#he wants to be Directly On Top Of Me at all times which made attempting to build him a way out with spears kind of Difficult jvnfjnx

[luvsavos]

cat behavior

[hannieehaee]

TOO MUCH

18+ / mdi

summary: after a few weeks of constant overtime work slouching over a desk, you feel as if your back is about to give out on you. fortunately for you, your best friend seungcheol is a professional masseuse! unfortunately for you, you're unsure of how you'll keep your crush on your best friend at bay while on his massage bed, ass up and oiled up.

content: masseuse!seungcheol, friends to lovers, pining (act surprised), touch-starved reader, inexperienced reader, very uninformed view of what being a masseuse is like oops, afab reader, smut, fingering, oil is involved, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 7.9k

a/n: as someone who's had horrible back pain ever since i was a child, this is based on mostly real events </3 also not 100% proofread

masterlist

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Your back was killing you.

It had been weeks since you'd gotten some proper rest, having made the terrible decision to take on some overtime at work, not knowing that your supervisor would get so used to the extra help she would continue to schedule you more hours week after week, thus destroying your back in the process. You knew that you could simply say no, but the extra money was helpful. You had wanted to start saving up a little more so you could finally move out of your shitty neighborhood, so the situation kind of worked out. The money would also go to paying your student loans, meaning you really couldn't miss this chance for an increase in income. It was kind of a win-win situation, except your poor back was the sole loser.

Your job didn't involve too much movement, no. It was mostly office work, which required you to sit on your hunched back for 10 hours per day, only allotting yourself for three quick 15-minute breaks and a 30 lunch break in which you would still be hunched over as you ate. You knew it was a bad habit, but sitting there for so many hours, you'd forget to sit up straight as you looked into the computer screen, and even if you fixed your posture while working, your back was just not built for standing still for such long periods of time. There was really no saving your back from its stiff fate at this point. These work hours also didn't allow you time to even work out or stretch in order to keep your body at least a little active and maybe prevent your pain a tiny bit.

Your best friend Seungcheol constantly scolded you over your bad posture. It wasn't like you actually had bad posture, okay? You weren't constantly hunched over, nor were you carrying all your weight on your shoulders. This was a recent development resulting directly from your increased work hours. But Seungcheol, being a masseuse, always noticed the slightest changes in your physique, claiming he could spot a sore back from a mile away, with yours being a very obvious case. He could notice your head standing a little lower, digging into your shoulders more and more as the days went by. He also took notice of your constant wincing and your futile attempts at rubbing your own shoulders whenever the soreness got too annoying.

He pitied you, really. He hated seeing you in pain. Being your best friend, he felt it as his duty to try and relieve it in any way he could. On top of having most of your free time being taken over by work, he hated to think that you were also in pain during the few hours you spent away from the office. He had communicated all these concerns to you over the past few weeks, trying to convince you to let him give you a massage in order to relieve the pain, but you'd consistently refused. He was unsure as to why, and being denied a proper reason made him want to keep on insisting until you finally allowed him to rid you of your discomfort.

"One massage won't fix my issues," you'd argued over and over again. To which he simply responded by saying he could just give you a standing appointment every week! He was very insistent on helping you, wanting to relieve you of at least some of the pain. But you were even more insistent in denying him. You were too busy to use up the little bit of free time you had going to the spa Seungcheol worked at. You also didn't think a massage would really be the ultimate solution, despite how badly your sore shoulders begged for relief. Yeah, sure, a massage might alleviate the pain for a bit, but it would simply come back after another week at the office. That, and the fact that the spa Seungcheol worked at was only open during your work hours, meaning you'd have to either haul ass over there during your thirty minute lunch, or take time off. Both were huge no's to you. There were just far too many reasons as to why not take him up on his offer, you argued both to him and yourself. But you knew these were simply excuses. Your main reason had been something you'd kept deep within yourself. You were starving for his touch, but scared of how your body would react to it.

You were generally an averagely touchy person with friends and family. Not overly touchy, but arguably an appropriate amount. It had only been a little over a year or so since you'd begun to feel a bit strange at the lack of intimate touch you'd experienced thus far in your life. While all your friends had experimented and had fun during college, you were a little shier and more reserved, rendering you a bit behind the rest of the herd in that area. It wasn't very noticeable to all. It wasn't like your friends were aware about how sexually frustrated you'd grown over the years due to your lack of experience, but you'd still tried to keep it a secret how unaccustomed you were to more intimate forms of physical touch. Even something as innocent as a massage from a friend. You'd be as touchy as any friend would expect, but still felt a slightly strange sensation when it came to any mention of more intimate activities. You'd somehow grown used to a lack of touch, despite being best friends with the touchiest person alive. You usually avoided being too physically affectionate with Seuncheol anyways, having harbored a small crush on him when you'd first met and wanting to avoid any of your emotions getting in the way of a friendship you treasured so much. You'd known that a massage from the man would be a huge nono, all things considered, which was where all your denials stemmed from.

You had been friends with Seungcheol since college. You had both shared a major, meaning that you kept bumping into each other day after day, attending almost all the same classes freshman year. You had taken a quick liking to each other, befriending one another almost immediately. Despite having had a crush on the man at first sight, you were content with the friendship that had blossomed instead. You'd even ended up joining Seungcheol's little friend group, being friends with most of them even to this day. This unexpected closeness during your first year led you to coordinate your schedules the following three years, thus seeing each other literally every day you were on campus. Even now, having recently graduated college, you were still best friends, meeting up constantly. Despite sharing a major, you both had ended up in drastically different places after college. You had gone for the corporate route while Seungcheol suddenly developed a passion for physical therapy, eventually becoming a massage therapist. At the time, however, he worked at a luxury spa downtown, being known as one of their best masseuses and singlehandedly earning the establishment an increase from a four-star rating to five stars just from the quality of his work alone.

You had visited Seungcheol's work before, quickly deciding it just wasn't your vibe. The place was nice and perfectly polished, but upon seeing a few of the masseuses' skills in action, you realized it'd be better for your friendship if you avoided such intimate contact with one another. Yes, you knew massages were not inherently intimate, but being oiled up and felt up by someone who was as close to you as Seungcheol just didn't ring like a good idea to you. It also didn't help that the massive crush you had on the man in college seemed to be resurfacing as of late. You believed to have gotten over it a few months into senior year, but you didn't want to risk reviving it under any circumstances.

However, despite your constant rejections, Seungcheol continued to beg you to let him take care of your problem, and denying him was something that pained both you and your back. So you now found yourself with two issues; back pain, and a very pouty Seungcheol.

"Fuck, my back is killing me," you repeated for the millionth time in the past five hours since you had woken up. You had intended to enjoy your rare day off, even waking up a little earlier than intended so you could make plans with your roommates, but your plans quickly died on you as soon as you woke up, body stiff as a rock and your soreness worse than ever.

"We get it! You're in pain. So go do something about it!", whined your friend Seungkwan in return, not even bothering to look at you from his phone, "It's bad enough I had to cancel my plans to stay here and take care of you. Just go get oiled up by Cheol and stop making this my problem!"

If there was anything Seungkwan was, it was direct. He was right. Your pain was getting out of hand. And the longer you waited, the worse it would get. Except he didn't know about your calamity to its full extent.

"Listen, I don't even have the money to afford his fancy spa. Have you been there? One day is worth a whole day's pay!"

"Please. It's Seungcheol. He'll get you in for free. Hell, he'll even pay you to go."

"I don't have time to go!", another excuse. A few more and Seungkwan might even begin to crack the code behind your insistent refusal.

He suddenly straightened up from his laid-back position, staring directly in your direction, "All the solutions are there. You're the problem. It's like you want to be in pain! I could literally call him up right now and he'd drop work to come help you. Just get the damn massage!"

This is how a lot of your conversations went lately. Well, the very few conversations you could have nowadays due to your heavy workload. You'd occasionally even have to bring work home even after having been there for half the day. Your eight hours of sleep a night were not even pleasurable anymore, as you felt stiff as a rock the moment you attempted to lay down. The only comfortable stance, ironically, was hunched over in front of a computer. It was like you'd frozen into that pose, feeling immeasurable pain any time you attempted to move any other way. You'd tried pilates, stretches, yoga. Nothing worked. Maybe Cheol's massage really was the only solution, but it'd been so long since you began denying him you now felt a little silly going back on your word. That, and your other obvious issues.

"I'll be fine, Kwan! Just leave. You don't have to take care of me, I just need to lay for a bit."

"You'll lay there all day, I know you. Your life's become a constant state of sleep and work. Maybe you should just quit," he suggested, seemingly moving on from the Cheol topic. Finally.

"Are you crazy? Do you have any idea how much debt I have to pay off? I don't wanna be paying this off for the rest of my life. I'd rather suffer for a few years now and just get it out of the way," you reasoned, although not sounding very reasonable even to yourself. What's the rush?, a voice in the back of your head would sometimes whisper, but you'd just ignore it.

"Fine," he tsk'd. "Rot in your own misery, I'm going out with Kyeom and Soonie. If I come back and you've morphed into a rock, don't say I didn't warn you," and with that, he announced his departure, going forward with the plans you had made with your friends before your back had gotten in the way.

You knew your friend was kidding, but the unbearable pain would sometimes have you wonder. Should you just go to Cheol? What was the worst that could happen of you just let him touch you? His touch would be purely platonic, you were sure of that. But you feared that it would rekindle your feelings even more, and maybe that your high-strung self would not be able to handle such touch from him without finally snapping.

You were weak. This wasn't much of a secret among your friend group, or anyone really. Which is why you now found yourself walking through the doors of Seungcheol's spa. You had spent about an hour rotting in your own misery, as Seungkwan had put it, before deciding to power through your pain and drive down to where you knew Seungcheol was currently working a shift. You hadn't called him, not wanting to give him the wrong impression. You weren't planning on booking a massage today, no. You couldn't have even if you wanted, knowing that the spa Seungcheol worked at was a bit renown in town and that their bookings went weeks back. You had just wanted to give it another try. Maybe visual learning would convince your stubborn self to accept Cheol's help for once.

You entered the establishment, already knowing exactly where to go to find out about Seungcheol's whereabouts. You walked to the receptionist, opening your mouth to ask for assistance before being rudely interrupted.

"Sorry. We're booked for the day. Our next open bookings begin in December. Try again then," the conversation had ended before it began, causing you to close your mouth right back up.

Once more, you opened your mouth to speak, maybe respond in equally passive aggressive tone as the girl had, but you were rudely interrupted once again, except this time it was by a warmer, more welcoming voice.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?", you could not see him from your angle, needing to turn around to face the source of the sound, but you could instantly hear the smile in his voice, clearly both happy and shocked to find you here of all people.

You turned around, now facing the boy. He was wearing his usual 'uniform', which really just consisted of some tight black slacks and a matching black short-sleeve top tucked into his pants. You'd forgotten how well his uniform fit him. It must've been one of the reasons why his massages were rated so high, you thought.

"Hey, Cheol ..." you smiled awkwardly, having been caught off guard by the man. You'd meant to surprise him, not the other way around.

"I wasn't expecting you. Did you call? Did you make an appointment?!", his eyes widened at the possibility, looking past you and at the receptionist as if to confirm his inquiry.

"No, Cheol. I told you I didn't want a massage. I came to see you, actually," well that was half true. You had wanted to see your friend in his element, maybe even convince yourself of finally taking him up on his offer. You had just wanted to see if you could handle that type of touch from your best friend considering your situation (re: a recovering case of touch starvation with a mixture of 'I might kind of maybe still have a bit of a crush on my bff').

To be completely honest, you were somewhat afraid. You'd hadn't felt any form of intimate touch in a long while or, well, ever. And to have it come from your best friend would only open up a can of worms you had wanted to keep under lock and key ever since meeting the man. Every excuse you'd given thus far to reject him bad been true, but had also been just that; an excuse. You knew that Seungcheol's treatment would help you lessen an issue that had now grown past your own personal ability to manage on your own. Which is why you were now here, willing to give it a try. You had self control, right? What was the worst that could happen if you let your best friend get his hands on you, your bare back as he rubbed it with oil? You'd deal with the logistics later, now you just wanted to see exactly what your friend was offering you.

"Me? What's up?", he had begun to walk you towards his rest area, away from the mean receptionist as he continued conversation with you.

"Well, I, uh, I was thinking about your offer ..."

"Really?! You wanna do it? I can clear up my schedule! Just let me talk to Stacy real quick and-"

"Cheol!", you had to physically hold him back from walking back to the reception to rearrange his day. He seemed way too excited to help you out.

"I haven't decided yet, Cheol. I was just thinking, well, wondering if it'd be okay for me to maybe shadow you for a while or something? Just to see what it'd be like?"

To any outsider you must've sounded like an idiot, somehow worrying over something that was arguably the most relaxing experience a person could possibly have. Ironically. What people didn't understand was the effect Seungcheol could have on a person. Specially a touch-starved, heavily emotionally invested, weak individual such as yourself. Denying your crush on Seungcheol was really the only defense you had left at this point. You could admit to your fears of being touched by Cheol, chalking it up to your lack of experience at being touched in general, but you could not even admit that your crush had maybe, perhaps, possibly, creeped back up a while back. It didn't help that no one you knew was aware of your sensitive state when it came to intimate contact. This was intel you hadn't even let your best friend in on. Maybe if it had been someone else, you would've accepted the massage already. You knew it didn't have to be an intimate interaction, it was just the fact that Cheol would be doing it that made it seem that way to you. But you knew his feelings would be hurt if you denied him and went to someone else. You'd dragged it out for far too long, making such a simple thing way too complicated.

~

Cheol easily agreed to your request, seemingly excited to even have you around his workplace at all. It was cute, really. He let you know that his next booking would start in ten minutes or so, so you waited with him during his break. Despite not receiving a massage for yourself, he provided you with a robe to change into due to the humidity most of their rooms tended to have during a session.

"Are you sure it's okay that I'm here? Won't the client mind?"

"Nah. She's a regular, she tends to forget her own name five minutes in," he winked at you. Well, that was reassuring ..

The massage began soon after. The woman, probably in her early 40's, walked in, gave Seungcheol a friendly greeting and proceeded to lay down, barely even acknowledging your presence in the back of the room. Cheol gave some weak excuse of 'she's in training, just showing her the ropes' to justify your presence, earning an uninterested hum in acknowledgment from the woman before she had begun taking off her robe and gotten on the bed in preparation for her awaited session. She was't fully naked but had very thin underwear on, meaning you could practically see every detail from her back. Her face-down position gave you a perfect angle to her almost-bare ass as Seungcheol prepared the oils he had set on the table beside him. There was also some incense burning in the room, along with some steam to help with ambience.

The massage began very slowly, allowing Seungcheol to deliver very soft touches as he spread the oil around her back. He even went as far as the back of her legs and ass, reaching as far as her feet. The first few minutes simply consisted of him spreading the oil around. You hadn't known Seungcheol gave full body massages til now. Before having started the session, Cheol had told you 'Pay close attention. This is what I'll do to you when you agree.' Had he meant he'd be running his hands up and down your entire body? The thought made you shudder, almost missing the show in front of you.

His next movements were harsher, but in a clearly pleasurable way. He began to knead roughly at the woman's shoulders, making her groan at the pleasurable pain. He did this for a while, clearly having found a point of tension in that area. His thumbs focused on specific areas of tension that you were familiar with; the same areas you'd known your back had knots in. Even just seeing it made the sore parts of your back beg for release of tension. When he moved on, he targeted the upper center of her back, just below where her breasts were located on the opposite side of her body. He rubbed at the sides, sliding his hands up and down the length of her back as he massaged expertly. He continually used the extra strength of his thumbs to pressure and rub at the sore spots. He didn't even have to ask where it hurt, it seemed like he could just detect it on his own. This was clearly exerting the woman, as she moaned and sighed at the feeling of Seungcheol's hands on her. It was clearly exerting Seungcheol too, who was letting out groans from his own efforts.

You imagined yourself in her position, wanting to be the sole receiver of his touches and sounds. You felt ashamed, but the act was making your body heat up. You knew it was purely innocent, and with the purpose of relaxation, but you couldn't help yourself. You wanted to blame the humidity in the room, or maybe the cozy material of your robe, but there was only one culprit; Choi Seungcheol. You had been right to believe that his touch would be your undoing. Simply hearing him was enough to make you lightheaded. You had lost track of where the massage had went, only thinking about the man in the room now. You cursed your vivid imagination for the images it was putting in your head just at the mere sounds coming from your friend.

The massage continued for a while, eventually sending the woman into a deep slumber. Cheol kept re-applying oil to her back throughout the session, even lowering his hands all the way to knead at her ass and the back of her legs during some points. That made you extra lightheaded. Not just at the thought of Seungcheol touching you in the same way, but knowing he'd have the magic touch able to release the tension trapped all over your back. You couldn't blame the woman for the sounds she made or the way she fell asleep due to the pleasure. You could only imagine your own reaction at Seungcheol doing the same to you. Even just seeing the way he rubbed at the skin had your back aching for the same release of pressure from the tightest spots on your back.

You were still slightly affected by the time the woman had woken up and left, leaving you and Cheol alone in the room, promising Seungcheol she'd be back soon as she exited. He approached you with a smile, clearly proud of having shown you his skills in action.

"So, what did you think?"

"I, uh, you're really good, Cheol. I'm surprised."

"Surprised? I've been telling you I'm the best for months! C'mon, there's no way you don't want a massage after seeing that," he rebutted, smirking with confidence.

You remained silent for a second, pondering as to whether or not you should move forward with this. He was right. He was clearly talented at it, and he really just wanted to help. Your aching back was begging for it, and so were the other aching parts of your body. But you didn't know if you could hold back without embarrassing yourself at your best friend's hands on you in such an intimate way.

Your best friend must've taken notice of your silence, speaking up again, but in a more serious yet sympathetic manner.

"Listen. I know you can be a bit .. shy about these things. If it helps, we can just set up at my apartment? I have a massage bed there too! It would just be the two of us. C'mon, what do you say?", he gave you puppy eyes as he usually did when asking for something.

He was always hard to deny. And in this vulnerable moment, with your back begging for relief and your body aching for his touch, you weren't surprised when you found yourself muttering a 'yes' in affirmation.

A few days passed. You and Cheol ended up having to coordinate your days off. It had actually been almost a full week until you were able to see each other again, which for you meant yet another week of grueling pain you had to put up with. You were really beginning to consider putting an end to the overtime you'd been working. Maybe after the massage you could begin to work less hours in order to lessen the pain. Maybe even take Cheol up on his offer of getting a standing appointment to lessen the pain more and more and prevent it from coming back again. It was something to think about. But now you had better things to worry about. Those things taking form in the man standing on the opposite side of the door in front of you.

You had agreed on today, a Saturday night, in order for you to come to his apartment and receive the dreaded massage. Cheol had worked all day today, which made you feel a bit bad about making him basically step back into his work duties but this time at home. He reassured you it was more than fine, reasoning that you'd worked all week and he had just wanted to work around your busy schedule. You appreciated his efforts to work with you, having always known Cheol to put your comfort before anything else. Which was yet another reason why you felt badly at receiving this favor from him. To anyone else it might've just been a massage, but you knew that to Cheol this was a service he was used to getting paid for, a talent which he put effort into. You felt like both like a leech and like a source of annoyance due to this whole ordeal.

You put all your thoughts aside and knocked on the door, knowing it was now time to forget about all your worries and just let Seungcheol take care of you. He opened the door almost immediately, almost as if he'd been waiting on the other side of it, ear against the door while your internal monologue went off in your head.

"You're here!", he smiled widely at you, ushering you in.

"You invited me, Cheol. I wasn't about to ditch you."

"But you thought about it, didn't you?", he kinda had you there. You did consider it, but you knew your best friend would've tracked you down sooner or later anyways.

"Listen, I know you're nervous, but there's nothing to be nervous about! I'll take care of you. It won't be awkward, I swear," despite having never told him of your lack of experience with touch, you always assumed he had some idea of it. He didn't know the full story, though. Not about the fact that your issue with the massage was being touched by him; the former source of your desires.

"It's .. it's fine, Cheol. I'm not nervous, I promise. Just don't know what to expect, that's all."

"I'll guide you through it. I set out the massage table for you in my room. I have the oils ready too. Oh! Did you bring a bikini to change into?"

Right. Last time you spoke he had asked you to bring either a bikini or some comfortable underwear. He's said something about needing your body as nude as possible ('within your comfort zone!', he'd quickly added) in order to give you a full massage. He also said the oils he used had a tendency of staining and leaving their strong fragrance on most fabrics. It was usually spa policy to provide customers with robes and such for their sessions, but being located in his home at the moment, he'd asked you to just bring your bikini directly.

You didn't feel any type of way about this, surprisingly. Having known Seungcheol for years, he'd seen you in a bikini as many times as you'd seen him shirtless and in very tiny swim trunks. The one thing, however, was the thought of him touching your bare skin, but it was too late to back out - not that you wanted to anyways.

"Y-yeah, it's in my bag. Did you wanna start right away or ..?"

"Yeah! Go get ready and I'll start preparing the oils for you. I'll also light some incense for ambience," and with that, he left you alone in the living room so that you could change without interruption. He went into his room to prepare things, closing the door to allow you some privacy.

You had chosen your skimpiest bikini. Not for any inferior motives! But because you knew Cheol needed access to your bare skin as much as possible. Your lower lower back had been killing you lately. Even more so than your shoulders, due to sitting all day every day. So you wanted to give him room to take care of that without any clothing getting in the way. You hastily got changed, deciding that you'd already waited long enough and that it was time to get this over with.

'Are you ready?", you heard Cheol ask from his room a few minutes later.

Ok, it was time. Anyone else would've been ecstatic at the thought of their crush rubbing all over their body, or at the idea of a free full-body massage. But you were too high-strung for your own good, which only increased your anxiety over the whole thing. However, you were now here, almost in the nude, only one door away from the man who would rid you of your pain and replace it with pleasure.

You stepped into the room without verbalizing a response, immediately meeting eyes with an expectant Cheol, who was organizing his oils as he awaited your arrival. He'd outdone himself, really. He had lowered the lighting in the room, lighting a few candles and some incense in order to turn up the spa ambience. The place smelled divine, and even the temperature was perfect. You could already feel yourself getting relaxed.

"Cheol, holy shit. This is too much. You didn't have to go so out of your way. This looks like an actual spa!"

"Only the best for my best friend," he gave his gummy smile in return, eyeing you as he directed you towards the massage table that was standing in the middle of the room. "You ready?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, accepting his stretched hand as he helped position you on the table.

He laid you face down on the table, but with your head turned to the side, as to not squish your features against the flat surface, "Try not to think too much, yeah? It'll feel so good, I promise. I'm gonna get rid of all tension in your body," the way he'd said it sounded promising, almost hinting at something more.

Without much warning, he began to softly run his hands up and down your body, going from your shoulders all the way down to your calves, almost as if sizing you up in order to come up with a game plan for your massage. Even that feather-like touch had you flinching a little. You'd never been caressed like this before.

"Shit, you're very high-strung. Even more than I thought," he chuckled in response to your body's reaction to such light touch.

"Cheol ..." you whined.

"Sorry. I'll start now, okay? You're gonna feel a little warm in a second. I'm gonna oil you up so it's easier for me to massage you, yeah? I picked my favorite scented oils for you."

You were thankful for the warning, because the warmth you felt immediately after made you swoon internally. You almost moaned out loud at the feeling of his hands lightly rubbing the oil all over your body. You were already affected and he hadn't even begun. It didn't take him long to actually start, however. He began with your neck, almost wrapping his hands all around it, but not closing them in on it. His thumbs were focusing on the lower part of the back of your neck, rubbing at spots you hadn't even realized were that sore.

"You're so tense, Jesus Christ," he was right. You could feel instant relief at his touch, pressing your body further into the soft material of the cushion of the table in pure relaxation.

He rubbed that area for a while, seemingly trying to target the knots located there. He then moved onto your shoulders, beginning to rub a little harder. He began to dig his thumbs into the problem areas, going extra hard at any points of tension. With this extra strength, also came his vocalization of his efforts. His groans of exertion began to fill the room, making you feel even more lightheaded than the massage itself.

"Shit, Baby. You're so fucking tight here."

The wording itself was killing you, but the way he touched you while doing it made you melt into the table, afraid you'd begin to vocalize your pleasure through the form of moans or whines. So far you'd been able to get away with soft breaths and maybe a gasp or two. But you knew that the moment you let go, you wouldn't be able to control the way your body would react to his touch. You were slightly terrified of what would come the lower he went down your body.

Then he threw you yet another curveball.

He leaned down, halting his movements for a moment, and put his mouth a few inches from your ear, "I can feel you tensing up. It's okay, I'll take care of you. You can relax for me."

You saw that as a green light to let go, whining a tiny 'uh huh' in response as he continued his movements.

He went lower and lower, now rubbing your lower back; the area right before the slope of your ass began, but he was quickly approaching it. Every area he had touched so far, he had undone. You felt like your back had been liberated of the huge weight it had been carrying for years. You were whining and moaning at the pleasure he was giving you, and also at the feel of his hands on your body. You felt yourself get wetter by the minute, having started to feel moisture down there from the moment he began massaging you. You were ashamed, but his touch so close to your biggest point of tension was driving you insane. You wanted him to forget about the massage and just flip you over.

"Okay, baby. Now I'm gonna do your ass, okay? Trust me, I know it sounds dumb, but a lot of people carry a lot of tension here"

He was right once again. As he massaged the muscle, you felt tension you didn't even know you had finally unwind. He repositioned you a bit, asking you to lift one of your legs to the side and let it hang a bit off of the side of the table. This angle lifted up your ass a bit, and disconnected your crotch from the table. You were slightly embarrassed, knowing that if he looked through a certain angle he'd be able to see you glisten with desire for him, but you chose to ignore it and hope for the best. Cheol was already helping you so much.

He continued for a few moments, occasionally going down and rubbing lightly at the back of your thighs and calves before coming back up to your lower back and butt. But he suddenly stopped at some point. You could've sworn you heard an intake of breath.

"Hey .. I'm gonna try a special technique. Is that okay?"

You were almost completely gone in pleasure by then, eyes becoming heavier by the minute. You didn't even have to think before saying yes.

You felt him lean his body more over the table, and also a bit over the lower half of your body. He was still just massaging your lower back with one hand, while making you bend your leg a little higher than before. You weren't sure what he meant by special technique, but you were down for anything had in mind. Except you hadn't expected what he would do next.

Having bent your leg forward, he had given himself the perfect angle of your pussy from behind, deciding to let his hand slip between your legs and run his fingers lightly over your folds. You gasped at this, repositioning yourself a bit to give him even more access. He took this as a welcoming sign, starting to run his hands up and down your pussy, stopping once in a while to rub at your swollen clit.

"Baby .. You're so tense here .. Let me help you? Yeah?" He said this as he continued to increase the intensity of his movements, rubbing more and more at your clit.

"Y-yes. Fuck. Please, Cheol ..." you whined, giving him permission to do whatever he wanted to you.

You yelped at his next movements. He had shoved his fingers inside with no warning, leaning down to kiss softly at your ass while he fingered you. The speed of his fingers wasn't too fast, but it was deep and calculated, dragging across all the places you needed him most. He was right, you did feel tense there, but his movements were relaxing you like nothing else could.

"Is it working, baby? Am I making you feel good?"

You'd buried your face into one of your arms, but still managed to squeak out a "yes!" in affirmation.

"Just 'yes', baby? We can do better than that, don't you think? I think I have something to rid you of all your tension ..." you could hear the smirk in his voice as he said this, feeling him finally remove the tiny piece of fabric between your legs.

He positioned his body a little further over the lower half of the table, lowering his face to the space between your cheeks in order to get his tongue on your pussy. He began to lick and suck softly, keeping a pace similar to that of his fingers just a few seconds ago. The pleasure was blinding you, causing you to lightly grind against his face, wanting as much pleasure as you could milk out of him. He seemed to like this, as he lifted his hands and placed them on your hips, guiding your grinding against him and taking on an even better angle.

All that could be heard were the moist sounds of his tongue on your heat and your cries of pleasure. The massage had been fully forgotten. All you could think about was your best friend's tongue and the way his groans against your pussy were making you lose your mind. It seemed like this was bringing him as much satisfaction as it did you.

"Ch-Cheollie! Right there! Fuck!", he'd begun to suckle at your clit, wanting you to finally reach your high and bring you as much pleasure as imaginable.

"Cum all ove' my face baby! wann' taste that pretty pussy," his words were muffled. He seemed physically incapable of separating himself from you.

You came almost immediately, loving the vibrations of his groans against you. You fell completely limp, being rendered a shell of yourself. The whole thing had felt like an out of body experience. From the massage to the life-changing orgasm. You were convinced there was no greater pleasure than what you'd felt in the past half hour. But Seungcheol seemed to disagree, instantly pulling you towards him and sitting you on the table, your body now facing his.

He had untied your bikini top earlier into the massage, which you hadn't minded since you were facing down and away from his view anyways, but now you were grateful he had. He was making direct eye contact with your tits, almost as if pondering as to what to do with them. He seemed to reach a decision, however, and attacked them with his lips with intense fervor, licking and biting at your swollen buds. He had you moaning out in pleasure again. It was as if he'd studied your body without you knowing, being an expert in all your weak spots.

He made out with your tits for a while, making your eyes roll back at the feeling of his tongue against your sensitive nipples. When he pulled away, he instantly began undressing himself at record speed. He had just been wearing shorts and a loose top, which made the process pretty quick. Immediately after getting himself nude, he positioned you so that you could wrap your legs around his waist from your position sitting on the table. He dragged you as close to him as possible by your legs, pressing your chests together.

He looked down at you while running his hands up and down your back, which was still slightly sticky with oil. He seemed to be in a trance, just looking at you with an endeared expression in his eyes, "You're so beautiful. Your body's so ... fuck. Can't believe you've been in pain for so long, baby. When I could've been taking care of you all this time," he had began to kiss along your neck and clavicles as he said this.

"Cheollie .." you breathed out, tilting your neck to the side to allow him extra space to kiss.

"Can I take care of you, baby? Let me get rid of all your tension?", he'd started grinding his bare hips against yours, having pushed open your legs in order to allow himself to drag his dick against your cunt.

Even just the weight of his cock against you had you whining, burying your face in his neck, not knowing how to react at the stimulation. You'd already felt the most pleasure when Cheol buried his tongue in your cunt, or so you'd thought. But that did not hold a candle to the feeling of his fat head as it nudged against your folds. You began to whine and writhe against him, hands digging into his arms as he ground against you. Until he nudged your head away from his neck, wanting to face you. He halted his movements altogether and looked into your eyes for a few moments, a small smile gracing his lips. His eyes began to lower, now staring directly at your lips. Your eyes mirrored his. It was a tender moment in the midst of what had just now been a mess of grinding bodies and oil. When he finally kissed you was when you truly felt relief. No massage could have compared to the bliss you felt with your best friend's lips against your own. The softness of the kiss didn't last much, however, as the movements of his hips picked back up and the kiss began to become more moist by the second.

Cheol took advantage of your soft gasps at the feeling of his cock against your cunt to slip his tongue in your mouth, expertly massaging yours with his. This went on for a bit, allowing for Cheol to stimulate you with some kissing and dry humping, further preparing you to take him free of pain. He was a little larger in size than average, and with the very limited experience he had asserted you to have, he wanted to prevent you from feeling any pain. He had wanted tonight to be nothing but pleasure for you, knowing how badly you've been needing some relaxation, and maybe with the slight ulterior motive of finally getting with his pretty bestie.

He unglued himself from your lips, chuckling at the way you whined as your lips followed his, "Baby, I'm gonna fuck you now, yeah? Wanna see you fully relaxed. That okay?"

"Mhm. Yes, Cheollie. Do anything you want. Trust you," you mumbled in response, head filled with air as you barely caught your breath from the overload of pleasure you'd felt tonight.

With that, he began to enter you, bulbous head showing a bit of a fight in entering your tight walls. You both let out a moan of relief when he finally bottomed out, almost as if you'd both been craving this for a while. He fucked you with a passion only someone who wanted you the way you wanted him would. You'd thought you'd reached the utmost pleasure when Cheol had you cumming against his tongue, but nothing could ever compare to being full of him as he praised you through every thrust, calling you every possible adjective to describe your beauty.

"B-baby! So fucking good. So pretty for me .. Gonna fuck you all night. Gonna fuck you to sleep. All mine now," he began canting in and out of you with even more intensity now, making sure to hit that spot with every thrust.

"Cheollie!"

"I know, baby. Gonna cum for me? Gonna let me fill that pussy up, aren't you, pretty?"

It didn't take long for you to cum, already feeling an overwhelming amount of emotions at every type of pleasure Seungcheol had delivered to you tonight. He followed soon after you, yelling out your name at the tightening of your walls around him. He breathed heavily as he leaned against you for a minute or two, only then moving away from you in order to get a towel and begin to clean you up.

"Sorry .. was that too much?", he smiled sheepishly as you seemed to wince when he attempted to clean you up between your thighs.

"No! It was perfect, just ... not really used to it, that's all."

"Okay, baby. If you say so. Now let me take you to bed!", with no warning, he picked you up and brought you over to his bed, completely ignoring the mess he'd caused on his massage table after having fucked you on it. He laid you down, cocooning you into his blankets before rushing to the other side of the bed and holding you in his arms.

He turned to look at you as he cradled your body against his, "Do you feel better now? Still sore?", the question seemed genuine.

"No, Cheollie. I feel amazing. I've never felt this good before, actually."

"That good, huh? I told you I was the best! But don't worry, baby. Gonna keep your appointment every week like I promised. Gonna keep you in my bed every time you're feeling sore, yeah, baby? Don't even have to ask, I'll be waiting for you," he chuckled at himself as he said this, but being completely serious.

"Will you give me your special treatment again?," you giggled against his lips.

"That's for you and you only, baby," he replied as he closed the gap between you once more.

a/n: ok i mightve made reader a lil extra overdramatic this time but u guys have to understand. my back hurts like hell. so pls sympathize w reader bc shes lowkey my soul sister in that area 😭

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

Spies and Secrets

Summary: Natasha has never met her handler, she couldn’t give you their name or identify their face because she doesn’t know it. When she rants about this to you, her wife, you have to laugh... because you are her handler.

Word Count: 2048

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, lying in the relationship (not in a bad way, just in a spy way), but otherwise it’s just fluff!

A/N: I went back and wrote this idea since it seemed semi-popular. Hope you enjoy :)

»»————-　★　————-««

"Will you finally tell me who they are?"

"This again, Romanoff?"

"Just a first name?"

Fury sighs to make his vexation clear, but that's not enough to dissuade Natasha; she remains determined as ever in her mission and smirks boldly in the face of her exasperated boss.

"Just an initial will get me off your back," the spy continues through his silence.

Fury scoffs and Natasha knows she needs a different approach.

"If it's you, you can just say, Sir."

"Me? You must be losing your touch if you think I have the time for that, Romanoff. Should Hill be taking your next mission?"

Natasha stops and stares with faux hurt while Fury continues on, grinning to his own amusement. He wasn't going to let her keep the upper hand for long.

"If you want to know, ask them yourself!" Fury calls over his shoulder, "Mission debrief. C12-2. 10 minutes. They won't tell you though; above your clearance!"

Natasha groans. As much as she hadn't expected a substantial answer from Fury – she'd been asking him the same question for years – she thought she might be getting somewhere, but no matter which trick she tries, Fury doesn't budge.

On top of that, he'd reminded her that it wasn't home time yet, her mission isn't over until she's briefed her mysterious handler. So Natasha sighs and makes her way to the conference room, still wondering why only her handler chose to shroud themself in mystery. All the other agents meet theirs directly, while Natasha sits in a room alone, waiting for a shadowy silhouette to call in.

The first few years went by without a comment – it wasn't her place to ask – but as she rose the ranks and found her role, her handler, too, remained just above her clearance. Even now, as one of the highest ranking agents, her handler was higher still. Curiosity built like a dripping tap; manageable and menial to start, only to provoke greater displeasure the longer it went on.

"Hi Agent!" the disembodied voice crackles through the speakers. That's the other thing driving Natasha towards irritation, her handler's tone. It's nothing like Fury's commanding orations. No, her handler speaks with an eagerness and informality reminiscent of a junior agent meeting their hero, rather than the commanding officer that they are, and have been, since Natasha first joined SHIELD almost a decade ago.

"Officer." Natasha replies. She had never been told her handler's surname, or even a title she could use to address them. Any attempts she made to learn had been properly shut down, forcing her to stick with the appellation of Case Officer.

"Always so formal," her handler laughs. "As far as I'm aware, the mission was successful, so what's got you so grumpy today?" they continue, noticing an uncharacteristic clarity to Natasha's mood that day.

"If you told me your name, I wouldn't have to be so formal, would I?" the spy snaps back. "And I'm not grumpy."

"Natasha, we've worked together for nearly 10 years now. I know when you're grumpy, and I can throw in an educated guess that my identity is the cause?"

"I've spent my life working in secret," Natasha shrugs, then pauses in search of the right words. "I'm well accustomed to dubious legalities and taking orders from the shadows. I'm also well aware that I would be a risk to security from the moment I joined until I gained the trust of this organisation, so I understood your secrecy."

Natasha stops again, noticing the silhouette begin to fidget; whether out of boredom or discomfort, the assassin can tell the time is right to make her final argument.

"We've worked together on hundreds of missions over this past decade, enough for you to know every detail of my life and mind, while I still know nothing about you. Have you thought about how that might hurt, officer? because it does! to believe I still haven't gained your trust after all this time. That hurts."

The room stills to a silence as fragile as Natasha felt. Her handler's reaction would dictate the situation; any information given could redefine the relationship between the two spies, just as another brush off would leave Natasha spiralling further into this curiosity.

A sigh finally echoes through the speakers; its long pause circling the sole inhabitant of the room. "It's above your clearance," the voice admits. Natasha slumps; she should have known better. "But-" The speed at which Natasha perks up draws out a small chuckle from her handler, before they continue with an audible smile, "I'll talk to Fury. See what I can reveal."

Natasha settles in her seat, unable to keep the broad smile from her face. "I do trust you, Romanoff, I hope you know that… I just don't think I'll be who you expect."

As a trained spy, Natasha wouldn't let that last line slide, immediately thinking of its hidden meaning. But before she can ask further questions, her handler clears their throat. "I think it's time we actually start the mission debrief."

»»————-　★　————-««

Natasha can't wait for the meeting to end. She understands the need – giving her side of the story, answering questions, sharing the intelligence she'd gained – but it drags on without incident and without any further comments on her handler's identity, so she'd much rather be at home. 

What reason was there for her not to do this from home? Her handler calls in from wherever they are, so realistically, Natasha could also pick up from wherever she is. Ideally at home, after a relaxing shower and a little time with her wife. Natasha supposes that's where the issue may lie: you, her wife, who has been led to believe Natasha is a security guard and nothing more. If you overheard a debrief, not only would SHIELD's confidentiality be compromised, but you might never forgive her lies. Natasha's home office was soundproofed though and, because of that, the assassin would take the risk if it means extra time with you.

Throughout Natasha's homeward journey and all through the mission debrief, you are the only thing to occupy her mind. Her mission finished in late afternoon, so she had planned how she would surprise you and spend the evening together upon her return, but then the debrief cropped up, and by the time her key is in the door, the sun has long since set, leaving her to wonder if you're even still awake.

You are. Just about. Your pyjama clad figure appears in Natasha's sight and you rush down the stairs to meet her by the door.

"You're home!" You beam as you wrap your arms over her shoulders and take her cue for a kiss.

"I am."

"How was your mission?" you tease. You know how seriously she takes each assignment, always doing prep work in her office ahead of the trips; she treated them akin to a secret mission and you never missed your chance to rag her for it. 

One of your favourite methods of teasing is to liken her to James Bond, which only gets more realistic when you catch her mouthing along to the movie lines.

"Top secret. Can't tell you," your wife jokes back, her smile threatening to burst off her face.

"No injuries this time?"

"None at all."

"Good girl." She preens. "Have you had dinner?"

"Not yet, I came home as soon as I was done. Couldn't wait to see you."

"Sweet talker," you laugh and kiss her again, then take her by the hand, "I put some leftovers in the fridge, you clean up, then you can eat and share your 'top secret' thoughts."

The evening's plan formed just like that; you reheat the noodle dish while Natasha takes a shower, before the two of you come back together to sit at the dinner table.

"So, how was it really?" you ask her.

"The job itself was alright, no problem." Natasha replies, but by the way she's stabbing the noodles with her fork, you can tell something else is coming. "But my bosses…they just won't tell me all the information. Say it's 'above my clearance'."

"The cheek of them."

"Don't mock me."

"I'm not, I'm not! I promise, love," you say, though you can't hide your barely contained laughter thanks to the prominent pout on your wife's face. You school your face back into an expression of neutrality before you talk again, "that sounds annoying. Do you need this information?"

"No," she sighs, "it's just a matter of trust."

"Well, you must be working with idiots for them not to trust you after all this time."

"Mm, you reckon I should tell that to them?"

"You definitely should."

The smile comes back to Natasha's face as she shakes her head, "you're going to get me fired, sweetheart."

"You're too good for them to do that. Just keep it up, you're going to be leading them one day, I'm sure of it. Then all the secrets are yours."

»»————-　★　————-««

Another week, another mission. And with another mission comes another mission debrief. Natasha asked for her handler's identity three weeks ago and still knows nothing more. With how poorly her recent mission went, she doesn't even feel like asking the question again.

"What went wrong, Romanoff?" that same anonymous figure asks her, and Natasha can only groan: what didn't go wrong?

"We were ambushed to start with; whoever gave us the heads up got their information wrong, or someone sold us out. Either way, the plan went to shit the moment we arrived and the team went to shit by throwing mole accusations around. Splitting up only made it worse; nobody trusted their teammates to do their parts and it resulted in a mad scramble. My orders were ignored, but my team members were injured and I take full responsibility."

"That won't be necessary, Agent," the voice hums, "as leader, the responsibility falls on you, yes, but it is each agent's responsibility to trust in you and follow your plan, and you will not be faulted for working with idiots who don't trust you."

Natasha starts to defend her team, before the familiarity of the phrase has her searching through her mind for a recollection. What she does remember is a long shot, but she'll lose nothing by asking.

"Do you have a wife, Officer?"

"I do," they reply.

"Is she a redhead?"

"She is."

"Works for SHIELD?"

"Why, it's almost like you know her," the handler goades. If one had an illustrated list of all of SHIELD's employees, they would know that the short game of 'guess who' still left a couple dozen potential employees in the running, but the teasing and testing tone is the final clue Natasha needs to make her assumption.

"Y/N/N?"

"Hey love," you reply, with as much adoration as you can muster, glad to finally be rid of the voice modulator while you talked to your wife.

In front of Natasha, the screen flickers before the silhouette that had become so familiar to her is replaced by another familiar sight in another familiar location: the smiling face of her wife…in her office.

Natasha's face falls at once, striking you with panic that this wouldn't be the gleeful revelation that you'd expected; that is, until the assassin speaks again. "Is that my desk?"

"It's your whole office, my love. I'm not taking these calls from our bedroom."

"Is that why it's sound proofed?"

"I gave the approval for that, if you remember, and it's certainly not because you're taking SHIELD calls at home; you haven't even had one while we've lived together!"

"That's because you organise it straight after the mission so I don't have time to go home!"

"Because that's where I am! you'd be suspicious otherwise."

Natasha falls silent for a moment. You know her well enough to leave her to her thoughts, only twiddling your thumbs as you watch her through the screen.

"So can I do debriefs at home now?"

"I don't see why not," you shrug, "remember I still have to take notes though, so I get the desk and no cuddling until after."

"No chance of that."

"Come back now, Romanoff, and we can put it to the test," you challenge.

She accepts. "I'll be there in 30."

"I know."

»»————-　★　————-««

Tagging: @supercorpdanbeau (since you mentioned you’d like to read it on the original post!)

[charlottes-diary-entries]

hi lovely!! can i please get a poly!marauders x fem reader where she’s always shy to ask for attention and maybe she just really wants them to smother her in cuddles and all (not as if they dont already) so she tries to discreetly cozy up to them at any given opportunity and they notice and they’re all like heck if its attention you want then its damn attention you’ll get

THANK YOU <33

apologies for how ridiculously late this is, life STAYS busy, but of course you can have that lovely! i hope you enjoy :) <3

"cuddle puddles" 1.3 k words, poly!marauders (remus centric) x reader, extremely fluffy <3

The last few months had felt like absolute heaven for you. Classes were going swimmingly, you'd won several points for your house, and generally felt like you were walking on air.

Not to mention, you were just plain in love.

The Marauders were well known for their boisterous and loving nature, but experiencing it first hand was entirely different. Ever since they'd woven you into their lives, there wasn't a moment you'd felt lost. Everything clicked. Always you had someone to turn to, someone to heal, someone to hold. The "Honeymoon" phase felt endless.

Constantly you would find yourself swept into James's arms in the halls, or Remus would be waiting to walk you to your next class hand in hand. The way Sirius would hang off of you often turned into a gentle lecture about how "most people don't like seeing couples snogging in the halls, so lets keep our hands in PG places, Sirius!"

All too often, however, it would also be a matter of dropping hint after hint after hint to your boys that you wanted more.

It really wasn't their fault at all! It just seemed like whenever you craved more attention, you'd tense up. Words escaped you and all you could do was stare and shuffle and pray they'd read your mind.

The unfortunate piece of the matter, however, was that now happened to be one of those times.

Sat upon a soft red blanket laid out across the grass, you let your eyes fall shut against the calm afternoon. A soft breeze brushed your cheek as you inhaled. Despite the sound of Sirius and James arguing over Quidditch players, all you could feel was complete and utter peace. With a delightful picnic settled in your stomach and your boys surrounding you everything was nearly right in the world.

A quiet chuckle emanated from Remus, who was sat next to you, and the sound of shuffling about reached you next. One of your eyes slipped open to observe Remus's new position before shutting and shifting accordingly to be seated directly next to him.

You did not see the fond smile that graced his face as he looked at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling at the sight of you so relaxed. Sirius and James were now settling somewhat.

"What's on your mind, dovey?"

A low hum left you as you opened your eyes to find his, which made you smile just the same as he was.

"Nothing much."

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing at all."

He couldn't resist leaning over to press a gentle kiss to your cheek before returning to his spot. As he pulled back, you leaned to follow him, before righting yourself. The corner of your lips tugged down before turning to watch Sirius now flirt and paw at James, no doubt in an attempt to sway his opponent to his side. It seemed to be working.

Quietly, you pressed yourself against Remus's side and leaned your head on his shoulder. He let his head fall on top of yours in response. This began to return a smile to your face.

"You sure there's nothing on your mind?"

"Entirely confident."

Nothing but you, you thought, but did not say.

He turned his head to press a kiss to your temple before wrapping an arm around your waist to ensure you were pressed against him. James now realized Sirius's goal and was playfully chastising him for using his "beautiful face" against him. You turned your face into Remus's shoulder.

"Right, it's just you seem awfully touchy, and-"

"Remus."

"I'll drop it! I'll drop it... Only if you can tell me honestly there's nothing more I can do for you."

"Remus!"

You flushed and pulled fully away from him this time, arms fully crossing and mouth down-turned into a pout. A crinkly, bittersweet feeling filled your heart as James gave in and let Sirius smother him. He pressed kiss after kiss after kiss to the seeker's face and eventually got him pinned to the ground in what must've been the largest and sweetest hug in history. Remus then gently coaxed your hand away from you and into his, making you lift your gaze to meet his concerned one.

"Please sweet thing," He began, running a soothing finger over your knuckles, "Tell me what's wrong? Watching you fret is making me fret and that can't be very good for either of us."

With a quiet sigh, you twisted your hand to intertwine your fingers and squeeze at his palm. He squeezed back.

"I just... find it embarrassing."

"What embarrassing?"

You felt your face warm even more as you groaned and dragged your free hand against your cheek. A mental search began to find the words you needed to explain to Remus that really nothing is wrong at all and in fact you just felt completely repressed about the whole affection thing.

"The whole... Well..." You huffed, squeezing his hand again. Now, Remus was nothing but the epitome of patience for you. "You know how you all love me so much? And you show a lot of that love through- through touch?"

At this Remus paused, worry pooling in his eyes as he inched away from you. He even began to drop your hand. "We haven't made you uncomfortable, have we love?"

"No- No, no, no, that's not it at all, in fact, I really, really wish you'd-"

A pause in your minor panic over correcting him. Any kind of words fled your mind and you settled for simply squeezing his hand yet again, feeling completely miserable about your inability to actually pursue what you wanted with confidence.

However, your misery was short lived as a light bulb seemed to go off in Remus's head and he tugged you close again, this time pulling you right onto his lap to face him. He smiled and pulled your face into his hands.

"Dovey, do you just want us to be more affectionate?"

This returned your smile, albeit awkward, as you nodded your head. Remus beamed and pulled you in for a sweet kiss before holding you tightly against him, his head resting on your shoulder. He began to speak when-

"Oi! What are you two doing over there?"

Your sweet moment was semi-interrupted by Sirius who came towards the two of you with a freshly kissed grin. He knelt next you both and pressed warm kisses to both of your heads. James followed not far behind him and laid down on your other side, completely sprawled out and grinning like a fool.

"Just making sure dovey gets all the love and attention they deserve," said Remus, who now turned his head into your neck to press a kiss there. "Apparently we've been neglecting the poor thing."

"I did not say neglect-"

Your protest was cut short, however, by a gasping Sirius. He all but body slammed you off of Remus, who only rolled his eyes, and on top of James, who let out a loud "whoof" sound at the sudden attack. Despite the wind knocked out of him, he didn't entirely seem to mind and quickly began to rub your arm with a pout.

"Is everything alright, lovie?"

"Everything is fine."

"Of course it is, now that we know you just need some extra holding," Remus teased, shifting Sirius off of him only to join him in hugging you on top of James, who was continuing to take the impromptu cuddle pile in his lap very, very well.

"If it's affection you want, dove, it is affection you shall have!" Sirius declared, before beginning to press kiss after kiss to your face, much in the same manner he had done to James. A sweet giggle escaped you before he eventually settled, content to hold you and Remus while James presided over all three of you, running his free hand through Remus's hair.

A little while later, after you all had been resting together and holding each other for quite a while, James's gentle voice broke the silence.

"I like this. We should do cuddle puddles more often."

You couldn't agree more.

[nouearth]

love in the making.

grant gustin x male reader.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. the talk of the town is the production of a new picture starring hollywood's elite star, grant gustin and his co-star, you! as the chemistry between you and grant escalates, so do the tabloids, and the executives aren't happy. what will happen to your relationship with grant when the studio takes matters into their own hands?

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓. one-shot [ 13.6k ].

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. male reader 〳 mid 1950s!au 〳 coworkers!au 〳 movie star!grant 〳 up and coming actor!reader 〳 smoking 〳 yearning 〳 slow-burn(?) 〳 gossip columns 〳 soap opera type of drama 〳 sexual content: top!grant, bottom!reader, anal penetration, breeding, kissing, spitting, blowjob (r!giving), praising, body worship, snowballing.

The leathery smell of cigar permeated the room. Grant added to the thickness in the air with several puffs, then suddenly modulated his breath when he realized it was his turn to run through his lines.

“Pardon me, Katharine. Your voice was so mesmerizing, I nearly fell to a slumber. Where were you when my mother ran out of bedtime stories to tell?” Grant cleared his throat, fulfilled by the laughter scattering from one person to the next while Katharine Scott, the leading lady of the picture, turned scarlet.

He began reading his dialogue.

It was half of the truth. Grant just didn’t bother mentioning that you’d been on his mind since the minute you walked in and introduced yourself -- that would’ve garnered a peculiar reaction. Aside from the screenplay, Grant’s eyes often meandered to you when they needed a break. The words on the script were beginning to scramble like alphabet blocks.

Before the tables were pushed together for the read-through, he noticed how your feet were crossed at the ankles, toes tapping to a rhythm he never noticed. In moments where the writer consulted with the director about the wooden dialogue, Grant could hear your muted taps speed up. Were you nervous? You had to be; you only had your foot in the industry for barely more than a year -- which was apparent.

You still had that humility in your smile.

Maybe it was frustration? Grant chewed on a pen he was holding as he attempted to decipher those pursed lips of yours. It was the color of flesh -- as it should be -- but why did he find them so… entrancing? It wasn’t just the color that got to him, but also the texture. They looked soft, really soft, as you ran through your lines with Katharine. Soft like your voice when you said your name for the first time. Soft like the grip of your handshake, which Grant knew you were well-aware of because you suddenly tensed your fingers at his fingers, nails into his palm, to compensate for your lack of callous. Soft like the ham and cheese bagel he had this morning, you would bite your own lip from how indistinguishable the bread roll and your mouth were from one other.

He chewed harder at the thought. Why does Grant want to see that happen?

“Grant? It’s your line.”

When Grant’s vision focused harder on your lips, he realized your mouth was aiming directly at him. Separating and closing, all for him. He immediately perked up.

“What—oh. Right. Where were we…” Grant felt warmth creeping up his neck, rubbing at it to ward off the heat. He only made it worse as it climbed to his chin and mouth, the taste of heat almost perceptible when he fought it off with a lick of his lips. “Gross, what the hell is—“

Metallic, acidic, and bitter on his tongue -- it was a taste that made him fully alert to the blue stain on his script. Then quickly after, the peculiar heat dripping off the corner of his mouth.

“Grant, you have—“ He watched you conceal a gasp when he turned to you, but your eyes -- everyone’s eyes -- made it perfectly clear that he needed to break this habit of chewing pens.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you will excuse me…”

He should’ve listened to his mother when he was little.

“Just my luck…”

Grant was bent over the sink, scrubbing away at his face with a soapy hand. He was dressed down to his undershirt, figuring he’d address the stain on his dress shirt later in the evening.

It was almost like there was an invisible force field around his chin because the ink stain was refusing to wash out. Grant was certainly in a better position than before, but he could still make out that splotch of grey-blue, muted from his unrelenting efforts to look somewhat presentable again.

“Grant, you all right? I’m coming in,” He recognized your voice immediately and perked up at the prospect of seeing you again, even if he really ought to know better than to be happy to see someone in this predicament.

Especially a handsome one.

“I think it’s coming off, you think? Could be my flesh that I’m tearing away at, but if it works…”

It was natural to glance at someone when they enter the bathroom. Humans are naturally inquisitive people. Innovation and evolution weren’t the result of keeping to oneself. What wasn’t natural was staring, particularly when it came to a man’s face, which seemed to have been exasperated from adrenaline.

You were panting and heaving as you made your way to counter. Grant took notice of your necktie, swinging from side to side with every step you took. You must’ve forgotten a tie clip. If not, then it must’ve fallen sometime between the moment he left the room and you entering the bathroom.

He had to admit, you looked—

“Keep at it and you’ll find the city of Atlantis,” you stifled a chuckle when Grant washed off the soap suds again, only to reveal what many would presume to be a rather strange five o’clock shadow.

Well, half of one.

“Speaking of finds,” he grabbed a handful of paper towels to dry his face, then nodded towards the paper bag that you had set on the counter. “What’s the loot?” Grant asked, partly because he wanted to distract you from watching him any longer and because he was simply curious.

Once again, inquisitive people drove evolution. In this context, Grant would like to get to know you more -- for the sake of the motion picture, of course.

“Went to the general store and thought you might need these,” you began unpacking the bag one by one.

A package of bar soap, a tin of cold cream, and a modest bag of assorted fruit chews. “Soap? We have soap right here.” Grant recognized the logo on the bag, there was a candy store west of the studio lot. He wondered where you went first. Did you get hungry during your brisk shopping trip, or was the general goods store on the way and you needed to kill time?

“Yes, well, that’s hand soap. You need Ivory soap, which is hydrating and better for your face. Hand soap will dry you out.”

He also wondered why you were helping him out. Not that people don’t go out of their way to help a celebrity of his status, but often, he could tell when someone was contriving flattery.

“What about the tin?” Grant asked. With one hand, he picked up the tin and analyzed the engraved packaging against the light.

You began rummaging through your bag of fruit chews. “Cold cream. It’s what my mother uses to remove her makeup. Use that before you wash your face. It should help melt the stain,” Pink wrapper, it was a strawberry chew. Grant deduced that it also must have been your favorite flavor since you searched high and low for it, flicking past the greens, blues, oranges, and yellows.

Replaying it back in his mind made him chuckle. He had been inside the candy store before, usually spending a few cents on chocolates for his dates. Still, the store was a marquee for locals who wanted to self-serve their candy bags and that hadn’t gone unnoticed. A buffet of confectionery to put it persuasively, which made Grant laugh again at the thought of you picking out the strawberry chews.

You could’ve avoided the trouble by not packing the other flavors at all.

“It’s for women… ‘She’s engaged, she’s lovely, she uses cold cream,’” The irony of the tagline shared a brief fit of laughter between you and Grant.

It felt good to hear you laugh, even if it was quite apparent that you were restraining yourself to lower the chances of choking on a fruit chew. Death was inevitable as much as it was arbitrary, and Grant was not letting a handsome man like yourself be the first case of ‘death by candy, and a badly timed joke.’

Besides the point, you were benign. Your knowledge in women’s beauty products caused a case of interest, and that made Grant want to excavate your formality even more.

“You look like you belong in the Looney Tunes, Gustin. That should be the least of your worries,” he watched you primp yourself in front of the mirror, minor adjustments to your hair where the gel had fallen loose. “Anyway, I’ll get us some lunch. They said we’ll resume in a bit. You like salami? I know a place that makes a great Italian sandwich. Good fries too.”

With autumn approaching, the weather was only getting windier. By dint of the way a strand of hair fell delicately over your forehead like the stem of a cherry, Grant figured he should make amends with the upcoming season if it meant he would be seeing more of you fixing your tousled hair.

“Actually—wait for me, yeah? I prefer dining in for lunch, can’t stand soggy fries,” Grant opened the tin of cold cream and was instantly hit with a whiff of nostalgia -- something of gardenia and vanilla all at once. He must have smelled this at his mother’s vanity at some point in his life.

“Well, you must hurry because I had nothing but double the allotment of caffeine. I feel like Lucy in that one run where all she had for dinner were mints,” you were referencing an episode of I Love Lucy, adjusting your tie in between glances.

He slathered on the white paste and rubbed at the stain on his chin. Grant wouldn’t have guessed this was part of a woman’s nightly routine. If he ignored the floral notes, the product resembled shaving cream for the most part.

“‘There’s nothing quite like a good after-dinner mint,’” Grant quoted a line from the same episode you had mentioned. In retrospect, he was glad he shelled out a couple hundred bucks for the hottest commodity of the decade. He had never seen someone’s eyes light up the way yours did.

If the building was set on fire and everyone had to be evacuated, Grant wouldn’t have known by virtue of your radiant smile -- it was disorienting. Whether or not he would’ve made it out in time… the matter of the fact was that his fate was entirely dependent on you, and Grant was surprisingly at ease with that proposition.

You cleared your throat when it registered that the stare shared between the two of you had stopped you in your tracks, Grant in his. The silence was almost tangible. Grant wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring at your eyes, then your nose, and then your lips again. That information served no purpose, only to embarrass him with the strong chance that it might’ve been too long.

Much too long for him, he began noticing your delightful cologne and not the smell of floral and vanilla. If he took a step closer, maybe he could—

“You can wash it off now. I’m curious to see if it works.”

For now, Grant was content on watching you at arm’s length, eating your favorite piece of candy and laughing as you tidied yourself.

It seemed like he was only beginning to scratch the surface.

It had only been a little more than a week of principal photography, but Grant was quick to inform himself of the director’s social cues. Sucking in his bottom lip meant that something regarding the scene was off -- whether it be the lighting, the wrinkle in a shirt, the fumble of dialogue, or the stiff movement of the actors. He was a meticulous man, stopping a take when Grant’s hair wasn’t as slicked back as he had envisioned. Imposing at times, but the general kindness kept the set rather freeing.

Today, Grant received a firm nod behind the camera.

“You got a light?” Grant asked with a cigarette between his lips, patting his pockets only to leave with empty hands. He pulled a chair next to where you had been studiously scribbling notes on your script. He couldn’t have read it if he tried -- and he had tried once -- chicken scratch hadn’t left your fine motor skills anytime soon.

“Uh-huh. Every apartment has one if you find the right landlord,” you said dryly, flashing a cheeky grin and continuing to annotate the script in your hand.

“Cute,” he snickered while you fished a lighter out of your pant pocket. It wasn’t your scheduled smoke break yet, it was often reserved right before lunch. You figured that you mind as well get one out of the way since the clock was nearing lunch time anyhow.

Lighting up your cigarette, you drew in a breath of tobacco and felt it cloud over your brain after, tempering the stress signals with warmth. “Here,” your thumb remained on the flint wheel while your free hand hovered over the flame to block the desk fan. The wick of fire bridged the distance between you and Grant as you both leant forward to ignite his cigarette.

His hand rested on yours, gently bringing the lighter closer to the end of his cigarette stick, and stabilized itself until the tobacco was lit.

It shouldn’t have felt intimate. It was probably from the smoke, wasn’t it? The type of buzz that made Grant hallucinate all and everything around him -- black crows if he was in a troubled sate. In this case, it was the tremble of your hand when Grant held it, unsteady like the lighter’s flame before you had capped it. It was the look you gave him, aggravated if it was from most men, but almost imploring on your end. It was the silence that bestowed between the two of you, the type where Grant knew you could tell he was staring at you now, because you began scribbling arbitrary patterns on the margins of your script.

He should probably tell you that the scribbles were merging with your annotations, but Grant had to be careful. Otherwise, he was going to open his mouth and give you an earful of lunacy, starting with “Your hands are cold” and ending with “Can I hold them for longer?”

“So, what’s for lunch today?” You asked, stretching your arms overhead. Grant watched your fingers closely as they fanned out and held nothing but air.

“I could go for a hamburger. You?”

“Something light for me… think I’m coming down with a bug. My stomach suddenly hurts.”

Grant regretted letting go now.

“We missed you at shooting today. And yesterday. And the day before that. Mainly Wilder though—he likes how you can get scenes done in one take.”

You were caught off-guard hearing Grant’s voice through the handset. Even if he was calling from the other side of town, there was something about his presence that made you sit up and spruce up your surroundings, not forgetting your own appearance, of course.

“Well, that’s comforting. I’m sorry—how exactly did you get my telephone, Grant? Where are you calling from?” It must have been the hoarse sound of your voice that made Grant laugh into the handset. You could see it now, his smile.

“Don’t worry about that—and from my hotel. What you should be worrying about is your health. Why are you still up?” Grant started out lighthearted at first, but then muttered, like the weight of his concern strung his voice along.

Really, you ought to sleep. The positive of being sick meant that you could leisure all day and not feel guilty about watching television, even if you had outdone your daily average by a margin. The negative? Your senses were heightened by tenfold, which was ironic because your sinuses were blocked. That didn’t matter whatsoever. What did matter was that you kept waking multiple times throughout the night because your bed was either too warm, too cold, too soft, or too hard.

Now, sleep was as elusive as seeing Grant. It had only been a couple of days, yet you began to feel off -- which could be another symptom of the flu in hindsight.

“It’s wash day. I’m soaking my clothes as we speak,” you flicked off the television to hear Grant better. The rain was pouring down hard on your window.

“You do your own laundry?” Grant asked. He sounded genuinely astonished.

Picturing his expression alongside, you couldn’t contain your laughter any longer. “I am an adult, Grant.” Your toes said otherwise as they wiggled in your socks in complete bliss.

Hearing Grant’s voice was a much-needed energy boost -- way more effective than the oranges you had been eating, but not on par with the programs you had been watching. He’ll get there soon.

“I usually have my housekeeper do it for me,” he confessed.

It was no surprise. You read all about it in the papers before, how the wealthy hires a live-in help, or a nanny if the household contained a family with more than enough kids. They were all cut from the same cloth either way.

“And have you noticed any silk ties going missing?” You asked in jest.

“Now that you mentioned it—“ Before Grant could finish, you laughed, picturing his expression screw into realization that he hadn’t worn his red necktie in a bit.

Objectively, it made sense. The last thing you would want to do is clean the bathroom after coming home from work. It was a luxury you would like to have the option to afford one day, but for now, having a housekeeper was merely that—an option.

You had a much more ambitious goal in mind, and that was making an impact on Hollywood. “Case adjourned.”

Grant’s laugh suggested defeat, and you were all too familiar of the long silence that would come after. If he was here face-to-face, you both would sit in the sound of white noise, or the beating rain in this case, and simply stare at each other.

You weren’t sure when or how it came to fruition, and in the end that didn’t matter—because it was nice.

It was nice to be free from all things interfering with Grant.

“What was for dinner?” He asked, instantly reminding you of the emptiness in your stomach.

“I overslept—well, as overslept as one could be when all they have on their agenda for the day is to die in bed while watching re-runs.”

“Dying to one of Lucille Ball’s shenanigans doesn’t sound too bad. If you time it right, the audience can laugh when you exhale your very last breath,” you laughed at Grant’s morbid mind. “I’ll come over then.”

“You don’t know where I live, Grant. And no, I might pass the bug to you. You’re the production’s biggest asset. We can’t afford any more delays if you fall sick too.”

“I do, actually. The apartment with the orange accents. It’s all everyone talks about because it’s so bright. And I’ll be fine, (M/N). I shot quite a bit of my scenes already. I know you’re a rising star, but the whole world doesn’t stop for you, sweetheart.”

Hearing Grant call you ‘sweetheart’, even if it was said in jest, had you thinking of several different situations in which he would say it again -- preferably in earnest.

“It should. All the take-out places in my neighborhood closed early. What I would do if I had the world in my palm…” From the couch, you looked solemnly out your window, watching blocks of buildings sleep in the shadow of the moon. Your stomach growled as the rain poured harder.

“Even as a dictator, you wouldn’t be able to stop me from coming over. I’ll be there in a split.”

“But it’s raining—“

The line ended with a buzz.

“You know, you don’t have to keep checking up on me, or even bring me food for the matter. I stocked up on some ‘TV Dinner,’” you took a whiff at the steaming bowl of lobster bisque, putting your sinuses to the test. Still nothing. Giving up, you took a sip.

“No wonder you’ve been complaining about your throat! At least buy the meatloaf one,” Grant poured you a cup of orange juice before putting the jug back, rummaging through your freezer after. “And since we’re on the subject… I’ll try one of these bad boys out.”

It was strange seeing someone in your kitchen, let alone your apartment. As unfamiliar was it was, you couldn’t lie and say that you hated it. It was easier to talk to Grant, on the couch and eating a meal together, than it was with a bunch of people interrupting their conversation for either one of them, sometimes both, to do another take.

“Have you ever been offered the chance of being a mystery guest?” After finishing dinner, you curled up on one end of the sofa while Grant sat on the other, arms sprawled over the back and feet cushioned separately by a foot stool.

You and Grant were watching a late night re-run of ‘What’s My Line?’ Four panelists had to question contestants to determine their line of work with only yes-no questions. Toward the last round of every episode, there would be a celebrity mystery guest in which the panelists sought to determine the identity of while blindfolded. For tonight’s episode, the panelists were still stumped on the first contestant’s ‘occupation’—which hardly seemed fair because it was then revealed that she was a victim of a knife-throwing accident.

They let anyone participate these days.

“I have. I wanted to partake in it, but the studio rejected the idea.”

“Why’s that?” You asked, aghast.

Frankly, if you were in Grant’s shoes, you wouldn’t have take ‘no’ for an answer. Anyone who was anyone guested on that show. And if you were Grant’s manager, somehow scarcely able to believe you would even have the energy to be in meetings all day, you would have made his dreams come true. All of them, no matter how absurd they could be.

“They thought I’d be confused at the questions given to me,” Grant sounded aggrieved. You looked over. In the guise of his smile, you could tell those words still affected him. “I think I’m capable. I just lose my train of thought in front of a crowd sometimes.”

Which made the passing thought of being Grant’s manager only a fantasy as the guilt suddenly festered -- you believed those horde of headlines insulting his intellect once. Luckily, it had since dissipated once befriending him.

“Well, when the day comes, I don’t want you to tell me,” you confessed. “Leave the surprise to the broadcast.”

Though, it wasn’t like you thought lowly of him or made any disparaging remarks on his character because of those articles. Rather, you simply pitied. You weren’t going to tell him that, however. He doesn’t need to know how deep your affection for his films and personages go. That he gave you the kick you needed to pursue this strange, yet fulling path -- you could taste the accolades right around the corner, even if you were still living in a dingy apartment.

The awful truth was that Grant also didn’t need to know that you had fallen harder for him -- the real him -- than any other roles he had played. Maybe it was his gorgeous looks that projectors couldn’t do justice. Or the clumsy nature that strangely fit his otherworldly persona -- something had to humble him. Or how he was doing this, bringing you soup every day and making himself comfortable in your own home, like it was his as well.

Or how he was looking at you right now, curled up on the other end of the sofa, his foot accidentally brushing over yours in midst of finding a comfortable spot.

You stretched your legs out when you suddenly felt tense in the body, turning away from the television set to face your body to the ceiling, your chin to your chest to keep your eyes on Grant, who began mirroring your position. It was like you two discovered telepathy for the first time; your leg occupying the gap between his thighs, Grant between yours. He turned the TV off like you had been wanting, filling the living space with complete darkness, and blindly skimmed his sock over your own.

Feeling his sock rub against your ankle stirred something inside of you, and it wasn’t reassuring that this urge only bloomed when Grant did it again. Once at your ankle, two at your calf. Whether this was his idea of a sick joke, you didn’t want that to be answered. Your senses were already heightened from the flu, the stillness in the room deafening, but the intertwined pairs of feet -- the sound of cotton caressing cotton -- alerting. Enticing.

It was an urge that seemed confined to Grant, you realized that when your body responded out of instinct and nudged his ankle and calf in retaliation. Not to get him to stop, but to silently convince him to resist -- because you were frightened you couldn’t any longer.

After a few more cycles of this—whatever activity you two were engaging in—Grant straightened his legs by your hips, seemingly complacent in this exchange by the sound of his chuckle.

“I’ll leave by dawn.”

“Good night, Grant.”

For the past couple of days, you had gotten into the habit of looking forward to Grant’s daily delivery of soups from a restaurant not too far from where he lived—three meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner respectively. You had to admit, as delicious as they were, you were beginning to exhaust your taste buds of anything broth related. Substance was much needed, especially for a bite of the sandwiches that Grant had graciously introduced you to a couple weeks back.

However, you were feeling better, and that was the most important part—actually, scratch that.

The most important part was who was helping you recover from this aggravating bug. Sipping on the last spoonful of tomato soup, in hopes that your next meal would involve using your teeth, you were itching to resume filming.

At least you thought you did before you flipped through the daily paper. It was a still shot of Grant—blurry, walking down a sidewalk, hand in one pocket while the other was carrying a bag. That was normal, you had seen many of those in your lifetime.

What wasn’t normal was that you recognized the restaurant logo on the bag, the row of evergreens surrounding the perimeter, the distinct branding of the entrance of the building he was near.

Even if the photograph was in black and white, you could tell the handles and windows were painted with a shade darker than white. It made for a rather intriguing backdrop if you could choose to ignore the tightening feeling in your chest.

You started to panic as it became more apparent.

Orange.

“Shit.”

You braced yourself and read the headline.

HOLLYWOOD PLAYBOY STRIKES AGAIN: GRANT GUSTIN SPOTTED AT NEW ALLEGED LOVER’S RESIDENCE!

At first Grant thought he must have misunderstood. When he picked up today’s daily, he was half-expecting a gossip column regarding another one of his romantic adventures with a former co-star, the other half wishing the paper had focused on someone else for a change.

Last month’s column produced a rather in-depth, and slightly creepy, overview of his dinner with Miss Patton. He knew he had good reason to feel peculiar about the waiter serving them. If it hadn’t been for Miss Patton’s desperate plea to get a meal in her stomach as soon as possible, Grant would’ve demanded a switcheroo, effective immediately. The lanky, young man lingered far too long and asked too many questions for his liking, his presence alone made Grant’s Negroni Spritz go flat.

Did Grant’s reputation need to take another hit after finally recovering from those multitudes of fender benders a year and a half ago? Probably not -- Grant didn’t need to endure another hour-long chastising session about how his actions could damage the movie studio. It was all bluff anyway. Grant and the studio head both knew that scandals ushered in huge numbers, record-breaking attendances when it came to his most recent pictures.

Either way, had he known his private conversation with Miss Patton would become… well, not so private, Grant would’ve committed arson to the studio the night of. At least the executives could file an insurance claim based on the physical damage. Grant doubted there would be much validity to the claim if the reason provided was his inability to hold his tongue.

Luckily, Grant had since stopped pursuing after risks. It was what made a dent to his once speck-less Mercedes-Benz in the first place.

Dear God… my sweet Iris, what have I done to you?!

What he wasn’t expecting was—

“‘The Gustin Effect! Hollywood Heartthrob Grant Gustin Helps Local Restaurant Sell Out… Soups?,’” Grant repeated to himself. He was sweating as his eyes went over the large serif font for the nth time like skates on ice. He had to give it to The Daily Spring -- it wasn’t exactly an intriguing headline, but it made his heart race knowing the context. Regardless, it wasn’t exactly how he wanted to start off his day.

He suddenly felt compelled to pour another packet of sugar into his coffee.

“Keep reading, it’s a rather heart-warming article,” Grant’s manager said through the handset with a peculiar enthusiasm, as if the man wasn’t scolding him a few days ago for wandering about without telling him first. “Looks like we’re back on track, don’t you think?”

“As my manager, you’re supposed to be—I don’t know—warding off any worries that I might have. Not unsettle me any more than I already am…” Grant frowned, tucking the handset between his shoulder and ear before briefing into the rest of the gossip piece.

“What are you talking about? This is great news!”

“‘Local restaurant ‘The Cloud Room’ saw an unexpected surge in business after a photograph was published in the newspaper, showing movie star Grant Gustin holding a bag of the restaurant’s soups while en route to a secret rendezvous.

The image caught the attention of the public, leading to a wave of curious customers eager to try the same dish, dubbing the star’s powerful influence as ‘The Gustin Effect.’

With lines stretching down the block for the past three days, the possibility of the effect faltering anytime soon seems slim to none. The owners are considering expanding their hours to accommodate the growing number of customers drawn by the star's casual endorsement.’”

There were several more paragraphs, but Grant couldn’t be bothered to read any more of it. A sudden migraine had been festering the moment he laid eyes on the headline.

“Christ, Kid. You’re on a roll these days. I’d have to use both of my hands to count the number of articles written about you this past week. It’s impressive. If we play it right, then the upcoming picture could be your biggest hit yet. I know you’ve been clamoring for this moment, Kid.”

“Listen, I think I should—“ he groaned, rubbing at his temples.

“Oh, Grant. It’s just your typical fling, wasn’t it? Usually you sweeten a lady up with chocolates, but I guess… soup has its merit too. Nothing to worry about.”

Throbbing -- Grant’s head was throbbing now. He didn’t have the freedom to be indifferent to other people’s opinions. In fact, his career relied on it—on the public, on his manager, on his manager’s manager.

“No, the thing is—“

Now his hands were clamming up. He could feel the handset in his palm slipping, but he tightened his hold—because that was what people in his line of work did, right? If he was on the game show you and Grant were watching the other day, one of the questions would have been:

“Do you portray yourself as who you really are in your line of work?” “Are you free to express yourself however you wished in your occupation?” “Would people like the real person behind this persona of yours? Your parents, perhaps? Grandparents?” “Would you risk the comfort of your career for love?”

“I’ll run it by with the studio. Thank God for your little lady’s soup obsession because they were on my neck for letting you off my leash.”

Maybe his manager was correct in inducing this fear of the press, of anything that provided a space for a cluster of inquisitive people who sought for a piece of his life to sell.

Grant braced himself and exhaled, “It’s not a lady.”

Because Grant would answer all those questions with a resounding ‘No.’

“What, your brother in town? Do you even have a brother? Oh, it must’ve been your father then! Well, that will certainly fare better with the heads—”

All except one.

“It was (M/N).”

All the things Grant wasn’t saying sat heavy in his mouth. He wasn’t used to holding his tongue like this. Under normal circumstances, Grant would ramble non-stop about his favorite pastimes, like going up to Colorado to challenge the steepest ski run, or modestly luxuriating near the poolside at his mansion. It always got the conversation to a flying start with you.

Now, all of his efforts of building some kind of relationship with you seemed to be in vain.

Since Grant had revealed to his manager about his frequent visits to your apartment, there had been a constant stream of articles, propagated by the studio, about his love life, about his philanthropic efforts, about his wishes to build a family with a loving wife and four kids; all in the effort to bury his truth had it ever leak.

They brought his past flings back to the spotlight, even if he hadn’t communicated with these women in months. They brazenly brought you into the picture, gossip columnists regurgitating all types of bogus stories such as: your ego-trip when you demanded filming to stop because of your illness, your tantrum on set when Grant forgot his lines, your need to berate your assistant when she was as little of a second too late in fetching your coffee.

‘Inside sources,’ they’d call it—when really, these were excerpts manufactured from the publicity agent’s fictitious and unpublished novel, later trashed somewhere in the building to start a new one -- to find a new story for so-called ‘journalists’ would hound you with.

Articles about the alleged feud between you and Grant had only gotten more vicious and scathing on your end, and all Grant could do was watch in agony as the studio lot became a media circus, increasing day by day, week by week, with more photographers and reporters desperate to encounter these alleged incivilities. As a newcomer in the industry, it certainly raised your profile, but it was also to the detriment of your reputation -- a fact that everyone was content with considering the amount of coverage the film was receiving.

He had held onto your presence as a small comfort throughout the past bleak month, but even that necessity was taken away from him. More executives began coming onto set under the guise of quality assurance as shooting headed for its last week. Their intention became very much apparent whenever Grant would be inconvenienced with another obligation of shooting for more publicity stills.

Upon realizing you had done all your promotional material in solitude, there was nothing Grant had wanted more than to join you by your side. More so, when in a cursory attempt to blend in with your surroundings, you helped yourself to the catering service and tried to become interested in the employees. Grant knew you didn’t have enough energy in you to exchange more than a “How are you?” and some complimentary words about the food.

You didn’t stay much longer for the wrap party.

Nor were you even welcomed.

He was rarely in a situation where he could physically harm someone, but seeing the headlines the past month, how ostracized you had become during the last few weeks of filming, maybe the circumstances of his life would issue a free pass to do such heinous crimes out of the goodness of their heart -- especially since it pertained to you.

“You shouldn’t be here, Grant. Christ—someone could see you! How did you get here without someone following you?”

Before Grant was being sharply pulled into your apartment, he was contemplating on whether he should greet you with a reasonable “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you,” a pleading “It’s all my fault, please forgive me,” or a simple “Hi.”

The door clicked shut, and Grant mentally slapped himself out of his thoughts. Instead, it was none of that.

“Everyone got wasted by nine,” Grant revealed lightly; there was some apprehension that any louder, he would break you based on your meek appearance. “Your eyes are red.”

You made a dismissive noise, brushing Grant off as you passed him on your way to the bedroom. “It’s only been a month and you’re already forgetting the color of my eyes, Grant? I’ve been telling you to go to the doctor.

Grant followed. By simply watching your back, Grant noticed your walk had changed. “Stop. Stop that.” You walked too fast for your own good at times, missing shops because you had tunnel-visioned toward the front, but Grant easily caught up to grab your arm and stop you in your tracks.

Or maybe he was just getting accustomed to your pace before shit hit the fan.

“Stop what?” You turned, facing him as you leaned against your bedroom door with crossed arms. At your lower eyelids, Grant caught sight of tears forming along the waterline. He shouldn’t think that crying looked lovely on you, so he kept that thought to himself.

But it really did put him in a trance for a moment. During that moment of attraction, it couldn’t be helped that the open collar of your shirt also led various prospects nearly consume him and all of his being, making him take a step closer. His fingers brushed by the tip of yours, the wattage of the slightest physical touch making you flex your fingers like you were upholstered by secrets.

A month shouldn’t have felt that long, but this was the moment when it all came into fruition -- that Grant hadn’t properly spoken or seen you in a month. He remembered how he felt when you looked at him for the first time, something like a sensation coming painfully back to a numb limb. As torturous as it was, it made Grant feel alive.

“Stop pretending like you’re okay,” Grant swallowed hard, finding himself in a dilemma between wiping your tears for you or giving you the space you clearly needed, even if Grant had involuntarily done enough of that.

You scoffed, using the back of your sleeve to wipe your eyes. “I’m not pretending. I don’t even have stray cats in my balcony like I used to anymore to be okay for.”

“Stray cats would’ve brought you much more comfort than I ever could, I have to admit that,” Grant said, your face assuming an expression that led Grant to plausibly assume you would have disagreed. That, or he was simply toying with his delusions, knowing he couldn’t fathom the tangible truth of the damage his relationship with you had undergone.

He meant it when he didn’t want anything more than to join you by your side. Grant followed you to the sofa and sat next to you, knees and thighs touching. Hands—pairs of hand wishing they could hold you in between the passing silence.

“Why didn’t you call?” Grant didn’t think you mean for the reasonable question to sound as despondent as it did. He also didn’t think he has a lapse of control left, because you looked so fragile and nebulous—that despite his best efforts, Grant eventually slipped a hand into your palm because he was afraid acknowledging your existence would make you disappear.

He held you tighter.

“My hotel was under supervision… it’s not an excuse, I know. I should’ve tried to find a loophole. I couldn’t even write to you without the possibility of being caught. And when I was, they released more of those horrid articles about you. They were breathing down my neck, (M/N). I swear. I didn’t know what to do other than to… be complicit. I’m sorry. Truly. I’m a coward.”

“You’re not,” you sighed with eyes fixated on Grant’s hand in yours. “You have a lot more to lose than I do. I get it.”

He caressed his thumb over your palm, sparking some kind of will to exist by which he had the gentle squeeze of your hand to judge by. “Doesn’t mean it’s right, though. I don’t know, it all happened so fast. If I would’ve shut my damn mouth, none of this would have happened. I just—panicked. For God’s sake, it’s not like we’re…”

Lovers. Grant doesn’t think it was his imagination that something in you seemed to have unwound after the implication. If Grant hadn’t mentioned that he wasn’t great at comforting people, which he was confident that he had never told you, it counted for something when he was struck by the relief in your shoulders and hand, your palm seemingly sinking—but you didn’t have to fret, because Grant was there to catch you.

He was more capable at this than he had thought.

You chuckled over Grant’s reservation to even say the unspoken word, so you left him be. “My manager told me to lay low for the time-being and wait for the storm to pass. It’s nice to know I’m not fired or anything, they know it’s all deceptive.”

There was something so comforting in the ability to be physically touching you, in knowing that from here on out, Grant could simply take you by the hand, shut the door between the two of you and the rest of the world, and share your thoughts.

Maybe if all went swell, hand-holding wouldn’t be confined to a sad set of affairs. In Grant’s ideal world, holding your hand would also be the preface of something more, a bridge that allows him to cross his way over to you and explore all facets negative and positive, intimately so.

“We’re all pawns to the studio anyway. Vehicles that put in an extra floor to the building. Bad publicity is good publicity. It’s free marketing for the film. Scandals make stars, and you’re halfway there.”

Grant was sure of it. He had seen many other actors and actresses recover their careers with far worse rumors. The main priority was money, and as long as it didn’t stop the audience from filling up the theaters, there was no reason to drop a talent.

You brought your legs onto the sofa and crossed your legs facing Grant. “Is that supposed to be comfort me, Mister Fender Bender?”

“That was only three times—and, mind you, no one got hurt.” Grant followed suit. His bent knees pressed against yours. He had your hands opened in his palms as if telling fortune was second nature to him, tracing the lines embedded in your palm with an inquisitive index. “How am I supposed to comfort you, then? Tell me.”

Your hands weren’t much smaller than Grant’s, the fact had been known since the very moment you two had exchanged handshakes for the first time. Still, those beautiful appendages visited his dreams often. It hadn’t meant anything to Grant until one night, he was dreaming about the day he had his hand over yours as you lit his cigarette. The second night, he dreamed of you testing his temperature via the back of your hand to Grant’s forehead. The third night… well, Grant was ashamed to admit that his attraction had breached far into indecent territories by which helped him solve a night of endless tossing and turning in a matter of minutes.

Then multiple nights, because Grant since wholeheartedly accepted that this infatuation for your hands had actually preceded his deep affection for you.

Unless someone brought good reason that Grant should stop playing with your hands and obsessing over them, it wasn’t in his agenda to ever let go.

“You’ve done enough. I guess… I’m a little upset that I splurged on a new suit for nothing. I was going to wear it to the wrap party,” you huffed, idly playing a game of ‘Try To Catch Grant’s Finger.’ No prize money would be offered, just bragging rights—which did have some merit.

So far, you were losing.

Grant smirked as he managed to wriggle a finger out of your grip. Five points for him, two points for you. “Who said there can’t be one with just us two?”

“Cheater! And that’s called a date, Grant.”

“I would’ve stayed then.” Suddenly, the solution to end your pitiful evening slotted in place.

He sprung up from the sofa with a hop, smiling graciously at you. “Come on. On your feet. We’re bringing it to a place I know.”

For Grant to call his residence something as pedestrian and humdrum like ‘a place,’ as if all the great virtues and grandeur of the mansion had been entirely diminished because the construction of expanding his already-massive pool had been halted for whatever reason—you questioned, and was rather frightened to know, about what his idea of a party was. It soon became a momentary thought when Grant began giving you a brief tour around his mansion—and the amenities that came with it.

With its manicured gardens, gold-plated fixtures, towering columns that couldn’t have prepared you for the imposing entryway, Grant’s stately mansion exuded an aura of refinement and exclusivity, and you were in awe by the sense of splendor. You felt out of your element. It was extremely telling as you walked over the imported marble floors like they were made of crystals. Delicately caressed ornate sculptures stoned near every corridor because it would have been irresponsible for you to only observe the complex lines that made their forms so irresistible. It was the epitome of a lifestyle that you would never be able to afford, yet you weren’t jealous at all.

It was a spectacle for sure, but you couldn’t have possibly felt comfortable living with such large quantities of upkeep. Grant mentioned that his bedroom was his favorite, and that was what you could get behind. It wasn’t opulent like the rest of the resident was. It felt lived in, homely, comfortable, even though you were hyper-aware of the fact that his balcony practically contained another living space.

“Get changed in the bathroom. I’ll wait here,” Grant said, sitting on the end of his bed. You had never seen a king-size bed before, but the magazines weren’t lying when one of the print advertisements likened their mattress of that size to a cumulonimbus cloud.

The color of your bespoke formal wear spoke softly; champagne at the blazer and cedar at your slacks. The fabric so light, they almost seemed without substance. The great craftsmanship nearly made you empty a week’s worth of cigarettes in a day, but the tailoring of your suit, alongside the cut and detail, quickly separated you from the past appearance of a boy who had yet outgrown his father’s hand-me-downs to a well-dressed and confident man who paid his bills on time. Once you slicked your hair back for the final touch, you walked out of Grant’s bathroom to reveal yourself.

“I forgot my tie on your bed.”

Grant had opened his mouth to take another gulp of whiskey, but when he turned to look at you, his tongue was seemingly paralyzed in the back of his throat, suddenly coughing up the previous sip he had taken.

You laughed while you made your way to his full length mirror stationed by his closet. He was quick to follow behind, subsiding his raw throat with the last ounce of liquor and grabbing your tie on the way over.

“You look nice. Though, I didn’t take you to be someone who was keen on light colors. You always wore navy,” Grant said, turning you to face him by a gentle hold on your shoulders.

You tipped your head when Grant began to slip the necktie beneath your shirt collar. “Most of my clothes are from my father’s. I will say—as much as it made a dent in my wallet, it was nice buying something for myself for once.”

You tried not to be too obvious about looking at all facets of Grant; the careful attention of his gaze; the veins in his hands as he looped the cloth. In this moment, you came to realize that you wanted Grant in all the ways you were used to ignoring. This was different in the past, different from those peculiar exchanges between the two of you where playing footsie and skimming hands were simply done in the guise of naivety.

He caressed the green cloth in his hand while his gaze focused on yours, utterly complacent about how he compelled you to part your lips with a single look.“Well, you made a great choice. You look terrific. Handsome.” All so alluring, when he stalled further, slowly passing the fibers of silk between inquisitive fingertips. With one firm tug, Grant knotted the tie at your throat, pulling you closer to him in the process. “Beautiful.”

This was different because you knew Grant felt the same way.

“Beautiful?” You repeated for clarification. The word that came out of his mouth littered you goosebumps over your skin. Nobody had ever called you beautiful, you were sure you were the first man in history to be called as such.

You refused to believe this was a serious statement, but then Grant repeated cooly, “Beautiful,” and before you could counter, he pulled on your tie again, nearly closing the small distance between the two of you, and settled his lips on yours.

You collapsed into the kiss, like it was taking all the effort not to kiss Grant, and you were finally giving up. Grant knew that you wanted this, that by any sensible measure desperate for the taste of liquor to come from his mouth and pass into yours with the swap of his tongue. He knew it the way he knew that the Western End had the best suits in the city and that you needed a reservation for almost every restaurant in the district—it was a fact that he didn’t have to think about, and which everybody else knows, too.

You didn’t mean to make that noise come out of your mouth, but after suffering a lapse in Grant’s presence, his lips on yours felt like a whiskey sour on a hard day. It was much needed gift with the past few months you had been having. The softness and care in Grant’s lips made your breath shudder, one would think you had been laved by the cold sea, whereas you were actually melting, in Grant’s arms, gripping his lapel for balance.

“I missed you,” Grant said softly. He circled his arms over your hips, his hands sliding beneath your blazer because he needed to feel every muscle in your body tensing, to pull you impossibly closer to memorize how you fit in his arms.

You supposed you had to credit the liquor for his brazenness.

“I missed you too,” you collapsed into his arms, trusting the warmth of his embrace.

He kissed you in between breaths. “I missed you so much, I couldn’t function properly knowing you were hurting. Guilt was hollowing me from within,” Harder on your mouth, apparently coming to the conclusion that you relished in the roughness of his embrace, in the bruising link between your mouth and his, from the way you gasped and pulled more of him into you. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.” Palm deep against his nape, you pushed his head toward the slant of your jaw because you needed to recover your breath. Quickly, before you would risk the chance of collapsing on behalf of lost time, dispelling your last remaining breath inside Grant’s mouth out of desperation to overcompensate.

“I told you it was fine, Grant—“ You groaned when he began nibbling at the underside of your jaw. By virtue of his unstoppable desire, Grant propelled forward, holding you tight, and you stumbled back into the corner until your back collided with the wall, the impact drawing out a pleasurable hiss from your throat.

“It’s not. It’s absolutely not. You nearly drove me into talking to a shrink about you.” You nearly stopped Grant to have a proper conversation, without all these interruptions. Between his kisses and the gripping, you were an incoherent mess if the tightness in your slacks had something to go by, but you instead followed along, entranced by how Grant could look so stunning when all he was doing was undressing you.

He started with the tie. “But then, that would’ve made matters entirely worse upon the realization that… I was so in love with you,” he whispered over your bare throat after sliding the cloth off. Next, was your shirt. “And that it can’t be fixed. I can’t be fixed. I can’t fix myself now knowing that you feel the same way. You do, don’t you?” Then, your undershirt.

You swallowed hard. “I do. I entirely do, am so much in love with you. Grant—” You struggled to get the words out without giving into Grant’s delirious kisses on your bare body. Maybe if you had stumbled, it would’ve delayed his ravenous appetite for your body a second or so longer—but even then, you weren’t sure if you were capable of witnessing and being at the hands of a man who was so clearly starving.

“Oh, Grant—that’s very…” Good. Erotic. Attractive. At least one of those words you were meant to say, but it would’ve been a relic of a bygone touch. Being mouthed at your perky nubs was as indescribable a feeling could get, but then when Grant began licking over your body, slowly sinking onto his knees as he worked his way down your torso, sucking spots and licking marks you hadn’t had the faintest idea about—you were reduced to the role of a whimpering bystander by which ultimately stripped your brain beyond words.

Grant undressed the lower half of you—all but your brown socks—and you had long accepted the fact that it was inevitable in showing Grant how much you enjoyed giving him free rein to your body. Your erection was strong, a reveal of flesh that made him suck in his lips to keep himself from ravishing you already.

“You’re leaking,” you wanted to hide and crawl in a ditch somewhere. It was embarrassing as Grant marveled over the thick trail of pre-cum that tagged over his fingertip when he curiously dipped a finger over your glans.

“Well, don’t comment on it…”It was like he read your mind, because Grant placed a warm palm on your stomach to prevent you from enacting on your wishes, ultimately trapping you in place by the gentle strokes over your cock. “Fuck…” you watched with bleary eyes, all sorts of feelings stockpiling to feed your endorphins

In turn, you felt your skin blossom with heat, patches on your neck and chest burning, because Grant refused to take his eyes off of you. He stroked your cock ardently while assuming an expression of treacly sentiment, like he couldn’t believe his dreams had become a reality. Watching you writhe over the wall, leak over his twisting fist, bite your moans into your hand; these were the exact amenities you would’ve have wanted had you sought for a mansion of your own. Not the towering stairwells, or the ornate carved fountain, or even a separate room for the live-in housekeeper.

Just Grant, his presence, and his magical touch. That was all you needed.

“Wait, wait. Grant, stop—“ You begged a second too late. Your balls tightened when Grant’s hand was only more relentless upon your desperate pleas. His hand massaged your thighs, lips mouthed at the underside of your sack. The prospect of you returning the favor for Grant—or better, with your mouth, hoarding what had yet to be revealed deep down your throat—made you shudder with a release. “Fuck—”

“It’s okay. I’ve been meaning to taste you…” Upon the violent tremble of your thighs, Grant scooted closer, deftly angling and pumping your cock over his open mouth, and let you shoot. You blinked past tears as you felt yourself spill thick shots in Grant’s mouth, over his tongue as he cradled your seeds like they were precious metals, and at the last second, over his face because you stumbled out of his grasp and caught yourself on the wall, heaving.

It had taken a moment for you to catch your breath, shutting your eyes as the tremor in your body would jolt from out of the blue. It was all too much, the sweet relief courteous by the man you loved. You were embarrassed by how quickly Grant had unraveled you, but that was certainly a testament to your attraction to him, or to his skills.

When you opened your eyes, Grant pulled you by the hips for another kiss. A strong embrace to control the tides in your body. Then, a wet and sloppy kiss to clarify that Grant wasn’t done yet, as he breached your mouth with his tongue and surprised you by passing cum into your mouth. It was an ongoing battle, the thick substance swapping from tongue to another, the bitter notes subsiding as more saliva snowballed into the mixture. Between the lewd exchange, Grant began undressing himself out of anticipation of what would come next.

“Swallow,” Grant broke the kiss with a whisper, resting his forehead on yours to feast his eyes on the very prospect of you fulfilling his demand. It was an immense pull of attraction, the slow cascade of his hand over your spine following along with it, that made you gulp the thick content in your mouth. He seemed satisfied when your throat bobbed, smiling. “Good?”

“I imagine yours would taste better,” you rested a hand over your his head, coming his hair back with your fingers until they reached the back of his neck, offering you leverage for another kiss—sweet and clean on Grant’s lips.

“I wouldn’t mind if you tried me out,” Grant was already down to his briefs, his eyes subtly pleading for the sake of his thickened bulge. Prior to noticing, you had been roaming your hand over his lean body. His bare chest, the well-defined muscles breaking you of your fantasies—because it was better than you could have imagined. Grant looked about two seconds away from forcing you on your knees himself, but lucky for him, you were just as eager.

Sinking onto your knees, you carefully pulled down his briefs. Slowly at first, to compose yourself, but then to test your patience, because the length of Grant’s shaft seemed never-ending. When you fully stripped him of his briefs, you had to take a scoot back in fear that his impressive cock would hit you in the face.

Grant was massive, the weight of his length making it stoop forward and dangle with every step he took. There was one protruding vein that nearly made you drop everything and sucked him off right then and there, until he was fully hard in your mouth and you could feel more veins throbbing—but again, you needed to show him some type of restraint, even though at this point, you doubted that he cared.

“So, the rumors are true, then?” Instantly, you were taken back to a gossip column regarding Grant’s size. Whoever tipped those writers off should win a Pulitzer Prize.

Grant shrugged, apparently nonchalant at the fact that he could practically cover the length of your face with such ease. “Had no idea where that came from, honestly…” Holding his thighs, you briefly trialed the theory out under the guise of kissing the underside of his thick shaft. Between licking the flesh, kissing his balls, and fondling his cock, you were also completely immersed in the smell of his cock. He smelled like pure arousal, a peculiar saltiness in your nostrils as you breathed him in, from unkempt pubic hairs to the leaking tip. Nonetheless, it was gratifying as your cock responded in several twitches.

“I don’t think I can fit you in my mouth,” you said, aware that you were grinning like a fool.

“It’s the effort that matters,” he chuckled, his hand smoothening over your head to rest on your nape, pushing your mouth closer to his hardening cock. With one hand braced on his thigh and the other wrapped around the base of his cock, you felt Grant tense when you cradled the tip into your mouth with your tongue, sucking. “Your mouth is so warm, (M/N)…”

He was as salty as he smelled. The pre-cum coated your tongue nicely, resembling the taste of your cum prior, but somehow ten times more potent, as if you were drinking sex directly from concentrate. What was even nicer was how heavy your mouth felt when you took more of Grant in. It was like the weight of him had its own gravitational pull, separating your mouth wider to accommodate the massive girth like sucking a cock this big came second-hand nature to you. You reckoned that you should become quickly accustomed to it though, because you couldn’t fathom the idea of leaving Grant disappointed.

You and Grant were like this for a couple of minutes; Grant pushing out drips of spit with his mouth to add onto the wetness and you doing the same thing, pushing your saliva out and spreading the thick layer over his shaft with your hand to help ease the slide into your mouth. You could barely fit more than a few inches, your cheeks hallowing for as long as they could before the strain of the stretch had gotten to the nerves.

“Oh, fuck…” Grant moaned, having had enough of your sloppy strokes by robbing you of your recovery once more and greedily pushing his cock back into your warm mouth.

God, the way it looked… a reddened, fat swollen cock straining in the grip of your fist, a drop of pre-cum glistening heavy on the tip, a thick layer of saliva over the thicker size of his staff… the fact that you could see your own fingers struggling to wrap around his cock as you sucked him off—it all felt so very surreal, and so very real.

“You’re so big, Grant. Fuck…” You lifted your gaze and stared into Grant’s nebulous eyes. Somehow, it made the act ten times more obscene upon realizing that you were practically servicing him, on your knees, worshiping all facets of his body. His calves were toned against your lips, thighs sturdier as Grant made an effort to stabilize his stance following your teasing mouth working up his legs with ticklish kisses, then back to the head of his cock, where you began nibbling at the swollen head.

“Christ, (M/N)…”

He was always very expressive, but in the moment, he seemed at a loss for words. Dumbfounded, as you began using two hands to stroke what you couldn’t fit inside of your mouth. Swiveling and twirling his wet cock with your fists, all while you sucked and licked on his swollen tip, feeding into the rush that made his cock throb so hard in your mouth and hands, into the delightful sounds that revived your sensitive cock back with life.

Grant bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making any sound. What came out were staggered breaths, clear evidence of his indulgence while his hips were moving without his volition. Your plump lips stretched wide around his pistoning cock, sucking and slobbering over the hot ample flesh, eyes wide and disbelieving, as if you couldn’t believe you could fit this much of Grant inside of your mouth.

It was endgame the moment Grant hissed and sunk in his stomach, flexing his abdomen under way—everything was building to the perfect eruption. You had your mouth opened, stroking him over your face to catch him with your tongue as he had done with you. Grant was close—so close that his face could make you spill for the second time of the night on the strength of his twisted expressions.

Your delusions consequently settled you in for a rude awakening when Grant suddenly pulled you up on your feet and kissed you hard, yet almost apologetically on the mouth. You whined against his lips, ultimately kissing him back because you couldn’t get a word in from how relentless he was being by which you couldn’t blame—the agony of being nearly relieved would’ve wrecked havoc on your mental state.

“I need to be inside of you first, please—“ Grant begged hot on your neck. He backed you into his bed until your backside collided with the mattress upon the push of his hand. Then your chest, when Grant took free liberty of your body and bent you over.

The first thing on your mind was that, “God, this mattress was lovely,” but the second you felt something wet spread over your hole, all the compliments you had reserved dissipated and expelled through a shuddering breath. You were blinded by the soft bedding, burying your moans into the sheets, but you could conjure up the holiest image of Grant spreading your asscheeks open and exploring you with eager licks.

“You’re so good at this,“ you sighed, curling your toes into your socks.

“You bring out the best in me, you know…” Grant muttered, squeezing your ass cheeks as a sign of affection when you looked over your shoulder and smiled at him. His mouth was much too busy to verbalize his feelings.

You wondered if Grant was aware of how obscene he had sounded—these wet, slurpy sounds that his mouth made while tasting your insides. His hot breath was beckoning, pushing your hips out by inclination for Grant to give you more. More, more, more. It seemed like he listened to your body because you stiffened immediately, barely suppressing a surprised gasp, when his slicked finger entered you.

You felt like you were in a free fall. Finally. This was exactly what you needed. Your mind went utterly blank, unable to comprehend the single digit curling inside of you. It was thought-annihilating, the way Grant had curled his fingers inside of you—two now, after deciding for himself that you had been clamoring for a bigger fill, that you needed to feel a stretch.

“Please, Grant—that’s enough, please. Need you,” you whimpered, self-conscious at the sound of his wet fingers slipping in and out of you. He liked playing with your body, screwing his fingers deep inside of you, only to yank them out because it made you yelp.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he brought the rest of your body onto the bed, bringing immediate relief to your legs. “One more.”

It made your tight hole beckon for more with a pucker.

With such control, forcefulness, and precision, your mouth fell open in a silent moan and your eyes went wide at the push of Grant’s third finger. You could barely keep your hips still, even with Grant’s efforts to hold you down with a palm on your lower back. It was all too much, your whole world seemed to have narrowed down to your sensitive hole; the sound of his hard fingers pumping in and out of you; the slick sounds obscene and alerting in your ear; the sweet stretch that made the discomfort all the worthwhile—because Grant was just as anguished as you were. You could hear him stroking his slicked cock, the anticipation of the inevitable building as you felt yourself loosened on account of his efforts.

You knew you were well-primed because your body still craved more.

“No more… need you,” you bit out, breathing unsteadily when Grant pulled his fingers out and flipped you onto your back. Your eyes naturally fell to Grant’s cock, and it looked as mouthwatering as it did a few moments ago. Your hole clenched at the likely chance that you’d be feeling the ramifications of taking such a well-endowed man well into the next day, and the day after that. “Please,” you begged once more, reaching low to prevail him with lazy to his erection.

“Other than getting over that nasty cold, I’ve never seen you so desperate for something,” Grant was kneeling on the bed, adjusting your position so your legs were wrapped around his hips, his cock teasing your entrance with careful ruts. You felt the head press ever so gently when he leaned forward and captured your lips for a soft kiss. “I find it really, really, really charming.”

“Mm…” Your fingers, tentative and slow, cupped the edge of Grant’s jaw. This was just the beginning, you realized. A new chapter for you and Grant where the idea of dropping hints of attraction was no longer needed because everything came unraveling, faster than you had anticipated, but nonetheless, it was exciting.

Grant put a free hand on the back of your neck, threading his fingers through your hair, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, securing his place on top of you. When Grant broke the kiss to look into your eyes, it made all the difference between lust and love as he slowly pressed his cock into your hole, unlatching some kind of internal safety mechanism within you until it had clasped over the plump head after getting cold feet.

“Slowly,” you groaned, sweating bullets beneath the shower of his kisses. You built up a strong resistance to Grant’s hips, reluctant, and to put it quite plainly, frightened to take him in stride. But it was Grant’s silent promise to take care of you that took the edge off your apprehension bit-by-bit.

Grant followed a pattern. He pushed deeper, paused, then found a place on your body to distract you from the discomforting stretch, reeled back a bit, then thrusted deeper than before, gradually opening you up. Adding on the pleasing strokes to your hard cock, you felt your muscles relax, the sweat bullets cooling your body.

“More…” you mumbled on his lips, and at times you regretted asking for it, because Grant made your stomach turn. His cock was so deep inside of you, too deep when the stretch nearly became unbearable, yet your cock pulsed and your hole clenched for the exact opposite.

You noticed he liked talking you through it especially, whispering bone-chilling compliments like, “You’re taking my cock so well,” “Look at you, you’re so beautiful…” and your favorite, “You’re driving me crazy. Do you have any idea how hard I’m restraining myself?”

Grant was listening to your body. He knew what it meant when you were clenching so tight around him, panting for him with that wide-eyed look of yours, supplying his broad back with unrelenting scratches. It meant that you weren’t full enough—it meant that you covertly indulged in the stretch he was providing you with.

It was the best and worst feeling in the world, because you knew with suddenly clarity that you wouldn’t be able to live without this. You would crave this feeling always, especially when Grant fully breached your hole with a thrust that filled you to the brim.

You were full. So fucking full.

“Oh, God—“ The cock in you was thick and throbbing, easily brushing your prostate without so much of a motion. You nearly passed out from how intense the sensation was, having your inner walls be massaged from within as Grant finally started moving.

“You took all of my cock, fuck—I knew you could. I know you so well,” Grant grunted against your mouth, pistoning in and out of you with hard thrusts. Your arms had dropped to Grant’s sides, fingers digging into Grant’s toned buttocks, trying to pull him deeper inside of you.

Instead, he reeled himself back.

Your legs dangled in the air as Grant pushed your knees to your chest, leveraging the back of your thighs hard to properly pile-drive his cock into your hole. Your feet sweltered in the confines of your socks, but you didn’t mind because you were getting accustomed to the humidity in the air.

Grant didn’t hesitate anymore. There was wild fury in his face, the imposing strength and passion managing to be its only rival as they equally sought for one purpose and one purpose only, which was to fuck you into oblivion. Grant looked dangerous, delirious, and you feared him as much as you wanted him. In your folded position, you spread your buttocks apart for Grant to see how well he was fucking you. How deep he was stroking your insides with his thick cock, making you gape when he completely pulled out, then making your body shiver—when he screwed himself in with one hard thrust, overfilling your guts.

“You put a smell on me, didn’t you?” His voice sounded spiteful, but what he does to you was pure love. He growled into one of your calves between pants, smooching and grazing his teeth at the toned muscle.

The bed creaked with every thrust of his, loud and heavy enough that you wouldn’t be surprised that the corridors of his mansion were echoing from it.

“F-fuck—if only. You would’ve d-done this sooner,” Tiny tremors and tingles exploded as Grant pummeled deep into your body and brushed over your prostate. You were stroking yourself to the sound of his ravenous moans, to the sound of his heavy balls slapping over your taint, to the sound of his sweaty thighs coming into contact with yours, warning you of a sensation of pin-needles sticking into the area by virtue of the thunderous claps.

Grant couldn’t have looked more beautiful than this. The gel in his hair loosened, letting delicate strands of brown locks to fall over his forehead. Every so often, he would push his fringe back with a careless swoop, and you whimpered at how effortlessly handsome he was at everything.

It lit you up inside, your body bursting with raw energy with the brutal impaling that Grant was feeding you. Your cock throbbed in your fist, and your hole squeezed at the unveiling of untamed passion. Grant must have seen the desire written on your face, because he was triumphant in the smile he had given you, leaning down to wake you from your state of stupor by means of a sloppy kiss.

“G-Grant, I-I’m so, I can’t—“ Grant took over your mind and body. He was everywhere, inside and around you. It was like you existed only for him, and his massive cock. His tongue pushed your lips apart and began cradling the flesh that had held your garbled moans from being remotely coherent.

“I can’t hear you,” Then, he fucked you like he wanted to gut you. Grant reached deep, hammering into your prostate every time his hips collided against yours. “Tell me, what do you want? I’ll give it to you. You know I will.”

Your eyes rolled until Grant could only see the whites of them. Your toes curled into your cotton of your socks at the contrasting affection in his voice. Your hands sprawled and crumpled a spot in the bed sheets, pulling and tugging hard enough for one corner of the satin bedding to untuck.

“Come. I need to come—“ you gasped out, struggling to breathe. Your world had shrunk to one sensation, the spot inside of you that had been gifted the ruthless beating of Grant’s cock. It was like he was chastising you for causing such feelings to stir inside of him. If that was the case, you needed to memorize the recipe, and quickly, because you were desperate to reduce the chances of ever being stripped of this sensation to a selfish zero.

“I’ll help you come,” he seized your body once again, hooked your legs over his shoulders, and pushed his total body weight on top of you. He blatantly disregarded the fact that your limbs had never been stretched this far before, but it was all worthwhile when Grant satisfied your longing by wrapping his warm hand over your cock and pumped. “I’ll make you come.”

“S-shit, Grant!” Each thrust harder than the last, his cockhead repeatedly hitting that golden spot, and your cock ached with desire in the lovely pulling of Grant’s hand. Your entire body seized, writhing as the familiar feeling in your stomach kept building and building without the intention to ever stop. It embarrassingly only took a few more strokes before you would spill thick all over his fist. All over your body, cumshots joining your sweat in layering your moist skin, when Grant kept stroking with the intent to empty your balls until they had tightened into your body.

Only then did Grant slow his thrusts and pull himself out. Did he change his mind about coming inside of you. Over your body? Face? You couldn’t tell what he was planning as you just began recovering from the daze your orgasm had put you into.

“You’re going to like this,” Grant grunted, pecking you on the lips before reaching down to angle himself back at your entrance.

Your gaze was casted with a mixture of utter bliss and wonder, chuckling. “What are you—fuck…“

Your hole felt warm and wet all over again when Grant pushed himself back inside of you with ease. Furthermore, it was a peculiar feeling, like there was an extra weight to his cock, the sound of the sticky substance—

You gasped, suddenly alert and clenching as you felt something viscous leak out of you.

Grant was fucking you with your own cum.

You couldn’t have been more turned on. Grant rolled his hips just right, slow and firm, coating your raw hole over and over with your seed, building back his stamina in the process. His cock pulsated in you. It was apparent that it was feeding into Grant’s satisfaction considering his gaze had been fixated on the translucent sheen of your cum passing back and forth on the girth of his cock and your internal walls.

“So beautiful…” Grant moaned out, clearly overwhelmed with the state of his arousal.

With every thrust, you swallowed him whole, the long glide of his thick, cum-covered shaft, the kiss to your prostate; you gyrated your hips to prolong his orgasm and allow him to recover his strength as Grant freed his hands from your body and tucked them behind his head, giving you free rein on his cock.

You rolled your hips, using your core to swing your ass forward and back on his throbbing cock, drawing out deep and guttural moans from the connection.

“Darling, (M/N), fuck—“ Hissing, he suddenly seized your waist and gripped hard, impaling you onto his cock with a rough pull, and you watched his stomach tighten, wrapping your legs back around his waist in preparation of his orgasm.

You watched in awe as you lost yourself in Grant’s fill. He came hard, gritting his teeth and digging his fingers into your thighs. It was a marvelous ache, both at your flesh and your hole, and you could feel his cock pumping multiple heavy loads deep inside of you and flooding your guts as reparation for your pain.

Even though Grant’s legs gave out, making him topple over your sweaty body, the strain in his thighs didn’t falter the desperate need to sow your insides with his warm seed. It was as if he was marking his territory, moving his hips slow and relaxed because he knew you were bound to him the moment he kissed you. Milking his cock inside of you was just a simple reminder, and you hugged his hard, spilling cock with gratitude.

His lips were slow and gentle, a contradictory to the merciless invasion of your guts. Nonetheless, you rocked on his shaft, blissfully spreading his love from deep within, and savored his shuddering breath.

“You’re heavy,” you groaned out, rubbing your hands from his shoulders to his sweaty back. Despite your complaint, you didn’t make much of an effort—if any at all—to push him away. It was peaceful like this, feeling his heart beat come to a somewhat normal pace while you two were stickily intertwined at the hip. “Some kind of confession…”

The sound of Grant’s muffled laughter into your neck made you smile. It was light and feathery, like the way you had always felt when you were with him.

“First kiss and sex, all on the same night. Who’s doing it like us?”

“No one. Absolutely no one.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[hon3y-y]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆ Sickness and health

Cw; no smut, soft satoru with his sick s/o who he loves so very much, pet names, fem!reader

Enjoy<3

Your sniffles could be heard all day, your skin paling in contrast to its normal liveliness along with the fact you’ve been curled up in a ball since you woke up. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize you were sick, and it certainly didn’t get past your loving boyfriend who heard your stuffy voice through the phone and made it his personal duty to take care of you, arriving at your place in record time.

“Open.” His voice is soft, holding out a spoon of warm soup to you, which you reluctantly swallowed. He smiled, mumbling a ‘good girl’ before giving you more.

You sat up, pulling the blanket with you as a shiver shot up your spine. “Babe, you’re too close. You’re gonna get sick—“ cutting yourself off with a Yelp as he shoved another spoonful in your mouth, sushing you gently. “That’s not important right now.” He pushes you to lay back against the pillow, caressing your cheek in his warm hand making you press against his fingers. “Look at you, looking better already, pretty girl!” He gushes, pecking your lips.

You gasped, covering your mouth. “Satoru! You can’t do that,” you huffed, grabbing a tissue to reach up and wipe his lips causing him to dodge it with a pout. “I have the flu, Toru’.” He shrugs, leaning back in to kiss you only to have the tissue meet his lips instead.

“Oh, so now you wanna be stingy?” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his head to look away. “Not wanting to get you sick makes me the bad guy? Toru—“ he cut you off, standing abruptly. “Fine, if you don’t love me anymore—”

“Gojo, that’s not what I said.”

He gasped, “Oh. Last names. Cool, just rip my heart out and stomp on it,” you stare at him with a dropped jaw, watching your boyfriend fake distress as he struts to the door as dramatically as possible. “It’s fine, I’ll leave. I know when I’m not wanted!” He glances over his shoulder at you, blue eyes glistening and his glossy lips pulled down.

You can’t help but laugh, forcing your sore body up to stop him. “Cmon babe, you know I’m just saying it because I love you.” you go to stand, your hand immediately reaching out when the room spins. Satoru is by your side in seconds, cooing at you when you immediately crumble into his arms. “Sorry, my head feels dizzy.”

He lays you back down, shaking his head. “No baby, it’s no time for games. I’m sorry my love.” Through the years, you learned him well, quickly taking notice of the guilty look on his face. His attempt to cheer you up working but still stressing your weak body making his heart clench. “Don’t apologize, you meant well.” Your soft eyes made his cheeks flush and he couldn’t help but reach down to give you a sloppy kiss. “That doesn’t mean you can kiss me!” He rolls his eyes, forcing you to move over so he can hold you, your back pressed to his front as he whispers about how “his love will heal all.”

The position was nice until a particularly hot moment, making you let out a groan and shift uncomfortably. “Okay, I get you’re trying to be cute but if you don’t get off of me, I might get violent.” You sniffled, moving to put space between you. Satoru gasped before laying directly on top of you making you squeal, “that’s the point! Gotta sweat out the sickness with love, babe!”

A/n; babes, I’m so sorry for being inactive. I’ve had no writing inspiration and haven’t been on here in a while so here’s some fluff</3 love you all;)

[gin-juice-tonic]

So, while it's certainly not my intention to talk about pages of the bill book basically every day, it seems every time I write one post I end up thinking about something else. Here's the next something else.

This time it's these two pages. There are several things that are odd to me here. Not necessarily on their own, but when compared with the journal.

First and foremost, I want to use something that struck me here for a quick bit of doyalist analysis. (I know, I know.) Several people have said to me they didn't believe Alex had gone back and read through journal 3 again, and this could be a reason why things are so different and contradictory. But the thing is, these pages hold lines that are strikingly similar.

That top image is small, so I'm going to zoom in on what I mean. These are lines from that first book of bill page:

Here is a line from the "hiding places" page of journal 3:

and here is another line, from the page after this one:

You could argue that the thing about the caves is a plot point, and something Alex might've remembered. But part of Ford's motivation to get going to the caves so soon being the snowfall? Well, I certainly didn't remember that anyway. It's pretty a minute detail. Could its inclusion mean nothing? Maybe. But maybe not.

And if you read past my carefully placed initial highlighting, you'll also notice that lines inclusion is slightly different in the two versions.

Like I said, in journal 3, the pushing factor in getting Ford to make his trip with haste is worrying about the soon to be inclement weather.

But in the Book of Bill he mentions "little time". Why? Because of what's been written down on the previous page:

Im not going to paste the whole thing in here, because it's very heavy. But Ford has been given an express time limit by Bill.

Why then, is the snow even worth bringing up in the first place? I'm having a hard time getting the words together. But I just find it all very odd.

But the similarities between these pages and the ending of the first act of journal 3 aren't all I want to talk about. There's more differences than just the specifics of the snow line.

So, Differences:

This first one is small, but notable to me at least. On the matter of Fiddleford, here's what the Book of Bill had to say:

And here's what Journal 3 had to say:

Fiddleford being "gone" is a lot different from Fiddleford "refusing to speak" to Stanford. The former implying Ford couldn't reach out even if he wanted, the later implying he's made attempts that have failed.

And it's important to remember that the narrative is the Book of Bill pages were ripped out. Ford has written Fiddleford is missing, rips out the page, and decides upon next re-write that Fiddleford just isn't talking to him?

.

The next thing is a really big difference, and requires the addition of two more original Journal 3 pages. It also requires a new question to be asked: "Where do the two Bill pages I've shown fit within the journal?"

Here are the new pages that will be submitted into evidence added into this post:

Though I want to mainly focus on this second one,

The page where Ford's plan all starts to come together. It's worth noting this page comes before the "Hiding places" page I've shown before.

The order of events as laid out by Journal 3 are:

Ford goes to and escapes the truck stop and notices the twin motel sign, realizing he can contact Stan -> Ford lays out where he's going to hide the journals and that he's going to make the trek up to Bill's cave -> Ford fully discloses his plan to hand journal 1 off to Stan.

The Bill Book pages I've been discussing are directly after the page of Bill tormenting Ford within his mind. (Again, not going to post that page due to the subject matter). But we see that the top of the first page says "I awoke from the hallucination" so chronologically it's safe to assume there were also no non-missing pages in between them.

which means the order of events as laid out by the Book of Bill are:

Bill torments Ford within his mind -> Ford futilely searches for clues to Fiddlefords whereabouts -> Ford announces he must make his trip to the caves -> Ford realizes he must contact Stan.

The Bill book is stating "Ford came up with his plan first, and realized he needed to add Stan second."

The journal is stating "Ford was able to come up with his plan upon realizing Stan can help him."

These are very different ideas. And while it's framed in a bit of a cheesy way, I think that Journal 3's idea is very important. Despite everything stacked up against him at this point, Ford was able to keep going and come up with his plan upon realizing that he's not all alone. And specifically, working together with Stan has been the key to defeating Bill since the beginning.

If we are to take the Book of Bill's idea as truth, what of the trip to the truck stop diner and the twin motel sign? When is this supposed to have happened? Is it trying to claim it didn't at all? It's a bit silly, but I don't find it to be fake personally. Nor do I think Ford would have any reason to waste time and pages concocting a fake narrative at this point in his story. In both narratives, Bill is tormenting him every time he loses consciousness, he is exhausted from both the abuse and his general lack of sleep. He does not have time to spare.

But that's not the end.

This book of Bill page:

And this Journal page:

Are sort of paired off again, aren't they?

Supposedly, the "Should I contact S?" Bill page takes place before this journal page with the perpetual motion machine, as this page says Ford has already "Sent word to him".

Ford includes his own mini pros and cons list here, with notably more pros

There are also less cons. The idea Bill might get to Stan, or the idea Stan might destroy the portal no longer seem to be concerns.

Do the pages contradict? Well, not really aside from the order of events I've laid out. But that's sorta the thing, right?

Ultimately the two pages I've been discussing stand out to me because they're re-writes of things already in J3. Very similar except for the big hole of cutting out Ford's motel story.

Ford's supposedly on a mad 72 hour time-limit dash to make all his final arrangements to best Bill. He is at the end of his rope from the nonstop torment he's been subjected to. Does he really have both the time and the energy to be re-writing journal pages just because he didn't like them, let alone adding in entire new false narratives? And even if he does, why would he change it so that remembering Stan becomes the catalyst for his plan to outwit Bill?

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Further Celebrations

Word Count - 3200

Author's Note - I literally wrote this because these pictues of Matt at the parade did something to me. But since of life and starting/stopping this so much. I personally feel that it's probably the worst smut I've ever written. So if this the first thing your reading from my page please check out my other works. 🤣🤣 As always thank you for reading, I truly can't believe how much my blog has grown in such a little amount of time. 💞

Warnings - LOTS in general: dom!male/ sub!fem, daddy kink, lowkey breeding kink, unprotected p in v, as always for me LOTS of dirty talk, semi public sex (i think that is it if there are any I missed kindly send me a message and I will add it to the list)

Summary - something about watching Matt be a cocky asshole all day at the parade celebrating winning the Stanley Cup really does something to you.

Masterlist

You had no idea what it was, if it was just how cocky of an asshole Matt was being. Or maybe it was the fact that he was soaked in a mixture of beer and rain making his curls stand out more, which if you were sober you would think was kind of gross. But you’ve literally been pregaming since 10 AM, with Matt and the boys. Or maybe it was his shorts, leaving little to imagination. Honestly, it wouldn’t be the first time you sneak Matt into a random corner and have a quickie. But you were trying to be good and let him celebrate with his team one more time this week with the community at the parade about the fact they won for the first time in franchise history. Plus you knew this was the last time the team was going to be together before next season and who knew with free agency starting if this team would exist next season. But after hours of watching him walk around with the damn cup basically benching it above his arms, making his biceps strain. On top of how he looked so fucking hot with that cigar between lip fingers, beer in the other hand yelling at fans. Again his thighs on display, you knew that you wouldn’t last much longer without begging Matt to take you to the closet bathroom or storage closet. 

It was now 8 at night and the whole team was out at some random dive bar. The music was blasting and you walked over to Matt mid conversation with Evan. Slowly take your hand and slide it down Matt’s chest, as you lean up and lightly pout due to being extremely drunk.“Matt,can we go dance please.” you give him the puppy dog eyes you know that go directly to his cock every single time. 

“Yeah baby whatever you want.” obviously forgetting that Rodrigues was even standing there. As he let you lead him to the small make-shift dance floor some other players made by pushing some tables against the wall. He couldn’t his eyes as they watched your hips and curve of your ass move to the music as you walked further into the center of the dance floor. 

You turned around and Matt literally pushed you flush to his chest.His hands were going to squeeze your hips making sure you stay close. His face went to your neck as he spoke softly to you and to hide the fact that he was leaving small wet kisses between his words. “Hey…darling…you…look so pretty… right now.” Slowly inching closer and closer to your ear. You slowly turn your head to look at your boyfriend, his eyes piercing back at you.

“Your drunk Matty” you can’t help the giggle let out and small hiccups. As you turn around in his arms your ass purposely rubbing against his cock, his arms quickly pulling you closer as he snakes them around you. 

“Maybe…but so are you.” he whispers in your ear, but not before forgetting to spend extra time on that one spot on your neck. You attempt to turn around again but Matt’s arms tighten around you, obviously enjoying teasing the fuck out of you right now. 

“please Matt.” you whisper, closing your eyes, momentarily forgetting where you guys are lost in your own little world. 

“Hmmm” he lets out. “I’m not doing anything” he says in an innocent tone. Even without you seeing his face you knew he had a wicked massive smirk on his face. 

“Matty..” turning your head trying to catch a glimpse of his face. As you grind harder on him, but it’s useless because it’s only making your need for him grow. “pl- please.. I can’t wait till we're home.” you say finally catching his eyes.He finally lets you turn around connecting your lips immediately.Your hands trying to go to the nape of his neck reaching for the ends of his curls, attempting to balance on the balls of feet as you fight for dominance. Obviously failing in both as you feel Matt bit your lip a little harsher than expecting making you open your mouth open in surprise giving him the chance to slip his tongue in your mouth.His hands go to your ass as he feels you almost lose your balance. He squeezes and kneads your ass like he’s wanted to since he walked over here with you. 

You slowly pull apart to catch your breath after a few minutes. Matt’s hands don’t leave the curve of your ass, if anything they’re squeezing and kneading harder. “Tkachuk I am not being dramatic.” you say in the most serious tone he’s heard from you all day. The smile breaks out even further at his girlfriends 'seriousness.’ “But..” as you reach up to whisper in his ear, to make sure no one can hear you because you know you aren’t the most quiet when you're this drunk. “I have been thinking about all the ways you can make me cum in the bathroom before anyone even notices that we’re gone since we stepped foot into this bar.” As one your hands say in his hair pulling just hard enough to get a reaction. You can’t help but break out into a smile when you hear a small grunt from his lips. 

“Oh yeah..” practically picking up ever so slightly off the ground so his cock can stay perfectly lined up against your pussy and going back to attack your neck. “And how would that work, princess. ya gotta be a good girl.” as he bites your sweet spot behind your ear.

“Fuck matty please, i need to feel you, anything.” you whine.

“Anything???” he asks in a deep voice full of lust. 

“Please.” your eyes pleading with his eyes as they darken, filling with lust.

“Okay.” he says softly, pulling apart and going further to the back hallway. Thankfully no one was in the back hallway, when you both walked into the single stall bathroom.Not that Matt cared anymore only one goal in mind. As soon as you entered, he slammed you on the door locking it. 

“You sure you can get off…with anything?” he asks the devilish smirk still hasn’t his mouth and raises his eyebrows in a curious way as he backs away from you. 

“Please Matty, I'm already so close.” you beg as you reach for the zipper of your jean shorts.

“No.” he demands. But before you could ask what he meant. He answers for you. “Since you said you can get off with anything” as he steps forward, slowly picking up your Panthers' crop top pushing it up the bottom of your neck, to attack the top of your boobs. “Get off on my hand.” you reach for his hand to go inside your shorts. He lets out a sigh of frustration and backs away enough to look you in the eyes. “Damn it. Did you not hear me slut! Use my hand ONLY completely clothed. Grind on my hand and if you cum, then I’ll reward you with my cock. But if not.. then we're gonna be in here a long time baby girl.” as he goes to suck on the top of your left boob. Leaving small little nibs into between his next words. “A” nip “very” nip “very” nip “ long” time.” You’re practically a crying mess already as you reach to steady just on Matt’s bicep.

Closing your eyes trying to focus on the pressure his palm is giving you and turning into a whimpering mess. Each whimper makes Matt’s rock hard cock somehow even harder. Matt’s other hand holds you at your hip helping you find a steady rhythm. “ I am not that much of an asshole princess, I'll help you.” His eyes are also closing, moving his head to rest on the side of  your neck, so he can whisper to you. “That’s it baby, God you so fucking beautiful riding my hand like a good girl.” Your only response whimpering as you move your hips faster to the sound of his voice. As you can feel all of him against your thigh. Naturally by rocking your hips, moving your thigh. The only response from him being a sharp hiss, “fuck baby, your so good for daddy.” His mouth sucking on your neck sure to leave a fresh bruise you won’t be able to hide from your friends outside. Matt gives your pussy a little squeeze as he leaves your neck. Your hands immediately go to his curls as you feel him go on his knees. His head linking perfectly with the hem of your crop top. 

You open your eyes and look down at him through your eyelashes. As you feel that familiar knot in your stomach start to form.  “Please daddy, I need ya- you. i  - i can’t-” but before you can finish your whimpering attempt of making a coherent thought he stops you. 

“I wish I could, baby but you said you could.” you whimper in protest as a response. As his hand on hip helps you go even just a little faster. “You can get daddy’s help after you cum babygirl.” As he goes to the top of your thighs teasing you with wet kisses. “I can feel your wet cunt on my hand and your shorts are still on. Your close princess and then I promise you can have my cock however you want it.” His words being your final push to finally cum your hands leaving his head to squeeze your boobs, your nipples begging for attention. “That’s it baby. Ride it out on my hand, there yeah go.” As he leaves a wet kiss where your clit is through your shorts. Finally feeling your breath coming down to a normal pace. Your hands go back to Matt’s hair and pull him by his curls back up to you to share a kiss filled with nothing but even more lust than before. Once you broke apart Matt said “i swear to god that was one of the hottest fucking things I’ve ever seen.” as he kissed your check softly, teasingly grazing his teeth along it. 

“Matty..” you say pushing closer so you can grind down on his clothed cock. “I need you inside me.” you whisper in a way that makes Matt’s knees go weak. The way you literally had an organism less than a minute ago and you're already begging for his cock. 

“I don’t have a condom babygirl.” grinding his hips along with yours adding to the pressure trying to give both of you some relief. 

“Doesn’t matter” you mumble as your hands go under the back of his shirt scratching down the center of his back. While your mouth goes to the right below leaving his ear. “I don't care if you put a baby in me. I don’t care, I need you, please.” 

“Fuck you wanna be all swollen with my baby in you huh?” he carries you over to sit on the sink as he pulls down his shorts and boxers just enough to slip his dick out of. You slowly shimmy out of your shorts as he walks back over to you pumping his cock with the precum leaking out. “Fuck babygirl, i can’t believe your letting me go bare.” as you lean back on the sink, your shoulders leaning against the mirror to give him more access. He pulls your shorts and underwear down to only your ankle. So that he can spread your legs more apart to give him even more access to your core. Your palms naturally flatten on the counter behind you to keep balance.

Taking his cock and slowly rubbing the tip up and down your folds before slowly pushing it in. Both of you are having a hard time keeping quiet now. “Fuck Matty you feel so good” you let out a sound that’s a mix of a moan and a scream as he starts thrusting inside of you. His thumb goes to your clit, the circular motions matching to the speed of his thrusts. “Fuck daddy” as you arch your back even more. Your hands stretch further apart adding to the pleasure of the new angle. 

“Fuck baby” as he brings one of his hands to your throat, squeezing your throat just enough for the air to cut off to your brain for a seconds. The new sensation makes you feel nothing but pleasure. As you naturally clench your core due to the pure feeling of pleasure you feel lost in. It makes you wonder how long you're going to last. “You want a baby in you huh?” Only being able to shake your head yes. Obviously being the right answer. He pulls almost all the way out and then slams into you hitting your g-spot with thrust. He continues to repeat his deep thrusts as his hand on your throat continues to put slight pressure making your brian feel a good kind of fuzzy. 

Just as you were about to tell Matt that you were close as you were starting to feel the familiar knots in the pit in your stomach and the tingling all over your body. A loud banging comes on the door and a male voice on the side “yo, the other bathroom is out of order! Hurry the fuck up I gotta piss.” Matt’s hand that was on your throat going to your mouth, as much as he loved the sweet noises you made the idea of another man, especially a stranger hearing made his body tense. 

“Dude shut the fuck i’m busy take a piss in alley.” Matt yells back, not slowing down his pace at all. One of your hands going to his forearm knowing that you're leaving marks from deeply pressing your nails into his arm but neither of you cared in the moment.  Not sure if the man left from in front of the door, Matt talks in a softer tone. “God I can feel you clenching around me, you like that huh?” only responding in whimpers. Now leaning down to your ear “god you're such a fucking whore getting off on the idea of being caught in public huh? You like that another man can hear how good my dick makes you feel.” All you do is nod, but apparently that’s not good enough of an answer.

“Answer me princess or I swear I will stop.” slowing down his movements, already teasing stop as he removes his hand from your mouth.

“Yes daddy. I like almost getting” a sharp whine lets out of your lips as the speed of his thumb on your clit increases. “C -caught.” you whisper out. 

“Who’s the one who makes you feel this good huh?” he asks in a dominating tone ob

“ya you- daddy” you say another wave of pleasure taking over your body, “i- i am gonna cum.” you say throwing your head back.

“Uh uh uh what do you have to do, pretty girl.” his voice is deeper than you swear you’ve ever heard. “You know you gotta ask baby. Ask for me to let you cum and make you nice and full with mine.”

“Daddy please, please i need to cum i -, i need to be full with your cum please daddy.” you ask, tears spilling from your eyes as the pleasure is slowly becoming too much.

“You think you can be a good girl and go out there and sit all nice and full with my cum and no one will notice.” as he fastens his pace again, his thrusts becoming sloppier telling you that he’s close. You nod your head yes and his head goes to bite you softly on the flesh of your neck and shoulder. 

You both cry out a mixture of curse words and moans of pleasure. You swear you felt like you almost blacked out as you felt yourself let go. Your body must have been more overstimulated then you realized because you squirted all over Matt’s cock.

“FUCK” he screamed as his hot cum shot so far up your pussy you swear you felt it hit your g spot lightly. As both of your breathing returns back to normal, Matt lifts his head back up. “Have you ever done that before baby?” 

You knew he meant how you squirted all over. You look down feeling embarrassed all of a sudden “no.. i’m sorry matty i didn’t mean to.” He uses his index finger to lift your head so you're making direct eye contact. 

“Hey hey” he coos “don’t apologize ever! I swear that was the hottest thing that’s ever happened and I am so glad that I got to share that with you. His forehead resting against yours “let’s go home and see if we can make you do it again.”As looks down and slowly pulls out of you catching any juices that might go legs, putting them to his lips. “Hmm we taste good together baby, wanna try.” you give him a nod and he puts his two fingers in your mouth and you moan around them. 

Matt helps you stand and put your shorts back on as he slips his on as well. Before you even leave the bathroom he’s already ordering the uber to take it back to his house with one goal in mind making you squirt again. He unlocks the bathroom door pulling you by his hand leading you out the bar trying to sneak past everyone. But then you hear someone call him name. 

“Tkachuk” you hear Rodigez again, “dude i’m glad i found you remember you taking the cup home so you can drop it off at the arena tomorrow.” He said, trying to pass the cup to Matt. He held it with his arm so effortlessly like it weighed nothing, his hand still in yours. 

“Right, right thanks bro.” he says, pulling you out of the bar. As your walking to your uber he leans down to your ear “hey you know what would be really hot, fucking you from behind until you squirted again while the only thing you can grasp is the cup.” Your eyes widen as he continues to talk. “Wanna test my theory?” he asked as he ushered you both to the uber that just pulled up.

“For matthew?” the man asked as Matt opened the door.

“Yes.” he confirmed as he let you slide in first, then sitting the cup in the middle seat of the saden, finally sitting down himself. The uber driver immediately recognizes Matt and talks nonstop about how big of a fan he is. How happy he is that the Panthers won the Stanley Cup. All while Matt sneaked his arm behind the cup, up your inner thighs and lightly creased your clothed clit knowing you can’t make a single sound. 

Matt continued talking to the driver as if he wasn’t doing anything at all. Finally at a red light turning to you and leaning down to you. “You alright baby?” loud enough for the driver to hear.

“Yeah” you say trying to make your voice sound an even tone as he moves his fingers add a bit more pressure. 

“We'll be home soon. I know your tired bubs” he says as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “Too bad we're not gonna go to sleep.” A deep blush covering your face as Matt kisses your cheek as you think about all the possibilities for the night.

[morbific-or-felicific]

-AGNOSTHESIA Featuring Scaramouche

Part 2 Part 3

Meaning: The state of not knowing how you really feel about something, which forces you to sift through clues hidden in your behaviour, as if you were some other person

Word Count: 3.5k~

Description: A study session with Scaramouche gets spicy

Edited By: @pretty-princess-peach

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“Are you deaf or just stupid? I’ve been explaining this to you for over an hour. How do you not understand?!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! This class is just really hard, and I haven’t really been able to understand anything from the last few lectures. It's all just gotten so complicated.”

“Isn’t this supposed to be your major? Why did you pick something challenging if you’re too stupid to understand any of it?”

“I’m not too stupid! It’s just a challenging class!”

“Why did you beg me to tutor you if you were just going to waste my time?”

You didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t wrong, nearly every study session the two of you have had ended with an incredibly frustrated Scaramouche and an equally confused you. It’s not that you weren’t trying. You paid attention the best that you could in lectures, and you did all the readings. You even used up most of your free time studying! But regardless, you were still hopeless.

Of course, having Scaramouche as a tutor was supposed to make things easier; he was at the top of the class, after all. However, it almost made things more difficult, given the fact that during your study sessions you were constantly getting distracted by how pretty the man was and how close the two of you were to your bed. You probably enjoyed the insults he threw at you due to your lack of understanding just a bit too much too. But no way would you ever admit to that.

~♡~

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. It was 1:45pm. Your class started at 1:00pm. This was not good. You burst through the doors, immediately drawing everyone's attention and making your professor stop mid sentence. You were mortified. On this particular occasion, you had spent all night studying before dragging yourself to your school's library to continue studying. You had planned to spend your morning studying before your lecture at 1:00pm. You had not planned to fall asleep until 1:25pm and have to run to a whole other building to get to your lecture. You had been spending all your time trying to keep up with your peers in your astrobiology course, but it appears that plan had backfired, as you had already missed half of your class and would need to beg someone for their notes, perhaps an explanation as well. You looked around for a seat, quickly realizing that the only easily accessible spot was near the back next to Scaramouche. Fuck. Scaramouche was the best student in the class, but he was also notoriously unapproachable and impossible to work with. You had been stuck doing a group project with him before, and he had been a controlling nightmare. Ever since then though, he had occasionally spoken to you if you came close enough to insult. You took a deep breath, swallowed your fear, and started up the stairs. The class had continued on in the moments since your interruption, so you didn’t expect Scaramouche to be staring directly at you when you glanced at him on your way to your spot beside him. You looked away and got to your seat as quickly as you could.

“Well, if it isn’t the smartest girl in class.”

You fought the urge to insult him back, but you knew that if you wanted to get any help from him, you couldn’t risk giving him a reason not to help you. You gave him the nicest smile you could muster; he rolled his eyes at your attempt to be nice. You sat down next to him and set up your computer to take notes for the rest of class. After another half hour had passed and you were hopelessly confused, you turned to Scaramouche to ask him for some help.

“Hey, uh, I’m pretty lost; do you think you could give me the notes you took for the first half of the class?”

“Do you really think that’ll help you? It’s not like you even understand the lectures you don’t miss.”

“I understand them!”

“Yeah, sure.”

He turned his attention back to the professor. That’s when you had an idea that might actually work.

“Hey, do you have any spare time that you could maybe use to help me with the work from this class?"

“Do you really think that I would willingly spend my free time tutoring you? Why on earth would I do that?”

You took a deep breath, silently praying that this would work.

“If you agree to tutor me, I’ll give you Kazuha’s number.”

“You’ll what?”

Yes! He was interested.

“I’ll give you Kazuha’s number, and I’ll put in a good word for you with him.”

“Kazuha? As in Kaedehara? Are you serious?”

He was just staring at you, looking very serious. Clearly, this was important to him.

“Yes, I promise.”

Scaramouche chuckled to himself a little before sighing.

“Okay. Text me where your dorm is. I’ll tutor you on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays.”

“I uh…don’t have your number.”

“You don’t? I have yours.”

“Yeah that’s because I gave it to you. Just text me and I’ll send you my building and room number, okay?”

“Fine.”

You sighed. Why did he have to be gay?

A few moments later, you got a text that said, “Hey loser”. You sent him your dorm information and a list of what times on those days you were free. And just like that, you had a tutor.

When you eventually talked to Kazuha about Scaramouche and how you had given him his number, Kazuha seemed confused, but after an oddly long stare behind you and a glance at his phone, he seemed to understand what you were trying to tell him.

~♡~

“Are you really this stupid? Or do you just like it when I insult you?”

“I’m not stupid! And don’t pretend like you aren’t getting anything out of this!”

“Right, I get to have you meddling in my love life. How could I forget?”

“You agreed to this! I didn’t make you do anything!”

“No, you just gave me an opportunity to spend time with the person I have feelings for, but only if I spend all my free time trying to teach an idiot her major.”

“I’m not an idiot! Stop saying that!”

“You can’t expect me to sit here and watch you screw things up I didn’t think anyone could possibly screw up and not insult you. You’re practically begging for it.”

You huffed a frustrated sigh and went back to your work while your tutor sat there on his phone. How was all of this so easy for him when you could barely understand any of it? You were working so hard but had nothing to show for it except for low grades and a tutor who is the furthest thing from being into you, who also somehow kept getting you all worked up and needy. Part of you wanted to just tell him to stop coming over so you could get through a study session without getting sexually frustrated. However, you also didn’t want to stop spending time with him…because, uh, because Scaramouche was helping you improve! Not for any other reason. Oh nevermind, who were you trying to fool? You definitely had feelings for him, even though you knew they would never be reciprocated. It wasn’t long before you reached another question that stumped you.

“I’m confused.”

“What else is new?”

“Shut up. Can you help me?”

He stared at you and raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for something. You sighed.

“Please?”

“What’s the question?”

“What is a carbonaceous chondrite?”

“Have you been paying any attention in class? At all?”

“I-”

Scaramouche cut you off.

“Even if you aren’t paying attention in class, you have my notes, and you’ve been asking me endless questions. Wait, I forgot. You’re just an idiot.”

“I’m not an-!”

Once again, he cut you off.

“No, you are. At this point, I’m not even trying to insult you. It’s just a fact.”

“Why?! What did I do that was so dumb?!”

“Do you really want to know?”

“...Yes?”

“Do you remember how you convinced me to be your tutor? Of course you do. You gave me Kazuha’s number. Do you want to know why he was so confused when you told him that? Because I’ve known him since I was a kid; we’re best friends. He only went along with it because I had followed you and was a ways behind you trying to get him to check his messages because I had to send him a text explaining that the girl I have feelings for thinks I’m gay and in love with him, and since he knows how dumb you are, he went along with it for my sake. I honestly thought that you would have figured it out by how nice I’ve been to you ever since we did that project together.”

You couldn’t believe it. Scaramouche has a crush on you, maybe even for as long as you’d had a crush on him. And oh my god you were stupid; he was best friends with Kazuha? How had you missed that?! Oh god, that means Kazuha knew you were stupid too…how did you even make such a big mistake?

“You…like me…? And you’re best friends with Kazuha…? What do you mean you’ve been nice to me ever since our project? You insult me all the time! Even before you started tutoring me, you were mean to me!”

“I talked to you. As far as I’m concerned, that’s nice enough. Anyway, I guess I should be going now huh?”

“Wait uh, you don’t have to go.”

“Oh? Maybe you do like it when I insult you, hm?”

“That isn’t important. I just need you to stay because you promised to tutor me, and I still need help.”

That gave Scaramouche an idea.

“Huh, maybe you just need better motivation to learn…”

He smirked at you before standing up from his spot on your bed and closing the little distance there was from where he had been sitting and where you were seated at your desk. He turned your spinny chair to face him and leaned down so his face was in front of yours and flicked your forehead.

“Hey, dummy, want me to fuck you?”

He laughed quietly at your slack jawed reaction. He stood back to his full height and sat back down on your bed. He gestured for you to come sit on his lap. You stared at him blankly, confident that you had misinterpreted his action.

“Come on now. You’re not really this stupid, are you?”

That was enough confirmation for you. You stood up from your chair and were about to sit down on his lap when he stopped you.

“Take off your clothes.”

He didn’t exactly leave any room for argument, so, as embarrassed as you were, you started taking off your clothes while Scaramouche watched you. You got down to your underwear and stopped, unsure if he wanted you to continue.

“Go on.”

Okay then. You took off your bra and your underwear, now feeling awkward with your tutor sitting in front of you fully clothed. He motioned you forward again and you sat down on his lap. He moved a hand between your legs and ran a finger down your slit before laughing.

“You’re so wet already, I guess you liked those insults more than you let on.”

His comment somehow turned your face redder than it already was. You would have made some kind of argument, however, you suddenly became preoccupied with the feeling of him pushing two of his fingers inside of you and fucking you with them. You couldn’t help but let out a few moans at the feeling. He snickered at the sounds you were making, even going so far as to mock the sound of your moans.

“‘Mmf ah oh fuck mmm haah,’ you sound so pathetic.”

You tried to quiet the sounds you were making, but that only made him more upset.

“Don’t stop. I like hearing you whining like a bitch in heat.”

He pulled his fingers out of you then pushed them past your lips and into your mouth. While you cleaned off his fingers like a good little slut, he used his other hand to undo his pants and pull out his cock. He pulled his fingers from your mouth and lined you up over his cock before bringing you down onto it. You heard him suck in a breath and let out a chuckle.

“Hah, shit, you feel good.”

You could only let out a whine in response. He bottomed out inside of you. After you took a few moments to adjust, you tried to lift yourself up, but found you couldn’t move an inch with the tight grip your tutor had on your hips.

“Wha…?”

“You said that you needed me to stay to tutor you, so, I’m here to tutor you.”

Was he seriously going to try to tutor you while he had you sitting on his cock? No, this couldn’t actually be happening.

“But…but I can’t…”

“You will. I’m just giving you some extra motivation.”

He smirked at you once again.

“What role do supernovae play in the origin, evolution, and development of life?”

You couldn’t think. You were far too preoccupied with the feeling of his cock deep inside of you.

“I don’t… I don’t know, I can’t…”

“Come on, you answered this correctly last week.”

Had you? Part of you thought he was lying to you just to make you feel stupider.

“I don’t know it…”

Your response came out as a whine.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure!”

One of his hands moved away from your waist. For a moment you wondered what he was doing, but then you felt a hard slap come down on your ass.

“Ahh! What…? Why did you?”

“You need some consequence for your stupidity.”

You tried to clear your head for the next question.

“Why is it more likely that we will find prokaryotes rather than eukaryotes when we finally explore Europa, Enceladus, or Mars?”

“I don’t know Scara-”

Suddenly you felt a sharp pain in your cheek. Did he slap you?

“I don’t want my name in the mouth of a worthless slut like you.”

He paused for a second.

“Did you just get tighter? You really are slut.”

You blushed and looked away from him. You didn’t want to admit it, but you really were enjoying yourself. However, the fact that your tutor still wasn’t fucking you was driving you insane. You prayed that soon enough he would get bored tormenting you and finally fuck you.

“Instead of calling me by my name, why don’t you just call me master, hmm?”

“Okay…”

“Okay what?”

“Okay master…”

“Aw, so the slut can be good! Well, since you’re so stupid, I’ll give you an easy question next. What substances are emitted from cryovolcanoes?”

Oh thank god, you actually knew this one.

“Water, ice, ammonia, nitrogen, and methane…right?”

He just watched you for a moment with a little smile while doubt started to build in your mind.

“That’s correct. But it really was such an easy question, maybe I should continue teaching you…”

“Please Sca- master…”

“Oh? What are you asking for?”

“I want you to fuck me…please…”

He watched you for a few moments, contemplating his decision.

“Beg.”

“What?”

“Beg, and I’ll fuck you. I won’t ask again.”

There was no way you were going to beg Scaramouche to fuck you. That would be humiliating. But if it would get him to fuck you…no. You weren’t that desperate for him, were you? However, all of your reasoning flew out the window when Scaramouche lifted you up his cock and dropped you back down.

“Fuck please master, fuck me, I need it so bad, need to feel you wreck me, want you to use me however you want, please!”

“However I want, hmm?”

Before you could reply, he had lifted you off of his cock and moved you so you were on your hands and knees. He got up from his spot and knelt behind you.

“But master I wanna- mmf!”

Your tutor pushed your head into the pillows.

“Stupid little sluts don’t get to touch me or watch me fuck them.”

With that, he pushed his cock back into you. God, why did he feel so big? He’s short, so why does it feel like he’s in your fucking throat from this angle?

“And arch your fucking back, whore.”

You did as he asked, and all you got in response was him letting out a little laugh. He started fucking you slow but deep, and you couldn’t help the moans that were escaping your lips, but thankfully, they were muffled by the pillows, so he could barely hear them. Fuck, this felt so good. The fact that he tortured you before getting here didn’t even matter anymore, as long as he could make you feel like this.

Before too long, you could feel an orgasm approaching, and though you tried to let him know, the pillows obstructing your mouth caused your warning to come out as, “mhmhfm hm hmhm hmm!” and your tutor continued to ignore you. Eventually however, you felt yourself start to tip over the edge. You really did try to tell Scaramouche, but he just wouldn’t listen. He was far too wrapped up in the feeling of fucking you. When you finally tipped over the edge, Scaramouche stopped moving entirely, effectively giving you a very shitty orgasm. He grabbed your hair and hauled you up to him so he could talk to you without pillows getting in the way.

“Did you just fucking cum without asking, princess?”

His voice was sickeningly sweet, and you were terrified of what would come next. He twisted the hair he had grabbed making you cry out.

“Hmmm how should I punish you? Dumb sluts like getting spanked, don’t they?”

You shook your head the best you could with how he had your hair.

“Aw, of course they do.”

He pushed your face back into the pillows and let go of your hair. There was a moment of silence as you waited for what would come next. You felt a sharp pain as his hand came down on your ass. Was he this strong before? You were confident that there would be a red handprint on your ass now. He landed another smack, causing you to emit a little yelp. He continued your punishment until you were shaking and crying. Finally, he decided he was done and wrapped a hand around your throat before once again hauling you upright. He moved his lips next to your ear.

“Don’t try to act like you didn’t like that. I could feel how tight you were.”

You blushed, but before you could respond to him, he started fucking you again, this time hard and fast. Fuck, how did he feel even deeper in you now? He reached a hand around to play with your clit. Fuck, were you going to cum a second time?

“Can I cum? Please, need to so bad.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Instead of stopping like you had expected, he kept fucking you, and within a few seconds, he had you seeing stars. He kept going this time, fucking you through your orgasm. However, he didn’t stop when you were done. He kept going, looking to reach his own end.

“Do you want master to fill you up with his cum? Hmm? Is that what you want?”

“Fuck, yes please, please!”

Scaramouche leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“No.”

“What?”

Suddenly, he let go of you before pushing you back down and flipping you over before finishing on your stomach. Fuck, you were glad you got to see that at least.

“Worthless little whores don’t deserve to be filled with my cum.”

After he said that, some switch seemed to flip in his brain, and he got up to go search for a cloth to clean you up with. He returned and sat next to you on the bed, wiping the cum off of your stomach.

“Are you okay…?”

You were amazed. He looked like a concerned puppy. Was this really the same guy that was telling you how worthless you were a second ago?

“Uh, yeah, I’m alright.”

You stared back at him. But after your confirmation, he seemed to go back to his usual self.

“So uh, does this mean anything…?”

“What?”

“I understand if it doesn’t. It’s okay, I get it. I was just-”

He flicked your forehead.

“Did u miss the part where I told you I have feelings for you? Why would this mean nothing? God, you really are stupid.”

Yep, definitely back to his usual self.

“Wait, so does that mean you wanna like, date?”

He let out a big sigh.

“I suppose I’m willing to have an idiot for a girlfriend.”

“Fine, then I’m willing to have an asshole for a boyfriend!”

He rolled his eyes at you and let out a little laugh before laying down in bed next to you. You didn’t realize how tired you were until you had your head resting on Scaramouche’s chest, and before too long, you had fallen asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

Tag List: @lilia-sspouse @but-a-peach @stannazuna @yourlocal-bunny @lordbugs @randomlycockroach @licensedsimp @leena-shi @cesimaaa @welpthisisfine @dainself-when-playable @fic-rebloga

morbific-or-felicific.

[pucksandpower]

Grid Kids: Escapades

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: everyone’s favorite grid family takes on their biggest challenge yet … an escape room

Series Masterlist

“Alright, who thought it would be a good idea to lock a bunch of F1 drivers in a room and expect them to work together to get out?” Charles grumbles, eyeing the cryptic clues scattered around the dimly lit space.

George smirks, picking up a coded message. “Well you’ve had plenty of practice trying to decipher Ferrari’s strategy lately, so maybe you’ve got an advantage here?”

The room erupts in laughter as Charles feigns a wounded expression. “Low blow, George! Do I not suffer enough already?”

Lando, fidgeting with what looks like an ancient artifact, suddenly blurts out, “Do you think this is like a button or something?” Before anyone can respond, there’s an audible snap and the artifact falls apart in his hands.

“Seriously, Lando?” Max exclaims, shaking his head in amusement. “First my trophy, now this? Hands off everything, please!”

You chuckle, patting Lando’s back consolingly. “It’s alright. Maybe breaking things is part of the puzzle?”

Lance, busy trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, adds, “At this rate, we’re never getting out of here.”

Mick, focusing on a puzzle piece, comments, “We’ve only got an hour, guys. Let’s get serious.”

Sebastian begins delegating. “Alright, George and Max, you handle the codes. Mick, Charles, focus on the physical puzzles. Lance, Lando — just ... try not to break anything else.”

As the room buzzes with activity, you can’t help but think that this is one of the best ideas you’ve had in a while. It’s hilarious watching these fiercely competitive drivers work together in a situation that doesn’t involve cars and tracks.

After a series of (mostly) successful problem-solving attempts, a loud buzzer sounds, indicating you’re out of time. The doors swing open, revealing a grinning staff member.

“You were only one clue away!” she exclaims, clapping. “Not bad for a first attempt!”

Max looks around the room, a smirk forming. “Well, if Lando didn’t break that artifact, maybe we would’ve made it.”

Lando throws his hands up defensively. “Hey! I added character to the room.”

Everyone bursts into laughter, making their way out. Another day, another adventure — this one off the track.

***

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sebastian mutters, amusement evident in his eyes, as he steps into the living room. There are strings hanging from the ceiling, makeshift locks on the furniture, and “cryptic” clues pinned everywhere, like Look UNDER the couch, accompanied by a not-so-subtle arrow pointing downwards.

You, equally surprised and amused, chuckle. “What in the world happened here?”

Charles steps forward, barely containing his laughter. “Welcome to the Grand Prix Escape Room! Guaranteed to be at least 90% more escape-able than the one we failed at.”

George adds, pointing to a padlocked fridge, “I did the food clues. Trust me, they’re the most challenging.”

Max chimes in, “And Lando ... well, we didn’t let him touch anything breakable this time.”

Lando mock-pouts, “One little accident and suddenly I’m the family menace.”

Lance hands you a paper that reads The KEY to success is WHERE you eat BREAKFAST. He grins, “That’s my contribution. Top tier clue, right?”

Mick has a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “I suggest you look in very obvious places. We wouldn’t want this to be too hard.”

As you and Sebastian navigate through the hilariously straightforward challenges — like the “hidden” key taped directly next to the padlocked fridge or the note on the oven saying THIS IS NOT A CLUE, just wanted to remind you we have pie — it becomes clear that this isn’t about the challenge at all.

It’s about laughter, family, and the simple joy of being together.

After an entertaining fifteen minutes, which involves Sebastian dramatically pretending to struggle with a code that's simply “1234,” you successfully escape.

Mick raises a toast with room temperature champagne (they forgot to place it in the fridge before it was padlocked), “To the greatest escape artists in the world!”

You laugh, “And to the best, most creative grid kids in the universe!”

***

You wake up to the soft chimes of your alarm, stretching lazily before noticing an envelope on your bedside table. Scrawled on it in mismatched rainbow crayons is Mission: Breakfast Heist.

Opening the note, you read:

Dear Y/N and Seb,

Your breakfast has been stolen! To get it back, follow the clues and embark on a thrilling adventure. Also, no cheating by ordering takeout!

The Breakfast Bandits (aka your grid kids)

Amused, you head downstairs, following a trail of strategically placed toast crumbs. In the kitchen, you find another note taped to the coffee machine: To get your morning brew, tell us a joke that’s new!

Sebastian, rubbing sleep from his eyes, joins you and declares, “Why did the coffee file a police report? It got mugged!” Mick appears from behind you, making both of you jump, and hands you two cups of coffee before backing away silently.

Chuckling, you move on to find that on the fridge, instead of a padlock, there’s a touchpad with a question on its digital display: What’s hot yet cool at the same time?

You ponder it for a moment, thinking of all the possible answers. Sebastian, catching on to the playful challenge set by the grid kids, smirks and says, “It’s the Iceman, isn’t it?”

You both laugh, with you playfully nudging Sebastian, “I always knew you thought Kimi was hot.”

Entering K-I-M-I on the touchpad, the fridge beeps in agreement and swings open, revealing a lavish breakfast spread and a note that reads: Breakfast is served! We might have kept it under lock and key but only to make it special. Enjoy!

From the doorway, the “Breakfast Bandits” applaud, their faces beaming with mischief.

Lance grins, “Took you long enough! And Seb, never knew you had a thing for Kimi.”

Charles joins in the teasing, “Seems like there are still some secrets in the paddock!”

Sebastian playfully rolls his eyes, “At least my secret doesn’t involve singing into a hairbrush every night before bed.”

Charles blushes as the room bursts into laughter. “Who told you about that?” he exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at Lando, who’s trying hard (and failing miserably) to stifle his giggles.

Lando attempts to defend himself through his laughter, “It wasn’t me! But if we’re confessing, who knew that Seb’s haircare routine involved more products than all of ours combined?”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. “Gotta keep the locks looking good, don’t I?”

Max interjects, “Well, if we’re on the topic of secrets, who wants to bet on how many stuffed animals Lando has on his bed?”

Lando gasps dramatically, “Betrayed by my own brothers! Next time, I’m hiding them all in George’s room!”

[unowneyenon]

EDIT: i made this list only a little while ago and ever since then SO MANY FINDINGS ARE OUT!!!! OMG EVERYONE IS SO SMART!!! this list is VERY VERY SMALL ANS A LITTLE OUTDATED!!! for the more updated version, go to my profile and it’s the pinned post!!!!!

🏡 The Welcome Home Update Discovery List!🏡

DISCLAIMER🏡 this edit is a HUGE WIP right now and i edit this post very frequently! VERY. i can find new material very fast, which makes it hard to publish it all fast!

hello neighbors! the new welcome home update just released and i hopped on in immediately—i made a post about it literally 10 minutes ago. since then, i’ve already found MORE and MORE content!! thus, to share this information with the fandom and also help others find how to access some of this information (of which nobody else has really posted about yet AT THE MOMENT I AM TYPING THIS) i’ve decided to create a big update masterlist of everything me and others have found it this update it will be updated regularly and will be pinned on my acc! happy findings! (ps: please boost this if u can i want to solve mysteries with this hellsite!!)

🏡videos!🏡

side note—it appears all the main glitchy videos with the voice actors can be found by clicking on the numerous bugs around the site! SIDE side notes—i don’t use a computer to access welcome home, so maybe there is a way to do this on a computer. on the front page wayyyyy at the bottom near the count of how many people have visited the site, there’s a beetle i cant click on that just SCREAMS “click me!” PLEASE someone click it because it will not be me

the spider — found on the top right of the “stickers” page, this video goes through a conversation between barnaby & julie, with julie saying really bad jokes in attempt to be funny (she’s is but she isn’t at the same time! i love corny jokes so she’s funny in my eyes). also, something i’ve noticed throughout these videos appears to be that wally is in many, if not all of them. he’s just nonverbal and does not speak. at ALL. but he is in them. barnaby actively talks to a person beside from julie, and at the end, julie says a sentence that ends with “… wasn’t it wally?” asking for his opinion. BUT BUT BUT the video cuts and glitches off as soon as she says wally! it’s very similar to how all these videos end!!

the praying mantis — found at the bottom of the “about us” page, clicking on a little preying mantis will lead you to a video of sally and julie rehearsing for a play! idk if it has any deep meaning yet (besides the random deep voice at the end) but it’s so silly!!!! like julie is so silly i love her!!!! (TW minor glitching and weird deep voice at end which is sorta a pattern in the vids)

the fly — found on the page titled “welcome home” and can be accessed by clicking on a fly that appears on screen. this video depicts frank and barnaby’s voices, discussing frank’s flowers in his garden. the video itself shows what appears to be a smashed orange/pumpkin thing in a woodsy area, as (what i think looks like) a face looms in the background (TW sorta loud noises and glitching!

🏡audios!!🏡

both of these audios are of wally speaking directly to the listener, and can be found on the “welcome home” titled page (at least that’s where i found them) by clicking on crayon-drawn flowers shown here:

yellow flower — depicts wally asking the listener “what are you waiting for? to hear from me again? hahaha! that means you can hear me.” , as a heartbeat noise is heard in the background (it’s not as creepy as it sounds i promise)

red and blue flowers — wally saying; “that’s what an eye looks like. my eyes are black. what color are yours?” as a heartbeat noise plays in the background

house scribble — found DIRECTLY on the front page like as soon as you enter the site. wally says; “there you are! welcome home! hahaha” he’s so silly imo

the star — found on the stickers page by clicking the star scribble. this one kinda scared me a LITTLE with what was happening on screen but wally says: “do you like to draw? i do. do you know how to draw an eye? first, you draw a circle. then, you draw a smaller circle inside. then, you color it in.” this one’s really cool go watch it and you’ll see!

🏡other stuff i noticed (WIP)!!🏡

in the “spider” video, julie says to barnaby that her joke will “knock your [barnaby’s] head off!” which is funny, but not the haha way. because there is art made by clown illustrations of barnaby, who’s head is rolled on the floor

like. ITS RIGHT INBETWEEN HIS LEGS ON THE FLOOR. HIS HEAD IS OFF

[grey342]

you're amazing 👏🏻 👏🏻👏🏻

could you write something about Phil asking reader to marry him? saw the first hangover movie recently and this man screams husband material 🥵

Marry me?

Phil Wenneck x reader

synopsis - Phil's and his girlfriend go out for their anniversary and she notices he's acting different.

warnings - Phil being nervous (he's adorable) and reader being oblivious.

authors note - Thank you! You guys are too nice to me, making me blush and kick my feet frrr🤭. I love this request so much and I TOTALLY agree. Again so sorry for this coming out so late 😀 I promise I’m working on it for you guys! Lmk what you think and send in any more requests you have!

please do not steal my work - belongs to @grey342

Holy shit.

Tonight is your four year anniversary and he's acting so weird.

You noticed first when you were both getting ready to go. Fidgeting with his hands, wiping the sweat from his brow and constantly tapping his pocket.

You tried to ignore it but it was becoming more and more difficult as time went on. You struggled to understand why he would be behaving like this, the night was going perfectly.

You were at your favourite restaurant, outside by the beach. You were even alone which was strange considering this place is usually packed with people. The table was covered with rose petals and candles. The sun was setting beautifully, it was the perfect night.

"Isn't it pretty?" You ask looking at him.

"Hm? What?" He stumbles on his words. You smile softly and take his hand in yours, an attempt to comfort him.

"The view," you say looking out, "isn't it pretty?"

"Yes..Yes it is." He replies looking at you. You look at him, blushing when you realise. You notice his smile drop slightly and it's replaced with the same expression he's been wearing all night. You rub your thumb over the back of his hand, gaining his attention.

"Sweetie?" You call.

"Hm?" He mumbles.

"Is everything okay?" His eyes look directly into yours, widened with panic.

"Wha-What do you mean? Everything's fine, why wouldn't it be fine?" He responds too quickly for your liking.

"Are you sure? You know you can talk to me about anything." You smile at him.

“I know” he places his other hand on top of yours, “ everything is fine I promise.” He forces a smile. You’re still not convinced but you let it go not wanting to cause an argument on your anniversary. You look back out, when he takes a deep breath and calls to you.

“Baby..”

“Yea - holy shit" You whisper, stunned by the sight before you. Phil down on one knee with a velvet box in his hand.

"Alright, you know i'm not good with the sappy crap," you chuckle quietly, "but 'm gonna try my best. When I first met you I thought you were the most annoying bitch I had ever met. I mean in my entire life and i've met some bitchy women let me tell yo-"

"Phil,"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe..don't talk about other women when your proposing to me."

"Oh, yeah. Whatever, the point was you were a cunt," you let out a loud laugh, this calms him instantly, "but the more I got to know you, the more I realised how beautiful you are. Inside and out. You made me feel things I had never felt before, you trusted me enough to show your vulnerable side and that made me want to do that with you. I know we've had our tough patches but, you pulled us through it. Never giving up on us. Never giving up on me." Tears are blurring your vision.

"Anyway let's cut the bullshit and get to the important bit.," you kick him lightly, he giggles, "My love, my life, will you marry me?" The tears are rolling down your cheeks now, you can even see tears brimming his eyes.

"Yes, yes..Yes! Of course i'll marry you!" He stands up pulling you with him and embraces you. He grabs your hand and places the ring on your finger. You admire it for a couple seconds before he grabs your face and pulls you in for a passionate kiss.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes with so much love you felt yourself getting choked up again.

"I love you so much." He whispers.

"I know.." You reply, he chuckles in response and closes the gap between your lips once more. Your heart beaming, excited for what the future will bring you.

[misc-obeyme]

Congrats on the followers!!!! WOOOOO!!!

could I request “I really want to kiss you right now.” with Beelzebabes please? something about him just saying that out of the blue…ugh. it fuckin GETS me. NSFW af please (the naughtier the better ;) lol), and if I could request AFAB but gender neutral pronouns for reader?

Also if it’s not asking too much could you avoid using the word “cunt?” Just a personal turn off, tbh.

btw i’m @libidinous-weeb on here! (side blog) and your smut writing skills are top tier!!! you’re sooo good, i’m a huge fan! <3

Hello hello!

Ahh thank you so much!! I'm still not very confident in my smut writing, so it means it a lot to hear that you like it!!

Okay, so hopefully this one turned out okay... I love Beel so much I think he would just be really sweet the whole time lol. I didn't really end up using pronouns aside from you/yours, so hopefully that's okay, too. But MC is AFAB! As it turns out, I don't like using the word "cunt" either so I didn't, but I would also like to say that it is absolutely never too much to ask me not to use a word like that. I am happy to accommodate any such preferences!

Thank you for participating!

1,000 Followers Event!

AFAB!MC x Beelzebub with prompt "I really want to kiss you right now."

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: face-sitting, penetration (reader receiving)

You had been flirting pretty blatantly with Beel all day, hoping against hope that he'd pick up on your meaning. It wasn't as though he didn't already know how you felt. You had already spent several nights together, all of them mind blowing. But you found yourself wanting more and more. And it had been too long.

It was a slow afternoon and most of his brothers were out of the house or otherwise occupied. For once, you didn't really have anything demanding your attention. It was the perfect opportunity to spend a little quality time with Beel. He seemed happy enough to do whatever you wanted, but he didn't seem to be picking up on exactly what you wanted.

You asked him to join you in your room to watch some TV. Sitting together on your bed was the perfect situation. You could cuddle with him, maybe kiss him a bit, and if he still wasn't getting the message, you might need to just say it directly.

But when you were there, cozied up to his side, you found the TV so boring and his presence so relaxing that you felt yourself getting a little drowsy. Being cuddled up with him like that was so comfortable, you forgot all about your earlier attempts at flirting, your eyelids actually starting to get a little heavy.

"MC," Beel said.

His tone was so serious, you sat up straight to look at him. "What is it?"

Beel met your eyes. "I really want to kiss you right now."

You blinked in surprise for a moment. And then you were no longer sleepy. You turned off the TV, climbed into his lap, and kissed him.

Beel's hands went to your waist and when you opened your mouth for him, he took the invitation readily. You felt the hot spike of desire that ran through your body at the feeling of his tongue against yours. The kiss got hot and sloppy, your motions growing desperate as all the neediness you had been feeling previously returned to you full force. When you felt his erection stirring beneath you, you took the opportunity to grind down on it.

Beel moaned low in his throat, his lips still on yours, his hands running over your hips and your backside. You broke away to pull in a breath, leaving Beel to put his lips on your neck. He sucked and nipped just a little, which made you gasp and grind down on him again. The throbbing need between your legs was almost too much to bear as you gripped Beel's shoulders.

Beel ran his hands under your shirt, breaking away from you so he could pull it over your head, exposing your chest. You tugged on his, too, and it was gone in moments, both of them forming a little heap on the floor. And then Beel's mouth was on one of your nipples. You clutched at his bare shoulders, nails digging in enough to leave little half moon indentations in his skin.

And then you felt Beel's fingers tugging on the waistband of your pants. You slid off of his lap to remove them yourself along with your underwear, too eager to let him do it for you.

Before you could do anything else, though, Beel was lying down on your bed on his back. You frowned at him because he was still wearing his pants.

"Um, Beel," you said.

Beel tugged on your hand and you let him pull you back up onto the bed. His hands guided you until you were straddling his face, your knees on either side of his head.

"Beel," you said again, a note of uncertainty in your voice.

"Is this okay? You can trust me, MC," Beel said, his hands resting on your hips.

You nodded your willingness to let him take the lead and he pushed gently on your hips. You lowered yourself down, holding onto the headboard for balance.

The moment Beel's tongue made contact with your hot flesh, your body clenched and you were thankful you were already gripping the headboard. You held on as he plunged his tongue inside of you before pulling it up to swirl around your clit. You moaned, feeling the wetness dripping from you, imagining how it must be dripping down his chin.

Beel moaned into you and the vibration of his deep voice made you shudder. Beel pushed down on your hips again, making you sink even lower. You had a vague thought about potentially suffocating him, but it fled as soon as he began to suck. He was moaning continuously now, clearly doing it on purpose because of the way you were reacting to it.

You held on to the headboard with both hands, not sure how long you could last like this. The sweet hot feeling gathered deep within you, building and building. You moaned Beel's name as you could feel yourself getting closer and closer until your orgasm finally burst upon you, rolling through you and making you see stars.

You couldn't stop yourself from moving your hips as you rode out your high, not even able to think about what that might be doing to Beel's face.

When you were able to think clearly again, you moved back, half sitting on his chest because you didn't have the strength to go anywhere else.

Beel smiled up at you and your stomach fluttered at the sight of your cum on his lips. He licked them and you nearly orgasmed again just from that.

You leaned forward, letting your head fall on his shoulder. "Beel, you're making me crazy."

Beel rubbed your back. "Do you want me to keep going? Or is it too much?"

You looked at him and smiled. You didn't say anything, just sat up, moved so you were sitting next to him on the bed, and tugged at his pants.

Beel took the hint. He got up from the bed to discard them on the pile of all your other clothes.

This freed his massive cock and you wondered briefly if your eyes were shining excitedly at the sight of it. You could feel the thrill that ran though you as you reached out to touch it.

Beel let you stroke it for a little bit while he stood beside the bed, biting his lip and trying not to groan.

After a minute though, he looked down at you. "MC…"

There was a note of desperation in his tone that sent a stab of desire spiking up your spine. You instantly lay back on the bed, scooting yourself toward the edge. Beel helped you by pulling your legs up to rest on his chest, but paused with the tip of his cock at your entrance. He looked down at you, a question clearly on his face.

"It's okay, Beel," you said. You pushed yourself closer to him. "I want you inside me."

Even with this permission, Beel went slow. You knew it was because he was aware of his size and didn't want to hurt you in any way. You were already so wet, but you were also sensitive after having orgasmed on his face moments ago. Every inch of him that entered you shot sparking sensations through your entire body. You were already squirming and moaning beneath him by the time he was fully inside you.

You reached up to grab at his hands, which were resting on your hips, as he began to slowly move in and out of you. It was almost agonizing how careful he was being.

You arched your back and said, "Faster, faster, please…"

Beel always listened to you and this was no exception. He immediately picked up the pace, pounding into you hard and fast, hitting that sweetest spot deep inside you and making you cry out with the overwhelming pleasure of it.

Beel seemed to be just as lost in sensation as you were, his thrusts becoming frantic, your name spilling from his mouth in a repetitive mumble.

You were already nearing your climax again. It was only a matter of a few more hard thrusts from Beel and you were clenching around him, everything tightening as you did your best not to scream. Your hands clutched at the sheets beneath you as Beel kept going. You squirmed, rocking your hips with him, the feelings running through you so intense you couldn't help the praise spilling from your lips, telling him how good he felt, how amazing he was, how full he made you feel.

It seemed hearing you saying such things, even incoherently, was the last push Beel needed. He groaned as he filled you up with his cum, his hands clenching on your hips, his thrusts stuttering and then slowing.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, both of you breathing heavily. After catching your breath, you would clean each other up, carefully and sweetly, before returning to your bed. You pressed yourself into Beel's side, his arm circling protectively around you and pulling you closer. The feeling of his skin against yours was so nice, you found yourself filled with a sense of happiness. It wasn't long before you both fell asleep, completely exhausted.

1,000 Followers Event | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[mountttmase]

Show Me How

Note - this is a request so thank you anon 🙊 Hope you all enjoy 🩷 and PLEASE let me know what you think

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 2.3k

Warnings - smut

‘Fuck, that’s it Mase. Right there keep going’ you whimpered, hands knotted in his hair as he dragged your high from you with his mouth.

Not that it ever took much with him.

This was about to be your second of the night already and you knew he was nowhere near done with you so when it finally hit, he knew you needed a little break. Laying next to you so he could stroke the hair out of your face and let your breathing get back to normal before kissing you so you could taste yourself.

‘You okay, sweetheart?’ He whispered against your lips and you smiled back, nodding to let him know you were more than fine. ‘Okay good, I wanna try something a little different if that’s okay’ he smiled and you peered at him through one eye in confusion.

The pair of you had been together for a few months now and in that time you’d both worked out what the other does and doesn’t like for the most part so you were unsure of what he could mean. You never really got very experimental which you secretly liked however you were always up for trying something new for him and you watched on as he sat up against the headboard.

You thought you knew what he wanted, rolling onto your knees and positioning yourself in between his legs so you could repay him and take him in your mouth but he stopped you when he realised what you were doing, leaning forward so he could grab your thighs and place them either side of his so you were straddling him before pulling your body as close to his as you could get.

‘I want you today take control, yeah? You think you can do that for me baby?’ He whispered into your neck as you shuddered, half from being turned on and half out of fear. You knew what you had to do having seen a few videos but you’d never actually done it before and you let out a deep breath as you placed your shaking hands on his shoulders, gulping down the lump in your throat as you kept your eyes trained on his chest as you were unsure as to where to look.

You saw his head pop down, eyes trying to catch yours but you couldn’t look at him, far to embarrassed to admit to him you had no idea what to do but you knew you couldn’t sit here and not move like this for long.

‘Babe? What’s wrong?’ He whispered, his fingers running up and down your back comfortingly to try and get you to talk but your voice was stuck in your throat. In the end he hooked his thumb under your chin to get you to look at him and you watched his whole face soften at the sight of you. ‘Tell me’ he whispered.

‘I um, I’ve never d-done this’ you stuttered, looking to the side of him but he lent over to catch your eyes again.

‘Done what, baby?’

‘This. Been on top. I-I don’t know what to do’

‘Hey’ he laughed, cupping your jaw with both hands now so you’d look directly at him ‘That’s alright’

‘No it’s not’ you huffed, holding onto his wrists as he moved his hands into your hair, gently massaging the back of your scalp with the tips of his fingers. ‘It’s pathetic’

‘Hey, don’t say that’ he scolded, his brows furrowing as his eyes scanned your face. ‘Don’t be mean to my girl’ he joked, trying to make you feel a bit better but it wasn’t much use. You felt silly and a little dejected, in the end attempting to climb of off his lap but he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you back and into his body so he could hold you and you felt yourself melt into him. ‘If you don’t wanna we don’t have to. You know I never meant to make you feel shit about it’

‘I know’ you breathed, shuffling a bit so your head was on his shoulder and you could look up at him as he lightly traced the skin on your back. ‘Sorry Mase, I just don’t want to be crap at it’

‘You wouldn’t be crap’ he laughed, kissing your cheek as he tried to reassure you before attempting to move so you could probably change position but something inside you made you stop him, hands on his shoulders as you looked right into his eyes and he was giving you a questioning look back.

‘Can you um, can you show me how?’ You asked quietly and you watched his eyebrows disappear into his hair line with shock.

‘Yeah? You sure?’

‘I need to learn right?’

‘Only if you want to’

‘I do’ you told him before gulping down a nervous lump so you could carry on. ‘Does it not bother you?’ You asked and you watched as his brows furrowed in confusion. ‘You know, that I don’t know how to do a lot of things?’

‘Honestly?’ He whispered, brushing some hair behind your ear and you shivered at how gentle he was with you. ‘I’m actually kinda relieved’ he laughed and now it was your turn to look at him confused.

‘I don’t understand’ you told him, shaking your head as his bit his lip in what looked like almost embarrassment before he sighed lightly.

‘I don’t mean it in a weird way’ he smiled, trying to get you relax a bit but you were still unsure of what he meant. ‘The girl was with before you, she was… experimental?’ He told you, almost looking like he was cringing a little bit but you were still unsure as to what he meant. ‘I didn’t mind at first you know? It was just sex to me so I wasn’t too bothered about what was where but it got a bit much after a while. I don’t really like it like that’

‘So you’re saying you just like it normal?’ You asked as he took his bottom lip between his teeth.

‘Are you asking if I’m a little vanilla bitch? Because yes, yes I am’ he laughed and you covered your face with your hands to hide your blush as you laughed with him, even though you were thankful for the honesty and also quietly relived. You felt him hold your wrists so he could move your hands and you looked up to his matching pink cheeks and your heart thudded at his smile. ‘It’s not just that, i don’t want this just be just sex with us. I want to feel a connection with you, like actually look at your face and it makes it difficult if you’ve got your ankles up by your ears or me in a headlock’ he teased, ticking your sides gently to let you know he was joking but you were on board with what he was saying, knowing you felt the same. ‘Sometimes I feel like I can’t enjoy it as much if I’m worrying about falling over or trying to keep you in place’

‘I get that’ you reassured him. ‘If anything I’m kind of relieved you feel that way’

‘I’m not saying we can’t do those things, like I’ll do whatever you want but I don’t need the threat of an injury hanging over me’ he winked. ‘But sometimes I want you to take the reigns a little bit, you know? I think its sexy when you tell me what to do’ he winked and you rolled your eyes playfully.

‘Oh really? I’ll remind you if that next time I need help loading the dishwasher’ you teased and he laughed loaudly whilst pressing gentle kisses all over you cheeks.

‘Whatever you want baby, I’ll do it’

‘Okay, well I want you to help me then’ you told him, resting your hands on his shoulders as you repositioned yourself over him, a new found sense of confidence due to the fact he’d been so open with you and you shivered when you felt his fingertips lightly stroke over your back. ‘What do I do?’

‘Well you need to relax first of all’ he laughed and you smiled as he kissed your cheek. ‘Just kiss me, and we’ll go from there’ he reassured you so you did just that, relaxing into his touch as he pulled you closer by your waist before his hand trailed down your front, this thumb connecting to your clit and you gasped in shock at the feel, grinding yourself down into his touch as he smiled into your lips. ‘That’s it baby. That feel good?’

‘So good’ you whimpered as he gripped your hip with his free hand so he could guide you even more but you were so overwhelmed you had to shut your eyes.

‘Just keep doing that yeah, thats all you need to do’ he whispered before lifting your hips up so he could line himself up with you. ‘I’m just gonna be inside you this time’

‘Okay’ you breathed and you felt him push you down gently. It was the same stretch you always felt whenever he was inside you but but a little more intense this time, feeling him everywhere as you sat yourself down on him. ‘Fuck, Mase’

‘I know, baby’ he whispered before kissing you again, letting you get used to the feel of him before he attempted to move you in anyway but when he could feel you start to move on your own he placed his thumb back where it had been and you moaned into his mouth. ‘Good girl, that’s it’ he whispered, resting his forehead on yours as you both focused on finding your rhythm.

He moved his thumb from you but you managed to keep your hips rocking over him steadily, his fingers trailing over your back gently which sent shiver up your spine as you erupted into goosebumps.

‘Look at me’ you heard him whisper and your eyes flew open to stare into his dark chocolate ones, lids heavy with pleasure as he smiled at you adoringly and you couldn’t help but smile back. ‘You feel so fucking good’ he breathed, his tongue poking out of his lips ever so slightly and you could tell he was trying to suppress his moans as his hands traveled to your hips again to help you a little bit more.

‘Mase’ you whimpered as he began to kiss across your chest. You knew your legs were beginning to tire but you wanted to carry on and seeing how good you were making him feel only spurred you on and you picked your pace up slightly.

‘Hey’ he laughed through a moan, stilling your hips slightly as he smiled up at you before kissing your jaw. ‘Slow down, I wanna feel all of you’ he whispered gently and you nearly hit your climax then and there at his words. ‘Take your time’

‘But I wanna make you cum’ you pouted and he smiled as he kissed your cheeky gently.

‘You will do, I promise. Trust me you don’t know how hard it is to sit here and watch you bounce up and down on me and not explode’ he laughed ‘but you feel too good and I don’t wanna stop just yet’ he breathed, his fingers running over your thighs ‘do these hurt?’

‘A little bit’ you whispered and he looked at you lovingly, pouting a little sympathetically before kissing you again.

‘Just keep going for a bit more and I’ll make it worth your while, yeah?’

‘Okay’ you nodded, kissing him again before moving your hips, watching his eyes roll back in his head and you smiled at the fact you could make him feel so good. The numbness in your legs at the back of your mind as you held him by his cheeks so you could look over his perfect features. You knew you were close though and when his thumb came back to your clit for the third time you saw his face change as you clenched around him. ‘Mase, I’m close’

‘I know, gorgeous. It’s okay’ he whispered, a gentle smile on his face as he gripped your bum to help you along. ‘I’m ready when you are, yeah?’ He nodded and you gulped before speeding back up, giving him your last dregs of energy so you could get the pair of you over the finish line and when your walls finally began to flutter around him, you heard him grunt in you ear and you knew he was done, rocking you over himself gently to ride himself through it whilst you tried to regain your breath before he look looked up at you in awe. ‘I think it’s safe to say you’re pretty good at that’

‘Maybe it’s beginners luck?’ You joked and he held you closer so he could kiss your cheeks.

‘Why don’t we give it a little while and then go for round two? Test your theory and see if you’re as good second time round?’ He joked and you laughed as you hid in his neck.

‘I need a leg massage first, mine are killing me’ you joked as he gently stroked over them.

‘Anything you want baby’ he whispered against your lips. ‘Shower first?’ He questioned before hoisting you up and carrying you off.

[merrybloomwrites]

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 1)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: Y/N attends her first Harry Styles concert and catches the unwanted attention of a knothead alpha. Luckily Harry and his team are able get to you in time, leading to some confusing thoughts about the popstar.

Previous Chapters: Prologue

CW: Attempted assault (nothing too graphic but it is there)

Word Count: 4.7k

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What do you mean you can’t go?” You ask incredulously. Going to the concert wasn’t even your idea. It was your friend Rachel’s and now she’s ditching you.

There’s a pause on the other end of the call before Rachel says, “It’s my dog. Well, my family dog that we’ve had since I was in middle school. She’s not doing well, and they think she only has a couple days left so now I have to drive back to Delaware to see her and say goodbye.”

“Oh my god, Rach, I’m so sorry!” And now you feel like a jerk for being mad at her canceling.

“Thanks. We knew it was coming but I hoped we had a few more weeks. Uhm, anyway, I need to finish packing and get on the road.”

“Of course, yea, safe trip home,” you quickly reply.

“You better take some videos of the concert and send them to me. Especially if he does something different for night one at MSG!”  

“Rachel, I’m not gonna have any idea if he’s doing stuff different from his last shows, as I have no idea what his shows are like. But I promise to send you a couple videos, okay?”

“Still can’t believe you haven’t watched any videos from tour. What rock do you live under again?” You laugh at her teasing, mostly cause it’s true. The fact that you’ve made it this far without knowing much about Harry Styles surprises even you. “Have fun for both of us tonight,” Rachel says.

“I will, give your dog a belly rub from me. Love you!”

“Love you too, bye!”

The call ends and you sit for a moment. You don’t really want to go to a concert alone, but that’s what your night now has in store. Rachel had tried calling some other people in your friend group, but they were all busy. You’d also texted your two best friends, Amelia and Violet, but it was too last minute for them to change plans and go with you.

So, alone it is.

You look at the outfit you had planned but decide against it. The leather pants and crop top ensemble isn’t exactly in your comfort zone, but Rachel chose it and wanted the two of you to match. Now that you’re on your own you switch to a pair of jean shorts with tights underneath and a flowy top, something you’re much more comfortable with. Harry’s music plays in the background while you get ready. You’d been studying the setlist to make sure you would know at least some of the songs he’ll perform. You’re happy when you find yourself singing along, showing that listening on repeat had worked.

After getting dressed you do your hair and makeup, then drive to your local train station. Living in north Jersey has its perks, and the quick train ride directly to Madison Square Garden might just be the biggest.

You get off the train and follow the trail of feathers from the boas which leads you directly to the venue. You show your ticket and are led to the entrance for the pit.

Being in the pit had also been Rachel’s idea. You’d never done that before, and you would have preferred somewhere with a seat, and honestly a better view from a higher vantage point. But you’d agreed to pit and in the weeks leading to the show you’d actually become excited to experience something new.

But now that you’re alone, you’re a bit overwhelmed. You’re one of the last people to arrive, since it’s only half an hour before the opener is set to start, so you end up hanging in the back. But even then, the large amount of people around you has you on edge.

Being a single female is hard. Guys are always hitting on women, feeling entitled to your company, not taking no for an answer. But being a single female omega is even harder. The way you see it betas have it easy, especially since they’re the majority. And alphas? Well, what do they have to worry about? They’re bigger, they’re stronger, they have their alpha voices that can command you and take away your free will if they want. Plus, they have an unmatched sense of superiority, thinking they’re so special just because of their secondary gender.

But you’re an omega. Often considered to be the weakest gender. Which is stupid. You’re the gender that gives birth, which takes way more strength than alphas could ever possess. And yet you’re still looked down upon by plenty of people in society.

So, you choose to hide your secondary gender. Only your family members plus Ameila and Violet know the truth. You don’t need anyone judging you based on one little trait.

Going out in public, especially at places as crowded as MSG always gives you anxiety. You never know if a knothead alpha is going to be there and literally sniff you out as an omega. But you trust your suppressants and soothers and, most importantly, your scent blockers, to do their jobs and hide your omega status from the strangers around you.

The pills have never failed in you in the eight years since you started taking them. You have no reason to doubt them now.

And yet, you can’t help but feel uneasy about the attention a certain man in the crowd is giving you. He is undoubtedly an alpha, one that for sure does not use scent blockers. In fact, you’re almost convinced he’s doing something to broadcast his scent, somehow make it even stronger. It’s an unpleasant odor, one that practically burns your nose, but you pretend you can’t smell it. Afterall, a beta wouldn’t be able to notice the scent.

But as much as you try to ignore the scent, going so far as to move to the entire other side of the pit, it still lingers. Because you are most definitely being followed. Seemingly casual glances at the crowd around you shows that the man has moved with you.

Going closer to the stage is the last thing you want to do, but getting deeper in the crowd might be what you need to shake off the man. The girls around you gladly welcome you and make space for you to join. A moment later the opening act starts to play, and you no longer smell the alpha. You’re relieved and get into the music for a few minutes.

Then the girls around you start to move, and you hear them say something about the bathroom. You decide to go with them since you could use a bathroom break and there will be safety in numbers. You keep your head down and casually follow, in hopes that the man won’t see you leaving the crowd.

Only once in the bathroom do you lift your head up. There’s a small line since most people are out listening to the first band. A moment later it’s your turn and you enter the stall. After using the restroom, you notice a large rip in your tights. You look at them, hoping they can be considered fashionably torn, but then you see another hole and decide to give up on them altogether.

It takes you a couple minutes to get rid of them, needing basically to fully undress from the waist down to get them off. Finally, you’re put together again, and you exit the stall, throw out the destroyed tights, and wash your hands. You notice that the group you came with is gone. In fact, the entire bathroom is now empty.

You sigh, disappointed that you’re on your own again, but you suck it up and start making your way back to the pit.

The second you walk out the bathroom door you smell it. Him. That acrid, somehow fishy, definitely revolting scent that alerts you that the alpha is nearby.

Before you even see him you hear him say, “Be quiet, and follow me.”

Shit. That’s an alpha command. You’re aware of that fact, but unable to fight it. You want to run, go back to the crowd, but you have no choice but to follow this man deeper into the back hallways. You want to scream, but every time you open your mouth, no sound comes out.

He leads you to a deserted corner, pushing you so your back is against a wall, and says, “Now stay quiet, and don’t move.”

Again, you do as he says, not only because of the command that you have to follow, but also due to the fear paralyzing you to the spot and rendering you silent.

“What a good little omega,” he says as he walks closer. He leans towards your neck, breath ghosting over your mating spot, and a loud whimper escapes you.

Realizing that you don’t need words to call for help, you begin to let out whines and whimpers as well as release distressed pheromones. Sure, you have scent blockers, but they’re not perfect and fear this strong will surely overpower them. You hope it’s enough to alert any other alphas nearby that there is an omega in danger.

You see the anger cross the man’s face, note the furious pheromones he’s releasing, but before he even reacts, your world goes dark.

***

Harry’s stylist is putting the finishing touches on his hair when there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Harry says.

The door opens and he sees his band standing just outside the room.

“Blood Orange is about to start,” his drummer, Sarah, says. “You coming to watch with us?”

“Yea, of course. I’ll join you in a minute.”

As soon as he’s left alone, Harry takes some calming breaths. Night one of fifteen consecutive sold out shows at Madison Square Garden. He can’t believe how far he’s come in his career. He takes another deep breath, reminding himself that he’s worked hard for this, that he’s completely ready.

After spraying one more dose of scent blockers, he walks out of his room and goes through the hallways to find his band. They’re at the end of one hall, standing at the opening they’ll use later to walk to the stage. Harry joins them, making sure they’re all back far enough that they are still hidden from the fans.

Harry mingles with his band while they wait for the opener to start their set. But after a minute, Harry starts to get an uneasy feeling. He himself isn’t nervous or scared, so he really doesn’t understand where this sudden anxiety is coming from.

Harry looks around and sees a worried look on Sarah’s face. Aside from Harry himself, Sarah is the only other Alpha in the band. So the fact that they both have a sudden bad feeling while the betas around them seem unbothered has Harry on edge.

He begins to look for any type of potential threat. Right away he notices that the two Alpha security guards are scanning the area as well, hinting that they’ve picked up on the same thing. One of them walks away to start looking for anything that could be going wrong.

Blood Orange takes the stage, and that anxious feeling seems to go away. Harry checks with Sarah and she’s feeling better too, so they assume whatever was wrong has been taken care of.

Everyone enjoys the first few songs, and suddenly, the feeling comes back, way stronger than before. Harry’s alpha is immediately alert. He starts moving before he even realizes what he’s doing. He hears footsteps and sees Sarah and a security guard following close behind.

None of them know exactly where the trouble is, they just follow their instincts through the backstage hallways. Suddenly, the feeling of overwhelming terror hits them, and they can faintly hear whimpers coming from a distressed omega.

They start to run in the direction the sounds are coming from. Rounding a corner, they come across a scene that has their blood boiling.

There’s a female omega, seemingly unconscious, being physically held up against a wall by a male alpha.

“Let her go,” Harry growls out using his alpha voice. It’s less effective on the man than it would be on an omega, but his grip on the girl involuntarily loosens. Harry and the security guard move in to pull the alpha off, and Sarah runs forward to catch the girl.

More security guards move in and drag the alpha away to be questioned.

Harry’s focus shifts to the omega now being held in Sarah’s lap on the floor. Adrenaline is still coursing through Harry’s body, but he feels himself relaxing faster than he thought possible. That’s when he realizes Sarah is releasing calming pheromones. He immediately works to do the same, rather than continue to broadcast the anger he’s feeling.

He knows his emotions can affect the vulnerable omega, and the last thing he wants to do is cause her most stress.

His most pressing worry is that she’s dropped. It wouldn’t be all that surprising. Omegas tend to drop during stressful situations. This can be dangerous for a number of reasons, especially if they don’t have a trusted alpha to keep them safe while they’re under.

Not only can they not protect their bodies, but a drop can also be a scary experience mentally. Omegas have described it as feeling untethered, like they’re stuck in darkness, unable to find a way out. There are good drops as well, ones you go into on purpose to give your mind rest. This is always done when there is an alpha there to hold and scent them and keep them safe and grounded throughout.

But if this is a drop, Harry knows it would be a bad one, and they’d need to gently bring her up immediately.

“Sarah?” Harry says to get the other alpha’s attention.

“Yes?” she replies, not taking her eyes off the girl.

“Do you think she’s dropped?”

“No. At least not fully. I can still catch a bit of her scent. If she went fully under it would have disappeared completely.”

There’s movement all around them, members of venue security and Harry’s team all coming and going to ensure everyone is safe. Music and loud cheers can be heard, meaning the opening act if still playing, that the show was not interrupted by what happened backstage.

Harry and Sarah are focused solely on the omega, until they hear a familiar male voice say, “There you guys are. Sarah, you scared the shit out of me running off like that.”

She looks up at her husband, Mitch, and smiles sheepishly before saying, “Sorry, I really didn’t think. We heard her distressed whines and just reacted.”

“Is she okay?” Mitch asks, crouching down to be level with the group on the floor.

“We think so,” Harry answers. “There was an alpha who had her cornered. Not sure what exactly he was planning but it was obviously nothing good. She was unconscious when we got to her. Just wish she’d wake up so we can check that she’s really unharmed.”

“Is she in a drop?” Mitch asks. Being a beta he’s not as knowledgeable about these things but he knows enough to be concerned about the girl.

“No, definitely not a full drop. But I’ve been flooding the area with calming pheromones and she’s still not waking up,” Sarah says worriedly.

“Maybe she just senses unknown alphas around her. Why don’t I try holding her and you guys move away a bit?” He senses how reluctant they are to move away from the omega, but eventually they listen to Mitch.

He settles on the ground and Sarah passes the omega to him before moving to give them space. After another minute the girl begins to stir, groggily at first before her eyes shoot open and she jumps up to move away from all the people around her. They watch cautiously, unsure what to do with the sudden change in the situation.

***

For awhile you’re stuck in the dark. This isn’t a drop, not really. You’ve only ever dropped twice but you can tell there’s a difference this time. You’re still aware of what’s going on around you, even if the details are fuzzy.

The alpha is gone. That you know for sure. The awful smell is gone, replaced by a much more pleasant one. It’s a mix of black tea and maybe the ocean? Whatever it is reminds you of early morning walks on the beach during family vacations. You relax more into this scent, and then notice that fresh laundry smell which always means someone is releasing calming pheromones.

You start to relax, the adrenaline slowly leaving your body. You can still sense multiple alphas, which keeps you a bit on edge. You try to open your eyes, but you’re still in a deep fog, probably due to the mix of intense emotions and the multiple alpha commands you’d been subjected to.

You don’t realize that someone is holding you until they shift and place you in another person’s arms. The alpha scent fades and you know the person now holding you is for sure a beta.

Finally, you manage to open your eyes. It takes a moment for you to get your bearings, but when you do, you’re overwhelmed, and honestly a bit embarrassed. Harry Styles, the Harry Styles, the world-famous popstar you’re here to see, is sitting across the hall from you, studying you closely. Next to him is a woman you recognize as his drummer.

After these discoveries, you fully realize your current position; that you’re being held in someone’s lap. One glance at the man shows it’s Harry’s guitarist. You’re no longer embarrassed. No, now you’re completely mortified. You quickly extract yourself from his hold and stand up, looking at the group, totally speechless.

They slowly stand as well, all looking at you. And not just them, but the other dozen or so people that are still in the hallway. There are so many eyes on you, watching you, and you just want to disappear.

Picking up on your unease, Harry says, “Why don’t we go somewhere less exposed, hm? You can hang in my dressing room and maybe have a medic look you over if that’s alright?”

Without thinking you begin to nod your head, just wanting to get somewhere quiet with less people. He reaches out as though to place his hand on your back and lead you but seems to think again and pulls his arm back. Instead, he walks ahead, and you follow, Mitch and Sarah coming as well.

You arrive at the room, groaning when you see more people waiting there. One’s the medic Harry mentioned, another is obviously a police officer, and the third is a man you don’t recognize.

“Harry, need to you choose your outfit and get dressed. We’ll take care of, uhm, sorry I didn’t catch your name,” says the man.

“Oh, I’m Y/N,” you say immediately, surprised at just how scratchy your voice comes out.

Sarah must pick up on it because she asks you, “Would you like a cup of tea love?”

You can’t help but smile and let out a laugh at that.

“What’s go funny?” she asks, smiling as well.

“It’s just, your scent, it definitely smells like tea. And the first thing you say to me is about tea. Sorry, I know it’s not polite to comment on someone else’s smell,” you finish, head lowering in a new wave of embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m not offended,”

“Plus, you’re right,” Harry adds. “Swear I can’t make a cup of tea without thinking of her.”

“Aw, H, you think of me? How sweet,” she says with a joking tone.

“Real sweet,” Mitch says, then adds, “But stay away from my girl.”

You smile watching the easy interaction, happy to be distracted by their banter, sipping on the tea Sarah brings you.

That is until the man, whom you’ve learned is Harry’s manager, Jeff, reminds Harry that he’s supposed to be getting dressed, and the cop and medic walk over to you. There’s a table in one corner of the room and they lead you to it.

“Y/N, I’m Kate, I’m just going to get your vitals and check you over to make sure you’re okay, is that alright with you?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” you reply.

“And I’m Officer Michaels, is it okay if I ask you some questions about the incident tonight?"

“Of course.”

And so, as Kate does a quick exam you tell the whole story to the officer, starting with the uneasy feeling when you first noticed the man, all the way to him using his alpha voice to corner you in a back hallway.

Harry had reentered the room by this point, dressed in his show outfit and looking completely ready to get on stage. But he’s making no moves to leave the room, even though Jeff is reminding him the show is supposed to start in five minutes. Mitch and Sarah leave to finish getting ready themselves.

“Are we all set here?” You ask Kate and Officer Michaels.

“I have everything I need,” he replies. Kate adds, “Everything checks out just fine,” and they both exit the room as well.

This leaves you with just Harry and Jeff.

“Great, so I guess I should go back to the pit then?” You knew you were holding everything up and didn’t want to be more in the way than you already have been.

“Actually, Y/N, it would probably be best if you stay here for the show. Jeff, can you go grab Jada for me?”

The man nods, leaving you alone in the room with Harry. He motions to the couch, inviting you to sit and you do so. He sits on the coffee table facing you.

“I know you want to see the concert, and I know the man is gone, but I have to admit, my alpha is a bit on edge right now. To be completely honest, I don’t know if I could go out there and perform if you’re not completely safe. I would really like it if you stayed in this room and watched the concert on the TV over there. I promise to get you and your friends tickets to another show, alright?”

You’re taken aback by this, surprised by how much he seems to care about you, a random fan he’s never met before. And knowing that his alpha was triggered by what happened to the point where it’s still uneasy is a pretty big deal. That normally doesn’t happen with strangers. Sarah was no longer worried, and the alpha security guards were completely fine the second they caught the man.

So why was Harry’s alpha still calling the shots? It would make sense if you were partners, or at the very least, friends. Maybe Harry does truly care that deeply about all of his fans. That must be it. Because it certainly can’t be you in particular. There’s nothing special about you, other than being a damsel in distress and nearly derailing his show.

He must see the confusion on your face and continues, “Jada will be here in a moment, and she’ll hang out with you. Anything you need, just ask her. I won’t see you after the show, I leave right from the stage, but talk to Jada and Jeff and they’ll make sure you get home safely.”

“Okay, thank you so much for everything,” you reply.

“Of course. It’s the least I can do. Y/N, I am so very sorry something like this happened to you here. I always want this to be a fun, safe place for everyone.”

“It’s not your fault. Please, don’t feel bad. It is completely that knothead’s fault. You guys are the ones that saved me.”

He reaches forward and places his hand on top of yours, just for a second. Your hand tingles as he pulls away, like a bolt of electricity had just gone through it. You meet his eyes, and see he felt it too. You stare at each other, frozen for a moment, until there’s another knock at the door.

Harry stands quickly and introduces you to Jada as she joins you on the couch.

“Okay, I have to go before Jeff kills me. Y/N please give Jada your contact info so we can get those new tickets to you. Get some safe,” he says.

“Thank you, break a leg,” you reply and a second later he’s gone.

You talk to Jada throughout the start of the show, smiling as she lets you in on some behind the scenes info about the tour. After a few songs she asks if there’s anything she can get you.

“I actually have kind of a weird favor. I was supposed to come with a friend, but she couldn’t come at the last minute. I promised to send her videos and she’s going to be suspicious if I don’t have any. Would you be able to take a couple videos from the pit? I just don’t want to have to explain what happened. At least, not yet.”

“Of course, girl, I’ve got you. I’ll go get a couple of the next songs. Are you okay in here? There’s security outside the door so no one will be able to get in.”

“Yea, I’ll be fine,” you reply with a smile.

She walks out and you sink into the couch, grateful for a few minutes alone. Everyone has been so lovely, but it’s been a lot, and you need a minute just to breathe. You close your eyes, relaxing your body, and when you’re fully calm, you smell it.

There’s another alpha scent, but not one of a person nearby. No, it’s in the fabric of the couch. And the blanket next to you. And the shirt draped over the back of the couch.

It’s Harry’s scent. And it’s amazing. So clean, and fresh, with hints of chocolate, and the forest, and something sweet. Maybe roses, you think. Definitely a hint of floral. And once you catch the scent, it’s all you can think about, like it’s wrapped you in a warm hug. You feel better than you have in hours, the stress of the day fully washing away.

Even when Jada comes back, Harry’s smell is what you focus on the most. She notices you’re quieter than before and must assume you’re just tired from everything that has happened. She goes back out towards the end of the show to grab another video and you can’t help yourself. You turn to the side, right where the shirt is, and purposely take a deep breath. It’s almost overwhelming, your omega telling you to steal the shirt so you’ll always have the delicious scent with you.

That snaps you back to reality. You need to get your omega under control. You’re just like every other fan, thirsting for the amazing Harry Styles. Get a grip, you tell your omega. He’ll never be ours, don’t get attached.

Jada comes back, the show ends, and she leads you to a car that will bring you home. She asks for your car keys and ensures someone else will grab it from the station and drop it off at your place. She rides with you back to your home, along with a security guard.

You exchange numbers during the drive and breathe a sigh of relief when your apartment building comes into view. It’s been an exhausting day, and you can’t wait for a hot shower and your comfy bed.

You thank Jada for everything and notice them waiting for you to get safely inside before driving away.

You scorch your skin in the shower, put on your comfiest pajamas, and burrow under your covers.

You fall asleep that night not thinking of the horrible alpha, and the horrors of the day, but rather of green eyes, soft hands on yours, and the delicious scent that can only belong to Harry.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! If you have any questions, comments, concerns, (requests), please let me know!

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[heavyhitterheaux]

"The monsters can't get you when I'm here."

Jack was at home with all the kids since you had recently started working on promoting your new album and wouldn't be back until tomorrow. Nova had just begun sleeping by herself, and the two of you thought it was going well since she hadn't come to you and Jack during the night, which you two were actually surprised by. It took forever to get the triplets to sleep in their own rooms, and you had a strong feeling that Nova would be the same way, but in the end, she proved you both wrong. It was around eleven at night, and Jack was making his way up the steps to check on her and the triplets when he heard crying coming from her room. As Jack was about to open the door, he was startled to find Nova whisked it open and ran directly into him with a panicked look on her face.

“Whoa! Nova bear, what's going on?” Jack asked as he picked her up and she tightly held onto him.

“Monsters, daddy.” She whispered while turning around to glance back in her room before looking back at him.

“There’s nothing in your room, baby girl. Remember we checked after I read you your bedtime story?”

“You missed one. They're gonna eat me!” She replied as she shook her head.

“Hmm, maybe I need to brush up on my monster detecting skills. But in the meantime, how about you sleep in mommy and daddy's room tonight? That way it'll give me enough time to get the monsters out.”

She eagerly nodded her head as Jack brought her to the master bedroom and sat her on the bed, which she quickly protested about as she saw him turn around and attempt to walk back out.

“Daddy!”

“Just going to check on your brother and sisters. I'm coming right back. I promise that you're safe in here. Nothing is going to get you. Theo will protect you while I'm gone.” He said as he pointed towards her stuffed bunny and leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

“Umm, okay.” She replied as she held onto the bunny tighter.

Jack made the short walk down the hallway in order to check on the triplets and when he made sure that they were okay, he went back to the bedroom to see Nova sitting in her same spot. When she heard his footsteps, she hopped off the bed and ran to hug his legs.

“Come here, baby.” He said as he picked her up and wiped away a few more tears that were falling.

“Did Theo do a good job protecting you when I was gone?” Jack asked and she eagerly nodded.

“Then, you ready to sleep?”

“Snack please!”

“Okay, let's go downstairs and see what we can find.”

Nova decided on her snack being a string cheese, three green grapes which were her favorite, and a half of an oatmeal cookie that she rightfully shared with Jack. She washed it down with some chocolate milk and when she was finally satisfied, she hopped down from the table to make her way back upstairs with Jack behind her.

Jack set Nova on your side of the bed as he got her Moana pillow from her room so that she could sleep on it and placed it behind her. When he got settled himself, he reached over to turn off the light when he quickly heard her protests.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Nova bear?”

“You didn't check for monsters.”

"The monsters can't get you when I'm here.” Jack replied as he looked over at her.

“Promise?”

“I promise. Now we need to go to sleep and when you wake up, mommy should be here. Don't you want to see her?”

“Yes!” She excitedly answered as Jack tucked her in with Theo and kissed her cheek.

The house was quiet as you made your way across the threshold into the foyer. It was around six in the morning and you had promised the triplets and Nova last night that you would be back before they woke up.

As you made your way upstairs, you opened your bedroom door to find Nova and Jack completely knocked out with her holding onto her stuffed bunny for dear life. You smiled at the sight and took a quick picture before setting your things in the closet and taking a quick shower before coming to lay next to Nova. The movement startled her and she quickly woke up confused.

“Mommy?”

“Shh, go back to sleep.” You told her as you fixed her little bonnet on top of her head.

“Daddy and Theo kept me safe from the monsters.”

“Did they now?”

“Mm hmm.”

“Well you have the best daddy in the world, so I expected nothing less.”