#figure skating thread

[sheactress]

@inspotlight

“do you want to go look at the lights and decorations with me?”

having a best friend like this means the world to lily, has for the last several years. they hadn't seen each other so much recently, since nini'd gone to do other things outside the big apple, but knowing the reason for the other's big new york trip has the blonde incredibly excited for her friend. ricky had asked her to occupy nini for a few hours anyway while he takes care of a few last minute things... tomorrow's not so far away after all. ice skating, dinner, seeing all there is to see and then of course the big surprise. the surprise she's doing her absolute best to not even come close to giving away anything about.  ❝   that sounds perfect! i know there's so much to see in central park this time of year. it'll give us a nice chance to catch up too! get some of that incredible hot cocoa...   ❞  

[backmaskcd]

Flushing, Lonnie leaned a little into Sam, resisting the urge to shake his head in disagreement. "Well, if you insist," was all he managed to mumble, tilting his head up to press a kiss to Sam's jaw. "I guess there's not much of a point to arguing with writer types, anyway. You always have too good of a comeback."

A shiver ran down Sam's spine even if it was just a joke. Spirit boards always gave off a weird energy to him. The fact Reid had such an interest in them was a tad concerning. His expression softened as he rested his head atop Lonnie's shoulder. "I'll always think that of you too. You're more amazing than you give yourself credit for."

[almostempty]

The more you suffer

Self Esteem Part 4 | Pairing: fuckboy!Joel x f!reader

Hey y’all, it’s me back with more farm-to-table Joel smut. Took a while to figure this one out, but I hope you’re hungry horny bc it’s lengthy and full o’ fuckin’. Date Night Dave is back by popular demand, and fuckboy Joel finally experiences a consequence??? 

Warnings/tags: fuckboy!Joel, gratuitous smut, pwp, alcohol use, unprotected piv sex (that has no physical consequences bc it’s fiction and I like it that way), oral sex, public blow job, cock warming in a car, reoccuring guest appearance by dom!dave, date night dave inspo from the cartier campaign bc that's rich dave right??? au/ooc dave york is single/rich/mysterious and down to clown, jealous!joel, soft!joel, cuck!joel, jorkin’!joel, some angsty bits, no use of y/n, voyeur/exhibitionistish, light d/s dynamics, light (?) degradation/humiliation, praise kink, AU modern/no outbreak, overall just a lot of sex with some feelings in between, no beta blame all mistakes on me/adhd/insomnia 

Notes: please leave feedback! Tell me all ur thots! 

Thanks: to everyone who has read parts 1-3, that means the world to me 

Dedicated to @gothcsz for the punishment inspo and @auteurdelabre for encouraging my delusions , and @strangergraphics for dividers

WC: 12.1K  AO3: HERE | Masterlist: Here

Part 1: Self Esteem

Part 2: Want You Bad

Part 3: Kick and Scream

All I can fuckin’ think about. 

It’s like it was a curse, not a confession. Joel’s voice plays on a loop in your mind. For days. You hear it when you wake up, against your will. It’s a reflex at this point. You hear it when your mind drifts at work, when Katie blathers on about who knows what on your brunch date, and it gets loudest at night when you can’t sleep. It repeats and repeats and repeats. Taunting you, describing you, mocking you. Leading you on. 

Occasionally, you play the tape all the way through. Finishing the rest of the scene. Starting with 'All I can fuckin’ think about' all the way up to when that coward skipped out the door at the first glimpse of that thread connecting you. The first sign of something laced with vulnerability. 

Every minute that passes since you’ve been cursed with Joel Miller’s enigmatic mid-coitus confession is torture. Slow, painful, agony. Time drags so excruciatingly slowly that you feel like months have passed, but it’s only been three days since you were cursed with this affliction when you get a text. Well, it’s practically a fucking email. A business memo. 

Dave: Hey, I wanted to follow up. I enjoyed our date and would love to see you again. I’m out of town for the next 72 hours, but I’d like to take you out for drinks again when I return. I can pick you up again Thursday night, same time? Or, if you’d rather, I’ll be available earlier in the evening on Friday. If you’d like to do dinner. 

Dave: I’ll be honest, though; I’d prefer to see you sooner than later. 

Holy shit. 

You reread the message at least three times as you sink onto your sofa. Your stomach flips at his second message, before you start trying to pick it apart, anyway.

It’s almost too…formal? Cordial? Maybe you’re just used to only getting cryptic sentence fragments from Joel, who texts like he’s rocking a Nokia 3310. Because it’s also so direct. Dave is not afraid to communicate clearly and express his interest in you. It’s not overtly sexual, but not nonchalant, Goldilocks approves. 

You grin at the phone in your hand, and your gaze veers off until you’re staring at the wall, projecting the replay of your date with Dave like a movie at the drive-in. His mouth grazing your ear as he murmured filthy thoughts to you at the table, his fingers skating up your thigh, the taste of his cock sliding along your tongue, and the sounds that started from deep in his chest before he came down your throat. 

It’s not like Dave wasn’t memorable, but damn, you had been wallowing in your feelings over Joel like it was your full-time job. Fuck that. Dave is a welcome distraction. You agree to drinks and let him know you’re looking forward to seeing him, before swapping to your text thread with Katie. 

You: is it just because the bar is in hell for men, or is it appropriate for my pussy to flood over a man with a plan??? 

Katie: Can it be both? 

Katie: Oh my god

Katie: PLEASE tell me it’s the bathroom blowjob guy

Katie: Is he planning a second date? 

Katie: I told you! Green flags! 

You: maybe 🙃

……..

Knowing you have a date to look forward to eases the sting. The memory of Joel walking out the door. You can still hear his fucking bedroom voice in your ear, but the chokehold loosens slightly. You fill the next couple of days with anything and everything to make the time pass faster. Too busy to have the time to check your phone or, worse, text Joel. 

Dave continues to be everything Joel isn’t. Communicative, confirming your plans the morning of, punctual, pulling up precisely on time, and a gentleman greeting you with a compliment and opening the car door for you. You know you've let the demented demons within you get a little too comfortable when the green flags almost give you the ick. Katie’s voice echoes in your ears, and you suck it up.

It turns out Distraction Dave is just as hot as you remember–even without a jealous Joel-shaped ogre stirring your loins from across the room. He exudes a debonair charm with his tailored, quiet luxury brand look. You feel a wave of insecurity lurch in your chest before you realize he’s got you on his arm like you’re a designer accessory. He’s pleased to be seen with you as he guides you to your table in the dimly lit jazz-style lounge. It puts you at ease when he takes the lead in making decisions. 

The cocktails are strong, but you’ve only had a few sips before. It’s Dave who has you feeling warm in the face. He’s flirty but doesn’t push. He doesn’t assume you will get handsy under the table again. In your twisted brain, that only emboldens you to make a move. He’s still talking, but you aren’t really listening, distracted by his neck and lips and how close you are to each other. 

Close enough that it’s no stretch to slide your hand from your lap to his. You drag your hand slowly, up up up. When the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk, you feel your pulse jump. The atmosphere fades, and the noise blurs as your senses lock onto him. Dave’s brow twitches just before his hand covers yours. 

“There she is,” his smile is devilishly handsome with a dark glint in his eyes, “my dirty girl.” His voice, his words, and the heat of his hand sprinkle horny fairy dust over you. “Thought about you all week,” he confesses. 

All I can fuckin’ think about. 

You swallow your intrusive Joel-voiced thought. Flush it away into the sewer. 

“Me?” you ask coyly, batting your lashes. He hums, affirming. His hand squeezes yours, and heat starts to pool between your legs. “What about me?” your eyes have a sparkle in them as you sip your drink. He leans closer to you, nose grazing the soft skin behind your ear, and your eyes flutter shut. 

“Thought about your pretty face,” he tips your chin towards him with his free hand, so close he’s all you can see. “Thought about these lips,” he gently kisses you, retreating before you can escalate the intensity. You pout at the distance when he draws back and smirks at your needy expression. “Thought I might not hear back from you with how distracted you were by your not-ex not-stalking you last time.” 

An ache flares in your heart before you drown it with irritation. Garbled words stick in your throat. Something sharp and defensive tries to slash through, but Dave continues, unbothered before you can get anything out of your mouth. 

“Mostly,” his crisp, rich scent washes over you as he dips into dot kisses up your neck, dissolving your defenses. His warm breath tickles your ear as he husks in a low tone, “I thought about how this greedy throat felt trying to swallow my cock,” his fingers wrap around your neck for emphasis, and he feels your quiet whimper of a response. 

Your cheeks burn. He claims your lips with a hungry kiss that has your moans vibrating in your throat beneath his hand. It’s urgent and needy how your tongues, teeth, and lips collide. When his other hand finally releases yours, and he possessively cups either side of your jaw in his large palms, you’re lost momentarily. Consumed by the sensation of Dave’s tongue sliding against yours and the desire to crawl into his lap and straddle him here in the booth. 

You shove away the thought of Joel that flashes through your mind and double down on your desire for Dave. You bite sharply at his bottom lip, roughly knocking your faces together as you press your body into his, demanding more intensity as you make out.

When you break apart, you feel the crazed expression on your face as you smirk at the man in front of you. “I’ll give you more to think about,” you say more breathlessly than you intended, but the message is still clear. 

You dive back in, licking a hot stripe up his neck and biting at his earlobe. Your hand is back on task, groping for Dave’s thick erection when he stops you again. He tugs your hand away, and you huff. 

Dave laughs, enjoying the frustration on your features as he tucks your hair back behind your ear. He’s rudely composed while you’re on fire. 

“Finish your drink,” he tilts his head towards the antique glass in front of you. You down the rest in an impolite gulp, wiping at the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. Dave shakes his head softly, a mix of mild disbelief and something headier. “That’s a good girl,” he acquiesces you for following his direction with gusto. 

His praise drips over you like warm honey, easing the confusion you felt at his rejection of your touch. He answers your unspoken question, “We can stay here, dirty girl, but I’d prefer to take you home so I can get my mouth on you this time.” The close quarters in the booth have you nearly nose to nose. A smirk spreads across his face when your lips part at his proposal. 

“Let’s go,” you respond quickly, it’s an easy decision. 

He takes you to his condo nearby. It’s modern, masculine, and decorated but not very revealing of anything more personal about him. He wastes no time leading you to the bedroom, and you’re just as eager to get him into bed. 

But when your impatient hands start tugging at his clothes, he grips you harshly, fingertips digging into the flesh of your upper arms, pinning them to your sides, essentially immobilizing you as he holds you back. He has this look to him like he knows something that you don’t, and that’s enough to make you pause. 

“She’s hungry, hm?” it’s phrased like a question, but you don’t think he’s expecting a real answer. His eyes rove over you before he relaxes his grip. 

“Sit.” 

You obey without a thought, perching on the edge of the perfectly made bed before him. “That’s a good girl,” his voice has a raw edge to it, and the phrase shoots straight to your core. You fight to keep still, overwhelmed with the sudden need to please him and convinced he wants to see how closely you’ll follow his orders. 

Dave’s eyes are full of lust and something darker as he studies you, his presence looming, commanding, and teasing. “Look at you, ready for more.” His tone is mocking but coated with approval that tingles along your spine. He grabs your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze again, “You liked the risk last time. Coming on my fingers under the table.” 

You nod, and he grants you a flash of a smile. It’s gorgeous but restrained and tampered back down. 

"And you liked being on your knees for me. You liked taking my cock down your throat, didn’t you?” 

You nod again, but his fingers dig into your cheeks slightly, a silent reprimand. His voice drops to a low growl, “Use your words.” Your eyes widen before you blink away the mixture of shock and thrill. 

"Yes,” you get the word out in a quietly, “I liked it," you manage to add a hint of confidence. 

The corner of his mouth twitches. Satisfaction flickers in his eyes. “Of course you did,” he strokes your cheek gently, “you did such a good job taking care of me last time.” His adoration flutters across your skin, spreading heat. “But it’s my turn now, isn’t it?” 

The wicked smirk on his face makes you feel lightheaded as he lowers himself in front of you. Your knees part reflexively to let him move closer. “That’s a good girl. Spread these legs for me,” he continues as he runs his hands along your smooth legs until he’s bunching up the bottom of your dress.

Without wasting a second, his mouth is on you, kissing the soft crease of your thighs and sucking an open mouth kiss over the damp fabric covering your core. His hands anchor your thighs, thumbs caressing your flesh in a mockery of tenderness as his mouth delivers a sinful symphony sucking at your skin, nipping at you in a way that makes your thighs tense beneath his grip and spewing dirty thoughts. 

“So wet for me,” he mutters as he raises in front of you, pulling you to stand so he can strip you bare. Your arms hang submissively by your sides as his hand moves slowly, down your jaw, wrapped around your throat, down your chest, pausing to marvel at the sight of your tits in his palms and how your mouth parts when he kneads them in his hands. 

You wonder if you should feel vulnerable as he proceeds with his inspection, but the precision of his movements keeps you lulled. Dave’s hand slips between your legs and his fingers trace the slick seam of your cunt. You can’t help the whiny groan you respond with as you strain to remain still for him. 

He snickers at your struggle, then makes it worse. “You’re dripping, you know that?” the mocking tone in his voice does something just right to you, “such a needy slut.” Oh. That has your thighs flexing, tightening around his hand as he continues to torture you, parting the lips of your pussy with his fingers, drawing circles too slowly. 

“Have to stop myself from bending you over now and fucking you hard and fast.” Your body floods with need at the idea, dripping around his fingers and causing your hips to jerk.

“Please,” you whisper. You figure it’s polite enough. 

"Ah, ah," he warns, pulling back. "I know you’d like that, dirty girl.” 

Yes! You consider spinning around and giving him your best tempting display, hoping he’ll give in, but he seems to be a step ahead. “Lay down. You’ll get what you want.” 

Dave has a wicked gleam in his eyes as you spread out across the bed for him. He’s deliberate when he gets between your legs, spreading them wide and skipping the teasing kisses this time. He drags his tongue from your entrance to your throbbing clit before his plush lips wrap around you. The suction and pressure are dizzying, and you fill the room with panting and moaning. 

Your hips chase his mouth as he uses his tongue expertly, alternating between lazy circles and sharp flicks. The pleasure builds as he works at you. His technique gradually becomes indelicate, using everything he’s got in a way that makes you feel wild. His nose nudges at your clit as he dips further down. He allows you to keep rolling your hips gently as you rock against his chin before he pulls back. 

"Look at you, already unraveling for me," he says, voice drenched in amusement. "So desperate. She wants it all, hm?"

“Yes,” you whine, and your moans keep flowing as the pressure coils tighter within you. 

“Good,” he asserts, “come for me.” It’s a demand that has you gasping when he punctuates it with his fingers plunging inside of you. If you weren’t so enraptured by the growing pleasure and his voice, you might nitpick the logistics of coming on command–but he gives you no room for debate. 

Persuasively compelling your orgasm to hit as his fingers fuck into you and he sucks your clit into his furnace of a mouth. He doesn’t relent. The intensity of his mouth and fingers overwhelms you through the violent flash of pleasure and remains consistent as you writhe and contract, coming back down to earth. 

He's working you back up before you can fully recover or process his praise. Coaxing you toward another peak, capitalizing on his command of your mind and body. Every flick of his tongue pushes you higher until you’re gripping at the bed to stay in place. 

The ache for release teeters on unbearable as Dave’s groan buzzes through you. You tremble, sticking to the sheets with the sweat of desperation. You’re not cognizant of how you’re pleading with Dave, “Yes, yes, yes!”

But just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he stops, sitting up. 

“Hey!” you’re on edge and disoriented. 

"On your hands and knees," he orders, rougher now. "I’ve had my fill."

Oh shit. 

You scramble to obey, face hot with frustration and need as you arch in presentation for him. His hands spread your cheeks so he can get a good, long look at the sight of your glossy, swollen cunt. 

"That’s good, dirty girl, so eager," he chuckles, lining himself up against your entrance, teasing you deliciously with the slightest stretch. "You want me to fuck you hard, don’t you?"

"Yes," you breathe, the word spilling out before you form a thought.

"That’s what I thought." He pushes inside you in one smooth, hard thrust, and you gasp as he fills you completely, stretching you wide. He pauses only long enough to feel your walls rippling with contractions around the length of him, confirming his prediction. “Yeah, knew this tight little cunt would take me so well.” 

You can only hum mindlessly in response before he sets a rough pace. Gripping firmly at your hips, he keeps you in place as he drives into you, grunting with the force as his hips smack against your ass, adding more lewd noise to the moans and single-syllable words you cry out. 

You’re slipping away in the feeling of him pounding into you from behind. So mindless as your body bounces off of him that, for a split second, your tortured mind drifts to Joel. Joel’s voice and his filthy mouth, how he always gets you to beg for more.  You tense up, eyes wide, hoping you haven’t said his name in your stupor.  

Mercifully, Dave doesn’t seem to react. He continues at the same pace until his hand slides up your spine, gripping the back of your neck as he knocks your legs wider with his, angling you lower and thrusting even deeper inside of you. It’s a sharp, blinding need to come that possesses you. 

“Don’t stop,” you plead between gasping breaths.  

He gives you a slap for that. The sting has your eyes nearly rolling back like a caricature. Dave is launched closer to his own release because of your desperation, your ass jiggling, and his view of his cock disappearing inside of you over and over in time with your moans. 

He gives you exactly what you need as you shift, letting your weight fall into your shoulders so you can snake your hand back to swirl your fingers over your clit with precision, quickly bringing yourself to the peak. You fall apart around him as he grips your hips forcefully, using you as he needs while waves of pleasure debilitate you. 

He doesn’t slow down, pounding into you until his own release verges on crashing into him, and with a low, strained sound, he pulls out. The wet sounds of his fist are drowned out by the groan you both make as you collapse without his support, and he comes across your ass and lower back.

For a moment, neither of you moves, both panting as you come down from the high. Then, with a satisfied hum, he leans down and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to your shoulder. "Good girl," he murmurs, a soothing balm after the intensity. And, when he returns with a warm washcloth to clean you up, you feel glowy and drunk in his bed. 

Dave drives you home, at your request, and walks you to your door like a gentleman. He repeats that he would be happy to see you again.

 And he does. 

You both get what you want out of the arrangement. Neither of you wants a relationship and has an interest in an emotional connection. Dave isn’t always available, but he’s communicative and arranges to pick you up once or twice a week when he’s free. 

He always offers to take you for drinks or dinner at his favorite spots. Some nights, you just ask him to take you straight to his perfectly made bed. The nights you desperately need him to fuck Joel’s voice out of your head. 

It works, for the most part, as the weeks pass. Katie rolls her eyes at you when you claim you prefer your weekly dick appointments to a real relationship, but her judgment fades when you give her a juicy detail or two about the things Dave says to you in bed. You’re grateful to have an easy out to redirect her because you don’t feel strong enough to let her see the festering wound in your chest, still refusing to let go of Joel. 

Most days, it’s dull enough to manage. It’s more of a cruel joke when you hear Joel’s voice in your head first thing upon waking. When your phone buzzes and your heart stutters, you laugh bitterly at yourself for thinking it could be that stubborn asshole. It’s never him. You don’t hear from him. You don’t reach out. You consider blocking him altogether but can’t bring yourself to do it. You don’t see him on any nights out with Katie. 

You bite your tongue when you see Tommy at another karaoke night. You can’t ask about Joel, nobody knew you had been seeing each other, if that’s what you could even call it. You strategically keep yourself on the opposite end of the table from Tommy, hoping to stay out of earshot if he mentions the man haunting your thoughts. 

But as you drink your feelings one after another, they evolve. Anger swirls as you think of texting Joel and calling him out for being a gutless wonder. You pull out your phone and open your messages, rereading the last text from him. 

Joel: Miss me? 

Out of context, the two words trip you up momentarily. Even though you’ve reread them more times than you’d like to admit. And replayed that night more than you can stand. You don’t type anything to him. Your anger still burns in your gut. 

You attempt to engage with your friends, but it’s all for show. You can’t stop glancing towards Tommy, the door, or your phone. Your anger converts into something you can’t escape. 

After one more drink, your vision keeps getting blurry, not exactly from the booze. 

You try to blink back the tears in your waterline, excusing yourself from the group and dashing for the bathroom. Something messy and hurt and possesses you. Destabilizing you entirely as you feel yourself breaking down.

Weaving between bodies until you’re slamming into a stall and collapsing into a wobbly-limbed mess. Ugly sobs rip through your diaphragm, stirring up the most vulnerable fears and a cruel internal voice. Why are you hung up on someone that treated you like shit? You think it’s what you deserve? You can’t even move on? You still can’t stand up for yourself? 

Someone else enters the bathroom, and you try to hold yourself together, but they catch your sobs and ask if you’re alright. You do your best to assure the stranger that you’re okay. 

“If he makes you feel like that, he ain’t worth it, hon’,” she offers before leaving you with your thoughts in the bathroom. 

You know she meant it to be helpful, but it knocks you deeper into your feelings. You’re upset, and for what? Does he even care? Has he actually thought of you even once? He isn’t worth it. He isn’t worth it, and you still can’t stop the tears pathetically streaming down your face. It hurts even worse to know you shouldn’t care. 

You stand up, and your head spins, not just from the emotional agony but from the alcohol. When you not-so-gracefully emerge and see yourself in the mirror, you nearly lock yourself back in the stall and vow to live here now. You can’t return to the table with your eyes that swollen and red and your mascara rubbed away. 

You don’t want to be seen at all. You want to be left in bed to wrestle with your self-esteem and crippling grief over something that never existed. 

You pull out your phone, only dropping it once before sending off your hail Mary, hoping Dave can pick you up. 

Where?

The response is almost instant. You send off the name of the bar and do your best to make yourself look presentable before marching back towards your friends. You give Katie a quick hug from the side, yell-whispering into her ear that Dave is picking you up and you’ll text her tomorrow, before you slip away as quickly as you can manage. Bouncing off the back of a chair on your mission to get outside. 

You lean against the cool brick wall, eyes closed, taking deep breaths of the crisp fall air as you wait for your ride. You can hear the bass from another club across the street and the laughs and shouts from the gaggle of smokers gathered further up the block. You feel syrupy and wrung out, but you aren’t going to be sick. You just need to get home. 

“You alright?” A smooth voice cuts into your thoughts. You jerk your head more dramatically than you intended, taking in Tommy’s concerned brown eyes with a sigh. Of course. 

“Just waiting for my ride,” you do your best to act sober and emotionally stable. Whatever that looks like. 

“I’ll wait with you,” he decides. 

Your shoulders drop. You must not be very convincing. “Really, I’m fine,” you add, leaning your head against the wall. 

“Right,” he steps back but doesn’t leave. He lights a cigarette and allows you the silence as he smokes alongside you. It’s kind, you suppose, not wanting to leave you alone on the street. But he’s the last person you want to be next to right now. Or maybe second to last, you realize when he laughs and steps forward with a wave, drawing your attention to a scene that stops your heart. 

A familiar truck pulls up to the curb in front of you, and you take back your earlier assessment. You feel like you are gonna be sick. Your stomach lurches, and you feel the panic rising in your throat. 

“What are you doing here?” Tommy shouts, “Isn’t it past your bedtime?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, like maybe if you keep them closed, you’ll blend in with the wall. 

“Just giving a friend a ride,” Joel responds gruffly from inside his truck. Your plan immediately fails. His voice compels you to look at him. 

Some unspoken fucking sibling communication happens between the two of them, and then Joel is staring at you. Unreadable. “You getting in?” he hollers at you. 

“No,” you mumble barely audible. You clear your throat, feeling hoarse, and try again. “I’m waiting for my ride.” 

“I think it’s here, darlin’,” Tommy says as he steps towards you to usher you towards Joel’s truck. You shrug him off, pulling out your phone to check your messages. To see how long it’s been since you told Dave your location. 

You didn’t. 

You texted Joel. 

You’re mortified. No, no, no. This cannot be real. You didn’t text this hot nightmare. There’s no way he would’ve responded. 

He did. 

Joel: Where? 

You’re still shaking your head and trying to wrap your head around the situation. You’re the architect of your own worst nightmare now. A disaster asking to be rescued by the guy who knows exactly how to twist the knife in your gut. You’re spiraling inwards. 

Completely unaware of the exchange between Joel and Tommy. Or how gone, you look to them. 

“Jesus Christ,” Joel mutters at Tommy as he comes round to help you into the truck. “What’d she have?” 

“Hey,” Tommy defends, “I just came outside, and she said she was waitin’ on her ride. I don’t know shit.” 

“Figures,” he’s still grumbling as he shuts the door. You’re in shock as you sit in the cab of Joel’s truck. The only other time you were inside was the night you met. 

“Shit,” you curse at yourself as Joel gets in and pulls away from the curb. 

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say anything. Just drives in silence. Through every light, all the way across town. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, “I didn’t mean to text you.” It hangs in the thick silence. You focus so hard on keeping your breathing steady, tamping down the sobs fighting to break through, that you barely register the tears that stream down your face. 

You hear him sigh before his hand rests on your thigh, “What happened?” he croaks like it hurts to speak.  

You’re reeling at that. Hearing him sigh like you’re a hindrance, like your emotions are a burden like it pains him to ask. You don’t have the clarity of mind to filter yourself. 

“Nothing,” you snap, glaring at his hand. “Don’t pretend like you care,” you dig, refusing to look at him, hot tears still rolling down your cheek. He doesn’t ask again. But he doesn’t pull his hand back, and you don’t move it until he’s shifting into park. 

Against your better judgment, you turn to face him. Your gut twists at the sight of him so close to you. After you’ve been left alone with your thoughts for so long. You can’t read his stoic face or his beautiful dark eyes. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, trying not to linger on how insane you must seem. Asking for a ride, snapping at him, and then thanking him. You cringe at yourself, trying to swipe the tears under your eyes away like that’ll make you seem more put together. 

You hop out of the cab and take a second to steady yourself. Joel’s door slams as he rounds the front of the truck to steady you. 

“Don’t,” you mutter. He puts an arm around you as if it’s natural, and you still. 

“Baby,” he says, low and soothing, “let me help.” 

Baby. It stirs the stupid butterflies in your stomach until your brain catches up. 

“No,” you shove him away. It’s weak, but he steps back.

“C’mon,” he urges you, “let’s just get you inside.” 

“No,” you still don’t move. Afraid you’ll fall apart if you try. You need him to leave before you come apart. If he touches you, you know you’ll beg him to fuck your pain away. 

“I can’t do it again.” You muster your courage, but when you look at his face, a soft sob finally breaks through, and your body shudders, gasping for a breath, “Please.”

His face darkens. His arms hang limply at his sides before his fists tighten. The street is quiet in the dark. “You think I’m here to fuck you?” 

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” it’s a genuine question, but it rings harsh in the night with your uneven breathing. You fumble, dropping your keys when you finally dig them out of your bag, swearing under your breath. He grabs them before you and offers them to you, dropping them into your hand, avoiding your touch. 

You mumble thanks and stalk towards your door. He stays put, watching until you’re inside before he turns to leave. 

……

You get a text from Katie the following morning. 

Katie: Girl, are you alive?

Katie: You wanna tell me why Dave looked an awful lot like Joel?

You: not really. did Tommy say something?

Katie: No?? I was trying to get a glimpse of your man when I saw you getting into Joel’s truck??

You: I texted the wrong number 

Katie: ….

Katie: Uh, unless you’ve got him in your phone as Daddy Joel (real) I don’t think those letters are that close together babe

Katie: WAIT 

Katie: When did you get Joel’s number? He barely talks to anyone! 

Kate: Don’t answer that, I’m coming over and bribing you with a hangover cure bacon egg n’ cheese and you’re telling me everything 

You: and a cold brew? 

Katie: Duh 

…………..

“Fuck,” Joel grumbles when he hears a knock at his door. He knows exactly what this is. He lets Tommy in without a word and tromps back to his kitchen to get another coffee before his interrogation starts. He sits at the table, and levels the darkest “don’t start with me” glare he can, but his idiot brother has always been immune. 

…………….

“What do you mean?” you whine at Katie from your side of the couch. “There’s no use trying to talk to him; he’s emotionally constipated, and he only wants one thing from me.” 

“Maybe there’s more to him,” she suggests vaguely. 

“You were the one telling me to drop him and move on anyway!” you argue like a child. 

“I didn’t know it was him!”

“How does that change anything?” you glare at her. Katie chews at her lip while you devour the last of your breakfast sandwich. It’s cold. You had been so wrapped up in your recollection of the ups and downs of your non-relatioinship with Joel you forgot to finish eating while it was fresh. It feels like a stupid metaphor about how he forgot to take care of yourself when you were drawn into his toxic cycle. 

You thought confessing would reduce the weight on your chest. You weren’t prepared for Katie to add to your delusion. 

“I don’t think it’s really my place to share his… baggage,” she muses. 

“Since when?” you cut her a nasty look. 

“I just think,” she pauses, and you ball up the foil from your sandwich and throw it at her, earning you a glare, “It’s complicated.” 

“Okay, Avril Lavigne,” you mock. “You’re the worst, and this is not helpful! You’ve gotta give me something. Is he married? Am I the mistress? Is he a felon? A drug dealer?” 

“You think I wouldn’t warn you about any of those?” 

“I don’t know. I never thought you’d be taking his side,” you say in a serious tone. 

“I’m not defending him!” She holds up her hands in surrender. “You deserve better than fuckboy behavior from a grown man.” 

“Thanks.” 

“It’s just,” he considers her words as your eyes narrow, “it seemed like it meant more than that. You were practically glowing half the summer.” 

“And a lifeless zombie the rest of the time?” 

“A cute zombie?” she shrugs. “I’m serious, though. Do you think he’d show up to rescue anyone else–no questions asked? That fast?” her words get softer.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, draping yourself miserably along the end of the couch, trying not to think about the times Joel bent you over the armrest. “I don’t know him at all, really.” 

“Do you want to?” 

Yes! A naive part of you shouts, hopeful and bright, blind to the reality of your situation. Oh, no. Definitely not. You dropkick that idea right to the back of your mind. Ignoring the way it screams until it’s muffled by the dejected, logical thoughts. “I can’t risk it,” you respond weakly. 

Katie hears it. The ever-resilient part of you that tries to stay one step ahead cracks and lets the vulnerability out. You refuse to worsen the abandonment wound, but it’s entangled in your heart. 

Katie doesn’t bring it up again. She spends the rest of the day with you, ordering takeout and putting on your favorite movies, like you’re going through a breakup. It helps.

…………

Life lulls back into the same routine. Except now, when you wake up, it’s Joel’s face–not his voice–that haunts you. The 

Instead of Joel’s voice haunting you when you wake up–it’s his face. The way he looked hurt. The way he dropped your keys into your hand

when you begged him not to come inside. It sinks like a stone in your stomach that you carry all day as you go through the motions. It feels hollow, but you persist. Your friends lighten the dark fog. Dave’s praise soothes the ache, and he fucks you so hard you can forget almost forget. 

But Joel lurks in your walls, in your skin, and you swear you see his headlights sweep over your living room, but it’s never his truck. At least not in the two weeks since karaoke night. You’ll never understand the trickery that makes misery slow time, but every day has felt bloated and stretched. 

Sick of feeling sick, the following week, when Joel’s face pops up, the second you open your eyes, you curse him. Spite simmers in your bones. If he had something to say, he had all the time in the world to show up and say it. Channeling the malaise into something darker, you let your anger renew your energy. 

All I can fuckin’ think about MY ASS. 

You’re itching for the distraction by the time you’re getting ready for your date with Dave this evening. You know you’re going to be a menace, and it’ll turn him on, which already has you smirking to yourself. You’re almost ready when you hear a knock at your door. You frown, checking the time. Dave’s usually precisely on time, not early. Close enough, you figure, slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading for the door. 

You swing it open, ready to see Dave, but your jaw drops when you see Joel. He’s caught off guard by your date night look and hesitates as his eyes sweep over your little black dress. Without a thought you slam the door in his face. 

What the fuck?

He knocks again, loudly, as if you weren’t standing on the other side with your mouth gaping like a fish. But the pounding brings you back to reality. 

You open the door and start before he even has a chance. 

“It’s been three weeks since I last saw you, Miller, and that was an accident! I don’t know how long it was before that, but now you’re gonna show up and ruin another date? I don’t fucking think so. You’ve got five minutes. Spit it out. What are you doing here?” 

He blinks dumbly for a moment. Taken aback by your words and still breathless at seeing you all dolled up for your date. You cross your arms, unimpressed so far. That’s somehow worse. The irritated look on your face makes him want to fuck the attitude out of you. He takes a deep breath, trying to refocus before he starts. 

“You’re right,” his voice is gentler than you remember–It’s criminal really, “I shouldn’t have waited.” He pauses and swallows thickly. Is he nervous? That’s new. “I’m not great with words, and I haven’t given you any reason to give me the time of day. I’m here to apologize.” 

“Go on then.” 

“It wasn’t right of me to run from you–”

“Which time?” you won’t let him get through this easily. Not now. He lets that sink in. The vulnerability makes his eyes shine. You can sense the charge in the air like he might just run right now. 

“Every time,” he admits. “Didn’t think you’d let me back in every time, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying. Knew you wanted me too.” You scoff at that. Amused at his approach. You see his shoulders tense before he lets your disapproval roll off of him. “Convinced myself, it was fine, or you’d stop answerin’ the door. Thought it’d be easier–” 

“If I did your dirty work for you?” you accuse sharply. “If it was my responsibility to hold you accountable?” 

“Thought it’d be easier if you hated me, I guess,” he runs his hand over the back of his neck. You stop seeing red and take him in. He smells fresh, like some over-fragranced body wash, his nearly dry hair brushed back. You hate how you feel the urge to soften just at the sight of him. “Figured you’d move on,” he rumbles. 

“Didn’t seem like you wanted me to move on when you crashed my date.” 

“It wasn’t my plan,” he mutters. Right. You raise your eyebrows. “You–you just drive me fuckin’ crazy. I don’t know why. But I can’t get you outta my fuckin’ head.”

That makes you smile. His confession willfully given on your front doorstep. In the daylight, without your body seducing his. You drive him crazy. 

Dave’s car pulls up behind Joel’s truck. “Time’s up,” you say, “as much as I really enjoy this 90s romcom-style confession, and I really do, I’ve got a date, and I don’t like to keep my dates waiting.” 

“Right,” Joel takes you in like he might never see you again, “he something serious?” he nods towards Dave’s car. 

“Why, you planning to ask me out?” you’re not afraid to be direct anymore. Nothing to lose. 

“Thought I’d just start with the apology.” 

“Good.” 

“You accept?” 

You laugh loudly, full-chested. It’s a release, but it ends mockingly. “You’re gonna have to try harder than this to show you really mean it.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods, turning to leave. A wicked idea flashes through your mind as you watch him turn and look past him towards Dave, who is watching you intently. 

“Wait,” you call out, and Joel spins immediately. “I’ll consider your apology tonight on one condition.” He waits to hear more, and your grin sends a shiver down his spine. He’s in for something, and if it’s anything close to what he deserves, it’s gonna hurt. 

…………

You slide into your favorite corner booth, in between Dave and Joel. You admire them both in the dim light. You haven’t been able to keep the nefarious smirk off your face since you proposed your idea. Dave was an easy sell, just as you knew he would be, with minimal questions and clear on the role you wanted him to play. You weren’t surprised that Joel agreed, but you’re skeptical that he’ll be able to keep his cool. 

“You’re coming with us,” you told him like it was a command, “you’re gonna watch, and you’re gonna prove to me that you can behave.” 

He seems to keep it together through your date. He’s quiet, only accepting a drink when you tell him not to be weird. You know the jealousy is screaming beneath the surface. He does his best to rein it in, but when Dave taunts him with sly comments or touches you so freely, you catch his jaw tensing and his hands balling into tight fists, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Dave exudes confidence and control. He relishes in the power dynamic and more so, in how you’re so turned on by having an audience. Dave’s eyes are sharp, catching all of Joel’s discomfort when you giggle when you share a story when he touches you, but worst of all, when you touch Dave. “Dirty girl,” Dave murmurs close to your ear, “you want to give your guest a show before we take him home?” 

Your eyes are bright and shining when you smile at him. You give Joel a once over. He doesn’t look like he will flip the table or smash his fist through it. He glowers at Dave but softens for you, swallowing down the humiliation and washing it down with another drink. 

“Yeah,” you turn back to Dave, “he can take it. What do you have in mind?” 

“I think I dropped something under the table,” Dave’s low voice drips down your spine, and excitement buzzes in your core, “You think you can help me out?” You smile wide as the Cheshire cat before sinking beneath the table. It’s cramped and dark, but you’ve never been more grateful to Dave for reserving his favorite secluded corner spot. 

You wiggle a bit brushing against Joel as you situate yourself between Dave’s legs. The table muffles more of the sound, blending their voices into the sound of the music. You can tell Dave is trying to continue a casual conversation with Joel, and you can tell Joel doesn’t respond with many words. You find it easy enough to tune them out altogether as you focus on your mission, opening Dave’s belt and working quickly to tug at his pants until you can free his thick cock. 

Before you can get your mouth on it, Dave cups your jaw and grabs your attention, “Good girl,” he husks, matching your hungry gaze. “This what you want?” he asks as he grips the base of his cock and angles it towards you. You nod, wetting your lips in anticipation. “Do you want him to watch?” he asks, tilting his head towards Joel. 

You smile again, “Yes.” 

“Come closer,” he directs Joel, “she wants you to watch.” Joel shuffles over, scooting down the curved bench until he can see your face looking up at him. 

“Shit, baby,” Joel hisses, shifting to adjust himself. You see the mix of emotions flickering across his face. You can’t help yourself from holding eye contact with Joel as you slide your tongue down Dave’s length. You keep your eyes on him as you begin to bob your head, taking his cock deeper into your mouth. 

Having their eyes on you, has you squirming. The attention and the dynamics between the three of you has your heart in your cunt. The blazing jealousy in Joel’s eyes eggs you on, working sloppily to please Dave. You moan below them. 

“Look at her,” Dave speaks calmly to Joel, only a hint of strain in his voice as he maintains his composure. “You think another woman could enjoy your cock this much? You think you could find a mouth better than this?” 

“No,” Joel grits through clenched teeth. 

“You think you deserve her?” Dave asks like it’s as meaningless as asking about the weather. 

“No,” he grits again, his eyes shut tightly, waiting for something to pass, before he can continue watching you. You see the torment taking hold, lighting a fire within you that spurs you on. You break the eye contact to take Dave’s cock even deeper. He groans approvingly above you. 

“That’s it,” Dave encourages you with his hand gently wrapping around the back of your head, “just like that, fuck.” He keeps watching you, but his next words are for Joel. “Tell her,” he says, drunk with pride and lust, “tell her what a good girl she is. Think she more than deserves to hear it.” You know your cunt is dripping between your legs at the intensity of your lewd behavior and the control Dave wields over the both of you so effortlessly. 

You shift to watch Joel. He tempers the storm of his frustration and arousal to make sure it sounds honest. So you know he means it.

“That’s good, baby,” his voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat before continuing, “Such a good girl.” Your eyes nearly roll back. You didn’t think it could hit any harder than when Dave praises you, but hearing the words from Joel sends you to another plane. You melt before your determination is renewed, and you’re on a mission to make Dave come. He knows what you want, and his hips tilt, rocking into you as you swallow around him eagerly until he’s groaning again and pulsing against your tongue as he comes. 

The men shift, and the three of you adjust and fix yourselves, respectively, as you return to your seat between them. You’re pleased with yourself but overtaken with the need throbbing in your cunt. You don’t miss Joel’s attempts to adjust himself and squash his own aching desire. It makes your lips curl with a hungry smile. 

Dave pulls you towards him. You’re buzzing so tensely with anticipation that just his grip around your waist brings a whiny moan out of you. He chuckles darkly at your wrecked response. “So worked up just from that, aren’t you?” Dave teases. You hum in agreement, letting your senses be overwhelmed by the scent of both men and their warm bodies on either side of you. “Already soaked and ready to be filled with a cock, hm?” 

“Yes,” you agree, closing your eyes and smiling dreamily. 

“Tell me,” Dave murmurs with a dangerous edge. 

“So wet,” you purr in agreement, but he laughs again. You open your eyes, confused. 

“Was asking him,” Dave tilts your chin towards Joel. You thought your idea of having Joel watch would be punishment enough, but you weren’t prepared for how Dave’s filthy mind works a step ahead of yours. You pull Joel’s hand between your legs. “Check for me,” he orders. 

Joel obeys. His fingers are quick to find your soaked underwear, and he easily dips them beneath the fabric into the pool of slick at your fluttering entrance. “Fuck,” you both curse at the sensation. It’s overwhelming, and you jerk at the intensity of being touched where your body wants contact the most. 

“Fuckin’ soaked,” Joel confirms like it’s painful to say it, “needs it bad.” You think the latter might apply to both of you. 

“You think you can make it all the way home, dirty girl?” Dave teases. You nod, but the whiny sound that comes from your throat as Joel removes his hand says otherwise. Dave considers your needs. “He’s only here to watch, hm?” he confirms. You nod mindlessly. “You think he’d make a nice seat for your ride home? Keep that empty hole full for you?” 

“Oh, shit,” you feel your face heat at the idea, “yes.” 

Joel’s more conflicted than he’s ever felt in his life. He was prepared to fight off his jealousy and tame his anger. He wasn’t prepared to watch you give Dave head in public or for how fucking hard he would get watching. But the most difficult thing to reckon with is the humiliation. More specifically, how every comment from either one of you that further salted his wound made his skin boil but also sent jolts of excitement through his nerves. 

“You think you can keep it together?” Dave challenges Joel. 

“Yes.” 

………………

Joel regrets agreeing before you leave the parking lot, but you couldn’t pay him to go back in time and change his answer. He thought the worst of it was over once you finally settled on top of him, sinking painfully slowly down his cock until your ass was flush with his hips, but you can’t stay still. You tense and contract around him, nearly blinding Joel with the heat of your velvety soft walls choking his shaft. You lean forward, trying to get comfortable, and when the car bounces over a speed bump on the way out of the parking lot, you both groan with pleasure and frustration. 

“You feel better?” Dave asks you as he navigates swiftly back to yours. 

“So full,” you state, desperately fighting the urge to beg Joel to grab your hips and fuck you. You weren’t exactly exaggerating the last time you had sex with Joel when you said you missed his “big fat cock.” Every bump on the road has you biting back moans, and you squirm, trying to find a comfortable position. 

“Please,” Joel’s low voice is strained and ragged, “quit moving.” 

You should’ve had the foresight to realize this wasn’t a punishment for Joel. This was just going to weaken your resolve. You know the second he gets his hands on you, it’s useless. You’re his through and through. You thought you were still pissed off enough that he couldn’t get to you, that Dave’s presence would keep you on track. 

Well, you didn’t really think about it at all. You just felt your knees go weak when, and your cunt do a flip when Dave made the suggestion. You need to make a mental note to show him just how much you appreciate his dirty mind when you get back home. 

You can feel Joel’s growl rumbling through his chest and his thighs tensing beneath you. It’s a vicious cycle. Every sound he makes is like a call and response with your body. Your cunt denounces your orders to stay still and pulses rhythmically, trying to take Joel’s cock deeper on it’s own accord. His breath hitches, and you adjust. 

“Baby,” he rasps, sounding wrecked, “I can’t–fuck–can’t do this if you’re gonna be a fuckin’ tease. His hands wrap around your hips, fingers digging harshly into your flesh in an attempt to keep you still, but the pressure makes you cry out softly. 

“Is your chair complaining?” Dave mocks, and Joel’s cock tenses inside of you. 

“I’m about to complain,” you try to snark, but it comes out needy instead. 

“What do you need, dirty girl?” He asks sincerely. You know it’s not long to get home, but you can’t think straight with Joel’s cock so deep inside of you. 

“Fuck, I…�� you wiggle again, causing Joel to grunt behind you, and the noise makes your pussy flex, “I can’t,” you trail off, digging your nails into your palms, trying to steady yourself. You feel pathetic right now, unable to put together a sentence and barely able to keep yourself still. 

“Hey,” Dave coos gently, seeing the pained expression on your face. “You decide what you want. Your rules. You want him to touch you?” 

“Mmm,” you groan loudly with want, “please, please, please.” 

Joel doesn’t hesitate, hands searching immediately and yanking you closer as he gropes at your body. The freedom to move gives him power over his urges, more control than either of you expected. His breath is hot against your neck before his voice, gravelly and dark, vibrates just behind your ear, “Missed hearing you beg for me.” 

Your head lolls back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut and mouth hanging open. You moan in sync as his hands wrap around your body, slipping under the top and bottom of your dress at the same time. You’re pinned, back against his firm chest, as one hand pinches at your hard nipple and the other taps at your clit. Your body struggles in his strong arms, unable to bow at the overstimulation of his touch. All you can manage is to rut your hips into him. 

“You desperate to come on my cock again, baby?” he goads you. Feeling confident now that he’s free to run his filthy mouth again. Feeling drunk on your needy noises and the way you writhe for him. He carries on teasing you in his Joel-specific way with his words and his fingers. It’s maddening, and you feel lit up, skin tingling as you’re at his mercy. You can only see blinding light, like you’re inside of a star, as you get closer and closer. 

You’re too incapacitated to realize you’ve made it home, that the car has stopped moving, that Dave has turned to watch you. Joel continues to rasp filth into your ear, but your body spasms in response when Dave begins to encourage you. “That’s right,” Dave coaxes you, “take what you need.” 

You do. Falling headfirst into the rush, broken, gasping, moans ringing through the car. The scent of sex swirling in the air. Your tension snaps, flooding with endorphins, and riding through the waves as you’re fully supported by Joel’s arms and body. 

“Fuck,” Joel chokes out, biting down into the curve of your neck to stifle himself. Your cunt still weakly tries to milk his cock as your hips twitch and jerk while you ease back down from your orgasm. You can feel the mess you’ve made. Hot and sopping wet, dripping down Joel’s cock and making you slip against his thighs. You’ve never made such a mess before. 

Joel shudders and tenses beneath you. Lifting you off of him with a familiar grunt. It’s his come leaking out of you. Your head swivels, “that wasn’t for you.” His cocky attitude from minutes earlier is gone; shame washes over him. His curls are no longer tamed like they were when he showed up at your door; one sticks to the sweat on his forehead. He breathes deeply, chest rising and falling, as he mouths a barely audible apology. 

It’s twisted that it stirs your need to comfort him. Fuck it. You figure the whole evening has been wild enough so far. Plus, he can take some of the emotional whiplash this time. You’re tired of being the one with that look on your face. You can see the taunt dancing on Dave’s tongue; you know he’s ready to cut Joel with vicious words, but he holds them, waiting for your lead. 

It’s an unbelievable position to be in. You aren’t used to feeling like you’ve got the upper hand in the power dynamic like this. Not with Joel. Not with two men that radiate dominance like it’s in their DNA. You’d like to savor the moment, but now that you’re not burning a horny fever, you realize how incredibly impractical it is to sit on top of such a large man inside of the car. You’re all gonna end up with neck cramps if you’re in here another minute. 

Despite dying to know what Dave’s holding back, you have more mercy than him or Joel. Joel, who currently can’t look you in the eye as he stays uncomfortably rigid beneath you, well, except for his spent cock. The thought makes you snort weakly, amused at your own sense of humor. 

You contort in Joel’s lap to kiss him softly on the cheek. “Chin up, Joel,” you lilt. “You can make it up to me. We’re not done yet,” you nod towards Dave who smirks darkly, “Unless you’ve changed your mind.” You open the door and hop out, leaving both men to watch you walk to the door. For the first time since you opened your door tonight, you’re alone long enough to let some nerves start to get to you. 

Your dates don’t follow immediately. They take long enough that you start to spin out in your head. Are you insane for this whole idea? Did you really just crawl under a table to Dave in front of Joel? In public? What the fuck are they talking about without you? You’re impatient now, arms crossed, leaning against the door frame, letting the cool night air stream into your living room. 

Then they’re striding towards you. Hungry eyes glinting. Both are intimidatingly gorgeous in their own ways. Dave exudes a slightly detached, effortless, authoritative swagger. It makes you feel special when he gives you his undivided attention. Joel is raw, slightly untethered like he’s always weary from warring with his own demons, but he still wields lethal power. They stalk towards you swiftly, catching your concern as they usher you towards your bedroom with more coordination than you expected. 

The door closes behind you with a soft click, but the tension in the air is heavy, as if someone had slammed it shut. Your room feels smaller with the weight of the situation about to unfold. Dave’s presence behind you makes your pulse quicken; the head of his body and his signature scent surround you. Joel watches, leaning against the door, arms crossed, jaw set, determined restraint weighing on his features. Despite the distance between you, Joel’s presence feels all-consuming. You’re mesmerized by his figure. His arms look even bigger, crossed in front of him, his broad shoulders, his pouty bottom lip, his strong jaw. You feel possessed with the need to …bite him? But, you don’t move. 

Dave’s fingers trace lightly down your spine as you continue to unabashedly ogle Joel, who stiffens at the sight of Dave’s hands slipping the straps of your dress over your shoulders. He’s unreadable, but the something simmering beneath the forced calm is contextually obvious. Joel’s trying to keep his cool; he doesn’t flinch, but he shifts, unable to remain still while he can only watch. 

Katie always referred to the chair in your room you designated as laundry purgatory as the cuck chair. It was only a joke, but if it isn’t perfect now. You glide across the room, tossing the worn-once sweatshirts and denim into the laundry hamper for future you to sort, offering the seat to Joel. It’s comical how his presence seems so out of place on the thrifted antique parlor chair.

You giggle softly as you spin back toward Dave, eager to find out what his depraved mind is plotting for the rest of the night. Dave’s voice is a low hum as he welcomes you into his arms, “Let’s make sure Joel gets a good look at what he’s missing out on, hm?” You nod, letting Dave arrange you as he pleases. “Pay attention,” he orders Joel, “I’m doing you a favor.” You can hear the devious glee lurking beneath Dave’s controlled tone. Joel’s dark eyes spark with something fierce as they flick to Dave before landing back on you. 

You can feel your pulse beating in your neck—and your cunt—as your chest heaves dramatically as Dave’s hands move over you. His touch is both tender and possessive as he makes a show of removing all of your clothes. It’s exaggerated to eat at Joel, but it works you up just the same. Dave pauses, letting his fingers hover over your nipples, brushing them just enough to make you shiver before kneading your soft tits, making you gasp. 

“You see that?” Dave asks over your shoulder, addressing Joel. “She’s so needy already. All worked up again. How are you going to satisfy her if she needs my cock right after you make her come?” 

You see Joel stiffen, gripping the arms of your chair like he might crush them. He’s still holding on to some semblance of composure, but it’s unraveling. You didn’t expect the dynamic between them to hit you straight in the pussy, but you’re dizzy, humming with anticipation. 

“On the bed, greedy girl,” Dave instructs. You follow without question, crawling onto the mattress, your pulse pounding in your ears. Joel’s eyes are glued to you, devouring every inch of your bare skin. It’s impossible for you to look away from him. His struggle as he works so fucking hard not to show how much he wants you, even though it’s written all over his face, is driving you wild. His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to touch you, to take. 

With your head still turned, locked onto the sight of Joel, your mouth parts in a soft gasp as Dave’s broad hands spread your legs wide, exposing your heated skin to the cool air in the room. You break away from your staring contest to catch the searing heat in Dave’s eyes before he lowers, pausing just before his lips brush against your swollen clit. He doesn’t ease the ache yet, lifting his head and turning to Joel with a smirk. “Come closer. You might learn something,” he challenges smugly. 

You’d roll your eyes at his arrogance, but then he dives in, tongue sliding against your slick cunt with devastating precision. You can only dig your fingers into your sheets as you arch and moan in response to his expert rhythm. With your eyes squeezed shut and your breath coming in uneven, shallow pants, you relax into the sensation coursing through you. 

“Tell him,” Dave hums into your skin, “Tell Joel how good it feels.” 

Your eyes flutter open, meeting Joel’s gaze. The sight of him has you at a loss for words. His face is expressionless, but as always, his eyes betray him. Sharp, hungry, and barely containing the storm inside of him. “So… feels, fuck, feels so good.” 

Joel’s chest rises and falls heavily. Dave’s taunts don’t hurt Joel’s pride, but watching you fall apart for another man twists his gut harshly. You’re so close he could count the beads of sweat forming on your chest. He can taste you and smell you, and it drives him wild. Like a beast, only held back by his hope to have a chance for more. 

Dave chuckles against you, his breath teasing your clit before he wraps his lips around it, sucking hard. The pleasure slams through you, and you cry out, your hips jerking against his mouth. Every nerve ending alight with sensation. You can’t think, only feel.

“She’s so responsive,” Dave gloats.

Joel doesn’t acknowledge the comment. His composure is cracking, the frustration bubbling to the surface. You can see it in the way his jaw clenches, the way his eyes stay glued to the place where Dave’s mouth moves over you with expert ease.

But Dave isn’t done with either of you yet. He pulls back from between your legs, his fingers trailing over your slick skin as he moves to stand. His eyes are alight with that dangerous gleam that makes your heart race. “Let’s show Joel what a dirty girl you are for me.”

You’re eager to obey. “How do you want me?” Your voice is breathy and ragged already. It only crosses your mind now that you’re completely naked while they’re still fully dressed. You sit up, reaching for Dave’s belt before he’s answered you. He takes off his shirt while you work diligently to release his cock. “Look at her, Joel,” Dave taunts, his voice thick with pride and adoration for you. “She just wants to be fucked right.” 

Joel swallows hard. The effort it takes to keep himself in check is wavering. He’s burning with the urge to claim you, to show you the meaning of being fucked right, to make you come so hard you forget Dave’s name. His ears ring, tuning Dave out completely, watching you adjust, lying back on your pillows, welcoming Dave between your legs. 

Joel is transfixed. Watching as Dave positions himself between your legs and slides into you with an agonizingly slow thrust. Distantly, he can hear you moaning loudly; he can hear Dave continuing to goad him about how tight you are and how he gives you what you need or whatever else he thinks matters. All Joel can process is the sight of Dave’s cock disappearing inside of you. Over and over and over again. 

A deep, nauseating wave of embarrassment sinks heavily into Joel’s stomach. You wanted to punish him? Like this? It’s too absurd to be a joke, to be a sick prank. It can’t be some kind of trap. You aren’t cruel like that. Worse. He’s trapped between his anger and arousal. Forced to watch as Dave takes you apart, piece by piece. Tortured by his own cock throbbing painfully in response to everything about you. He looks at your face and feels dismantled by your gaze. Hazy and sweet, you’re staring at him, wet lips parted as you gasp shallowly while Dave keeps up his pace. 

Joel’s composure is slipping, his hands flexing before he gives in, trying to readjust. Hoping to find the slightest relief as he palms himself over his jeans. Your brows wrinkle with pleasure, and a breathy “oh, fuck,” slips out of you. Seeing Joel so turned on just from watching you sends you rolling into a warm, vision-blurring climax. 

“I know,” Dave coos in your ear as you catch your breath, “I know.” He’s still murmuring against your neck, but it’s the silent exchange with Joel that makes you smile lazily. You think he figured it out, the power he has over you with just his expressions. That he’s the one that has you breathless. “Tell her,” Dave growls over you. 

“Good girl,” Joel utters hoarsely, mouth dry. He sees the glow wash over you at his words, and it clicks. Finally. Whatever it is between you affects you just as much. His punishment isn’t watching someone else please you, wondering if they really can make you feel better than he can. Wondering if they’ll treat you better. If you’re better off without Joel at all. No. 

It’s knowing they can’t. Knowing you’ve been just as empty without him as he’s been without you. That it’s been his fault. He’s made it worse. You’re all he can fuckin’ think about, and he’s in your head just the same. 

And right now his punishment is to wait this night out. To be vulnerable and reveal the truth. The desperate desire he has for you. He’s pathetic with it, honestly. He’ll sit here all night, show you how hard you make him, tell you how badly he wants you, describe how perfect you are, anything. It starts to pour out of him as his jealousy and anger recede. “So good, baby, you look beautiful, like a dream,” Joel’s voice is filled with earnest wonder. You beam, your eyelids heavy with lust as Joel continues. “I want you so bad it hurts. You’ve got me losing my fuckin’ mind.” 

“That’s a start,” Dave commends Joel before he shifts, pulling out and flipping you onto your hands and knees. You can hear Joel cursing under his breath as Dave kneads the plush curves of your ass, spreading you wide and showing off your glossy cunt. “You see that? Perfect, right?” He doesn’t wait for Joel to respond, focused on lining himself up and sliding back inside of you as deep as he can. 

Dave groans along with you as he lights up every nerve within you, and your pussy contracts coaxing him deeper. He pauses when his hips meet your ass, filling you to the hilt before he wraps an arm around you to pull your back flush against his chest. “Look at him,” Dave tilts your head to be sure you can take in Joel’s wrecked expression. “You think he deserves to touch himself while I’m fucking you?” Dave asks, shifting his attention back to you, mischief twinkling in his eyes. 

“No,” you reply, resolute. “He doesn’t deserve it. But I want to watch, so he will.” Dave’s grin widens, reveling in your direct nature. He lowers you, and you adjust, resting your cheek on your pillow so you can watch. “Please, Joel, let me see.” Your begging has the exact effect you wanted on Joel when you hear the throaty groan he makes. 

You squirm involuntarily when you finally get a clear view of Joel’s cock, clenching tightly around Dave’s cock. He hums behind you, muttering about how you’re unreal, and he hopes Joel can handle a woman like you as he slowly drags himself almost completely out of you before snapping his hips brutally, slamming back into you. 

You’re bewitched. The head of Joel’s cock glistens, weeping with precome, enticing, and menacing as his fist strokes slowly along his shaft. You’re salivating at the debauched scene and drenching Dave’s cock as he continues to slowly work you back up. The sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room, mingling with your gasps and moans.

“You see that?” Dave asks you, “Look how desperate he is. You think he wants to come?” 

“Yes,” you reply, “fuck, yes.” 

“Ladies first, though, hm?” Dave muses as he picks up his pace, pushing you closer, finding the perfect angle that makes your mind go blank. The pressure builds inside you, and the louder you get, the more Joel starts to fall apart. Your flip between Joel’s eyes and his fist pumping his cock ravenously. For you. All for you. 

That sends you over the edge, wringing all the pleasure out of you, taking Dave with you as he stills against you, cock pulsing hotly inside of you, as your limbs feel weak and you sink into the mattress. You watch as Joel spills over his knuckles, cursing and grunting as he comes, and it makes you giddy. 

Dave kisses your shoulder tenderly, praising you quietly, just for you, before he gets up and, like clockwork, heads to the bathroom to clean up and get you a warm washcloth. You continue to grin loosely, giggling softly, still amused by how out of place Joel looks. You see the fear flit across his face, and a cold, nasty feeling rips through you as you brace for the worst. Cruel words spring up, ready to protect you, but you hold your tongue. You won’t guilt him into staying. You can’t choose for him. 

It’s a painfully long minute. He doesn’t look at you. You try not to shut down. And then Dave is back, ever the gentleman, with warm washcloths for both of you. He checks in with you softly, “What do you need?”

The words stick in your throat. You sit up and force yourself to get them out. It’s barely above a whisper. “I need to talk to Joel.” He looks at you finally, as if you whispering his name snapped him out of a trance. Dave nods. 

“You want me to stay?” Dave asks. You blink at him curiously. Neither of you do sleepovers. You don’t need a bodyguard. You must have it stamped across your forehead like a holiday package: fragile. 

“No.” 

He takes your word for it, redressing and heading out swiftly. Leaving you alone with Joel. 

Unreadable Joel. With no clues in his eyes or his body language. His head follows you, watching as you cross the room to grab a shirt. You honestly wonder if he could disappear in the half a second your vision is obscured while you pull it over your head, but he’s still there. So, you gather your courage and face him head-on. 

“Can we talk?”

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[eddiesghxst]

eddie’s so stupid hopeless when it comes to women he actually (secretly) reads and takes some of the advice he sees in those shitty magazines filled with advice for men for women. he reads a line about women liking when men’s pubes are shaved and so he starts shaving them. once every two to three weeks— ‘just in case i get lucky’— and, in his defense, the times he has ‘gotten lucky’ he’s never heard any complaints about it, so he figures it must be true to a certain degree.

and then you start seeing each other and eddie is always shaved when you two get down to business but then one day, it’d been a particularly busy month so he hadn’t gotten the chance to shave. you’re in the back of his van making out after sharing a blunt and eddie thinks everything is fine, but then you begin to reach down to unbutton his jeans, and suddenly he’s pulling away.

“i, uh…i didnt…” he glances at you as you patiently wait and he feels so fucking embarrassed for having to say it, “i didn’t shave.” and you just sit back and blink at him for a moment before he continues, “i know women like… you know, like it when guys are shaved so i’m just… i’m just warning you.”

“eddie…who told you that?” eddie slowly blinks and shrugs, “read it in a magazine.” and slowly, a smile appears on your face and you shake your head with a little laugh. eddie’s muddled mind can’t seem to piece together why you’re laughing but then you kiss him.

“you’re so stupid.” you mumble against his lips. “so,” kiss. “so,” kiss. “fucking,” kiss. “stupid.” kiss.

you pull away to gaze down at him, hazy brown eyes looking up at you in a mix of lust, confusion, and admiration. you smooth down a few unruly strands of his bangs and lean in, shaking your head so your noses brush against one another as you speak, “i don’t care if you choose to shave or not, eddie. i’d actually prefer you have something rather than nothing.” “…really?”

“definitely…” and suddenly you’re skating your hands down his stomach and slipping into his pants, fingers threading through the short hairs on his pelvis before you softly tug at them, causing him to softly moan against your lips with a curse. “shit, okay…good to know— fuck —i won’t shave them anymore.” you happily hum and kiss him, “good…and eddie?” your hand wraps around his cock and he’s breathless when he responds “yeah?”

“for the love of god, stop reading those shitty good-for-nothing magazines. it’s all a bunch of lies.” and eddie can barely pay attention between his high and the way you’re stroking him beneath his jeans. you lean in and nip at his jaw and he pathetically nods with a moan as you squeeze his tip, “fuck— yeah. yeah, okay. no more reading.”

eddie never picks up another one of those shitty good-for-nothing magazines again.

[megistusdiary]

can i interest you all in figure-skating coach!arlecchino?

(longer post utc. no smut, just fluff? - tw slight age gap and also idk specifics on figure skating, i just like the idea 😚)

she's a well-known figure-skater, having gone to the olympics for snezhnaya for several years, each time bringing home the gold for her nation.

she's elegant in her movements yet calculated down to each singular motion to pull it all together in beautiful displays on ice. her outfits are always perfect down to the very threads sewn together.

the way she carries herself at conferences, on camera she's stoic but professional, and pretty enough to have both men and women at her feet when she performs.

that is until the incident.

a chronic back injury she's sustained from pushing her body too far. her coach was always relentless. even when she was miles ahead of her fellow competitors, her coach wanted more.

her coach demanded perfection from all her trainees, yet arlecchino was different. held on a pedestal for all to see.

but don't get it twisted. arlecchino herself would often be found practicing these challenging routines all alone at 3 in the morning. she would be exhausted, limbs aching, and relentless to achieve the cleanest routine.

that back injury changed her life. she disappeared for a few years from the skating world, leaving many of her fans in shock and fear.

luckily, for them, she returned soon after with an apprentice of her own. a younger man by the name of tartaglia with a rather charming theme to all his performances.

unlike arlecchino, he was bolder in his performances. a little sloppy, by her standards, but he made up for it in his flair. she could see even the judges swooning over him, the fans' attention now on him rather than her.

or so she had assumed.

she meets you when her old coach introduces the two of you. she's a good several years older than you, and you still carry that sweet, fresh-faced, joyful look on your face.

as you practice your routine for the both of them, her old coach leans over, suggesting arlecchino take you instead.

she snorts uncharacteristically at the suggestion, watching how your spins are slightly wobbly, the way you look just a tad too small on the ice. she wonders how in the world she could make you a star.

it isn't until she sees you perform with your music, with your passion, that she decides to train you.

she grows annoyed by how starkly different her old coach's methods have become. unlike when arlecchino trained, you clearly haven't been sculpted to perfection. she wonders how, at this point in your career, you wouldn't be there. though, she supposes your smile and demeanor make-up for some of your faults.

she trains you harder, scheduling extra lessons for you outside of your normal hours, watching you yawn and rub your eyes when she calls you in at midnight.

many of her students often leave, saying the pressure was too great. how she was too demanding. she never offered extra lessons, expecting people to bring her talent to work with in the first place.

so why did she give you extra attention?

why wouldn't she just let you leave?

no. she didn't want that... she wouldn't let that happen. she'd rather take extra time to not only make you competent, but a fierce competitor.s

she's even put you in ballet classes. even more remarkable is her own talent in ballet, which you can't help but admire.

the first time she ever finds herself looking at you closer than she imagined. she stands next to you, demonstrating stretches, her hand running up your spine to adjust your posture.

you exhale so softly, almost imperceptibly, but it makes her touch falter, landing just a little too tenderly at the base of your spine before she pulls away. she watches you the rest of the lesson, adjusting your legs and arms to the proper position, her hand trailing up to graze over your jaw.

she tilts your head upwards. "stop looking down." she comments, low and sultry, seeing you swallow thickly. "you're being trained by one of snezhnaya's most renowned figure skaters. act like it."

she gently squeezes your jaw before releasing you. "we're finished for the day." she leaves you panting, entirely embarrassed and internally screaming out.

unbeknownst to you, she sits in the car, staring at the hand she used to touch your jaw, a hardened look on her face. she clenches her hand, a soft blush appearing on her normally dull cheeks as she waits for you so you may both leave the ballet studio.

when you finally do perform at competitions, she finds herself growing much more vocal. oftentimes, she remains quiet, only cringing at her other students' stumbles and deductions.

but not with you.

your moves have become much more elegant, and everyone can see. the commentary surrounds how you seem to emulate the epitome of what your coach stood for herself, but in a much softer tone.

your performance leaves her enraptured, your routine completely clean, garnering you praise and showers of applause.

yet you leave the ice with only one person in mind, your hand brushing over hers when you walk past her to find your water bottle.

and, for the first time, she finds herself wanting more. even when you're sweaty under your glittering dress, hair a mess, makeup starting to smudge. she wants you. her perfect apprentice.

[nurseguillermo]

Mo gave Cain another squeeze letting out a soft sigh, his family had already gotten hit by loss this year. Having Eagan go through what Cal and Celia had made his stomach lurch. "Let me buy you a hot chocolate and a concha. Apparently my sister got some guy to make em," they shook their head still unsure how to completely feel about that one.

living in a place like huntsville came with its complications. having a loved one around was a risk considering how often people came up missing and died, but cain hoped that wasn't the case for will. he never wanted anyone to experience the loss that he had. "don't worry about it, mo. this is one of the perks that comes with being a ranger, y'know? getting to ask people about things that don't pertain to other people. i'm keeping my fingers crossed that everything comes out okay and that we find him alive."

[bluejayblueskies]

Breakaway | Glacy

(ID in alt text.)

I had a blast participating once again in @pilesofnonsense's Rusty Quill Big Bang event as a bookbinder/artist! This year, I collaborated with Glacy on AO3 and bound their TMA fic Breakaway. It's an ice hockey AU with underlying spooks and horrors, and I had a lot of fun reading it and working with it! Definitely go check out their fic!!

An additional shout-out to @shadow0haven who designed my new bindery logo! You can see it on the back of the title page in the fifth picture, and I love how it looks in my books <3

More information about the bind and my process can be found beneath the cut:

For this bind, I decided to go hard on the hockey theme. The team mascot is a revenant, so I went with a title page and cover design styled after a hockey jersey. The cover is made entirely of bookcloth, with the different colors and details cut out of different colors of bookcloth that are then pieced together like a puzzle. I was pleasantly surprised with how well it turned out! It took a little bit of fiddling to figure out the correct cut settings on my Silhouette, as well as the level of detail I could achieve, but I love how the whole cover has a cloth texture like a jersey would.

The construction of this book was a bit of a challenge. Because I wanted to put grommets in the edges of the cover and thread a shoelace through them, so the spine looked like a hockey skate, doing a regular coptic stitch bind--where the covers are sewn onto the text block via holes punched in the cover board--would have interfered with the ability to freely manipulate the laces.

I eventually settled on a hybrid coptic-sewn board binding style. There is an additional folio of cardstock sewn onto the ends of the text block that the boards are then glued into, thus directly attaching the boards to the textblock and providing more structural stability. Usually, with sewn boards, a spine piece is then glued around the spine to cover up the exposed sewing; instead, I glued the bookcloth to the cover and then carefully cut slits in the cloth on the spine side and fed it in between the lines of sewing. It worked out incredibly well, creating the illusion of an open-spine coptic-stitch book without actually stitching on the chipboard itself; I wish I'd had the foresigh to take process pictures.

After that, it was relatively simple to punch holes for the grommets, insert them, and then thread the laces through. Next time, I would use a thinner chipboard and punch the holes further from the spine to allow the cover boards to close more flatly, but overall, I'm very happy with how the various design elements came together! The shoelace is removable and/or adjustable if desired as well.

[estapa-edwards]

CAPTIVATED - N. HISCHIER

paring: Nico Hischier x reader

word count: 1.3k

requested? yes - nico having fallen in love with a girl he saw dancing on a stage one day… what he didn’t know was it was his new teammates little sister timo

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

As the pulsating rhythm of the arena music reverberated through the air, I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins. The spotlight illuminated the stage, casting shadows that danced around me as I moved to the beat. Each step, each twirl was a symphony of motion, a celebration of life in its purest form. Little did I know that amidst the cheering crowd and flashing lights, destiny was about to weave its intricate threads around my heart.

I live for the thrill of the dance. But on that fateful night, as I lost myself in the music, little did I realize that my world was about to collide with that of Nico Hischier, the captain of the New Jersey Devils.

Nico was more than just a hockey player; he was the epitome of leadership and dedication. His presence on the ice commanded respect, his determination driving the team forward even in the face of adversity. And yet, beneath that steely exterior, there was a warmth in his eyes that spoke of kindness and compassion.

--

As fate would have it, Nico found himself in the audience that night, drawn to the spectacle unfolding on stage. And amidst the sea of faces, his gaze found mine, locking in a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. In that instant, I felt a connection—a spark of recognition that transcended words.

For Nico, it was like being struck by lightning—a sudden jolt of electricity that sent his heart into a frenzy. He had seen many beautiful sights in his life, but none had captivated him quite like the girl on stage. Little did he know that she would soon become more than just a fleeting memory.

After the performance, Nico found himself unable to shake the image of the mysterious dancer from his mind. He knew he had to find her, to unravel the enigma that had taken hold of his thoughts. And so, with determination in his heart, he set out to discover the identity of the girl who had stolen his breath away

Nico's quest to find the mysterious dancer consumed his thoughts day and night. Despite scouring social media platforms and reaching out to friends and acquaintances, he found himself hitting dead ends at every turn. The enigma of the girl who had captivated him remained unsolved, a puzzle that seemed destined to elude him.

Days turned into weeks, and still, Nico's search yielded no results. Doubt began to creep into his mind, whispering words of frustration and despair. Perhaps she was just a figment of his imagination, a fleeting illusion that had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

--

But just when Nico was on the brink of giving up hope, fate intervened in the most unexpected of ways. It was a typical day at practice for the Devils, the sound of skates slicing through the ice echoing through the arena. Nico was lost in the rhythm of the game, his mind focused on the task at hand, when suddenly, he saw her.

There, standing on the sidelines, was the girl from his dreams—the mysterious dancer who had haunted his thoughts for weeks on end. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Nico's heart pounded in his chest. He couldn't believe his eyes, couldn't comprehend the reality of what he was seeing. As Nico's gaze fixated on the familiar figure approaching Timo, confusion mingled with disbelief. It was as though the universe had conspired to bring her into his path once again, yet the circumstances left him utterly bewildered.

Timo's expression lit up as he embraced the approaching girl, a smile stretching across his face. It was a sight that Nico couldn't tear his eyes away from, his mind racing to make sense of the unexpected encounter.

In that moment, a torrent of emotions surged through Nico's veins—hope, disbelief, and a profound sense of longing. He wanted to reach out to her, to bridge the gap that separated them, but uncertainty held him back.

As Timo and the girl engaged in animated conversation, Nico observed from a distance, his heart heavy with unspoken questions. Who was she to Timo? How had their paths crossed once more? And most importantly, why did she feel so familiar, as though she had been a part of his life all along?

Despite the flood of uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm him, Nico couldn't deny the magnetic pull drawing him towards her. With each step she took, she seemed to come alive in his mind—a vision of beauty and grace that left him breathless.

And as he watched her laugh and smile, a flicker of recognition sparked in Nico's heart. It was as though he had known her all along, as though their souls were intertwined in a dance as old as time itself.

With determination burning in his veins, Nico made his way towards Timo and the girl, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous space of the arena. He knew that he couldn't let this opportunity slip away—that fate had brought them together once more for a reason.

As he approached, Timo turned to greet him with a grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Hey, Nico! I want you to meet someone special," he said, gesturing towards the girl at his side.

Nico's heart skipped a beat as he met her gaze, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place with startling clarity. She was the girl from his dreams—the mysterious dancer who had captured his heart with a single glance. 

“Nico, this is my sister, Y/n.”

As Timo uttered those words, everything seemed to click into place for Nico. The pieces of the puzzle finally fell into alignment, and he found himself staring at Y/N with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

"Y/N," he repeated her name, the syllables rolling off his tongue with a sense of familiarity that sent shivers down his spine. It was as though he had known her all along, as though she had been the missing piece of his life's puzzle.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise as she met Nico's gaze, a flicker of recognition passing between them. It was a moment of profound revelation—a realization that their paths had been destined to intertwine from the very beginning.

For Nico, it was as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders—a burden of uncertainty and doubt that had plagued him for weeks on end. Here, in front of him, stood the girl who had captured his heart with a single glance, his soulmate in every sense of the word.

As they stood there, bathed in the glow of the arena lights, a sense of peace settled over Nico's heart. He knew that he had finally found what he had been searching for. 

--

As Timo introduced her to Nico, Y/N's heart skipped a beat. She couldn't deny the rush of excitement and nervousness that surged through her veins at the sight of the captain of the New Jersey Devils standing before her. But as she looked into Nico's eyes, something shifted within her—a sense of familiarity and connection that she couldn't quite explain.

When Nico repeated her name, Y/N felt a jolt of recognition shoot through her, as though she had been waiting for him her entire life. His voice was like music to her ears, resonating deep within her soul with a sense of belonging that she had never known before.

As their eyes met, a silent understanding passed between them—a shared recognition of the bond that bound their hearts together. It was as though they had known each other in another lifetime, their souls drawn together by an invisible thread that refused to be broken.

In that moment, Y/N felt a weight lift from her shoulders—a burden of loneliness and longing that had weighed her down for far too long. Here, in front of her, stood Nico Hischier, the man who had captured her heart with a single glance, her soulmate in every sense of the word.

As they stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the arena lights, Y/N felt a sense of peace settle over her heart. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she had finally found what she had been searching for—a love that transcended time and space, a love that would endure for all eternity.

[angelvings-archive]

                           “ i      know      ,      i      know      ,      it's      just      . . . . .     it's      too      damn      confusing      , isn't it ? ”      hand      reaches      to      pinch      the      bridge      of      his      nose      in      frustration      ,      eyes      closing      for      a      moment      as      he      tries      sorting      out      conflicting      thoughts      on      seeing      her      on      his      doorsteps      , but without much success . the girl in front of him happened to be both the last person he should be seeing , while also the only face he longed to see in that moment .      “ don't      you      get      it      ?      you're      leaving      in      a      couple      of      days      ,      and      seeing      you      now      is      just      making      everything      worse      . we shouldn't be doing this . it will only make it harder to say goodbye . ”      eyes      automatically      soften      as      they      find      hers , despite his wish to not display nor give into his actual wants and wishes      .      “ do      you      even      know      how      difficult      it      already      is      for      me      . . . . .      letting      you      go      ? ”

                            "     this     is     the     last     bit     of     free     time     i've     got     and     i     wanted     to     stop     by     to     see     you     .     didn't     know     you'd     take     it     this     damn     harshly     .     i     can     leave     since     i'm     clearly     pestering     you     with     my     presence     alone     .     "     

[fullsunrise]

Into a Dream (M)

Word count: 1.1k

Pairing: Mark x Original female character

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: Descriptive sex, CNC elements (Characters are both consenting adults!), somnophilia, basically no plot whoops

As Mark enters the door to their apartment, he catches a figure curled up on the couch from the corner of his eye. At first he doesn't think much of it, but as he gets closer he can hear her low breathing. Did she really try to stay up waiting for him? His heart warms at the idea of her fighting off sleep in order to stay awake. How adorable, he thinks as he reaches an arm out to trace her cheek. Her nose scrunches up at the sudden contact and Mark thinks his heart might burst.

“Mark?” she calls out in the dark, unaware that he's crouched down right beside her.

“Right here, baby,” he replies, quick to comfort her worries.

“What time is it?” she asks as she slowly sits up in a dazed state.

“Time to go to bed,” Mark chuckles softly.

Normally she would let out a dramatic sigh at his comedic attempt, but Mark could tell she was too tired. Instead she wordlessly grabs his hand, letting him guide her towards their bedroom.

As they tuck themselves under a pile of blankets, a wave of tiredness finally hits him. She cuddles into his side naturally as the warmth of her body radiates. Mark waits for sleep to pull him under, but all he can think about is her breathing that matches his own. It's almost overwhelming how quickly his peaceful thoughts are infiltrated with desire. He loves when her breath hitches, when she's no longer in control of her reactions. She melts so easliy in his touch, taking everything he offers. Without thinking, he starts running circles on her lower back. He waits for her response, and although it's soft, he still feels the vibrations of her satisfied hum in the crook of his neck.

“Can I spoon you?” He asks, his voice only a whisper.

“Mhm,” she replies. He could tell she was in a half-asleep state now, no longer having the energy to form words but awake enough to respond.

With his body perfectly curled around her small frame, Mark takes the opportunity to take it a step further. His hand snakes around to caress her abdomen under her big t-shirt. Her skin is so, so soft that he can't help but skate his fingertips across her waistband every so often. Everytime his hand grazes slightly underneath her waistband, he wants to chase every little sound she makes. As he begins to leave a trail of small kisses against her neck, he feels her thighs slowly rub together.

“Let's go to sleep, hm?”

She lets out another hum, but this time more delayed than the last as her own sleepiness washes over her. He listens to her slow and steady breathing, confirming she has finally fallen asleep. Mark doesn't waste a moment, his hand now fully reaching underneath her shorts. As he gets closer to her warmth, the more she subconsciously rubs her ass against his cock in slow motions that drive him crazy. It takes everything in him not to push her underwear to the side and take her right then and there. But not yet, he wouldn't dare interrupt her sleep. When he finally reaches her clit, he lets out a deep breath as a million curses fly around in his head. How could she possibly be this wet? His patience hangs on a thread with each stroke along her folds.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he says under his breath.

Everything about her was perfect. Diving his fingers into her without hesitation, she lets out a small whimper. The way she squeezes around him makes his head spin, and fuck, he wishes it was his dick.

“Shit,” he mutters a little too loud.

“Mark?” she questions, and Mark can tell she was awake now. He silently curses at himself for waking her up, but he doesn't stop his movements. She moans softly as he fucks her with his fingers, feeling every inch of her.

“Shhh, I’ve got you baby. Go back to sleep,” Mark quietly says, laying kisses on the back of her nape.

His words seem to work as she lets out a breathless “okay” as she nuzzles her head into her pillow. Mark almost misses the way she absentmindedly spreads her legs apart more for him, and if he wasn't gone before, surely he's a goner now. His fingers push deeper inside her wet cunt, only to take them out and push them back in again. Each time he pulls out, he can feel her hips chase his hand. How needy even when she’s asleep, Mark thinks. His thumb reaches to play with her clit simultaneously, and it takes a few minutes before she releases all over his fingers, followed by a deep moan.

As she comes down from her high and her regulated breathing returns, Mark can no longer ignore how hard he is. Surely if he slides his cock inside of her now, she would wake up again. But it was a risk he was willing to take. It would just be so easy to fill her up with his cum without her knowing.

Mark shifts his body back slightly to push his underwear down, and gives his cock a few strokes before pushing her underwear to the side. The moment he slips inside of her, he swears he sees stars. He moans at her tightness, and fuck, she always takes him in so well. Her soft mewls fuel his thrusts, and it doesn't take long until he feels his orgasm approaching.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, no longer worried if she was asleep or not.

His thrusts were sporadic now as he chased his high, too far gone to notice that she woke up. Her moans echo throughout their room as her second high quickly washes over her entire body. It's a domino effect, and Mark suddenly cums inside of her without warning. He rides his high out, fucking his cum deeper. It takes a moment for him to come back to his senses, but as he opens his eyes he's met with her beaming smile. A sense of guilt engulfs him as he smiles back at her. He knows she wanted this, but why did he feel like he got caught red handed?

“Were you awake the whole time?” he asks curiously.

“No,” she replies as she rests her head on his bare chest.

“Sorry that I woke you up,” he says sheepishly, knowing very well that he wasn't sorry in the slightest.

This earns him a chuckle, and once more his heart fills with warmth. His soft and lazy touches return, no longer rushed by aching desire. Instead they’re laced with nothing but comfort and love. Mark feels his fatigue finally catch up to him as he pulls her in tightly against his chest.

“Goodnight, my love.”

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

Last night, I started another rewatch of YOI and I for the first time, I wondered what was going on inside Yuuko's brain while Yuuri was showing her his take on Stammi Vicino.

What do we know about Yuuko?

Yuuko is a big skating otaku. She's not only a fan of her former rinkmate Yuuri, we also see her swoon over Viktor and Yurio (she'd totally be the type who swoons over even more skaters, but we don't know that). When she fangirls, she fangirls hard which can even cause her nosebleed.

Yuuko is one of Yuuri's greatest supporters and someone he can confide in. Together, they copied Viktor's programmes, and she always has his back.

She knows that Yuuri has a crush on Viktor and has been emulating Viktor and striving to become as good as him since they watched the Junior Worlds together as kids.

And then Yuuko, who until that point thought that Yuuri was depressed, witnesses Yuuri skate a perfect copy of his crush's free programme that can be interpreted as a (gay) love song or a yearning for a soulmate (it's a bit more complicated than that, I had started writing a post that analyses the lyrics, but put it on the backburner for multiple reasons) and not only does she recognise the programme by Yuuri's starting pose alone, but goes immediately into full fangirl mode.

That's her face when he stops to perform towards her. In that moment, realisation must hit her that Yuuri is far from giving up skating, that he has not given up on his dream of emulating Viktor and meeting him on the ice as an equal. And he shares all this with her who had been supporting his dream from the very start.

I mean, look at his yearning expression:

Yuuri is fully immersed in his performance. However, being a fan of Viktor herself, Yuuko probably knows what the song is about. And because of that, she is able to empathise with Yuuri and can guess what's going on inside him while skating Stammi Vicino. (Figure skating 101: skaters normally perform towards the judges to increase their presentation mark. But here, Yuuri is alone with his childhood friend and the effect of the move would be wasted if he doesn't perform it towards her.)

Yuuri later explains that he has been practising this programme since the competitions ended for him three months ago. He was hoping to get back his love for skating and to remember how it was like when the two copied Viktor together. Since the disastrous Nationals, Yuuri has been working towards his comeback, even if it's hanging by a thread because he's still missing something that will help him continue and he doesn't know what it is. All he knows is that he wants to return to competition and keep on chasing his dream, and he starts all over where it began (I wrote a long-ass analysis about how Yuuri utilises Stammi Vicino for exactly that purpose here).

As one of Yuuri's closest friends, Yuuko must have guessed some of this already just from watching Yuuri skate. As a fan and a former skater, she immediately understands that he has been practising this programme for some months, and the perfection it exhibits is a telltale of how strong his dream, his obsession with Viktor is still burning inside him. You don't go to such lengths when you're not extremely passionate about something.

And that's oil in the fire of Yuuko's own fannishness. Because Yuuko is a fan of both Yuuri and Viktor, she must be burning like crazy to see them compete against each other again. She's been rooting for Yuuri from the start, she wants him to succeed and be happy and if that includes Yuuri meeting Viktor again, that would be the cherry on top.

If I was her, I would freak out, too.

We're all Yuuko in this scene. But because her character is so underrated, it took me so long to notice.

[fadinglights]

joonwoo  runs  his  fingers  through  his  hair,  his  features  noticeably  distressed  —  a  rare  sight  for  a  man  who  has  grown  to  be  so  self-assured.  "i  know  this  isn't  the  answer  you'd  want,  but  i'm  still  trying  to  figure  things  out."  he  tightens  his  lips  together,  unsure  how  to  put  his  thoughts  into  words  without  sounding  inconsiderate.  "there's  just  so  much  happening...  it's  a  lot  to  take  in  and  process."

test muse : park seojun , 22 , student athlete open to : m / f / nb. connection : seojun is starring on a reality show in the same vein as love island, love is blind, etc. he finds himself in a love triangle, as one of the two people your muse is interested in.

"it can't be for the attention, that's- that's the whole point of the show, but," he throws his hands up, blinking disbelief from his eyes, "were you going to say anything ? or just let it play out ? do they know . . ? "

[queenofsquids]

Fixed! @oak23 Thank you for saying it's how He-man figures are repaired; when I looked that up the tutorial gave the exact screw part size and number and it worked perfectly for this. Threaded some small flat elastic through the body (NOT EASY!) and through the eye screw, then tied it as tight as I could. She has good articulation though I'm not sure how well it matches the original ball; perhaps rather better in some directions.

Some yosd sized shoes fit over her sculpted shoes, as well as *le gasp* Glitter Girls skates!!!

And she is very much a head accessories kind of doll. Er, figure. Whatever. I don't know why I accumulate so many dolls without hair but here we are.

[jackhues]

could you do an ig edit or fic (whichever one you think fits best) of youngest hughes!sister winning the 2022 olympics for figure skating and the boys (& their respective social media team capturing their reactions).

it’s kinda inspired by one of the Detroit lions players cheering on his wife with his boys supporting as well.

ooh, i love this idea! gonna make a pretty short one with one post, but i hope you like it! also since the boys weren't able to make it to the olympics (except luke) i kinda added that in!

usfigureskating:

liked by elblue_06, njdevils, youruser, and others

usfigureskating - a huge congratulations to y/n hughes for winning gold in the 2022 olympics! her brother, luke hughes, can be seen in the second slide, cheering her on with friends and other u.s. olympic hockey players and fans. her two other brothers, quinn and jack hughes, were unable to make it to the games due to nhl schedule conflicts. nevertheless, they were seen cheering their younger sister with a watch party they set up with their friends and teammates!

userone: omgg they're the cutest siblings ever i love them!

usertwo: her dress was so pretty!

jackhughes: congrats y/n/n! -> youruser: thanks jackie! -> userone: y/n/n and jackie 🥺

youruser: thank you so much for this chance! it was amazing to be able to do this for my country ❤️💙🤍 -> userthree: WE LOVE YOU!!

elblue_06: my babies 🤍 i'm so proud of you -> youruser: love you mama 💓

_quinnhughes: congratulations! -> youruser: thank you very much quintin 🤍 -> _quinnhughes: i'm feeling some sass from that comment but idk y it's targeted at me -> youruser: 'congratulations!' where's the life dude? show some energy! look alive!! -> _quinnhughes: you do know which sibling ur talking to right? -> jackhughes: nice to see you've finally accepted the fact that ur literal depression in human form

lhughes_06: congratss!!! -> youruser: thanks moose!!! -> lhughes_06: @/_quinnhughes - i told you that the exclamation marks make a difference -> youruser: they don't really, you're just my favourite sibling (atm) -> jackhughes: HEY!

userfour: i love how jack's just inserting himself in quinn and luke's comment threads

njdevils: hughes supporting hughes, we love to see it!

canucks: best siblings on and off the ice, congrats y/n!

[grapefruitey]

"I don't know, would there be refreshments?" Blake asked, not looking up from her phone. "Are you starting to plan your funeral? Because it should be fun for all parties, your corpse included."

@grapefruitey / jeannie & your choice of muse! / generated dialogue meme.

"would you come to my funeral?" it was an entirely morbid question, but not entirely unexpected from jeannie. "if i died, obviously. and this was, like, a normal situation where we'd have a funeral."

[jawllines]

this is a reminder for the firemanrry blurb thank you blossom🫶

HIII SORRY FOR FORGETTING HEHEHE

YOU COULDVE READ THIS EARLIER ON PATREON!!

i.

“You’re whiny.”

Getting to this point had taken a lot of build-ups; more than Y/N typically cared to deal with, but she seemed to bend many of her primary irritants when it came to Harry. How he snores, how he likes to cuddle after sex when they were hot and their skin was sticky, how he’ll beg and pout when she tells him she isn’t going to bake muffins Saturday morning because she bakes all week (“but I’m not making you bake alone, we’d be doing it together). Things like that would usually get deep under Y/N’s skin, how they did with other people –but Harry wasn’t just some other person. With Harry, it was kind of cute.

Sometimes, her feelings swelled in her chest and overwhelmed her so immensely that she was unsure how to verbalize them. So she tries to show him how much she cares, in how she treats him, in what she makes him, in how patient she is with him. Like when he’s tiptoeing around something new he wanted to try in bed, all jumpy and jittery, full of nerves. He gets this look in his eyes when he wants to say something or ask for something, but it withers away on his tongue.

It leads to a lot of Y/N asking, “What is it?” And him smiling sheepishly and shaking his head.

“Nothing.”

Y/N can only do this so many times before she finally lets it get to her. It had been a few weeks now since she could tell he wanted something from her but didn’t know how to ask. And it wouldn’t have taken a genius to know it was something regarding sex, because when the topic came up that’s when he had that look in his eye again. Maybe Y/N would ignore it if it wasn’t important to her to satisfy his needs as he satisfies her own (she’s all about give and take when it comes down to it), but it is important to her.

But she’s patient as she always is with him, letting him pussyfoot around it for a couple of weeks before she finally snapped. They’d been kissing when it happened, Harry breathless and needy, his hands dancing around her body like he couldn’t figure out where he wanted to hold and what he wanted to grab. Engulfed by his desires, he started to let it slip out, parting from her to suck in air and to breathe, “I want –” against her lips before he smears them back over her mouth.

Humming, Y/N nips at his bottom lip and bites back a smile at the sharp whine that leaves him, “Hm? What do you want?” She skates her fingers up his shirt, squeezing his sides, “What’ve you been keeping from me?”

Harry is dazed, when he draws back to look at her, eyes all glassy and unfocused and it’s just horribly endearing how worked up he gets just from kissing. He shudders, and with one hand on her hip he digs his fingers into the flesh and he pauses, like he’s thinking about it. Indecisive about what he wants to do next.

It’s only when he starts to shake his head like he’s going to brush it off again and bend down to kiss her, Y/N threads her fingers into his hair. She grabs at the root, firm in a way he likes, and tugs just enough to keep him from progressing. A moan leaves him, deep and low from his belly, “Harry,” she says, her tone warning, “What is it that you want?” This time she asks it slowly, enunciating every syllable, leaving no room for hesitation or question. She speaks it in a way that says she knew he wanted something – something he’d been trying to hide but doing so poorly at.

He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on it just for a few seconds before he falters beneath her gaze, “I want to – I wanna try you inside of. . .inside of me.”

Y/N blinks at him.

“That’s it?” She tilted her head, the fingers in his hair now card gently through the strands, stretching her fingers out to untangle the curls.

“What do you mean that’s it?” Harry pouted, “That’s kind of big, isn’t it?”

Y/N shrugged, “Not really,” she told him, “I thought you were g’na ask to piss on me or something.”

“Y/N –” he starts to whine again.

“--but you want me inside of you? That’s manageable and easy – is it just my fingers you want, or do you want me to peg you?”

Harry lets out another shuddered breath, “The – both,” he clears his throat, “I want both.”

Y/N nodded, “Order one then, and I will.”

Somehow, Harry manages to appear even more sheepish, his face already flushed pink now a blazing red, “I already. . .” he trailed off and it only takes Y/N a couple of seconds to realize that he’s already made the purchase. A startled laugh leaves her throat, and she pets him like he’s a cat, rubbing over his shoulder blades.

“Oh wow, you really do want it.”

He whines again, hiding his face in her throat and Y/N laughs again. He presses a kiss to her skin, then nips at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, “Have you before?” He inquired and Y/N hummed, tracing circles along his skin.

“Mhm,” she thinks back to it – it was a while ago, but she remembers she slept with a guy who was really into it. It was nothing remarkable or special, really, and Y/N hadn’t really thought about doing it again until right now – until she started thinking about how cute Harry would look beneath her. He’s already precious while she’s riding him and he’s breathless and panting and needy. . .she feels like this would be a reaction similar, but doubled. Something even better – something that makes her squeeze around nothing at the thought.

Harry grumbled, pulling back and he pouted again, “Your lip is gonna get stuck like that.” She teases and Harry sighs, brows furrowed.

“I’m not your first?” Y/N smiles at him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek, guiding him backward so she could sit up from where she’d been spread out on the bed.

“You’re jealous?” She teased again, and Harry, always so honest, nodded.

“Yes,” he huffed, “I’m jealous. Sorry.”

“You’re silly and you think too much,” she urged him even further, so he dropped his bum to the bed, leaning back onto the mattress and letting her drag his sweatpants off, “Do you want to be on your belly or on your back?”

Harry chooses his belly, his face and neck pink with a flush she’s sure splotches down his chest and torso as he rolls over onto his stomach. He’s already hard, dripping enough that there had been a small wet spot on his briefs and she gives him a slight reprieve from any more teasing for now. They were in his room, and Y/N knows that he keeps lube in his bedside drawer so she reaches over and plucks it out, popping the cap, while simultaneously placing a pillow beneath his hips, “Have you ever had your fingers in yourself before?”

“A few times,” he murmured, muffled against the pillow he’d dragged to lay his head on, “But I – only like 1 or 2.”

“You’ve got pretty big fingers,” she told him, sliding her hands over the warm skin – he’s got a cute little bum, Y/N’s always thought so, and she’d always appreciated that it wasn’t flat or too muscular. He was soft, and the flesh yields to her touch, “I bet it felt pretty good.”

He sucked in another shaky breath, “I just – I imagined it was you, the whole time.”

“You’re cute,” Y/N sighs, leaning in and kissing between his shoulders before she takes the bottle of lube and squirts some on her fingers and then between his cheeks, murmuring an apology when he hisses from how cold it was. Y/N figured it should be a bit messy – partly because she knew the more lube the better, and it would aid in the glide of her fingers – and partly because she wanted to hear her fingers squelch while she fucked him with them. She was already enjoying this much more than the first time she’d done it, and she hadn’t even gotten a finger in yet.

Harry’s soft and pink, when she splits him open for her to see and he wriggles beneath her gaze. He’d just showered – honestly, they were halfway to going to bed for the night, but Harry had snuggled in beside her and started kissing her soon after he’d put clothes on. She has half the mind to lick into him but she thinks that might be a lot for the first time they’re trying this together.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” she murmured, “At any point, and we will.”

With that, she slides one finger against the rim, listening to him inhale deeply as she traced along the outside and waits for him to relax enough that she could slip inside of him. She lets him get used to the idea of the intrusion before actually pushing forth with it, sinking her index finger inside of him slowly, feeling his walls contract and pulsate around her to accommodate the addition.

She sinks down to her knuckle and then curls her finger, biting back a smile when Harry moans, loud and unabashed as she brushes against his prostate, “F-fuck,” he cries out, “More.”

“Ohh, that was quick,” she murmured, “I kind of thought I’d have to work to make you beg.”

“No teasing,” she can hear the pout in his voice though she can’t see it, and with her free hand she traces circles into his lower back.

“I’m not teasing,” she curls her finger again, and his hips jump forward, brushing against the pillow in front of him, “I was just noting. You’re more of a slut than I thought.”

Another moan, loud and whiny, and Y/N doesn’t stop herself from smiling this time.

This was much better than the other time she’s done it.

.                      .                       .

Harry should have known Y/N would be meticulous in her approach to this; she is with all things. He’s certain that is what makes her such a good baker – she knows exactly what she needs to do, how she needs to do it, and what she would need to do – for every cake, bread, or cookie she’s making. Despite her relatively relaxed and ‘go-with-the-flow’ nature, she was incredibly diligent and detailed when it came to doing certain things. Her baking, for one, but that was a given. How she makes her bed in the mornings, she’s pretty strict about that (unless Harry is asleep in it still, then she leaves it be but he knows better than to leave it unmade when he wakes). The order she maintains her skincare routine, she can be pretty thorough as well.

And last, but not least, she’s most detailed and scrupulous in how she can pull Harry apart.

She’s always been good at it – from the first moment that she walked in on him touching himself, she knew exactly what to do and how to do it. As if Harry’s pleasure was an intricately woven puzzle for her to carefully pluck and pull apart as a means to amuse herself. One that wasn’t all too difficult, honestly, because it doesn’t take much to have Harry shuddering and cumming in his pants.

He’d been so nervous to bring it up but he doesn’t know why – Y/N was Y/N; the worst she could say is no, but she would never judge him or be cruel about it. She was horribly blunt, yes, but she wasn’t mean – she was honest in a way that Harry has never experienced from someone in his life. It was refreshing today as it was the first time they met in yoga.

Secretly – or, well not so secretly, he did admit it to her – he was jealous that she had already experienced this with someone else. Retrospectively, he knew it was beneficial to the both of them and they weren’t fumbling around trying to figure out what to do and how to do it, and in turn, it made the experience better for the both of them. But that didn’t mean he didn’t feel a little whiny about it. The thought of Y/N with anyone besides him fills him up with such intense jealousy he couldn’t ever voice it aloud, though he’s sure it’s written all over his face even when he tries to hide it.

But she gives him no time to really dwell on it because she’s flipped him over and has been fucking her fingers into him. Working him up, grazing and brushing his prostate teasingly before actually stroking it, punching into it, curling her fingers (the three of them she’d worked inside of him) until he had softened up (his muscles, not his cock – he’s never been as hard as he was now). Harry is rocking his hips against the pillow, feeling the fabric stroke against the sensitive tip of his dick that’s sticky and wet from all he’s leaking. It’s too much – it feels too good – and all the while Y/N is telling him how much of a whore he is. How slutty he looks around her fingers, how good he’s taking it.

At some point, he’d maneuvered so he had his knees bent, and it gave him more leverage to fuck back against her fingers. This stirs a pleased and surprised-sounding laugh from behind him, “Oh?”

“Please,” he whimpered, “Please, please –”

“Do you want to cum on my fingers?” She inquired, “I thought you wanted me to fuck you?”

He gasps wetly when she reaches around, fitting her hand between his body and the pillow and curling her fingers around the base of his prick, squeezing tightly, “Yes, yes, yes, I need – I need it.”

“Ohh, you need it now?” She leaned forward, kissing the small of his back and keeping both of her hands still, “Where’s it at, baby?”

Harry somehow manages to instruct her where the strap-on he ordered was hidden beneath his bed, and Y/N withdraws her fingers from him slowly, wiping them off on his bum before reaching over the edge of his mattress. There’s a lot of fiddling behind him and he tries to ground himself while he waits, taking deep, slow breaths, keeping his muscles relaxed and softened for her. Y/N playfully taps the head of the dildo (what was a sparkly blue, a little smaller than average size since it was his first time) against his bum and giggles. Then she does it again against his rim, and the giggle Harry shared with her turns into a wanton noise, “Do you want to stay on your belly?”

He was still a little embarrassed for her to see him like this, so he nodded. Harry hates how quick he is to get worked up, and he feels silly for how even just the tip of it against him made him feel like he was going to cum. If he was actually looking at Y/N while it happened, he’d probably cum before she could even bottom out – so he’d stay on his belly for now. Y/N noses at the nape of his neck, a moment very tender and soft for what they were about to do.

The stretch isn’t as unbearable as he’d imagined it might be. Y/N had spent ample time stretching him out and getting him relaxed so he thinks that aids a lot in the entry (plus the obscene amount of lube he heard her squirt onto it); slow and steady she presses into him, rocking her hips gently. She rocks more and more of the dildo in until he’s seated against the fake balls and he can feel the rough fabric that’s keeping the harness velcro onto her. As he’s getting used to feeling so, so, so full – Y/N wraps around again and twists her hand over his cock. His erection hadn’t flagged even a bit, which he guesses Y/N had not been expecting, “You feel good?”

“Mhm,” he hums, rocking his hips into her fist, “So good, I want you to move – need you to move.”

“Are you sure, Sweetheart?” She is stretched over him, her cheek pressed to the side of his head while she murmured in his ear, “You ready for me to fuck you open?”

“God, please.”

Just as Harry does with her, Y/N starts slow and then builds up her pace. At first, it’s just a gentle rocking, and Harry feels the soft silicone drags at his rim, a smooth glide in and out as he’s merely getting used to the feeling of it being inside of him. Y/N fixes her hands on his hips, cants them in a certain way, and makes sure the pillow is still bunched up beneath him on one of her pulls out – and when she sinks back into him, he sees stars, “Fuck!”

Y/N breathes another laugh as she focuses on that spot, not holding back, and even though Harry can tell that the movements are slightly clunky and a little on the slower side (she doesn’t do this often, obviously it would be a little difficult) she makes up for it in the force behind each thrust. She punches into his prostate and each time more precum leaks from him, dripping onto the pillow, making it messy, and in turn his cock strokes through it. Everything is stimulating him, it feels like, even how the sheets feel against his skin, and how Y/N kisses wetly at his throat, nipping and sucking and biting, “It’s a shame I can’t cum in you, hm? I bet you’d look pretty with it leaking out.”

“I’m cumming,” he barely whines out, the bubble of heat rapidly expanding from a small trickle to a full-on wave, “Cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” It’s full-bodied, all-encompassing, rattling through his body and shaking through limbs. He simultaneously presses back into the fake dick and forward trying to run away from the overstimulation of it, but he only bucks into her hand then. His fingers dig into the pillows tightly, Harry’s moans and mewls crescendo as he spurts hot and wet from his tip – some even hits his chin.

Harry basks in the afterglow of it, chest heaving as Y/N’s hips slow to a stop. She spends some time kissing him, only this time she slides her hand under his cheek against the pillow and has him meet her mouth. The positioning makes it hard to properly kiss, but it works, even if Harry is just panting hotly against her mouth, his tongue curling around hers. Eventually, while he’s distracted by the kiss, she slowly slides out of him with a squelch that makes Harry wince and he frowns at the empty feeling.

The sound of Velcro detaching is what finally gets Harry to flip around, and before he can even settle, Y/N is crawling over the top of him. Her knees bracket his waist, and she hovers over where his cock had begun to soften, “Did you like it?”

Harry smiled, nodding, “So much,” he murmured, “Thank you for doing this with me.”

Y/N gets a look in her eye that Harry can only describe as fond, as she moves forward to press a kiss to his cheek, then his nose, then his mouth before she’s leaning back up again, “Don’t thank me,” she replied, “Get hard again and fuck me this time to show me you’re grateful.”

Harry’s prick twitches between his thighs.

That wouldn’t be too difficult.