#definitely the worst of the one-word titles

[nanenna]

Jeez Louise This is a Mess

Sleepy King (Nenna edition) Master Post

Apologies in advance, I'm not very familiar with John Constantine, trying to do anything from his perspective is definitely an unwise decision. I have chosen it anyway. He's almost definitely OOC.

---

John watched the Fentons and the mayor just saunter through the brand new hole in the mayor’s wall like this was just a normal Friday for them. Considering how weird the town was as a whole, it probably was. And he meant that by the old meaning of the word and as literal as one could possibly interpret it. He’d never been anywhere where the veil was so thin over such a large area, with æther so thick in the air of course it was affecting the locals. Probably had something to do with whoever or whatever had cloaked the whole town.

John turned to Tall Dark and Broody, “So, what happened to all the bugs and trackers you put on them originally?”

Batsy frowned, “Danny’s are still in the Fenton residence, expected since he clearly changed his clothes. His parents’ trackers and bugs all went offline not long after arriving home, the ones I placed inside the residence are malfunctioning.”

“And that’s not the least bit suspicious?” John asked.

“It’s incredibly suspicious,” Batsy said with a completely straight face before turning and also walking right out the brand new hole. “I suggest you actually use the comm I gave you earlier, they’re explaining the situation to Masters.”

Unfortunately Mr. Gargles Gravel for Breakfast had a point, John sighed and did put in the comm, though he knew it would be spotty with the use of magic to follow the group. Batsy and Wonder Woman could follow however they liked, John did not have the energy for that.

The comms were staticky, cutting in and out even without John’s abuse of the thin veil to quick step around town. Not surprising, the amount of pure death magic radiating off the two dead-alive people in that tank would be enough to mess with most electronics even if the veil weren’t practically non-existent.

“Somehow this place feels cozy,” Boston commented as he followed John.

“You would think so.”

The conversation on the comm was getting worse, the bugs were clearly slowly giving up the ghost. John only caught a few words here and there, and those were only because they were Ghost Speak, something that shouldn’t be possible for flesh and blood mouths to speak. It’s just bits and pieces, names and titles mostly, but if he’s understanding this right…

“Huh, that may change the situation a bit.”

“What are you going on about?” Boston asked.

“It sounds like Pariah isn’t the Ghost King anymore. But Batsy’s bugs are losing the war against æther, so when we get there you’re gonna need to go spy on them.”

“Will that work?”

“Try to keep out of sight, but even if you get caught the worst they’ll do is kick you out. Undead solidarity.”

Boston grumbled, but when John met back up with Batsy and Wonder Woman staring through a window right to where the group was talking, Boston did as he was asked and slipped right through the wall and inside. John cast a quick spell to spy through Boston.

Boston floated slowly into the room, seemingly becoming braver as the Fentons looked right past him without reacting. Unfortunately, he got a little too close to the one person in the room that could definitely see him. The kid jumped out of his seat in surprise.

“Don't sneak up on me like that!” The kid whined as he picked himself up off the floor. Then he froze, eyes glaring at Boston. “How did you sneak up on me? You didn't activate my ghost sense at all.”

“Oh, you can see me? And ghost sense?”

“You don't know who I am?”

“Uh… Daniel Fenton?”

“Well yes, but ghosts don't usually call me that.”

“Then what do they call you?”

“How about you tell me your name first?”

“I’m Deadman.”

The kid burst into laughter. “Are you for real?”

“Danny, is it Youngblood?” The sister asked.

“Huh?” The kid looked to his older sister, then back to Boston. He gestured, “You can't see him?”

The Fentons all shook their heads.

The creepy mayor came back into the room holding a cardboard box, knocking a thin layer of dust from the top. “Here it is!” He looked up and frowned. “Who are you, and why are you in my home?”

“I’m Deadman and I’m uh… lost?”

“He didn't set off my ghost sense,” the kid added. He turned back to Boston, “Are you even a ghost?”

Batman, who’d spent the last few minutes getting into the perfect position while he waited for the most dramatic moment chose then to crash through the window. John started cursing as he rushed to climb in after the loon, already prepping a spell. The moment he had a clear line of sight he shot off the revelation spell at the kid.

It did… well not much.

Really about all it did was give the kid a couple extra accessories. He expected them, but he also expected it to somehow reveal the kid’s undead status too. Make him look all glowy and ghostly like he had when he’d first arrived last night, because John was pretty sure the kid hadn’t been kidnapped after all. Or at least not how they originally assumed, he was pretty sure some spirits considered an unwilling summons a kidnapping.

Still, there the crown was. Just floating over the kid’s head, toxic green æther flames around it like a death energy aurora. And like any teenager the kid seemed completely oblivious, having to be told the crown was even there. Once he got a hand on it though he said something odd, “Okay, crown retrieved.”

John just tucked his hands in his pockets, waiting to see what they were doing. Why did they think they needed to find the crown?

“We may have a problem,” The creepy mayor said as he pulled an identical crown from his cardboard box.

“What.” The kid looked back and forth between the crown in his hand and the one in the creeper’s. “Why are there two?”

And, well, John agreed. Why the fuck were there two? He already started muttering an identification spell as the kid turned to him.

“What did you do?!”

“I didn't do anything,” John protested, “that was purely an identification spell, it can't duplicate things!”

“Well clearly you did something wrong,” The kid’s mom said while glaring at the him.

Of course things got dicey after that, the kid and the creepy mayor got into a fight over the second crown, things turned into a right mess, and John was quite content to let them squabble among themselves. He moved to go stand next to Batsy and Wonder Woman, Boston with him, waiting to see how this went.

Of course the tussle then turned into fighting over the ring on the kid’s finger, still blaming John for just revealing the crown and ring the kid had apparently had this whole time.

“Alright, that’s enough. Shut up!” John may have put a bit of intent into that, and it worked beautifully. The whole group stopped and stared at him, finally shutting up. The parents managed to get between the kid and the creeper, each one still with one of the crowns.

The crowns he now knew were both, somehow, legitimate.

John pointed at the kid, “Just call the crown, it’ll listen.”

The kid gave him a disbelieving look. “Oh sure, I’ll just,” he hunched forward a little bit, clapped his hands, and whistled like he was calling a dog, “here Crowny, Crowny, Crowny.”

For a brief moment nothing happened, then the creeper mayor jerked forward as the crown yanked itself from his hand. It went to go join the other crown floating over the kid’s head, one of them grew wider so the other could nestle inside it, both spinning in place but in opposite directions.

Everyone was staring at the display.

“What uh… what are they doing?” The kid asked nervously.

“They… like each other?” The sister asked skeptically.

“Great, wonderful, fabulous, just what I need in my life.” The kid sighed and turned to glare at John. “What. Did. You. DO?!”

“I didn’t do shit,” John replied, much to the parents’ combined horror. “Looks like somehow they’re both legit, my best guess is one of them isn’t from this timeline.”

“Oh,” the sister said, grabbing everyone’s attention. “The Nasty Burger explosion happened after the fight with the king, right?”

“The what?” the kid’s parents asked.

“Oh,” the kid responded, “I’m starting to see why the council of eyeballs hates my guts.”

And wasn’t that a concerning sentence. John desperately needed a drink, thankfully he had a flask on him and chose that moment to take a swig. “Alright, so there should be a second ring too, no point leaving that on Dark’s finger in case he gets out again.”

“Vlad did it,” the kid said while pointing at the creeper.

“Excuse me!” Creeper actually put a hand to his neck, like some fainting Victorian lady.

“Vlad tried to steal the ring and crown, so he let Dark out of the sarcophagus and I had to go clean up his mess, like always.” The kid glared at the creeper, it was starting to paint a really concerning picture.

“I’m sure Vladdie was just trying to keep these powerful artifacts safe,” the kid’s dad said loudly and happily. Yeah, there was the concerning picture again.

“I’d believe it if all he took was the ring, but the crown was safely sealed away with Pariah and he let the guy out to steal it.”

“Just call the ring,” John said gruffly.

“Here Ragey, Ragey, Ragey.” The kid whistled and clapped his hands again. The ring showing up on the kid’s other hand was expected, the glowing green hell hound that came sprinting through the wall and practically tackled the kid wasn’t. “Cujo! Hi! Who’s a good puppy?!”

Keeriest, John needed a stiffer drink.

[frozenwolftemplar]

Couple of songs from 'Wish' dropped and I have thoughts (and an overuse of italics and ellipses):

I love 'This Wish!!!!' Everything about it is just so...Disney!!! From that classic 'I want' song feel to the instrumentals to the vocals to the way it thrums with those rolling drumbeats as it mounts and builds to its sweeping climax...Stunning. Epic. Grand. Majestic. Everything I want out of a centerpiece song in a Disney animated musical. It is clear they're building their Oscar 'Best Song' campaign around this one, and it is worthy!

'This is the Thanks I get?!'....uh...I kinda...don't love it. I mean, it's a well-constructed song and all, and I know they're going for the 'seems like a good guy and maybe he was once but he's going down a dark dark spiral and definitely isn't one anymore' thing with him, but...I dunno...I'm just not feeling it (or maybe I'm not feeling Chris Pine's performance?). I'm sure it suits the character (or at least the facade he puts on for the kingdom) and maybe it's better in context, but I guess I'm just not into the 'super-bouncy-villain-song' thing. Simply put, it's no 'Poor Unfortunate Souls' or 'Mother Knows Best Reprise.'

(still pulling for him to be thrown off a cliff, though 😁)

[aropride]

mighr skip creative writing class again . because i havent done my work and i feel like im dying . of thefucking. being alive

[lowkeyren]

reverse dating tropes w hsr men! (pt. 2)

in which — what the title suggests / those classic fanfic tropes but with a twist

featuring — gepard, aventurine, sunday (separately) x gn!reader

✧.* — wc: total 2.1k, downbad gepard + flirty aven + sunday is js fluff overload, wrecked my brain out for this, serval robin cameo xx, anyway pls enjoy!! reblogs r appreciated <3

boothill jing yuan blade vers here!

gepard ♡‧₊˚

"blind date" but gepard is just too shy to ask you out himself so serval does him a favour —setting you up on a date with him.

gepard clutches the bouquet of ball peonies tightly behind his back; he catches sight of you sitting on a bench, patiently waiting for him. to ease his nerves, he takes a deep breath, reassuring himself, it’s going to be alright gepard, just go over there, give them the flowers, and ask them out! surely it’s not that hard…

upon spotting him, you rise from your seat and wave eagerly in his direction. he hastens his steps, closing the distance between you. as he stands in front of you, you can see a faint blush tinting his cheeks, the rosy hue contrasting with his fair skin. he clears his throat, “ahem…sorry to keep you waiting.” revealing the bouquet behind his back, he averts his gaze downwards, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other.

you accept the flowers graciously, smiling warmly at him. “and would you please—” in that moment, his gaze flickers up to meet yours, it's the worst thing he could have done. 

oh aeons… you look so beautiful. his heart races, threatening to leap out of his chest, and he finds himself at a loss for words, his mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions. “hm?” you tilt your head with a soft smile, the sound of your voice washes over him like a gentle breeze, leaving him tongue-tied. he’s sure you can see the redness spreading to his ears now.

panicking, he blurts out “—pass the flowers to my sister.” (re: go on a date with me) 

his eyes widened at his own words, wait no he meant to ask you out on a date! 

“ah… okay, no problem!” you reply, masking your surprise with a polite smile, quickly dismissing any lingering curiosity. though you do find it a bit odd that he would arrange a meeting just to pass on flowers to his sister, but hey perhaps as the captain of silvermane guards, he's simply too busy to visit serval himself. in any case, you admire his thoughtfulness towards his sibling.

“now tell me brother dearest, to what do i owe the pleasure of receiving ball peonies from you?” serval crosses her arm across her chest, learning against her workbench, her face deadpan, oh she’s definitely aware of what happened.

sensing her brother’s nervousness, she shakes her head teasingly. "oh, nevermind! please, spare me the explanation… you totally fumbled, and told them to give the flowers to me? really, geppie? and how long do you plan to drag this out for?" 

gepard sighs as he realises there's no use in trying to deflect her sharp observation. he can only resort to his last-ditch effort now: asking serval to set you up on a date with him. 

so now, you find yourself sitting at a cozy diner, waiting for your so-called “blind date” that serval has set you up on.

(“i guarantee you won’t regret it!” serval throws a playful wink at you; you give up trying to figure her underlying intentions) 

suddenly, a man walks over to you, you assume that he is your date— “gepard? what are you doing here..?” gepard's cheeks flush with embarrassment as he stands before you, a sheepish smile playing at the corners of his lips. "i, uh... i’m your blind date." he admits, swallowing nervously. 

you let out a soft laugh, “oh i was hoping it would be you.” you admit, your voice tinged with a hint of bashfulness.

hoping it was him? so that means you feel the same right?

needless to say, your date went well. before you part ways, you press a soft kiss to his already-burning cheeks (don’t do that again, you’re gonna break him), and you disappear into the distance, leaving behind a trail of butterflies in his stomach; he presses his hand against the spot you pecked, he thinks he might not be able to sleep for the next few nights, what you have done to the poor guy. 

oh gepard, he is so deeply, utterly, in love with you.  

aventurine ୨୧｡˚ ⋆

CEO playboy aventurine takes an interest in you, but you unintentionally lead him on, so he ends up falling heads over heels for you.

“meet me in my office in 5 minutes.” you immediately pause at what you’re doing, and read the message from your boss over and over again. oh gosh you’re really done for now! what did you do wrong?! your mind races as you try to recall any mistakes you’ve made recently, but nothing comes to mind… 

you nervously knock on the door to aventurine’s office, feeling your palms grow clammy with sweat. a voice rings out, “ah, yes please come in.”

you step into the room, not daring to meet your boss’ gaze. “i’m here sir, as you requested. is there anything you need from me?” you suddenly find the marble floor very interesting, opting to stare at it as you anxiously wait for his reply.

aww, are they really that shy to see me? that’s cute.

aventurine’s next sentence catches you completely off guard, “so, what do you think about my new tie, hm?” he walks over to you, a smirk forming on his lips.

is this one of his stupid schemes again? aeons, this won’t work on you.

“...it's crooked. let me fix it for you.” you reach out and adjust his tie, being careful as to not accidentally choke him (even if you really want to, just because he scared the shit out of you by calling you into his office for something like this), lest you get fired.

aventurine is pleasantly taken aback by your boldness. usually those who fall victim to his flirtatious ways are quick to shower him with compliments, but your reaction is refreshingly unexpected. or perhaps you are challenging him? oh well, a little gamble never hurts, right?

it's obvious he’s taken a liking to you; for the next few weeks, he's been calling you to his office more and more frequently, to the point where you're no longer nervous to enter, as you know it’s probably nothing serious. plus, you’ve gotten used to the “strange” reasons he requests for your presence.

including the times where he made you do your work in his office, claiming that he feels lonely and needs your (it can only be you, no one else) company. or the many-times that you told him to manage his money wisely because he CANNOT be spending thousands on you. 

“just a small gift for my favourite employee!” (and it's a whole ass car that costs way above your pay grade)

at this point, you're beginning to think he should hire a secretary. you subconsciously bring the idea up during one of your visits, what you didn’t expect was for him to eagerly agree with you. his eyes twinkle with amusement, “no wonder you’re my favourite, of course you’re interested in being my secretary, well lucky you! your new position begins tomorrow.” 

so instead of hiring a secretary like any normal person would, he makes YOU his secretary. and hey, when did you ever express that you would like to be his secretary? this scumbag…

“oh don’t be so nervous sweetheart, just sort these out for me—” he hands you a folder of documents, his fingers deliberately brushing against yours, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “and stay here while you work on them.. want to see your pretty face.”

you think your boss is insufferable, even more so now that you’ve fallen for his charms. it's as if he enjoys playing this game of cat and mouse, keeping you on your toes with his teasing remarks and lingering touches. yet beneath the facade of annoyance, there’s something undeniably alluring about the way he looks at you, as if you're the only person in the room. well you’re not far off; you are the sole focus of his attention. 

like right now, while you attempt to maintain your composure under his unmistakably, shameless, lovesick gaze; his lips curl into a mischievous smirk,  “oh by the way, dinner's on me tonight. choose whatever you like." with a coy smile, you decide to tease him, “what? can’t even ask me out properly?” you quip, raising an eyebrow in faux innocence.

and later that night you find your boss on one knee, waiting at your front porch, in his hands are freshly bought flowers. his eyes immediately light up the moment you open the door, a horrified look on your face. “will you go on a date with me?” oh how he delights in your flustered expression.

“i said ask me out! not get down on one knee and propose!” 

“...so will you?”

don’t worry, he knows you'll look forward to the day he proposes (you’re not even dating, yet) but for now he’ll spoil you with the most lavish meal known to mankind, not that you’re complaining about it either. 

sunday ༊*·˚

not-so-accidental confession with sunday who intentionally leads you to overhear him talking about his feelings for you. 

you raise your hand, ready to knock on the door, but a voice from inside halts your movement. you hesitate, your knuckles hovering just inches away from the wood, as the unexpected sound piques your curiosity. 

“brother, why didn’t you tell me this before?” it’s no doubt that the soft-spoken voice belongs to robin, her tone carrying a tinge of surprise; and by the way she addresses the other person, it can't be anyone but sunday himself. 

their conversation sounds tense, you think it's inappropriate to eavesdrop, but just as you were about to leave, sunday's voice catches your attention, and you freeze at the sound of your name slipping past his lips. 

“—their infectious laugh, how their eyes light up with pure innocence, their unwavering passion and selflessness that knows no bounds; always putting others before themselves. how can i possibly not love them?”

your face flushes with warmth upon hearing his words, and you're unable to suppress a cough that escapes; you bring your hands to your mouth, hoping to stifle any further embarrassment.

robin chuckles, “oh brother, i understand exactly what you mean”, a genuine smile spreads across her face. “...seems like you’re expecting a guest” she raises an eyebrow knowingly, “i’ll take my leave now." with that, she gives sunday a reassuring pat on the shoulder and gracefully exits the room, shooting you a playful wink as she walks by.

uh oh… you’re totally busted

you immediately turn on your heels, trying to slip away before sunday realises you're there. but just before you can make your escape, someone grabs your wrist, holding you firmly in place. you turn around to see sunday looking down at you, his eyes flickering with emotions swirling within him.

"i swear i didn't hear anything!" you exclaim, waving your hand in front of you defensively.

“really…nothing?”

“yup! nothing at all.” you lie through your teeth, cringing at yourself.

“nothing? ...but i made sure you were there to hear everything.” a hint of disappointment evident in his voice.

“huh..?” your expression twists with confusion, a faint blush creeping up from your neck. you were meant to hear that? he just poured his heart out to his sister…about you! 

sunday smiles, oh there’s no point in lying now, he knows you heard him. (as expected)

he steps closer to you, his arms caging you between the wall and himself. “you know i meant everything i said right?” a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, leaving you momentarily speechless, unsure of how to respond; you can feel your chest swelling with warmth, his wings flutter subconsciously as he awaits your response. 

“y-yes…” you avert your gaze, too shy to stare into his eyes. “please, look at me…” he gently tilts your chin up, his eyes boring into yours. “i wanted to tell you that i love you, for so long” he looks vulnerable at that moment, a side he only ever shows to you; a side of him only you get to see.

“i love y—” sunday gently places his finger on your lips, silencing you. you tilt your head at his gesture, your mouth still agape. “don’t say it back yet…” moving his hand to hold your face, “allow me to take you out on a date, then tell me how you feel.” you interlace your fingers with the his that rest against your face, nodding your head in acceptance.

though sunday longs for you to utter those 3 words to him, he wants to make that moment perfect, just as you are to him. despite sunday’s intention for you to overhear him, he regrets not being able to catch your reaction to his words, so next time (re: on the date), he vows to repeat it as many times as necessary; he will do anything to fulfill your every wish.

and should you desire for him to put a ring on your finger, he will do it in a heartbeat. 

✧.*

masterlist boothill jing yuan blade vers here!

[scary-grace]

hands-off, hands-on - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

This was inspired by this art and a comment left on it about the risks of trying to jerk off with a quirk like Decay. It was also inspired by @obsessedtomone and @scarlettcryptid, who encouraged me to write it and then to post it. The pun in the title was my idea and not their fault.

Shigaraki's quirk makes life difficult in a lot of ways, but there's only one he can't find a way around, and since you joined the League of Villains, it's gotten even worse. When the truth comes out at last, he's expecting it to be a disaster and nothing else. He definitely isn't expecting you to offer to help. (cross-posted to Ao3) Canonverse, one-shot, smut.

Shigaraki Tomura’s quirk is everything to him. It’s how he found himself alone in the world as a five-year-old, even if he can’t remember the details. It’s why Sensei took an interest in him, why Sensei took him in, why Sensei chose him to carry on his work. It’s the perfect tool for someone like Shigaraki, who hates everything, who wants nothing more than to destroy everything he doesn’t like. Decay is the best thing that’s ever happened to Shigaraki. And at the same time, it absolutely, categorically sucks.

Shigaraki might hate everything, but he doesn’t hate it all the time, and the times when he doesn’t hate it are times when he’d love to be able to just have whatever it is without being one wrong move away from ruining it. Name a thing he likes, and his quirk is ready and waiting to fuck it up – gaming, eating, sleeping, even reading the fucking newspaper. He can do all those things four-fingered, if he stays focused. It’s the stuff he can’t stay focused on that’s impossible.

He can’t stay focused when he’s horny, at least not enough to keep from potentially Decaying his dick off. Shigaraki doesn’t actually know if his quirk works on himself, and he’s not interested in finding out. And that means that no matter how horny Shigaraki gets or how many poorly timed boners he pops, jerking off is permanently off the table.

That’s not to say Shigaraki’s never finished. He has. He’s spent so much time humping pillows that he had to learn to do his own laundry. But there’s something really pathetic about being twenty years old with two working hands and still be stuck grinding on a pillow to make himself come, and it always takes so stupidly long. Now that Shigaraki’s got the League of Villains, now that he’s got plans to make and Sensei’s legacy to fulfill, he doesn’t have that kind of time. When he wakes up with the world’s worst morning wood after a dream he doesn’t remember clearly, there’s nothing he can do but wait for it to go away.

It fades – enough – but the feeling doesn’t, and eventually Shigaraki doesn’t have a choice but to drag himself out of bed. He slinks from his room to the bar, hoping it’ll be empty, with the rest of the League out and about preparing for the mission and Kurogiri somewhere nearby if Shigaraki needs him but not actually right there to ask him what’s bothering him. Shigaraki can pour his own drinks. Maybe he can get out of this if he gives himself whiskey dick on purpose. Kurogiri’s not in the bar, just like he was hoping, but it’s not empty, either. You’re there, sprawled out over the bar with a sweating glass of water on a coaster in front of you.

Shigaraki’s jaw clenches at the sight. “What are you doing here?” he demands, and you look up. “Don’t you have something to do?”

“I did it already.” You yawn. “Using my quirk tires me out.”

“Really?” Shigaraki can’t keep the irritation out of his voice. “Making people stupid is that exhausting?”

Your quirk is a weird one. It lets you increase or decrease a target’s ability to plan, reason, problem-solve, remember things, and learn – in other words, their intelligence. “From this distance, for as many people as you need me to hit?” You yawn again and drop your head back down to the bar. “Yeah. Remember, I have to keep them all being stupid the same way, right up until it’s too late. Or your plan won’t work.”

Shigaraki had the pieces of the plan before he made you use your quirk on him, but once you used the quirk on him, he did some fine-tuning on the strategy, and he came up with the idea of using your quirk the opposite way, too. While the rest of the League is planning to make the attack on UA’s summer training camp a success, you’re using your quirk every day on the heroes in charge of planning the camp itself. Shigaraki’s not actually going to know if it works until after the attack, and that pisses him off. “Go nap somewhere else, then.”

“I’m not going to bother you,” you say. “Where else am I supposed to go, anyway? Your room?”

Shigaraki’s this close to saying yes, just to get you to leave, before he remembers what his room looks like – and remembers that he spent a while trying to see if grinding one out would work this time. He can’t kick you out of the hideout. You look like shit, and you’ll attract a lot of attention. “Fine. Shut up.”

“Yep.” You fold your arms on the bar and rest your head on them, shutting your eyes.

Even when you aren’t looking at him or talking, your presence bothers Shigaraki. It’s bothered him since the beginning – as much as he’s bothered by the others, in a different way than he’s bothered by the others. While the others can at least manage to avoid pissing Shigaraki off, there’s nothing you do that doesn’t cause some kind of problem. If you’re talking to him too much, he’s annoyed because he doesn’t know why you’re talking to him. If you’re not talking to him, he’s pissed about that, too. If you’re not around, he’s mad that you’re avoiding him, and if you are around, he wishes you weren’t. The fact that you’re here was a big problem for him even before he started having the dreams.

Shigaraki can’t remember the details of last night’s dream, but he knows you were in it. He pours himself a drink, takes the bottle with him, and sits down at the far end of the bar from you. You don’t look up again, and Shigaraki finishes his first drink, then half of his second, with no improvement on the situation. He shifts on the barstool, trying to get more comfortable. He needs to find something else to do. Something that will distract him from how stupidly horny he is.

You’re right there, and being irritated with you for doing anything at all is as good a distraction as anything else. “If all you’re doing is making a couple of heroes slightly dumber, you’re not really pulling your weight, are you?”

You don’t stir, but Shigaraki sees your shoulders stiffen. “What else should I be doing?”

“More,” Shigaraki says. You lift your head to look at him dead on, and Shigaraki hates that so much that he loses his train of thought for a second. “I don’t want them slightly dumber. I want them so stupid they can’t walk in a straight line. You have to get closer to them for that? So get closer. Get out of here and –”

“If I make them that stupid, the heroes will know that something’s wrong,” you interrupt. “My quirk’s in the government databases. If I do anything too obvious, they’ll know I’m working with you, and they’ll change their plans. Or they’ll change who they’re using to execute those plans. For my quirk to work on someone, I need to know who they are.”

Shigaraki knows how your quirk works. He’s not stupid. “I could do what you want me to do, but it would ruin your plans,” you say. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I wanted to take a nap,” you say. You sit up straight on your stool, get to your feet and start towards Shigaraki. “Now I want to know what I did to piss you off.”

You’re coming closer. Shigaraki feels a surge of panic. “Get away from me.”

“No.” You sit down one barstool away from Shigaraki, but still way too close for comfort. Shigaraki’s skin feels hot, and in spite of the fact that he left his room wearing sweatpants, they’re getting tight. “You let me join the League, but ever since I got here, I can’t do anything right. You’re mad at me all the time, and today you’re even madder than usual.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” you say. You keep staring. Shigaraki looks away, and you say the first thing he’s ever heard you say that makes you sound like a villain. “Either you can tell me the truth, or I’ll use my quirk on myself and figure it out.”

Shigaraki’s stomach lurches. “I thought you were too tired to use your quirk.”

“Not on myself,” you say. Shigaraki glances back at you. You’re almost smiling. He’s seen you smile before, talking to Toga or Magne, but not like that. “You can tell me, or I’ll find out on my own. Your choice.”

You’re not screwing around. Shigaraki thinks fast. He could Decay you, but – Shigaraki writes off the thought before he can even complete it. He has to tell you something, and it has to be convincing. But he doesn’t have to tell you everything to keep you from using your quirk. It’s going to be humiliating, but nowhere close to as humiliating as the whole truth, and he opens his mouth and spits it out. “I’m horny.”

You blink. “So jerk off.”

“I can’t.” Shigaraki sees your eyebrows lift, skeptical as hell, and loses patience, even as his face heats up. “My quirk. Anything I touch with five fingers –”

“And you can’t jerk off without –” You break off mid-question, looking just as uncomfortable as Shigaraki feels. “So you’ve never –”

“No, I have, I just –” This is way more information than you need to know. Shigaraki grits his teeth. “You wanted an answer. There’s your answer. Leave me alone.”

You don’t leave Shigaraki alone. You actually move over onto the stool next to his. “So you’re just going to be a dick to me any time you’re horny.”

It’s your fault Shigaraki’s horny. Before you showed up, he could deal with things on his own, but now instead of videos and games to fixate on he has fantasies – because he can imagine about what you’d look like under him, what you’d sound like, what you’d feel like. All of which are the worst possible things for Shigaraki to be thinking about right now. He’s completely hard, again. Maybe you can tell, or maybe you’re using your quirk on him after all, because you’re making a really weird face. “If you’re going to be a dick any time you’re horny –”

You break off. Shigaraki thinks, fleetingly, about Decaying you. At this point he’d rather Decay himself, because if even he kills you, he’ll still have to remember that this happened. You take a deep breath, let it go. “Do you want help?”

Shigaraki’s mind blue-screens for a second. “What?”

“If this is why you’re like this, then it’s easy to fix,” you repeat. Your hands are clenched into fists on your thighs, and you slowly uncurl them. “Do you want me to help?”

“Help with what?”

“Jerking off,” you say. You make an awkward gesture, and every muscle in Shigaraki’s body goes tense as he imagines your hands around his cock. You have to be messing with him. There’s no way you’re actually offering – that. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Shigaraki finishes his drink and stands up before he can think any more about it. He grimaces as his cock strains against the fabric of his pants, and feels a surge of embarrassment when he realizes you’re looking at it – but it’ll be over soon. In the face of getting some, and getting it from you, nothing else matters. “Let’s go.”

Shigaraki’s nerves kick in on the walk back to his room. Not enough to make the hard-on he’s coping with fade even slightly, but enough to remind him that this is probably a bad idea. But you’re following him, and you haven’t changed your mind. Shigaraki’s not chickening out first. The nerves get worse when he opens the door to his room and realizes what a mess it is. “Uh –”

“Where do you usually sit?” You don’t look impressed – or disgusted, now that Shigaraki thinks about it. “On the bed?”

Shigaraki sits down on the bed – which he didn’t make, because he never makes it – and you sit down next to him. You don’t do anything. “I thought you were going to help me.”

“Show me what you do,” you say. Shigaraki stares at you. His heart is racing, his pulse hammering so hard that he feels it everywhere. “Go as far as you can, and then I’ll keep doing what you do.”

That makes sense, probably. Shigaraki’s mind is startling to scramble. He decides to think about it later and catches the hem of his shirt, hiking it up and out of the way. He knows from experience that it’ll slide back, so he pins it between his teeth and reaches down to his waistband, shoving at it until his pants are down around his thighs and his cock is free.

His hard-on looks like it feels. Uncomfortable, leaking, hot to the touch when he wraps three fingers and his thumb around his shaft. Shigaraki tries a few of the same insufficient strokes as always and feels the muscles in his abdomen and thighs clench. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. A frustrated sound edges out around the fabric in Shigaraki’s mouth. Aren’t you supposed to help him? He looks at you. You’re looking away.

“Hey,” Shigaraki says, the hem of the shirt falling from his mouth, and you look at him. “You wanted to help. Pay attention.”

Your face is flushed. You nod, and you reach out – but only so you can grasp the hem of Shigaraki’s shirt and pull it out of the way again, your knuckles brushing over his abdomen in a way that makes him twitch. You’re sitting closer to him now than you were before, close enough that he can almost feel the heat of your body, and imagine how it would feel to have you pressed against him. One of your hands is holding his shirt up. The other comes to rest on his lower abdomen, fingertips brushing through his hair, centimeters away from the base of his cock.

Shigaraki squirms involuntarily, trying to move your hand lower and jeopardizing his own strokes at the same time. Even when he lifts his hips to meet his own hand, he can’t lose control the way he wants to, can’t chase the feeling he needs. He needs it. He needs it and he’s never come even close to having it, until now. Shigaraki tries to focus. You’re only going to help once he’s gone as far as he can, so he’d better get there as fast as possible.

He shouldn’t have told you to pay attention. Now you’re watching everything, your face still flushed and your eyes glued to Shigaraki’s every move, taking everything in. Do you like this? Do you like watching Shigaraki’s pathetic attempts to get himself off? Whether you like it or not, you’re still touching him when you don’t have to. Shigaraki’s fingers tighten involuntarily around his cock, his fourth finger almost coming down, and he loosens up in a hurry. But that’s no good, either. He tries again.

It’s the same as always. Shigaraki makes it one or two strokes before it gets dangerous, enough to show him what he could have and not enough to get him there. He’s sweaty and his heart is beating too hard and the same frustrated tears as always are stinging his eyes. He curses, lets go – and a warm hand slides between his legs to replace his.

Shigaraki almost comes on the spot. It takes every ounce of willpower he has, and he almost blows it again as he watches you adjust your hold on him, shaping your hand more closely around his cock. You’re slow about it, but you sure as hell aren’t hesitant. Shigaraki can’t look for longer than a few strokes. It’s too humiliating to see the intensity of his own reaction, precum oozing from the tip of his cock and his hips jerking upwards into your hand. He clenches his jaw and shuts his eyes.

“Hey. Pay attention.” Are you making fun of him? Shigaraki opens his eyes and finds you looking at him. “I need to know if I’m doing it right.”

“What do you think?” Shigaraki forces the words out through gritted teeth. “Do you need me to tell you you’re doing a good job or something?”

“That might be nice,” you muse. Your hold on him loosens slightly – not enough to complain about, more than enough to read as a threat. “Since I can’t do anything else right around here, I at least want to be good at getting you off.”

Your grip tightens again, and you run your thumb lightly over the tip of Shigaraki’s cock at the end of the next stroke. Shigaraki couldn’t pull a move like that if his fucking life depended on it, which it would. He was going to tell you not to ask stupid questions, like if you’re good at getting him off when he’s two seconds away from blowing his load all over himself, but instead he moans, so loudly that people can probably hear it two streets away. You replay the same stroke, slower this time, pulling Shigaraki’s back into an arch to match the upward motion of your hand, and then you spend a few seconds just toying with his tip, barely touching him at all.

Are you trying to make him squirm? Shigaraki hates that it’s working, hates that you won’t just give him what he needs – but then you’re back to stroking his cock again, and Shigaraki relaxes, as much as it’s possible to relax. It feels good, even better than he thought it would. And even better than that, because he doesn’t have to do anything. All he has to do is sit back and enjoy it.

“Hold your shirt up,” you say, and Shigaraki grabs it clumsily. Your now-free hand traces quickly down Shigaraki’s chest, along his stomach, skidding sideways over his hip before sliding between his legs. There’s not room for both of your hands. Shigaraki spreads his legs without thinking twice.

You make a weird sound – maybe a gasp. “Stop that,” you say, but now you’re cradling his balls in addition to stroking his cock, so Shigaraki’s not interested in stopping much of anything. “It’s working.”

No shit it’s working. Shigaraki’s entire body is wound tight, so much that he can’t even twitch or thrust or squirm – all he can do is strain, agonizingly tense, every atom of his body focused on the motion of your hands. Shigaraki squeezes his eyes shut. His shirt crumbles away as he claws at it, the sheets on his bed going the same way a second later as he fights to ground himself. He needs more. Shigaraki needs to come right now, before he grabs onto something he can’t replace.

The word struggles out of his mouth sideways, twisted and strained just like the rest of him. “Please –”

You don’t answer him, but Shigaraki feels you shift closer to him. He opens his eyes and you’re right there, close enough that he can feel your breath against his skin. You’re watching him, head tilted, lips parted, so close. Shigaraki’s so close, and he needs more from you. He seizes the front of your shirt to pull you down to him, only for it to Decay when you’re halfway there. But Shigaraki gets lucky. You lean in the rest of the way and press your lips against his.

It’s not because of that. Shigaraki’s coming hard enough to see stars, hard enough that he blacks out for a second, but it’s not because you’re kissing him. His cum spills everywhere, onto his sweatpants and his stomach and over your fingers, and you keep stroking him with slick hands. You don’t pull away until Shigaraki’s whining against your mouth and you’ve drawn out every drop of cum he has to give.

And then you sit back, and let go, and look away. “I need a new shirt.”

You’re sitting next to him, on his bed, in just your bra. The sight would get Shigaraki hard again in an instant if you hadn’t just made him come hard enough to disconnect his spine. He raises a shaky hand and points to his hoodie, slung over the back of his computer chair, but you don’t go for it. Instead you get up and head to the bathroom to wash your hands.

Shigaraki needs to wash everything. His sweatpants, himself – the stupid mattress, since he was dumb enough to Decay the sheets off it right before he blew what feels like the biggest load in history. What else was he supposed to do, though? No way was he going to be able to control himself while you worked him over. No way is he going to be able to think about anything else the next time he sees you do anything with your hands. Or with your mouth.

It occurs to Shigaraki vaguely that while he’s solved the initial problem of being too horny to function, he’s set himself up for something even worse – more dreams, made all the more vivid because he’s got experience to back them up. He might be good to go for now. Probably for the rest of the day, since it’ll be a miracle if he can do anything other than clean up and take a nap. But he’ll be right back where he started the next time he wakes up from another dream about you.

The water from the sink shuts off, and a moment later you come back out, snagging Shigaraki’s hoodie off the chair and pulling it on over your bra. Shigaraki feels a faint twinge of foreboding at the sight, but it fades fast. Sure, he could wake up tomorrow morning with the boner from hell and it’ll be all your fault. But now he’s got a way out of it, and the way out of it is so good that what it takes to get there barely even matters. And he’s in a good enough mood to admit to himself that you do things right a lot more than you do things wrong.

Which reminds him – “Hey,” Shigaraki says, still humiliatingly breathless, and you pause in the act of pulling the hood up. “You did a good job.”

He might still be out of breath, but your face is still flushed. “Good,” you say, and you turn to leave. Shigaraki doesn’t hear you speak again until you’re already out the door. “Next time I’ll do better.”

Better might kill him. Next time. Shigaraki pulls up his sweatpants so his dick isn’t hanging out, makes no other effort at cleaning up, and falls asleep with something that feels like a smile on his face.

[p0orbaby]

Stress Reliever

summary: important matches call for unorthodox methods

warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering, sex in a random room in a stadium? i have no clue, don’t judge

a/n: i really enjoyed writing this one, so kudos to whoever requested it !

word count: 2.7k

-

You’re in the stands, sipping a warm Coke that tastes like pennies, watching as eager fans filter into the stadium. It’s an hour until kickoff, and you’re trying not to panic because you have the seat of death. The one directly behind the pole. And not just any pole—oh no, you get the thick, structural support beam that’s been placed there by some sadist with a vendetta against sports fans. You can already feel the crick forming in your neck as you angle to see the pitch, bobbing and weaving like you’re on the world’s worst first date.

“Are you—?” A voice interrupts your internal monologue, startling you so much you nearly throw your Coke onto the unlucky person next to you. You look up, expecting to see a security guard, someone here to accuse you of something you definitely did do (sneak in a flask) but absolutely won’t admit to.

Instead, it’s a woman with a headset, wearing an expression of mild impatience—like she’s had to ask someone the same question three times. Which, judging by the size of this place, she probably has.

“Yeah?” you ask, because that’s the only word your brain can offer in the moment. Well, that and hotdog but you keep that one to yourself.

“Are you—” she checks her clipboard, which you find oddly official, like you’re about to be quizzed on the periodic table or something, “—the girlfriend?”

There’s a beat where you consider denying it because the word girlfriend still sounds weird in your ears. Like you’re not old enough for it or something. Like someone’s going to come along and snatch the title away from you because you got it out of a vending machine or a cereal box.

But then the woman’s staring at you, one eyebrow slightly arched, and you realise you haven’t answered, which is definitely making this more awkward.

“Uh…yes?”

“Great.” She doesn’t even wait for you to elaborate (which is good, because you definitely wouldn’t have). “Alexia needs you”

She says it like Alexia needs you is a normal sentence. Like you’re supposed to understand what that entails, as if you’ve been through this before.

“Oh.” You blink. “Now?”

“Yeah.” Another short answer. She’s probably fun at parties.

Your brain’s processing speed is at dial-up levels right now, but you eventually nod, clambering over knees and feet, mumbling apologies as you spill half your Coke in your lap. It’s warm, wet, and uncomfortable. The perfect metaphor for your life at this moment.

The woman with the headset leads you through a labyrinth of corridors, down staircases that don’t look like they’ve been used since the stadium was built, past signs that say things like “AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY” and “NO ENTRY,” which really do wonders for your anxiety. It’s as if you’re being led to the dungeons, or possibly to a secret basement where you’ll be quietly murdered before kickoff.

“Is everything…okay?” you ask, partly because you’re nervous, partly because you’re still in shock that Alexia asked for you. The Alexia Putellas, captain of Barcelona, Spanish football’s golden child. The one who should be doing pre-game rituals or eating her eighth banana by now, not…whatever this is.

“Yup,” says Headset Lady, who clearly graduated from the one-syllable academy of small talk.

You’re about to ask a follow-up question (something like are you a hostage negotiator on the side?) when she stops abruptly in front of a nondescript door that looks like it’s seen better days. There’s a small sign taped to it that reads “MEETING ROOM.” Creative.

“She’s in there,” Headset Lady says, handing you the clipboard like it’s a ticket to a secret club. You take it because refusing might lead to her finally using the taser you’re convinced she’s got hidden somewhere.

“Uh, thanks,” you say, because manners.

She gives you a curt nod, spins on her heels, and walks away without a backward glance, leaving you alone with the door, the clipboard, and a creeping sense of dread.

You’re about to knock when the door swings open and you’re pulled inside by a very strong hand. You barely manage to keep your balance, though your dignity is less fortunate.

“Jesus Christ, Alexia, a little warning?” you gasp, clutching your chest like someone’s ancient grandmother.

But Alexia isn’t listening. She’s pacing, her boots tapping out a nervous rhythm on the floor, her expression a fusion of frustration and something you can’t quite place—like she’s trying to solve a really tough maths problem but someone keeps changing all the numbers.

“Babe?” you try again, this time a little softer, hoping to break through whatever spell she’s under.

She finally stops, turning to face you, and that’s when you notice it. The way her eyes are slightly glazed, her hands twitching at her sides. She looks like she’s about to combust from the inside out, like she’s been plugged into the world’s worst electrical socket.

You know that look. You’ve seen it before, but not like this. Not with this intensity, this…desperation.

“What’s going on?” you ask, though you think you already know. You’re just not sure you’re ready for the answer.

“I’m fucking freaking out,” she says, her voice low and tight, like it’s taking everything in her to hold it together. “I can’t—I can’t focus, I can’t think—I just—fuck!” She runs a hand through her hair, tugging at the ends like it’s their fault.

You step closer, cautious, like you’re approaching a wild animal. “Is there anything I can do?”

And that’s when she looks at you. Really looks at you. Her eyes narrow slightly, and you can practically see the lightbulb go off above her head. It’s not the comforting moment you were hoping for. It’s more like the moment in a horror movie when the killer realises the protagonist is hiding in the wardrobe.

“Actually…yeah.” Her voice drops an octave, and you swear the room temperature does too. “There is”

Oh no. You know where this is going. You’ve been here before. This isn’t the first time Alexia has decided that the best way to deal with her pre-game jitters is to channel them into something else. Something physical. Something that, once upon a time, you thought was a great idea.

You were wrong.

But it’s too late to back out now. You’re trapped, like a mouse caught in a particularly horny mousetrap.

“Here?” you squeak, glancing around the dimly lit meeting room, which is as unsexy as a room can get. The walls are beige, the carpet is a hideous shade of grey, and there’s a whiteboard in the corner with some sad-looking, lidless pens. It’s as if the universe decided to create the least erotic environment possible.

“Here,” she confirms, and you can’t help but notice the way her voice drips with something dark and dangerous. Something that makes your pulse quicken and your palms sweat.

“But what if—”

“No one’s coming in,” she interrupts, and there’s a note of finality in her voice that tells you this is happening whether you like it or not. “It’s locked”

“How did you even get a key?”

“Does it matter?”

It doesn’t, but you feel like you’re owed an explanation anyway. Because what if someone does come in? What if they see you—two responsible, adult women—going at it in a meeting room like hormonal teenagers? You can already see the headlines: “Football Star and Girlfriend Caught in Bizarre Pre-Game Ritual”

“Alexia, I—”

She’s on you before you can finish the sentence, her hands gripping your waist, pulling you against her. Her lips crash into yours, and suddenly the room isn’t so cold anymore. It’s like being hit by a freight train made of pure sexual frustration, and for a moment, all you can do is hang on for dear life.

But then the reality of the situation hits you. You’re about to have sex in a room that smells faintly of wet dog and failed business deals. This is not how you pictured today to go. You imagined something more…romantic. A win celebrated in a plush hotel room, or at the very least a place with a bed.

But Alexia doesn’t seem to care. She’s already pawing at your clothes with a speed that’s both impressive and alarming, like she’s done this a thousand times before. Which, now that you think about it, she probably has. Just…not here. Or so you hope.

“Wait, wait,” you pant, pulling back slightly. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Nope,” she says, but she doesn’t stop, and neither do you, because you’re weak and she’s hot, and who are you kidding? You’re definitely going to do this.

It’s not graceful. It’s not even sexy, really. It’s more like a frantic scramble to get clothes off while trying not to knock over a stack of chairs. You’re pretty sure you elbow her in the ribs at one point, and she steps on your foot twice, but neither of you cares because there’s a bigger issue at hand.

You think about saying something witty, something to break the tension, but then she’s on you again, and words are suddenly the last thing on your mind. All you can do is hold on and hope the table doesn’t collapse under the weight of your combined bad decisions.

She pushes you back onto the table, her hands firm on your shoulders, and suddenly the wood beneath you feels a lot harder than it looked a second ago. It’s all happening too fast, but not fast enough, and when her mouth finds yours again, it’s all teeth and urgency. The kind of kiss that doesn’t ask permission because it knows it’ll get what it wants anyway.

Her hands are everywhere, pulling at your shirt, fumbling with the buttons like they’re some kind of cruel joke. You help her out, batting her hands away, only to struggle just as much. It’s like your fingers have forgotten how to work, each movement clumsy and desperate. When you finally manage to yank your shirt over your head, you feel a brief, victorious rush, like you’ve conquered a small but significant mountain.

She barely gives you time to breathe before she’s back on you, her mouth hot and demanding against your neck, her hands sliding up your sides. You gasp as her fingers slip under your bra, her thumbs brushing over your nipples with just enough pressure to make you arch against her.

“Fuck,” you whisper, because it’s the only word that makes sense right now.

She grins against your skin, clearly pleased with herself, and you know you’re in trouble. Alexia knows exactly what she’s doing, and she’s doing it well. Too well, actually. The kind of well that makes you forget where you are, why you’re here, and who you are as a person.

Her hand trails down your stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of your jeans, and you suck in a breath, half expecting her to stop, to clock on how ridiculous this all is. But she doesn’t. She just keeps going, popping the button on your jeans with a quick flick of her fingers, pulling the zipper down in one smooth motion. You lift your hips to help her slide them down, and suddenly the cold air hits your bare legs, making you shiver. But it’s not the temperature that’s getting to you—it’s the anticipation.

She’s back on you in an instant, her fingers finding their way inside your underwear, brushing against you in a way that makes your breath catch. Her touch is light at first, almost teasing, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. She’s not in the mood for games, and neither are you.

“Please,” you murmur, not entirely sure what you’re asking for, but knowing you need it.

She doesn’t make you wait. Her fingers slide inside you with a confidence that comes from knowing exactly what you like, how you like it, and how quickly she can drive you insane. And she’s doing it now, the slow, steady rhythm making you forget all about the uncomfortable table beneath you, the smell of stale coffee in the room, the fact that someone could walk in at any moment. None of it matters. All that matters is her, and the way she’s making you feel like you might come undone right there in that drab, fluorescent-lit room.

You cling to her like she’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality, your hands digging into her back, your nails leaving marks that you know take back to the changing room with pride. The table creaks beneath you, protesting with every thrust of her hand, but you don’t care. You can barely think, let alone worry about the state of some cheap office furniture.

When she curls her fingers inside you, hitting that spot that makes you see stars, you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. The last thing you need is for someone to hear you, but fuck, it’s hard. Especially when she starts moving faster, her thumb brushing over your clit with just the right amount of pressure to push you closer and closer to the edge.

You’re so close now, teetering on the brink, and she knows it. You can see it in the way she’s watching you, her eyes dark and intense, like she’s savoring every moment, every gasp and moan she pulls from your lips. It’s almost too much, the way she’s looking at you, like she’s claiming you, owning you in a way that goes beyond this moment, this room.

And then you’re falling, your body tensing as the wave crashes over you, pulling you under. You bite down on her shoulder, muffling the sound of your release, and she groans at the feeling of your teeth sinking into her skin. It’s raw and primal, and at this point in time, you don’t care about anything else but the way she’s making you feel.

She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, working you through your orgasm until you’re trembling beneath her, your breath coming in ragged gasps. When she does finally pull her hand away, you feel the loss of her touch like a physical ache, but you’re too spent to do anything about it.

For a moment, neither of you moves, the only sound in the room your heavy breathing and the distant roar of the crowd outside. The game is about to start, but for once, it’s the last thing on your mind.

When she finally pulls back, you expect her to say something, but she just looks at you, her expression softening in a way that makes your chest warm. There’s something unspoken in her eyes, something you’re not sure you’re ready to acknowledge, but it’s there all the same.

“Better?” you ask, your voice shaky, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips.

She smirks, that familiar, cocky grin returning as she reaches down to adjust her shorts. “Much”

You laugh, weak and breathless, but it’s genuine. Because despite the absurdity of it all—the meeting room, the table, the fact that you’re still half-naked in the most unromantic setting imaginable—it was exactly what you both needed.

You sit up, wincing as your muscles protest, and begin the awkward process of getting dressed again. Alexia helps, her hands lingering a little longer than necessary, and you swat at her playfully, even though you’re secretly glad she’s not ready to let go just yet.

“We can’t make this a thing,” you say, though you know it’s a lie the second it leaves your mouth.

“Sure we can,” Alexia replies, already pulling on her shorts like nothing happened. Like you didn’t just defile a piece of office furniture.

“You owe me,” you grumble, trying to smooth down your hair, which now looks like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket.

“Add it to the list,” she says with a wink.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Because yeah, it was reckless and stupid and definitely not sanitary, but damn if it wasn’t one hell of a way to start a match.

“Good luck,” you say, and you mean it.

She gives you a look that says I don’t need luck, and you believe her. Because if she can handle you, she can handle anything.

As you walk out of the meeting room, legs still a little shaky, you can’t help but wonder if this will become a regular thing. You hope not.

Then again…maybe you don’t.

[genericpuff]

Lore Olympus just pulled off the biggest whiff in webtoon history.

I promised I would choose one of two headlines and of course, this is the one we wound up with. But should we really be surprised? Rachel herself seemed to be telling on herself down to the minutes leading up to the finale, fully confirming to us that yes, she's been writing this comic at the last minute, by the seat of her pants, for ages now.

(that second one was literally posted TWENTY FUCKING MINUTES BEFORE THE COMIC UPDATED.)

Welp, let's get into it. Possibly the last essay I'll ever write about this dumpster fire of a comic (but probably not, let's be real LOL)

CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSION OF SEXUAL ASSAULT AND FASTPASS SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES FINALE AHEAD!

Holy crap, where to even start with this. I knew it was going to be bad. I knew it was going to be rushed. I knew it wasn't ever going to live up to what I had hoped it would be years ago when I was still a diehard fan.

But I didn't think it was going to fall quite this hard. Despite bracing myself for the worst, Rachel has once again let my expectations down through a final display of explosive mediocrity and disappointment.

Yes, the episode is called "You're Welcome", and yes, that instant "ick" you're feeling is the exact same as what we're all feeling. This title plays into the dialogue later, but what a shitty, lowkey mean-spirited title for the series finale.

Now, before we get into the actual episode, the WT ads for this are just... so desperate and misleading.

They are trying SO HARD to hype up something that isn't there, and at the last minute to boot, because Rachel definitely hadn't written any of this ahead of time.

First off, the bit about the gods being in "eternal chaos" of course isn't a stake worth worrying over because Gaia literally does away with Ouranos in the first 5 panels.

Did you really think I was joking about that 5 panels thing?

That's it. That's the death of Ouranos. As mysteriously and quickly as he arrived, he was gone, after Gaia ripped out of him what appeared to be some purple sunny side up - but it's actually, in fact, Apollo.

And that's when we start to get some of the worst dialogue I've ever seen throughout LO. Remember when I said LO's dialogue was like Shenmue 3? Welp, the finale decided to continue that tradition and further fuel the suspicion that this entire thing was written by ChatGPT.

Oh, by the way, that "thank you, ma'am" was Artemis' first and last line of the episode. So once again, just like in Episode 248, we're completely robbed of her reaction to Apollo being a rapist piece of shit and the character development she could have had as a supporting character. The women in this "feminist retelling" really couldn't be more half-baked.

Gaia stumbles upon Persephone, and I'm not even gonna fucking bother showing the panels where Gaia says it's time to "make things right" because they literally don't matter. Why don't they matter? Because Rachel just had to get in one more pointless time skip.

We're shown a sequence of pointless images that I'm not gonna show as I don't want to waste my image limit on them, depicting Hades having a sad day because his small wife isn't with him and oh nooo what could have happened?? Did Persephone finally divorce him ??

Nah, we couldn't possibly have an actually happy ending in this comic. Instead we get a completely pointless phone conversation between Hades and Hecate-

Not only is the grammar particularly bad in this episode, but the actual script-writing is atrocious. We literally did not need this phone conversation to happen because-

-we're cutting BACK TO THE PRESENT THAT WE JUST CUT AWAY FROM FOR A 3 MONTH TIME SKIP. FOR NO REASON BESIDES SHOWING HADES BE SAD OVER SOMETHING THAT ACTUALLY ISN'T THAT BIG A DEAL, AS YOU'RE ABOUT TO SEE.

I- I LITERALLY HAVE NO WORDS. I HAVE NO WORDS TO DESCRIBE WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS. ALL I CAN HEAR IN MY BRAIN IS THE LEGEND OF ZELDA ITEM GET MUSIC-

-BECAUSE THIS WHOLE THING SUDDENLY SOUNDS LIKE SOME CONTRIVED FETCH QUEST. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HADES AND PERSEPHONE HAVE PROVEN 'TRUE LOVE' IS REAL? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY HAVEN'T USED 'LOVE' AS A FORCE FOR DESTRUCTION?? ARE WE FORGETTING THAT HADES MUTILATED A GUY IN THE NAME OF 'LOVE'? THAT PERSEPHONE LITERALLY INVADED THE HOME OF HADES' CANONICAL FIRST WIFE BECAUSE SHE FELT MILDLY THREATENED BY HER?

This whole concept of "true love" that Rachel is trying to convey feels so juvenile especially for a series that has sold itself as being mature and thought-provoking and progressive.

HAHAHA SO FUNNYYYYYYY why does Rachel write like this. this is, at best, the writing of a 13 year old on fanfiction.net, which I SHOULD KNOW, because I WAS ONE OF THEM. BUT I'M 28 NOW AND RACHEL HAS ANOTHER 10 YEARS ON ME.

Okay, this is the part where I'm CONVINCED Rachel either just mashed this into the episode in the MINUTES leading up to its release, or she used ChatGPT or something. Because NONE of this dialogue makes any sense. Beyond how stilted and lifeless it is (seriously, this dialogue reads like something from Empress Theresa) Gaia is clearly meant to 'replace' Erebus here which I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO EVEN EXPLAIN IS SO FUCKING DUMB, but ALSO what is even Persephone trying to communicate here? "That is true, but it was a deal I was willing to make and ties me to the Underworld. Please don't change me." What? Gaia hasn't even insinuated that she's going to do anything to Persephone, why is Persephone immediately jumping to this conclusion? What does 'changing' her mean? Is she asking Gaia not to force her to sacrifice something (which she never did)? Or is she asking Gaia not to strip her of her Underworld status? Because again, why is that even something Gaia would do?

Maybe this is harsh but I'm pretty sure even Empress Theresa is more coherent than this, what in the flying fuck is Gaia talking about?

"I can just see the potential for conflict! To relieve you from the burden of the whats, the hows, and wheres." Like... okay, first of all, that second sentence isn't even a complete sentence, it's a dependent clause left hanging, but also what the fuck does this MEAN. Is she EXCITED for the conflict but then contradicting herself by saying she wants to relieve Persephone of that conflict? Or is she saying she can see the conflict it would cause for Persephone to have to perform duties in both realms and trying to insinuate that she's going to relieve her of those complications?

Here's what I think happened - I think that second 'sentence' wasn't supposed to be a sentence, but the start of the sentence to the next panel-

So with that theory in mind, the sentence becomes, "To relieve you from the burden of the whats, the hows, and wheres, you are to spend three months in the Mortal Realm to do spring and the rest of the year in the Underworld. That seems fair to me."

It's still a very poorly written line of dialogue, but at least with that fix in mind it makes sense. But man, you can really fucking tell this episode was submitted at the last minute because that's a serious syntax error that should NOT have happened in this two-time-Eisner-winning comic.

Errors aside, it's clear that Rachel is following through on having Persephone spend only three months in the Mortal Realm, rather than the traditional six. There ARE other translations that have that number closer to four, but those four are the time she spends in the UNDERWORLD, meaning she's always spending either equal or MORE time in the Mortal Realm. Of course, Rachel doesn't want her self-insert small wife power fantasy to actually have to be separated from Hades despite this being a retelling of The Abduction of Persephone, so instead of her spending three months in the Underworld, she's now spending them in the Mortal Realm, literally doubling the MINIMUM amount of time (four months) she was originally meant to reside in the Underworld.

But oh no, apparently those three months are STILL NOT SHORT ENOUGH FOR PERSEPHONE-

Of course, Rachel "Retcon" Smythe had to have her cake and eat it too. I always worried something like this was a possibility, but I never thought she would actually prove me right - not only is Persephone only separated from Hades for three months out of the year, but actually he can visit her any time he wants to, so really, they're not separating at all.

I think Rachel needs to look up "reunion" in the dictionary, because if you can visit each other any time, then that means the 'reunions' are no longer special occasions. This completely removes any semblance of depth or meaning from all of the storytelling leading up to this, all of it with the expectation that this was a retelling of the Abduction of Persephone, because that's what Rachel said it was going to be. At this point it's safe to say that Rachel has zero business attempting to "retell" mythological stories, because she doesn't even seem to grasp the concept of why they were written the way they were to begin with. Either that, or she really just doesn't care, and the only reason for making LO a Greek myth comic at all was to propel her career.

This also brings me back to those promotional ads, the other one that posed the question, "Will sacrifice be enough to bring these two back together?"

This is stating the obvious, but I need to make it perfectly clear - Hades and Persephone have never sacrificed a single thing. The only thing they could POSSIBLY quantify as a "sacrifice" is "not being tied at the hip for a few hours", because even Persephone going on the equivalent of a work trip next door is apparently enough to make Hades sad as we saw in the 3 month time skip panels. Why is Hades so sad and lonely if he can visit her any time? Why is he acting like he hasn't seen her in years when he's actually on his way to reunite with her? Why is Hecate calling to ask him if he's "okay" as if he JUST got separated from her, but actually he's about to literally go to the Mortal Realm to reunite with her?

Hades hasn't 'sacrificed' a damn thing, neither has Persephone. They've both always gotten exactly what they wanted, even at the cost of breaking the story's own established rules. Their 'sacrifice' is equivalent to what billionaires think are 'sacrifices' when they can't buy another yacht or go on that third overseas vacation for the month.

And even outside of this episode, when have these two ever sacrificed anything?

I've tried so hard to think of what sacrifices have been made by the characters within LO, and I genuinely can only think of one - and that was when Artemis chose to go to the Mortal Realm with Persephone instead of staying with her family in Olympus. That was a genuine, selfless sacrifice, made by a character who has been shelved in favor of focusing on the self-centered pink and blue airheads.

Being forced to be apart for a couple days to do the equivalent of a day job and whining about it the whole time is not a 'sacrifice'. Neither of these characters have ever sacrificed anything, they just feel like sacrifices because they have the integrity and empathy of soggy cardboard.

sigh Anyways, we're back in the present and Hades and Persephone immediately decide they're gonna have sex because ofc, and then we get this gem of a panel-

MMMMMM

FUNNYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY JOKE

For some reason it's just a common thing for people to just be in Hades' home, and they can't seem to get any privacy as a result of this, but I digress. Turns out they still need to have that coronation for Persephone.

There is... so much wrong in these three panels.

First, to state the immediate issues - why the fuck are they mentioning Apollo at Persephone's coronation? Like first of all, no shit Apollo isn't gonna be there, but also, if this is supposed to be an event for and about Persephone becoming Queen of the Underworld, then why in the WORLD is Apollo even being mentioned? This is supposed to be a "feminist retelling" where the victims are empowered and heal from their trauma, but LO once again can't try to show any sort of positive growth for the victims without bringing up the assaulters and giving them screen time. It just goes to show that Rachel's idea of "healing" is purely rooted in the revenge, and not the growth. It's a very high schooler approach to this subject, hellbent on showcasing how all the meanies from the past are losers now and life just sucked for them forever, but inadvertently proving its own point that the victims haven't and can't move on because the narrative is spending so much time on caring what's going on with the abusers. It's the "I don't care! Look at how little I care! I'll prove it to you by putting in the effort of showing you how little I care!" approach, it doesn't really feel like moving on.

It's not about how Persephone and his other victims could have grown and healed, no, Rachel always needs to highlight just how much worse the bullies and haters and abusers are doing to make the victims seem like they've healed by comparison. Don't get me wrong, I can understand wanting to showcase the downfall of a character like Apollo, but this just... isn't the right context for that? Because it's once again taking attention away from the victim to focus on the abuser. It's once again spending screentime on the voices of the oppressors rather than the oppressed.

And speaking of, what the fuck is this punishment even? I knew Rachel wasn't gonna be able to resolve this plotline properly, she never had the capability to, but ... community service? Are you fucking for real? What is this even a punishment for even? Was this EXCLUSIVELY the SA, or does this ALSO include his attempts to overthrow Zeus by poisoning him, nearly killing Daphne, Eris, Eros and Psyche, trapping Eros and Psyche in an enchanted basement, and framing his father's 'death' on his half-sister? Because if so, how in the world is anyone content with community service? He hasn't even been turned into a mortal, HE'S STILL A GOD, so what's to stop him from going "WE'LL MEET AGAIN, SPIDERMAN" and trying something else? How is this a reasonable resolution in ANY context?

This is why I talked at length about what an issue it was to hide what Apollo really admitted to. Because now we really don't know what exactly he confessed to, and thus we can never really see the point of views of the victims outside of just Persephone - and we still don't even get Persephone's, because she just walks away from him and then he gets eaten by Ouranos and next we see of him is him doing community service! Once again, any emotional development that could be given to Persephone and the other victims is stripped away to make room for the point of views of the oppressive men. In this, the two-time-Eisner-winning "feminist comic" that is LO.

And that brings us to the "where are they now" segment. Yes, as we all feared, there's a "where are they now" segment, and it's as rushed and underwhelming as we ought to have expected it to be.

There is just... so much to unpack here, and yes, all of it is delivered in the dumbest way possible that only raises more questions than answers.

So Rhea and Metis are just back and we're not gonna talk about the implications of them being alive again?

Dionysus is a 3 month year old in the body of a teenager / young adult, and his mom is just alive now because Hades conveniently got his hands on more ambrosia and brought her back to life offscreen? But somehow Triptomelus and Hedone are still child-sized relative to their ages?

How did they 'heal Zeus'? And why is he so content with losing his power as King and Apollo being sentenced to community service after making an attempt on his life? How does he feel about the letter that Hera gave him? Did he even read it?

Where the fuck is Hebe in all of this? Is she okay? Do people still think it was her who put Zeus in a coma? Or did Apollo confess to that, too?

You're telling me Hera and Echo are just in a relationship now despite the fact that Hera is literally racist towards nymphs and there is ZERO reason for them to have a relationship in the comic beyond the fans making gratuitous headcanons out of it? How is Rachel, a bisexual woman, so bad at writing actual lesbian relationships and giving them the same amount of attention as the heterocis ones without shoving them into the background as props for insincere queer rep? And what about Hera herself? How did she overcome her role as the Goddess of Marriage to finally divorce Zeus?

"Ares is still a dog!" Haha! Ares is still a Persephone simp! Happy end!

Why is Eros just standing there smiling at the camera struggling to be seen past Hedone who's just floating right in front of him? You're telling me there wasn't a better place to put her out of that entire panel?

"Hades and Thanatos have been making more time for each other. Sometimes they even have a conversation." I'm sorry, is this supposed to be funny? The man abused Thanatos for years, treated him as just a lowly employee when he was literally his adopted son, and now you're trying to play it off as a joke that they're "making more time for each other"? What the fuck is this?

TGOEM disbanded? Why? What about the women who were genuinely a part of it?

Also, Artemis and Selene are just good friends now because reasons? Because they're both affiliated with the moon, I guess? Why is Selene even in this comic-

"They are still looking for Kassandra". Who? And why? This feels like such a last minute addition to acknowledge a character that the comic spent WEEKS foreshadowing only to have her finally appear as a pointless McGuffin, but it's so last minute that it does nothing. I'm assuming it's Eros and Psyche looking for her, but like... why can't they find her? They're gods, tracking down one mortal shouldn't be that difficult LOL ???

And also, where the fuck is Leto?? You're telling me she was an accessory - maybe manipulating Apollo, maybe not - but we don't see what happened to her? Is she just back to being a social outcast then? jesus christ this comic isn't finished-

Kassandra is where the "where are they now" sequence ends, and we're treated to one final horribly written dialogue scene between Hades and Persephone, where they tell each other how much they love each other in a desperate attempt to convince the audience that this is, in fact, a romance.

There's this thing in romances called chemistry, and if you're good at writing it, you shouldn't have to write dialogue like this. You should be able to see how much the characters love each other through their actions, through their small behaviors around each other. It's not always about what they say out loud, it's about what they don't have to say, because when two people really share that close of a bond based on love and trust and chemistry, words often aren't necessary.

Hades and Persephone do not have that chemistry. It has been apparent for years now, but this final exchange really is the nail in the coffin. There are no microexpressions or subtle emotions, no subtlety in their word choice, and nothing unique setting their voices apart. It's all just "wow thank you for being such a wonderful amazing partner, you are amazing and I love you" word salad that has to do all the heavy lifting for the completely non-existent chemistry that's been at its absolute worst throughout this entire season.

And worst of all, despite this story trying so hard to be focused around Persephone, around her story, her trauma and her healing, her voice... it's still all just about Hades. In the end, she's thanking Hades, and forcing him to say "you're welcome". All of it is trying so hard to convince us that Hades has been a positive addition to her life, that she 'owes' so much to him, but we've obviously seen plenty throughout the comic that begs to differ. And even if he were a better person than he is, it still doesn't change the fact that once again, the men are being held up above the women, with the women being grateful to the men who choose them. LO can try its hardest to convince people that it's feminist, but it is, at best, reinforcing the very same structures of the patriarchal system that it claims to despise and rebel against.

We do get one line from Hades acknowledging Persephone's part in the relationship-

-and it falls so fucking flat because it's still about him and what she does for him, and because nothing about their relationship was built on any sort of organic chemistry. There was a lot more chemistry back in S1, but it was still predicated on Hades lusting after a vulnerable 19 year old girl.

Yep, and that's it. That's the end.

Except it isn't because Rachel wanted to try and be smart by including an 'epilogue' that's really just stretching the episode out pointlessly for another few panels. And of course, we had to get another time skip, just a final dose of salt in the wound, this time to years ahead when we inevitably had to reconnect with Persephone and Hades in the future after Melinoe was born.

To recap, Melinoe doesn't remember... because Hades had Morpheus erase her memories.

This plotline has really started to give me the ick because it actually feels very familiar. Bear with me here, because I'm gonna go on a bit of a tangent about my own original work, but it's because I wrote a plotline exactly like this years ago.

There's this... turning point, in Time Gate: Reaper, when the main character Uzuki is kidnapped by a Reaper (see: undead) who wants to experiment on her in the hopes that he can somehow gain her abilities to bond her soul with others (which later allows her to literally possess people after she becomes a Reaper herself). Mitsuhiro, the male deuteragonist who kickstarts the plot by telling Uzuki she's got a limited amount of time left to live (which he knows thanks to his magical death timers that mark themselves on his skin), feels an immense amount of guilt after finding out she was kidnapped by the Reapers (at this point she's been gone for three months), as they were originally after him; he worries that she was made a target simply due to him associating himself with her, and vows to rescue her.

With the help of some other spunky teenagers and anime trope characters, Mitsuhiro does eventually rescue Uzuki - but for the three months she had been gone, she had been tortured, abused, and experimented on, causing her mind to split and for her to lose any sense of awareness of who Mitsuhiro or her other friends were. She was no longer herself after the hell she had been through.

Mitsuhiro's solution to this is to have Springlock - another Reaper with motivations that are not yet clear to the cast - erase her memory. This is not a light decision that comes without consequences - for the remaining duration of the story, Uzuki is plagued by night terrors and panic attacks, unable to really remember what happened to her aside from whatever brief flashbacks her brain recalls in its haze of memory loss. She is traumatized, both physically and mentally. She has lost three months of her life and memories, and doesn't know how to explain why she's covered in scars that are still healing, why she's missing organs, why she's now blind in one eye, and why the sound of scraping metal and ticking clocks gives her panic attacks. Mitsuhiro has convinced her friends that she's suffering from memory loss due to trauma, but only he knows the truth that he forcefully took her memories away from her, without her consent. This was not the right choice to make. It was not noble of him, it was not a grand gesture of love, he made a decision on her behalf without her consent that has now resulted in her becoming a nervous wreck. Sure, she still would have had PTSD if she remembered what happened, but at least she would know why and could then seek adequate help. Without those memories, she has nowhere to begin to heal. And so we see the consequences of this throughout [AFTERBIRTH] and even the upcoming Thread of Fate. It is a long-term problem that is not going to be solved overnight, especially not with Mitsuhiro withholding information from her.

Reading about Melinoe having dreams about her experiences trapped in Tartarus with Kronos ... it felt familiar enough that I had to talk about why the insinuations of this are so fucked up. I know there are people who are gonna handwave it away as "she's just a kid", "these are gods so what does it matter", etc. but ... it just feels like such an oversight to have Hades effectively erase her memory of her trauma and then hint at them still being present in her mind through her dreams. She did not ask for that. And the fact that she's now dreaming about it all does not bode well. But we're supposed to think Hades made the correct choice, regardless.

But none of this is effectively expanded on or explained, because we get one final scene of Melinoe and Demeter visiting Persephone, who has just given birth to... Makaria?

So it turns out Persephone and Hades are just able to have biological children now. Don't know why, but of course they both look exactly like Hades.

What I was really confused by though is the fact that it's Makaria and not Brimos. Do you remember Brimos? The child that was foreshadowed in Hades' original fantasy dream sequence about his future children about Persephone?

Either Rachel completely forgot about him, or she saw all the criticism over the fact that Brimos isn't a confirmed child of Hades and Persephone (rather, an epithet that can apply to basically any Underworld god including Persephone and Hades) and that her "research" was dependent on a book she read when she was 13 and decided to axe that. But she went to the effort of establishing that all the dreams Hades had were , in fact, canon visions of the future, so good job Rachel, you created yet another plothole on top of the hundreds of others.

And that's where the series ends, on a final nuclear-family-photo of Persephone, Hades, Melinoe, and Makaria. Of course, Dionysus and Thanatos aren't present in this shot because this is Lore Olympus and only biological children count /hj

Why Rachel couldn't move the "the end" portion to THIS part, I don't know, but I'm also expecting way too much of the person who finished this 20 minutes before it was due.

So that's it. Six years and that's what we get. I didn't expect much, but I was still incredibly disappointed, as were many others who walked away from this dazed and confused. Maybe it's all the "haters" deserve at this point. But what of the fans? While many of them are celebrating this ending at best and tolerating it at worst, I can't help but think of the fans of this comic who hung on for so long in the hopes it would "pay off", just for it to go out as gloriously as a wet fart.

As for me, I have such mixed feelings about Lore Olympus ending, but none of them pertain to the comic itself. Most of what I'll miss from this comic isn't the comic itself, but the people who have made reading it every week so fun, the artists and writers who have enriched the content with their own interpretations of what could have been, and the experiences of being part of such an amazing community made up of people who are as long-term-obsessed about this piece of media as I am.

I get people who ask me a lot if it's "worth it" to be so engrossed in the LO slander, who assume that I'm going to "regret" ever being a part of it all... but from where I'm standing right now, I couldn't ask for a better view.

Even if I didn't love every minute of it, everything I have here I owe to this comic. This stupid, wonderful, boring, amazing, pile of shit comic.

[seouljazzbar]

selfish (m.)

𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹

about— wonbin’s a musical prodigy, having worked alongside critically acclaimed producers, and now he’s your guest lecturer for the semester. correction, your hot lecturer for the semester (producer!wonbin x f.reader)

author’s note— this is a little rough but i still like the way it turned out! title is from this song if anyone's curious hehe i think it's wonbin coded lowkey

warning— language, teacher-student dynamic, me blatantly lying about new york/nyu, alcohol use, (soft?) dirty talk, fingering (f. receiving), whiny wonbin, oral (m. receiving), teasing, penetrative sex (with a condom!!) 18+ MDNI!!!

word count— 5.3k

Thursdays and Fridays from four to six, those were his office hours. It was difficult to have office hours that fit everyone’s schedule and that was the best he could do given he was only a guest lecturer. Even worse, he wasn’t given an office for said hours due to the deconstructed nature of the city. Going to university in New York was already far from traditional, and the conditions were no exception. But Wonbin didn’t mind, reserving a nice table on the second floor of Gregory's coffee on Broadway. It wasn't much but it was enough for the four or five students who took advantage of the time.

You were one of them. You knew all too well the struggle of falling behind in a class by thinking you had a handle on the material, only to be drowning in confusion come midterms. The class, The Sociology of Pop Music, interested you too much for you to risk completely flopping just because you failed to utilize your resources. But it wasn’t just your grade that you cared about. It helped that the guest lecturer in question was unbelievably sexy, an absolute dreamboat wunderkind who was just barely older than the students he was in charge of. 

Park Wonbin, musician to the stars. He’d worked with countless acclaimed producers, written for most of the Billboard Hot 100 artists, and even put out his own flawless body of work that gifted him one Grammy and several nominations. He was an absolute icon at the ripe age of twenty-two and you were dying to sink your claws into him. Soft and athletic, inky black waves, a bashful smile and a voice that the heavens surely blessed him with. His presence was more distracting than conducive for your precious six-figure education, your thighs clenching together every Tuesday and Thursday that he took his place at the professor’s podium.

But you weren't the only one. Nearly everyone in the class was crushing on him, eyes batting as they asked elementary questions and giggles erupting at even his worst attempts at jokes. You felt like a dime a dozen lusting after him, gnawing your lower lip at the way his back muscles flexed when he turned to write something on the board. Get a grip, you’d think to yourself. You’re fighting for a slot on a list of many. 

So you amused yourself with your self-labeled delusion, daydreaming about him outside of class and showing up to his office hours to clear up even the smallest of questions about the week’s lectures. He was careful with every word, taking his time to cultivate thorough responses to any and all questions you thought up for him, even ones that stemmed outside of the class's margins. 

You still remember the first time you saw him, your jaw nearly dropping to the floor as he entered the lecture hall like any other student. Except he headed straight for the front of the room, placing his bag down at a table near the podium where the staff chaperone was setting up. He picked up the small expo marker that sat on the table, taking off the cap to write wonbin on the white board in messy penmanship before he followed it up with a squiggly smiley face. You knew who he was, his name notorious in the music wing of your school considering what he’d accomplished at such a young age. His looks definitely didn’t hurt, either.

He smiled at you, sitting in the second row waiting for class to start. Most people opted to sit as far back as possible, in the seats that were easier to slip out of the classroom unnoticed. But you sat proudly in the second row, alongside a few other eager students who’d heard good things about the class. His smile felt so personal, the glint of his teeth nearly causing heart palpitations as you smiled back. He didn’t know your name just yet, and suddenly that was your life’s mission; to make this man say your name.

It almost made you think he was giving you special attention with the way he paid close attention to you, his eyes lighting up whenever you came around the coffee shop steps with your notes in tow. He’d even stay past six o’clock if there were too many people before you who needed help, always offering to buy you a cup of coffee or a pastry after having waited for so long. He was so attentive, leaning into your space to look over the notes you took and making sure you were following along correctly. It was hard not to drool over him, especially when you were two of the last people left on the second floor, looking like a couple to the onlooking world. 

“I’m serious! I think I’m gonna ask him out.”

Winter rolled her eyes, closing the magazine that she was never really reading in the first place. "So, what? You'll fuck his brains out in his office and then walk into class like nothing happened?"

"Actually, he doesn't have an office." The thought made you blush, sneaking around with Wonbin while your classmates and professors were none the wiser. The taboo was too hot for you to let go of.

Another roll of her eyes, this time meant for you to see. "___, get a grip. You're just slobbering all over him because he's famous. At the end of the semester, you'll go back to eyeing that one saxophonist."

Winter was numb to the novelty surrounding celebrity and the likes of it. She was a not so struggling artist whose parents funded her entire lifestyle, and it had been that way her whole life. She'd had her fair share of moments in Page Six, and the lavish New York socialite life had grown old for her. Her friends were still in the scene, but she had long since retired. Winter's idea of a fun Friday night these days included watching The White Lotus while experimenting with cookie recipes (with hopes of making it into the NYT Christmas Cookie lineup, of course).

You didn’t tell any of your college friends, though. Sure, the whole university knew that he was guest-teaching a music-related course and that he was unbelievably attractive, but you never mentioned to your friends that you felt something between the two of you. As much as you trusted your small circle of friends, you knew that student-teacher relationships were absolutely prohibited, no exceptions. Knowing this did nothing to quell the insatiable thirst you had for him, or the flutter of your heart every time he locked eyes with you. You were willing to throw caution to the wind for him, knowing you officially had it bad for him the moment you started doodling his name in your notebook. It got to the point where you were ready to make your move, ready to invite him to an apartment party one of your friends was throwing. 

It was a Thursday evening, another night of attending his office hours despite your ninety-five percent in the class. You were the last student left in the final minutes of his office hours, just the two of you at the moderately sized table of the café. Your hands were mere centimeters from touching where they were laid out on the table, his warmth radiating onto you as he penciled in some helpful reminders in the margins of your notes. Just as you parted your lips to speak, he interjected. “I think it would be best if you stopped coming to office hours.”

That was not what you were expecting him to say. “Oh, um. Alright. Can I ask why?”

“You’ve clearly got an amazing grip on the material, and if anything you’re wasting your time showing up so frequently. It would be better if I had the full two hours for the students who are really struggling.” He refused to look you directly in the eyes as he spoke, opting to stare at your notes instead.

“Oh. Okay.” You gathered up all of your notes and pencils as quickly as you could, shoving them into your backpack without caring if the edges curled. The chair skidded back as you stood from it, not bothering with a goodbye as you saw yourself out. It was humiliating, almost, for him to have given you such a backhanded compliment. You started ruffling through your attendance record in the class and decided that you could afford to miss Tuesday, too embarrassed to be seen by him so soon after.

You really dodged a bullet there, then. Just seconds away from making a move on him when he told you that you should stop showing up to the only semi-private time you had together. It made you feel more delusional than ever before, allowing yourself to think he might actually feel something for you, too. You ignored the tears of frustration teasing the corners of your eyes, running off to the subway station that would deliver you back to your lousy campus housing safely.

What you didn’t see, however, was Wonbin nervously pulling at the ends of his hair. He was always such a bad liar but he knew he needed to put on the performance of a lifetime in order to get you to leave him alone. Considering it was quite the opposite of what he wanted you to do. There was something so intoxicating about you, your voice, your lips, your scent, that had him thoroughly fucked for you. Legally, he didn’t feel bad about it. But the professor he was working under, as well as the university, had already told him that under no circumstances was he to have dalliances with any of the students. So there he was, stuck thinking about you and not being able to do anything about it.

He had everything under control, at first. A few stolen glances during class but nothing to raise suspicion, just long enough for it to seem casual. Then it was finding you on social media, careful not to like any posts or to actually follow you, which made him feel like he was in full creeper mode. That was where he decided to draw the line until you started showing up to his office hours consistently, just as gorgeous as ever as you plopped down next to him in full concentration. He let himself indulge for a while, showering you with just a bit of special treatment until he realized he was crossing into dangerous territory. So he drew the line without a second thought.

You felt like you were back in high school, throwing a fit over being rejected by your longtime crush. All he’d done was politely ask you not to attend office hours anymore, but it felt like he’d told you off. You tried to convince yourself that it was because of your education, that you didn’t appreciate him taking away a resource that was proving itself helpful for you. But the real reason, the one you didn’t want to admit, was that you knew he felt it too. The storybook surge of electricity when his shoulder brushed yours and the way he never offered to get any of the other students coffee and pastries. The way he’d sometimes call you by a nickname when you were together or the way he spoke so highly of you in your exam notes. It was more than a one-sided schoolgirl crush and he was denying it just the same as you, and you couldn’t ignore how much it stung.

Saturday night was your chance to forget all about it. A friend of Winter's had convinced her to open up her ridiculously large penthouse for a laidback party, and she reluctantly agreed. You went to the party having skipped Wonbin’s office hours the evening before, successfully resisting the urge to 'drop by' the coffee shop casually; that would've been worse than just going to office hours. You were ready to let loose, your body a bit tense after the marathon overthinking session you had when Wonbin all but rejected you. All done up in one of your favorite ‘going out’ getups, you set yourself at a three drink maximum before starting the trek there.

You arrived considerably late, the party in full swing by the time you stepped off the elevator and onto the floor. There were so many people, sweaty bodies and intoxicated breaths, so much so that you almost missed him. He was leaning up against one of the kitchen countertops, nursing a drink of his own as he chatted with your friends. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the sight, almost annoyed that you ran in the same circles. But you pushed it aside to go talk to them, knowing they’d have a drink in your hand faster than you could make one. “___! You made it!” Wonbin’s eyes shot up to you making your way over to them, a raspy ‘fuck’ making its way off of his tongue. He suddenly felt trapped, nowhere to run as his student joined his little conversation circle. “Have you met Wonbin?”

“Yeah, we know each other. From around.” You avoided his gaze at all costs. “I need a drink.”

Wonbin quirked an eyebrow at you, “You drink?”

“Yeah, is that a problem?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight to the other foot as he avoided eye contact with you. “I just, you know… Are you old enough for that?”

“Ew, don’t be gross. I’m a uni student, I’m not in daycare. I’m twenty-one, promise.”

You were baiting him, and he knew it. Your anger was directed at him and only him, your bubbly demeanor intact for your friends as you caught each other up on the last month or so of your lives. You had no intention of making this night, or his life, easy. You knocked back the drink your friend Sohee gave you easily, sending Wonbin a sarcastic wink as he stared at you.

Even though your mind was begging you to run, you refused to let him ruin your night. They were your friends, too, and things were only awkward because he made them so. You stood your ground, pretending like he wasn’t even there as the conversation ebbed and flowed naturally, the party music seeming to follow suit. Everything was fine until someone who’d had too many came barreling into the kitchen, spilling their sticky spiked punch all over your legs. You let out a curse as it spilled into your shoes, the sensation far too uncomfortable to ignore.

“Here, go clean up in my bathroom.” Winter handed you the key, sending you off with a gentle shove in the direction of her bedroom.

You didn’t bother locking the door back behind you, knowing you’d be in and out before anyone could miss you. You took the time to freshen yourself up as well, poking around in Winter’s cabinets to see if she had anything exciting or ridiculously expensive. Perfumes, hand creams, serums. Sometimes you forget how rich New Yorkers could be. You turned the light off in the bathroom, turning to leave when you nearly jumped out of your skin at the pair of eyes watching you. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“You didn’t lock the door back.”

Wonbin crossed further into the room, hands in his pockets as he watched you. Even when you were irritated with him, his charm was able to cut through your faux harsh exterior. “I'm sorry, is this allowed? Or does this count as office hours, too? Should I see myself out so that other partygoers can take advantage of your precious time?”

“___, stop. I was just trying to make a decision based on what I thought was best.”

You scoffed at that, trying to ignore just how close he’d gotten to you. “Yeah, right. There’s only like five people who bother showing up anymore, so I don’t know why me showing up is such a big deal? Like you must think awfully highly of yourself if you th—”

He cut you off with a swift kiss, lips finding yours in the pale lighting of the bedroom as you froze. Time seemed to slow; just barely noticeable, but you could feel it. Like one minute felt like two with his hands cupping your cheeks and his hips pressed against yours. You relaxed into his touch, daring to kiss back as the party outside seemed to disappear. All your senses could focus on was him and the way he seemed to consume you.

He walked you backwards, stopping as you stumbled into a wall. The once innocent kiss grew in desperation, your hands everywhere at once as your  tongues clashed over and over again. It could’ve easily been a dream with how much you’d both had to drink, the taste of tequila fresh on his lips as you begged for more. Your leg hooked around his waist to draw him closer, a gasp slipping from your lips as you felt how hard he was through his jeans. And then he just stopped.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that.” He was breathless, his words not matching his desire as he slowly backed away from you. “This is exactly what I was trying so hard to avoid. I'm your superior, ___, I'd get fired for this.”

Your mind was blank, not a single thought worthy of being voiced in response to him. You knew it was wrong, knew his position could be terminated, but you didn’t care. Not when his touch was so addictive and your name sounded so sweet on his lips.

“This… this never happened, okay? And it can never happen again.”

He stalked off to rejoin the party, leaving you breathless and unsure of if any of that was real. The only evidence was the faint waft of his cologne that stayed behind, taunting you with the memory of his kiss. His soft, heated, spine-tingling kiss that had your head spinning from the feeling of it. Your lips were puffy from it, fingers reaching up to touch them delicately as if you could scare away the feeling somehow. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by him coming back in, locking the door behind him as you fixed your hunched over posture. “Fuck it, fuck this job, I don’t need to be a guest lecturer.” His hands found your hips as he pulled you in once again, kissing you with much different intent behind it. “This is all I've been able to think about this semester.”

You let out a whimper, clawing at his shirt as his teeth pulled at your lower lip. His hands smoothed their way up your body, cupping your breasts through the material of your shirt as you moaned into his mouth. This felt real, no doubt in your mind as you melted like putty in his hands. “Do something.”

His lips migrated to your ear, licking along the shell of it as your head tipped back. “Do you want my fingers?” You nodded sheepishly, cheeks flooding with heat in a sudden wave of shyness. “Then spread your legs for me, baby.” Your body obeyed him without question, legs spreading for him to slip his hand between. He could feel how wet you were through the pants you were wearing, your underwear no match for the arousal he was responsible for. Your fingers fumbled with the button of them, popping it open and dragging the zipper down.

You knew this was a bad idea. Whether you cared or not, having his hand slip past your panties was wrong on so many levels, no matter how good it felt. His reputation and your academic career were on the line, but you couldn’t will yourself to stop him. Not when your body was yearning for more, thighs clenching at the circles he was rubbing against your clit. Not with his lips scaling your neck with kisses that only made your knees weaker than they already were.

Your resolve finally melted when he slipped a finger into your warm heat, the stretch easily out-rivaling anything your own fingers provided. The relief sent you into a spiral of high pitched sighs and moans as he added another, curling them near perfectly against your g-spot.

“Sound so pretty for me, baby. Wanna put your moans in a song.” The thought alone made your stomach twist, visions of riding him in his studio while he held his microphone up to your lips. He could see the shift in your expression at the suggestion, teeth practically destroying your lower lip. “Is that what you want, baby? Wanna be my muse?”

All you could do was nod as the heel of his palm pressed against your clit, your orgasm crashing over you much sooner than you expected. He kissed you through the waves of pleasure, swallowing the pleas of his name and the whimpers from the slight overstimulation of your clit. The cherry on top, though, was when he licked his fingers clean of your arousal without once breaking eye contact. It made you shudder.

Neither one of you knew where to go from that moment on, the heat of it all long gone as you faced reality head on. You zipped your pants back up to break the silence, fluffing your hands through your hair to alleviate any signs of sexual activity before rejoining the party. Not a word to Wonbin before going back like nothing happened, even though the uncomfortable dampness of your panties said otherwise. 

unsaved number, 3:25am

↳ it’s Wonbin, i got your number from sohee. we should meet soon

you, 9:08am

↳ yeah? where?

wonbin, 9:09am

↳ 150 east 14th st, @ 11

you, 9:12am

↳ smh making me get my day started on a sunday morning

His apartment was as well kept as him, minimalistic in all its glory but decorated with his achievements wherever he saw fit. Awards, records, framed lyrics, any and everything he felt deeply proud of. You knew that you shouldn’t be there, no matter what occurred the night before. Wonbin was irresistible, and giving into his invitation was practically asking for trouble.

“I got coffee and bagels, if you’re hungry.”

Not just any coffee, though. Coffee from Gregory's. Of course he’d do something like this, you thought. He's trying to prey on my sentimentality to get me in bed. Kinda smart. “Why am I here, Wonbin?”

“Well as of three o’clock this morning, I’m no longer your teacher.”

You nearly choked on nothing as he smiled at you, pulling up the email correspondence from the Dean. “I'm sorry, what?”

“I never needed that teaching job, anyway. I took it because it felt good helping students, but it was getting to be too much, cutting into my own work time. And then when we crossed that line last night… I knew quitting was just the right thing to do.” He walked gingerly toward you, assessing your reaction carefully as he closed the gap between you.

You looked at him incredulously, brows furrowed as if he’d grown a second head. “Y-you’re not my teacher anymore?”

“I'm not your teacher anymore.” He backed you up against the wall of his foyer, the position eerily similar to where you were mere hours before. Heat rose to your face as he gazed at you, his smirk painfully malicious as his hand cupped your jaw. “Lemme take you out on a proper date. Dinner… the Angelika… dessert.”

Your gulp seemed to echo the walls of his apartment, giving up any and all fronts you were trying to put up. You could feel his lips hovering over yours more than you could see them, the soft hum that reverberated as he asked you if you’d like that. “I'm… not sure we’ll make it to dessert.”

“I thought I taught you last night to always leave room for dessert.” He popped open the first button of your blouse, getting a peak at the lavender bra beneath it. You’d dressed up for him, knowing very well where things could lead and not wanting him to see you in your far less alluring Sunday attire. Your breath hitched at his touch, your mind shouting for you to just wait for the date before crossing any more lines. But there he was, just as sexy as ever, sliding the sleeves of your top down your arms with his forehead pressed against yours. Youd didn’t stand a chance.

Your back was hitting his mattress before you could gather the strength to hold off, more of your clothes in a tangled web on his floor than on your actual bodies. Your skin was saccharine, a sweetener he’d been searching for ever since he could identify its name and he couldn’t get enough of it. Marks of his lips were blooming on every inch he could reach, your body signed with his name in a way you never knew you needed. His name rolled off your tongue like it was the only word you knew, the two syllables your new favorite combination in the entire world.

His hands guided your slip skirt down your legs, discarding it carefully with the rest of your clothes as you tugged impatiently at his boxers. He was hard, dangerously so, and it was killing you not to see him in all of his naked glory. “Canisuckyouoff?” You didn’t even think about it, the words flying out of your mouth before you could even try to stop them.

“Seriously?” You were already flipping the two of you over, inching your way down his legs until your face was leveled with his hips.

“Yes, please. I wanna make you feel good.”

Nothing could’ve prepared you properly for his length springing out of his black balenciaga underwear. It would’ve been a shame if he wasn’t as well-endowed as you wanted, but you were mature enough to know that it wasn’t all about size. Wonbin, however, was all about size. He was probably just barely above average in length but he was thick with veins in all the right places that had you close to drooling all over him.

You licked at his tip in a graze, not enough to satisfy him but enough to get him squirming. Small, agonizing licks here and there that had him fisting at his hair in sheer frustration. You pitied him with a bold lick up the underside, but went right back to the teasing that had him close to tears. “___, fuck, I can’t take anymore of this. I thought you said you wanted to make me feel good.”

“I will, baby, you just have to be patient.”

He whined out, not sure how the rest of the afternoon was going to play out if you kept teasing him so mercilessly. He was just about to beg again for you to touch him when your lips wrapped around his tip, his back arching involuntarily and sending him further into your mouth. A guttural groan accompanied the pleasure pumping through his veins as you bobbed her head along his cock, swirling your tongue around him every so often. You had a primal need for more of him, more of the way he tasted and the precum that was oozing out of him. More of the way his groans switched to melodious moans as his climax neared him, more of the way his face was contorted in pleasure as your hands rubbed at his thighs. 

His orgasm was building up in the pit of his stomach, the twine of tension pulling further and further until he was sure it was going to snap. Your mouth abandoning his cock in favor of his balls almost did the trick, your hand wrapping around him to jerk as you sucked one at a time. He pulled you off of him reluctantly, wanting so desperately to cum in your mouth but knowing he’d regret passing up the opportunity to fuck you. “I have condoms in the drawer.” His breath was ragged as he pointed the drawer out to you, his hair sticking to his forehead as his body heat was skyrocketing. You handed one to him before shuffling back to the bed, letting him climb over you clumsily with his arms supporting his weight.

He tapped his tip against your clit, running it between your folds as you bucked your hips toward his. “That's not fair.”

He slipped inside of you, barely an inch before pulling back out. He repeated the movement over and over until you were gripping at his hips in an attempt to force more out of him. “Isn’t it, though? You had your fun…” You were so wet that it was making it hard for him to keep up, your soaked walls pulling him in with every shallow thrust. “Have you learned your lesson yet, baby?”

You nodded your head furiously, feeling almost embarrassed by how much you needed him. He refused to give up so easily, though, continuing his perfectly angled thrusts that grazed your g-spot just enough to make your hips buck. "Wonbin, please."

His first full thrust had you clenching around him so tightly that he almost came on the spot, the warmth of you wrapped around him so overwhelming that he had to screw his eyes shut. Your eyes fluttered in satisfaction as he filled you to the brim, the stretch burning deliciously. All you could think about was the next time, and the time after that, and how he could stretch you out whenever he wanted to now. He was yours now.

His lips wrapped around your nipple as he slowly dragged himself in and out of you, savoring how tightly you were squeezing him. It was all the anticipation finally materializing into something he couldn’t get enough of. Your moans, your faces of pleasure, your scent, your taste. He wanted as much of it as you’d let him have, for however long you’d let him have it. "Is this what you were thinking of while I was trying to teach you? Hm? Thought about me stuffing you full of my cock?"

The only noise you could manage was a raspy moan, mind completely numbed by the sensation of his skin pressed against yours. You could feel your lips move, saying something along the lines of wanteditsobadbinnie, but the feeling of his nose dragging up the side of your neck distracted you.

Your bodies seemed to mold together as he picked up speed, drilling into you relentlessly as your nails dug into his hips, asking for more. The slap of your skin against each other was his kryptonite as he wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to hear it again and again until it played in his mind on a loop. He could feel the knot in his stomach warning him to slow down, to relish in the feeling a bit longer, but he didn’t care. Not when your lips were pressed right to his ear begging him not to stop. “Are you gonna cum for me?”

He tried to respond with a ‘yes’, but the absentminded clench of your walls sent him over the edge in a flash. He emptied himself into the condom, trying his hardest to focus all of his efforts on pushing you towards your own orgasm. His fingers found your clit between your sweaty bodies, the rough pad of his thumb orbiting your clit until you joined him in your own throes of euphoria. Your nails clawed down the expanse of his back as your vision blurred, ecstasy replacing every cell in your body as he kissed along your jaw.

The room smelled of sex and the remnants of his body wash, both of you fighting for air as you wrapped yourselves in his sheets. Your fingertips danced across his chest as he watched you wordlessly, face flushed with the evidence of your Sunday afternoon in. “What are you thinking about?” He caught your hand in his, eyes still trained on your face.

“Honestly? Trying to remember if there are any hidden corners in the Angelika where we can have sex.” You looked up at him as he laughed, a smile of your own creeping onto your lips. “What? Too honest?”

“You’re kinda perfect, you know that?”

His lips pressed chastely against your temple. “Yeah, actually, I do.”

[balletfilmss]

COULD YOU MAKE IT ANY MORE OBVIOUS?

✸ pairing: rockstar!percy jackson x ballerina! reader

✸ synopsis: you and percy jackson are absolutely, totally, by no means dating … as far as the public knows

✸ warnings: none!

✸ notes: THIS WAS THE CUTEST IDEA EVER, I LOVE IT SM!!! i’m down to do more parts if anyone wants… 👀 requested! also, pls understand the reference in the title 🙏

exhausting was the only word for it, your life. and as of lately, there was so much going on that you could barely see straight.

your ballet company had always had long hours, but now that the performance that you were not only in, but the star of, was quickly approaching, it was chaos in sparkles and pointe shoes.

wake up, rehearse, workout, rehearse, meetings, rehearse, costume fittings, rehearse, sleep, repeat.

you had just finished up with your final rehearsal for the night when your manager called you into an impromptu meeting and shoved a screen in your face.

eyes blurry from lack of sleep, it had taken a moment for you to see the image clearly, but when you did, your heart dropped all the way down to your sore feet.

a screenshot from a news article in some random pop culture tabloid with your name plastered across the caption along with another you knew: percy jackson.

international rockstar and lead singer of the sensational boy band, greek symphony, percy jackson was all the talk in gossip magazines and blogs, a modern-day heartthrobs for girls to go crazy over.

he was a troublemaker at best, holding the worst record yet best reputation among his band mates. he was dangerous, mischievous, and so undeniably hot. and therefore, so totally off limits.

in the world of shoebiz, the two of you fell on opposite sides of the spectrum. you were a peaceful black swan, whereas he was the thunderous wave that disturbed your peaceful gliding across the water’s surface, sending your world into a frenzy by a mere touch.

but as off limits and unlikely of an idea as he was, he also happened to be confined to the same home city as you in new york. could they really blame you if you said things just … happened?

“what is this?” you asked, looking dead at a photo that you knew was definitely you.

apparently, you and your clandestine lover hadn’t been as careful as you usually were and a photo had been captured by a rouge paparazzi.

luckily, it was dark and showed none of your face and about half of his side profile, and therefore, easy to play off as a mistake.

“according to the article, it’s you scurrying about with the rockstar percy jackson,” your manager told you, a sour look on her face.

“percy jackson? are you kidding me?” you gasped, lips twisted in a disgusted frown. “i’ve never even met that guy, much less been scurrying around the city with him!”

two lies in one sentence, you were on a roll.

“well, according to just about every celebrity news outlet right now, you’re his latest victim,” said the head of your pr team, piper. “and this picture is their proof.”

“that’s not me!” you argued. it was you.

you could pinpoint exactly when and where that photo was taken, actually. it had been last week, when you and percy had to sneak out the back of his apartment to avoid his bandmate, leo valdez, seeing you all piled up in percy’s arms while watching pride and prejudice.

apparently, paparazzis liked lurking around the backend of apartment complexes.

“yn.” said piper, giving you a pointed look. “are you sure?”

“i think i know what i look like, pipes,” you scoffed. “he may be running around with some girl, but it’s not me. please, make sure everybody knows that.”

at your words, your team got started on damage control, while you snatched up your things and headed home to your apartment, right where the very boy you’d just convinced everyone that you had never met was waiting for you.

you dropped your dance bag to the floor the second the door to your home closed, exhaling a deep breath as the anxieties and physical abuse of the day hit you all at once.

as you leaned against the closed door and blew a tuft of hair from your eyes, the familiar face of your boyfriend rounded the corner.

“there she is!” he grinned, wielding a spatula as he threw his arms out dramatically. “dinner’s almost ready. how’s my favorite girl?”

“exhausted,” you sighed with a smile. “sorry for being so late, something came up.”

“ah, don’t worry about it,” he told you. “i put the spare key back, by the way.”

you already knew that, of course. he put it back where it belonged every time he used it, but never failed to let you know.

six months you’d been doing this— sneaking around behind the backs of your friends and the media, falling further in love with someone you weren’t even supposed to be acquainted with inside the private four walls of each of your apartments and secret meeting spots.

you followed him into your little quaint kitchen, where he went to flipping a final pancake on the stovetop.

“looks good, honey,” you smiled tiredly. “but—“

“oh no, no buts,” he whined.

“but,” you insisted. “we have an issue. someone snagged a picture of us last week and today it was published. my team’s already working on getting it down, but it’s done some damage.”

you pulled out your phone and showed him a picture of the article as he turned the heat off on the stove. he took a moment to squint and it and evaluate before saying,

“okay, that’s not as bad as i expected. jase called about an hour ago and told me all about it, but he said he denied that it was me to mr. d.”

thank the heavens above for jason grace (the bassist in percy’s band and member who had a better head on his shoulders than the other three of them combined).

“i dunno perce, it’s a pretty good shot of you,” you told him.

“i think all shots of me are pretty good ones, if i do say so myself.” he smirked, closing the already small gap between the two of you as he leaned a hand against the counter on either side of you, trapping you in.

“i bet you do, rockstar,” you replied, looking up at him through tired lids and half-smudged mascara. “I remember it being a pretty good view, personally. except for leo screaming his head off inside.”

percy chuckled, his breath fanning across your cheek. “the price we pay for privacy.”

“apparently not private enough,” you sighed, the headline of the article seared into your mind. gosh, you could already see yourself getting dragged on twitter. “oh, what’re we gonna do if people do find us out?”

percy could see the creases between your brows and the doubt swimming through your irises, a light, almost unnoticeable path of lilac underneath your eyes. you were worried and tired, and he couldn’t be having any of that.

“i don’t think it’d be so bad,” he shrugged, his hands closing in to rest on your hips. “i mean, i know both our bosses would be out for blood, but it’d be worth it for people to know i have you.”

“you want people to know you have me?” you asked, a small, trace of a smile creeping up on the corners of your lips.

“do i want people to know i have a beautiful, smart, sweetheart ballerina for a girlfriend? hell yeah, i do.” he answered. “eventually, y’know.”

your smile appeared now, reaching up to your eyes and hiding away the tiredness in them. percy loved that smile.

“how soon do you think eventually is?” you asked, draping your arms over his shoulders as his face leaned closer to yours.

“as soon as you want it to be, pretty girl,” he answered. he then leaned all the way in, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that melted away all the tension in your muscles as he pulled you in close.

when he leaned away, you chased his lips and landed another peck to the corner of his mouth and then another to his nose, just for good measure.

“now,” he smiled. “let’s forget about the stupid public for a little while and eat, yeah?”

[ladyempty]

"From fire and blood we were born. United we will burn"

° | !English is not my first language! | ° | pairing: Yan!Rhaenyra x Targ!Reader ° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life.

For Rhaenyra, being attached to you since birth was normal. You were born together, with Rhaenyra clinging tightly to your heel with no intention of breaking free or parting.

It was just his birthright above any title or throne. It was the other half of her soul, a life that had blossomed with her in her mother's womb and was destined to stay that way.

Together. united for an eternity that would extend beyond life and death.

This was how things should be, and she cared little about the laws of men or the condemnation of the seven. Dragon blood flowed through his veins. Proof of your rights.

In the early years, the princess' behavior was not seen with suspicious or malicious looks, she was just a sister wanting her company. What was wrong?

Even though it raised eyebrows every time the young princess became excessively irritated when you mentioned other ladies or had the opportunity to discuss matters deeper with them. Why did you need others? Rhaenyra was there, blood of her blood, with an infinite desire to listen to you.

King Viserys reassured the worried with soft, relaxed smiles and negligent behavior. He was blind to the situation unfolding in front of him.

Rhaenyra has always been obstinate and somewhat petty, her worst personality traits always came to the surface when the subject was related to you. Has another lady looked at you excessively? Rhaenyra would spare no bitter words or the cruelest lies her mind could come up with.

The princess also had no qualms or shame about skipping boring classes with the Septas or taking you out of your classes with the Miestres just to fly with you through the skies with her dragons or steal lemon cakes from the kitchen.

But when you want to teach her something or read some old book that has suddenly become very interesting, she never protests.

Sharing your attention, even with your parents, is out of the question. She's the only person you need to worry about.

And don't doubt your ability to be manipulative or play mind games. She will definitely cry and pout if you try to reprimand her behavior in any way.

How could you do this to your younger sister? She just cares so much about you!

Her behavior only gets worse as she enters adolescence • The hormones and feelings that arise, controlling your thoughts and actions.

She will certainly overhear and have conversations about courtship and knights in shining armor with other court ladies. Even though Rhaenyra found them all boring and annoyingly silly, the conversations about the other boys were interesting. • Every time one of the girls told, between laughs, something new she had done with a gentleman, Rhaenyra couldn't stop letting her thoughts wander. • What if it was her and you? • If it were her and you secretly exchanging kisses in the empty, forgotten corners of the fortress? • The feeling of tingling and restlessness in the belly. A heat that quickly rose through your body until your cheeks were red. • She knew these thoughts were not correct or appropriate. She knew of the Septas' countless boring monologues about purity, women's duty, etc.

The kind of thing she had never paid attention to before. But she found herself being terrorized and reflecting more and more in recent days.

The thoughts that haunted his dreams at dusk became more constant. With only the moon as a witness to his restlessness and confusion. • She just knew she needed you. She needed something that even she didn't know what it was. But it was running through his veins on instinct. • The girl suddenly became more demanding with your attention focused solely on her. She felt bitter and betrayed by any mere exchange of glances between you and any other woman or man. Lady or not. Lord or servant.

The Gods granted her such beautiful eyes for the sole purpose of looking at her alone. • She felt possessive and angry. With a growing pain, deadly and bitter, as fierce as if you were hers and had been unfaithful.

And when she heard whispers about the possibility of a marriage being arranged for you, She knew she couldn't keep her feelings quiet any longer.

No. She wouldn't sit by and watch you belong to someone less deserving.

I couldn't bear to see your other half give himself to someone other than her.

You were born to burn with her. And it was time for others to know this.

[laurenairay]

so tell me to leave - W. Nylander

Summary: once is an accident, twice is coincidence, and three times is a pattern. You really needed to stop falling into bed with your ex-boyfriend William.

Happy (early) birthday @cellythefloshie – here is my entry for your birthday bingo celebrations! I managed to hit bingo too, with: one night stand, pining, quickie, ex’s to lovers, autumn birthday. I had a lot of fun writing this one, so I hope you enjoy it!

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: implied smut (off screen), poor communication, William being a flirt, William being an idiot.

Title from July, by Noah Cyrus

~

“This was a mistake.”

“Good morning to you too, käraste.”

You huffed, moving his arm away from your waist so you could get out of his bed. It took all of your strength not to roll your eyes as you saw blatantly check out your bare body.

“I’m serious, William. This can’t happen again,” you said firmly, shimmying back into your dress from last night, eyes desperately searching for your panties.

Three times would be a pattern, after all.

“Ouch, full name before coffee,” he groaned, “Just come back to bed, it’s so early.”

“Not going to happen,” you shot back, giving up on the lost panties in lieu of getting out of his apartment as quickly as possible.

You had other underwear at home – the sacrifice of one black lacy pair wasn’t the end of the world. Even if they were his your favourite. The longer you stayed here, the likelier you were to crack. You knew it. William knew it. It was a downside of having dated him for three years – he knew you far too well. Three months as exes was hardly going to change that all that quickly.

“I missed you this summer,” he murmured, propping his head up with a hand, bicep unfairly bulging.

“You looked like you were having plenty of fun in the UK, I doubt you missed me,” you snorted, picking your phone up from the floor.

The moment those words left your lips, you knew it was a mistake with how his face lit up in delight.

“And there I thought you’d deleted me from your social media,” he grinned.

Ass.

“I have,” you said dryly, “But I still follow your brother.”

His grin dimmed slightly, but he just shook his head.” You always did like Alex more than me.”

You just rolled your eyes. It wasn’t difficult to like his brother more than him right now – Alex wasn’t the one who’d left you in pieces.

“I have things to do, people to see. Or is it things to see, people to do? I always get that mixed up,” you said simply, eyes wide and innocent.

William just snorted. “You’re breaking my heart over here.”

“You broke mine first.”

He inhaled sharply, his composure visibly cracking, before a smooth grin slid over his lips. “I’ll see you soon, käraste.”

You hated how the words made your heart flutter.

~

From: DO NOT ANSWER I believe these are yours? [image]

Your jaw dropped at the message your received three days after the night you’d sworn to forget. The lost black lace panties. He’d had them all this time?

To: DO NOT ANSWER You thief. Why did you keep those?

Your eyes darted over to your coworkers, exiting out of the message thread with William while you waited for a response. The last thing you wanted was for them to see your waylaid underwear on your screen.

From: DO NOT ANSWER I didn’t keep them on purpose. Don’t you remember I shoved them in the back pocket of my jeans when I dropped to my knees by the front door? I definitely remember.

Your cheeks flushed with heat. Of course you remembered his hungry gaze looking up at you and the way he muscled his shoulders in between your thighs. How could you possibly forget that?

To: DO NOT ANSWER You are the worst. I want those back.

His quick response left you breathless.

From: DO NOT ANSWER You want them? Come and get them.

~

“You know, when I said come and get them, I didn’t necessarily mean straight after you finished work. That’s got to be a record for how fast I’ve gotten you from my front door to screaming my name,” William mused.

He just had to ruin the moment.

You lifted your head from the pillow, glaring down at him and squirming as he dug his chin into your belly button, your bare thighs framing his face like the artwork it was.

“And have you keep them like a weird trophy? No thank you,” you shot back, ignoring the jibe about the lightning-fast speed of your rendezvous.

He just cackled, smacking a kiss to your bare hip before rolling out of your hold. You shivered at the lack of body warmth, trying to keep your cool as he crawled up beside you to thump himself down on the pillow next to yours.

“I know you miss me, käraste.”

Something about the way he looked into your eyes, skin all flushed from your recent activities and a small smile on his lips – well, it left you feeling vulnerable.

“William,” was all you could murmur.

“I miss you,” he said firmly, “I miss you so much and I’m pretty sure my whole family is sick of me talking about you.”

He talked about you to his family still?

He missed you?

“You’re the one who broke up with me, remember?” you said shakily, pulling the sheets up to cover your chest.

“And I regret it every day. I was an idiot,” he said softly.

“You can’t just say these things! It isn’t fair!” you groaned, sitting upright.

William sat up next to you, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I know okay, I know. But I’m holding onto hope that you still miss me too! This is the third time we’ve fallen into bed together since we broke up. The first, when you came to pick up your belongings before I left for summer – once is an accident. But the second time three days ago? Twice is coincidence. Three times now…well, it’s a pattern. Three times when I didn’t deserve it, you still graced my bed with your presence. So I’m sorry if I’m not making things fair right now, but this is hard on me too.”

He was pining. William Nylander was pining.

Tears stung at your eyes and you turned your head away from him, but he placed a hand on your thigh over the bedsheet, staying silent. As much as your hated to a admit it, he had a point. Three times was a pattern. But was it a pattern you needed to break, after the way he treated you?

“You tossed me aside like old trash, William. You broke up with me out of nowhere, when all I’ve ever done is love you, and support you, and care for you. All because I dared to smile when Steph and Mitch joked that I’d be the one walking down the aisle next. A joke. A simple joke, because we’d been together for three years and they could see how much I loved you. But that wasn’t enough for you, or it scared you, or whatever the hell it did to make you break my heart and run away,” you said angrily, tears making your voice watery.

William’s hand tightened on your thigh briefly before it slid away, and you finally looked back at him to see tears in his own eyes.

“You’re right. I panicked. I messed up the best relationship I’ve ever had because before you I’d never thought about marriage, not seriously. And then they brought it up and it was all I could think about and I spiralled and I panicked. I’m sorry, käraste. I’ll never be able to make up for how sorry I am.”

Your lips parted in surprise at the raw emotion in his words, speechless for once. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and he took a shaky breath before smiling sadly.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you, and I’m sorry for breaking your heart, and I’m sorry that my insecurities and panic took control. I know that I don’t deserve your forgiveness, let alone even having you here right now, but I don’t know what I can do to convince you that I mean it. I love you. I love you and I miss you,” he murmured.

He loved you.

He loved you and he missed you.

Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks at the honesty in his words, every ounce of him genuine and soul-destroying. A whimper tore from your throat at the very thought of him still loving you, and it was all you could do to clutch at his shoulders as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in the gentlest of kisses, barely able to catch your breath as he rested his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” you managed to choke out.

William smiled sadly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before leaning backwards to look into your eyes properly.

“Is there any chance that you can forgive me, and give me a second chance? Even the slightest sliver of hope?” he asked, chewing his bottom lip.

“I don’t know if I could cope with that kind of heartbreak again,” you said hesitantly.

He let out a shaky breath but nodded. “I understand.”

If ever there was a time to trust your gut, now was it.

“It would take a lot for me to trust you again.”

His lips parted, a stunned expression seeping across his face.

“And we shouldn’t sleep together until I feel like you won’t break my heart again.”

“You mean…”

He trailed off, eyes wide as he ran his hand over his hair.

You winced. “If that’s a deal breaker then-”

“No no no you’ve given me hope, don’t stop now,” William grinned, making you huff out a laugh, “It’s your birthday next week right? Do you have any plans yet?”

“I don’t have any plans yet, no. Why?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

Where was he going with this?

“Let me take you out for dinner. There’s this great Thai place that’s just opened up. They use seasonal produce and I’ve heard their fall menu is incredible. There’s no-one I’d rather go with, other than you. So let me take you out for your birthday, please?”

“You want to take me out for my birthday?” you asked, surprised.

“I want to take you out on a date. It just so happens that I can spoil you for your birthday at the same time. I want to treat you just like you deserve, käraste, just as I should’ve always treated you. And you deserve the world.”

How could you say no to that?

“You only get one second chance,” you warned him, unable to stop the smile that spread over your lips.

“That’s all I need. I’m going to make this up to you, I promise,” he grinned.

[kaciebello]

Too many voicemails

Masterlist Delivery Express ✿ Summary: The reader sees an opportunity to run an untapped market in Hogwarts.  Howlers are the worst thing that can be delivered. Warnings: disturbance in the library, one (1) use of horny joke, no use of y/n Authors note: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. I want to spread this into a one-shot series. They took away my yellow colouring of the text ┬─┬ノ(ಠ_ಠノ). I will riot. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) • Previously: Wrong address, • Next part: Message cannot be sent word count: 1.1k

Notes to deliver: 679

A box with neatly placed envelopes slammed on the table making all the boys look up and then up to the familiar girl with a yellow bow in her hair. She received a few looks from the other kids in the library which she apologetically smiled at.

“What you got there?” Asked Lorenzo, leaning to see inside the box.

“Howlers.”

“Howlers?”

“Howlers.” A definitive nod from the girl. Leaning on the table over all the boys. They all look from their homework, waiting for her to continue but she does not.

“What are you doing with all of these?” Asks Draco, chewing on the end of his pencil. The girl just rolls her eyes.

“Delivering them, what else.” Her answer made Draco roll his eyes and pretends to return to his DADA homework. She just smiles. Lorenzo moves a bit so she can squeeze next to him.

“And you think bringing them to the library is a good idea?” Hissed Blasie, clearly not in the mood to get in trouble with the librarian. She just gives him a tight lip smile and titles her head to a side. 

“Where else?” She asks and puts her legs over Lorenzo's lap otherwise she risks falling from the bench. She just lifted her hand in stop motion before he could say anything else.

“I am just here to give Lorenzo Charms notes, I am not delivering anything to you,” She says and pulls out the said notes from her bag. Lorenzo's smile widens and grabs it from her. Theodor gives her a pointed look before trying to snatch the notes from Lorenzo, unsuccessfully. Lorenzo and the girl sway a bit but they manage to keep themself on the bench.

“Why does he get that privilege, hm?” He asks them. Pointing to the notes that are now lifted above Lorenzo's head. Draco tilted his head so he could read the visible portion before writing down whatever he could make out.

“ Because I like-” “ Because Lorenzo helps her with broom riding.” Cuts her off Mattheo, who was now going through the many howlers sitting in the box. Although seems like he hasn't found anything interesting. Draco looks at her with a raised eyebrow. ‘ you can't ride the boom?’ leaves him amused. To her, it seemed like he was mocking her for not being able to ride the broom like the rest of them. Completely ignoring, in her mind, that they are all quidditch players. She just huffs and crosses her arms.

“Hey, you know what? If they all went off, we could easily sneak into the restricted section.” Says Mattheo completely oblivious to what he just revealed. The girl gets up and stands next to him, inching the box away from him slowly.

“How about we don't.” She says, not trusting the boy to not do without thinking. “ plus I think like 15 of these are from one girl, all to one boy. I'm gonna be honest I don't think I wanna hear that.” She finishes and pats Mattheo on the back

“I'm here for you if you need oral support- moral support, I mean moral support.” Says Mattheo, pulling her to a side hug.

“Just say you're horny and go.” Tells him Blasie with a disgusted face. Theodor just shakes his head at his antics. Mattheo just shrugs and lets go of the girl, unbored by their reactions. Going back to his seat. A book flies past them and they barely have time to dodge it.

“I swear, it's gonna kill someone one day.” Says Lorenzo looking at the books flying by.

“Like you haven't summoned like 5 books for the 3 hours we were here.” Argues Draco. Lorenzo did not even bother to react, instead talking to the girl.

“ What do you think it's in them?” He says and reaches for one of the envelopes. Snatching it before the girl could stop him. Opening it, it slipped from his hand and started floating above the table. The group watched like hawks. 

The envelope stayed silent for some time, terrible singing after that. A horrible attempt at the song ‘I Will Always Love You’ had the boys scrambling to shut the envelope up. Matheo managed to lay down on it and silenced it. Some people were looking at them, some with curiosity, some with annoyance. If looks could kill, there would be an empty table at the library right now.

Mattheo pulls it out from beneath him, thinking it is over. Once the envelope is free, it starts to sing again. Panic among all of them. Lorenzo almost knocked over the box but the girl luckily caught it. Blaise, seeming the one who was holding their shared brain cell, pulled out his wanted and set the envelope on fire. Again receiving some looks. Even the librarian was making her way up to stairs to check the commotion.

They all watched it burn, sinking into their seat in relief, before quickly spewing the ashes away. The girl quickly sat and squished herself next to Lorenzo and pretended to help him with his homework. The other followed her lead so that the librarian would not suspect it was them. None of them wanted to be kicked out of the library.

After some time, the air seemed less stuffed and they all felt like they could breathe again. Without much more time, the girl gets up and hurriedly takes the box in her hands.

“I'll go before you guys decide to cause trouble again.” She says giving them a judging look.

“ Hey don't blame all of us! We didn't collectively open the howler!” Defends Theodor. and points accusing Lorenzo, who looked shocked and offended his friend was throwing him under the bus.

“Yeah, but you didn't try to stop him either, did you.” 

“ Neither did you!” Draco chimes in. She could not argue with that, she didn't try at all. Shaking her head. She adjusted the box on her hands, as it was a bit heavy. Maybe she could have charmed it to just float behind her and follow her. It would certainly make the delivery much easier.

“It's better none of you are near these, ever.” She says making sure to point at the group with her finger.

The girl picked up her box, ready to be on her way. Accio was heard from somewhere in the library and a book flew right next to her head, startling her. She jumped up and the box flew out of her hands. With horror they all watched as it landed on the floor, realizing all the howlers inside. They all turned on. 50 howlers, going on in the library at the same time. She watched in horror as all eyes were on them. The boys knew what to do. They packed their bags with unwitnessed speed and book it. Lorenzo grabs her hand, making sure she follows them.

And honestly, they were right, it was an excellent distraction, and none of them made their way to the restricted sections.

Notes to deliver: 629

Tag list:

@daisiesformylove , @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone , @enfppixie , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @anyam444 , @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet , @jazz-berry @iwishigotswallowed

[lucrativesoul]

Roadstop

summary: your car breaks down on a deserted road at midnight. you have no signal, it’s getting colder, and you are five miles away from help; you’re stranded. a stranger offers his help to you, and you find a way to pass the time.

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

word count: 7.8k

warnings: smut, oral (male recieving), bondage (very softcore), don’t trust strangers this much

a/n: i kind of hate this title and i also don’t love this one but I hope i made it work. going to immediately start one that i’m actually into. this one’s shorter than the last one, but they might all fall around the same word count from now on. again, i can’t stress how thankful i am for the love on ‘the assistant’ as well as my headcanon blurbs, 900+ notes on the fic and 300+ on the headcanons, you guys are too nice. i can’t wait to come back soon with the next fic! enjoy :3

You thought back for a brief second, clearing your head as best you could to gauge your current situation.

In the backseat of a tinted SUV, you were straddled over a thick set of thighs, that of which belonged to a man twice your build, who was bound at the wrists in front of him. The waistband of his jeans were dangerously low and his shirt was somewhere in the front seat. His breathing was shaky and he was looking at you with hooded eyelids, loving every moment of this situation.

What was the catalyst to this exact interaction? Let’s see…

–

Earlier

As badly as you wanted to scream, to cry, to blame everyone else but yourself, this was all on you, and you knew it. There were plenty of ways to avoid this situation.

Your car was toast. Literally. The steam was coming out in soft puffs, and you were thanking every deity up there that it was only steam and not smoke, because it was dead winter, too cold for even snow to fall, and you did not want to get out of your car. How can a car even overheat in 10 degree weather?

The road trip back home was close to three hours and you were nearing the second one when a light started flashing on your dashboard. Inclined to ignore it, but knowing the risks of doing so, you pulled over, hoping for a brief stop. 

The road was dark. It made you a little cautious to step out, but this wasn't a common place for people to pull over, but you were unsure if you could make it the next five miles to the rest stop. It was only a two lane road, trees on both sides of you. The worst, you decided, was a deer deciding to dash out and body slam you. You should move quick enough to avoid that.

Looking behind to make sure no one was suddenly driving by, you briskly opened your door and walked to the front of the car. Finding the latch and pulling it aside, you lifted the hood, and a puff of metallic smelling steam hit your face. You backed up, letting it clear, before going in again. Well, you observed, the engine is definitely still there.

Shutting it and shuffling back to your car, you pulled your phone out of your pocket. Should you call a tow service? You didn't know where you were. Should you call the police? They would probably tell you to call the non-emergency line and then tell you to call a tow service. Should you call your friend? She would probably call you stupid, then tell you to call a tow service. That one was the most comfortable, though.

It was, after all, her fault you were here. It’s easy enough to cast the blame on the friend that moved this far away that you had to plan out a whole weekend just to hang out. But, once again, it was on you for deciding to leave this late.

She answered after one ring. “Hey, I’m in trouble.”

“Of course you are. What happened now?” She didn’t sound incredibly concerned.

“I don’t know. I think my car’s overheating. I’m scared to keep driving it.”

She gasped. “It’s only been like… an hour and a half? You’re probably in the woods.”

“If darkness and trees means woods then yes, that’s precisely where I am.”

“You need to get a tow, or something.” Knew it. “Do you see mile markers?”

You leaned forward in your seat, straining to see something that isn’t there. “No, I can’t see. I don't remember passing any either. I’m a few miles away from a rest stop, but, I really don’t–”

Dial tone.

Pulling your phone away from your ear to look at the screen, you wanted to scream even more now. “Fuck!” You shouted out to nobody. No service. You wasted your last few moments of contact, and now you had nothing.

You sat for a moment, stilling your beating heart and trying to think rationally. Walking was out of the question. You nearly froze just going to open the hood. You could wait for service to come back, probably in waves, you might lose a call again. It was the only choice. The call to 911 would be quick, and if you lost service, they would know where you are from pinging you, and if they couldn’t reach you again, they would come find you. It was the best you could hope for. 

Settling back into your seat, the last few wisps of orange light disappearing behind the trees, you were ready to wait. 

–

You dragged your hands up and down the man’s torso, watching his muscles constrict and hearing delicious whines pour from his lips. He threw his head back onto the seat behind him, unable to look away from your body for even a second, even to blink. You could see the way his jaw tensed and relaxed, you could tell he wanted to say something, but he obeyed you, and he didn’t say a word.

You knew he was staring at the way your body curved and dipped, the way your frame was visible as you had also taken your shirt off, left in only a bra and the jacket that he had put on over you. He was probably ready to cum untouched at just the idea of you wearing his jacket alone, nevermind with nothing on underneath. 

Your fingers teased at the waistband of his pants, flitting your fingertips back and forth over the button of his jeans. You could see the way his erection was pressing hard through them, twitching ever so often as you kept your eyes on him. You, yourself, were desperate to pull it out and put your mouth on it, but you couldn’t let him see that.

“It’s tempting,” You whispered into the space between you two. “I want to take it right now,” He strained again, both his hard cock and his upper body, his arms slightly tugging at the restraints. “But I need you to beg for it…” You palmed his dick hard, and his lips parted in a moan. The sound made you even wetter than you already were. His hips bucked upward, moving the both of you, but with one steady hand to the chest, he was still. 

You knew well enough that he could bust out of the restraints at any second, he was strong enough to do that and probably tie you up even more securely than you had tied him. But, the mere idea that he was sitting there, being a good boy for you and letting you have him as he was, well, that idea alone had you foaming at the mouth, wanting to take control of him.

This wasn’t the first time you were making someone sit still and be a good boy for you, but it was the first time that a man had you dizzy trying to enforce those rules in the first place.

“Tell me,” You spoke, a sultry look in your eyes, you leaned in just a tad to get in his face. “Do you need it?”

He sighed out as if he had been holding his breath. “Yes, please, I need it so bad…” He nearly tripped over his words trying to force them out, showing you how bad he needed you to touch him, to suck him off, to ride him. Yes, you needed it to, but you couldn’t give it to him without a little bit of teasing involved.

“Do you now…” Your hands wandered up his torso again, fingers gently wrapping around the base of his neck, now even squeezing, and he tipped his head back with a sigh. You peeled your hands off, tracing his shoulders, his biceps, his forearms, and settled your hands over his. “If you keep being good, you can be released and touch me.” You felt his muscles strain again. “Not yet, though.”

He swallowed with the implication. Moving your hips forward, you grinded down onto him, making him screw his eyes shut and groan. Your own heartbeat quickened at the action, and for your own sake as well, you were going to need to speed this up. 

You leaned forward once more, mouth next to his ear, lips ghosting around the shell. “You’ll be my good boy and let me suck it, won’t you?”

A shrill whine, then, “Yes, yes, I’ll be your good boy, I promise, please, you can suck it. Please,” His voice was cutting in and out between a whisper and its full depth, you could tell he was worked up, and while you loved the chase of it all, you couldn’t help but to give in and treat yourself, as well. 

Your hands fell to his jeans again, hovering over the button. You pressed a kiss into his jawline. “Good boy.”

–

Earlier

This was much more boring than you anticipated. You wanted to scroll through your phone so badly, but you knew you needed to conserve battery. There wasn’t much in the way of entertainment in your car, merely your overnight bag in the back with your clothes in it, your laptop buried at the bottom for work, and your water bottle which was almost empty now. You kept checking every 5 minutes for a service signal, watching as the percent in the corner slowly ticked down.

It was growing colder by the minute in your car, and you had a blanket over your lap trying to conserve what you could. You felt like you were trapped in the wild, stranded with no food, no communication, when realistically you were only a hair outside of the nearest civilization.

No one had driven by yet. It was odd for no one to be taking this road at this time, at least one or two people would be coming by, maybe even a freight truck, but so as your luck worked out, there was not a soul tonight. 

You were getting tired now, but your nerves were too lit up to allow yourself to fall asleep. Resting your head back against the car seat, staring out into darkness, your mind began to wander.

How many deer were out in these woods right now? Probably none, with the way your eyes were fully adjusted to the darkness now, you could spot one a mile away. It would be the only movement. What was your friend doing? Was she still trying to call you? Clearly she hadn’t called anyone for help, as it’s been a rough 30 minutes since you lost service, and the nearest city was just outside of where you sat. They would have gotten there in 15 max. Was it possible to freeze to death in just a few hours within the confines of your car, even though you were nowhere near that point yet?

Just then, your head shot forward as you spotted light behind you. Finally, a person! You straightened out and pulled the blanket off of you, debating if you should step out or not. That would definitely get their attention, but what if they were in the right lane and they hit you? Surely there would be no point in waiting for signal after that.

You didn’t even need to make a decision, as you put your hand on the door handle to step out into the brisk air, the headlights suddenly swerved and became aligned with you. They grew bigger and bigger, you were sure they were going to hit you, but they stopped.

You stared, scared, but knew this was your only shot at help. You stepped out.

The car that pulled up behind you stayed running, lights still shining, and you squinted to see past them. It looked like an SUV, much bigger than your own sedan, and could definitely do this drive without overheating no problem.

The driver’s side door opened, but you only saw the silhouette of it, still trying to block the headlights. You lifted your hand to your eyes to do so, and you saw a man get out. Ideally, for safety, you would have wanted a woman, but you couldn’t be picky when this was the first person you saw for almost an hour.

He walked over to you, and placed himself in front of the headlight so you could see him. Now, backlit, you could see the bulky build of a man, donned in a leather jacket with a fur collar, long hair falling down to his cheekbones, his breaths rolling off in slow puffs. He stood a good distance away from you, probably aware of how you might be feeling in this situation.

“You need help?” No shit, you wanted to answer, but couldn’t choke the words up. 

“Uh, yeah, I got stuck.” You turned briefly to look at the car. “It overheated. I lost signal to call for help.” 

The man nodded, walking around you and over to the hood of your car. He bent over and lifted it, messing around in there for a few seconds. You took one step closer to him, hugging yourself for warmth, now missing the inside of your car.

He shut it suddenly and walked back over. “You probably just have no antifreeze left. I don’t have any in my car, though. Do you know if you happen to have any?”

You stood staring at him for another second. “I’m gonna guess no, considering I’m not totally sure what you mean.” You could see him clearly now, standing in front of his headlights. His face was covered in dark shadows from his hair and the contours of his face, his deep brow casting darkness into his eyes, but you could still see they were blue. He had on a dark t-shirt, and it didn’t leave much to the imagination to picture the figure underneath. You met his eyes again.

He just nodded. “That’s alright. Not something you tend to prepare for.” He walked closer to you, but you stood your ground and let him approach you. “Want to come down the road with me to get some? There’s a 24/7 convenience just a few miles away. I can have you out of here within the hour.” You said nothing. You weren’t sure if you entirely wanted to do that, but you also didn’t want him to not come back at all. As if sensing your inner turmoil, he stuck his hand out towards you. “Leon Kennedy. I work for the state. I’m on the way home from a detail.”

You slowly extended your own hand, telling him your name. His hand was warm. You didn’t want to let go. “Detail? Are you a cop?”

He shrugged. “Sort of. I don’t want to leave you here. You should warm up.” You looked back at his car, still running, positive that the heat was blasting, and you gave in.

“Okay. But don’t think about trying anything. I can put up a hell of a fight, you know.” 

He laughed. “You have my word.”

You walked around to the passengers side and hopped in, hoisting yourself up into the surprisingly high cabin. You looked at the dash as he settled in, getting comfortable with the space. This was a much newer car than you were used to. 

His phone was connected to the bluetooth, music rumbling quietly out of the speakers. Deftones. Maybe I can trust him for now.

You subconsciously settled into the seat, the warmth enveloping you. The ride was much smoother than your own car, and you knew you weren’t going to stop the comparisons until this experience was over. You kept an eye to the left of you, still needing to be alert, you were in a stranger's car after all, even though you knew his name and job, that didn’t mean anything.

You saw him sneak a glance over at you, and you shot your eyes back down to the display on the dashboard. 

“You like them?” He hit a button on the steering wheel and turned the volume up a few notches. You could still hear him clearly. 

“Of course.” You let the silence hang for a second. Testing the waters, “If it was country, I might have had to pull a tuck and roll.”

He barked another laugh. At least he wasn’t stoic. “You’re lucky you didn’t catch me on a Wednesday, then.” You giggled. After saying nothing else, he continued. “What brought you to this position anyways?”

You sighed. “One of my good friends lives out here, about an hour away or so. I was on my way home. I know I shouldn’t have left this late, but in my defense, I didn;t know my car was going to overheat, so…” 

He hummed. “That’s not your fault. It happens. Can’t prepare for those things, again.”

You looked out the window to the pitch black nothingness as you rode past. You looked back over at him, he had his right forearm on the console while his left hand steered. “You seemed too prepared to stop, though. What if I killed you?”

His mouth quirked, and you couldn’t help but repeat it. “I could handle it if you tried to.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, I could have surprised you. I’m stronger than I look. Men love to doubt the ones that are smaller than them.”

The smile on his face didn’t falter. “And what are you capable of against a man like me, then?” 

“I don’t think you want to find out. I’m dominating, you know.” Wait… what? You truly didn’t mean it to sound like that, but you couldn’t suck the words back up. You just furrowed your brows in frustration at yourself, and blamed the lack of sleep, the cold, your aggravation, whatever you could. Regardless of the words you couldn’t take back, Leon didn’t stop smiling. He turned his head a degree in your direction, and you could still see him out of your peripheral. 

A few minutes later, the convenience came into view and he pulled into the lot. You squinted at the bright lights of the parking lot. 

“Hang tight, I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

You only nodded, watching him stalk away into the building. You decided, seeing his full body in the lights, if you had met him under any other circumstances, you wouldn’t peg him as the helpful type of guy. His gait was strong, like it said Don’t fuck with me, or else. It almost made you giddy, knowing that you were the one being helped when he wouldn’t have otherwise. Like, in a romance book, when the bad boy doesn’t like anyone, but likes you. 

It wasn’t as uncomfortable as you had thought it would be. Maybe he was lightening up his personality so he wouldn’t scare you on purpose. If he really was just a helpful guy, the last thing he would want is to scare a young girl in the middle of nowhere at midnight. 

You were getting comfortable in the seat now, the heat wrapping around you, making you dread having to go back out into your cold car. You sighed even harder when you remembered that you still had a long ride to go before you could even go to bed.

Leon walked out of the store and back to the car, bottle of antifreeze in hand, and you tensed up when the cold air hit your skin as he opened the door.

He watched you as he lowered himself into the seat. “I didn’t mean it literally. You could have moved.” 

You shrugged with a smile as he closed the door again. “I didn’t need to.”

After a few minutes of chatting and listening to music, you arrived back at your car after needing to loop around to get back onto the right side of the road. You sighed and hit your head back against the seat of the car.

“What’s the sigh for? You get to go now.” Leon unblocked his seatbelt and took the bottle from where he left it on the console.

“Yeah, but it’s cold. I don’t want to get out.”

Leon grinned softly. “So don’t. I’ll be right back.” 

You sat and soaked up the heat while he went back over to your car, popped the hood, and disappeared behind it for a few minutes. You could only wonder how cold he must have been right now. Probably not very, maybe only his hands and neck, that jacket looks warm enough. You were stupid to only put a zip up on.

You looked down at your lap, then your gaze wandered to the interior of the car. It was very clean here. Leon did seem like the type to want to take care of his vehicle, and you were afraid to make any sort of move in case you put dirt on anything.

The backseat was empty, not even an extra piece of clothing (which there was plenty of in your own backseat), and you wondered how it was even possible for someone to be this neat.

You looked back through the windshield to see that Leon was still working in your hood. Your eyes fell lower to the glove compartment.

Realistically, this wouldn’t be the worst thing you could do right now, since you didn’t know Leon, and you could pass it off by wanting to assure yourself that you were safe, but at the same time, you felt guilty even thinking about it, since Leon had been nothing but nice to you so far. He trusted you enough to leave you alone in his pristine car while he helped you out.

That alone made you shift your gaze back up, pushed the thought of snooping down, and settled in to see Leon walking back to his car.

“Alright, you should be all set now. Hopefully it doesn’t happen again for another long while.” He shut the door next to him, and you gazed out at your car, making no moves. 

“How much?” You rolled your head over to look at him.

“Huh?” He furrowed his brow. 

“The antifreeze. How much was it?”

He breathed out a laugh, not moving much. “I don’t want your money.”

You shrugged. “You didn’t need to do this for me, this is the least I could do for your help.”

Leon simply looked at you. “I stopped because I wanted to help. I don’t want your money.”

You stared at him. His eyes were half lidded, a small smile was gracing his features. He was lit up from the light of his display screen, still softly playing Deftones. You could see the texture of his face, his lips, his hair. He was unmoving under the scrutiny of your gaze; yet so were you. 

“I can put up a fight. I’ll make you take it.”

His smile grew. “So the legend goes, as you’ve told me.” He moved his right arm to come back and rest on the console in between you two. “I’m not going to accept it, though.”

“So, what? Am I gonna have to force you to take it? Cause I’m not leaving until you do.” You settled right back into the seat. Leon kept smiling at you. “I’m defiant. And I’ll get my way. If I have to slap you around to take it.” Leon hummed and quirked an eyebrow at your words. It only added fuel to your confidence fire. “Even if I have to tie you down to prevent you from fighting.”

You looked at him with your eyebrows raised, showing you meant business, but he remained still. “Is that so?” You nodded. You saw him tighten his grip around the steering wheel, but the action didn’t frighten you. You could hear in his tone that he was mostly relaxed. You almost felt bad for being like this– it was late at night and he, too, was on his way home, but you simply couldn’t let this good deed go unrewarded.

“Open that.” His voice cut through your thoughts, his tone light, but his voice deep. You met his eyes to see where he was looking, which was in the direction of the glove compartment. See, you told yourself, good karma can aid curiosity. You looked at it and hesitated a moment, trying to scan your brain as quickly as possible to see if this would be a trick. After a few seconds, when you thought of nothing, you reached over.

Tumbling forward as soon as you swung the compartment open was a small black bag, maybe about the size of a water bottle. It stopped on the door itself, and you made no move to grab it. You simply looked over at Leon.

He was watching you intensely, his smile had disappeared, but his look was not stern or angry. It made your stomach twist with… something, but what exactly, you couldn’t tell. You slowly swung your gaze back over to it.

“I hope those weren’t empty threats you were throwing at me.” You kept your eyes on the bag, but the pieces started falling in place around you. In a whisper, barely loud enough for you to hear, Leon said, “Can’t you show me what you are capable of?”

Ice and fire ran through your veins simultaneously as you reached out to grab the bag, noticing upon touching it that it was smooth, silky. Holding it in your hands, you rotated it to find the opening. You could feel Leon staring at you. 

Finding the opening and flipping it downwards, you held onto the bag as you dumped the contents into your hands. A tightly wound bundle of black rope fell out.

You couldn’t form words for a minute, struggling to find air in your lungs. The rope was just as soft as the bag was, and you knew exactly why, exactly what the use intended for this was. You turned your head slowly to look over at Leon again. His head had rolled back to rest on the back of the car seat, but his gaze never left yours.

You found the energy to speak. “You come prepared for these types of situations?”

A slow smile blossomed on his features again. “I don’t usually need it. I guess, I never find myself wanting to use it.” He turned his head, looking back at the dash now, almost embarrassed at his words. A smirk was fighting its way through on your features. He licked his lips, then turned back to you. “I think now… maybe I do.”

You breathed a laugh, and turned the bundle over in your hands. “How am I going to hold up to my word if you want to use this on me?”

Leon leaned forward just a tad, looking you deep in the eyes. The blue light coming off of the digital display screen lit up his face, and though color was distorted, his cheeks had more hue to them. 

“I don’t want to tie you up…” You tilted your head up at the sudden realization. You held eye contact. 

“A big man like you? I didn’t imagine you’d be wanting me to do that to you…” You spoke slowly, not trying to give the impression that you were against the idea. Because, truly, you weren’t, at all. The idea of having him bound for you made your lungs cut the air supply short and had your knees weak. The power you felt sitting in this seat was immeasurable, hearing that the man who was twice your size wanted you to remove his sense of control, well, it had you thrumming with anticipation.

Leon huffed a laugh. He looked down, obviously slightly ashamed at having admitted this. “Well, you haven’t had much time to get to know me.”

You shifted in your seat, turning to him, bending slightly to get him to look into your eyes again. “So tell me, then. I have the time to listen.” 

He attempted a shrug, and leaned back at the same time so you could see his face clearer now. Some of his hair was covering his eyes, but you left it, though you did think about moving it for him. “I’m 27, I used to be a cop, still affiliated though, I do some late night stuff at the station…” He looked over. “I did just want to help you. Even if there was no one in the car, I probably would have stopped anyway.” You nodded, listening to every word. “I…” He trailed off, looking for the words to say. “I don’t… do much else. I’m not that interesting.”

“You have no girlfriend or wife?” You whispered, and though you knew, hoped, the answer would be no, you wanted to know why he thought the answer was no.

He shook his head, as predicted. “I don’t seem to have luck.” He laughed lowly, almost in a self-deprecating manor.

“Well, I hope this isn’t always how you try to pick up women, it’s kind of scary, you know.” You laughed, and he smiled with you.

“I never particularly bothered to go looking. I just figured they would come around.”

“You can’t always bet on fate like that, it might not get you anywhere.” You shrugged.

He raised an eyebrow. “It did tonight, though.”

You nodded, seeing the irony in the night. After a second of silence, you slightly shifted your position again. “So, now what? A man like you has me in your car, holding rope, that you already had in here, by the way, and you’re telling me you want me to use it to show you what I’m capable of.”

He shrugged and leaned back, breaking eye contact for a moment. A small smile played on his lips. “Well…” He sighed. “I think it will keep you warmer than you would be in your car.”

The two of you migrated to the backseat without another word. Something shifted in the air, some silent agreement had settled in between you two, and the moment the doors shut behind you, mouths on one another, heat rising, hands slithering in between, leaving no inch of skin left untouched. Leon was quick to snake his warm hands up your shirt and hike it over your head, but you let him, followed quickly by his own. His lips were soft and warm, the kiss became sloppy, greedy, you would have succumbed to it then and there if there wasn’t a promise to uphold.

You raked your hand through his hair, soft as silk, and gripped at the base of his head, making him moan into the kiss. The hand he placed on your waist gripped the flesh, and with one swift movement, you swung your leg over his to straddle him. It was already like he was at your mercy before you even took anything away from him, and it only made him look all the more desperate for you.

The kiss broke, and for a second the two of you were just staring at each other. You watched the rise and fall of his chest, which you had discovered with your hands before even seeing it, that it was incredibly toned, and you almost didn’t even want to stop touching him. HIs hands rested on your hips, holding you in place on top of him, eyes full of lust.

He shook his head slowly, forming a thought. “Are you sure you weren’t in charge of fate to make me find you tonight?”

You grinned, running your hands up his torso, you just couldn’t stop yourself. “If I was, don’t you think I would have made it a little more convenient for us?”

He sighed at your touch, head rolling backwards, closing his eyes. After a low hum of satisfaction, he replied. “I guess so… What about fate the second time around?” Your hands slid up to his shoulders, feeling the texture underneath your palms, all of the skin and bone and muscle. You pushed yourself down into his lap, already feeling his hardening dick through his jeans, making him groan louder, and you sigh in relief.

“We haven’t even gotten started and you are already thinking of round two…” You leaned in, teasing a breath along his neck, then gently licking on his jawline. The skin of your stomach felt the heat that he was producing, and you pressed your bodies together, the contact feeling like bliss.

“I already know I’ll need you again.” He said in a whisper, and the sheer intensity that it caused within you made you lean in and bite the tender skin under his jaw, and he moaned, gripping your waist even tighter.

Your hands kept running along his skin, desperate to get even more contact between you two. Your mind was getting foggy with desire, needing to be as close to Leon as possible, as much as the small space in his backseat would allow. His fingers were starting to dip below the waistline of your pants, and while you almost let him slide them past, you grabbed onto his hand and pulled it out, remembering the reason you were in the backseat in the first place.

“Don’t forget why we’re here…” You mumbled into his ear, where you were still pressed up against him. You heard him sigh, as well as felt it, and finally pushed yourself off of him.

He looked up at you from under his half-lidded eyes. “Tell me what you want me to do, then. I’ll do anything.” His voice was breathy and low, and his hands came down to rest on the top of your thigh. You sat up as straight as you could, feeling all of the control get handed over to you in that one second. Involuntarily, a chill ran through your body. Cold air had hit your heated skin as you parted, as well as the added sensations that Leon was contributing to. He pushed himself up, leaned past you to the front seat, one hand steadying you on your lower back. When he fell back, he put the shoulders of his jacket over you.

He sighed as he leaned back, examining your frame as it rested over him, straightening your posture as the warmth fell around you. “Looks better on you anyway…” 

You stared at him for another moment before your brain kicked into action. “Hold your hands out,” You whispered, and he obeyed. You reached behind you and grabbed the bundle of rope. “You’ll behave if I tie you up like this?” 

“Yes…” He breathed out, watching your hands as they wrapped and knotted the rope around his wrists, not too tight, but he couldn’t slip out of it too easily. You felt a surge of confidence at the mere premonition of you tying up a huge, muscled man, submitting to your dominance. You felt heat pool in between your legs as his head fell back, his chest flexed, and the feeling of his hard cock poking you through his pants. You were suddenly glad your car gave out on you on this random night.

This brings you to your current position. Everything playing an equal hand in getting this man in his own backseat underneath you, staring up with sinful eyes. You weren’t sure what to do first, you wanted to do everything to this man, and let him do everything to you. 

He had already professed his need for you to take him in your mouth, and you were itching to keep teasing him, but as a reward for not leaving you stranded, you were going to play nice with him.

HIs breathing was ragged and his eyes were locked on you, not daring to look away as your hands snaked closer and closer to the button on his jeans. Your fingers flitted over the tent in his pants, the sensation barely registering with him, and he bucked his hips up, but you pressed them back down by his hips. 

“Patience… patience baby…” You murmured, not looking up from where your hands were dancing around letting him loose. He whined, and the sound traveled straight to your core, making you all the more desperate. As a second reward for obeying your command, you pressed your palm fully into his hardened cock, and he groaned and threw his head back. You smirked in response, now needing the skin on skin contact. 

Your hands made quick work of the button and zipper, and he lifted his hips when you pulled down his waistband of both his jeans and underwear. His erection sprang out, slapping his toned stomach, and you felt saliva pooling in the corners of your mouth, slick gathering in between your legs, and Leon was almost shaking with anticipation.

You wrapped a delicate hand around his dick and he whined again, his chest shuddering with shallow breaths, sighing out profanities at the contact. He was so warm and hard in your hand, and even just the ginger strokes you were delivering had him crumbling under you.

The other hand that wasn't wrapped around him came up to brace yourself on his chest, and his skin matched the temperature of his throbbing girth. His tip was leaking profusely, and you brought your thumb up to press through it and spread it, which elicited another whimper from within him. The friction was dry, and you were sure it didn't feel the best for Leon, but there were no signs of pain in his expression, and if you kept this up long enough, he might cum from this alone. 

He was of average length, but you were never one to complain, especially not in a situation like this, and it was a benefit when the attempt to deepthroat him came along, knowing it would make it easier. You couldn’t wait any longer, and even though watching him writhe under you was more pleasure than you expected, you needed more.

You leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to his neck, coated in a thin layer of sweat. You made a brief note of how hot it was in the car now, probably all from him, and though it was completely dark outside, you were sure the windows were foggy. He sighed at your lips on his skin. 

“Thank you for being so good to me,” You spoke softly to him, and you lifted your head to press your lips together, which he hungrily accepted. Your body fell forward slightly, your hand still balancing on his hard chest, and you could feel his arms in between the both of you, but he was not protesting. 

You pulled away, but hovered over his face and pressed your foreheads together. He whispered, “Need you so bad…” heavily breathing onto your lips. You grinned, seeing he was quickly reaching the brink of his patience. 

“I got you baby,” Another quick kiss, but you pulled away before he could deepen it. “You’re being a good boy for me.” He quietly moaned at the praise, and let you remove yourself from on top of him. You hopped off his lap and sunk to your knees in between his legs, looking up once last time to see his pretty face before ducking your head, and licking a thick stripe up the length of his cock. 

His groan was louder than it had been before, and you felt his whole body shudder with his breaths. The saliva that had been gathering in your mouth coated him easily, and when your tongue met the tip, with a swipe to collect the precum (which resulted in another sharp whine), you let all of your spit pour over your lips and leak down the sides, which you hastily swept up with your hand, and continued to pump his dick with. 

Every breath that he released was paired with some sort of noise, whether it be a groan, a whine, a whimper, anything that you were doing to him right now was causing him to quickly become unwound, and just seeing him fall apart under your hands was causing your strokes to become harder, quicker, and you stopped refusing him to buck his hips in your hand because you loved seeing how desperate he was becoming. You could see the veins in his forearms and biceps, the flexing of his arms against the rope around his wrists, and it made you weaker to know he was the only person keeping him within those restraints, and he could flip the power dynamic at any moment if he wanted to. But, he didn’t, and he let himself be dominated.

With another lick from base to tip, your lips closed over his head, our tongue dipped and swirled around the soft skin, the tangy salt of his precum coating your tastebuds, and at once, you took his entirety into your mouth. A rough gasp came from Leon as you swallowed him whole, pressing your tongue against the underside of his cock, feeling every ridge and bump. Your hand continued to work below where you could reach, giving gentle squeezes, and your other hand occasionally worked his balls, causing him to throw his head back every few seconds.

You were reveling in his taste at this moment, every bead of precum that spurted out of his tip was lapped up instantly, mixing in with your spit as you took him in your mouth, your tongue studying and memorizing his shape and size. You sucked him down like it was your last moment to ever be with him, hoping you would be able to find yourself in this position with him again. 

“Fuck… fuck, you feel so good…” Leon couldn’t contain the words spilling out of his mouth, he was losing sanity it seemed with every movement you made with your tongue, every stroke your hand delivered, and every time you opened your throat to shove him as far back as you could. He would whimper every time you stifled a gag at trying to deepthroat his length, loving the way you worked past pain just to have more of him. 

You could feel so much heat and wetness within yourself, and as much as you wanted to relieve your own pressure, you knew you wouldn't be done with Leon after you made him cum.

After another hit to the back of the throat with his tip, you heard him whine out, “I’m so… I’m so close, fuck–” paired with more gasps and whimpers. His fists were balled up so tight, the rope was straining against his flexing, and his mouth hung open as he watched you take him all. 

Your hand that wasn’t on his cock was gripping his thick thigh, feeling it twitch underneath your palm. You gripped it tighter, deciding against an urge to want to edge him, not able to fight your own need to taste him. 

After another lick, you released him from your mouth and resorted to stroking him so you could talk and breathe for a moment. “How close are you, baby?” Your breathing was heavy, and you could feel the spit hanging off your lips, still connected in thin strings to his tip.

He gasped again at the feeling of cool air touching his wet dick. “So… so close,” He bucked his hips again into your hands and you let him, liking watching him chase his own release.

“Where do you want it, huh? I’ll let you decide.” You kept working his dick while he tried his hardest to contain himself.

He groaned, clearly struggling to speak through all of the sensations. “I… I, oh, god, anywhere…” His head was back against the seat again, and this time it seemed to stay there while you kept touching him. Underneath his arms, you could see his torso tensing and relaxing with the way his whole body was pulsing, and even through the darkness you could tell he was toned, insanely so, you could see the rigid outlines of ab muscles where his arms weren’t blocking them. Sharp lines contoured his hips where they dipped into his pelvis, akin to a rainbow with a pot of gold at the end that you currently had in your hands, dripping with precum and saliva. You couldn’t take it. You needed to see him blissed out.

You moved your hand back down to the base and planted your flat tongue on the underside of his cock, licking all the way up to the tip. “Come on, cum for me, I’ll let you…” With quick movements and the occasional lick to his tip, you brought him closer and closer to his release, and you could see it written all over his face whenever he put his head back up to look down at you. His brows were furrowed, his mouth open, and you could see the glint on his face from sweat. 

“Shit, oh, fuck, I–I’m coming,--” Leon rasped out as much as he could through his thick breaths, body convulsing the second he hit the threshold of his release. You felt it the same time you saw it, his dick throbbed under your palm and a rope of hot white cum spurted upward, landing on his stomach, some on his hands, and yours. You hastily pressed your mouth to the tip, feeling it coat your tongue, the roof of your mouth, drip to the back of your throat. You kept your tongue pressed to the underside of the head, feeling that, too, pulse with his orgasm. He was groaning in tandem with this happening, and you lapped up everything he had to offer, the salty, hot, viscous liquid sitting heavy in your mouth. You choked back a gag with the swallow, but it made it down, and you cleaned your hand, his twitching dick, and wherever it landed on him by licking it up. He whimpered at the feeling of your tongue on his hands.

“You looked so good for me,” You whispered into the air as you slowly rose from your position, and hovered over him. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me like this…” You looked down at him, spent, panting, eyes lazily making eye contact with you, but you could see so much more in his gaze. 

A second passed before either of you spoke again. Without moving too far, you brought a hand down to untie the rope, and his hands came to rest over your thigh once they were free. The rope lay discarded on the floor.

“We still have the rest of the night… don’t we?” Your stomach turned at his implication, he still wanted you, and he was still ready to keep going. Your hand came up to gently touch the side of his neck, thumb tracing the edge of his jawline.

“We have however long you want. I’m not done with you.” 

He grinned, his eyes opened a little further this time, and his hands left your thighs to hold your face as he kissed you deeply, blissfully ignoring your phone incessantly ringing, abandoned in the front seat.

[papurgaatika]

Scarcely Can Speak For My Thinking, What You’d Do To Me Tonight

Pairing: VA! Joel Miller x f! reader 

Minors DNI with my work please!!

A/N: howdy howdy my lovelies. I know what yall are thinking: papaya didn't you post a fic literally less than two weeks ago? And to that I would say yes, yes I did. However, I have been working on this one for a while and somehow managed to finish it on the plane! Thank you as always to my lovely beta readers @carlynkurin and @joelsdagger The title is a Hozier lyric (are yall really surprised?) This is officially dedicated to my beloved @joeloverture and despite my darling vetty's step off of tumblr, she truly deserves the world. also if you're mean to her i will find you. that is a threat

I hope y'all enjoy the read, and that the filth keeps you going in times of need. Peace and love on the planet Earth from me!!! Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!!

Tags: Erotic voice actor Joel! AU, Young Joel, No outbreak AU, smut, condescension, degradation, f! masturbation, praise, squirting, smut, LOTS of dirty talk, oral (f receiving) friends to lovers, fingering, voice kink, Joel loves thighs, Joel Miller arm appreciation, the reader is a mess, no use of y/n, Joel can pick reader up but he’s HUGE so it makes sense, no description of reader, 18+ Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: you have been using audio erotica to get off for a month, and manage to accidentally let it play in Joel's car, leading to an awkward night in 

You let out an exhausted huff as the dim light of your phone reflected on your face. Your headphones connected, your vibrator was charged, but in some godforsaken twist of fate, there was not a single thing worth listening to on the newest audio erotica page you could find. Videos hadn’t been doing it for you, the ethical concerns were too high for you to be horny, and as much as you liked a good fanfic, you had gone through most of the ones you liked and needed something new.  You click on a post with semi intriguing tags, immediately rolling your eyes and exiting out of it when you hear the all too familiar vocal fry of men trying to sound hotter. News flash: you don't. 

You were moments away from calling it a night and opening your backlog of smutty ao3 fics when another post caught your eye. You let out a snort at the username save_a_horse and glance at the tags. Okay you were definitely interested now, a degrading instructional… you hit play with baited breath, prepping for the worst, but you were so mistaken. 

“Filthy little thing aint ya?” the voice rings in your ears, heat pooling between your legs embarrassingly quickly. “Must be so pathetic if you’re clicking on a mean stranger's voice to get ya’self off” his voice was like hot honey. Sickly sweet and keeping you waiting for his every word but with an edge that stung in the best way. You shuffle yourself back onto the pillows and throw your covers off, fully prepared to enjoy this rare gem. Your breathing picks up, heavy with want as the man in your ears calls you a desperate little slut. 

“Go on, get your toy wet slut” his voice croons out at you “know ya have one, too fuckin’ needy not to.'' Always eager to please, your lips find the base of your curved g-spot vibrator and let the soft plastic fill your mouth, drawing sounds that were almost too debauched for you to be sitting in bed alone. “Bet you love havin your mouth filled like that.. Lord, I'd love to have your pretty little lips around my cock” your eyes practically roll back at that, spit running down the base of your toy before he finally tells you to put it in.  

“Atta girl, such an eager thing” The toy sinks into your sopping cunt with ease as the voice envelops your mind, solely focusing on him. You listen with intense obedience as he tells you how deep, how quick, how much you were allowed. “Go on then, fuck yourself on it. We both know you want to” 

You let out a soft cry as you slip the toy in and out, the curve just hitting the spot that makes your back arch. Your breathing hitches as you press down on the button to turn the vibrations on. “Creamin’ all over yourself I bet,” it was like he could see you. Like he was able to see your arousal dripping onto the sheets below you, how the damp sheets clung to your thighs as they shook and twitched with pleasure. 

“Bet you’re so damn close.. Go on then slut, cum while listenin’ to me'' he taunts slightly as your orgasm washes over you in waves. “Gonna ruin ya,” his words are assertive, less of a promise and almost a threat “ain’t gonna cum unless it's to my voice anymore. Good fuckin’ girl”  You take a few steadying breaths as the audio clicks off, and you blink up at your ceiling unsure of how to go on from there. You glance down at your phone which has made its way to the opposite side of your bed and move to grab it.

You hit play on another audio. 

As the weeks go on, you and the mysterious cowboy in your ears have an immensely good time together. You practically spend every night listening to every one of his audios, leaving silly comments on the ones that make you cum particularly hard. It might have been an issue, how often you found yourself waiting for him to upload, how quickly you would pause your tasks to listen to new updates, but you were having fun and it wasn’t like you were hurting anyone in the process. 

You had just finished an audio before the blaring noise of a horn outside your door rattled you. The clock on your phone taunts you as do the several missed calls and texts from your best friend. “Fuck. fuck okay” you grumble, grabbing a towel and wiping yourself off before tossing a pair of comfy shorts on and grabbing your bag, and heading outside “have you never heard of a virtue called patience miller?” you quip as you slide into the passenger seat of his truck 

“Had it for the first five minutes, but about 10 minutes after that, I was damn ready to break your door down myself” he scoffs “what took you so damn long?” he rolls his eyes as you fiddle with the bluetooth in his car, not wanting to be stuck with what you call ‘old home music’ 

“I was just finishi-” your words are cut off when the sound of a moan plays over the speaker. Just your luck. You kept the grumpiest man alive waiting and then played porn in his car. Hooray for you. “Jesus fucking-” you squeak, fiddling with your phone and closing out of the app “Joel-” you start, cheeks burning and excuses already at the tip of your tongue, before he silently shakes his head and puts the car in reverse. 

The ride back to his house is awkward to say the least. “Joel listen I didn't mean for-” you mumble out meekly, but his sharp gaze on yours has you clamping your mouth closed immediately. You fiddle with your fingers, thinking about playing music, but it just doesn’t feel right anymore. The grip Joel has on the steering wheel is practically iron-clad, his knuckles almost white with the tension as he pulls into his driveway and puts the car in park. You walk into his house with a huff, your weekly game nights off to a bit of a rocky start, but you’ve had to deal with worse with him. Joel had given you moral support when your menstrual cup had gotten “stuck” during one of your first times using it, he could deal with knowing you listened to porn. 

You plop down onto his couch, stretching your legs out on the coffee table while he gets you a glass of iced tea. You take a sip of your drink and mentally prepare yourself for how bad he was going to tease you about this, but are met with shocking amounts of silence. For a man who is ruthless on game nights, the lack of trash talk and absolute avoidance was almost irritating you. Finally, after you beat him in uno for a third time in a row, you snap “What is your issue tonight miller?” you groan, placing a +2 card down “Listen I know that was awkward but we’re both adults I don't see what the big deal is'' 

Joel groans and places another +2, changing the color (much to your annoyance,) “just drop it, nothin’s the issue”  You, petulant and stubborn as ever, did not drop it. You huff as you have to take like 5 cards from the deck before getting one that you can play, and narrow your eyes at him. 

“Bullshit” you move to sit cross-legged on the couch “I never beat you in this game, something is wrong with you tonight,”  it was almost as if nobody had ever taught you not to poke a sleeping bear. Or maybe you figured that the bear was your best friend and probably wouldn't bite your head off… probably. 

“Just drop it peaches,” his words are terse, hands gripping his, now slowly diminishing, uno cards much tighter than he needed to. You groan again when you have to get another few cards. The irritation at his childish behavior, coupled with the stack of 20 cards in your hand makes you more of a menace than you probably should. 

“Don't be such a baby, Miller,” you poke his leg with your foot knowing full well he hates it, a yelp leaving your lips as he grabs your ankle and pulls you forward “Joel!” Your cards fly out of your hand 

“Told you to fuckin’ quit it peach.” His voice is a low timber, stirring something deep in your belly. “Never fuckin’ listen to me” 

You just snort at him when he releases your ankle, moving to pick up your cards, “you suck at uno today Joel” you hmph, rising to your feet “'m gonna get something else” you hear Joel protest and try to grab at your arm but you’re too determined and he’s far too comfy to get up quick enough.  You manage to make it to his spare room, swinging the door open, imagining you’d see a shelf with his board games only to stop dead in your tracks, “what the fuck-”

What you had always assumed was just his spare junk room or random linen closet, was what looked like an at home recording studio. A desk with a PC and speakers, full microphone set up, and what you could only assume was something to help with soundproofing  “What the fuck Miller?” Your voice is slightly full of awe, “are you recording shitty male superiority podcasts now?” you tease, a sly grin on your face. 

Despite how pleased you are with that crack at him, he looks absolutely unamused. He practically clomps over at you, big finger poking your ribs ``you know damn well I ain't doin’ that shit.” He rolls his eyes at your teasing. The idea of Joel Miller getting on the internet to talk about women in a way that wasn't him sitting at his desk going ‘they’re the best damn thing’ was laughable. He was a perfect gentleman to everyone, except maybe to you, but frankly you deserved it for all the shit you gave him. 

You squeak when his finger prods at your skin “okay, okay well what creepy shit are you doing in here then?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him, sauntering to his PC set up. The computer and speakers were calling out to you like a siren, and you did not have the common sense to plug your ears. 

Joel knew you. He could read you like a fucking book with how close the two of you were. He used to say that the one braincell you had spent fifty percent of its time inside his mind with how predictable you were to him. “Peach do not fuckin’ dare-” his voice is low, warning you. 

If you had better self preservation skills you would have probably heard the alarm bells ringing in your head telling you that he was serious, or paid better attention to the way his sweats were a little more tight. But you unfortunately were a complete menace, so neither of those items really registered to you. You clap your hands in an evil little giggle when you move the mouse “still no password? Shit you make my life so fucking easy-” you grin as you see the different clips of audio layered together in whatever program he uses 

Joel has somehow silently appeared behind you, his hand pulling you away from the computer. “Quit it peach, I’m not fuckin’ around,” he grits out, the hold on your wrist almost impossibly tight. He means business this time, and despite how much of a hellion you can be to him, you didn’t have a death wish. 

You scrunch your nose at him trying to pull your wrist out of his grip “okay jesus chri-” you yank your hand away from his, elbow bumping into the keyboard and are cut off with the sound of a gravely moan coming out of the speaker. Both you and Joel look like deer caught in the headlights. Your eyes flick between Joel, whose face has gone impressively red, and the screen of his computer.  “I- joel this is-” you stumble over your words, unsure of what to say in this situation. 

“Not a fuckin’ peep.” he practically growls at you. Your mouth clamps shut as he leans over you and presses pause on the audio. Your mouth is drier than it had ever been. That was a clip of your best friend, the one who was looming over you at this very moment, moaning into a microphone. You were certain that if you had listened any closer you would have been able to hear the sounds of his hand stroking his cock. The slight creak of his chair, the wet noise of the lube, or was he a spit guy? He however, was not interested in sharing any more of the audio with you, and you would deny it if anyone asked, you were a little disappointed. 

You need to say something, you had to, and despite your better judgment telling you not to, you do. “I mean you sound nice-” You sound nice?? You were so fucking ridiculous, even you knew that wasn’t the thing to say. Joel’s eyes darken at your words, and for a moment you fear he’s going to kick you out, to get truly pissed off at you for the first time since you finished his Dr. Pepper stash.  “I didn't mean-” you try to backtrack “I just meant- it... You sounded like you were enjoying yourself at least-'' you were actively digging the hole that you were in deeper, rambling and stuttering, all while Joel just stared at you silently, his eyes burning into you

You swallow hard, his eyes still not leaving yours “listen I can go I'm sorry I shouldn't have-” you go to make a beeline out of the room but a firm hand pulling you back into the chair stops you. You fall back with an oof and look up at Joel, who by all accounts looked pissed but there was something else. His pupils were blown and his eyes trace every single one of your movements. The bear had managed to lock in the own cage you had set out for him. 

“Didn't tell you to leave.” he practically grunts at you. Ladies and gentlemen, your best friend, always the most well spoken person in the room. You move to protest again, but the look he gives you stops the words before they even form on your tongue.  you bite your lip and fiddle with your fingers unsure what to do “think I sound nice peaches?” his voice cuts through the anxious rambling in your brain and you're almost certain you've heard him wrong 

“Huh?” you look back up at him through your lashes. He was leaning against the wall where his microphone was set up. His sweats were riding low on his hips and his hoodie covered the toned muscles of his arms, that if anyone asked you had never stared at. The tanned skin you never dared to fantasize about in your bed. The hair that covered his arms, the veins that often made more appearances when you asked forced him to do manual labor that you refused to do yourself. 

“Asked if you think I sound nice, Peaches?” he hums, raising a questioning brow at you. your mouth opens and closes ridiculously a few times before you simply just nod at him  “that's good..” he muses as he comes back up to you “do you think about me?” he prods, a patronizing pout on his lips as you gape up at him. “when you're listening to those dirty little audios and lettin’ your fingers touch that needy cunt?”  you can't help but squeak at his words. the way he said them, the way he spoke was just so… familiar  “come on, pretty peach, tell daddy what you think about when you're fingering that slutty little pussy” he practically grins at you and it fucking clicks. 

Daddy. Daddy. It was him. The stupid cowboy, the random man whose voice sent your tummy into knots, the one who had been getting you off for weeks now was your best friend.  “Joel-” you practically whimper at him. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest and also very distinctly between your legs. “Listen i didn’t know it was you-” there’s a shit eating smirk on his face, one that you would have told him to wipe off his face before you smack it off in any other scenario. 

“No?” he hums at you, his brow quirked up as he towers over you in that stupid recording chair “didn't know it was me when you were commenting all those pretty little reviews?” You whimper out a noise, somewhere between a no and a general sound of timidity, as his hand tilts your chin up to meet his eyes  “Lemme see if I can remember what it was you said before I got you in the car today peach?” he takes a moment to obnoxiously tap his forehead mocking the way you recall things “what was it you said? ‘This made me late to see my friend, but it also made me ruin my sheets’? Was that it peaches?” 

You take a shaky breath, your skin burning under his intense gaze, chin still in his hands. You nod softly at his question, knowing that if you didn't, he would just push you until you did. His grin turns wolfish at your confirmation, and you feel him shift his legs between yours, pushing them apart “yeah peach?” he tuts at you “made me wait for almost 20 minutes outside your house. just so you could cum to my voice… ain’t real nice of you” You take a wobbly breath at his words and try to reply, unsure of what you would even say. An apology maybe, an explanation? But before you can even move to open your mouth he’s cutting you off again 

“Woulda just given you the real thing baby,” he tuts at you “all you had to do was ask.'' His voice is low and almost condescending. You shouldn’t let it turn you on, you should tell him to fuck off, but you feel yourself gush at his tone, your bottom lip getting caught between you teeth. He whistles at the look on your face, his cock practically straining against his sweats, “bet you’re just creamin’ in those slutty little shorts baby'' his words aren’t a question, he’s stating it like he can read you like a book because he knows he can. His legs shift to press your legs further apart until your knees are bumping into the arm rests, your eyes unwavering from his.

Your breath is caught in your throat as he leans down to you, his lips pressed up by one of your ears “Listen to me like this peaches?” he whispers into your ear, a warm breath making you shiver before he moves to the other side “like having me in your ears with your legs spread?” 

“Yes.. fuck yes yes I do-” your words are rushed and lustful as you feel his hands dip into the waistband of your panties. Your hips jolt up into his touch, panties absolutely drenched with your arousal. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, lips parting with a silent cry of pleasure. 

“Knew she’d be droolin’ all over” he hums as he brings his slick covered finger up to his lips and tastes you with delectable pop when he pulls off. “Tastes like I fuckin’ imagined. Like a fuckin’ peach” he groans and for a moment you swear you could cum just like that. 

“Shit Joel please-” he cuts you off with a shake of his head and a shushing noise, as he steps away from you. Your legs are still spread against the chair and you practically whine when he moves away from you, flicking on his recording set up. “Joel what-” he shushes you again, giving you a look that leaves no room for argument. 

“Quiet,” he mumbles, fiddling with the mic and pulling the rolling chair closer to it. “Like listenin’ to me so much, thought i’d use you for better effects. You okay with that peaches?” he asks, looking down at you. Despite the teasing and the mockery, you knew he would stop if you told him you didn't want it. But the idea of him stopping, even for a moment was going to make you explode. You nod, maybe too eagerly for someone about to get fucked on microphone, and he grins. 

“God always knew you were fuckin’ desperate for it” he kneels between your legs, and you stifle a giggle when his knees pop.  “Quit it you menace” He swats at your thigh playful smirk on his lips, making you jump slightly. “Gotta stay real quiet for me, understand?” you watch with bated breath as he moves the mic so it rests delicately in the tension filled space between your spread thighs and his face. 

You nod, lips parted, pupils blown, cunt practically dripping for him. He lets out a soft hum of approval, lips pressing a soft kiss to your thighs “nothing fuckin’ softer than a pair of soft thighs” he muses, half to himself, half to you and the mic “could just live between them forever, die happy if a girl pretty as a peach would let me bury my face there.” You feel yourself clench around nothing, feeling maddeningly empty all of a sudden. You shift to try to gain some friction, the chair giving a slight creak at the change in position. Joel looks up and glares at you, your body going still immediately under the intensity of his eyes. 

He sticks his hand out behind him, pausing the microphone from recording. “You need to stay. still.” he grits out at you “don't need the whole internet hearing how much of a desperate little thing you are.” You nod at his words, hands gripping the armrests so hard your knuckles turn white. He flicks the mic back on and his lips find your thighs again. Nipping and kissing the soft flesh just below the hem of your shorts. He slides his hands further up, popping the button open and you have to bite down on your fist not to moan when he drags the zipper down with his teeth. He shimmies you out of your shorts, leaving your bottom half clad in your embarrassingly wet panties. 

He lets out a growl at the sight of your cunt, clothed and practically dripping for him. “Look at her… practically creaming already and I ain’t even touched you yet” He lets his thumb press against the wet spot the slight pressure just barely teasing your sopping hole dragging a breathy sigh out of you. You look down at him, eyes hooded and lips parting, practically begging for him without uttering a damn word. 

He looks up at you as he slides your panties to the side, blowing a stream of cold air straight onto your clit, making you jump. “Pretty fuckin’ pussy…” he practically salivates at the sight of you “nothin’ fucking better than seein’ a drippy, needy, little cunt in front of me…” he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, right next to where you want him, where you need his lips 

You feel a shiver run down your spine at his words. Somehow it felt filthier being able to see the look on his face, the absolute need he had to taste you. The grip he had on your thighs was bruisingly tight, not helping your arousal die down in the slightest. His mouth finally finds your slit, tongue licking a hot wet stripe at an agonizingly slow pace. He lets out a guttural moan and practically salivates at the taste of you. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet” he groans, tongue dipping back down to taste more of your slick. One of your hands leaves the armrest of the chair and moves to cover your mouth when his lips place three gentle kisses around your clit before relenting and wrapping his lips around the aching bud, with a quiet hum. 

You bite down on your hand to stifle the moans threatening to spill, desperate and eager to please him. Your thighs shake when he slips a finger into your dripping cunt and curls them to hit that spot. He lets out a chuckle, lips still sucking on your clit. The vibrations of his warm breath on your aching clit elicited a desperate wine from your mouth, despite how hard you were trying to be quiet for him “Ffffuck-” 

He raises a brow at you, not even pulling away from your skin, his baby eyes just gazing at you from between your legs as his fingers work at you. Your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth in an effort to stop your sounds, but your attempts seem futile as your climax starts to draw near. Joel slips a second finger inside of you with embarrassing ease, the sound of his fingers curling inside you, joined only by your soft little breaths and his lips on your clit. His fingers stretch you in ways your fingers never have, scissoring and sliding inside of you with practiced precision. “Atta fuckin’ girl..” he growls as your toes curl instinctively, heels digging into his shoulder blades as the coil inside of you finally snaps. You feel yourself gush on his fingers, your thighs clamping around his head as he works you through it “squirtin’ all over daddy’s face huh like the needy thing you are.” 

He pulls your legs off from his legs and hits save on the audio, before glancing back at you with a smirk. “Ain’t posting that anywhere..” he whispers, the gentleness a shocking turn around from the filth he whispered to you earlier. Your breath is still coming out in shaky pants, looking up at him through hazy lids “keepin’ that all to myself” he hums, pressing a little kiss on your head. 

He scoops you up like you’re a ragdoll and practically clomps over to his bedroom, throwing you onto the bed. His fingers work deftly at the tie of his sweats, pushing them off. You squeak softly when you see the trail of hair going down his pelvis, the lack of boxers making heat rise to your chest. You work your top off, while he throws his hoodie across the room, a guttural groan leaving his mouth as he sees your breasts. “Fuckin’ perfect..'' His words aren’t necessarily for you, his thoughts just find themselves being voiced aloud. His calloused hands grope and knead at the softness of your tits before he presses wet kisses to each of your nipples. “Need to be inside ya” he practically begs, cock hard against his stomach leaking pre-cum. 

You could salivate at the sight, hell you truly might have a little bit. “Fuck me, Daddy, need you to fuck me Joel, please i can be good im ready, I'm on the pill-” your words were babbled, fast and rushed together, your intense desire for the man in front of you the only thing your brain could comprehend. Your legs part on the bed, your arousal dripping down your thighs calling to him like flowers call to a honeybee. 

“Christ, baby,” he groans before grabbing your legs and pulling you to the edge of the bed. He fists his cock and slides it through your aching pussy, both of you letting out simultaneous cries of shit when your wetness coats his length. He slides into you with gentle thrusts, letting you adjust to his size slowly, before sinking in all the way with a soft whimper “take me so good…” his words are quiet and breathless, almost as if he was in awe of how your body made room for him. 

“Oh my god-” you cry out, your hands fisting in the dark sheets under your skin. “so fucking big joel..” you clench around him, body on fire with how good he felt inside you, with how perfect it was. It was like you were made to take him like this. His thrusts get faster and your legs curl around his waist, pulling him in as deep as you possibly could. The feeling of his hand pressing on your lower stomach has you arching your back into his touch. 

“Perfect fucking thing,” he grits huskier than usual, with a thrust that knocks the air from your lungs. “Feel me peaches?” he thrusts into you again and presses on your tummy “right fuckin’ there.. Right where I god damn belong…” his words were lust filled and hazy, his own need and orgasm clouding all judgment. Your hips roll against his, the coarse hair brushing up against you, and your head lolls back into the mattress as his thrusts get sloppier. 

“Inside, Joel fuck-” you whimper at him, eyes wide and pleading as your second orgasm builds in the pits of your belly “please cum inside me, wanna feel you please..” for a moment he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. The sounds of your pretty little moans and begging are like a dream come true for him. He just nodded and shifted so he was practically cradling your body under his, cock buried so deep inside you that you knew you’d be feeling it for days afterward. 

He grinds his hips lazily against yours while his thrusts are shallow and pointed. Your legs shake while you meet his lips in a sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth as you both fall apart practically molded together. “Jesus christ-” his breathing is ragged and hoarse “takin’ me so damn good, gonna fuckin’ fill you up” he gives a few more thrusts before he pulls out of your quivering pussy, your own orgasm sending stars into your eyes. 

You both stay like that for a moment, Joel's forehead resting softly on your shoulder as his cum spills out onto his bed. You shift softly to pull him next to you and curl into his touch, giving him a cheeky smile as you tilt his face to meet your eyes. “You…” a breathless little laugh escapes your lips “how long did you know I was commenting on your posts?” you ask softly, brows raised at him. 

He snorts at the question and flicks your forehead gently, earning a playful pout to be thrown in his direction. “Bout damn near two weeks ago” he replies, classic shit eating grin plastered to his face. “Figured it was you when you came over lookin’ like you’d won the damn Powerball and some little fan called peaches_and_cream left a comment about cummin’ three times to one damn post” you let out a muffled groan and bury your head into his chest, mumbling something about him being an asshole before you both shift into a comfortable silence. 

He moves, patting your hip and telling you to go use the bathroom after a few minutes, preaching his favorite safe sex speech and you roll your eyes at him before you saunter over to his bathroom. “Oh and Joel-” you call out before you walk in, eyes meeting his as he waits for you to finish your sentence “send me that audio, would ya?” 

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free

READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. Silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist.

PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. 

Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

[itstheghostofmypast]

Screw You!

Soulmate/Corporate AU Choi San x (F)Reader

Summary: Never had she met someone who would say their boss was a good boss, but if you ask her, the corporate warlord she slaved away for was the worst. A true hypocrite, with a pretty face, nice smile, and a rotten,ugly heart- an overtime loving prick. One she was stuck with on HER day, happy birthday to her.

Genre: Fluff

Rating: SFW

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.6k

Est.Read Time: 13 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: Yes, I did write myself a birthday fic- I am not delusional. Also, I had been keeping @justsomekpopstuff 's request literally for this day!

Soulmates, the concept of love, the proof of your "other half" sounds like a load of fun until you realise there's an expiry date on that fun little deal. The beauty of this ideal world was that each soul is blessed with an ink, an ink that morphs into a phrase or a sentence, one that is uttered by their other half at one point of their lonely lives.

In this fundamentally twisted world, she was one of the few who had been blessed with one of the most horrendous soulmate one liners, "Being on time means, no overtime." One she'd gladly cover up with a long sleeved shirt, a cardigan, coat or whatever she could find- yes, she had once thought of getting a tattoo over it, but apparently that was illegal? Like, okay?

As a child, she'd stare at her forearm before glancing at her parents' palms. Both had a single word on their palms, their names. Her bestfriend had a cute phrase on her wrist, one that had her taste the bitter sweet awe at the back of tongue when she saw the boy mumble that question to her platonic soulmate, "Be my starlight?" It was sweet, adorable, swoonworthy even, but like any normal teenagers, her hormones told her a different story, "You're dying single."

As the years passed by she still clung onto some form of hope, wishing that whoever this was, was some good-looking corporate hunk and NOT SOME OLD MAN- mind you, this thought had only occurred to her when her sister had stumbled across her soulmate by accident at a cafe. The young but clumsy barista had almost dropped her coffee on her. Instead, he placed his hand in the way, smiling through the pain as he hissed, "Ain't hotter than you." Granted, Mingi was a weird dude, but he was the one her sister was destined with and as much as she admired the two pair in their late teens, the girl who had hit 21 had an epiphany, "Fate hates me."

Life went on, though. People around her were slowly reuniting with their other halves, but her- screw Plato's theory of other halves. He didn't know anything. Soon enough, she found herself coming home to an empty apartment, waking up in a cold bed, staring up at the dull ceiling, letting the silence hug her with its melancholic tune. There was not much she could do anyway, everyone would remind her not to lose hope, the ugly, rude, black ink in cursive was a sign of assurity that there was someone out there for her. Yeah, an old balding, stubby man, probably with a beer belly and all that crap- yes, this could be a horrid over exaggeration. Looks didn't matter. Personality did. That was true, but then, even if he was a sweet person, why would her other half say something so pointless? Something so blunt and rude?

Yes, that was the paradoxical dilemma that had her up on alternate nights. What if he is a good-looking hunk, but is a total prick! There was no winning in this situation. To top it all off, she had managed to somehow land herself a small little place on the corporate world- now proudly titled as a team leader, she could gladly say that this world was nothing more than a dog eat dog world and she was the bone fate had been chewing on for almost 26 years.

And when our poor, little, angel-hearted, extremely polite and definitely not bitterly sarcastic protagonist was not wailing about the ink on her forearm, she was daydreaming about choking the man on the 28th floor. The bastard who had been the bane of her existence, joining on the same day together but, oh, since he was oh so great at licking them boots, he'd managed to score a bit higher than her. Misogyny at its finest. Who cared if he wasn't even aiming for the same goal as her? Who cares if he was part of the finance team!? Sure it wasn't his fault the advertising head wasn't a fan of her, delaying her promotion till the old prick had finally retired- still, her current higher up, should have at least suffered the same way! To some extent.

"Some people are just lucky." She grimaced at the way her annoyingly sweet best friend had uttered during one of their afternoon coffees, placing a hand on hers, "And, if we remember correctly, you're the competitive one. I told you not to turn it into a competition." Yes, she did handle that situation maturely, chugging down her coffee, grumbling about how break was almost over, leaving the cafe with a, "I'll tell Seonghwa you've been eying up Choi Stupid from work."

Choi Stupid. Technically, that wasn't his name, but let's call him that. Initially, she had thought he was kinda nice, cute too, but then he was just too nice? How do you get everyone to like you? Can you actually be this nice? No, she was sure he was a snarky, mean bastard deep down- yes, he did manage to get the intern manager to like him as well, yes that man would praise Choi Stupid even if he was in the wrong, even if she did better than Choi Stupid, he was somehow appreciated that day too. Eventually she had just began to ignore him, only give him one word responses, but one thing was for sure, Choi Stupid was as competitive as her, but unlike her, luck had been on his side since the start, which is why his boss was a nice lady, while her's was Satan's retired manwhore- for sure.

And as fate would have it, with the annual dinner approaching, the teams and departments were working insynch, collaborating, especially the marketing and the finance department and although she loved such creative opportunities there was one problem- Choi Stupid by default was her boss during this project. And he had made sure to make her already miserable life ten times worse.

Never had she met someone who would say their boss was a good boss, but if you ask her, the corporate warlord she slaved away for was the worst. A true hypocrite, with a pretty face, nice smile, and a rotten,ugly heart- an overtime loving prick. One she was stuck with on HER day, happy birthday to her.

It all started when she had woken up to the doorbell ringing in the middle of the night, opening the door to her family and friends who had come to give her a surprise birthday party- hey, not her fault her birthday landed on a 'working Saturday'. So yes, like any unlucky, lonely, sad 26 year old she had celebrated her special day till around 3 A.M. before knocking out cold and waking up late for work- the best way to celebrate the new year.

With a sigh she leaned back against the chair, unsure if the creaking was coming from it or her poor back, before glancing at the wall clock, leave it to Choi Stupid to have her finishing up everyone else's tasks- technically the reports were her domain, she was team leader after all, but still, she has been here since morning, she had missed her lunch with her family and her usual afternoon coffee with her friends- what a way to enjoy the day.

There was no one else on the floor but her, a part of her wanted to abandon the work and just leave, but the more responsible portion of her soul was already busy beating her up for slacking off like this. Yawning in defeat, she hunched over the desk, glaring at the screen of her desktop, audibly sighing when the familiar clicking of shoes approached her, ignoring the way they progressively got closer.

She actually forgot about him for a moment, busy reading a report, thinking of what to add when she felt him hovering next to her, "It's bad enough you have me working on my birthday, I don't need you to baby me."

With a heavy sigh, he controlled the urge to roll his eyes, placing the coffee cup on her desk in a civil manner. What was she five? Complaining about her birthday like that, it's not his fault she was late. In fact, he had to stay overtime as well, because of her! Her presence was irritating enough, but the constant pestering of his friends about his lack of significant other had him huffing all day, especially when the boss-man asked him today, "Sannie boy, you better look for her quick, you seem to be sulking these days." He only gave the bastard a tight-lipped smile, easy to say for a man who apparently found his other half at the age of ten - oh how San would give anything remotely like that. Imagine knowing your other half for so long, hell, the only people he'd known for a while her of course, his family and friends....and....her.

"What you staring at, Choi? This part of your overtime punishment?" She snapped him back to reality, snatching the cup off the desk in a graceless manner. He didn't deserve a thank you.

He could only scoff at her reaction, pushing up his glasses before shaking his head, she was hopeless, whoever gets stuck with her probably would be sent directly to heaven- considering his punishment would be to spend the rest of his life with this creature. Giving her one more glare, he mumbled, walking away, "Being on time means no overtime."

Her body jerked at the sudden realisation, twitching as her head whipped in his direction, staring at that disgusting-or not- broad back, her lips moving quicker than her brain to process, her automatic defense system kicking in before she could stop herself, instantly having him freeze in his tracks as her voice echoed, "Oh, SCREW YOU!"

An audible gasped caught his burning ears, though he stood there in place, ever so slowly the pieces coming together, forming a picture that had him laughing at the irony.

Her hand slapped against her mouth, eyes widening when she saw him turn around and glare at her, slowly walking towards her, staring her down hard. Clearing her throat, she tried to mumble an apology- wonderful girl, make sure he hates you the moment you meet him, HELL HOW WAS SHE SUPPOSED TO KNOW IT WAS HIM THIS ENTIRE TIME!?

"S-San I-"

Her words caught up in her throat when she realised what he was doing. Approaching her with careful steps he tugged on his tie in an aggressive manner, ignoring her when she tried to speak as he trapped her between the desk and his body, popping open the first two buttons of his crisp white dressshirt with one hand, his other hand gripping her shoulder, rolling his eyes when he noticed her close hers in fear, hande covering her face.

"THIS IS HARRASSMENT-"

"Read." His calm voice cut her off, gently giving her shoulder a squeeze, signalling her to do as told.

She peeked through her fingers, scanning the exposed neck line, about to scream, or possibly kick him down south. That is when her eyes caught trace of a cursive right above his collar bone.

"What...the...hell. " With a faint whisper she lowered her hands, not noticing how he was now looking at her with a certain softness, not noticing how his hands were on her waist, too busy to notice how his face was flushed, his ears burning a bright pink when she traced the phrase on his skin with the tip of her fingers, mumbling, "Oh, screw you..."

"I can't believe it, all this time, it was you." He mumbled, letting her have her moment, but not stopping with his, staring at her with a new kind of tenderness, "I spent my entire life thinking this meant my other half would reject me...I was made fun of till this day....I just...If I had known-"

"I thought I'd be married to an old, bald suited man."

His eyes flickered from her lips to her eyes, "What...do you mean..."

"This, you fool, who says this to someone you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with?" She snorted, unbuttoning her cuff and rolling up her sleeve to show the statement on her forearm, letting him gently grip her wrist, bringing her closer so he could read, "I...yeah I see what you mean-Wow, we just had really weird things to say, huh?" He smiled, looking up at her, and for some ungodly reason, those dimpled and stupid glasses suddenly made her heart beat a little too fast for her liking.

"Speak for yourself. What I said was cool as hell." She mumbled, trying to distract herself, trying not to jump into his arms and break down, to think they met three years ago, and never knew any of this.

His brows raised at her statement, almost about to say something before choosing to lean closer to her, smirking at the way her eyes widened like a dear caught in headlights. Her hands gripped the lapels of his coat, eyes closing when he was a breath away - until she heard a soft click and his warmth disappeared.

"Oh, look, I guess you don't need to work overtime anymore." He chuckled, eying how she stood there dumbfounded, staring at the desktop he had turned off, while he placed her things in her bag for her before slinging the laptop bag over his shoulder, "I'd take your purse too...but...the red doesn't go well with my outfit."

A loud cackle resonated across the empty floor, causing Choi Stupid to smile like a mad man at the woman who was running towards the elevator with him hot on her heels behind her.

The doors closed with a ding as he glanced at her, blushing at how she was shamelessly staring back at him, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the wall of the elevator with a smirk.

"What?" He asked, tilting his head, knowing he wasn't gonna like whatever was coming next.

"Lady luck ain't on your side no more, buddy."

"Why'd you say that??" He asked, raising a brow, somewhat amused at this sudden boost of energy she was now blessed with.

"Gotta spend the rest of my your pathetic life with me."

"Actually, I think I'm pretty lucky. Not only do I get to do that, I still have an hour or so before your day ends...so technically, I think you're finally getting a bit lucky there...having your other half save you and take you out on a nice relaxing dinner for your birthday."

The doors opened as he walked out, chuckling at her gasp, amusing how quick she was even in those heels.

"Save me!? From who!?"

Opening the car door for her, he gestured for her to sit and smiled while closing it, "From Choi Stupid." Laughing at the muffled whining that he could hear while he walked over to his side of the door. Truly lady luck had never left his side, because from the day he had seen her, he had wished she was the one, even when she was being her gremlin self- a part of him wished it was him.

By the time the two had gotten to the road a comfortable silence had settled between them, and a small smile had graced his lips, especially when he had felt her lace their fingers together, giving his hand a light squeeze.

She glanced at their hands, sighing in relief, grateful and somewhat pleasantly surprised, feeling a bit too giddy when he raised her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand, before casually beginning to drive again.

What a birthday surprise indeed.

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

[tremendum]

i've got headaches and bad luck but they couldn't touch you

[not my gif. title from song Of All the Gin Joints in All the World] pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)    

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)      

word count: 4.6k  requested: Could you write something (literally anything really) like mean Joel x feisty Reader but based on the ancient Fall Out Boys song "Of All the Gin Joints in All the World" pretty please? 🥺🥹 I was just listening and I thought the lyrics were perfect for your writing ❤️But as always no pressure and no problem at all if you don't like the idea or anything else. Lots of love! P.S. smut is very welcome btw hihihi summary: “Joel's not one for feelings anymore, but you seem to pull them out of him like it's your goddamn job." warnings: established previous hookups, use of girl/babygirl, established age gap (unspecified but addressed openly), brief mention of oral m!receiving, brief mention of reader and joel’s canon-typical scars. choking, mean!Joel & brat tamer!Joel, brat!reader lol, dirty talk (its joel), degradation, use of the word slut, slight dumbification, spitting, rough sex, unprotected PiV, cum eating, nipple play, slapping (tits, ass). think that's it!

notes: okay finally another mean!Joel for the soul!!! this is super unedited also. tysm for the request, obv inspired by the song Of All The Gin Joints in All the World by FOB. :) this was fun and i hope yall love it! dont b afraid to request anything yall wanna read at all and as always pls comment or reblog :) love u xoxo  

[other Joel fics: mr. miller series fever landmines  ]

★  

Joel Miller isn't sure exactly when all this bullshit started. 

one day, he was introduced to you fleetingly in the cafeteria while you and Maria had an intense conversation - he’s not sure if you spoke for more than ten seconds; but months later and Joel happens to know exactly what your sweaty skin tastes like on the sharpness of his tongue and could probably list his favorite pairs of underwear you own. 

it's nothing, really. 

you patrol together often, and Joel guesses that out of all the insufferable people he's had to deal with, you're definitely not the worst. perhaps your handiness with a trigger - not nearly as inept as his own but definitely a close second - helps; or maybe it's the way your mouth feels wrapped around his cock. 

and he's not stupid; he knows exactly what Tommy was doing when he signed Joel with you for patrol - the same shit he'd been pulling since they were thirty years younger and Joel was fresh out of the relationship with Sarah's mom. but it's different now, because life is not the same - nothing is the same. 

Joel's not one for feelings anymore, but you seem to pull them out of him like it's your goddamn job. 

you are one talkative motherfucker; usually, that'd drive Joel up a wall, but after repeated and incessant exposure to Ellie for such an extended period, his patience has surprisingly grown.

and unlike others, you never acted nervous or scared by him. irritated, maybe, but it's not like he cares much if you get irritated by his attitude; you're worse than he can be.

at first, he thought you were just fucking him because you just didn't know who he really was yet. but months into whatever this shit is, and you're still - for whatever fucking reason - hanging around him, even after everything. he likes it, though, that you fight fire with fire.

and maybe that's why Tommy stuck you two together, because in some ways it was inevitable - maybe it was a good thing, Joel thinks. 

but this morning, as Joel's mind slams against his body, jolting him awake, his aching head makes him double-guess that.

it's weird how different it all is now - before you, Joel was tortured through nights plagued with sweats and memories. blood, pain, loss. he used to dream restlessly of life and all of its unforgiving horrors; but now, to his shock, he finds himself plagued with dreams of you. 

he gasps awake - he's not sure he'll ever stop that. 

but this time, you're next to him in the bed. his skin feels warm as the light filters through the blinds that stay constantly pulled down this time of year to retain the cool air and Joel lets out a shuttered sigh, his head aching.

it's only the second time you've stayed the night. he's never stayed at yours, god forbid - but a small part of him aches this morning when you slide out of his heavy, sleep-addled muscles. in the absence of your heat there is still bliss for a moment, until he's roused fully by your voice. 

"these sheets are dirty." the sound carries into his ears, melodic and fiery. he cracks one eye open, hand raising to rub over his face - a deep, tired sigh. 

"g'mornin' to you too." he snarks, sighing as he pulls himself on aching muscles to blink his eyes open; you stand over the bed, on the side that usually remains cold an empty while Joel thrashes in fits of restless sleep. there's not a single scrap of clothing on your body.  

he feels himself stir at the sight of you, naked, neck painted in a splattering of beautiful marks that'd been pulled forth in moments of ecstasy the night before.

you send him a half smirk, shrugging as you tug on a shirt - his, fuck, his stomach swirls at the sight of you wrapped in him. something primal crawls in his chest as you smile at him, legs almost glowing in their bareness as they knock against the side of the mattress. your fingers brush the fabric to the left of his head. 

"there's stains on the pillows." you shake your head, your face alluring in its tease. he feels himself roll his eyes as he grunts, "you're actin' like it ain't your makeup stainin' it?" 

he stares at the marks on the pillowcase; black, from that shit you sometimes put on your eyes which just makes them all the more beautiful, wide, and alluring. the makeup that's surely expired after all this time but still is something you like to do to, as you'd mentioned once, 'reclaim your humanity.' whatever.

Joel would never admit it to you, but he hadn't even really tried to wash out those stains; something about them gives him a warmth in his chest every morning that he wakes up in this cold bed. 

but when his eyes fall back to you in your silence, you smirk and it hits him: you're fucking teasing him.

he glares at you as your lips curl in a huff of a laugh, shaking your head. "if you keep complainin' about every damn thing, might as well just fuck you on the floor." he mutters, mostly to himself-  but also to see the way your thighs shift, eyes widening slightly as color washes your cheeks. you're squirming at his words, just like that - oh, he's got you pinned.

you'd like that, you dirty little thing.

but you regain your composure quicker than lightning, ready to snap back; yet another tally to add on the list of things he admires about you.

"you're such a gentleman, Miller." you snide, fanning yourself sardonically with one hand as you roll your eyes, searching for your underwear. 

he remembers the first time you'd said that to him -

"why so shy?" you'd purred. the memory of your voice curls around his ears as he huffs, watching you bend over and give him a complete view of your ass as you fetch your panties from the floor.  "c'mon, Joel, you don't need to be such a gentleman. 's nothing you haven't seen before." you'd stripped yourself of your shirt, your pert nipples pebbling in the cold breeze as he'd sat, cleaning his rifle. "the hell's the matter with you?" he'd grumbled; but it didn't stop either of you. you'd been pressed between him and the splitting backseat of the broken down crashed car within seconds, anyways. 

his eyes meet yours as you stand again. 

he snarks, "well you’re givin' me a headache, an' I've only been up for two minutes." he glares at you, swinging to pull his boxers over his hips, standing up to find his shirt. he pointedly ignores the glare you send him at his grumpiness. 

"you're the one acting dumb," you mutter, "acting like I'm the one who gives you headaches." you retort, a teasing glint in your eye; he knows that look. Joel knows you'd never get a headache from him - as much as he pisses you off, he knows you're too fiery, too lucky to get caught up in whatever miserable puddle he's drowning in. 

because Joel's bad luck curls around his fists wherever he goes; the talons reaching out, crawling through every hallway and seeping through every door. you, on the other hand, are like a goddamn firecracker. Joel hates the idea, but you're... somehow gifted in that way.

he's convinced his bad luck couldn't touch you if it tried. 

no matter the dumb shit you pull - forgetting a flashlight, not flipping off your safety that one moment when the clicker had stumbled out of the brush; all of that, and you escape unscathed, nothing but a giggle and a half-shrug from you before you move on to the next stupid thing. 

if you weren't such a goddamn brat, it'd be charming. 

his eyes snap to yours as your words fall from your lips; a burning in his chest at your tone. he watches your legs carry you into his bathroom, and he can't help it when his follow yours.

you haven't even flipped on the lights before he shuts the door behind him - you're already wearing that snarky fucking smile on your face, and he's straining already against his boxers.

he stares down at you, crowding you slowly into the wall. "what the fuck did you just say to me?" he hisses, mouth close to yours. as you turn your chin up towards his face, he can tell that you try your hardest to control your smirk, playing into the tense energy that's emanating from his chest. 

"I said you're acting dumb."

you repeat, tilting your head slightly as you drink in the darkness in his eyes. lord, you'd let that darkness swallow you in a fucking heartbeat. 

speaking of; your own heartbeat thunders in your chest, anticipating. you know what's coming, you can nearly taste it on your tongue. 

"oh, 's that right?" Joel asks, tilting his head to stare down at you. you swallow as you stare back into those deep irises, the small bit of golden light that shines through the small bathroom window illuminating in an ominously heavenly ray.

his hand settles on the crook of your shoulder and neck, sliding gently upwards as you nod your head defiantly, pushing as far as you can to see when he'll snap. his eyes glisten in temptation; daring you to act up more. 

raising your brows, you try to play like it's obvious, "waking up and complaining about your headaches, old man?" you tut gently, shaking your head innocently. "I don't think it's my fault that you fucked me twice, immediately passed out and now your head hurts when you've woken up the next morning. you know better than to push yourself in your old age, Joel. that's stupid." you add coyly, knowing it'll push him over the edge - he loves it when you act like a brat, no matter how much he denies it. 

his response is immediate and exactly what you'd hoped for. 

he's on you in a split second - hand sliding from your shoulder to grip your throat, pushing you back onto the wall of the bathroom. the towel bar digs into your middle-back slightly and you gasp in arousal at the force of his body on yours. you can feel his cock, hard and straining in his boxers, as it presses into your lower stomach. 

"y'wanna play like that, baby?" he growls, "why you fuckin' around with an old man like me, then?" he asks.

your face heats up, arousal flooding your core, your cunt slowly wetting itself at the purr of his voice - the meaner the words, the larger the flame. 

"hm?" he gently pushes, raising his brows as his hand squeezes gently on your throat, nudging you against the wall further; your gasp is slightly rasped under the pressure, your whole body screaming with desire. this is what you love - mean, angry, hungry Joel Miller. "'s it because nobody fucks you like I do, is that it?"

his knee slides between yours, wedging himself high up, rubbing suddenly against your aching pussy, the material of your cotton already soaked with a damp spot that rubs against his thick thigh. 

"Joel, fuck-" you groan, already willing to just do what you can to get him to touch you. his hand on your throat tightens at your word, thigh rutting up to slide against your needy clit, your hips bucking at the feeling. "-'s because nobody else is so easy." your fiery mouth betrays your body; the snarky comment snaps his eyes to yours, a dark breath leaving his lips. 

"that's ironic," he snaps, "comin' from someone who begged me to fuck them for hours." 

your face burns at the memory of the first time you and Joel'd hooked up; your desperate voice hoarse from pleading him to fuck you - out in the middle of the woods, a sleeping bag that, by the end, had rips on it from rocks and twigs and the force of his thrusts; the shyness gone from either of you as your touches made up for all the silence between you.

he hums lowly, watching you as you swallow at the memory, his thigh rutting up again and pulling a yelp of pleasure from your lips. "y'don't feel so high 'n mighty when I fuck you stupid, right baby?" he asks, voice dripping with condescendence as he nods gently, encouraging you to answer him. your core throbs at his words, your mouth going dry. 

his hand leaves your throat; you swallow a gulp of air, staring with wide eyes as he grasps your jaw roughly. "answer me." 

"n-no, I don't." you mutter, voice sounding small; the arousal that pulses through your veins begs your mouth to be smart, do what Joel says so he'll give in to what you want. 

he smirks, hands roughly grabbing the thick of your hips and flipping you around to press you against the counter, your hips bending as he shoves himself just behind you. your eyes meet yourself and his own hawkish gaze in the mirror in front of you; your heated breath fogs up the mirror in the faint morning light. 

his fingers thread through your hair, tugging you back again as he tilts your head back. his upside down face, smirking down at you, has your thighs clenching - "open." he orders, voice stern. 

your tongue sticks out and he wastes no time spitting roughly onto your tongue, moving your head back to stare into the mirror; his eyes meet yours as his spit slides over your tongue and his furrowed brows twitch with a slight smirk. "look at you, doin' what I tell you. now swallow it and say thank you." 

your core flutters at his words deliciously as you do as you're told; swallowing, you take a breath and mutter, "thank you," - though it's more breathless than you expected, Joel seems to approve. he hums, "there are those manners," he mutters into your ear, cock pressing against the swell of your ass. "almost seemed like you'd forgotten you had them." 

"didn't forget." you mutter, face heating up as your pussy aches, fluttering around nothing and desiring for his fingers, his cock - anything. 

one rough palm slides his shirt up your torso, exposing your bare tits to both of you through the mirror. with his face stooped down near your neck, a short inhale of your hair before his hand reaches it's destination - your throat. 

"then why're you actin' up?" he rasps, teeth grazing your shoulder. he squeezes his hand again and your eyes roll back in pleasure, arousal soon slicking your thighs as you think you may die from all the teasing. "you don't wanna cum?" 

your eyes widen, breath halting as you shake your head, "wh- no- no!" you hiss, "I do want to cum, please." 

his other hand raises, slapping your breast harsh and quick; your gasp of shock tapers off into a whine of pleasure, your nipples hard in arousal as his palm comes to soothe over the sting. 

"then why're you acting like this?" he asks again, shaking his head. another slap, this time to your other breast. his eyes follow the skin of your chest; the way you gasp, your whines at the slight stinging and the pleasure that follows. fingers pinch your nipples, teasing in circles before another sharp slap echoes through the room. "just a little brat, y'can't help yourself." he decides, biting on your neck lightly. 

you can feel him rut against you hard, grinding his hips as he lets out a short groan. you let out a low moan, whining slightly when he smacks your tits again, skin glowing with the impact. his eyes meet yours in the mirror. "quit the whinin'," he grunts, rutting his hard cock against your ass, "you'll be stuffed full of me soon enough." he grunts, "then we'll see who's dumb." 

your shaky moan sounds more like a groan, elbows falling to steady yourself as Joel releases your throat, tossing you forward to grab your hips instead. he pulls you back, grinding into you as his head tilts back in how own small groan of pleasure. "this ass." Joel grunts to himself as he palms the curve of your ass in both large hands, one falling to smack harsh onto the left. 

you're dripping down the inside of your thighs as he ruts against you twice more; thick fingers soon slide to thumb at the slick wet of your panties. his fingers tease the wet material that's glued to your pussy with need, tracing over your lips lightly over the fabric. "pretty pussy, just for me." he mutters; you nod, looking up at him through the mirror, "all for you, Joel." you affirm, voice shaking with anticipation. 

"you gonna be good when I fill you up, baby?" he lifts his brow, stern look as he palms himself. fuck, he's so sexy behind you like this, his thumb slowly dragging the material of your panties to the side and exposing your weeping cunt; you nod, "yes, I'll do anything-" 

you're cut off by a sharp gasp as the stretch of his cock's head cuts off your brain. he eases in gently at first which you're more than grateful for - no matter how many times Joel fucks you, his size is always something you have to adjust to; especially after your rounds last night left you barely able to walk straight. 

he lets out a breath, "there y'go, baby, take me." he says it surprisingly gently, easing in inch by inch as you breathe deeply, your soaked pussy easing his cock through your channels. his cock is heavy and aching as he slides into you, sheathing you fully within another few seconds - Joel's hands grip so hard on your ass, splaying you open for him, that you think his fingers will remain there for days. 

he's still only for a moment, letting you accommodate to his size before he's leaning forward to press his chest to your back, "gonna fuck you stupid, baby." 

"please, Joel," you groan, cunt fluttering, begging him to move. "do it." 

it's all that he needs before he's setting a pace that has you whining under him, your breath choking as you brace yourself agains the counter of the sink. 

it's bliss. his hips are sharp, the reach of his cock pressing against the spongy spot inside you, dragging against your pulsing walls. "fuck, so deep-" you hiss, eyes closing in pleasure as he presses himself against you, hips surely going to bruise against the thrusts that shove you into the countertop. 

one hand sneaks over your front, grasping at your tits as his cock reaches up into you deeply. he lets out a grunt, "fuckin'- christ, you're s-so tight," he grunts, "even after fuckin' you all night." 

you moan, the quick bout of his praise causing you to squeeze around him, trapping him in your aching desire. the both of you moan at the feeling and suddenly one hand presses on your spine until you're low to the counter. his hands grab your shoulders, fingers curling around the base of your throat as he changes his pace to hard and rough, the sound of your ass against his hips nearly hitting your ears over your cries of pleasure. 

the noises of your arousal swallowing his cock echo around the room in a familiar, comforting chorus as you both let out shuttering moans; his strong arms pull you back until you're once again pressed against his broad chest. his breath fans over your neck and you whine slightly when his thrusts press you up onto your tip-toes. his lips find your ear, "how's that feel?" your hole flutters from the deepness in his voice - he groans at the feeling. 

your response is a whine of ecstasy as you claw at his forearms, head tilting back until you can almost feel his erratic heartbeat. his chest rumbles with a light chuckle, "look, barely took ya any time to get fucked out on my cock," he praises, hand petting your wild hair, "knew you'd be good for me. always take what I give you, right?" 

you nod, desperate to reach the climax that's easily built within you from the stretch of him deep in you and his voice in your ear. your clit aches from being ignored and your hand snakes down to rub light circles on it; your hips jolt as you gasp raggedly, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. 

"no." he growls, hand grabbing your jaw sternly as he pounds into you, "when I'm fuckin' you, you keep your eyes on me." he snaps, squeezing your cheeks. "'s that clear?"

you nod in the mirror, whines getting louder as his name falls nearly incoherently from your lips- you see his lips ghost over your neck, the smirk that spreads over his pink lips as you finally get out a strangled, "Joelpleaseplease- s'close-" 

he knows what you need; you and Joel are each other's best escape. he pistons into you hard, chasing your high as he feels it spasming close around him. "easy, huh?" he snarls, hips just as harsh as his words, eyes sharp on yours. "who's easy, baby - me, or the one beggin' like a slut to cum on my cock?" 

for someone so quiet and closed off, Joel Miller has never shied away from using his goddamn words when he's fucking you, that's for sure. his words, his accent - they push you towards the edge and it almost distracts you from his question. his eyebrows raise in the silence as you gasp for words, moans choked  as his fingers slide down from your jaw to squeeze your throat. 

"look at'cha, can't even speak for me," he groans, his hand suddenly snaking down to smack your away from your clit; two larger, calloused fingers replace your shaky ones and you wail at the stimulation, almost too much.

you blink up at him through the mirror, unable to speak, unable to think as you feel the crest of something incredibly blissful growing; you let out a whine of ecstasy. "I'm- I'm easy," you concede, finally able to spit your words out, your voice higher than normal in your pleasure. 

Joel nods, kissing your sweaty hairline, "'s goddamn right you are, babygirl," he hisses, "easy for me. this pretty little pussy is mine, isn't it?" 

you scream, "yours, Joel-" before he barely finishes the sentence.

with your words, he smiles against your neck - the feeling of it sends goosebumps over your whole torso. "you're a lucky girl," he growls in your ear, teeth brushing the shell before licking it gently, "you can cum." 

you barely realize you've hit your orgasm until you’re writhing - a white-hot, searing arousal streaking your vision as your eyes roll back. he fucks you steadily through your orgasm, your thighs closing slightly around his large palm, but his fingers don't stop their motions on your clit. 

you shake and stutter for gasps as he pounds into you, chasing his own high that's been spurred - by your own words or the clenching of your orgasm around him, you're unsure. 

"love how you feel-" he groans, voice weakening as he nears his own orgasm, hips sloppy as he pushes your face down, against the cool tile of the bathroom sink. "fuck, baby, made to take this cock." 

his sentences are choppy, his gasps and grunts of pleasure mixing with the slap of your ass against him as he thrusts, your legs tired as he fills you full and then suddenly pulls out. you gasp at the suddenness of his absence, turning to look at him as if betrayed - but he looks completely gone, eyes dark with need. "gonna cum on your tits, sweetheart." 

your stomach flips at the word - one he's never used before - and you relax into his harsh grip, moving down to the ground on your knees as he grunts, "take this shit off now." 

his shirt is on the ground in half a second, your breasts bare to him as he fists his cock, eyes on you and lidded with pleasure. your hands fall onto his strong thighs, looking up at him in awe as he fists his cock, slick with your sticky spend, tip flushed and veins stretching over the shaft. "please, cum on me, want it so bad, Joel," you whine - his hand caresses your jaw and slips over your lips, sticking his thumb into your mouth. you suck eagerly and he moans your name deep, head tilting back in ecstasy. 

"fuck," he grunts, slipping his thumb out of your mouth before you can even swirl your tongue around it, and then he's hitting his orgasm.

ropes of his cum land on your tits, a small bit gathering on your chin as he slows his hand, letting out a few sharp breaths. he's barely caught his breath before your fingers are gathering a swipe of his thick cum, bringing it to your mouth. his dark eyes follow you through his labored breaths as you slowly suck his spend off of your fingers, "fuckin'- pretty," he mumbles into his hand as he runs a palm over his face, shaking his head. 

you smile, cheeks heating up. the sun is rising and the room is fully golden, bouncing off the mirror and illuminating his tan skin, the scars on his body and yours. he's pretty, you realize. 

you tell him so, quietly - in the silence of the bathroom. his scowl softens and you swear you see a blush forming as he rolls his eyes down at you from where you perch on the linoleum. 

Joel always says you only tell him sweet things to get him to fuck you - but in the afterglow of your actions, you catch sight of your makeup-stained pillowcase back in Joel's bedroom and it makes you grin. you know he doesn't wash it for a reason, the same reason you keep coming back to him. 

and you also know that the way he smooths his thumb over your hairline, the way your own hands in turn soothe over his thighs - those actions, they make up for everything else that's unspoken.

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