from.

so BACK TO MEXICO CITY! where we are now. i think oscar thought carlos was in the way in fp3? which resulted in this lil throwaway snipey comment from oscar:

from

maybe it's a one-sided beef from oscar @ carlos atp. but one thing about carlos is he will NAWT back down when someone bares his teeth at him.

therefore. carcar is like. so fully back y'all.

and as a footnote. or maybe not a footnote actually. it's just. kind of. very funny. when carlos has ended up on pole / p1 in mexico city quali. meanwhile oscar is p17 behind...a sauber.

like. i love that australian twink, but this is kinda hilarious ngl. piastri + americas = no bueno.

make what you will of these. my third eye is OPEN 👁️👄👁️

[void-ink-studios]

Gala of the Gods (Part 3)

Alright, Part 3 is here!

You get art this time around as well, as I couldn't resist drawing their fancy outfits! Hmm, nothing like attempting to draw these characters for the first time in fancy clothing with patterns and shit, I'm a smart one.

Hope y'all enjoyed this little 3-parter. If anyone have more ideas, I'd love to hear it, because I like writing these two.

Also, before you read, just as a heads up, it gets a little suggestive at the very end. It's a firm fade to black, but it is a thing that exists. Look for a line of dashes if you'd rather not read it.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 -You Are Here-

Word Count: 2,300

The Organizer was not a god of... standard form. She wasn't a god of standard anything, to be fair. Scarab couldn't recall many run-ins with her, as their work very rarely overlapped, but that did not make sitting in her office with her staring down at him any more comforting or less nerve racking.

There was a constant noise, as her many, many arms carried on with her daily tasks. Some were writing, others were stamping, some were shredding, it was all happening at once. Her many eyes free roamed around the office as she worked, but she had decided to keep maybe half a dozen glued to the two gods sitting across from her desk.

Lucky them.

No one spoke for a long time. Scarab just nervously fiddled with his can, while Prismo seemed to be doing his best to will the floor to swallow him, shoulders coming up to his ears.

"I thought I had made the policy of fighting at my Gala very clear." Her voice echoed all over the room, rather than coming from some visible mouth. The both of them flinched at the sudden break of silence. "Scarab, while I might be less surprised due to past behavior, I must say I'm still disappointed with your recent track record. Prismo, I can't say I expected to see you in my office of all gods."

"But-"

"I-"

They both started at the same time, but were silenced by a single raised hand.

"However. I am not all-knowing. That is the Observer's job. Prismo, you are not one to cause problems often. And Scarab, despite your difficulties with others, you always filed your paperwork on time. So, I am giving each of you a chance to explain yourselves."

Scarab waited for some signal from her that he was permitted to speak.

"...Prismo, it was you who started it, so you will be first to explain yourself."

Prismo audibly gulped.

"O-Okay... I'd just like to clarify, Scarab and I were not fighting, not in the way you might be expecting. It was my fault..."

Scarab's eyes widened, about to jump in, but was silenced by a hard glare from the Organizer. She gestured for Prismo to continue.

"I lost control over an aspect of myself, and started lashing out. Scarab was just trying to neutralize the threat and calm me down. He wasn't trying to hurt me. Just stop me from hurting others."

There was more silence as the Organizer mulled this information over. Her gaze shifted to Scarab.

"Scarab. Can you confirm this story?"

"Yes ma'am. I was not trying to do harm onto Prismo. I had never seen that aspect of him act out, and I was not sure if or when he could regain control. So I worked to put a stop to it. The only weapon I used was a glorified flashlight."

"I see." Scarab saw distantly a set of arms start sorting through a filing cabinet. "Can you tell me why this aspect of Prismo got so out of control? Last I understood, Prismo, you had achieved complete control and cohesion with all aspects of your dream form. Has this changed?"

"No, no! It's, uh, different..."

"How so?"

"Well... my nightmare aspect only flares up under extreme negative emotions... Stuff life fear or really bad sadness or... when I'm really, really angry. That's what happened tonight, ma'am. I hit a boiling point and it... blew up."

She gave a pointed gaze toward Scarab, causing the beetle to sink into his seat.

"No! It wasn't Scarab's fault!"

"It wasn't?"

"No! I mean, Scarab's related, but it wasn't his fault!"

"How is he related, but not his fault, Prismo?"

Prismo ran a hand through his curls, trying to collect himself.

"So, Scarab's been under my management after the whole Fionna and Cake fiasco, right?"

"Yes, I remember signing that change of management form. I must say, I was a bit confused when I heard you had volunteered. My understanding was the entire incident was caused by a conflict between the two of you."

"It was but... well, the whole thing was my fault to begin with. I did make a rogue universe, and Scarab was just doing his job. He went too far at the end, and it was definitely more personal than his other cases, but I still did what he said I did, and he was right to try and do his job."

The beetle sighed. This was a conversation they had had many times. A lot of confusing feelings had needed to get detangled if they were going to live together. They had forgiven each other for quite a while.

"So, what did Scarab's assignment to you have to do with what happened tonight?"

"Well, Scarab and I have been getting closer. Bonding. We're actually really close now." The Organizer have him a very knowing stare. "I consider him one of my best friends and... I've been learned a lot about him. A lot about how he's been treated by our coworkers and... it wasn't nice and it wasn't fair. I've been getting more and more angry at the others for how they've been treating someone they don't even know, particularly Orbo."

Prismo's hands clenched into fists as he took a deep breath. The Organizer hummed. "What happened between you and Orbo?"

"Orbo cornered me tonight and tried to convince me that Scarab was changing me for the worse because I've been less than nice to him and others who keep trying to act like Scarab's some sort of monster. I got sick and tired of people acting like I was stupid for helping him, that I'm being manipulated. I'm tired of hearing 'Poor Prismo, getting stuck with Scarab, it's so sad for him', like I didn't volunteer for it!"

Scarab felt his mandibles tense... that's what had happened...? Orbo said that...? Was it... true... was he changing Prismo for the worse?

"Orbo making these comments are... interesting."

Scarab raised a brow. "Interesting how?"

"Because he filed complaints and write ups for you every Glob Forsaken time he thought he could."

All color drained from Scarab's face. His heart raced, and he started shaking enough for his carapace to click together.

"He what?!"

"He's submitted thousands of these things over the years. Pretty much none of them went anywhere because the Observer never confirmed the infractions described in the write-ups. Of all your write ups, only three have ever been acted on."

"...Three...?"

"Yes. The first two had notes that Orbo had the authority to discipline as he saw fit within reasonable boundaries. The third lead to the decision to move you into Prismo's management."

Authority to discipline as Orbo saw fit...

He touched the cropped stumps of his former antenna... he felt the lingering burn in his shoulders from his ripped wings...

"Do you... know what those punishments were...?"

"I was not privy to details. Just that they were carried out, and you returned to your duties."

There was a heavy pause, as both Prismo and Scarab processed that news.

"Well, if what you say is true, and I will be calling in the Observer to confirm, then it seems a meeting between Orbo and I is in order. However."

Prismo took hold of Scarab's hand.

"You two did break one of my only rules of the Gala. While it might not have been a true fight, it did cause panic and damage in the Judgement Hall. While it was not either of you who instigated the conflict, it was you two who escalated it to physical violence. It needs to be addressed."

The Organizer pinned the both of them down with a withering stare. Scarab would never not feel like he was a child around her.

Especially now. He saw the way her hands moved, the relentless precision with which she worked. It would be... frighteningly easy for her to pull his arms or legs off... He cast a worried glance to Prismo. His mortal body was much... softer than Scarabs... it... wouldn't survive getting plucked apart...

"...As punishment, you two are going to be my assistants for the time being. Prismo, your job as Wishmaster is still in effect, and you both will be allowed to return to the Time Room. However, you should expect paperwork to periodically be teleported into the chamber. I expect you both to work to complete that paperwork in a timely manner, as accurately as possible. You will be granted limited access to the divine records room for reference. Failure to perform this new duty will have me dragging the both of you back in here. And I won't be as nice next time."

There was a decisive stamp suddenly in front of them, as the Organizer slid a piece of paper in front of them.

Scarab read it. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He almost wept. Paperwork. He could handle that. He wasn't getting pulled part today. Prismo wasn't getting pulled apart today.

"Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes ma'am" they both said together.

"Good. Now, off you go, I have a Star Core I need to speak with."

Before either could say another word, they were warped away in a rainbow of light, and deposited quite ungracefully on the floor of the Time Room.

"Ugh, that sucks a lot when someone else is warping me... Paperwork's gonna suck though, right Scrabs?"

Prismo rubbed the back of his head as he sat up. He spotted Scarab in the corner, huddled down, making himself as small as possible. His heart squeezed as he crawled over to him.

"Hey Lovebug..." He tried to put his hand on his shoulder, but the beetle shied away from the touch. "...Are you okay...?"

Scarab sighed a tired chirp. "No Prismo... I'm... not okay. You were... so angry... you were angry because of me... You're... you're very frightening when you're angry..."

Prismo frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. "No, Lovebug. That wasn't your fault..."

"But it is... You've been so... so kind to me, Prismo... So accommodating and forgiving and sweet... You're making enemies out of friends over me... And... what have I done? What have I done to deserve any of that..."

"Scarab, no-"

"Look at me, Prismo" he snapped. "I'm... not worth this... I'm not good, not like you. I've just been... a problem. An obstacle. Something to work around..."

Scarab's voice sounded so small... Prismo wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed.

"Scarab. You are not an obstacle. I do those things because I want you to feel safe and cared for. And... tonight, you've done more than anyone really has before."

"...How...?"

"Look... When Nightmo takes control, there's not much hope for me coming down on my own. He's a protective measure, but he works too well. He feeds off of negative feelings, the fear and anger around him. He just gets bigger and bigger and more hostile, until there's nothing left to feed on. He has to be subdued or he'll destroy everything around him. I've... I've never seen him back down willingly. Not until tonight."

Scarab looked into Prismo's eyes, wide and uncertain.

"But... but he didn't back down, I had to neutralize him..."

"Scarab, you talked Nightmo down. Yeah, you had to get him small enough to pay attention, but it was your words that got him to fall back. He... He knows you're safe. He'll retreat because he believes you'll protect me. And that's... never happened before. Ever."

Scarab saw the tears pooled in Prismo's eyes, a sad and tired smile spread across his face. He pulled the beetle closer to give sweet kisses to his cheek and neck.

"You've been opening my eyes, Scarab. I was only everybody's pal because they thought I was... in on the joke. I didn't even realize what complete and total wads they were, because they thought I was "cool" or whatever. I don't want to be friends with people who could do the things they've done to you, just because they think no one will care. I have standards. And now I know they don't meet them. I'm not losing friends over you, I'm just finding out who really is and isn't a friend."

Prismo placed a soothing hand at the base of one of Scarab's wings.

"So no, Lovebug. You're not making me worse. You make me, even the worst parts of me, feel safe. I love you. All of me loves you."

Scarab should've been a bit embarrassed by the noises he was making, but it didn't particularly matter now. Not when the two trapped each other in a tight embrace, and a loving kiss. Mandibles threaded through gray hair, talons touched the soft skin they found, and gentle hands soothed aching shoulders.

"I love you too, Prismo" Scarab whispered as they separated for air. He chirped softly as the Wishmaster continued kissing at his neck, his wings twitching and fluttering as best they could.

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

"...You're so beautiful. You look so beautiful like this..."

Prismo's hands held his waist firmly, thumb rubbing at a seam in his carapace.

"Hmmm... What are you planning, oh great Wishmaster?"

"Well... We do have these bodies. For a little bit longer. I've got no plans for right now. But I could. Or, we could cuddle. Up to you, Lovebug."

Prismo busied himself with Scarab's neck again as the beetle thought. Or, well, as he tried to, but his own shell was suddenly feeling a bit warm. One of his claws traced around the Wishmaster's neck and shoulder.

"I... I think you're quite beautiful as well, Prismo. I'd be... willing to explore whatever plans you might come up with."

Prismo gave him a peck on the cheek, a maybe slightly smug grin on his face.

"I think that can be arranged."

And he closed the door of the Time Room.

[firthbetterorfirthworse]

Colin Firth (Part 2 - THE DATA)

You can read my intro here.

When I ran the data, Colin Firth had 90 acting credits on IMDB (in 40 years! The man's been busy!)

I wanted to set some parameters, so I excluded anything where the overall project was under an hour of runtime.

(DVD bonus content, short films, one off TV episodes. You'll notice Crown Court is over an hour, but as a one off TV episode, I excluded it as well. PS it was his first onscreen appearance, as a baby face cop)

I also excluded anything where he has <5 minutes of screentime.

(The record might be the 1987 Secret Garden, where he's got about 90 seconds. Honestly forgot I was watching a Colin Firth film until he showed up right before the credits)

I also excluded this

because dear god, no thank you I didn't want to watch that shit (I'm only partially kidding. I'd watched literally everything else so I watched this one too, it wasn't that bad)

This left us with a very respectable 76 films that I tracked data for!

SMOKING

The highest percentage of what I tracked was whether he smoked.

(sidenote, check out that 10 year period where he had TWENTY FOUR PROJECTS)

I assume this is common for anyone who made films in the 80s or 90s, when smoking onscreen was more prevalent. Out of curiosity I broke it up by when the film was set, because he does a lot of period pieces, and found that yes! Things do taper off as the public perception of smoking changed.

(I was very broad with what I considered a "period piece", mostly because I didn't start making this powerpoint until 10pm the night before I presented, because that's who I am as a person) The numbers didn't show for actual movies, but in the 2000s there were only 2 movies where he smoked, out of the 19 that he filmed. Probably because it shifted to instead of everyone or cool kids, only villains and bad guys smoke.

INFIDELITY

I also tracked infidelity, separating out whether his partner was unfaithful to him, or whether he was the one to be unfaithful or help a committed person be unfaithful.

These percentages are of all his movies. He gets cheated on 15.8% of the time, poor guy.

GRIEF

Did you know that in a quarter of his projects, he explores grief?

I determined that there were two main types of grief - the death of an intimate (mostly a partner, occasionally a family member), and wartime PTSD.

But that's not what you're here for. I know you. You wanna see how often he got

WET

THIRTY PERCENT. That is almost every third project!

I separated it out where the water goes on him (rain, shower, fountain, fire hose) or where he goes in the water (ocean, pond, lake, bath). A Single Man is special, because there's a scene where he's in the rain, and a scene where he's in the ocean (and in the credits, he's floating nude underwater, just saying).

That seems like a lot! I don't have any comparison data (yet, waiting for my brain to embark on another unhinged project) but that seems like more than other people.

I have one more point to share with y'all

[damonjuicyscock]

Playlist- Chapter 16: More Than A Woman (90s Noel Gallagher X Reader)

Pairing: 90s Noel Gallagher X Reader

Warnings: Language, fluff and some smut.

Words: 2240

Summary: June 1997, Las Vegas. Noel and Y/N finally get married.

A/N: Heya Y'all, I AM BACK ! Thank you for all your kind messages, I really appreciate it ! I feel much better now, and my little neck has healed. Here's chapter 16, I hope you'll like it, as per usual. See you next week for the next chapter. Then the chapter after it will be the epilogue. After finishing the fanfic, I'll start working on all your requests, and I have some. Some Damon juicy stuff (yes he will be back, I promised !) I also started brainstorming a bit on the Ville fanfic, but it'll come later in the year.

Take care of yourselves, lovies !

ENJOY !

(The man's here to serve cunt.)

"Oh, girl, I've known you very well I've seen you growing every day I never really looked before But now you take my breath away Suddenly you're in my life Part of everything I do You got me working day and night Just trying to keep a hold on you Here in your arms, I found my paradise My only chance for happiness And if I lose you now, I think I would die Oh, say you'll always be my baby, we can make it shine We can take forever, just a minute at a time More than a woman More than a woman to me More than a woman More than a woman to me"

June 5th 1997- Las Vegas:

After Oasis finished recording “Be Here Now”, Noel and I took some time for us. He took me on a trip to Ibiza, then we went back to town to see our families. Life slowly resumed its course, our spirits and my body healing. We stopped talking about having children for the time being. I just couldn't. I just couldn't. It was like a block. Because I knew I couldn't survive another loss like this one. My heart was still too fragile. And I knew Noel couldn’t too. Another loss like the one we had experienced would lead us to our own.

We were thinking about our wedding. We didn’t have a date yet. We were enjoying life as it was coming.

And in June 1997, we ended up having a trip to Las Vegas with some friends. Kate was present. And she made a suggestion that wasn’t bad but made us end up in a stressful situation.

It would be fun to see you both get married by Elvis.

I laughed.

Really, Elvis? Is it even considered as a real wedding?

It is ! That’s what funny about that.

I looked at Noel, he already was looking at me. I understood in his look that he was hyped by the idea of it. Then I looked back at Kate and started panicking.

Oh no no no no no no. I didn’t even buy my wedding dress! What are you both suggesting me to do here? Noel… did you tell Kate to talk to me about it?

He raised his hands up in the air innocently.

I didn’t ! I can’t deny the idea crossed me skull, but I wasn’t counting on it. He answered

Noel ! I have absolutely nothing with me, it's out of the question.

He lowered his head sadly. The thing was, it worked every time. I couldn't resist his puppy dog look.

Okay, okay… We’ll see later.

And I thought about it and gave up. I growled, before panicking again.

What the fuck are you two getting me into? All right, fine, we'll get married in Vegas. But where am I going to find a dress? I have absolutely nothing to wear!

Kate smiled.

I guess we found the right occasion to go shopping in Vegas darling.

I growled again.

For fuck’s sake… alright. Okay, but let’s find an address and I want to set my conditions.

Noel smiled widely.

Anything ye want.

We'll agree on an exact time and an exact place. You won't see my dress before the ceremony, I'll need time to choose it, I'll need time to do my hair and make-up. We're getting married, but I don't want a botched ceremony. Understood ? And where are we going to find witnesses?

Huh, hello, I’m here ? Kate answered

You of course Kate, but Noel ?

I’ll find.

Fucking hell, that’s unbelievable.

Yes it is, and while you keep saying this, your wedding dress keeps waiting for you. Kate adds

Noel smiled.

Go, I don’t want to see ye both until tonight 11, to this chapel. He answered, showing a chapel a few steps from us

Kate and I started walking, but Noel stopped us.

Oh and Y/N ?

What ? I said, turning back

I’m sure ye’ll be stunning no matter what. He answered smiling at me

I rolled my eyes at him before turning and blushing.

He’s so damn cheesy but cute ! I whispered to Kate, who started laughing

*

- Oh Y/N, look at this one ! Kate said

- Holy… Eww, are you trying to disguise me or summat? I'm not a cowgirl! It may be the American way, but it's definitely not mine!

Kate rolled her eyes.

Then what do you expect to be ? A princess ?

That’s… even worse. I just want something that looks a bit like… Oh ! This one looks good ! I answered, finally finding a dress

I took the dress and looked at it closely.

Doesn’t look bad yeah. It’s… simple. Kate answered, looking at it as well

It as of course a white dress, looking like a nightgown even though it wasn’t. Something simple and comfortable. With it, I picked a flower crown, full of white flowers. Last stop was a florist, where I bought a bouquet of white roses. Kate did the makeup, and at the moment I started taking care of my hair, I heard someone knock at the hotel room’s door. I opened it and was surprised by…

Peggy ?

Hello me sweet Y/N !

I hugged her.

Oh my God, what are you doing here ?

Well I heard you were getting married so I came.

But how… Oh. I see. Noel had been planning for a long time, hasn’t he ?

He has. I’m sorry he didn’t tell ye. He wanted to surprise ye.

Well he kept it a secret.

Someone knocked at the door again. I opened it and I immediately started to cry.

M-M-Mam ?

Hello my girl.

I hugged her, without letting go.

So he told you too ?

Yes, and he told your dad too.

Dad is here ?

Yes. He’s waiting with Noel at the chapel. He’s gonna be his “ bestman”. I wouldn’t miss my little girl’s wedding in any case.

And now you’ll have to redo my makeup… I said, chuckling

My mother smiled.

Oh I wouldn’t miss that. And I wouldn't miss the chance to curl your hair one last time before someone else does it for me. My little girl. My mother answered, tears in her eyes

That’s how my future mother-in-law and my own mother redid my makeup and curled my hair. I couldn’t believe Noel had been planning this behind my back. And so did Kate, because there was no doubt that she was in on it.

Mam, did you… feel I was going to marry Noel one day ?

Peggy and my mother looked at each other.

At the moment he entered your life, I knew it was him sweetheart.

And so did I. Peggy answered

You both say that as if we were meant to be.

But you were. You definitely were. Even when you broke up, I knew you would get back together. You can’t break this bond soulmates have.

*

At 11pm, Kate, Peggy, my mum and I were in front of the chapel.

Are you ready ? Kate asked

Since November 1983.

Are you sure you want to do it ? She pursued

Oh really now ?

Kate smiled

Just joking. Let’s go.

We entered the chapel. Noel was dressed normally, from behind, my father next to him, from the front, smiling at me. He came to me and walked me down the aisle.

You look beautiful darling.

Thank you dad.

And now’s the time I give your hand to someone else. I’m so proud of you and of what you’ve become.

Stop, I’m going to cry again.

In every case, you will. Don’t you think I cried during my wedding to your mother ? Everyone sees me as the hard guy, but just like Noel, I’m a marshmallow inside.

I chuckled.

I wouldn't have suspected it for a second.

We arrived near Noel, and he looked at me, his eyes sparkling. My dad gave my hand to Noel, and I took it, intertwining my fingers with his.

Ye’re the beautifulest missus I’ve ever seen. He said, smiling widerly

And I hate you.

Oh really ? Well, you've made that clear. That’s even why you’re in front of Elvis, here, today.

I hate being trapped.

Ye liar. Ye love surprises, I know it.

I chuckled.

You’re right, I love them. But it has been pretty stressful though.

Ye would have been more stressed in London.

And that’s true too.

The Elvis priest started his speech, and then we took our vows. I improvised mine, as I hadn't had time to prepare them. But that made it all the more moving, didn't it? Then came Noel’s vows.

Okay, hum… Oh, girl, I've known you very well, I've seen you growing every day, I never really looked before, But now you take my breath away…

My mouth was agape.

Are you actually quoting the Bee Gees ? I said, laughing

Shh, shut up. So I was saying…

I burst out of laughter. His vows were lyrics from More Than a Woman. Actually, it was cute. And original. I loved it.

To nobody’s surprise, we both said yes to each other, Elvis singing “Love me Tender” while we were kissing. We took some pictures, alone and with our families before ending up in a limo driving us to the Airport, knowing Noel had a gig in New York the day after.

*

At the second I closed the Limousine’s door and sat beside my now husband, he latched his lips on mine.

I love ye… He said, pulling away

And so do I, mister Gallagher. But I still hate you.

But you married me, mrs Gallagher.

I couldn’t believe my ears. I was Y/N Gallagher.

why wasn't Liam there?

He couldn’t, soz.

It's true that I would have liked him and another of my witnesses to be there. But I have to admit that... it was the most beautiful and thrilling surprise you've ever given me.

Noel kissed me again, slowly at first. But it quickly turned into a passionate kiss. His hands began to explore my body, settling on my hips and tapping them. I knew what he wanted, and I was about to give him.

I pulled my dress up to my thighs and hovered him, kissing him again, our tongues dancing together in a sensual and passionate kiss.

I want ye… He said

Oh yeah ? Right here ?

No one will know…

So I unbuttoned his trousers, and opened his boxers, and started grinding on his hardness, while grabbing his lips again with mine. Noel slipped his hand under my dress, finding my wetness and realising at the same time that I wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Mrs Gallagher… ye’re driving me mad…

Mad ? Or mad fer it ?

Both…

He started kissing me again, Teasing my entrance with his length and plunged into me.

We both moaned in unison. Noel let me get adjusted to his size, whimpering.

Fuck… I love ye Y/N.

My response was a smile and a caress on his cheek.

I started rolling my hips against his, feeling him deeper in me.

Noel gripped my hips, looking at me with love and lust in his eyes.  This same look I was used to. This look I always saw when we were making love. It’s like he was admiring me, as if I was his eighth wonder.

As I kept moving, I brought our climaxes closer.

And if you asked me, I would never have thought that one day I was going to make love with Noel in a limo.

Fuck Y/N…

Oh God, I love you too Noel…

He bit his lower lip, his face contorsionning with pleasure.

Come on me love… You can let it all go…

And that was what was needed to me to be thrown over the edge. I was a trembling mess, head thrown back in pleasure as I came undone, his name on my lips. He followed shortly after, my name on his.

We just kept like this, kissing and hugging until we arrived at the airport.

Let a new adventure begin, Mrs Gallagher.

Yeah. Let a new adventure begin…

Are ye okay ?

Yeah, I was just thinking about your vows. You literally quoted the Bee Gees. I loved it.

I did because the lyrics mean a lot to me. They really describe what I feel fer ye. What ye mean to me. I know how to write a love song, but the lyrics are beyond what I can do. You are more than a woman to me. You are strong, a warrior, my sarcastic little shit, my lover, and the love of my life. I can’t see meself living without ye.

I smiled widely and kissed him.

There, these are vows.

[jmdbjk]

It's time for the Weekly Bangtan Report!

Happy Birthday Hobi! Neuron Crew has posted a happy birthday tribute on their social media channels. Here is the video on YouTube:

Neuron Crew are a group of Hobi's dance colleagues and friends from pre-debut. He's known them since middle school. This video was shot at Daedong Plaza in Gwuangju, Hobi's hometown city.

I was wondering last time if we'd see him in between training groups and here he is! The birthday boy himself was out and about. He saw his birthday banners and posters! I suspect this is possibly near his apartment building.

And COMING MARCH!!! HOPE ON THE STREET!!!

Personally, I hope its a series and not just one full length documentary type thing.

Ok, now news for the thirsty folks (thirsty folks=all of us) I was going to start this weekly recap with this, but...

I decided to spare everyone. I'm sure y'all are tired of seeing naked Jungkook (of course that was a joke).

EDIT: CK pulled a bonehead and did not add this particular hoodie to their website before dropping the pics. It supposedly is there now.

As I predicted months and months ago, these brand ambassador deals are the gifts that keep on giving (thank you jesus and tight pants).

Jungkook's deal with Calvin Klein ... he said he wears the "tight kind" ... dare I even go here? will we...? did he...? We Wait™️

There is a video of behind the scenes of his music show recordings he did from Seven's release to Golden's promotions is available on BangtanTV.

Yoongi's Valentino campaign is beginning to appear in Japan.

We still know nothing about what he's up to but we keep getting episodes of Suchwita. Perhaps we'll get one with his good friend, producer El Capitxn. We Wait™️

Taehyung has a photo spread in the current issue of WKorea. Flowers. Lots of flowers:

And he posted on Valentine's day but not really a love note (lol, he's a goofball) but the boy is gaining some weight. He's up to 160 lbs...

I present to you my interim report. Attained 72.5 kg I will come again. Salute Trans cr; Aditi @ bts-trans © TAKE OUT WITH FULL CREDITS

Namjoon.... there is that sus image of him playing the saxophone in a red military band uniform (not gonna post the pic). Is it an edit? Ok, so let's think about this.

When have we ever heard Namjoon say he knows how to play the saxophone? That would be approximately zero times he's ever said that. You'd think we would have had some Taehyung/RM interactions or conversations over the years involving saxophones. Nothing.

Do you know how hard it is to learn to play a wind instrument?

And there is only that one single suspicious image. Usually there are multiple weird sneaky angles, blurry shots, etc. I'm just saying I remain skeptical until I hear more from a different source, or from Joon himself. I've seen several pics supposedly of Jimin and Jungkook, one of them sitting in a cafeteria that looked hella real and then the original pic is shown and it's just... wow... edits can be very deceiving.

Joon posted a Lunar New Year message to us on Weverse:

Hello ARMYs, I hope you're doing well. I've come to my assigned military base and am adapting and doing well. I've had some tteokguk* too. Since it's Seollal, I've also been resting a bit, and I'm living well. I will need to spend one more Seollal here before I can see you but, I'm spending my time well. I really believe that this time will lead to different kinds of learning and experiences. Whenever, wherever you are, please stay healthy, and I hope that your life has a lot more good than bad. Hoping that the connection we share continues, I wish you a happy new year ! (*Rice cake soup traditionally eaten during Seollal, or Lunar New Year.) Trans cr; Aditi @ bts-trans © TAKE OUT WITH FULL CREDITS

And his @ rpwprpwprpwp Instagram account posted some pics this past week. Since comments are open on that account, Armys are trying to outdo each other with the corniest pickup lines:

IS THERE AN AIRPORT NEARBY, OR WAS THAT JUST MY HEART TAKING OFF? If you were a triangle you'd be acute one 💋 If I'm the pencil, you're the highlighter. Because I'm gonna draw our future and you're gonna make it brighter.

Jimin also posted a short but super sweet Lunar New Year message on Weverse and mentioned Jungkook:

It's Lunar New Year ARMYs! I hope you have a happy Lunar New Year and I hope this year for you is a healthy year filled with happiness Jungkook and I are doing well so please don't worry about us too much. I'll check in with you again! Hope you have lots of good food and eat a lot today   Trans cr; Annie @ bts-trans © TAKE OUT WITH FULL CREDITS

I was so happy to see a message from him and so glad he said they are both doing well. But I'm still going to worry...

Nothing new from Jin, we've already had his February message. 116 days left. But here he is and I am looking forward to having his grown ass, mature, military experienced man back with us in a few months:

Other Bangtan related news this week: Enhypen released a cover of I Need U. Some people are speaking negatively about it. What the ever loving fuck is wrong with you people?

That song was important for BTS, it was their first TV music show win and it was IMPORTANT and a big WIN for them that broke the door open. They were about to give up!

Be flattered that BTS is of a calibre that other well-known artists want to cover their songs! That being said, if you don't like the way they covered the song, fine, just move on, there's no need to be mean-spirited about it.

Last weekend, a Japanese TV show seemed to tease/spoil a hint that possibly high profile celebs stayed at a resort in a town outside Sapporo recently... the hint was "Dynamite." This was the resort:

Uh... nice... delulu brain activated...

[andhumanslovedstories]

I'm a housekeeper at a hospital and I heard this conversation like a month ago and I haven't stopped thinking about it

Dr: [Patient] complained about being woken up in the middle of the night to be weighed. Y'all need to stop that, we've talked about this. We don't need to weigh him until the morning.

Nurse: I did! I waited until morning today even.

Dr: Well, what time did you weigh him?

Nurse: 4 o'clock.

God you've unleashed my mini rant about daily weights. At my hospital, daily weights are automatically scheduled for four in the morning, and I'll be real with you, it is the task I'm responsible for that I am the worst about actually doing. I HATE HATE HATE waking someone up at four am so they can get out bed and stand on a scale. Some patients really do need daily standing weights before breakfast, but a lot of patients who have them ordered don't necessarily need them. And frankly a lot patients that need them also frequently need to get up and pee during the night, and that's when you strike with the scale. Morning labs are also scheduled for 0400 which can be even more disruptive to patients. Best case scenario, you coordinate with lab so that you only bother the patient once. Worst case, lab comes and goes while you're doing something else, the patient gets back to sleep, and you kick their door open dragging the scale behind you like "god sorry sorry sorry."

I get why these things are scheduled at this time for the convenience of the hospital as a massive institution that needs timetables to function, but it sucks so bad for the patients. Doctors want lab results and weights before they round, and they come round early in the morning. Day shift people want stuff ready for them so they can do their job, and unfortunately because of how the shifts work, that means a lot of stuff is supposed to get done before like six am. I can see how it's efficient in this one regard, but it comes at the expense of patients being able to get uninterrupted sleep, which is a cause of delirium, a major and common complication of hospital stays. It's also a cause of feeling really fucking bad because you didn't get good sleep. There's a lot you can do as the individual to rearrange things to be as convenient as possible for the patient, but christ the institution itself doesn't make it easy.

All this to say, if there was a note in a patient's record that I didn't need to wake them up for weights, I would jump up in the air clicking my heels together and whooping like an old prospector.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Dead Of Night (Rules, Part 2.)

Description: Coming back home was a doozie - it felt like starting anew. Meeting your dad's new best friend, however, turned your life upside down - and it was the two of you who had to set the record straight and figure out how to move on.

Part Summary: The night in the company of two Texan gentlemen is going well - Joel and Tommy are ensuring you're having a blast. Joel even goes up and beyond in this regard. It was too good to be true... Until it fucking wasn't.

Warnings: dad's best friend daddy joel (i don't think there's more to say to that) | age gaps all around, baby - joel being approximately 33 (reader being 8 years his junior), putting sarah around 13 years of age and sam at 18, reader's parents in late forties/early fifties | alcohol consumption | smoking (implied and active) | BILLIARD SHENANIGANS WITH THE MILLER BROTHERS™️ | NSFW activities - oral (f!receiving), sex at the bathroom stalls, inappropriate thoughts | i guess potential sub-con (we are drunk but very consensual) | we love a consensual king joel miller

A/N: The 'I like this song' is Orville's Peck Dead Of Night (name inspo, yay) - yanow, when it's late a party, they play slow and sappy songs to calm people before going down and to let all the lovey-dovey couples suck soul outta each other. And I love that.

Tagging: My sweetest, one and only @missdictatorme.

Word count: 10.1K - I cannot express how sorry I am for the length, but I had too much fun with this and didn't wanna pull out a two-parter with nothing exciting in it. I divided it into sections the best I could for easier reading.

Masterlist: H E R E | Playlist: H E R E

Leaving Joel and his compadre outside, you decided to spend some time playing pool - the elderly gentlemen occupying it were kind enough to let you play a few games. It was fun watching Anne getting tipsy, balancing on her tiptoes as she leaned her entire upper body onto the table, her tongue sticking out of her mouth due to concentration. You've won most of the games (mainly because neither of you knew the billiard or pool or whatever you've been playing), but Anne insisted on calling it a draw. Cheeky little pup, that's what she was. Just as you prepared the cues for the guys who'd landed them for you, a familiar Texan drawl could be heard behind you.

"Howdy, gentlemen." - The nameless guy greeted, nodding at the guys waiting for their pool table to be free. The elderly gentlemen nodded at the newcomers. - "Would y'all mind us havin' a few quick games with the ladies? We'll let you be after, promise. " "'s yours, son. Take ya time." "Yessir." - The guy thanked, walking over to Anne and pointing at the cue. - "May I? You're doin' it wrong, sugar." "'M not. But if you think you're more experienced..." "Been playin' pool with that rascal over there since we were tweens. Trust me on this one." - With that, he carefully tore the cue out of Anne's palm, seizing the cue chalk as well.

"Don't mind him, he's a show-off." - When his husky, melodic voice hit your ears, it almost gave you a heart attack - you were so preoccupied with watching Anne giving the guy a stare of death that you forgot Joel might be around too. You definitely didn't expect him to sneak up on you like that. "'s my technique bad, too?" "Worst I've seen." - He muttered, snickering. - "There's no technique to chalk a cue properly, don't worry. He's just makin' stuff up to be interestin'." - Joel explained, making you snicker too. You've handed him the cue nonetheless, making him put his beer down - he'd been skilled with it, you noticed; the two must've been playing since they were tweens, just as the other guy said.

Soon, you became too preoccupied with Joel's hands to care about some stupid pool - based on the callouses and small scars along his fingers and knuckles, he must've been used to working with his hands. Now that he'd folded the shirt's sleeves up to his elbows, you could see all the prominent veins and other scars, some of which were pretty deep. Without you trying to resist, your mind spiraled into imaginations of these palms taking handfuls of your ass, kneading it like bread. How would it feel to hold his hand? Would he let you entwine your fingers with his? How would it feel if he'd slap you - either teasingly or amidst all the heat and lust, say... Fucking you from the back? How would it feel when his palms would spread your thighs apart, his fingers sliding inside you? How would it... That's when you realized Joel was talking to you, watching you ogling at his forearms for a good minute. Your eyes jumped from his forearms to his face, looking at him dumbfoundedly - Joel scoffed upon seeing your expression.

"Huh?" "Was askin' 'bout your name, cutie, but don't take me wrong - wouldn't mind callin' you names." - Leaning closer, Joel gave you a warm smile. - "Have I interrupted somethin' in that head 'f yours, sweet girl?" - Oh God, he knew - he fucking knew. You were busted, flustered upon hearing his implication. Your brain blanked momentarily as you tried to come up with an answer. "Y/N." - You mumbled, mesmerized with the amused look in his eyes. - "Name's Y/N." "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl, I see."

"You two done with starin' into each other's eyes?" - The nameless guy called out, startling you - Joel remained as cool as a cucumber, his eyes following each move you made. Trying to wave it off, you walked to the table, leaning your palms into the side. "Yup. Bet our cue is chalked up way better than yours." - Cocky tone present in your voice made the nameless guy grin. Following up on the statement, you raised eyebrows in Joel's direction for support. The man didn't let you wait for too long. "Don't ya worry. I'll win it thanks to how you chalked it... And for you." - Joel added silently, brushing his palm on your lower back before he walked straight to the table - the first game was reserved for the two buddies to warm up. Even this quick, seemingly meaningless gesture had you shivering.

"You guys get to it. I'll go for a cig and get you some beer while you two clash it out." - Anne offered, grasping your hand in hers. Then she turned her head toward the elderly gentlemen. - "Y'all good? Want us to bring ya somethin'?" "We're good, sweetheart, thanks for askin'." "You asked them, but don't ask me?" - The nameless guy whined, looking at Anne with a well-portrayed offense. Joel snorted, carefully putting the pool balls into the triangle. "Cut it off, Miss Dramatic. Imma get you both a glass of Jack, 'f course. Do I look like a monster?"

"Thanks, Anne." - Both guys muttered in unison. Joel poked the balls first, having them scattered all over the table. Then he grabbed the chalk, furrowing while thinking about his next step. "You better win, Tommy, or I'm pouring your glass down my throat." - Oh, his name was Tommy. Joel's buddy Tommy. Noted. "And who's bein' dramatic, huh? Go now, you two." - Tommy waved in your direction, laughing while he tried to figure out the approach to his next poke.

After letting Anne have her smoke break, it was time to make your way to the bar. It wasn't easy - people were taking a break from dancing and started ordering their drinks. All the people smoking outside were coming back in, ordering new rounds of cocktails, shots, beers, and what have you. It took a moment, but you got four beers, two Jacks, and two shots of Chupito, carrying the alcohol back to the pool table. Anne started running her mouth again as you approached the pool tables. "You believe me now, or..?" "Believe you what?" "Believe me what I said about Joel? He's fuckin' smitten." "Joel being smitten? Are you deaf or just purposely ignore how Tommy talks to you? Who's smitten here?"

"Ah, I see. Too bad he ain't my type." - Anne sighed, looking at the duo debating over one of the balls' and its position. You had no idea what was wrong with it, but both looked hot debating. - "Suppose Tommy looks like a fun guy overall - nothin' for me, though... Ehhh... Maybe as a friend? That could work out. Anyway, stop deflectin', girl. You and Joel, that's the topic. I can sense the vibes are present, the chemistry is flowin', he can't take his eyes off you, calls you sweet pet names, watches you when you don't pay attention and grins to himself. To add to the evidence, he touched your back even though he had zero reason two, and don't think we missed how he snuck his palm up your waist and prolonged the greetin' for as long as he could... C'mon, I've seen you starin' at him. And he saw it too - and that old bastard was complimented by it." - Well, it was time to stop pretending, you assumed. You couldn't counter everything she just dropped on your ass - Anne and Tommy saw it all anyway.

"Fine, fine. Thing is... I've never felt like this about anyone. I feel like we've clicked right away, not a word needed to be said. Girl, that man's smoking hot - have you seen him? Heard him?" - You whined, watching Joel chalking the cue up again while watching Tommy prepare for his poke. - "It's just... Scary. Bizzare, yannow? This doesn't happen with strangers all the time. Why me? That's the main question. What does he see in me? Is he just pulling my sock? Would it be a hook-up, or would he want to see me again? What if he does this on the reg, just pulls random women in the club, fucks them and goes home?" "You think he wouldn't wanna see you again? That's what's bothering you?" - Anne stopped in her tracks, looking at you with disbelief. - "Even if! Live your life - drag him to the bathroom stalls, fuck the soul outta him, and make him remember this night forever, girl. But, to be fair... Takin' the way he stares at us right now into account, just to make sure we hadn't run away, tells me this guy will definitely wanna see you again. On top of that, the birds chirped that they hadn't seen Joel smitten like this in a long time either." "... Tommy told you that?" "Shush now. Just be hot and live your best life. Joel's fuckin' mesmerized and so are you." - She muttered as you approached the table. Cheerfully, she waved the glasses in her hand, earning applause from the duo. - "How's it goin', you two? Figured out who's the bigger alfa?"

"Kicked his sorry ass, as always." - Joel muttered, letting Tommy set the table for you, putting balls into the triangle, ensuring everything was set right. "You clearly cheated." - Tommy whined, accepting his beer and glass Jack from Anne, the other one landing right into Joel's palm. "Or maybe, you're just ass at pool?" - Anne chimed in, smiling sweetly right into Tommy's face - this earned an earnest chuckle from the gentlemen watching your matches unravel. Just like before, Tommy snickered in disbelief, turning right to Anne animatedly. Before you knew, the two were arguing again.

"She's not being too nice to Tommy. Sorry for that." "Don't worry 'bout him, pretty girl. He likes 'em spicy. 's good for him to let someone deflate his ego now and then." "Mhm, noted." - You and Joel were leaning into an empty table next to the pool, sipping on your beers, standing with aptly distance between you two. As you watched the two bickering (something regarding the balls' placement and Tommy's balls if you hadn't misheard), the question slipped past your lips on its own. Alcohol made you courageous, it always did. - "And what do you like, Texas?" "What?" - Joel asked, ensuring that you've truly dropped the question, that he wasn't imagining it or mishearing. By that point, he was scooping over to you, his shoulder nudging into yours, his other palm finding the small of your back again, nesting there, his fingers playing with the fabric of your shirt. "I asked, what is it that you like?" - His face was close enough for you to feel his breath on the apple of your cheek as you cocked your head to him, innocently taking a sip of beer. He was at a loss for words for a bit, licking his lips as he tried to come up with an answer.

Just as Joel leaned closer to your ear and rubbed his nose in your hair, the grip on your t-shirt growing stonger, Anne turned to you, swinging her palms around in disbelief.

"That can't be right! No! Tommy, I know you're fuckin' with me. Joel, please tell him he's... Oh... Oh, fuck, sorry." - The girl giggled, growing flustered as she realized she'd just ruined your moment. Trying to salvage the situation, Joel cleared his throat, put his beer down, and grabbed the cue. Cool as a cucumber, just like before - except the blush spreading on his cheeks. The blush made you snicker, it was cute. "Ready for another round?" "Betcha ass. Imma blow smoke all up your arse, Y/N!" "I don't think that's what you meant to say, Anne." "Whatever, I sounded Bri'sh 'enough, didn't I?" - She reiterated, snatching the cue right from Tommy's palm, pointing her finger at him. - "If you try to talk into how I'm playin' pool one time..." - Aaand... They were bickering again.

"I know shit about pool and billiard." - You confessed in a whisper, having Joel hum while chalking your cue. - "Won by pure luck each time." "For starters, we're playin' billiard, sweetheart. Want some assistance? I definitely know more than that moron." "... I deadass thought it's a pool table, on my honor. Help? Would be brilliant, thank you." - As you leaned to take the cue, Joel pushed it out of your reach, knitting his eyebrows together. He seemed confused. "Are you really British?" "I won't tell, cowboy. Better if I keep you guessing for a bit. Makes me look more mysterious." - This time, you victoriously grabbed the cue, walking towards the table to offer Anne a handshake of truce and a good sport. You've done it before each game - the elderly gentlemen liked your sportsmanship.

Anne was doing the shot-up - leaning her entire upper body into the table, pushing her tongue out as she assessed the balls with a furrow, tapping her foot to Toto's Hold the Line. The shot-up was good, she even managed to score one, taking the striped balls for herself. Clear balls it was, then. "Damn." - Tommy sighed, nodding to himself. - "Well played." "Don't underestimate my billiard abilities ever again. I'm already playing leagues better than you." "She ain't wrong." - Joel chimed in, leading you closer to the table. Just like he planned, this gave the duo another reason to bicker, ignoring whatever it was you two were doing.

"My goal is to put all the clears into pockets, no?" "Fast learner, I see." "As if..." - Leaning onto the table, you did your best to replicate the finger stance your father taught you. - "Pops used to be a billiard enthusiast when I was little - that was before he fucked up his back. Did his damnest to teach me all about it." "Yeah, can tell it's been a while back time since you last played. Only blind people wouldn't see how bad that finger position is. Keep your hand like that, and it's gonna cramp in no time. C'mere." - As if he'd done it a million before, Joel walked up next to you, leaning over your back - his chest was pressed to your torso, his arms copied yours, and his chin settled on your shoulder. Your heart fluttered so hard you were worried about it jumping out of your chest. You didn't hear a word from whatever Joel tried teaching you, but God bless him for attempting anyway. Completely tuned out, you just nodded along, enjoying how his felt body pressed this close to yours (hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder), fingers of his left palm ghosting over yours, the other caressing the small of your back. God, Joel smelled so good - wood, soil, hints of cologne mixed with his musk? Absolute fucking heaven.

"Can you do that for me?" - The guy asked, turning his head to you, boring his eyes into yours. He was so close, his nose just mere inches away from yours - if you'd lean just in slightly, you could kiss him. "Do what?" - You whispered in an answer, having him snicker - the vibration ran through your body like lightning, igniting the bundle of nerves between your legs. This was when you realized you were fucked, at Joel's mercy. Shuddering and trying to keep a serious face on, Joel brought your attention to the posture of your hand, sweeping his thumb over your upper hand. "Keep your hand like this, pretty girl. It'll work better than whatever you were tryin' to create before." - Leaning away from you to let you play, he squeezed your hip to wish you the best of luck.

The moment he did so, a quiet whimper left your mouth, the cue bumping into the white ball at full speed - letting you score your first pocket. You were absentmindedly staring in front of yourself, your heart jumping right to your throat. Joel heard the whimper. It was written all over his fucking grin. He was also smart enough to put two and two together. If you reacted like that, how would you react once he's balls deep inside you? How would your sweet voice sound whimpering, whining, begging, frantically whispering his name? Joel hoped you'd let him find out.

The rest of the games were uneventful - whenever you and Anne played, the two men were sure to talk your head off, teasing you and pointing out what you did wrong. Tommy and Anne stuck to their bickering, their mutual insults getting more playful and out-of-pocket with each shot they downed. Joel stuck with the physical approach, trying to make you understand what to do and when to do it... Which meant you learned absolute fucking shit, being too busy drooling over him. His palms grew more daring the more comfortable you seemed around him - he stopped drinking in the middle of the third billiard match, saying 'He's had 'nough for the night' - Tommy immediately rebutting 'You sure that's the reason?'. Once, you'd swear his palm patted your ass before you poked, making you hit the black ball into the pocket, letting you win the game. 'Thank me later, cutie', Joel murmured into your ear with a wicked grin.

Whenever the guys were on, seven people commented on their match simultaneously - you, Anne, and the five pops watching you play. Whoever they were, you like these old geezers - they were fun to be around. To avenge you, each of the elderly ensured Tommy and Joel wouldn't come out of the match unscathed. Drunk and satisfied, you left the pool table around eleven, shaking hands with the elderly folk who kept you company most of the night. Everyone except Joel was pissed by the time you rolled around the bar, ordering a shot of vodka each. Hell, you've been mixing so much you were sure you'd end up sleeping through the next day. However, it was easy to get pissed in such good company - Tommy kept on coming up with various jokes (hit-or-miss situation there, really), having Anna cackle at each of them (she was blackout drunk, you were pretty sure).

Joel, while not saying much, hadn't moved away from you since you left the pool table - whatever you did, whoever you talked to, the man was behind you. His eyes observed every gesture and expression with a warm gaze, smiling warmly... But not creepily. It was flattering, having the biggest stunner inside the club watching over you. Made you feel special. Regarding what Tommy said earlier (that Joel hadn't been this smitten with anyone in a long time), he wasn't lying - didn't happen since Joel's late wife Angela, actually. Frankly, he was just as in the dark as you were. It wasn't easy to name what had gotten into him, but all he knew was that you're the fire, and he's the moth. Each time you moved, the magnet within you made him follow. Each word was a syren's call, each look a glance into a paradise. Chemistry was the main reason why you two got along this well, that much Joel realized - however, the longer you'd been around, the more captivated he was becoming. Everything about you made him lose his mind; your mixed accents, tapping of your boot into the rhythm, shaky breaths escaping your mouth whenever his fingers ghosted over any part of your body. Each detail, even the easily missable, got him fascinated. You had him mesmerized, took his breath away, had his head in a chokehold. Just as you were at his mercy, he was at yours.

Anne and Joel stuck to the bar when you finally took the dancefloor by storm - whatever you and Tommy were up to, it didn't bore any similarity to actual dancing. It was nice, seeing you laugh so hard, tiptoeing on Tommy's shoes while he clumsily turned around, holding your frame impossibly close to his body. He wasn't trying to pull you or seduce you - it was just hard to dance for two people. "Yannow..." - Anne mumbled from her drink, still watching as you danced. It was almost midnight - the club was closing soon, so most of the fast, heavy-hitting pop got switched for slower country songs. Songs for heavily intoxicated couples. - "I don't think I've seen her actin' like this 'round anyone. And I've known her for 20 years by this point." "Tommy can be a real charmer when he wants to, you're right." - Joel admitted silently, sipping on his lemonade - the same lemonade you made fun of just five minutes earlier. Instead of a response, Anne snickered and shook her head lightly. "Ain't talkin' 'bout Tommy, and we both know that... Drop the fuckin' act." - The girl muttered, losing her balance for a bit - Joel was there to catch her, carefully helping her back onto the stool. He didn't answer, just hummed for Anne to continue.

"Promise you'll be nice to her. Whether it's for tonight or longer, just... Be nice to her. And if you won't be..." "Lemme guess, kiddo - you'll find me and cut my dick off, won't ya?" - Joel grinned, watching Anne teasingly. She smiled, shaking her head again; she liked Joel's sense of humor and demeanor - he seemed like a solid, trustworthy guy. Albeit selfish, but reliable enough to keep his word. "Somethin' like that but ten times worse. You don't wanna cross Anne Marie Jones." "Yes, ma'am." - Joel nodded, tipping his imaginary hat off while bowing a bit. - "I'll go for a dance. Wanna join?" - She nodded in agreement, reaching for Joel's hand in hopes not to slip and fall flat on her face.

"Almost five hours. 's a good score." "Of what? Five hours of..." "You pretendin' that you don't wanna dance." "Were you countin' this whole time? Strong-minded's what you are, my compliments." "Stop and go get her, tiger. Thomas!" - She shrieked, waving at Joel's younger brother, her face filled with excitement. The said younger brother carefully helped you step off his shoes, thanking you for the dances, even bowing just to amuse you. You needed a break - your tummy hurt from laughter, and you were sweaty and thirsty.

"'s my time to be on the bench, huh?" - You asked as Joel stepped closer to you, putting his hand on your waist. When his other hand joined, your eyes frantically searched for an explanation - the only thing you saw, however, was the warmth of his gaze. - "Thought you don't do dancin'." "Haven't done it in a fairly long time. 's time to switch things up." "You changin' the rules for once?" "Hmhm." - Joel could feel your fingers creeping on his arms - his exposed forearms, up to his shoulders before finally entwining behind his neck. Your nails gently scratched his skin, lightly enough not to leave marks, but intensely enough to leave a trail of tingling sensation behind - each inch of his skin you touched started burning, and his dick started growing hard and pleasantly warm in his pants. - "It's worth breakin' the rules when someone's worth it." "Am I worth it?" "Without a doubt in my mind."

No matter how drunk you were, your mind screamed that something was wrong there, that you should leave Joel at the dancefloor, call for a cab, and never look back - this man was a stunner in his best years, not old enough to have back pains and crackly knees but not young enough to be hot-blooded and wanting to fuck for the fun of it. You've seen the hot-blooded type in London a million times, and Joel was different. His demeanor, compared to theirs, was calm and collected. This man wasn't forcing you into anything that hadn't crossed your mind already - his kind smile and gentle touches made you relaxed, letting you realize how desperate you wanted this. How desperately you wanted him. The question still hadn't been answered - why you? Why not any of the beautiful women in the club? Women his age? There were a lot of them, one prettier than the other. Why was it you who had been blessed with the attention of this Adonis with gentle yet assuring touch, with tender, lazy (and also hot as fuck) smile, and watchful gaze?

"I'm a horrible dancer." - You weren't willing to disrupt the intimacy by asking questions - the answers haunted you more than the question itself. Licking your lips, you stepped closer, securing your arms around his neck. "Doesn't seem to me." "Have you seen how I danced with Tommy? Kicked his shin like twenty times." "'s what he deserves, wouldn't worry about it too much." "Doesn't solve the problem at hand." "I have a solution." - Joel mumbled, halting his moves. You were looking at him with an amused furrow, trying to figure out what he was up to - it didn't work, but at least you could carelessly stare at him, memorize each muscle of his face in case you'd never see him again. "Go to town, cowboy. Tell me."

It wasn't a matter of describing. Instead, Joel pushed a few strands of hair off your forehead and face, his eyes taking each detail in. Even though he had thick fingers, callused hands, and big hands, his touches were feather-light - if he hadn't been holding his other arm around your waist, you'd suspect he wasn't even real. All the couples around were still moving at a lazy, slow pace, cuddling as the slow song progressed, but your world froze for a bit. To let Joel know you trust him and want this, your palms started repeating the movements of his fingers - slowly dragging along his jaw, down his neck, to his chin, cupping the apple of his cheek, thumb dragging along the sweet spot under his eyes, putting his damp curls away from his forehead. "Still wanna lemme show you?" "Stop talking and thinking about it too hard, Joel." - Joel felt your weight shifting as you tiptoed, your breasts clashing with his chest as you pressed your body onto his - one of your elbows leaned into his shoulder, your fingers entangling in the hair at the back of his head.

You've been the one to kiss him - one palm grabbing his shirt, pulling him closer; the other still entangled in his hair pulling him away, giving the kiss the right edge. A mix of desperation, desire, and unsaid worries. While your lips mashed, his hands got to exploring - your shoulders, shoulder blades, your back, the small of it, and then, finally, that sweet, sweet fuckin' ass in the tightest piece of clothing he'd seen. He'd swear you're vibrating under his touch, lust getting the better of you - the kiss got rougher, teeth clashing, tongues entwining, lip biting, whining, and quiet moans escaping without either of you wanting them to...

It wasn't clean, but it definitely was the hottest fucking shit and the best kiss Joel had in the last few years. "How does... What does it have to with dancin'?" - You whispered into his ear after you pulled away, nesting your chin on his shoulder, clinging onto him as if he'd disappear if you'd let him go. Slowly, you started moving in the rhythm again, a pleasant male voice singing some kind of country ballad. It was lovely. "Nothin', little lady. Just a poor excuse to do what I've been waitin' for the whole night, 's all." "You damn rascal." "That a bad thing?" "I'm fond of men who make me laugh." - Your playful tone made Joel chuckle, the vibrations carrying onto your body. He gently pulled you closer, kissing your neck while humming at your smell - he'd remembered the scent of your perfume and shampoo, and it was nice, but mixed with alcohol, Tommy and Anne's cigarette smoke, and your musk was even better. You've smelled like a good night, like a lot of laughter, sinfully beautiful.

"Think it hadn't helped yet... The method 'f yours." "Strange, helps me every damn time." - Joel played along, letting you drop back to your heels just so he could look you in the eyes. Even though the club was humid, hot as all hell and the air smelled of alcohol, cigarette and weed smoke, sweat, and too many perfumes mixed into one, Joel missed the warmth and softness of your body the moment when your heels touched the ground, putting a few inches between your bodies. "Didn't sell me on it, anyway." "My apologies, ma'am. Anythin' I can do to remedy the situation?" "Think you should try it again." - You've had him mesmerized when you ogled at him like that - your expression and gaze were innocent, but your actions hinted at everything you've had on your mind. Your gentle hands slipping into the back pockets of his jeans solidified what you've alluded to and erased every doubt he had had in his mind.

"What if it won't work?" - Joel hummed, already pulling you back into his arms - his head was cocked to his shoulder, a wicked grin gracing his face. The man knew what question he was asking, his confidence boosting yours. "Think I have a thing or two on my mind, Texas." "Oh?" - He whispered, stealing a peck from you. - "Wanna share?" "'s better to show it to you." "Go on, little lady." "... Somewhere private." - You specified, losing focus for a bit. Something had caught your attention, making you smile as you started moving in the rhythm. - "I like this song. Give your method one more try, and then we can test mine?" "Your wish is my command."

Over the last few years, Joel forgot how fun it is to dance with someone - how exciting it feels when you twirl your girl around, to see her crack a smile as she comes back to his arms, kissing her like there was no tomorrow. He hadn't danced with anyone since Angela passed - thirteen fucking years. You, however, were a great choice of partner to break the streak of sitting at the bar, watching other couples snuggle and giggle, unaware of anything beyond their small little bubble. Neither of you were good dancers, per se, but that made it much more enjoyable. Joel was in his small bubble now, devoting his focus to you. Only you. Feeling you sway in the rhythm, clumsily stepping on the tips of his boots while holding to his shirt for your dear life, was the most endearing thing that happened to him recently. Even if you wouldn't meet again, he'd be grateful for this one night you've given him.

By the time the last chords of the song played (honkey-tonk banjo strumming), you'd been just like every other couple on the dancefloor - hastily stealing kisses, pressing your bodies impossibly close, tugging each other's hair, moaning and whining under your breath. You wouldn't expect this gruff cowboy man Joel to be vocal at all, but his groans actually made everything ten times better. "... Tell me it didn't work." - He muttered, roughly kneading your buttcheeks with his fingers, pressing your pelvis on his - you could feel the outline of his dick perfectly, your mouth watering. "Not in the slightest. I'm still a horrible dancer." "Thank fuckin' God." - His palm grasped yours as he turned on his heels, leading you deeper into the establishment. Joel was broad enough to make the way for both of you. He was making sure you were still following as if he couldn't feel your nails digging into his palm - he made sure a million times. His eyes periodically trailed between you and the space in front of him.

Once you entered the bathroom stall, everything got blurry - Joel's palms trailing your curves, his lips drowning in the skin of your neck, your palms holding onto his shoulders as he lowered on his knees. You wished you could take a picture of the view - Joel on his knees, one of his palms carefully lifting the hem of your t-shirt while he looked you in the eyes, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your abdomen while his other hand smoothed a trail on your upper thigh. Just as you expected, his palms were rough, full of calluses, and left a tingling sensation on your skin. Pressing his face to your abdomen and slowly getting back up, he pressed a kiss between your breasts before kissing the sweet spot on your neck again. Your breathing was irregular by the time his fingers curled around your chin.

"Are you sure you want this, little lady?" - He was purring into your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and playfully nibbling on it - the reason you were still standing was clearly that he pinned you between the door and his body... Palming your hot, wet sex teasingly, applying just the right amount of pleasure at the place you needed him the most. - "I don't plan on makin' you do somethin' you'd regret later. We clear?" "Joel... Please, for the love of God, shut the fuck up." - That's all you could muster - your body begged to feel his lips, for your hands to explore everything that's been hiding under that neatly tucked shirt and perfectly fitted jeans - you could see the outline of his dick, hard as a rock, but you wanted more. You wished to look at it, have it in your mouth, swallow it whole, or gag on it, whatever he'd like. The arousal building at your center made you forget words. When you tried to kiss him, he tsk-tsked you away, applying more pressure on your clit.

"Just say the words and it's all yours, pretty girl." "Remember how I said you're a rascal?" - You whispered, grinding against his palm gently. - "You're just a... Mhm... Shit... Fucking dick." "Such an eager little thing, aren't ya?" - Joel grinned, kissing the apple of your cheek, leaving his hand in place. You seemed to be horny enough not to need his help with your endeavors - all you needed was his fucking palm.

But Joel wanted more - he needed to hear you also want it. He needed permission before destroying you, fucking your silly little head empty. He could, however, also sense the reason for your hesitancy. What was he? Just a random guy at a club pulling a chick just to fuck her at the stalls and never see her again. Understandable. Because of that, he'd been willing to give you a bit of assurance. - "C'mon, be a good girl. Use your words." "Will you spank me if I misbehave?" "If a good ol' spankin''s whatcha after... We can talk 'bout it on a date." "A date?" - Your eyes lit up, your motions stopping for a bit - to keep you occupied, Joel started applying pressure with his fingers, having you staring at him with your mouth agape. You looked... So damn hot. - "Are you serious, Texas? You want to take me out?" "Mhm, of course, little lady. You'll gimme your phone number, and I'll give you mine. You'll set the date, and I pick out the restaurant. My treat, 'f course. There, you can tell me all you want 'bout spanking that cute ass 'f yours. Sounds good?"

He was... Serious. There was a cocky smile on his lips as he watched you, but he was asking you out. No buts or ifs. No games. It took you a moment to process his proposition - his fingers lazily circling around your clit were making it fucking hard to think. "I'd... I'd love that, cowboy." "Good girl." - Joel cooed, carefully pulling strands of hair out of your eyes with his other palm, leaning his arm to the door behind you. - "What do you want me to do now?" "Everything." - You whispered, stealing a peck from his lips. - "I wanna take everything you're willing to offer. I want this, I want you, wanna feel your lips on me, your dick inside me, fuckin' Christ, I want everything."

That was all Joel needed to hear, the words to set him in motion. His hands gently cupped your head as he kissed you with passion, his mouth devouring each inch he'd kiss, his teeth gently sinking into your skin - just enough to let you feel it, but not enough to hurt you. Not caring about the tent in his jeans, he'd started lowering on his knees again, pulling your t-shirt off your body just so he could hungrily stare at your tits rising and falling with each labored breath. He couldn't but palm them, squeezing them gently. Not wasting more time, he got back to work - worshipping each inch of your skin with his palms, leaving a trail of wet kisses from your chest to your abdomen, stopping above your shorts. He didn't look at what his fingers were doing - Joel simply continued undoing the zipper and button, staring you in the eyes. His right thumb slipped on your clothed clit, having your body react immediately - shuddering, moaning upon the sensation. This wouldn't fly - you could be kicked out if you wouldn't be careful. He wished to listen to those sweet sounds, but...

"Can you somethin' for me?" "Mhm?" - You let out in response, your eyes already darkened with lust. Just a few more beats and Joel would send you heaven, he swore to himself - he started taking his flannel shirt off frantically, handing it over to you. "Bite on it, honey. We don't wanna everyone hearin' how good I make you feel, do we?" "No." - Doing as he asked you, you buried your entire face in his shirt - it smelled just like him, the discovery making you whimper. Lost in the moment, you barely noticed your panties and shorts being removed - before you grasped it, Joel was already filling the newly discovered territory with his face, spreading your thighs far apart.

Under different circumstances, Joel would be delighted to play with you - tease you, let you tiptoe on the edge of paradise before allowing you to drown in all the pleasure, pushing you towards the cliff's edge - you two, sadly, didn't have enough time. You weren't splayed over his bed, your arousal wasn't staining the sheets, and he couldn't let you scream at the top of your lungs before you'd squeeze his head with your thighs. Secondly, he was too fucking horny to hold back. Working you up with his mouth, he untangled your ankle out of your panties, throwing your leg over his shoulder - allowing himself to push as deep as possible in such conditions. His tongue collected each drop of arousal, warm pain setting in his jaw as he did his best to lick your slit clean, just like a plate of his favorite dish.

After he made sure you won't fall down, Joel put his lips to good use (sucking on your clit), and his palm started discovering the valley further below, spreading your folds teasingly. You noticed his finger slowly entering you, digit after digit - his fingers were wider and rougher than yours, filling you up better than yours ever could. Trying to muffle a loud moan, your face disappeared in the fabric of his shirt, your chest heaving as you gasped for air. Joel loved having your fingers tangled in his hair - lost to the moment, you couldn't care less about how violently you're tugging on it, each tug getting a guttural growl out of him. The sounds echoed through you, reaching into all parts of your body, pushing you over the edge.

You couldn't name what precisely caused your orgasm to approach so fucking fast - you were under the impression that usually, it took way longer for you to come. Could be anything - his smell all up your nose, his tongue flickering on your sensitive cluster of nerves at an impressive speed, his palm holding onto your thighs, or two (maybe three) fingers curling inside you. Probably everything combined. The next thing you realized was that you mumbled his name like a prayer, riding through your high on his face, trying to catch your breath as you leaned your head into the door, eyes closed, Joel religiously watching and memorizing how you liked like when you came undone. You were beautiful.

"You good?" - Joel asked after your thighs relaxed and let go of his head. His voice was raspy. It took him a bit to pick himself up (his knees went numb), but soon, he was there to steal a kiss from you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Your flushed, relaxed expression was adorable - he hadn't had a woman looking at him this way in a long time. Your eyes were open lazily (offering him a tender look), your smile hinting at all the bliss circulating in your blood. "Never better, sugar." "Don't think anyone called me that before." "You like it?" - You asked, playing with the hem of his gray t-shirt, caressing his abdomen, his flannel shirt still hanging off your palm. "Gets me all railed up." - With a grin, Joel approached you, picking your leg up to circle it around his waist. The jeans felt cold against your burning and sensitive core, the rough material putting a strange edge into Joel's pelvis grinding against yours at a lazy, teasing pace. - "You want this too, baby? Think you can take it?" "I want everything."

"Okay." - He hummed, trailing his fingers along your shoulders, brushing lips over your jaw and lips. Before you knew it, his palm crept back between your thighs, his fingers sliding inside you, working you up to relax you and get the arousal going. - "How do you want it? Should I sit down? If you wanna, I can get deeper if you bend forward. C'mon, be a good girl and use your words." "Just... I want... Fuck." - Not being able to put a single sentence together, you shushed his palm and godly fingers away. Bracing yourself, you leaned into the door comfortably, shaking your ass a bit to tease him. Joel didn't hesitate to play along, slapping it to see the tender, soft skin jiggling. It didn't escape him how you almost purred, whimpering from the friction. He was half-sure you joked about the spanking bit, but seeing you get off on it put a childish grin on his face.

Before he undid his belt (your head was turned to him the entire time, hungrily watching each move), he'd pulled his wallet from one of the pockets, pulling a condom out. Biting on the aluminum packaging gently, Joel threw his wallet away carelessly, feverishly undoing his jeans before pushing the pants and underwear down to his knees. His dick sprang free, having you hypnotized while Joel put the condom on - you'd swear you hadn't seen a nicer-looking dick in your lifetime, not even in porn movies you watched. It was decently long, pre-cum leaking from the tip, with few veins giving it a nice texture. What put a slight frown on your face was the width of it. It was girthy, for the lack of a better term, massive, to say the least. The challenge excited you, giving you more reasons to take him balls deep. Moan escaped your mouth upon that thought.

"Oh, I know, baby girl." - Joel whispered, stepping closer to you, kneading your cheeks like dough - digging his fingers in one moment, lovingly squeezing them in the other. - "I'll take care of everythin', I promise. Just relax for me." "Okay, sugar." - Complying, you tried your best to relax when he ran his palms down your back, massaging soothing circles into your skin. Hearing the nickname, Joel snickered under his breath. "You gonna me drive up the fuckin' wall if you keep that nickname up."

You started to turn your head in Joel's direction to reply, but before you could do so, the tip of his dick slipped inside you - the burning sensation had you banging your first against the door, opening your mouth, eyes closed firmly, chest heaving as you adjusted to him. It wasn't unpleasant - it was just unusual - you hadn't had sex ever since that 'British stud of yours' as Anne dubbed Felix. And any toys couldn't do Joel's dick any justice. "All good, little lady?" "Mhm, never better." - Nodding, you took a long breath before lowering yourself down on his shaft, feeling it stretching you out inch by inch. There weren't many things that would make Joel Miller speechless, but watching you sliding down while his hands held your hips, hearing you muffle your whines and moans was pure fucking magic. The closer your ass got to his base, the harder it was to breathe for him.

"Look at you, sweetheart." - Joel cooed, closing the remaining gap between your bodies - the tip of his cock brushed your cervix, making you gulp. The man didn't move for a solid minute, letting you relax and adjust, rubbing soothing circles into your hips. - "This would make a man lose his damn mind, Jesus fuckin' Christ. You're doin' so fuckin' well for me." "That dick would make any woman lose their mind too, Texas." - Saying that, you giggled, unintentionally tightening around him - Joel's hips buckled in response, making you whine happily. - "You can move, yannow that? I ain't made of glass." "Promise to tell me it'd get uncomfortable for you, yeah?" - The man asked, kissing your shoulder. Nodding, you lazily smiled at him. "Promise."

In a few thrusts, you could perfectly understand why Joel promised he'd stop if things got uncomfortable for you - he struggled to find his tempo, sloppily thrusting in and out of you in unforgiving, needy movements. But as soon as he found his footing? His movements became determined and precise, each trust stretching your tight walls gently, almost lovingly. He was gripping your hips, the nailbeds digging into your smooth, gentle skin - so tightly that you'd swear you'd have small remnants of him with you in the morning. Anytime he felt like it, he'd make you meet his dick halfway, breathlessly snickering at your ecstatic expression. You both mumbled nonsense, motivating each other to keep going, movements growing desperate as you started chasing your highs. Without Joel needing to mutter a word, your palm sneaked to your clit, your fingers rubbing frantic get gentle circles around the bundle of nerves.

"'M gonna... 'M gonna..." - Joel muttered religiously, palming one of your breasts to gently play with your nipple. "Just a bit longer, and I'm... Fuck, fuck, fuck, Joel." - It came across as a pathetic whine - the tip of his dick brushing against the most sensitive spot inside you. The burst of warmth and pleasure made you shudder, meowling to your forearm as you tried to keep your shit together. "Ya with me?" - Joel pressed on, his brain barely capable of making meaningful sentences. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes." - As he brushed the spot again, a mind-numbing orgasm washed over you. For a moment, you didn't know who the fuck you were, what your name was, where you were, or whom you were with. All you could feel was concentrated pleasure washing over your body, leaving you whining and moaning into the fabric of his shirt before letting it fall to the ground. Joel's last trusts were sloppy, almost too brutal, but soon, he was grunting as his load leaked into the condom.

"Jesus." - He muttered, gently slipping out - the emptiness hit you like a truck, almost leaving you begging for more. You'd beg if you could form any word on your tongue. - "How we doin', little lady? All parts where they should be?" - He whispered, gently helping you to stand up as he pulled your underwear and shorts back where they belonged. If you'd let him, he'd memorize how you looked - sweaty, breathing irregularly with a contained expression. Every inch of your skin was a masterpiece Joel'd carve into wood just to have it always with him. Fucking on a bathroom stall, however, wasn't the right place or time to ask for some lovey-dovey nonsense.

"You some kind of mechanic or what? I'm good, don't worry 'bout me. Gave me exactly what I wanted." "There she is, the sassy little sweetheart I couldn't get 'nough of. And... Somethin' like that. I'm a carpenter." - Joel explained, ensuring you looked somewhat presentable. It wouldn't be gentlemanly to let you walk around looking like a cute, freshly fucked mess - no matter how much this idea aroused him, letting all the men who eyed you over the night know that he was the one you chose to have the time of your day with. Instead of answering, you started laughing, catching him off-guard. - "What's funny 'bout me bein' a carpenter, hm?" "Nothin', nothin'." - You whispered, shushing his palms away to control your make-up. Well, it was decently smudged but still presentable. With how Anne looked before you and Joel took an abrupt detour to the stalls, you'd be soon on your way home anyway. - "I'll be working for a carpenter, starting fairly soon. It's just a funny coincidence, 's all."

"I see. He's a lucky man, then." - Joel hummed, caressing the apple of your cheek with his fingers before letting you steal a peck from you. - "If you'd be workin' for me, I wouldn't keep my fuckin' hands off you, sweet girl. You tell him you have another carpenter in town who wouldn't waste a second hirin' you, yeah?" "You don't mean that. That's the sex talkin'." "On my honor. If he won't treat you respectfully, yannow who to call. I can always use some help." - Teasingly slapping your ass, Joel picked his shirt and wallet off the ground, adjusting his belt and jeans. - "There's the business card, you call this number, yeah? The second one. The first one's for my office. And as a promise, you take this with ya." - Carefully, he tugged you into the shirt, smoothing your upper arms. - "'s my lucky shirt. I never go out in anythin' else. You better keep an eye out." "This gets the ladies going?" - Was what you replied, pushing your arms through the sleeves and buttoning up the lower half of the shirt. Ensuring you won't lose the card, you pushed it inside your phone case, showing it to Joel. "It got you goin', didn't it?" "Was that bloody smirk 'f yours, asshole." "Never been turned on by anyone callin' me an asshole. Whatcha doin' to me, girl? You ready to go?" - The lock was undone, and as a gesture of gratitude (and another promise), Joel offered you his palm to hold onto. To your surprise, he let you entwine your fingers with him without protesting. "Yeah. Let's go."

Thankfully, when you walked back onto the humid, heavy-aired club, Tommy and Anne were still dancing - both appeared heavily intoxicated, holding each other tightly, dancing to a sweet serenade. That, thankfully, meant no questioning for either you or Joel. As you also predicted, Anne wanted to go home when she spotted you hanging out by the bar.

Joel and Tommy helped you find a taxi, settling Anne down in the backseat - it was raining heavily, all of you jogging to the car with laughter. The night started to get cold. It was time to go home, lulled by the prospect of a date - the man in question was just pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, kissing your temple, whispering sweet nothings and goodbyes to your ear. Tommy, even though he was usually as perceptive as a stomp, left you alone and moved to smoke under a nearby umbrella, grinning from ear to ear as he watched you being all cheesy and lovey-dovey - he knew better than to mutter a word. Joel'd definitely fire back at him.

"Here's the money for the ride, tip included. Take 'em wherever they want to, the rest's yours." - Joel leaned into the cab, handing the driver a hefty bill while patting the roof - what a typical gesture. Staring at him in shock, you shook your head in disapproval - Anne pointed at him with a drunkard giggle. "I'm startin' to like your grumpy Texan ass more 'n more." "What a compliment." - Joel answered with pure irony. - "Take care, ladies. Text me when you get home, 'kay, sweetheart?" "Will do, sir. But betcha ass we'll be discussing this later." - Vaguely pointing to the driver, you spared Joel one last smile before the cab took off, driving you home. - "Take care!" - You cried out, watching his figure disappear in the distance.

Getting Anne to your room without waking up the whole block was a superhuman task - she'd trip over nothing, kept on shushing you (even though you hadn't said a word), giggling under her breath as she tried to keep her balance. You expected Mom to bust in at any minute, but only Sam inspected the ruckus. "Jesus fuckin' Christ." - The girl muttered, rubbing her eyes sleepily. The sight was hilarious, you needed to admit - Anne was sitting on the edge of your bed, rocking from side to side while attempting to take off her shoes. Her tongue, as usual, was sticking out of the corner of her mouth with pure concentration. - "I take it that the night was good?" "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. Go to sleep now, yeah?" - Smoothing her shoulder, you watched as Sammy nodded sleepily and started retreating toward her room.

Before going to sleep, you made sure Anne's clothes were hung enough to dry out before she departed after tomorrow's dinner, and that her hair was neatly covered with a towel. As promised, before hitting the sack, you sent Joel a short text to let him know you're both safe at home, wishing him a good night. The night was something - sex with Joel helped you sober up, and thanks to Anne's overwhelming, unmissable snoring, you took one hell of a time to fall asleep. While Anne was knocked out in an instant, you had to roll around for quite some time before you finally fell asleep - dreaming of Joel, his big hands, honest smiles, and passionate kisses.

"Are you fuckin' with me? That happened? And it was that good?" - Anne squealed, pushing half a waffle inside her mouth. Her appetite (despite the hangover she must've had) always surprised you. Nobody should be this hungry after digesting such an ungodly amount of alcohol... Nobody. Sam, responsible for bringing you a very late breakfast to bed, had her eyes glued to your lips, listening to how you described what had happened in the bathroom stalls. - "... Didn't even notice you two were gone." "No wonder. You two were fucking out of it. They were wobbling around to Long Long Time by the time we got back, both sobbing their asses off." "Uh-uh, that didn't fuckin' happen. Don't believe a word comin' out of this wench's mouth, Sammy." "In all fairness, it's a solid song." - Sam reiterated, having Anne snapping, humming approvingly. "Amen, sister. Girl knows her stuff."

"Back to the guy. So you texted him goodnight? As he asked?" - Sam pried further, laying down as she stared at you. "Mhmh." "Had he replied?" "Yes." "WHAT DID HE-?" - Anne squealed even louder, earning an elbow to her side. Rubbing the spot, she looked at you. - "Bitch, you hadn't told me he actually reached back out. What did the super hot, hunky, gruff cowboy say? Spill it." "Well, he wished me a good morning for starters, unlike someone..." - Alluding to how Anne's first sentence consisted of 'Girl, I don't know if it's gonna come outta my mouth or ass first, so you better move' and keeping the duo tensed up, a smile spread on your lips. - "He started asking when I was free but told me he couldn't go out today because of this dinner with his best buddy. So... I have a date tomorrow." "You're shitting me!" - Anne muttered, giggling her ass off. "Dude, keep it the fuck down. I don't wanna explain this to my mom." "Yeah, yeah, whatever. What's your take on the situation, young padawan?" - Without sparing you a look, Anne just waved you off and pointed her fork in Sam's direction.

"He sounds like a genuinely great guy. A bit of an age difference? No prob, sis. On the other hand, if you'd bring home an eighty-year-old gramps with diapers and prescribed meds..." "Samantha!" - Gasping for air, you threw a strawberry her way - grinning from ear to ear, Sam caught in on her first try. - "'s that what you think of me? Thank you kindly. That's so fucked up." "You asked me a question, and I gave you an answer. Grow up. But no cap - you're glowing just talking about the guy. You're all flustered, giggly, playing with your hair and... It's nice to see you like that." "She ain't wrong... She ain't wrong at all."

Dinner preparations consisted of pure chaos - Fleetwood Mac's biggest hits playing out of your dad's stereo as you helped around the kitchen, Anne occasionally dipping to comment on the baseball game your dad watched in the living room. The entire house was pristine, not a dust particle in sight as if the Queen of England was about to drop for a visit. Your mom pulled out her best decorations and fanciest set of plates, asking you to decorate them with napkins. Sam was with you the entire time, carefully watching your moves as if you weren't real - even giving in to dance with you to Dreams, both laughing as you clumsily wobbled around the dining room.

When it was around 4pm, you all hid in Sam's room to make yourselves look presentable - Sammy opted for a cutesy wollen vest, a short-sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of jeans. With her hair styled in a high ponytail, she looked genuinely cutesy. Anne borrowed one of the fancy dresses you used to wear for work, pairing it with her pair of good ol' trusty pair of Vans - as per usual, Anne would've looked hot as fuck even if she'd worn a potato bag. You opted for a more casual, relaxed fit. You dug out a flowy black dress with polka dots all over it, choosing a relaxed hairstyle and light layer of make-up to go with it. You assumed you didn't have to sit around dressed like you were waiting for a job interview since the guy was your dad's best friend.

"They're here!" - Mom cried out over the music blasting in the living room - your dad changed it to good ol' Bruce Spingsteen's Born in the U.S.A. "Aight, how do I look?" - You asked, twirling around to let both the girls see - you wanted to leave a good first impression on your soon-to-be employer and a trusted family friend, as well as on his brother. "You're looking good. I've told you a million times already - Joel doesn't make a fuss about such things. I've worked for him for a year and a half, so I'd be the one to know." - Sam muttered, rolling her eyes. She'd spent the last hour assuring you looked amazing and impressionable, that was much true. - "Just come already, Jesus. You'll relax once you see him." - With that, she started descending the stairs, loudly greeting the guests.

"Like a snack." - Anne suggested, having you shaking your head. "Not the time..." "What if he's like... Smoking hot?" "He's also my dad's best friend. No way in hell..." "Never say never." "That's why I usually don't ask for your fucking input, Anne." "Chill, girl, you got this. Take a breath, shake the nerves off... You look fucking amazing, and you're way smarter than... Oh... Oh, fuck." - She was standing on top of the stairs, her palm clutching the railing until her knuckles turned white. All emotion suddenly drained from her expression, her face growing pale, and her eyes widened at the sight. Slowly, you peeked around the corner, your eyes meeting the strangers immediately.

What if he was smoking hot, huh? Well, you knew for a fact he was. Those lips were kissing you yesterday. Those palms chalked up the cue for you, teasing you how to play billiard without getting a cramp in your palm. These eyes watched you as if you were the only woman in the club, following each step you took, his palm never shying away from grasping the small of your back. You saw him undress for you. You felt him pounding into you when he chased his release. You listened to his voice pouring sweet nothings and perverted, arousing nonsense into your ears as he fucked you. You had his number saved in his phone. You had a date set with him. It was Joel. Joel, the mysterious hunky gruff cowboy. Joel, who was staring back at you with the same horror in his eyes. Joel, who was your dad's best fucking friend.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck indeed.

Thank you for reading! 🩷 Reblogs and comments are appreciated; in case you have any questions or scenarios you'd like to see, hmu in dms or under the post. 🩷 Have a nice day!

[vminjackbaddie]

Feeling Lucky

authors note: eye...haven't written a one shot in such a long time but his recent activity on ig has got me in shambles and I'd like the chance to try again. now forgive me because I've always written in first person but you can still pretend. also im super rusty so im sorry if this comes out cheesy lol I am not an expert for sure! lastly, please don't repost or claim as your own. I appreciate y'all pairing: female reader & jackson wang | 1st person word count: 3.4k+ summary: it's been a lot of trial and error: using dating apps in hopes you find a serious relationship and for the third time, you find yourself disappointed with someone, feeling cursed and very unlucky. to help get your mind off of things, you go visit your best friend at the bar with 0 intentions except to enjoy yourself until jackson walks in with his own group of friends. he's eyeing you, you're eyeing him but will either one of you make a move? or will you let your "cursed" theory ruin any chance with him? genre: mature | strangers to lovers au | angst | one shot | kinda soft | fluff warnings: 21+ ONLY! some cursing, making out, small mentions of heartbreak

“…and that’s exactly why I believe dogs are far superior to cats…”

He kept rambling, spewing nonsense. Is this really my life right now? How am I sitting here, listening to this man go on and on about why dogs are better than cats? Is this supposed to be life-changing information? Definitely not! And just for the record, cats are just as good—if not better.

To make matters worse, I wish I could say this was my first bad date in ages, but that would be a lie. A month ago, I signed up for a dating app, and while things started off strong, the past two weeks have led me to men with halitosis, nonstop misogynistic comments, and now this guy: a man who thinks his monologue is more interesting than asking about me.

Without hesitation, I pulled out my phone and decided to use the old bathroom excuse.

“Excuse me—sorry. Just give me a minute. I’ll be right back,” I said, trying not to trip over my heels as I pushed my chair back, ready to make my escape.

“Take your time! When you get back, we can talk about the ghost in my parents’ basement!” he shouted as I walked away.

I raised an eyebrow, knowing it was now or never. Ghosting isn’t my usual move, but it felt like my only option. Luckily, there was an exit door next to the women’s restroom, and I made a beeline for it. I attempted to call my best friend to fill her in on the disaster, but I reached her voicemail, followed by a quick text:

[Hey, I’m working. You okay?]

Ugh. I completely forgot she was on a shift at Oasis, a local bar. But that might not be a bad idea. I could definitely use some company and a distraction. I hopped into my car and rushed to get inside before he realized I wasn’t coming back, quickly texting her:

[Hiiii~ nvm! I’m coming by. See you soon!]

The message was brief, and as I sat at the first red light, I surprisingly didn’t feel guilty. Isn’t that awful? But honestly, while I felt bad about the first two dates, this third one confirmed that maybe my days with dating apps were over. I felt cursed—searching for real love for so long only to have every potential match turn sour as soon as we met. So tonight (and perhaps for the rest of my life), I decided to focus on enjoying myself.

Oasis wasn’t far. Within five minutes, I was in line to get in. While I waited, I noticed the coffee shop guy had bombarded me with at least eight messages, calling me every name in the book for bailing.

“Wow,” I muttered, scrolling through his barrage of insults.

“Looks like you dodged a bullet,” the bouncer said as I finally reached him.

“What? Oh yeah, he’s definitely a piece of work,” I replied, blocking his number while handing over my ID.

“You came to the right place.” He nodded as he returned my ID. While he recognized me from previous visits, I wasn’t in the mood to chat with another guy about my problems. I simply made my way to the bar.

“Danielle!” I called, spotting my best friend as I slid onto the first empty barstool. The bar wasn’t too crowded, but the dance floor was alive, and it felt great to soak in the energy after those awful messages.

“Another bad date?” she asked, handing me my favorite drink.

“Oh, it was so bad, Danielle! I just don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

“I don’t think it’s you. Sometimes men just suck, and dating app guys are a whole different level of awful,” she chuckled.

“I’m starting to think it might be time to give up.”

She sighed. “You always say that. But remember what I tell you: you’re more likely to find the right one when you’re not stuck playing 40 questions over a screen.”

She patted my hand for reassurance, and I felt a little lighter.

“Don’t beat yourself up—we’ve all been there. Just enjoy your drink.”

I nodded, acknowledging she was right.

“Okay, but no more than three drinks tonight. I don’t want you getting in trouble again for giving away too many free ones.”

We both laughed as I took a sip while she attended to the next guest.

About an hour later, I was on my third drink, and let me tell you, I was feeling it. “Slightly tipsy” was the best way to describe it, and I was really vibing with the music pouring from the speakers. However, I wasn’t much of a dancer. Sitting at the bar, swaying back and forth in my little bubble, felt just right. I could have kept it up all night, but then I heard an uproar from the dance floor.

Curious, I turned to see what all the commotion was about. Right in the center of the crowd was a group of guys dancing like nobody was watching, and they were good. But the one drawing everyone’s attention wasn’t the loudest or most flamboyant; instead, it was the guy making the subtlest moves. His presence alone was magnetic, giving him an air of mystery that was incredibly alluring.

I found myself standing up, inching closer to get a better view. I didn’t want to get too close—just close enough to appreciate his every move. But maybe that was the mistake, because as soon as I got within range, I was completely captivated. He wore all black: a fitted tank top, loose black pants, and sturdy boots. His shaggy hair was a striking lilac or lavender color, cascading over his forehead. It felt wrong, but the thought of getting his attention flickered in my mind. The only problem? I was supposed to be enjoying myself, not fantasizing about some guy.

“Y/N!” Danielle’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I turned to see her waving me over. That was my cue: stay away from him. After all, it was clear why there were at least ninety girls surrounding him—or so it seemed.

What I didn’t realize was that her shout had caught his attention too, because when I looked back just before walking away, we locked eyes.

“Oh god,” I mumbled to myself, quickly diverting my gaze as he flashed me a gentle smile. The only thing I could manage was a quick nod before I hurried back to the bar, eager to escape any further embarrassment.

“What were you doing over there?” Danielle asked as I settled back into my seat.

“Did you not see those guys? They were amazing!” I nearly pointed but caught a glimpse of him and his friends gathering at the other end of the bar.

“Those guys?” she asked, tilting her head in their direction. “Oh yeah, they’re here every Friday, or so.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course.”

For some reason, that realization made him feel completely out of reach. I shouldn’t have even considered approaching him, but the thought lingered. Now, with him just ten feet away, it was impossible not to steal glances as I tried to finish what was left of my drink.

“Need another?” I heard a male voice say.

I looked over to find a glass of Hennessy right beside my hand. My gaze lifted to meet the exact guy from the dance floor, and I was shocked. Why was he talking to me? Where were his friends? Regardless, I needed to play it cool; I didn’t want to come off as desperate.

“No, I’m good,” I replied shortly. “This is my third one, anyway.” I barely made eye contact, taking another sip.

“Is that why you were almost on the dance floor?” he joked.

“Maybe. But how would you know?” I finally turned my body toward him.

He took a small sip of his drink. “I saw you—almost as soon as you walked up. I was waiting for you to join in.”

“I’m sure the other ninety women were more than enough for you,” I retorted.

“Damn. Don’t do that,” he said with a smirk.

“Don’t do what? Point out the obvious?” I chuckled. That’s when I really started to feel the liquid courage kicking in. To be honest, I had a lot of animosity toward men right now, and he was my first target. This could either go really well or extremely badly.

“I’m not just another girl for you to toy with, okay? You think I didn’t see all the smirking and body rolling on that dance floor? Keep it over there.” My finger landed on his chest. “And don’t bring your fuckboy act over here.”

He smirked again, taking another sip before resting his hand over my finger that was still resting on his chest. God, why was he so attractive? I’d said enough, so why couldn’t I just get up and leave?

“Let me be clear…” His voice was low and husky, and I barely noticed he had leaned in closer, making my hand rest against his chest. “If I had any intentions with the other women on that floor, or if I were the fuckboy you think I am, then why am I over here with you?”

His eyes searched mine as if trying to find something beyond the asshole persona I was attempting to project.

“Touche,” I responded, quickly pulling my hand back. I finished off my drink, trying to distract myself from getting lost in his gaze. “What’s your name?”

“Jackson,” he said with a smile, clearly pleased that I wasn’t trying to push him away any further. “And you?”

“Y/N,” I replied shyly, worried I might have ruined the rest of the conversation. Just then, another song played, and the crowd erupted again, making us both break our unannounced staring contest and look at the dance floor. The same guys he had arrived with were back out there, cutting loose. I noticed Jackson subtly mimicking their moves.

“You should join them!” I yelled over the music.

“Nah, it’s okay. I’d rather be dancing with someone else,” he said, slowly bringing his gaze back to me.

I rolled my eyes, smirking a little. “Could you be any more corny?”

“No,” he smirked, grabbing my hand and pulling me closer. We were chest to chest now, locked in each other's gaze. “But I’d like the chance to show you what I can do on the dance floor.”

I glanced back at Danielle, who had been watching the whole exchange. My expression should’ve been a dead giveaway for help, but instead, she winked at me. What the hell? She wasn’t helping at all.

“Come on,” he said, breaking our gaze and taking my hand. He led me to the dance floor. “I don’t expect anything more than for you to just feel the music.” He moonwalked to the center of the dance floor.

How could I possibly keep up with that? I barely had rhythm as it was, but that didn’t stop him from pulling me closer. The liquid courage needed to kick in any minute now because I had never been more nervous than I was at that moment.

He turned me around so that my back pressed against his chest, swaying slowly behind me, guiding my body to move in harmony with his. I felt as if I were in a trance, his hands exploring my waist in a way that was both respectful and undeniably sensual. His nose brushed against my hair, and I could feel my eyes fluttering shut, surrendering to his lead as I let the music envelop me. I placed my hands over his, turning my head slightly to bring his face closer to mine, anticipating the moment our lips might meet. But just then, the tempo of the music shifted, shattering the spell we were under. I smiled as we both paused, realizing that our moment had come to an end.

I turned to face him, and I noticed his friends slowly approaching from behind.

“Alright! We see you!” one of them called out.

“Get lost,” he replied, feigning annoyance, which made them all chuckle.

“Sorry, man! We were just about to grab another drink. You coming?”

He glanced back at me. “Yeah, actually. I’ll be right there.” They nodded and headed off, and he turned back to me.

“You know you don’t have to stick around. I wasn’t exactly nice to you a few minutes ago.”

He shrugged. “I can get drinks with them anytime.” He took my hand again and led me back to my original spot at the bar to order another drink. As we waited, he turned to look at me.

“But what was with all that attitude? Was it really just because of how you viewed me?”

I shook my head. “No... just... bad dates.”

He nodded slowly, as if he understood more than I realized.

“Men ain’t shit,” he started, his tone serious. “And I mean that. I don’t know what you’ve been through, and it’s really none of my business, but can I offer you some advice?”

“Sure,” I replied, still swaying to what we could hear of the music.

“Don’t assume every guy you meet is going to be like the last. I know that’s tough, but calling me a fuck boy was a bit much.” He whined playfully, laughter escaping him. “Though, I have to admit, it was pretty funny.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry... I really shouldn’t have said that—” Just then, my favorite song blared through the speakers. Tinashe’s “Nasty” filled the air, and the energy shifted.

“I LOVE THIS SONG!” I shouted, letting go and fully immersing myself in the music. Whatever liquid courage I had left finally surfaced, and I danced like I’d never danced before. I was so caught up in the moment that I didn’t even notice Danielle bringing him another drink; he simply stood there, a huge smirk on his face, watching me.

“Is somebody gonna match my freak...” I began to sing loudly, draping my arms over his neck and leaning in close, letting my hands glide slowly over his chest.

He watched intently as I continued belting out the lyrics. The way he sipped his Hennessy while keeping his gaze fixed on me made my stomach flip. Somehow, I managed to maintain my composure, still singing and letting my hands roam lower, tracing over his abdomen, which made his breath catch.

“Easy...” he murmured, and I couldn’t help but smirk. I had no idea what was happening, but I was enjoying every moment.

I leaned back into his space, my arm wrapped around his neck as the chorus looped again, the constant refrain of “I’ve been a nasty girl” echoing in my ears. I sang every word, body rolling against him while his free hand trailed down my side and rested at my waist. With his other hand, he finished his drink and set the glass down, then placed his palm at the small of my back.

We were mere inches apart; I could feel his breath against my lips, and it made me freeze as the music began to fade into the background. At that moment, I was intoxicated by his scent, and there was no way I could back down now. I’d been in his face for nearly three minutes, singing about being a nasty girl—what else could I expect?

“You singing all of that makes me want to do a lot more than just dance with you...” he whispered. “But that would be disrespectful on our first meeting.”

Good god. At this point, he could have done anything to me; a man who shows respect is the sexiest thing a girl could ask for.

“Then what can you do that wouldn’t be ‘disrespectful’?”

I knew I was asking for it, but I couldn’t help myself. At this rate, I wanted him to make a move.

He chuckled softly, brushing his nose against mine as our faces inched closer together. One hand cupped my face, while the other rested on my hip. I felt his body draw nearer, moving slightly as the music began to swell again, creating a bubble around just the two of us. I slowly closed my eyes, fully aware of what was about to happen. The build-up was intoxicating. I could have closed the distance myself, but something urged me to savor the moment. He began to turn my body until my back was against a wall, his hands landing on either side of me, brushing his lips against mine. When I opened my eyes, I saw him glancing between my eyes and my mouth, so close I could nearly taste him.

My hands moved to cup his neck as we tilted our heads, our lips nearly meeting once more. He was teasing me mercilessly, and damn, was he good at it.

“May I?” he asked, brushing his nose against mine again. There he went again with that respect.

“Please,” I nearly begged, and he slowly closed the gap between us, finally kissing me after what felt like an eternity of anticipation.

Our lips moved in perfect harmony, just like how we danced. His hands slid from the bar back around my waist, while mine fumbled to find their place. I felt most at ease tangling one hand in his hair while the other rested at his side. The kiss deepened as our tongues battled for dominance, making me want to nibble at his bottom lip to tease him even more. But just like that, it was over. He pulled away, leaving me craving more.

We were both breathless, but it was more than worth it. I even heard Danielle cheering quietly behind me, which made us glance at her and shake our heads in amusement.

“I’m sorry. If I’d kept going—”

I raised a finger to his lips. “It’s fine,” I smiled. “There’s always next time.”

He nodded. “I hope it made your night a little better.”

His smile was enchanting, and I could tell he genuinely meant it, which made me feel incredible.

“Mission accomplished.” I gave him a quick peck. “Now, stay in touch.”

“Wait. You’re leaving?” he frowned.

“No!” I laughed. “Danielle’s my ride home since I’ve had a couple of drinks.”

“Smart. I like it,” he teased, locking his gaze with mine again. “Care to dance once more before the night ends?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to get back to your boys?” I asked, noticing them still on the dance floor.

“Look, those are my best friends. I can dance, drink, and whatever else with them anytime,” he assured me. “They’ll understand if I keep dancing with you. And while this may be our last dance tonight, I hope to see you again, outside of this bar.”

I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks. Who would have thought one bad night would turn into something so lucky?

“Deal,” was all I could think to say before he pulled me back out to the dance floor, where we danced until the sun rose.

[ronearoundblindly]

I'm so very lucky to know such an amazing person as you! Thank you for being here and sharing your wonderful stories!

-Zombie

I'll have you know (Zombie knows but for the rest of you) that I only hoarded this for a few hours, and that's a new record for me!

I don't naturally take compliments well. My brain's instantaneous reaction is to say "they don't know you, not really" or "they'd say that to everyone." I also think it's time to acknowledge something important--super duper wowee important--in that even if you do say that to everyone, even if someone shows you kindness and they show everyone kindness, it doesn't make you less-deserving.

This is not a competition. This is a community.

I'm so proud to know you. I'm so proud to be here. Yeah, it's hard--a whole lot of days are hard for me for a whole lot of reasons--when you've been conditioned to compete, to only value yourself based on who you are 'better' than or who 'is better' than you, but that is horseshit.

As some of you know, I went through a divorce last year, and I keep saying "it wasn't even a bad breakup" since I am comparing it to others. While that is technically and objectively true, it doesn't matter. That part doesn't change. If I keep thinking that way, I'll be stuck forever: better than most, lesser than some.

One of my favorite quotes (but who to credit it to 🤷🏻‍♀️ escapes me) talks about only comparing yourself now to your past self. That's it. That is the only gauge of 'better' that matters.

I talk to more people on here today than I did two years ago, two months ago, or two days ago. I am part of a community, not a competition. I am among amazing people who all SHARE wonderful stories, and I'm proud that despite all the comparison my brain tries to foist on me, I built myself a community within this one.

I can't wait to grow it, too.

I'm excited to take time to write and crazy, super duper, wowee excited to read all the beautiful, heartfelt, gut-wrenching, sinful, sweet crackfic y'all's little flying fingers can produce...

...or just chat.

Doing all of that makes me whole and a whole lot better than I used to be. I feel lucky that we have each other.

💜💕💜

Thank you for being my friend!

[mieczyhale]

sorry, babes, but you were ratted out by the fuckin wendy's employee

don't hang around and use their phone if you don't want them telling things to the people who call back. i didn't even ask for details, they just shared, so now i know a couple of things were lies. they're relatively small, in the grand scheme of fucking everything to do with your life and my inescapable place in it, but y'know.. if you lied about those things maybe you lied about the big thing too.

i'm not going to just assume you did, because i believe in innocent until proven guilty - or honest until proven lying, and just because you fucked something up doesn't mean you fucked everything up. maybe the story you told me on the phone DID really happen the way you said it did. it's not out of the realm of possibility. but then.. y'know.. not sure why we didn't hear from you until almost 9 PM.

honestly i'm most irritated that you pulled the "i have no one else to help me" "i'm out of people to call" card repeatedly until i said i'd come get you. and then i get there just to find out hm. someone else also called about you and you already left. that was less than 30 minutes after you hung up. now, did i get there a little later than expected?? yeah. but you know to expect that of me. you know what my ocd is like. you could've waited. but apparently you DID actually have other people that could help you. you dragged my ass out of the house, less than an hour after i got home from work, for nothing. you put me through an unnecessary round of rituals. that is.. the rotten cherry on top.

i hope you're okay, and i hope - for your sake - that you can figure out whatever the fuck is going on (maybe.. idk.. get a hold of your fucking parole officer instead of your manipulative ex and your long suffering sibling in law. just a thought) but bitch i'm at my limit with you. again. this is the.. third time this year we've hit that?? it's a fuckin record.

and you know what?? eventually i'll help you again, and i'll defend you again, and i'll be there for you during the moments you'll later claim nobody was there for you, and you'll apologize and i'll forgive you but not entirely because i don't actually forgive that many people, and you'll be okay until you're not, and every day that you're not is somehow up to me to handle and fix because everyone else passed giving up on you awhile ago, and at some point our mental health got tied together so the worse you're doing the worse i'm doing so i can't actually back out entirely without fucking myself over in a different way from how i get fucked over by being involved-

and honestly i also can't back out because i'm the middle man between you and multiple people - two people always, others when they can't get a hold of you themselves or they won't answer you in return - so y'all and your shit communication would be EXTRA shit if you let me out but, despite my efforts to at least change THAT, none of you actually will let me out and thankfully - THANKFULLY - i at the very least have the power to tell certain people to fuck off, because without that i think i'd lose my goddamn mind even more. because we've been doing this for nearly eleven (11) years and unfortunately - unless you actually get your shit together - i can't see this fucking ending.

because i can't turn off the part of me that loves, and cares, and has an insane defend/protect nature, that wants to do everything i can to help the people i love and that includes you.

all of this fucking bullshit. and it still includes you.

but for the moment i am in the part of the pattern where i am so fucking done. i have this so bad it's good beer and a zebra cake and i'm going to read fic and then sleep and if you fucking call me i'm not going to answer bc i've got nothing to say to you right now.

just... nothing.

if you happen to check your tumblr for once and see this and get pissy?? i don't care. the effect you have on my life is very fucking real and i am allowed to talk about it vaguely. it's too big a part of my life for me not to.

[tarabyte3]

I Want You to Show Me Weak

Fandom: Andor

Pairing: Kino Loy/F!Reader

Chapter 22/27 (16.1k words)

->start at chapter 1<-

<- Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 ->

Summary: You're pretty sure Kino Loy hates you. He screams at you, grabs you, and shoves you against the wall, and it's becoming a problem because, well...it shouldn't fluster you as much as it does.

Warnings: Explicit rating, Smut, Prison, Prison sex, minor non-graphic injuries, Dom/Sub, sexual tension, dirty talk, praise, hair-pulling, choking, unprotected sex, oral, angst, orgasm denial, humiliation, slut shaming, references to domestic abuse, discussion of domestic abuse, minor violence, discussion of violence, description of violence, very light ass play

A/N: Hey, y'all! Did you miss me?? I promise I never stopped writing (as evidenced by the 16.1k word count). This entire chapter was a test of my skill, my patience, and my sanity. I swear it never ended up going in the direction I was intending, so I was constantly reeling and trying to figure out what the FUCK I was writing. So I'm sorry it took as long as it did to write, but whew boy. Enjoy! Work title is from "Poison" by Vaults. Chapter title is from "Crush" Cigarettes After Sex. Chapter navigation above.

AO3 Link

Chapter 22 - Can't live without your love inside me now. I'll find a way to slip into your skin somehow. I wanna fuck your love slow.

By the time you step into your cell, you've practiced your apology at least three times in your head. You aren't looking to get out of any punishment, you just feel bad you hadn't at least considered telling him your plan first. You likely would have gone through with it anyway, but he deserved consideration. Deserves it in the future. You spin to face him as he takes a step inside.

"Kino, I'm so sorry!" You say in a rush. "I didn't think. Again. I just saw Taybus and Vage standing there, and I wanted my friend to be happy like I'm happy. He's so young, it isn't fair that he's —"

Kino holds out a hand to stop you and then reaches out to gently clasp your arms. "I know."

"Oh." You deflate slightly because you'd been prepared to apologize or be chastened, even get defensive, but you hadn't been prepared for that. You look at him expectantly, waiting for a 'but' or for him to say more. Instead, he just pulls you slowly towards him, and your feet move, unsure. "Are you angry with me?"

"Furious," he growls, and you wince. Then he gathers you into his arms with a sigh and he rubs his hands along your back in a soothing manner. "But I also know what you're willing to do for the people you care about, so I shouldn't be surprised."

"It's only been this one thi—" you start to protest, but he interrupts you.

"You lied about bumping into me to protect Taybus, you defended me to table 4 without thinking, you worked to get Edii out of his shell, and now you're testing the cell sensors so your friend might find even a fraction of the happiness that we have. Which was after you already helped him get to that point. And let's not forget risking your hand to save your table a headache and some trouble." He raises an eyebrow at you, daring you to argue with him. "Am I forgetting anything?"

"...okay, I suppose that is more than once." You give him a grimace of a smile. "I was just trying to do the right thing," you utter, feeling awkward. Because you hadn't really thought of any of those things as a sacrifice or going out of your way. You simply…acted.

"I know," he whispers, and places a kiss on your temple, the roughness of his beard a comforting scratch along your skin.

"Am I…" you hesitate. "Am I going to be punished?" For the second day in a row, you think to yourself. A new record.

"Not this time." He rumbles quietly into your hair as he nuzzles the tip of his nose through the strands.

"Why not?" You're stunned. Because you were certain it was a done deal. You changed the entire dynamic of the shift. You put yourself at risk. They could have activated the whole block after they got the notification if it hadn't worked. What you did was objectively…well, it wasn't great.

"I don't want to discourage that part of you when there's no harm done, no matter how much it frustrates me. I don't want it to lessen who you are. That's never my goal. Because what you did today was reckless and stupid," you flush in embarrassment at the exasperation in his voice, "but it was also selfless and kind. We haven't had enough of that in here for too long. And I can't argue that having one small joy doesn't improve morale or motivation. I've seen the proof in you and the people around you."

"You're far more than a small joy to me," you mutter, finally laying your head on his shoulder and giving in to the hug.

"All I want—all I ask," he continues, "is that you exercise a little more caution. I want you to make sure you're actually helping and not making something worse by not thinking it through. Do you understand?"

You know he's right. You've always skirted by on dumb luck right up until you don't. You nod against his neck and say quietly, "Yes, Kino. I understand."

"Because it won't always work out for the best. The risk will catch up with you eventually and I don't want you to get hurt," he says softly, the worry evident in his voice.

You pull back again so you can look at him properly. "Despite how it seemed, it really was a very calculated risk," you insist, "but I promise I'll be more cautious. I'll especially make sure I consider you or talk about something like that first because you deserve that level of respect. I should have done so today, and once I realized I didn't, I regretted not doing so immediately. I really am so very sorry, Kino."

"Thank you. I'll hold you to that. Because in the future, I may not be as benevolent if we have to have this conversation again." There's an edge to his words. A promise. You tense slightly against him in worry and anticipation. "So be sure to try and behave."

"Yes, Kino," you agree in a husky voice, already shifting from navigating your newest fuck up into arousal.

"Good. Now that that's settled." He surprises you by capturing your mouth in a hungry kiss. You let out a squeak of shock in your throat, but quickly surrender and melt against him in relief.

That first meeting of lips after a long day without him is always bliss, like a glass of water when you're parched or a deep breath of planet atmosphere after being on a ship for too long. More so when the way he kisses you back betrays that he feels the same way. That he is just as eager to lose himself in you.

He gropes down to your waist and takes a moment to squeeze and rub where it meets the curve of your hips. As if he's reveling in the way you fit into the span of his grip and how he can hold you there. Then he drags his palms down to cup your ass, to pull you up and closer to him. You're forced to your tiptoes, and your lower stomach is drawn against his quickly stirring member, trapping it between you. He growls into your mouth at the contact. You respond with a moan and arch against him, working into where you're pressed together and letting the friction of your bodies harden him further.

Soon he's fully erect, his length digging almost painfully near your hip. He's also kissed you so thoroughly that you're making needy sounds into his mouth. You lift your leg and hook it around his waist, seeking that same friction to alleviate the heat between your thighs. You're unsteady on the balls of just one foot despite his grip on you, but you're hoping he'll get the hint and lift you up so you can wrap both of your legs around him. Can properly rock against him in a desperate hunt for your orgasm.

For now, you clumsily and impatiently set your core against the bulge of him through both of your uniforms. It isn't difficult to reach, but it is difficult to get the angle right and keep your balance on one foot. You manage enough to roll your hips and slide firmly along him, whining at the drag against your folds and how incredible he feels already.

And then he's pulling his lips away from yours, breaking the kiss like he's been shocked from a stupor.

"Wait," he gasps, nearly breathless.

"What is it?" You pant against his mouth, concerned you've done something wrong.

"This isn't…" he hesitates, like he's uncertain or nervous, his chest rising and falling against yours, and your interest is very piqued.

"What?" You search his face for some indication of what he's about to say. You've never heard Kino Loy sound nervous.

"This isn't what I wanted tonight because I was thinking," he carefully brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "that we could slow things down. Take our time with each other since we ended up here early. Then afterwards...I could stay. Here. With you."

"Really?" You gasp in disbelief, caught off guard by it and almost afraid to accept that you might get this. "You aren't worried about the rest of the shift?"

"I think they're going to be a bit distracted this evening," he chuckles. A smile always makes him look several years younger, and your heart skips a beat. "As long as there are no disruptions, no, I'm not worried."

"Then," your voice is suddenly thick with emotion, "I would like that very much."

"Yeah?" He leans in close and angles his face towards yours. He takes in the look of relief and longing in your expression, lets it soften his own, but he doesn't kiss you—likely to prevent himself from getting carried away again. "Then let's move this to the bed."

You go to turn, to take the few steps towards the raised platform of your bed, eager to be tangled up with him, but he puts a firm hand on your shoulder to stop you. You look up at him, confused.

"To be clear," he says carefully, "I don't intend to fuck you."

"Oh. Alright." Your shoulders slump a bit and there's disappointment you can't hide fast enough in your voice. Because he made it sound as if that's exactly what he intended to do.

"Hey." His hands find your cheeks, framing your face between them, and he cradles you tenderly in his palms. Your heart starts to speed up at the gentleness of it as he leans in to place a light kiss on your lips. Then he looks into your eyes with determination. His are so blue and stormy, like an early autumn sunrise when the clouds are parting to hint at the light sky beyond while everything is still hazy and grey with rain. The way he's looking at you is just as weighty and breathtaking.

"I intend to make love to you," he whispers, low and rough.

"Oh ." Your knees go weak, and you put your hand on his chest so you can lean into him for support. Because fuck, he can undo you with a single sentence, but that sentence in particular? It sets both your heart and your sex throbbing. 

"If you aren't opposed to the idea." He sounds worried, as if there is the possibility you are.

As if you hadn't ached for any of this. As if saying no to him is ever an option.

As if you aren't in love with him.

Your mind is racing, every thought tangling with the next until you can't find anything to say to ease his fear other than sobbing, "Kino" at him. So you tilt your face forward to capture his lips again. To slide your tongue enthusiastically along his to communicate just how okay with it you are. Your hands find the front of his uniform and grip the fabric to give you a little stability as you tremble against him. And to pull him closer to you.

Because suddenly he isn't close enough.

He breaks the kiss again before it can go any further, and he rests his forehead against yours. "I take it you aren't opposed, then." He lets out a breathy chuckle.

"No," you whimper. "I want it."

"Good," he pulls away and smiles at you.

But you can see beyond the smile to the forced, tight curl of his lips. The tension that wrinkles the corners of his eyes and the creases of his forehead. The way he glances down to the floor.

Underneath that smile is vulnerability.

Anxiety. Relief.

Something more.

Then he looks back to you, and oh. You can see it now.

He thinks about you and your well-being, even when he isn't here with you. He looks at you in adoration and awe. He talks about you. He gave you an affectionate nickname. He made the first time you had sex special. Because…

Kino Loy is in love with you.

It's right there in the way he's looking at you, as plain as if he had said it out loud. Shouted it across the block, even.

And you're a fucking idiot.

How could you have doubted it—him—for so long? How could you have been so fucking insecure that you were willfully blind and missed what was right in front of you, even when other people pointed to it and told you to look.

But you were so afraid. Every sense of yearning, every ache in your chest, and every need that left you breathless was new and almost overwhelming at times. You've never felt this way before. Never actually been in love.

Trusting him with your body and your life is not the same as trusting with your heart. If you had given it to him, only to find pity and apology? If you had to go on living with the anguish that your feelings were unrequited? That had the power to destroy you in a way bruises never could. So it made you a coward.

You let it make you a coward.

Now you would carve your heart from your chest and pry it from the stubborn fingers of your ribcage if he asked it of you. Even if he didn't, you would still lay it at his feet in surrender, to prove to him your devotion and your love. You may as well. It belongs to him anyway. Every second it beats within your chest is now borrowed. That you continue on at all is at his mercy.

That should still terrify you, but as you greedily take in the expression on his face that you can now see with clarity—that you've wanted so desperately and can no longer deny—the fear is gone. Because you have Kino's heart and everything else is white noise.

He moves his hand to gently hold your chin as his thumb strokes against your bottom lip. "I just want to feel you."

"Then you'd better take my clothes off," you murmur before kissing the pad of his thumb.

He releases you, but only for a moment. Then his hands are at the hem of your shirt and he's lifting it, unhurriedly, over your head. You raise your arms for him and he slides it off with care, as though you're delicate. As though you hadn't had your arms wrenched and tied behind your back the night before. After he tosses your shirt away, he pauses for a moment—rakes his eyes over your now naked breasts and stomach.

"God, you're beautiful," he says in hushed awe.

You flush under his appreciative gaze, can almost feel the weight of it on your skin, and goosebumps prickle your chest and arms. But you don't wait for him to finish staring. You want to bare all of yourself to him, to give him more to admire, so you slide your own pants down your hips. Once they're to your thighs, you let the weight of the fabric pull them the rest of the way to the floor. You step out of the heap, toeing them off and nudging them aside, until you're fully nude before him.

He groans as his attention moves lower to where your slit is still concealed between your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you're tempted to part a knee. To bare your sex to him, too. To run your fingers through your folds and spread your lips to expose your damp entrance. Enticing him to bury his face between your legs and plunge his tongue inside of you.

But first.

You lean in and kiss him, just a quick press on his lips, and you purr, "I want to feel you, too." Then, to his surprise, you sink to your knees in front of him. "All of you," you sigh up at him.

"What are you doing?" He sounds apprehensive.

"Appreciating you." You push up his shirt, letting your palms and fingers roam through the fuzz on his belly with a moan as you do. Letting your nose and lips brush over his hair and skin with faint kisses. "Feeling you," you breathe against him.

After a brief hesitation, he wordlessly runs his fingers through your hair and pushes it away from your face, giving you unhindered access to him. Giving you permission. You look up at him in reverence as his hands gently settle on the sides of your skull. Not to push or force you, but to massage your scalp and feel the way you move beneath his touch.

You carefully pull his waistband far enough down below his hips to expose his erection. It bobs free of the fabric, thick and flushed, already leaking in anticipation—and god you love his cock. Love the way it curves ever so slightly to the left, the velvety slide of his foreskin, the faint salt and musk of him on your tongue. Love the way it presses inside of you.

You whimper as you think about what comes after this, once you've provoked him and wound him up just a little tighter. Not enough to break his self control, but to bend it just so. Enough that when the time comes, he aches to sink into you.

His eyes are transfixed on where his hard length is jutting towards you, just inches from your mouth. Any other night you would wait or tease him and hope that one day you could make him beg you to suck his cock, but not tonight. You wrap a hand around him to steady him and coax his foreskin just a little further down and past the tip of him. Then you look up at him as you wrap your lips and tongue around him, too. He groans above you and his hands tighten into loose fists in your hair. You know he's resisting the urge to plunge his hips forward. To fuck into the moist heat of your mouth.

Part of you wants him to because the thought makes your arousal pulse and flood with wetness.

Your mind races with it briefly. You imagine yourself on your knees. Him pinning you against the platform of your bed while he braces forward on your mattress with one hand, and mercilessly thrusting all the way to the back of your throat. You know he would make that sexy grunting noise and tell you how good you feel as he pulls your hair. Praise you for taking his cock so well. Tell you he's going to choke you when he comes down your throat.

Fuck.

Maybe next time. Because you know tonight is more than that. It's an exploration of something newly realized, and you have to navigate it carefully until it's no longer fragile.

Instead, you keep your attention on his face as your lips and tongue move sensually around him. You lap flat, broad strokes over every ridge and swell of him, and each drag of your mouth is long and slow—not intending to draw his release from him, but to savor each dribble of precome, slide of foreskin beneath your lips, and twitch on your tongue. You want to cherish him. To show him how much you enjoy feeling him and bringing him pleasure, too. How much you love every inch of him.

And he watches, eyes lidded and enraptured at the way he disappears past your lips. His own lips are parted as he sucks in breaths and gasps curses into the open cell. Even your inner thighs are starting to grow damp now from the sounds he's making. You do your best to work them from him, tease and milk the swollen, exposed head of his cock, eager to hear more. Eager to hear him whimper your name and furrow his brows in anguish as he continues to fight his own instincts to take. 

When his hips start to jerk forward to meet you, you know it's time to stop before he's too far gone. You take him as deeply as you can into your mouth one last time, swallowing around him to force him deeper still, then you languidly pull him from your hollowed cheeks. He lets out an unhindered groan above you, his hands reflexively tightening in your hair as though he's resisting the urge to keep you there or to drive your mouth back down. The brief sting is thrilling enough that you moan around him in response, which earns you an almost pained hiss. After you ease him from your lips, you place a kiss along the sensitive underside of his length, wrenching a shudder from him. You sex quivers and you resist doing it a second time.

With some reluctance, you rise to your feet. He releases your hair to offer you a hand up, and you take it, if only to bask in the roughness of his palm and how his larger fingers close around yours. The strength in his hand makes you feel almost small, and it's thrilling to know just how much power you're teasing and flirting with on a regular basis.

Once you're standing, he gives you a dazed look, his blue eyes unfocused with arousal. He opens his mouth as though he wants to say something, but he pulls you in for another kiss instead, and the words are lost the moment your lips meet.

His hands roam down your naked back as he explores your mouth, spurred on by the taste of his own saltiness still lingering on your tongue. A reminder of being inside of you. Of his building climax before you stopped. His length prods your belly before being pressed firmly against it as he grabs your ass and pulls you closer. When he shifts, he leaves behind a smear of your own saliva on your skin, and you feel another throb of moisture at your nearly dripping folds.

You could do this all evening, bask in caresses and kisses—if you were a more patient person.

But you want him. Badly. And right now you're close to jumping into his arms and wrapping your legs around him just to bring his cock closer to your entrance. So it's your turn to break the kiss by pulling back. Just far enough that you can look into his face with all of the devotion and passion you have for him.

"Kino," you whisper against his parted mouth. "I'm yours. Make love to me."

With a groan, he quickly scoops you up—eager after hearing that and not caring that his pants are still around his thighs—and he walks you over to the bed. There he lays you carefully down onto the mattress. Your head is the last thing he releases, and he runs the backs of his knuckles along your cheek before he pulls away. Then he's taking off his own shirt without any of the caution or tenderness that he showed you.

You push yourself up to your elbows to watch as he reveals his sturdy hips and belly, softening with age, but still firm with strength underneath. Then he slides the top over his head, baring his shoulders, which flex without effort, and more of the greying hair on his chest. You itch to run your fingers through that trail of fuzz, to grope your way along the full length of his abdomen, around to his waist and ribs. Because you love how thick he is. Love every curve that hardens into muscle, and how you can grab onto him and feel certain that he would never budge or break.

He lets his uniform top fall to the floor. Then immediately his attention shifts to his pants, which are still miraculously clinging to his upper thighs. He pushes them down the rest of the way, bending to maneuver them past his knees since his aren't as loose as yours. When he straightens and steps out of the fabric, his heavy erection sways enticingly from the movement.

You're glad you're laying down because fuck, you will never tire of seeing Kino Loy naked in front of you. Ready for you. Wanting you. He's so fucking sexy that it's overwhelming every time. 

Before he joins you on the bed, he looks down at you in adoration. Your heart stutters at the expression on his face, as naked as the rest of him. He brushes your hair off of your shoulders, letting his fingers skim along your neck. It's a phantom of a touch and it tickles. You writhe and tremble under his fingertips, trying to withstand it without cracking—and failing.

"Kino!" You put a hand on his forearm to stop him before he continues further and makes you giggle, ruining the tender mood.

"Yes, pet?" He whispers down at you.

"I need you," you urge. You draw your knees up, bending your legs until your feet are planted flat on the mattress, and then you let them fall slowly open. "Please take me."

There's a glint of hunger on his face as he glances down to your parted thighs. Then he's climbing between your legs, pausing only to let out a pained groan when he notices that your sex and inner thighs are glistening from how wet and ready for him you are. He settles onto his knees and sets his hands to either side of your ribs, bracing himself to hover over you. Not pressed against you yet, but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him.

He leans down and kisses behind your ear, your jaw, down your neck, along your collarbone, dragging his lips and scruff over every sensitive dip. You whimper and squirm from the attention. It's almost too much again, straddles that line between balm and pain. It's maddening. Then, before you can call out, he's making his way back up your throat, pausing to kiss and nip under your chin, and finally reaching your lips once more.

He lowers further to his forearms so now parts of you are touching, but not enough. He also keeps his mouth moving against yours, and you're dizzy from the attention. It's almost as though he's trying to dissolve you into a heap of nothing but want and need. Though, you have to admit, it doesn't take much—at least where he's concerned.

A hand grasps the crook of your knee, and he guides your leg to his thigh. You obediently wrap your leg behind his, not needing to be told or asked. Then he runs his touch up your waist before gripping you tightly. As the pressure of his thumb digs and pits into the flesh of your stomach, you realize he's holding you still for him.

You tense in anticipation because you can sense what comes next, but you still jump with a gasp when his erection brushes against your swollen folds. He's so close to being where you need him. So close to filling you, but still he doesn't. Instead he slides his other arm under you and hooks his hand over your shoulder, keeping you even more firmly in place.

With all this preparation, at first you think he wants to hold you steady because he's getting ready to slam into you, and it's a tantalizing thought. But as he gently prods your opening with tiny thrusts, you realize the opposite is happening. He's going to take his time entering you. And he knows it's going to drive you wild with impatience. That you're going to try and press yourself onto him. Do everything you can to have him inside of you, and he is going to do everything he can to force you to wait.

You groan loudly in understanding and frustration. He knows, then, that you've worked it out because he grins against your lips. You want to pull away, to plead with him to please just fuck you already, but then he angles his hips forward and enters you. Barely. No more than the head of his cock, but it still pulls a wanton moan from you because, fuck, you've needed something.

Then he holds his position inside of you, giving you no additional pressure or friction, and goes back to kissing you with enthusiasm. You could weep in desperation already, and he's only just started.

After what feels like an eternity of waiting, but is likely only a couple of minutes, he edges forward again—slides further inside of you. But you're so slick and hot, that he slips a little deeper than he intended. So then he's pulling back instead, slowly dragging his length along your walls until he's satisfied with his new position within you. He greedily laps up the whines and noises of irritation that spill out of your mouth and into his at the sensation.

That is how he continues stretching and filling you. It's torturous. Deliriously slow. Whenever you adjust and quiet down, he presses in another inch, which sets you off into another fit of desperate keening. You don't know how he's keeping it together because you're ready to scream and beg and bargain with him or any god that will listen. You try to lift your hips and rut against him, but his grip on your waist keeps you from making any progress. You knew it would, but you had to try anyway.

When he's almost entirely inside of you, he finally moves his mouth from your lips to kiss along your cheek and jaw.

"Do you know what you do to me?" He gasps against your skin, and at last you can tell how bothered he is by his own teasing.

"Tell me," you plead because you love hearing him talk while he's inside of you. You want to hear the low rumble of his voice and feel the vibration in your chest.

He pushes his hips forward one last time, slow and deep, until he's pulling at you with his hands and pressing against the backs of your thighs—trying to get deeper still. Then he stops, completely sheathed inside of you, and you moan in satisfaction at being fully stretched and filled with him.

"I never want to leave this cell. I would stay right here, buried inside of you for the rest of my life if I could." His voice is tense and gravelly as he nuzzles his nose against your jaw.

"Oh god, Kino," you sob.

"Before you, all that mattered to me was getting out of this place. After you? I'm weak. You make me weak." He places a firm kiss on your neck, pressing so hard that his nose smushes near your pulse and his beard pricks your skin. Then he growls, "Because you're all that matters to me now."

Your heart lurches and then begins to pound violently in your chest. You can tell he's working up to something important. An admission. Is dangerously close to saying the words that change everything by changing nothing. Because every moment together, every action you've taken, and every touch, gentle and bruising—all of it has been done with love and trust this entire time. It's why labels were never important. You've both said plenty through action—choking and wrenching, kneeling and grasping, humiliation and submission. Every bit of pain and pleasure.

You've already told him you were falling in love with him a dozen times over.

And so did he, you realize now.

You need to hear it anyway.

"Look at me," you say helplessly. Overwhelmed by both his cock and his confession, barely able to speak, but still needing to see his face.

He doesn't look at you, though. Instead he rolls his hips, shifting inside of you as he leans in even closer.

"Do you know why you make me weak?"

"Say it." It's nearly inaudible. Not even a whisper.

"Because I love you," he exhales against the shell of your ear. "God help me, I have wanted you and loved you from the moment I first touched you."

You want to cry. And you want to laugh in glee and hysteria. Bury your face into his neck. Plead. Scream. Straddle his lap, grip him with your walls, and ride him. Wail until your throat is hoarse. Snuggle up next to him in bed. Fall to your knees in prayer. Contort your hips and force him deeper within you. To fuck him. Tear your own hair out. Your insides are churning with a hundred different conflicting emotions at his declaration, but all you can do is lie there. Pinned. Paralyzed. Burning with the intensity of it all.

Because I love you.

You can feel the echo of his words in your ear and his breath against your skin, reverberating over and over in your mind.

You once compared him to a sun—a benevolent and blinding warmth—but he's a supernova. Beyond blinding. Searing past your skin, deep into your flesh. Into your meat. Imprinting himself upon your very cells. You felt the heat of him before you saw how consumed you really were. Now, even if you wanted to get away, you wouldn't dream of it. Wouldn't move an inch unless it was to dive further into that oblivion. Because you have a love that peels you bare and reveals the truth of you. That leaves you undone and broken, even as you trust it with every atom of your being to breathe life back into you afterwards.

"Kino," you weep as he finally moves—thrusts into you again. Then more urgently, "Look at me!"

He slowly lifts away from your jaw to meet your eyes. You can tell he was ravaged by his own revelation because his face is a wreck—his eyes are shiny, his nostrils are flaring, and his lower lip is in a pout, quivering slightly. You want those full lips on yours, trailing between your breasts, circled around your clit, everywhere—

"I love you, too," you choke out. You finally get to say the words out loud to him. And you find that they're so significant and such a fundamental truth of you now, that they're ripped painfully from your chest. The relief is so great that it hurts to say it. "I love you so fucking much. Please." You push on the back of his thigh with your calf, urging him to move. To continue rocking into you. Then you grab his face in your hands and hold him there so he can't look away this time. "Say it again."

You need to see it. You need to see the way his lips shape the words. You need to see his face as he says it. You need—

He arches his back, his hand splayed along your hip and poised to thrust into you again, but keeping his eyes on yours.

"I love you," he groans, rugged and guttural, and you let it hang between the two of you. Then he plunges into you, and you are so full of him—your core, your head, your heart—you can barely breathe.

Burying himself inside of you draws a sound from him that is half mirth and half lament, and the expression on his face, somehow at once a smile and a sob, is a reflection of that same contradiction. As if saying it out loud, making himself so vulnerable, brings him both pain and joy. A sentiment you can relate to because it's what he does to you as well. Crushes and holds. Breaks and soothes.

"Fuck," you whimper. 

If he's barely holding on by a thread, then you are untethered. Adrift. You aren't sure you will ever stop falling. Ever stop being sucked in by the gravity of him.

"I should have told you sooner," he sighs, regretful. "I wanted to. I wasn't sure—"

"I know," you whisper up to him, your voice thick with the threat of tears. "I should have, too, but I was so afraid."

"Of me?" There's a brief flash of heartache on his face, and you urgently place a hand on his stubbled cheek.

"No!" You gasp, horrified. "Not like that, anyway." Your cheeks flush in shame and you glance away from him. "I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same way about me," you murmur.

"Look at me," he commands. You immediately obey his tone and look up into a hard expression of determination, a familiar one which thins his lips and deepens the lines on his face. "I will never leave you doubting how I feel about you ever again," he says, rough and fierce. "Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Kino." Your breath hitches and you let out a shaky exhale.

"You will always know that I love you," his voice waivers, still overcome with the weight of saying it. And you've found a new way he ruins you because everytime he says he loves you, you feel as though you could burst into flames.

"Show me," you beg.

He thrusts into you again, deep and steady, but still slow and gentle. And god, it feels good, but it also feels wrong.

This isn't how the two of you should be in this moment. This isn't how you love.

"Wait!" You put a hand on his shoulder and he stills above you. "Kino...is this really what you want?" You rasp. "Something tender? Or is this what you think you should want?"

"What…" he hesitates and frowns down at you. "What do you mean?"

"You said you wanted us to take our time with each other tonight, and I understand why, but what do you really want to do to me?" You push up with your elbows so you can get close enough to brush your lips against his. "Show me how you love me. How you feel about us."

His next thrust is harder, meets you with enough force to shift you along the mattress, and it sparks something inside of you.

"Fuck!" You throw your head back with a moan. "Just like that."

"You think I don't want tender? That I could just fuck you after I tell you I love you?" He growls, nearly spitting the word "fuck" out in disgust. But you aren't fooled. You know how he aches to let go.

"I think fucking me is loving me. I think you've always been making love to me." Then, feeling bold, you groan up at him, "And I know you want to."

"Is that so?" His voice is low and dangerous, and it sends a frisson through you.

"Yes," you purr. "I think you've been holding back all evening." You growl back at him, "Don't."

His grip tightens, sharpens with pain where his fingers dig into you and you hiss in pleasure. He pulls his hips back. You expect him to stop when the tip of him is all that's left inside of you, but he doesn't. He completely removes himself from you, leaving you empty and twitching.

You make a noise of protest and look up at him in confusion. But before you can ask what's wrong or consider that perhaps you misjudged the situation, he growls and slams full force back into you. Your vision blurs in satisfaction and your words turn into an obscene moan. Because you were right.

"Is this what you want?" He grits through his teeth as his lips pull back into a snarl. "Is this how you want to be loved?”

"Yes!" You whine back at him. "Please, fuck me, Kino."

And then you're being split open as he finally lets go—pounds mercilessly into your slick center. There's the slap of flesh on flesh everytime his hips meet yours, and the lewd, wet noise of his cock sliding in and out of your drenched opening. The sound of that alone is enough to leave you gaping and moaning, but he's also grunting in your ear with each thrust, driving you wild.

"You feel so fucking good on my cock," he growls. "God, I love fucking you. I could spend a whole day buried inside of you. Making you come."

Your entire body jolts as he rams you into the thin mattress. Even though your breasts are pressed to his chest, they still shake against him from the force of it. Occasionally his rhythm gets interrupted because you're being slowly pushed away from him along the bed, and he has to yank you back into position. So you hook your other leg behind his thigh and hold on tightly to stop yourself from shifting around beneath him. You don't want any of his momentum wasted. Want it all focused inside of you.

Once you're braced against him, it finally gives him the leverage he needs and each thrust somehow feels deeper than the last.

"I want every step to hurt tomorrow, Kino," you pant. "I want to think of your cock inside of me and how much you love me every time I move. Every time I sit. I want to ache with you."

Faster than you would have thought possible, he removes his hand from your shoulder and grabs your jaw with a growl. "You're shameless, you know that?" Then he pulls your face closer. "I should have fucked that filthy mouth."

"I know you wanted to," you grit out, your words slurring slightly from the force of his fingers and thumb on your cheeks.

"Yeah?" He jerks his hips hard against you, forcing a little yelp from your throat. "Is that why you were sucking me so beautifully? To get me to lose control?"

"I wasn't even trying that hard, but I thought about it. About you fucking my mouth." You smirk up at him as much as you're able. "And I can do better," you promise in a husky voice.

"Fuck," he grunts. "That's why you're so wet for me.”

"Yes," you purr against his lips. "I love when you take, Kino. And I love sucking your cock."

"You should see yourself when you're on your knees," he murmurs. "The way your pretty lips look wrapped around me."

He releases your face and threads his fingers through your hair. You whimper in anticipation, eager for the sting in your scalp, and he smirks at you. Makes you wait for it another minute while he pounds into you. Makes you wait until you begin to squirm and whine. Then without warning, he jerks your head away at an angle, exposing your neck to him as you cry out in pain and relief. He places hard, open mouthed kisses along the bare curve of your neck. His hot, wet tongue, lapping and dragging and searing where it passes over your skin.

"The way you swallow me, god,” he snarls. “I’ve never done anything to deserve how good your mouth and cunt are.”

"No." You try to pull away from his hand, even though he has your hair held fast in his grip. "Never say that," you hiss, still writhing fruitlessly against him. "You're fucking incredible, Kino Loy."

His hips stop moving and he lifts his head to look at you in surprise. "I just meant—"

"I know what you meant. But it's your hands that bring this out of me. The real me. There is no me without you," you insist.

His grip slackens for one brief moment of weakness as he stares down at you, and you take advantage of his distraction. You hitch forward and feel your hair give slightly through his fingers. He quickly reestablishes his hold in response, but you've already managed to turn your head enough to face him fully.

"I was made for you, remember?" You bite your lip and grind your hips into his. "I'm yours to fuck," you gasp at him.

He blinks at you a few more times, but another firm rock along his length snaps him out of it and spurs him into action. Back to pounding into you. With a grunt, he dives forward to smother his face into your neck again, just below your ear. The sudden chafing of his beard leaves you squirming, wanting to escape from and relish in the burn of it, but his weight over you has you pinned to the bed, completely at the mercy of his lips. It also makes the skin of your stomach and breasts slide against the softer hair on his belly and chest, which feels fucking incredible. You try to arch your back to rub into him. You want more of it. The two opposing sensations nearly drive you to tears until he moves on to frantically kiss and nip at your jaw.

Then he's murmuring into your ear, "Yes you fucking are! You're mine." He rocks into you, barely pulling his hips back for a proper thrust, as if he can't handle not being fully buried inside of you. "Mine." He says it over and over like a mantra.

The result is a relentless friction against your clit and pressure on that sweet spot inside of you.

Soon you can't fucking breathe and you desperately try to suck in air to stop the room from spinning. It's too much. Every part of you is touching him—wrapped around, pressed against, grasping on for dear life. His hand at your waist is constantly roaming and groping and clutching, and the other in your hair wrenches at you for leverage. His lips kiss and sweep along your skin, dragging the burn of stubble with them as he continues laying claim to you. And his cock grinds into you, against you, within you.

You think you can't take anymore. That you might go mad with all of it. But then there's that familiar burn at your core—that blossoming of tension that opens up inside of you and grows through your belly and thighs. You begin to quake in his arms, and you wail out a muffled stream of moans and pleas into his shoulder, begging him to stop. To keep going. To keep fucking you. To— "oh god, fuck, Kino! I'm so close!"

His litany stops, and instead he begins to growl, "That's right, come for me while I fuck your wet cunt. I want to feel it."

"Please," you let out a choked whine—closer closer closer, "Kino!"

"You're mine, so be a good girl for me."

"Fuck!" You sob, "oh Kino! I'm—"

"God, I love you," he whispers against your ear.

And the tension snaps, sending the tide of your release swelling and receding through your entire being. It blooms along your skin and behind your eyelids, muting the sterile white of your cell. And there's a rush of blood to your skull that leaves you momentarily deafened except for a ringing in your ears. You think your head has fallen back against his hand and you're shouting his name—your own prayer—but reality is beyond your senses while you're consumed by the peak of your orgasm.

And then you blink away tears and the worst of the fog, and everything sharpens. Returns to focus, even as your body still churns and pulses with bliss.

His hips falter for a moment as your walls clench around his cock, and he groans like he's in agony. As if you're reaching into his chest and rending his heart with your bare hands, and not having your own torn from you at the way he's looking down at your face. Like you're the supernova— searing into his retinas until he can see the impression of you even when he closes his eyes.

Then he recovers and resumes his relentless pace—pounding into you, holding you in place, his grip tight on your hips while he fucks you through your climax, coaxing every last tremor and spasm from your core. Bottoming out through every aftershock.

"Fuck, you're so tight when you come. The way you squeeze my cock," he growls deep within his chest, “makes it so hard not to empty myself into you."

You try to whine his name, but your brain is buzzing, unable to force your mouth to work, so you can only choke out a whimper instead.

"But I don't want to. I'm not done with you yet," he hisses into your ear. "I'm still going to take my time before I do."

You lay there, spent and helpless, making pathetic noises as every deep plunge inside of you is like fire to your over-stimulated nerves. 

"I'm going to have you whichever way I want before then, too," he mutters, and you shiver beneath him. "And I want you on your hands and knees.”

Suddenly the weight of him on top of you is being lifted as he pushes off. He slips out from between your legs and you let out a ragged protest. Beg him to come back to you. Because now you're floating without an anchor and your sweat flecked skin feels cooler without him covering you with his warmth.

But then his hands are back on you. He patiently helps you flip over and recenter yourself on the narrow bed. Once you're on your stomach, he pulls back on your hips until you raise up on all fours. You don't even think, you automatically square yourself, knees beneath your hips and hands beneath your shoulders.

He gives a dissatisfied grunt behind you.

"Lean forward," he orders. Without waiting for you to obey, he's bending over you and pushing between your shoulder blades, forcing you to lower down towards the bed. He removes his hand when you're less than a foot from the mattress, your elbows sticking out as you're crouched down. You assume that means you're low enough and stop, despite the fact that you have to look completely ridiculous.

"Farther," he growls. You arch even lower until you have to reposition your arms so your forearms are flat, your breasts are nearly touching the vinyl material, and your ass is up in the air. He lets out a huff. "You'll get there." There's a confidence to the phrase which sends a shiver through you, straight to your rekindling arousal.

You can hear him shift on his knees behind you and you feel the dip in the padding by your shins. You wait to feel him shuffle in between your legs, to put a hand on your hip as he gets ready to fuck you. Instead he puts his hands on your outer thighs, just above your knees, and squeezes them together, trying to close your parted limbs.

"What are you doing?" You glance over your shoulder at him in confusion.

He looks down at you in equal confusion. "Getting you into position for me," he says as though it should be obvious.

"But…how…?" You wiggle your hips at him.

It takes a second, and then there's a dawn of realization on his face. "You've never been fucked properly from behind like this before, have you?"

You open your mouth to scoff. To say that of course you have, but then you stop and think… Have you? You've been fucked from behind while on all fours, certainly. That's a pretty basic position. But properly? Well, it was okay. Sometimes it felt close to really good if you shifted your hips just right. You had to reach between your legs and finish yourself off every time, though. Actually, you had to do that a lot—and damn, you really thought you were having decent sex before him, huh?

"Apparently not?" You relent.

He gives you a heated, almost predatory smile. "Oh, pet," he coos at you. "Then I am going to fuck you until you're screaming my name into your hand again. Because you're going to feel so good, the only thing you will remember is my name and my cock." Your face flushes, bright red and hot and tingling, and your walls and clit both flutter in anticipation. He hasn't even fucking touched you and it's already the most you've enjoyed being in this position. You swallow hard. 

He pats your thigh. "Now legs together." You obey with now trembling limbs until your thighs to your ankles are pressed together.

"Good girl," he says in that perfect fucking low and gruff way that you like. The way that leaves you wet and panting. Thinking about how he's already fucked you senseless once tonight.

"Kino," you moan, canting your hips towards him, arching your back further until your arms reach out to help you brace yourself into a more natural position.

He grunts down at you. Now he's satisfied, you think, as begins to climb into position. He puts his knees outside of yours, rather than kneeling between them like you're used to. You're very interested to know how this is going to work, since apparently this is going to be a new experience. And it involves him fucking you.

"God, this is an incredible view. You're breathtaking," he growls behind you. Then his thumb is dragging over your slit. "And you're still soaked for me."

"How could I not be," you gasp, "when you made some pretty big claims about fucking me after already making me come once."

"Is that doubt I hear?" He adds pressure to his thumb, causing it to barely press into your folds. He massages between them, teasing your entrance and making an obscene, slick noise.

"No," you groan. You shift your hips, trying to tilt them further towards him to give him better access and to encourage him to keep going, "I'm just waiting."

"You're too impatient," he scolds. And his thumb slips inside of you. You whimper and quickly press back, seeking more, which forces him deeper into your entrance. He grumbles in disappointment, "Like that."

He feels along your walls in slow curls and draws, coating his digit in your wetness. Then he pulls his thumb out of you and drags it down along your folds, rubbing circles of your own moisture along your opening, until he finally runs it over your bundle of nerves. You cry out, still a little sensitive, and quickly muffle your voice into your arm.

"See? Isn't that better? To have my fingers on your clit so my cock can go inside of you?" There's a teasing edge to his voice that would normally have you huffy with irritation, if not for the fact that his thumb is still moving deliciously along your clit.

You nod against your arm, certain he can see you. He removes his thumb, and then something thicker is dragging firmly along your sex. The hard ridge of his cock pushes noisily, obscenely, down through the wetness he left behind as he rubs between your slick and swollen lips, coating you in more of it because he's still drenched from being inside of you.

"Oh, fuck," you whine.

"That's right," you can hear the smirk in his voice. He's enjoying this. Teasing you. Having the upper hand.

But, fuck, so are you. It straddles that line between scolding and playful.

You wonder how you can tip the scales in favor of scolding. Of feeling his hands on you in punishment while he fucks you. You rest your head between your arms with a quiet whimper.

He lines up, firmly nudging the head of his cock against your opening. You hold still to resist being impatient again. Rather than plunge forward, he pulls back hard on your hips, forcing you to sink onto his thick length. Your folds part and your body yields to him, engulfs him, already loose and slick, but not as much as you expected. It's as if you're clenching, resisting without resisting and—

"Oh," you say, a little dumbstruck. Your legs aren't spread open for him, which means your opening isn't spread open, which means—

"Fuck," he lets out a ragged breath. "Squeeze your thighs together."

You obey him, clenching your thighs and pressing your knees inward, even though they have nowhere to go except being forced together. He makes a strangled noise behind you, so you squeeze again. His hips draw back and he uses his grip to rock you forward, and then he slams into you, yanking you back to meet him. The pressure and friction inside of you is enough to work a needy whimper from your throat.

"You're so fucking—ah! So fucking tight," he whines and gives a shallow, savoring thrust into your heat. "You feel so good. So fucking perfect."

You glance at him coyly over your shoulder, sensing your opening to rile him up. "Sure it won't be you screaming my name?" You flex your thighs again and grind back against him. He grunts, but something inside of him latches onto your words and his face becomes stern.

"Is that what you think?" He squares his shoulders in a quiet rage, which is always more dangerous than an outburst, and you can see his mind working. Coming up with something on the fly to send you reeling, and a shiver of anticipation runs down your back, meeting where his hands are now claws on your hips.

"It is now," you stubbornly jut your chin at him.

"Then you do it." His grip slackens.

"Do what?" Your brows furrow in confusion.

"Fuck me if you think I would lose control that easily." He stares down at you in challenge. "But you only have a few minutes to make me scream your name. If you don't, I'm taking over again." His jaw clenches, and then he grits out, "and I won't be gentle."

You bite your lip as you pretend to consider it. Either you manage to ruin him or he destroys you and you DO end up screaming into your arm. How is this even a threat?

Wait.

…how is this even a threat ? You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him because you're now fully aware there's a catch somewhere. And you're about to discover it by blindly fumbling around because fuck if you aren't going to take the bait.

Because what a way to learn a lesson.

You clench the muscles in your thighs and your sex, and you roll back against him, forcing him to slide deep within you. Your walls grip tightly to every inch of him, pull at his length, and you draw an involuntary moan from him as you drag yourself up to the head of his cock.

"Deal," you gasp.

Then you put your whole body into getting him off. You rock onto him while on your forearms and knees, lifting off the bed far enough to get leverage to gyrate your lower half in time with your thrusts. The circular roll of your hips requires you to flex anyway, so every pump onto his member clenches and drags at his foreskin, as if you're fucking him and jerking him off at the same time.

He grunts and swears behind you. Though his hands rest loosely on the curve of your hips, you can feel his fingers twitching. He wants to grab you. He wants to fuck you. And that is such an intoxicating, powerful feeling—getting him to the brink of control, stretching the limits of his willpower and knowing he could break at any moment. Like when his fingers flexed in your hair while you were blowing him.

Part of you doesn't want to make him come because you want him to snap. You ache for it. You want him to drive your climax from you until you can't think and then spend himself deep within you. But you also know this is a rare opportunity for you to be in control. And there are so many more opportunities for him to show you later.

His grunts turn into groans, so you speed up. You wish you had a wall or a headboard to brace against rather than using your arms to help you rock back against him. It's less effective and you're using more arm strength to compensate, but working the floor all day has given you the stamina to keep up for a while longer. Thankfully your pace isn't brutal like his. It doesn't need to be as long as you can keep working him with each thrust.

Just when you think you have him edging towards his climax, his hands shift from your hips to grip your ass. He squeezes along the swell of your cheeks, pressing them firmly together and massaging them outward as you rock back onto him. Even though you know, logically, you have no modesty in this position to begin with—or in a few of the others he's had you in—you feel exposed. You squirm against him in discomfort.

But he doesn't stop there. He works his hands in closer. He runs his thumbs along either side of your cleft before he stops to part your cheeks and hold them open.

"Kino…" you gasp in sudden concern and your movements slow.

"What's wrong?" He asks absentmindedly, not looking up from where his thumbs have begun kneading on either side of your hole. The soothing pressure of it opens you up even more, and you quickly clench to keep the ring of muscle there closed tight. He makes an appreciative low groan in his chest.

"What are you doing?" You can't stop the trepidation in your voice.

"Admiring you," is all he says.

"Okay." You bite your lip and force yourself to relax. Force yourself not to blush as you feel his eyes leering over where he's buried inside of you—and where he isn't. Force yourself to try to continue rocking back against him.

You yelp in surprise when a thumb barely brushes over your opening and, out of instinct, you attempt to scramble away from him. He grabs one of your hips in a vice-like grip and holds you there so you're just grasping along the bed instead of going anywhere, but his thumb stops its exploration.

"Kino!" You grunt out, now horrified.

"You don't like it?" He doesn't sound particularly upset or disappointed, just curious.

"I…" you're once again forced to stop and fucking think about your own sexual history. Because you had tried it exactly once and you hated it.

But.

The guy you had been with barely got you wet, even during sex, which also wasn't great because he didn't get you off either. You still can't believe he talked you into it. So…no? Yes? Maybe?

You let out a noise of frustration. "I don't know?"

"There seems to be a lot of that tonight," he mumbles, still staring down between your cheeks.

"Yeah, well, it's really difficult to think back fondly on nearly two decades of lackluster fumblings with you sending me into hyperspace every night," you huff, frustrated and a little embarrassed. "I'm starting to think I didn't actually enjoy anything until you did it to me. It's incomparable."

"Has anyone…?" He pumps into you and squeezes your ass for emphasis.

"Yes. He—" you stop to let out an uncomfortable laugh. "You know, I never thought I would be talking about this with your cock in me."

"I can take it out if you prefer," he murmurs.

"No!" You push back against him, trying to keep him there, and you just know there's a smirk on his face. You sigh, "I was young and I was kind of dating a guy—"

"Kind of?" He teases.

"Yes," you protest, "kind of. We hadn't been dating very long, but I thought I liked him. The sex was horrible, though. Didn't have a single orgasm. I…let him talk me into it thinking it would—fuck, this is embarrassing—thinking he would like me. And it was so terrible, I broke up with him and I refused to try it again. But…it wasn't with you, so…" You blush and trail off, needing to turn away so he can't see your face.

"No, it wasn't." He says quietly.

"I told you," you shrug, "you're incomparable to anything I had before."

"I could make you feel good," he whispers. When you whine instead of responding because you know he could, he continues, "Would you let me fuck you here?" His voice is low as his thumb rubs firmly against your other entrance again. A moan tumbling from your own lips surprises you, and your hips jerk towards his hand beyond your control. Because holy shit that actually felt…good that time?

"Yes," you purr without any hesitation, "I'd let you do anything you want to me." You know it's distressingly true. You're starting to think there isn't anything you wouldn't give him. Or wouldn't want him to give you. You want him to do things to you that you don't even have the words for.

"Hmmm." He makes an intrigued noise. "Noted. Also your time has run out."

It's all the warning you get before he's leaning over you, one hand now braced on your lower back. The weight behind it pushes your hips down, forcing your knees to slide with it until you catch yourself, angling you down towards the bed. Then he has a hand on the side of your face and he's crushing your cheek down into the mattress. You cry out in surprise, which comes out slightly muffled from the way your face is being squished by his palm.

Then you realize: he was distracting you. He was teasing your ass so you would slow down and lose.

There's a flush of anger in your belly because he was never intending to play fair. That was the fucking catch. He just wanted to watch and enjoy you fucking him, knowing what he was going to do anyway. The anger twists into scalding lust at the first hint of embarrassment that washes over you. Then you're mad about how much that turns you on. How your arousal throbs and drenches around him. About how he knows it.

You open your mouth to protest, but without saying anything or letting you get a word in, he sets a relentless pace, hammering down into you. You have to clench and brace yourself to keep from sliding further, and every thrust into you is a test of your own strength. One which he is winning, you realizing as your knees slip another inch.

For too long, all you can do is desperately try to keep your position and let him fuck you. Even shifting or writhing beneath him would be all the submission he needs to force you flat onto your belly. And it feels good, god it feels good, but you're so focused on your body, that you can't truly enjoy the way your closed thighs force friction and pressure against your g-spot. Or the way his balls hit and rub against your nerves with every thrust.

It's frustrating, like seeing something out of the corner of your eye, but it's gone by the time you turn your head. You let out a discouraged huff.

Then he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls back, attempting to lift you up off of the bed. You scramble to get your arms under you so you can move with his hand, relieving most of the pressure on your scalp. His hand on your lower back forces you to arch towards him rather than lean against him, and he continues yanking on your hair until your head is tilted back and you're practically looking up at him. Once you're in the position he wants, he removes the hand on your back and settles it over your belly, holding you up.

"Finally get sick of that?" He growls into your ear.

"Yes!" You whimper. "It wasn't…"

"Good?" His raspy voice finishes for you. "That's because it was supposed to be frustrating."

"But—" you sputter.

"Had to punish you somehow."

"Fuck!" Anger settles back over you. "I just wanted it rough, Kino."

"I know. And I was going to give it to you," he rumbles down at you, "then you opened your mouth." He tsks at you. "Brat."

"You were enjoying it too much," you hiss.

He tugs back on your hair and you cry out in pain.

"I was enjoying it just fine. I was adjusting." He's almost too collected for how hard he was just thrusting into you. "You were going to get fucked."

You let out a little sob, and if you could hang your head in anguish, you would.

"Poor thing." His hand strokes over your belly, teases up towards your breasts. Then he leans close to whisper in your ear, "Would you like to?"

"Yes, Kino, please," you blurt out with no hesitation, uncaring how desperate it makes you seem, and the words continue spilling from your lips. "Please fuck me. I'm still so fucking wet for you! I need you. Make me come with your cock. Make me come so hard—make me scream! Please."

"Hmmm," he hums, pleased, behind you. He pumps into you, and you cry out in relief. "How can I say no to that?"

He releases your hair and you drop your head down, twisting back and forth, letting the muscles and tendons in your neck stretch and relax. He waits patiently until you're finished before plunging into you again, and you're so grateful for those little moments where he's tender and thoughtful, even in the middle of being rough. Where you know how much he wants you to enjoy it, too.

God, you love him.

Then both hands are on your stomach, and he's groping upwards, feeling his way along your ribs until he drags his calloused palms over your breasts. This time you arch back of your own accord, pressing your chest forward into his hands, eager for more. He rewards you by fondling you as he thrusts into you.

His lips find your shoulder and he kisses towards your neck, pausing occasionally to bite and grunt into your flesh. Not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to leave half moon impressions behind—and to leave you whimpering.

You turn your head to capture his mouth, and he crashes his lips messily into yours. You both moan in relief at the contact. The downside of this position is not being able to kiss him whenever you want, and, fuck, do you love kissing him. And touching him. And looking at him. God, this is torture. His tongue finds yours and you yield to him, letting him be in control of plunging into you there as well. Let him twist and stroke his tongue into your mouth, and nip at your bottom lip.

You both kneel there for a few minutes, kissing, rocking against each other, and him teasing your nipples under his palms and fingers while you make needy noises into his mouth. Then he breaks the kiss, leaving you slack jawed and panting against his lips.

"This is lovely, but the angle isn't good enough for what I want to do to you," he says in a husky voice as you whimper against him. "Get back onto your stomach." With one last squeeze over your breasts, he lets go of you so you can return to the bed.

But your back is stiff from bending for so long at such a sharp and unnatural angle. So when you lean forward too quickly, one of your muscles tightens into a knot. You hiss in pain and nearly recoil as you freeze in place. You put a bracing fist in the middle of where it hurts as you slowly press and stretch it out, trying to force it to unknot so you can maneuver down as fast as you can without hurting yourself more.

He must realize because then both of his strong hands are on you. He nudges your fist out of the way and slowly runs his hands up your back, working the tight muscles with his thumbs. At first his touch is too firm on the tender knots and you cry out in pain. But as he kneads them, rolls them under his grip, they begin to uncoil and relax beneath the effort and you practically melt into his hands. He encourages you to lower down to the mattress as he follows you, massaging a few more circles into your flesh to make sure they don't seize again.

"Better?" He sounds genuinely concerned and your heart flutters.

"Much," you sigh. "Thank you."

"Hips, too," he instructs. "We'll give your poor back a break."

You wiggle and shift until you're prone on your stomach with your arms crossed above your head, which is much more comfortable than forcing your spine to bend at an extreme angle. Your hips are still tilted and jutting in the air to give him access to your entrance, but it takes less effort to maintain slightly raised as opposed to on your knees.

Behind you, Kino straddles your thighs. His erection is still inside of you, but not nearly far enough. All your squirming into position worked him somewhat loose. You'd be impressed at his ability to move with you, if not for the fact that you are not a patient woman. And you want him back inside of you. Want to feel full of him.

"I'm still not going to take it easy, so you TELL me if you hurt, okay?" His voice is firm and leaves no room for argument.

"Yes, Kino. I promise," you say as seriously as you can to reassure him.

He studies the side of your face for a moment, and finally gives you a satisfied nod. Then he spreads his knees wider, bracing himself on the bed. The implication of it—that he needs the extra leverage—sends your face into the mattress to muffle a moan. His hands grasp your hips, too, and he leans into it until his weight is putting enough pressure on you to deepen your indentation in the foam.

When you come up for air, his thumb strokes over your hip. A feather light show of affection. Just a reminder—before this starts, before you're both delirious and lost in each other—that he loves you. That this is how he shows you how much he loves you.

Because Kino Loy is in love with you.

The thought is unfurling and flowering in your mind when he thrusts the rest of the way into you, slotting into place like he belongs there as you cry out. It's heady, being full of him. You could have sex with him every day and a decade from now, he could thrust into you and it would still be devastating. He can shatter your entire world with just his cock.

He pauses. Adjusts his knees. Slants over you. Readies himself while you squirm beneath him, rubbing your legs together, lifting your hips, aching in his grasp.

"Hold still," he scolds and swats your ass. Not hard, just enough to get you to stop in shock. You gasp and flush, hot with arousal, and fight against squirming even more than before. You mentally curse the open cells because you know he can't do it again—or do it harder. At least not without the whole block knowing what's happening.

Finally he moves, but he doesn't pull back. He rolls further inside of you. He squishes your ass cheeks forward with the depth of his grinding. Then he rocks back, hips barely leaving yours, and he does it again.

"Fuck!" You both cry out at the same time—his is gruff and raw, and reverberates deep in his chest. Yours comes out as a high, needy whine that devolves into sobs.

Then continues rocking into you, faster, letting his weight and strength push his length inside of you. Through all of it, he never leaves your opening. Never leaves any space between his hips and yours. He lets the friction, the depth of every movement, send both of you into fits of moaning whenever he angles just right or you squeeze your thighs together.

And god, the slide of him through your clenched folds makes you aware of parts of yourself you didn't think could feel pleasure like this before. Your swollen lips, the press of your ass shifting muscles deep within you, even your walls feel more sensitive when he drags so forcefully against them.

Your legs start to squirm uselessly behind you since you can't rock back against him or lift up to meet his thrusts. The constant motion must flex your core as well because he starts hissing and sucking in sharp breaths each time you cross your ankles—which you start doing intentionally, just to drive him mad. And it isn't long before his movements become a little more rough. A little more insistent.

He braces more of his weight onto your hips and you swear you can feel your bones shift under his hands. There's more pressure than pain, though, and you're completely flattened to the mattress, wedged between it and him. Now he's using his grip for more leverage, which allows him to use his knees to push instead. Then he drills into you and fuck, you didn't think he could get deeper. His hips start to pull back far enough to meet your ass with a wet slap, no longer just shifting and sliding with you.

With a frustrated "shit," he drops to a hand, plants it next to your shoulder and hovers over your back. The angle inside of you shifts, too. He's pounding down with each thrust, relentlessly hitting that exquisite spot inside of you. The one behind your clit that sends alluring tension up through your belly and bones. It builds with each new thrust.

His head is lowered close enough to your ear that you can hear his low breathing. The way he's focusing on pumping into you. You turn your head to the side so you can see his face and to let him grunt and pant against your cheek and fuck, that's hot. Your eyes flutter with it and your lips part in bliss as you let the sound wash over you.

"Are you enjoying laying there and letting me fuck you?" He catches the expression on your face and growls as he arches into you.

"God, yes!" You bite back a whine. "You feel so good."

"And have you ever been properly fucked from behind?" He buries his nose behind your ear, plants his lips firmly into your hairline, and lets out another low grunt when his hips press deep.

"By you," you grit out as his length strikes hard into that spot again, sending you reeling. "Only you."

"Because you're mine," he rumbles. "I will find every way there is to claim you and make you take me." His voice becomes harsh and insistent. "I will make you wet and make you beg, and when you behave, you will come every single time. You will never be neglected again. Not with me."

The last part is said with such conviction that you're dizzy with it. You throb with it. Because it's a promise. A vow. It's also the closest glimpse you've ever gotten to knowing he sees a future for the two of you, you realize. Something beyond this. It's undeniable proof that he thinks about what comes after cells and uniforms and shifts. And you know you would happily kneel before the altar of him and worship for the rest of your life if he let you.

"I love you, Kino," you whimper.

"I love how you—" he lets out a strangled groan, "love how you take my cock. You're so good for me. So fucking perfect."

"All for you," you swear with a gasp. There is heat pooling between your thighs and your attention has begun to hone in on it, tugging your mind away from coherent thought. "Anything for you."

"Then I want you to come for me." His gravelly voice thrums down your spine and you shiver. You claw uselessly against the mattress, looking for something to fucking hold on to as your limbs begin to quake and tremble. "It makes you so wet for my cock." He places an open mouthed kiss on your jaw, letting his tongue and teeth drag and scrape across your skin. "I want you dripping."

"Kino," you sob, "please, I'm close."

"Not good enough." His hips speed up, each thrust into your nerves sending sparks through you as you lay there and try to catch fire.

"Right there," you slur, dazed, igniting, close to being gone completely. "Fuck."

"Are you going to scream for me?" He growls.

You don't answer. Can't. You go rigid under him, every muscle in your body flexing and each nerve ending activating as if you stepped out onto the hot floor. As if you're braced to plummet off a ledge and into freefall. Then he starts grunting again from the effort of fucking you, and it's one of your favorite sounds in the entire fucking universe.

So you do. You clench your eyes shut and fall.

When you climax, there are stars behind your eyelids. Infinite churning furnaces that expand and explode with you, yielding to entropy—the heat death of the universe contained within your core, searing through your groin and up your belly. You burn. It's death without dying.

Through it all you wail and cry his name while your hips flex and try to grind onto him. Your walls clamp down around him, clenching greedily at his cock. Your voice and your body surrendering and wanting for nothing but him. Knowing nothing but him. 

"Just like that." He moans and curses over you, rocking hungrily into your flutters and spasms. "I never want to leave this. I want to stay right here," he presses into you so hard your hips lift from the bed, "buried inside of you while you try to drain me as you come. They're going to have to come down and drag me away from you."

Your heart swells. It's so bloated within you that your ribs ache with it and there is no room left for your lungs. You gasp uselessly, desperately, for air. For relief.

"Kino," you manage to choke out. Still the only word your mind can conjure. The only one that matters.

He pushes away from you suddenly, rises to his knees, and pulls out of you with no warning.

"Flip over," he barks out, uncharacteristically impatient, and you know he must be close. You scramble to obey, turning as fast as your lethargic limbs will let you—only stumbling once—and then collapsing onto your back.

He dives into your arms, finding where he fits perfectly against you with no hesitation. Where he belongs, you think. You fold around him, one leg hooked behind his thigh and the other lazily draping over his hips.

He spears back into your slick heat with a groan. His aim isn't perfect, it's needy, but your entrance is so wet that he slips in without having to fumble between your legs. Then he's pounding into you. You jolt at each impact, and the force rattles little breaths from your lungs. 

A hand comes to the side of your neck, cups it while his thumb caresses lovingly over your throat and jaw. His lips and nose brush across your skin, kissing and panting and slowly nuzzling. Such a gentle contrast to the punishing snap of his hips and the bruising grip of the hand that has latched onto your thigh. Because he's holding on to you, frantically, as if you might try to escape. As if the only thing that matters is chasing his release between your legs.

You nuzzle back, wanting to feel every part of him that you've been missing. Wanting to breathe him in and fill your lungs with his scent. You run your hands through his hair, the stubble on his jaw, and over his chest. Insatiable despite having two orgasms.

You gasp his name like a call and he grunts yours in answer into your cheek.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," his voice is tight and ragged.

"I want it deep, Kino," you beg into his ear. "Make it hurt."

The tender touch of his hand vanishes as he clamps down on your jaw as hard as the hand on your thigh. Before you can whine with pain, he pushes your head back so he can muffle a groan that is wrenched from his chest into your throat.

"Fuck!" He snarls, baring his teeth against your skin. Your heart stutters in thrill at your vulnerability. At how exposed you are again.

He buries himself into your wet heat. Presses so brutally that he slides both of you along the mattress until your back catches on the vinyl and he's pushing uselessly against you. Then he throws his head back. His face is contorted in anguish and rapture—eyes clenched shut and his mouth frozen in a sob—as he hovers just on that edge, and it's fucking breathtaking. Everything about him is raw and scruffy and hard and lined with age, and he's so god-damned perfect, you think. Irresistible, like reaching for an open flame. His fingers digging into you, his fuzzy belly on yours, his sculpted shoulders, his full lips, his bared, imperfect teeth, his nose—that brief moment of stillness before he comes undone, burning itself into your memories.

Finally, he's moaning, a broken, guttural sound, as he's falling into his climax and spending himself inside of you. His cock throbs so hard that you can feel every pulse of his release, every contraction that starts in his balls before it's wrung out and floods your core. God, he feels so incredible. You grind your hips against him, wanting more of it. Trying to milk every last drop and bit of ecstasy, and it draws a growl from him.

He retreats back for another deep plunge and his knees buckle from exhaustion and the intensity of his orgasm. With a grunt, he collapses on top of you, but then he quickly arches his hips into you to finish the thrust anyway. He scrambles to push off of the mattress with his toes, drags himself forward using your hips as more leverage, and he slides against you. Rocks through the final tremors of his release.

When he finally stops, he's shaking over you, still trembling from the force of his climax. He drops the rest of his weight onto you with a heavy exhale and settles his head onto your chest. He lays there for a moment, listening to your heart pounding beneath him and letting the rhythm calm him. His legs and hips start to relax as well, no longer arched and pressed into you, which causes his length to slip out of your now very slick sex. His spent cock twitches on your inner thigh.

You shift to look down at him, gasping for air and having no idea how you're so out of breath when all you really did was lay there and get ravaged. You hug him to you, wanting to feel as much of his skin against yours as you can, but he shakes his head and pulls away.

"One more," he pants. "I want you to give me one more."

"What?" You stare at him in confusion, uncomprehending what he means. "One more what?"

"I want you to have one more orgasm while you're full of my come," he explains, winded, but patient.

"Fuck, Kino! I don't know if I can," you whine because what the fuck. How can he still be thinking about sex? How can he even move right now? How can—

"I know exactly how to get it from you, don't worry. Just lay here." He reaches out to cup your jaw, and his thumb tenderly traces your cheek. His face and his voice soften. "Let me love you."

And how the fuck do you say no to that? You nod at him before you even know what you're doing. Before you've even thought it through. It astounds you how eager you are to obey him sometimes. It's deeper than instinct. It's inevitability.

He slowly works his way down your body, obviously exhausted, and spreads your legs open before him. You know what he meant, then. How he plans to shatter your sense of awareness one last time, and you writhe and whimper. As tired and spent as you are, the thought resurrects a spark of want that starts in your chest, builds to your stomach, and reignites in your core.

He settles between your knees, sprawled on his belly along your small bed. Then he scoops your legs over his shoulders and pulls you closer to his mouth by your thighs.

"Fuck, look at your ruined, pretty little hole." He kisses your inner thigh as he continues to admire your glistening sex, and your skin quivers under his lips. "Your cunt should always look like this. You were made to be a mess from my cock."

He licks the inside of your folds, just at your entrance, dragging his hot tongue through the mixture of both of your fluids and spend as you gasp above him. He groans in pleasure. "You taste even better full of me."

He teases your entrance with the tip of his tongue, skimming and tracing along your swollen lips. And you're not going to fucking beg. You're not. You're not.

"I came so deep that you haven't started leaking properly. Yet." Then he widens his mouth over your sex and plunges his tongue inside of you, seeking his own seed. It's so filthy that your walls pulse and flutter around him while he presses in and out of your depths. Laps inside of you. He finally withdraws and drags his tongue up over your too sensitive clit. The frisson it sends through you is sharp and potent. It makes you desperate.

"Oh god, Kino! I need your mouth on me," you beg, immediately giving in at the intensity of your own yearning because fuck how could you forget how good he is at this? How did you think you wouldn't be a blubbering mess with his mouth on you?

"What do you say?" He asks, low and gruff, and flicks the tip of his tongue over your nerves again.

"Fuck! Please !" You shout. "Please please please ple—"

He covers your clit with his mouth, turning your pleading into a choking sound as you try to gasp and moan at the same time. His tongue sets to work, rubbing and swirling over you as his cheeks hollow with the gentle suction of his lips.

The lines on his face crease and deepen with concentration. His neatly combed hair is tousled from your fingers and the effort of fucking you. The stubborn curls, usually only obvious at the nape of his neck, have worked themselves free and one sticks out in defiance on the side of his head. The sight of him—disheveled, his jaw moving and flexing from working your clit, your wetness shiny in the stubble on his cheeks and jaw, and him gazing up at you from between your thighs—sends a fresh surge of need from your weak flesh.

Occasionally he pulls away to lick between your folds and his eyelids go heavy in pleasure. You would scream if you could breathe. If that hadn't knocked the wind out of you.

When he rubs his tongue back over your nerves, your body doesn't wait or tense. There's no building or teasing you while you're on the edge. You're already so loose and stimulated that you shoot up to your elbows and come immediately against his mouth.

Your climax burns from your core, out to your pelvis, then down your thighs. Your toes curl with it. Your walls pulse with it. Your entrance clenches and leaks an obscene trail of both of you down your slit and into the cleft of your ass. You cry out, but your voice is hoarse from all your moaning and screaming and lacks the intensity of your previous two orgasms—even though it still leaves you quaking and grabbing at his hair and grinding yourself against his mouth, riding out every last wave.

After your hips finally stop and the little tremors of your aftershocks subside, you collapse back to the mattress with a whimper. He pulls his head away from your clit to admire you. Watches you finally leak and drip his come with a look of awe on his face.

"That's better." Then his tongue flattens over you and he licks the entire length of your slit. Slowly. Gathering as much of the mess as he can. He groans appreciatively as he curls his tongue back into his mouth. You watch him savor it for a moment, and then swallow.

You begin to sob.

You can't help it. You're emotionally and physically spent, vulnerable and overwhelmed in a way you've never felt before, and that was too fucking hot for your lust fried brain to process right now. Which apparently translates into tears because you can't stop the way they start running down your cheeks.

He looks up at you, wide eyed in concern, and quickly makes his way beside you on the bed. Then he pulls you into his arms while you sniffle against him.

"What's wrong?" He tilts your chin up to look at him.

"I'm fine. I think you just broke me," you let out a watery laugh as you meet his eyes. "Apparently that was so god-damned hot that it was too much. You're too sexy, Kino. It overloaded my brain."

He gives you an incredulous stare and you let loose a wave of fresh tears.

"Shhh, hey, it's okay," he whispers. He presses his forehead to yours and cups your cheek, swiping the moisture there away with his thumb. "You were so good for me." He kisses the tip of your nose. "So good."

You flush under his praise and wipe at your eyes. "You were incredible. Every time we have sex, it's the best fucking sex I've ever had in my entire life."

"Good," he rumbles against you. "It's what you deserve. Not whatever the fuck those other assholes were doing to you."

You laugh, your whole body shaking with it, and you catch a small smile on his face. It's enough of a distraction that you let out a deep sigh and blink back the last few tears that hadn't fallen yet. 

"Apparently setting me up to know exactly how damned lucky I am to have finally found you."

"That's my line," he grumbles.

"Why, you have a string of disappointing partners, too?" You yawn, now exhausted from, well, everything.

"Something like that," he says under his breath.

"What does that mean?" You blink heavily at him.

"It means there was always something missing, which is unsatisfying in a different way to not having a single orgasm for the entirety of a relationship." His voice deepens. "And you are very, very satisfying. In every way."

A thrill runs through your tired body at that. "I bet you always made sure the person you slept with finished." You snuggle closer to him.

"Of course I did," he sniffs. "I'm an asshole, not a monster."

"Mmmm. Never a monster," you mumble, your eyes closing. "Think you're amazing. Fucking…wonderful. Love you."

"I love you, too," he whispers.

You aren't sure how both of you got dressed. You remember a lethargic shifting of limbs and pull of fabric, but you were fighting to stay awake at that point. It's all so hazy. The only thing you're sure of is that now you're curled into his arms and laying half on top of him, your head is tucked under his chin, and your legs are tangled together. Your body thrums with love for him and a bone deep satisfaction.

You hold possessively at his waist, as if he could somehow sneak out in the middle of the night and leave you to wake to an empty bed, alone. Or that you might open your eyes in the morning and find the last few weeks have been a dream. That he grabbed you by the jaw and cracked you so deeply that you imagined all of this to save yourself from shattering.

As if he can sense your thoughts or feel the stiffening of your body, he hugs you tightly to him and kisses your hair.

"I love you," he whispers, and you melt, releasing that last bit of tension. You open your mouth to say it back, try to fight to get the words out before you can't. But you've tipped too far towards unconsciousness now to manage it.

Your last thought before the darkness takes you is, oh, hell, he knows.

A/N: Fun Easter egg about this chapter: I'm a dramatic, desperately hopeless romantic that loves angst. I don't know if any of you've picked up on that. I've been really subtle about it. (sarcasm)

I was really struggling writing this because, FOR SOME DAMN REASON, I was struggling writing romantic smut. And then my brain went, okay but what if you just…didn't?? So I made it romantic AND filthy, which fits better anyway, and was much easier for me to write. (Curious 💅)

✨An actual fun science lesson Easter Egg about this chapter!✨ I used the comparison of binary stars in chapter 10:

"Like binary stars, bound and endlessly drawn towards one another until they're destined to merge—or to destroy each other."

Usually binary star systems fall apart when one evolves into a white dwarf first and consumes the other one, causing it to gain more mass, exceed the limit of its stability, and go supernova. Anytime at least one white dwarf is involved in a binary star supernova, it's called a Type 1a Supernovae.

It's rare, but occasionally both binary stars evolve into white dwarfs at the same time. (The reason it's so rare is because the stars have to be incredibly similar to have a parallel evolution, otherwise one would evolve first and likely destroy the other.) White dwarfs are very dense and, as a result, have a powerful gravitational pull. The stars are slowly drawn towards each other in their orbit until they eventually collide, creating the Type 1a Supernovae that way. I've always thought there was something very romantic about them being so perfectly matched that they burn together, as if they were soulmates.

A Type 1a Supernovae is also one of the brightest events that occur in our universe. 🙂 Space is cool, y'all.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[rosietrace]

Melodic Misconceptions 🎹

Track 15: Young and beautiful 3/?

Synopsis: Victoria Shard was a former member of the popular idol group [ Poisoner ] from NRC corporations. After discourse with her group leader, Victoria decided it was best for her to leave and pursue her solo career in a record label run by her parents.

It had been half a year since her separation from her old group, and Victoria had never been more successful. But now she has a new problem. She must return to NRC corporations in order to mentor the seven idol groups.

Ellis Clawthorne is a member of [ (Co)-connect ] the most recent group under NRC'S belt. With no experience as an idol, Ellis must persevere in order to succeed and pursue her dreams.

Will both girls be able to adapt to their current situations?

✐ ✎_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_✐ ✎

Author's note: I AM SO SORRY IF THE WRITING FOR THIS TRACK IS BAD💀 This is a mostly filler track so this isn't all that significant to the plot

There's a couple less fake Twitter posts so I hope y'all don't mind :')

On the other hand, there isn't much else that I have to say other than like- Reblog pls- idk ^^||

Hope you enjoy!

──ㅇ─────↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺───ㅇ────

"Thank you for accompanying me for coffee, you two."

Yuuta chuckled, carelessly taking out his wallet before they entered the coffee shop."No problem, miss mentor~ Besides we kinda owe you one after you let us cameo in your music video." Yuuta replied, wearing the usual smug look on his face.

Miren nodded."Yeah. We do kinda owe you one for that." He chimed in, his voice was discreet with the slightest hint of hesitation.

Humming, Victoria opened the door to the coffee shop. Thankfully, it wasn't too crowded.

Yuuta whistled."Ooh~ Classy." He commented right after entering, folding his arms together with an impressed smirk. Miren smiled alongside him, nodding in agreement.

"Alright, so…. Who's gonna order?"

As soon as Victoria asked that question, she and Yuuta whipped their heads toward Miren.

He felt drops of sweat drip down his face."I have to do it, don't I-" he was quickly cut off by Yuuta gently shoving him close to the line that led to one of the cashiers.

He scowled at his fellow group mate before focusing on waiting for his turn. As for Yuuta and Victoria, they managed to find a table nearby.

And as soon as they sat down, Yuuta had to ask,

"So how's it going for you and that Harpie?"

Blinking continuously, Victoria raised a brow at Yuuta."What do you mean?" Seeing her eyes slowly beginning to squint, Yuuta snorted.

"Have you not realized how much chemistry you two emit? I feel like tension always rises whenever you're both in the same room." Yuuta responded, gently playing with his hair.

It didn't take long for Miren to come back with their lattes, sit next to Yuuta and begin listening to whatever conversation they were having.

"I'll have to agree on that…." An awkward smile was plastered on Miren's face, making Victoria sigh.

"Hmm….. I see…" Her words were slow, like she was trying to comprehend and realize just now that she and Aguri actually had quite the chemistry.

Yuuta giggled softly, sipping his latte without hesitation."Who knows, you two might even be this industry's hottest couple. If you decide to date him eventually, of course." Miren narrowed his eyes at his lavender eyed friend after he made that comment. To which Yuuta only responded with a wink.

Victoria hummed, feeling rather awkward while looking down at her latte and the small heart-shaped design it had. I know that everyone's been complimenting us on our chemistry but…. I suppose I've been oblivious to how much of it we have.

To try and brush it off as if it weren't much, Victoria took a sip of her latte and resumed her conversation with Yuuta and Miren. Even though she made it frighteningly obvious that she wanted to change the topic to something that didn't involve Aguri.

And Yuuta and Miren were okay with that. The love life of their mentor isn't something they're gonna try and meddle with, especially when Ellis and Zen are already trying to do that.

And what's the point when one of the only good options is a fucking asshole?

──ㅇ─────↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺───ㅇ────

"Hmm. It seems you've brought coffee."

A frown dawned on Victoria's face after hearing Vil's voice. And it didn't help that Aguri happened to be in the same room.

She huffed, tiredly walking past the two of them and setting their coffees down on the table."You better consume it before you get on the makeup chair." She advised, unintentionally invoking eye contact with Aguri.

Before Vil was going to say anything, Aguri cut him off."We'll take note of that, princess."

And… Cue the awkward silence that filled the room…

Victoria was confused, yet annoyed."I'm sorry, what did you call me?"

Aguri couldn't help but smile innocently."Just calling you by a cute little nickname, princess." He quickly answered.

Vil raised a brow at his close friend, somewhat confused that he'd call Victoria, his former group mate, by such an affectionate nickname.

To be fair, Victoria was equally as confused. But she had to be more worried about more pressing matters such as finishing up filming the bridge and the final chorus of the song, which would conclude the shooting of the music video.

Rolling her eyes, she left the room without saying anything else. Yet she heard a conversation that started between the two young men, but didn't bother to try and eavesdrop.

Noticing the small hints of stress, Mayuu walked up to Victoria and gave her an assuring grin to try and lift her spirits.

"I'm guessing Aguri said something?"

Victoria nodded.

"Ah. Well, whatever he said, I'm sure it isn't worth being concerned about." Mayuu shrugged off, wanting to destress before another migraine comes from Yuuta snatching away her phone and posting the videos of her singing during karaoke nights.

Victoria pursed her lips."I guess. Though I don't know if being called 'princess' by the person you're most annoyed with is good enough to be concerned about…" Mayuu's eyes widen, and she ended up choking on air when Victoria mentioned the nickname.

"Well damn…"

"Mhm…. I don't particularly understand why so many women are attracted to him."

"Two words. Young and conventionally attractive. Well- That would be four words, but I digress," Mayuu began, "Aguri Harper is still 21 years old, and we all know how much Hollywood loves exploiting young talent."

"Not to mention he has the conventional attractiveness that almost every Hollywood actor has. He can practically get away with whatever he wants just by using his pretty privilege." She went on.

"Similar to Yuuta?" Victoria asked, making Mayuu snort as a reply.

"Absolutely not. Yuuta has an annoying amount of pretty privilege, but at least he isn't being exploited by an entire industry that isn't taking advantage of his good looks for money...." Victoria's eyebrows raised a bit when Mayuu trailed off her sentence, realizing what she just said was… A bit contradictory.

"..... Actually nevermind that part. The point is, Aguri's only successful because of his acting abilities, his youth, his 'conventional attractiveness', and his cat." A satisfied exhale escaped Mayuu's lips after she shrugged her words off as if it were nothing.

As they went their separate ways to prepare for the final shoot for the bridge of the song, Victoria pondered about what Mayuu told her.

"Hmm…. I wonder…"

──ㅇ─────↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺───ㅇ────

The tension was rising as they filmed, it almost felt unnerving. Yet at the same time, enticing and addictive.

Everyone was wearing masquerade masks to conceal their faces, yet it was obvious who was who. The girls all wore their signature colors while wearing silk dresses that were inspired by many of Marilyn Monroe's dresses.

Ellis in particular wore a white mask to pair with a diamond encrusted necklace and a pink dress that was reminiscent of the dress Marilyn wore in 'diamonds are a girl's best friend'.

As for the boys, they all stuck to the classic suits. But they had a much sharper, cleaner cut in their designs. Which was in spite of the simplicity of their designs.

As planned, the costume department made sure Victoria and Aguri stood out. Since they were the only ones actually wearing black and white.

Victoria wore black, and the dress she wore was tight fitted yet it somehow didn't look like they were deliberately objectifying her. In fact, the aura of confidence as she wore such a scandalous dress was what made the moment a little more special.

Aguri wore white, and the silks used in his suit were much more apparent because of the color. Thankfully, he managed to not look like a depressed groom by having enough black and dark blue accents to contrast with the white. And he also wore an unwavering amount of confidence as he danced with her.

The director was in awe, and knew that it was gonna be smooth sailing for them after this scene, since it was almost time to film the final chorus.

With every slightly higher note that was sung during the bridge, Aguri would spin Victoria around. Yet they never broke eye contact, making the scene all the more impactful with the rising tension between the two.

As the final line of the bridge had hit, Victoria spun away from Aguri after he let her go. This was both for aesthetic purposes, and for the sake of a specific transition to the final chorus.

"And…. Cut!" The director exclaimed.

The rest of the film crew clapped for the efforts everyone put in for the bridge. Victoria, Zen, Yuuta, and Aguri in particular.

Victoria was panting, slightly exhausted from ballroom dancing in 1960s pumps. To her, they weren't exactly the most comfortable to wear during filming.

Zen carefully walked over to her, a comforting grin on his face."You okay, Tori?" He asked, slightly worried.

Victoria giggled, sitting down on a nearby chair."I'm fine, Zen. The shoes clearly aren't, though. Hopefully I don't have to dance in them again." She joked, smiling with him.

Zen laughed a little, sitting next to her."I hope so. I don't really like it when I see you in pain. But that's probably because I'm a bit of a worrywart." He said awkwardly.

Victoria put her hand over his, the gracefulness of her smile unwavering as she gazed at her best friend.

"I know."

For whatever reason, Aguri was watching from afar.

….. And he felt unusually unnerved by that display of affection.

──ㅇ─────↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺───ㅇ────

Tagging:

@starry-night-rose @windbornearchon @nem0-nee @authoruio @sakuramidnight15 @fumikomiyasaki @geminiiviolets @twsted-princess @knights-escort

[theatrekidstatus]

Chapter 11

Y/n pov: -next month- "Y/N" Anthony yelled "YEAH" I yelled back "Let's go we have rehearsals" he informed I mumbled a bunch of stuff none were real words I changed into this

"You look beautiful babe" he compliments "Thank you," I say "Not so bad yourself " I complimented Wee better head out now" he advised "Yeah"

"BABE" Jazzy yelled"WIFEY" I scream back "We're GONNA BE ON BROADWAY" "FAMOUS COUPLE" "LEZZZZ GOOOOOO" "MAN WHAT YOU LOOKING AT US FOR" Jazzy screamed at Ant "Shi my bad" he replied "fuh boy" she calls "yo calm down jazzy" I warn "my bad" she 'apologizes' "now say sorry" I demanded "SORRY ANT" she yells "oh um no prob-" he says before getting cut off "THAT YOUR HAIRLINES RECEDING" she cuts off "there it is" "JASMINE CEPHAS JONES" renèe yells "IM SORRY ANT" she yells we didn't believe her. so we waited [ (; ] "DAMN I SAID SORRY" she yells agitated "I forgive you" he chockes up "coo" she replies "OK LETS GET TO WORK" Lin shouts we head to the stage it was so big (a/n: shut up) ok let's rehearse first song

-2 minutes later-

"when he was ten his father split full of it depth ridden"

-2 hours later- "let's take a break" (RUN AWAY WITH US FOR THE SUMMER LET'S GO UPDATE) "I'm so tired" I tell Ant "Did you eat" he asks "Yeah..." I lie "Are you lying?" "Yeah..." I admit "Eat this apple" he demands "ok..." I eat the apple "Now let's take a nap" he suggests I fell asleep while Ant was scrolling threw insta I wake up to a nudge "Hey, hey, babe wake up" "What happened" I rub my eyes with the bottom of my fist "we gotta rehearse" I yawn and get up "I bet you could sleep forever" renèe "LIN WHAT MY RECORD" he shouts"17 hours" "WHAT THE FUCK" "I was depressed"

-After rehearsal- "SEE YOU TOMORROW GANG" Lin yells "gang?" Jazzy asks with a raised eyebrow "Aren't we a gang" Lin asks "I'd take family" Pippa suggests "DIBS ON MOM" I shout "DIBS ON DAD" Ant shouts "Aw fuck" Lin mumbles "Anyway let's head home" Chris suggests "k" we all say in unison "you wanna stay at my apartment" ant asked "sure" "nice let's go" "but you don't have a car" I bring up "yeah" he tells "uh" "..." "uh let's go I guess" I say

-at apartment-

"Nice place" I compliment "Thanks, lemme get changed"

"Gah damn" I mumble "like what ya see?" He asks with a cocky voice and smiles "Hell yeah" I say flirtatiously. he chuckled and flopped in bed "you coming" he ask "i don't have anything to sleep in" I share "you did that on purpose" "maybeeeee" I joke "go get a t-shirt and boxers" he tells "YA-I mean ok" Anthony chuckled "your cute" "so are you" (imagine how Zendaya SOUNDED and that one interview when Tom holland said she was cute) "uh oh did nervous y/n come back" he ask with a smirk "no shut up" "THAT HURT MY FEELINGS MY WORDS MATTER" "👆🏾" he started fake crying "I'm sorry you big baby" I said while hugging him "it's ok" he faked sobbed i went to get his boxers and shirt "HOW DO I LOOK" "amazing" "ant" I whispered "what" "you're blushing" "oh um sorry um shit god" "JUST KIDDING" "🖕🏼" "I love you too now come here" "what" "I wanna spoon" "ok" we spooned and at 3:00 am we got a call "ughhhhhh" "do I Answer or" "pick Up I guess" "hello" "EW" "what" "it's that Alexa girl" "ew" "bye bitch" he said before hanging up "your funny" "I know" he says before falling back asleep

-next morning-

"WAKE UP" "SHUT UP" he started whimpering (STFU) "I'm sorry" "It's ok" We get ready

"Do you think you can move in those jeans" "yeah" "ok" "let's get donuts" "FUCK YEA" "let's go" we stopped at krispey cream "can I get-" "I WANT THE BEE DONUTS PLEASE" "HOW MANY" "ALL" "a dozen" "ALL" "DOZEN" "ok pull up please" "that will be 2.99 " (I don't know how much donuts cost) "thank you" "I WANTED ALL" I huff "you can have 2" "I DESERVE ALL" "you do but you only getting 2" "ghvghgdh" "sorry babe" it's fine"

-at the theatre-

"how was y'all sleep over" "good but Alexa called ant" "ew" "yeah but ant said 'bye bitch and hung up" "what she say" "um um" "ANTHONY" "huh" "WHAT LEXA SAY LAST NIGHT" "hi freckles" "ok" "YOU LYING" "NO JAZZY DANM" "AIGHT" "anyway I slept in his clothes" "oooooooo" "did y'all...you know" "JAZZY" "what" "it's ok and no we didn't" "OK LISTEN UP WE'RE GONNA BE ON BROADWAY SO THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT SO LETS GET TO WORK" "SIR YES SIR" "har de har" "now get up here" we got up there and didn't get down for 5 hours! I was wobbly and sick "UM LETS TAKE A BREAK" (rUn AwAy WiTh tHe SuMmEr LeTs Go UpStAtE) "You good pinky pie" "Shut up dude" "I'm Sirius" "Yeah...I'm im" then it went black. I hear loud sirens "Huh what happened" "Y/N" Ant and Lin yelled while they tried to jump in they only let Lin in and said "Sir your gonna have to meet her at the hospital I just saw angry tears flow down his face "L-Lin" "yeah" "what happened" "you fainted and we're out for 2hours" "it took y'all 2hours to call the ambulance" "IT TOOK THEM 2HOURS TO COME" "Lin shut up because if they throw us out on the streets what then" he chuckled we get there I got checked out they gave me pills and a chart on how much I should eat for each meal

-after rehearsals and at home-

"Hard day" "It was ok" (bars) "Let's eat" "I'm not really-" I was cut off by an intense stare given by Lin "I'll eat" "Good don't stuff or overeat"

-on broadway- "WOO OPENING NIGHT LETS GO HOW WE FEELING" "SCARED" "AND" "EXITED" "THATS WHAT I LIKE TO HEAR" "ok 45 minutes till places" "you nervous John" "No, I'm terrified" "don't be you did good off broadway" "just think of it as a bigger stage that's all it is" "just a bigger stage" he mumbled "exactly know get dressed" "I got-dressed" "ok" "oooooo updated costume?" "Yeah you should see my Phillip one" "Can't wait" "Is your mom here tonight" "Yeah she saved a seat for you and everything" Thanks babe I go find ant mom she waved me over and I sat with her and chatted about ant as a kid "oh he was so cute did you know he dimples on his butt" "no," I say giggling but not letting out the laugh I want "oh yeah he was cute the you know the baseball Super Bowl thing (I don't know what it's called or if it's even a thing😭😭) "yeah" "he loved it as kid he once pissed his pants not to miss it" "oh really" I say holding back I laugh "oh it's starting"

-After the show- "Can you show walk me backstage" "Of course" "HI BABE YOU DID SO GOOD" "THANKS babe, did you like meeting my mom" "Yep dimples" "Dim-?"He was caught off by embarrassment he went pale then red "Honey are you okay" "sí Mama que tu hablar como y/n" "You as a Child" "OK gracias" "No problema" "DONT worry I think it's cute" I say while kissing his cheek

[ukikimon]

(11/7 update) Pardon my language but holy shit & am frustrated with this week...

Copy-paste for everyone again…

So, in a "this could have been an email" type visit, I am told, I have 3 kidney stones. Not JUST the 10mm one. I am not surprised, given how I know my body, & it's what I told the ER the other day- you now, I wanted them to check that. Well, ER only ever told me ONE, & I never got to see my Xrays at any point, nor did they ask me if I even wanted to.

Come to the urology, get another Xray to confirm; yes, I have a stone. We knew this, why are you asking me if I have a stone today? The thing my appointment is about? Someone then kindly tells me NOW I have 3. Which, the ER never bothered to say the entire time. I'm personally not surprised though, given my history. I just don't know how I am going to pay for it all, but that's another thing. Anyway. 10mm, 7mm, & 5mm. Bad, but 10mm is the priority; it caused the full blockage of my left side & my infection that put me in the ER in the first place. And it will kill me if it stays in & it gets infected again from the blockage given kidneys need to. You know. Do Kidney Things.

Urology says they're going to call me this week to schedule the first surgery, which will be a stint & yanking it out manually, from my understanding. I mentioned the other two stones & they sort of brushed it off as a "not our problem" with that, so I have VERY high hopes for all of this (sarcasm)! I will probably have to try & pass those or convince them to allow me to get lithotripsy since they are on BOTH sides of me.

Anyway. Today sucked! I trust no one! Nobody keeps telling me jack & every time I'm put in a room, I have to repeat my entire medical record that I just finished telling someone else because everyone has 0 reading/listening comprehension. It's like my medical records are never actually written down every time & they keep finding errors I have to correct the next person on. I honestly trust my life with a wild Chansey more than I do these people by this point, but I don't have a choice.

Soooo more waiting game! Yaaay. Hopefully I won't die with how great stuff's been going. Surgery before the end of THIS week, hopefully. AAAAAA. Please god y'all stay hydrated or I will come to your house & sic Devimon on you. MINE aren't caused by hydration issues, but yeah.