#either side but on the other hand i do feel like i’m the one who’s more. like. i’m not hurting more there’s not really a gauge for that but

[gotta-winwin]

Wahhhh so excited for vernon x reader!!!!!!

Can i request something like idol!jun x reader, i really miss jun 🥹🥹🥹 maybe reader is on another hybe group and him surprising him, or anything HAHAHAHAH

actor!jun x idol!reader headcannons

a/n: wasn't exactly like the prompt you gave, anon, but i hope you still enjoy! we're all in our missing jun hours sadly :(( but it feels nice knowing he's thriving in the element he loves.

your shared google calendar is a hot mess.

The two of you have busy work schedules, as you juggle upcoming comebacks, award shows, reality and variety filming, meetings with the higher-ups - the day literally never ends. Jun is the same, always trying to balance his filming gigs and promotional side quests. It’s rare for the two of you to have a day off - let alone ALIGN your days together. Trust that your shared google calendar is a battlefield filled with colorful agendas and very minimal white space. 

bad wifi is your everyday lifestyle. 

Curse Jun and his gift of choosing acting gigs where their filming locations are always in the ass-crack of nowhere. You’re both well accustomed to facetime with spotty service, delayed speech and glitchy faces. It’s turned into quite the game, as you both attempt to screenshot the worst photo of each other possible, while still maintaining your own image and reputation. It’s a pain to communicate, constantly having Jun reply to something you had said minutes ago, but you two make it work. 

dating rumors are a joke. 

With both of you being well into the social media spotlight, you’re prone to many, many dating rumors throughout your career. It’s Ateez’s Mingi one day, then TBZ’s Haknyeon the next, Jun doesn’t even bat an eye at this point. He knows who he is at the end of the day - your boyfriend. On the other hand, it’s not the first time he’s gotten an earful from you about dating rumors with his pretty costars, although he knows it’s all in good fun. All it takes is one sweet sentence to get you to fold: “it’s you I’m coming home to lao po, besides, can’t you see how forced that kiss is? I kiss you with much, much more fervor than that.” 

you see his friends more than you see him.

His friends run in the same circles as you do, all talented idols that often share your stage in performances. It’s funny to think you see them more often than you see him, although they’re always ready to tell you just how much Jun complains about your distance in their group chat, exposing you boyfriend to be the clingy lover he really is. They’ve aided you many times in sneaking away from your job to visit Jun, covering your ass so you can spend even just a couple hours with your boyfriend in China. 

planes and airports are the ideal date spot.

It’s not rare to have the two of you go on a “date” at airports, using the special time your schedules cross over to spend time with each other. The airport buffets become your picnics, the lobby fountains hear all your well kept wishes and the seating area has seen…one too many things. 

your jokes are the world’s jokes

Jun loves slipping little tidbits of your shared life into his work, nudging the writer of whatever project he’s starring in to add a couple lines referencing something only the two of you would know. He loves your shocked expression when the project finally airs to the world, his phone blowing up with loving texts as you swallow the idea that your lover has included you in his work. It’s just his talent - Jun somehow finds a way to bring you everywhere with him. 

your love is the world’s love

You would never admit it on camera, but most of your lyrics and songs are either written with or written about Jun. While everyone else is scrambling to figure out just how you do it, you and Jun can rest easy knowing it’s your shared secret, along with your secret romance. 

[gudfornuthin]

Want You So Bad

Dae-ho/number 388 x fem!reader

(MDNI)

A/N: No thoughts, just Dae-ho. I thought these anon asks worked well together so I’ve combined them into one. I hope this is what you guys wanted, and apologies for my poorly written smut lol. (Also apologies if the Korean isn’t correct, copied it from a romanised version on Google) Feedback is appreciated :)

“Dunggulge dunggulge, jjak

Binggeulbinggeul doragamyeo chum-eul chupsida

Sonppyeogeul chimyeonseo, jjak

Noraereul bureumyeo, jjak

Rallallalla jeulgeoupge chumchuja

Ringga ringga ringga, ringga ringga ring Sone soneul japgo modu da hamkke jeulgeoupge twieo bopsida”

Standing on the turning floor, your vision is going dizzy and your stomach is churning. There’s blood everywhere, and you’re trying not to think about all the people who were killed in the last round. You almost didn’t make it. But you got lucky. Mainly because of the man standing next to you.

You look to your left, Dae ho’s side profile devoid of any emotions. You’d only known each other for a couple of days (at least that’s what you thought. Time in here is weird) but you’d already grown close. Closer than you expected to with anyone in this nightmare fuelled place. But you trusted him the most. And he’d also saved your life during red light green light.

He finally feels your stare and turns to look at you. He smiles slightly. “You okay?”

He knows you’re not, but you smile back either way. “Yeah.”

The floor suddenly stops moving, and the lights dim. The group prepare for their next number.

“Five.”

Chaos ensues, as everyone begins to panic, grabbing and pulling, hoping they have the right amount of people. Dae ho holds your hand, as he quickly follows Gi hun, and two other people you’re yet to know the names of. You run as fast as you can, trying to find an available room.

Just as you’re about to make it to one of the doors, someone slams into you hard, knocking you off your feet and losing Dae ho’s firm grip.

“Y/N!” You hear him exclaim, before completely losing sight of him and the others.

The thought of dying consumes you as reality sets in. You feel like screaming and throwing up the little food they’d given you last night. Before you have the chance, strong arms lift you up and drag you to an open door. Getting a grip on your footing, you rush into the room, just as the timer runs out. The door locks and gunshot can be heard from outside your safe space.

Breathing heavily, you feel a soft touch on your back, rubbing up and down.

“Are you alright?”

You glance to the side, the number ‘333’ catching your attention first. You look up to be met by the kind eyes of your saviour. You nod rapidly, still trying to catch your breath.

“You saved my life,” is the only thing you can say.

He laughs halfheartedly. “You sort of saved ours too.”

You stand up to your full height, remembering the other people in the room with you. You quickly thank them as well and they nod.

“I’m Myung gi by the way,” player 333 says.

“Y/N,” you reply, smiling at each other.

The door unlocks as everyone slowly makes their way out. As you leave the room, yelling can be heard from across the room. It’s Dae ho. You see him push a player you don’t recognise up against the wall, as he continues screaming in their face.

“She’s dead because of you!”

You rush over, hoping to stop this before it turns into a full blown fist fight.

“Dae ho!” You call out.

He stops what he’s doing and frantically searches for you. Your eyes meet, and he lets the player go, running over to meet you halfway. He throws his arms around your waist, shocking you briefly, but also wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He squeezes you tight, his face buried in your neck.

“I’m okay,” you whisper. “I’m fine.”

Dae ho pulls away and holds you at arms length. “I thought they killed you. I just… what happened?”

You feel a presence behind you, and turn to find Myung gi standing awkwardly a few steps behind. You nod at him to come closer, taking him by the arm. Dae ho flinches slightly at the motion.

“I was a goner, had it not been for my knight in shining armour here grabbing and saving me.”

Myung gi laughs at the nickname you give him. “Don’t sell yourself short. We saved each other really.”

You continue smiling at each other, all the while Dae ho watches the sickly sweet interaction. Weird feelings bubble up in his stomach, one of relief but another of petty jealousy. He tries to brush it off, as he nods at the man standing next to you.

The game continues on for a couple more rounds, until you figure out there’s only one more to go. 126 players. 50 doors. That means only 2 people per room. You’re standing in between Dae ho and Myung gi, finding it hard to breathe.

The floor stops moving, and the number is called.

“Two.”

Both of the men on either side of you reach out at the same time to take your hand. Myung gi is faster, as he links your fingers with his and rushes towards the door in front of you. You stumble behind him, looking back and seeing Dae ho watching on like a kicked puppy. Thankfully someone grabs him as they too head for an empty room, his sad expression imprinted in your mind.

- - -

Night rolls around, and Dae ho finds it hard to fall asleep. After the last round of Mingle, Myung gi didn’t leave your side once. He seemed eager to know more about you, where you were from, and why you chose to be apart of the game. Dae ho knows it’s wrong to feel jealous. After all, he’d only known you for two days, and most of that time is spent either sleeping or trying not to be killed.

Yet it bothers him to no end. It bothered him when you two hugged at the end of Mingle. It bothered him when you two shared food with each other. It bothered him when Myung gi asked if he could sleep closer to you tonight. It shouldn’t. But it did.

Dae ho feels himself almost drift off into a deep sleep, when he hears scuffling to his right. You’re slowly getting up, rubbing your eyes and hobbling to the front of the large room. His eyes follow your every move, as you knock on the door to where the toilets are. A guard appears and after some brief back and forth, opens the door and allows you to enter.

He lies back down. You still run through his mind.

“Fuck it.”

Dae ho crawls out from under the bed and speed walks over to the door. He knocks and makes the excuse that he needs a piss. Another back and forth with the less than happy guard, but once again the door opens and he walks through.

He makes his way up the stairs and, making sure the guard isn’t paying attention, heads for the women’s bathroom. He walks in, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable and stupid. What’s the plan? Profess your love to a stranger you just met and how you can’t stand the thought of them being with anyone else? Dae ho knows you’ll tell him he’s gone mad. And maybe it’s not love. Something more intense. Something more primal. There’s only one way of finding out.

The flush of a toilet sounds as you walk out of one of the stalls, jumping slightly when you spot Dae ho by the sinks.

“Shit. You scared me.”

“Sorry.”

You walk over and stand by his side, washing your hands thoroughly, as he waits in silence.

After you’ve finished, he decides to speak up. “So, you’re getting on well with player 333?”

“Myung gi,” you respond. Dae ho doesn’t care for learning his name. “And yeah, he doesn’t really have anyone else in here to talk to and I don’t mind the company.”

He nods as you continue talking, leaning next to him on the sinks. “He also saved my life in the last game, so there’s no way I’m abandoning him now.”

Dae ho tries not to rolls his eyes, but can’t stop himself from huffing like a child. “I saved your life too but nah let’s put him on a pedestal,” he mumbles under his breath.

Unfortunately you hear what he says, sending him a puzzled look. “Do you have a problem with Myung gi?”

Dae ho stares at you, wondering how to respond. He doesn’t want to sound like a possessive, overprotective boyfriend, because he isn’t one. But he also knows it’s getting harder and harder to hide his brewing feelings for you.

“Nothing I just,” he huffs again. “I feel like you’re gonna wanna spend more time with him instead of me.”

You laugh, shocking him slightly, as you move to stand in front of him. “So just because I’ve made a new friend means I have to ditch you?”

Dae ho shrugs, feeling embarrassed and incredibly dumb.

You poke him softly in the stomach. “I like you. I wanna get to know you better. Hopefully outside of this hellhole.”

He laughs along with you now, staring deeply into your eyes. “I like you too.”

The air around you suddenly feels hot, a tension you didn’t realise was there until now. You move closer, testing the waters, and thankfully Dae ho does the same thing. One second more, and your lips lock in a passionated, heated kiss. Dae ho grips your hips hard while you run your fingers through his hair.

“Wait,” you say through the kiss. “What if one of the guards comes in?”

Dae ho shakes his head vigorously. “They don’t care. We could be killing each other in here and they wouldn’t stop us.”

“Romantic,” you reply sarcastically, as he moves to kiss your neck.

You moan, feeling your back press against the wall. Even though the guards don’t care what goes on in here, you know they’ll start to question why you’re taking so long. So, as you continue kissing Dae ho, you reach for his pants and pull them down slightly. He’s shocked at first, then quickly catches on to what you’re doing and pulls yours down a little bit too.

“Are you sure,” Dae ho tries to catch his breath. “You wanna do this?”

“I’m not stopping now.”

He lifts you up spreading your legs to wrap around his waist. You feel him push into you slowly, eliciting a gasp from your mouth. His thrusts amp up as he fills you entirely. Your make out session goes interrupted, as beads of sweat form on your skin, the taste of salt landing on your tongues.

You’re about to scream his name, when a bang on the entrance door stops you both in your tracks.

A deep voice booms from the other side. “What’s taking you so long in there?”

Dae ho puts you down on the floor, clumsily pulling his pants back up around his waist as you do the same. You’re both breathless, hair a mess and lips swollen.

“Almost done!” Dae ho calls out, not thinking of how the guard will react to him being in the women’s bathroom.

He turns to you, kissing you briefly on the lips. “We’re not finished here.”

For the first time since you came here, you couldn’t wait for another night.

- - -

Taglist

@meeeeeees-stuff @lemon-lysol @smally97 @idkidkidk22333 @whatthefuckeryfuckityfuck @k1michii @maymustdie @honey-whiskey-666

(Apologies for anyone I couldn’t tag)

(More to come as I have a lot more requests)

[urno1luv]

your sana works are soooo… so good 😵‍💫😵‍💫

could you do possessive sana jealous fucking r after finding out one of the other members may have a little crush on r? ><

here it is ♡ hope u like it!!

tags: possessive/obsessive behaviour, cunnilingus (😝), fingering, dubcon? thinly veiled threats towards tzuyu/nayeon (😔)

_________________________________________

The atmosphere in the dorm felt different tonight, tense and charged. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it until Sana walked into the kitchen where you were grabbing a late-night snack. Her expression was anything but her usual bubbly self—her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes sharper than you’d ever seen them.

“Hey,” you greeted, trying to keep the mood light. “Want some ramen?”

She ignored your offer, leaning against the counter with crossed arms. “I heard something interesting today,” she began, her tone measured but laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

You tilted your head. “Oh? What was it?”

Sana took a step closer, her presence almost suffocating in the small space. “Tzuyu has a crush on you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Tzuyu? She’s just being sweet. It’s nothing serious.”

Her jaw tightened at your response, and she placed her hands on either side of you, effectively trapping you between her and the counter. “It’s serious to me,” she said, her voice dropping to a low whisper.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden proximity. “Sana, it’s really not a big deal. I didn’t even know about it until now.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” she said, her eyes boring into yours. “You don’t see how people look at you. How they want you.” Her voice wavered slightly, but the possessiveness was unmistakable.

She leaned in closer, her lips just a breath away from yours. “But they don’t get to have you. You’re mine.”

Your heart raced at her words, the intensity in her eyes pinning you in place. “Sana…”

“I mean it,” she continued, her voice softening but no less firm. “I don’t care who it is. No one gets to take you away from me.”

You reached up to gently cup her face, your thumb brushing against her cheek. “You don’t have to worry about that. You’re the only one I want, Sana.”

Her eyes searched yours for any trace of doubt, and when she found none, she finally relaxed—only for a moment. Then, a sharper glint returned to her gaze, and her grip on your waist tightened, as she led you to her room.

“Good,” she murmured, her tone dipping into something darker, more dangerous. “Because I’m not just saying this, you know. I mean it. You’re mine. And I’ll make sure everyone—everyone—knows it.”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of her words settle over you like a heavy blanket. “Sana, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” she interrupted, her voice firmer now. “I’ve seen the way they look at you. And now that I know someone in our group thinks they can take what’s mine?” She shook her head, a humorless laugh escaping her lips. “I don’t think so.”

Her hands slid up your sides, slow and deliberate, until they rested just under your jaw. She tilted your face up to meet her eyes, her thumbs brushing over your skin as if to stake her claim even further.

“I don’t care if it’s Tzuyu, Nayeon, or anyone else,” she said, her voice dropping to a near-growl. “If they think they can compete with me, they’ll find out just how far I’m willing to go to keep you.”

You shivered, unsure if it was from her words or the way her touch sent sparks through your skin. “Sana…”

Her lips finally met yours, urgent and unyielding, cutting off whatever protest you might have had. When she pulled back, her smirk was unmistakable, her confidence radiating off her in waves. She sat you down, rather forcefully, onto her bed.

“Let them try,” she said softly, her voice dripping with finality. “They’ll learn soon enough. You belong to me.”

She leaned forward, pushing you down, the bed creaking with the sudden move. In the dim light, you can only see her eyes glinting, her tongue licking her lips in a slow pace, letting you drink in all the details. Her kisses trailed down, lower and lower, her mouth pressing hot kisses against your soft skin. A whimper escaped you, and you could feel your egotistical girlfriend smirking into your belly, her slender fingers unbuckling the belt on your jeans.

Soon enough, her tongue pressed against your cunt, eliciting a small moan from you. She licked long stripes for a few seconds before plunging deep into you, fucking you with her tongue. You were a hot mess, a thin sheen of sweat covering you, face flushed red from her actions.

She got up and positioned you so you were sitting on her lap, her arm snakes around your waist, her fingers entering you, and you whined into her neck, ready feeling stuffed. Sana only kisses your head, not responding to your pleas to slow down, her wrist already dripping from your slick. "Sana, sto-... stop.. mm.." She narrowed her eyes, only for her to tighten her grip on you, her fingers curling as she fucks you. You stifle your sobbing and moaning, not wanting to stop her but at the same time feeling overwhelmed.

"My love, you're mine. Let me make sure you remember that."

[arcanarix]

f!sorcerer reader, dubcon, stalking, possessiveness, harassment (there will be a non sorcerer reader version)

bully!satosugu aren’t your average bullies. they aren’t bogged down each time you ignore their attempts at getting under your skin. they know you’re smart and know better… but so are they and they do too. and maybe they’re less interested in breaking you down more than simply getting to know you :)

(but they need to understand you aren’t your average target. you can and will stand up for yourself. you don’t show much interest in general and that just baffles them.)

bully!satosugu…who aren’t the kind to dominate the small world of jujutsu tech one because there’s no reason for that or anything to gain from it either but they are instead viewed as just two boys sharing the same brain cell. shoko and utahime tell you not to pay them any mind; they’re just two dumbasses with an overinflated sense of importance being speshul grades. nanami even reiterates the fact. plus they annoy everyone, so it’s not like you’re a special case here.

bully!satosugu who get all up in your space and in your business, ignoring your protests when they snatch your books and notes out of your hands and lap and geto’s scooping you into his strong hold instead.

“why’s a grade 3 sorcerer wasting her time? trust me, we have better things in mind for a pretty thing like you,” geto purrs.

“and besides, what use is a grade 3 in the field when the two strongest can just take care of everything? hmmmm?” gojo taunts while fiddling with a stray strand of your hair.

instead of seeming intimidated, you’re just annoyed that your work has been disrupted. you don’t give them an outward reaction, just a deadpan, “if you don’t let me go i’ll use my curse technique to castrate the two of you.”

that seems to work for now!

bully!satosugu who…for some reason hover over you like they’re your bodyguards yet you treat them as if they’re not there the entire time. even if gojo can usually annoy someone to the point of tears, you don’t react, instead you’re able to completely tune him AND geto out.

how… Unnerving! Perplexing?

bully!satosugu who HATE to see you divert your attention to anyone else be it nanami or haibara or even shoko and utahime. something sets them off when you giggle a little too hard at some off hand deadpan remark nanami makes, you keep making eyes at him like you like him and not them. what’s up with that? and then they see nanami resting his hand on your thigh……….

and shooting a glare their way, as if to ward them off of you or else? wha?

bully!satosugu who aren’t keen on the idea of you trying to have a life outside of them (you never wanted a life with them from the start, but you digress) so they corner you in one of the empty lecture halls. you tell them you don’t know what they mean. in fact you insist, because you really don’t understand (or really care either). you have no regard for them, but they seem to hold so much interest in you and they don’t like that you don’t appreciate their attention so you had to get it instead from fucking NANAMI.

setting your book on your lap, you meet their accusatory gazes with disinterest.

“i don’t have to entertain any of this,” you remark, “i’m not interested in engaging in something like this when we’re in an environment where we’re forced to coexist. i will acknowledge you as my peers but nothing more.”

thinking you have the last word, you get up and brush past them, but geto grabs your wrist and twists you around. you grunt.

“maybe we have to show her why she should want us by her side, satoru,” he suggests in a low, dangerous tone.

“will she actually learn this time, though?”

“oh, it doesn’t matter. we can always repeat the lesson until she understands,” geto yanks you toward him until your back hits his front, your breath hitching as you feel a growing erection through his baggy uniform.

“you both might find better payoff deepthroating each other,” you scoff.

geto’s nostrils flare at that.

“such a foul mouth,” he snarls, "better watch that tone with us."

“yeah,” satoru pitches in, inching closer with a little smirk. “maybe we ought to plug it up.”

TBC???

[dontopenfairies]

“Do you need to go potty?” She’s holding him loosely in her lap but he’s been getting wiggly and spacey over the last several minutes. “Do you want to go in your diaper? Oh, come on. Don’t hide your face. You have to tell me, honey.”

She lifts him up by the armpits and positions him so that he’s kneeling on the couch over her, legs straddling her thighs, knees on either side of her.

“This is usually your favorite way to do it, isn’t it? I know you don’t want to go in the toilet.”

He twists his hands together.

“Go ahead. It’s okay, honey. Nobody’s watching. Just…there you go.” She puts her arms on either side of his torso to support him.

He grunts quietly in the back of his throat and his hips start to thrust into the air between them as he pushes.

“Okay, that’s a little too sexy for you.”

He grunts again, and it turns into a low growl in his throat.

“Wayy too much. You look all hungry in the eyes. What happened to my sweet diaper boy?” She moves her hands down to his hips, holding them still. “Just mess your diaper. No humping. There. Are you all done?”

He hesitates, apparently unsure about sitting down in his mess.

“Okay, you need some help again, huh?” She pulls his hips down and he sits on her thighs, trying very hard not to squirm.

“I bet you’re really hard down there, aren’t you? I know, honey.” She finds the back of his hand and rubs it. “Turn around and sit facing out. Good boy.” He can’t resist and he shifts his weight a little bit, rubbing his diaper against her.

“Don’t try to get naughty on me. You don’t need to do that. You like diapers better, anyway. You’re all flustered from pooping your pants, not from seeing me naked or even me touching you…”

“You’re making it worse…” He tries to let go of her hand but she squeezes tighter.

“What’s going to happen if I make you cum, anyway? You’ll get tired out. And the fun will be over. Don’t you like this feeling better?”

He nods slowly.

“So it’s okay if we keep it going. I want to turn you drooly and docile and sweet. I want to see your eyes all glassy and your fingers in your mouth.”

He doesn’t say anything and she continues. “I don’t really need to touch your penis or have it touch me. This way is safer for both of us.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” he whispers.

“I know, baby. You’re too sweet and gentle for that. That’s why you need diapers. That’s for sweet and gentle and obedient boys who need a little guidance. Right?”

“Yeah…”

She pushes her hands between his knees and the couch cushion, pulling his legs up. She pats his diaper between his legs with one hand while running her fingers through his hair with the other. She only does this for about a minute before pulling him really close to her and squeezing him tight.

“I bet I don’t need to touch you to get you even hotter. I’ll just tell you a story about a boy who never grew out of diapers, he never grew out of wanting to poop and pee in his pants, he had accidents all the time…sometimes real, sometimes on purpose, but always embarrassing. And he really, really wanted someone to rub his diaper, to let him hump it…”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh…”

“Yeah,” she said, leaning her head forward on his shoulder. “He didn’t like to have sex very much, he thought it was a little bit scary and embarrassing and sometimes even cried a little bit. Oh, be quiet, it’s true.”

“I’m…I’m sleepy or something, I think.” He let his head fall back onto her shoulder.

“We can go to bed soon. I’ll change you in a second. But don’t try to fool me by rubbing and humping under the covers. I can always tell when you’re doing that.”

“Stop…I don’t…”

“Riiiight. Right.” She squeezed him tighter against her body.

[teaboot]

I have no illusions of what I am. I’m a rent-a-cop. A mall cop. A babysitter for adults. I’m nobody’s boss, or dictator, and most of my employed purpose is to be a scarecrow for people who think I have some kind of power or authority.

I’m not allowed to touch anyone, and I don’t want to. Im not allowed to carry a weapon of any kind, and I don’t want to. Im not allowed to chase anyone or yell at anyone, and I don’t want to. I firmly believe, one hundred percent, that the vast majority of conflicts can be handled without violence by simply talking, listening, offering resources, and keeping your own ego in check. Remaining humble and treating others as though they are doing the best they can.

I’m good at my job, and I like my job, and I like feeling like I can help people, even unpleasant or unkind or irrational people. Especially those people, because life is fucking hard when nobody is happy to see you and everyone expects the worst from you.

It’s a necessity that I cooperate with police sometimes. Arson, assaults, stuff like that. And every few months, a cop tells me I should apply to become a cop. That I’m good with ‘difficult people’ and they need extra hands.

And like

Every time, it’s a little bit tempting

I don’t want power. Being in the authority position I HAVE, as small as it is, is exhausting. I don’t like how other security guards talk about addicts and homeless people, and while the cops I’ve met aren’t as crass, I’m skeptical that the outlook on that side of the fence is any better.

But like. I’ve had friends tempted over that way, and they think they can do good from the inside, and I want to believe them

I know a single cog that ticks against the rhythm gets either ground down into shape or gets spit out in pieces, but I want to think it could alter the machine just a tiny bit, you know? If it held out long enough

I don’t believe police are vital or even NECESSARY for half the shit that goes down in this city, but like

Even here, in my two-bit nothing-ass Paul Blart career, I've helped people

Saved backpacks and shopping carts from being unloaded into the trash, helped kids and lost folks find their families, talked down violent or erratic people, responded to ODs and backed up paramedics

I’ve been able to shield kids from criminal charges, and hook people up with resources, buy people food and direct away from hazards and walk people to their cars at night and like

I don’t believe in our justice system, and I don’t trust the police, and I don’t think anything meaningful is ever accomplished through intimidation or threats of violence, and even though other guards I know DO, Im better at my job than they are, and I’m doing good here. Even if they think I’m a soft, naive, gullible loser, I’m effective. So it doesn’t matter.

So like. I keep wondering. Could I do good there, too?

And I think that’s where the devil keeps getting you

The devil keeps tempting me and what they don’t tell you about that is everyone thinks “Maybe he won’t fuck over me. Maybe I’m special”

[sykesandskittles]

CHAPTER 7

Harlow

HIS LIPS ARE TOUCHING MINE, and I hate to admit it, even to myself, but my brain goes foggy. My knees go weak, and my heart feels like it’s trying to hammer its way through my ribs.

I hate this. I hate how quickly my body responds to him.

I suck in a breath and try to pull away, but Noah holds me tightly. His huge arms are like iron bands that are twisted around me, cadging me in. Holding me in place.

You’re already mine.

A fissure of heat cracks open inside me. I want so badly to belong to someone. I’ve always dreamt about that—finding my person. What would he look like? How would we find each other in this huge, crazy world?

But never, ever, in my mind’s eye did I see someone like Noah Sabastian as my person. And I’m not going to start imagining it now. He’s a hot guy who makes electricity zip through my veins. But that’s it.

If I’m being honest with myself, Nathan is more my speed. Quiet and a little awkward. Not handsome, but not hideous either, not that looks really matter all that much to me.

Swallowing, I pull my head back slightly and look Noah square in the eye. “Let me go.”

One side of his mouth curls up sardonically. “Freedom is going to cost you.”

I know he’s just referring to my physical freedom in this moment, but the prospect is tempting anyway. Mainly, because tingles have already started sweeping over my body, and honestly, a couple more minutes in his embrace, and I don’t know what I’ll do.

“What do you want?” I bite out.

“I want you to suck me off,” he says evenly.

I look at him like he’s an alien. “I’m not doing that here.”

After the words jump from my mouth, it occurs to me that I didn’t tell him to fuck off and dream on. I’m such an idiot. I just said I wouldn’t do it here. But that obviously implies I’d be willing to do it somewhere else.

Honestly, though, the thought of Noah’s hard cock in my mouth… sends heat coursing through me. Fuck. I’m more twisted than I’ve ever given myself credit for. But worse than that, I’m no better than every other girl on this fucked up campus.

“A kiss will do for now.”

The smile on his face tells me everything I need to know. This is all a game to him. This beautiful guy just loves toying with me, and I get the feeling, it’s more for amusement than anything else. Maybe he’s bored with the other girls, and fancies someone a little more challenging—someone who doesn’t automatically fall at his feet. But whatever his reason, I really don’t have time for any of it.

“My friend is waiting for me,” I say .

He laughs under his breath, which is really just a puff of air. “Sounds like a her problem to me.”

He leans in and brushes his mouth against mine. The heat from his lips sears me, and I suck in a breath. My head is swimming from the whiskey, which isn’t helping my situation at all.

“Don’t,” I whisper, but too late. Just as the sound leaves my lips, he kisses me. It’s a hard kiss, filled with unspoken words of longing and control—and fuck me, but his veracity actually turns me on. I melt beneath him. Like, every other fucking simp here, I fucking melt.

My hands find the muscles of his shoulders, and like a damn fool, I open my mouth, just slightly. Inviting him in. Inviting the devil into my

soul.

Electricity zips through my veins, and I find myself leaning into the kiss as his tongue twists with mine. He devours me, and I let him. In fact, I like it far more than I should.

“Hey, yo, Noah.” A voice breaks through the darkness, slicing through our little stolen moment. “Nicholas brought a fucking bong. You better get in here before it’s sucked dry.”

I’m breathless when he pulls away. With a devilish grin, he pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look at him. “You taste like candy,” he says, amusement in his tone. “I can see how someone might get lost in you.”

What a strange thing to say.

I blink at him. “No one has ever gotten lost in me.”

He laughs, and releases my chin, turning toward his bro. “We’ll be there in a sec.”

I catch a glimpse of the guy, just as he’s walking back into the house. I think that one is Nick. He’s tall with dark hair and built like a beast. As he turned away, there was a dark glint in his eye, and I can’t help but wonder if he intentionally interrupted our kiss.

Noah takes me by the elbow and guides me inside.

“I need to find my friend, Talia , ” I say, tripping over the little mounds in the sand. It’s a weak excuse to get away from him, but it’s all I’ve got.

He doesn’t respond to me, and with all the loud music, I wonder if he even heard me. I try to tug my arm out of his hold, but that just causes him to tighten his grip.

Perfect.

He pulls me through the crowd to a room in the back. As we pass through the living room and kitchen, I scan every face for Talia , but I don’t see her at all.

We step over the threshold into the garage, which is set up like a den. The furniture is plush, and there are a lot less people in here. It’s obviously the inner sanctum where the elite of the elite get away from the unwashed masses.

“Yo,” Noah says, flicking his chin.

Several people immediately launch off the sofa, creating space for me and Noah to sit. I sit on the edge of the sofa cushion, too nervous to completely relax. Noah, on the other hand, sinks right in, like he’s sitting

on his throne. Maybe he sees this entire town as his throne. I wouldn’t be surprised.

Everyone is just drinking, playing pool, or bullshitting, and I take the opportunity to look around. I recognize a couple of faces—Nick, and Nicholas, but I don’t see his twin, Jolly. He must be out there amid the partygoers somewhere.

But one strange thing I notice is that every girl here is slicing me up with their stares. I’ve invaded their territory, and they’re not happy about it . If only they fucking knew I don’t want to be here any more than they want me here. They can have Noah Sabastian for all I care. I’d be happy to

hand him over to any one of them.

As Noah talks in low tones to some guy next to him, I pull my phone out and text Talia .

Where are you?

I swear to God, if she ghosts me and doesn’t show up at this party, I’m going to be pissed. I didn’t subject myself to Noah’s attention, just for her not to show. I’m doing this for her. If she didn’t look so damn depressed this morning, I wouldn’t even be here. I’d be tucked under my blankets watching something mindless on YouTube.

Someone hands me a cup. “Here. It’s the good stuff. Not that swill they have out there.”

I scrunch my brows together, but I take it. I don’t know if I should trust a drink that someone just randomly gives me, but I also don’t want to be rude. I guess I’ll just hold it until I can find somewhere to ditch it.

“Thanks,” I say, looking at the girl who gave it to me. It’s Wyn. “Oh, hey!”

“Hey, girl,” she says with a smile, sitting in an empty chair next to the sofa, closest to me. “Harlow , right?”

“Yup.”

She laughs. “Everyone on campus is talking about you. I told you, right?”

I scoff. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

Wyn takes a sip from her red solo cup and leans back in her chair. “I mean, you are fucking the hottest guy on campus, and that’s newsworthy at

ExU.”

I slide a quick glance to Noah, who is currently being fawned over by three very attentive sorority girls. I should probably feel jealous or something, but honestly, I’m just a little relieved his focus is diverted away from me for the moment.

“I’m not fucking him,” I say. “I’m here to meet Talia if she’d ever fucking text me back.” I glance at my phone again. Nothing. “Have you seen her tonight?”

Wyn shakes her head. “Nope. Sounds like you need a tracker on that girl. My friends and I all have an app that tells us exactly where the others are.”

That sparks a memory, and I gasp, sitting up straighter. “Oh, my God. You’re brilliant. Talia installed something like that on my phone a couple of weeks ago.” I search through my phone for the app. “I totally forgot about it.”

A couple of weeks before coming to ExU, Talia insisted we install tracker apps on our phones, so we could find each other easily on campus. Thank God! I mentally praise Talia ’s foresight.

I find the app and open it. It pinpoints Talia 's phone instantly, and it’s….on the beach, about a half-mile away. “What the fuck is she doing there?”

Wyn leans in. “Let me see.”

I show her my phone, and she squints, trying to orient herself on the map. She uses her fingers to zoom in. “Hold up, that’s weird. This stretch of beach here–” She indicates an area on the map “–is private. No one goes there.”

Something in her voice, the way she says that, makes my heart jump up into my throat. “I should make sure she’s okay. ”

Wyn nods. “I’ll go with you. Let me just tell Gabriel I’m leaving.” I wave off her offer. “Oh, no you don’t—”

“I know these beaches like the back of my hand. Plus, it gives me a reason to get out of here.”

I watch Wyn cross the room and whisper into a guy’s ear–handing off his shoulder. This must be the guy she’s dating, the guy she mentioned yesterday. He’s cute—I’m mean, all the guys around here are—but he’s not quite as beautiful as each one of the Sacred Sons. That level of perfection seems exclusive to them.

Wyn pulls away from the guy, and he nods. She heads back over to me with a smile. “Okay, ready. Let’s go.”

“Ah, okay.”

I set my cup down and get up to leave, but Noah’s hand flies over and grips my elbow, stopping me. “Where are you going?”

I open my mouth to say something, but Wyn beats me to it. She reaches over and removes Noah’s hand from my arm. “We’re going to the bathroom,” she says, annoyance in her tone. “Damn, Noah. Controlling much?”

I could just tell him where I’m going, but chances are, he’d stop me from leaving—or worse, he’d insist on joining us. Neither option is worth having a conversation with him about it, honestly.

“Don’t wander off,” he says with a growl, and I see the warning snap in his eyes.

Fuck him.

I’m finding my friend, and I don’t give a fuck what Noah says about

it.

[stansthemans]

Would you ever write Ford giving fem!Stan oral sex as teens? I’m just dying to see Ford be a munch

So originally my idea for this was “hey lets practice on each other for no ulterior motives lol i don’t jerk it to this nightly” but then i was like “hmmm feelings plus a light splash of ford being a creepy peeper” so enjoy!!!

She’s got the entire house to herself. It’s an almost impossible occurrence. Ma comes and goes, running the appropriate errands to keep the household going or catching lunch or card games with her girlfriends, but Pa is almost always set up down in the shop. Few things sour his mood like even the vague prospect of missing out on a sale.

But today, her parents are out of town, up in the city visiting Shermie and his wife. That alone affords Stan a world of freedom, but Ford is also out for the afternoon. Something about some nerd lecture at the civic center. Stan could go out and do something too. She could hit the beach, meet up with friends at the pier. She’s got some pocket change. She could catch a movie. She could watch tv, bake a cake, head to the gym to practice at the bag.

Or she could take advantage of an empty house and get in a few rounds of orgasms.

Yeah, orgasms sound good. Those sound really good. On a usual day, touching herself goes one of two ways. Either she has to make quick work of herself in the shower, because God help her if she’s in there too long wasting water, or she has to do the infinitely riskier move of waiting until late, late at night, when she’s sure her brother is deeply asleep in the bunk above her.

And that’s always agony, because invariably, her thoughts always turn to Ford, to imagining that her fingers are longer, thicker, one more in number than they actually are, and as she imagines that her hands running over her body are actually her brother’s—her brother who is right there, so close—as that pleasure builds and builds, it takes everything in her to stay still enough, silent enough, that she doesn’t wake him and expose her secret.

Fingering herself is usually not as fulfilling an experience as she wishes it was, but today, the house all to herself, Stan can indulge, and indulge she does. She closes the curtains against the harsh afternoon sun and leaves the bedroom door open just a crack. She has the house to herself, but it would be a good idea to leave herself the opportunity to hear any potential noises. Stan pulls the comforter of her bed completely off and arranges her pillows and sheets into a nice little nest. She wiggles out of her shorts and panties and then heads for Ford’s side of their shared closet.

This is maybe a little weird, but she just wants a little bit to get her going. After all, she’s not fooling herself in any way to think she won’t be imagining Ford the entire time. Ford’s side of the closet is, of course, neater than hers, his shirts and sweaters all hanging up perfectly and organized by sleeve length and color. Stan sticks her face directly into the red section and inhales deeply. Ford is, without question, a teenage boy, and he smells like it, sweaty and funky and never really using enough soap or deodorant to cover it. However, he also wears cologne, and unlike nearly every other boy that Stan knows, Ford actually has an idea of how much is too much, and he never crosses that line. The juxtaposition between the natural and artificial scents that make up her brother is more than enough to make Stan dizzy.

A few more deep breaths, and Stan is ready, warmth settling low in her stomach. She flops onto her bunk and pushes her shirt up and over her breasts. She gives attention to her nipples first. This is the easiest part to imagine that it’s Ford touching her. After all, six fingers aren’t required to pinch and flick and tease here. She’s very sensitive here, and it’s only a brief moment before she can feel the slickness gathering between her legs. On a normal day, she would get to it, would shove two fingers immediately into herself and get to work, but she’s got time to be slow, to explore, and when she does finally spread her legs wide, when she does finally slide her hand down her stomach, down to her core, she’s a little taken aback by just how wet she actually is.

Stan shudders as she drags two fingers slowly around her clit, down through the folds, and back up again. Take it slow, she reminds herself. She’s not in a rush. She can enjoy working the outside for a little bit before moving in. She holds her breast in her other hand, can feel her heartbeat picking up in time with her heavy breaths. She imagines that it’s Ford’s hand. His hands are so big. He would be so easily able to cup the entirety of her breast in his palm, massage into the soft, yielding skin with his strong fingers, his thumb kneading into the hard nub of her nipple.

Stan pinches herself just as she slides her fingers over her clit. She lets out a gasping whimper at the sensation, a noise that sounds deafening in the otherwise silent room. For a moment, she freezes, and then the situation catches up to her again. She’s alone. There isn’t anyone else in the house, won’t be for hours. That’s part of this entire thing. She can not only take her time, but she can actually make noise.

Stan presses down harder on her clit and lets herself indulge in a louder moan. Some part of her thinks that maybe it’s a bit ridiculous, but it also feels good. So she does it again. She does it again and again until she’s ready to do something that she knows is going to rewrite her entire brain.

Stan stuffs two fingers deep into her pussy and moans her brother’s name. She doesn’t stop this time. It feels too incredible. She hikes up a leg and pumps her fingers wildly. She whines needfully, “Ford! Oh God, Ford!” She adds another finger and then another. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. “Ford, oh, more. I want—Sixer, more, please, please!”

Stan begs a phantom for something she knows she can never have, something she isn’t supposed to want, but God, does she want. She grinds her hips up into her palm, wishing it was his. Wishing for Ford’s hand, his mouth, his cock. Wishing that he wanted her like she wants him.

She’s so close. “Sixer, fuck, oh fuck! Fuck me! Please! Ford!” And she comes hard, panting her brother’s name over and over as she strokes herself through it.

She keeps her fingers inside as she comes down, feeling her pussy clenching around them. She lets her leg drop back down to the sheets, bringing that hand back to her chest, lightly teasing at her nipples again. She imagines her brother again, his warm presence enveloping her, skin to skin. “Hmm,” she hums in contentment. “Sixer.”

“Stanley?”

Stan’s blood turns to ice in her veins, and the entire beautiful fantasy is shattered. Her eyes fly open and land on her brother—the flesh and blood of him—standing at the foot of her bed, his eyes blown wide as he gapes down at the disgusting display of perversion she presents.

Stan stares up at him, incapable of moving, of breathing, of anything other than a slowly encroaching panic. How much of that did he hear? How much did he see? All of it or even just a second. It doesn’t matter. There is no way that she can spin this into anything other than what it was, and so now he knows. He knows that she doesn’t look at him with anything close to innocent eyes, that she sees him and she wants him in this sick way. He knows, and he’s going to hate her.

“Stanley,” Ford says again, and Stan braces herself for everything that will follow. It’s going to kill her, but she deserves it. She deserves everything he says.

But Ford doesn’t say anything else. His eyes bore into her, roaming up and down, and then, suddenly, he’s in the bed too, his big hands dropping gently—so gently it makes her tremble—over her knees. Slowly, he pushes her legs apart, opening her up again. One hand stays curled over her thigh, and the other encircles the wrist of the hand she still has not taken away from her pussy.

Ford’s thumb presses down on her two middle fingers, applying pressure to the sensitive area. Stan can’t help but gasp. “Stanley,” Ford says a third time, drawing her hand away and exposing her to the intensity of his unblinking gaze. “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

“I—I—“ Her throat and mouth are desert dry, and she still can’t breathe.

Ford’s hands move in a burning trail down her thighs, coming closer and closer. “You were saying my name,” he says. “Moaning it.” His thumbs rest over her labia and pull gently, opening up her hole. “Do you do that often?”

Stan whimpers, her head spinning. What is going on? Why isn’t he yelling at her?

“I asked you a question, Stanley,” Ford says. “Do you think of me when you finger yourself?” And then his thumbs move up and slide over either side of her clit.

Stan moans loudly at the jolt of pleasure that shoots up her spine. “Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, I—oh God, Sixer!”

Ford’s thumbs keep moving. “How often,” he asks.

“Every time,” Stan confesses, her hands curling into her sheets.

“You want this,” he says, his voice low and gruff. He shifts his hand, and a finger slides inside her.

Stan keens, her back arching up. She moves her hips, seeking more from him. “Need it,” she cries.

Ford pumps his finger in and out. “God, Stanley,” he says, and his voice is only full of awe. “You’re so wet.”

“For you,” Stan promises him. “Just for you. Sixer, I—please!”

“Amazing,” Ford says. “You’re so—I want to make you come again. I want you to scream again. What do I do?”

“I—what?” Stan reels. She’s too dizzy to think.

Ford leans over her, filling up her entire world with just him. His eyes are wild, pupils blown wide. “I want you to come, screaming my name again,” he says. “I want to make that happen. How do I make you feel good?”

Stan’s brain is complete mush, and she doesn’t really think before blurting, “You could eat me out?”

Ford’s eyes flash and narrow. “Has anyone ever done that to you before,” he asks, his jaw tight.

“N-no,” Stan stammers. “I’ve—uh—I’ve never done anything with anybody.”

“Good,” Ford says, growls. “Good. It will only ever be me.” And then he surges forward and kisses her. Stan moans, opening her mouth for his tongue. She wraps her arms around his neck and clings to him. “You’re mine,” he says against her lips, possessive and desperate. “Tell me.”

“Only yours,” Stan promises. “I’ve never wanted anything else.”

He kisses her again, and this time it’s achingly gentle, so perfect that it finally eases the last of the tension from her body, and Stan relaxes fully into her brother’s hold, surrenders completely. She’s his. He wants her to be his.

For a long moment, it’s just that, just arms around each other, lips moving gently together. Then Ford pulls back, only enough to press his forehead to hers. “I—um—I’ve obviously never done anything before either,” he says, nerves creeping into his voice. “You have to tell me. I want you to feel good.”

Stan holds his face in her hands and says, “It’s you, so it’s going to.”

“No,” Ford says insistently. “No, I want you to feel—I want this to be so good for you, Stanley. Just tell me what to do.”

And he looks so serious and earnest that Stan can’t do anything but agree. “Ok,” she says. “For starters, you should take off your shirt at least.” She tugs at the sleeve of his dorky little button up. “Maybe pants too.” While Ford does that, Stan remembers that she’s still got her t-shirt on too. She slips out of it, and Ford freezes above her. “What?”

“You’re naked,” Ford says simply.

And Stan can’t help it. The laughter bubbles up out of her in a snort, and then she’s giggling uncontrollably. For a moment, Ford puffs his cheeks at her in a ridiculous pout—made all the more ridiculous by his ruffled hair and lopsided glasses—but then he laughs too. “Really, Poindexter,” Stan asks.

“All right,” Ford says.

“It’s just—you were fingering me a minute ago,” Stan says.

“Ok,” Ford says, exasperation creeping into his voice.

“You watched me get myself off and you definitely could have darted out of the situation the second you realized what was going on,” she continues.

“I concede to the first point but disagree with the second,” Ford says. He reaches out, trailing his fingers from her cheek to her lips, down between her breasts and over her stomach. He stops just above the patch of hair between her legs. “Not a chance in hell could I turn away from this. I’ve wanted you for so long, Stanley.”

“We—we’re nuts, huh,” Stan asks, trembling a bit.

“I don’t care,” he says.

Ford finishes kicking off his pants and then settles himself between her legs, draping them over his shoulders. He rubs his hands soothingly over her shaking thighs and says, “Ok, begin lesson.”

“Nerd,” Stan says automatically. Ford doesn’t retort in the way he usually would. He just keeps staring at her, his fingers moving in the same slow, soothing trails over her skin. Stan isn’t really sure if it’s making her more or less nervous. Her stomach is definitely doing crazy flips almost like it wants to bring up everything she’s eaten today because her brother—her twin brother—is lying with his face between her legs, and she isn’t wearing any clothes, and he saw her fingering herself, heard her moaning his name and—

“Stanley,” Ford’s gentle voice cuts through her panic. His hands aren’t moving anymore. Still on her legs, his fingers are holding tighter, almost digging into her, not enough to bruise, but God, wouldn’t that be something. His eyes—they have exactly the same eyes—are locked directly onto hers, even as he turns his head slightly and places a feather light kiss on the inside of her thigh. “It’s ok,” he says. “We don’t—we don’t have to do this if you—“

“No,” Stan cries. “No, I want—“ She reaches for him, and he releases one of her legs to intertwine their fingers. She doesn’t know how to tell him just how much she wants. “I just—“ She pulls in several deep breaths, squeezing Ford’s fingers. He squeezes back, and it helps to ground her.

“I want you too,” he says. “Just tell me what to do.”

He doesn’t let go of her hand. Stan lets out her last deep breath slowly and says, “Ok. Ok, so I’m still—I’m still kind of wet.”

Ford’s eyes flicker down to her pussy, and he nods. “Yes, you are.” Stan’s stomach flips again. His voice is definitely lower than it was even a second ago, and it’s not any kind of weird act.

“That’s—um—that’s a dig deal,” she says. “Being wet. Because, like, if you just attack the thing, that’s not good.”

“Noted,” Ford says. “What’s the best way to do that?”

She has no idea because this is entirely new territory, but Ford clearly isn’t going to let her just lie here. He’s not going to stop asking until she gives him an actual answer. “Ok, so you—you know the parts, right? Like if I say clit you know what I’m talking about?”

“Yes, I’ve seen diagrams,” Ford says, and Stan lets out another semi-hysterical laugh. Oh boy. It’s going to be like that, huh.

“Ok.” She needs to stop saying ok so much. “Ok, so don’t go right for the clit. Or—or if you do, start slow and not too much pressure. But the folds—that’s—“ She needs to just make a decision, something concrete. “Use your tongue. Like—like you’re licking ice cream off a spoon.”

Stan expects Ford to turn his entire focus down to her pussy, but he doesn’t take his eyes off her face, and that, coupled with his tongue licking a slow, fat stripe up her cunt, lights every single nerve in her body on fire. She jolts, and Ford holds onto her tighter, fingers still wrapped around her, and his other hand sliding to her hip. He licks again, just as slow, and Stan whimpers.

When Ford squeezes her fingers again, she knows he’s looking for his next instruction. “You can—oh—you use the tip of your tongue too. Get—yes—get in there, kind of—kind of trace it?”

He starts with the outer lips, and when his tongue dips between the folds, Stan whines. She actually whines, and that should be embarrassing, but it just feels too good. Ford explores every inch of her, his hand wide over her lower stomach, keeping her from bucking up into his face. He traces over the opening of her hole, but he doesn’t go in, and she wants him in.

“Inside,” she gasps. “Put your tongue inside.” He immediately follows her instruction, and Stan cries, “Oh my God!” Ford’s fingers tighten around hers, and he pushes in deeper. She’s just about to tell him to try curling it when he takes the initiative on his own. “Fuck, oh fuck!” Stan grabs at the sheets, curling them tight enough in her fist that it’s a wonder they don’t rip.

“All of it,” she pants. “Sixer, Sixer, do them all!”

Ford pulls his tongue from inside her and begins to alternate between flat, slow licks to dipping between her folds. Occasionally, he dives inside her again, pulling out after she moans his name. It feels like he’s making out with her pussy. It’s torture, and it feels so fucking good. “Sixer, please, please, I want more!”

He doesn’t exactly pull off her, but he moves back just enough to say, “You’re so wet, Stanley. God, it’s—you taste amazing.” She whines again. “Are you wet enough yet? Can I—can I lick your clit now?”

“Yeah,” she pants. “But first—put your fingers in me again.” She arches as he slides one long finger into her hole. “Another.” A second joins it, and Stan moans. “One more.” For a moment, she has to just lie there, marveling at the feeling of Ford’s fingers filling her up. It’s better. It’s so much better than when she does it. She knew it would be.

“God,” Ford breathes. “Stanley, you—“

“Slow,” she says. “In and out, but go slow.” He never fully leaves her, drawing his fingers out to nearly the tips before pushing back in again. Slow but as deep as he can go. His breath comes out in hot pants against her cunt. “Ok, ok, you can—oh God—kiss it or—or lick—my clit—“

His lips close over it, her entire body feels like it’s on fire. She can’t stand it. “Ford, Ford!” She pulls her fingers away from his, and he growls against her, which—holy shit. “Wait, I just—“ She grabs for his three middle fingers, the ones that on his other hand are thrusting in and out of her. “Curl them, like this, and then—shit, shit—make them walk like—“ She uses hers over his, shows him what to do, and then he mimics the movement as he presses the flat of his tongue against her clit.

Stan screams. “Fuck, oh fuck, Sixer! That’s—more, please, more!” His tongue swirls over and around her clit, and his fingers dance inside her, and Stan pulls his hand up to grab at her breast. He finds her nipple and pinches, and Stan grinds her pussy against his face.

She can hear herself making noises that don’t sound entirely human. Amidst it all, she begs. “Stanford, please, please, I’m so close! Fuck, fuck! It’s—“

“Do it, Stanley,” Ford demands. “Come for me.”

His lips close over her clit again, and this time he sucks on it, and Stan’s entire vision whites out. Never in her life has anything felt so good. The pleasure rolls over her in waves, and Ford never stops licking her, and she can’t stop moaning his name. Her entire body is shaking, every movement of Ford’s tongue another jolt of lightning down her spine. His fingers swirl inside her, and he groans her name against her pussy, and it’s too much. Stan feels like she’s going to shake completely apart.

Somehow, her trembling hand finds his head, and she pushes weakly at him. Ford’s eyes meet hers, and his pupils are blown so wide they’re almost completely black. The sight of him there, between her shaking thighs, staring at her like that, is too overwhelming.

She doesn’t feel the tears falling down her cheeks until Ford pushes up onto his forearms, his entire expression changing as he says in alarm, “Stanley? Stanley, are you ok?”

She isn’t. She isn’t. She needs him to—

Ford starts to sit up, starts to move away, and that’s the opposite of what she needs. Stan reaches for him, and Ford immediately comes closer again. She grabs him, yanks until he crawls over her, and Stan finds his face and pulls him into a kiss.

She completely forgets that he’s just been eating her out, that his face is soaked with the mess of her arousal, that she’ll taste herself on his tongue. None of that matters. She just needs to kiss him.

She falls back onto the mattress, and Ford goes with her. His kiss pushes the air back into her lungs. The weight of his body spread over her keeps her from flying away. His hands on her face, wiping the tears from her cheeks, reminds her that she’s whole, she isn’t broken or shattered.

“Stanley,” Ford says against her lips. “Stanley, love, please, are you—“

Love.

Stan kisses him harder, kisses him until it feels like her lungs are about to explode in a good way. Then, finally, she can pull back and look at him and marvel at how beautiful he is.

“Stanley.” A quick peck of his lips to hers again. “Did I—did I hurt you?”

Stan shakes her head. Opposite. Complete and total opposite. “Brain’s oatmeal,” she says, although really it’s more of a slur.

Ford’s brows shoot up over the rim of his glasses. “I’m sorry, it’s—“

“Oatmeal. Melted.”

“Your brain is melted oatmeal,” Ford repeats, and then the worry finally washes from his expression and he starts to laugh. Stan tries to pout up at him, but soon she’s laughing too.

“You’re so mean,” she says, grinning. “This is your fault. All your fault that my neutrons aren’t firing right.”

“Neurons,” Ford corrects.

“Whatever, dork,” Stan grumbles.

“If your neutrons were firing, we would be dealing with a much more dire situation,” Ford says. Stan rolls her eyes. “So,” Ford says, settling himself over her, hands petting at her hair.

“So what?”

“So it was worth it to follow my suggestion and have you give me verbal instruction the entire time, wasn’t it,” Ford says.

“Sweet Moses, are you I-Told-You-So-ing me right now,” Stan complains.

“Yes,” Ford says plainly.

“You deserve to be Wet Willied,” Stan declares, “but I’m still working on getting feeling back in my arms, so you’re off the hook for now.”

“And your generous forgiveness has nothing to do with the apparently mind melting orgasm I just gave you,” Ford asks with an arched brow.

“You’re gonna eat those words just as soon as my bones resolidify,” Stan promises. “I will have my revenge.”

Ford leans down and kisses her, slow and deep and punctuated with a rolls of his hips. “Looking forward to it.”

[jo-speaks]

🍬, smut 10 & 49 w/ Trevor Zegras enemies to lovers

warnings: kissing, arguing, suggestive dialouge

It was no secret you hated Trevor. Hell, he hated you too. Ever since the petty squabble you two had when in high school, the intense feeling of disgust towards each other only grew as the two of you got older. Now, with both of you in your twenties, everyone assumes that these feelings won't go away. 

It wasn’t any help when you got employed with the Anaheim Ducks the same year he had been drafted, forcing the two of you to rot in each other’s company more than either of you wanted. 

“Will you shut up?” Trevor groaned, leaning back into the decently soft cushion of the athletic training room. 

“Not my fault you don’t know how to keep your leg up.” You chirped, “Probably the easiest thing you’ve ever had to do in your life.”

Trevor scoffed, “Actually, that would be you.”

His words didn’t affect you because you both knew the truth. If anything, you were the one who did him, not the other way around. The memories of the first night the two of you spent alone together, minds fogged with desire and forgetting all the hate you had brewed up for each other. 

Before you could verbalize your rebuttal, a noise of discomfort slipped past his lips. You hadn’t realized it, but his words made your grip on his knee tighten, causing pain to shoot through his leg.

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop.” He whined, your grip easing at his words. 

Your face flushed, you didn’t mean to hurt him, but the noise he let out caught you off guard. “Sorry.”

You quickly cleaned up, letting his now-taped knee rest on the cushion. The grimace that stayed on his face made it impossible for you to look at him, your composure beginning to slip.

Trevor noticed your sudden silence, but instead of asking you what’s wrong, he decided to be an arrogant little shit about it. “Where’d you get your degree from because I need to send them a complaint?” 

You rolled your eyes, putting away the equipment you had just used, “You know exactly where I got it from, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you were too stupid to remember.”

“Stupid? Look who’s talking. Aren’t you the same girl who almost crashed the boat this summer?” 

You smacked your lips at his tone, full of arrogance and tease, opting to leave his side completely and make your way away from him. However, he grabbed your arm before you could turn, forcing your body to lean down to his level, your face so close you could feel his breath on your skin.

Neither of you said anything, his lips crashing into yours. You weren’t sure if the door was locked, but it seemed like a sub-thought as your senses became overwhelmed with the feeling. 

He brought his hands to your sides, lifting you to straddle his lap as his tongue prodded at your lips, pleading for access that you couldn’t refuse. The whole situation was completely unprofessional and inappropriate, but neither one of you could bring yourselves to care. 

Trevor pulled away as the sounds of heavy breathing filled the room, “Funny that that’s all I have to do to get you to stop arguing with me.”

You scoffed, “Whatever. Next time we get into an argument I’m reminding you that I took your virginity.”

His cheeks grew warm at your words, but rather than let himself stay embarrassed, he smirked. “Please do. But for now, just shut up and pin me down.”

[dozing-marshmallow]

HENRY HOTLINE X OPTIMISTIC! READER ONE SHOT

“Oh hello Henry!” you waved,“I’m doing some origami, would you like to join me?”

“No.” yet he still watched over your hands,“What is this anyway?”

“Oh! It’s the art of paper folding that originated in Japan and there are so many shapes you can do!” you explained, putting down the one you were working on to proudly hold up a few that you’ve done recently,“This one is a star, and I made this duck and these rabbits a couple of days ago.” you showcased, now going back to work on the current one, though on the next step, it came out irreversibly wrong.

“Ah, looks like I messed up a step there. I guess I’ll have to restart.” you admitted, scrunching up the paper and discarding it in the bin.

“Too bad you won’t have that option next season.” Henry was very encouraging.

“I know, that’s why I’m going to try make all the mistakes I can.” you agreed, grabbing a new piece of A4 paper,“Though every time I do these things, I always think this is the one.“

“So you purposely set yourself up for such high standards? It must be so devastating when things take a turn away from them.” he assumed pessimistically.

“Not at all. Life goes on and so do I.” you folded diagonal triangles on each side of the paper and unfolded so the dents were perpendicular.

“Not for long.”

“And that’s what makes it more important!” you chirped, folding smaller triangles,“I really thought being in here would crush my spirits. I’m not happy about having grown used to seeing dead people on display, but I guess that’s all part of the motivation. The inflated possibility of death facing me everyday, it...it forces you to acknowledge the delicacy of life. You think you’ll be here long, but no, anything can happen.” more triangles in the centre,“We take for granted even being able to feel.”

In his disagreement, Henry prompted you,“And what if the feeling was agonising?”

You repeated the steps on the other side of the paper, not taking your eyes off,”Every day is a day worth making to. If we really had everything we wanted by the snap of our fingers, would the point of living really exist?”

“You sound like a cartoon.” Henry sneered, grabbing one of the rabbit origami you made and squeezed it in his fist,“And I hate cartoons.”

You saw what he did, but weren’t offended. You could always make another,“That’s okay too. We can’t please everyone, can we?”

Henry stuttered at your response,“How do you find it in you to still be so untroubled?”

You thought for a moment. The minds of human beings were inclined to stay in the bad, mysteriously needing more good to cancel out one bad,“I might have trained myself to. No matter my failures, rejection, I...just think oh well. That’s that. It’s not in my control to worry about. My responsibility is to focus and move on, do better next time. Even if things don’t improve immediately, the fact I take action, is still progress. If I give up now, I’ll truly guarantee nothing.”

“The only thing you’ve guaranteed is death.” sneering, the ruined work in his hand now descended back to the table.

A chuckle falls under your breath,“It may seem that way. Focusing and mourning about mistakes, failures of the past, won’t do anything for me. Yeah, a lot of the past influences my present, but it doesn’t mean it’ll influence my future.” you hummed thoughtfully up to him,“There’s this saying that goes, the temptation to give up is usually right before success.”

“Then I’m assuming you either never had the strong temptation...” he began, now looking into your eyes,“Or you’re simply in the rare unusual.”

“Who’s to say? How much do your dreams mean to you if you gave up at a few setbacks?” you asked, smiling at your progress, adjusting the shape,“Woohoo! That’s the second box done!”

Henry paused,“I forgot we were discussing this filth.”

You frowned,“You’re free to go, you know.” 

“I am, but it’s been so long since I could talk to a contestant, let alone a winner, and  they like doing this.” he pointed a sharp finger at the table like it really was unbelievable.

You grabbed the other paper box,“And so what? I could believe the sky is purple and the moon really is made of cheese, does it do anything to you? Does it hurt you or anyone else?”

His wired neck yanked his head back,“It hurts to watch.”

You put the ends of the long rectangular paper through the gaps on top of both of the boxes,“Then that just means you haven’t learnt to appreciate having fun for yourself. When you do, you would find that comments like that don’t mean much.” you replied, rotating the origami from all angles before throwing a fist of victory in the air,“There! I finally finished. You can have this one, Henry.”

He caught it when you tossed it and he examined it.

“From what I’ve heard, origami is typically given as a gift of healing and hope since a plain piece of paper can transform into something beautiful.” you grabbed a new piece of paper, planning on recreating the rabbit one,”At this rate, I’m not sure if I’ll see the day where I reach that, but I’m happy I got to do something.” you grabbed a new piece of paper, planning on recreating the rabbit one,“You can destroy that one if you want,” yet he shoved it in his interior pocket.

[lesbiansanemi]

*through gritted teeth* ppl can ship whatever they want and it’s fine it doesn’t affect you ppl can ship whatever they want and it’s fine it doesn’t affect you ppl can ship whatever they want and it’s fine it doesn’t affect you people can—

[cats-in-the-clouds]

it is unfortunate when i go to prayer and cry my eyes out and the only response i really hear is that i simply have to bear it. like usually i can get my emotions out and once they’re settled i hear a rational solution but it sucks when i don’t get the answer i want. i just have to keep waiting. like normally i hear something that gives me strength but wow apparently i’ve hit a new low

[thirdeyeblue]

(Your tags deserved to live on!)

it's insane to me that people can't get past the nuances of rose and mickey's relationship and how they're both good people who don't do right by each other. like this is a show where the main character (allegedly) kills his entire species and you can't get past why two people who started dating in their teens might fuck each other up a bit

[zvdvdlvr]

imagine ur bd being out of the picture and your little girl running up to si ☹️🤍

   “Daddy!”

   Simon looked down, eyes wide at the little girl wrapped around his right leg. Johnny eyed him carefully. He was thankful none of the other café patrons paid any mind. “I’m not your daddy, love,” Simon said. He tugged his leg away gently but the strength of a child is hard to match.

     “Annalise, get off that man,” a woman cried. In the blink of an eye, she knelt near Simon’s leg and tugged the child away.

     “Dada!” She shrieked. Annalise’s chubby hands reached out for Simon’s. “Is dada, mama!”

     You shook your head. “I- I’m so sorry, sir. Her dad was in the military. Anna thinks everyone in fatigues is dada… Do you want me to get either of you a coffee to pay you back? I’m truly sorry.”

     Soap discreetly elbowed Simon harshly in the side. “‘M quite alrigh’ lass. Simon, here, would take a coffee if your serious. If you’ll excuse me, I got to go. Bye, little lassie,” the Scot rushed, face lightinf up at the way Annalise giggled as his parting.

     Annalise was still cooing and reaching for Simon. You just shifted her on your hip and rubbed her back. “Simon, yeah?”

     “That’s me, ma’am,” Simon nodded, feeling suddenly extremely exposed without the balaclava he had decided not to wear for one single occasion. “You don’t have to pay me back-“

     “Nonsense. I would feel like a bad person if I just let my kid latch herself onto your left and call you dad and then just swoop her up and leave,” you said, reaching for your wallet before walking over to the ordering counter. “What can I get you?”

     Simon ordered a small of his usual, watching you pull the money from your wallet without glancing at how much it costed. He observed you in that split second- a beautiful baby girl on your hip who thought any man in camo was her dad. So he had been in the service… Simon watched you smile kindly at the teen behind the counter who fumbled for your change. You murmured a quiet, “It’s quite alright, take your time.” A well-mannered, well put-together individual who was also very attractive. Simon knew what Johnny was doing when he left and Simon would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought you were a catch.

     “I seriously appreciate the coffee, ma’am, but it was unnecessary,” Simon said as you tucked your change back and waited for the drink. “As long as the kid’s alrigh’, I don’t need anything in return.”

     You smiled. You smiled at Simon and he swore his cold heart jumped in his chest. Clearly your bright smile disarmed Annalise as much as Simon because she let out a bubbly laugh and put her hands on your cheek. “What if I said I wanted to?” You asked coyly.

     Simon watched Annalise play with a baby hair near your face. “Then I’d say it’d be a cruel thing to tell a gorgeous woman no.”

[inupibaldspot]

Walk him like a dog

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : The first year trio are watching Gojo who is completely head over heels for you.

To the world, Gojo Satoru is the strongest but to the people who know him Gojo Satoru is a menace.

When he was in high school, he was a different breed. Yaga could not sleep at times from all the stress Gojo would cause; be it either an earful from the higher ups or checking the news only to find out there had been an explosion conveniently where Gojo’s mission was assigned.

Sometimes he would get pictured sent to him by the problem student himself, a picture with a beaten up enemy and Gojo winking at the camera with a note saying ‘Yay~ another victory! I mean it’s as normal as breathing for me (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ’

Even when Yaga would use his authority and lecture him, sometimes Gojo Satoru would not listen; be it simply ignoring or rebutting it with his opinion— an opinion no one asks for.

And when that happens, Yaga would pull out his secret weapon ‘You’! He didn’t use this card all the time but at time Gojo was simply so uncooperative, he had to! Any word coming from you would be listened to by him as if it were law. Right now, at the age of 28 he seemed to have matured- no stopped acting as childish and Yaga didn’t have to rely on you so often.

That same Yaga watches from the window at his new first years— Kugisaki Nobara, Itadori Yuji and Fushiguro Megumi— behind a bush, hiding peeking over to you and Gojo who were on a bench.

“Ah…” Kugisaki sweat dropped at the pair. “Gojo-sensei is so smitten.” She said observing at how you were simply reading a book, as Gojo yaps away but one thing very obvious was the gentle look he gave you.

When you finally looked Gojo’s way, their white haired teacher suddenly stops, they notice a faint blush peeping under his blindfolds and when he does starts talking he stammers. THE Gojo Satoru was stammering, biting his tongue simply because you were looking at him.

“Kugisaki, let’s leave.” Itadori covers his eyes, his right eye peeps through the cracks of his fingers. “Sensei is doing such a bad job at flirting with y/n, I’m getting embarrassed.”

Kugisaki lifts her hands and grabs the collar of Itadori’s and starts shaking it. “This is the closest we’re getting to romance in this school and I want to be the witness.” She grits her teeth.

Just then Nanami walks along the path, making the pair look over. You smile as you call out. “Nanami-kun.”

Nanami stops and waits as you stand from your bench, walking over to greet him. The students stare; as soon as you got off the bench and walks Gojo follows suit not even a millisecond later.

Kugisaki cringes. “He is like a puppy…”

They could vaguely hear Gojo start to make fun of Nanami, but when you think his ‘joke’ was a slight bit too harsh; they watch you give Gojo a side eye and almost immediately their teacher shuts up.

‘y/n has the strongest sorcerer at the palm of their hands .’ Kugisaki and Itadori collectively thought.

Before Kugisaki could comment she senses a small wet feeling on her forehead, then another and then she was drowning in it. Suddenly it started raining.

“Geh. Let’s get out of here.” Kugisaki says as she quickly brought her hands up to cover her bangs. “I don’t want my hair to frizz up.”

Itadori and Fushiguro follows her lead as they walk away to the nearby building and when they did reach shelter, Kugisaki quickly turns around to check on their teacher and you, a fellow sorcerer.

Her mouth drops slightly taking in the situation at hand, Nanami was no where in sight. She assumes he left because of the rain too.

But that wasn’t the focus.

Her eyes were focused on Gojo and you, holding hands smiling fondly at each other, she also noted that he was using ‘Infinity’ to not get wet from the rain.

Gojo laughs as he raises one of your hands high which makes you let out laugh, but complies as you proceed to twirl. As soon as you make two twirls, their teacher places his hands on your face as his leans down, his lips on yours.

Kugisaki and Itadori squeal and blushes at the intimate scene infront of them, jumping. “Sensei, finally did it! He kissed y/n—!” Itadori smiles.

They watch you smile into the kiss and you bring your hands up behind his neck, slowly trailing them into his hair, deepening the kiss.

“I’m so happy,Kugisaki.” Itadori wipes his tears with the back of his hands, extremely happy for his teacher’s happiness and success in his love life.

“I don’t know why you guys are making such a fuss.” Fushiguro finally decides to add into the antics of his classmates.

“Huh?” Kugisaki quickly turns and glares at the dark haired man. ”Is your heart made of stone or something,Fushiguro?”

“Yeah! I heard Gojo-sensei basically raised you.” Itadori chirps in. “You should be more happy for him.”

Kugisaki nods in agreement.

“I mean…” Fushiguro sighs as his hands are up massaging his temple, mentally preparing for the outburst to come.

“They’re married…”

“Ehhhhh???”

Reblogs, like and comment are appreciated! Love this work? out other here

[strawbebyjam]

thinking abt how agar tum saath ho was my oh-god-i-hope-i-never-feel-like-that song and now it’s the oh-shit-that’s-where-things-are-and-will-stay song