#but there was some sort of connection and I’ve never felt anything like it before???????

[max-fewtrell]

.

[tacit-semantics]

World at large remains completely and utterly intolerable 👍

[myfirstandlast]

going through answered asks from when i was 18 wanting to hold myself so tightly

[blkluci]

𝑴𝑯𝑨 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 and you fighting…

CHARACTERS )) katsuki bakugo, eijiro kirishima, shoto todoroki, izuku midoriya.

PLOT )) a headcanon of the boys seeing you fight.

A/N )) this purely based off my imagination! lil mina slander, todoroki getting down and overall comedic. feel like i should do a part 2 maybe, yall lemme know how yall feel bout this one :) requests are open and hope yall enjoy.

[ 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 ] bakugo heard you mention that this girl has been talking about you. explaining that she’s said things in the hallways and during canteen time. “stop focusing on stupid extras. it's not worth it.” was his response. when you hadn’t mentioned anything about her, he assumed the whole thing was over; boy was he wrong

… kats walked to your 5th period to escort you down to the cafe for lunch

… as he neared the classroom he heard commotion and saw a group forming in front of the door

… for some reason he had a unsettling feeling in his gut and you instantly popped in his mind

-> “get out the damn way extras!”

… pushing people out the way and threatening them he got into the room

… katsuki’s jaw slacked

… he saw you holding tsunotori poni by her horns while mackin her face in

… every punch connected with her face

… he was truly in shock and impressed

… the poor girl tried her hardest to fight you off but winning to no avail; only able to kick her legs

… the teacher, vlad, yelling for students to get away and breaking up the fight

… katsuki couldn’t help but feel a little proud and attracted to this anger that is always concealed from him

… you remind him of himself

-> “alrigh’, you could let ‘er go. you got ‘er”

… he pulls you away and carries you away in his arms

… vlad held the weak girl in his arms as her nose bled

-> “‘ND DON’T EVER SPEAK ABOUT ME AGAIN!”

… he chuckled

[ 𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 ] kirishima felt the shift in the energy when your fellow classmate, mina, decided to push up her on him KNOWING that’s your man. there’ve been times where she’s done and said things that you had to check her about and she “apologized”. “babe c’mon, don’t feed into it.” she was feeling particularly bold today tho when you checked her at the end of class.

… eijiro didn’t have enough time to react when the desks were shoved out the way and y’all squared up

… you charged at her

… not even giving him time to fully comprehend

… mina thought that she could keep testin you and not get put in place and you did that exactly

… you ate her up!

… dragging her across the floor and knocking her head in

-> “y/n stop!”

… eiji felt adrenaline course through his veins

… fear of you getting hurt, you getting in trouble, mina dying

… eijiro pulled you off of mina but you wouldn’t let her hair go

… you kicked her in her face and she screamed as aizawa and all might rushed to help her

-> “THAT’S WHY YOU KNOTTED!”

… eijiro pulled you out to the hallway

… he was gonna scold you but he could do anything but hold

you as you spilled your anger to him

… he smiles at you and winces when mina passes by being taken to the nurse

-> “ouch, she’s gonna need a little more than just ice”

… he’s gotta fighter on his hands

[ 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎 ] todoroki is obviously to most things; if not, everything. the boy doesn’t seem to catch the girls who constantly are gagging over him. “oh, i’ve never noticed that.” oh and they see you, they know you! BUT OBVIOUSLY not enough. so during lunch, when two girls scroll over to you both and blatantly flirt with him and disrespect you– your boyfriend sees another side of you.

… poor sho never seen someone jump as fast

… your hands instantly connected with the girls face

… knocking the disrespect out her mouth and knocking her to the ground

… shoto sort of panicked when seeing you this angered and beating someone up

… people started to crowd which alerted teachers

… outta nowhere some guy tried to hurt

… shoto wasn’t havin’ it

… his body moved before his mind

… the guy punched sho in the face

… yeah. he saw red

-> “you’re weak.”

… while you stomped that girl in, sho beat that guy up

-> “TRY IT AGAIN!”

… in the end you both were sent to the principals office and reprimanded

… sitting in the chairs outside principal nezu’s office, you guys chatted

-> “he tried it but miserably failed.”

… y’all’s is a dangerous duo

[ 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔 ] midoriya fights all the time, heroically, many times alongside you even. but seeing you in a drama fight is something he doesn’t wanna see. so when you tell him you fighting this girl after school tomorrow he opposes your decision. “b-babe. maybe, not the best idea. please don’t.” you took heed of his words and let it go; till she snuck you.

… izuku was nowhere close when this happened

… denki and mineta were the ones that alerted him

… boy one for all’d his way downstairs

… so many thoughts circled his brain as neared the chaos

… he pushed around everyone and spotted you

-> “babe!”

… the girl under you was leaking from her eye

… you weren’t letting up

… he uses force to pull you two apart and pull you away

… you screamed at yelled to be let go

-> “SNEAKED AND GOT DROPPED!”

… poor izuku had to pull you to a whole other room

… he shook you out of your crazy state

… after izuku helped you to calm down, you explained what happened

… he was mad

… zu was ready to fight too

… but he knew a better way to get back

-> “i’m sorry for not being there but i think you got her bad.”

… the privileges of being all might’s predecessor

See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him. (1 John 3:1)

[phefics]

𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: kaz brekker x reader 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: kaz struggles with touching peope, specifically skin-to-skin contact. he finds a way around his aversion to make you feel good. 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬: afab!reader, fem!reader, fingering, kaz's gloves, intimacy struggles, mentions of kaz's canon trauma, virgin!kaz, cumming untouched 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: ~1k

Kaz can’t stand skin-to-skin contact. It was inconvenient, yes, a frustrating side effect of his complicated past, but he’s managed to find loopholes.

Like the gloves, for instance. They acted as both a safety net and a talking point, starting those delightful rumors of his hands being permanently stained with the blood of his enemies, when in reality, he would be incapacitated without the scraps of leather to protect him.

But it had never mattered much, before you.

Human touch, connection, was never something he craved. He appreciates Jesper’s friendship, but has never longed to embrace him. He is fully capable of recognizing an attractive person, acknowledging beauty where it was obvious, but he’s never felt an desire to act on the attraction.

Lust was never something he felt, before you.

He had tried to act on his urges, to be like any other man and touch you, but it had ended poorly. You had given him space as he let the water retreat, and he had been filled with self-loathing for his failure.

And so, he found another loophole. He was a thief, a conman, so of course he could come up with a plan for anything.

The cool leather of his gloves took some getting used to, at first. The same fingers that so easily picked locks and pockets turned clumsy and unsure when they ventured between your legs.

You sat on his desk, naked from the waist down and legs spread wide, while Kaz sat at his desk chair in front of you, still fully clothed. Well, he had undone the top few buttons of his shirt, but that was as close to nude as he could handle at that moment.

Being naked in front of you didn’t embarrass him. Before there was any romance, any attraction evident between you, Kaz had stripped in your presence without concern. It was the proximity though, the vulnerability, that made his clothes a necessary barrier.

One gloved hand rested on your thigh, a silent reminder to keep your legs open for him, while the other was searching for your clit, still unfamiliar and inexperienced with your anatomy.

“Can I guide your hand?” you asked, tone gentle.

He nodded, so you took his wrist softly, being sure to touch only over his sleeve, and helped him find that special spot, the rough texture of the leather a new and thrilling sensation as his thumb flicker softly over your clit, curious.

You whined, your head lolling back as he followed your lead, his touch taking on a new confidence.

Kaz chuckled quietly. “Is this really all it takes?” he asked, a smug look on his face. “I’ve barely done a thing.”

“It feels good,” you replied. “Your gloves...It's different."

"A good sort of different, I assume?" he asked.

You nodded, another moan leaving your lips as he continued to touch your clit with his thumb, deciding to try slipping a finger inside of your hole. You were wet enough to ensure that the leather didn't feel painful going inside.

Although he wasn’t the one being pleasured, Kaz couldn’t help the breathless noises that left him — seeing you so worked up because of him, because of his actions, it was a completely new feeling.

“Saints, Kaz, you’re doing so good,” you panted. “Making me feel so fucking good.”

Your words made him whimper, although he’d take that detail to the grave, his face flushed. It felt good for him, too, to please you. Although he hadn’t touched himself, or let you touch him, just the friction of his pants was almost too much for him to handle, having never experienced masturbation — sometimes, he would wake up with sticky sheets, irritated and embarrassed.

He had spent so long refusing to give in to those dreams, the little thoughts of sex and pleasure and bodies against each other, and you had set loose something within him, the primal desires he'd been forced to ignore due to all he'd been through.

His hips thrust into nothing, the head of his cock leaking as it rubbed against the seam of his pants. You were the only person receiving any stimulation, and yet, he seemed more spent than you. It was endearing, hot and adorable at the same time.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you breathed. “Can you go a little faster?”

Kaz nodded, using two fingers to pump in and out of your pussy, picking up the pace as you’d requested.

It didn’t take long for that sensation to build in your belly, your sounds of pleasure growing louder, more frequent. You came with a shout of his name, and although his cock had remained untouched, he followed you soon after.

His expression was completely shocked, having experienced his first ever orgasm, at least, while awake, and making a conscious effort to make it occur.

You giggled as you came down from your high, looking fondly at his flushed, surprised face. It was an unbelievable honor to see Kaz Brekker at his most vulnerable.

“Did you…?”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his tone attempting to be stern, and completely failing as his voice shook and his mouth fought to curl into a smile.

And you just laughed again, catching a glimpse of his glove, slick with your cum. “I think you’ll be needing a new pair.”

Kaz looked down at his hands and laughed, too. "I suppose I will."

He didn't seem to mind.

It wasn’t a perfect, passionate night of sloppy kisses and skin slapping skin, but Kaz had made an effort to shed his armor for you, to face his fear of intimacy, and touch.

And that little loophole was just the beginning.

(maybe a part 2...?)

[anna-proxx]

♡ 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬

pairing: arthur morgan x fem!reader

summary: you and arthur are occasional lovers with no strings attached, except you caught feelings.

word count: 2613

tags: fluff, suggestive, love confession, high honor arthur, friends with benefits, fem!reader

warnings: nsfw/explicit content

a/n: I’ve been battling writer’s block due to perfectionism and decided to write a spontaneous oneshot as an attempt to pretty much break through it. It's not really a smut, just a fluff with suggestive aspects and nsfw setting. Found this idea sweet, hope you enjoy!

✮ masterlist

You and Arthur first met when he was drunk and while you usually steered away from drunk men, this one in particular caught your eye. For some goddamn reason you decided to take care of him as he sang to himself in the saloon, alone, almost picking a fight with one of the regular customers, if it weren’t for you getting involved.

He hadn’t even tried to touch you and overall he seemed to be safe to be around. You made him eat some food (though he protested, saying he’d rather dance with you) and drink some water, to make his hangover at least a bit better the next morning. Then you made sure he was sound asleep before leaving him in the hotel room, putting a little note on the nightstand saying his adaptation of the song about Otis Miller was by far your favorite.

The second time you met in the same saloon. Though this time he was still sober, with a beer in his hand, looking quite worn out after the day. He didn’t remember you that much but you explained and after realizing you were the stranger who took care of him and left his sick, disoriented self the note, he opened up to you more.

And after sharing a few drinks, that he insisted to pay for you, and some loose conversation, you ended up in that same room, this time with you both being tipsy and making out, after you made the first move and kissed him.

It was like you were obsessed. With the way his rough hands treated you so gently, how he towered over you with your back against the wall, how you found yourself enveloped in his strong arms or the deep low groans in your ear that sent tingles into your belly.

It progressed into something more regular. Both of you helped each other release all the pent up tension and forget about everything that was going on outside the bedroom. What happened in that hotel room stayed between the walls. The desperate kisses, muffled whines and hot touches, your bodies intertwined like stems of ivy. The hungry look in his eyes stayed ingrained in your mind, keeping you company during the nights you spent alone.

Arthur felt safe with you. After Eliza he was reluctant to do this type of thing again, but there was just something about you that set his whole self on fire and made it impossible to resist you.

There was a good hunting spot nearby and he liked to return there for that reason, or maybe, just maybe, it was also the way he stopped by at the saloon every time, searching the room for a familiar face as soon as he stepped inside.

This sort of relationship was unusual for you as well, but his touch drove you crazy. He was so gentle and rugged at the same time, so big and mysterious while having a soft side you got to see anytime he let his guard down.

You knew he was no saint. Though he never told you details, you assumed the law was after him, but your intuition let you relax in his presence and you leaned into the comfort, trusting that if anything, he would protect you rather than hurt you.

The connection was mostly physical but slowly, one night after another, he was taking a hold over your heart, as much as you denied it to yourself.

Until you were finally ready to accept it.

— ∽ ♡ ∼ —

“You… seemed… angry today,” you said between your breaths, lying with your back against the soft mattress and covered only by the thin layer of a blanket.

His eagerness today was really something, clutching the headboard as he pushed his hips against yours, making you lose your breath with every thrust. It seemed personal, like there was more tension to release than usually – and you were more than happy to give him the freedom.

A soft groan left his lips in an agreement, his lungs still trying to fill with air as he lay beside you, exhausted but satisfied.

You yourself were still in that sweet daze, your heart pumping warmth into your whole body and tingles dancing all over your stomach, a smile on your face you couldn’t hold back.

The soreness between your legs somehow felt so good, a reminder of this night that would stay even after he’s gone.

After a moment you rolled to your side, watching Arthur’s glistening face as he was covered in sweat, as much as you were. The loose strands of his hair were sticking to his forehead and a familiar warmth spread in your stomach as you imagined reaching out and brushing those strands back, gently caressing his cheek and planting a kiss on the little scar on his chin.

Yes. You were pretty much screwed.

He turned his head to look at you and caught your gaze, silently reciprocating it and giving you a perfect view at his greenish blue eyes. He looked so vulnerable in that moment it tugged at your heart, wanting nothing but to embrace him in your arms.

But you had no idea how he felt and you didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself.

“I uh…” Arthur cleared his throat, turning away to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. “Lemme clean this up.”

Your soft gaze followed him as he held onto the cloth and as his eyes asked for consent before he lifted the blanket and gently wiped the stickiness from between your thighs.

You didn’t even try to hide your red cheeks, the situation making it seem more than understandable. You wondered whether he realized how sweet this was of him, how much it made you fall in love even more.

You were both silent and the air felt thick between you two, as if there were many things left unsaid and it made the silence louder.

You never knew but always wondered what ran through his mind after your shared intimacy, how he felt, what was the mysterious gleam in his eyes as he watched you hot and sweating beside him.

When he was done, you sat up with the blanket over you again, watching his flexing muscles as he turned away from you, giving you a perfect view at his back.

Arthur lit himself a cigarette, breathing out soft clouds of smoke that floated up towards the ceiling. He sat back, feeling nothing but lightness and comfort inside.

He turned his head to look at you and found you already watching.

“Ya want a drag?”

“Sure,” you accepted, holding the blanket over your chest as you leaned forward. Instead of taking the cigarette from him as he expected you to, you left it between his fingers and simply wrapped your lips around its end while he held it out for you.

You gently put your fingers around his wrist instead, letting him watch you a little surprised.

Leaning away, you fought back the irritation in your throat and turned away from him, tears forming in your eyes. With your mouth at the crook of your arm, you broke into a violent cough.

“Not used to it, huh?” Arthur lightly mocked you, bringing the cigarette back to his own lips as he watched you struggle to gain composure.

You turned to him with teary eyes, laughing at his snicker. “I can’t be good at everything, cowboy.”

After a few moments your breath finally steadied and you found Arthur lost in thought when you looked back at him. Studying his side profile without him taking notice as he continued to smoke, something occupying his mind.

You caught yourself wishing for those hands to hold your hips instead like they did just half an hour ago. For his bare chest to be pressed against yours again, to have his lips on your own. It was like an addiction.

Having him sit beside you like that, naked, turned you on all over again.

He had no idea how much he had you wrapped around his finger.

You cleared your throat, moving your gaze before he could catch you drooling over him.

“So uh… I’d like to ask something of you.”

He looked at you with surprise in his face, curiously turning his whole body towards you.

“Huh, what is it?” he asked in a relaxed tone, shifting closer to you.

You chuckled under your breath as you turned to reach for your satchel lying beside the bed and pulled out a folded paper.

You slightly shook your head at how silly this was, but handed Arthur the paper along with a pencil nonetheless, a grin on your face.

“I’d like an autograph please,” you said playfully, making sure he knew this was a harmless request from you. Lying back, your eyes followed him as he unfolded the paper with one hand, a wave of shock stunning him as he stared at his own wanted poster.

He immediately searched for your eyes, puzzled by the gesture, frowning in confusion. But the soft features of your face and relaxed body language calmed him. You were just playing around.

Now amused, he chuckled, looking back at the paper in his hand. “Where did ya get that?”

There was a hint of insecurity in his voice. Now there was no doubt you knew about him being a criminal. You had an evidence in your possession and yet you were still here, in the same bed, naked, your skin still hot from his touch.

“On a business trip. Seems you’re quite a celebrity.” You grinned, moving closer as you looked over his shoulder at the drawn outlines of his face.

“You’re prettier in real life, trust me.”

He softly huffed at the compliment, hoping you wouldn’t notice his flushed cheeks. But you did and found it endearing.

“So… you gon’ collect that reward?” he asked, a joking tone in his voice though he kept his gaze fixated on the poster.

You chuckled. “No, no, I don’t think I’d stand a chance against someone built like you, besides, I don’t usually sleep with people I plan to turn in to the law.” You kept the playful attitude, pointing to the pencil in his hand. “Come on, sign it. I’ll keep it as a memento.”

“This?” He seemed amused by the idea, not grasping why you’d possibly do such thing.

He turned around to stub out his cigarette, his thoughts an entangled mess. Did you really not mind? He almost spiraled into overthinking as he stared back at his effigy, paired with a ‘wanted’ and a fair sum of dollars in bold. He wished he could make this part of him disappear, especially around you.

“Sure. I don’t have your photo, so…” You were clearly still joking with your lighthearted tone, little did he know there was truth in it. You planned to keep that poster, safely hidden away, as a way to keep something as a reminder of him. Was that silly?

He chuckled again as he put the pencil against a corner of the poster, scribbling down his name in neat, pretty letters.

Arthur trusted you, knew you wouldn’t misuse it. Your eyes were too honest and your physical intimacy too passionate for that.

You thanked him as he handed it back to you, giddily putting it aside and giving him a big smile.

“I must assure you,” you started teasing him, “that this is my first time being involved with an outlaw. You’re not a threat to me, are you, Mr Morgan?”

“Well that depends,” Arthur answered with the same kind of mischief, a playful gleam in his eyes as he turned to his stomach and lay close to you, his breath warm on your face.

“Depends on what?” You held back a laugh, enjoying the mood of the conversation.

“I’ve made ya scream before.”

“Oh, shut up.” You gently hit his arm with your palm, a laugh escaping your lips this time, making the outlaw laugh with you.

“You know, you’re not quite that threatening,” you said, still smiling, purposefully teasing Arthur who furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Am not?”

“No. Unless you attack me with your kisses, that is.”

“You haven’t seen the things I’ve done, woman.”

“No, but I’ve certainly felt some other things.” Without thinking you hurriedly planted a kiss on his scrunched nose and turned your bare back to him, sitting on the edge of bed as you reached for your clothes scattered around the floor.

Arthur lay back with his arms behind his head as he continued to rest in bed, watching you put on your clothes, though quite messily, and your hair that stayed tangled despite you running your fingers through it.

You let out a soft sigh as the room got filled with comfortable silence, yet it made you nervous to the core.

You were in love and you usually weren’t afraid of expressing your feelings. But now it felt so intimidating, so risky.

“Arthur…” you said with seriousness in your tone this time, quiet and hesitant enough to pique Arthur’s interest. He sat up straight in bed and you looked back over your shoulder, catching him as beautiful as ever.

Lit by warm candlelight, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over his bare skin. The broad shoulders, though slouched in relaxation, his chest and flat stomach, small scars all over his exposed arms. The way the blanket lay casually over his lap brought warmth into your cheeks and you bit your lip as you remembered the events of just a little while ago.

You looked at his hands, his knuckles bruised and his fingers holding the sheets. And finally his face, curiously watching you with something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite identify. His light brown hair that you loved seeing this ruffled and messy. He really was so beautiful.

“I think…” You tried to swallow the dryness in your mouth, your palms sweating as you struggled to hold eye contact. “I caught feelings for you, Arthur.”

There. You said it. And you felt like a fool.

Your cheeks were now red and you felt a pit in your stomach, not quite believing you just said it out loud. You knew you wouldn’t have it in you to say it again.

You avoided his gaze, having no idea what his reaction was, the little moment of silence felt like an eternity to you.

“You… did?” There was disbelief in his voice and it made you shift nervously, taking a deep breath as you seemingly forgot to breathe.

“Yes.”

The silence became unbearable. You didn’t know how he looked at you, too scared to see the expression of his face and too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

“I have feeling for you as well, (y/n).”

Your eyes widened in surprise and your heart jumped in your chest as you turned around, joy spreading through your veins.

You searched for any sign of deceit in his face, but there was none. He sat there looking completely vulnerable, honest, defenseless, his cheeks pink as he watched you back.

You rushed towards him, cupping his cheeks before connecting your lips in a long sweet kiss. Arthur wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his body as he lovingly pulled at your lips, softly breathing into the kiss with a sense of relief.

Slowly you put his weight on him, making him fall backwards little by little until his head lay on a pillow underneath you.

He broke the kiss, looking up at you with dilated pupils and flushed cheeks. “‘M the only one undressed here.”

You grinned at him, not moving a single inch as you kept him locked under you. “I don’t mind.”

With a kiss you muffled his laugh, a wide smile on your own face.

“So… how ‘bout I join you on your hunting trip tomorrow?” you proposed, hope in your eyes.

“Sure.” Arthur chuckled at your excitement, finding the spark in your eyes adorable as he caressed your cheek. “But I ain’t much of a good hunter.”

“That’s okay.” You kissed the corner of his mouth. “Me neither.”

[lycandrophile]

some thoughts about top surgery recovery, as of 3 days post-op:

when they say using your chest muscles sucks afterward, i never realized exactly how much was going to be be limited. coughing, sneezing, hiccuping, laughing — all of it is terrifying right now. even talking for too long starts to put that kind of stress on my chest, and my voice isn’t as strong as it usually is. it takes me forever to fully empty my bladder when i’m on the toilet because i’m totally relying on gravity to do all the work (and shitting was effectively impossible without a stool softener even though i haven’t taken the pain meds they said i would need them for)…and don’t even get me started on figuring out how to wipe (hint: back to front while sitting, using my dominant hand to push my non-dominant hand far back enough). using the computer is also harder — i was planning on playing lots of baldur’s gate after, but for the first couple days i could only really go for a few minutes before using my arms that way got too tiring. having a mastectomy pillow has been an absolute godsend when i’m using my phone because i can prop my arms up on it and not really have to use any muscles at all to hold them up.

the biggest piece of not being able to use my chest muscles right now, which i’m writing separately because it’s been such a huge thing for me, is that i cannot sit up or back by myself at fucking all. like, if i sit on the couch and lean back a bit to sit against the cushion, it hurts to pull myself back up to fully straight — and if i’m leaning back any more than that, i just can’t do it at all and i’m stuck there unless my boyfriend puts their hands behind me and pushes my dead weight back up. i totally get why some people sleep in a recliner now because i’m completely at the mercy of having someone there to help move me around once i’m at any sort of angle. sitting back is mostly the same as far as what i can do, and arguably hurts worse to attempt at all, but my ability to do it seems to be coming back faster than my ability to sit up. if you’ve never had your mobility limited to that extent before, prepare yourself: the first time you’re stuck somewhere and the person who normally helps you doesn’t answer immediately can be really fucking scary (i learned that the hard way).

the anesthesiologist warned me that i might have a sore throat after surgery from being intubated, but i was not prepared for what “sore throat” ended up meaning for me. you know that feeling of swallowing something that’s too big and you can still feel it in your throat even after it’s down? it’s like that times 20, and further down in my throat. the worst pain i’ve felt in the last three days wasn’t from the surgery itself, it was from trying to swallow pancakes when my throat was at it’s worst. today is the first day it’s even started to fade, and even now, it hurts just to swallow my own spit. i don’t know about you, but that’s not what comes to mind when someone tells me “you might have a sore throat”.

on that note, the incisions themselves have really been the least painful part in general, probably because the nerves there aren’t reconnected yet. the vast majority of my pain and discomfort at this point has been from the drains and bandages — the drain sites getting sore or just randomly starting to sting, waking up feeling suffocated by the ace bandages, etc. it’s not because anything is wrong with them — the drains weren’t placed wrong and the bandages aren’t too tight, they’re just a huge pain in the ass to deal with 24/7. i can’t express how much i’m looking forward to getting the drains out and being able to take binder breaks because it’ll make things so much more comfortable.

my incisions are connected in the middle because my chest tissue was all really close together, and the part where the incisions connect is really the only part where i’ve felt any pain so far. i suspect it’s because the swelling on either side is making that part of the incision push together and press against itself, and then the binder pushes on it even more. it’s not a severe pain at all, but i do sometimes lift the center of the bandage off my chest for a second to give that spot a bit of a break.

i’ve already started getting some of the weird sensations associated with nerves reconnecting, and it definitely is wild. so far, it’s been mostly tingly feelings, sometimes like chills and sometimes more like a limb falling asleep. (weird observation: taking a shit makes my ribs tingle? i’ve got no good explanation for that one.) i’ve gotten a zap on one side and some buzzing feelings too. it’s pretty mild right now, probably because it’s so early on.

i’ve also gotten what i would describe as phantom boob feelings, especially on the first night. specifically, when i close my eyes, sometimes i’ll feel like someone is touching or jiggling the boobs i don’t have anymore. definitely not a super pleasant experience, but i think being out of it from the anesthesia still really helped me not be too upset by the worst of it. i’ve gotten a couple little phantom nipple touches too, but those were just split second blips of sensation that were far less bothersome in comparison.

i never realized that the classic post-op hunch is caused more by the binder than by the body itself, but we had to take all of my bandages off the night after my surgery to send pictures of something to my surgeon, and i was shocked by how much straighter i could sit with everything off. i was definitely still hunched, but it was more like a natural slouch and less like i looked like i was using an invisible walker. with the binder on, it’s super uncomfortable for me to try to stand straight at all because it feels like the ace bandage doesn’t come with my body and just drags everything down, and i’m always holding my mastectomy pillow or my hands to my chest while i walk around to stop it from feeling like gravity is going make the bandage tear my chest open.

every so often, when things are getting especially painful or uncomfortable or just generally difficult, i do start to wonder if i made the right choice. not because i regret getting rid of those things — not by a long shot — but because it’s a fucking hard process to go through. this is probably the hardest thing for me to admit, but the rational part of my mind knows it’s natural to feel that way once in a while. all of this is temporary and the relief from dysphoria will be permanent, but right now? this is my entire world and it doesn’t feel particularly temporary and i do have moments of “why do i have to go through all this when other people get to just have the right body from the start? why couldn’t i just live with what i had? why can’t i just be living my normal life right now?” no matter how sure you are of your choice, no matter how proud you are of being trans, this shit is hard and it’s okay to feel that.

i’m going to put the pictures of my chest one day post-op under the cut, because i think it’s pretty rare to see pictures from that soon after the surgery. they’re not gorey at all — the actual incisions are totally covered by steri strips and everything around them is clean — but still, if you don’t want to see relatively fresh surgery results, don’t look under the cut.

for all the discomfort and pain and limitations and other weirdness of recovery, every time i look at these pictures it reminds me of exactly why i’m doing all of this, and i’m so glad i kept fighting for this for so long. some people might never understand why someone would choose to go through this whole process, but i know it’ll be worth it in the end.

here’s my chest one day post-op! i think it looks super good and my surgeon said it looks like it’s healing perfectly (as much as it can be healing at one day). for reference, my chest was a DDD/F before surgery. i know this isn’t how my chest will look in the end, but i’m already thrilled with how things are turning out! i’ve truly never been more confident in my choice of surgeon — like, come on! look at that! she did so good!

[ghostboneswrites2]

A Mess || Part 10

Yes, ladies and gents and non-binary readers alike, the long awaited final part to A Mess has arrived. I’ve had this written for months and honestly thought I posted it already, so forgive the wait. I’m just a 23 year old teenage girl.

ANYWAYS, the polls for the contents of this final part resulted in:

More smut

Post Terminus / Pre Alexandria setting

The relationship becoming officially established & public

ANNNDDD a sequel series which is in the works ❤️‍🔥

18+ MDNI || Warnings: smut (male receiving oral, fingering, mild grinding), TWD typical stuff

      The days seemed to drag on the way they did after Shane died. You felt like an old paintbrush dragging across a desolate canvas, leaving a trail of splotchy grays and bloody smears, painting your surroundings to mimic the twisted feelings of turmoil inside you. The prison was gone and so many were lost. Beth was dead. So were Bob and Tyreese. At least Carol was back.

        You struggled to find anything to be grateful for, anymore. Sure, you narrowly escaped the hungry bellies of the cannibals at Terminus, and sure you were still alive, but were you really living? Was dragging the worn boots Daryl had gifted you when life was more forgiving across cracked asphault while your stomach gnawed away at your insides really any kind of life? Sometimes you wondered what you pressed on for. Especially with Daryl so reserved and closed off like he was. The loss of Beth had done something to him that you couldn't fully relate to because you weren't with Beth after the prison, you escaped with Glenn and found yourself locked away in a dark train car by the time you finally reunited with Daryl.

        He had formed a sort of connection with her, something pure and protective, something that was shattered right before his eyes with a single gunshot. 

        You wished he'd just talk to you. Or touch you. Or even look at you. Was he so miserable he lost all interest? Surely not. He loved you. He told you so, the day he wound up in that train car with you.

        You shielded your eyes as a bright light filled the dark box that confined you. You were sure they were coming to finally kill you off or whatever it was they planned to do with you. 

        You had sustained an injury to your head in the struggle to round you all up, so you were admittedly out of it. It wasn't until you felt rough hands around your cheeks and heard the panic and relief in his voice that you really registered what was going on.

        "(Y/N)." He breathed as he planted a rough kiss on your forehead then your lips. "I thought you were dead. I love ya, ya hear me? I fuckin' love you."

        You may not have remembered much from your concussed state, and he may have never said it again, but that was a memory you held onto with every last bit of your strength. He loved you.  

        You knew he just needed some time, but you also knew you needed him. You were slipping away; losing hope. A simple touch could have made the difference of life or death for you at that point. 

        Then, it rained. It was welcome. Your dry cracked lips, burning throat, and aching organs were brought back to life as you caught the droplets on your tongue. When the thunder rumbled, Daryl urged you all to an old barn he had found off on his own. He did that often; going off on his own.

        The night was loud and it was hard to find any rest. The wind slapped the weathered wooden walls and seemingly shook the ground. The thunder was loud and frequent, bright flashes infiltrating the cracks and openings as the lightning grew closer. You tossed and turned a lot, only to eventually sit yourself up and rub your eyes. You jumped when your eyes readjusted to the darkness to see a looming figure before you.

        "Hey." He whispered. You blinked.

        "Hey." You whispered back. He stepped over and sat down beside you.

        "Y'alright?"  He asked.

        "Can't sleep." You shrugged, not looking at him.

        "Mm." He nodded. "Other than that."

        "Just... tired." Was all you managed. There wasn't enough time in a day -- or sleepless night -- to go through and examine your emotions enough to lay them all out flat for him. Plus, that was never really his strong suit. You two showed each other how you felt in place of saying it. You always had. Which was another reason it hurt you so bad for him to pull away. You knew if he was done with what you had, he'd never say it. He'd just let you figure it out on your own, and you'd never really know why.

        "That ain't it." He pointed out. "But it's okay. I know I ain't been much for talkin' lately. You don't gotta be, either."

        You were lost for words. Was this an attempt at letting you back in? At being close to you?

        "Anyway, I, uh.." He cleared his throat and glanced around, scanning through the dim light of the dying fire to ensure he hadn't woken anyone. "I just miss ya, is all."

        "Oh." You nodded. "Yeah. Me too." 

        "Look, I just needed to figure it out, ya know? Let myself feel it." He persisted. "After Beth... After everything, I just couldn't let myself. But now I did, and I need to say sorry."

        "I just didn't know if..."

        "Nah." He cut you off. "That wasn't on you. That was me. 'N' I'm sorry." 

        "It's okay." You placed a gentle hand on his knee. "I get it."

        Some moments passed in silence as you both felt devoid of anything to say. He cleared his throat again.

        "Can I stay with you?" He asked.

        "Yeah. Of course." You half smiled, even though he probably couldn't see. You shuffled over to a bed of old hay where you had laid out a jacket.

        He laid down, propping his arm under his head in place of a pillow, and your crawled down beside him, curling up into his side and taking a breath. He was ripe with a lack of access to hygiene, but then again, so were you, so you decided to enjoy the musk as a byproduct of his closeness.

        The longer you lay awake, feeling the warmth of his body, the more it hit you just how bad you needed him in such trying times. You realized then, more than ever, how bad you were craving his touch, his scent, his voice, his taste.

        You popped your head up and looked up at his face. It was shadowy and dark but you’d recognize his features in total darkness. He glanced down at you with a softness, wondering what you were about to  say.

         However, ‘saying’ wasn’t on your agenda. No, it was much more of a ‘doing’ that you had planned. 

         You stretched your neck out to kiss him on the jaw as his hand rested contently on the back of your head. He thought you were just being affectionate in the way that girlfriends did when they missed their man, and you were, but you had other things planned, too. As your lips planted little kisses along his jawline until they met his own, he relaxed into the semi-comfortable bed of hay. He figured whatever you were doing, was just your way of telling him you missed him. After all, you two always showed what you felt, and rarely said it. 

        When your lips met his you quietly climbed over top of him, straddling him as you depend the kiss. The more you touched him, the deeper you felt his absence since Grady. 

        You broke away for a breath and littered more sloppy kisses over his cheeks and neck, stopping somewhere in between to nibble at his earlobe. He groaned quietly under the weight of you and your affections, hoping you’d stop whatever you were doing soon, as the aching member in his jeans was already begging to be touched. Unfortunately, there was no end in sight to your erotic touches. As you shifted, your own wet heat glided over the bulge in his pants, and you realized you were succeeding in your mission. 

        You were downright needy for him, breathy whines escaping you as you grounded against him, rubbing your flat hands over his chest with hunger, catching his lips in yours between sucking and nibbling at the flesh of his neck. His hands gripped your thighs as you got hotter and hornier, quickly realizing he wasn’t getting out of this one. 

        When you pulled back again, flushed and sweaty already, you could barely see the glisten in his eyes as he stared back at you. Slowly, you leaned down to whisper in his ear; “Quiet, okay?” 

        He nodded once and you slowly slid down until your face was level with his waist. Slowly, silent as you could manage, you unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped them, and wiggled them down his thighs. He let out a small breath when you rigged his boxers down, cold air hitting his bare flesh. With one last glance up at his face, you smirked and turned your attention to his tip, gently licking and planting wet kisses all around it. 

        A pleasant “agh” escaped him, prompting you to take it a step further. You wrapped your juicy lips around his tip and slowly lowered yourself, bobbing up and down with no sense of haste. He tried desperately to suppress any vocalizations that may have been at bay, fearful he’d wake someone, especially Carl or baby Jude.

        It was painfully slow, the way you’d take him in further every so often, and when you finally met the base of him, he couldn’t suppress the groan. You quickly glanced around for any stirring bodies, and continued when you found none. Slow like a snail, gliding your lips and tongue up and down his length, hollowing out your cheeks to create a vacuum. You wanted him to understand what he was missing, what kind of bliss you could give him. You wanted him to feel your absence when he wasn’t around, just like you did his.

        Soon enough he was throbbing in your mouth, his hips uncontrollably jerking. He was close. You debated whether or not to take it all the way or leave him begging for more. You opted to give him some relief, given the miserable circumstances of your lives. 

        You took all of him at once, his load spilling into the back of your throat and dripping down. You stayed like that for a moment, barely bobbing back and forth, allowing him to ride his high and come back down. 

        You wiped your mouth and grinned at him as you pulled away. With your help, he shimmied his pants back up and secured the button. You took your place beside him once again, snuggling up close, your head rested between his chest and shoulder. 

        He took a few minutes to recover before he used two fingers to guide your jaw up so he could place a gentle kiss on your swollen lips. He moved his kissed over your cheek and to your ear and whispered, “Quiet, okay?”

        You bit your lip and smiled as he carefully slid his fingers in your jeans and traced one across your slit, starting at your entrance and ending at your clit. Deciding his big hand wouldn’t have enough room in your buttoned jeans, he went ahead and unbuttoned them and slid the zipper down to allow more movement. 

        With that out of the way, he could work delicately on your sweet spots, gently dragging his finger up and down your slit to get it nice and wet. All the while, you were biting down on your lip trying to keep quiet. He noticed the way your hips with try to follow his finger when it moved up. You wanted him inside you, so he’d give it to you. 

        He slid his middle finger inside you and pumped it in and out a few times, laying a free hand over your mouth to make sure your sounds could be muffled. Your eyes fluttered at the sensation of his calloused skin massaging your insides, effortlessly finding that one spot that made you weak. His thumb found your clit as he fingered you, rubbing little circles, eliciting a small moan. He paused and gave you a look, reminding you where you were. You nodded, letting him know you understood, and he continued. A trembling breath released from your nose, his other hand still over your mouth, as he slipped a second finger inside and continued massaging your g-spot and rubbing your clit.

        As he settled into a rhythm, your body responded. You rocked your hips with his movements, communicating to him to keep up what he was doing. He understood. He always understood you.

        In no time at all, all that pent up frustration and aches for his touch finally heated to a boiling point, and you spilled over. Your body and voice trembled as you shook and rode your orgasm on his fingers. When your body calmed and you flinched at his touch, he pulled his hand away and buttoned you back up. He relaxed again, triumphant this time, and you curled up close to him and drifted to sleep in an instant. 

        Daryl was the first to wake the next morning, but given your position sprawled across him, you were quick to get up with him. The two of you went outside to assess the storm damage. Trees had fallen in the night, narrowly missing the barn itself. You made small talk as you wandered the area, occasionally taking out a stray walker. When you went back inside, hand in hand, the rest of the group was awake and shuffling around. Maggie was the first to notice the way Daryl held your hand so casually, then Sasha, then Glenn and the rest. Nobody knew what to say, but they all stared and exchanged glances amongst each other. Daryl shifted a tad, uncomfortable with the sudden attention, but he braved his anxieties and stood firmly beside you. He cleared his throat. 

         “Damage is pretty bad out there. ‘S a miracle then damn trees didn’t fall right on us.” He said.

        “Huh.” Rick hummed, nodding, still perplexed. He nodded down at your hand entwined with Daryl’s and raised his eyebrows. 

        “Oh.” Daryl shrugged, holding your hands up and looking down at them. He realized the two do you never really established a relationship, especially not completely openly. He figured the way he told you he loved you back in that train car at Terminus would have been a dead giveaway, but tensions were high back then. Maybe it went unnoticed. He shrugged again. “Yeah.” 

        You stifled a laugh and shook your head. Your family all smirked and smiled sweetly, but didn’t press further, save for Carol, who spoke in a ‘told you so’ kind of tone. “It’s about time you two quit playing footsies and took things to the next level.” 

Masterlist // Taglist

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix

[tickettride]

I’ve just seen a face || J.D.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

pairing is johnny davis x f!reader

in which the man you've been staring at all night long at a party meets you in the kitchen, and suggests to walk you out where it's safer. the only danger is not being able to stop kissing him.

word count: 2k

warnings: 18+ (mdni), alcohol, mention of weed, men being creeps, smoking, sexual tension, kissing and a touch of fluff?, "girls are prettier without glasses" speech (ugh), maybe a few mistakes and nonsense

AN: I can’t believe I've spent a whole afternoon on this. anyway, this is a gift for myself as I’ve spent my first day at my dream college, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. And yes, I love very long gifs.

The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself, with desire for what its monstrous laws have made monstrous and unlawful. — The Picture of Dorian Gray

 

Johnny’s lips hovered over yours, mixing his warm breath with your shaky exhales. You had never felt so connected to another human being before. Never felt your soul leaving your body that way. And here you were now, nose-to-nose with a man you didn't even know.

A deep, unwavering sexual tension had tethered you to Johnny for hours. Even since you had stepped into the house, actually. It had been hard to see right through the smoke, even more since you had decided to ditch your glasses for the night, just for the experience. Well, it had been a fucking mistake. All the faces were blurry, and you swore you introduced yourself twice to the same people, all of them hoisting their beer and exchanging looks you didn't quite understand.

It doesn’t matter, your friends told you. They won’t remember anything the next morning. You supposed it was a relief, to think people would forget about you in just a few hours. At least until you saw that guy who had been standing in a corner the whole time. 

No, not a guy. A real man, with broad shoulders and a certain way of carrying himself. Even from across the room, you knew he was respected.

It had taken you longer than necessary to reach the kitchen behind a group of wobbly men, bumping into shoulders and apologizing inaudibly. Someone talked to you but you barely paid any attention, giving a small "okay" instead as you focused on getting to the kitchen in one piece.

Rubbing your eyelid tiredly, you nearly scratched your eye out when a hand closed around your wrist, though it felt warm and gentle.

“Hey.”

The man from the corner was looking down at you, worry flickering in his eyes. So close to you, he was even more handsome. Full lips, a face that carried memories. Clearly, he had seen a lot.

“Ya need help?”

“No?” You dragged the syllable, confused as you shot a look at your friends. The three of them had crashed on a couch, their loud laughter drawing attention. You might have looked drunk though, you gave him that. “I’m just headin’ for the kitchen. Gotta drink some water before I start feelin’ all…”

Your vague hand motion made his lips twitch in amusement, which pulled a smile to your lips too. It slightly faded when he removed his hand from you, and you turned back around.

So he had noticed you.

A strong scent of alcohol and weed burned your nostrils when you walked over to the sink, your eyes sweeping over the room to find where the glasses were stocked. Littered cups filled with some sort of alcohol mix had your nose wrinkled up at the smell, wondering what was wrong with those people. Did they really enjoy drinking this? Finally, stacked glasses that seemed clean enough caught your eyes.

And now that same man was standing at the threshold.

“I’m old enough to be left on my own, y'know," you said sarcastically, almost nervous to be left alone with him. Was he one of the creeps? Or just a man bored to death?

In response, he nodded like you had made a great point. “Just don’t want ya to feel unsafe, is all.”

You shrugged, retrieving a glass, checking it was somewhat clean, and filling it with water. “I know how to throw a punch. I've been taught the basics.”

“Show me, then.”

The three words made your heartbeat faster. With your free hand, you closed your fist, barely thinking. 

“Nah. Ya’d break your thumb like that.”

Your gaze flitted to your hand for a second. “Yeah. Probably.”

Another nod was addressed to you, and a moment of silence wrapped you both in a comfortable bubble. You drank the water silently while he kept his eyes on you, which would have looked truly odd did he not seem safe. He looked exhausted, though. Maybe a bit entertained. Maybe like he’d been waiting for someone like you to light up his evening.

“I’m Johnny.”

You gave your name back, watching his smile that definitely shouldn’t have caused a hot nudge in your lower body, considering he would surely move on from you the next day.

Still, the tension choked you as he stepped further into the room, picking up a bottle of beer in a bucket. Your hand tightened against the glass when you opened your mouth to ask where he was from–the usual small talk you used when silence made you uneasy–and instantly closed it as two bearded men barged in, ruining the moment.

“I say, "You ain’t goin’ nowhere, motherfucker",” the first one spat, waving a gun in the air. “I captured you.”

Swallowing thickly at the sight of the small handgun, you set the glass back down into the sink and glanced over at Johnny. Your senses returned to you enough to do some calculations. From what you could see, you could slip beside him and make your way back to your friends swiftly. But those two creeps had spotted you, standing there like an outsider or just a woman, and nerves started filling your body as you hyped yourself up to take the few steps toward freedom. There was no way you were staying there to risk being shot accidentally. What a stupid end that would make.

Johnny’s brow furrowed at those guys and back at you, sensing your discomfort. He tipped the drink to his mouth, taking a long sip as you took a deep breath. 

“I think I’ll head out,” you announced quietly, ignoring the men’s hot gazes on your back.

It was a shame to leave so fast, but maybe you just weren’t meant to be talking to Johnny. You believed in all that stuff fiercely.

Johnny’s head turned around, watching behind him before meeting your eyes again. “I can’t see your friends.”

“Oh, they must be smokin’ somewhere out there.”

Giving a small nod, he stepped closer to you and left his beer near the sink. “I’ll walk ya out.”

You cleared your throat, trying to alleviate the lump forming from the thoughts racing through your brain. His hand settled on your lower back as he guided you to the back door, and you didn’t think once. Perhaps you'd finally have that time alone with him, after all. He didn’t look like he wanted to leave either.

The cold breeze hit you in the face as you squinted through the darkness, praying hard not to fall or trip or do anything embarrassing in front of him. And that was exactly what you did. The couple of stairs were poorly lighted, and there was only one idiot to miss that one step. You.

“Shit,” you stumbled, chuckling awkwardly when you felt Johnny’s hand on your waist, making sure you were not collapsing.

“Alright?”

“Yeah,” you replied quickly, unable to stop yourself from smiling. 

Maybe it was his big hands on you, or maybe it was just the one beer you had drunk, but the wind seemed less cold, less aggressive on your skin. God, he looked so... attractive.

A small smile graced his lips as he gazed down at you, almost checking you out. “Should’ve slowed down on the beers.”

Another giggle escaped your lips, trying not to shrink under his gaze. “It’s not about the beers, promise. I just can’t see nothin’ without my glasses.”

“You lost ‘em?” Johnny asked, a wrinkle appearing between his brows. 

“No. Um… I’ve been told girls are prettier without glasses.”

He made a sound. Kept frowning. That was your cue to blabber on. 

“Not that I found myself… unattractive. I just thought I could try one night without wearin' them. Which was really stupid, considerin’ I’ve almost died at least twice.”

You pursued your lips as you caught a whiff of his scent on his leather jacket, willing yourself to shut up and flee. As you were supposed to. And yet, as dumb as you sounded, Johnny’s eyes were fixed on yours and did not leave for a moment. He was listening carefully, blocking out the world to hear your silly explanation. 

“You’re not unattractive,” he said in a low voice. "I bet they make ya look even prettier."

“How would you know?” your tone matched his, your blood heating another degree. 

Johnny came closer, raising his hands to run his thumbs above your cheeks, where your glasses usually fell. His eyes were ringed with dark circles, but they were beautiful. Dark. Full of fantasies. 

“Just imaginin’,” his raspy voice sent a hot shiver down your spine. "I've been lookin' at ya since you walked in, but I hadn’t noticed those freckles right there."

Your heart hammered in your chest. It was all going so fast, but the mere thought of slowing things down was absurd. You couldn’t think of anything but feeling his lips on yours. Moving your body with his. Feeling so wanted he might die, and you as well. You usually were careful and rather shy when it came to flirting, but why would you resist the temptation now?

The party didn’t matter. The people out there didn’t matter. Hell, even your friends didn’t matter. It was only you and the man you had checked out (ogled) all night, the man who had made sure you were feeling safe, the man who had caught you in his arms like they did in the movies. 

It did feel like a movie anyway. None of this felt real. 

“I can’t see much, but you look pretty attractive too,” you dared to say, though you wished you had sounded bolder. 

His lips nearly touched yours. The top of your noses did, causing you to chuckle. What was even happening?

“See me better now?” Johnny muttered, angling his face.

"Much better."

"Good."

You had known a few men, kissed a few of them, but nothing had ever come close to this particular moment. Nothing had ever felt so exciting, so hot and passionate. You didn’t want him to forget you. Fuck, you were sure you would think of these minutes until your last breath. You needed to have him, even for a short moment.

Nose-to-nose with a man you didn't even know.

“Johnny?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Emboldened by his widening smile, you closed what little distance was left between your mouths and pressed a soft kiss against his lips, just testing the waters. You hadn’t expected it to feel that good. Like a taste of heaven. Gripping his shoulders, you drew yourself high against his chest and slipped your tongue into his mouth, a tiny sound mixing with a groan of his. His hands pressed against your back, holding your waist like a fragile doll as yours slid to the back of his head. Fuelled by the need to make him moan again, you wrapped both arms up around his neck until you were shamelessly making out on the grass, wishing he could do something to alleviate the burning in your body. It was bewitching.

You were out of breath when you landed on your feet again, as though you had just taken a trip to the stars for a minute. Clearly, Johnny was as dazed as you were. 

Looking over his shoulder, you found no less than ten faces peering out the window, and a couple more watching from the front porch. Smoking. You bet your friends had seen it all. 

“Shit,” you whispered, at a loss for words. 

Johnny ran his thumb over your lip, his eyes tracing his own movements as he did. ‘Tell me where ya live.”

Forgetting everything about the safety rules you had always followed when it came to men, you whispered, “Next to the shoe store. I work there on weekends.”

The detail had slipped out, but you just wished he would suggest picking you up someday. Don’t let him forget you, your brain kept saying. You couldn’t be anticipating the saddest goodbye of your life yet.

“You’re workin’ tomorrow?”

A bit of hope flickered in your chest. Men usually fucked off after getting what they wanted, but he seemed really into you. That was unreal.

“Tomorrow’s Friday,” you grinned playfully, chuckling as he nodded. 

"Tomorrow’s Friday," Johnny repeated, realizing his mistake. "Guess I don’t wanna spend one day waitin’ to see ya again."

“Me either,” you admitted lowly, removing a strand of hair sticking to your lips. “You can—you can still come on Saturday, if you want to.”

“You’ve been on a motorcycle before?” 

You shook your head, wondering why you felt so bashful all of a sudden. Johnny’s lips curved at your hesitancy, holding your gaze for a moment. His eyes full of promises again.

“Hmm. Ya should leave before I keep ya out here with me,” he declared, snapping you out of your thoughts as he squeezed your hip gently and stepped backward. 

And with that, the moment was gone.

“Saturday, then?” you asked, just to make sure. 

You sounded almost desperate, but you couldn’t care. There was something scary about being so attracted to someone so fast. What if a simple change of heart left you heartbroken?

“Saturday,” Johnny confirmed, making it sound like it was years away. 

You dropped your gaze for a second and raised it again to look at him one last time, the steadying sounds of your breathings filling the cold air. Johnny broke the eye-contact to check that your friends were still standing in the distance.

“Ya need help walkin’ over there?”

The question made you smile. “I’ll be alright. I’ll try to walk in a straight line and avoid people."

Johnny’s stare could have been a good reason to stay with him and let him keep you, but after a second of hesitancy, you willed yourself to utter a small ‘Well, see you, then’. You made a beeline to your friends, blinking a couple of times as though your vision would become clear again. 

You shot one look behind. Johnny was waiting for you to reach the others, not moving.

They all shouted in your ear when you stepped on the tiled floor, but you weren’t listening. Just thinking of how fast it all could change when you least expected it. You weren't fully sure he'd really show up in two days, so you crossed your fingers during the whole ride back home and hoped he wouldn't forget. You were already longing for this man’s touch.

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

TOM GLYNN-CARNEY INTERVIEWED BY DECIDER MAGAZINE.

I THINK THE MOST WHOLESOME AEGON MOMENT EVER WAS WHEN SUNFYRE GREETED HIM BEFORE ROOK'S REST. KIND OF LIKE A DOG NUZZLING ITS OWNER. HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE THE BOND BETWEEN AEGON AND HIS DRAGON AND WHAT IT MEANS TO HIM?

"I think you’ve just done it very well."

"I think it is like a dog and his owner."

"It was interesting."

"My dad was talking to me about how that scene was very touching and stuff."

And I was just like, 'You know what? You know what I felt when we did it on that day?'

"When the amazing puppeteers came over with the big, blue dragon head that would later be CGI-ed into Sunfyre."

"The way they were moving and breathing with this big piece of set was just like, it just reminded me of my dog, Ziggy."

"So, yeah, I fully leant into that and imagined it was him nuzzling me in the chest."

"And he’s sat with me right now, and that’s how it felt on the day."

"So, yeah, I’m glad that came across."

SUNFYRE IS CONSIDERED DEAD NOW IN THE STORY, BUT IN THE BOOKS, AT LEAST, A HUGE TURNING POINT FOR YOUR CHARACTER DOWN THE ROAD IS WHEN HE'S REUNITED WITH SUNFYRE. ARE YOU HOPEFUL THAT WILL INDEED PLAY OUT IN THE SHOW? AND WHAT DO YOU THINK A REUNION LIKE THAT COULD MEAN TO AEGON?

"Oh, we’ll see."

"Well, I’m not sure."

"I’m not sure."

"I mean, that’s not up to me either, is it?"

"But, yeah, that would be lovely."

"It would be lovely."

"I think it’s important for a dragonrider to have a dragon with them and have a companion in that sense."

"Yeah, there’s just that sort of extra connection, that sort of deeper connection that you have with your dragon, in the same way that you have with your dog, than with all human beings."

"Your dog knows so much more about you than most humans do."

"[Laughs] So, yeah, I think it’s the same thing."

WHEN I SPOKE TO MATTHEW NEEDHAM BEFORE THE SEASON BEGAN, HE HAD MENTIONED THAT HE HAD ALWAYS FELT THAT LARYS AND AEGON WERE CONNECTED IN THE SHOW AT LITTLE AEGON'S NAME DAY. NOW I'M CURIOUS. BECAUSE RIGHT NOW LARYS IS KIND OF AEGON'S ONLY FRIEND, WHAT DO YOU THINK IS BONDING THESE CHARACTERS FROM AEGON'S PERSPECTIVE?

"Yeah, I think there’s definitely common ground with Aegon and Larys."

"There’s now this shared experience of being, you know, physically impaired."

"This is something that Larys has had to live with his entire life, but it is very new to Aegon."

"So any advice or any talks or anything like that that Larys has to give Aegon, Aegon is listening to him."

"For the first time in a long time, he’s listening to somebody and trusting them."

"Aegon feels like Larys has Aegon’s best interests at heart."

"Yes, there may be some personal gains eventually, but for now Larys seems legitimate and like he will actually help Aegon help in his pursuit to survive and thrive."

"I was talking to somebody before about it, and I’m saying, out of all the bad options that are sort of laid in front Aegon at the moment, this seems to be the least damaging and most likely to help them survive a little bit longer."

YOU MENTIONED AEGON'S PHYSICAL IMPAIRMENT. OVER THE WEEKS, WE'VE SEEN JUST VARIOUS STAGES OF MAKEUP ON AEGON, AS HE'S BEEN IMMEDIATELY IN THE AFTERMATH, AND NOW HE'S BEEN IMPROVING. WHAT WAS IT LIKE TO DEAL WITH ALL THE PROSTHETICS? HOW DID IT CHANGE FROM WEEK TO WEEK? AND DID YOU HAVE A FAVORITE OR LEAST FAVORITE LOOK?

"I mean, for a start, it was an experience I’ve never had before."

"Being clad in all that prosthetic, it takes a lot of time."

"It takes a lot of patience from the artists themselves and a lot of skill."

"I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, you know, I get the easy job."

"I just have to sit there and have it put on me in bed."

"People are getting up at ridiculous hours of the morning and preparing everything even before I arrive."

"Then once I’m sat in the chair, they spend six to seven hours applying it."

"At which time, I get to fall asleep or read a book or listen to a podcast."

"I get the easy side of things, but, yeah, it’s definitely an experience I’ve not had before."

DID YOU SAY IT WAS SIX TO SEVEN HOURS?

"Yeah, sometimes."

"That’s my least favorite part of it, the amount of time spent in the chair."

"But also, it does get quicker as the healing process improves."

"For example, like the initial burns where the armor was being peeled out and you could see, you know, torso, arm, face, neck, all that… That was six to seven hours."

"Really raw burns."

"But as that starts to heal, we shaved a couple of hours off it."

YEAH, ONE DETAIL THAT TOOK ME BY SURPRISE IN THE FINALE WAS TO REVEAL THAT AEGON LOST A KEY PART OF HIS MANHOOD IN THE FIRE. SO AT WHAT POINT DID YOU KNOW THAT WAS AN ELEMENT TO HIS INJURIES? AND HOW DRASTICALLY DOES THAT CHANGE HOW HE SEES HIMSELF?

"[Chuckles] Yeah, yeah."

"What a shame."

YEAH, HIS POOR PENIS. I WAS LIKE, 'OH NO!'

"Understatement of the year! I first realized that was a part of his injuries in the read-through week."

"[Both laugh.] Around the table with everybody."

"So that was interesting."

"Actually, you know what? Who knows what he thinks?"

"I haven’t had that much time to think about it."

"I don’t think he’s had that much time to think about it in great detail."

"I don’t think a lot of his injuries have really sunk in yet because he’s been laying in his bed."

"I think they’ll really start — particularly once he starts moving around and using his body again and being physically more engaged in his body — that’s when he’ll start to realize what damage has been done."

"Yeah, I think that will all become clear as Season 3 unfolds."

"But, yeah, I don’t think he’ll be spending much more time in Flea Bottom."

I WAS JUST SPEAKING WITH EWAN, AND HE MENTIONED OFFHANDEDLY THE AMBIGUITY OF THE SCENE IN WHICH AEMOND PRESSES THE KING'S BALL FROM THE SMALL COUNCIL INTO AEGON'S CHEST. HE SAID IT WAS VERY AMBIGUOUS ON HIS END. DID IT FEEL AMBIGUOUS ON YOUR END? DOES AEGON CONCEIVE IT AS A THREAT, OR DOES HE SEE IT AS POTENTIALLY HANDING THE KINGSHIP BACK?

"I think, as Aegon, I just saw that as Aemond playing little sort of status games with him and trying to be threatening, but really just sort of… I’ve taken a personal dislike to Aemond."

"[Chuckles] Yeah, I think he’s a little weasel that needs punishing now."

WHEN I SPOKE TO YOU BEFORE THE SHOW CAME OUT, YOU MENTIONED THE PHILIP LARKIN POEM, 'THIS BE THE VERSE' INFORMING AEGON'S RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS PARENTS. THERE IS THIS HEART WRENCHING MOMENT WHEN AEGON IS FIRST COMING TO AFTER ROOK'S REST. HE ONLY SAYS 'MUMMY,' AFTER ALICENT LEAVES HIS SIDE. CAN ALICENT STILL REACH HIM? DO YOU THINK THAT RELATIONSHIP IS COMPLETELY RUINED? AND WHAT DOES AEGON NEED FROM HIS MOTHER AFTER ROOK'S REST?

"I don’t think they really ever had a relationship to ruin, to be honest."

"There’s always been fractures in it."

"There’s always been a severe case of approaching things from totally different angles."

"Neither of them really have the tools or the know-how to give the other what they need."

AS A FOLLOW UP, HE LEAVES KING'S LANDING BEFORE RHAENYRA ARRIVES IN THIS VERSION OF THE STORY. SO HE HAS NO IDEA THAT ALICENT HAS BASICALLY BARTERED HIS LIFE OVER. DO YOU THINK HE WILL DISCOVER THAT HIS DEATH WAS PART OF ALICENT'S BETRAYAL? AND DO YOU THINK THAT WOULD FURTHER JUST PUT THEM AT ODDS?

"Yeah, of course."

"I think the writers are clever enough to pick up on those little details and to use those as ammunition."

"I mean, I hope so."

"That’d be great, wouldn’t it?"

"But then again, I’m not a writer, and those guys are absolutely phenomenal."

"So I will leave them to do that, and I’ll do my job."

YOU'RE NOT A WRITER, BUT DO YOU HAVE ANY HOPES FOR WHERE AEGON MIGHT BE NEXT SEASON? DO YOU WANT TO HAVE A BUDDY ROAD TRIP MOMENT WITH LARYS? DO YOU WANT TO GO TO ESSOS? IS THERE ANY AREA IN WESTEROS OR ESSOS THAT YOU REALLY WANT TO EXPLORE WITH MATTHEW NEEDHAM NEXT YEAR?

"Do you know what? Me and Matthew spend the majority of our time, if not all of our time on Season 2, in the studios at Leavesden."

"So I think we’re both just grateful for any opportunity we get to be on location, have some fresh air and see some new places."

"These beautiful landscapes that literally every other actor got to experience on Season 2, but we didn’t."

"So, yeah, anywhere that takes us away from the studio would be fantastic."

YOU'VE TALKED A LOT ABOUT HOW ROOK'S REST GIVES AEGON SO MANY PHYSICAL AILMENTS, BUT IT ALSO SEEMS TO CHANGE SOMETHING IN HIM. DO YOU THINK THERE'S ANYTHING TO A 'PHOENIX RISING FROM THE ASHES' METAPHOR THERE, WHERE AEGON IS SORT OF GETTING A NEW CHANGE TO ASSERT HIMSELF AS A DIFFERENT KIND OF LEADER, RULER OR MAN?

"Absolutely, Meghan."

"I think you’re absolutely right, for sure."

"The phoenix rising from the ashes is a great image, and I think that’s spot on."

"He becomes colder."

"He becomes more driven."

"He becomes less attentive to how people receive him."

"I think he’s in business mode now."

"There’s been too many people taking advantage of him and whoconsider him useless or ineffective."

"So, yeah, he’s now going to I think he’s now going to buckle down."

"That’s perceive him, anyway."

AND IS HIS ULTIMATE GOAL JUST THE IRON THRONE? OR DOES HE ALSO WANT TO ENACT REVENGE ON THOSE HE FEELS HAVE HARMED HIM OR NOT TAKING HIM SERIOUSLY?

"Yeah, I think he wants to inflict pain now at that point, and I don’t know if it will make him feel any better, to be perfectly honest."

"I don’t think revenge ever fully does give you that peace."

"He’s a man with nothing to lose."

"In the sense that, of course, he has the throne to lose, but it’s not really his throne to lose."

It’s much greater than him."

"You know, it’s his family name."

"It’s his pride."

"It’s his manhood."

"It is everything."

"Somebody has come and killed his child and then he’s been attacked by his own brother."

"You know, there’s nowhere to turn that’s safe."

"So, yeah, he feels very much like a one man band — with the added assistance of good Lord Larys Strong." [Chuckles]

[lucisfavoritedemon]

Through The Poral: Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: A mystery girl comes through the portal with Ford. Little did anyone know she has a bigger connection to the brothers than anyone thought.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, age gap, flash backs, mentions of hopelessness, age gap (reader looks 21)

Pairing(s): Stan x platonic!reader, Ford x platonic!reader

A/N: Retelling of a Tale of Two Stans. The events and ideas are based on a theory I have about the Nightmare Realm. This is in no way canonically true, just my theories based on what we canonically know about the Nightmare Realm. 

40 long years of waiting. Waiting and wondering whether the time would come if I would ever be able to go home again. 40 years of hiding in plain sight from the one they call Bill Cipher, a dream demon who reigns over the nightmare realm, the place I have resided in for 40 years. Unaged and unchanged physically, but mentally I feel like I’ve lived for centuries.

When I first arrived in the nightmare realm, I had found refuge with a group of asteroid miners. I wasn't sure how much time had truly passed when an unknown man joined us, Stanford Pines. He told us stories of how he managed to get there as escapes Bill's grasp.

That was a long time ago. It seemed longer than what it actually was. Stanford had gone off and managed to hop between dimensions, and here we're I standing at the ready to take down Bill for good, his quantum destabilizer complete and in hand. 

“We have one shot at this.” Stanford whispered to me. 

I nodded in agreement, but as we went to strike, a rift opened up in front of us. Stanford, knowing the stakes of this mission knew that either we walked through, or Bill would and wreak havoc upon our home dimension, so with a heavy heart we walked through entering back into our home dimension. 

It felt surreal. After being gone for so long, I was finally back home. Yet, where I stood was not familiar to me. I recognised nothing. A dark space that was placed, I assumed, underground. I could hear the whirring of the machine as it fizzled and died. Home, a place I'd long forgotten, yet this place felt nothing like that. I felt like I was an imposter entering a realm I did not belong in.

Stanford and I stood silent. Taking in our surroundings. Unmoved by anything the people standing in the room were saying or doing. That was, till a man in a fez spoke up amongst the group. 

“Finally, after all these years long years of waiting, you're actually here! Brother!” The man opened his arms, a goofy grin spread across his face.

Then Stanford punched him square in the face before speaking, “this was an insanely risky move, restarting the portal. Didn't you read my warnings!?”

Never had I seen Stanford so angry. Usually he was calm and collected. Even still, he may have lashed out, but he wasn't yelling, he was calmly speaking down to this man that claimed to be his brother.

“Wranings, schmarnings. How's about maybe a thanks for saving you from what appears to be some sci-fi sideburn dimension.”

“Thank you? You think I'm going to thank you after what you did 30 years ago!?” Stanford raised his voice for the first time since I met him. He always was soft spoken, and kind. Never have I heard someone draw such anger out of him. Not even Bill himself.

Something didn't seem right. The physical confrontation, the yelling. It all screamed something more beyond the surface of what I knew.

Stanford had pinned his brother to the ground after dodging his punches. That's when I noticed the three of us weren't alone. There were three others that joined us in the dark, dingy underground. 

“Hey, hi, Mabel here. Quick question, what the heck is going on here?” A girl in a pink hand knitted sweater spoke up. 

“Stan, you didn't tell me there were children down here. And some sort of large, hairless gopher.” Stanford quickly gained his composure as he looked between the three people we didn't even notice. The larger man chuckled at Stanford's comment, seeking unphased. I took quick note of this.

“They're your family poindexter. Shermie's grandkids.” Stanford's brother, or Stan as he supposedly goes by, gestured to the two young kids, I'm guessing, were twins.

“I-I have a niece, a nephew?” Stanford's voice turned to one of fondness before he knelt down in front of the girl, Mabel, reaching out to shake her hand, “greetings. Do kids still say greetings? I haven't been in this dimension for a really long time.”

“Woah, a six fingered hand shake, that's one finger friendlier than usual.” Mabel beamed.

Mabel's twin brother, who had been absolutely silent up until now, finally spoke up, “I-I can believe it. You're the author of the journals.” The boy then began to hyperventilate and almost threw up.

This whole thing felt like a lucid dream. I let Stanford get used to the new information he had received. I, on the other hand, had nothing to take in. I again, was lost in the world of unknowns. Maybe I no longer had a home to look for anymore.

“There'll be time for introductions later. But first, tell me Stan, are there any security breaches? Does anyone else know about this portal?”

“No. Just us. Also, maybe the entire US Government.”

“The what!?” Stanford's face was fuming. I never saw him so angry.

They all looked through the window where the security footage showed the government outside searching for Stanford’s brother and the two young kids. Everything was so chaotic right now, which I hoped wouldn’t be the case when we entered our home dimension. I guess chaos followed us wherever we went.

“Okay, it’s alright. We’ve got a while before they find this room. We just need to lay low and think of a plan.” Stanford stated, the calmness returned to his voice as he pulled out the journal he had picked up off the floor, and began to write in it.

“It looks like we’re going to be stuck down here for a while. Who wants to tell us their entire mysterious back story, and also, who is she?” Mabel stated, finally pointing in my direction.

“This is Y/n. She is a friend I met on my travels. Yes, though, I have some questions about all of this myself, Stanley.” Stanford finally introduced me.

Stanley? I had not heard a name like that in 40 years…a name so familiar to me yet so foreign all at the same time. An old friend from home. A friend I left behind all those years ago. There was no way this was the same Stanley. Right?”

“Stanley?” Mabel’s brother asked.

“But your name is Stanford.” Mabel pointed out.

Stanford’s face and mine said it all. What the hell was happening here? What had happened in the time Stanford was gone? Why had his brother assumed his identity? I hoped we both got the answers we needed.

“Wait, you took my name? What have you been doing all these years you knucklehead?” Stanford turned angry again.

Whatever happened between Stanford and his brother, it still hit a nerve with him. Something about Stanley made Stanford’s normal demeanor turn angry. A side I never thought he had. He was cunning for sure, but downright hateful was not on the list of traits I had listed for Stanford.

“”Okay, okay, okay. I know I have a lot of explaining to do. It all started a lifetime ago…” Stanley began telling his version of his life growing up with Stanford to everyone.

As he spoke, things started to piece together slowly in my mind. There was a reason Stanford and I were brought together. The more they spoke the more I connected my life to the eldest Pines twins. I reached into my pocket, there I kept a picture of my dear friend that I left behind. The one person I wanted to get back to the most. Stanley Pine.

“The old me was dead, and I faked a car crash to prove it. By day, I was Stanford Pines, mr. Mystery. But by night, I was down in the basement trying to bring the real Stanford back. I couldn’t risk anyone learning the truth and sabotaging my mission. So, I lied to everyone. The town, my family, your parents. Even you, kids.” Stanley finished his story.

Everyone was so enthralled in the story that the brothers were telling, we all forgot about the government agents upstairs. Dipper, I learned was the name of Mabel’s brother, had a device in his bag that could erase people’s memories. Stanford hooked it up and changed the frequency to sync to radio headsets.

We all plugged our ears as Stanford set the device off. Soon enough the agents were dazed and confused about where they were and what was going on. Stanford greeted them and sent them away, pretending to be a government official.

“Nice work Stanford.” I smiled as I walked up to him.

He smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder, “thank you, Y/n. How are you holding up?”

“I’ve been better. It’ll take some time to adjust, but I feel like I know you better than I did before, and your brother as well.”

“It’ll take us both some time to adjust, but I promise, as soon as we get settled in, and things quiet down, I’ll get you back home where you belong.”

I shake my head, “no. You and I are a team. I’m not leaving your side. Plus,” I pull out the picture of Stanley, “I think my home is here now.”

Stanford took the picture from me, “i-is this?”

I nod, “I didn’t recognize him at first. He’s older now, and with that fez, I couldn’t see his hair, I always said that was his most defining feature.” I laughed softly.

Stanford smiled softly, “I think you should get some rest. You and Stan can discuss this in the morning. I know of a room you can stay in, if it’s still there that is.”

I nod as Stanford leads me inside and to the room that he said used to be his. It consisted of just a couch and wasn’t much, but it was a place to rest my head at night, and probably more comfortable than a cold gravel ground.

I was settling in as I heard the brothers talking. Stanford said that at the end of the summer he was to give him his house back, his name back, and the Mystery Shack business was over with. I could hear the pain in Stan’s voice, and I felt sorry for him, but after what he told us today, I didn’t blame Stanford for being the way he was. Stan hurt him badly, and I didn’t blame Stanford for holding it against his brother

I was finally settled in when Stan knocked on the door. I sat up and invited him in. He had a few more blankets in his hand that he was ready to offer up.

“Y-you settling in okay?” He asked softly.

I nodded and smiled, “as good as one can. It’s been so long since I laid on anything other than the ground in years.”

“Ford tells me you’re originally from this dimension too?”

I nod, “yeah, I’ve been away for I think 40 years…the world definitely seems different now than it did in the 70s.”

“Th-the 70s?”

“Yeah, I know, kind of a while to be away from home. No trace left of me. Nothing left except my failed experiment.”

“Y-you didn’t happen to grow up in New Jersey too, did you?”

“I actually did…” I hesitate whether I should tell him I’m exactly who he thinks I am, but I also didn’t want to assume that’s where he was going, and overwhelm his mind.

Stan just nods and goes to leave. Before he does, he says one final thing, “how is it you haven’t aged a single day, toots?” With that he walked away, closing the door behind him.

[hxney-lemcn]

Love Is Scary — Eleventh Doctor x gn! reader

summery: Doctor takes reader to a planet that he thinks they'll love. Reader has a bit more on mind than just the cute animals that inhabit the planet.

tw: Fear of unrequited love (spoilers, it is very requited)

a/n: @tonyiloveyou asked for confessions and I've been wanting to write it anyways so here y'all go

wc: 2.4k

Master List

(This is a part of a one shot series: Part One | Part Two)

“See!” The Doctor spoke proudly. “Not everything has to be a life or death situation.”

“You’ve outdone yourself this time, Doctor,” I replied, watching the maroon and pink grass flow with the wind. It was quite extraordinary really. The pink tips of the grass swaying was somewhat hypnotic. The trees behind us were a rich purple and red, seeming to brush against the sky. Oh what a sky it was. The atmosphere was transparent, revealing the stars and planets that lay beyond. 

“I’ve wanted to bring someone here for quite some time actually,” The Doctor started. “Not the best place for humans though.”

“A shame,” I muttered. “Are you sure you’ll be able to sit around with me and be bored for a bit?”

“Darling, anything with you is far from boring,” He replied seriously, that stupidly soft look in his eye once more. “Besides! Mundane is good, remember?”

I rolled my eyes in amusement, something I found myself doing often in the madman's presence, “Pretty sure you only said that so I wouldn’t feel bad about the lack of adventure I lived.” 

“Lack of adventure?” The brown haired timelord asked incredulously. “Are all the things we’ve done together not adventurous enough?”

“Doctor, in the entire span of my life, I’ve mainly lived on Earth hiding amongst humans,” I explained. “Compared to you, I’ve barely explored anything.”

“Oh my sweet, sweet (y/n),” Doctor muttered, closing the distance between us. He held my face softly between his hands and I felt my heart race at the touch. “There’s nothing wrong with that. And no one can really compare to me now can they?” I stared at him blankly as he pulled away, a smug grin resting on his lips. 

“I hate you,” I grumbled. 

“No you don’t,” He replied effortlessly. 

I turned around, facing the forest, hating how right he was, “Are there any life forms?”

“Some rudimentary animal species,” Doctor explained. “Mainly in the forest, but there are some in the water as well.”

“Like on Earth?” I asked, glancing back at him, only to startle at how close he got. 

“Yes,” He nodded, hazel eyes once again on me. It felt like burning with his entire attention only on me, I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not. “Well no, but yes if it will help you understand better.”

“I’m not human,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I can see the future of any being or thing. Give me more credit.”

“Right,” Doctor cleared his throat, adjusting his bowtie after. “I’m just used to-”

“Human companions,” I finished for him. “I know. I’m assuming the beings on this planet are connected to the planet, like a hivemind of sorts.”

“Exactly!” The Doctor clapped, once again holding my head in his hands, leaning forward to place a kiss on my forehead before hesitating. I stood there with bated breath as he leaned a little higher, right above my third eye, and placed a kiss to my hairline. “As brilliant as ever.”

I hated this. I hated this warm feeling that engulfed me at the affectionate actions. The want and need that filled through me. The loneliness I knew would follow soon after. He was closer than I expected when I opened my eyes. His stare, oh that stare. It was so warm, so loving, like he never wanted this moment to end. I didn’t want this moment to end, but I also didn’t want it to exist. 

It sparked that familiar feeling. The feeling of hope. Of the possibility that he felt the same way I did. Damn Rory for putting that thought into my head. I know he was just trying to help, but Rory didn’t understand how complicated this was. Or…was it? But whenever it seemed like the Doctor and I would step over a boundary we couldn’t go back from, he’d change the subject. Which in turn would take that spark of hope and snuff it once more. A tortuous cycle that I set myself up for every time. 

“Come on,” He broke the silence. “I want to show you something.”

I blinked, coming back to reality, “Was this not what you wanted to show me?” Once again, the moment was averted. 

“No,” He shook his head, his brown hair falling out of place…not that it ever was in place. “Well yes, but only a part of it.” Holding his hand out to me, he smiled brightly and repeated, “Come on.”

I decided to try and stop overthinking everything. Just to let go and live in the moment. The moment where the Doctor took me to the most beautiful planet I’ve ever seen. Where he’s staring at me like I’ve hung the stars. Where he’s holding my hand oh so gently as we walk through a forest of vibrant purples and reds. For once, I’ll indulge myself, even if it’ll hurt later. 

I felt breathless as we entered a clearing. The forest was dark (due to the sky being transparent to the cosmos), but the clearing was a bit brighter. A river rushed past, a dark navy blue that I was familiar with on Earth. A few of the animals that the Doctor spoke of stood by the river, watching us with curious eyes. No need to be afraid, not having come in contact with predators before. Reminds me of the Dodo. Those poor birds.

The Doctor kept walking, stopping only when he realized we weren’t holding hands anymore, “Come on dear, they won’t bite.”

I trailed after him, crouching down in front of a cream colored creature. I wasn’t exactly sure of the name, or if all the creatures on this planet shared one. In fact, the color pallet of this planet reminded me of red velvet in a way. Holding my hand out, I tried to get it to sniff me, to prove I was no threat. It only turned its head in confusion. 

Leaning down next to me, the Doctor handed me some fruit. It was a bright orange, almost neon. I suppose its so it could stand out for the creatures to eat. Once more, I held my hand out, this time the creature didn’t hesitate to eat the fruit I held out to it. 

“It's so cute!” I couldn’t help but smile as I turned to look at the Doctor. “Can we take one home?”

The Doctor paused, seeming to do a double take before asking, “Home?”

I paused to, unsure what I meant by that. Did I mean the house I called a home because it's where I slept? Or did I mean the Tardis, where I found solace in the fact that the Doctor was never far away? Or did I mean simply with him, with us, wherever we chose to go?

“Y-yeah,” I slightly stuttered, turning back to a different looking creature. I shrugged, “You know…”

“Would you like to go back?” 

I looked at him in confusion, “Where?”

“Home,” He simply stated, eyes seemingly interested anywhere but me. 

I worried my lip between my teeth, deciding to take a small leap, “I am home.” Petting one of the creatures seemed to help calm me, they were quite receptive to the pets. A fond smile reached my lips as even more creatures started to surround the two of us. 

“You mean this planet?” The Doctor asked and I felt myself scoffing. 

How could a brilliant timelord be so daft?

“I mean with you, stupid,” I rolled my eyes and slapped his shoulder lightly. 

“Oh,” Such a simple reply. I kept my focus as even more animals gathered around. Some similar, others different. Don’t think. Everything is fine. “Dear, I think we should go now.”

I felt my heart drop. This was it, this was the rejection. The moment was slipping, and I wish it would just stop. 

“Is…is it okay if we stay a little longer?” I asked, petting the small creature on my lap. “I like it here.”

“I wish I could say yes, dearest,” The Doctor whispered, closer than I realized. “But I’m afraid we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

My eyebrows furrowed, looking towards the Doctor, only to find him staring at the animals around us. When did there get to be so many? I stood up slowly, carefully placing the small creature that was on my lap on the ground.  “They’re expecting more fruit,” I stated, their eyes following the Doctor and I. 

“They won’t turn violent,” The Doctor reassured in a hushed tone. “But they may not want us to leave.”

“Darn,” I faked defeat. “I guess that means we’re stuck on this beautiful planet with the cutest creatures for the rest of our lives.”

The Doctor laughed lightly, “I don’t think the Ponds would be too happy if we admitted defeat so quickly.”

“Or,” I pointed out. “They would be disappointed finding out that we skipped out on a great opportunity.”

“Is this the same Amy we’re talking about?” He questioned with a glint in his eye.

“Is this the same Rory we’re talking about?” I countered.

“Touche.”

______

I watched from the railing as the Doctor did his little dance around the Tardis’ control board. No word about my comment. No reciprocation or clarity about whether he felt the same or not. Once again, changing the subject before the lines of our relationship could get too blurred. I wasn’t sure if I could deal with this heavy feeling on my chest any longer. I knew it would hurt, but not this much.

“So,” I trailed off, not sure where to even start. 

“Once we pick up the Ponds, I was thinking of going to Drunun Z85, they’ve got some of the most excellent chefs there,” The Doctor started to ramble. 

“Uhm, could we talk about something first?” I asked, clenching my fists to try to ground myself. I was okay, this will be okay. 

Stopping his actions, he looked up to me, eyes wide and a slight smile, “Yes! Of course! Talking’s good, talking’s fun.” I tilted my head slightly as he rubbed his hands together and glanced around the room. 

“Are you nervous?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

“Me? Nervous? Never,” Waving his hands about, he went to fiddle some more with the console of the Tardis.

“Okayyyy,” I drawled. “I…was just hoping I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier. You know…me calling you…”

“Home,” The Doctor finished for me, that sad lonely look clouding his eyes, one I found often when I looked in a mirror. Once more he cleared his throat, “No, no I don’t mind.”

An awkward silence fell over the two of us. I fiddled with my fingers as the Doctor continued to pretend to be busy with the Tardis. I shouldn’t have said anything. 

The Tardis’ lights flickering brought me out of my head. The Doctor also seemed to notice as his brows furrowed into the cute focused look he has. They both seemed to be having an internal conflict with each other before the lights went out completely.

“Oh come on…” The Doctor paused before whispering out ‘sexy’. “Don’t be this way.” There was no reaction and I never realized how dark it could be without lights on. I squinted, hoping my eyes would adjust to the dark, but there was absolutely no light, no sun, no star, that could potentially reflect light and help me see. “At least give us backup lights so we don’t hurt ourselves!” The Doctor shouted, sounding frustrated. Dim lights lit up the area. Barely might I add. Still, it was better than the literal void. 

“Are you okay, love?” The Doctor asked. Well that’s a new one. Hearing him call me that hurt so nicely. 

“What’s going on?” I asked, it was the only thing I could think of. “Why’d she shut down?”

“She’s being stubborn,” He replied. 

“About what?”

“She wants me to admit something,” He sighed. “Something I’d rather keep to myself.”

“Oh,” I muttered, feeling disheartened. “You don’t have to tell me. Tardis, I’m sure it can be left unsaid.”

“At the same time…” The Doctor continued. “I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this in.”

I walked up to his dark outline, reaching my hand out and accidentally touching his neck. I felt my way up to cupping his cheek.

“You know you can tell me anything Doc,” I whispered, brushing my thumb against his cheek. He’s reached out to me so many times before…was this my first time reaching out to him? My heart stuttered as he leaned into my touch. “I won’t judge, I’ll always be by your side.”

It was silent for a few beats. I waited for something, anything, with bated breath. What could he possibly admit? Why was the Tardis so adamant of me needing to know? 

“I love you.”

He said it so softly I almost missed it. No, how could I miss something I’ve wished to hear for hundreds of years? The overwhelming sensation of love, confusion, and fear washed over me. I’ve wanted this for so long…too long. The yearning, the want for love, it had become a stability for me, something I could always rely on. 

But this was a good change. Love was scary, but it was also beautiful.

“I love you too,” I replied without hesitation.

“Is this the part where we kiss?”

Moving my hand from his cheek to his neck, I pulled him into a kiss. It was clumsy at first, but we both were quick learners. My skin felt like it was on fire when his hands ghosted over my waist. Pulling away, I couldn’t help but notice the Tardis lights had turned back on. 

“Okay,” The Doctor nodded, turning back to the panel. A giggle escaped him as he muttered to himself “They really kissed me, we kissed! Blimey, Amy won’t let me live this down…I won’t let me live this down.” His giddiness seemed to be infectious as I chuckled at his antics. I stopped him from flipping a switch by placing my hand on his shoulder. He turned to me, a bright smile on his lips. Before I could back out, I placed a quick kiss on his lips, just for the hell of it. I could do that now! Whenever I wanted!

“Are you trying to kill me?” The Doctor asked, his smile never faltering. 

“Not a bad way to go out,” I replied with an equally bright grin.

“Not bad at all.”

[juuuulez]

Negan x Virgin wife reader smut??? Questionable age gap if ur comfortable no pressure though

info: absolutely FILTHY, age gap (reader is 18 when they have sex, negan is like mid 40s), alcohol consumption, negan calls himself daddy, oral (female receiving), loss of virginity, probably more but i can’t even think rn.

summary: Negan’s always taken care of you, only now, you want him in a different way.

omg this took soooo long to write and is also absolutely huge 😭😭 it’s also just pure filth but totally is everything i’ve ever wanted

You were 16 when you arrived at the Sanctuary.

Though, you never really did anything. Negan didn’t even know if you knew how to fire a gun, but he didn’t mind. Your little fingers probably were too soft, they’d shake upon just nearing one, afraid of blemishing your perfect nails.

Your father was a loyal soldier of his, always carried out orders to a T. Therefore, Negan believed that your debt was paid, and didn’t feel the need to make you pull your weight, like most others.

After meetings, when everybody was dismissed, those big wooden doors would open to you standing there, waiting for your father with a sweet smile on your face. He’d place his hand on your back, kiss you on the head, walk you out.

It made Negan think that maybe, just maybe, there was good left in the world. That good was you.

Sometimes a mission would go haywire. Radio connections lost, a truck missing, hijacked. When this happened, you’d always wind up at the door to Negan’s office, timid little knocks garnering his attention. You’d ask, visibly upset, if your father would be okay, if he had any news on when he’d be back.

And Negan would always assure you it was fine, that you’d best get to bed. Morning would come, your father would return, and your world would be complete again. Each time, you’d sniffle, flashing him that sweet little smile before bidding him goodnight.

You were 17 when your father died.

It was a seemingly random attack on an outpost, though Negan knew otherwise. 20-odd men were killed, including your father. When he’d shared the news, you weeped and cried for what felt like hours.

Despite the million tasks to be completed, justice to be avenged, Negan had set that aside to comfort you. Sit down with you, ease your worries, promise that he’d make things right. That whoever did this would pay, he would get your revenge. Even though the tears didn’t stop, and you practically didn’t move from your bed for days afterwards, you’d still managed the effort to give Negan a smile.

You were trying, so, so hard.

But things changed after that.

Well, you changed.

A year went by, and you got harder. Learnt to live on without the guidance of your father, though the struggle was still evident. You were lost, like a little lamb.

Some of the older girls took you under their wing, teaching you the necessities of life in this world. How to make a knife, how to escape rope binding, how to please a man. All the things your father had sheltered you from, made sure you wouldn’t need to worry about.

Though you appreciated their help, it wasn’t the same. Women were too… understanding. They were soft, gentle with you, but it came from a place where they saw a version of themselves in you. No, you wanted something masculine. That protective hand on your back, the feeling of a beard scratching your cheek when he left you sweet little kisses.

You were 18 when you found this again.

Albeit, in a different way.

The war was progressing, however slowly, and tensions were high. Infighting was getting more and more common, Rick was getting on Negan’s last nerve, and his wives were starting to tick him off.

It was another late night, chain-smoking and trying to brainstorm any sort of play against the Alexandria group. Just something to gain some leverage, as he could feel the power slipping from his fingers, whilst they were only getting more and more rebellious.

Just last week, they’d attacked the Sanctuary, where Negan realised that he needed to put an end to this.

There’s that slight knocking at his door, the quiet tap tap tap. He doesn’t need to see to know who it is, nor does he need to answer for you to enter.

You push past the doors, feet clothed in white cotton socks. The type with pink bows on them, on either side. It makes your footsteps silent, padding across the wooden floorboards until you’re standing in front of Negan’s desk.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

It’s become a rather common phrase, though Negan had thought that you were getting better. The attack must have set you off again, put you on edge, anxious. It makes sense, as you weren’t exactly accustomed to the gunfire and shouting.

“You try counting, doll?” Negan asks, watching you over the rim of his glass, letting the smooth whiskey slide down his throat. His eyes wandered downwards, taking in your silk nightdress, falling just to the top of your thighs.

Tantalisingly small, you needed a new one.

This past year, after your 18th birthday, you’d become dangerous. Confident. Each day your shorts seemed to get shorter, the straps on your tanks skinnier. You pushed the limit, that sickly sweet smile transforming into something alluring and tempting whenever you gazed at the younger soldiers.

It was like a ticking time bomb, and without your daddy to guide you, Negan knew you were moments from acting out.

“Mhm. Doesn’t work,” You shrug, eyes downcast upon the wooden desk, like you’re searching the dark grain for some sort of answer to all your problems, “Why count when I can come see you?”

This causes Negan to chuckle, that deep sound that rumbles from his chest, causing you to look back up at him. He sets the glass down, a soft clink as it collides with the table. “Because sometimes I’ll be busy. Ya gotta learn to handle yourself.”

Wrong choice of words.

Negan knew that, because there was this little flicker in your eyes, like a light that had switched on.

Of course you could handle yourself, that’s what you’ve been doing this past year.

You knew what you wanted, and were willing to hunt it down, like prey. All those hushed conversations with the older women, reading all those magazines, you knew what you were doing. Or, you thought you knew what you were doing.

Negan could see this, which is why indulging in these thoughts with you was a dangerous game. He was only a man, after all, and you just looked so good in that little silk dress, the spaghetti straps almost hanging off your soft shoulders. It was like a temptation from the devil himself, the ultimate forbidden fruit.

“C’mere, princess.” He calls out, internally cursing himself for being so fucking stupid, but nonetheless leaning back slightly in his chair.

He was going to hell.

But luckily, sinning was a two player game.

You accepted the invitation, slinking over to him, knuckles just brushing the wooden desk as you pass. Without instruction, you situate yourself between Negan’s slightly parted legs, your ass making contact as you sat on his thigh, rough denim creating friction against your soft skin.

His hands instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer, where you allowed your head to fall against his chest. It was comforting, and Negan smelt like smoke and leather, something to unfamiliarly masculine but you loved it. You wanted to smell it forever, feel him forever.

“Why haven’t you asked me to be a wife?”

This causes Negan to furrow his brows, tilting his head to look down at you. In turn, you meet his gaze, looking up at him through your lashes. The position makes him feel powerful, like you’re tiny in his hands, something he could direct with ease. He quickly banished the thought away, not wanting to corrupt your innocence.

“Because you’re too young, doll.”

“But I know things,” You assert as soon as Negan has given his excuse, desperate to make him understand, “From.. from asking people, from reading magazines. I know what to do.”

Negan’s eyes flicker across your face, taking in the cute little pout on his lips. Reading? It suddenly dawns on him that you’re more inexperienced than you let on. All those flirty remarks, seductive stares directed at his soldiers, hadn’t proved fruitful.

You were a virgin.

Now, that shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did, but God. Negan’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, keeping you pressed firmly against him, to which you lifted your head from his chest. One hand raised higher, gently brushing the hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. The other shifted downwards, snaking his long fingers just under your soft asscheek, peaking from that silky nightgown that bunched above your thighs.

As much as Negan had resented the idea of tarnished your innocence… now it just seemed all the more alluring. Being your first, being the only one you’ll ever taste. Making you his.

“You ever drank whiskey, baby?” He finds himself asking, voice just as smooth and fiery as the alcohol in question.

Your head tilts, eyes owlish and curious as you shake your head no. Negan leans forward in the chair, keeping you close to his chest, and scoops up the previously abandoned glass.

Auburn liquid sloshes slightly with the movement, and Negan takes a moment to adjust you in his lap, manoeuvring your body with ease. He presses his thumb against your plush bottom lip, the slight pressure causing you to open your mouth around him, where he is able to replace the digit with the rim of the glass.

His hand shifts to your jaw, holding you with a firm grip and tilting your head backwards, tipping some of the whiskey into your awaiting mouth. It passes your tongue, gliding down your throat until he pulls the glass back, allowing you just a taste.

Your nose scrunches at the harsh burn, not accustomed to it, before letting your tongue dart out to lick your lips.

“It’s warm.” You mumble, voice still quiet and delicate despite the actions you were partaking in, “Like… in my chest.”

“Yeah? Feelin’ it here?” Negan asks, a smirk beginning to play at his lips in response to your pure innocence. His hand slides up your body, brushing along smooth silk, until it comes to rest just in the channel between your plump breasts. He applies a slight pressure, a firm hand that sits over your heart, where he can feel it increase in tempo.

At this, you smile, pink lips curving upwards while you lean in a little, head tilting up to look at him. Negan feels inclined to mimic the motion, allowing you closer until he can feel your soft breaths against his mouth, lips slightly parted in anticipation.

His eyes flicker down, weighting the severity of these temptations, before meeting your gaze again. “If you wanna do this, baby-girl, then there is no going back,” He advises, voice lowered to match the tension of the situation, “I am going to tear you apart.”

A mixture of anticipation and fear floods your stomach, butterflies tingling and reaching areas that you’d forbidden yourself from touching. Only the slightest motion is required until your lips are touching, pressing against his, causing you to shift closer on your lap.

Negan takes note of your pure eagerness, licking into his mouth with no hesitation, letting your tongues intertwine like you’re trying to taste every inch of his mouth. You’re drunk off the feeling, how he tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, and you can feel his stubble irritating the skin around your mouth but it feels so inexplicably good.

You’re ravenous, fulfilling that deep yearning that’s directed your every movement for the past year. But Negan wants to take it slow, pull you apart, help you understand everything that he’s capable of doing to your body.

So he wraps a hand in your soft hair, balling it around his fist and holding the back of your head in place. A desperate whine leaves you when he pulls his face away, a grin quickly spreading upon seeing your dissatisfied pout.

“Not so fast, baby.” He hums, before diving in once more, directing the pace of the kiss himself.

Whenever you get too eager, trying to take control, Negan will pull away again, letting you gasp and whine and beg him to kiss you again. It’s utterly pathetic, you’ve barely even started and it’s already apparent just how much control Negan has over you, a notion that makes him feel completely elated and also extremely aroused.

It feels like an eternity, with you seated in his lap, leisurely making out and learning exactly what makes you tick. Negan finally lets go of your hair, giving appreciative pets through the silky locks and then down your back, before two large hands are hooking underneath your ass and pulling you upwards.

The sudden movement causes you to gasp, arms quickly gripping onto Negan to steady yourself, but he’s strong enough to manhandle you onto the desk. That white nightgown bunches at your hips, and Negan pushes it upwards to your waist, letting out a low whistle at the sight of your little white lace panties.

“Look at you, princess.” He grumbles, pushing your thighs apart on the desk to get a proper look. There’s a wet stain right over your core, and Negan shamelessly presses his fingers against the thin fabric. The contact makes you squirm, bracing your hands behind you on the wooden desk.

He brings himself closer by pushing the chair forward, whilst simultaneously gripping your thighs and pulling you towards him. Closing the gap, Negan presses his nose against your clothed cunt, letting his tongue dart out to further soil the sticky fabric. The lewd act causes you to gasp, nails scratching against the surface and legs shaking, clamping around his head.

“Tastes so fucking good, baby-girl. This pussy was just made for me.” Negan groans, inhaling your intoxicating scent mixed with the slightly salty taste on his tongue. It took everything in him not to completely brutalise your poor cunt, though he knew it would be sopping by the time he was finished.

Two large, rough hands skate up your thighs, fingers slipping into the dainty handles of your panties. Negan pulls the straps down, letting the fabric fall from your hips and down your legs. Instead of discarding the item onto the floor, or setting it aside, Negan slips them into a nearby drawer. You clock the action, and it makes your face flush bright red.

Negan takes a moment to admire the sight of your bare skin, his hands tracing loving circles into your thighs. “Fuck, can’t believe this is all for me.” He groans, before finally, finally, bringing his mouth close enough to make contact your with your heat.

He licks a long line from your dripping hole, to your clit. Tongue flattened, feeling every ridge of your pussy. The sensation is completely new, leaving you to gasp over him, palms splayed out against the wooden desk. It’s tempting to squeeze his head in your thighs, to completely crumble, but you keep them open and spread.

The effort must be visible, because Negan tilts his head to the side, pressing a tender kiss against your skin. “Bein’ such a good girl, aren’t you? Don’t worry, baby. Let go for me.”

Each word of encouragement is rumbled into the meat of your thighs, and eventually, back into your waiting cunt. It’s overwhelming, in the best way possible, and Negan takes the time to talk you through the pleasure, albeit muffled by how devotedly he’s eating you out.

You squirm against the desk, little pants and surprised cries leaving your mouth, struggling to adjust to the sensation of Negan’s lips suctioning over your clit, creating a steady motion that causes a whole other wave of pleasure to wash over your shoulders.

But then, he’s pressing a single, thick digit against your hole. There’s a slight resistance, but Negan takes his time, circling his finger around the silky cavern until it finally gives, sucking his finger inside. All of this, whilst he continues his assault on your pussy, licking into it shamelessly in a pattern he’s learnt will give you the most pleasure.

“Fuck, it’s.. I-I dunno if I can take it.” You mumble when Negan perseveres, pushing another finger into your warm cunt. It’s a tight fit, but he’s willing to make it work. Determined.

“Oh, baby. You will be taking a lot more than this.”

It fills you with a sense of fear, an anxious feeling growing in the pit of your stomach, like you’ve swallowed a rock. Until Negan pushes his fingers upwards a little, and you practically jump from the desk, a ragged moan leaving your throat. He continues to press against the fleshy spot, meanwhile suctioning his lips around your clit and sucking hard.

You gasp and cry, little tears filling your eyes as you drop backwards. One arm supports you on the desk, the other moving so that you can grip onto Negan’s short, dark hair. Your nails scratch as his scalp, but he doesn’t care, because it’s only a sign of how much pleasure he’s bringing you.

It sounds like you’re trying to say something through the distraught moans, but the words carry no meaning, practically unintelligible. It’s like your bones have turned to jelly, this new feeling arising in your stomach, something you haven’t felt before.

It feels like pressure, an intense pressure. It builds and builds, and you know that it’ll snap soon, but you can’t find your words in order to warn Negan. Yet, he already knows, of course he knows. By the end of this, he’ll understand your body better than you do. Maybe he already does.

Because when it snaps, your orgasm finally reaching its peak, Negan only quickens the pace of his fingers and tongue. His other hand is now on your lower stomach, leaving soft pets against the skin, gently trying to bring you down from everything.

Now, Negan would love nothing more than to keep going, to devour your sopping pussy until you’re crying tears of pain, begging him to relent. One day, he’ll have you like that. Not now, not while you’re still adjusting to everything that he’s possible of giving you.

The hand previously positioned in his hair falls down to his shoulder, where Negan finally brings his face up from your pussy, leaning in closer to you. His beard is shiny with your slick, fingers similarly coated in it, and there are red marks from where his stubble had irritated your sensitive thighs.

You look a mess.

Panting, teary eyed. Face all red and flushed, looking up at him. Your mouth opens to speak, but Negan is quick to cover it with his own, capturing you in a deep kiss.

It’s messy, passionate, though you’re really worn out. Yet, you show him your appreciation, licking feverishly into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. Then you’re leaning forward, pushing yourself back into a sitting position on the desk, arms wrapped around Negan’s shoulders.

When you break apart, he nudges your cheek with his nose, moving to press kisses against your skin. “How ‘bout I get you into bed, huh?”

You push away from him, shaking your head. There’s a look of confusion on your face, a small pour forming against your lips. “No, no, not yet. We can keep going.” You protest, looking up at him with the most precious, hurt little eyes.

Negan moves his hand up, capturing your face in his grasp, holding you still. His thumb rubs at your plump bottom lip, still wet with his spit, all bitten and red.

“You really want this?” He asks, “Because ‘s gonna hurt, baby. It’ll feel good, but it’ll hurt first.”

You only nod, separating yourself from his hold, to lie back against the wooden desk. It’s slightly uncomfortable, and cold against the naked skin of your thighs, but you prop your feet up against the wood in order to present yourself to him.

It’s lewd, a temptation, you’re trying to lure him in. And it works. Of course it does. Negan can’t deny you any longer, not with that sweet smile, beautiful little face. He wants nothing more than to know that you’re his, and only his.

“Beautiful girl.” He rumbles, splaying a hand over your stomach, running it up over the curve of your breasts. The silk nightgown is pushed upwards, until it’s pooled around your neck. Negan leans down, helping you to sit up a little, so that he can remove the nightgown completely.

Now, you lay bare on his desk, causing him to whistle at the sight. There’s already a damp spot near the edge, where your pussy had stained the wood, a mixture of slick and Negan’s spit. There was another pool forming, where your legs now lay spread at the end, awaiting the blessed moment you’d been dreaming about.

Negan is careful about it, sticks his fingers back into your sopping hole, making sure it’s maintained it’s previous elasticity. It practically sucks him in, and to prove your point, you squeeze your muscles around his fingers.

“Okay, baby. Don’t get impatient on me.” He coos, one hand remaining on your thigh, whilst the other works at removing his pants.

They drop to the floor with a heavy noise, to which he doesn’t bother to fully move them, letting the denim slump around his boots. You prop yourself up a little, looking down the length of your body to where Negan finally reveals his cock.

It’s thick, much thicker than his fingers. How is that even supposed to fit in there? It’s wide around the base and tip, long and curved upwards, towards his stomach. Subconsciously, your legs close a little, but Negan keeps his grip firm as he presses your thighs against the desk.

“You still wanna do this, baby?” He asks, despite his greater instinct to just claim what’s in front of him. Admittedly, it’s been a little difficult to hold off this long.

If you were anyone else, the act would be long done by now. But this was different. You were different. He still wanted to take care of you, like you were a helpless little girl, except you weren’t. This was your plan, after all. Like a lioness, you’d hunted him down, and there no way you were going home without your reward.

A smile spreads on your lips, looking up at him through your lashes, “Yes, please.”

It’s said in that same sweet tone, as if you’re not actually begging for his cock, but another bedtime story. Like you aren’t naked on his desk, pussy dripping down onto the wood, completely spread out like a lavish meal.

“Good girl.” He mumbles, pulling your legs so that they dangle over either of his shoulders, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. At this angle, he can already feel your heat, so, so close to him.

One hand grips his cock, the other planted across your stomach, a large hand splayed over your skin for comfort. Negan looks down, guiding himself to finally press against your core. There’s a slight resistance, but in no time, he’s length is being sucked into your gooey walls.

There’s a pensive look on your face, which he notices, causing a smile to grow on his own. Your nose twitches slightly, chewing on your bottom lip, trying to adjust to the new feeling. It doesn’t necessarily feel bad, just strange.

But, Negan is only able to get the first few inches in, until there’s a hitch in the process. He leans down, letting you wrap your arms around him, and captures your mouth in a kiss. You give in instantly, preoccupied completely with licking into his mouth, therefore not fully aware of the firm thrust he gives to break through the barrier.

You hiss into his mouth, accidentally biting down onto his lip. Negan doesn’t seem to mind, as he begins pressing kisses down your jaw and neck, leaving a trail of bloody marks in his wake.

“Shh, you’re okay,” He soothes, keeping his hips still, not yet pressing any further until the pain has subsided, “Ain’t gonna hurt for much longer.”

The promise proves fruitful, as within a few moments, you’re wiggling a little in his grasp, giving the silent permission to continue. You look down the gap between you, watching as Negan’s cock slowly pushes further in, until your hips are finally flush.

“Breathe, babygirl.” He murmurs, still licking and sucking over your skin. The wet trail continues, until Negan pays attention to your plump breasts, his tongue collecting the beads of sweat that’s built from the exertion.

You claw at his neck, one hand making it’s way into his hair, scratching slightly at his scalp. Then he’s moving, gently pulling out, until just the tip remains. You breathe through the uncomfortable feeling as he pushes back in, a mixture of your slick and a little blood dripping down your ass, only to pool on the wooden desk.

It’s intense, having Negan stretch you open on his cock, the kind of sensation you’d never felt before. You keep watching between you, keen interest in your eye, which he finds adorable. Even as he speeds up a little, the twinge of pain subsiding into a constant flow of pleasure, you’re still fighting to keep your eyes on him.

He readjusts, bringing your legs back down, only to firmly pin your thighs to the desk. In this position, you’re completely spread for him, causing a blush of embarrassment to rise on your cheeks.

It doesn’t last long, as Negan has found the perfect angle to thrust up into you, causing you to raggedly moan and your eyes to squeeze shut. He continues to hammer the same spot, and it feels heavenly, like his cock is actually in your stomach.

You scratch at the wooden desk, gripping for dear life as Negan holds you still, both large hands planted across your thighs. He’s gripping and kneading them, and you hope they’ll be bruised the next day.

But finally being sheathed in your wet heat is it’s own struggle for Negan, as he’s trying to hold off cumming for as long as possible. He’d been rock-hard the entire time you were making out, but this? It was a victory better than war.

So he moves one hand off your thigh, bringing it to your swollen and abused clit. You gasp as he makes contact, tracing firm, tight circles over the muscle that make your eyes roll back, pathetic noises leaving your parted lips.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for daddy.” He praises, leaning down to leave dark marks on the junction of your neck. You wrap your arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder as Negan continues to fuck into you, hitting that fleshy spot that causes you to cry.

It’s obvious when your orgasm hits you, as your whole body shudders, moans tapered off into high-pitched whines of pleasure. Your gooey walls clench around Negan’s cock, making him groan into your flesh, putting more force behind his thrusts.

Luckily, it’s all he needs to finish, pumping his cum deep into your channel. The overstimulation causes your hips to twitch, legs jolting with the sudden sensation, but Negan tests your limits, shallowly pushing his seed deeper inside you.

Your nails scratch at his neck, eyes pricking with overworked tears, “It’s too much.” You squeak out, voice all raw from all those noises that had been forced from your throat.

“Okay, beautiful,” Negan whispers, pulling himself out of your sensitive cunt, hands gently soothing the bruised skin of your thighs, “But next time, you’ll take it until I say so.”

It’s vaguely threatening, and causes another wave of arousal to ebb through your stomach. However, your mind focuses on one thing, a bashful and pleased smile growing on your tired face.

“Next time?”

It catches Negan off guard slightly, realising what he’d said. That, and you just look so happy, like you’ve finally gotten what you wanted.

“Of course, darlin’. You belong to me.” He assures, savouring the fact that you were so eager to be with him, despite everything.

That night, the nightmares didn’t return. Of course, you didn’t go back to your bed, but instead Negan’s. He took care of you from then on out, it was safe to say you were his new favourite.

[maplegracefour]

You - Schlatt song fic

* ˚ ✦ Song: You - dodie

Summary: A summer fling. Or was it?

Warnings: Alcohol (minor mention)

Word Count: ~1200 words

Author’s Note: This is very much a vomit on a page moment, I missed the old school 2014 ukulele music I would listen to as a teenager and this came to mind as I was listening. It’s quite choppy and maybe a bit confusing. I’m not really happy with it but enjoy it regardless if you’d like :)

I told you I was looking for some empathy

Well you fooled me

Just, a touch and a thought and I was gone

May 4th 2024, 22:46

Parties weren’t your thing. But alas, if you were going to live in LA, if only temporarily, you had to live the LA lifestyle. At least that’s what your friends said in an attempt to sell you the idea of attending. Funny how as soon as you got there, none of them were anywhere to be seen.

Working on a long-term project that had shifted your life trajectory had seemed worth it at the time, but standing on your own in the corner of some sort of ass-kissing festival seemed like hell on earth. You hadn’t even noticed a figure standing beside you until he spoke.

“You don’t look like you’re having a good time.” He murmurs, nursing a plastic cup of some mysterious liquid.

Your head turned, spinning to greet the smug smirk of JSchlatt himself. You leant back against the wall, gripping your drink a little tighter. “I’m not.” You responded, nonchalantly.

He paused, as though thinking of the exact right thing to say. “Anything I can do to change that?”

“You can answer a question.” You turned to face him, one shoulder against the wall. You two were way closer than you’d expect two people to stand and why did no one tell you that this man is so much more attractive in person? “Why does this place just feel like a massive dick measuring contest? Does anyone here have just an ounce of empathy?”

He laughed, a large belly laugh. The sound was like music to your ears, much to your dismay. 

And now someone’s gonna get to know the better you

When I was supposed to

Why did it have to be you?

September 8th 2024, 15:22

It had hurt much more to leave than you ever had expected it to. Staring out the window of the long-haul flight, your mind was preoccupied. It was hard to even look back at what happened.

How could he just say nothing? How could he pretend that nothing had happened between you? Was it really all just a bit of fun?

I guess

Now the next time there’s an opportunity

I’ll tread more carefully

My heart’s running out of cellotape

October 13th 2024, 19:24

You tried dating, you tried every single app that suggested being able to build any sort of connection. Anything to fill the void inside you that he had left there.

Even if you got on with them, it just wasn’t right. You couldn’t let yourself open up, many of them fizzled away after dry texts. The ones that you had a date with, you can’t remember a single one that called you again afterwards. But you didn’t care.

After him, no one ever made you feel the same.

You know

How is it I’ve never felt that way before?

I was so sure

It wasn’t going to be you

July 2nd 2024, 10:41am

There had been no apprehension. You two slotted in together like you had known each other for years. You spent almost all your time together. Schlatt postponed his flight, telling Ted that it was to work on the podcast, or he wanted to host a couple meeting in person. But Ted knew it was to spend more time with you. 

“Hey man, where’ve you been?” Ted asked, looking up from the couch when Schlatt walked into his apartment. Schlatt waves him off, grumbling something about needing to sleep.

“It’s the middle of the day, the fuck you been doing?” Ted continued his questioning to no avail as Schlatt ignored him and walked into the spare room.

Days of hanging out, cooking you dinner and absolutely thrashing your ass at Mariokart turned into late nights, whispering about your goals and dreams. And then those whispers became sweet nothings, heavy breathing, gasps for more.

Neither of you intended it to be this way, you had insisted that you were just friends. But, that’s not the way it was, was it?

Why do all the red flags,

Just look like so much fun?

I have a habit of

Searching for the damage

To share my love

August 19th 2024, 21:59

You had started to feel more. You couldn’t help it. How could you not?

You knew it was a bad idea, confessing. You’d be gone in a couple of weeks. You had been psyching yourself up for the past few hours whilst curled up on the couch with him, limbs tangled together and a throw blanket draped over you both.

“Jay, can we talk?” You asked, pulling yourself up from his grip to sit opposite him.

He frowned, arms reached out as if you were still in them. “Uh, yeah. What’s going on?”

“I wanted to know where we stand.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I just thought we were kinda just messin’ around.” He said, scratching the back of his head. His eyes were darting around, avoiding yours. “Nothing serious.”

“Yeah, cool.” You shook your head, a weak laugh escaping your lips.

“You sure? You seemed pretty serious for a sec there.” He said, looking you up and down.

You laughed again, a nervous habit you had as you shook your head again. “Nah, I’m okay. I just wanted to check that we were on the same page.”

I promised to be numb

But somehow you were the one

Now to unwind

Months of a good time

September 8th 2024, 14:41

You noticed the distance immediately. Schlatt went from being at your AirBnB everyday to every other day. Then it was once a week. For a couple hours a time, you would do your business and he would be out, sometimes before you had even made it out of the bed.

He didn’t even say goodbye in person when you had to fly home. 

When that flight took off, you knew that this was the end. A single summer in your life that meant everything turned into a couple months that you just wish you could forget. But he was always in the background of your mind.

People will tell me that I messed up

And it wasn’t love

And I’m secretly hoping they are right

September 16th 2024, 17:22

Confessing to your friends from home seemed like a good idea at the time but they immediately were sceptical.

Of course, it was just a classic case of a fuck-boy. It was a fling. It should have meant nothing. The next best thing will come along soon.

But something in your mind told you that it couldn’t have been. There was something more there, there had to be. You had been checking your phone almost obsessively.

Just one text. But there’s just radio silence.

Because

Whatever it was, it was wonderful

But non functional

November 22nd 2024, 02:37

Your phone was buzzing. Who the fuck would be calling you at this hour?

The screen read ‘unknown’, making you frown. It could be anyone. But you knew who you were hoping it would be. You reached over your bed, picking up the phone and clicking that little green button.

“Hello?” Your voice was raspy, throat dry.

“Did I wake you up?” Oh fuck. Oh shit fuck shit. It was him.

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.” There was silence for a moment, like he was unsure of what to say. “Could I just talk to you for a few minutes?”

I really hope I don’t love you

[brokenlovesong]

Any Chet soda head cannons

DO I EVER. This is a long answer but I’ve been planning a Chet x Soda fanfic for a while so I’ve got a lot.

I think Chet and Soda are similar in a lot of ways. They put on smiles even when they probably shouldn’t as a mask to hide the darker parts of life. They laugh through the pain until they can’t anymore. And they both have so much love to give for others and unfortunately not everyone they offer that love to reciprocates it or stays.

They start seeing each other through drunken sloppiness. Soda is drunk for probably the first time in his life, trying to cope with the fact Sandy left him. And he’s alone wandering the streets. It’s incredibly dumb. But he doesn’t want to dump his problems on anyone else.

That’s when he stumbles upon Chet, who stole the bottle his dad had been downing and ran out with it before his old man could catch him.

They’re able to find some sort of release through each other and find it helps at least distract from the woes of life temporarily. So they continue to meet up in the dark.

It’s not like either of them doesn’t want more out of the relationship. But they don’t know how to ask the other. So their connection remains relatively surface level.

But there are little things they do for each other to show they may care more than they let on. Like for instance, Chet often gives Soda books he recommends for Ponyboy to read and tells Soda to take the credit for the gifts. And Soda will take extra time when filling up Chet’s car with gas at DX to inspect it and see if anything is in need of repair. Neither of these are things the other ever asked for.

Chet’s always been the little brother of the Socs and with Soda being the middle brother and often the mediator, both have often felt unheard by the people they surround themselves with. So when one talks, the other makes sure to listen— whether it’s something as insignificant as Chet’s football practice that day or as important as Soda’s parent’s death. They share a lot more with each other than they do with most. But still never speak specifically about what they are to each other because they don’t know how to do that.

Dally caught on to them after they’d begun to get a little reckless with their quick getaways and makes his disapproval very clear to Sodapop any chance he so much as sees soda spare a glance in Chet’s direction from that point on. But he also would never say anything to anyone else. He knows how important it is to keep them a secret

Soda and Chet break up the day before the rumble. Chet begs soda not to go. But he makes the mistake of mentioning how the rumble is Ponyboy’s fault and that sets soda off. Soda ends things right then and there.

[satansapostle6]

I Left The Light On And The Back Door Open For You | Robert Chase

From the moment he first saw Margot Lange from legal, Dr. Robert Chase knew he was in for a wild ride that he never wanted to end.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Sexual content. Bondage. Food play. Slight D/S dynamic.

Chapter Three

Chapter Four: Past Lives

After picking Margot up at seven for sushi, Robert Chase quickly found that he was running out of talking points. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what to talk to this woman about, it was just that he didn’t know what was acceptable. His relationship, of whatever nature, with Margot was still very new to him, and he had no idea what level of emotional intimacy was appropriate in accompanying the literal intimacy. So far, things were very casual and physical, although Margot wasn’t necessarily like any other hookup.

She was very unique in that she had a way of being extremely hospitable without being vulnerable at all. Apart from the sex, she and Chase would have deep conversations, and share the same bed, and the same food, but somehow none of it felt very intimate at all. For Chase, his stay at Margot’s felt more like a hotel with sex than just a woman’s house. He felt he had to tread very carefully as they dined together at what he felt was one of the nicest restaurants he had been to in a while.

Margot’s palate, he realized, was both immaculate and specific.

“I didn’t realize they have full-sized portions of things,” Chase remarked casually as he watched her eat her large serving of rice, uni, and lemon.

“They do for me,” she said pleasantly as she sipped on her strong cosmopolitan, “The chef noticed I like uni, so he lets me have as much of it as I like.”

“I’ve never had it before,” Chase confessed as he helped himself to the tiny servings that were mostly for him. “It’s delicious,” he said after a moment.

“Some people think it’s weird, but it’s amazing,” Margot stated.

“Do you come here often?” Chase wondered.

Margot smirked at the question before answering.

“I take a lot of lawyers here,” she explained, “Settling House’s cases isn’t exactly easy.”

“I wouldn’t expect it to be,” Chase remarked.

They were both silent for a moment before he continued the conversation.

“Can I ask you about yourself?” he said finally. “I feel like I don’t know too much about you.”

“You can ask,” Margot offered, “I might not answer.”

“That’s your prerogative,” he supposed. “What did you do before this?”

“When I was in law school, I worked as a paralegal for this one firm. I was also an escort,” she said casually.

Beer almost came out of Chase’s nose.

“Sorry?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t being rude.

“I was an escort,” Margot repeated, as if he hadn’t heard her properly. “I went on dates for money.”

Chase was once again completely thrown, unsure of how to proceed not just because this was a very delicate sort of situation, but also because he’d never even imagined any first date scenario even close to this. He was struggling to even come up with an appropriate reaction.

“Don’t worry, you won’t get the clap,” she assured him with a passive wave of her hand, “I just went on dates. I never slept with any of those men.”

“Oh,” Chase murmured, silently cursing himself for not having anything better to contribute. “How… did you get into it?”

“This girl I went to law school with,” Margot explained, “She was from Florida. She was a yachter. You have to have sex for that, but she also just had a lot of other connections. She knew a lot of girls who just went on dates. And, she knew a lot of potential clients, too.”

“That’s how you got through law school?” Robert Chase asked.

Margot nodded. “Mmhmm. I made a lot of money. I could do it now, if I really wanted to, but I have better things to do.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged.

“We all have our crazy shit in the past,” she said coolly. “I’m sure you have your own stuff.”

“I certainly do,” Chase agreed. “I slept with the groundskeeper’s wife in seminary training.”

It was Margot’s turn to almost laugh.

“Wow. Maybe you do have a bit of an edge to you,” she grinned, sipping on her cosmo.

“Maybe,” Chase smiled at her from across the table. “Can I just say, you look stunning tonight?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You know I’m sleeping with you either way, right?”

Even now, her crass sense of humor made Chase blush.

“That’s good to know,” he said quietly, a goofy grin on his face as only she could hear.

There was a long silence between the two of them as Chase snuck glances at Margot while she ate and drank. He wondered how such an angelic woman could be so feared.

“You know, I feel like you’ve lived a hundred lives,” he expressed.

“You’re not exactly boring yourself,” she reminded him.

“But you’re different,” Chase insisted. “I feel like you’ve seen everything. Like you’re in witness protection, or something.”

“Well, I wasn’t born Margot Lange,” she shrugged.

Once again, Chase was thrown for a loop.

“Were you… born Max Lange?” he asked cautiously.

Margot genuinely laughed. “No, genius. My real name’s Sydney Bettencourt,” she confessed.

Chase stared at her in disbelief. “You changed your whole name?”

“I had to,” she explained with a bored sigh, “I had a stalker.”

“Wow,” Chase remarked, “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Yeah, it’s whatever,” Margot shrugged indifferently.

“Can I ask, er… How it happened?” he wondered.

“From my escort days,” she explained, “He was pretty persistent. Came to my apartment without permission, sent stuff to my job… Wilson kinda reminds me of him,” she remarked, clearly using humor as a deflection.

Chase just chuckled as they moved on with their dinner. He decided that if Margot was intent on not letting the past ruin their dinner date, he might as well comply with her wishes. Once Chase had requested the check, Margot offered her card before the waitress set the bill in front of them. Chase had initially protested, wanting to pay for his date, but Margot had told him to save it for the next one, reminding him that he didn’t want to see what the bill for an entire entree of uni looked like.

He had eventually decided she was right, and allowed her to pay for their dinner. Naturally, Margot had informed Chase that she simply expected him to make it up to her later, which he fully intended to do.

“Can we make a stop on the way?” Margot asked once they reached the parking lot.

Chase looked at her in disbelief. There was nothing he wanted less.

“…Do we have to?” he asked her.

“No, I guess not,” she shrugged, looking away coyly, “We don’t need whipped cream…”

Chase could’ve sworn all the hair on his body stood up as he was instantly swayed.

“Well,” he stammered, “I suppose we could make a quick stop at the store…”

He found himself extremely impatient the entire time he drove. He and Margot ran as fast as they could into the local grocery store, startling many late night shoppers. Chase was genuinely amazed by how flawlessly Margot could run in four-inch heels. Due to the unfortunate issue with all of the self checkout machines in the store, he and Margot found themselves standing in line behind a woman who, for some reason, was doing her usual grocery shopping.

As the conveyor belt eventually moved the whipped cream up to the cashier, the poor cashier, a man whose name tag read ‘Emilio’, who was forced to pick up a pack of condoms and a singular can of whipped cream. Emilio picked up the items and stared blankly at Chase, who could only offer an awkward smile. The two shoppers behind them hid grins and stifled chuckles as Margot smiled proudly, as if this were perfectly normal. Emilio said nothing as he rang them up.

*****

Margot and Chase couldn’t get inside the house fast enough. The moment they were in the door, Margot took off her shoes and tossed them across the room.

“Isn’t that just making a mess?” Chase questioned.

“It’s my house,” Margot huffed.

He just nodded at the valid point.

“Last one up gets the furry handcuffs!” Margot called, just as she took off running up the stairs.

Chase’s eyes widened at the threat as he raced upstairs after her. Margot reached the top of the stairs only about a millisecond before him.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, as she ran into her bedroom with the whipped cream and condoms in her purse.

He panted softly as she sat down at the foot of her giant Alaskan King bed, setting her purse down and taking out what she needed. She turned to see Chase entering the room, a rather happy smile spread across her face.

“What are you waiting for?” she grinned, getting up and walking towards him. “Take your clothes off.”

He nearly blushed. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Within a couple of exciting minutes, Chase found himself lying back against the pillows, completely naked, his hands comfortably handcuffed above his head. He felt a few different sensations washing over him at the moment, but for right now, he was completely focused on the dark-haired woman whose mercy he was at. It was now confirmed that she’d had nothing on at all under her dress. Chase could’ve sworn he was about to go insane as she sat beside him on the bed, teasingly checking the handcuffs.

“Looks like you’re not going anywhere,” Margot pouted sarcastically.

“You don’t see me complaining,” Chase breathed.

He was trying to keep his cool, but he knew that Margot definitely noticed how desperate he looked, naked and handcuffed. She decided to tantalize him even further, sitting just above where he needed her most, making a show of it as she grabbed the whipped cream.

“Room for dessert, Robbie?” she teased.

He grinned as she playfully pressed on the nozzle, showing him the whipped cream on her finger.

“Always,” he said huskily.

“Hmm.”

Margot smiled as she slowly licked the whipped cream off her finger, eyes still trained on him as she sucked it off. Chase had to calm himself down as he watched her, letting out an involuntary groan as he got even harder than he already was. Margot was fully aware of her hold on him, and continued with the torturous display. Chase felt his blue eyes watering as he watched her eyes rolling to the back of her head. He felt like a feral cat as he watched her tilt her head back, spraying a mouthful of whipped cream and swallowing it.

Margot giggled mischievously as she sprayed more whipped cream into her mouth, crawling toward him until their faces were inches apart, making sure he saw the whipped cream on her tongue.

“Want a taste?” she offered.

Chase’s head bobbed up and down vigorously as he was rendered useless, barely able to get out any words. He hummed gently into the kiss as Margot allowed him to lap up the whipped cream in her mouth, desperate for any sort of physical contact. She laughed coldly as he began to subconsciously thrust upward, frustrated by the fuzzy handcuffs around his wrists. Margot pushed him down as they kissed, and he sat obediently. She pulled away much to his chagrin and reached for the can again, this time spraying all over the side of his neck.

“Margot…”

Chase whined loudly as she kissed his neck, closing her mouth around the sweet dessert. He was losing his mind as she licked harsh stripes, her hand closed around the bottom of his throat. Chase didn’t want to admit it, but he enjoyed submitting to Margot. He loved being at the mercy of her every whim. He let out quiet, but still audible mumbles of pleasure as she harshly sucked on his neck. At this point, he didn’t care if she visibly marked him up. This was more than worth bragging about, even if it had to be anonymously.

“Margot…!” he whined, sulking the moment she stopped.

He watched as the evil woman licked whipped cream off her fingertips, wholeheartedly enjoying how needy he was being. She left a small amount on her middle and ring fingertips as she took pity on him, raising her hand to his lips.

“Open.”

Chase was beyond willing, and opened his mouth as she slipped her fingers in, watching with arousal as he gladly sucked on her fingers, innocent eyes locked on hers.

“Good boy,” she cooed as he nearly finished right then and there.

Margot admired him as he licked her fingers clean, making a show of it as he finished with a soft pop. She seemed more than entertained as she put more on her hand, this time moving it somewhere else. Chase moaned sweetly as she began stroking him up and down, throwing his head back with relief. He had to force himself to concentrate just so he wouldn’t finish. He observed her with the utmost fascination as she bent down and swirled her tongue around his tip, making him gasp.

“Oh, fuck,” he whined, encouraging her even more. “Please, Margot, please!”

He watched in disbelief as she swiped her tongue up and down, leaving nothing behind. He moaned loudly as she finally took him into her mouth, bobbing her head up and down as he felt the warmth of the inside of her mouth. Chase sighed eagerly as she continued, feeling himself twitch. He was so relieved at the simultaneously relaxing and exciting sensation that he let his eyes shut and forgot about everything. He completely lost track of time, practically falling asleep.

He had completely forgotten what he was doing until he felt himself reach a strangely soothing climax. His eyes widened as Margot stared up at him, grinning as he came down her throat. In that moment, he thought he had never felt more vulnerable as he watched her swallow with pleasure, completely unfazed. He was still in shock as he realized he could still go another round. Margot popped back up again, picking up a bit of whipped cream with her fingers, hungrily licking it off.

Robert Chase was in awe as he laid back, wondering in the back of his head what was next. He smiled up at her, eyes full of bewilderment as she slipped her fingers back into his mouth. He sucked for as long as she let him, almost disappointed as she pulled her fingers out, trying to decide what was next in store for him.

“That was amazing,” he panted, still hard as he waited patiently.

“I’m sure it was,” Margot remarked, looking somewhat envious. “You know… You’re not going anywhere. Why not treat myself for a job well done?”

Before he knew what was happening, she allowed him to suck on her fingers one last time before she separated her knees. As Chase lay helplessly watching, she gradually inserted her fingers. His eyes went so wide, he looked as if they were about to pop out of his head altogether. He struggled frustratedly against the handcuffs around his wrists as he watched. Margot, in a cruel exhibition of her control over the situation, hardly spared him the theatrics as she threw her head back groaning loudly.

If there was one thing Chase could say about Margot, it was that she knew how to put on a show.

“Please, Margot!” he begged her, “Please, I can’t take it anymore!”

Margot’s laughter rang throughout the room as she took pleasure in his desperation. The begging quickly turned into groveling.

“Please, please, please, Margot, I’ll do whatever you want!” Robert Chase whined. “Please… Just let me touch you! Just let me feel, please…”

He was painfully hard as he watched her getting herself off, without any consideration for him. Never before had Chase been so attracted to someone’s blatant selfishness. He knew just how pathetic and desperate he must have looked, begging her incessantly, but he didn’t care anymore. He would’ve told the world that he belonged to Margot like some sort of deviant sex slave if it meant he got to touch her for even a second.

Miraculously, Margot seemed convinced by his relentless begging.

“Oh, alright,” she said mockingly, reaching for the keys to the handcuffs. “Since you’ve been such a good boy…”

Chase looked up at her with relief, eyes lit up with a beautiful wholesomeness as she freed his hands. He watched her patiently as she tossed the handcuffs aside, waiting for her to command him. She noticed this, and commended him.

“Look at you! So nice and sweet,” she beamed.

“Do I get to touch now?” he asked hopefully.

His mind was racing as he tried to decide what to do next with his newfound freedom.

“Go nuts,” she permitted him.

Chase wasted absolutely no time. Margot squealed with laughter as he grabbed her greedily, fondling her as he quickly pulled her body over his. He kissed her harshly, panting like a wild animal as he positioned her on top of him. Margot was almost startled as he scooted down on the bed, pulling her hips toward his face. She gasped aloud as he sat her down right on top of his face, hands forcing her thighs down. She nearly screamed at the rush she felt when she sensed his lips wrapped around all her most sensitive areas.

It was an intense and almost sinful sensation. She laughed out of sheer pleasure as Chase swiped his tongue up and down, as if he’d been starved all his life. She pulled at his sandy blond hair for support. He sucked harshly on the bundle of nerves, savoring the sound of her moans.

“Fuck!” Margot exclaimed, laughing as he worked as hard as he could.

She knew it was going to be a long night.

*****

Hours seemed to pass by until Margot and Chase were both lying beneath the covers, waiting until they fell asleep. The two of them were lying facing one another. Chase felt he was staring at her, trying to understand her in all her complexities, while she just seemed to be gazing comfortably.

“Margot,” he began.

“Robert,” she mocked his formality.

“If I’m being honest, I find you kind of terrifying,” Chase confessed, hoping to learn more about this strange woman.

“Why’s that?” she asked in turn.

The revelation didn’t seem to surprise or offend her at all.

“Are you in the mob or something?” he questioned.

“Am I in the what?” Margot referenced cheekily.

“I just meant… I don’t know. You seem to live such an unorthodox lifestyle for a malpractice attorney,” he tried to explain.

“Are you talking about my money?” Margot asked him.

He seemed guilty upon hearing it stated that say.

“No, I’m sorry, that’s rude to say—”

“I made a lot of money in my escort days,” Margot cut him off in an attempt to assuage his guilt, “Like, a lot. I hustled, and I saved. That’s what paid for this house. And as far as the clothes, and all the other nice things in it, I bought almost none of it myself.”

“Right,” Chase said awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

He still felt horrible for questioning her about her financial situation.

“I did a lot of strange, unconventional things to get to where I am. And some of those things were pretty sketchy,” she admitted with a deep sense of self-awareness. “But you’re not doing anything sketchy by being around me.”

Chase said nothing for a moment, reassured by her logic. He didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, but that was the question he’d been wanting to asking her.

-

Chapter Five