#cut them some slack Jesus fucking Christ

[theotherbuckley]

“I need a hair cut,” Evan says offhandedly one morning, his fingers running through his apparently too long strands.

Tommy’s gaze snaps away from the paper held in his hands to Evan. He’s shakes his head, opens his mouth before shutting it again, thinking through his words.

“If you— if you want to,” Tommy says, trying to be supportive of his boyfriend’s decisions whilst already mourning the loss of his Evan’s perfect hair.

“Do you— do you not think I should?” Evan asks, looking over to Tommy. He’s still got his fingers in his hair, brushing the loose curls away from his eyes.

“I— I think it’s cute,” Tommy admits, dropping his gaze and blushing slightly.

“You do?” Evan says, almost in awe. Tommy’s always found it ridiculously adorable how receptive his boyfriend is to praise.

“Yeah, baby. It’s my favourite thing to play with,” he replies.

Evan’s eyes light up, a cheeky glint forming in them, and he smiles. “Your favourite thing to play with?” He says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Absolute dork.

Tommy rolls his eyes fondly. “Second favourite,” he mutters, shaking his head.

Evan smirks. “Okay, well, I still need to cut my hair because it’s getting in my eyes at work. And ever since Eddie grew his moustache, Gerrard has been extra vigilant about everyone’s appearance.”

Tommy winces slightly at the mention of the fire captain, memories of the years of emotional repression and his own wrongdoings rising to the forefront of his mind every time the man was talked about. Tommy tries to shake out the thoughts of the man, focusing instead of the gorgeous man in front of him.

“That’s fair,” Tommy agrees. “But uh— well, if you wanted to keep the curls a bit, I wouldn’t be opposed.” That’s an understatement, he loves Evan’s curls, loves how soft they make him look, how they feel under his hands when he runs his fingers through them, loves how he can tug on them and how loudly Evan responds when he does.

Evan smiles at him, his grin almost blinding like the sun — warm and bright, giving Tommy no other option but to smile back.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Evan says, nodding to himself like it’s the most important thing in the world.

Tommy doesn’t get to see the look until two days later. He’s just come off of a gruelling 24-hour shift, with plans to spend the night at Evan’s house. They’ve been together long enough now that he doesn’t feel he has to dress up for the occasion, not that he doesn’t like to put a little effort in for his man, but he can come home after a long shift and cuddle up with his boyfriend like there’s no where else he’s meant to be.

Tommy unlocks the door of Evan’s apartment, smiling softly as he uses the key Evan had recently given him, still unable to contain his joy at the fact that he gets to have this. He wanders over to the lounge, hearing the sound of the TV playing.

Tommy freezes when he spots his boyfriend. He’s laying on the couch, wrapped in a blanket because that man was always cold. He looks ridiculously cute snuggled up on the couch, but that isn’t what stops Tommy in his tracks.

Nope.

Peaking out of the blankets is Evan’s gorgeous face with his pretty pink lips matching the shade of his birthmark. His hair has been cut, sideburns faded away at the sides, the sides and back of his hair having lost some of their weight, and on top lay light brown curls perfectly fluffy, looking so soft. Tommy needed to run his fingers through.

“Hey,” Evan says, shuffling slightly where he sits so that he can look over at Tommy. Tommy who’s currently staring slack jawed at his head, practically drooling over the sight of him.

“Oh yeah,” Evan says, pointing up to his head. “Do you like it?”

Tommy blinks. “Do I— Do I like it?” Tommy lets out a small laugh. “Jesus fucking Christ, Evan,” he says, finally regaining control of his body as he stalks towards his boyfriend.

Evan tilts his head, confused, but it doesn’t last long because Tommy’s on him in an instant, pressing his lips firmly against Evan’s, swallowing any question that he was going to ask. “Do you. Have any idea. How fucking hot. You look right now?” Tommy says, kissing Evan’s irresistible lips between words.

The corner of Evan’s lips tilt upwards against Tommy’s lips as he smiles. “So you like it?” Evan whispers into Tommy’s mouth, seeking confirmation which Tommy is very happy to provide.

Tommy moves back slightly to slide his fingers through his hair. It’s just as soft as they look. Tommy grins at Evan, “I fucking love it,” he says, closing his fingers around some strands and tugging, pulling Evan until their mouths join once more. Tommy swallows the moans that Evan lets out at the action, gripping him close.

Fuck, he is the luckiest man alive.

[heestruck]

Bad Desire ; Lee Heeseung [TEASER]

synopsis ; It was never meant to be more than a secret. But between late night kisses, and everything they never said, she fell harder than she should have. And he let her. Now they’re both left chasing something that was never built to last.

In which y/n and heeseung's paths probably shouldn't have collided. with his raging addiction, and her undying love for him, they navigate their way through a love that was never meant to last... or was it?

pairing ; student!fem reader x addict!heeseung

genre ; smut, angst

warnings ; drug use, and lots of it, emotional abuse, lying, kinda cheating if you squint, gaslighting, p in v smut, slight drug glorification, heeseung and reader kinda don't like each other at first, arguing, heeseungs kinda a dick, they yell at each other sometimes, let me know if i'm missing anything

do not read if any of this makes you uncomfortable. minors do not interact. there is a lot of heavy themes in this fic, so please read the warnings carefully before reading.

wc ; tbd

release date ; july 4th, 2025

teaser under the cut !

The bathroom reeks of bleach, stale smoke, and whatever cheap cologne the guy before them doused himself in. Heeseung wipes his nose with the back of his hand, sniffing once, slow and deep. The burn is already fading, replaced with the familiar clarity and a weightless buzz under his skin.

Outside the door, the music thrums like a second heartbeat. Sunghoon leans against the wall, arms crossed, a lazy smirk on his lips. “You know one day your brain’s gonna just leak out your nose, right?” Heeseung shrugs, eyes half-lidded. “Better out than rotting in there.” Jay laughs, pulling the door open to let the sound of the party spill in again. “You two sound like you’ve had this conversation before.” There’s a pause as the two exchange a glance. “We have,” Sunghoon says. “Every time he does something dumb.” His words accompanied by an eye-roll that comes to him naturally, “Which is often,” Heeseung adds with a grin, snagging the cigarette tucked behind Sunghoon’s ear and lighting it like it’s his.

They step out, smoke trailing behind them, the heat and noise of the party rushing in all at once. Heeseung’s eyes flick lazily over the crowd, bodies pressed too close, red cups in every hand, neon lights catching on sequins and sweat. Sunghoon elbows him. “You gonna dance tonight, or just brood in the corner like Batman again?” “I’ll dance when hell freezes and you get laid,” Heeseung mutters, exhaling smoke through his nose. “Ouch,” Sunghoon says with a mock wince. “Low blow. Even for you.”

Jay doesn’t laugh.

He’s staring at something, no, someone. Eyes locked across the room, jaw slightly slack, like he forgot how to act. Heeseung catches it immediately. “Dude,” he says flatly. “You good?” Jay doesn’t respond, causing Heeseung to follow his gaze. She’s standing with a group of girls near the kitchen, laughing at something, her drink cradled in one hand. Her hair catches the light, eyes wide and sparkling in that way that’s too fucking pure for this place. Black jeans. Black top. Sweet face, too clean for the party grit.

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ, stop staring at her like a fucking perv.” Jay finally snaps out of it. “She’s just… I don’t know, man. She’s got—”

“What?” Heeseung cuts in, tone biting. “That good girl trying to be bad energy? The innocent preppy type who probably says ‘sorry’ when she bumps into furniture?” Sunghoon snorts. Jay shrugs, unfazed. “She’s cute.”

“She’s boring,” Heeseung says immediately, taking another drag. “Can already tell. Probably straight-A’s, runs on caffeine and validation, thinks this party is some edgy detour in her perfect little life plan.”

“You got all that from one look?” Sunghoon raises a brow. “I’ve seen that type before,” Heeseung mutters. “They don’t stay.” Jay watches her again. “Still wouldn’t mind finding out.” Heeseung doesn’t reply, but his eyes linger just a little too long this time. Something about her smile makes him twitch. Like she doesn’t belong here, and for some reason, that pisses him off more than anything else.

[serxinns]

The Hero awaits but With a deadly fate: Chapter 3

A/n:finally its been done I hope you enjoy it whatndo you thimk happens next tell me in the comments! Also f for reader for going through this shit lol

"Hey....mina!" You awkwardly hugged her, slowly patting her on the back. "We've missed you so much! It's been years!" She sniffles, trying to hold back tears. "Look how much you grown!" Laughed Kirishima as he patted you hard you glared as he gave you a shark tooth grin

"And look at those muscles you've been working out baby?~" Denki said as he poked and played with your muscular arms. "I can't believe your dumbass thought running away was an option" "Oh, cut them some slack. They were probably scared and confused right, y/n?" You ignored Jiro's comments slowly looking around to try and find a way to escape

I gotta find a way outta here and away from these psychos!

You thought to yourself, trying to think of a way out of this; there, you spotted a door that read exit. "Wait, why are you all dressed up in that.." Mina narrowed her eyes at your clothing. You gulped, trying to build up some sort of excuse. "I just wanted to play dress up!" "You never wanted to wear these types of clothes back in high school. You even said you hated that style," Sero glared at you. "Well, I like it NOW! You know people change over the years"

Denki noticed something on your left arm and grabbed it,and pulled up the ssleeve. "What the fuck!?" Denki said as the other catch glanced at what he was aiming at and everyone stood silent "Who the fuck did this" Bakugo glared as the others looked concerned

Cmon y/n think of something ANYTHING

"I....got this a while ago" (...WHAT KIND OF REASONING IS THAT!? ) Your thoughts degraded you for your choice of words as you wanted to slap yourself in the face so bad "Really y/n We aren't 1st graders.." sero said rolling his eyes "and this cut wasn't a while ago cause the womb is still fresh and bleeding" Kirishima added, you were very concern and a bit tense the way he said it so casually, jirou the grabbed your arm and observed the craved wording slowly

"Himiko got you didn't they" Jirou bluntly said as she stared at you with a stern look "That stupid blond bitch got to you 1st!?" Denki's words were laced with shock and venom as the others started crowding around you, waiting for you to respond "No, really, it was-" "Cut the shit, y/n. Who else has HT in their name!?" You slowly backed away from the raging blonde. "I...i"

They all started cornering you blocking your way to escape while you stood back in fear not uttering a simple word until a horrifying familiar voice called out

"Kacchan? Why are you at the abandoned parking lot damnit! I told you to meet us at the abounded agency down the street"

No...NO NO NO NO NOT HIM PLEASE NOT HIM

They all turned toward the green-freckled boy... Izuku Midoriya behind him were Iida, momo, Ochako, tsuyu, and Todoroki all glaring at them looking impatient Mina quickly hid you behind Denki and Sero while Sero covered your mouth shut you tried struggling out of their grip but it was useless despising your lack of energy

"Ugh fuck off, shitty nerd, it's none of your business," Bakugo barked; izuku then turned his gaze onto yours as you quickly hid behind the 2 males praying he didn't recognize you. "Say, who's that person you're hiding?" Izuku's grin widened maliciously

Denki and Sero gulped sweat pouring down their face "Just a nobody thats all" Denki quickly replied iida rolled his eyes "Oh please do you idiots think we'll believe that" Just when they were about to protest a hand touched their chest as they started to float up

"HEY, PUT US DOWN, OCHAKO!" the 2 boys yelled, squirming around. Ochako scoffed as she set her gaze on you. She was stunned as you awkwardly waved at her. "Um, hi..."

Jesus Christ, I just wanna go home...I hope Eris safe

"Y/NNNNN!!" She then jumped and tackled you, almost making your trip as Tsuyu, momo, and Iida joined in the hug, checking for injuries as the others glared at each other "Hey, why didn't you inform us you found y/n the fuck happened to the deal?" He narrowed his eyes

Can someone just pull a trigger and kill me already..

"Oh shut up we found them 1st! And there's no way we would let you keep them, especially with YOU." The green hair then laughed humorlessly at his rival. "HA! I should say the same to you! You are just as bad, and you know it, and you want them just as much as I do!" Everyone then started fighting and arguing about who gets to claim you while you stared in horror

Keep me what am I a toy!? Fuck this!

You tried to run the opposite side until bumped into someone from behind "Little listener is that you?~ your body stiffed as you slowly raised your head to the voice directly praying that it wasn't who you think it was but luck said "fuck you your on your own at that point", you were met with your former teacher present mic with a crazed look in his face "yes it has..." a dark chuckled escaped from a deep voice

...no.AIZAWA!? Please God anything but him

"Moonbean! My little star student oh how I missed you~" Your other teacher midnight appeared behind him cooing as if you were 15 again You slowly backed away cautiously as you tried to activate your quirk "Oh SUNSHINEEEEEE~" you yelped quickly turning around to see the once beloved top hero's mirio, Tamaki and neijire.. all looking with a psychotic look oh their face "p-please don't be afraid your gonna be safe with us" Tamaki added as neijire tried lunching at you but you dodged it barely

"You hooligans must be mistaken if you think they're coming with you" you groaned "You gotta be kidding me" You slowly turned to see Monoma, Kendo, Tetsutetsu, Komori, and Kuroiro all appeared out of the shadows as well "My little mushroom~ it's been forever~," Komori said as she stared dreamily in your eyes

"Now, komori San, we shouldn't scare the sweeti,e," Kendo sternly sa, id, "especially when we are gonna be the ones taking them home!" "back off, you freak. We saw them 1st!" Mina slapped her hand away "Watch your tone you alien" Shiozaki threw a few vines at her which Mina dodged and threw her acid at them

everyone else was in an uproar, activating their quirks and attacking them while you struggled to get yourself up and tried limping towards the exit until Sero stopped you. "Where do you think you're going, darling?" Sero sickly smiled at you, you glared backing up while he was slowly walking towards you

You turned to see a security room you quickly activated your hyno quirk, and before Sero could react he stood there expression blank "Go to the security room and open the door" Sero obeyed slowly walking towards the security room The others not caring were busy fighting with each other

Serp then burst down the door, you quickly dashed towards the security camera making sure nobody noticed, and inside was a small dusty room with old snack wrappers, and bag, and an empty coffee mug you looked around carefully not trying to make any sound until you saw the light switch

Izuku noticed this and his smile widened maniacally "Where do you think you going!?" he used his quirk to dash toward you everyone else noticed and turned towards you two you panicked and started spamming buttons praying one of them was connected to the light, just when izuku got close you managed to press the light button and everything turned dark

That's when you ran for it. You activated your quirk to turn invisible and ran for it. You didn't care how aching and burning your legs were you were you ran and ran until you knew you were safe...

you looked around in the empty dark parking lot desperately trying to find a good place to hide, you quickly saw a bunch of cars on the 2nd floor of the parking lot and quickly jumped into one locking all doors, and slumped down catching your breath for a moment until you heard a fade radio static on your earpiece "Hello y/n hello can you hear me!?"

"Hmm, there escaped. What a shame.." izuku calmly said as he stared. "Ugh, if we would've been quicker, we would've gotten them!" Hakagure whined waving her arms around "Guess we gonna have to play a little game then.." izuku turned to look at Momo with a question waiting for her to say something "A game of hide and seek~" Izuku and the other villains' faces turned into excitement and manic gleefulness "a hide and seek game count me in!" Midnight joined in as the other villains joined and cackled with glee

"Whoever catches them will keep them fair and square!" Neijire announced as everyone agreed on the terms and service bakugo smirk grew deviously his eyes filled with hunger, desire, and pure determination he was gonna make sure he got ahold of you, and when he did he'd never let you go...you needed him and he needed you...with a crazed smile he utters the word

"is everyone ready...?" As everyone was about to head off they heard a giggle "Such a shame for leaving us out~" A dark chuckle rang out there standing at the entrance was the Lov themselves walking past the former heroes as they glared at them "Such a shame indeed how rude not to invite us izuku" the green hair glared at the mention of his name as the dry skin man smiling widely at him "yea especially when our naughty darling ran away like that! especially after I I care of her and even marked them as mine~"

"Wait, YOU craved the H.T. on their skin?!" Ochako said as she glared at Toga she smiled in return "Of course who wouldn't especially if their blood tasted yummy~" she teased "Oh you-" "OK are we gonna start this game or not" Aizawa coldly said interrupting Kirishima's outburst izuku the clapped his hands and said what everyone needed to hear "OK then! Everyone the game starts in"

3...

2...

1.

Hide and seek!

"Cmon cmon! Mirko, can you hear me?" You muttered curses to yourself, trying to get a single from the bunny hero. "C'mon, please, please!" You were trying to get the earpieces to work for what felt like forever, and you weren't backing down, not now, not ever. You want to escape those psychopaths.

"Hello, y/n!? Can you hear me? Where are you?" "YES, YES!!" You silently as you heard Mirko's voice again. "Yes, I can! I'm at the abandoned parking lot at"###### ######" Please help. I'm being hunted down!" Mirko smiled. After 3 weeks, they finally found you. "ok we'll be there, cops and all. Just hang tight and keep talking to me!" You smiled feeling a bit safe after all this

You were actually going to escape and once you did younwere gonna move locations with eri making sure the two of you will be safe-

"Oh bunny~ where have you hidden?"

You froze clutching the earpiece tightly causing it to muffle out something you couldn't understand, you then saw a tentacle hovering over the cars by you, you covered your mouth tightly with tears in your eyes as you watched in fear and with a swoop the strong tentacle wrapped its arm around the car by you crushing it in one squeeze your eyes widen at the strength and speed that tentacles have

You spotted the craze version of Tamaki, a once timid boy who always was behind the smiling boy mirror, now smiling like a psychopath. He isn't the man he was before. He was broken beyond repair...

But you weren't gonna give up especially if escape is your goal to true freedom from these hellish psychopaths it was like a little game for them but for you

A nightmare...

[hellofanidea]

45. leather belt with a silver buckle for babelieb

NSFW below the cut because I did in fact think about my rarepair fucking on the floor for too long

---

The first time they screw, more than just hurried hands and mouths, is in a motel just outside of Philadelphia. They don't plan it, both exhausted from the last three days - from driving and not sleeping and the fight Babe had with his folks and his sisters and Bill as he bundled his shit into Joe's car.

They've gotten a twin room, ostensibly to save money but mostly to stay in each other's sight at all times, and lingering touches turn to kisses, turn to Joe pushing Babe against a wall and grinding a thigh between his legs as he sucks hickeys into his collarbone.

"Jesus, Joe, Jesus Christ," is all Babe can say, his hands refusing to cooperate as he grabs at him. Joe's still dressed where Babe is just in his shorts, fresh from the shower and ready to sleep, and his fingertips keep sliding off the fabric of Joe's shirt. "Joe, fuck-"

"Thought you missed me?" Joe pants slyly. Babe makes a particularly inarticulate noise and gropes down Joe's front to get at his slacks, at the belt keeping them up around his bony hips. The buckle is almost bitingly cold, but he persists, grabs at Joe's erection below it as he slides the leather free. "Fu-uck, Babe-"

They don't move apart more than a handful of inches as they strip Joe of his layers and rid Babe of his boxers. They barely make it to one of the beds.

"So pretty," Joe mumbles, between smearing kisses anywhere he can reach and fumbling with the lube he's magicked up from a pocket or bag or could have summoned out of thin air for all that Babe cares. "My pretty baby..."

He's being so much sweeter than the normal filth he would pour into Babe's ear in haylofts and foxholes, and it does something funny to his insides, makes him writhe all the more desperately against him.

The people next door can probably hear them, know exactly what they're doing, but fuck them, Babe thinks viciously, fuck them, he's owed this, they're both owed this. Let them know, let them see them emerge tomorrow and think whatever they want, because they aren't worth the energy it would take for Babe to drag himself away from Joe again.

Restraint is for other people. It's for people who haven't jumped out of planes and fired machine guns and seen their friends bleed in the snow like animals. It's for people who know how to move on without feeling like they've left most of themselves behind.

And then Joe is pushing his fingers in, one at a time. There's more pain than pleasure at first, but Babe just breathes through it, hooking one leg up and over Joe's back. He bites more than kisses at Joe's mouth until the intrusion hits just right and he's keening, scratching down his shoulders, rocking into the sensation.

It makes Joe groan like he's the one being fucked open. He's smearing precum onto Babe's hip, and Babe twists his body to give him some friction.

"If I go off now," warns Joe. "It's gonna take a minute for me to get in you."

That makes Babe laugh, and he cants his hips again so he can watch Joe grunt and curse. In revenge, Joe crooks his fingers hard and mean in a way that sends pleasure shooting through Babe so violently he shudders, spine arching off of the mattress in a curve he didn't know he could make. Joe laughs, then, and licks into Babe's gasping mouth.

"Think I could get you off like this, huh, sweetheart?" And there's the sharper teasing Babe remembers. "Just like this, then screw you when you're all fucked-out and easy for me?"

"Jesus, Joe, don't," Babe whines, even though the thought has his dick twitching eagerly.

"Yeah, okay, maybe next time," Joe acquiesces.

Next time. Babe arches again, squeezing his eyes shut at the wave of something that travels through him at the thought. They had never had a guaranteed next time before. Not even after V-J Day. Next time, and the time after, and the time after-

He shoots off before he can even warn Joe, his whole body locking up tight and then completely unraveling. There's a shout ringing in his ears that he thinks is Joe's name bouncing off of the walls of the motel room.

"Fuck, there you go, that's it, show me how you like it-"

The fingers in him curl into that perfect spot again and again until Babe's leg is twitching with the aftershocks. His tongue feels too heavy to form words, but the pitch of his noises must turn sour, because Joe pulls out gently, keeps his legs spread around him but bending over Babe to press soft, open mouthed, kisses to his neck and shoulders.

He's still talking, too quietly for Babe to make out the words, but the vibrations against his skin are nice, soothing, help his mind refocus from how hard his orgasm crashed into him. With the tips of his fingers still tingling with static, Babe moves clumsy hands from where they'd fallen against the mattress to Joe's back, petting at him weakly, feeling the jut of his vertebrae and the thin sheen of sweat building on his skin.

"Alright, Babe, I gotcha, I gotcha, that's it, honey," Joe is cooing, the words once again making sense to Babe's ears. He laughs, a blissed out, disbelieving noise, and Joe lifts his head to give him a wicked grin. "Okay, so maybe we don't leave it to next time, huh?"

[thelampisaflashlight]

Lakeside

[This got longer than expected. Dew gets introspective with Rain.] Below the cut.

Dew lays sprawled out on the dock, legs dangling off the end just above the water, a hand thrown over his face to block out the sunlight filtering through the clouds, turning his head slightly when he hears Rain approaching and giving a little huff of acknowledgement.

"Feeling alright?" Rain questions, crouching down beside his friend, deliberately leaning over him to cast his shadow over his form.

"Not really, no." Dew mumbles, "I came out here to get some fresh air, but... I dunno. Head hurts from thinking too hard about bullshit, and I just... It's nice out here, cold, but nice. Calm, quiet..."

"Did something happen?" Rain asks, moving to lay down next to him.

"Ehn... Yes and no." he says, closing his eyes and letting his hand fall slack at his side, "Talked to Aether about some stuff... feelings stuff. We're good."

"But?"

"...When you..." Dew bites his lip, "D'you think Mount and me come off a-a certain kind of way?"

Rain rolls onto his side, propping his head up with his palm.

"Like, gay?"

"I mean, I guess that's what I'm..." Dew makes a grumbling noise in the back of his throat, "If I said that wasn't the case, what'd you think?"

"That you're not gay or that the two of you aren't an item?"

"See that's-" The other ghoul finally sits up, running a hand through his hair, "It's not that I'm NOT, ya know, into dudes I'm just... It's complicated, and, like, with Aeth, people thought we were a thing for a while but we weren't, and then with Mount, we're buddies and all, but he isn't into me like that, and he's not totally my type, and I just..."

Dew shakes his head.

"Why is it that when it's ME in these kinds of situations that people think I'm dating my friends?"

Rain shifts and sits up as well, shrugging, "Honestly, I couldn't tell you why. I guess, maybe, people see that you're happy or comfortable around someone and they just assume... You know. That you're into them, maybe."

"But they don't do it when I'm around Cumulus or Cirrus, now do they?" Dew points out, "Why's it only when I'm friendly with a guy?"

The water ghoul clicks his tongue.

"What?"

"Real talk?"

"Noo... Don't do this, come on-"

"Dew, I'm gonna have to level with you." Rain starts, placing a hand on his shoulder, "When you like a woman, it's obvious, yeah?"

"Yeah...?"

"When you like a guy... it's really, really obvious."

Dew scoffs, "No it's not-"

"The waiter at that restaurant in Spain, who you kept eyeballing all night."

"Now hold on, I just wanted free tapas-"

"That time that guy at the bar rolled up his sleeves and you almost passed out because all the blood rushed from your head to your-"

"Hey, that was objectively sexy-"

Rain snorts, "I'm not arguing with you, I'm just saying that compared to how you treat women -which, you know, you're respectful and that ain't a bad thing- you treat men more like... like something you wanna fuck, I guess... I dunno, I wanted to put it more eloquently than that, but that's pretty much the most straightforward way I could think to put it."

Dew tents his fingers, deep in thought.

"So what you're saying is that because I don't objectify women, but DO objectify men... people think I'm gay?"

Rain tilts his head and then shrugs.

"Are you saying you're not gay?"

"NO!" Dew shouts immediately, "I mean, no, but... maybe-Augh! I like both, I guess, I just... with women it's like... Women... ya know? And with men it's like... men."

Rain blinks.

"Jesus Christ..."

"Oi, no need for that kind of language now." Rain jokes, then clears his throat, "I kind of get what you're saying, I guess... You like women, you're attracted to them, but with guys it's more... physical, would you say?"

Dew makes a face and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, the tips of his ears turning a bright shade of pink.

"I mean, yeah... Yeah, that'd be..." he swallows, "When you put it that way, it just sounds so... Don't tell anyone I told you about this."

Rain mimes zipping his mouth shut.

"Your secret is safe with me." he says, "But, Dew, there's nothing wrong with liking men, even if your attraction to them is different from the kind you feel towards a woman..."

"Thanks..."

"No problem."

Rain leans back on his hands.

"Question though."

"If you say something stupid right now, I'll smack you like I did Aether."

"When you think about yourself with a guy-"

"...Are you seriously asking me if I'm a top or a bottom right now?"

Rain gives him a once over before meeting his gaze.

"I was actually asking what your type is, I can already hazard a guess as to-OW! YOU BIT ME-"

[atinylittlepain]

Marcus Pike x f!reader

(there is no masterlist for this man, good luck to this man)

He's looking for something other than vanilla, and she is more than happy to provide such a service to him.

warnings | 18+ this is smut, pegging, rimming, sucking and fucking, sex work, lowkey sugardaddy!marcus, sweet shy marcus getting his world rocked, and then pancakes and a blackberry and a black american express card so ya know, the works.

a/n | this was written LAST MAY woof - i think originally it was supposed to be for the first round of the PMAMC (also woof) but she's here now :') special thanks to @wannab-urs for resurrecting this fucker. there is a part two... just sayin

..............................

The first thing she notices about him is that he’s nervous. He keeps loosening and tightening his tie, eyes glancing around in quick, anxious sweeps. He’s definitely never been here before, she would’ve remembered a face that handsome, strong jaw under a little scruff and big brown eyes that set a smile tugging at her lips when he finally meets her gaze. 

“Hey there, handsome, welcome in. First time?” His eyes drop down to the floor, a clipped laugh coming out as she steps closer to him.

“Am I that obvious?” He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes crinkled in a shy smile that sets warmth spreading in her chest, bringing a delicate palm to his shoulder.

“Just never seen you around before, that’s all. What brings you to Pandora’s tonight?”

“Well, I, uh– I wanted to– um–” He cuts his own rambling off, jaw slack as he watches a man in head to toe latex walk by, being led on a leash by one of her coworkers. 

“Hey, don’t worry about them. I wanna know what you want. Would you feel more comfortable talking some more in one of our private rooms?” Eyelashes fluttering, spine arched, she knows exactly how to reel them in, noting the dip and bob of his throat as he nods.

“I– yeah, um, yes please.” Manners, she likes that. She slips her hand down his arm, taking his hand before turning heel and tugging him down the dark hallway, taking them into one of the vacant playrooms. It’s one of the tamer rooms, a four poster bed in the middle, red silk sheets, and a dark chest of drawers off to the side full of all sorts of fun. She guides him to sit down on the end of the bed beside her, his hands immediately going to his thighs in a nervous squeeze. His eyes are still darting everywhere, but mostly to the tops of her breasts, pressed up in the strappy leather corset she has on, though he doesn’t let his gaze linger there long before jerking his eyes back up to her face. 

“You don’t have to be nervous, baby. I just want to hear a little about why you came in, and how you’d like to be taken care of tonight, alright?” He nods, clearing his throat a few times before replying.

“I just– you gotta know that I’ve never done anything like this before, really. But, I don’t know, I guess I wanted to try something different? My, well my ex-wife, I think she thought I was too, um, vanilla. So I guess I want to– not be– um, vanilla anymore. And, Jesus Christ, you probably think I’m crazy, huh?” Somehow, he manages to still be handsome and look like a kicked puppy at the same time, and she has to resist the urge to push his flop of hair back and press a kiss to the crease between his brows.

“Not crazy at all. So when you say not vanilla, what does that mean to you?” When he gives her no answer, eyes only widening as he seems to wrack his brain for what to say, she laughs lightly, bringing a palm to his thigh and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“Why don’t we start with the basics? Do you see yourself being more of a dom or a sub?” 

“I– what does that mean, dom and sub?” Oh boy, more basic than the basics then.

“Dom is shorthand for dominant, that’s the person in control in the relationship, and they’re usually the one inflicting any pain, if you’re into that. And sub means submissive, that’s the person who follows the dom’s commands, who gets taken care of.” 

“Oh, right, that makes sense. I mean, I don’t think I’d be very good at being in control like that, so I guess, more submissive?” I’ll say. She offers him a nod and smile, still trying to coax some of his anxiety out of him.

“Sounds good, handsome. If it’s alright with you, I can be your partner for the night. Let’s get some paperwork for you and then we can get started, ok?” He only nods, something she’s going to have to work on with him.

“For this to work, I’m gonna need you to always use your words with me, alright? That way I know exactly what you do and don’t like.” She says it to him over her shoulder as she rifles through the chest of drawers, getting out a waiver and a pen for him. 

“Uh, yes, ok, I can– I can do that.” She sits back down beside him with a hum, passing him the paperwork, watching his brow furrow as he reads over it.

“That’s a list of kinks we do and don’t participate in. Are there any that you’re particularly interested in exploring tonight?” Another clear of his throat, keeping his eyes glued to the paper when he responds.

“Do men– do men really like that? I mean, I’ve heard of it, but, does it feel good?” She looks over his shoulder to where his finger is pointing, her lips crooking into a smile when she sees what’s caught his attention.

“Mmhmm, it can be very pleasurable, with an experienced partner, of course.”

“And you– are you, um, experienced?” Her smile broadens into a grin at his question, resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Oh baby, I’m very experienced. Is that something you’d like to try out tonight?” He seems to consider it, his eyes darting from her lips back up to her gaze a few times before he finally nods.

“Fuck it, yeah, I wanna do that. But is it ok if that’s the only thing we do on this list? I don’t think I’m really into the whole– chains and whips thing.” She laughs at that, giving his shoulder a squeeze as she nods.

“Whatever you want. Just need you to sign that waiver which basically affirms that we’re all clean here at Pandora’s, and you are too. You’re familiar with our pricing, right? It’s three hundred for an hour, and five for two.” 

“Is it ok if I do two?”

“You’re the customer, honey. What you say goes.” With a decisive nod, he ticks the box next to two hours on the form, signing his name on the dotted line before handing her back the pen and paper.

“Nice to officially meet you, Marcus. You can call me Daisy, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” As she sets the paperwork down on the chest of drawers, he lets out a light laugh, drawing her attention over her shoulder.

“That’s not your real name, is it?” Stepping out of her heels, she pads back over to him, standing right between his legs, setting down the items she grabbed before guiding his hands onto her hips.

“It’s not, is there something else you’d like to call me for the night?” He takes a sharp inhale as she drags his hands from her hips, up and up until his palms are cupping her breasts through her corset.

“I, um– Daisy’s good, yeah.” Letting her hands fall away from his, his eyes search hers, obvious in looking for permission that she’s happy to give.

“You can touch me, Marcus, whatever makes you feel more comfortable.” 

“Can I take this off of you?” His fingers are toying with the laced-up front of her corset, which she lightly bats away.

“It’s a little tricky, let me.” She makes deft work of unlacing the garment, a known path for her fingers that usually bores her, though there’s a little kick of something else, him watching her and the fine flicker of her hands. Marcus lets out a laugh at the grin she offers him, fizzling in his throat when she lets the corset fall away to reveal herself to him, standing before him in only her barely-there shorts. The heat of his hands just hovers over the swell of her breasts, and she can’t help the sigh that thrums in her throat when he finally lets his palms press against her skin. It’s not often that a client affects her like this, and she has to clear her throat to refocus on the real task at hand.

“Why don’t we get you out of your clothes? Sit back for me.” She’s undone dozens of ties, worked her fingers through miles of shirt buttons, and doesn’t even have to look to get trousers unfastened now, but she can’t shake the prickle running up her spine at the way his eyes follow every movement, and she can’t hide the shudder that runs through her when he tentatively tucks her hair behind her ear as she works his pants down his hips. 

“Have you been doing this for long?” She shoots him a look from her spot between his legs, his pants discarded to leave him in just his briefs.

“Are you really trying to make small talk?” Oh, he’s blushing now. She likes that, crawling closer and dipping her head down to press a kiss to the center of his chest before dragging her lips up and up, catching at the bob in his throat before letting her mouth just hover over his, feeling the shaky pants of his breath.

“There’s no need for that, Marcus. I’m gonna take care of you now, and I need you to tell me what you like, and what you don’t, do you understand?” His voice comes out a little hoarse, and she can feel the thrum of it where her chest is brushing against his.

“Yes, I understand.” A grin is all she gives him, ducking down before his lips can meet hers as she lets her mouth drag a trail down his torso until she’s nipping at the waistband of his briefs. 

“Can I take these off?” When all he does is nod, she gives his hip a light pinch, something between a laugh and a grunt jumping from his chest at the sensation.

“Yeah, you can take them off, I– sorry.” She smoothes her palm over the spot she pinched, smiling up at him.

“That’s ok, baby. Just remember your words for me.” He can’t be real, that’s all she can figure when she gets him totally bare before her, his cock a perfect pink that matches the flush on his chest, thick enough to set her jaw aching in anticipation, and long, pre-come smearing in the tuft of hair over his pelvis. She can’t help but wonder why the fuck anyone would ever want to leave him when he’s this pretty to look at. 

“Can I touch you? Get you warmed up for me?” He’s propped up on his elbows to watch her kneeling between his legs, lips swollen from how much he’s been biting them, slightly parted in something like wonder.

“Yeah, yes, please.” 

“Hmm, I like a boy with some manners. Just relax, Marcus, and remember, I’m here to take care of you.” With that, she presses a kiss just below his belly button, smiling against the twitch of his muscles before dipping down and letting her lips ghost over the underside of his cock. It’s involuntary, the hum she lets out when she takes him fully into the heat of her mouth, relaxing her throat like she’s learned to do, a necessary move in order to take all of him. And he’s perfect beneath her, thighs flexing under her splayed palms, low moans rumbling in his chest as she alternates between swallowing him down and lapping at his leaking tip. She knows she’s done her job, that she’s loosened him up, when those moans start to get a little louder, a little more drawn out, and he slumps down off his elbows to run a hand through his hair, eyes scrunched shut. A kiss over one hip, then the other, keeping her palm steady on his heaving belly while she reaches for the lube, his eyes squinting open to see why she stopped. 

“You ever used lube before?” 

“No, never needed to, I guess.” 

“Well it’s gonna be your best friend tonight. I’m gonna warm a little up in my palms and then I’ll let you get used to the feel of it, ok?” He hums out an mmhmm, watching her hands rub in quick circles, his eyes following the subtle shake of her breasts with the movement. And when she gets her hands on him again, slicking her palm up his cock, a hiss slips through his lips.

“Sorry, is it still cold?” 

“No, fuck– just feels really good.” She grins at that, letting her wrist flick, hand in an easy glide as she slips her palm down to cup the weight of his balls, his groan cracking and shooting up an octave, hips jolting at the sensation. 

“Has no one touched you like this before, baby?” 

“I– Jesus, no– no one’s done that before.” 

“Well that’s just not right. Feels good, huh?” A little squeeze to punctuate her question sets another moan loose in his chest as he presses his head back into the sheets.

“Y-yes, feels really good.” She nudges his thighs open a bit more, letting her hand slip down lower, not pressing, but circling, gauging how he reacts as she keeps her other hand easily stroking his cock. 

“Remember, need you to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t. We can stop at any time. Do you like what I’m doing right now?” His eyes are still shut tight, one hand fisted in his hair, the other tangled in the sheets, pleasure pulling his whole body taut.

“Yeah, I like it. It’s, hah– it’s different, good, different good.” His words go a bit slurred when she presses her finger forward, opening him up as he lets out another breathy moan. 

He takes it well, whimpers and moans crackling in his throat as she starts a steady thrust, only pausing to work a little more lube over her hand. 

“Doing so good for me, Marcus. You wanna try taking a little more?” He sits up on his elbows, surprising her a bit with his firm reply.

“I want more, want you to use that on me, please.” He tilts his head over to the strap laying on the end of the bed, once again catching her off guard.

“You sure you’re ready for that?” He tilts his head at her, a crooked smile on his face.

“Didn’t you say something about the customer always being right?” She lets out a real laugh at that, shaking her head at him as he just grins, clearly pleased with himself. 

“I guess so. Alright, handsome, why don’t you get on your hands and knees for me? We’ll take it nice and slow.” He seems a bit taken aback by that request, his smile going a little slack as she gets off the bed to step into her harness, though he catches himself, clearing his throat and shifting around on the bed into the position she asked for.

She can’t help herself, getting back on the bed and kneeling behind him, laying a quick pat to his very cute ass that has him craning his neck over his shoulder to look at her.

“Sorry, just looks so good I had to give it a little tap. You ready for me?” He hums his assent as she slicks her fake cock in lube, bringing one palm over his low back in a reassuring circle as she scoots in closer. 

“Just relax, Marcus, this is about you feeling good. That’s it, open up for me.” She works her strap in slow, curling over him to press her lips in a murmuring of praise into his shoulder blades as he whimpers beneath her, his hands fisted tight in the sheets. 

“How’re you feeling, baby? Is it too much? We can go back to what we–”

“No, no. I just– just need a minute, fuck– didn’t think it’d feel this good.” She’s not being professional about this, she knows it too, but she doesn’t care. A professional would be checking the clock, making sure that he gets his before his time is up. A professional wouldn’t be laying kisses over his shoulders, whispering to him that he’s doing so good, that he can take it, that he’s so pretty like this. But nothing about the way she wants him right now feels professional, the way she wants to take care of him, to make him feel good, to keep him feeling good for as long as she can.

“Just say the word. I move when you want me to.” 

Slow and smooth, nothing but patience and permission in how she fucks him, her hips slotting with his again and again and again, simmering down into a close press, her chest draped over his back and her hand working his cock in time with her thrusts when he finally unravels beneath her. He slumps down onto his forearms, a slur of curses punching out of his lungs as she runs her palms up and down his shuddering back. But what he does next is so unexpected she finds herself at the mercy of his movements. The moment she pulls her hips away from his, he turns over underneath her, still catching his breath as his hands find her hips, insistent and harsh in the way he pulls her down onto the bed. He’s certainly a sight, cheeks flushed and hair perfectly mussed up in every direction, his eyes blown dark and wide as he hovers over her.

“Can I take care of you now? Is that allowed?” A professional would say no, that his time is up, get him a towel and a glass of water and process his credit card.

She doesn’t say no.

He fumbles a bit with the straps of the harness, letting out an impatient groan that makes her giggle, quick to bat his hands away and make easy work of shimmying the whole thing down her legs. And the smile he gives her as she does is downright sheepish.

“That’s, uh, a bit tricky.” She brushes his hair back out of his face, thumb settling against the dimple in his cheek, a move that’s entirely too sweet and she knows it.

“Just a little. I’m all yours now though.” He doesn’t waste any time, ducking his head down to press a sweet kiss over the top of her breast that turns salacious when he slides his tongue down over the tight peak of her nipple, her back arching up into the heat of his mouth as he lets his teeth graze over the sensitive skin. His hands are splayed around her hips, greedy and insistent in the way his fingers curl and press into her ass, lifting her hips up to slide her tiny shorts off her legs before he settles back between her thighs, his nose brushing against her twitching stomach, dark eyes flickered up to meet hers.

“Is this ok? Can I taste you? Make you feel good like that?” He steals a move from her book when all she does is nod, his hand that’s still curled around her hip laying a gentle pinch to the swell, his grin going boyish as she huffs out a laugh.

“Can I have your words, Daisy, please?” She tilts her head at his shy question, enjoying the flushed flare creeping up his cheeks.

“Hmm, you’re a fast learner, huh? Yeah, baby, I want your mouth, Want you to make me feel good.” 

It’s not that she had been expecting him to be bad at it. But she also hadn’t been expecting him to be so fucking good either. Head thrown back, thighs trembling around his scruff, moaning his name good. He’s not precious about it, licking a flat stripe through her cunt before letting his tongue catch on her clit in a harsh press, dipping back down to lap up the slick pooling at her entrance, a continuous circuit of pleasure that has every muscle in her body tensing up. He groans low in his chest when she rakes her fingers through his hair, tugging just a bit unkindly when his teeth graze her clit. One large palm snakes up to grasp at the swell of one of her breasts, his other hand pressed across her pelvis to keep her spasming hips still as he fucks her with his tongue, the strong hook of his nose dragging across her clit with each pass. And it hits her all at once, that snare of pleasure snapping hot and hard as she comes with a stilted moan of his name, her heel pressing between his shoulder blades, keeping him exactly where he is, and he continues to work her over as she comes undone on his mouth. 

She tugs at his hair again when it becomes too much, her hips jolting at the thrumming chuckle he lets out when he finally pulls away, resting his cheek against her hip while she tries to catch her breath. They lay like that for a hiccup of time, just staring at each other, a dazed smile on his glistening lips that she knows is mirrored in her own hazy grin. Eventually she lets out a long sigh, reaching out for him and thumbing away some of her arousal that’s smeared across his jaw. 

“Do you wanna, like, get a burger or something?”

“Is that– is that a part of my two hours?” “Oh baby, your two hours were up a while ago.”

…

He’s waiting for her right outside the club, and she mentally kicks herself for having worn sweats and a hoodie in for her shift earlier, though he doesn’t seem to mind, smiling big and broad when she steps outside to join him. 

“I know you said burgers, but there’s a diner around the corner that does the best pancakes in DC. Sound good to you?” She likes this version of him too, confident, certain, a bit old-fashioned with the way he holds his arm out for her to take like they didn’t just wreck each other a few moments ago, letting her hold onto him the whole walk over to the diner, opening the door for her, the whole chivalric production.

It’s so late at night, they’re virtually the only people in the place, tucking into a cracked vinyl booth and putting in their order, pancakes and scrambled eggs and bacon, the works. And they share every last bite, having both clearly worked up an appetite after their evening together.

Though he’s vague about it, she can suss out for herself that he’s some sort of higher-up government type, she knows them well, and in turn, she answers his questions about her, that her work at Pandora’s is good enough to be supporting her through college, Marcus seeming to perk up when she tells him she’d like to be an art teacher one day. He’s older than her, at least enough to have already been married and divorced, but she can’t find it in herself to care about that, too busy enjoying their easy conversation, the subtle game of footsie they have going on under the table, and the way he smiles at her, all of his attention on her. It’s so strange, so different, so starkly contrasted to the way her nights usually go, not that she minds the simple rotation of disinterested clients, but she hasn’t had someone look at her, really look at her the way Marcus is, in quite a while. 

“I have to admit, I wasn’t really expecting my night to end like this.” Plates long cleared, each of them nursing a mug of coffee as the first sweeps of dawn start to light up the streets outside, she smiles at his admission.

“Good surprise or bad surprise?” He grins at her question, leaning in on his elbows like he has the wildest secret to tell her.

“Really good surprise. I mean, I just think you’re– amazing. Fuck, is that weird of me to say?” She mirrors him, leaning in on her elbows, a smile threatening to quirk her lips.

“Hmm, no, it’s cute. For the record, I think you’re kinda amazing too.” Their faces are so close, and she realizes all at once that she hasn’t even kissed him yet.

“Only kinda, huh? Guess I didn’t do my job then.” She can almost feel the curve of his smile as she laughs at his simpering response, the sound getting swallowed when he closes the space between them, pressing his lips to hers. And he’s good at this too, his palm coming to cup her jaw, thumb stroking along her cheek as he deepens the kiss, licking into her mouth and nearly melting her on the spot. Though it’s over too soon for her liking when they get interrupted by someone clearing their throat in front of their table, pulling away to see the rather annoyed looking waitress setting their check down and shuffling away with a sour side-eye. She opens her mouth to protest when Marcus reaches for his wallet, but he waves his hand, black American Express glinting in the diner’s fluorescent lights.

“Don’t worry about it, baby, I’ve got it. It’s the least I can do after going over my two hours.” She can tell he means it as a joke, a flippant remark, but her stomach still sinks at even the suggestion of this still being a business transaction. It’s a sore spot for her, and though she’s more than comfortable with the work she does, her exes hadn’t been, nor had they been kind about it for that matter.

Busy signing the check, Marcus doesn’t notice the way her face falls, and she’s already out of the booth and halfway out the door of the diner when he finally calls out for her, further rubbing salt in the wound when the name he uses is Daisy. 

“Woah, woah, hey, what happened in there?” The hand he hooks around her bicep is gentle but insistent, and she can’t help the tears threatening to spill over when he turns her around to look at him in the faint morning light.

“Look, if that’s all this is to you, just business, that’s fine, but I have enough respect for myself to not–” He cuts her off, bringing his broad palm to cup her cheek again, his eyes wide and unwavering.

“Hey, that’s not what this is– I mean, at least not anymore. We did meet under some, ah, particular circumstances. But this isn’t business to me now, if that’s ok with you?” He thumbs away her stray tears, and she nearly goes dizzy with the relief she feels hearing those words from him. 

“I’m sorry, baby, it was a stupid thing to say, wasn’t even thinking.” Baby, it’s the second time he’s called her that. She’s never anyone’s baby, they’re always hers, but she likes it now, coming from him, finding herself smiling into his touch.

“I don’t want you to call me Daisy.” His eyes soften, smile tempering as he nods.

“Ok, what should I call you?” She tells him her real name, and with it, the last shred of her professionalism dissolves, and she doesn’t care one bit. He says her name like he’s rolling a hard candy around in his mouth, slow sugar in each syllable before he presses a kiss between her brows, lips trailing down to catch hers in a sweet smack. 

“Can I see you again? And, definitively not as, um, as business?” It makes her laugh, how quickly he shifts between confidence and constraint. She likes both. 

“I would really really like that, Marcus. Am I giving you my number or are you giving me yours?” His eyebrows shoot up his forehead, like he’s surprised she actually wants that, though he’s quick to catch himself, clearing his throat and smiling.

“Uh, both? Both is good, right?” They swap phones, and she can’t help thinking to herself that of course this man has a Blackberry, stifling a giggle as she types in her number. 

“Can I walk you to your car? It’s back at the club, right?” 

“Oh, I don’t have a car, actually. Just take the bus to get around.” He doesn’t seem to like that, lips pressing into a thin line as he looks at her.

“How about I get you home this morning? Would that be ok?” Under any other circumstances, she wouldn’t dream of getting into the car of a man she just met, but seeing as she’s already broken a dozen of her cardinal rules with him, she doesn’t think twice about getting into his sleek BMW that’s still parked outside the club. He keeps a palm splayed just above her knee, thumb idly swiping back and forth, a soothing lull as she gives him directions toward her apartment complex. She hates to admit it to herself, but she’s a bit reluctant to get out when he does pull up to her building, leaning over the console for a kiss that he willingly gives her. 

“So I’ll call you?” She lays a kiss to the small patch in his scruff, smiling against his skin when he lets out a huff.

“I’ll answer. Thank you, Marcus, for a really nice night, and morning.”

When she gets inside her apartment, she slumps back against the door, blowing out a long exhale and shaking her head.

“Fuck.” Her boss is going to kill her, but she doesn’t really care. 

[whatthebodygraspsnot]

old habits ian in his emt uniform AAAARRRGGHHHHH

[ old habits ]

mickey's halfway to the mailbox when he stops dead in his tracks, his eyes immediately zeroing in on ian chatting with lucy one driveway over. he doesn't give a fuck about lucy on a normal day - but today it's like she's not even there, because ian's clearly just come home from work and holy fuck...

mickey's caught glimpses of his emt uniform, but never out in broad daylight like this - every inch of the well-fitting blue button-down - the shine of his silver badge - the clean cut and crisp lines all tucked perfectly into place and jesus christ, mickey practically drools, his hand reaching blindly into the mailbox almost as an afterthought. no man should look this hot in a uniform.

lucy can't resist the call either. clearly. but lucy isn't getting turned out in ian's comfy bed every other night like mickey is, now is she? no, she isn't! and it isn't lucy who ian's noticing and sending a little wave over to, is it? no! it's mickey! and it's also mickey who saunters his way over to interrupt, happily, with a composed, "ay doc, you got a thermometer in that fanny pack-a yours?"

it gets them both tucked away inside ian's house with a laughably low amount of effort. and now that he's here, mickey can put his plan to action, watching his personal emt emerge from the bathroom with one of those concerned brow furrows. "you got a fever...?"

ian's got the thermometer, but it's the back of his hand that he uses instead, pressing it to mickey's cheek to check his temperature. then softly over his forehead. mickey mumbles something noncommittal. whatever will keep ian's attention on him like this.

"hm..." after his forehead, ian's hand drops to the back of mickey's neck - more comforting than anything - and god damn, does is light him up from the inside out. "you're definitely runnin' hot..."

an understatement of the century.

but mickey is the perfect patient. opens his mouth real good and everything when ian tells him to, keeping that eye contact as he feels the thermometer slip under his tongue. "stay here for me, alright kid?"

uh huh. yup. whatever the fuck he wants.

mickey watches ian move around the kitchen. takes in a greedy helping of how nicely those slacks hug his ass. how fucking snatched his waist is with that thick belt. how his back broadens into strong shoulders under the pressed blue fabric of his shirt. jesus fucking christ, this man. no way motherfuckers ain't passing out on the spot when he arrives on the scene. damn, mickey would do some highly questionable shit just to get him-

beep beep! beep beep! beep beep!

"lemme see."

mickey opens up exactly as asked, the thermometer slipped out from under his tongue.

in front of him, ian reads the numbers, mickey's scheme about to be put to rest once he realizes there never was a- "hm..."

mickey frowns. flicks his eyes to the thermometer and then back up. "what?" he asks. "the fuck you mean 'hm'?"

"you weren't kiddin' - you really got a fever going."

and-... wait a minute. "really?"

"mhm. looks like you're gonna need some follow-up care."

mickey's brain plugs along slowly, trying to wrap around what's happening. "...what-"

but the rest of his confusion is snuffed out as ian moves forward, scooping him up in his arms and getting that bespoke heart attack to set in - gloriously. because he's carrying mickey toward the stairs, "gonna have to be on bed rest for quite a while, i'm thinkin'..." the thermometer with mickey's temp left on the kitchen counter.

99.1

[imfromthedeepblueunderworld]

Intro!!!

I'm Frye, I'm a lesbian woman and I go by she/they pronouns!!! I am a proshipper and a darkshipper, I have been since I was 8 and first introduced to shipping culture, if I see a 'nice' anti in my inbox or comments trying to 'nicely' get me to convert beliefs, I will block you. I block freely as well. Also, if I ever post my art here, do not reblog with an image ID. I get infected and ill very often and may be inactive for long periods of time because of it. I don't care if antis interact with me, I won't respond to harassment and I'll either block or laugh and move on. Reblog with as much hate as you want, you won't get anything, sorry!!!

INTERESTS:

Scott the Woz, iCarly, Danganronpa, FNaF, D4DJ I LOVE D4DJ TALK TO ME ABOUT D4DJ, Monster High G3, Repo! The Genetic Opera, Papa Louie, H2o: Just Add Water, slasher films (Halloween, Tcm, and saw my beloved) dbd, and Tadc!!

DNF:

Pro-contact harmful paras, antis, true crime fetishists (if you like watch documenaries its fine but if you make fancamsof the fucking columbine shooters shoo go awayyy), anti endo/pro fakeclaiming, Byakuya Togami simps/selfshippers cuz Makoto will start crying (no hate ofc it's js Maloto os our headmate and will get rlly sad lmao)

RADQUEERS AND TRANSIDS STOP FOLLOWING ME FFS CHILDREN CANT CONSENT AND YOU CANT CHANGE YOUR RACE

^ this is me irl btw :3

Stamps not made by me btw💗

I made these tho ^^

ROMANTIC F/O'S:

Venus McFlytrap (Monster High G3) Rika Seto (D4DJ) Pomni (Tadc) William Afton (Fnaf Movie)(belongs to Mike) Byakuya Togami (Danganronpa)(belongs to Makoto)

PLATONIC F/O'S:

Deuce Gorgon (Monster High G1) (we have been besties for years) Gooliope (Monster High G1)

I'm ok with sharers except for Pomni, thats my wife, not urz <3

Also I have a strawpage, go wild https://fryestansstupidsite.straw.page/

And I have a discord server https://discord.gg/Wdxsm7an

So far, only 1 of my headmates (Makoto) has a separate blog here

I bit the bullet and got a rednote account, take it.

I have BPD, and just found out i have DID, so cut me some slack here lol, I'm trying my best

Okay here's a list of all our headmates cuz uh idk man, literally all of them are fictives whoops

Cleo🌺🍹(host

Mike💤 (frontbanned)

Makoto🩷🍀(little)

Hajime🍊🧃(protector)

Dawktrap👾🔮 (evil as shit)

Peter🕷🕸 (totally not Spider-Man)

Chet🟢🟩(also frontbanned for worse reasons)

Frank🩸🔪(gay gay homo gay)

Migraine💧💠 (most obscure ass character for a fictive vro)

Jecka🎀👚(frontbanned, we have way too many frontbanned alters)

Adam⛓️🦴 (queer)

Stretch🎙📼 (texan)

Bubba🦴🍖 (nonverbal mostly)

Melodine🎶🎵 (also protector)

Marina🌊⛵️ (dumb)

Jesus christ anyways this will probably be updated a good bit

[coldbrewghoul]

From Top to Bottom - Richtofen University AU

Chapter 1: Can I Borrow Your Pen?

If you were a student in his class would you be able to pay attention to anything other than how hot your professor was? When Professor Richtofen notices how hot you are for teacher he confesses he's also had his eye on you, but after things get hot and heavy how do you return to being student and teacher? And what if there is more than just lust at play here?

Notes: POV swap: Reader (X) and Edward Richtofen (Primis) | both characters are switches | hurt/comfort, angst w/ a happy ending, mutual pining, smut heavy plot | This started as a one shot, but I couldn't walk away from it so it's been expanded into a full work.

TW: age gap, situationally inappropriate relationship

-X- You were trying to decide between two options:

1) Professor Richtofen was obsessed with the sound of his own voice.

Or

2) The rest of the class was actually dumb enough he really did need to over explain these simple concepts.

You tapped the end of your pen on your lips, slouched back in your chair with one arm wrapped around your ribs, as you analyzed the classroom. Some of your peers were anxiously scribbling down notes while others were clearly just staring at the professor slack-jawed, too confused to know what to write down. There were only a few diligent students nodding their heads in understanding as their pens scratched at the paper in front of them.

Jesus Christ did they really need another page of notes on Kepler’s Hierarchal Infinities? Didn’t all of us learn that last year? You couldn’t be bothered to even pretend to care so you settled for gazing at the professor, a pastime that you’d been indulging in more often lately. While it didn’t discount your observations about your classmates you were sure he definitely had a thing for hearing his own voice - and let’s face it, who could blame him? It was a good voice. The German accent, the playful lilting that could turn gravely serious at a moment’s notice. The kind of voice that was fitting not only for long debates about String Theory, but also for whispering the dirtiest innuendos known to man. At least, you assumed that last part was true as you’ve never actually gotten to witness such a break from the stern sadistic professor countenance he projected during class or office hours. Your teeth captured your pen, a barely audible sigh of sexual frustration escaping your lips.

Was it his lips that kept you staring? If he could kiss for as long as he could talk, you’d let him ravish your mouth until both your lips were bleeding and still, you’d beg him for more. Maybe it was the jawline? Strong, sharp, accenting a perfectly pronounced Adam’s apple you’d love to feel gulping for air under your hand while you cut off blood flow to his brain. Ever since you’d met the eccentric man you’ve contemplated wrapping your fingers around his neck. Before it was because of how goddamn frustrating he could be, pushing unreasonable mountains of homework on all of you and acting so fucking condescending when you forgot one little piece of a complicated equation. The corner of your mouth quirked remembering your quiet revenge for that last annoying quality of his.

But no, it wasn’t anything to do with his teaching methods that made you want to squeeze that beautiful neck now. It was the insatiable lust that had started as a whisper as you watched his graceful hands chalk up complicated theorems. It was the fine line you crossed from hate to love as you watched his tongue dart out to wet his lips in the middle of a long lecture. It was the fact that your hand no longer ached just from the multitude of papers he had you writing in the middle of the night. Fuck, just thinking about how this bastard had become the center of your nastiest fantasies had you contemplating slipping out of the classroom to whisper his name under your breath in a bathroom stall while your already sore hand worked your tender clit. Sorry, Kepler, you may be a physics genius, but this brain now belongs to Richtofen’s starched white dress shirt stretching over his slender frame. Your tongue flicked across the pen in your mouth, your oral fixation providing the tiniest fraction of physical stimulation to relieve the painful tightness below your abdomen.

What would be more fun? Wrapping a hand under his jaw or yanking on his tie, pulling him down to your lips for a crushing kiss before dragging him lower and using that mouth to experience countless mind-blowing orgasms…

-Richtofen-

Mein Gott, what an infuriating woman! Once again (y/n) was spacing out, staring at him with eyes glazed. The young American had been such a promising student when she’d joined his master’s program at the beginning of the year - sharp witted, a quick learner - and he’d hoped she’d be the one to dispel his doubts about the capacities of the American brain, but over the last month…

She spent class time with her mind very clearly elsewhere - slouched back, an arm propped under her deliciously perky breasts as she gazed at him, her eyes heavily lidded, a slight flush to her face and that damn pen playing around her lush lips! It was the kind of look you wanted to see on a fucked-out whore ready to attend to your every whim, NOT your top student! Yes! That was why this angered him so much! What a waste of such a sharp mind. The kind of brain he’d love to have on a research project and definitely NOT love to fuck out of her skull until her mind was so fried from orgasms she couldn’t recite the basic properties of logarithms. To her credit, the latter would likely take a while, giving him plenty of time to get creative and experiment crafting the perfect formula of delicious pain and torturous pleasure to make her break. To his annoyance just the other day she’d already proven that, despite her glazed eyes, she paid enough attention to class to drop a paper on his desk correcting an equation that he had (hastily!!!) scribbled out on the board. Fuck, what would it take to break a mind as sharp as that?

He grit his teeth, forcing his mind back to the example number patterns he was writing on the board to explain his favorite of all of Kepler’s theorems. Yes, focus on the science, Edward. You are too dignified a genius to lose your composure over some pretty bird nibbling a pen in your class. It was just because she was so promising that this bothered him this much and definitely NOT because of the extremely inappropriate thoughts that plagued him nightly about her lips wrapping around something of his that was long and hard. Truly, it was just normal professor frustration with a simple-minded student that drove his hand late at night, relieving his stress, as he thought about all the ways he wished he could punish her for her inattentiveness.

The worst (and most exciting) part was she was a student, his student, and he’d never even mentally crossed that line before, but now? He bit his lip, pausing his lecture suddenly as his mind raced through all the perverse angles such a power imbalance brought to his fantasies. She was so feisty, so smart. Would she resist? Try to take charge? If she did, it’s not as if he’d mind submitting if she made it intriguing. Or would she be surprised at how quickly and eagerly she got on her knees for him or bent over his desk or….

He chanced a glance at her and swallowed, quickly looking back at the board, his desk (no, not the desk! Not the place he most desired to see her moaning his name), the confused faces of the other students… ANYWHERE ELSE! Gott, did she have any idea how fuckable she looked with that damn expression on her face and that gottdamn pen in her pretty little mouth?! All the students were staring at him now and he frowned, a slight panic creeping over him that his excitement was showing through his pants, but a quick glance down assured him his half-boner was reasonably discrete. Wait, how long ago had he stopped talking? Fuck.

-X-

A loud bang made you jump as Professor Richtofen slammed a hand down on his desk. You’d been preoccupied trying to add up all the times and ways his slacks tightened around his ass to get the most accurate information for visualization you hadn’t even realized he’d stopped his lecture. You frowned at him. He looked almost haggard, muscles tense, holding his breath and staring a hole into his desk, a stray lock of his carefully oiled hair falling out of place over his forehead. You just knew you’d be fucking yourself raw for days picturing him as he was now, this tiny crack in his normal composure.

“Class is… dismissed,” he uncharacteristically choked out. The classroom erupted in movement as people rushed to leave, but you moved slowly, frowning at the clock that showed your usually punctual (evil) instructor was letting everyone out more than half an hour early. You looked back at him quizzically, but he seemed determined to win the staring contest he was having with the papers on his desk. Not receiving any answers, you pushed your unused stationery into your leather messenger bag and went to stand.

Oh my god… You immediately plopped your butt back down on the chair after only rising an inch or so and feeling exactly how turned on your fantasizing had made you. You were pretty sure you had never been this wet in your life. The small movement of your legs opening after being clamped together so hard for so long had released your slick juices from your folds onto your thin lace panties. Panic rose up to your throat. How the hell had you gotten this wet without realizing? You squeezed your eyes shut, silently scolding yourself for being an absolute air headed slut while trying to calm your breathing and assess the situation. You opened your eyes and peeked down, your nipples were still hard (or had they hardened back up when the embarrassment flushed your body?) but despite the faint sheerness of your white blouse you were pretty sure no one would notice them, right? It could just be a bra seam or a bump in the lace, right?! The real concern was the light grey dress slacks. Thank God they were lose fitting so maybe you hadn’t leaked on them, but when you moved were you wet enough your juices would drip down? Or was there a spot underneath that you couldn’t see?

Right when you had convinced herself there was no way you had gotten that wet you smelled it. The unmistakable musk of your own sex, a sort of sweet heavy scent that could only remind people of a hot and heavy session between the sheets. Your mind raced through the calculations for random particle movement, trying to figure out if your professor was far away enough from the source that the scent molecules would disperse enough to be undetectable when they reached his gloriously defined nose (it really was nice nose, dignified, the kind that would brush against your clit while his tongue was inside you if you rode his face and…STOP THINKING ABOUT IT!!!)

“Miss (y/n), class is dismissed.”

Your eyes snapped up from your hips to meet his piercingly blue ones. A mistake, for sure. He was sitting at his desk now and his glare sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. Why was his tone so serious? His voice was hoarse, with his words ending in a sharp manner that made you feel like he was forcing each one out.

“Oh…” You were floundering, caught in his gaze. If you got up and left now you’d walk right by him and in that proximity, would he smell you? Smell what a brain dead whore you actually were that you’d gotten this wet just thinking about how, despite fantasy you’s initial dominance, you somehow were sure by how paralyzed you were by just his eyes that he’d find all the right ways to destroy you completely until you were slurping his cock out of the palm of his hand, nothing more than an eager set of holes for him to abuse however he saw fit… Good god, woman, get your shit together, you internally hissed. Out loud, your voice came out as a timid squeak. “Oh… can I ask you ab—“

-Richtofen-

“No!” He cut her off quickly. “Leave.”

If he hadn’t sat down, she would have seen the tent forming at his crotch. He’d always been proud of his own manhood, a glorious specimen if he did say so himself, but when it got excited… Well, discretion was not its strong suit. All the students had left, but of course (y/n), the one student he most needed to have escaped to the afternoon sun like the rest of them, was still sitting at her table staring at her lap. What was so interesting down there? Would she like him to examine it? He was a doctor after all —NIEN, EDWARD! He watched like a hawk as she timidly stood up. Why was she acting so off from her usual confident American self? At first, he had hated it, assuming it was fake bravado like the many other Americans he’d suffered working with, but she’d proven her intellect was worth the ego and he certainly was not one to deny others the right to be proud of their genius.

He tried not to look at her ass in those slacks as she carefully got up and tiptoed by his desk to leave, but he was no better than a teenage boy in this moment. Her awkwardly careful steps were like that of a woman who had just been railed within an inch of her life and just as she was shifting her worn leather messenger bag to cover the tight, round ass whose curve was in no way diminished by the loose dress slacks she wore he saw it and smelt it.

Scheiße. There was the faintest damp spot right at her crotch, no more than a shadow. He would have mistaken it for just a trick of the light had he also not smelled the sweet aroma of a woman who was very clearly in heat. His knuckles went white as he clutched the edge of his desk and a million previously inexplainable variables fell into perfect harmony to create one beautifully temping equation. The way she flushed when she daydreamed in class, the playing with that gott forsaken pen (which before was a barely noticeable and honestly endearing little habit that lately had grown to be an unavoidable distraction as she now did it all the damn time!). Add that to her awkwardness attempting to leave the class and the most important piece: how her eyes had always remained locked on him and only him as they glazed over, not with boredom he now realized triumphantly, but with pleasure. The only piece of the equation left to figure out was the solution.

Obviously, the best solution would be to bend her over his desk, strip her to reveal her embarrassing little secret, and then punish her pussy with his cock until she begged him to stop from overstimulation all while he teased her relentlessly for being such a desperately naughty slut, but that was too much too soon, wasn’t it? Like having dessert before the slow teasing dinner of seduction. To be fair, it was only a solution he desired because he’d already danced through all the fun foreplay that would have to lead up to that in his fantasies every night. His mind raced through all the options so fast he barely had time to register that he’d already decided he would not deny himself the pleasure this wonderfully intelligent creature could offer him, no matter how forbidden student-teacher relationships were. She was certainly not so young in comparison that the age gap would be too overwhelming and he certainly wouldn’t be inclined to give her a better grade no matter how well she sucked his cock - if she even asked for such an allowance he’d likely lose all interest in her entirely anyway, but he doubted she ever would as her pride likely would not allow her to rest on anything but her own laurels. And who knows, perhaps if she was getting all her clearly pent-up sexual frustration out she’d be able to focus in his fucking class again (and stop distracting him!)

With all that settled, he relaxed, regaining the composure that had been cracking for the last few weeks, and a cocky (almost evil) smile spread across his face.

-X-

The door was right there. Just two more steps. It was even already open so you could shut it behind you and race to your dorm while praying with every fiber of your being that your roommate wouldn’t be there so you could fuck this silliness out of yourself and change before your tutoring job.

“Actually, (y/n), I’ve made up my mind. There is something we need to discuss.”

You freeze and slowly turn to face Professor Richtofen, quickly shifting your bag to cover your front. You tried desperately to wipe the deer caught in the headlights look off your face and replace it with a look of confident innocence. “Yes, Professor?”

“Close the door and set down your things. I believe this is a conversation that may take a moment and should be had privately.”

His voice was calm, little more than a whisper, and you were sure you detected a dangerous hint of playfulness??? The whole world seemed to be moving slowly as you closed the door and reluctantly set your bag on the ground next to it, registering all too late that doing so would have you bending down, ass up in the air and likely exposing any damp spots you were so worried about. Fear seized you and you stood straight up, unceremoniously dropping your bag to the floor. That’s what this was all about. He’d seen something, smelled your shame, and now you were going to have the most mortifying scolding of your life at best, and be kicked out of his master’s program at worst.

You watched him pick up his pen, a simple yet elegant dark blue fine tip, and twirl it between his fingers as he watched you shuffle to the student table directly in front of his desk, hoping to sit down and hide whatever shame he’d seen that was out of your sight.

“No, no, (y/n), I want you to stand right here in front of my desk.”

Your heartbeat was pounding so loudly you could barely hear his quiet, but firm order, yet your body moved mechanically to stand where he directed.

“Now turn around.”

You squeezed your eyes shut after automatically and unquestioningly obeying the command, turning your back to him. You tried to slog through the panic clouding your brain to start forming a plan, practice some excuses, prepare yourself for the verbal whipping he was about to dish out on you. You were just beginning to explore some plausible options when you heard his chair scrap against the wood floor as he got up. His shoes clacked quietly as he walked over to the door, but you’d swear you’d never heard anything more menacing than his footsteps moving beyond where you could see.

“I’m going to lock the door. It is a simple lock; you can open it from this side should you choose to leave. It will only prevent others from entering the room.”

Why was he telling you that? Have you ever been this confused in your life? Doubtful, your mind has never failed you this much before now, before him. “O-okay.”

“Nien, that will not do. Is that a proper way to address your professor, your superior?” The lock had clicked, and he was behind you now, whispering those last two words into your ear. His hot breath against your skin was like an electric bolt straight to your knees, making them wobble as you fought to stand still. Somewhere buried behind all the confusion, embarrassment, anxiety, and overwhelming lust, your logical brain was trying to calmly tell you that it had finished the mental calculations and there was only one solution to answer what was happening right now. Too bad you were too shaken up to hear it. “No, sir… um, Doctor? P-professor.”

“Any of those will do quite nicely, I think. Don’t you think so, fräulein? Isn’t it just sooo nice to know your place.” His voice was pure sucrose, sickeningly sweet and inviting. God, it has never been this hard to think!

“Um… yes, sir?” Come on, (y/n), breathe…

He tutted at your uncertainty. “Perhaps I was mistaken about you, although I rarely ever make mistakes.”

“Professor, why am I here?” Fuck, you were sure that might have just been the stupidest question that has ever come out of your mouth, but goddamn it were you stupid right now. Deep down, you knew that there was a battle being fought between the two of you and not only had Richtofen started with the upper hand, but that unless you snapped out of this haze you’d never even have a chance to win. But do I want to win? Yes… I do, or at least, I don’t want to lose this badly. And that’s when logic finally broke through and everything clicked into place. “No, that’s not the right question, is it Professor?”

“Hmm?”

Your whole body relaxed, the fear draining out of you so fast that you almost missed it, regretting the loss of a game that could have been played with a much different ending. Confidently, you turned back around to face him. “The real question is… why are you here, Professor?”

-Richtofen-

Richtofen leaned back against the edge of his desk casually, not bothering to hide the growth in his slacks. He’d been a little surprised at how long it had taken her to figure out the game that was being played here, but he supposed women were much more repressed by society and he had caught her off guard. Relief flooded him when she’d turned to face him, a delighted fire dancing in her eyes as she realized the possibilities of what could happen here today. It didn’t really matter how hard she fought for dominance now; he’d started with the upper hand and all her struggle against it would do is make his victory that much more delicious.

“A student in my class has been very, very naughty lately,” he crooned, standing up so that his cock pressed against her through their clothing. She held her ground, but he could see how her eyes flicked up just slightly as she contemplated giving in just to get to her end goal faster - him. He smirked. Maybe she’d be easier to break than he’d originally thought. In his fantasies he’d vastly underestimated how desperate she was for him.

“Hmmm, and tell me, how do you deal with such naughty students, Professor?” She leaned into him, shifting so his member slid between her warm legs and pressing her soft body against his. Her fingers fiddled with his tie, stroking up to where it knotted at his neck to tug it gently, and he couldn’t help but let out a quiet little hum as this little dance started going exactly as he hoped - with her trying to put up a feeble fight, and losing (but really did it matter? Weren’t both of them the winners here?)

“Normally, I ignore them, but you, my bright little pupil, you are worth some special lessons.” He’d been patiently waiting for her to engage him, not wanting to overstep or assume consent, but now that she’d made her move, he made his. She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off by sliding his pen between her teeth like it was a bit. “Bite down and stay quiet. You can do that simple thing correctly for me, ja? Perhaps if you are good, I will let you have something else in that pretty little mouth of yours.”

She regarded him for a second, and he could see she was weighing her options. He gave her the moment she needed; confident she would see things his way in the end and give in to the scene he’d already planned out for them in his head. He could tell by the way her eyes lit up she wanted his cock in her mouth almost as badly as he did. When she finally made her choice, nodding that she would indeed keep the pen between her teeth he felt a strange squeeze in his chest. An unusual reaction he had not had in his previous sexual encounters, but not important! He slid his hands across her hips to her ass and lifted her up. Her legs wrapped around his hips instinctually, making him groan, but the noise didn’t make it out of his chest as her hand squeezed his tie tightly, slightly cutting off his airflow. Behind the pen, her lips were curled into a smirk. Mein Gott, she really was perfect, wasn’t she?

He turned and pushed her down on the desk. She let her hand slip down his tie to give him space to work, but kept a firm grip on the end as if to say, “I haven’t given up entirely, not yet at least.”

“Now, fräulein,” he whispered, his fingers deftly working the button at her waistband, “let us see what you’ve been hiding.”

Her brows furrowed slightly as she gave an embarrassed little whimper, cheeks blossoming with red. “Oh please, no need to be embarrassed. From the way you’ve been eating me up with your eyes I’d guess we’ve already done this dance a couple times in your little classroom daydreams,” he teased, watching his words work their magic on her body. She didn’t appear any less embarrassed (gutt, keep putting on this little show just for me fräulein), but her hips arched slightly up, pressing herself even more firmly against him, trying to gain some friction between them. He pressed back, jutting his hips against hers and was rewarded with a stifled moan, lewdly making its way out of her mouth around his pen. As he pulled her pants down from her hips, he leaned in to whisper in her ear: “In my dreams I’ve already done countless dirty things to this tight little body of yours.”

He had to stifle a small gasp of surprise as he plunged his fingers between her legs and found out for himself just how absolutely soaking wet she was down there. A quick glance told him her little black lace panties were absolutely drenched (they didn’t stand a chance against the onslaught of her lust) and when he ripped them off her body, letting them fall to the floor, he gave them a quick flick with the toe of his shoe so they landed under his desk for him to retrieve later. He chuckled darkly. “Is all of this just from thinking of me? Gott, imagine how soaked you’ll be when you’ll get to experience the real thing.”

She gave out a needy whine, nodding her head vigorously. His burning curiosity almost tempted him to relieve her mouth of his pen and demand she list all the dirty things and how often she’d thought about him. Almost. But to maintain his upper hand for this round he had a feeling it was best to keep that dangerously gorgeous weapon of a mouth muzzled. Perhaps another time, as for now he had work to do. And what delicious work it was! Her lower half was stripped so with his free hand he worked to loosen the buttons of her shirt enough to slip her breasts out of her bra, exposing them to the cold classroom air. He had to take a moment to admire the view: his middle and ring finger buried deep in her pussy, his thumb drawing lazy circles over her clit, the mussed up blouse and bra framing her breasts, and finally, her face, beautiful, flushed, gazing at him no longer with the glassy eyed expression of someone lost in a fantasy, but instead with the eyes of a woman just begging to be fucked. To be fucked by him, and him alone.

-X-

Fucking hell, I’d lost before I’d even begun, haven’t I? But you didn’t really mind. Maybe another day you’d have your way with your stern Professor, getting to break him down till he was the one drooling around something in his mouth underneath you, but for now… how could you not succumb to his seduction? He really did play out the fantasy quite well. A little voice in your head whispered that maybe, just maybe, how well he could play you had nothing to do with it and that the feelings that had been growing inside you were more than just respect and attraction. But who had time for little voices when he was staring down at you, appreciating every curve of your body and lewd expression on your face?

You reached a hand out for his belt, trying to release the one thing you’ve been craving more than anything, but he stopped massaging your breasts and pinching your nipples to grab your wrist pinning it at your side. He chided you, “No, not yet. You haven’t earned that just yet.”

You let out a low mournful whine and he laughed quietly before putting his mouth where his hand had been. God, why won’t he just fuck me already??? The teasing was driving you crazier than you’d been driving yourself. Was that his plan? To show how little control you had compared to him? That sexy fucking bastard… if that was his goal it was definitely working.

His kisses were trailing lower now, over your stomach and to where his fingers worked inside you, finding the spot to hit to make you moan around his pen. Once he found where to plunge his fingers he started experimenting with pace. Part of you was aware how methodically he was learning how to pull pleasure from your body and you felt a small pang of jealousy for any lover he had in the past. They were damn lucky. But now it was you underneath him, a fistful of his hair in your white knuckled hands, trying not to scream out his name as his tongue replaced his thumb, circling and sucking your clit with such eagerness your orgasm came surprisingly (or maybe unsurprisingly considering your month long mental edging) hard and fast, shaking your entire body. Fuck, how did you get so lucky?

He knew you’d came, felt your pussy tighten around his fingers, felt your whole body tense up with the intensity of it, and yet he didn’t stop. You whined, looking down to where his head was still between your legs and watched as he smirked while he flicked his tongue against your sensitive clit. It was like an electric shock through your body, and you glared at him (quite ineffectively considering your eyes kept crossing and you could feel your drool dripping down your chin from around the pen). It felt like a whole lifetime passed, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple minutes. He teased you post orgasm until pleasure turned into pain, tears running down your cheeks as you weakly fought to get him off you. And then he kept teasing you more, getting slower and slower, until you decided the pain was the real pleasure and you were lost in his torturing ministrations. You couldn’t honestly tell at that point if you’d had one never ending orgasm, or a million. Finally, when you were a shaking mess, and your brain was completely numb from the stimulation, he pulled away.

Yet after all that pain he put you through his hands were gentle as he removed the pen from your teeth and stroked your aching jaw. “That’s my good girl,” he crooned, wiping your tears and smoothing your hair. You had just enough brain power left to remember the fistfuls of hair and tie you still gripped onto. You used both to drag him down to your lips. He let out a quiet yip of surprise that filled you with pride. See, I didn’t give up completely… not yet! It was a meaningless sentiment though as you melted against his lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. It was a surprisingly gentle kiss, slow and sensual. Did you dare call it… romantic? Your heart skipped a beat or two. He caressed your lips with his, giving the bottom one a small nip with his teeth making you shiver.

“What a good girl you’ve been for me, (y/n),” your professor whispered against your lips. “Do you think you’ve learned your place now?”

You nod while working to find your words. “Yes, professor.” Your voice came out foreign sounding, slurred.

He looked so proud of you and nothing else mattered anymore. After being so rough with you how could he be so fucking gentle? He helped you sit up, planting a kiss on the top of your forehead that sent butterflies through your stomach. “Tell me… where is your place, fräulein?”

Carefully, you slid off the desk to kneel in front of him, looking up at him serenely. He smiled at you. “That’s right. Very gutt.” He stroked your hair softly and you leaned forward to press your face into his thigh, discretely breathing his scent in as much as you could. “After how rough that lesson seemed to be on you do you still want your reward?”

You look at the bulge in front of you, realizing that for however long he’d been tending to you he’d been rock hard, probably experiencing some serious discomfort, patiently waiting for his turn and now that it was his turn, based off his wording he was willing to just… not get any payback for eating you out? He was so much better in real life than any fantasy version of him your mind manufactured. It didn’t matter how bad your jaw hurt from clenching the pen between your teeth you were determined to give him the blowjob of his life. This man deserved everything you had to give him and more.

You turn your most adoring, worshipful gaze up at him, knowing full well how absolutely fucked out you looked and inwardly smirked as he involuntarily had to catch his breath at the sight of you. “Please let me suck your cock, Professor,” you begged.

You were going to make him realize he was yours now just as much as he had made you realize that you were his, even if you had to top from the bottom to do it.

[thesovereignsring-if]

Jesus christ I would never want to be in your way if you were upset (refering to the previous ask) lol that was such a beautiful way of telling someone to fuck off 🤣🤣🤣 but seriously tho. We haven't even gotten into the story for real yet. There hasn't been much character development which is to be expected since again... it's just started. It seems UNREALISTIC to expect the MC to now be all powerful this isn't a Manga. 🙄 kid lost his mom... was forced to adapt to a new home, had his brother attacked because of him on his birthday!! Then lose basic contact with both his siblings and when we see him again he's whisked away and lost the only.. other.. mother he's ever known and forced to flee in the middle of the goddamn night in a panic..

Where the fuck exactly were we supposed to be so wonderful and robotic to process all of this at the speed of light as our MC and now as a teenager (who is on the run!!!) Now he amazing and defeat everyone we see. 👀 with what??

Jesus cut the MC some slack and yeah Eirik is a dick bt we had one interaction with him. Albeit a horrible fucking one bt we have yet to even get to know them as a character at all ALONG WITH EVERYONE ELSE.

Not sure about being eloquent lmaoo. But thankfully, I was only mildly annoyed.

All I really said was to step back and look at the situation at a different angle and maybe have some sympathy for a little boy who’s going through a horrible rough patch in his life. Doesn’t mean what he did was right, it’s just that maybe, the people around him are failing him. :)

And have some sympathy for the MC as well. It’s only going to get mildly worse from here on out 😔

[finelinens1994]

i know it's easier to embrace blissful ignorance and choose to avoid anything that might make you (god forbid) think critically but jesus christ it's always so disappointing to see. i'm willing to cut younger people some slack because i know you guys especially got fucked educationally and got fucked by near-constant screen time as children but oh my fucking god... i see so many young people falling for propaganda unquestioningly and then stubbornly refusing to hear out anyone who tries to talk to them about it regardless of the approach. i try so hard to talk to kids at the library and answer their questions and prompt them to explore the information available to them meanwhile their parents are on their phones ignoring them except when it's time to reprimand them for doing normal shit. i feel awful for gen alpha. things are just fucked up and it's not fair that basically anyone under 20 is left to their own (literal) devices when it comes to learning about critical thought and dis/misinformation. there isn't really a key point to what i'm saying i just needed to say that i feel sad about all of this

[sky-fortress]

not to commit the cardinal sin of talking about politics on tumblr.com but i think a lot of the vote blue no matter who people are so tied up about what they think trump's gonna do that they're ignoring what biden's literally doing right now. and how a lot of what biden is doing right now is setting a great precedent for project 2025.

"trump's not gonna leave office" "trump's gonna take away our right to vote" biden's administration & congress re-approved the FISA act w/ section 702 intact that essentially lets govt intelligence agencies conduct electronic surveillance of usamericans w/o a warrant. i don't think i should have to explain how that could be abused by literally anyone in power if they wanted.

"trump's gonna make climate change worse" as of march it was estimated that israel's bombing of gaza had generated over 281,000 tons of carbon dioxide. that was two months ago. israel flooded tunnels with seawater and israeli settlers have destroyed olive trees and biden's shown he's not about to stop israel any time soon. also he approved the willow oil drilling project back in 2023. so. yknow.

like i get it. i'm afraid of a trump presidency too. i think what makes me most afraid of it isn't trump himself but that people (liberals, vote blue no matter who), aren't going to offer any actual or effective resistance to the things trump does. and im saying this based on behavior i've seen. they can't even wear a mask to the grocery store to protect the most vulnerable members of their community. they can't call what israel is doing in palestine a genocide. they're not anti-fascists, they're just deeply self satisfied and think they're better than those stupid trumpies who support an objectively horrible person.

meanwhile fascism ramping up if not already here in the us but they don't care because the guy they like is doing it. and people need to cut him some slack bc he's just trying his best. progressives are demanding too much of him. and the stuff he's doing doesn't really affect them that much in their day to day life anyway. but trump being president would and for some reason that's where they begin to care. jesus fucking christ.

[qt-579]

QT felt like they'd be turning bright red if they were capable of blushing. They knew they were probably not being the most subtle, but they were so enjoying the radius of radio silence around this guy that they were prepared to simply turn and run when they were discovered if truly necessary.

When Alastor spoke after the lengthy silence, QT flinched violently and immediately cursed as his voice rang both in their head and in their ears. They covered their ears and recoiled a few steps. "Jesus fucking christ- oh fuck, that's YOU?"

Shit, fuck, oh okay! So not a random person with a signal jammer or a pocket radio that happened to be picking up and sending out an incomplete broadcast then. This is the actual guy?? They've been following the actual guy. FUCK. "I mean- oh, it's you! The cool...radio...guy...Woww." They struggled not to sound incredibly sarcastic, which wasn't intentional, but they're recovering from a near heart attack, cut them some slack. They looked at the thing Alastor was carrying, and pointed it out with a squint. Looks like a microphone, maybe that's what's up? "You carry that thing around? Did you forget to turn it off?"

At first, Alastor was going to write his paranoia as just that - paranoia. It seemed that way when the other continued on their presumed path. Maybe he was just looking a bit too hard at his surroundings. Or maybe whatever plan the stranger had had been foiled by the radio demon's quick thinking.

Or maybe they simply did not realize he'd turned. Because it did not take an exceptionally long time before he noticed that they had corrected their path to begin to trail down the side-street after him.

Curious. And obvious. The blatant way they seemed to traipse towards him was unexpected. Though he did not immediately address them - he waited until the individual had passed him and was on their way into the opposite direction to say anything.

"...Enjoying a stroll, are we?" Alastor spoke aloud, not in any accusatory tone - but enough for it to be obvious that they had not gone unnoticed.

[cowgurrrl]

When The Sun Goes Down

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: cue Diet Mountain Dew by Lana Del Rey

Summary: Your first date with Joel doesn’t go exactly as planned [2.6k]

Warnings: Joel being an asshole, reader being (rightfully) mean to Joel, fake dating, a little (a lot) smoochy smooch

There's a knock on your door at 7:15. You think about giving him shit about being fifteen minutes late, but when you open the door, he has a bouquet of red roses in his hand. You take a deep breath as you glance between him and the flowers. He cleans up nicely. He's wearing a sleek white shirt tucked into a pair of slacks and a gold chain peeking from his collar. "You look nice," he compliments with a smile. You glance around and spot a black van down the block with the unmistakable round lens of a camera up to the window. "Ready to go?" He asks, pulling your attention back to him. You smile and nod.

"Let me put these in water first, and then we can go," you say, turning on your heels to walk back into the kitchen. You hear him grumble and you roll your eyes the second you hear the door close behind him. "Did you buy these of your own volition, or was it contractually obligated?"

"It was my manager's idea." He says, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he watches you move around the kitchen. You pull a vase down from the top shelf of your cabinet, your black dress riding up just a little bit. You turn to the sink and catch his eyes on your legs.

"Well, tell Pauly I said thank you." You say, ignoring the unexpected attention.

"Don't call him Pauly."

"Why not? He's the only one who showed me an ounce of kindness yesterday."

"We really don't have to do this. Especially if you're gonna act like this."

"If you don't like the way I act, I'm sure we can find someone else who would happily take your place," you say, repeating his words from the day before. His jaw works as he grinds his teeth together, but he stays silent. You cut the stems on the roses and place them in the crystal vase before resting your elbows on the counter. "We need to set some ground rules before we actually start this."

"Ground rules?" He asks

"I don't care if you kiss me, hold my hand, or whatever PDA our team wants. I'm trusting you with that much," you say. You expect him to say something snarky, but he doesn't. He fiddles with his keys in his pocket and nods. "And I don't want you to touch me anywhere inappropriate. In public and in private."

"I wasn't going to."

"Good." You grab your purse off the counter and walk to the front door without anything further. He follows behind you and opens the door before you can even touch the handle and plaster on a sticky sweet smile for the cameras. He walks you to his expensive-looking car and opens the passenger side door for you. You smile and squeeze his bicep.

The car ride is silent except for the low hum of his radio. It's set on a classic rock station, and he taps along to the drum line on his steering wheel. You watch the movement with curious eyes, and he catches you staring. He doesn't seem annoyed, but he doesn't smile at you, either. He just stares at you with his deep brown eyes like he's trying to figure you out. You look away first and mess with the chain of your necklace.

"How long have you been playing music?" You ask.

"We don't have to keep pretending when there are no cameras." He says, his tone suddenly harsh, and you roll your eyes.

"Jesus Christ, all I did was ask you a fucking question."

"My whole life. I've been playin' music my whole life," he finally relents. It's just enough information to satisfy you and just vague enough for him to be comfortable. You're surprised he even answered you. "How long have you been acting?"

"I've been in the industry for about four years now, but I was acting way before that." You say, and he hums. He doesn't follow up with a question, and you decide to quit while you're ahead. When you get to the restaurant, he makes a show of dutifully escorting you inside and giving his keys to the valet. The hostess gives you a hidden table in the back. It's out of earshot of anyone else, and there are lit candles in the middle. It's all very romantic, and you gush about it in front of the host so she has something to report back to news outlets when they find out about this. Joel thanks the host and pulls your chair out for you before he can cross the table. If this was an actual date, he would win major points for having such good manners.

You order a cocktail, and he orders some kind of whiskey before you guys scan the menu in silence. You're debating whether to get the Rissoto or the margarita pizza when Joel's foot bumps yours under the table. You look up and see him glancing at something behind you. You don't have to turn around to know that you two have an audience. You smile and reach for his hand across the table, his calloused palms sliding against yours. He doesn't hesitate to squeeze your hand and bring it to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to your skin. "That tickles!" You giggle in a high pitch. He laughs, too, and rests your hands back on the table as the waitress comes over with your drinks. She takes your orders before disappearing to the back again, leaving you and Joel alone.

You two move closer and closer together until you're sitting on the same side of the table, your head in your hand as you gaze at him. You have to admit, he's very handsome up close. His salt-and-pepper beard is full except for a few patchy parts that you could find endearing. His nose is prominent and bumpy, and his lips are curled in a crooked smirk. Not to mention the fluffy curls that fall over his forehead just so. You understand why people throw themselves at him. He smiles and puts a hand on your knee as he nurses his drink.

"You're staring," he mumbles, and you scoff.

"I'm supposed to be madly in love with you. I think it's okay," you say so only he can hear, and he shrugs. You slip his drink out of his hand and take a sip, the dark brown liquor burning the whole way down. "What would you rather me do?"

"Where are you from?"

"Twenty questions? That's what you do on a first date?" You ask, and he laughs. For a second, you think it sounds real.

"Humor me, would ya?" His face is relaxed, and his hand is warm on your knee, and it might be the alcohol, but you decide to oblige. You tell him about your hometown, and he actually listens before telling you he's from Texas. You go back and forth even after the food comes out, asking about first loves, college, and even your worst talk show experiences.

"No, I don't believe you for a second!" You say, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You don't have to believe me 'cause it still happened."

"You were hungover when you did that summer concert for the Today Show?"

"Deathly. Even had to get an IV when we got off stage," he says, and you can't help but laugh at the image of him getting hooked up to a saline solution because of how sick he was. "What? What's so funny about that?"

"Everything! Don't you know the cardinal sin of morning talk shows is showing up hungover?"

"I know people who've shown up still drunk."

"Really?" You ask, and he hums. You glance around the restaurant and realize it's mostly empty, and the only people left are you and Joel. You uncross your arms and rest one on the back of his chair, turning to look at something behind you so you can whisper in his ear. "When you see the waitress coming back to the table, kiss me." He turns his head to look around before placing a hand on your jaw and turning your face toward his. His lips are on yours a second later. His mustache scratches you, and he tastes like whiskey and something dangerous. He's gentle and firm, but he doesn't push any boundaries. His hand stays on your face, his fingers grazing the skin of your neck, making your breath hitch. You faintly hear footsteps approach, and Joel turns away from you to look at the bright red waitress. You pretend to be embarrassed about getting caught and hide your face in Joel's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to drop off your bill and let you know that we will be closing soon." She apologizes, but Joel shakes his head and tells her not to worry. He hands her his black debit card without even looking at the bill, and she's off. You smile as you pick your head up and look at him.

"Alright, I have another question for you," you say. He raises his eyebrows like he's telling you to go on, and you glance over your shoulder to make sure nobody's lurking. "Why'd you punch that guy?"

"What guy?"

"The guy that's the whole reason I'm here." You say quietly. A muscle in his jaw jumps as he thinks, but he schools his expression when the waitress returns with his card. He's silent as he signs the bill, leaving a 25% tip, and you bump him under the table to get his attention.

"I'm done playing this game." He snaps, his attitude completely changing. You're taken aback by his response and even more confused when he stands and pulls your chair out for you once more. You stand, and he shrugs out of his jacket to wrap it around your shoulders before escorting you to the front of the restaurant, both of you wishing the staff a good night. Cameras flash, and people yell questions at you the second you two step onto the sidewalk, and you grip Joel's arm as he steers you to the car. You can practically hear E! News gushing about how cute you look together when in reality your picture-perfect date just got ruined.

The entire drive back to your house, he doesn't say anything. You try to say something about how good that went, and you're sure the waitress will have a story to sell to whatever news outlet wants it. He doesn't even acknowledge you. By the time he pulls into your driveway, you're more than annoyed with how childish he's being over a perfectly fair question. It's not like you asked for his Social Security number. You asked a legitimate question about something that happened not even thirty-six hours ago. Hell, his knuckles are still swollen from the force of the punch. The second the car rolls to a stop, you unlock the door and get out.

"Have a good night, Joel." You say, ready to slam the door in his face, but he's already unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Will you, at least, let me walk you to the door?"

"I thought you said we didn't have to keep pretending when there aren't any cameras," you say. You're being a little dramatic, and you'll be the first to admit it, but after the way he acted yesterday, you think you're allowed to. You fish your keys from your purse and walk to your front door. Joel calls your name and you roll your eyes. "Is there a reason you don't like me, or are you just an asshole to everyone?" You ask as you turn to look at him, the arms of his jacket swinging around you.

"Is this because I didn't answer your stupid question?"

"Or because of pretty much everything that led to tonight. The way you talked to me in the office, not answering my question, ignoring me the whole way home when I thought we had a pretty decent night. Do you even realize how fucking frustrating you are?"

"Right back atcha, sweetheart," he says, and you huff as you grip your keys. "Look, I don't wanna do this anymore than you do. The faster we get this over with, the faster I can go back to my life, and you can go back to whatever big wig you had to sleep with to get here." You take two big steps to get in his face, your chests touching as rage rolls through you.

"Let's get one thing fucking clear: I've never slept with anyone to get anywhere. I studied, and I worked shitty jobs, and I went to every audition, and I lost years of my fucking life to be where I am now. I don't care if you think I'm some bitch who puts on dresses and plays pretend for a living, but you will not accuse me of fucking my way to the top. Do you understand me?" Your words are precise and cutthroat and hit right where you want them to as you stare at him. You worked your ass off to get here. You deserve to be here, and you will not let a man like Joel Miller tell you otherwise. Something flickers behind his eyes, and he swallows.

"Yes."

"Good, because if you ever say anything like that to me again, I will ruin your fucking life and have fun doing it," you say. Before you can get one last word in, you catch a pair of tires squealing down your block, and something deep in your chest tells you it's photographers trying to catch a goodnight kiss. Joel seems to have the same thought because he quickly crowds you against your front door, and you let him, despite the burning anger in your chest. You bite the inside of your cheek until you can taste blood. "You better make this worth it, Miller."

His last name gets cut off as he kisses you. This kiss is starkly different from the one at the restaurant. This one is bruising and clashing teeth as his hands splay across your ribs. You're almost sure he can feel your heartbeat through the fabric of your dress. You pull him closer when you hear breaks squeak to a stop and know that the paparazzi are right behind you. His hand slides down your side, past your hip, and encourages your leg up to his hip. He bites at your lip a little too harshly, and you pull at the hair at the nape of his neck, a deep groan rumbling in his chest at the feeling. He dips his head to mouth at your jaw, low enough to look like he's kissing your neck from far away but high enough for you to allow it. His teeth scrape at your pulse, and your body involuntarily arches into him. You think you hear him chuckle as the photographer's car speeds away.

You can imagine how the photos will be captioned in the morning, how they'll all praise what a good couple you already are, and some will even make jokes about how they wish they could be either of us. But this doesn't feel romantic or dreamy like they imagine it does. This feels like war.

[whiskey-bumblebee]

shake it out

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Word Count: 1510

A/N: Part of the touch tank ‘verse, established relationship, all that good stuff <3 (seeing this gif made me want to do CRIMES to this man’s body jesus christ...)

also! thank you to @ssamorganhotchner​ for hearing me out when i first had the idea! <3 hope you like the fleshed out version :))

Warnings: nude photography, female reader, pet names (honey, good girl), facials (in the sex sense), oral sex (M receiving), brief mention of guns

Hotch is a pretty private person, especially when it comes to work, so he doesn't love the idea of having/taking/storing digital nudes. Film would be cute, but someone has to process it. That's when he remembers... From his youth... Polaroids.

So now he has one that he keeps in a concealed section of his wallet, where it can sit neatly tucked away, hidden from even the most prying eyes. It's his favorite- one of your face, your jaw slack, eyes screwed shut. He's fucked his fist raw to it so many times that he thinks it's just about time for you two to take some new ones.

Hotch knows exactly what he’s getting into when he walks through the front door and sees your coat on the ground. He doesn’t bother taking his shoes off, knowing the combination of the freshly polished leather and his suit and tie will turn you on. He’s right, of course, as you hear his shoes clicking on the wood, making their way to the bedroom, where you’re laid out on the bed, flicking through a magazine. You’re lying on your stomach, dressed in your favorite matching set, and his favorite pair of heels, kicking your legs playfully behind you.

You hear him clear his throat from behind you, and you hook your finger under your bra strap, teasing him by slipping it off your shoulder and pretending you hadn’t heard him enter the room. He said your name lowly, and you glanced over your shoulder, back at him. He filled the doorway, and you smiled at the imposing figure he cut. To anyone else, they’d tense up when he walked into a room, but for you, it was the opposite. 

You knew you’d be safe, taken care of. Knew you were surrounded by love and care. He took his guns out of the holsters on his hip and ankle, locking them in the safe in the closet. You sighed and rolled your eyes slightly, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see your reaction. You’d asked him to leave them at the office, and he’d told you that wasn’t an option, since he never knew when he’d have to leave for the airport from home. Still, you didn’t love the idea of having guns in the house.

Pushing the thought from your mind, you glanced over at him, watching him undoing his tie and shrugging off his suit jacket in the ensuite. He made eye contact with you in the mirror, and his lips pulled into a slight smile. 

“You look pretty. Any particular reason you left a trail of clothing from the front door?”

“You know,” You smirked, tugging his hair as he leaned down for a kiss.

“Tell me anyway,” He mumbled against your lips before closing the gap.

You were impatient, and ran your tongue over his lips, trying to gain access to his mouth. He let you, for a moment, then pushed your shoulder, rolling you onto your back. In a moment, his body was between your legs, supporting his weight on one arm as he cradled your head with his other hand.

“Tell me what you’re planning. I want to hear you say it,” He said, searching your eyes. You twisted a strand of his hair around your finger, smiling up at him as you felt his body heat radiate from his still-clothed body. 

“I want you to fuck my mouth, and I want you to take pictures of me.”

He groaned softly, letting his face drop into your neck, where he bit down gently. 

“You okay with wearing a scarf tomorrow?”

“Yes,” You breathed, your eyes fluttering shut as your mind flooded with pleasure. Heat rushed through you, and you stroked your hand up and down his back, enjoying the smooth texture of his button-up beneath your splayed palm.

He bit down suddenly, and your body jerked, your back arching and pressing your barely-covered chest into his. 

“Fuck, Aaron,” You moaned, digging your nails into his shoulder. “More.”

“Say it again.”

“Aaron,” You breathed, grinding your core against his dress pants. “Aaron,” You moaned again, louder this time. He changed the angle of his knee so you had better leverage.

“Need me?”

You didn’t reply, lost in the sensation of his pants against your clit. The mesh of your panties didn’t leave much resistance.

“C’mon honey, I thought you wanted my cock in your mouth?”

He was satisfied with the array of bruises he’d left over your neck, running his fingers over them affectionately as he pulled back, moving to the other side of the bed and standing up. 

Goosebumps raised on your skin, suddenly cold now that you were without your human comforter. You moved to where Aaron was standing and knelt in front of him, looking up at him and batting your eyelashes playfully. 

He reached into his bedside drawer, and pulled out the polaroid camera you’d left there for him. He raised the camera to his face and looked through the viewfinder, framing the shot. It looked good, so he put the camera aside for a moment, undoing his zipper. 

“I’m not gonna last,” He said under his breath. “Not when you look like this.”

You nodded in understanding. “Where do you want to come?”

He stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. “Anywhere you want, baby. You’re the director.”

“On my face?” You grinned devilishly. “Should make for good photos.”

He swallowed thickly and nodded. You felt your skin grow warm from the attention. You’d never tire of having him wrapped around your finger.

“And Aaron? I want it rough. Want you to use my mouth how you want. And later...” You trailed off, and suddenly tugged his pants and briefs to his ankles. “You’re gonna fuck me how I want it.”

“Jesus,” He said softly. “Yes. Please...”

You took his cock in your hands, teasing the tip at first, letting it get messy, your spit running down his cock. You pumped him a few times while he readied the camera. He snapped one of you smiling up at him. It was a sweet smile, filled with genuine affection for the man behind the lens. That affection contrasted with the fact that you had both of your hands working on his cock, and the difference drove him wild.

His head dropped back as you took him into your mouth properly, letting one hand drop to your thigh, keeping the other in place while you warmed up, letting your mouth and throat get accustomed to his size. When you dropped your other hand to your thigh, he knew you were ready.

“Are you gonna take it?” He asked, adjusting his grip on your head. “You want this?”

You nodded enthusiastically. He nodded back. “Good. If you want me to stop, just push, okay?” You nodded again.

He was right about not lasting long. Within a few minutes, and 2 or 3 polaroids, he’d started groaning loudly, guiding you up and down his length at a quicker pace, feeling the tightness of your throat around him. From this vantage point, and with the lingerie you were wearing, he could see almost all of you, and he loved all of it, from the crown of your head, where his hand gripped your hair, to the soles of your feet, still in heels. 

“I’m close,” He groaned, voice higher than normal, his breaths coming quicker. “Close your eyes, honey.”

You did as he asked, and closed your eyes and opened your mouth. He gave a final shout of your name, sounding almost like anger, but you knew it was desperation, plain and simple. Within seconds, you felt his hot come coating your face, and you blinked your eyes open. He ran his thumb over your cheek, to your bottom lip, and you accepted it into your mouth, making eye contact with him all the while.

He breathed heavily, his breath still coming back to him, and let out a soft noise that sounded almost like a whine. The camera clicked, and he withdrew his thumb from your mouth. He put the camera aside, going to the bathroom to fetch a face cloth. He dampened it slightly and pumped some of your cleanser into the cloth. 

When he came back into the room, you were sitting on the bed cross-legged, having kicked off the heels. You held a picture in each hand, shaking them back and forth, a look of complete concentration on your face.

Aaron smiled and started laughing at the image. His come was drying on your cheeks and forehead, and here you were, making sure the film developed properly. 

“I love you.”

You blinked in surprise and looked up at him, having been so focused on your task that you hadn’t heard him come into the room. You smiled back at him.

“I love you too.”

He took a seat across from you on the bed, having kicked off his shoes too.

“C’mon. Let’s wipe you off and then we can take a look, hmm?”

[atinylittlepain]

I Wanna Marry You

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!OC

Hungry Hearts masterlist

he has a black velvet box waiting in his sock drawer. what will her answer be?

wordcount | 5K

warnings | this bad boy has it all. a little smut, a little angst, a whole lot of fluff

a/n | the jerry proposal and wedding event of the century. i had a lot of fun with this and would love to hear what y'all think <3

................................

Here’s the thing, Joel Miller is not slick. At all. And Cherry is pretty sure she knows what he’s up to.

For starters, she keeps finding him in their bedroom, his arm stuck way back into his sock drawer, though he never fails to whip around and slam it shut when she catches him, face flushed down and palming the back of his neck, a pantomime of casual guilt. He has also started making frequent trips out onto the back porch in the evening, leaving her on the couch while he takes a call. 

No, Joel Miller is not slick at all. She bets it’s Tommy’s fault, never far from a carton himself, though he knows better now than to smoke in her house, one too many swats upside the head. But he’s usually got a cigarette between his teeth when he and Joel drive together to work, so she doesn’t have to look far to figure out where Joel has picked it up again. 

It isn’t exactly that she minds him smoking. Hell, everyone did it in the eighties, and she even picked it up for a while back in the mid-nineties in the whole artsy-fartsy writing scene. What’s bothering her is that he’s making such a big deal of hiding it from her. Sure, keep it away from the girls, but why all the bullshit with her?

But she’s been waiting for him to bring it to her, something about healthy relationships and building trust and all that good stuff that she heard on some radio show, listened to while she was supposed to be doing edits for her newest project. She hasn’t snooped, she hasn’t pried, even as whatever this is continues to grate on her nerves. Supposed calls being taken, and Joel spending a bit too much time with his hand in his sock drawer.

Here’s the thing, Cherry isn’t very good at waiting. A moment of weakness, what she should be doing is going over the new round of edits she was just sent. What she finds herself doing instead is wandering upstairs into their bedroom. Everyone else out of the house, the girls at school and Joel at work for another half hour, so it’s perfectly quiet when she opens up his sock drawer and starts rifling through it.

She would have preferred to find a carton of cigarettes. Definitely not a necklace, nor a bracelet, and she’s pretty sure it’s not earrings either. No, the black velvet box is the wrong shape for any of those pieces of jewelry. She doesn’t open the box though, doesn’t really have time to when she suddenly hears the garage door opening, followed by what could only be the sound of Joel’s boots shuffling around in the kitchen. 

“Cher?” She moves before she can think, something nervous swirling up in her stomach, that damn velvet box still clutched in her hand as she makes her way downstairs. Joel stops himself mid sentence, something about needing to go to the grocery that gets cut off when he catches her pinched expression. 

“What happened? What’s the matter?” Anger feels good at least, so she scoffs, setting the ring box down on the kitchen counter between them. Joel’s face goes perfectly slack.

“You tell me. What the hell is this?” 

“That’s– you– what’re you doing snooping like that? Jesus christ.” Good, she thinks, let him get angry too. It’ll give her something to bite back at, glaring at each other from across the counter, Joel running a frustrated palm down his face.

“Snooping? Oh please, it was kinda hard not to notice your newfound obsession with the back of your fucking sock drawer. I’m telling you right now, Joel Miller, if this is what I think it is, you’ll return it if you know what’s good for you.” 

“Oh come on, Cher, just–”

“No.”

“Let’s just–”

“No, Joel. We’ve talked about this. You know that isn’t something I want.” She sees the sharp wince in his expression, but it’s not enough for her to back down, not when it comes to this. They have talked about this. A few times now. And normally, Joel is on her side, neither of them caring much about a ceremony or the titles that would come with it. Hell would have to freeze over before she took someone else’s name, not when she has built so much out of and on her own. 

“I just– it’s paperwork. That’s all it is, and a ring. You and I don’t need that, baby. It’s, we’re past that.” She knows what she’s doing with that soft baby she slips into her words, and for a beat, it seems to melt Joel just the way she wants it to, his eyes rounding a little, grimace softening around the edges. But then he huffs, a harsh drag of his fingers through his hair as he shakes his head at her.

“What about what I want, huh? Is it such a goddamn crime for me to want this? To want something a little more– a little more official? Fuck, Cherry, this isn’t– this is not how I wanted this to go.” Damn him, damn him for the way his words crack, tired and utterly disappointed at the end, a long sigh that slumps his shoulders. Damn him, she can never stay mad at him. Damn him, because she would like to give him whatever he wants, but this is not that easy. Silence falls between them, Joel resting both his palms on the counter, his head hanging down between his shoulders. Careful and quiet, she rounds the counter, one palm to his shoulder, and one covering his hand. 

“You deserve to have what you want, you do. But marriage is not– it’s not something– what we have is good, and I don’t want this– this thing to change it.” The truth of it. To her, marriage is cage. Marriage is silent houses, scraping forks at dinner. Marriage is violence. And she thinks that Joel understands that, his palm shuffling to rest over hers, thumb stroking along the side of her hand. 

“I don’t want it to be like that, Cher. Like you said, s’just paperwork. We can make it whatever we want it to be. Hell, we can just chalk it up to the tax breaks if we want.” It’s enough to coax a laugh up from her chest, her smile slipping to the side as she rests her cheek against his bicep, anger long forgotten for whatever this is. Something sweet, at least.

“Can I ask why it’s so important to you? Because if it’s just Deedee breathing down your neck I can handle–”  He cuts her off with a laugh of his own, a small shuffle for him to lean back against the counter, her stepping between his legs and letting her hands settle along his waist, dipping her head down when his chin drops in something a bit bashful.

“No, it’s not her, though she probably wouldn’t be upset at the prospect. But it is something I want, and– it’s stupid really.” She coaxes him with a quiet no, tell me, baby, squeezing at the soft part of his waist, making him huff again, and maybe flush a little. She loves getting him like this, a little mushy gushy where he’s usually such a hardass. God forbid Joel Miller have feelings, and God forbid he get embarrassed by having said feelings.

“Certainty, you know? That’s what marriage means to me. My folks– they’ve been married for fifty-something years now. And it’s a very real thing to them, that commitment. I just– I’d like that– with you.” And damn him again, for looking at her like that, brow all pinched up, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth when he finishes talking. She gets it now. Where she sees capture, captive, Joel sees comfort, reassurance that yes, this is real. Yes, staying. Got the ring and the paperwork to prove it. Maybe it could be that for her too. Maybe he could show her how.

Her answer doesn’t come in words, not at first, easy to lean forward and press her lips to his, once, twice, feeling the small curl of his smile the second time, hers matching his, fitting with his.

“So, you said something about tax breaks?” Enough to smooth out the scrunch of uncertainty in his expression, that smile threatening at the corners of his mouth while her palms smooth and shift to splay over his chest. 

“That a yes?” 

“Show me the ring, Miller.” He doesn’t turn around, just fumbles blindly behind himself until he snatches up the box. Of course, it’s perfect. A little unconventional, simple silver band with an opal set in it. Yes feels a little easier just looking at it. 

“I’m not wearing white, for the record.” 

“I’d expect nothing less, Cher.” Before he can lean in for another kiss, she remembers that initial curl of anger, pressing against his chest to hold him at bay.

“Wait, so you’re not smoking again?”

“What? Why the hell would you think that?” 

“I mean, that’s what I assumed was going on with the sock drawer and all the evening calls you were taking on the porch.” While she’s dead serious, Joel just seems entirely amused by the whole thing, letting out a laugh and squeezing at her hips even as she huffs at him.

“That’s not– those were phone calls, with Tommy. I was– well, I was planning something for you.” Damn him, Joel Miller was planning a proposal, and now she looks like a total jackass for ruining it.

“Oh, oh. What were you planning?” 

“If you weren’t so goddamned nosy maybe you would’ve gotten to find out, Cherry baby.” 

“Hey, watch it. The ring isn’t on my finger yet.” Of course Joel takes that as a challenge, one she doesn’t really care to fight against, letting him pull her closer into his chest while he fumbles with her left hand, a small, petulant grumble when it takes him a few tries to slide the ring onto her finger. When he does succeed, she indulges him with a waggle of her fingers, watching the gem glint, all light and color. 

“What do you think?” 

“You did good, Miller.”

“The girls helped pick it out.”

“You’re telling me Sarah and Ellie both knew about this? And that Ellie voluntarily looked at jewelry?” Clearly pleased with himself, he hums a yes, so smug she would smack him if it wasn’t a sweet thought. Her girl helping him pick something out for her mom. 

“Just to clarify, this does count as a yes, right?” 

“I suppose so.” She says it with a sigh, playing at resignation that he jostles out of her, another kiss that’s more answer than anything else.

…

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh, putting on my suit jacket.”

“If you think you’re wearing jeans to the goddamn ceremony you’re sorely mistaken.”

“It’s Texas, Joel. You can wear jeans to a wedding.”

“Not to mine you can’t. Does Maria know about your little outfit? Because I reckon she’s not gonna be too pleased with it either.” Tommy’s face falls at that, hands pausing in his adjustment of his cufflinks.

“Shit, you think I got time to run back to my place?” 

“You’ll have to meet us there, but I ain’t letting you in the chapel like that either.” Tommy is already shuffling down the hall, though Joel chooses to ignore what he thinks is a grumbled fucking diva that comes from his brother’s mouth. More important things to be thinking about anyways, like the faint sound of Cherry and the girls getting ready down the hall. 

Sarah and Ellie had been adamant about this separation, starting last night when they stepped in front of the couch where he and Cherry were sitting. Their girls, with all the solemnity of CIA agents, informing them that the next time Joel would see his woman would be at the altar, no time for him to protest when they were already all but dragging her away from him. Sure, she was just down the hall in the guestroom, but he wasn’t about to rail against their girls’ orders, unsure whose wrath he was more afraid of, Sarah’s or Ellie’s, or the combined, nuclear explosion of the two. 

His eyes flick over to the clock on the nightstand, a muttered curse when he realizes they should have left five minutes ago. The plan, him and Sarah, his best maid of honor as she had named herself, in the truck, and Cherry and Ellie, her best maid of honor as dubbed by Sarah, in the minivan. No seeing each other until the altar, right. 

“Sarah, you ready to go? We’re already–” He doesn’t get the rest out, stumbling back in the hall when someone clamps their palms over his eyes. 

“Don’t look, old man, Jesus. We were just leaving.” He huffs at Ellie’s snappy command, a light tug to her wrists, though her hands don’t budge, clammy over the tops of his cheeks where they’re covering his eyes.

“Kid, my eyes are closed. Lay off, huh?” Albeit reluctantly, Ellie takes her hands away, a seemingly satisfied hum when she sees that his eyes are in fact closed. 

“I’ll give you the all clear when we’re down the stairs, alright? But until then, keep ‘em shut.” Lord help him.

“Uh-huh, whatever you say, boss.” Not sure what else to do, he rests his hands on his hips, eyes still scrunched shut as he hears what he thinks is the sound of Ellie and Sarah both bounding down the steps, but his whole spine shivers  when he feels a hand slip along his jaw, nails lightly scratching at his scruff.

“Look at you, baby. Always clean up so nice.” He could open his eyes, but now it feels like a game with the way her words graze right over his mouth, and he’s not about to lose. 

“How come you get to look?” A bright peel of laughter, her other palm slipping up along his chest. He can picture that grin of hers in his mind.

“Because I’m the bride, Joel. I can do whatever the fuck I want.” He has to laugh, his hands reaching blindly, slipping against silk that makes a hum settle in his chest. His eyes threaten to open on impulse to see, though he manages to keep them scrunched shut. 

“You still wanna do this, right? It’s– this is still good?” He knows it’s a stupid question, a small part of him still worried that somehow, there will be a catch to all of this. But Cherry doesn’t even indulge his ask with words, a pfft in the back of her throat before she leans in a little closer, guiding his lips to hers in a sweet, simple kiss. 

“I’ll see you at the altar, handsome.” 

…

“Dad, don’t cry. We haven’t even gotten to the church yet.” He sniffs hard, knuckles swiping under his nose as his other hand holds the passenger side door open for Sarah. 

“I’m not– not crying. You look very beautiful, honey.” An eye roll and a scoff, but he’ll take it, because she really does look lovely in the light purple dress Cherry helped her pick out, a sweet sight, with baby’s breath threaded through her hair.

His heart starts to kick up when they get to the church. It’s a small thing, simple, white clapboard and a single steeple. He knew that Deedee would have thrown a fit if they didn’t get married in a place of worship, not that he or Cherry had stepped foot in a church anytime in their recent adult lives. Still, they were happy to make that compromise, even though the priest had a small aneurysm when they told him that Cherry wouldn’t be taking Joel’s last name, no need for the Mr. and Mrs. Miller congratulations. Doing things their own way, just like they always have. 

Only the first two rows are filled across each aisle. His parents, Tommy and Maria, a handful of other friends and family. Will is here too, with his girlfriend who Cherry seems sure will soon be more than his girlfriend. Joel’s family has become hers in many ways, filling in the gaps, something he’s been happy to be able to offer to her, and to Will whenever he visits. 

He stands at the altar, waiting, Sarah right next to him, his hand on her shoulder, something to steady whatever this jittery feeling is. 

And there’s no fanfare to it, just a sudden wave of silence when she and Ellie appear at the end of the aisle, heads turning over shoulders to see. Ellie looks sharp in her suit, pleased with herself, clear in the set back of her shoulders and the tilt of her chin as she walks her mom down the aisle. And Cherry, well. 

He can already hear her snark. We’re way past white, Miller. Like sage, he thinks, soft green silk, a simple slip, her shoulders bare to reveal the dark curl of her tattoo. Her bouquet, made mostly of chrysanthemums, a broken laugh rattling in his chest at the sight. And she’s looking at him, the smallest curl of a smile, maybe a little nervous when her eyes dart to their modest audience, but then right back on him, still certain. 

“I like the suit, kid.”

“Thanks, old man.” He’s only a little surprised when Ellie offers him a quick hug, already ducking over to the side so it’s just him and Cherry, and the priest, of course.

And the rest is blissfully easy.

…

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

“Don’t slouch.” Her mother’s hand is a quick curl of ice at the back of her neck, just enough pressure to send her spine back into straightness from her slow slump in the pew. Honestly, she’s not sure why her family insisted on going to this wedding, it’s not like they’re that close with Lisa-Anne’s family, especially not her older sister who is the one getting married. Appearances, she reasons, always appearances with her mother and father. See and be seen. 

Right now, after a nearly two-hour long ceremony, she has no interest in what her mother and father want, a little more focused on how her tights are cutting into her waist, sweat starting to drip down her spine beneath the stiff fabric of her dress. Mercifully though, this whole wedding thing seems to be wrapping itself up, man and wife walking down the aisle to a polite chorus of clapping. Meanwhile, she’s trying to figure out how she can escape early from the party afterward, trailing a bit glumly behind Will and their parents as everyone files out of the church. 

“Hey, Cherry.” Just above a whisper, it still stops her in her tracks, stepping out of the throng of people to look around for where that sound came from. She scoffs when she sees who it is.

“What do you want, Joel?” He looks like a cartoon character running from the law, peeking out from behind the side of the church, wild grin and a jerk of his chin that she knows means come over here. She glances back to her family, making their way along with everyone else to the tent set up for the reception, and suddenly, whatever Joel’s offer may be is seeming much more appealing, already slinking off to the side and toward him. When she gets within arm’s length, he surprises her with a reach and tug to her forearm, pulling her along and behind the church, finding Tommy already partaking in what she supposes Joel wanted to rope her into.

“Hey, dipshit, I didn’t tell you to light up yet, did I? Have some manners, goddamn.” Tommy smiles sheepish, a thin seep of smoke coming out around the edges of his smile as Joel plucks the blunt from his fingers. He must be exceptionally bored, she thinks, to have wrangled her into this, considering that they haven’t spoken to each other much for the majority of sophomore year. 

“I would say ladies’ first, but seeing as someone started without us, I’ll just give you the next hit, Cher.” She knows he’s serious, holding the smoldering blunt out to her pinched between thumb and forefinger, but she still scoffs. 

“I can’t do that, Joel. If my mom smelled that on me she’d– well, I can’t do that.” He squints, shrugs. And she hates how beautiful he looks when he takes a languid hit, the top buttons of his rumpled dress shirt undone to display how the long line of his neck trembles with the inhale, the puff of his chest, and then that smooth slump when he lets the smoke out. 

“Suit yourself. Tom, Maureen said she’d dance with you–” Tommy’s eyes light up, an exclamation already hanging from his parted lips, though Joel cuts him off with a prim finger pointed in the air.

“If you catch her early. So, you know, best get on with it.” Tommy nods hard, gulps a thank you to Joel, and is off like lightning around the side of the church and toward the reception. She raises her brow at Joel. Another shrug, smug.

“He asked me to talk to Maureen for him.”

“You didn’t talk to Maureen, did you?” 

“Nope, he’ll figure that out for himself though. You sure you don’t want some of this?” He takes another hit, hissing out smoke as if to punctuate his question. 

“No, and if that’s all you called me over here for then I think I’d rather be over at the–” 

“Oh, c’mon, Cher. We can just talk, huh? It’s better than all that bullshit anyways. Look–” With that, he flicks the half-smoked blunt into the grass, stamping it out with the sole of his shoe.

“See? All gone, now we can be civil and proper just like your mama wants us to be.” His smile spreads, and she can’t help her own, finally sighing and leaning back against the side of the church, turning her head on her shoulder to look at him.

“What’d you think of the service?” He snorts, kicking the toe of his shoe into the grass, his gelled hair – Deedee’s work, no doubt – flopping and falling into his eyes. 

“Thought it was long. And I thought the groom looked about ready to hoof it.” It feels good to laugh after sitting still for so long, a quick flutter of it in her chest.

“He was sweating so much. And the way he messed up his vows?” Ever the entertainer Joel immediately goes into character, his grin dissolving, brow pinching down and mouth pulling into an over the top frown as he wrings his hands in front of him, the perfect pantomime of fret.

“In, uh, in health– no, in sickness and in health until, uh– what was it again? Oh, death– until death do us part. A–fucking–men.” He concludes with a slap to his thigh and a big bark of laughter, his head tilting to the side as he grins at her own guffaw.

“You make fun now, but just wait until you’re up there at the altar one day. I’d pay money to see that trainwreck.” 

“Not very nice, Cherry. And also, bold of you to assume I’m even gonna get married.” 

“Oh please, Joel. At the very least, I’m sure Deedee will eventually stick you with some nice girl from the Kiwanis Club.” His whole face scrunches up at that, an indignant sound crawling up the back of his throat as he shakes his head at her.

“Nah, nope, no, ma’am. Reckon I’m not really the marrying type.”

“How can you say that? You don’t even have your driver’s license yet.”

“Uh, yes I do. I got it last week.” He’s already fumbling in his back pocket, movements a little fuzzed around the edges from his couple of hits as he procures his wallet and waves his fresh license in her face.

“Nice mugshot.” He tuts, tucking his wallet away.

“Always so mean. I bet you’ll be a sight at the altar one day, Cher. Gotta be careful not to shred your pretty white dress up with all that bite.” The word bite comes out with a flashy flare of his canines, a dramatic snap of his jaw that makes her snort.

“I won’t have to worry about that, thank you very much.”

“Oh no?”

“No, I’m never getting married.” She regrets it the instant she says it, even though she means it, already bracing for Joel’s mimicry.

“How can you say that? You don’t even have your driver’s license yet.” High and nasally, though he cuts himself off with an oof when she shoves him in the shoulder.

“I got mine two months ago, so there.” He sighs, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he mirrors her stance, leaning back against the church with his shoulder brushing against hers.

“You really ain’t gonna get married, Cher?”

“Not if I can help it, you?” It must be the weed, she thinks, making his face fall and his eyes droop.

“Nah, it’d, uh, have to be someone real special to change my mind.”

…

“You think they’d notice if we sneaked off for a while?” She tries to keep her grin schooled, a hard task with Joel’s hands wandering down her hips, laying a squeeze to the swell of her thighs before skating back up, arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her back flush with his chest. 

“Hmm, the cake’s been cut, et cetera, et cetera. I think we could get away with it.” Joel hums, swaying her a little where they’re standing on their back porch, surveying their small but mighty reception. Ellie is dancing a clumsy waltz with Deedee, a few other family members around on the makeshift dance floor, everyone else talking in a haze of booze and sugar, slumped in their folding seats, napkins and plates stacked on the tables in front of them. And her and Joel are already slinking inside and up the steps. Giggling, entirely absurd, they don’t even make it to the bedroom, tangling and traipsing over each other into the bathroom, Joel kicking the door shut behind them as he crowds her up against the sink.

“Looked so beautiful today, I already tell you that?” Words humid and hotly murmured into her sternum, her laugh turns into a gasp when he noses up the column of her throat, teeth grazing that spot he so likes to grin into.

“You may have mentioned it. Not as pretty as you though, baby. All proper for me– oh, right there– waiting for me in your suit and tie.” Said suit and tie has long been shucked down to just his button-up and slacks, now untucked and rumpled, going lopsided with the way she fumbles down the first few buttons of his shirt. She can practically feel the heat flushing up his neck from her words, though Joel hides any bashfulness with a petulant smack to the side of her ass, quick to smooth when she jolts in his hold.

“Don’t tease, Cher, gotta be quick, huh? You gonna turn around for me and show me this pretty dress from the back?” The realization of just what that means settles in her mind, slanting her grin to the side as she shoves him back with a palm in the middle of his chest, for once, doing exactly as he asks and turning around to rest her palms on the counter. For posterity’s sake, she makes a show of it, arching her spine and spreading her stance a little wider, a little sway in her hips. She can’t help her snicker when Joel finally slides the satiny skirt of her dress up over her hips, his movements stuttering still as a quiet curse slips from his mouth.

“How— how long have you been like this?” She turns her gaze over her shoulder, maybe enjoying this too much in the slow bat of her lashes. Joel looks stricken, jaw slack and eyes wide.

“All day, baby, why do you ask?” 

“You’re telling me you walked down the aisle– in a house of God– like this?” She shrugs, leaning back into Joel’s palm that’s been idly palming her ass, her very bare ass. 

“Don’t tell Deedee.” His laugh comes out on a splutter, clearly unsure if he even should laugh in the first place, though she can’t help her own snort of amusement, soon the both of them dissolving into it, shoulders shaking and eyes crinkling up.

“You are trying to give me a fucking heart attack, goddamn.”

“Think of the lines, Joel, it would have ruined my outfit.” He just shakes his head, leaning over her to find a slanted kiss. And then the realization that yes, they still need to be quick about this, wedding guests downstairs and all that. A little bit of fumbling, and a preening sigh in the back of her throat when he drags the hot weight of his cock through the seam of her cunt.

“Who’s the freak now, huh, Cher?” She tries to laugh, but it’s more of a whine when his hips finally settle against the plush of her ass, so deep that she can’t help but lift up onto her toes, Joel holding her steady with a palm clutching at her breast.

“You’re the one that married the freak.”

“Damn right I did.” 

Not romantic at all. Quick, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin with the way she bounces back to meet his thrusts. And no, not so young anymore, so it isn’t long before they’re both biting back moans, a small hit to hold them over before the guests leave. They slump down against each other in the aftermath, hazy smiles and breaths that try at laughs, Joel pressing his lips to the top of her shoulder, the side of her neck, her temple. 

“Love you, freak.” 

“You were the freak first, Miller.”

“I believe the correct response is love you too, actually.” Still framing her against the counter, his hand comes to rest over top of hers, fiddling a bit with the ring on her finger.

“Yeah, that too.” He scoffs rubbing his scruff against her cheek with the way he shakes his head at her. It’s annoying how quickly she folds for him, turning around in his hold, a shaky two-step to finally look at him. 

“You know I do, baby. I wouldn’t do this with anyone else.” She punctuates her words with a kiss, small and simple, feeling his hum beneath her palm on his chest. 

“Me too, Cherry. Only ever imagined it with you.” 

...........................................

taglist: taglist: @spookyxsam @libbylou223 @angel-in-beskar @starstruckunknown-princess @casa-boiardi @tieronecrush @swiftispunk @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @amanitacowboy @pr0ximamidnight @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 @suzmagine @everything-isfucked @lanabobana @kittenlittle24 @sarap-77 @officerrrfriendly @val-srz @bitchwitch1981 @redwoodsanddaffodils @themothersmercy @romanarose @lost-inhawkins @youcancallmeelle @hollywoodcaligirl @harryleatherfit @fifia-writes @brighttears @lokanda @hardlystrictlystarwars @sarahxxo3 @harriedandharassed @anoverwhelmingdin