#but I didn’t!!!! and they were delicious!!!!!

[lilaccmilk]

Jealousy is a disease and he apparently has it chronically. You didn’t expect your boyfriend to get so jealous after seeing you talking with a man who’s obviously hitting on you. Can you really blame him? You’re so pretty and so fucking kind, these idiots think that they have a chance with you. He’ll deal with that guy later but you, oh you should’ve known better. So it’s not really a surprise when you’re laid on your stomach, on your bed and his dick is pistoning into you. In and out, In and out, In and– yeah you get it.

He is so painfully big that everytime he thrusts in he’s kissing your cervix, nudging you deliciously, and you’re so far gone. If he couldn’t guess by your wetness leaking onto his dick, or the way you had him in a vice like grip, then the mindless babbles of ‘sorry’ or ‘more’ definitely gave it away. He’s stretching you out so good, you consider riling him up more often. And his words….god his words.

“C’mon pretty, you can take it yeah? You were being all cheery with that fucking guy, use your big girl words yeah?” As you both reach your climax together, you feel ropes of white hot cum filling you up.

You think he’d stop, but oh, you’re sorely mistaken, he keeps on thrusting, somehow more eagerly now, you’re overstimulated and you try to put some distance between you, but he just pulls you back onto him, “Tsk tsk tsk, no. You don’t get to run away not after your little stunt tonight.” He increases his pace as hot tears roll down your cheeks out of pleasure. There’s a creamy white ring forming around the base of his cock as he drives in and out of you. Wet squelches filling up the room and he is hellbent on making sure you know you’re his. “She’s talkative tonight isn’t she?” he starts, and you know he’s talking about your pussy, “at least she knows, how to talk to the right people.” And he doesn’t stop. Not until he has one more, and another and another and “One more please pretty? You can do it f’me yeah?” and all you can do is nod.

──────────────────

Gojo Satoru, Yuji Itadori, Ino Takuma, Ken Sato, Theodore Nott, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, Miguel O’Hara, Sylus (L&DS) + your favs!

Let me show you how proud I am to be yours / Leave this dress a mess on the floor - Good for You // A$AP Rocky & Selena Gomez

[starkeyisthelastname]

sweet kook princess misses rafe cameron 💖💦

Once you had him, your sweet little self couldn’t get enough. All you could think about was Rafe Cameron and you couldn’t wait to see him again. That is where you found yourself parking your pink bike at his house, and happily bounded the steps of the deck. To your surprise he was already sitting on one of the plush outdoor sofas, pen in hand as he signed some documents.

“Hi!” You said, voice soft yet excited as you skipped over in your little kitten heels.

Blue eyes looked up, immediately raking over your frame in that baby pink dress. He couldn’t deny how gorgeous you were and that your slight obsession with him was flattering. He had only had that sweet pussy once, but he was an obsessive man himself and was craving something sugary. He leaned back against the sofa, his legs spreading as he motioned you over. “What are you doing here sweetheart?” He asked, his voice always making your tummy flip.

You pranced over, standing right in front of him so that he could get a better view. You swayed back and forth cutely, trying to come with some excuse on why you were there other than that you missed him. (It had been a week.) You weren’t one to ever lie though and you couldn’t help but to just say it. “I missed you.” You mumbled, averting your gaze and looking down.

Rafe was in trouble and he knew it. Hearing that, stirred something inside him and it didn’t take much for you to follow him inside. That adorable dress was now in his bedroom floor, with your naked body looking delicious as he pounded into your warm cunt at a brutal pace. “This what you missed, huh? Can’t go a fucking week without dick.” He breathed out heavily, toned abs flexing as he thrusted. “Sweet girl is so greedy.”

Your delicate manicured nails dug into the soft sheets, your toes curling against his broad shoulders. You were dumb and whiny mess, trying your best to get a sentence out all while getting fucked by Rafe Cameron and his huge dick. Your poor sex was getting stretched out, leaking everywhere as he laid into you. “F-fuck me daddy.. f-fuck me.” You squeaked out.

Rafe couldn’t help but laugh at how pathetic you sounded. How you had ridden your pink little bike over to his house just to get your pussy railed. He loved every second of it though and was having thoughts of making you his permanently. His thumb came out to rub your pearl in circles, watching your beautiful face fall at the pleasure he gave you. “Don’t you worry sweetheart. Daddy’s gonna feed this hungry little cunt all she wants. You just be a good girl and fuckin’ take it.” He rasped out, his free hand coming to run across your cheek before wrapping itself around your throat.

[astoldbylanii]

Say It

ఌpaige bueckers x reader

warnings: 18+, smut, ovulation went crazy this month😭, basically no plot...like at all

inspired by - say it by ne-yo

---------☙

"Paige please..."

The only two words your brain could fathom right now, and you were lucky they made a sentence. She was the reason why.

"Please what baby?" She asked, but she knew the answer. She always knew what you wanted. She could tell from the way your body pushed itself closer to her hand. From the way your jaw fell open just from her light touches. From how soaked you were. Paige was fluent in the language your body spoke. Yet, she still didn't give it what it wanted needed.

"Come on now, I can't give you what you want unless you tell me what it is? I'm not a mind reader, baby." She insisted. That was a lie. Partially, anyway. She could read you in every way. Her hand traveled familiar paths down your hot skin. One of her hands traced careful circles on your thigh as the other was pressed into the bed, right beside your head. "Here? Is here good?" She pressed when you whined as her hand grazed over your wet lips.

"Baby-"

"Or here? Hm?" She cut you off, her fingers sinking between your lips to graze your clit. Just as fast as they were there, they left. A frustrated whine left your lips once again. "Come on baby, it's a simple question. Where do you want me?"

"Paige just-" You couldn't complete the sentence, but you could lead her hand down to where you wanted her. She tutted, pulling her wrist away from your hold.

"Now you know better." She scolded, but there was no real bite in her words. "Come on baby, just say it. All that running your mouth earlier and now you can't use your words? Say it baby, tell me what you want so I can give it to you. Can't be that hard." She teased, a cocky smile coming across her face as she watched you struggle every time her fingers brushed against your clit.

"Paige please. Need you so bad, P."

"Mhm, keep going. Tell me where." She encouraged, finally giving in and rubbing your that perfect button between your soaked lips.

"E- everywhere. Need your fingers inside, need your mouth on me. Please Paige- oh-" You were cut off by her finally giving you what you needed. Two of her fingers finally slipped into you with ease.

“That’s my good girl, finally using your mouth for something good.” She said with a proud smile. You moaned, gripping tight onto her shoulder as she smoothly got into a rhythm. “I’ma give you what you want but you gotta keep being vocal for me, ‘kay?”

“Mkay.” You panted out. You would do anything she wanted as long as she stopped talking and put her mouth where you needed it. Paige pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, continuing to press wet, open mouth kisses down the rest of your body until she reached between your thighs.

“I need to hear you from down here, baby. Let your moans be loud as your disrespect was earlier and keep your eyes on me.” She ordered, and you knew the underlying promise she hadn’t said. If you don’t listen, she’ll stop. So, you nodded in agreeance, your hand finding the back of her head as a silent urge. Paige laughed at your impatience, her free hand rubbing your thigh comfortingly as her fingers kept up her place. She press a swift kiss to your clit before taking between her lips,, sucking hard.

“Paige!” You cried out. Already, she almost had you throwing your head back as you let out a loud moan, finally receiving some relief. Paige kept up her pace with her fingers, flicking your clit with her tongue. Her first two fingers curled against your spot deliciously before she added a third, grazing that same spot again. “Oh fuck- right there, baby.” You said, as if she didn’t already know.

Paige sped her fingers up as her tongue circled around your pink clit before taking it into her mouth once again, never breaking eye contact.

“Oh goddd, Paige…” You whined. Though you hoped there was no god watching how Paige devoured your pussy right now. Your fingers gripped her hair harder as her fingers began to thrust harder, her eyebrows furrowing as she focused on you and your pleasure. She moaned into you, feeling the way you tugged on her blonde hair, as if she could get any closer. Just as you were about to reach that peak, just as your aching hole clenched around Paige’s fingers, she pulled her mouth away.

“Say it, tell me what you need, baby.” She said, waiting for you to follow through as her fingers kept moving. She watched with a smile as your mouth opened and close, being patient for the words to fall from your pretty lips. All that came was another moan.

“I know baby, I know. But you gotta tell me, show me how sorry you are for how you spoke earlier. Use your words now, pretty thing.” Paige tried to comfort, but her voice was only making it worse. She still was patient with you, her fingers keeping you right on edge. She knew you needed her mouth to finish you off.

“Need to cum, please Paige, please…”

“Mhm, that’s it baby.” She praised proudly, pressing a soft kiss right below your belly button before she removed her fingers only to be replaced by her tongue. Her tongue moved in and out quickly while her soaked digits rubbed your clit just as rapidly as her tongue fucked you.

“Oh shit-” Your back arched up off the bed, head thrown back as a high pitched moan left your throat that you knew Paige would mock you for later. Your body tensed, overwhelmed by the sudden change of pace before you came, making a mess on Paige’s tongue that she was happy to clean up.

Your legs spasmed around Paige’s head as she tenderly licked up the creamy essence that your pussy couldn’t seem to stop from exiting your body. Your now empty hole clenched around nothing as Paige pressed a final kiss to your clit before leaving to go get something to clean you up. You panted, trying to allow your body to come down from its high.

You were drifting off when Paige returned, only to receive a slap to your thigh that woke you right up. You look at her, confused until your eyes wander down to find the false dick attached to her hips. She smirks at the confused look on your face.

"Not you thinking we was done. Nah, turn that ass over."

"But Paige-"

"What'd I say?" She interrupted your protest, grabbing your hips and pulling down closer to the edge of the bed. “I said keep your eyes on me, and even though you look so fucking sexy when you throw your head back while you cum for me, that’s breaking eye contact baby. And contrary to what some may say, I’m a woman of my word. So we’re not done.”

“Paige, I don’t know if I can do anymore.” You admitted. The blonde haired made a noise that sounded like a scoff in response to your words. She shook her head at you, her hands traveling up and down your trembling thighs carefully.

“Come on now, you’ve done much more than this before. If you really don’t think you can, you know what to say, but I think you better tell your pussy that.” She tempted, her hand wandering to your aching cunt just to drag her thumb up and down your sopping lips. “She’s so ready for me, I know you can take more. Plus I think I deserve it after how you treated me earlier, hm?” Paige egged on, her fingers still mindlessly teasing you as her blue eyes bored into yours.

She was right too, you did kind of feel bad for the things you had said earlier. You were already thinking of ways to make it up to her but this was not on the list. Though, feeling the way her thumb began to rub your clit slowly, the way your body was reacting to her touch, you couldn’t help but to agree to go another round.

Paige smiled, her hand still making a mess of your pussy as she leaned down to give your soft lips a delicate kiss. You could still taste yourself on her tongue from when she had just made you cum before.

Paige pulled away just as she felt herself getting too deep into the kiss, a wet string of spit still connecting the two of you before you leaned up to get one last peck in. She finally pulled her hand away from your lower lips with a wet tap, bringing her thumb up to suck your juices off as she waited for you to turn around.

“Yeah, perfect like that, pretty girl.” The athlete complimented, pushing her palm into your back to make your arch a little bit deeper once you got on all fours. “Just like that…” she muttered to herself staring at your round ass. You already has a good body when you’d first met her, but she’d like to think the growth in your glutes was due to her, and not just because she’s been making you work out with her.

Paige gave your ass a quick tap, watching it move before she spread you for her, leaning down to spit on your pussy. Though, it wasn’t like it needed anymore lubricant. She spit on the 7-inch shaft as well, using her hand to get it nice and wet for you. With that, she leaned down to press a swift kiss to the side of your neck, one hand gripping your hip while the other guided the purple dick inside of you.

You both groaned out at the entrance. You because of the feeling, and her because she was enjoying watching the length disappear between your soaked lips.

“Fuck.” She let the curse tumble from her lips with ease. Once the length had completely disappeared, she let go of the base of the cock, instead, letting that hand travel up to grip your shoulder. She gave you one testing thrust to get used to the intrusion before her thrust became harsher. Her pace was fast, not wasting a second before picking up speed.

Paige bit her lip, watching the way your as recoiled against her hips before giving into temptation and giving it a hard smack. That plus her constant thrusts almost caused you to lose balance, but Paige was quick to fix you up.

“Nuh uh, keep that arch how I like it.” She scolded. It seemed like she was only getting rougher as the grip on your hip tightened and she began pulling your hips back to meet her thrusts.

“Oh fuck, Paige-” You moaned out. Loud clapping sound around the room as you gripped the sheets beneath you.

“Huh? You wanted to say something, baby?” She asked, breathing heavily as she waited for you to reply. She tsked when nothing but moans fell from your lips. “Damn baby, I know it feels good but I asked you something.” Paige said, her caring tone contrasting with the way her hips met your ass harshly. She swiftly swooped your hair into makeshift ponytail, pulling you up so her lips were next to your ear. “Since you can’t think of what to say right now, I’ma tell you. Say you’re sorry. Say you’re sorry for how you spoke to me earlier, you’re sorry for you’re nasty ass attitude. Cause, you are, right baby? You sorry?”

You nodded as much as you could with her tight grip on your hair, a whine falling from your lips once again. Paige chuckled, licking up your neck before sucking a hickey into your skin, right behind your ear.

“Say that shit then. Tell me you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry Paige. So sorry, oh fuck- didn’t mean it baby. Just missed you so oh-“ You gasped as Paige made a particularly hard thrust rub right up against your spot. “Shit Paige…”

“Yeah, I know pretty girl.” Paige said, finally releasing your hair from her grip. Only for her to push your head down into the pillow, her other hand still squeezing your hip. “I’ll accept your apology, just need you to cum for me baby.”

Paige kept aiming for that same spot, getting it everytime. Your moans were getting louder and louder with every thrust, almost overpowering the sound of applause in the room. You were right on edge, clenching your eyes tight as your body began to tremble against the mattress in a way only Paige could make it shake. Your hole clenched so tight around Paige’s cock that it made it hard for her to continue at her pace, but she kept on. Thank god you married an athlete.

“Come on baby, show me how sorry you are. Give it to me.” Just as she finished her sentence, her hand reach around to rub your clit, her fingers quickly matching her thrusts pace. That combined with the sound of her voice, plus the way that her dick kept brushing so perfectly against your spot had you falling apart just for her. “Oh yeah, just like that baby.” She praised as you came, her hand not slowing down as she watched you squirt all over her hand as pussy pushed her out along with your cum.

With shaky legs, you collapsed. Panting tired from the intensity of it all. You felt, Paige's cool hands gently rubbing on your hot skin, attempting to calm you down. Once your breath leveled out, she turned you to lay in your back once again.

"You okay?" She asked, hands running over your hips. You nodded, your heavy eyelids causing Paige to smile faintly. Your hands found hers and you intertwined them as she leaned down to peck your lips.

"I'm sorry." You whispered against skin, already trying to regain your strength to show just how sorry you were.

"I know." She whispered back with a smile.

[hueseok]

can’t stop thinking about boyfriend!yoongi who in a way, found his match with you.

for decades, his oldest friends always teased him for being the textbook definition of ‘nonchalant’, labeling him as a stoic man who loved to pretend that he didn’t care about anything—even though in reality, there were always a few tells that made it obvious that he did.

he was the type of guy who made it seem like he didn’t care if you forgot about his birthday, but would send a joke afterwards saying that he was disappointed that you didn’t remember.

or the type who acted like it didn’t matter to him if the meal he worked hard on cooking tasted delicious for your taste buds, only to grin really wide as soon as you complimented him and uttered a string of praises afterwards.

it was an endearing quality of yoongi’s, a rather fascinating trait that also became the butt of the joke at times whenever the topic was his love life and his bad luck when it came to relationships.

“you can come off as emotionally unavailable,” hoseok told him over beer once. “ladies don’t like that. they want men who can tell them how special they are.”

“isn’t it enough that i show it?” yoongi asked, having just been dumped by the girl he was dating. “i mean, i drive her to work every single day. i fetch her from work whenever i can too. i buy her stuff if it’s necessary, like shampoo or paper towels.”

hoseok stared at him. “paper towels?”

“yeah.”

“wow. i take it all back. you are the most romantic man on the planet.”

yoongi rolled his eyes at the sarcasm. “she mentioned she was running out of them so i bought more for her.”

“are you her dad or something?”

“i heard ladies like a provider.”

“yes, but not in that sense. it’s more like… you get the bill whenever you’re having lunch or dinner at a restaurant, or buying her a bag she’s been eyeing, or paying for her nails when she gets them done. doing all of that without not being asked is the key aspect of it, really.”

“how do you know this stuff?”

hoseok shrugged. “i have an older sister,” he says. “also, i’m engaged to my girlfriend of 6 years. being in a relationship that long ought to teach you a lot.”

thanks to that conversation, yoongi began understanding what it really meant to be a great and affectionate boyfriend without sacrificing his rather reserved personality. he knew what the right gestures to do, what the right things to say, what the right gifts to buy—and he did all of that with utmost sincerity, genuinely wanting to be a better partner for his current girlfriend, which also happened to be you.

the funny thing, though?

you couldn’t seem to recognize the nice boyfriend things yoongi was doing and how much he improved compared to his last relationship.

you were just… independent, he thought. a strong woman who didn’t like to be coddled and didn’t like asking help from anyone regardless of how much you may be already struggling. he had a realization that you were naturally like this because of the stories you used to tell him that made him understand that you just weren’t used to relying on others, a trait that he didn’t have an issue with and sometimes even admired.

however, he couldn’t lie and say that it wasn’t sometimes frustrating as well.

for example, just last week, the both of you had a semi-big fight because of how you constantly insisted on changing the broken lightbulb in your bedroom yourself even though yoongi was already telling you that he could do it instead. in the end, since you were stubborn as hell, you still tried changing it on your own but had a very minor injury due to falling off the stool you were standing on for extra height.

yoongi was furious when he found out, and you ultimately became furious because it seemed like he was being unfair to you, the negative energy impacting your mood and rationality that you didn’t get how he was more mad on the fact that you let your pride get to you than just asking for his damn help for the freaking lightbulb.

when the both of you calmed down and said your apologies, yoongi took your hands and looked directly in your eyes. “babe, you have to start depending on me,” he said.

the straightforwardness caught you off guard. “huh?”

“i mean…” you felt him squeeze your fingers softly, “i understand that you’re used to doing things all on your own… how you don’t like being treated like some baby… but that shouldn’t be the case with me, okay? i’m here to take care of you, to always help you with whatever you need.”

you opened your mouth, about to say something he knew was not going to align with his point, so he took the liberty to cut you off.

“i’m serious. you know what i’m talking about. let me take care of you, ____.”

“but—” you couldn’t continue with your sentence, a wave of emotions suddenly flooding you that made your throat tighten and voice quiver as you began speaking again— “how? i… i don’t—i just… you don’t need to. i don’t want to be a burden.”

yoongi gave you a look, a mixture of fondness and disbelief. “you? a burden?”

“yeah. you don’t need to take care of me.”

“i’m well aware that you’re a grown woman who doesn’t need taking care of.” he joked. “but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to do it. that’s why if i were you, i would just start depending on my poor boyfriend and learn how to be comfortable in being taken care of because it’s definitely how things are going to be now that he’s here.”

you snorted at the use of third person. “fine,” you sniffled, “okay, i’ll try to be better at asking for help next time.”

he sighed in relief, releasing your hands to instead engulf you in a tight embrace. “thank you, baby. i appreciate it a lot.”

****

the first time you willingly asked yoongi for a favor after that talk—regardless of how small and trivial it was—it still affected him big time.

“can you help me assemble the drawer i bought?” you asked him over dinner, ever so casual and nonchalant.

he almost dropped the chopsticks he was holding. “what?”

“i said, can you—”

“no, i heard that perfectly well. i’m just surprised at what i’m hearing.”

your lips twitched while your face visibly burned. “don’t start teasing me or else—”

“i’m not.” he laughed, a little too loudly than usual, before reaching for your hand and kissing your knuckles. “i’m not, i swear. i’m just happy.”

“you’re happy because i’m asking for help?”

“i’m happy because you’re letting me take care of you,” he corrected. “it’s a bit overdue in my opinion but who am i to complain?”

you playfully shoved his hand away, which made yoongi laugh harder and lean towards you to give you a chaste kiss on the cheek, letting you know that your simple effort of trying to let him in meant so much more than words could ever say.

note. this blurb is unedited and has been in my drafts since december because it's always yoongi missing hours!!!!! but for real though, i wish yoongi is doing great and is always surrounded by good people who can give him the support he needs + remind him how loved he is :(

[bengiyo]

The Uncertain Melancholy of Our Youth

I’ve been sorting out how I feel about the end of Our Youth, and I’ve yet to arrive at something concrete that I want to say. I’ve been reading reactions from others to see if someone else could vocalize what I’m feeling, and in the process realized I wanted to talk about Our Dating Sim again. 

Like many others, I’m left with a feeling of melancholy from this show. I feel a lot like @small-dark-and-delicious in that I think this ending felt very realistic for them, because Minase has never had friends he can count on, especially the “bespectacled demon” (@chicademartinica). I find myself empathizing a lot with @asiandramas-takeover about how bleak the future feels for them.

With this series overall, I’m a bit frustrated thematically. I was glad to have @wen-kexing-apologist offering insights about the manhwa while we were watching, because, like @worm-priest, I don’t think we did much with the different kinds of people theme. 

However, I am left with some genuinely warm feelings for the characters and the actors. I loved mj’s post reflecting on how Hirukawa connects for people who dread becoming like their parents (@forcebook). Like @memiaatanonymous, I really enjoyed Motojima Junsei in this; I especially loved the way he managed his physicality and expressions when Minase had to flee Hirukawa’s house before the dad began beating Hirukawa again. 

I also agree with @delasaria-blog that Minase in the special does a lot to close out this story; I don’t think I’d feel as positively as I do at the end of this without the effectiveness of the special episode. The implied growth of these two into a relatively stable couple (@incandescentflower) worked well for, especially because Minase was left with separation anxiety (@lurkingshan). I also really liked the way the show approached a closeted couple’s feelings about marriage as an inevitability (@jemmo).

I think it was @theside-b comparing this to the disappointment I know I felt at the end of Love is Better the Second Time Around that got me thinking about Our Dating Sim. In that show, we spend the majority of our time in the present with Shin Ki Tae pursuing Lee Wan again after Lee Wan abandoned him at the end of high school. Our journey with them is about how Lee Wan hurt Ki Tae and himself, and the consequences of Lee Wan's decision. We focus there on how Lee Wan has to grapple with the fact that Ki Tae was open to his feelings.

I think most of why I’m feeling a bit unfulfilled by this project is that I had hoped we’d spend more time in the present. The opening sequence had me waiting in anticipation for their eventual reunion and reconciliation. I had hoped we’d spend the bulk of the show on that, like in Our Dating Sim, rather than on the events leading to their separation. I think I set myself up for this because I brought too much of that to the table. 

Reflecting on what the show did or didn’t do, I don’t think there was much for me to gain from seeing Hirukawa and Minase’s separate montages, though I think it would have been interesting to see Minase getting lonelier and see where he and Hirukawa lost touch over the phone incident. I personally feel like I’d have liked to see more of them getting back together and rebuilding trust, because I felt myself pulling away from this show as it spiraled over Hirukawa’s life getting worse in the middle. There was almost a really great moment of Minase trying to step forward and use his voice only to be silenced by the adults and friends in his life. 

Final Verdict: 8, Recommended With Reservations. I’m not sure how I will feel about this show in the long term, and I want to thank everyone linked above for sharing their thoughts, and all the gifmakers included for their creations. There is a useful kind of melancholy here that I personally enjoy as a person who absolutely loved All of Us Strangers (2023) last year. I am always the type who, even though I know we’re seeing marked improvement in many categories, cannot erase the scars I carry from what I survived. I struggle to find a solid coherent thought I feel coming from this one, and I hope to read more compelling reflections in the weeks to come. 

[chantersboard]

560 words. Joel x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, post-outbreak, unprotected piv, creampie, one warning not tagged for spoilers

A/N: so my New Year’s resolution was to stop All or Nothing-ing. not everything I write has to be completely polished and 5K long. there is so much I want to write but I’m a full time working mom of two I don’t have the time to always write fully fleshed out, edited stuff. so I’m giving up on doing it All. I’ll write the small stuff and be happy for it. so here’s my first small stuff yay

———

Confession

Joel sits on the edge of the bed, his large hands resting on your hips as you stand between his legs.

Your confession still hangs heavy in the air like a cloud of fatal spores.

He looks up at you and you’re unsure how to interpret the subtle emotion on his face. Sadness? Fear? Joy? It’s impossible to tell and he hasn’t said anything yet.

Why hasn’t he said anything yet?

You shuffle on your feet. Nervous. Anxious. Scared. The tiny ball of nausea in the pit of your stomach grows larger with each second that passes in silence.

Joel closes his eyes and presses his forehead against you. Your hands move on their own, instinctually, and you run your fingers through his hair. He inhales deeply and shakes his head.

Shit. This is it, isn’t it?

It was bound to happen eventually. The cold weather forced you inside, forced you within these cramped walls and into his space. Then the snow fell, and continued to fall, extending your imprisonment. So you had no choice but to listen to Joel’s honeyed words. You had no choice but to look at his handsome face and watch his strong body. You had no choice but to desperately fall in love with him.

A hand lingering too long on the small of your back turned into frantic grabs of your behind. A gentle kiss on the cheek turned into love bites that left your nipples deliciously sore.

When he slotted into you he fit so perfectly, as if he was made for you, and you willingly spread your legs further. You let him kiss you until your lips were swollen. You let him get lost inside you until your pleasure crested and you were screaming his name. You let his hips rock against yours until his breathing was haggard, until he choked out those few words: where do you want it?

In your fucked out bliss you tightened your thighs around him and gave him permission. “Inside,” you moaned. And Joel didn’t think twice, didn’t hesitate. He slammed into you until his cock twitched, coating your warm, fertile walls with his come.

For weeks the nights ended similarly, his release seeping out of you and soaking the bed sheets, until the snow outside began to melt and the days grew longer. For weeks you lived like this, your days carefree and your nights filled with love and euphoria.

Until one day you suddenly realized.

Joel moves his hand from your hip and slowly—so slowly—brings it to the spot just under your belly button.

“So last week,” his voice is low and you strain to hear him. “When you were sick…”

The nausea rolls in your stomach again and, afraid to open your mouth to talk, you hum in affirmation to his unfinished question.

His thumb draws small gentle circles on your tummy. As far as he can tell you look the same, but he knows somewhere inside you a life grows.

“After Sarah I didn’t think…” he looks up at you again, his eyes glossy with unshed tears. “I love you.”

You smile and let loose a shaky breath.

Just maybe everything will be okay?

Joel wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. He kisses your belly, then, with his lips still pressed against you he mumbles, “and I love you, too.”

[starstruckgoateepuppy]

the cut that always bleeds

park jihyo x f!reader

synopsis: jihyo has been grieving over the loss of her sister, as much as you try and help her move on she seems to get more agitated and bitter which causes the biggest argument of your relationship.

warnings: drinking, kinda toxic jihyo, death and anything else i didn’t say

wc: 1.8k (its short im sorry)

a/n’s note: oh my god its been so so so long 🥲🥲 thank you @cry4mina for encouraging me and giving me ideas your soooooo nice and sweet for reaching out to me ☹️🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷x infinity

You and Jihyo have never had many arguments—mostly just bickering. This is largely because you both are understanding and mature with each other. The few disagreements between you aren't serious, and you typically make up quickly. You love Jihyo, and everyone close to you knows it. No one would have thought things would turn out like this.

-

day one

It was just your typical morning routine with Jihyo, and you nevertheless cherished every moment of it. You lived in an average-sized apartment with her, and both of you were very satisfied and content with your living arrangements.

You had been married to her for quite a while, and it was quite obvious that would not change anytime soon.

While at the table, having your hands on the delicious avocado toast that was made by Jihyo, there was suddenly a tense moment as she picked up her phone and answered the call that had been made while she was in the midst of brewing coffee. She was in such distress that you could tell something was very wrong. After a few minutes of giving her time, she put the phone down and mumbled, "My sister... she's not here anymore... she's dead." You looked at her face, her eyes glistening in the light as tears filled her eyes. You just hugged her as she sobbed into your shoulder.

You held each other for what felt like twenty minutes before gently guiding her to sit down. You assured her that everything would be okay and that her sister was in a better place now. Through her tears, she spoke about their close childhood bond and her deep regret about not interacting during the holidays. from the little times you met her sister, it was clear that she was really a nice and kind woman, it also pained you seeing how wretched she was processing all this.

you called out from work and took the next 2 weeks of just to help jihyo and her family out.

-

day 7

it has been a week since the death of your sister in law, who is now 6 feet buried underground. jihyo still hasn’t taken in the fact that she would never be able to see her sister again.

-

day 90

3 months has passed since the tragic loss of jihyos childhood best friend. to say jihyo was still taking it hard was an understatement. jihyo hasn’t been able to do much other then work and go on her phone reminiscing the memories of her sister. every chance you get, you try and get her to go out and spend some time together but she always seems like she’s out of it. as much as you try to help, she pushes it away and ignores it.

-

day 365+

it has been a year since the death of the park sister and jihyo has still yet to move on. although you still insist in trying to help her deal with her feelings and emotions, she becomes more insistent about being able to deal with herself. and you really can’t lie about how aggressive she has been lately and how much it has been frustrating you. you really just care for her and want to know if shes okay, but how could you if shes trying to push you away? you’re her wife and you feel like you should be responsible for her and her emotional needs. now she’s making you feel like you haven’t been caring and doing your responsibilities as a wife.

all of this causes a big change in her attitude towards you. her being more agitated and angry made you feel like you shouldn’t be talking to her as much anymore than you should. it gets to the point that you try to start avoiding her, worried about making her angry.

-

The clock was hitting 1 in the morning and you still weren’t home. The door clicked open, slowly creaking wider. She saw your familiar shoes and flowy silky black hair tip inside the door. The lights were turned off, just her sitting on the sofa staring at the television in front of her. You slipped off your shoes, placing your sweater on the door. you slightly jumped when you saw her figure get up from the sofa walking towards you.

“hyo? baby why are you awake?”

“don’t even think about talking to me in that sweet tone. what have you been doing at this hour? there cannot be an excuse reasonable enough for this!”

“jihyo you know i would never do such a thing! what kind of person do you take me for? its like you dont even know me anymore. you never try to even bring up a conversation with me!” you fired back at her. She was mainly the dominant one in the relationship. You never made statements like this. “i have been through so much this year and you still treat me like this like its nothing!” its like she was made to make people feel in the wrong, like she purposely wanted to make you feel terrible, like how she has been how the pass few months, and you don’t want to deal with it anymore. You didn’t want to feel like that anymore, you wanted to tell her the truth. “I have been doing my best to help you cope and deal with your grief for months and all you have been doing is pushing me away! how do you think i feel jihyo? i have feelings too! i also am devastated that my sister in law passed away! i also had connections with her but i had to care for you too!”

she stays silent for a little while, taken aback by your words. you thought it was done, maybe she started to understand that what she did was wro- “excuse me? are you trying to tell me that me grieving over my dead fucking sister is crazy? i spent my entire childhood with her, you don’t get it! i am her sister, you are her sister in law. its very different from what i know, or what? are you gonna tell me what i know is wrong too? i am never right to you, is that right?” you were left speechless, unable to process what you had just heard. “no way you just had the nerve to tell me that..” she just raised her eyebrow as you both stood there. you decided that you didn’t want to hear her voice anymore so you took your coat, packed up and left, ignoring whatever protests she was doing.

you got in you car, rethinking everything she had done and how much she neglected you. all the effort to make her feel better, all of that pushed down the drain so easily. all of that and she still called you the problem. you didn’t even know what to do and where to go. your mind was still trying to process everything that had happened in the past 15 minutes.

meanwhile, you could say that jihyo was astonished. she never knew you would go this far and leave the apartment, but she definitely knew that she did something terribly wrong. she was probably sitting on the couch, head in her hands in the most distress she has ever been. obviously she still loved you, but the loss of her sister took a toll on her and she started losing her mind not being able to deal with the pain and grief. she was starting to realise how much she messed up and had a pang of guilt hit her. she called and texted you, pleading that you would give her another chance, that she wouldn’t push you away from helping her. whatever she did you just didn’t answer, she was without a doubt starting to get worried.

it has been hours since you left the house and you genuinely didn’t even know where you were anymore. all you knew was that you weren’t ready to go back to where jihyo was. you were afraid that some unintentional words might slip out which would cause an even deeper misunderstanding with her. you hesitated checking your phone, aware that there would be tons and tons of messages and missed call notifications from her who is named as “my loml 🧡”. you needed a place to stay for the meantime, but you didn’t want to stay at her members place.

if you went to a members house they would probably question you (which isn't unreasonable at all because who the hell shows up uninvited at nearly 3 in the morning?) unfortunately you didn’t want to deal with that with how dazed you were. you knew they would very surely take you in without any protests, you just hated the fact that you would have to explain everything and make even more conflicts and problems.

after the hours of driving and reflecting on your situation. your last hope was to sleep in the backseat of your car. fortunately you had some blankets to keep yourself warm. sleeping in the backseat of your car in the parking lot of your apartment complex, something you never thought you would have to do one day.

-

at 6am

3 hours of minimal sleep, you drove to the nearest convenience store and got yourself some coffee to keep your mind running while on the verge of breaking down again. you didn’t get yourself any food, you doubt you were gonna eat it anyway and it would go to some pigeons in a park or something. you were trying so hard to prevent yourself from having to return back to your house.

you genuinely wish it could start over. things shouldn’t have been like this. there was no one to blame. no one should be forced to get over it.

-

it hits you. your facing what she faced. your sitting at a graveyard, in front of a tombstone.

there it marks the words.

“here is the forever home of

Park Jihyo“

you cry again and again, begging her to please just come back.

why did it have to end like this? you hated it, you wish you had never left the house. she wouldn’t have to go looking for you. then she wouldn’t have gotten into the car crash.

this whole thing could’ve been avoided. if you just continued giving her the time and she would’ve just allowed you to help her.

you wanted to blame the stupid drunk driver. but who are you to blame when she was driving to look for you? you made her worried? driving all around all alone. you thought losing a sister in law was one of the worst experiences. your sister in law will never know she was a reason her sister died just a year later.

[juice-plums]

Not Until I say

Sergei Kravinoff x !Busty woman! Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, burning hot make up sex, Orgasm denying, dirty talking, Calypso better than me cause I would of put in that work!!

Big mistake wearing that short, black dress tonight, you know that one, that accentuated your busty and curvy figure, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you the entire night, you were oblivious to the waiter’s flirting, so couldn’t believe that you had the audacity to wear that dress tonight you knew he liked that dress yet you still wore it and what’s worse is that you had the nerve to be oblivious to the waiter’s flirting, Sergei was not just mad he had flaming jealousy in him, bubbling up in his heart, and he had to remind you who you belonged to, who owned you

now back at his home, Your legs up to your chest folding you in half as he plundered his 9 inch cock into your pussy from behind, pre-cum mixed with your sweet nectar messily soaked his thick, hairy thighs, he grunts like an animal as your calves twitched and moved from his brutal thrust, he pants and groans chasing after his own climax he dared growl in your ear

“you better not fucking cum”

He growled in your ear, biting your earlobe, continuing to plunder his cock into your weeping, wet pussy that was crying to cum, he was so mean,…your tears stream down ruining your eye makeup as you forced the bubble in your stomach not to cum, you whine and beg, your warm tongue lolling out in between your messed up lipstick, your poor brain being fucked out of your mind and you couldn’t cum, not until he says so, the headlock he had on your calves was tight

“I shouldn’t even let you cum, you’ve been so fucking naughty tonight”

He growled again in your ear, making more tears of pleasure fall from your pretty face, he was being so mean to your pussy, you tried to speak but your brain gets so scrambled from his cock roughly ramming your pussy only whimpers and moans left your mouth, his large cock buried into your pussy only to be meanly taken out and rammed back in, his earthy musk scent clouding your senses as your pussy gets more juicy and wetter

“no, no, please let me cum, please..”

You managed to babble but it was weak, hot tears on your face as you watched the delicious sight of his 9 inch, thick and veiny cock ramming in and out of your pretty pussy, your pedicured toes curling to strain your orgasm down hoping your begging could soften him up and put pity your pussy, he lustfully grinned, his stamina never faltered he could go the whole night, edging you and edging you until you couldn’t talk at all, but he didn’t, since you asked so nicely

“Since you asked so nicely,…I can’t resist my girl when she asks, fine”

He uttered, smugly grinning, he could only imagine the look on your fucked out face, that made his balls and cock twitch in interest more as he continues to rut in your squelching pussy, your moans of bliss and pleasure get louder and louder, filling up his whole bedroom, he slammed his cock fully into your pussy and that done it, had you squirting and creaming, he rode out him orgasm, slamming you up and down, making a big mess of your pretty pussy he growled and grunted loudly mixed with your moans and wails of bliss, your mind completely fucked out. he groan and loudly whooped.

“Very good, my little berry”

He seductively groan, his thick, deep voice praised, making your heart tapped, he released your legs from the air, and he cuddled you in his bed, your guts all sore from the position he had you, but your pussy quivered in bliss, he smooched and kissed your face all over, he was dominant all right but he was so caring and couldn’t stay mad at you….for long. You made a mental note to wear the scandalous black dress time to time, you loved it when he took control.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

✧ Fantasies in the dark - II

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader ✦ Summary: Arthur's obsession with you intensifies and reaches a point of no return when you catch him red-handed... ✦ Warnings/tags: SMUT 18+, MDNI! Masturbation (again), Arthur is still a little pervy, stripping, p in v, Arthur's self-esteem's still shitty, sub!Arthur at first then switches into dom, Reader is a BIG tease. Mainly Arthur's pov. ✦ Words: 5k (oops) Arthur's pic is mine, others are from Pinterest. And as always, as English isn't my first language, prepare for some possible misspellings.

Part I - Part II

 A ruby, squared, soft form.

His eyes are stuck on it as his thoughts unthread and tangle endlessly in his brain. 

Arthur was a damned man. He had been for a while now and this fatality had settled into his head for a few years already. His sins were so numerous and varied that he hadn’t even considered the thought of going to rest in Heaven when the Great Reaper would finally put an end to his sufferings. 

But considering all of this, the gunslinger had definitely not planned on adding a new sin to his list by jerking himself off while watching you almost every night for more than half a month. Oh, the same old speech was still playing in his head; his gesture leaking with shame and muscles sweaty from fear of getting caught. The adrenaline and depravation of the act, the sweet, sweet relief of his orgasm, and the momentary satisfaction he was pulling out of it every time was a very dangerous cocktail; he knew it.

He knew, knew, knew everything of that, of course he did. And still, his fingers opening his fly carelessly. Still, his eyes searching for this sublime silhouette of yours. Still, his cock hardening, itching, burning, begging to be grabbed. And still, his hands taking the doomed responsibility of answering the call. Still his muffled groans, his lips bitten, his silent words spoken in his head, your body joining him. Still, your hand, instead of his. His spend, less and less consistent, spurting quickly and spreading on his dirty clothes, the silence following, the emptiness, the shame, the guilt, the coldness amplified by his intimate fantasies. Like those dark loud nights of storms, air charged with electricity, and left in heavy disturbing quietness after the last lightning struck. Still, dreaming, wanting, longing. 

Still you.

He felt insatiable, like an enraged, mad dog, pathetic bastard. And paradoxically, as he finally had found sleep again after allowing his body what it needed, he felt weaker than ever. Weakened by you.

You hadn't left him after the first night he had succumbed to temptation. You had branded his spirit with a red-hot iron. Damned him to a lifetime of ache, a mortal succumbing to a Mermaid's melody and sailing in search of her on an infinite sea.

 A ruby, squared, soft form. 

It’s your shawl lying on a chair. You forgot it a few minutes ago, but he didn’t say anything about it. He’s still looking at it, hands fidgeting, mind pondering. What’s good and what’s bad. The ugliness of his self and soul. The risks, the benefits. 

He thinks back to the day you and him just shared. A job in Rhodes, “needing to be taken care of by two people”, Dutch’s words. He had sent him, which was predictable —the gang’s workhorse rarely knows rest. But you? It surprised him a whole lot more. Something about the job requesting some “feminine charm”. He hadn’t complained. Not when he had realized he would be able to spend some time alone with you. 

And his gaze had been wandering way more than what common decency was allowing him to. Staring and dreaming were all he had been doing lately, anyhow.

Looking at the delicious cleavage your fancy dress was offering when you got out of your tent and joined him back at camp, your breasts pressed up and round, almost impossible not to devour with his eyes. All he could do was make a sarcastic comment about it as the only defense against his urges. You moron Morgan, just say something nice for once. Luckily -or not- for him, you had wrapped your appealing shoulders in the sophisticated cherry-colored cape to prevent the coldness of the night.

Looking at your back as you both rode into town, looking at your neck when he helped you off your horse once into Rhodes. Looking at your lips as you two were sat in one of the Parlor’s house boxes, the job long-forgotten when he had noticed this little wrinkle next to your lips, that one you have when you laugh and find something funny. He would have to add it to his endless sketches of you.

Looking at your thin, sneaky hands from afar as they were slipping into that wealthy gentleman’s pocket to steal the papers you were both here for in the first place. It all felt distant and insignificant to him now, as a forgettable theater play set in the background. 

Later, you had been the one looking at him when he had come to your rescue. The “gentleman” was being insistent with you. As you both had crossed eyes from across the reception room, Arthur had read your apprehension and silent call for help in just a split second. And here he was, puffing out his chest, look dark and intense, muscles tensed. The perfect look of a man you don’t want to cross, that look he and Hosea had worked hard on building, scars and broad shoulders gained after all these years of intimidation. He was so used to it by now he wasn’t even sure he knew how to be anything else. His pointer finger tapping threateningly on the shiny Deputy Star he had on his jacket and his deep, menacing tone had acted as the final details. You should leave the lady alone and get some fresh air, pal. The fool had dropped the case and returned with his tail between his legs without any clue what had actually happened.

And then, your sweet voice asking for a drink. “Come on, we got to celebrate! Finally, a job well handled without a drop of blood.” How could he ever say no to that? It was almost too good to be true. Spending the evening with you, laughing, talking, philosophizing.

Arthur didn’t know he could be that talkative. Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was your presence. Maybe a bit of both. And he had paid for everything. A good hot dinner for both of you, your drinks, and two rooms the moment you told him you were too tired to ride back to camp. Oh, he could have given you all the Wolrd’s treasure if that meant you would keep looking at him with these pretty playful eyes.

As the evening passed, the gentle flow of your endless conversations had led you from the bar to the stairs, to the second floor, to the hallway, and eventually to his room, naturally and serenely, like a rowboat ride on a summer lake.

And finally, after a few yawns exchanged, some delicate eyelids rubbed by you, you had left him to sleep, completely forgetting about your shawl, hanging on one of his room’s chairs. And you had greeted each other goodnight. As friends. This was all he would ever be to you, he knew it. And it was better that way. Like this, he was preserving you from having a pathetic man and a pathetic life being his. He was like an infertile soil, anyway. Any seed you would plant and try to harvest with him would end up rotten, corrupted. Fruitless.

And now left in the stillness of the room, in this deafening silence without the sound of your voice, his vision fixated on your abandoned piece of clothing, the most sinful of all thoughts is digging its way through the fibers of his brain, fed by need and alcohol, gnawing at his neurons, eating up any rational reasoning. 

A ruby, tempting garment of yours.

He wants to grab it. To smell it. He wants your perfume to completely fill his nose, so much it would be like drowning in your scent. You wouldn’t be coming back for it anyway, considering how tired you looked a few minutes ago. And you’d never know about it. Just like you didn’t know he was watching you all this time through the fabric of your tent. After all, he was already so deep down into this rabbit hole of lust, what would it change?

And just like that, before he can even think about it more, his arm is already extending, his fingers wrapping around the forbidden fruit.

A descent into Hell he is not able to stop nor control. And at the same time, it feels like getting closer to Heaven.

He lays on the bed, back against the coarse sheets that still felt better than his cot back at camp, and brings your stole to his nose, almost covering his face with it. He closes his eyes.

And he breathes in.

Hell. If God wanted him to stay virtuous, why did he create such a temptatious woman like you? Your scent is without any surprise just as irresistible and bewitching as your whole self.

The fruity notes of it remind him of your skin and lips he wants to taste so badly, a mouth-watering gourmet scent. The floral and fresh ones, of this sparkling mischievousness in your eyes. And in the end, as he exhales, warm and spicy aromas rain on him. They fill his mind with a deep sense of comfort, as if scenting directly your hair. It’s intoxicating, spellbinding. Driving him deeper into his madness. He doesn’t try to resist, not anymore, this delightful fresco of fragrances painted just for him.

Naturally and almost subconsciously, his vicious right hand reaches his crotch. He’s already hard. Just by smelling your shawl.

This time you’ve really hit rock bottom, old bastard.

He doesn’t even bother thinking about it more, he already knows he’s too deep in; already knows he won’t be able to stop himself. 

Ah shit, screw it, jus’ a quick wank.

He quickly unbuckles his holster belt, then unbuttons his pants, and snakes his hand between the folds of his union suit. A silent swift dance he is used to repeating by now. 

He breathes again a long, deep whiff, and wraps his fingers around his cock thinking of you, once more. 

He sees you and your perfect body, and everything blends and blurs in his heated psyche. The form of your breasts and ass through the tent's canvas he knew by heart at this point. Your smirk, your eyes looking back at his, only his during this night spent together. Your heady, addicting scent surrounds him and fuels his fantasies even more, making them more vivid than before, the soft fabric of the stole against his skin a light caress he imagines yours.

He strokes and strokes and strokes, he needs it more than ever, even if, truth be told, every time is more than ever. His pinkish cock’s head is reddened and swollen from having been rubbed so many times lately, sensible and almost pained. But he doesn't care. It makes him feel even more alive. Even more here. Simply better.

He wants his body to feel pleasure. Pleasure, for once, instead of pain. Pain all the time, pain everywhere, bullets through his muscles, knives on his skin, cutting through his flesh, fists against his bones, breaking his jaws, his nose, his cheeks. Broken, used, beaten, ripped, bruised, overworked, abused. Oh, he’s tired of it. Only in those prohibited moments, he can experience pleasure. No matter how wicked and profane.

The room is now filled with those wet, fast-paced sounds, his rustling against the sheets, and the smallest of grunts coming from his unholy lips as he fucks his fist. Your name escapes him from time to time, muffled by your shawl he's still holding all against him with his left hand, and breathing the air from.

As if all the World’s oxygen would never be as good as breathing through it. As if everything else would feel thick and fusty in his lungs. No Mountains, no Oceans, no flowers, not the tastiest food, nothing could ever compete with smelling your scent. 

Stroke, stroke, stroke. Goddamn it, she’s perfect. A big, hard stroke. Oh God, yes, just a bit more…

Too absorbed by his delirious daydream, he doesn't notice right away the creaking of the door as you enter his room again, searching for the very thing he's using to masturbate right now.

“Arthur, I’m sorry to bother you again but I think I forgot my sh—”

You freeze.

SHIT! He instantly curses loudly and jumps from the bed so suddenly that he almost falls to the ground. A stumbling mess, his holster crashes on the wooden floor with a loud percussive sound as he shoves his member back into his clothes as fast as possible, looking like a disjointed chaos of limbs. He is mortified. There is no way in the world you won’t understand what was just happening. He ends up standing next to the bed, after having thrown your cape at the other corner of the room with such force it looked like the damn thing was made of burning iron. And he doesn’t even know why. Maybe to distance himself from his sins. To try and erase this horrible vision from your pretty eyes. His labored breath and fast-beating heartbeat are now ruled by panic instead of lust. For all his life he had never experienced such shame and felt so utterly stupid. 

There is a small moment of silence, heavy and embarrassed. A little time of denying. No, this can’t be happening. But your look turns in circles from the bed, him, and the scarf, circling him like a cornered animal. That’s it, his pride is dead right here in this stupid hotel room. You see right through him, he’s sure of it. Your piercing beautiful gaze lands on his ears a few times, and he knows they’re crimson just by the heat he can feel on them. But the worst thing of all is his bulge, obvious and raised up as a flag right in the middle of his thighs, under his badly buttoned fly. Like a Mausoleum to his Dignity. The damn thing refusing to shrink and obviously screaming loudly his offence to the whole World. All the contrary, your gaze falling on it produces the exact opposite of what he wants, his cock almost twitching in return. 

Damn it!

Damn it, damn it, damn it!-

“Where you… Hum…” You start, before clearing your throat slightly.

“ ‘m sorry, Am… I didn’t mean to… ‘m such a goddamn fool.” This is the best he can come up with. What excuses could he have anyway? Nothing could justify what he did.

You had never heard his deep asserted voice so chagrined. Utter fear and shame. You didn’t even know he could feel that way.

His gaze is fixated on his dirty boots, refusing to cross yours. Just as goddamn dirty as me. 

“Were you pleasuring yourself, Mister Morgan?” You ask, your tone slightly playful. He doesn’t see it, but a mischievous grin settles on your face.

He takes your tone as a mocking one. You would have all the right to mock him. That’s all he deserved.

He tries to answer but doesn't even dare to admit it verbally, as if it would aggravate his situation. He just nods slowly, as seriously as if he was at a funeral. 

“With one of my clothes?” You ask again, your grin widening.

Another nod, his eyes shutting as if he had been hit by something, your sentence making the whole thing even worse. Oh, just a few seconds ago, he was feeling more present and alive than ever, and now all he wanted was to disappear or die.

He hears more than he sees your steps on the parquet. Every stomping sound hurt him a bit more. He doesn't even dare to move. As if everything he would do from now would offend you. Even breathing, no, even existing is too much.

She’s going to slap me. A step. She's going to yell in my face. Another step. I’m dead. A final step.

You’re so close to him now he’s holding his breath, eyes closed, ready to face the well-deserved punishment of your choice for his trespass.

But he's only met with stillness until you speak again.

“Arthur, do you really think I was that hot in my tent, every night?”

The words reach his ears but his brain refuses them. His mouth opens in astonishment. He closes it to swallow loudly and opens it again as if trying to speak in utter confusion.

“You… I… Wait, really?”

“I never thought you could be that naive, honestly.” You answer, a little chuckle escaping you. One of your hands slowly reaches the side of his face, but he still shivers slightly when it touches him. You guide his head back up for him to finally look you in the eyes.

Arthur's two blue sapphires are topped with anxious brows. A bright confusion and a soft vulnerability. They don’t settle too long on one point of your face out of nervousness, as if they could burn you.

“M-me neither.” He simply whispers, a bashful, nervous smile settling on his mouth. He still doesn’t move.

“Do you really think I wasn’t aware of what I was doing, mmh?” You continue, your fingers traveling from his face all the way down his neck, gently caressing the base of his hair.

You can’t be serious right now.

“I… I don’ know…” And he really doesn’t. This is all so unbelievable to him that he’s persuaded this is all a dream and he’s going to wake up any moment.

The only thing anchoring him to reality is your fingers exploring him, making him slowly let out the breath he had been holding in his chest.

“Let me help you finish what you've started…” You murmur, voice low and obvious to what you’re implying, sultry, suggestive.

He feels his shaft pulsing again instantly in answer, his body once again taking the lead. He’s about to say something, to ask you if you’re sure you want to do this with an old bitter moron like him, but one of your hands is already reaching straight to his crotch, palming his warm, needy erection.

“Anh…!” The moan turning into a groan he lets out duplicates your own arousal.

His hips rock against your hand involuntarily, the need for contact of any sort getting more powerful than his shame. He still doesn’t dare do much to you though, not wanting to cross any more limits. He lets you handle him just like you want. He lets the flow of life take him instead of fighting against it, for once. The only gesture he allows is settling his big hands on your back, sweaty and almost shaking.

Oh, your sneaky fingers. They touch and grope and palpate, and he sighs louder. It feels so much better, to have your hand touching him.

After a few more teasing caresses, you sway in a smooth motion and playfully push him backward, making him fall on the bed. He sits there, looking up at you with those two adoring cerulean pupils, as if you were the Sun itself. A distant magnificent star, impossible for him to reach, condemned to only contemplate.

“Get your clothes off.” You order, his reactions making you more confident and straightforward than usual. 

He is quick to obey. You could have asked him to jump off a cliff and he would have done it without even thinking. His clothes fall one by one on the floor and you feast on every area of skin he’s offering you. He ends up entirely naked for your eyes. This Titan, cascade of virile hairs everywhere, prominent scarred muscles carved into stone by Ares himself, gorged with raw powerfulness and designed to kill. To survive. And between those open thick thighs, his aroused member. The one he thought of as the triumph of his shame a few minutes ago, is now the Apotheosis of his Glory. Thick, long, hard like him, surrounded by a crown of tawny curls.

“Look at you…” You let out, almost licking your lips. But he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t see what you do at all. Instead, he let his gaze wander on your chest, and you can almost hear the silent plea in his gaze for you to join his nakedness.

Standing right in front of him, you begin to strip yourself out of your clothes, agonizingly slowly, your face displaying this provocative grin that turns him on so much. It’s purposeful, and you feel your own arousal rising as you notice the red coming back to his cheeks and ears.

First, your boots and socks, discovering your delicate legs. Then your blouse, showing your shoulder and chest, then your skirt. He stays silent all the while, enjoying your little show more than you could imagine. Your hips swaying, your arms gracefully dancing, each piece of clothing falling on the ground, this is all a trance he's getting hypnotized by.

Seeing you undress just for him after all those nights spent on his cot touching himself watching your shadow is like adding all the missing color from a masterpiece, enhancing and fulfilling.

“That’s what you’ve been thinking about?” You purr proudly, now in your undergarments.

“God yes. Yer a real’ angel.” He praises in a fevered-like whisper.

You smirk as all answer. “Come on now, show me those dirty things you’ve been doing.” You speak while nodding at his crotch in an almost challenging way.

His hand instantly reaches for his cock. It was itching him to since you had looked at it earlier. He presses his fingers hard around it and he grunts softly, the sound incredible to your ears. Obeying you and surrendering fully to his depravation, he slowly starts stroking himself again while watching you intensely. What did he do to deserve such a splendid spectacle?

That’s when you decide to slowly bend inward and undo the last pieces of clothing you still have. Just a few gestures and your breasts are bare and hanging for him to look at. Jeee-sus. You see and hear his hand speeding up. 

Lastly, you reveal your own sex to him, a pearl between those gorgeous thighs of yours, and he curses out loud this time.

“You're so goddamn beautiful. I could... Damn, I could finish right now jus' lookin' atchu.” He confesses, his cheeks, ears, and chest getting even redder at his own words.

“Really, uh? You're quite easy to tease, Mister Morgan.” You tease, before turning around and bending again, wanting him to see your bottom, taking a more than suggestive position with your ass up.

“Oh, for God sake.” He nearly chokes, his rhythm accelerating again; almost frenetic. This is all he ever wanted during those cold lonely moments. All he ever needed to see. And he can’t help but engrave every little detail in his mind; the little scars you have here and there, the different tone and grain of your skin, your hairs, your body’s hollows and bumps. Every little imperfection. And they make it all even better. Better than any fantasies he had ever pictured in the past few weeks. Because they are making you yourself.

You turn again to face him and straddle his lap, unable to resist your own urges that had been building and building since you had found him touching himself to the thought of you.

That’s when something finally lights up in his mind. The moment he feels your soft, warm thighs around him, and how you’re soaked in between them, it hits him. You’ve been wanting him just as badly as he wanted you. As odd and surprising as it sounds to him. This new reality is right there against his tip as you start rubbing your entrance against it, teasing, playing, pressing just a few inches in, gently praising how big he looks and how good it would be to have him inside of you. 

That thing inside of him explodes.

Suddenly his hands are all over you. Touching everything they can, discovering, molding your curves under his fingertips. Hands on your thighs, hands on your hips, waist, neck. Each part of you touched is breaking every chain that was holding him back, one by one. These perfect sensations blind him to any reasoning, any sense of restrain, and push him to palm your breasts. God, the softness, the warmth. He sighs in appreciation as he kneads both of them and you join his pleasured breathing.

More.

One of his hands leaves your chest to grab your ass, roughly, and he squeezes, hard, while he sucks on the breast that has been abandoned. “Arthur!” You moan out in return, pleasured and surprised voice, mouth left open in delight. Oh, he will satisfy you. Those renewed vows appear as clear as day between the mess of his head as he keeps devouring your nipple endlessly, almost suckling at it. He will push that voice of you to its limit, break it until you won’t be able to scream.

“That’ what you wanted all this time, uh? Drivin’ me insane?”

You search for something clever to throw back at him but the calloused hand on your breast suddenly reaches your cunt and you gasp instead. 

“That’ what you do? Torture poor devil like me until they can’t help but fall for you?” He asks again, his confidence heightened by your sweet sounds, his tone getting darker and darker. Touching your folds pleasures him almost as much as you, his brows furrowing into a needy and intense expression.

“J-just you… ‘Just wanted you to notice me…” You admit, your hips rolling on his lap and against his hand. His fingers part your cunt and trace their own way through this little Heaven, exploring this place he had craved so much; and it makes him more excited than any thoughts he could have had on his own.

“Well, that sure worked, girl.”

He lets go of your pussy and you squeal in protest, almost ashamed of your own sound. He smiles triumphantly at you, feeling satisfied to give you a taste of your own medicine. He wraps both of his arms around your waist, your chest ending up pressed against his face; his nose is shoved in it and he sighs louder this time. 

He can’t wait any longer. Not when he has been dreaming of this for weeks. Not after discovering your unforgettable perfume. Not after having felt this wet, warm promise of your entrance. He looks up at your face, searching for any trace of disgust or apprehension but you're completely free from any. Mouth agape, breaths deep and hips shamelessly searching for his, you're even more gorgeous than before, and he snaps.

He guides you carefully, his hands warm and hard against your bare skin. And he pushes.

His sex entering you slowly is deliciously hard and hot. His cockhead is big, way bigger than what you’re used to, and feels so good already. His arms hold you in place as he pushes again, wanting to be completely stuffed in, a long, low growling sound accompanying his movement. Oh, Christ Almighty. He had never felt so good than buried like this in your warm, silky, divine cunt right now.

Once fully settled, you both sighs and breath loudly for just a few seconds, your gazes meeting and silently agreeing on how fucking delicious this feels. Then you move up, wanting to ride him, feeling his shaft pull out as you do, but his arms grab you tighter and put your hips back in place.

“God!” You whine as you feel his length plunging again and hitting that spot inside of you.

He starts to buck his hips up against yours, unable to resist anything anymore. His rhythm, he wanted slow and meaningful at first, is quickly turning fast and hard, a remnant of how incredibly frustrated and needy he had been all this time.

“I’m gonna -Ohh, shit- I’m gonna show ya what ya get teasin’ me like that.”

Arthur's southern drawl is even more prominent, his voice hoarse and deep from effort. His thrusts up are more and more powerful, making you jump up and down on top of him and for the first time in days he thanks himself for having pleasured himself so many times lately, otherwise he would have come instantly right there in your heat. Your breasts bounce in this erotic, unresistible dance that he’ll remember for every future night he'll spend alone.

“Oh Arthur, don’t stop!” 

His cock pulls out and shoves into your cunt so fastly it's rubbing perfectly how you want it deep inside and you reach for his shoulders, needing to hold onto him, already so close. “Yes, yes, yes, right there!”

He hears your accelerating breathing, your higher-pitched moans turning into screams and he searches for your lips with his. Your tender petals against his dirty mouth. But he doesn’t care, there’s only your pussy right now, and your incredible smell he’s filled with once again, just like you’re filled with his tongue and his dick inside of you.

Both his hands grab your ass and he fucks frantically, his balls slapping against it with each thrust, making your plump flesh jiggle and those hitting and smacking sounds resonating throughout the room. Again, and again, and Damn it again.

It’s too much for you. 

You cry out loudly as your fingers dig into his shoulders and your head tilts backward, and his big, solid arms keep you pressed against his chest, completely wrapped around you; and he finally, finally feels it. Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure, instead of pain. This irresistible release, your pussy clenching and squeezing all around his cock. “-Ngh, s-shit yes angel, give it t’me!”

You give it all to him without any resistance and in a obscene scream. And it’s too much for him.

“Ah, God…” He hisses as he feels it coming, quickly pulling you up —as effortlessly as if you weighed nothing— and pressing his cock against your clit, well nestled between your lips.

He reaches your lips again, needing to finish while kissing you, both of your bodies almost sewn together, his moans sounding more and more like primal growls and hisses at every rubbing movement against your core, movements getting faster and faster, impossibly faster, So fucking good, Jesus so goddamned perfect, Perfect, perfect!- Until he finally comes, translucent cum leaking all the way down his shaft and spreading on your lower belly, all panting and grunting, a complete mess; a satiated beast.

It’s better than any of the dreams he ever had, waking or sleeping. And it’s not just the release of this one and only time, it’s the pinnacle of all these lonely pleasures shared with no one in regretful secret.

For the second time that night, he thinks he’s dead. 

He falls backward, back against the mattress, and you follow, unable to stand without him. In that silence only disturbed by your exhausted breaths, he turns and grabs the first piece of clothing that he has at hand’s reach, his flannel. He gently uses it to clear your belly from his seed and seeing it, on your smooth and soft skin, makes a wave of culpability crash onto him once again. Shouldn't have done all of this. Should have taken care of her properly.

A dark, glum expression settles on his face and he wraps himself in a deep silence instead of your arms as he finishes to clean the both of you. God, did that man ever know rest for more than a few minutes? At this thought, you bend over to put a small kiss on his forehead, as a thank you for his aftercare.

“Satisfied enough?” You finally break the silence, getting up from the bed –not without stretching your back slightly and swaying your hips before bending to reach for your clothes on the floor.

Arthur cannot help but think of a Nymph as you do all of this still naked. Those irresistible, divine beauties that lure men with a simple move of their finger, as they say in books. He knew it was all stories from another time, but he was more and more convinced they would look exactly like you if they did exist.

“More than in a long time. You?” He replies, voice neutral and features closed as usual. He stays on the bed and put only his pants back, his cock finally softening under the coarse fabric. He never stops looking at you all the while.

“Couldn’t be better”. You assert, your blouse falling back on your upper body. You then roughly fix your hair in this casual, impish way that was yours.

That was driving him insane.

“You’re a little minx, ya know that? Gettin’ naked on purpose every night…”

“Oh, please. You didn’t really complain as far as I know.”

“Nah, but ya did make me insane. Teasin’ littl’ thing y’are.” He says with a fond voice he would have preferred less obvious.

You innocently shrug your shoulders, cheeky grin on your face. The way you're playing with him that easily should have been shaming to him, but he doesn't feel any shame anymore, not after what you have shared.

"Goodnight, Arthur." You throw as all answer, leaving him as you walk through the door of his room. He greets you back, the trimmest trace of longing in his rough voice.

Once again alone, once again cold, Arthur grabs a cigarette from his pocket to smoke before falling asleep; maybe to keep this lingering warmth just a bit longer, the sensations of your body, and especially your sex squeezing around his, still remaining on his skin. Lying completely in the bed, he smiles to himself as he notices you have forgotten your shawl —again. Or maybe you had left it on purpose. Maybe you had both times, now that he is thinking about it. The ruby fabric had landed wrapped all around his old, worn-out leather jacket, like a flame dancing around, envelopping, lapping at a tree.

It looks great that way.

Maybe you were only playing with him. Maybe this was only a one-time thing. But who cared. Tonight, Arthur had been taken care of by a Nymph. And no other mortal pleasure, no other solitaries delights, not even the most lustful and depraved images he could have pulled out of his tormented mind could ever compete with that slice of Olympe you had given to him.

a/n: Yeah, 5K words, I knooow! I'm hopeless. It's quite a lot, but I didn't feel like cutting, nothing felt right. What can I say except thank you, so much, for everyone's interest in the first part, for your notes, comments and reblogs, and for reading all of this! I am in utter PANIC rn because I feel like nothing I could write would be as good or as well received as the first part, but here it is! I really hope it didn't disappoint!

Also, to give Caesar what belongs to Caesar, the holster falling was completely inspired by my dear @zae-heeyyy's Piquancy (II)! I thought it would fit the comical aspect of the scene eheh (go check it out)

tag list: @a-court-of-valkyries, @redwritr, @cassietrn, @esquilone, @starlightt180, @narcoticv3nus, @thoughts-of-bear, @emjiroki, @prettyundeadgirl, @eternalsams (I tried to tag people who had shown interest in a part2, really sorry if I missed anyone!)

[gainercontent]

Room to Grow Part 3: The Tailor

The next evening, as they gathered around the table for dinner—one of Ryan’s famous chili nights—Elliot felt a new sense of resolve. The rich, savory smell of chili wafted through the apartment as Ryan stirred the pot on the stove, the steam rising in clouds. Mark was already sitting at the table, a grin plastered on his face as he filled his bowl, almost to the brim.

Elliot sat down, and as usual, the moment Ryan placed the giant pot in the center of the table, everyone reached for their bowls and began ladling generous portions.

He glanced over at Mark, who was already digging into his bowl, spooning another heaping portion of chili onto his plate. Ryan was doing the same, taking large spoonfuls, wiping the sides of the pot clean. Elliot hesitated for a moment, but the warmth in the room, the sense of belonging, reminded him of why he loved these moments.

Without overthinking it, Elliot grabbed his own bowl, scooped out a large portion, and poured some sour cream on top—just like Ryan and Mark did. He noticed both of them glance up, as if expecting him to hold back, but Elliot didn’t pause. He dug in with abandon, savoring the rich flavor and the comforting heat of the chili. The thick chunks of beef, the soft beans, and the spices made every bite satisfying in a way that felt indulgent and freeing. 

The first few bites were familiar, but as he went in for a second helping, he realized something—he wasn’t feeling full yet. The chili was delicious, and he wasn’t trying to be “good” or “healthy” or stop before he reached the uncomfortable fullness. No, tonight, he was matching them. Bite for bite.

“You’re really digging in tonight, huh?” Ryan said, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he refilled his own bowl. Mark nodded in approval from across the table, slurping another spoonful.

Elliot raised an eyebrow, giving them both a grin. “What? I’m just *enjoying* the meal.”

Mark leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach with a satisfied expression. “We like to see that. No shame, man. Just enjoy it.”

Ryan chuckled. “That’s the spirit. Sometimes you just gotta eat to eat, you know?”

Elliot’s smile stretched wider. “Yeah, I guess I’m catching on to that. I’m not just here to nibble anymore.”

And he wasn’t. He kept going, savoring each spoonful, not stopping until his bowl was empty, and then refilled again—just like Ryan and Mark. He didn’t even think about it. He just kept eating. 

By the time they finished, the three of them were all leaning back in their chairs, stuffed but content. Ryan and Mark were happy to keep snacking, popping open bags of chips and taking turns pulling out leftovers from the fridge. Elliot, surprisingly, felt no guilt, no regret, no discomfort. For once, he didn’t feel like the odd one out. He didn’t feel like he had to worry about whether he was overeating, whether he was “doing it right.”

It wasn’t just about food, either. It was about the camaraderie—the way they shared everything without judgment, how they effortlessly encouraged each other to enjoy the moment. It was about living, fully and freely. 

“You’ve got the right idea, man,” Mark said, noticing Elliot’s second bowl was empty too. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Elliot nodded, leaning back, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Yeah, it actually does.”

Ryan looked at him with a grin. “You’re officially one of us now. No turning back.”

Elliot could feel a lightness in his chest, like something that had been weighing on him for a long time had been lifted. He wasn’t thinking about what Tom would say or how he used to look. He wasn’t thinking about the scale, or whether he was eating “right” or “wrong.” He was just... *living.* And right now, that meant eating this delicious chili and enjoying every bite.

Later that evening, after they’d all moved to the living room, snacks scattered on the coffee table, Elliot found himself thinking about the future. He had let Tom’s comments get under his skin, but now he was resolving not to let them define him. He had his own path, his own rhythm, and it didn’t have to match anyone else’s. He didn’t have to prove anything to anyone—least of all to someone who didn’t understand where he was in life. 

His capacity had expanded—not just for food, but for embracing who he was, who he had become, and where he was heading. If that meant matching Ryan and Mark bite for bite, then so be it. But it was more than that. It was about embracing the freedom that came with not worrying, with living fully in the moment, without shame.

As the night wore on, Elliot settled into the couch, a satisfied, content smile on his face, feeling lighter and freer than he had in a long time. He was finally *full*—in all the best ways.

Elliot had never really liked shopping for clothes. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to look good; it was just that finding the right fit had always been a struggle. Back in the day, it was easy—he’d simply stick to the skinny fit jeans, slim shirts, and avoid anything too tight around his midsection. But lately, even those had been getting a little snug. And now, with his   Tom’s wedding coming up, he had no choice but to bite the bullet and get a suit that fit properly.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and Elliot was at the mall, trying to prepare himself for the inevitable. He’d already picked out a dark, sharp suit from the men’s department, but when it came time for alterations, he was directed to a small tailor shop in the back corner. 

The tailor was a polished looking man, maybe in his 40s, with salt-and-pepper hair and a meticulously pressed shirt. His hands were steady as he measured the inseams and shoulders of the various customers before Elliot. He had an air of quiet confidence, the kind of person who’d been around long enough to know what looked good and how to make something fit perfectly.

“Next!” the tailor called, looking over the top of his glasses as Elliot approached.

Elliot walked up, a little self-conscious as he stood in front of the man. He had chosen a tight-fitting dress shirt and slim chinos—clothes he used to wear without a second thought—but today, they felt a bit *too* tight, especially across his stomach.

“Alright, let’s get started,” the tailor said, measuring across Elliot’s shoulders with practiced ease. “You know, it’s not every day I get a young man in here with such a... well, let’s say, *muscular* build.”

Elliot was startled by the compliment, though the word "muscular" felt like it belonged to someone else. He wasn’t exactly a bodybuilder; he’d just been eating more and exercising less lately. Still, he appreciated the attention.

The tailor moved to take his waist measurement, and Elliot instinctively sucked in his stomach, trying to pull off the old habit. He knew that the tailor could likely tell the truth, but still, his natural reflex was to try to appear smaller.

But then the tailor, eyes narrowing slightly as he adjusted the tape measure, raised an eyebrow. “Hmm... The sizes you put down won’t work. Just curious—have you gained a bit of weight recently?”

Elliot froze. It was a blunt question, but not an unfriendly one. It was the kind of direct comment his friends might make, not a stranger who had only just met him. He immediately felt a flush creeping up his neck. 

"Uh... yeah," Elliot admitted, trying to laugh it off. "I’ve just... been enjoying life a little more recently."

The tailor smiled knowingly, giving a soft chuckle. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. A lot of people go through that phase. You should definitely take your time with the suit alterations. We’ll adjust it to fit you as best we can.”

Elliot felt his cheeks burn hotter, his stomach twisting with a mix of self-consciousness and frustration. He wasn’t embarrassed *about* gaining weight—he was fine with it, really. But being called out so bluntly about it made him feel exposed, like he wasn’t controlling things as well as he thought he was.

The tailor continued to work, unphased, as he made a few notes in his book. But after a moment of silence, he added, “If you’re looking to get back in shape or even just trim down a little, we have a gym here in the mall. It’s not much, but it’s convenient, and they offer classes, you know, just in case you want to tone up a bit.”

Elliot’s stomach churned again. He wasn’t sure if he felt more embarrassed or frustrated by the suggestion. “I, uh, yeah... I’ve been meaning to get back into it,” he said, awkwardly shifting on his feet. 

The tailor looked up from his notes, giving Elliot a knowing look. “You could also check out the GNC right next door. They’ve got some good stuff there—proteins, supplements, all that. Might help, if that’s what you’re going for.”

Elliot didn’t know what to say. The guy was nice enough, but the directness of his advice was almost too much. It reminded him of Tom’s comments earlier—about getting "back in shape." He was trying to let go of all that pressure, but here was someone offering him the very same advice, pushing him back into that mindset. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Elliot said, trying to sound nonchalant as the tailor took one last measurement around his chest.

The tailor smiled warmly, seemingly oblivious to Elliot’s inner discomfort. “Great. Now, you should check out some of the stores around here as well. If you’re looking for something more fitted, H&M has some great options. Or if you want something more casual, you could try Uniqlo. They’ve got good, stretchy fabrics. Whatever you’re looking for—no need to worry about those tight clothes you’ve got on now.”

Elliot wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cringe. Was it really that obvious? He felt exposed, like he’d been caught in the act. 

Before Elliot could respond, the tailor handed him a small slip of paper with a smile. “Here you go. It’s a coupon for a ‘Buy One, Get One Free’ promotion at the food court. For customers at the mall. I figured you could use it after the gym, or maybe for a nice treat.”

Elliot blinked, staring at the coupon. The irony was almost too much—here he was, talking about getting back in shape, and the tailor was practically handing him a free pass to eat more food at the food court. 

"Thanks... I guess," Elliot said, feeling a little awkward. “That’s kind of you.”

The tailor nodded, packing up his measuring tape. “No problem at all. They’ve been trying to get us to give these out to all of our customers.”

Elliot smiled weakly. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d just been offered a lifeline—one that both encouraged him to change and simultaneously told him it was okay to indulge.

As Elliot walked out of the tailor shop, the mall’s vibrant lights flickering around him, he pocketed the coupon. Maybe he would get the gym membership and check out the GNC. Maybe he would buy some clothes to replace the tight clothes he was becoming increasingly self-conscious of. But for the first time in a while, Elliot realized something important: the only person who could truly decide how he lived was him.

Tom’s words, the tailor’s advice—it was all just noise. He didn’t have to follow anyone else’s script. He didn’t have to rush back to the gym or avoid his favorite foods if he didn’t want to. 

Elliot looked down at the coupon in his hand, the food court so tempting, the promise of "Buy One, Get One Free" hovering in the air. For a moment, he thought about just throwing it away. But then he chuckled to himself, thinking about how much Ryan and Mark would laugh if they knew about it.

Maybe a treat wouldn’t hurt after all. Maybe tonight, he’d enjoy that freedom.

Elliot wandered through the bustling food court, the mall's fluorescent lights flickering overhead as the sounds of people chattering and the clattering of trays filled the air. His mind was still swirling from the earlier interaction with the tailor. On one hand, he felt weirdly validated—the coupon for the food court felt like an endorsement for indulging, a free pass for something he’d been doing more and more lately. On the other hand, there was still that nagging feeling, the one that came from all the recent comments about his weight.

His stomach growled in anticipation, and before he could second-guess himself, he headed to one of the Chinese food stands. The smells of sauce, fried rice, and sesame chicken made his mouth water. There was no turning back now.

The vendor behind the counter smiled warmly at him as Elliot stepped up. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Yeah," Elliot said, glancing at the menu. "I'll take two orders of sesame chicken with extra rice, please. And can I get an extra side of egg rolls too?" He wasn’t even thinking anymore—he was just hungry, and the idea of a little extra indulgence seemed too good to pass up.

The vendor raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, just nodded and quickly packed up his order. A few minutes later, she handed him two large containers, and he grabbed a pair of chopsticks and a soda. With his coupon in hand, he made his way to a small table in the corner of the food court.

Sitting down, he set the two containers in front of him, the rich aroma of the food filling his senses. He dug in immediately, barely even pausing to breathe. Each bite was like a little slice of heaven—salty, savory, crispy. The rice was fluffy, the chicken perfectly cooked, the egg rolls crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside.

The first container was gone in minutes, and by the time he finished the second one, he felt completely stuffed, but he didn’t care. It was so delicious. The food had a comforting, almost nostalgic quality to it, a reminder of lazy weekends when he didn’t think about calories or portion sizes. 

Elliot leaned back in his seat, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. His stomach felt uncomfortably full, and his shirt was starting to feel a little tighter across his chest and belly. He had to undo the top button of his chinos, just for a little relief. But even that wasn’t enough; he could feel the fabric digging into his sides.

He grabbed his soda, taking a long sip, hoping it would help settle things down. Just as he was about to slouch back and give in to that delicious sense of overindulgence, he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

“Well, well, look who it is.” 

Elliot turned, stomach already churning with embarrassment as he recognized Tom’s voice. Tom stood a few feet away, his arms crossed and an amused smile on his face. His eyes quickly scanned Elliot, lingering for a second on the two Chinese food containers, now empty on the table, before locking onto Elliot’s face.

Elliot opened his mouth to say something, but just then, a loud *burp* escaped him—a deep, unintentional sound that echoed through the food court like a small trumpet. 

Tom’s grin widened immediately, and Elliot’s face flushed bright red. He shot Tom an apologetic look, holding his hand over his mouth as if trying to force the embarrassment to stay inside. But it was too late.

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. *I’m just enjoying life* himself,” he said with a smirk, clearly relishing the opportunity to poke fun. “Two meals? You sure you’re not trying to prep for a food challenge or something? Man, you must’ve been starving.”

Elliot’s stomach tightened in a mix of discomfort and self-consciousness. “I—I wasn’t really thinking,” he stammered, feeling the heat of Tom’s gaze and trying to force a smile. “Just... you know, treating myself.”

Tom chuckled, shaking his head. “Treating yourself, huh? Sounds more like you’re treating *yourself* to a new pair of pants after this,” he joked, motioning to Elliot’s stomach, which was now noticeably bulging against the fabric of his shirt and unbuttoned chinos.

Elliot wanted to laugh it off, but the words stung. He wasn’t blind—he knew he’d eaten a lot more than he probably should have, and now his clothes felt like they were about to burst at the seams. But Tom’s comments felt like another layer of judgment on top of everything else. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Elliot muttered, feeling even more self-conscious as he adjusted his shirt, trying in vain to make it fit more comfortably. “I guess I’m just... a little out of practice.”

Tom leaned against the table, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Out of practice? Dude, you’ve been in the ‘treat yourself’ phase a little too long. You sure you’re not getting a little *too* comfortable? I mean, seriously, are you planning on *not* getting a gym membership soon?”

The way Tom said it was almost playful, but there was a sharp edge to it. Elliot could feel the pressure building again, just like he had earlier when Tom had made his comments about his weight. Was this what he had to look forward to now, every time he indulged? A reminder that he was letting himself go?

“I’m fine, Tom,” Elliot said, forcing a chuckle even though his insides were twisting. “I’m not worried about it.”

Tom gave him a slow, knowing smile. “You sure? Because you’re looking a little too stuffed in that shirt there, man. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been hitting the buffet a little too often.”

Elliot let out a small sigh. He didn’t want to argue with Tom—not in front of all these people, not when Tom was enjoying himself so much. Instead, he nodded and grabbed his drink, hoping it would help settle his stomach and the conversation.

“Look, Tom, I’m good. Really. Just enjoying the weekend,” Elliot said, trying to shift the focus. “But hey, good to see you.”

Tom shrugged, clearly not done poking fun. “Alright, alright. Just don’t blame me when you’re out of breath after walking to your car.” With a wink, he turned and started to walk away, but not before calling back over his shoulder. “I’ll see you at the gym sometime, yeah?”

Elliot barely managed a wave, feeling the weight of Tom’s words hanging over him like a cloud. As Tom disappeared into the crowd, Elliot let out a long, heavy breath. 

He didn’t want to care. He didn’t want Tom’s mocking to ruin his day. But there was a gnawing sense of discomfort now, both physical and emotional. His clothes felt too tight, his stomach was pushing against his waistband, and Tom’s words kept replaying in his mind, making him question everything about the way he’d been living lately.

After his awkward encounter with Tom in the food court, Elliot wandered back through the mall, the weight of the conversation still hanging over him. His stomach was still painfully full from the two Chinese meals, and the tightness of his shirt made every step a reminder that he’d overdone it. But what really bothered him was the internal nagging: *What was Tom’s point? Was this really such a big deal?* He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts aside.

It was time to tackle the next thing on his list: clothes. He’d promised himself he’d step up his wardrobe, now that he was going to be in his   Tom's wedding, and the tailor had given him a few suggestions. But honestly, the idea of trying on clothes after everything that had happened was making him feel even more self-conscious. 

He made his way to a few stores. There was a small part of him that thought maybe he could find something nice, something that fit, something that made him feel confident again. 

He walked into H&M first, picking up a few shirts and pairs of pants in sizes he’d normally shy away from. He had been sticking to small or medium shirts before, but the way his body had been changing, he figured it was time to try a large. For pants, he grabbed a 34 waist, the next size up from his usual 32s, knowing that things had gotten a little snug.

As he moved toward the dressing room, his stomach churned again—a reminder of how bloated he felt from the food court disaster. He was hoping that maybe his body would settle down a bit after a few minutes. But as he slipped into the first shirt—a deep navy button-up—he immediately realized his error.

The fabric stretched tight across his chest, showing off the small but visible bulge he’d been trying to ignore. His stomach, still swollen from the massive meal, pushed against the shirt, and he struggled to button it all the way up. Even though the shirt technically fit in terms of size, it didn’t look right. It clung awkwardly to his torso, like it was straining to keep up with the changes in his body.

He pulled it off, frustrated, and grabbed the next shirt. It was a large, casual tee in a soft gray, something he thought would be more forgiving. But as he slipped it on, he was greeted with the same tightness around the middle. The shirt hung loosely on his shoulders but clung around his stomach, where his bloated belly was still resisting the confines of his clothing.

*This isn’t working,* Elliot thought, his face growing warm again. He tugged at the hem of the shirt, wishing it would fall a little looser, but it just didn’t feel right. It was almost as if everything he tried on was fighting against him, accentuating his discomfort rather than making him feel comfortable or confident.

With a sigh, Elliot moved on to the pants. He grabbed a pair of 34s, thinking they’d fit more comfortably, but when he pulled them up, they were still too tight across his thighs and waist. He couldn’t even button them without sucking in. The waistband dug into his stomach, making it feel like he had nowhere to breathe. 

The worst part was that even though they were the “right” size, they just didn’t look how he wanted them to. His thighs felt squeezed, and the extra fabric at the waist gaped awkwardly. The fit was all wrong, no matter what he tried.

By now, Elliot’s frustration had boiled over. He ran a hand through his hair, staring at himself in the mirror. This wasn’t how it was supposed to feel. He wasn’t supposed to *feel* this out of control. He was supposed to find something that worked, that fit, something that made him feel good about himself again. But all he felt now was bloated and self-conscious, like he didn’t know who he was or what his body was doing.

He stared at the clothes in his arms—shirts too tight, pants too uncomfortable—and then, with a long sigh, he walked out of the fitting room and headed for the store exit. The idea of spending any more time trying on clothes, of facing more of these frustrating realities, was just too much. 

Instead, he made his way to a nearby sportswear store, hoping to at least find something he could slip into and feel comfortable in, if only for a little while. 

As he walked through the store, his eyes landed on a rack of gym shorts and oversized hoodies. The oversized, loose fit of the clothing immediately appealed to him. He grabbed a pair of black gym shorts in a large size—plenty of room for his legs, no tight waistbands digging in. Then, he grabbed a charcoal hoodie in an extra-large. It was soft, plush, and something that looked like it would fit perfectly without hugging his bloated stomach. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone today; he just wanted comfort.

He grabbed the items and headed to the counter, quickly paying for them without even glancing at the prices. He just wanted to get out of the mall and into something that wouldn’t pinch or pull at his skin. 

When he finally changed into the gym shorts and hoodie in the mall’s bathroom, he felt a small sense of relief. The fabric hung loose and soft on his body, covering him in a way that didn’t make him feel judged or self-conscious. It wasn’t exactly stylish, but in that moment, it was exactly what he needed. He looked in the mirror—there was still a little discomfort in his stomach, but at least the clothes didn’t make it worse. 

Elliot took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the past few hours begin to lift. Maybe this was his reality for now—clothes that fit a little awkwardly, his body doing things he hadn’t expected, moments of discomfort. But he was learning to accept it. 

As he walked out of the bathroom and into the mall, wearing the loose-fitting gym shorts and hoodie, he felt lighter—like he could take on whatever came next, without worrying about his weight. And for now, that meant gym shorts and an oversized hoodie. And that was perfectly fine.

*****New Chapter will be posted every Thursday*****

[manmuncher777]

Gojo trying out something new with you…

18+ SMUTTTT

“T-Toru- oh my god” Satoru currently had you folded in half, like a fucking deck chair in the most brutal mating press of your life. Your sweaty palms trying to keep grip on the back of your knees as he had decided to be mean today and make you hold your own legs up, instead of doing that work for you. Your mouth hanging open with every sharp thrust of his, feeling his bulbous tip practically kiss your cervix.

You’s been like this for hours now, saturo deciding he wasn’t feeling as nice today. Edging you to the point of crying. Hot salty tears that streamed down you face, dragging little bits of mascara with them.

Gojo quite liked this look on you, no he loved it. It made him feel feral. glancing over your fucked out features; your glossy lips, covered in saliva and precum. Your eyes, shining brightly with the tears he had caused. But oh you looked so pretty when you tried to stop them from rolling back into your head. The makeup you had spent an hour on, now streaking down your face so beautifully like some sort of modern art painting. This was when you looked most beautiful to him.

“Hold those legs up for me pretty, I need a good view of my girl.”he breathed out, slight pauses in his sentence with each thrust he delivered. His balls slapping heavily against the skin of your ass, the sound echoing around the room so deliciously. Vulgar noises a that filled the air, turning you on even more.

You tried your best to listen to the glistening man above you, but fuck he was just making you feel so good. It was hard to concentrate on controlling your hands when all you could think about was how he was slipping in and out of your welcoming walls. The way his abs glistened and tensed with each thrust, the huge biceps wither side of your head. You were certain you could cum just from looking at him.

You looked down to where you both met, watching as a ring of white formed around the base of his thick cock. That made you falter for a second.

A mistake

Your hands slipped, releasing you legs. You didnt have the power to raise them again to fix your mistake; all your muscles weak due to the excercise satoru was putting you through right now.

“Oh no, just when you were being so good for me sweetheart” he fake pouts at you, cooing teasingly in your ear. “Go on, pick them up.” he ordered, but you couldnt do anything but whimper pathetically underneath him, his words going in one ear and out the other.Another mistake.

You were soon snapped out of your little daydream to a slap on the side of your face, more of a tap really, but it was hard enough to bring a little gasp from you.

“Pick them up baby, now.” he glared at you, his eyes more demanding now. His eyes threatening you, daring you to ignore him again.

“Satoru..” you whined at him, sulking like a baby, but you didnt dare leave your legs. With all your might you raised them again, hooking your hand underneath and bringing your ankles as far up to your ears as you could possibly manage. This wasn’t fair, he was fucking the shit out of you and still expected you to do the heavy lifting.

“Oh well that got you to listen didn’t it?” he teased again, cocky smirk on his face. “Does my sweet girl - fuck - do you like being slapped around sweetheart?” He quizzed you. Very interested in your response. He knew you were kinky, but this was something new.

You were trying so hard to listen, but the way he was stretching you over him right now, merciless pounds of his cock against you walls. You could hardly think. All you could think about was how well he was moulding you to him, you could feel every single vein on his cock as he fucked you. Every single grove and curve that had your back arching off the bed, craving more

Another slap, a little harder this time. The gentle tingling across your features brought your doe eyes to his menacing ones. The look he was giving you, an air of authority clung to it. He really knew how to get you worked up. “I asked you a question sweets?”

He already knew the answer, he just wanted you all pathetic for him. He chuckled as he watched you try to form an answer

He wasn’t giving you an easy time. You cried out under him weakly, trying to form works as one of his hands travelled down between you, rubbing fast circles on your bundle of nerves. “Yes- oh- yes toru. I love it! oh god- yes” You couldnt help but clench around him, his dominance, his face. It was driving you crazy.

For a split second you saw a glint of something in his eyes, soemthing devilish. Before they quickly roll back at the feeling of you tightening around him “Shit baby, yeah you do.”

God you were practically milking him, the way your warm walls sucked him back in each time he pulled back. the slick that was covering his lower torso, shit you did like it rough.

He watched intently as you eyes screwed shut from pleasure, with the way you were writhing beneath him, trying to run from hos grasp he could tell you were close.

Another slap, harder. The tingling feeling back again, something so sensual and delicious with the light sting.

“nuh uh sweets, don’t try and run from it. Just take it like a good girl.” fuck his words were driving you crazy. Your tried to listen to him, but with all the edging from earlier that evening, it made it so much more difficult.

A few more strokes of his thick cock and you were about to cum, not before another slap. Shit this hot, the way he was throwing you about, roughing you up.

You could help but let out a scream as you came, the feeling overwhelming you as you creamed all over Gojos cock, a sticky white ring forming around his base. You came from a slap, shit. But lord it hurt so good.

“oh there she is, good girl, let go for me baby.” he whimpered out. Whimpered

You were squeezing him so deliciously, he could feel how wet you are. Not able to stop himself from watching himself enter you over and ver again as you squirmed from overstimulation.

He shuddered as he came, legs tightening, hips stuttering. His voice let out a chesty groan as he shot white ropes of thick cum inside you.

This was certainly something satoru was going to use against you.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

(Mama Bear Sera AU)

Sera was making breakfast, chocolate chip pancakes. She was also setting up eggs, bacon, and fruit. Only the best for her babies. Speaking of her babies she needed to go and wake them up. The first bed room was like room of a princess with pink and lavender. There were lots of fluffy stuffed animals and pictures of lovely landscapes of Heaven. Laying in the bed with a canopy was Emily who was very much an adult.

Sera: Wake up Princess, breakfast is ready.

Emily woke up and smiled.

Emily: Thank you mama.

Sera smiled and went to the next room. This one was a room in dark blue and gold with rock band posters all over the walls. There was an impressive guitar collection, a TV with the latest video game systems. Sera picked up the helmet with horns and a mask so she could put it somewhere safe. Sprawled on the bed was Adam who was holding a lion plushie that was half his size and he was also an adult.

Sera: Wake up Starlight, breakfast is ready.

Adam woke up and yawned, but he also smiled when he saw Sera.

Adam: Bad ass mama.

Sera didn’t usually like cursing, but she such a soft spot for Adam that she let it slide. Unlike Emily who was wearing cutesy nightgown that went down to her ankles, Adam was wearing boxer shorts and slept a shirtless so you could see his nipple piercings just like you could see his tongue piercing when he yawned. Adam picked up a shirt of his favorite rock band and put it on. Adam followed Sera to the dining room, Adam hugged Emily before taking his seat.

Adam: Morning Emmy.

Emily: Good morning Addie.

Sera kissed them on the forehead before she placed a plate with their breakfast in front of them. There was also sippy cups filled with chocolate milk. It didn’t matter if Emily and Adam tried to say that they could handle regular glasses of chocolate milk, to Sera they were her babies.

Adam sighed as he saw the sippy cups, Sera's heart was in the right place but some things she did was embarrassing. He drew the line at letting her feed him, he was a grown ass man, THE man.

Adam: This looks delicious.

Sera: I hope you like it.

Adam sat down and dug into the food, Sera was very good at cooking his food the way he liked it.

Emily: Do you have anything going on today Adam?

His mind went to a special meeting that he had set up but he couldn't let them know about. Especially Sera, she would freak the fuck out.

Adam: Oh you know, Lute wanted to check out this place over in the tropical side.

Sera: That sounds fun.

Adam: It will be, did you want me to bring you something back?

Sera: Sure if you want to.

He nodded, he would have to text Lute and get her to go over there and grab something small to cover it up.

When he was done Adam quickly got dressed, hugged Sera goodbye and flew off.

Adam was headed down to Hell for the afternoon, he had a date with the devil after all.

[writingsonsaturn]

mirrorball

{ masterlist } { the 'taylor swift' series }

🪐: so this was made in between like two weeks, so if it's a bit choppy and seems horrible im so sorry please forgive me i love you

wc - 1.2k

content warning: angsty, peter being an oblivious unappreciative boyfriend

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Everything you did was brushed off.

No matter how extravagant, or otherworldly, Peter was always either too busy working on making his suit better, or he was out saving other people. 

Obviously, you weren’t cold-hearted. 

It wasn’t the fact Peter was saving other people. It was the fact he never looked up to give you an honest five minute conversation anymore, or that he never saw, maybe not even cared about all the things you were doing for him. Trying to take the load of being a young superhero off his shoulders, you had started doing the laundry, dishes, making all meals, patching up his suits, and many, many more, painfully tiring tasks all in the name of love.

The only, and biggest problem here was that he never once said a simple ‘thanks!’ or any acknowledgement whatsoever that what you were doing was helpful. Although it wasn’t your goal to earn points in a system you weren’t even aware of, you still would’ve accepted even a simple head nod and kiss, but nope, nothing.

It all blew up on one fateful evening when you had just spent over four and a half hours making one of Peter's favorite meals for his birthday. 

You were so excited to show him the birthday gift that you had worked extra hours at your job for, everything was all set up in your teeny tiny living room and now all you had to do was sit and wait for your boyfriend to arrive home.

The click of the door sounded out through the apartment, announcing to the quiet apartment your boyfriend's arrival. “Hey, babe” Peter said as he walked into the apartment, he didn’t even look up and properly acknowledge your existence, he just simply knew you were always home before him. As he walked in you noticed he had the newspaper in his hand, probably another hit piece on Spider-Man, claiming he’s a monster.

“Hi, my love” you greeted him enthusiastically, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. He set the newspaper down and gave into your warmth, allowing his tense body to relax into your arms, then all of the sudden he pulled away.

“I'm sorry, baby, but I gotta get out in the city” his voice was fast-paced, almost giving you no time to process what he was doing. 

“Peter, are you joking?” you practically whispered, “It’s your birthday.”

Peter noticed the hurt expression on your face, and only then did he decide to look around and see everything you had set up for him. There were streamers hanging from the ceiling, a homemade sign that read “Happy Birthday, Spidey!” with little hand crafted webs around it up on the wall. Sat on the table was a homemade cake and a wonderfully prepared dinner. 

“Oh wow, Honey, this looks delicious! But i really have to go”

Your face dropped from the optimistic smile, to dead cold. You realised that you and your feelings will always be second best to his double life as a superhero.

“Peter, please for once can you just sit down, and have a goddamn conversation with me” you spoke lowly, nearly pleading for him to just sit down and give you the time of day. You think you might’ve actually, finally, be seeing how absolutely tired you looked. 

“For fucks sake, can you appreciate just this one fucking thing!” your voice gradually went louder for each syllable your sentence hit. The look of defeat portrayed in your eyes pierced through Peter’s soul, he felt his heart drop at how tired your face seemed, the way you seemed to have distanced yourself the moment he dismissed your thoughtful dinner. 

“It’s- It’s like you don’t even care anymore Peter” you weren’t yelling, which scared Peter more than if you were to be screaming five centimeters from his face and waving your hands, it was like you had given up. “I bought you a gift, open it before you leave” you whispered out before grabbing your bag and leaving. 

Peter’s eyes followed your sulking body out the door, before landing onto the gift sat nicely on the table with a red and blue ribbon tightly secured around the small square container. He walked toward the table with his head held low, gently picking up the present, as he opened it his eyes filled up with tears and he sat down on the edge of the couch, realizing how badly he had fucked this up.

Sitting in the box was the refurbished watch Uncle Ben wore, the glass protecting the arms of the watch had been shattered and links had been missing. Uncle Ben wanted to get it fixed but passed before he could get a chance. Peter remembered showing this exact watch to you when he took you to meet Aunt May, it was left on the dresser the two had shared, Aunt May never could put it away.

“Fuck” Peter exhaled, he set the watch down and ran out the door, he was desperate to find you and beg on his knees for your forgiveness. He was well aware he didn’t deserve that, but the thought of losing you had just crashed down over his head like a piano falling from the sky.

As soon as he got outside the air of the looming fall hit his face, as he frantically looked around he noticed your figure sitting on a bench right outside the apartment complex, watching the cars and people pass you by. Peter took a breath of relief before stepping closer, only to realize the tears glistening off your face.

“Baby, I am so, so, so incredibly sorry” he quickly tumbled out the words as if he couldn’t stop them, your eyes met his when you heard his pleas. He had no idea how badly you wanted to just say “it’s okay” and forget about this whole thing but you knew better. 

You knew doing that would only allow for that behavior to continue, and you just can’t go on like that anymore.

“I had to work extra hours to be able to pay for that to be refurbished, you know?” you said with a bittersweet undertone lacing your voice, “and it’s not even that, it’s the fact you just didn’t fucking care” the words came with your gasps for air as sobs tore through your throat, “you don’t care.”

Peter could only look at you in anguish, he fights villains, he stops your average bad guy on a daily basis, he can even tell when something dangerous is about to happen before it does, but he couldn’t tell his girlfriend was breaking before his very eyes with him being the root cause.

He was the hammer to your mirror.

Sitting down on the bench right next to you, he wrapped his arms around you and held you as you let out the most guttural sounds he’s ever heard come out of your body. He hates it. 

All Peter could do was rocking you back and forth, whispering apologies into your ear, promising to be better for you. 

You wanted to believe him, you really did, but all you could muster up was,

“Prove it.”

[lordofthenerds97]

Wake Up Call

Steven Grant x Reader Rating: E, 18+, MDNI Summary: You were tired and irritated. You did not want to go to work. So, what better way to wake up than your boyfriend's thigh between your legs?

A/N: This was originally supposed to be just a cute lil blurb for @area-fiftyone, and it ended up morphing into this monster 😂 I blame you, darling. And she's just fueling my newfound obsession with this man, so maybe expect a pt 2 at some point?

You woke with a groan, throwing an arm over your eyes to try and block out the light that was streaming through the window. The alarm was blaring insistently somewhere to your left and you haphazardly swatted for the off button.

When it continued to howl in protest despite your attempts to silence it, you snarled in frustration and slammed the side of your fist into the clock, feeling the crunch of the small appliance under your hand. You shook your hand out, wincing at the discomfort and the shards of plastic that were digging into your skin.

Shit, you thought. There goes another one.

You didn’t really have the energy to care about the fact you’d have to stop by a shop on your way home…in fact, you didn’t really have the energy for anything at all at the moment.

You were just so damn tired.

Between work, looking for a flat of your own, your ass of a brother getting himself in trouble again, and the stress of trying to make it in London of all places, it was no wonder exhaustion was beginning to creep in.

You laid there for a moment, arm slung over your eyes, and tried to convince yourself that you needed to get up.

The alarm you set was barely going to give you time to dress and take the train, much less dally around in bed.

But, instead of slowly pulling yourself to your feet (like you knew you should) and getting dressed for work (you really should, if you kept this up, you were going to be late and probably reprimanded), you snuggled deeper into the mattress, the warmth radiating around you and pulling you back in.

The autumn air had chilled the flat, and you knew the wood floors were going to be hell on your feet as soon as you stood. Goosebumps had already risen on your skin, and you didn’t want to face the cold just yet.

Not when the warmth of the bed was practically heaven compared to what you would have to deal with when you did finally get up.

A deep hum reverberated at your back and you smiled sleepily as a large arm wrapped around your middle and pulled you backwards against a solid, warm chest. You almost yelped at being dragged away from the heat your body had carved out of the mattress, but feeling him press up against you halted any squirming on your part.

“Someone’s rather grumpy this morning.”

His voice was deep and raspy with sleep as he nuzzled into the back of your neck, nosing your hair out of the way so he could place gentle kisses to your bare skin.

A small shiver ran down your spine as his arm tightened around you. A soft sigh escaped your lips as he hummed again, his fingers tracing mindless patterns across your bare stomach.

You couldn’t deny that this was your favorite way to wake up.

Steven pulled you tighter against him, his thigh slipping between your legs. You bit back a moan as he rocked back and forth, his thigh dragging deliciously across your cunt. The heat from his naked form made you forget, at least for a moment, what you had been upset about in the first place.

You burrowed further into the sheets, wrapping the silky softness around yourself. Steven curled around you like a cat, spreading soft kisses across your bare shoulders and alternating between slowly grinding his hips against your ass and helping you ride his thigh. A quiet moan was pulled from your throat as he reached up, his hand fitting perfectly around the swell of your breast.

“Steven,” you gasped, pushing your hips back to meet him.

He grunted against you, rolling your nipple between his fingers and teasing your already bruised skin with his teeth.

You could feel the press of his cock at your back, teasing your cheeks apart ever so slightly and dipping between them as he rut into you. His other arm had managed to worm its way under you, coming up to palm at your other breast. You gasped and arched into him as he teased and tweaked your nipples. Your hand flew back to tangle into his velvety curls.

Steven growled, his lips moving from your shoulder to your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point before sucking the delicate skin into his mouth and purposely taking extra time to leave a mark. One of his hands traveled down your stomach, his fingers splaying wide as he came down to rest where your body connected with his thigh.

“So wet f’me already, love,” he whispered, his sleep-addled voice sending your head spinning. His fingers spread your lower lips apart, cradling either side of your pulsing clit. But instead of adding pressure or teasing you or providing something, he simply held his fingers there, pressing his leg up into you and encouraging you to move.

You keened and rolled your hips, grinding down onto his thigh, catching his fingers in the process. The angle that he caught your clit between his thigh and finger sent a shock of pain and pleasure down your spine and had your eyes rolling back. You could feel Steven grinning against your neck. He pressed another hot, open mouthed kiss to your skin before drawing back up and nipping on your earlobe gently. “Gonna make you come just like this,” he growled, tracing the shell of your ear with his tongue. “Riding my thigh with my cock in your arse.”

You gasped and nodded, sliding up and down his thigh with ease. You’d coated him with your slick already, and with the way he was whispering in your ear, you could feel the wetness oozing from your core as it clenched around nothing.

“Yes,” you replied, tugging at the strands of hair that were still tangled around your fingers. “Please, Steven-“

He hummed approvingly, reaching up and rubbing a delicate circle around your clit.

You couldn’t resist. You reached up with your free hand, squeezing your tit and grinding down harder onto his hand. It was devastating to not have both his hands on you; to not feel the drag of his fingers inside you and the pinch of his other hand on your nipples. You whimpered, your palm considerably smaller and nowhere near as calloused or rough as Steven’s.

“Good girl,” he rasped. “Beggin’ f’me like that? Grinding your cunt on my thigh?”

You moaned, desperate to feel more of him. “Steven, please,”

“Please, what, love?” he asked, canting his hips upwards. His cock dragged through your backside agonizingly slow, and you could practically hear him grinding his teeth.

For a moment, you were wondering why he was taking a page from Marc’s book, but the thought was gone as soon as you heard his deep voice again.

“Use your words, darling. I’m not a mind reader, now am I?”

You wanted to growl in frustration at the sarcasm clearly dripping from that sinful mouth. But all you could do was whine when he removed his hand from you, making you chase your own high. “Please,” you mewled, rocking your hips and trying to find that delicious drag of your clit against him. “Please, Steven, need you to touch me. Need your hands. Need your fingers. Need your cock.”

He chuckled, a low and deep rumble that shook his chest and vibrated against your back. The sound made your core pulse with need and you whimpered as he worked a hand between the two of you, his fingers pressing just inside your aching hole.

“Ah!”

Your nerves were on fire with his touch. Your legs trembled and shook as he traced an airy circle around your entrance with a feather light touch that had you crying out and trying to shove your hips down onto his fingers. You could feel the tension pulling and boiling low in your belly.

Steven growled in your ear, a low and primal sound that made your toes tingle with anticipation. It wasn’t often you got to see this side of him; this side that was patient and demanding instead of rabid and insatiable. He thrust his hips up and you let out a sob. You could feel the thick head of his cock bumping against your tight hole as he thrust and rut into you. The thought of him breaching that hole, of fucking you in the ass, of his cock pounding into you while you chased your own pleasure on his naked thigh, had you tipping over the edge. Blinding, white hot pleasure surged through you and you couldn’t hold back the scream that tore from your throat as Steven finally, finally sank his fingers into you, working you through your climax. Your toes curled and you threw your head back, sure you knocked into his forehead as you arched into the pleasure. His cock was still sliding through your cheeks and you could feel it nudging at the puckered ring of muscle-

“Yes, God, Steven, yes-” you babbled, feeling his fingers curl and twist inside you as he milked everything you had to give him.

“That’s it, love. Soak my hand.” he rasped, latching onto your neck right below your ear.

You ground down onto him, whimpering and begging for more.

And as quickly as his touch was there, it disappeared. You whined at the loss, turning to look at him over your shoulder, confusion and indignation cutting through the hazy bliss. “What’re you-”

Manhandling wasn’t something Steven normally did. Even in the most intimate moments, he never handled you like Jake, or even Marc. He would carefully maneuver you into position, praising your every move and telling you how good you were doing. So when you were yanked sideways by a strong hand on your throat (one that was dripping with your cum), an involuntary yelp left your lips.

Steven was suddenly on top of you, slotted between your legs with the fingers of one hand splayed wide and wrapped around the base of your throat with the heel of his hand pressing down into your chest. His other arm braced the weight of his upper body above you.

Your head was spinning. You were dizzy with want, the bliss of your orgasm fading into a heady need to have him inside you. And judging by the way he stared down at you, he was feeling much the same.

His unruly black curls fell into his face, frizzy and unkempt from having your fingers holding on for dear life. You expected his breathing to be heavy, at least, or even sporadic and coming in ragged pants like yours was.

Instead, you were staring at the very visage of control. He squeezed your throat slightly, making you swallow, before grabbing your jaw and pulling your head up for a kiss.

For a brief moment, you wondered if one of the others had taken control. This wasn’t like Steven.

No…your Steven was sweet and gentle and would torture you with pleasure. He was adorable and kind and ever so eager to please you, whether it was with his cock or his tongue.

But whatever had gotten into Steven today…you couldn’t say you hated the change of pace. Besides, the gathering wetness between your legs would prove you a liar anyways.

He licked into your mouth and you didn’t hesitate to open for him, allowing him to explore to his heart’s content. His cock was a heavy weight on your stomach, and you could feel it twitching against you, practically begging for attention.

You tried to reach down and take him in your hand but he pulled away from the kiss, snagging your bottom lip between his teeth as he did, and smacked your hand away.

“‘M not coming anywhere except in that gorgeous cunt,” he said, pupils so wide they almost swallowed his chocolate brown irises. You could barely form a coherent thought, let alone words, so you simply nodded. He growled again, leaning over you to suck another dark mark into your left breast while massaging the other. “Felt the way you fucked yourself on my fingers when I got close to your arse,” he said, moving to kiss and nip at your other tit. “That what you want? Yeah?”

You moaned, arching into his mouth and tangling your fingers into his hair again.

God, his voice.

“Yes,” you begged, nails digging into his scalp and scratching a little harder than you meant to. “Please!”

The chuckle he let out was low and dark and made you shiver. He licked his way up your throat, brushing his lips against your ear.

“No.”

You stilled below him, eyes wide as he pulled back to stare down at you with a smirk. “I’m going to fuck this cunt until you’re screaming. And then, if you’re good, maybe I’ll take your arse.”

“I’ll be good,” you whined immediately. You bit your bottom lip, glancing away at his approving hum.

“I know you will, love,” he said gently, leaning down for another kiss. It was soft and tender and everything your Steven embodied. You wiggled your hips slightly, making him groan and readjust above you before breaking the kiss “Always such a good girl for me.”

You nodded feverishly, dragging your nails down his shoulders and taking them across his back.

He hissed, reaching down and grabbing the meat of your thigh, hiking your leg up and over his shoulder. Your eyes rolled back at the feeling of his cock notching at your entrance.

It was then that you noticed his chest was beginning to heave, and he dropped his forehead down to rest against yours. “Ready for me?” he asked.

You swallowed and nodded, curling your other leg around his hip and digging your heel into his backside to encourage him forward. With a moan, he sank into you.

“Oh god, just like that, Steven!” you said, rolling your hips and panting into his mouth as he sought your lips out for a searing kiss. He moaned into you as your walls clamped down around him. He slowly dragged out of you, the swell of his cock hitting every nerve ending you had. When he rested just inside you, he slammed back in, making you shake with need.

His lips were everywhere; on your throat, your mouth, your chest, laving up the mess he’d made earlier by smearing your cum all over your marked up skin. The sounds coming from his mouth were downright sinful, and you briefly thought that he had no right to sound like that while he was pounding into you mercilessly.

His hand skimmed down your leg, grabbing your knee and jumping your leg higher around his waist as he tried to fold you in half atop the mattress. A strangled sound, somewhere between a plea and a moan, came from the back of your throat, and he rolled his hips before smacking your ass as he delivered another harsh thrust.

“Thought you were gonna be a good girl for me, yeah?” he asked.

You whimpered and reached for him, fingers digging into his bicep. “I’m trying,” you panted. “Trying to be good for you. Ah, there-“

He had reached between your connected bodies, his deft and expert fingers finding your swollen clit and applying pressure in a steady circle that had you raking your nails down his arm and pulling your leg off his shoulder to wrap it around his waist.

He grunted at the sudden movement, and you used the bit of momentum to roll the two of you over, your knee pressing into his ribs in that self defense move Jake had taught you, before Steven’s back hit the mattress.

Stars exploded behind your eyes and he let out a quiet, “Oof,” as you sank further onto his cock.

Your palms were flat on his chest to hold yourself up and Steven’s eyes bored into yours as he gripped your hips, using that deceptive strength and forcing you to rise to your knees and pull him out of you.

“That,” he said, his voice quivering, “Was quite the opposite of good, darling.”

You whimpered and nodded. The muscles in your legs trembled as you tried to hold yourself up like he wanted, but dammit, he was right there.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rolling your hips and trying to lower yourself onto him. His fingers dug into your hips, making you whine. You knew there would be bruises later. “I’m sorry baby, you just feel so good,”

He hummed, looking up at you with an expression you couldn’t place. Steven pulled you down, hard. You cried out as your hips slapped against his, your clit grinding against his pelvic bone. You could feel his fingers kneading and teasing the flesh of your ass as he worked you to your knees again, this time slamming up into you when that aching need to have him fill you completely was about to bubble over. He held you there as he lowered himself back to the bed, cursing under his breath at how tight you were.

“Fuck,” he snarled, dragging you back down, spreading your cheeks apart as he did.

“Steven,” you gasped, losing your balance and falling over him. You caught yourself on your forearm beside his head, feeling your hair stick to your forehead as you tried to catch yourself breath. You could feel his index finger getting closer and closer to that little puckered hole, and you grit your teeth, your cunt clenching around him.

“Come for me,” he growled, running his finger around the tight ring of muscle before pulling his hand away and delivering a punishing smack to your right cheek.

Who were you to deny him?

You let go of that building tension, losing yourself to the abyss as spark shot down your spine and made your whole body quiver.

“Steven,” you whined.

“Right here, love,” he replied, his hand tangling in your hair and guiding your forehead to his. He thrust into you a few more times, erratic and uncoordinated, before spilling himself inside you.

Your eyes were closed as you laid there, forehead against his, bodies tangled together, sharing a breath. When you opened your eyes, Steven was already looking at you.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded wordlessly, and he gave you a crooked smile, reaching out with his thumb to brush away a few stray pieces of hair.

“God, I love you.” he said after a moment, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

You hummed against him. “I love you too.” you replied when he let you go.

“Your coffee should be ready,” he said, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I made you some before you woke up. Well…Marc helped. I’m bloody awful at making American drinks.”

You snorted, settling against his chest. “I’m sure it’ll be great, baby.”

He kissed the top of your head. “We should get up and get you showered and fed, yeah? Can’t start a holiday without a proper breakfast.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head to see him better. “Holiday?”

He grinned, running his fingers through your hair. “Yeah! Didn’t we tell you?”

You shook your head.

“You know that trip to the Netherlands you’ve been talking about?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you’ll want to spend the day packing, love. We’ve got a plane to catch tonight.” 

[froggyfernycabbage]

Wildest Dreamings

Chapter 4: Skimming the Surface

Fiyero arrives late to history class and finds himself seated next to the green girl.

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

READ ON AO3

The afternoon session of Dr. Dillamond’s history class had just commenced, the students settled along the aisles of the lecture hall, reluctantly ready to harp on the past.

As per usual, Galinda was nestled between her lackeys, Pfannee and Shen Shen, in the back row, while Elphaba sat independently in the front, a permanent empty seat beside her.

The professor was waxing poetic about the assasification of the Archduke Winkifred when the sound of doors banging open brought the lecture to a standstill, everyone turning their heads to see who had caused the disruption.

Fiyero stood in the doorway, looking frazzled, though no less handsome. True to form, he’d gotten lost on campus after his spree in the library, his new blonde friend having distracted him from comprehending that map sufficiently. Her “guided tour” had been more like a flirtatious stroll, and she also hadn’t known any of the actual building names. 

Thus, Fiyero had found himself wandering aimlessly after they parted ways, a crumpled up class schedule his only lifeline. Not that he was desperate to go sit in a lecture hall, but he didn’t need that excitable Head Shiztress writing to his parents to expose his immediate truancy. 

He’d bolted into Briscoe Hall, hoping the class hadn’t started yet, but the silent head turns that greeted him indicated otherwise. Their stares triggered the memory of a traumatic tardiness from his past, but then he remembered himself. He didn’t have to shrink in shame just because he was late on his first day. He didn’t care about punctuality, because that’s how untroubled free-spirits like him went through life. 

Dr. Dillamond, however, was concerned with the new student’s tardiness. “This class begins promptly at the 2nd hour, young man. You’re late.”

A small bit of humility overrode his dedication to indifference.  “My apologies, professor, is this Ozian History I?” 

“Yes, now find yourself a seat so we can continue our lesson.” 

Fiyero quickly scanned the room and was disappointed to find that there were no vacancies in the back row. Galinda, panicking, shoved Pfannee to the floor to free up a space for him. Before she could wave him over, Fiyero’s eyes found a single empty seat down front next to a bespectacled green girl.

Smirking, he made his way to the aisle and motioned towards the bench, “Is this seat taken, miss?” Not waiting for an answer, he slid into place next to Elphaba. 

“I was starting to believe I imagined you,” Fiyero whispered teasingly, “like some wood sprite sent to torment me in the dead of night.” She was tormenting him in the light of day by ignoring him. It was especially cold of her after he’d greeted her with his warmest wave earlier. 

“Don’t you know that it’s rude to talk during a lecture?” she whispered back at him harshly. Her acknowledgement was delicious, despite its bitterness.

“My apologies, Miss Studious.” Elphaba sighed with contempt. 

The lecture resumed, but Fiyero could barely concentrate with the sage shrew so visibly tense beside him. As the other students took notes furiously, he realized he lacked the essential tool of a writing pen. His satchel was merely for show as he’d forgotten to pack any actual study materials. 

He dared not risk his life by asking his neighbor to borrow one, so he sat back and listened, a little invested in the harrowing tale of the rogue chicken student and his potato gun. Dr. Dillamond was a passionate orator, and Fiyero was admittedly impressed by his vigor.

When that day’s lesson concluded, Dillamond dismissed the rest of the class but waved a hoof at Fiyero and Elphaba to beckon them over to his desk.

“Miss Elphaba, I wanted to speak with you about your midterm project. As you recall, it was intended to be a partnered assignment, but we had an odd number of students at the time. So, you offered to work independently.” 

Elphaba did not like where this was going. “Yes, Dr. Dillamond, I remember.”

“Well, seeing as we have,” the goat glanced at Fiyero skeptically, “a new addition to our class, I’d like for you and Mister… uh…” 

“Tigelaar, sir.”

“Ah, yes. I’d like for you and Mister Tigelaar to work together on the project.” 

Elphaba suddenly wished his horse had trampled her. 

“But Dr. Dillamond, we agreed that I could work on my own— I’ve already started!” 

“Well, I’m sure you’d be able to help Mister Tigelaar catch up. I look forward to seeing what the two of you accomplish together.” The goat nodded and trotted off with the departing students.

Betrayed by her favorite professor, Elphaba crossed her arms and seethed, glancing up at her undesired partner. He met her glare with an obnoxious grin.

“We haven’t really met properly, have we?” he asked the green girl, extending his hand. “ Fiyero Tigelaar, recovering trampler.” 

Her arms still locked in anger, she ignored his attempt at a handshake. “Elphaba Thropp, impending casualty.”

Elphaba. How fitting for someone so peculiar and striking.

He had half a mind to invite her down to the Ozdust that evening as a gesture of goodwill, but his ego couldn’t take another rejection from her. 

Before he could work up the courage, Galinda pulled him away, eyeing Elphaba as if to scold her for being so unwelcoming. As they made their way out onto the courtyard together, Fiyero’s curiosity got the better of him. 

“So, what’s the deal with that Elphaba girl? Do you know her?” 

Galinda whipped her head towards him in minute horror. “Well, she’s actually my um… roommate.” She whispered that last word as if confessing a sin. 

“Your roommate? How did that come to be?” Fiyero was suddenly desperate to know the lore of their connection. 

Galinda sighed like a true martyr. 

“Well, you see, she wasn’t originally enrolled here at Shiz. Only her sister, that tragically beautiful girl I asked Boq to invite out, was supposed to stay. But Elphaba caused a big commotion on the quad, sent things flying all around—”

“Wait, flying ?” Maybe she really is a wood sprite, thought Fiyero.

“YES! She gave us all quite the scare, I was nearly flattened by a bench!” Galinda placed her hand on her heart in exasperation. “Anyway, Madame Morrible took credit, Oz bless her, to spare the poor girl from more embarrassment. However, she saw potential in her and now Elphaba is in her sorcery seminar, which I think is really unfair because she didn’t even have to write an entrance essay!” 

“Sounds like she made quite the impression. But how did that lead to the two of you becoming roomies?” 

“Oh, that part. Morrible asked for a volunteer to share their room, and being the gracious person I am, I offered her a place in my private suite.”

“How good of you,” Fiyero remarked.

“I know. You think she’d be more appreciative, but no, she’s quite the prickly presence.” 

Fiyero sensed there might be more to their cohabitation than Galinda was letting on, but he decided not to push it. 

“So, I'll be picking you up around eight?” he asked as they approached the dormitory entrance.

Galinda perked up at the mention of their scandalocious plans. She winked at him, tossing her hair for good measure. “Sounds perfect!”

[ask-detective-toodles]

Toodles giggled excitedly as a bit of flour was flicked onto her face, making her sneeze softly. She didn’t mind at all—it only added to the fun of helping Sprout bake brownies. As the official taste tester, she couldn’t help but be tempted by the delicious unfinished batter in the bowl. The taste was so good, it made her want to grab another spoonful, but she resisted, knowing it wasn’t time yet.

She watched eagerly as Sprout placed the brownies into the oven. Once they were baking, the two of them sat down to wait. Toodles swung her legs up and down from the chair, her imagination already running wild with how amazing the finished brownies would taste. She felt giddy just thinking about it, but her excitement paused when Sprout broke the silence with a question.

Looking up at him with a smile, she replied, "I’m doing great! Baking was so much fun!... but," her smile faded slightly as she frowned, "I’m still sad that we couldn’t finish our case." She shook her head quickly, trying to stay positive, and offered him a reassuring grin. "But besides that, I’m feeling great! I hope you’re okay too, Mr. Sprout," she said, her voice soft with a hint of concern.

"Hey Toodles. Sorry to bother you, but I think there's a case I found for ya! In fact, we can investigate together if you'd like. Some of our treats have been going missing overnight when we leave them to cool. Not the best idea, I understand, however.."

[ Sprout gestures vaguely with a free hand, humming under his breath between finished sentences. ]

"I'd like to figure out who is stealing stuff so nobody else loses something they like ."

𖧧 - @berry-boy-v1

"Oh no! That's terrible, Mr. Sprout!" Toodles gasped, her wide eyes filled with worry. But her expression quickly shifted to determination as she adjusted her cap, flashing a reassuring grin at Sprout. "Don’t worry, Mr. Sprout! Detective Toodles is on the case and will help you find those cookies!" She proudly pulled out her magnifying glass, her excitement growing when Sprout mentioned he wouldn’t mind joining her adventure.

"That’s perfect! More people helping means we can solve the case faster! That’s what Daddy always says... though he rarely asks for help himself," she mumbled with a sheepish smile before shaking her head and grinning again. "If we’re going to catch whoever’s behind this, we need to start where the cookies were last seen. You said the kitchen, right? Then the kitchen is our first stop!" With that, she took off running, her enthusiasm evident in how quickly she dashed toward their destination.