#i do like the idea of someone in the band having to explain to him that movies aren’t a real life thing like a reality tv show or something
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revelboo · 21 hours ago
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Merry Christmas!Can we get something for Blaster?
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Why not. I do like his Batman antenna. Just a note- I imagine the holomatter avatars look perfectly human. So perfect that they unconsciously freak real humans out. You look at them and your brain says, yep, that’s a human, while your subconscious is all animal instinct screaming that it’s not
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Shoot Me In The Smile
Blaster x Reader
• Servos drumming on his console in the uncomfortable aftermath of Megstron’s broadcast, Blaster leans back and glances at Optimus. Listening to Ironhide’s belligerent disbelief that any Cybertronian would frag a human, his optics keep catching on the look their leader’s face. Knows that there’s more than a a few humans in the Ark. He’s seen them being carried about by their caretakers like exotic pets. But now he’s wondering about it. About Jazz sneaking out constantly and returning scenting like human. Of Optimus and Prowl both scenting much more strongly of the little organics than the other caretakers. And the almost pained look on Optimus’s face as Ironhide rants. They all have their secrets, he guesses. And he’s going to be late if he doesn’t go now.
• Putting your car in park, you press your forehead against the steering wheel. Count to ten to get yourself together, shut off the engine, and get out with a smile firmly in place. Pulling the awkward case out of the passenger side, you sling the strap over your shoulder and head inside. Spotting the rest of the band setting up, you throw up a hand in greeting and hear your drummer whoop at you. Making your way backstage, you start changing your clothes. Shedding yourself in favor of leather and glitter. Lining your eyes and painting your face until a stranger stares back at you. Someone who’s not timid, not terrified of crowds and overwhelmed by the noise and heat of the spotlights. The version of you that people actually like and you despise. “You should wear the wig tonight. They love it.” Turning, you smile weakly at your lead bassist, but oblige him. And it really is a stranger staring back now. All of you erased and gone.
• “Again?” Pausing at the door of his habsuite, he glances at Eject as the cassette frowns up at him in obvious disapproval. Because he has no idea how to explain the obsession. He’d found you on a local station, surfing the airwaves out of boredom. And realizing you were a local, that the bar you played out of was so close? He hadn’t been able to resist. Using his holomatter avatar to slip inside just to hear you play. Something about the dissonance in your music had called to him, wedging in his spark and his processor. Music almost frantic, pure rock and roll, but your vocals, ranging from sweet to haunting, are what had snagged him. “I won’t be out late,” he says as Eject vents and exchanges a look with Rewind, worrying about him.
• Lingering just off stage as your heart races, you study the see of faces milling about. And realize you’re looking for your guy. The one whose expression never changes, who just stares at you the whole time you sing making an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. You almost swear he doesn’t blink. That intense focus of his is unnerving. Fascinating and a little frightening. You can’t tell if he has a crush on you or if he’s deciding where to hide your body. As the lights dim, you blow out a shaky breath and move onto the stage with your band mates. Hand lifting to wave as you smile even though you’re shaking and can’t hardly breathe. This should get easier, right? Except it never does.
• Hiding in the woods outside the bar, he transforms into his alt mode so if he’s discovered while his attention is divided, all a human will see is a boombox, feeling the pull as he mass shifts down past what would be possible for a normal Cybertronian. Draining his reserves every time. Shivering slightly, he focuses on the avatar and it glitches into existence. There’s an errant thought as he walks to the bar. What do you think of his avatar? Do you like it? Generating an ID to show the human at the door, he makes his way inside, focusing to stay solid as he works his way to the front of the crowd. It wouldn’t do for someone to accidentally pass an arm through him and start screaming. And then there you are, guitar in hand, eyes closed as the lights dim and the spotlights bathe the stage in ruddy light. Hands shifting on the strings, your eyes open and unerringly find him as the music swells and you sing just for him. The crowd gone until it’s only you two.
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They’re not patient at all
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cruesuffix · 13 days ago
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How would alien! Mick react to movies wouldn’t he get scared of the television
if any of you have seen the man who fell to earth, you might recall that one scene of david bowie’s character watching like ten tvs at the same time, that’s how i envision alien!mick. he’d be really fascinated by the tv in general, to the point where sometimes the only thing he does in his time off is stare at the tv. he’d probably like watching movies, maybe mostly horror movies. maybe tommy takes him to a movie theatre and watches as he reacts to the movies like they’re happening in real time (much to the chagrin of the rest of the moviegoers). personally, i just don’t think he’d be really scared of tvs or any of that.
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DPXDC prompt. Dead on main. Singer! Phantom x Red Hood!Jason
Laws are easily changed if businessmen smell money.
Paulina and Sam suggest Danny to try to become a singer in order to change society's opinion about ghosts a little. In the end, the otherworldly sound of his voice can at least be used for the benefit of Realms.
And it seems like the Everlasting Trio is really liked by the public. At first they just release a few songs (Exams kill, Battle with myself, What an Autopsy Won't Show, Among the stars). But a mysterious atmosphere mixed with understandable teenage problems begins to take over teens playlists. Their fans want more and more.
So, when under the pressure of the public and profit-hungry bigwigs all bans on the presence of ecto creatures in the United States are lifted, the Trio goes on their first Tour.
~~~~~
Jason stumbles upon Phantom's songs completely by accident. It was painful to hear them for the first time but at the same time it was as if he could breathe again because he had found someone similar. Someone who understands, and who doesn't judge him for coming back wrong. Jason listens to his voice on repeat and the rage seems to recede and subside. There is sadness of loss and fear in the songs but most of them end bringing some hope and this thought gives Red Hood more strength not to break down for another day. and then another, and another..And one day, the green eyes in the mirror do not scare Jason but shows him that he belonging to something more. Todd can't explain it more precisely, but it was as if the waters of Lazarus inside him had calmed down and he was no longer enemies with them. He even jokes with Tim that he is finally rest in peace and ready to live a full undead life when his brother (God, his lil brother whom he wanted to hurt recently because of his own stupidity), asks him about his strange behavior.
~~~~~
Jason forgets how to breathe again. His favorite band, and most importantly his favorite vocalist, is coming to Gotham with a concert. For many years now, none of the nonresidents have dared to take such a risk, but it seems like Phantom has absolutely no instinct for self-preservation. Well, as a true fan, Red Hood will do his best so that none of the gothamites spoil the Trio's impression of their first concert here. Danny is beside himself with excitement. Their concert in the hometown of the Red Hood was approved. Of course, there is no chance that he would be able to meet such a busy vigilante but Phantom continues to dream. If he'll fly a little over the city instead of sleeping after rehearsals, maybe he'll get an autograph from at least one member of the bat clan.
~~~~~ Phantom: Thank you very much Mr. Nightwing sir. Just sign it for.. Nightwing: For a Phantom, right? Huh, I recognized you, my brother has poster in his room. Nice hairstyle by the way. Danny*urgently*: Which one of them?
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Nightwing: Jeez, and I thought it was just a stage image. Ghosts are kinda creepy. Terribly persistent, to be precise. And yeah, Jason, he absolutely not against you as a vigilante. You can safely ask Phantom to sign your helmet, I promise. Man was so happy when find out you're listening to his songs, you have no idea.
Jason *holds out a hand*. Nightwing: What? Jason: If you dared to meet Phantom before me, then where is my autograph? Nightwing: Em..oops? I gave him mine if it helps.
Jason: *sounds of an angry lazarus demon*.
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thinkinonsense · 3 months ago
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WICKED
old man!logan howlett x young fem!reader
cw: cheating, heavy flirting, smut, kinda dark
authors note: i have no idea what came over me and i cannot explain it. also! gif credit to the amazing n talented @silverskyeline <333
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he never should've gone to the bar. never should've let you run your pretty mouth. most definitely never should've bought you that martini. every weekend he watches you seduce the men at the bar until one of them falls into your trap.
logan would scoff, mumbling something under his breath about how stupid that bastard must be. despite the fact that the only thing holding him back from your advances was the thick gold band on his finger, reminding him of where his loyalty should be.
"lovely seeing you here again, logan."
he loathed your wicked smile and how your voice sounded like rain fall. trying his best to avoid staring into the eye of the storm but your presence demanded to be seen. practically ripping his hazel gaze off the wooden table and over to that tiny dress you were wearing. dark navy tight against your skin in a way that could make any man sin.
"missed ya' last weekend." you purr. "where were you at?"
"home." he states, gruffly.
"that's boring. why were you at home?"
"wedding anniversary."
the words made your tummy flip with excitement. you didn’t know much about logan outside of his favorite brands of alcohol, but you did know that he had a wife at home. he never mentioned her by name. sometimes, she would call the bar if it was “too late” for him to be out but other than that, she was a ghost.
“cute. you should bring her here one weekend.” you propose, almost making logan choke on his whisky. “bet she would love to see where you run and hide at night.”
“it’s not her kinda scene.” he responds.
“aw, i’m sure we would be friends.”
“doubtful.”
“and why’s that?” you fake pout.
logan leans in close before whispering, “don’t think she would appreciate you beggin’ for her husband to fuck you in a dirty bar bathroom every weekend.”
“i didn’t say we would stay friends.” you giggle, making his cock stir in his work pants. “also, the invite is still open if you miss fuckin’ someone younger.”
the second you are out of sight, off in the pool room next door annoying some other asshole, he groans under his breath. logan hated how well you read him. you knew he wanted you but you were smart enough to make him come crawling to you if he wanted to feel your tight cunt wrapped around him.
after a couple minutes, a few men left the room and logan got up to take their place. when he walked inside he saw it was empty except for you sitting in one of the chairs on your phone.
“glad you decided to join me.” you smile up at him.
logan ignores you instead going over to get a stick and start playing. you finish your martini and join him as he sets up the balls. catching you off guard, he tosses you a stick too.
“if i win, you leave me alone for good.” he huffs in your face.
“sure but what do i get when i win?” you smirk.
logan ignores your question and growls, “ladies first.”
it's dead silent as you bend over the pool table to line your stick up to the diamond. logan's far too busy staring at the wet spot on your light blue panties. he never admit it, even if you knew for sure that's where his eyes were. it wasn't until he lost sight of the spot that he realized you already took your shot.
"your turn, old man." you tease, moving out of his way.
the two of you go back and forth for a bit but you were growing tired of this game. instead you decided to make things even more interesting.
"so when i win, are you going to finally fuck me?" your bluntness always left logan speechless.
"you already know the answer to that, sweetheart." he replies, trying to focus before shooting.
"sure, blah, blah, blah, something wife." you mock with an eye roll that almost made logan chuckle. "but seriously? when was the last time you two had sex? you probably got cobwebs in there."
that got a small smirk out of him. one that you count as a win.
"it's just a band. it comes off, see?" you lean over and take the ring off of his finger, placing it on the table.
logan stared at it for too long. feeling the distance of his commitments. you turn his head towards you with a light hook on his grey bearded chin. the lust in his eyes told you that you had won.
"you know what else comes off that easily?" you whisper, lips inches from his. "my panties."
a good man would've walked away. a good man would've returned home to his wife. but logan wasn't a good man. never had been and never would be.
an animalistic urge fell over him, grabbing you with the ease of a rag doll and bending you over the pool table. the wedding band was inches from your parted lips, moaning prettily as logan spread you open with his thumbs and licked a wide strip up your cunt, burying his face in your arousal and letting it coat his beard until he could only taste you.
"f-fuck me." logan groans, pulling back to catch his breath. "taste better than i imagined."
"knew you wanted me." you smirk, feeling his middle finger circle your entrance before pushing in. a loud moan is pulled from your throat as he hits that spongey spot with ease.
"weren't lying 'bout being tight." logan marvels, watching the way you suck in his finger.
he attempts to push in his ring finger as well and you wish you could've seen his face while he struggle to get it in. quickly, you reach for the wedding ring next to you then grab his hand from inside you. fumbling to get the ring back on him before he questions you.
"what are you—"
"go on." you coax, looking back at him with dark eyes. "try it now."
logan shouldn't have been so turned on from the image of his wedding ring coated in your slick; but here he was watching it disappear and reappear inside of you.
"right—fuck! r-right there..." you pant, arching farther back to meet his thrusts.
"does it turn you on being a homewreaker?" logan asks, back up on his feet and nibbling at your ear. "knowing that you have a old married man fucking you with his wedding band on?"
"mhm..." you mumble against the table. he takes the opportunity to pick up his pace, feeling you clench down. "d-don't stop..."
within seconds, your gushing around his fingers and dripping down his hand. right when he pulled out of you, you turn around and push him back into one of the plush chairs to undo his belt. falling to your knees, you begin to stroke him, tracing his veins with your tongue and tapping the tip on it.
"always knew you had quite the mouth on ya', princess." he grunts with a fist full of your hair.
you smile, taking him all the way until his tip hit the back of your throat and the hairs at his base tickled your nose. logan was finding it harder and harder to control his animalistic urge while your gagging and drooling all over his lap. quickly, you release him with a pop and stand up to straddle him, lining him up to your entrance and sinking down slowly.
"shit, you're so fucking tight." he says, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.
"only for you, logan." you whine, grinding down on him, rocking back and forth.
roughly, logan pulls the rest of your dress off of you, throwing it on the floor somewhere behind you. large hands touching you all over in ways you've only dreamt of. meanwhile, your attacking his neck like a madwoman. biting and marking him up like he's yours.
desperately, logan fucks up into you, needing more. his tip nudges that sweet spot within you, making you moan loudly in his ear, encouraging him to go faster. so focused on the squealing of your soaked pussy. he captures your lips, kissing you tenderly. you can feel his high approaching, twitching inside of you, and you needed to do one last thing before it hit him.
carefully you pull away, gripping his chin and pulling him face to face with you. his eyes are blown out with desire as he stares at you.
"tell me your mine, lo." you whisper against his lips.
logan can feel you clench tightly around him, waiting for him to give into you completely. he presses his thumb down on your button, moving in fast circles to get you there with him.
"f-fuck, i'm yours, baby." he moans, coating your walls with spurts of his release. "i'm yours."
"t-that's right." you moan, kissing him roughly as your high washes over you.
"you look so pretty like this." he coos, watching the pleasure run over you.
for a moment the two of you sit still, trying to catch your breath. logan's mind races, not meaning to cum inside of you but it's far too late now.
"lets keep this a secret between the two of us, huh?" he says while you play with his hand, mischievously. before he can notice, you pocket the ring.
"sure thing, baby." you reply. "i'll gladly be your little secret but have fun explaining those marks to the old ball and chain."
logan looks down at you and that wicked smile of yours, only to realize just how fucked he is.
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mariasont · 7 months ago
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not sure if you’re planning to write this, but smut with spencer & bimbo!receptionist!reader would probably fix my problems 😔 i feel like spencer would be praising her nonstop, while also being condescending & i fucking live for that‼️
Undo You - S.R
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a/n: i love ur mind anon 😚 i hope this lives up to what you want 🫶🏼🫶🏼✨ thank you for requesting xoxo
anyway i kinda think this is bad bc i didn’t proofread but whatever ill prob go back and edit laters!
masterlist
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pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader
summary: bimbo reader and spencer doing the nasty
warnings: 18+ MDNI, fingering, degrading? (not really), spencer being slightly condescending, p in v, unprotected sex (BE BETTER!), creampie (STOP I HATE IT TOO BUT WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO CALL IT?!?!?! TWINKIE?!?!)
wc: 1.3k
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Mustering the courage to ask you out was a feat in itself but getting you into his bed was a whole other ballgame. But here you were, fingers roaming through his hair and tracing the contours of his back. You were perfect, and you were in his bed.
The wasn't the first, nor would it be the last if he had anything to do with it. It's hard to fathom his good luck--to have you, breathtaking in every sense, under him, your fingertips gently grazing his waist band as you inch towards his cock.
Your makeup was almost artfully messy, with mascara delicately pooled beneath your lashes, rendering you devastatingly tempting. You had glittering eyeshadow on, and it was getting everywhere. Spencer felt the urge to undo you--to disrupt the pristine image you presented to the world, to make you uniquely his. Selfish? Without a doubt. But that didn't diminish the idea. 
Your hands, with their perfect manicure, were now wrapped around his cock, tugging and pulling as if your palms were sculpted precisely for this purpose. 
You were saying something, your lips a mesmerizing motion as he grasped the sheets beside you, each fistful a concerted effort to remain control.
"What, angel?" He was trying to be patient with you.
You talked a lot in general, but in bed, it only seemed to amplify. This was not a bad thing, not in his eyes, no, it was almost too much of a good thing. Each time your mouth opened and closed with another airy comment he found himself that much closer to spilling his load all over you.
"Your face is really red," you breathed out, nostrils flaring slightly, your eyes averted, engrossed in the sight of his length enclosed between your hands.
He stifled a laugh, resisting the urge to shove his cock into that pretty mouth of yours.
"Well, you see," Spencer starts, pausing as your hand presses to the tip of his length, "when someone is excited...or aroused, blood flow increases to the f-face, causing...vasodilation. It's... it's a sympathetic nervous system response."
"Oh, like when you get all red after running?" You tilt your head in that curious way of yours, your actions uninterrupted as words flowed from you.
"Yes, exactly like that."
He grabbed your hand, pulling you off of him and pressing that same hand to the mattress below him.
"And just like my face gets red, your pupils dilate when you're excited," Spencer explains, his hand poised just above your collarbone, sketching paths on your skin, "It's due to the release of norepinephrine, which is part of your body's fight of flight response."
Your lips were parted, pressing your body into him like you couldn't help yourself, hips squirming under his.
"So, what's the verdict, sweet girl?" Spencer asks, watching your gaze met his, lips parting as he dragged a hand over your clothed heat. "What's your body telling you? Fight of flight?"
You kissed him, gasping into his mouth as he pushed a finger into you. You were drenched. "Is submit an option?"
"That's my girl," he said, feeling his cock tighten even more, as if that were possible, almost moaning at the sight of your dimple being drawn out.
You whined, arching your back against the navy-blue sheets as your hands locked around his neck, pulling him impossibly close. He could smell everything about you from here—your coconut shampoo, your vanilla perfume, your lavender lotion. He wanted to inhale it, to inhale you.
He didn't even bother with your skirt, simply pulling your panties out from under it and lining himself up with your entrance. He watched, enthralled, as your chest rose and fell, holding your breath as you braced for his cock. You were so good for him, too good for him.
One hand clasped against your hip as the other guided his length into you, hissing as you tightened around him. It was a feeling that could never get old, like he was being reborn, like the world was ending and you and him were the only two people left. He would be fine with that.
Your face twisted up in pleasure as you began to rock against him, not giving yourself that chance to adjust. You did this often and it caused him to push down on your hips, stopping your movements. He could come if you kept doing that. He would.
"Patience," he hissed, but you were never one that was good with following orders.
You moved again, tits bouncing up and down your chest as you did. He stifled a groan, meeting your movements with thrusts of his own.
He imagined this is what Buddhists meant when they referred to finding the garden of Nirvana. This was it for him. The ultimate state of liberation and profound peace.
You were a blubbering mess, fingertips clawing down his back, surely to leave marks, but he couldn’t care less.
“Look at you,” he cooed, rutting his cock in and out of you. “You’re awfully quiet. Got something on your mind, baby?”
“N-No,” you stammered, legs wrapping around his waist as your arms went around his neck, clinging to him like a koala, your moans now pressed up against his ear.
“I figured as much.”
Your tits were flush against his chest, his breath stalling as he reached in the limited space between you, thumb circling your clit. Your whines intensified, just as his thrusts did.
“Spencer, please, yes, oh fuck—,” you paused, a gasp releasing from your lips as he felt you unravel on his cock, your wet cunt clenching around him in a way that made his legs shake.
“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that.” His movements were more desperate now, sloppily slamming into you without mercy. “You’re so fucking good, baby.”
He barely recognized your lips against his ear. “Will you come inside me please?”
That was all it took, those simple words, brushing against his skin and rushing all the way down to his cock. His thrusts slowing as he pumped himself inside you, the sound completely obscene, but it just made him enjoy it that much more.
You were limp against the bed, and Spencer was quick to follow, face finding the crook of his neck as he tried his best not to crush you with his weight.
He could feel your pulse against his lips, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses into your honey induced skin as he waited for you to return back to planet Earth.
He was well aware of the drill, pressing one last kiss to your sweaty forehead before prying himself out of your hands and making a beeline for the bathroom. He grabbed a towel and a glass of water before coming back to the bed, nearly fainting at your tired smile shining at him, at him.
“Hi, gorgeous.”
“I really love when you call me that,” you said, almost dreamily as you pushed your tousled hair into the pillow.
He laughed, placing the water on the table and moving your legs so he was between them.
“Gorgeous,” he repeated as he dabbed the towel to your sex, cleaning the mess he made on you. “Do I not call you that enough? Because I can certainly make it a more regular occurrence.”
“Well, I mean, it couldn’t hurt,” you said, giggling as you flinched away from the pressure on your clit.
He pushed your leg down, preventing you from squirming. “Let me clean you up.”
You pouted, and he had the sudden urge to bite your bottom lip. You gave him a salute, giggling before you could even get the words out. “Aye, aye captain.”
He tossed the towel to the side, climbing up your legs as he kissed you, soft and slow, murmuring into your lips, “come here, smart ass.”
taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf
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munsonsmixtapes · 3 months ago
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Saw your post for dirty reqs, what if eddie’s gf has a boring job at some kinda front desk. Eddie could come to see her and eat her out while a customer comes in or have her ride his lap while she has to answer a work call… just a thought :)
cw: oral (f receiving) exhibitionism
Another hour went by as you watched the clock on your computer. Business was slow as usual and you tried your best to keep yourself awake, the boredom getting to you. You had been texting your boyfriend Eddie in between customers and he had tried his best to keep you company, sending you nothing but filthy messages that warmed your cheeks.
Bet I could make you come right there with your boss in the other room
And that was one of tame messages. If you were being honest, the idea sounded intriguing. One, because you had been needing him all day. And two, because you had hated working there anyway and looking for a reason to either quit or get fired.
I need you, you responded and within ten minutes, he was at the door, striding in like he owned the place. He looked around the store to make sure that you were alone then made a beeline for your desk.
You had expected him to show up, but not that quickly. He lived at least twenty minutes from the shop so you assumed that he had been close by. He always seemed to be when you were working. The area wasn't exactly the safest so he just wanted to be sure that you were safe. And maybe he just liked the visit you sometimes to keep you company.
He leaned over it, a devilish smirk playing on his lips as he got closer, his lips ghosting over yours. He then captured them on a hot, searing kiss and you tried your best to keep quiet, but an involuntary moan fell from your lips. Eddie pulled away and rounded the desk, taking you into his arms as his tongue dipped into your mouth, wanting to taste every single inch of it.
"Fuck," he moaned against your lips. "Need to taste."
"You are tasting me, Eddie," you reminded him with a laugh.
"Not the part I want to be tasting, love," he smiled as he pulled the chair behind him closer. "Have a seat."
You quickly sat in the chair and Eddie got down on his knees, so grateful that you were wearing a skirt. He pulled the chair with him as he moved underneath the desk so that he was out of sight. Once he was under the desk, he sat up as best he could, spreading your legs and putting his head between them, his mouth latching onto your underwear as he licked and sucked on the fabric, trying to taste the slick that had leaked into it.
You were so wet and hearing your gasps made him so hard as thought about the two of you possibly getting caught. He always loved the thrill, loving the idea of someone catching you in the act, especially your boss who always seemed to come out at the worst moments.
You had done things like this more times that you could count, and you knew that it was wrong, but you couldn't help it. Eddie just had a grip on you that you couldn't explain. You would have done whatever he asked just because he was the one who was asking.
He'd flash you those chocolate brown eyes and you'd melt, automatically agreeing to what he wanted because that was just the effect he had on you. And you loved it. That he bossed you around told you what to do.
Eddie was making sure to take his time to make you beg for it, to make you whine just like always and it always got him off and for once this was all he was going to do. He was just going to eat you out, licking and sucking up every last bit of slick from your cunt until you were crying for him.
As soon as your whining began, Eddie grabbed onto the waist band of your underwear with his teeth and pulled it down quickly, putting them in his back pocket once he was done then immediately going in for your cunt, not being shy with his teeth.
But as soon as you were getting into it, your fingers threading through his hair, the front door opened, the bell jingling above the door to signify that someone had come in. You almost told Eddie to stop so you could greet the customer that was approaching the desk, but it just felt so good that you couldn't.
"H-hey," you greeted, putting a wide smile on your face as they approached the front desk where you were sitting. "How can I help you?" You asked and the customer told you that they were there for an appointment and you tried your best to look them up on the computer as Eddie's mouth moved to your clit, sucking on it so hard that you felt a moan at the back of your throat that you tried your best to hide by clearing your throat.
As soon as the tattoo artist the client had booked with had come to collect them and you made sure that they were actually in the designated room, Eddie went back in with his teeth, letting them slide against your cunt and you threw your head back against the chair, a loud moan falling from your lips and you had to cover your mouth so you wouldn't be heard.
"That's it, baby," Eddie urged with a smiled. "Just like that. Gonna scream for me? Want everyone to know how good I can make you feel." He then went back in, his tongue finding his way inside you and that set you off, a loud almost scream escaping your mouth and just when his tongue hit the right spot, it was a full on scream that you had to hide by covering your mouth once again.
Once you had come down from your orgasm, Eddie removed himself from you and you moved so he could get out from underneath the desk. He wiped your slick from his face with the bottom of his shirt before pressing his lips to yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth to give you a taste of yourself.
"See how good you taste, baby?" he asked with a whine before he pulled away. "I'll see you tonight, alright? Maybe in the back of my van and we can pick up where we left off?"
"S-sounds good," you stuttered with a nod and watched your boyfriend exit your place of work, wondering how you hadn't gotten fired or arrested for what you had just done.
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cherry-leclerc · 1 year ago
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thinking of her ☆ cl16
genre: angst, marriage trope
word count: 1.8k
You and Charles take a visit to marriage counseling.
inspired by this !
req!... had some free time to write so thought i would work on a request i just got! short one, but i hope you enjoy :)
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“Tell me why you’re both here.”
The room is silent and slightly cold. A large canvas hangs right in front of you as you take time to pretend you care about the family painted on it. Part of you actually does.
“Well, she thought it would be a good idea to drag us into this.”
Your eyes flicker to Charles and you would only hope that he could tell that you weren’t impressed by his answer. It was true, it was your idea to go to couple’s counseling, but only because you cared. You cared a lot. Sometimes you thought for sure he didn’t anymore.
“What made you take the initiative?”
You wanted to burst with anger. To prove to her that this wasn’t completely your fault. He wasn’t perfect, he tested your patience and despite it all, you still loved him enough to try and salvage your marriage. 
Your therapist stares back, pen ready to scribble possible solutions as if her words would really make a difference. Maybe, deep down, you didn’t like being here either, but you wanted to prove to Charles how he’s been a shit husband. 
You wanted someone to back you up.
Taking a deep breath, you play with your wedding band. The one that you would normally admire, but now just felt like pure suffocation. “He’s given me plenty of reasons to not trust him the way I once did and now I sit here like a fool thinking he might change.”
The way her pen glides is something you hate. 
Looking back up, she takes a moment to analyze the couple. Charles sits with a blank expression, as if he really did have somewhere better to be. In his mind, he did. Then, there was you. Regardless of your words pouring with pure vexation, your body language displayed something else. 
Your eyes were sad and tired. She easily noticed the way your hand would want to reach out to Charles, but would quickly grip tighter to your lap.
“Please, if you don’t mind, would you care to explain.”
You press your lips together. “I first noticed a difference two years into our marriage.”
-
“Chicken or fish?” 
It was Charles’ day off from work in a long time and you were currently on a call with Pascale trying to figure out what to surprise him with. He always raved about how much he loved when you cooked for him. 
“Fish. You guys were over yesterday and I made grilled chicken, remember?”
You hum as you get into your car and start driving to the market, though the conversation is cut short when you finally reach your destination. Walking through the aisle, you decide it would be a fine idea to grab some wine you both love. 
“Charles?” The brunette looks up, red wine in his hand as you smile a bit confused. “What are you doing here? I thought you were playing padel with Lorenzo.” 
“I was! Finished the game early and thought I would grab us some, uh—” Stepping closer, he kisses you and takes the kart. “Shopping for dinner?”
“Thought it’d be nice…” You look at the bottle and yes it’s red, but it's not the kind you both like. “Honey, you got the wrong one.” A panicked look flashes his face before he lets out a nervous laugh.
Of course! I’ll change it right now.
-
“It only took a couple more slip ups for me to find out.”
The therapist nods as her attention turns to Charles, where he plays with his bracelets. “And what made you stay?” You want to laugh. Are we just going to spend time on me? She shakes her head. “We’ll get to him, I just want to hear from you first.”
“After I confronted him he swore he’d stop seeing her. I guess it was my fault for even believing him.”
-
“Amour!”
He runs into the living room, kitchen, basement, everywhere. Breathing hard, he looks around the house as if the furniture will give up and tell him where you are. A loud thud echoes from upstairs. Two steps at a time, he darts quickly to the bedroom. His heart stops when he sees you packing a suitcase.
What are you doing?
You don’t answer. Don’t even spare a passing glance. Instead, you slip the gold band off your finger as you throw it behind you. It only falls a few steps in front of him. He picks it up as he makes his way to you. “I’m so sorry.”
Your back faces him, but you don’t dare make a single sound. You curl your hand against the dress you were folding, bite hard on your lip to not let out a single sob. But your chest hurts, your tears feel like acid against your skin, and you’re almost thankful for pain like that, that way what Charles did wouldn’t be the only thing that hurt.
He makes his way to kneel down in front of you as you stare down at the carpet. You had begged him only a few days ago to put down the deposit on it and for a while he said it wouldn’t be financially responsible, but later agreed. You hated it now.
“Why? Just…why?”
He’s far too embarrassed to even come up with an answer. “I don’t know.”
When you finally look up at him, he sees what he’s caused. Your eyes are bloodshot, your nose is rosy. Cheeks are so bright pink, it almost looked as if someone pinched them. 
You let out a wet laugh as you drop your hands against your lap. “You know, when I woke up this morning and you were gone I thought to myself—Wow! What did I do to deserve a husband who wakes up early enough to get me breakfast on my birthday? And I waited. And waited. But whatever. That’s fine! He probably got busy. Then, Pascale called to confirm if we were still going out for dinner, to which I said, ‘Yes! Of course!...Yes, the gold bracelet! It was beautiful, thank you for helping him pick it out.’ I thought it was sweet, I did, but you never came. And again, the presents are not what mattered, but it was you. I texted you. I called you. I told myself you were probably too busy planning something sweet the way you always did. They all asked where you were and I had to lie and tell them you were going to be late. Do you know how stupid I felt when I saw you and her enter the restaurant holding hands? And then what did I do? I purposefully had you see me run out so you could chase after me, so that your family would never find out about your…fling.”
Charles keeps bowing his head lower and lower almost as if to hide from his mistakes.
“...So where’s my bracelet, huh? Because you got it for me for my birthday, right?” Extending your hand out hurts because you know deep down it was never for you. 
“I don’t have it…” You click your tongue as you retract your arm. Of course you don’t, you seethe. With all your strength, you stand with wobbly knees as you start to walk away. 
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
And he should feel relieved, but instead he feels like a complete asshole. How could he ruin things with his wife who swore to love him with all her being? He knew you well enough to know that you always will and he couldn’t let that go. He would fix this.
He runs to the door to close it. Move, you spit out. He shakes his head as he hugs you. 
“S-stop,” you say in a shaky voice as warm tears begin to flow once more. “It’s okay, just let me go…”
You go stiff when you realize he’s crying into your neck. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…He just keeps repeating it and you can’t stop yourself from hugging him back. He loved you and you loved him. That’s all that mattered.
“Just don’t do it again, okay?”
-
“So he cheated: you forgave him. He put her first and your marriage second.”
You flinch at her words because they only remind you how true they are. For a while, you thought you could both get over it, but you never really did. Not when you were already both standing on opposite sides of the road.
“Mom always did say I always saw the best in people.”
“And you…” Charles gulps. “What made you fall into an affair?”
Months ago, when you first found out, he didn’t have any answer to that question. But he did now.
“I wasn’t smart enough to appreciate my wife.” He looks at you as you avoid eye contact because you know the moment you looked into his eyes, you would fall all over again.
But you still did.
His eyes are sorry, you could tell, and the way his hand makes his way to you is enough for you to grow warm despite the cold room. 
“I’ve made plenty of mistakes - I know that - but none of them could compare to what I did to us. For putting you through so much doubt…For making you think I didn’t love you, but I always did.”
You're crying now as you nod because this is all you ever needed to hear.
“If this was the bump in the road that we had to overcome to grow closer then I accept it because I love you too, Charles. It’s about time you realized that.”
-
Charles feels lighter, happier. Now that he gets to hold your hand after many fights, he’s reminded about all the things he loves about you. But nothing could have prepared him for you to let go of his hand.
“I want a divorce.”
He’s stunned. W-what? We just decided that we were fine, that we were moving on…
You shake your head as you laugh. “My apologies, God, did I make you believe a lie? Feels awful, doesn’t it?”
He furrows his brows as he tries to reach out for you but you keep stepping further back. “Back there you almost had me…You said, ‘...none of them would compare to what I did to us.’ Us. Did you suffer? Did you spend countless, empty nights, crying yourself to sleep wondering what you did wrong? No, because it was all me. It wasn’t what you did to us, it's what you did to me.” You spin your ring one last time before slipping it off and placing it in his hand. He wants to say something to make you change your mind, to oversee his past mistakes one more time, because he swore to himself it would be the last time. But he could tell you’ve made up your mind. You twist your heel, ready to walk away before taking one last look into his green eyes you once loved.
“And the baby is getting my last name.”
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stevebckley · 2 years ago
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Steve lost confidence after Nancy and now cannot comprehend blatant flirting. Like he can flirt with someone if he starts it but if he’s not initiating? He’s clueless.
The Corroded Coffin boys have a very unserious bet going to see who can get Steve to finally realize he’s being flirted with because Eddie’s been trying for months without success.
Gareth brings him homemade food and tells him how good he looks.
Jeff makes them learn his favorite song so they can play it for him on stage.
Freddie even brings him flowers and Steve just turned bright red and stutters out a confused thank you.
The three of them are at wits end after a few weeks and finally all traipse into Family Video when they know just Robin is on shift by herself to ask her what the fuck is wrong with him.
She laughs so hard she nearly falls off the counter. When she collects herself finally she explains that after everything, his idea of friendship includes all the this stuff.
Flower, and affection and attention? All things that Steve does for her and anyone he loves. Fuck, I mean they sleep in the same bed half the time!
“Honestly guys, short of someone marching up to him and telling him that they wanna take him out on a date and make out with him, he’s not going to assume anything.”
This leaves the group in kind of a state of confusion, Eddie managing to look completely lost in thought.
It all comes to a head during their next band practice.
Steve joins them like he always does when he doesn’t have work, letting himself into the garage and flopping onto the couch with Gareth and Freddie.
He automatically tosses his feet over Freddie’s lap, tucking his head into Gareth’s lap in a blatant excuse to let Gareth run his fingers through his hair.
Eddie is running late, so they’re all just waiting when Gareth can’t hold it in any longer.
“Are you as dense about people flirting with you as Robin says or are you deliberately ignoring it? I can never tell.” He feels bad now because Steve has stiffened under his finger.
“What do you mean? Who’s been flirting with me?”
All three boys start to laugh but it makes Steve shrink further into himself.
“No, no. I’m sorry, we are being assholes Steve. But honestly we’ve been flirting with you for weeks! Freddie brought you handpicked flowers, I’ve been making you cookies and Jeff serenaded you on stage!” Gareth is trying not to notice as Steve’s face flushes deeper and deeper. “That’s not to mention everything about Eddie.”
Steve is quiet for a moment, voice sad as he asks them if they only were being nice to him because they were flirting with him.
Gareth’s heart breaks a bit as he assures Steve that they were only really trying to make him feel loved and were being silly.
“We wouldn’t have done any of that if we didn’t wanna be friends with you, babe. You just get really cute when you’re flirted with and we’re all only men. Can’t resist a pretty face.”
Gareth is interrupted by Eddie busting into the room wearing a tee shirt that proudly proclaims ‘PLEASE MAKE OUT WITH ME STEVE IM VERY INTO YOU!”
Steve very easily pulls himself upright, launching himself into Eddie’s arms with a grin, dragging their mouths together in a very loud kiss that gets the whole room cheering.
“I’ve been waiting for you for months, Munson.” Steve says, loud enough for the whole room to hear.
Gareth groans and throws a pillow off the couch, pegging it off Steve’s back.
“Don’t even act like he’s not been flirting with you for months! It’s not that man’s fault you’re dense!”
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clockwayswrites · 10 months ago
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Anyways, I blame @mokulule for starting this idea with me and then needing to go to sleep like a good person in a different timezone.
-
Jason tried not to clutch the stack of letters too tightly; they didn’t need to be any more wrinkled. They were a mess already. He’d tried his best. He had tried to smooth them again the edge of his desk and erase the smudges of dirt and grime. On the street they had been kept in the innermost pocket of his backpack, sandwiched between pieces of cardboard and held together by rubber bands. He’d only taken them out when he really needed them. He’d tried his best, but they still showed the scars of his life.
Maybe Bruce would overlook that.
He had overlooked the scars of Jason’s life on his skin, after all. Bruce had still taken in a dirt street rat and offered up his home. It didn’t seem to be a trick either. But would this be a step too far?
Jason knocked on the door to Bruce’s study not out of any sort of bravery, but because he was afraid he’d start tearing at the letters out of nerves if he didn’t, and he couldn’t do that to the letters, not when they had gotten him through so much.
“Come in. Oh, Jaylad, is everything alright?” Bruce asked, looking up from behind the massive wooden desk.
He looked so serious there in that room.
Jason swallowed and nodded.
“Alright,” Bruce said a moment later. He slowly closed the folder he was looking over and set it off to the side with oddly purposeful movements. “Do you want to come in, or do you need me in a different room?”
Wasn’t that a question that almost made Jason back out. But now, he’d thought about this and the study was the best place. It felt like a real request here. Taking a breath, Jason entered the study and perched on one of the chairs in front of the desk. He felt annoyingly tiny in it. He tried to find the words to start— to explain this to Bruce— to ask, but not for the first time, his words were failing him. In the end he just leaned forward and put the pile of letters carefully on Bruce’s desk.
It was hard to watch someone else pick them up, but Bruce was holding them gently.
Bruce wasn’t an expressive person, not with his real emotions, but Jason watched carefully as Bruce read— the slight pinch of his brows, a little twist of his lips as he slipped between emotions, a little tensing around his eyes. The most time was on the first few letters before Bruce scanned through the rest of them.
“You have a pen pal.”
“Yeah, yes,” Jason said, clearing his throat. “Was able to write at the first home I was in, tell him not to write anymore and that I wouldn’t be able to. I didn’t want him to worry when I just… stopped.”
Bruce gave one of his odd hums.
Jason waited as Bruce flipped through the letters again before he set them down carefully and gave Jason his full attention. “Do you want to invite Danny to come visit?”
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orimuraa · 2 months ago
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𖧷₊˚˖𓍢ִ🍓 Just stay with me - OT7
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(synopsis) ☕︎ enhypen when you’re on your period ⋆ ゚ ☂︎ ⋆ ゚
ot7 enhypen x fem!reader ☕︎ flufff, crack ☕︎ mentions of blood, kisses, petnames ☕︎ wc 904
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𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 - 이희승
"baby? i got you some medicine, chocolate, pads, and my hoodie," your boyfriend slowly emerged through your bedroom door holding a bag containing all the things you needed at that moment. it was that dreaded time of the month and you were in peak pain right now. so, heeseung being the bestest boyfriend he is, came bearing your period remedies. "thank you hee, you're a literal life saver," you mumbled, looking up to give him a thankful smile. heeseung knew you were in pain right now so he placed the bag next to your bed and hopped in beside you, knowing that you usually just opted for his cuddles as your remedy. "anything for my baby."
𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 - 박종성
when jay came home, he was most definitely not expecting a human-sized burrito on the floor. to explain, you were on your period and had absolutely no motivation to get up. "princess? what are you doing on the floor?..." jay asked, slowly approaching the burrito. the sound of your voice made your ears perk up, slowly turning over to look at your lovely boyfriend. "cuddles?" you ask in a quiet voice, ignoring his previous question. how could jay say no to someone so cute, wrapped in a big and fluffy comforter, lying helplessly on the floor? anddd probably in immense pain? the answer is that he can't say no. "okay baby, let's get you to the bed, okay?"
𝑺𝒊𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒖𝒏 - 심재윤
jake came rushing through the door, 3 bags in his arms, frantically looking around your apartment. there you were, sitting at the counter, wrapped in a warm sweater (jake's) and sipping a warm mug of most likely tea. "sweets?? i'm here with your remedies!! pain killers, pads, and most importantly....kisses!!!" he smiled brightly, resembling a golden retriever. "aww jakey, thank you! i could really do with some cuddles and kisses," you chuckle, setting down your mug and walking over to jake. he set down the bags and opened his arms, inviting you into them for a warm, comforting embrace. you melted right in his arms, the warmth quickly soothing your cramps. "c'mon, let's go have a cuddle party!" jake giggled, kissing your forehead before taking you by the hand and leading you upstairs.
𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 - 박성훈
"YOU'RE BLEEDING OUT??!?! I BROUGHT BAND-AIDS, BABY WHERE ARE YOU??" okay...maybe texting your boyfriend that you were bleeding out and felt like you were dying wasn't such a good idea...."hoonie- what? no- i'm fine..i'm just on my period.." you stated, looking at him with a concerned look on your face. "what- but- y-your text? so you're not on the brink of death???" sunghoon was so confused right now. "noo, i'm sorry i confused you. i'm just on my period," you laugh, placing a quick kiss to his cheek. "phew! i thought i was too late," sunghoon sighed, pulling you in by your waist and planting a chaste kiss against your lips. "band-aids? seriously hoon?" "hey!! it was in the heat of the moment!!!"
𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒐 - 김선우
"baby? i'm here!!" sunoo announced, a bag in his hand and a nice warm drink in the other. "huh? oh hi sun sun! what's up?" you asked, obviously shocked by the surprise visit. "i saw on the tracker app that you got your period today so i brought goodies!" he exclaimed, showing off the items in his hands. "aww baby...stopp that's so sweet of you! thank you," you pouted, touched by his sweet actions. since sunoo had an older sister, he was used to these types of things and was always prepared for this time of month. "anything for my baby. i have no idea how you woman bleed for a whole week straight and still manage to breath," he states dramatically, setting down everything on the table in front of you. "plus, you're way more enjoyable to be around than my noona during period week!"
𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒏 - 양정원
"jagi? i don't see the brand of pads you asked for. i don't know if they have it, i've look- oh! never mind they're right here!!" you were currently on a call with jungwon, trying to get him to buy the correct pads and it was....an inexperience. once he got home, he had a proud smile on his face, holding up the grocery bag triumphantly. "i have acquired them!!" he announces, walking over to where you are on the couch to show you. "after getting lost 100 times and ending up in the toy section," you tease, laughing at the thought. "hey! at least i got them and that's all that matters!" he huffs, pouting like a little kitty. "thank you wonnie. now come cuddle!"
𝑵𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒊 - 西村 力
you here the sound of the front door close, meaning riki was back form his errands. you sat up in bed and waited for him to enter the bedroom. the door opened and in walks riki with a plastic grocery bag and a...chicken take-out bag?...what?? "little love! i got the pads with the wings you asked for!" he smiles proudly, taking off his hat and jacket. ohhh pads with wings..."ki, i meant pads that had wings on them, not chicken wings," you giggle, laughing at the box of chicken wings on your desk now. "ohh that makes more sense! well..now we have food!" he says cheekily, rubbing the back of his neck. "come here you goof!" you laugh, beckoning him over. he brings the chicken wings too, sitting down next to you and kissing the top of your head. "you're one strong soldier."
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this was genuinely so fun to write and i kept laughing the whole time. if you enjoyed, please make sure to like and reblog! thank you!!
𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries, @k-films, @k-nets
⚘. Perm taglist: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip
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crljhnn · 2 years ago
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Math tutor
Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader
Summary: Rodrick is continuously unsuccessful in asking you out, so when he finds out that you are now tutoring his younger brother he decides to use this to his advantage. The only problem, Greg doesn't play along.
No physical description of the reader; No use of y/n
Word count: 2.6k
Warnings: None
>Posted on AO3 as well<
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“So that means x equals 9.” The answer comes out more like a question.
You've been tutoring Greg for about three weeks now and he finally, for the first time since starting this school year, seems to understand what is going on during math class.
“Yes, that’s right!”
“Really?”
While Greg wasn’t the first Heffley you ever tutored, he was the first to actually listen to what you said and process your explanations.
A few years ago you were taking the same math class as his older brother Rodrick who, back then, quite literally begged you to give him some tutoring lessons. While you didn’t like the idea of spending extra time at school to teach someone math, him apparently being so desperate for help, tugged at your heartstrings, making you give in.
On top of that, him being kind of cute and your teeny-tiny crush on him helped convince you as well. However, this adoration you harbored for about three months at that point, died about 5 minutes into your session.
He was barely paying attention to what you were saying, focusing more on drumming his pencils on the edge of the desk while humming along, using every breath you took to change the subject, mostly telling you about this little band of his. The straw that broke the camels back was when he dared to ask why you wanted to end the session only 15 minutes in, following it up with a „That was fun, let’s study together again soon!“.
Since you felt rather disrespected by that, you haven’t really spoken to him since. The highest form of communication was a forced smile when he would greet you in the hallway. You don’t have any common classes anymore.
However, your fiasco concerning Rodricks tutoring lessons didn’t stop his mom from asking you to tutor her younger son who, unsurprisingly, was falling behind in math as well. The significant difference this time was, that you were being paid. So even if Greg turned out to be just as uninterested in what you were saying as his older brother, it wouldn’t be a complete waste of time, at least for you.
That’s how you ended up in the local library every Monday and Wednesday for the last few weeks, explaining math to the younger brother of your former crush.
Today was different though. Since the library had to close down for a week, because of renovations, you decided to meet at the Heffleys house instead.
The last thing Rodrick expected, when he went downstairs to raid the fridge for snacks, was finding his crush of 3 years sitting in his living room.
Having his eyes fixed on you, he misses the last step, causing him to stumble, managing in the last second to grasp the railing to stop himself from face-planting. The result was him reaching the end of the stairs with a loud crash.
“You surely know how to make a remarkable entrance.”
“Haha yeah, hi.” He nervously scratches the back of his head “What are you… hah… what are you doing here?” ‘Stay cool Rodrick, you got this!’
“What does it look like? She’s tutoring me dumbass” The oldest Heffley son honestly didn’t even realize his younger brothers presence until he spoke up.
“Ah cool, so uhm good luck?” With another awkward laugh, he turns around and runs back upstairs.
Back in his room, he begins to panic, if he would have known that you were here he would have prepared better. But he’s sure he can still wing it.
First of all, he’s calling the band over for practice, I mean, he has his own band, chicks dig that.
He has it all planned out in his head, he will put on nice clothes, a nice perfume, and maybe even a bit of eyeliner as well, surely you’re into that. Then he’s gonna go downstairs, let his band in, and have a little jamming session with the boys.
Then there are two possible ways how the plan could continue to play out.
Possibility one, you hear his band playing from the living room and are so impressed that you just have to go and get a closer look. After that, he is going to invite you to sit in on practice for a bit longer. At the end of the session mesmerized will be an understatement to describe your state of mind and you won’t even have to think about it twice when he finally asks you out on a date.
The second possible outcome of you hearing him play is that you, while amazed, are still too shy to come up to him, so he will take a little break to get himself something to drink. Like one of those movie cliches, he’s gonna come in all sweaty, taking a sip of water and then emptying the rest of the bottle over his face and body to ‚cool himself down. Women find that hot, right? You definitely won’t be able to take your eyes off of him then.
While he is daydreaming about you drooling over him, he simultaneously digs through his closet, trying to find this one specific band shirt, that he bought after overhearing you gushing about their newest album. At the same time as he finds it, he hears his friends pull up, making him change in record speed while leaving his room to go back downstairs.
“Oh my god thank you for finally changing your shirt, the last one was smelling disgusting after you’ve been wearing it for like two weeks straight.” Greg had picked up on Rodricks crush on his tutor instantly, quickly deciding that using this new information to mess with him is the best form of revenge for the years of torture his brother put him through.
“Ugh shut up.” He turns to you “He’s lying you know. I change my clothes an appropriate amount of times. I actually just got ready for band practice. You remember me telling you about my band right? The boys are gonna be here any minute now.” He tries to be casual by leaning against the railing of the stairs but ends up stumbling instead.
“Yeah, I remember,” You don’t seem too happy about it though “But why do you have your shirt on backwards?”
Rodricks head snaps down. Fuck. Greg giggles. An awkward silence follows.
He's saved by the doorbell ringing, followed by the other Löded Diaper members walking in.
“Hi bro!”
“Yo Rodrick!”
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Why do you have your shirt on backwards?”
This time it’s you who giggles.
Sensing how embarrassed their band founder is, the boys take pity on him and rush him away.
After Rodrick explained his plan to his friends, resulting in him getting hyped up by them, they played for a while. After about 30 minutes he concludes that you won’t make the first move, which brings him to execute plan B of his strategy: to take matters into his own hands.
“You got this man!” He jogs back towards the living room, expecting to find you and his younger brother still studying but instead, he is greeted with Greg sitting in front of the tv playing video games.
“Oh is your tutoring session over already?” He tries to sound unbordered but fails horribly.
“Yeah you know I found it really hard to concentrate with this loud music, so we cut today short.” Greg grins up at the oldest Heffley child.
“Listen up you little shit-” he doesn’t finish his sentence. Maybe he could use Gregs help for his own benefit since you always seem to flee when he tries to make a move. It was the same a few years ago.
He had it all planned out back then as well. First, he was gonna ask you out for a study date, well that didn’t quite work out and it ended up more like a tutoring session. However, the result was that you two were spending some alone time together, so you could say that he roughly reached his initial goal. At least he counted it as a success.
Then Rodrick was going to make you fall for him. And how was he gonna do that? By impressing you of course. And what is the best way to impress a girl? Being in a band! Easy.
Well, that didn’t work out, driving you away even further. So maybe he could use his younger brother to get some inside info on what you like in men and what makes you fall for them.
Rodrick is fast to lay out his new plan to Greg.
“And why would I assist you with that? What is in it for me?” As expected, he is not exactly keen on helping his older brother out. So threatening it is.
“Cause if you don’t, you will regret it.” Greg is about to refuse again when he gets an idea. This would be the perfect way to get revenge on Rodrick. He is just gonna spin around everything you say and make his older brother ruin every chance he's ever had with you.
“Alright fine, I’ll do it.”
“Okay spit it out!” You and Greg are seated at your usual table at the library “You haven’t been able to sit still since you got here, what’s wrong?”
“I have a question.” He is not looking at you.
“Okay shoot!”
Greg has been thinking about how to interrogate you about your type without raising suspicions since the day he agreed to help Rodrick. “So there is this girl I kind of like and I wanted to ask you for advice. If a guy would want to go out with you, what would he need to do to stir your interest?”
“Well, every girl is different so-”
“Yeah but what about you?”
That confuses you a bit, but Greg asking you for girl advice was cute enough for you to not overanalyze it further.
“Well me personally, I like sweet and considerate guys,…”
“So what did she say?!” Rodrick was waiting for his younger brother at the front door, attacking him with questions as soon as he was close enough to hear.
“Calm down! So first of all she said, that she likes assholes you know, just your typical badboy!”
“…you know, the kind of guy who listens to what you have to say and really values your opinion. I want someone who actually hears what I say and shows that he is interested in me as a person...”
“She wants someone who is just a natural leader, an alpha, someone who makes decisions for her and shows dominance by interrupting her frequently. Also don’t seem too eager, she said she finds that overwhelming and just too much. Play it cool, act like you don’t care.”
“… so that means I also prefer deeper compliments, not just about my looks. Of course, it's nice to be called pretty every once in a while, but there is nothing worse than a guy repeatedly telling you how attractive you are, without ever appreciating anything else about you! Like is that the only thing about me that you like, my looks?…”
“She also likes to be complimented about her looks a lot, the more the better. Don’t even bother with any other kinds of compliments. ”
“… And lastly, never compliment a woman by putting other women down. The whole ‘Oh you're just not like other girls’ thing is deeply rooted in misogyny. It’s never a flattering compliment when it's only working because you are putting someone else down.”
“And lastly, she wants to feel special, you know, the best compliments include a comparison, for example, tell her how she is prettier than other women!”
Rodrick was hastily writing everything down.
“Thank you so much, I owe you!”
“No problem”
While you forgot about Gregs weird behavior as soon as you go back to explaining math, you are reminded of it again later, when he asks you to have your next session at his house, without giving an actual reason.
The weirdness reached its peak when he, shortly after you arrived at his house the next week, excused himself to quote ‘Look for, uh… you know,… a thing? That’s in my room’, then went to the bathroom instead, and ‘coincidentally’ as soon as he left his older brother showed up.
“Heyyy what’s up?” Rodrick mentally revises the list he learned by heart last night.
‘Be an asshole’ he kicks your water bottle that was standing next to you, “Oops…”
“Rodrick what the fu-”
‘Show dominance’
“Pick it up!”
“Excuse me? What is wrong wit-”,
‘Act like you don’t care’
“Quit talking like I care about what you have to say, what was your name again?”
“Wh- We both know that you know my name, what the fu-”,
‘Compliment her looks’
“You’re hot!”
And lastly, ‘Make her feel special by comparing her to other women’
“Especially compared to the other girls at school”.
A perfect delivery. He did everything that Greg told him to do. But why did you seem so angry? You looked like you were ready to swing at him.
That’s when he saw it. His shitty little brother was watching the interaction through the slightly opened bathroom door, holding a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. When he catches Rodricks eye he slams the door shut.
“I’m gonna kill you!” He is sprinting towards the room his brother is hiding in, banging his fists against the door.
“What the fuck is going on?” You haven’t been so confused in a long time. That’s when it clicked for you too. That’s why Greg was acting so weird, that’s why he asked about YOUR dating preferences specifically. He asked for advice for Rodrick but must have messed with his brother, based on the older ones reaction.
“Rodrick, were you trying to hit on me?” Your voice is heavily laced with disbelief.
The boy stopped his obnoxious assault on the door.
“Did it work?”
You barely hold in your laugh. “Sure.”
“Wait really?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
Your smile is kinder now, finding this side of Rodrick, where he is eager to appeal to you, really endearing. Shit, are your feelings for him coming back? You definitely were completely over your crush before, so how did he so easily wrap you around his finger again?
“I would have never guessed that you out of all people were into me, you know, after the little stunt you pulled a while ago.”
“What do you mean?” Rodrick is confused, when did he do something that made you believe that he wasn’t interested in you?
“Our tutoring session? When you completely disrespected me by not even listening to me after you were the one to ask for help.”
“I was listening to you! It's just hard to concentrate when you are so… you! And your voice is so…” Wow he just has this way with words “And I didn't intend for it to be actually studying when I ask you. I just wanted an excuse to hang out with you, maybe impress you a bit, my band being the impressive part by the way, and then later ask you out on a date.” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly.
“And this little scene that played out just now, I guess that was Gregs doing?”
“Yes, since it didn’t work out the last two times I tried to get you to go out with me, I thought this was the best way to do it.”
Oh, your crush was definitely back, and bigger than ever at that.
“Well you never actually asked me out, maybe that would have been enough.”
“Really?”
“I don’t know, guess you have to ask to find out.”
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hibischush · 5 months ago
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Hii! Could you write March falling in love with the farmer and everyone around him noticing but the farmer? I think it would make him go completely crazy xD
sure thing! 🌺
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March didn't even realize it until Elsie literally spelt it out for him.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." He bristled, crossing his arms against his chest.
Elsie let out one of her elegant laughs and patted him on the shoulder. 
"Sure you don't, dear."
March blinked.
Elsie's eyes widened with surprise. "Oh my stars! You truly don't know, do you?" she guffawed, and everyone in the carpenters' shop turned to look at them.
It was odd to see Elsie here whilst Olric and himself visited Landen and Ryis, but not entirely unbelievable. What March didn't expect was for him to be mercilessly attacked by the older woman about his love life.
He blushed. He shouldn't have mentioned that stupid farmer. 
"Everyone knows that you have harbored feelings for the farmer, honey. There isn't any shame in admitting that."
---
It developed all too quickly a few months back. It was March's birthday. And it was raining.
He really didn't mind that it was so dreary-- he was going to work for most of the day and then celebrate with his brother and Ryis at the Inn.
He sat behind the counter, rolling a pen up and down the table. Not many people come in to purchase weapons or armor. Except for that infuriating farmer.
March has had to make several suits of armor for them, every time upgrading in quality and materials. And every time he would remember their exact measurements to ensure that the armor would fit on them perfectly, and that it would be the best pieces of metalwork he would ever produce. Not that he would ever admit that to them, though.
The shop's door swings open, and March's heartbeat ramps up as he recognizes who it was.
"Hey! Sorry for dragging in all this water." The farmer, drenched from head to toe, beams at him as the door shuts behind them.
His breath hitches. Their clothes, sopping wet, cling perfectly to their frame.
He coughs. "What do you want? You just got an armor upgrade. Do you actually have a life? Or is all you do is mine?"
They rolled their eyes, a smirk still gracing their lips (not that he was looking at their lips), "Oh March. You never change. Even after all that copper and tesserae."
They saunter over to the counter, and March inhales sharply through his nose, hoping the extra oxygen would help his head function around them.
"I came to give you a present! Happy birthday, March." They smile softly, handing him a small box that was wrapped with care. He took it cautiously, and nearly jumped when their fingers grazed against his own. He tried to push the electric feeling down. 
Attached to the bow that held the lid down was a slip of paper with his name written by the farmer on it. Eyeing them suspiciously, they only smiled and nodded their head encouragingly. Pulling the bow and the lid apart, he was pleasantly surprised with what he saw. Amazed, even.
It must have shown through his expression, because the farmer began to explain themself.
"I was on one of the lower levels of the mines, and there was this untouched chest stuck in the dirt. I dug it up, and lo’ and behold..."
Sitting on a velvet pillow laid a shiny golden band, which was formed into an unfinished circle. Instead of joining in the middle, the two ends were molded into a pair of dragon heads, with what looked like tiny sapphire eyes.
March's throat dried. He struggled to understand why someone so sweet would give him something like this despite the poor way he treats them. His face got hot, and he silently struggled to fight tears pricking in his eyes.
"March?"
He panicked. "This better not be cursed."
The farmer laughed. "I promise,"
They stood there for a second more. It almost seemed as if they wanted to say something else, but instead they just gave a small wave goodbye and turned towards the door.
Just as they reached the doorknob, March yelled their name.
"Th-thank you. For the gift." He mumbled.
They smiled. "You're welcome, March."
When they left, he felt his heart drop as he sighed. They'll never realize what they do to him.
--
March turned to Ryis, begging via eye contact for his friend to save him from this overbearing granny matchmaker.
Ryis only shrugged. "Sorry, man, but it's true. I've seen the way that you act around them."
"What do I act like?!"
Ryis recalled the time that the farmer hugged him after he gave them the bracelet he made them. The carpenter said he didn’t know that he could even get that red, especially after the farmer told him that ‘it was the most thoughtful gift they’ve ever received,’ and that March was their ‘closest friend.’
Before he could retort, his brother stepped up. He explained that March almost poured molten iron on the floor instead of the ax-head mold while he was checking them out. "C’mon dude. Even I can pick that up." Orlic chuckled.
"March, I've lived a long life, and with the way you stutter around them...everyone knows that you're interested in them." Landen butted in.
Elsie sighed, “And what’s worse, the only person who hasn’t noticed is the farmer,” she turned to March, “I don’t know how much more obvious you could be, dearie.”
This farmer was going to be the end of him.
March's face feels so hot it's almost like he stuck his head directly into a crucible filled with molten copper. He covered his face with his hands.
"All of you suck." March mumbled.
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Did I get too carried away with this? Yes. As always, hope you enjoyed 💗
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Text
Do You Want To Know A Secret (Teen!George Harrison x Teen!Lennon!Reader)
A/N: Hello, Happy Easter! I'm posting another oneshot, because why not? I feel like it could have been a little better than what I wrote, but I was in a bit of a rush to get it out. Who doesn't love some George?
Summary: It's 1961. You're John's sister and he refuses to let you talk to anyone in his band (and vice versa) despite your house being their practice location. George scores some alone time with you one day, and sings you a little song he composed for you.
WARNINGS: SUGGESTIVE BEHAVIOUR; the reader is pretty confident in this oneshot. Mentions of sex, but nothing further than a heated make out session/ neck kissing really occurs in this. Swearing, probably, but I could be wrong. George starts out shy but he is not by the end. There are probably some typos as well oops.
This one is T rated, but just read at your own risk because as mentioned, sex is discussed
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It was 1961, a relatively warm Friday evening after dinner, where an eighteen year old George Harrison was accompanied by a nineteen year-old Paul McCartney, on the way to the Lennon household.
Band practice was that night, the newly renamed "Beatles" preparing for their next gig at the Cavern Club just that following evening. George had his guitar case in hand, and Paul, his base, as they walked and talked.
John's house could be spotted from where the two were now, and George, who was talking in that moment, lost train of thought when he spotted someone just outside the front door.
That someone was you. John's little sister. Aged eighteen; like George.
George could feel his heart fluttering as he watched you move around the front garden, watering can in hand as you tended to the little flowers in the window planters.
"Don't stare," Paul lightly chided in a sing-song tone, wagging his finger at George when he came back down to earth, cheeks flush at the idea of having been caught looking.
"But look at her," George groaned, hand gesturing towards you haphazardly before dropping it down helplessly at his side. "Just look at how perfect--"
"And off limits," Paul added quickly.
"... she is," George sighed as he finished his sentence, a rather upsetting frown on his face. The boys had since halted walking, making sure to be far enough away that you weren't in earshot of their conversation.
"Look, Harry," Paul rested a hand on the younger boy's shoulder in comfort. "I know how you feel. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think she was a looker, y'know?"
Paul and George glanced over at you for a moment, before he continued.
"... but if I had a sister, and three lads who couldn't keep their eyes off her, I couldn't say I wouldn't be doing what Lenny's doing right now."
George knew that Paul was right. As much as he hated it, John loved you very much, and was cautious of any guy trying to be near you, especially now that you were a young adult, and not some child.
Every time the band gathered at John's house, everyone seemed to be under a microscope-- including you. The boys weren't allowed to talk to you, and you couldn't even look at anyone without your brother hollering at you to get upstairs, or to refocus back to your homework, or whatever task you had at hand.
But in moments like this, where the protective older brother wasn't around, George took every chance he could to greet you with a smile on his face.
And he wasn't going to stop now.
"I get it, mate. I just... there's something about her." That's the simplest George could have explained it to Paul. He wasn't about to disclose that he dreamt of you almost every night, or that he relished in the moments of excitement and anxiety of being able to see you, if only for five seconds out of his entire week.
And he certainly would not have told him about the songs he was composing; his muse being you, of course.
It was all just one giant secret, and as much as George wanted to tell you, all he thought of were downsides in result of revealing such a thing to you.
George thought that you, for starters, were leaps and bounds out of his league, he was scared of being laughed at, and he would have been absolutely horrified if John were to ever find out.
The negatives drastically outweighed the positives, so he was better to keep his mouth shut.
George and Paul continued their trek to the building, and when they finally made it to the walkway leading to the door, you turned your head, smiling gently and waving to them once you realized who it was.
"Good afternoon, lads," you greeted politely, and George nearly melted at the sound of your voice.
"Hello, Miss Lennon," the boys responded in unison. George cringed a little at that, pushing through the door with Paul following close behind. As much as he wanted to stick around, he knew it would have been too risky.
And thank God he made made that choice. John was waiting for them in the main foyer, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't seem too happy, but he wasn't quite pissed off, either; almost as if he were in limbo of the two.
"'Bout time yous showed up. Me n' Pete've been waiting forever. C'mon, now." John waved his hand as he headed for the basement stairs, and the boys wordlessly continued on so they could begin their practice. George only looked over his shoulder once before descending the steps, hoping to have caught just one more glimpse of you, but to no avail.
"We have a show tomorrow, and you boys decided to be a quarter of an hour late!" John complained on as he threw his guitar strap over his shoulder. Pete was in the corner of the room on his drum set just shaking his head as he grabbed his drumsticks and tapped a little on his instrument. he must have been there for a while already.
Paul and George hurriedly grabbed out their instruments, apologizing so the older boy's complaints would cease. "As long as you're ready to play now, I don't care."
John always got sort of tense when the other three boys were over, hyper-focussed on keeping you away from them and vice versa. He was more or less worried about Paul trying to flirt with you, so a lot of John's poor behaviour stemmed from that.
Little did he know that it was actually George who'd fallen head over heels for you.
But that wasn't something to worry about in that moment. What was important was that practice began, and that they had to see improvement before their show just that following night.
Practice was going well. They had been at it for nearly an hour at that point, and the more they worked, the more pleased each boy was with the sound. They took a brief pause for some water, and John was rifling through his pile of lyrics sitting on a table in the corner of the room, trying to decide which one to practice next.
As George finished the last drop of water in his glass, John piped up, "I don't have all my songs here. Must've left them in my room."
"Which ones?" George asked, empty glass still in-hand. "I'm running up for a refill, might as well grab that for you as well."
"I think I left them on my desk at the side. You sure you don't want me running up?"
George swatted his hand as he started for the stairs. "Don't worry 'bout it. Be back in a jiff."
George hopped up the stairs, leaving his glass on the kitchen counter next to the sink before moving down the main foyer. He paused at the front door to peek out the window to see if you were still outside, but he didn't see you from where he was standing. He sighed gently before turning and making his way up to the second floor.
George made his way down to John's room at the end of the hallway. It was the only room with the door open, and before he even made it into the room, he could see the pile of lyrics on the desk, right where John said they'd be.
He picked up the pile, shuffling through them and counting the pages as he did so. He took one more brief glance around the room to make sure he wasn't missing anything else. When he decided this was all he needed, he turned on his heel and headed out to the hallway.
George was just about to make it to the stairs when he felt someone take hold of his arm, and swiftly tug him into one of the other rooms. The moment was a blur for him, and it took him a second to piece together what happened. He was standing in the middle of the room-- your room.
And you were only three feet away from him, back against the door, and cheeks glowing pink.
"Hello," you smiled gently, and George had no clue what to say, pages clutched tightly against his chest as his brain swirled with millions of thoughts.
"Hi," he squeaked, face burning in humiliation at his flustered state, but he was in your room, for Christ's sake. Your room! He had no clue what to say to you, mouth hanging open as he tried to search his brain for some other words.
"Look, I know we're not supposed to be doing this," you expressed, and George could feel his heart doing violent flips in his chest, especially when you pushed yourself off the door to take a step or two closer to him. This was the longest conversation he had with you, to date.
"Johnny would kill me if he knew I had a boy in my room, you know," you took a moment to pause, and all George could do was nod his head in agreement, intoxicated by the way you walked, and the way you talked. There was a hint of something in your voice... but the boy couldn't quite place what it was. Yearning? That couldn't be right... could it?
"But where's the fun in that, huh?" You asked, hands clasped behind your back, eyes staring right back into his, and George couldn't help but break his gaze first, utterly intimidated by your confidence. His eyes fixated to the dress you were wearing, and he could see a playful smile dancing on your lips in his peripheral.
"... You like what you see, Georgie?" You asked lowly after a moment, and his stare shot back up to your face again, certain his legs were numb. The nickname rolled off your tongue so effortlessly, so perfectly. The things it was doing to him...
"I..." he could barely speak, breaths ragged. Not one coherent thought was at the forefront of his brain, other than one simple word.
"Pretty." Your smile was a little more genuine now after he said that, and you reached a hand up to tuck a little strand of hair behind your ear.
"You think I'm pretty?"
George just nodded again. It was only now that he realized how much shorter you were compared to him, as you were only a foot away from him; the closest you'd ever been. He was looking down at you, but you were, in no way, intimidated by him. It was actually quite the opposite.
"You know, Georgie, you're pretty handsome, yourself," you professed, smiling wider as George's face burned even hotter.
He couldn't even thank you, scared of what would have happened if he tried to utter any kind of response to you. You reached out to rest a hand on his arm, and your smile faltered just a little.
"You're really tense... am I making you uncomfortable?" George's eyes widened, swallowing nervously as he shook his head 'no' as quickly as he could. He didn't want-- whatever this was-- to stop. The sincere upturn of your lips returned, and George couldn't help but flit his gaze down to your lips.
If only he had as much confidence as you, he might have just dipped down to have a taste...
"Look, I don't wanna keep you any longer. I know Johnny's gonna be looking for you soon." You thought for a moment before mentioning, "usually after you boys leave, he's down there for another hour or so practicing his own songs. Come back and see me after, yeah? Get to know each other a little more?" You raised an eyebrow expectantly, and George nodded his head again.
"Okay," he managed to whisper, resulting in you rising to your toes, and wordlessly pecking him on the cheek.
He felt like he was dreaming.
"Run along now, before they get suspicious!"
George's feet, though seemingly glued to the floor moments before, took off quickly, opening the door, and disappearing out into the hallway, shutting it closed behind him. As soon as he was on his own, he sighed heavily, the rush of oxygen in his lungs making him feel light-headed.
For someone who seemed so innocent in the open, around others, George could never have guessed how much of a minx you were behind closed doors. One part of him was still in denial that his interaction with you was even real, let alone meant to be flirtatious in any way...
But man, he would have been stupid not to take you up on your offer. It was just another hour he had to spend practicing, and he'd be right back in there, hopefully earning another kiss on the cheek from you.
George looked at the lyric papers in his hands one last time before sighing one more time, and going back downstairs. He passed his forgotten water glass in the kitchen, mind on an entirely different planet.
He returned to the basement, handing John the papers. He thanked the younger boy, pausing for a second to watch him move to grab his guitar.
"Where's your glass, Harry?"
George tensed when John asked that, hand on the neck of the guitar.
"... Left it upstairs,"  he responded.
"Thought you were grabbing a refill?" John's inquiries had George grasping for what to say next, but he was quick enough.
"Refilled the glass up there, drank it, and figured I'd be fine for the rest of practice."
His confession, though a lie, was believable enough for John, who just nodded his head slowly and drew his attention to the papers after a second, discussing which song they were going to practice next.
George just flew under the radar then, and he mentally cursed himself for being so careless. He look a quick glance at Paul, who was giving him a look; almost as if he knew something happened up there.
But he would never know the truth.
The shared glance fell apart when John advised everyone to get into position for playing, and they did just that.
The hour seemed to drag, George felt; but as time moved on, the more anxious he began to feel again. By the time everyone was packing up to leave, he was almost vibrating with anxiety.
He wanted to be close to you again so badly, but he didn't want to make a fool of himself as he had in the last interaction.
Pete, Paul, and George wished John a good night, and climbed the stairs to the main floor in that order, leaving John alone to continue practicing. Pete left Paul and George in the main hallway with a little wave, and a short "see yous tomorrow," before taking off out the front door.
Paul grabbed the door handle next and turned back to George, who stood in one spot a little too far away from the door.
"... Not walking home with me?" He asked in confusion, and when George didn't have a disposable answer, the pieces seemed to be finally clicking for the other boy.
He opened his mouth as if to lecture George on how bad of an idea sticking around would be, but instead, he tightened his jaw, shook his head, and waved to him.
"G'night Harry," he tossed a little wave out before taking off into the dusk.
He was alone now.
That could only mean one thing.
George eyed the stairs, knowing that if he turned on his heel and walked out right then, it'd be one of the biggest mistakes in his life. But he couldn't deny the fact that he was nervous; intimidated by you, and your assertive, rather sexy behaviour from earlier.
He took a deep breath, grabbing the railing, and hiking up the stairs slowly.
He stood outside your bedroom door much longer than he would have liked to admit, taking deep breaths and reciting words over and over again in his brain, as if this whole interaction were scripted-- as if he knew what was going to happen.
When he finally composed himself properly, he rapped on the door gently, hoping you would hear his presence on the other side. When you finally came around to open the door, his heart skipped a beat.
"I was beginning to think you weren't coming back," you voiced softly, leaning against the doorframe, handle still in hand. You sounded a little relieved, almost, seeing the boy on the other side of the threshold.
You were in your pyjamas, a set that showed enough skin on your arms and legs that it made George, red-faced, shake his head to reactivate his brain, which pretty much short circuited.
"You goin' to bed?" His words left his mouth faster than he realized he was even saying them. Sure, it was getting late out, but would you have really changed if you were expecting company?
"Well, that depends. Will you be joining me?" You were so quick on your feet in response that it honestly impressed George, the heat returning to his face as he tried to think of what to say next, not daring to drop his line of sight below your chin.
"I'm only teasing you," you laughed after a moment of watching George squirm, pushing off the doorframe and allowing him to enter your bedroom again. As he passed you, he caught sight of you gazing up his body, shrugging and adding a little "... maybe," to the end of your sentence.
You were such a tease, and George set his guitar case off to the side, facing away from you, so he could hide just how giddy and flushed he was just being in there with you again. He rose to his feet and turned to face you. You were only a few feet away from him again, eyes on him intensely, smile still present.
"... I hope you know just how glad I am that you came back," you expressed again, honestly. George raised an eyebrow at that, shoving his hands in his pockets. He wanted to tear his gaze from yours so badly, but your face was just so gorgeous to look at, and he didn't want to be caught looking at your outfit again; he knew some more teasing would surely ensue if he was caught staring.
"Why wouldn't I come back?" George replied bashfully, shrugging his shoulders a little. "Wouldn't miss a chance to be here, with you, for the world."
Your stare softened at his words, beaming as your own cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. George wasn't sure you were really expecting something like that coming from him. "... You really mean that?"
George desperately wanted to elaborate a little further, but he just settled on giving you a little nod, smiling back shyly at your question.
"Maybe I thought I might've scared you off for being so forward earlier," you admitted timidly as you turned on your heel. You took a seat at the edge of your bed, and George surveyed your movements, eyebrows lifting a little when you reached out to pat the empty space next to you on the mattress after a moment.
"Care to take a seat?"
George accepted the invitation, and you felt the bed dip when he sat down. His eyes cast down to the floor, face still red at the idea of being in your presence; having your attention.
"You know, Georgie... my brother can be pretty stupid sometimes. But making this house the place for band practice, I think, was one of the best decisions he's ever made."
His eyes met yours again at your words, and you shrugged one of your shoulders.
"I'd be lying if I said I haven't been dying to talk to you. Or get to know you. You seem so kind, and you're so attractive, and John wants to keep you away from me, and I'm so sick of him deciding what's best for me."
Your eyes cast down between the both of you for a moment, and George could feel his heart trying to leap out of his chest. His fingertips felt numb, mouth hanging slack as you continued your profession.
"I knew the only way to get close and alone with you was to bring you in here. And I saw the way you were looking at me earlier, and I had to get you to come back."
It felt like the wind was knocked out of his lungs. Was he really that obvious when he was in here last?
"It's thrilling... having a boy like you in my room, while John's clueless out there as to what we're doing. What we could be doing..."
George's mind was going places he was never expecting it to that evening, especially with the help of you voicing it aloud. He was in utter disbelief of what you were telling him, convinced he'd fallen asleep throughout the day, and he was caught in some blissful dream he wished would never end.
"I feel a little selfish, springing so much information on you at once... but every time I see you, I desperately want to be with you; and today, I had to jump to take that chance. I couldn't wait another week, another day."
You smiled sheepishly, not really expecting George to say anything after that. You were honestly just trying to get your thoughts off your chest, and now that you had, you felt a lot better. You were also pleased with the little look of shock on George's face. You liked doing that to him.
You decided to break his trance by nodding over to his guitar case sitting on the floor. "So... You have plans to serenade me, Georgie?"
Your question definitely brought him back down to earth, and he took a quick glance at the case before looking back to you. Your confession was still ringing clear in his head like a bell. He felt he didn't have the words to admit his feelings as clearly as you had right on the spot...
He did, however, have the words pre-planned as lyrics, in a multitude of original songs he wrote for you.
"... I do, actually," he agreed, standing up to open his case and retrieve his instrument. George was feeling a little more excited now, knowing any girl these days would swoon at the idea of having music written for them, and he just hoped you would too.
He returned to the bed, deciding against tossing the strap over his shoulder. He faced you so you could hear and see every little thing he did. He was at least glad he didn't get performance anxiety on the guitar.
He gently strummed out a few different notes, deciding in his head which song he wanted to perform for you. One in particular stuck out in his mind, and he couldn't deny that it was the perfect choice.
He was a little worried about how you'd feel about his playing, and the lyrics, but he wanted to show you that he could be confident about this, especially since he was nearly certain now that his feelings were reciprocated. But he had to play it cool.
"It is a work in progress. I've only half of it written, but I really think you'll like it," George explained to you before allowing the notes to fill the air around you both.
"Listen,
Do you want to know a secret?
Do you promise not to tell?
Closer,
Let me whisper in your ear,
Say the words you long to hear,
I'm in love with you."
It was only then that you realized this was the first time you'd ever seen, or heard George play. This beautiful genius was being hidden away from you this whole time, and it was a blessing to see his work up close.
His left hand slid along the fretboard so easily, thumb and fingers on his right tickling the strings as if it were second nature to him. You couldn't decide which hand you wanted to look at. His digits were skillful on the instrument, and George made sure to almost exaggerate his movements to impress you.
He pretty much had you in a trance, now, daydreaming about what else those hands could do...
"I've known a secret for a week, or two,
Nobody knows, just we two,"
George had been worried the whole song about messing up the notes, eyes so focused on where his fingers were going... But he glanced up at you, realizing how hypnotized you were, like putty in his hands, and he decided there was nothing to worry about.
He decided to sing right to you now, soft eyes on your face, and when your field of view locked with his, he knew he wouldn't dare break the stare.
"Listen,"
This wasn't a song anymore.
"Do you want to know a secret?"
This was his confession.
"Do you promise not to tell?"
His way of showing you what you really meant to him.
"Closer,"
He wasn't clouded by any insecurities or doubt anymore.
"Let me whisper in your ear,"
Your gaze flitted down just enough to watch George's canines poke out from behind his lips as he sung, and your eyelashes lowered at the sight of his beautiful mouth.
"Say the words you long to hear,"
Your mind was absorbing the lyrics like a sponge in water, every single word eliciting a feeling so strong in your heart, you could hear it pumping in your ears.
"I'm in love with you."
George hummed away as he played the final notes, a little smile still on his lips when he let the last chord ring out into a room of silence.
When that stillness remained for a moment, George couldn't help but ask with a little bit of hesitation, "Well... what do you thi--"
He couldn't even get the rest of his question out before you darted at him, lips smashing into his as if he were about to disappear forever.
He let out a little surprised hum before he pulled the guitar out from between the both of you, and you took it as an opportunity to push your body closer to him, arms wrapping around his collarbone.
He blindly set the guitar down to lean it against your bed, and when he let go of the neck of the instrument, his hands went for your hips, squeezing your sides gently before pulling you right up into his lap. your actions bloomed a type of self-assurance within him he had no idea he could even possess.
It was your turn to squeal excitedly, but George's lips on yours muffled the sound. One of his hands snaked around to the small of your back before it slipped under your shirt, his palm dragging up your spine. His fingertips took note of each vertebrae it dipped up and down into, like the frets on his guitar.
This, George decided, was better than a dream. This whole situation unfolding around him made him feel as though he died and went to heaven.
He pulled his lips away from yours, free hand reaching up to grip your chin and directing you to tilt your head up. His lips suckled on the side of your neck, and the sound coming from your mouth was absolutely euphoric to him. But he removed his palm from your chin to cover your mouth, his other hand still feeling and memorizing every curve and dip in your back.
"You must be quiet, Love. Wouldn't want your brother knowing about all this fun we're having up here, eh?" Your eyes rolled back at his words, groaning into his hand as you felt George drag his teeth gently along the column of your throat.
Knowing you were enjoying this as much as he was only brought more confidence to his actions, and he let his tongue poke out to leave a large, wet kiss on your collarbone.
You were squirming in his lap, fingers sliding up into his hair and tugging so he knew he was doing everything right.
He groaned at the friction you were creating at the hips, and he pulled away from your neck to kiss your lips again after removing his hand and placing it on the back of your neck.
You swallowed his moans as you continued to grind in his lap, but both of your movements paused when you heard the guitar come crashing down to the carpeted floor. It wasn't as loud as it could have been, but it was loud enough.
You both kept an ear out, knowing that might have caught the attention of someone downstairs, and when you began to hear footsteps shuffling around, you began to panic a little, eyes wide and darting back to George, whose face was flushed from the assault of your kisses, and hair was a tangled mess from your fingers.
"You gotta hide," you rushed out quietly, and though you tried to climb out of George's lap, his hands kept you planted right where you were.
"What are you doing?!"
"... What if I didn't?" He challenged you a little, a daring smirk at his lips.
"Had you not been so naughty, with all that moving and teasing, the guitar wouldn't have fallen, eh? And we wouldn't be in this situation at all." The points of his canines were showing again, and you groaned at his words.
"George, I'd love to continue this, but John will kill you if we're caught, and we can't do this if you're dead!"
"Well then we just won't get caught," he responded simply. He was blinded by desire, his confidence seeping out of him like sap from a tree as he placed his mouth back on your neck.
The footsteps stopped outside your door, and you both heard a knock, George not showing any sign of stopping his actions.
"Don't come in, I'm-- I'm not wearing any clothes!!" It was the first thing you could blurt out to whoever was on the other side.
"Oh, baby, that'd be a sight to see," George mumbled against your skin, pulling your top down just enough so he could suck a dark spot just above your left breast so you could easily hide it away, and you sighed heavily at the contact, face burning red.
"Just heard a loud thud. Just making sure all is okay," it was John on the other side; completely oblivious to the actual scene occurring on the other side of the door.
"Yeah, a book from my shelf was knocked over! N-nothing to worry about!"
George grabbed your chin again when you were finished talking, shoving his tongue right into your mouth as you both heard John respond with, "oh, okay. Just making sure you're alright. Have a good night."
You listened closely as the footsteps quieted, and when there was no sign of anyone else on the second floor, let alone at the door, you pulled away from George's kiss.
"Well... how was that?"
"Risky," you replied, a rather unimpressed look on your face as you unraveled your arms from George's shoulders and crossed them over your chest.
"Well, you don't have to worry about him anymore, Love," he tried to give you another kiss, but you placed your fingers against his lips. It was your turn to smirk mischievously.
"You know what, Georgie... I think you've had enough action for tonight."
You could see the smug grin fall right off George's face as you removed your hand. Surely you had to have been joking. But when you pushed a little to get off him, his arms fell to his side, a little pout on his face.
"You're serious? Love, you got me all hot and bothered..."
"George, you really thought we were going to go all the way tonight with other people in the house?" You laughed out loud at that; and when you said it like that, he would have had to agree that it did sound ridiculous.
"Trust me, Georgie, I want to," you placed a hand on his cheek in comfort, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, and he looked up at you as if he was the shy boy you interacted with just an hour before.
"But we both know doing that in an empty house would be far better than having to keep quiet about it, huh?"
All George could do was imagine that situation, eyes drifting shut, and tilting his head into your caressing hand.
"You're such a damn tease," he mumbled, eyes blinking back open after a moment.
"All good things come to those who wait," was all you said, leaving one, sweet kiss on his lips before pulling away, and nodding to his guitar. "We better pack you up and send you home."
You watched as George situated himself, placing his guitar back in the case, closing it and picking it up. You wrapped your arms around him gently, planting another kiss on his cheek.
"By the way... I think that song was beautiful," you whispered to him, and when you pulled away to see him smiling at you, you couldn't help but match the grin on your own lips.
"See you next week? Same time?"
"You don't even have to tell me twice," George responded with, and you just had to lean in for one more smooch on the lips, to which he eagerly reciprocated.
He then opened your window up, and took a step out. You watched as he climbed down the corner of the house slowly, and before he took off down the road, he blew you a kiss, to which you mimicked catching with your hand.
As George headed home, the sun now fallen over the horizon, those intimate moments he shared with you were at the very forefront of his mind. His hands could still feel your bare skin under his fingertips, and his mouth tingled as he remembered what it was like to have your lips on his.
He was just craving for the next moment he had alone with you.
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A/A/N: And there we are! hope you all enjoy this, and I hope your Easter weekend was full of sun, and fun! Please let me know if you want to read more so I know it' worth it to post!
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reallife6anoufriev6boy6 · 12 days ago
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DYLRIC FAMILY STIMBOARD + HEADCANONS PLSSSS ill lick your dick cheese pls
dylric family stimboard
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i shower almost two times a day i am very clean and do not have that:o(….
but anyway, i do NOT care if anyone thinks this is “cringe” or retarded because this comforts me so much and i will do what i want. someone needs to ask me for a caldre and artkita version.
♥️
they would both be very good parents and will take care of their kid(s) very well.
because they never had the support they needed, they give their kid(s) all the support and help they need. they have a very close relationship with their kid(s) and theyre always welcome to come to them for help.
they are definitely overprotective of their kid(s) especially when it comes to them being bullied. eric will beat a strangers child, but dylan will hold him back from doing that and will suggest they do something else about it. although dylans also definitely gotten close to doing it too.
eric is the dad their kid(s) would go to for advice on being all cool and general life advice while theyd go to dylan for more of the school and practical related stuff. trust me on this.
when it came to giving their kid(s) the talk, they both had no idea how to explain it and were fumbling over their words and being vague and awkward, mostly because theyre two gay dudes and dont know how heterosexual baby making works other then the basics.
they still keep guns and what not, but they always keep them locked up and unloaded. theyve taught their kids how to use them in less violent situations…..like hunting or just taking them out to shoot stuff in the woods. they stress gun safety a lot to the point where their kid(s) have asked them why theyre so serious about it, but they cant explain why for the obvious reasons.
they kept all of their tapes and pictures and theyve let their kid(s) watch some of them and look through most of the photos, but they also kept the basement tapes as well as their journals which has led to some very close calls when it came to their kid(s) finding them.
they gave their trench coats, hats, and sunglasses to their kid(s) and they frequently wear them.
they also gave them all their old posters and band tshirts as well as cds and stuff. theyre always telling them about how cool and awesome their music was and their kid(s) always brushes them off and calls them old.
they always try to eat dinner together as much as possible and ironically their kid(s) always like to have pizza which theyve joked about and called a curse for working at a pizza place, but instead of ordering it they will make it from scratch since they know how to.
i think they would do movie nights where its basically just the two of them geeking out about their old movies and showing them to their kid(s). their kid(s) always falls asleep on the couch in between them and they let them sleep there until the movies over and then one of them will carry them up to their bedroom.
im sorry, but i need to see them get emotional and tear up at any of their kid(s) events. i need them both to cry when they see their kid(s) dressed for prom or when theyre graduating.
if they had a daughter(s), they would be such good girl dads. you just know theyd always help style her hair and get her the nicest clothes and help her with boys - although when she gets her period they are both clueless and have to figure it out just as much as she does.
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14thgalerie · 1 year ago
Text
tell me why
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• pairing: theodore nott x reader
• now playing: dangerous by madison beer
• word count: 3.3k
• genre: angst, fluff (barely)
— based on this request, i hope you like this one even though i'm pretty sure this isn't what you had in mind huhu. i tried to find a way to go about this prompt that isn't all cliche and was written before.
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Projects given over the holiday: written and set aside in a matter of six hours.
Every crevice and corner of his room is now spotless.
A game of quidditch with Lorenzo with his siblings.
And that’s the entire list. He has finally run out of things to do, yet the sun remains shining brightly outside. What was supposed to be an uneventful day had turned out to be quite a hectic one. An accidental glance at the desk that sits below the tall windows ruined the extraneous effort he had gone to in order to forget about a certain envelope or rather someone.
An entire day has already passed since his owl dropped by to hand him a single envelope. After taking a glance at the sender, he couldn’t bring himself to open it right at that instance.
In all honesty, he has absolutely no idea as to why he is avoiding opening it; well maybe he does know, and maybe it’s the reason for the dread that kept stirring at the pit of his stomach. The last time he heard from you was at the Hogwarts Express before you completely cut off contact with him.
It’s been an entire week now since the holiday break started, the same amount of time since he received a word from you, something that has never occurred. Your fights had never lasted for longer than necessary— a day would be the worst of it because he despises it whenever people make matters worse for themselves by ignoring one another. But despite his great hatred for it, he doesn’t feel a single thing except for the urgency and desperation that you answer him.
So, he doesn’t understand why you suddenly shut away from him when everything has been going great. One moment you were all snuggled up to him in the compartment you shared with your friends and then not a single word from you from the hundreds of letters he must’ve sent by now.
The sound of knocking pulls him from his thoughts.
“Hey Theo, I left some food for you here if you’re awake. Mom also set aside some medicine if you’re not feeling well, she’s worried for you.” He hears Lorenzo at the door trying to talk to him, unsure if he is even being heard by Theo.
Silence fills the room as Lorenzo leaves, thinking that he’s still asleep. Looking at the yellow ribbon that wraps around the envelope, he reaches out and takes hold of it for the first time since he last dropped it.
Pulling the band with a sense of uneasiness, he sees that it doesn’t have anything special on it, just your name at the front and numbers at the upper left corner. Pulling out the paper— wondering if the little doodles that always accompanied your letter for him would be there, but he is left frowning at the blank edges. Flipping it open, he laughs out loud at the naivety of believing it will be any good before he is choked by the lump that formed in his throat.
Let’s break up, Theo.
I’m a coward to do this over a letter, I know. I won’t blame you if you’re mad at me. I have been constantly depressed at the thought of doing this. In the weeks leading up to when I am writing this, I have been incessantly living vicariously through the memory of us. 
I know it’s too much to ask after doing this to you, but please never talk to me again. Don’t ask. I won't be able to explain to you, not when I still don’t understand it and how I’m feeling.
Goodbye.
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You wonder if he’ll ask. You wonder if you will ever tell him. How you will explain, how you might run away instead. It’ll be an answer enough to satiate the questions that barrage through the doors of your mind without warning.
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Theo was lying in his bed staring unknowingly into space, it had been hard to move when your body is deprived of sustenance; nor food or sleep is enough. So he lays there in the forced darkness from his drawn bed curtains, body more still and cold than a dead body 6 feet underground.
He couldn’t handle another day of hiding behind the old facade of indifference. At first, it was easy. He heeded your wish of keeping his distance even if every atom in his body begged to be near you. Saving the most painful, physical sobbing in his solitude. He was fine just seeing you be there; alive and breathing.
As the days lingered on, however, it wasn’t enough. Not when you have deprived him even of that one simple thing. Disappearing from every class you’re sharing only to find out you have requested to attend another class.
He didn’t have the energy to keep up with that charade anymore. Letting himself wither until he’s only a nutshell of the man you’ve built in the ruins of his past.
He had, in every sense but physical, become a ghost, drifting between the phases of the day without a sense of time. He relies on his day-to-day life by moving on autopilot.
He doesn’t know what he did, he begs to know because he cannot go on another day like this. 
“Theodore Nott!”
His attention is called away when he hears a booming voice beside him followed by the bright light that showers over him as the curtain of his canopy is pulled open. Not a care if the man wasting away hours behind it will be mad at her. 
Pansy only knew one thing: she would not have her best friend lose every prospect in his life because of both of your lack of communication. She couldn’t give a damn if you will ever manage to resolve your issues. For now, Theo is her priority and he needs to stand up and study.
She had already managed to fix you up enough to have you up and functioning, although a mere ghost on legs. But that will do, now for this man who is at the grunt of your problems.
“Stand up and go to the library.” She pulls the blanket which barely covers him, and throws it someplace. “You are going to fail your NEWTS at this rate.”
“Who cares?” He drawls out. Turning to his side to cower beneath his pillows.
“Your future does.” Knowing that he will never stand at his own will, she gathers every bit of strength in her to pull him by his arms.
“Gods, Pans. Can you just bugger off and leave me alone?”
He tries to wave her off and turns to slide beneath the welcoming arms of his bed. But before his face plants onto the soft, strewn fabric, he is pushed and pushed until they are greeted by the long, grimy corridor outside their common room. His bag full of books was thrown out the door after him. With his lack of energy, all he can do is follow her demand.
Hoping that this will distract him.
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Theo trudged towards the library, dragging his feet behind him. Maybe the tranquil ambiance could be a soothing balm for his aching heart. Make him finally focus on other things in his life, knowing that whatever reason you may have, you would never wish that he put his studies on hold.
Theo chose a table tucked away in a quiet corner, where he could fully immerse himself in his books and thoughts. The flickering candle lights atop the wooden tables, weathered by the countless students that passed through Hogwarts, had added a comforting touch to his isolation. Casting dancing shadows on the polished surfaces.
This worked for about an hour and a half until he realised he had forgotten his advanced Potions book in his other bag.
Surrounded by towering bookshelves, Theo began searching for a copy of the book he’s missing and some other texts that might be helpful for his NEWTS classes. As he reached a particular shelf that contained the very books he was looking for, he couldn’t help but overhear snippets of a conversation, the hushed tones barely above a whisper. 
“-Theodore?”
He decided to walk away, thinking the conversation private, when his attention was caught by the mention of his name. He wasn’t able to catch the question but he was intrigued.
With a furrowed brow, he furtively strained over the tiny slot in the shelf he pulled a book from to see two familiar faces opposite him, unaware of the person with wide eyes that locked in on one person. 
As if on instinct, he dwindles at the sight of you, like a cord being pulled out of its socket, his body going back on autopilot.
He almost slapped himself in the forehead for not recognizing your voice sooner, but he wonders. Why had you appeared so sullen and gaunt? Would it have to do with him since you mentioned him? He leans back on the shelves awaiting to hear more, wondering why you were supposedly that way when you have been acting like nothing had happened between the two of you. 
“We’re not together anymore, Luna.” You say in a dejected voice. Seeing it written on paper hurt, but nothing could compare to the anguish that invaded him at hearing it from you, feeling hopeless to the constant sharp pain on his chest that wrenched deeper into the wound.
“Is that why he’s been staying by the Ford Bog recently?” Luna unassumingly asks, curious. 
“What?”
“When I come by to feed the Thestrals, he is always there talking to them.” He hears Luna explain. He hadn’t known that Luna had been coming over to see them also. Now that he thinks about it, he remembers that, like him, she had also witnessed her mother’s death.
“Oh.” You must be thinking about what he confessed to you when you found him in a similar situation back in the fourth year.
“You miss him.” From the manner that Luna says it, it was less of a speculation and more of a fact. “I do.” You confess.
This makes him confused. His brows knit together as he tries his best to piece together the words that slipped from you in a way he understands. You had been the one to break off your relationship suddenly, without a word of explanation. But now you sit there, admitting you miss him after you ask him to keep his distance. He is tempted to turn the corner and ask you.
“But you constantly run away from him?” Luna asks for him instead. She follows it up with another question. “You broke up with him, right?”
There was a pregnant pause before he heard your voice again.
“Yes, I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“I was scared that he would do it sooner or later and I didn’t want to experience the pain of hearing it from him first-hand. So then, I decided that I would do the job for him.” You explain. 
He is left stumbling back at the accusation, knowing within himself that it would be the last thing he would do in a million years. Ever, actually. What spurred this idea from you? He finds it incredibly insulting that you would think he would.
Luna asks why you think he’ll do that. 
You say after a moment’s pause, “He’s been hanging out with this new friend of his before the holidays, and at first I didn’t care because I trusted him. But she just-” Your breath hitches, “She began to be more flirty and provocative with him and he didn’t even blink an eye.” 
You take in a sharp breath. “I know he would never do it, and he probably didn’t even notice but I don’t know…” 
His subconscious blocked out any of what followed after that horrid confession. Memories came in sudden assaults on his brain and senses. He doesn’t like how uncertain you sounded: he doesn’t know why you would think twice of his actions. 
Truth be told, he did indeed notice the weird affectionate manner in Scarlet’s approach to him. Frankly, he didn’t care and settled to ignore her in order to avoid conflict as she was a friend of Mattheo. Putting her in the back of his mind and that would be the end of it.
He always knew that you had this fear that he would leave you for another, this is provoked more by his terrible past with women before you. But he never thought it would be a problem for your relationship as he constantly did his best to remind you that it was either you or nothing at all. 
Though he couldn’t exactly blame you, even now as he sinks into the cold stone ground, he was stupid to think that ignoring Scarlet would suffice.
Sitting on the cold, hard floors with his head in between his hands, digits tightly clutching his hair. He doesn’t hear Luna excusing herself from your session, leaving you to clean up to prepare to leave. Stuck in the confusing labyrinth that his mind wandered off to, he didn’t notice the gentle footsteps near him, trying to avoid the librarian’s wrath.
“Theo?”
Nothing.
“Hello?”
Still not a thing from him. You become concerned.
“Theodore? Are you alright?”
You find yourself forgetting the very promise that you had even asked Theo to uphold— to never approach you. But despite your stern resolve, the sight of Theo sitting in the library corner, his distress palpable, throws it all out. Instead, the nagging fear that if you're the source of his evident turmoil.
“Theo.” You crouch down in front of him, keeping your hands nestled to your lap.
He didn’t even lift his head— you weren’t sure if he was not acknowledging you or that he simply didn’t notice you. You waited several minutes for a response, the silence becoming thick with tension and you couldn’t stand it. Your feet are itching to run.
“I’m sorry.” He finally looks up to meet your eyes and your heart twinged in your chest at his bloodshot eyes, clear evidence that he was not in good condition. You’re confused as to why he’s being like this. 
But somewhat you knew. Your heart pounds relentlessly against your chest. You knew what he was going to say.
“What do you mean?” 
He shakes his head. Eyes plastered intently on the creaking floorboards. “Scarlet.”
When he speaks it into existence, you dislike the way you flinch, the familiar bitterness spreading throughout your body. Your heart drops into the pits of your stomach.
“I- I’m sorry.” Theo’s voice quivered, his words trembling on the precipice of his emotions. His eyes were becoming blurred by the veil of his tears, bearing a weight that seemed almost unbearable. “Fuck, I’m so so sorry, Y/N.”
The lump in your throat threatened to suffocate you, leaving you on the brink of despair unable to respond properly. 
“It’s my fault. I never know when something upsets you. I hardly know you better than how I’m supposed to.” He says it like he means it. Theo says it to himself more than he says it to you. 
The world slows down to an adagio, and you’re caught up in the emotion that washes over you at his condition. Theo is rarely dishevelled; he’s hardly all over the place. If anything, he has always been quite proper, the opposite of the man in front of you.
You say his name softly, your gut tightening at the heart-breaking sight in front of you. Hesitating to reach out and hold him close to you. So you reach out to wipe away the lone tear that slides down his face.
“Merlin…I should be the one saying sorry.” 
“What?” He finally pulls him together enough to reply to you coherently.
“It’s not you. You’re not the problem.” Your subconscious running at a millimetre per second to come up with the right words to amend his words. Finding this a bit harder than you expected. “I am so broken that my body is just encased in this eternal itch to run.”
“When I saw how you were so unconcerned about Scarlet’s obvious attempts, I panicked. I let that fear get the best of me, letting it poison my mind. I was afraid that one day you’d begin to reciprocate her attraction. Maybe you would have been happier with her. I was terrified of losing you, and when the holidays came, I grabbed the chance to cower back and let it consume me. I didn’t wanna hear you confirm that hellish thought.”
“What changed?” He croaks out. “Why are you telling me all this now?”
“A big part of it comes from my conversations with Mum. I kind of forgot that she never really sides with me when it comes to my irrational decisions and she’s always been the one to make me realise it.” You feel the urge to laugh at the thought, but you restrain yourself. 
“And by heaven’s will, I want you to be happy but the need to be your happiness far outweighs that.”
But he does nothing but remain seated silently, nothing in him revealing that he plans to move. And you are terrified, for once you had no idea what was going on inside his head but you know that you had to let him think on his own. To stop assuming and making decisions off of it.
“You, you are a great deal of a headache to me. I have spent days questioning myself; was I so horrible that I couldn't even be granted the decency to be broken up to my face." cried Theo. 
“No you weren’t, Theo. I promise you.”
“I know I’m not. Yet, you still made me feel like it. I was happy with you, you were my lone happiness. I think it’ll be awhile before I forget this, despite what you confess.” He says, his voice choking up now and then, in spite of manful efforts to keep it steady.
“Is that true, Theo?”
“But as upset and tired I am, I still love you.” He acquiesced. “It’s laughingly pathetic how I am still entirely yours.”
He stopped short, his hands that rested on his lap emerging to take yours in its grasp. Their grip is a perfect balance of a strong hold and a gentleness.
“And I love you too, I don’t think I ever stopped. I promise you that I’ll work on myself, make things right between us again, because I don’t think I can go on for another day like this.” You said, sworn with a conviction so strong.
He shook his head and to that you feel the disgusting worm that whispers to you appear, “No. We’re gonna do it together, alright?” But it’s crushed under his pretty foot.
“I promised you then that I wouldn’t leave you to face whatever problems you have on your own. When I confessed to you ’I love you’, it meant that I would continuously be by your side to help you with your troubles. Our troubles.” He reminds you. “We’ll fix this together from now on…nobody is doing things solo.”
He tugs on your arms, telling you wordlessly to sit beside him. When you do, by habit and longing, your head moves to rest on the juncture of his neck inhaling the scent you missed most.
Nothing felt better than to have the urge to have your head resting on him be satisfied, he wanted nothing more than to feel something as mundane as this.
As he leaned his head on her temple, you felt giddy, feeling yourself turn tomato red at the action. It was a happy time, in spite of the things that remained to be talked about, so happy that you couldn’t dare to disturb it with anything.
“Y/N…” He breaks the silence.
You hum. 
“Did you ever dream about me?” 
“I thought about you.”
Only a soft squeeze to your hand serves as a reply.
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charliehoennam · 7 months ago
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karma's kiss
a/n: @harmonity-vibes requested a smutty lil fic with anthony because he is foooooine so here it is
Pairing: Anthony Saint Claire x F!Reader
Summary: Anthony finds himself swindled by a con-artist and tracks her down to get his own justice.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark themes like rough sex, asphyxiation, stealing, dub-con, smut (let's remember anthony is not a nice guy like our sweet little adorable professor so read at your own risk)
SHARING IS CARING SO REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT
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The bar you’re in is far different compared to the dive bars you started in your early years.
Your job isn't the kind you include in resumés, but it's paid your bills since college and you've managed to work your way up to a more high-end clientele.
Sitting at the bar, you can feel eyes boring into your side as you sip your daiquiri.
You smile at the bearded man, waiting to see if he'll approach you first. And, indeed, he does taking your smile as an invitation.
"Staring isn't very polite, you know" you smirk setting your drink on the bar as he sits next to you.
"Well, can you blame me? A beautiful woman like you in a dress like that is bound to get some attention, right?" he smiles slyly.
You smile pretending to be flattered by his compliment. It's nothing you haven't already heard before. It might be just bait that he tells all the girls he meets to get what he wants out of them, but you have to admit it feels a little nice coming from someone as attractive as he is.
In order to hide your real name and identity, you give him a fake name as you hold your hand out to shake his.
"Anthony," he smirks shaking your hand lightly before lifting his whisky for a sip. "Are you here with your husband?"
He glances down at the fake wedding ring and band on your finger. There is no husband. You just wear the rings because you've found it makes you more intriguing to most men.
You never really understood why, but if you had to guess, you'd guess it must have something to do with the chauvinistic idea of conquering something that's not theirs or that belongs to another man.
It doesn't exactly surprise to see a gold band on his finger too.,
"Are you here with your wife?" you retort.
"Touché," he smirks raising his glass to your witty observation.
"I'm not here with my husband, but he does know I'm here."
"Your husband lets you go out alone dressed like that?"
"We have an open relationship."
Anthony's smile stretches from ear to ear. Attending underground sex clubs, he's no strangers to forbidden kinks. They arouse him. Your beauty attracted him, but now, you have his full attention.
"That's interesting. You don't hear that every day," he smirks. "Tell me more about this relationship. I'm intrigued."
"Well, once a week, he allows me to go out on my own. I like getting to meet new people and he likes watching me get fucked by other men."
Your bluntness has his cheeks turning pink as he beams with amazement.
"So it's a kink?"
"I prefer the term alternative modern lifestyle," you smile mischievously at him. "Keeps the marriage spicy."
"I can imagine. And how's it work huh?"
"I go out, find a very attractive man," you explain glancing at his lips and making no effort to hide it. "We talk, drink, kiss and I take him home to fuck me in front of my husband."
"Seems simple enough" he smirks catching your glance at his lips. "How do you choose the man?"
"Consent is the most important factor, of course. If he's not alright with that, then everything stops. But I tend to gravitate towards those that are more pleasing to the eye."
"And are there candidates yet?"
"The night is still young. This is still my first drink and I'm already interviewing one," you reply with a cheeky smile.
"Oh, my. I am very flattered," he chuckles pretending to be surprised. "I'm very interested. Although I've never done anything like this before."
"You'd be surprised at how many have."
"I'm guessing a lot?"
"More than you think. Open relationships are becoming more and more common and accepted nowadays."
It hardly takes him any further convincing. You can tell by the way his legs and hips squirm in his seat he's turned on by the sole thought of it.
Moving to a more private table, you sit in the corner of the high-end bar sharing details about what you and your husband enjoy.
Anthony is up for anything. Just the thrill of fucking you in front of your husband already his dick leaking with anticipation.
The hardness in his pants is noticeable when you place your palm on his crotch after he tells you how big he is when you ask about his size.
Granted he is perfectly sized and thick, it doesn't change any of the plans you have for him.
You invite him to come back to the motel you're staying at under the guise you and your husband always go out of town for your escapades to avoid running into people you might work who wouldn't understand your lifestyle.
A sexual deviant himself, he knows just how well it is to have to hide your sexual fantasies and desires from others.
In the backseat of a taxi on the way to the motel, his lips are all over yours mauling yours as his head tilts to the side. His tongue wrestles for dominance between you. The thumb on the hand on your neck strokes your cheek.
His touch warms you from the inside. You can't let yourself give in, but it doesn't mean you can't enjoy it while you can.
You have to focus. This is our opportunity to get what you need.
Your hand glides down his chest under his leather jacket towards his crotch. With a firm unexpected squeeze to his cock, he moans into your mouth.
The driver can't help but glance at the rearview mirror, torn between stopping you from getting too heated and letting you go on to enjoy the show.
You palm Anthony's cock over his jeans. You have to admit, the man does have a nice size that makes your panties wet.
Reveling in your touch, his knees spread to invite you in as his torso adjusts to face the front.
"You like that, huh?"
"Can't wait to get my mouth around it."
"Why wait?" He smirks darkly.
Taking a glimpse at the driver, he immediately looks away and back to the road when your eyes meet his in the mirror.
You smirk back at Anthony as he unbuttons his jeans and pulls his cock out.
Lowering into the darkness of the backseat, you lean down to take it into your mouth, letting your tongue swirl around his tip to lap at his precum.
Anthony closes his eyes as his head dips backwards at the welcomed warmth of your mouth. With one arm stretched along the backseat, he uses the other to rest his hand against your bobbing head.
Too lost in the sensation, he doesn't notice or feel your hand sneaking into his pocket to steal his wallet.
The thrill of accomplishing your mission excites you enough to add a little more enthusiasm into the blowjob until the driver clears his throat to get your attention as the car rolls to a stop.
"We're here. That'll be 8.50."
"I got it" you say quickly to stop Anthony from looking for his wallet.
Taking a 10-dollar bill from your bra while Anthony tucks himself away, you hand the money to the driver and thank him telling him to keep the change.
Climbing out of the cab, you lead him to your room fumbling for your room key.
Anthony follows you inside and takes a look around. The room is nothing fancy as expected but it has a double bed which is all you need. Or so he thinks.
"My husband is on his way. He'll be here soon. Why don't you get comfortable while I freshen up real quick? I'll be just a minute."
You smirk sliding your hands up his chest to gently push at his black leather jacket.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he smirks down at you with lustful eyes.
As he shrugs off his jacket, you walk to the bathroom. While he takes his shoes off, you quickly race to the back wall of the bathroom to open the high shower window. You pop off the bug screen and let it fall to the ground. The collision makes an echoing noise and catches Anthony’s attention.
“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself.
Using the ledge of the dingy tub, you pull yourself up into the window and see-saw on the sill. You planned the escape; should’ve also planned the landing of it.
Your heart races when Anthony knocks on the locked door.
“Hey, sweetheart. Everything ok in there?” he questions growing suspicious.
Your legs flail in the air, knocking the shower rod and one of your high heels down. The clattering encourages him to throw his shoulder against the door to bust it open. Pushing yourself forward, you hold your arms out to soften the drop to the ground outside just as Anthony is able to break inside, catching a quick glimpse your feet just before they slip out of view.
“Hey! The fuck are you going?!” Anthony shouts bewildered as he pats his pockets for his phone and realizes his wallet is gone so he darts to the window, standing on his toes to pop his head outside.
It dawns on him that this is a set-up. Everything you told him was merely a lie to get him alone. And now he’s stuck in a run-down motel with no way to chase after you.
“Hey! Get back here, you little fucking thief!”
Giggling to yourself with his wallet in hand, you quickly limp toward the car you’d left in the alleyway behind the motel specifically for your get-away.
He tries to climb out through the window and, although he’s much better at it than you, you’re already speeding down the alleyway and onto the road when he stands up. He tries to run after you, but he knows his feet are no match to your car.
“Fuck!” he shouts angrily as he pants.
Standing in the alleyway, he quickly whips out the cellphone you thankfully managed to leave behind and types in the digits of your license plate in his digital notes before he can forget them.
Once they’re saved, he goes through his list of contacts which – unfortunately for you – is rather long and full of assorted figures. Some, which thanks to his night job in an underground sex club, happen to be people in powerful positions. Judges, lawyers, law enforcement. You name the job and he’s guaranteed to have someone of the area in his pocket.
Cashing in a favor with a sketchy local sergeant of the police department, Anthony asks him to notify him as soon as they get a hit on your plate. The sergeant doesn’t ask any questions. Anthony wouldn’t answer him with anything other than a threat of blackmail if he didn’t, but the less he knows, the better.
It takes a few days, but Anthony eventually gets a call informing of the car’s whereabouts and original owner. He’s not surprised to know it’s not you.
Assuming you live practically on the run, moving from motel to motel, he knows he has to act fact but still cautiously. There’s still quite a bit that he doesn’t know about you like if you work with any other parties or if you impose any danger. And if so, what level of danger could it be?
With a recently purchased gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, he sets his helmet on and speeds off to the illegally given address. He lurks from a distance and waits until you finally leave the room.
He keeps his distance from you, but decided to stalk you as you go about your day, buying groceries and clothes with his money. There wasn’t much pocket money, but you were able to clone his cards and identity to cash up a couple thousand.
He could’ve stopped you and cancelled all his cards, filed an official report. But you’ve would known and been caught before he’s had the chance to make you pay. And a couple thousands aren’t going to cause a lot of financial troubles for him, thanks to his fairly wealthy income from the night job.
As you go about your day, you can’t shake the feeling that someone is onto you. You keep looking over your shoulder, but there’s no one there. No one that you notice, at least. But then again, you always get this feeling after a theft.
You head back to the motel where you’d left your car. After a theft gone right, you always opt to get around on foot with the most important things in your bag at the slightest sight of a cop. That way, if anyone is onto you, it could provide you some time to get away.
Assuring the motel is safe, you head to the room you’d paid to stay at for the night and unlock the door. But just as you open the door, you instantly feel cold metal press against the side of your head. Your groceries drop and scatter on the ground as you hold your hands up.
“Don’t get smart again. I found you once and I can find you again.”
You can’t see the face of the figure, but you can tell it’s a man and you’re almost certain who he is.
“Close the door and step away from it.”
You don’t have much of an option. Run away and he’ll find you again. Or worse, shoot you down in the parking lot of this crappy motel and that’s not how you want to die.
With your hands carefully raised, you slowly close the door with your foot and walk deeper into the room just as ordered. You keep your back turned to him as he locks the door and face him only after he says you can.
The newfound power intoxicates him. It swells him with an authority that he's never felt before. You, on the other hand, are filled with fear. You try to play it cool to avoid letting him know that you're actually scared.
With your hands carefully raised, you slowly close the door with your foot and walk deeper into the room just as ordered. You keep your back turned to him as he locks the door and face him only after he says you can.
"I want my money and my documents back."
"I can give your documents back and all the copies I've made. But the money is already gone. I already spent it."
"Well, it seems like we got a bit of a predicament here, doesn't it?"
"I can pay you back, but it's gonna take some time."
"I don't have time," he lies. "I want it back now."
"I don't have any money now. Why do you think I do this?" You sigh. "Look, what if... I paid you back some other way?"
"What other way?"
You lower your hand to unbutton your white shirt and reveal your lacy bra.
"This is what you wanted in the first place, isn't it?"
His eyes lower from your face down to your chest. He stays silent, considering your offer but his gun stays aimed at you. 
"It was..  it still is."
"So why don't you put that away and take what you want?"
A sly smirk grows on his lips. His eyes darken with a sudden and familiar lust that revisits his being.
"I'm gonna keep this, just in case." He stated walking over to sit on the bed, manspreading his legs as he keeps the gun pointed at you.
"C'mere. On your knees."
Glancing at the weapon, you take slow steps to approach him and kneel between his knees.
"You know what to do. You did it so well before. Don't be shy now." 
You nod and raise your shaky hands to unbutton his jeans, pulling down his zipper.
Feeling the end of the barrel rest against the side of your head, you carefully release his dick from it's confine. It's not quite hard as before, but its getting there with you under his will.
You hold his dick up to take him into your mouth, lathering his member with your spit.
"Eyes up here, sweetheart."
His order is your command which you obey. You don't know what he's capable of and you don't want to find out.
Looking up at him, he relishes in the contrast of your teary eyes and dirty mouth full of his dick. He takes his free hand and threads his fingers into your hair, holding it back to keep it away from distracting you. How thoughtful, you think sarcastically.
Anthony's moans and groans fill the room as he breathes heavily, cock twitching with every bob of your head.
The grip on your hair tightens with every twitch. After forcing himself to the back of your throat, you buy yourself sometime to breath by licking up the backside of his heavy cock and swirling your tongue around his dome, putting your saliva pool against your plush lips.
"Fucking Christ" he groans deeply as he watches your mouth working its wonders, his angry cock throbbing with desire.
"Take them off" he orders nodding at your clothes.
Obeying his command, you slowly stand between his knees and unbutton your pants. He tisks as you move too fast.
“Slow… and turn around for me.”
You turn your back to him and slowly push your pants down, gliding your palms over your cheeks as you undress just to tease him a little. You figure you might as well enjoy it.
He smirks at the sight of your matching panties and admires how they perfectly hug your curves. As you bend forward to push your pants down to your ankles, he takes advantage of your position and trails the edge of his gun down the split of your cheeks.
Your body tenses at the touch of cold metal. You remind yourself to take calming breaths to keep yourself together.
“Nice fucking ass you got here, sweetheart,” he simpers, poking the barrel at your clothed cunt from behind. “Bet you got a cute pussy too…. Show me it.”
You gulp and lift your trembling hands to slide your panties down to reveal yourself to him. Although Anthony is undoubtedly attracted, you don’t trust him. The fact that your life is essentially in his hands is still in your mind. You comply to his orders, but you pray that he doesn’t hurt you too much. Not enough to be fatal at least.
“Atta girl.” He says removing the gun from between your legs. You quietly sigh in relief.
“Now come on over here.” Anthony stands behind you and presses the gun into your side.
“On the bed. Face down.”
Accepting your fate, you climb onto the mattress and lay on your front. Out of your view, you hear the jostling of his belt as he removes it with one hand and climbs on top of your legs to lock you in place. Setting the gun beside his foot, he takes the belt and tightens the leather tightly around your wrists.
You wince as the leather pinches your skin, but he doesn’t seem to care if it hurts you. You can feel his emotionless eyes on you, so you turn your head to the side to avoid look at him.
He climbs off of you and the bed, but he stays close. You try to zone out as you listen to him undress.
Walking around the bed now completely naked, he kneels down to pet your hair and wipes a tear from your cheek.
“Listen, sweetheart. I’m sorry for the scare. I’m not gonna kill you, alright? I’m not a monster.”
You nod looking up at him confused.
“I’m just gonna fuck you. Really, really hard. I think I deserve to get my money’s worth, right? Even you gotta agree with me on that.”
His words don’t exactly ease you, but the promise that he won’t shoot you dead is enough. After all, he doesn’t have to. It’s not like you can simply go to the cops to report him anyways.
“Ok,” you agree. “C-can you just please put the gun away?”
“I can do that. But don’t get smart. Deal?”
“Deal.”
He walks back around the bed and takes his gun to set it on the nightstand. You feel like you can finally breathe after what seemed like hours holding your breath.
You feel his weight on the mattress as it dips beside you again. He pulls you up by your arms and stands you on your knees.
“I want you to do something for me first. Sit on my face. Can you do that?”
You’re almost surprised by his request and the contact on your wrists as he unbuckles the belt, letting your wrists go just to bind them again but in front of you this time. He wants to…. pleasure you?
“I’ll make you cum if you’re a good girl.”
Once he’s on his back on the bed, you straddle his head carefully and lower your hips down to meet with his hungry mouth. With your ass spread by his hands, you lean forward to place your hands on his taut abs for balance.
You can’t hold back the moan you release as he licks a long-wet stripe from your hardening clit to your puckered ring of muscle. The hands that keep your cheeks apart squeezes into your flesh when his tongue begins its work on your pussy.
Anthony just can’t enough of you. Your taste is wonderfully delicious to him that he just has to fuck you with his tongue. And the position allows him to flick at your sensitive nub, making your walls slick.
“Jesus, fuck!” you gasp as he toys with your clit bringing you closer and closer to the brink. You’re so turned on although you feel like you shouldn’t be. He held you at gunpoint. This is wrong. So wrong, but it feels so fucking good.
His beard heightens the sensitivity between your legs as his nose pokes at your asshole. He pulls your hips down against his face harder, restricting himself of air.
“T-That feels so good!” you whine with tears prickling at your eyes feeling the pleasure snaps in waves throughout your body.
You’re not sure what comes over you, but you find yourself leaning forward to wrap your mouth around his cock again. The burning heat that bubbles from your core provoking yet another orgasm has you so hot for him that you need to suck him off.
He chuckles surprised by your sudden urge as he lifts your hips up to hiss out in pleasure. It doesn’t take him long to start thrusting his hips violently up, shoving his cock down your throat. He stops suddenly and pushes you off him, feeling himself close.
Shoving you onto your back, he spreads your legs and eagers aligns his dick with your hole before pushing himself into your wetness.
His hips relentlessly thrust against yours as he pounds you raw. The sounds of your wet cunt squelching around him make your cheeks warm as you realize how wet you really are for him.
The lecherous stare down at your body proves he’s getting closer. He pants as he watches your breast bouncing free from your bra. Eager to feel them, he stills and tear the bra in half to expose you completely.
He growls dipping his head to grope and maul at your breasts. Your skin burns with his prickly beard and rough teething kisses.
With one hand squeezing your breast, the other sneaks around your neck. He squeezes your neck and throat, choking you as he restricts your oxygen. His hips drill you into the mattress as you watch him, slowly losing your conscious.
Anthony looks like he’s been possessed by something else and it scares you a bit. You claw at his wrists as you feel the pressure in your head weighing heavy. Your eyes roll to the back of your head from the combination of pleasure and pain.
You gasp for air as he finally releases your neck and fills you with his heavy load, spilling into your pussy in hot ropes.
He pants as he eases his cock out and into you again, admiring how his cum trickles out from your hole and coats his cock.
“We’re gonna have a very long night.”
“Night?” you question. Could you even last a night with him?
“I told you. I want my money’s worth.”
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